REVENGE

OF THE SITH

Star Wars, Episode III

by Matthew Stover

This story happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it.

It is a story of love and loss, brotherhood and betrayal, courageand sacrifice and the death of dreams. It is a story of the blurredline between our best and our worst.

It is the story of the end of an age.

A strange thing about stories—

Though this all happened so long ago and so far away thatwords cannot describe the time or the distance, it is also happeningright now. Right here.

It is happening as you read these words.

This is how twenty-five millennia come to a close. Corruptionand treachery have crushed a thousand years of peace. This is notjust the end of a republic; night is falling on civilization itself. This is the twilight of the Jedi.

The end starts now.

=Introduction=

THE AGE OF HEROES

The skies of Coruscant blaze with war.

The artificial daylight spread by the capital's orbital mirrors is sliced by intersecting flames of ion drives and punctuated by starburst explosions; contrails of debris raining into the atmospherebecome tangled ribbons of cloud. The nightside sky is an infinitelattice of shining hairlines that interlock planetoids and track erratic spirals of glowing gnats. Beings watching from rooftops of Coruscant's endless cityscape can find it beautiful.

From the inside, it's different.

The gnats are drive-glows of starfighters. The shining hairlines are light-scatter from turbolaser bolts powerful enough tovaporize a small town. The planetoids are capital ships. The battle from the inside is a storm of confusion and panic,of galvened particle beams flashing past your starfighter so closethat your cockpit rings like a broken annunciator, of the boot-sole shock of concussion missiles that blast into your cruiser, killing beings you have trained with and eaten with and playedand laughed and bickered with. From the inside, the battle isdesperation and terror and the stomach-churning certainty thatthe whole galaxy is trying to kill you.

Across the remnants of the Republic, stunned beings watchin horror as the battle unfolds live on the HoloNet. Everyoneknows the war has been going badly. Everyone knows that moreJedi are killed or captured every day, that the Grand Army of theRepublic has been pushed out of system after system, but this—

A strike at the very heart of the Republic?

An invasion of Coruscant itself?

How can this happen?

It's a nightmare, and no one can wake up.

Live via HoloNet, beings watch the Separatist droid armyflood the government district. The coverage is filled with imagesof overmatched clone troopers cut down by remorselessly powerful destroyer droids in the halls of the Galactic Senate itself.

A gasp of relief: the troopers seem to beat back the attack.There are hugs and even some quiet cheers in living rooms acrossthe galaxy as the Separatist forces retreat to their landers andstreak for orbit—We won!beings tell each other. We held them off!

But then new reports trickle in—only rumors at first—thatthe attack wasn't an invasion at all. That the Separatists weren't trying to take the planet. That this was a lightning raid on theSenate itself. The nightmare gets worse: the Supreme Chancellor is missing.

Palpatine of Naboo, the most admired man in the galaxy,whose unmatched political skills have held the Republic together. Whose personal integrity and courage prove that the Separatist propaganda of corruption in the Senate is nothing but lies.Whose charismatic leadership gives the whole Republic the will to fight on.

Palpatine is more than respected. He is loved.

Even the rumor of his disappearance strikes a dagger to theheart of every friend of the Republic. Every one of them knows it in her heart, in his gut, in its very bones—Without Palpatine, the Republic will fall. And now confirmation comes through, and the news isworse than anyone could have imagined. Supreme ChancellorPalpatine has been captured by the Separatists—and not just theSeparatists. He's in the hands of General Grievous.

Grievous is not like other leaders of the Separatists. Nute Gunray is treacherous and venal, but he's Neimoidian: venalityand treachery are expected, and in the Chancellor of the TradeFederation they're even virtues. Poggle the Lesser is Archduke ofthe weapon masters of Geonosis, where the war began: he is analytical and pitiless, but also pragmatic. Reasonable. The politicalheart of the Separatist Confederacy, Count Dooku, is known forhis integrity, his principled stand against what he sees as corruption in the Senate. Though they believe he's wrong, many respecthim for the courage of his mistaken convictions.

These are hard beings. Dangerous beings. Ruthless and aggressive.

General Grievous, though—Grievous is a monster.

The Separatist Supreme Commander is an abomination ofnature, a fusion of flesh and droid—and his droid parts havemore compassion than what remains of his alien flesh. This half-living creature is a slaughterer of billions. Whole planets haveburned at his command. He is the evil genius of the Confederacy.The architect of their victories.

The author of their atrocities.

And his durasteel grip has closed upon Palpatine. He confirms the capture personally in a wideband transmission from his command cruiser in the midst of the orbital battle. Beings across the galaxy watch, and shudder, and pray that they might wake up from this awful dream.

Because they know that what they're watching, live on theHoloNet, is the death of the Republic.Many among these beings break into tears; many more reachout to comfort their husbands or wives, their creche-mates orkin-triads, and their younglings of all descriptions, from children to cubs to spawn-fry. But here is a strange thing: few of the younglings need comfort. It is instead the younglings who offer comfort to their elders. Across the Republic—in words or pheromones, in magneticpulses, tentacle-braids, or mental telepathy—the message fromthe younglings is the same: Don't worry. It'll be all right.

Anakin and Obi-Wan will be there any minute.

They say this as though these names can conjure miracles.

Anakin and Obi-Wan. Kenobi and Skywalker. From the beginning of the Clone Wars, the phrase Kenobi and Skywalker has become a single word. They are everywhere. HoloNet features oftheir operations against the Separatist enemy have made themthe most famous Jedi in the galaxy. Younglings across the galaxy know their names, know everything about them, follow their exploits as though they are sportsheroes instead of warriors in a desperate battle to save civilization. Even grown-ups are not immune; it's not uncommon foran exasperated parent to ask, when faced with offspring whohave just tried to pull off one of the spectacularly dangerousbits of foolishness that are the stock-in-trade of high-spiritedyounglings everywhere, So which were you supposed to be, Kenobi or Skywalker?

Kenobi would rather talk than fight, but when there is fighting to be done, few can match him. Skywalker is the master ofaudacity; his intensity, boldness, and sheer jaw-dropping luck arethe perfect complement to Kenobi's deliberate, balanced steadiness. Together, they are a Jedi hammer that has crushed Sepa ratist infestations on scores of worlds.

All the younglings watching the battle in Coruscant's skyknow it: when Anakin and Obi-Wan get there, those dirty Seppers are going to wish they'd stayed in bed today.

The adults know better, of course. That's part of what beinga grown-up is: understanding that heroes are created by the HoloNet, and that the real-life Kenobi and Skywalker are only human beings, after all. Even if they really are everything the legends say they are, who's to say they'll show up in time? Who knows where they are right now? They might be trapped on some Separatist backwater.They might be captured, or wounded. Even dead.

Some of the adults even whisper to themselves, They might have fallen. Because the stories are out there. Not on the HoloNet, ofcourse—the HoloNet news is under the control of the Office ofthe Supreme Chancellor, and not even Palpatine's renownedcandor would allow tales like these to be told—but people hear whispers. Whispers of names that the Jedi would like to pretendnever existed.

Sora Bulq. Depa Billaba. Jedi who have fallen to the dark.Who have joined the Separatists, or worse: who have massacred civilians, or even murdered their comrades. The adults have asickening suspicion that Jedi cannot be trusted. Not anymore. That even the greatest of them can suddenly just... snap. The adults know that legendary heroes are merely legends,and not heroes at all. These adults can take no comfort from their younglings. Palpatine is captured. Grievous will escape. The Republic will fall.No mere human beings can turn this tide. No mere human beings would even try. Not even Kenobi and Skywalker.

And so it is that these adults across the galaxy watch theHoloNet with ashes where their hearts should be.

Ashes because they can't see two prismatic bursts of realspacereversion, far out beyond the planet's gravity well; because theycan't see a pair of starfighters crisply jettison hyperdrive rings andstreak into the storm of Separatist vulture fighters with all gunsblazing.

A pair of starfighters. Jedi starfighters. Only two.

Two is enough.

Two is enough because the adults are wrong, and theiryounglings are right. Though this is the end of the age of heroes, it has saved itsbest for last.

=Part One=

VICTORY

The dark is generous.

Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the dark beneath our skins, our true hearts remain shadowed deeper still. Butthe greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from us the truths of others.

The dark protects us from what we dare not know.

Its second gift is comforting illusion: the ease of gentle dreamsin night's embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to whatwould repel in day's harsh light. But the greatest of its comforts is theillusion that the dark is temporary: that every night brings a newday. Because it is day that is temporary. Day is the illusion.

Its third gift is the light itself: as days are defined by the nightsthat divide them, as stars are defined by the infinite black through which they wheel, the dark embraces the light, and brings it forth from the center of its own self.

With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins.

=1=

ANAKIN AND OBI-WAN

Antifighter flak flashed on all sides. Even louder than the clatter of shrapnel and the snarl of his sublight drives, his cockpithummed and rang with near hits from the turbolaser fire of thecapital ships crowding space around him. Sometimes his whirlingspinning dive through the cloud of battle skimmed bursts so closely that the energy-scatter would slam his starfighter hardenough to bounce his head off the supports of his pilot's chair.

Right now Obi-Wan Kenobi envied the clones: at least theyhad helmets.

"Arfour," he said on internal comm, "can't you do something with the inertials?" The droid ganged into the socket on his starflghter's leftwing whistled something that sounded suspiciously like a humanapology. Obi-Wan's frown deepened. R4-P17 had been spending too much time with Anakin's eccentric astromech; it was picking up R2-D2's bad habits. New bursts of flak bracketed his path. He reached into theForce, feeling for a safe channel through the swarms of shrapneland sizzling nets of particle beams.

There wasn't one.

He locked a snarl behind his teeth, twisting his starfighteraround another explosion that could have peeled its armor like an overripe Ithorian starfruit. He hated this part. Hated it. Flying's for droids.

His cockpit speakers crackled. "There isn't a droid made that can outfly you, Master." He could still be surprised by the new depth of that voice.The calm confidence. The maturity. It seemed that only last weekAnakin had been a ten-year-old who wouldn't stop pestering himabout Form I lightsaber combat.

"Sorry," he muttered, kicking into a dive that slipped a turbo-laser burst by no more than a meter. "Was that out loud?"

"Wouldn't matter if it wasn't. I know what you're thinking."

"Do you?" He looked up through the cockpit canopy to find his onetime Padawan flying inverted, mirroring him so closely that but for the transparisteel between them, they might haveshaken hands. Obi-Wan smiled up at him. "Some new gift of theForce?"

"Not the Force, Master. Experience. That's what you'realwaysthinking." Obi-Wan kept hoping to hear some of Anakin's old cockygrin in his tone, but he never did. Not since Jabiim. Perhaps notsince Geonosis.

The war had burned it out of him.

Obi-Wan still tried, now and again, to spark a real smile in hisformer Padawan. And Anakin still tried to answer.

They both still tried to pretend the war hadn't changedthem.

"Ah." Obi-Wan took a hand from the starfighter's controlyoke to direct his upside-down friend's attention forward. Deadahead, a blue-white point of light splintered into four laser-straight trails of ion drives. "And what does experience tell youwe should do about those incoming tri-fighters?"

"That we should break—right!"

Obi-Wan was already making that exact move as Anakinspoke. But they were inverted to each other: breaking right shot him one way while Anakin whipped the other. The tri-fighters' cannons ripped space between them, tracking faster than theirstarfighters could slip.

His onboard threat display chimed a warning: two of thedroids had remote sensor locks on him. The others must have litup his partner. "Anakin! Slip-jaws!"

"My thought exactly."

They blew past the tri-fighters, looping in evasive spirals. Thedroid ships wrenched themselves into pursuit maneuvers thatwould have killed any living pilot.

The slip-jaws maneuver was named for the scissorlikemandibles of the Kashyyyk slash-spider. Droids closing rapidly ontheir tails, cannonfire stitching space on all sides, the two Jedipulled their ships through perfectly mirrored rolls that sent themstreaking head-on for each other from opposite ends of a vast Re public cruiser.

For merely human pilots, this would be suicide. By the timeyou can see your partner's starfighter streaking toward you at arespectable fraction of lightspeed, it's already too late for yourmerely human reflexes to react.

But these particular pilots were far from merely human.

The Force nudged hands on control yokes and the Jedistarfighters twisted and flashed past each other belly-to-belly, close enough to scorch each other's paint. Tri-fighters were theTrade Federation's latest space-superiority droid. But even theelectronic reflexes of the tri-fighters' droid brains were too slowfor this: one of his pursuers met one of Anakin's head-on. Bothvanished in a blossom of flame. The shock wave of debris and expanding gas rocked Obi-Wan; he fought the control yoke, barely keeping his starfighterout of a tumble that would have smeared him across the cruiser'sventral hull. Before he could straighten out, his threat displaychimed again.

"Oh, marvelous," he muttered under his breath. Anakin'ssurviving pursuer had switched targets. "Why is it always me?"

"Perfect."Through the cockpit speakers, Anakin's voice carried grim satisfaction. "Both of them are on your tail."

"Perfect is not the word I'd use." Obi-Wan twisted his yoke,juking madly as space around him flared scarlet. "We have to splitthem up!"

"Break left."Anakin sounded calm as a stone. "The turbolaser tower off your port bow: thread its guns. I'll take things from there."

"Easy for you to say." Obi-Wan whipped sideways along thecruiser's superstructure. Fire from the pursuing tri-fightersblasted burning chunks from the cruiser's armor. "Why am I always the bait?"

"I'm right behind you. Artoo, lock on."

Obi-Wan spun his starfighter between the recoiling turbo-cannons close enough that energy-scatter made his cockpit clang like a gong, but still cannonfire flashed past him from the tri-fighters behind.

"Anakin, they're all over me!"

"Dead ahead. Move right to clear my shot. Now!"

Obi-Wan flared his port jets and the starfighter kicked to theright. One of the tri-fighters behind him decided it couldn't follow and went for a ventral slip that took it directly into the blastsfrom Anakin's cannons.

It vanished in a boil of superheated gas.

"Good shooting, Artoo."Anakin's dry chuckle in the cockpit'sspeakers vanished behind the clang of lasers blasting ablativeshielding off Obi-Wan's left wing.

"I'm running out of tricks here—"

Clearing the vast Republic cruiser put him on course for the curving hull of one of the Trade Federation's battleships; spacebetween the two capital ships blazed with turbolaser exchanges. Some of those flashing energy blasts were as big around as his entire ship; the merest graze would blow him to atoms.

Obi-Wan dived right in.

He had the Force to guide him through, and the tri-fighterhad only its electronic reflexes—but those electronic reflexes operated at roughly the speed of light. It stayed on his tail as if he were dragging it by a tow cable.

When Obi-Wan went left and Anakin right, the tri-fighter would swing halfway through the difference. The same with upand down. It was averaging his movements with Anakin's; somehow its droid brain had realized that as long as it stayed betweenthe two Jedi, Anakin couldn't fire on it without hitting his partner. The tri-fighter was under no similiar restraint: Obi-Wan flewthrough a storm of scarlet needles.

"No wonder we're losing the war," he muttered. "They'regetting smarter."

"What was that, Master? I didn't copy."

Obi-Wan kicked his starfighter into a tight spiral toward theFederation cruiser. "I'm taking the deck!"

"Good idea. I need some room to maneuver."

Cannonfire tracked closer. Obi-Wan's cockpit speakersbuzzed. "Cut right, Obi-Wan! Hard right! Don't let him get a handle on you! Artoo, lock on!"

Obi-Wan's starfighter streaked along the curve of the Separatist cruiser's dorsal hull. Antifighter flak burst on all sides as thecruiser's guns tried to pick him up. He rolled a right wingover into the service trench that stretched the length of the cruiser'shull. This low and close to the deck, the cruiser's antifighter gunscouldn't depress their angle of fire enough to get a shot, but thetri-fighter stayed right on his tail. At the far end of the service trench, the massive support buttresses of the cruiser's towering bridge left no room for evenObi-Wan's small craft. He kicked his starfighter into a half rollthat whipped him out of the trench and shot him straight up thetower's angled leading edge. One burst of his underjets jerkedhim past the forward viewports of the bridge with only meters to spare—and the tri-fighter followed his path exactly.

"Of course," he muttered. "That would have been too easy.Anakin, where are you?" One of the control surfaces on his left wing shattered in aburst of plasma. It felt like being shot in the arm. He toggled switches, fighting the yoke. R4-P17 shrilled at him. Obi-Wankeyed internal comm.

"Don't try to fix it, Arfour. I've shut itdown."

"I have the lock!"Anakin said. "Go! Firing — now!" Obi-Wan hit maximum drag on his intact wing, and his starfighter shot into a barely controlled arc high and right asAnakin's cannons vaporized the last tri-fighter.

Obi-Wan fired retros to stall his starfighter in the blind spotbehind the Separatist cruiser's bridge. He hung there for a fewseconds to get his breathing and heart under control. "Thanks,Anakin. That was—thanks. That's all."

"Don't thank me. It was Artoo's shooting."

"Yes. I suppose, if you like, you can thank your droid for me as well. And, Anakin—?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Next time, you're the bait."

This is Obi-Wan Kenobi:

A phenomenal pilot who doesn't like to fly. A devastatingwarrior who'd rather not fight. A negotiator without peer whofrankly prefers to sit alone in a quiet cave and meditate. Jedi Master. General in the Grand Army of the Republic.Member of the Jedi Council. And yet, inside, he feels like he'snone of these things.

Inside, he still feels like a Padawan.

It is a truism of the Jedi Order that a Jedi Knight's educationtruly begins only when he becomes a Master: that everything important about being a Master is learned from one's student. Obi-Wan feels the truth of this every day.

He sometimes dreams of when he was a Padawan in fact aswell as feeling; he dreams that his own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, did not die at the plasma-fueled generator core in Theed. Hedreams that his Master's wise guiding hand is still with him. ButQui-Gon's death is an old pain, one with which he long agocame to terms.

A Jedi does not cling to the past.

And Obi-Wan Kenobi knows, too, that to have lived his lifewithout being Master to Anakin Skywalker would have left him adifferent man. A lesser man.

Anakin has taught him so much.

Obi-Wan sees so much of Qui-Gon in Anakin that sometimes it hurts his heart; at the very least, Anakin mirrors Qui-Gon's flair for the dramatic, and his casual disregard for rules.Training Anakin—and fighting beside him, all these years—hasunlocked something inside Obi-Wan. It's as though Anakin hasrubbed off on him a bit, and has loosened that clenched-jaw insistence on absolute correctness that Qui-Gon always said was hisgreatest flaw.

Obi-Wan Kenobi has learned to relax.

He smiles now, and sometimes even jokes, and has becomeknown for the wisdom gentle humor can provide. Though hedoes not know it, his relationship with Anakin has molded himinto the great Jedi Qui-Gon always said he might someday be.

It is characteristic of Obi-Wan that he is entirely unaware ofthis.

Being named to the Council came as a complete surprise;even now, he is sometimes astonished by the faith the Jedi Council has in his abilities, and the credit they give to his wisdom.Greatness was never his ambition. He wants only to performwhatever task he is given to the best of his ability. He is respected throughout the Jedi Order for his insight aswell as his warrior skill. He has become the hero of the next generation of Padawans; he is the Jedi their Masters hold up as amodel. He is the being that the Council assigns to their most important missions. He is modest, centered, and always kind. He is the ultimate Jedi.

And he is proud to be Anakin Skywalker's best friend.

"Artoo, where's that signal?"

From its socket beside the cockpit, R2-D2 whistled andbeeped. A translation spidered across Anakin's console readout:SCANNING. LOTS OF ECM SIGNAL JAMMING.

"Keep on it." He glanced at Obi-Wan's starfighter limpingthrough the battle, a hundred meters off his left wing. "I can feel his jitters from all the way over here."

A tootle: Ajedi is always calm.

"He won't think it's funny. Neither do I. Less joking, morescanning." For Anakin Skywalker, starfighter battles were usually as closeto fun as he ever came. This one wasn't.

Not because of the overwhelming odds, or the danger he wasin; he didn't care about odds, and he didn't think of himselfas being in any particular danger. A few wings of droid fightersdidn't much scare a man who'd been a Podracer since he was six,and had won the Boonta Cup at nine. Who was, in fact, the only human to ever finish a Podrace, let alone win one.

In those days he had used the Force without knowing it; he'dthought the Force was something inside him, just a feeling, an instinct, a string of lucky guesses that led him through maneuvers other pilots wouldn't dare attempt. Now, though...

Now—Now he could reach into the Force and feel the engagementthroughout Coruscant space as though the whole battle werehappening inside his head.

His vehicle became his body. The pulses of its engines werethe beat of his own heart. Flying, he could forget about his slavery, about his mother, about Geonosis and Jabiim, Aargonar andMuunilinst and all the catastrophes of this brutal war. Abouteverything that had been done to him. And everything he had done.

He could even put aside, for as long as the battle roaredaround him, the starfire of his love for the woman who waited forhim on the world below. The woman whose breath was his onlyair, whose heartbeat was his only music, whose face was the onlybeauty his eyes would ever see. He could put all this aside because he was a Jedi. Because itwas time to do a Jedi's work. But today was different.

Today wasn't about dodging lasers and blasting droids.Today was about the life of the man who might as well have beenhis father: a man who could die if the Jedi didn't reach him intime. Anakin had been late once before.

Obi-Wan's voice came over the cockpit speakers, flat andtight. "Does your droid have anything? Arfour's hopeless. I think that last cannon hit cooked his motivator." Anakin could see exactly the look on his former Master'sface: a mask of calm belied by a jaw so tight that when he spokehis mouth barely moved. "Don't worry, Master. If his beacon'sworking, Artoo'll find it. Have you thought about how we'll find the Chancellor if—"

"No."Obi-Wan sounded absolutely certain. "There's no need to consider it. Until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction. Be mindful of what is, not what might be." Anakin had to stop himself from reminding Obi-Wan that he wasn't a Padawan anymore. "I should have been here," he saidthrough his teeth. "I told you. I should have been here."

"Anakin, he was defended by Stass Allie and Shaak Ti. If twoMasters could not prevent this, do you think you could? Stass Allie isclever and valiant, and Shaak Ti is the most cunning Jedi I've evermet. She's even taught me a few tricks."

Anakin assumed he was supposed to be impressed. "ButGeneral Grievous—"

"Master Ti had faced him before, Anakin. After Muunilinst.She is not only subtle and experienced, but very capable indeed. Seats on the Jedi Council aren't handed out as party favors."

"I've noticed." He let it drop. The middle of a space battlewas no place to get into this particular sore subject.

If only he'd been here, instead of Shaak Ti and Stass Allie,Council members or not. If he had been here, Chancellor Palpatine would be home and safe already. Instead, Anakin had beenstuck running around the Outer Rim for months like some useless Padawan, and all Palpatine had for protectors were Jedi who were clever and subtle.

Clever and subtle. He could whip any ten clever and subtle Jedi with his lightsaber tied behind his back. But he knew better than to say so.

"Put yourself in the moment, Anakin. Focus."

"Copy that, Master," Anakin said dryly. "Focusing now." R2-D2 twittered, and Anakin checked his console readout. "We've got him, Master. The cruiser dead ahead. That's Grievous'sflagship— Invisible Hand.''

"Anakin, there aredozens of cruisers dead ahead!"

"It's the one crawling with vulture fighters."

The vulture fighters clinging to the long curves of the Trade Federation cruiser indicated by Palpatine's beacon gave it eerilylife-like ripples, like some metallic marine predator bristling withAlderaanian walking barnacles.

"Oh. That one."He could practically hear Obi-Wan's stomach dropping. "Oh, thisshould be easy..." Now some of them stripped themselves from the cruiser, ignited their drives, and came looping toward the two Jedi.

"Easy? No. But it might be fun." Sometimes a little teasing was the only way to get Obi-Wan to loosen up. "Lunch at Dex's says I'll blast two for each of yours. Artoo can keep score."

"Anakin—"

"All right, dinner. And I promise this time I won't let Artoocheat."

"No games, Anakin. There's too much at stake."There, thatwas the tone Anakin had been looking for: a slightly scolding,schoolmasterish edge. Obi-Wan was back on form. "Have your droid tight-beam a report to the Temple. And send out a call forany Jedi in starfighters. We'll come at it from all sides."

"Way ahead of you." But when he checked his comm readout, he shook his head. "There's still too much ECM. Artoocan't raise the Temple. I think the only reason we can even talkto each other is that we're practically side by side."

"And Jedi beacons?"

"No joy, Master." Anakin's stomach clenched, but he foughtthe tension out of his voice. "We may be the only two Jedi outhere."

"Then we will have to be enough. Switching to clone fighterchannel." Anakin spun his comm dial to the new frequency in time tohear Obi-Wan say, "Oddball, do you copy? We need help."

The clone captain's helmet speaker flattened the humanityout of his voice. "Copy, Red Leader."

"Mark my position and form your squad behind me. We'regoing in."

"On our way."

The droid fighters had lost themselves against the back-ground of the battle, but R2-D2 was tracking them on scan.Anakin shifted his grip on his starfighter's control yoke. "Tenvultures inbound, high and left to my orientation. More on theway."

"I have them. Anakin, wait— the cruiser's bay shields have dropped! I'm reading four, no, six ships incoming." Obi-Wan's voice rose. "Tri-fighters! Coming in fast!" Anakin's smile tightened. This was about to get interesting.

"Tri-fighters first, Master. The vultures can wait."

"Agreed. Slip back and right, swing behind me. We'll take themon the slant." Let Obi-Wan go first? With a blown left control surface anda half-crippled R-unit? With Palpatine's life at stake?

Not likely.

"Negative," Anakin said. "I'm going head-to-head. See you on the far side."

"Take it easy. Wait for Oddball and Squad Seven. Anakin—"

He could hear the frustration in Obi-Wan's voice as he kickedhis starfighter's sublights and surged past; his former Master stillhadn't gotten used to not being able to order Anakin around. Not that Anakin had ever been much for following orders. Obi-Wan's, or anyone else's.

"Sorry we're late."Thedigitized voice of the clone whose callsign was Oddball sounded as calm as if he were ordering dinner."We're on your right, Red Leader. Where's Red Five?"

"Anakin, form up!"

But Anakin was already streaking to meet the Trade Federation fighters. "Incoming!" Obi-Wan's familiar sigh came clearly over the comm; Anakinknew exactly what the Jedi Master was thinking. The same thinghe was always thinking.

He still has much to learn.

Anakin's smile thinned to a grim straight line as enemystarfighters swarmed around him. And he thought the samething he always thought.

We'll see about that.

He gave himself to the battle, and his starfighter whirled andhis cannons hammered, and droids on all sides began to burstinto clouds of debris and superheated gas.

This was how he relaxed.

This is Anakin Skywalker:

The most powerful Jedi of his generation. Perhaps of any generation. The fastest. The strongest. An unbeatable pilot. An unstoppable warrior. On the ground, in the air or sea or space, thereis no one even close. He has not just power, not just skill, butdash:that rare, invaluable combination of boldness and grace.

He is the best there is at what he does. The best there hasever been. And he knows it. HoloNet features call him the Hero With No Fear. And whynot? What should he be afraid of? Except—Fear lives inside him anyway, chewing away the firewallsaround his heart. Anakin sometimes thinks of the dread that eats at his heart asa dragon. Children on Tatooine tell each other of the dragonsthat live inside the suns; smaller cousins of the sun-dragons aresupposed to live inside the fusion furnaces that power everythingfrom starships to Podracers.

But Anakin's fear is another kind of dragon. A cold kind. Adead kind.

Not nearly dead enough.

Not long after he became Obi-Wan's Padawan, all thoseyears ago, a minor mission had brought them to a dead system: one so immeasurably old that its star had long ago turned to afrigid dwarf of hypercompacted trace metals, hovering a quantum fraction of a degree above absolute zero. Anakin couldn'teven remember what the mission might have been, but he'dnever forgotten that dead star. It had scared him.

"Stars can die—?"

"It is the way of the universe, which is another manner ofsaying that it is the will of the Force," Obi-Wan had told him."Everything dies. In time, even stars burn out. This is why Jediform no attachments: all things pass. To hold on to something—or someone—beyond its time is to set your selfish desires againstthe Force. That is a path of misery, Anakin; the Jedi do notwalk it."

That is the kind of fear that lives inside Anakin Skywalker: thedragon of that dead star. It is an ancient, cold dead voice withinhis heart that whispers all things die...

In bright day he can't hear it; battle, a mission, even a report before the Jedi Council, can make him forget it's even there. Butat night—At night, the walls he has built sometimes start to frost over. Sometimes they start to crack.

At night, the dead-star dragon sometimes sneaks through thecracks and crawls up into his brain and chews at the inside of his skull. The dragon whispers of what Anakin has lost. And what hewill lose. The dragon reminds him, every night, of how he held hisdying mother in his arms, of how she had spent her last strengthto say I knew you would come for me, Anakin...

The dragon reminds him, every night, that someday he willlose Obi-Wan. He will lose Padme. Or they will lose him.

All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out...

And the only answers he ever has for these dead cold whispers are his memories of Obi-Wan's voice, or Yoda's.

But sometimes he can't quite remember them.

all things die...

He can barely even think about it.

But right now he doesn't have a choice: the man he flies torescue is a closer friend than he'd ever hoped to have. That'swhat puts the edge in his voice when he tries to make a joke;that's what flattens his mouth and tightens the burn-scar high onhis right cheek.

The Supreme Chancellor has been family to Anakin: alwaysthere, always caring, always free with advice and unstinting aid. Asympathetic ear and a kindly, loving, unconditional acceptance ofAnakin exactly as he is—the sort of acceptance Anakin couldnever get from another Jedi. Not even from Obi-Wan. He cantell Palpatine things he could never share with his Master.

He can tell Palpatine things he can't even tell Padme.

Now the Supreme Chancellor is in the worst kind of danger. And Anakin is on his way despite the dread boiling through hisblood. That's what makes him a real hero. Not the way theHoloNet labels him; not without fear, but stronger than fear.

He looks the dragon in the eye and doesn't even slow down.

If anyone can save Palpatine, Anakin will. Because he's already the best, and he's still getting better. But locked away behind the walls of his heart, the dragon that is his fear coils andsquirms and hisses. Because his real fear, in a universe where even stars can die, isthat being the best will never be quite good enough.

Obi-Wan's starfighter jolted sideways. Anakin whipped by himand used his forward attitude jets to kick himself into a skew-flip:facing backward to blast the last of the tri-fighters on his tail. Now there were only vulture droids left.

A lot of vulture droids.

"Did you like that one, Master?"

"Very pretty." Obi-Wan's cannons stitched plasma across thehull of a swooping vulture fighter until the droid exploded. "Butwe're not through yet."

"Watch this."Anakin flipped his starfighter again and dived,spinning, directly through the flock of vulture droids. Their drivesblazed as they came around. He led them streaking for the upperdeck of a laser-scarred Separatist cruiser. "I'm going to lead them through the needle."

"Don't lead them anywhere." Obi-Wan's threat display tallied the vultures on Anakin's tail. Twelve of them. Twelve. "FirstJedi principle of combat: survive."

"No choice."Anakin slipped his starfighter through the stormof cannonfire. "Come down and thin them out a little.''

Obi-Wan slammed his control yoke forward as though jam-ming it against its impact-rest would push his battered fighter faster in pursuit. "Nothing fancy, Arfour." As though the damaged droid were even capable of anything fancy. "Just hold mesteady."

He reached into the Force and felt for his shot. "On mymark, break left— now!" The shutdown control surface of his leftwing turned the left break into a tight overhead spiral that traversed Obi-Wan's guns across the paths of four vultures—flash flash flash flash—and all four were gone. He flew on through the clouds of glowing plasma. Hecouldn't waste time going around; Anakin still had eight of themon his tail.

And what was this? Obi-Wan frowned.

The cruiser looked familiar.

The needle?he thought. Oh, please say you're kidding.

Anakin's starfighter skimmed only meters above the cruiser'sdorsal hull. Cannon misses from the vulture fighters swoopingtoward him blasted chunks out of the cruiser's armor.

"Okay, Artoo. Where's that trench?"

His forward screen lit with a topograph of the cruiser's hull. Justahead lay the trench that Obi-Wan had led the tri-fighter into. Anakin flipped his starfighter through a razor-sharp wingoverdown past the rim. The walls of the service trench flashed past himas he streaked for the bridge tower at the far end. From here, he couldn't even see the minuscule slit between its support struts.

With eight vulture droids in pursuit, he'd never pull off aslant up the tower's leading edge as Obi-Wan had. But that wasall right.

He wasn't planning to.

His cockpit comm buzzed. "Don't try it, Anakin. It's too tight." Too tight for you, maybe."I'll get through."

R2-D2 whistled nervous agreement with Obi-Wan.

"Easy, Artoo," Anakin said. "We've done this before." Cannonfire blazed past him, impacting on the support struts ahead. Too late to change his mind now: he was committed. Hewould bring his ship through, or he would die.

Right now, strangely, he didn't actually care which.

"Use the Force."Obi-Wan sounded worried. Thinkyourself t hrough, and the ship will follow.''''

"What do you expect me to do? Close my eyes and whistle?"Anakin muttered under his breath, then said aloud, "Copy that.Thinking now."

R2-D2's squeal was as close to terrified as a droid can sound. Glowing letters spidered across Anakin's readout: ABORT! ABORT ABORT!

Anakin smiled. "Wrong thought."

Obi-Wan could only stare openmouthed as Anakin's starfighter snapped onto its side and scraped through the slit withcentimeters to spare. He fully expected one of the struts to knockR2's dome off. The vulture droids tried to follow... but they were just ahair too big.

When the first two impacted, Obi-Wan triggered his cannonsin a downward sweep. The evasion maneuvers preprogrammedinto the vulture fighters' droid brains sent them diving awayfrom Obi-Wan's lasers—straight into the fireball expanding fromthe front of the struts.

Obi-Wan looked up to find Anakin soaring straight out fromthe cruiser with a quick snap-roll of victory. Obi-Wan matched his course—without the flourish.

"I'll give you the first four,"Anakin said over the comm, "but the other eight are mine."

"Anakin—"

"All right, we'll split them."

As they left the cruiser behind, their sensors showed Squad Seven dead ahead. The clone pilots were fully engaged, loopingthrough a dogfight so tight that their ion trails looked like aglowing ball of string.

"Oddball's in trouble. I'm going to help him out."

"Don't. He's doing his job. We need to do ours."

"Master, they're getting eaten alive over— "

"Every one of them would gladly trade his life for Palpatine's. Will you trade Palpatine's life for theirs?"

"No— no, of course not, but—"

"Anakin, I understand: you want to save everyone. You always do. But you can't.'''' Anakin's voice went tight. "Don't remind me."

"Head for the command ship." Without waiting for a reply, Obi-Wan targeted the command cruiser and shot away at maximum thrust.

The cross of burn-scar beside Anakin's eye went pale as heturned his starfighter in pursuit. Obi-Wan was right. He almostalways was.

You can't save everyone

His mother's body, broken and bloody in his arms—

Her battered eyes struggling to open—

The touch of her smashed lips—

I knew you would come to me... I missed you so much...

That's what it was to be not quite good enough.

It could happen anytime. Anyplace. If he was a few minutes late. If he let his attention drift for a single second. If he was awhisker too weak.

Anyplace. Anytime.

But not here, and not now.

He forced his mother's face back down below the surface ofhis consciousness. Time to get to work.

They flashed through the battle, dodging flak and turbolaser bolts, slipping around cruisers to eclipse themselves from thesensors of droid fighters. They were only a few dozen kilometersfrom the command cruiser when a pair of tri-fighters whippedacross their path, firing on the deflection. Anakin's sensor board lit up and R2-D2 shrilled a warning."Missiles!" He wasn't worried for himself: the two on his tail were com-ing at him in perfect tandem. Missiles lack the sophisticatedbrains of droid fighters; to keep them from colliding on their inbound vectors, one of them would lock onto his fighter's leftdrive, the other onto his right. A quick snap-roll would makethose vectors intersect.

Which they did in a silent blossom of flame.

Obi-Wan wasn't so lucky. The pair of missiles locked ontohis sublights weren't precisely side by side; a snap-roll would beworse than useless. Instead he fired retros and kicked his dorsal jets to halve his velocity and knock him a few meters planet-ward. The lead missile overshot and spiraled off into the orbitalbattle.

The trailing missile came close enough to trigger its proximity sensors, and detonated in a spray of glowing shrapnel. Obi-Wan's starfighter flew through the debris—and the shrapneltrackedhim. Little silver spheres flipped themselves into his path and latched onto the starfighter's skin, then split and sprouted spidery arrays of jointed arms that pried up hull plates, exposing thestarfighter's internal works to multiple circular whirls of bladelike ancient mechanical bone saws.

This was a problem.

"I'm hit."Obi-Wan sounded more irritated than concerned."I'm hit."

"I have visual." Anakin swung his starfighter into closer pur-suit. "Buzz droids. I count five."

"Get out of here, Anakin. There's nothing you can do."

"I'm not leaving you, Master."

Cascades of sparks fountained into space from the buzzdroids' saws. "Anakin, the mission! Get to the command ship! Get the Chancellor!."

"Not without you," Anakin said through his teeth.

One of the buzz droids crouched beside the cockpit, silveryarms grappling with R4; another worked on the starfighter'snose, while a third skittered toward the ventral hydraulics. Thelast two of the aggressive little mechs had spidered to Obi-Wan'sleft wing, working on that damaged control surface.

"You can't help me."Obi-Wan still maintained his Jedi calm."They're shutting down the controls."

"I can fix that..."Anakin brought his starfighter into line only a couple of meters off Obi-Wan's wing.

"Steady...," he muttered, "steady...," and triggered a single burst of his right-side cannon that blasted the two buzz droids into gouts ofmolten metal.

Along with most of Obi-Wan's left wing.

Anakin said, "Whoops."

The starfighter bucked hard enough to knock Obi-Wan'sskull against the transparisteel canopy. A gust of stinging smokefilled the cockpit. Obi-Wan fought the yoke to keep his starfighter out of an uncontrolled tumble. "Anakin, that's not helping."

"You're right, bad idea. Here, let's try this—move left andswing under— easy..."

"Anakin, you're too close! Wait—" Obi-Wan stared in disbelief as Anakin's starfighter edged closer and with a dip of its wingphysically slammed a buzz droid into a smear of metal. The impact jolted Obi-Wan again, pounded a deep streak of dent intohis starfighter's hull, and shattered the forward control surface ofAnakin's wing.

Anakin had forgotten the first principle of combat. Again. Asusual.

"You're going to get us both killed!"

His atmospheric scrubbers drained smoke from the cockpit,but now the droid on the forward control surface of Obi-Wan'sstarfighter's right wing had peeled away enough of the hull plates that its jointed saw arms could get deep inside. Sparks flared intospace, along with an expanding fountain of gas that instantly crystallized in the hard vacuum. Velocity identical to Obi-Wan's, the shimmering gas hung on his starfighter's nose like a cloud of fog."Blast," Obi-Wan muttered. "I can't see. My controls are going."

"You're doing fine. Stay on my wing."

Easier said than done. "I have to accelerate out of this."

"I'm with you. Go."

Obi-Wan eased power to his thrusters, and his starfighterparted the cloud, but new vapor boiled out to replace it as hewent. "Is that last one still on my nose? Arfour, can you do anything?" The only response he got came from Anakin. "That's a negative on Arfour. Buzz droid got him."

"It," Obi-Wan corrected automatically. "Wait—they attackedArfour?"

"Not just Arfour. One of them jumped over when we hit."

Blast,Obi-Wan thought. They are getting smarter.

Through a gap torn in the cloud by the curve of his cockpit,Obi-Wan could see R2-D2 grappling with a buzz droid hand-to-hand. Well: saw-arm-to-saw-arm. Even flying blind and nearlyout of control through the middle of a space battle, Obi-Wancould not avoid a second of disbelief at the bewildering variety of auxiliary tools and aftermarket behaviors Anakin had tinkered onto his starfighter's astromech, even beyond the sophisticatedupgrades performed by the Royal Engineers of Naboo. The little device was virtually a partner in its own right.

R2's saw cut through one of the buzz droid's grapplers,sending the jointed arm flipping lazily off into space. Then it didthe same to another. Then a panel opened in R2-D2's side andits datajack arm stabbed out and smacked the crippled buzzdroid right off Anakin's hull. The buzz droid spun aft until it wascaught in the blast wash of Anakin's sublights then blew away faster than even Obi-Wan's eye could follow. Obi-Wan reflected that the Separatist droids weren't the onlyones that were getting smarter. The datajack retracted and a different panel opened, thistime in R2-D2's dome. A claw-cable shot from it into the cloudof gas that still billowed from Obi-Wan's right forward wing, andpulled back out dragging a struggling buzz droid. The silverdroid twisted and squirmed and its grapplers took hold of thecable, climbing back along it, saw arms waving, until Anakinpopped the starfighter's underjets and R2 cut the cable and thebuzz droid dropped away, tumbling helplessly through the battle.

"You know," Obi-Wan said, "I begin to understand why youspeak of Artoo as though he's a living creature."

"Do you?"He could hear Anakin's smile. "Don't you mean, it?"

"Ah, yes." He frowned. "Yes, of course. It. Erm, thank it forme, will you?"

"Thank him yourself."

"Ah—yes. Thanks, Artoo."

The whistle that came back over the comm had a clear flavorof you're welcome. Then the last of the fog finally dispersed, and the sky aheadwas full of ship. More than one kilometer from end to end, the vast command cruiser filled his visual field. At this range, all he could seewere savannas of sand-colored hull studded with turbolasermountains that lit up space with thunderbolts of disintegratingenergy.

And that immense ship was getting bigger.

Fast.

"Anakin! We're going to collide!"

"That's the plan. Head for the hangar."

"That's not—"

"I know: first Jedi principle of—"

"No. It's not going to work. Not for me."

"What?"

"My controls are gone. I can't head for anything.''

"Oh. Well. All right, no problem."

"No problem?"

Then his starfighter clanged as if he'd crashed into a ship-sized gong.

Obi-Wan jerked and twisted his head around to find theother starfighter just above his tail. Literally just above: Anakin'sleft lead control surface was barely a hand span from Obi-Wan'ssublight thrusters. Anakin had hit him . On purpose.

Then he did it again.

CLANG

"What are you doing?"

"Just giving you..."Anakin's voice came slow, tight with concentration. "... a little help with your steering..."

Obi-Wan shook his head. This was completely impossible.No other pilot would even attempt it. But for Anakin Skywalkerthe completely impossible had an eerie way of being merely difficult. He reflected that he should be used to it by now.

While these thoughts chased each other aimlessly through hismind, he had been staring bleakly at a blue shimmer of energyfilling the yawning hangar bay ahead. Belatedly, he registered what he was looking at. He thought, Oh, this is bad.

"Anakin—" Obi-Wan began. He tried rerouting controlpaths through his yoke. No luck. Anakin drew up and tipped his forward surfaces down be-hind the sparking scrap that used to be Arfour.

"Anakin—!"

"Give me... just a second, Master."Anakin's voice had goneeven tighter. A muffled thump, then another. Louder. And ascrape and a squeal of ripping metal. "This isn't quite... as easy as it looks..."

"Anakin!"

"What?"

"The hangar bay—"

"What about it?"

"Have you noticed that the shield's still up?"

"Really?"

"Really." Not to mention so close that Obi-Wan could prac-tically taste it—

"Oh. Sorry. I've been busy."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

Reaching into the Force, his mind followed the starfighter'smangled circuitry to locate and activate the sublight engines'manual test board. With a slight push, he triggered a commandnormally used only in bench tests: full reverse.

The cometary tail of glowing debris shed by his disintegrating starfighter shot past him and evaporated in a cascade of miniature starbursts on contact with the hangar shield. Whichwas exactly what was about to happen to him.

The only effect of full reverse from his failing engines was togive him more time to see it coming. Then Anakin's starfighter swooped in front of him, crossingleft to right at a steep deflection. Energy flared from his cannons,and the shield emitters at the right side of the hangar door exploded into scrap. The blue shimmer of the bay shield flickered, faded, and vanished just as Obi-Wan came spinning across thethreshold and slammed along the deck, trailing sparks and ascream of tortured metal. His entire starfighter—what was left of it—vibrated with theroar of atmosphere howling out from the unshielded bay. Massiveblast doors ground together like jaws. Another Force-touch on the manual test board cut power to his engines, but he couldn'ttrigger the explosive bolts on his cockpit canopy, and he had abad feeling that those canopy bolts were the only thing on hiscraft that weren't about to explode. His lightsaber found his hand and blue energy flared. Oneswipe and the canopy burst away, ripped into space by the hurricane of escaping air. Obi-Wan flipped himself up into the stunningly cold gale and let it blow him tumbling away as theremnants of his battered craft finally exploded. He rode the shock wave while he let the Force right him in the air. He landed catfooted on the blackened streak—still hotenough to scorch his boots—that his landing had gouged into the deck. The hangar was full of battle droids.

His shoulders dropped and his knees bent and his lightsabercame up to angle in front of his face. There were far too many forhim to fight alone, but he didn't mind.

At least he was out of that blasted starfighter.

Anakin slipped his craft toward the hangar through a fountain of junk and flash-frozen gas. One last touch of the yoketwisted his starfighter through the closing teeth of the blastdoors just as Obi-Wan's canopy went the other way.

Obi-Wan's ship was a hunk of glowing scrap punctuating along smoking skid mark. Obi-Wan himself, beard rimed with frost, lightsaber out and flaming, stood in a tightening ring ofbattle droids. Anakin slewed his starfighter into a landing that scattered droids with the particle blast from his sublight thrusters and forone second he was nine years old again, behind the controls of astarfighter in the Theed royal hangar, his first touch of a realship's real cannons blasting battle droids—He'd have done the same right here, except that Palpatinewas somewhere on this ship. They just might need one of the light shuttles in this hangar to get the Chancellor safely to thesurface; a few dozen cannon blasts bouncing around in herecould wreck them all.

This he'd have to do by hand.

One touch blew his canopy and he sprang from the cockpit,flipping upward to stand on the wing. Battle droids opened fireinstantly, and Anakin's lightsaber flashed. "Artoo, locate a computer link." The little droid whistled at him, and Anakin allowed himselfa tight smile. Sometimes he thought he could almost understandthe droid's electrosonic code. "Don't worry about us. Find Palpatine. Go on, I'll cover you."

R2 popped out of its socket and bounced to the deck. Anakin jumped ahead of it into a cascade of blasterfire and let the Forcedirect his blade. Battle droids began to spark and collapse.

"Get to that link!" Anakin had to shout above the whine of blasters and the roar of exploding droids. "I'm going for Obi-Wan!"

"No need."

Anakin whirled to find Obi-Wan right behind him in the actof slicing neatly through the braincase of a battle droid.

"I appreciate the thought, Anakin," the Jedi Master said witha gentle smile. "But I've already come for you."

This, then, is Obi-Wan and Anakin:

They are closer than friends. Closer than brothers. ThoughObi-Wan is sixteen standard years Anakin's elder, they have become men together. Neither can imagine life without the other.The war has forged their two lives into one.

The war that has done this is not the Clone Wars; Obi-Wanand Anakin's war began on Naboo, when Qui-Gon Jinn died atthe hand of a Sith Lord. Master and Padawan and Jedi Knightstogether, they have fought this war for thirteen years. Their waris their life.

And their life is a weapon.

Say what you will about the wisdom of ancient Master Yoda,or the deadly skill of grim Mace Windu, the courage of Ki-Adi-Mundi, or the subtle wiles of Shaak Ti; the greatness of all theseJedi is unquestioned, but it pales next to the legend that hasgrown around Kenobi and Skywalker. They stand alone.

Together, they are unstoppable. Unbeatable. They are theultimate go-to guys of the Jedi Order. When the Good Guys absolutely, positively have to win, the call goes out. Obi-Wan and Anakin always answer.

Whether Obi-Wan's legendary cleverness might beat Anakin'sraw power, straight up, no rules, is the subject of schoolyard fist-fights, creche-pool wriggle-matches, and pod-chamber stinkwarsacross the Republic. These struggles always end, somehow, withthe combatants on both sides admitting that it doesn't matter.

Anakin and Obi-Wan would never fight each other.

They couldn't.

They're a team. They're the team.

And both of them are sure they always will be.

=2=

DOOKU

The storm of blasterfire ricocheting through the hangar baysuddenly ceased. Clusters of battle droids withdrew behind ships and slipped out hatchways.

Obi-Wan's familiar grimace showed past his blade as he let itshrink away. "I hate it when they do that." Anakin's lightsaber was already back on his belt. "When they do what?"

"Disengage and fall back for no reason."

"There's always a reason, Master."

Obi-Wan nodded. "That's why I hate it."

Anakin looked at the litter of smoking droid parts scatteredthroughout the hangar bay, shrugged, and snugged his blackglove. "Artoo, where's the Chancellor?"

The little droid's datajack rotated in the wall socket. Its holo-projectoreye swiveled and the blue scanning laser built a ghostly image near Anakin's boot: Palpatine shackled into a large swivelchair. Even in the tiny translucent blur, he looked exhausted andin pain—but alive.

Anakin's heart thumped once, painfully, against his ribs. Hewasn't too late. Not this time. He dropped to one knee and squinted at the image. Palpatinelooked as if he'd aged ten years since Anakin had last seen him. Muscle bulged along the young Jedi's jaw. If Grievous hadhurt the Chancellor—had so much as touched him—

The hand of jointed durasteel inside his black glove clenchedso hard that electronic feedback made his shoulder ache.

Obi-Wan spoke from over that shoulder. "Do you have a location?" The image rippled and twisted into a schematic map of the cruiser. Far up at the top of the conning spire R2 showed a pulsar of brighter blue.

"In the General's Quarters." Obi-Wan scowled. "Any sign ofGrievous himself?" The pulsar shifted to the cruiser's bridge.

"Hmm. And guards?"

The holoimage rippled again, and transformed into an imageof the cruiser's General's Quarters once more. Palpatine appeared to be alone: the chair sat in the center of an arc of emptyfloor, facing a huge curved viewing wall.

Anakin muttered, "That doesn't make sense.''''

"Of course it does. It's a trap."

Anakin barely heard him. He stared down at his black-glovedfist. He opened his fist, closed it, opened it again. The ache fromhis shoulder flowed down to the middle of his bicep—

And didn't stop.

His elbow sizzled, and his forearm; his wrist had been packedwith red-hot gravel, and his hand—

His hand was on fire.

But it wasn't his hand. Or his wrist, or his forearm, or hiselbow. It was a creation of jointed durasteel and electrodrivers."Anakin?"

Anakin's lips drew back from his teeth. "It hurts."

"What, your replacement arm? When did you have itequipped with pain sensors?"

"I didn't. That's the point."

"The pain is in your mind, Anakin—"

"No." Anakin's heart froze over. His voice went cold asspace. "I can feel him."

"Him?"

"Dooku. He's here. Here on this ship."

"Ah." Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm sure he is."

"You knew?"

"I guessed. Do you think Grievous couldn't have found Palpatine's beacon? It can hardly be accident that through all theECM, the Chancellor's homing signal was in the clear. This is atrap. A Jedi trap." Obi-Wan laid a warm hand upon Anakin'sshoulder, and his face was as grim as Anakin had ever seen it.

"Possibly a trap set for us. Personally."

Anakin's jaw tightened. "You're thinking of how he tried torecruit you on Geonosis. Before he sent you down for execution."

"It's not impossible that we will again face that choice."

"It's not a choice." Anakin rose. His durasteel hand clenchedand stayed that way, a centimeter from his lightsaber. "Let himask. My answer is right here on my belt."

"Be mindful, Anakin. The Chancellor's safety is our only priority."

"Yes—yes, of course." The ice in Anakin's chest thawed. "Allright, it's a trap. Next move?" Obi-Wan allowed himself a bit of a smile of his own as heheaded for the nearest exit from the hangar bay. "Same as always,my young friend: we spring it."

"I can work with this plan." Anakin turned to his astromech.

"You stay here, Artoo—"

The little droid interrupted him with a wheedling whirr.

"No arguments. Stay. I mean it."

R2-D2's whistling reply had a distinctly sulky tone.

"Listen, Artoo, someone has to maintain computer contact;do you see a datajack anywhere on me?" The droid seemed to acquiesce, but not before wheepingwhat sounded like it might have been a suggestion where tolook.

Waiting by the open hatchway, Obi-Wan shook his head."Honestly, the way you talk to that thing." Anakin started toward him. "Careful, Master, you'll hurt hisfeelings—" He stopped in his tracks, a curious look on his face asif he was trying to frown and to smile at the same time.

"Anakin?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He was looking at animage inside his head. Not an image. A reality.

A memory of something that hadn't happened yet.

He saw Count Dooku on his knees. He saw lightsaberscrossed at the Count's throat. Clouds lifted from his heart: clouds of Jabiim, of Aargonar, of Kamino, of even the Tusken camp. For the first time in toomany years he felt young: as young as he really was.

Young, and free, and full of light.

"Master..."His voice seemed to be coming from someoneelse. Someone who hadn't seen what he'd seen. Hadn't donewhat he'd done. "Master, right here—right now—you and I..."

"Yes?"

He blinked. "I think we're about to win the war."

The vast semisphere of the view wall bloomed with battle.Sophisticated sensor algorithms compressed the combat thatsprawled throughout the galactic capital's orbit to a view thenaked eye could enjoy: cruisers hundreds of kilometers apart, exchanging fire at near lightspeed, appeared to be practically hullto-hull, joined by pulsing cables of flame. Turbolaser blastsbecame swift shafts of light that shattered into prismatic splintersagainst shields, or bloomed into miniature supernovae that swallowed ships whole. The invisible gnat-clouds of starfighter dogfights became a gleaming dance of shadowmoths at the end of Coruscant's brief spring.

Within that immense curve of computer-filtered carnage, the only furnishing was one lone chair, centered in an expanse ofempty floor. This was called the General's Chair, just as thisapartment atop the flagship's conning spire was called the General's Quarters.

With his back to that chair and to the man shackled within it,hands folded behind him beneath his cloak of silken armor-weave, stood Count Dooku.

Stood Darth Tyranus, Lord of the Sith.

He looked upon his Master's handiwork, and it was good.

More than good. It was magnificent.

Even the occasional tremor of the deck beneath his boots, asthe entire ship shuddered under enemy torpedo and turbolaserblasts, felt to him like applause.

Behind him sounded the initiating hum of the intrashipholocomm, which crackled into a voice both electronic andoddly expressive: as though a man spoke through a droid's electrosonicvocabulator. "Lord Tyranus, Kenobi and Skywalker have arrived."

"Yes." Dooku had felt them both in the Force. "Drive them toward me."

"My lord, I must express once more my objections— "

Dooku turned. From his commanding height, he stareddown at the blue-scanned holoimage of Invisible Hand's commander. "Your objections have been noted already, General.Leave the Jedi to me."

"But driving them to you also sends them directly toward the Chancellor himself. Why does he remain on this ship at all? Heshould be hidden. He should be guarded. We should have had himoutsystemhours ago!"

"Matters are so," Count Dooku said, "because Lord Sidiouswishes them so; should you desire to press your objections,please feel at liberty to take them up with him."

"I, ah, don't believe that will be necessary..."

"Very well, then. Confine your efforts to preventing supporttroops from boarding. Without their pet clones to back them up,no Jedi is a danger to me."

The deck shuddered again, more sharply, followed by a sudden shift in the vector of the cruiser's artificial gravity that wouldhave sent a lesser man stumbling; with the Force to maintain the dignified solidity of his posture, the effect on Dooku was confined to the lift of one eyebrow. "And may I suggest that you devote some attention to protecting this ship? Having it destroyedwith both you and me aboard might put something of a cramp inthe war effort, don't you think?"

"It is already being done, my lord. Does my lord wish to observethe progress of the Jedi? I can feed the security monitors onto thischannel."

"Thank you, General. That will be welcome."

"Gracious as ever, my lord. Grievous out."

Count Dooku allowed himself a near-invisible smile. His inviolable courtesy—the hallmark of a true aristocrat—was effortless, yet somehow it seemed always to impress the commonrabble. As well as those with the intellect of common rabble, regardless of accomplishment or station: like, for example, that repulsive cyborg Grievous.

He sighed. Grievous had his uses; not only was he an ablefield commander, but he would soon make a marvelous scapegoat upon whom to hang every atrocity of this sadly necessarywar. Someone had to take that particular fall, and Grievous wasjust the creature for the job. It certainly would not be Dooku. This was, in fact, one purpose of the cataclysmic battle outside.

But not the only one.

The blue-scanned image before him now became miniaturesof Kenobi and Skywalker as he had seen them so many times before: shoulder-to-shoulder, lightsabers whirling as they enthusiastically dismantled droid after droid after droid. Feeling as ifthey were winning, while in truth they were being chivvied ex actly where the Lords of the Sith wanted them to go.

Such children they were. Dooku shook his head.

It was almost too easy.

This is Dooku, Darth Tyranus, Count of Serenno:

Once a great Jedi Master, now an even greater Lord of theSith, Dooku is a dark colossus bestriding the galaxy. Nemesis ofthe corrupt Republic, oriflamme of the principled Confederacyof Independent Systems, he is the very personification of shockand awe.

He was one of the most respected and powerful Jedi in theOrder's twenty-five-thousand-year history, yet at the age of seventy Dooku's principles would no longer allow him to serve aRepublic in which political power was for sale to the highest bidder. He'd said farewell to his former Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn,now a legendary Master in his own right; he'd said farewell to hisclose friends on the Jedi Council, Mace Windu and the ancientMaster Yoda; he'd said farewell to the Jedi Order itself. He is numbered among the Lost: the Jedi who renouncedtheir fealty to the Order and resigned their commissions of JediKnighthood in service of ideals higher than even the Order itselfprofessed. The Lost Twenty, as they have been known sinceDooku joined their number, are remembered with both honorand regret among the Jedi; their images, sculpted from bronzium, stand enshrined in the Temple archives. These bronzium images serve as melancholy reminders thatsome Jedi have needs the Order cannot satisfy.

Dooku had retired to his family estate, the planetary systemof Serenno. Assuming his hereditary title as its Count made him one of the wealthiest beings in the galaxy. Amid the unabashedcorruption endemic to the Republic, his immense wealth couldhave bought the allegiance of any given number of Senators; he could, perhaps, have bought control of the Republic itself.

But a man of such heritage, such principle, could never stoopto be lord of a garbage heap, chief of a horde of scavengerssquabbling over scraps; the Republic, to him, was nothing morethan this. Instead, he used all the great power of his family fortune—and the vastly greater power of his unquestioned integrity—tobegin the cleansing of the galaxy from the fester of this so-calleddemocracy. He is the icon of the Separatist movement, its public face. Heis to the Confederacy of Independent Systems what Palpatine is to the Republic: the living symbol of the justice of its cause. This is the public story.

This is the story that even Dooku, in his weaker moments, almost believes. The truth is more complicated.

Dooku is... different.

He doesn't remember quite when he discovered this; it mayhave been when he was a young Padawan, betrayed by another learner who had claimed to be his friend. Lorian Nod had said itto his face: "You don't know what friendship is."

And he didn't.

He had been angry, certainly; furious that his reputationhad been put at risk. And he had been angry at himself, for hiserror in judgment: trusting as an ally one who was in fact anenemy. The most astonishing part of the whole affair had beenthat even after turning on him before the Jedi, the other boy hadexpected him to participate in a lie, in the name of their "friendship."

It had been all so preposterous that he hadn't known how toreply-in fact, he has never been entirely sure what beings meanwhen they speak of friendship. Love, hate, joy, anger—evenwhen he can feel the energy of these emotions in others, theytranslate in his perception to other kinds of feelings. The kinds that make sense.

Jealousy he understands, and possessiveness: he is fierce when any being encroaches on what is rightfully his.Intolerance, at the intractability of the universe, and at theundisciplined lives of its inhabitants: this is his normal state.

Spite is a recreation: he takes considerable pleasure from thesuffering of his enemies. Pride is a virtue in an aristocrat, and indignation his inalienable right: when any dare to impugn his integrity, his honor, or his rightful place atop the natural hierarchy of authority. And moral outrage makes perfect sense to him: when the incorrigibly untidy affairs of ordinary beings refuse to conform tothe plainly obvious structure of How Society Ought To Be. He is entirely incapable of caring what any given creaturemight feel for him. He cares only what that creature might do forhim. Or to him.

Very possibly, he is what he is because other beings just aren'tvery... interesting. Or even, in a sense, entirely real.

For Dooku, other beings are mostly abstractions, simple schematic sketches who fall into two essential categories. Thefirst category is Assets: beings who can be used to serve his various interests. Such as—for most of his life, and to some extenteven now—the Jedi, particularly Mace Windu and Yoda, both ofwhom had regarded him as their friend for so long that it had effectively blinded them to the truth of his activities. And ofcourse—for now—the Trade Federation, and the InterGalacticBanking Clan, the Techno Union, the Corporate Alliance, andthe weapon lords of Geonosis. And even the common rabble ofthe galaxy, who exist largely to provide an audience of sufficientsize to do justice to his grandeur. The other category is Threats. In this second set, he numbersevery sentient being he cannot include in the first.

There is no third category.

Someday there may be not even a second; being considered a Threat by Count Dooku is a death sentence. A death sentence he plans to pronounce, for example, on his current allies: the heads of the aforementioned Trade Federation, InterGalactic Banking Clan, Techno Union, and Corporate Alliance, andGeonosian weaponeers.

Treachery is the way of the Sith.

Count Dooku watched with clinical distaste as the blue-scanned images of Kenobi and Skywalker engaged in a preposterous farce-chase, pursued by destroyer droids into and out of turboliftpods that shot upward and downward and even sideways.

"It will be," he said slowly, meditatively, as though he spokeonly to himself, "an embarrassment to be captured by him."

The voice that answered him was so familiar that sometimeshis very thoughts spoke in it, instead of in his own. "An embarrassment you can survive, Lord Tyranus. After all, he is the greatest Jedi alive, is he not? And have we not ensured that all thegalaxy shares this opinion?"

"Quite so, my Master. Quite so." Again, Dooku sighed.Today he felt every hour of his eighty-three years. "It is... fatiguing, to play the villain for so long, Master. I find myself looking forward to an honorable captivity."

A captivity that would allow him to sit out the rest of thewar in comfort; a captivity that would allow him to forswear his former allegiances—when he would conveniently appear to finally discover the true extent of the Separatists' crimes against civilization—and bind himself to the new government with his reputation for integrity and idealism fully intact.

The new government...

This had been their star of destiny for lo, these many years.

A government clean, pure, direct: none of the messy scramble for the favor of ignorant rabble and subhuman creatures that made up the Republic he so despised. The government he would serve would be Authority personified.

Humanauthority.

It was no accident that the primary powers of the Confederacy of Independent Systems were Neimoidian, Skakoan, Quarren and Aqualish, Muun and Gossam, Sy Myrthian and Koorivarand Geonosian. At war's end the aliens would be crushed,stripped of all they possessed, and their systems and their wealthwould be given into the hands of the only beings who could betrusted with them. Human beings.

Dooku would serve an Empire of Man.

And he would serve it as only he could. As he was born to.He would smash the Jedi Order to create it anew: not shackledby the corrupt, narcissistic, shabby little beings who called themselves politicians, but free to bring true authority and true peaceto a galaxy that so badly needed both. An Order that would not negotiate. Would not mediate.

An Order that would enforce.

The survivors of the Jedi Order would become the SithArmy.

The Fist of the Empire.

And that Fist would become a power beyond any Jedi's darkest dreams. The Jedi were not the only users of the Force in thegalaxy; from Hapes to Haruun Kal, from Kiffu to Dathomir, powerful Force-capable humans and near-humans had long re-fused to surrender their children to lifelong bound servitude inthe Jedi Order. They would not so refuse the Sith Army.

They would not have the choice.

Dooku frowned down at the holoimage. Kenobi and Skywalker were going through more low-comedy business with another balky turbolift—possibly Grievous having some fun withthe shaft controls—while battle droids haplessly pursued.

Really, it was all so...

Undignified.

"May I suggest, Master, that we give Kenobi one last chance?The support of a Jedi of his integrity would be invaluable in establishing the political legitimacy of our Empire."

"Ah, yes. Kenobi." His Master's voice went silken. "You havelong been interested in Kenobi, haven't you?"

"Of course. His Master was my Padawan; in a sense, he's practically my grandson—"

"He is too old. Too indoctrinated. Irretrievably poisoned byJedi fables. We established that on Geonosis, did we not? In his mind, he serves the Force itself; reality is nothing in the face ofsuch conviction."

Dooku sighed. He should, he supposed, have no difficultywith this, having ordered the Jedi Master's death once already."True enough, I suppose; how fortunate we are that I never labored under any such illusions."

"Kenobi must die. Today. At your hand. His death may bethe code key of the final lock that will seal Skywalker to us forever."

Dooku understood: not only would the death of his mentortip Skywalker's already unstable emotional balance down thedarkest of slopes, but it would also remove the greatest obstacleto Skywalker's successful conversion. As long as Kenobi wasalive, Skywalker would never be securely in the camp of the Sith;Kenobi's unshakable faith in the values of the Jedi would keepthe Jedi blindfold on Skywalker's eyes and the Jedi shackles onthe young man's true power.

Still, though, Dooku had some reservations. This had allcome about too quickly; had Sidious thought through all theimplications of this operation? "But I must ask, my Master: isSkywalker truly the man we want?"

"He is powerful. Potentially more powerful than even myself."

"Which is precisely," Dooku said meditatively, "why it mightbe best if I were to kill him, instead."

"Are you so certain that you can?"

"Please. Of what use is power unstructured by discipline?The boy is as much a danger to himself as he is to his enemies.And that mechanical arm—" Dooku's lip curled with cultivateddistaste. "Revolting."

"Then perhaps you should have spared his real arm."

"Hmp. A gentleman would have learned to fight one-handed." Dooku flicked a dismissive wave. "He's no longer evenentirely human. With Grievous, the use of these bio-droid devices is almost forgivable; he was such a disgusting creature already that his mechanical parts are clearly an improvement. But ablend of droid and human? Appalling. The depths of bad taste.How are we to justify associating with him?"

"How fortunate I am"—the silk in his Master's voice softened further—"to have an apprentice who feels it is appropriateto lecture me."

Dooku lifted an eyebrow. "I have overstepped, my Master," he said with his customary grace. "I am only observing, not arguing. Not at all."

"Skywalker's arm makes him, for our purposes, even better. It is the permanent symbol of the sacrifices he has made in the name of peace and justice. It is a badge of heroism that he mustpublicly wear for the rest of his life; no one can ever look at him and doubt his honor, his courage, his integrity. He is perfect, just as he is. Perfect. The only question that remains is whether he is capable of transcending the artificial limitations of his Jedi indoctrination. And that, my lord Count, is precisely what today's operation is designed to discover."

Dooku could not argue. Not only had the Dark Lord introduced Dooku to realms of power beyond his most spectacularfantasies, but Sidious was also a political manipulator so subtle that his abilities might be considered to dwarf even the power of the dark side itself. It was said that whenever the Force closes a hatch, it opens a viewport... and every viewport that had somuch as cracked in this past thirteen standard years had found a Dark Lord of the Sith already at the rim, peering in, calculatinghow best to slip through.

Improving upon his Master's plan was near to impossible; hisown idea, of substituting Kenobi for Skywalker, he had to admitwas only the product of a certain misplaced sentimentality. Skywalker was almost certainly the man for the job.

He should be; Darth Sidious had spent a considerable numberof years making him so. Today's test would remove the almost.

He had no doubt that Skywalker would fall. Dooku understood that this was more than a test for Skywalker; though Sidious had never said so directly, Dooku was certain that he himselfwas being tested as well. Success today would show his Master that he was worthy of the mantle of Mastery himself: by the endof the coming battle, he would have initiated Skywalker into themanifold glories of the dark side, just as Sidious had initiated him.

He gave no thought to failure. Why should he?

"But—forgive me, Master. But Kenobi having fallen to myblade, are you certain Skywalker will ever accept my orders? Youmust admit that his biography offers little confidence that he is capable of obedience at all."

"Skywalker's power brings with it more than mere obedience.It brings creativity, and luck; we need never concern ourselves with the sort of instruction that Grievous, for example, requires. Even the blind fools on the Jedi Council see clearly enough to understand this; even they no longer try to tell him how, they merely tell him what. And he finds a way. He always has." Dooku nodded. For the first time since Sidious had revealed the true subtlety of this masterpiece, Dooku allowed himself to relax enough to imagine the outcome.

With his heroic capture of Count Dooku, Anakin Skywalker will become the ultimate hero: the greatest hero in the history ofhe Republic, perhaps of the Jedi Order itself. The loss of hisbeloved partner will add just exactly the correct spice of tragedy to give melancholy weight to his every word, when he gives his HoloNet interviews denouncing the Senate's corruption as impeding the war effort, when he delicately—oh, so delicately, notto mention reluctantly —insinuates that corruption in the JediOrder prolonged the war as well.

When he announces the creation of a new order of Force-using warriors.

He will be the perfect commanding general for the SithArmy.

Dooku could only shake his head in awe. And to think that only days earlier, the Jedi had seemed so close to uncovering,even destroying, all he and his Master had worked for. But heshould never have feared. His Master never lost. He would neverlose. He was the definition of unbeatable. How can one defeat an enemy one thinks is a friend?

And now, with a single brilliant stroke, his Master would turnthe Jedi Order back upon itself like an Ethrani ourobouros devouring its own tail.

This was the day. The hour.

The death of Obi-Wan Kenobi would be the death of the Republic.

Today would see the birth of the Empire.

"Tyranus? Are you well?"

"Am I..."Dooku realized that his eyes had misted. "Yes, myMaster. I am beyond well. Today, the climax—the grand finalethe culmination of all your decades of work... I find myselfsomewhat overcome."

"Compose yourself, Tyranus. Kenobi and Skywalker arenearly at the door. Play your part, my apprentice, and the galaxyis ours."

Dooku straightened and for the first time looked his Masterin the eyes.

Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, sat in the General'sChair, shackled to it at the wrist and ankle. Dooku bowed to him. "Thank you, Chancellor."

Palpatine of Naboo, Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, replied, "Withdraw. They are here."

=3=

THE WAY OF THE SITH

The turbolift's door whished open. Anakin pressed himselfagainst the wall, a litter of saber-sliced droid parts around hisfeet. Beyond appeared to be a perfectly ordinary lift lobby: pale and bare and empty. Made it. At last.

Anakin's whole body hummed to the tune of his blue-hotblade.

"Anakin."

Obi-Wan stood against the opposite wall. He looked calm ina way Anakin could barely understand. He gave a significant staredown at the lightsaber in Anakin's hand. "Anakin, rescue," hesaid softly. "Not mayhem."

Anakin kept his weapon right where it was. "And Dooku?"

"Once the Chancellor is safe," Obi-Wan said with a ghost ofa smile, "we can blow up the ship." Anakin's mechanical fingers tightened until the grip of hislightsaber creaked. "I'd rather do it by hand." Obi-Wan slipped cautiously through the turbolift's door.Nothing shot at him. He beckoned. "I know this is difficult,Anakin. I know it's personal for you on many levels. You musttake extra care to be mindful of your training here—and not onlyyour combat training."

Heat rose in Anakin's cheeks. "I am not —" your Padawan anymoresnarled inside his head, but that was adrenaline talking;he bit back the words and said instead, "—going to let youdown, Master. Or Chancellor Palpatine."

"I have no doubt of that. Just remember that Dooku is no mere Dark Jedi like that Ventress woman; he is a Lord of theSith. The jaws of this trap are about to snap shut, and there maybe danger here beyond the merely physical."

"Yes." Anakin let his blade shrink away and moved past Obi-Wan into the turbolift lobby. Distant concussions boomedthroughout the ship, and the floor rocked like a raft on a river inflood; he barely noticed. "I just—there has been so much—whathe's done —not just to the Jedi, but to the galaxy —"

"Anakin...," Obi-Wan began warningly.

"Don't worry. I'm not angry, and I'm not looking for revenge. I'm just—" He lifted his lightsaber. "I'm just looking forward to ending it."

"Anticipation—"

"Is distraction. I know. And I know that hope is as hollow asfear." Anakin let himself smile, just a bit.

"And I know everything else you're dying to tell me right now."

Obi-Wan's slightly rueful bow of acknowledgment was as affectionate as a hug. "I suppose at some point I will eventually have to stop trying to train you."

Anakin's smile broadened toward a soft chuckle. "I thinkthat's the first time you've ever admitted it." They stopped at the the door to the General's Quarters: ahuge oval of opalescent iridiite chased with gold. Anakin stared at his ghostly almost-reflection while he reached into the roombeyond with the Force, and let the Force reach into him. "I'mready, Master."

"I know you are."

They stood a moment, side by side.

Anakin didn't look at him; he stared into the door, throughhe door, searching in its shimmering depths for a hint of an unguessable future.

He couldn't imagine not being at war.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice had gone soft, and his hand was warm on Anakin's arm. "There is no other Jedi I would ratherhave at my side right now. No other man."

Anakin turned, and found within Obi-Wan's eyes a depth offeeling he had only rarely glimpsed in all their years together; andthe pure uncomplicated love that rose up within him then feltlike a promise from the Force itself.

"I... wouldn't have it any other way, Master."

"I believe," his onetime Master said with a gently humorouslook of astonishment at the words coming out of his mouth, "that you should get used to calling me Obi-Wan."

"Obi-Wan," Anakin said, "let's go get the Chancellor."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "Let's."

Inside a turbolift pod, Dooku watched hologrammic imagesof Kenobi and Skywalker cautiously pick their way down thecurving stairs from the entrance balcony to the main level ofthe General's Quarters, moving slowly to stay braced against thepitching of the cruiser. The ship shuddered and bucked with m ultiple torpedo bursts, and the lights went out again; lighting

always the first to fail as power was diverted from life supportto damage control.

"My lord."On the intraship comm, Grievous sounded activelyconcerned. "Damage to this ship is becoming severe. Thirty percent of automated weapons systems are down, and we may soon lose hyperspace capability."

Dooku nodded judiciously to himself, frowning down at the translucent blue ghosts slinking toward Palpatine. "Sound theretreat for the entire strike force, General, and prepare the ship for jump. Once the Jedi are dead, I will join you on the bridge."

"As my lord commands. Grievous out."

"Indeed you are, you vile creature," Dooku muttered to thedead comlink. "Out of luck, and out of time." He cast the comlink aside and ignored its clatter across thedeck. He had no further use for it. Let it be destroyed along with Grievous, those repulsive bodyguards of his, and the rest of thecruiser, once he was safely captured and away.

He nodded to the two hulking super battle droids that flanked him. One opened the lift door and they marchedthrough, pivoting to take positions on either side.

Dooku straightened his cloak of shimmering armorweaveand strode grandly into the half-dark lift lobby. In the pale emergency lighting, the door to the General's Quarters still smoldered where those two idiotic peasants had lightsabered it; topick his way through the hole would risk getting his trousersscorched. Dooku sighed and gestured, and the opalescent wreckage of the door silently slid itself out of his way. He certainly did not intend to fight two Jedi with his pantson fire.

Anakin slid along the bank of chairs on one side of the immense situation table that dominated the center of the General'sQuarters' main room; Obi-Wan mirrored him on the oppositeside. Silent lightning flashed and flared: the room's sole illumination came from the huge curving view wall at its far end, a storm of turbolaser blasts and flak bursts and the miniature supernovaethat were the deaths of entire ships. A stark shadow against that backdrop of carnage: the silhouette of one tall chair. Anakin caught Obi-Wan's eye across the table and noddedtoward the dark shape ahead. Obi-Wan replied with the Jedihand signal for approach with caution, and added the signal for be ready for action. Anakin's mouth compressed. Like he needed to be told.After all the trouble they'd had with the turbolifts, anythingcould be up here by now. The place could be full of droidekas,for all they knew. The lights came back on.

Anakin froze.

The dark figure in the chair—it was Chancellor Palpatine, itwas, and there were no droids to be seen, and his heart shouldhave leapt within his chest, but—Palpatine looked bad. The Chancellor looked beyond old, looked ancient like Yodawas ancient: possessed of incomprehensible age. And exhausted,and in pain. And worse—Anakin saw in the Chancellor's face something he'd never dreamed he'd find there, and it squeezed breath from his lungsand wiped words from his brain.

Palpatine looked frightened.

Anakin didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine whatto say. All he could imagine was what Grievous and Dooku musthave done to put fear on the face of this brave good man—and that imagining ignited a sizzle in his blood that drew hisface tight and clouded his heart and started again the low roll of thunder in his ears: thunder from Aargonar. From Jabiim.Thunder from the Tusken camp. If Obi-Wan was struck by any similar distress, it was invisible.With his customary grave courtesy, the Jedi Master inclined hishead. "Chancellor," he said, a calmly respectful greeting asthough they had met by chance on the Grand Concourse of the Galactic Senate.

Palpatine's only response was a tight murmur. "Anakin, behind you—!" Anakin didn't turn. He didn't have to. It wasn't just the clackof boot heels and clank of magnapeds crossing the threshold ofthe entrance balcony; the Force gathered within him and around him in a sudden clench like the fists of a startled man.

In the Force, he could feel the focus of Palpatine's eyes: thesource of the fear that rolled off him in billows like vapor down ablock of frozen air. And he could feel the even colder wave ofpower, colder than the frost on a mynock's mouth, that slid into the room behind him like an ice dagger into his back. Funny,he thought. After Ventress, somehow I always expect the dark side to be hot... Something unlocked in his chest. The thunder in his ears dissolved into red smoke that coiled at the base of his spine. His lightsaber found his hand, and his lips peeled off his teeth in asmile that a krayt dragon would have recognized.

That trouble he was having with talking went away.

"This," he murmured to Palpatine, and to himself, "is not aproblem." The voice that spoke from the entrance balcony was an elegant basso with undernotes of oily resonance like a kriin-oak cavernhorn.

Count Dooku's voice.

"General Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker. Gentlemen—a term Iuse in its loosest possible sense—you are my prisoners."

Now Anakin didn't have any troubles at all.

The entrance balcony provided an appropriate angle—far above the Jedi, looking down upon them—for Dooku to makefinal assessments before beginning the farce.

Like all true farce, the coming denouement would proceedwith remorseless logic from its ridiculous premise: that Dookucould ever be overcome by mere Jedi. Any Jedi. What a pity hisold friend Mace couldn't have joined them today; he had nodoubt the Korun Master would have enjoyed the coming show.

Dooku had always preferred an educated audience.

At least Palpatine was here, shackled within the great chair atthe far end of the room, the space battle whirling upon the viewwall behind him as though his stark silhouette spread great wingsof war. But Palpatine was less audience than he was author.

Not at all the same thing.

Skywalker gave Dooku only his back, but his blade was alreadyout and his tall, lean frame stood frozen with anticipation:so motionless he almost seemed to shiver. Pathetic. It was an insult to call this boy a Jedi at all.

Kenobi, now—he was something else entirely: a classic ofhis obsolete kind. He simply stood gazing calmly up at Dookuand the super battle droids that flanked him, hands open, utterlyrelaxed, on his face only an expression of mild interest.

Dooku derived a certain melancholy satisfaction—a pleasurablylonely contemplation of his own unrecognized greatness— from a brief reflection that Skywalker would never understand how much thought and planning, how much work, Lord Sidious had invested in so hastily orchestrating his sham victory. Norwould he ever understand the artistry, the true mastery, thatDooku would wield in his own defeat.

But thus was life. Sacrifices must be made, for the greatergood.

There was a war on, after all.

He called upon the Force, gathering it to himself and wrapping himself within it. He breathed it in and held it whirling inside his heart, clenching down upon it until he could feel the spin of the galaxy around him.

Until he became the axis of the Universe. This was the real power of the dark side, the power he had suspected even as a boy, had sought through his long life untilDarth Sidious had shown him that it had been his all along. Thedark side didn't bring him to the center of the universe. It made him the center. He drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will. Now the scene below subtly altered, though to the physicaleye there was no change. Powered by the dark side, Dooku's perception took the measure of those below him with exhilaratingprecision. Kenobi was luminous, a transparent being, a window onto asunlit meadow of the Force. Skywalker was a storm cloud, flickering with dangerous lightning, building the rotation that threatens a tornado.

And then there was Palpatine, of course: he was beyondpower. He showed nothing of what might be within. Thoughseen with the eyes of the dark side itself, Palpatine was an event horizon. Beneath his entirely ordinary surface was absolute, perfect nothingness. Darkness beyond darkness. A black hole of the Force.

And he played his helpless-hostage role perfectly.

"Get help!" The edge of panic in his hoarse half whispersounded real even to Dooku. "You must get help. Neither of youis any match for a Sith Lord!"

Now Skywalker turned, meeting Dooku's direct gaze for thefirst time since the abandoned hangar on Geonosis. His reply was clearly intended as much for Dooku as for Palpatine. "Tell that tothe one Obi-Wan left in pieces on Naboo."

Hmp. Empty bravado. Maul had been an animal. A skilledanimal, but a beast nonetheless.

"Anakin—" In the Force, Dooku could feel Kenobi's disapproval of Skywalker's boasting; and he could also feel Kenobi'seffortless self-restraint in focusing on the matter at hand. "Thistime, we do it together." Dooku's sharp eye picked up the tightening of Skywalker's droid hand on his lightsaber's grip. "I was about to say exactlythat."

Fine, then. Time to move this little comedy along.

Dooku leaned forward, and his cloak of armorweave spreadlike wings; he lifted gently into the air and descended to the main level in a slow, dignified Force-glide. Touching down at the head of the situation table, he regarded the two Jedi from under alifted brow.

"Your weapons, please, gentlemen. Let's not make a mess of this in front of the Chancellor." Obi-Wan lifted his lightsaber into the balanced two-handedguard of Ataro: Qui-Gon's style, and Yoda's. His blade crackledinto existence, and the air smelled of lightning. "You won't escape us this time, Dooku."

"Escape you? Please." Dooku allowed his customary mild smile to spread. "Do you think I orchestrated this entire operation with the intent to escape? I could have taken the Chancelloroutsystem hours ago. But I have better things to do with my life than to babysit him while I wait for the pair of you to attempt a rescue."

Skywalker brought his lightsaber to a Shien ready: hand ofblack-gloved durasteel cocked high at his shoulder, blade anglingupward and away. "This is a little more than an attempt."

"And a little less than a rescue."

With a flourish, Dooku cast his cloak back from his right shoulder, clearing his sword arm—which he used to gesture idlyat the pair of super battle droids still on the entrance balconyabove. "Now please, gentlemen. Must I order the droids to openfire? That becomes so untidy, what with blaster bolts bounc ing about at random. Little danger to the three of us, of course,but I should certainly hate for any harm to come to the Chancellor."

Kenobi moved toward him with a slow, hypnotic grace, asthough he floated on an invisible repulsor plate. "Why do I findthat difficult to believe?"

Skywalker mirrored him, swinging wide toward Dooku'sflank. "You weren't so particular about bloodshed on Geonosis."

"Ah." Dooku's smile spread even farther. "And how is Senator Amidala?"

"Don't—" The thunderstorm that was Skywalker in theForce boiled with sudden power. "Don't even speak her name."

Dooku waved this aside. The lad's personal issues were tootiresome to pursue; he knew far too much already about Skywalker'smessy private life. "I bear Chancellor Palpatine no illwill, foolish boy. He is neither soldier nor spy, whereas you andyour friend here are both. It is only an unfortunate accident of history that he has chosen to defend a corrupt Republic againstmy endeavor to reform it."

"You mean destroy it.""

"The Chancellor is a civilian. You and General Kenobi, on the other hand, are legitimate military targets. It is up to youwhether you will accompany me as captives—" A twitch of the Force brought his lightsaber to his hand with invisible speed, itsbrilliant scarlet blade angled downward at his side. "—or ascorpses.''

"Now, there's a coincidence," Kenobi replied dryly as heswung around Dooku to place the Count precisely between Skywalker and himself. "You face the identical choice." Dooku regarded each of them in turn with impregnablecalm. He lifted his blade in the Makashi salute and swept it againto a low guard. "Just because there are two of you, do not presume you have the advantage."

"Oh, we know," Skywalker said. "Because there are two ofyou." Dooku barely managed to restrain a jolt of surprise.

"Or maybe I should say, were two of you," the young Jediwent on. "We're on to your partner Sidious; we tracked him allover the galaxy. He's probably in Jedi custody right now."

"Is he?" Dooku relaxed. He was terribly, terribly tempted towink at Palpatine, but of course that would never do. "How fortunate for you."

Quite simple, in the end,he thought. Isolate Skywalker, slaughter Kenobi.Beyond that, it would be merely a matter ofspinning Skywalker up into enough of a frenzy to break throughhis Jedi restraint and reveal the infinite vista of Sith power.

Lord Sidious would take it from there.

"Surrender." Kenobi's voice deepened into finality. "You willbe given no further chance." Dooku lifted an eyebrow. "Unless one of you happens to be carrying Yoda in his pocket, I hardly think I shall need one."

The Force crackled between them, and the ship pitched and bucked under a new turbolaser barrage, and Dooku decided thatthe time had come. He flicked a false glance over his shoulder—a hint of distraction to draw the attack—and all three of them moved at once.

The ship shuddered and the red smoke surged from Anakin's spine into his arms and legs and head and when Dooku gave the slightest glance of concern over his shoulder, distracted for half an instant, Anakin just couldn't wait anymore.

He sprang, lightsaber angled for the kill.

Obi-Wan leapt from Dooku's far side in perfectcoordination—and they met in midair, for the Sith Lord was nolonger between them.

Anakin looked up just in time to glimpse the bottom ofDooku's rancor-leather boot as it came down on his face andsmacked him tumbling toward the floor; he reached into theForce to effortlessly right himself and touched down in perfectbalance to spring again toward the lightning flares, scarlet against sky blue, that sprayed from clashing lightsabers as Dooku pressedObi-Wan away with a succession of weaving, flourishing thruststhat drove the Jedi's blade out of line while they reached for hisheart. Anakin launched himself at Dooku's back—and the Counthalf turned, gesturing casually while holding Obi-Wan at baywith an elegant one-handed bind. Chairs leapt up from the situation table and whirled toward Anakin's head. He slashed the firstone in half contemptuously, but the second caught him across the knees and the third battered his shoulder and knocked himdown.

He snarled to himself and reached through the Force to pickup some chairs of his own—and the situation table itself slammedinto him and drove him back to crush him against the wall. Hislightsaber came loose from his slackening fingers and clatteredacross the tabletop to drop to the floor on the far side.

And Dooku barely even seemed to be paying attention tohim.

Pinned, breathless, half stunned, Anakin thought, If this keeps up, I am going to get mad. While effortlessly deflecting a rain of blue-streaking cutsfrom Kenobi, Dooku felt the Force shove the situation tableaway from the wall and send it hurtling toward his back with astonishing speed; he barely managed to lift himself enough thathe could backroll over it instead of having it shatter his spine.

"My my," he said, chuckling. "The boy has some power afterall." His backroll brought him to his feet directly in front of thelad, who was charging, headlong and unarmed, after the table hehad tossed, and was already thoroughly red in the face.

"I'm twice the Jedi I was last time!"

Ah,Dooku thought. Such a fragile little ego. Sidious will have to help him with that. But until then—

The grip of Skywalker's blade whistled through the air tomeet his hand in perfect synchrony with a sweeping slash. "My powers have doubled since we last met—"

"How lovely for you." Dooku neatly sidestepped, cutting atthe boy's leg, yet Skywalker's blade met the cut as he passed andhe managed to sweep his blade behind his head to slap aside thecasual thrust Dooku aimed at the back of his neck—but hisclumsy charge had put him in Kenobi's path, so that the Jedi Master had to Force-roll over his partner's head.

Directly at Dooku's upraised blade.

Kenobi drove a slash at the scarlet blade while he pivoted inthe air, and again Dooku sidestepped so that now it was Kenobiin Skywalker's way.

"Really," Dooku said, "this is pathetic."

Oh, they were certainly energetic enough, leaping andwhirling, raining blows almost at random, cutting chairs topieces and Force-hurling them in every conceivable direction,while Dooku continued, in his gracefully methodical way, to out-maneuver them so thoroughly it was all he could to do keep from laughing out loud.

It was a simple matter of countering their tactics, which weredepressingly straightforward; Skywalker was the swift one, whooshing here and there like a spastic hawk-bat—attempting aJedi variant of neek-in-the-middle so they could come at himfrom both sides—while Kenobi came on in a measured Shii-Cho cadence, deliberate as a lumberdroid, moving step by step, cutting off the angles, clumsy but relentlessly dogged as he tried to chivvy Dooku into a corner.

Whereas all Dooku need do was to slip from one side toanother—and occasionally flip over a head here and there—so thathe could fight each of them in turn, rather than both of them atthe same time. He supposed that in their own milieu, they might actually prove reasonably effective; it was clear that their style hadbeen developed by fighting as a team against large numbers ofopponents. They were not prepared to fight together against asingle Force-user, certainly not one of Dooku's power; he, onthe other hand, had always fought alone. It was laughably easy tokeep the Jedi tripping and stumbling and getting in each other'sway.

They didn't even comprehend how utterly he dominated thecombat. Because they fought as they had been trained, by releasing all desire and allowing the Force to flow through them, theyhad no hope of countering Dooku's mastery of Sith techniquesThey had learned nothing since he had bested them on Geonosis.

They allowed the Force to direct them; Dooku directed theForce.

He drew their strikes to his parries, and drove his own ripostes with thrusts of dark power that subtly altered the Jedi's balance and disrupted their timing. He could have slaughteredboth of them as casually as that creature Maul had destroyed thevigos of the Black Sun.

However, only one death was in his plan, and this dumb-show was becoming tiresome. Not to mention tiring. The darkpower that served him went only so far, and he was, after all, nota young man. He leaned into a thrust at Kenobi's gut that the Jedi Masterdeflected with a rising parry, bringing them chest-to-chest,blades flaring, locked together a handbreadth from each other'sthroats. "Your moves are too slow, Kenobi. Too predictable. You'll have to do better."

Kenobi's response to this friendly word was to regard himwith a twinkle of gentle amusement in his eye.

"Very well, then," the Jedi said, and shot straight upwardover Dooku's head so fast it seemed he'd vanished.

And in the space where Kenobi's chest had been was nowonly the blue lightning of Skywalker's blade driving straight forDooku's heart.

Only a desperate whirl to one side made what would havebeen a smoking hole in his chest into a line of scorch through hisarmorweave cloak.

Dooku thought, What?

He threw himself spinning up and away from the two Jedi to land on the situation table, disengaging for a moment to recoverhis composure—that had been entirely too close—but by thetime his boots touched down Kenobi was there to meet him,blade weaving through a defensive velocity so bewilderingly fastthat Dooku dared not even try a strike; he threw a feint toward Kenobi's face, then dropped and spun in a reverse ankle-sweep—but not only did Kenobi easily overleap this attack, Dooku nearly lost his own foot to a slash from Skywalker who had again come out of nowhere and now carved through the table so that it collapsed under Dooku's weight and dumped the Sith Lord unceremoniously to the floor.This was not in the plan.Skywalker slammed his following strike down so hard thatthe shock of deflecting it buckled Dooku's elbows. Dooku threwhimself into a backroll that brought him to his feet—andKenobi's blade was there to meet his neck. Only a desperate whirling slash-block, coupled with a wheel kick that caughtKenobi on the thigh, bought him enough time to leap away again, and when he touched down—

Skywalker was already there.

The first overhand chop of Skywalker's blade slid off Dooku's instinctive guard. The second bent Dooku's wrist. The third flash of blue forced Dooku's scarlet blade so far to the inside that his own lightsaber scorched his shoulder, and Dooku was forced to give ground.

Dooku felt himself blanch. Where had this comefrom?Skywalker came on, mechanically inexorable, impossibly powerful, a destroyer droid with a lightsaber: each step a blow andeach blow a step. Dooku backed away as fast as he dared; Skywalker stayed right on top of him. Dooku's breath went short and hard. He no longer tried to block Skywalker's strikes but only toguide them slanting away; he could not meet Skywalker strength-to-strength—not only did the boy wield tremendous reserves of Force energy, but his sheer physical power was astonishing—and only then did Dooku understand that he'd been suckered.

Skywalker's Shien ready-stance had been a ruse, as had hisAtaro gymnastics; the boy was a Djem So stylist, and as fine aone as Dooku had ever seen. His own elegant Makashi simply did not generate the kinetic power to meet Djem So head-to-head. Especially not while also defending against a second at tacker.

It was time to alter his own tactics.

He dropped low and spun into another reverse ankle-sweep—the weakness of Djem So was its lack of mobility—thatslapped Skywalker's boot sharply enough to throw the youngJedi off balance, giving Dooku the opportunity to leap away—Only to find himself again facing the wheel of blue lightningthat was Kenobi's blade.

Dooku decided that the comedy had ended.

Now it was time to kill.

Kenobi's Master had been Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku's ownPadawan; Dooku had fenced Qui-Gon thousands of times, andhe knew every weakness of the Ataro form, with its ridiculous acrobatics. He drove a series of flashing thrusts toward Kenobi'slegs to draw the Jedi Master into a flipping overhead leap so thatDooku could burn through his spine from kidneys to shoulderblades—and this image, this plan, was so clear in Dooku's mindthat he almost failed to notice that Kenobi met every one of his thrusts without so much as moving his feet, staying perfectlycentered, perfectly balanced, blade never moving a millimetermore than was necessary, deflecting without effort, ripostingwith flickering strikes and stabs swifter than the tongue of aGarollian ghost viper, and when Dooku felt Skywalker regain hisfeet and stride once more toward his back, he finally registeredthe source of that blinding defensive velocity Kenobi had used amoment ago, and only then, belatedly, did he understand thatKenobi's Ataro and Shii-Cho had been ploys, as well.

Kenobi had become a master of Soresu.

Dooku found himself having a sudden, unexpected, overpowering, and entirely distressing bad feeling about this...

His farce had suddenly, inexplicably, spun from humorous to deadly serious and was tumbling rapidly toward terrifying. Realization burst through Dooku's consciousness like the blossoming fireballs of dying ships outside: this pair of Jedi fools hadsomehow managed to become entirely dangerous. These clowns might—just possibly—actually be able to beat him.

No sense taking chances; even his Master would agree withthat. Lord Sidious could come up with a new plan more easilythan a new apprentice.

He gathered the Force once more in a single indrawn breath that summoned power from throughout the universe; the slightest whipcrack of that power, negligent as a flick of his wrist, sentKenobi flying backward to crash hard against the wall, butDooku didn't have time to enjoy it. Skywalker was all over him.

The shining blue lightsaber whirled and spat and every overhand chop crashed against Dooku's defense with the unstoppable power of a meteor strike; the Sith Lord spent lavishly of hisreserve of the Force merely to meet these attacks without beingcut in half, and Skywalker—Skywalker was getting stronger. Each parry cost Dooku more power than he'd used to throwKenobi across the room; each block aged him a decade.

He decided he'd best revise his strategy once again.

He no longer even tried to strike back. Force exhaustionbegan to close down his perceptions, drawing his consciousnessback down to his physical form, trapping him within his ownskull until he could barely even feel the contours of the room around him; he dimly sensed stairs at his back, stairs that led upto the entrance balcony. He retreated up them, using the higherground for leverage, but Skywalker just kept on coming, tirelessly ferocious.

That blue blade was everywhere, flashing and whirling fasterand faster until Dooku saw the room through an electric haze and now Kenobi was back in the picture: with a shout of theForce, he shot like a torpedo up the stairs behind Skywalker, andDooku decided that under these rather extreme circumstances, it was at least arguably permissible for a gentleman to cheat.

"Guards!" he said to the pair of super battle droids that stillstood at attention to either side of the entrance. "Open fire!"

Instantly the two droids sprang forward and lifted theirhands. Energy hammered out from the heavy blasters built into their arms; Skywalker whirled and his blade batted every blast back at the droids, whose mirror-polished carapace armor deflected the bolts again. Galvened particle beams screeched through the room in blinding ricochets.

Kenobi reached the top of the stairs and a single slash of hislightsaber dismantled both droids. Before their pieces could evenhit the floor Dooku was in motion, landing a spinning side-stamp that folded Skywalker in half; he used his last burst of darkpower to continue his spin into a blindingly fast wheel-kick thatbrought his heel against the point of Kenobi's chin with a crack like the report of a huge-bore slugthrower, knocking the JediMaster back down the stairs. Sounded like he'd broken his neck.

Wouldn't that be lovely?

There was no sense in taking chances, however.

While Kenobi's bonelessly limp body was still tumblingtoward the floor far below, Dooku sent a surge of energythrough the Force. Kenobi's fall suddenly accelerated like a missile burning the last of its drives before impact. The Jedi Masterstruck the floor at a steep angle, skidded along it, and slammed into the wall so hard the hydrofoamed permacrete buckled andcollapsed onto him.

This Dooku found exceedingly gratifying.

Now, as for Skywalker—

Which was as far as Dooku got, because by the time his attention returned to the younger Jedi, his vision was rather completely obstructed by the sole of a boot approaching his face withsomething resembling terminal velocity.

The impact was a blast of white fire, and there was a secondimpact against his back that was the balcony rail, and then the room turned upside down and he fell toward the ceiling, but notreally, of course: it only felt that way because he had flipped overthe rail and he was falling headfirst toward the floor, and neitherhis arms nor his legs were paying any attention to what he wastrying to make them do. The Force seemed to be busy elsewhere,and really, the whole process was entirely mortifying. He was barely able to summon a last surge of dark power before what would have been a disabling impact. The Force cradledhim, cushioning his fall and setting him on his feet. He dusted himself off and fixed a supercilious gaze on Skywalker, who now stood upon the balcony looking down at him— and Dooku couldn't hold the stare; he found this reversal of their original positions oddly unsettling.

There was something troublingly appropriate about it.Seeing Skywalker standing where Dooku himself had stood only moments ago... it was as though he was trying to remember a dream he'd never actually had...

He pushed this aside, drawing once more upon the certain knowledge of his personal invincibility to open a channel to theForce. Power flowed into him, and the weight of his years dropped away. He lifted his blade, and beckoned.

Skywalker leapt from the balcony. Even as the boy hurtleddownward, Dooku felt a new twist in the currents of the Force between them, and he finally understood.

He understood how Skywalker was getting stronger. Why he no longer spoke. How he had become a machine of battle. Heunderstood why Sidious had been so interested in him for solong. Skywalker was a natural.

There was a thermonuclear furnace where his heart shouldbe, and it was burning through the firewalls of his Jedi training.He held the Force in the clench of a white-hot fist. He was halfSith already, and he didn't even know it.

This boy had the gift of fury.

And even now, he was holding himself back; even now, as helanded at Dooku's flank and rained blows upon the Sith Lord'sdefenses, even as he drove Dooku backward step after step,Dooku could feel how Skywalker kept his fury banked behindwalls of will: walls that were hardened by some uncontrollable dread.

Dread, Dooku surmised, of himself. Of what might happen ifhe should ever allow that furnace he used for a heart to go supercritical.

Dooku slipped aside from an overhand chop and sprangbackward. "I sense great fear in you. You are consumed by it.Hero With No Fear, indeed. You're a fraud, Skywalker. You arenothing but a posturing child."

He pointed his lightsaber at the young Jedi like an accusingfinger. "Aren't you a little old to be afraid of the dark?"

Skywalker leapt for him again, and this time Dooku met theboy's charge easily. They stood nearly toe-to-toe, blades flashing faster than the eye could see, but Skywalker had lost his edge: asimple taunt was all that had been required to shift the focus ofhis attention from winning the fight to controlling his own emotions. The angrier he got, the more afraid he became, and thefear fed his anger in turn; like the proverbial Corellian multipede,now that he had started thinking about what he was doing, hecould no longer walk.

Dooku allowed himself to relax; he felt that spirit of playfulness coming over him again as he and Skywalker spun 'roundeach other in their lethal dance. Whatever fun was to be had, he should enjoy while he could.

Then Sidious, for some reason, decided to intervene.

"Don't fear what you're feeling, Anakin, use it!" he barked in Palpatine's voice. "Call upon your fury. Focus it, and he cannot stand against you. Rage is your weapon. Strike now! Strike! Kill him!" Dooku thought blankly, Kill me?

He and Skywalker paused for one single, final instant, bladeslocked together, staring at each other past a sizzling cross of scarlet against blue, and in that instant Dooku found himself wondering in bewildered astonishment if Sidious had suddenly lost his mind. Didn't he understand the advice he'd just given? Whose side was he on, anyway?

And through the cross of their blades he saw in Skywalker'seyes the promise of hell, and he felt a sickening presentiment thathe already knew the answer to that question.Treachery is the way of the Sith.

=4=

JEDI TRAP

This is the death of Count Dooku:

A starburst of clarity blossoms within Anakin Skywalker'smind, when he says to himself Oh. I get it, now and discovers thatthe fear within his heart can be a weapon, too. It is that simple, and that complex.

And it is final.

Dooku is dead already. The rest is mere detail.

The play is still on; the comedy of lightsabers flashes and snaps and hisses. Dooku and Skywalker, a one-time-only command performance, for an audience of one. Jedi and Sith andSith and Jedi, spinning, whirling, crashing together, slashing andchopping, parrying, binding, slipping and whipping and rippingthe air around them with snarls of power.

And all for nothing, because a nuclear flame has consumedAnakin Skywalker's Jedi restraint, and fear becomes fury withouteffort, and fury is a blade that makes his lightsaber into a toy. The play goes on, but the suspense is over. It has becomemere pantomime, as intricate and as meaningless as thespace-time curves that guide galactic clusters through a measureless cosmos. Dooku's decades of combat experience are irrelevant. Hismastery of swordplay is useless. His vast wealth, his political influence, impeccable breeding, immaculate manners, exquisite taste—the pursuits and points of pride to which he has devoted so much of his time and attention over the long, long yearsof his life—are now chains hung upon his spirit, bending his neck before the ax. Even his knowledge of the Force has become a joke.

It is this knowledge that shows him his death, makes himhandle it, turn it this way and that in his mind, examine it in detail like a black gemstone so cold it burns. Dooku's elegant farcehas degenerated into bathetic melodrama, and not one shed tearwill mark the passing of its hero. But for Anakin, in the fight there is only terror, and rage.

Only he stands between death and the two men he loves bestin all the world, and he can no longer afford to hold anything back. That imaginary dead-star dragon tries its best to freezeaway his strength, to whisper him that Dooku has beaten him before, that Dooku has all the power of the darkness, to remind him how Dooku took his hand, how Dooku could strike downeven Obi-Wan himself seemingly without effort and now Anakinis all alone and he will never be a match for any Lord of theSith—But Palpatine's words rage is your weapon have given Anakinpermission to unseal the shielding around his furnace heart, andall his fears and all his doubts shrivel in its flame.

When Count Dooku flies at him, blade flashing, Watto's fist cracks out from Anakin's childhood to knock the Sith Lord tumbling back.

When with all the power that the dark side can draw fromthroughout the universe, Dooku hurls a jagged fragment of thedurasteel table, Shmi Skywalker's gentle murmur I knew you would come for me, Anakin smashes it aside.

His head has been filled with the smoke from his smotheredheart for far too long; it has been the thunder that darkens hismind. On Aargonar, on Jabiim, in the Tusken camp on Tatooine,that smoke had clouded his mind, had blinded him and left him flailing in the dark, a mindless machine of slaughter; but herenow, within this ship, this microscopic cell of life in the infinitesterile desert of space, his firewalls have opened so that the terrorand the rage are out there, in the fight instead of in his head, andAnakin's mind is clear as a crystal bell.

In that pristine clarity, there is only one thing he must do.

Decide.

So he does.

He decides to win.

He decides that Dooku should lose the same hand he took.Decision is reality, here: his blade moves simultaneously with hiswill and blue fire vaporizes black Corellian nanosilk and disintegrates flesh and shears bone, and away falls a Sith Lord'slightsaber hand, trailing smoke that tastes of charred meat and burned hair. The hand falls with a bar of scarlet blaze still extending from its spastic death grip, and Anakin's heart sings for the fall of that red blade.

He reaches out and the Force catches it for him.

And then Anakin takes Dooku's other hand as well.

Dooku crumples to his knees, face blank, mouth slack, andhis weapon whirs through the air to the victor's hand, andAnakin finds his vision of the future happening before his eyes:two blades at Count Dooku's throat.

But here, now, the truth belies the dream. Both lightsabersare in his hands, and the one in his hand of flesh flares with thesynthetic bloodshine of a Sith blade.

Dooku, cringing, shrinking with dread, still finds some hopein his heart that he is wrong, that Palpatine has not betrayed him,that this has all been proceeding according to plan—

Until he hears "Good, Anakin! Good! I knew you could doit!" and registers this is Palpatine's voice and feels within thedarkest depths of all he is the approach of the words that are tocome next.

"Kill him," Palpatine says. "Kill him now."

In Skywalker's eyes he sees only flames.

"Chancellor, please!" he gasps, desperate and helpless, hisaristocratic demeanor invisible, his courage only a bitter memory. He is reduced to begging for his life, as so many of his victimshave. "Please, you promised me immunity! We had a deal! Help me!"

And his begging gains him a share of mercy equal to thatwhich he has dispensed.

"A deal only if you released me," Palpatine replies, cold as intergalacticspace. "Not if you used me as bait to kill my friends."

And he knows, then, that all has indeed been going according to plan. Sidious's plan, not his own. This had been a Jedi trapindeed, but Jedi were not the quarry.

They were the bait.

"Anakin," Palpatine says quietly. "Finish him."

Years of Jedi training make Anakin hesitate; he looks downupon Dooku and sees not a Lord of the Sith but a beaten, broken, cringing old man.

"I shouldn't—"

But when Palpatine barks, "Do it! Now!" Anakin realizesthat this isn't actually an order. That it is, in fact, nothing morethan what he's been waiting for his whole life.

Permission.

And Dooku—

As he looks up into the eyes of Anakin Skywalker for the finaltime, Count Dooku knows that he has been deceived not justtoday, but for many, many years. That he has never been the trueapprentice. That he has never been the heir to the power of the Sith. He has been only a tool. His whole life—all his victories, all his struggles, all his heritage, all his principles and his sacrifices, everything he's done, everything he owns, everything he's been, all his dreams andgrand vision for the future Empire and the Army of Sith—havebeen only a pathetic sham, because all of them, all of him, add uponly to this.

He has existed only for this.

This.

To be the victim of Anakin Skywalker's first cold-bloodedmurder.

First but not, he knows, the last.

Then the blades crossed at his throat uncross like scissors.

Snip.

And all of him becomes nothing at all.

Murderer and murdered each stared blindly.

But only the murderer blinked.

I did that.

The severed head's stare was fixed on something beyond living sight. The desperate plea frozen in place on its lips echoed silence. The headless torso collapsed with a slowly fading sighfrom the cauterized gape of its trachea, folding forward at thewaist as though making obeisance before the power that hadripped away its life.

The murderer blinked again.

Whoam I?

Was he the slave boy on a desert planet, valued for his astonishing gift with machines? Was he the legendary Podracer, the only human to survive that deadly sport? Was he the unruly, high-spirited, trouble-prone student of a great Jedi Master? Thestar pilot? The hero? The lover? The Jedi? Could he be all these things—could he be any of them—andstill have done what he has done? He was already discovering the answer at the same time thathe finally realized that he needed to ask the question.

The deck bucked as the cruiser absorbed a new barrage oftorpedoes and turbolaser fire. Dooku's severed staring headbounced along the deck and rolled away, and Anakin woke up.

"What—?"

He'd been having a dream. He'd been flying, and fighting,and fighting again, and somehow, in the dream, he could dowhatever he wanted. In the dream, whatever he did was the rightthing to do simply because he wanted to do it. In the dreamthere were no rules, there was only power. And the power was his.

Now he stood over a headless corpse that he couldn't bearto see but he couldn't make himself look away, and he knew ithadn't been a dream at all, that he'd really done this, the bladeswere still in his hands and the ocean of wrong he'd dived intohad closed over his head.

And he was drowning.

The dead man's lightsaber tumbled from his loosening fingers. "I—I couldn't stop myself..." And before the words left his lips he heard how hollow andobvious was the lie.

"You did well, Anakin." Palpatine's voice was warm as anarm around Anakin's shoulders. "You did not only well, butright.He was too dangerous to leave alive."

From the Chancellor this sounded true, but when Anakin repeated it inside his head he knew that Palpatine's truth would beone he could never make himself believe. A tremor that beganbetween his shoulder blades threatened to expand into a full caseof the shakes. "He was an unarmed prisoner... " That, now—that simple unbearable fact— that was truth. Though it burned him like his own lightsaber, truth was something he could hang on to. And somehow it made him feel a little better. A little stronger. He tried another truth: not that he couldn't have stopped himself, but—

"I shouldn't have done that," he said, and now his voicecame out solid, and simple, and final. Now he could look down at the corpse at his feet. He could look at the severed head. He could see them for what they were.

A crime.

He'd become a war criminal.

Guilt hit him like a fist. He felt it—a punch to his heart that smacked breath from his lungs and buckled his knees. It hung onhis shoulders like a yoke of collapsium: an invisible weight beyond his mortal strength, crushing his life.

There were no words in him for this. All he could say was, "Itwas wrong." And that was the sum of it, right there.

It was wrong.

"Nonsense. Disarming him was nothing; he had powers beyond your imagination." Anakin shook his head. "That doesn't matter. It's not theJedi way." The ship shuddered again, and the lights went out.

"Have you never noticed that the Jedi way," Palpatine said, invisible now within the stark shadow of the General's Chair, "isnot always the right way?"

Anakin looked toward the shadow. "You don't understand.You're not a Jedi. You can't understand."

"Anakin, listen to me. How many lives have you just savedwith this stroke of a lightsaber? Can you count them?"

"But—"

"It wasn't wrong, Anakin. It may be not the Jedi way, but itwas right. Perfectly natural—he took your hand; you wanted revenge. And your revenge was justice."

"Revenge is never just. It can't be—"

"Don't be childish, Anakin. Revenge is the foundation of justice.Justice began with revenge, and revenge is still the only jusice some beings can ever hope for. After all, this is hardly your first time, is it? Did Dooku deserve mercy more than did theand People who tortured your mother to death?"

"That was different.'"

In the Tusken camp he had lost his mind; he had become a force of nature, indiscriminate, killing with no more thought orintention than a sand gale. The Tuskens had been killed, slaughtered, massacred—but that had been beyond his control, andnow it seemed to him as if it had been done by someone else: likea story he had heard that had little to do with him at all.But Dooku—

Dooku had been murdered.By him.On purpose.

Here in the General's Quarters, he had looked into the eyesof a living being and coldly decided to end that life. He couldhave chosen the right way. He could have chosen the Jedi way.But instead—

He stared down at Dooku's severed head. He could never unchoose this choice. He could never take it back. As Master Windu liked to say, there is no such thing as asecond chance. And he wasn't even sure he wanted one.He couldn't let himself think about this. Just as he didn't let himself think about the dead on Tatooine. He put his hand to hiseyes, trying to rub away the memory.

"You promised we would never talk about that again."

"And we won't. Just as we need never speak of what has happened here today." It was as though the shadow itself spokekindly. "I have always kept your secrets, have I not?"

"Yes—yes, of course, Chancellor, but—" Anakin wanted tocrawl away into a corner somewhere; he felt sure that if thingswould just stop for a while—an hour, a minute—he could pull himself together and find some way to keep moving forward. Hehad to keep moving forward. Moving forward was all he could do.

Especially when he couldn't stand to look back.

The view wall behind the General's Chair blossomed with looping ion spirals of inbound missiles. The shuddering of theship built itself into a continuous quake, gathering magnitudewith each hit.

"Anakin, my restraints, please," the shadow said. "I'm afraidthis ship is breaking up. I don't think we should be aboard whenit does."

In the Force, the field-signatures of the magnetic locks onthe Chancellor's shackles were as clear as text sayingunlock melike this;a simple twist of Anakin's mind popped them open.The shadow grew a head, then shoulders, then underwent a sudden mitosis that left the General's Chair standing behind and turned its other half into the Supreme Chancellor.

Palpatine picked his way through the debris that littered thegloom-shrouded room, moving surprisingly quickly toward the stairs. "Come along, Anakin. There is very little time." The view wall flared white with the missiles' impacts, and oneof them must have damaged the gravity generators: the ship seemed to heel over, forcing Palpatine to clutch desperately atthe banister and sending Anakin skidding down a floor that had suddenly become a forty-five-degree ramp. He rolled hard into a pile of rubble: shattered permacrete,hydrofoamed to reduce weight. "Obi-Wan—!" He sprang to his feet and waved away the debris that hadburied the body of his friend. Obi-Wan lay entirely still, eyesclosed, dust-caked blood matting his hair where his scalp hadsplit. Bad as Obi-Wan looked, Anakin had stood over the bodies oftoo many friends on too many battlefields to be panicked by a little blood. One touch to Obi-Wan's throat confirmed the strength of his pulse, and that touch also let Anakin's Force perception flow through the whole body of his friend. His breathingwas strong and regular, and no bones were broken: this was a concussion, no more. Apparently Obi-Wan's head was somewhat harder than thecruiser's interior walls.

"Leave him, Anakin. There is no time." Palpatine was halfhanging from the banister, both arms wrapped around a stan-chion. "This whole spire may be about to break free—"

"Then we'll all be adrift together." Anakin glanced up at theSupreme Chancellor and for that instant he didn't like the manat all—but then he reminded himself that brave as Palpatine was,his was the courage of conviction; the man was no soldier. He had no way of truly comprehending what he was asking Anakinto do.

"His fate," he said in case Palpatine had not understood,"will be the same as ours." With Obi-Wan unconscious and Palpatine waiting above,with responsibility for the lives of his two closest friends squarelyupon him, Anakin found that he had recovered his inner balance.Under pressure, in crisis, with no one to call upon for help, hecould focus again. He had to. This was what he'd been born for: saving people.

The Force brought Obi-Wan's lightsaber to his hand and heclipped it to his friend's belt, then hoisted the limp body over hisshoulder and let the Force help him run lightly up the steeplycanted floor to Palpatine's side.

"Impressive," Palpatine said, but then he cast a significantgaze up the staircase, which the vector of the artificial gravity hadmade into a vertical cliff. "But what now?" Before Anakin could answer, the erratic gravity swung like apendulum; while they both clung to the railing, the roomseemed to roll around them. All the broken chairs and table fragments and hunks of rubble slid toward the opposite side, andnow instead of a cliff the staircase had become merely a corru gated stretch of floor.

"People say"—Anakin nodded toward the door to the turbolift lobby—"when the Force closes a hatch, it opens a viewport.After you?"

=5=

GRIEVOUS

The ARC-170s of Squad Seven had joined the V-wings of Squad Four in swarming the remaining vulture fighters that hadscreened the immense Trade Federation flagship, Invisible Hand. Clone pilots destroyed droid after droid with machine-like preci-sion of their own. When the last of the vultures had been converted to an expanding globe of superheated gas, the clonefighters peeled away, leaving Invisible Hand exposed to the full fire of Home Fleet Strike Group Five: three Carrack-class light cruisers— Integrity, Indomitable, and Perseverance —in supportof the Dreadnaught Mas Ramdar. Strike Group Five had deployed in a triangle around Mas Ramdar, maintaining a higher orbit to pin Invisible Hand deep Coruscant's gravity well. Turbolasers blasted against Invisi ble Hand'sfaltering shields, but the flagship was giving as good as it got: Mas Ramdar had sustained so much damage already that it was little more than a target to absorb the Hand's return fire, and Indomitable was only a shell, most of its crew dead or evacuated, being run remotely by its commander and bridge crew; it swung unsteadily through the Hand's vectorcone of escape routes to block any attempt to run up towardjump. As its shields finally failed, Invisible Hand began to rollwhirling like a bullet from a rifled slugthrower, trailing spiral jetsof crystallizing gas that gushed from multiple hull ruptures. Therolling picked up speed, breaking the targeting locks of the ship's Republic adversaries. Unable to pound the same point again and again, their turbolasers weren't powerful enough to breach theHand'sheavy armor directly; their tracking points became ringsthat circled the ship, chewing gradually into the hull in tightening garrotes of fire. On the Hand's bridge, overheated Neimoidians werestrapped into their battle stations in full crash webbing. The airreeked of burning metal and the funk of reptilian stress hormones, and the erratically shifting gravity threatened to add asharper stench: the faces of several of the bridge officers had already paled from healthy gray-green to nauseated pink.

The sole being on the bridge who was not strapped into achair stalked from one side to the other, floor-length cape drapedover shoulders angular as exposed bone. He ignored the jolts of impact and was unaffected by the swirl of unpredictable gravityas he paced the deck with metal-on-metal clanks; he walked ontaloned creations of magnetized duranium, jointed to grab andcrush like the feet of a Vratixan blood eagle.

His expression could not be read—his face was a mask ofbleached ceramic armorplast stylized to evoke a humanoidskull—but the pure venom in the voice that hissed through the mask's electrosonic vocabulator made up for it.

"Either get the gravity generators calibrated or disable them altogether," he snarled at a blue-scanned image of a cringingNeimoidian engineer. "If this continues, you won't live long enough to be killed by the Republic."

"But, but, but sir—it's really up to the repair droids—"

"And because they are droids, it's useless to threaten them. SoI am threatening you. Understand?" He turned away before the stammering engineer could summon a reply. The hand he extended toward the forwardviewscreen wore a jointed gauntlet of armorplast fused to itsbones of duranium alloy.

"Concentrate fire on Indomitable,'' hetold the senior gunnery officer. "All batteries at maximum. Firefor effect. Blast that hulk out of space, and we'll make a hyperspace jump through its wreckage."

"But—the forward towers are already overloading, sir." Theofficer's voice trembled on the edge of panic. "They'll be at critical failure in less than a minute —"

"Burn them out."

"But sir, once they're gone—"

The rest of the senior gunnery officer's objection was lost inthe wetly final crunching sound his face made under the impactof an armorplast fist. That same fist opened, seized the collar ofthe officer's uniform, and yanked his corpse out of the chair, ripping the crash webbing free along with it. An expressionless skull-face turned toward the junior gunnery officer. "Congratulations on your promotion. Take yourpost."

"Y-y-yes, sir." The newly promoted senior gunnery officer'shands shook so badly he could barely unbuckle his crash web,and his face had gone deathly pink."Do you understand your orders?"

"Y-y-y-"

"Do you have any objections?"

"N-n-n—"

"Very well, then," General Grievous said with flat, impene-trable calm. "Carry on." This is General Grievous:

Durasteel. Ceramic armorplast-plated duranium. Electro-drivers and crystal circuitry. Within them: the remnants of a living being.He doesn't breathe. He doesn't eat. He cannot laugh, andhe does not cry.

A lifetime ago he was an organic sentient being. A lifetimeago he had friends, a family, an occupation; a lifetime ago he hadthings to love, and things to fear. Now he has none of these.Instead, he has purpose. It's built into him.

He is built to intimidate. The resemblance to a human skeleton melded with limbs styled after the legendary Krath wardroids is entirely intentional. It is a face and form born of childhood's infinite nightmares.

He is built to dominate. The ceramic armorplast plates protecting limbs and torso and face can stop a burst from astarfighter's laser cannon. Those indestructible arms are tentimes stronger than human, and move with the blurring speed ofelectronic reflexes.

He is built to eradicate. Those human-sized hands havehuman-sized fingers for exactly one reason: to hold a lightsaber.Four of them hang inside his cloak.

He has never constructed a lightsaber. He has never boughtone, nor has he recovered one that was lost. Each and all, he hastaken from the dead hands of Jedi he has killed.Personally. He has many, many such trophies; the four he carries withhim are his particular favorites. One belonged to the interminable K'Kruhk, whom he had bested at Hypori; another to theViraanntesse Jedi Jmmaar, who'd fallen at Vandos; the other twohad been created by Puroth and Nystammall, whom Grievoushad slaughtered together on the flame-grass plains of Tovarskl sothat each would know the other's death, as well as their own;these are murders he recalls with so much pleasure that touching these souvenirs with his hands of armorplast and durasteel brings him something resembling joy. But only resembling.

He remembers joy. He remembers anger, and frustration. Heremembers grief and sorrow. He doesn't actually feel any of them. Not anymore.

He's not designed for it.

White-hot sparks zipped and crackled through the smoke thatbillowed across the turbolift lobby. Over Anakin's shoulder, theunconscious Jedi Master wheezed faintly. Beside his other shoulder, Palpatine coughed harshly into the sleeve of his robe, held aver his face for protection from caustic combustion products of the overloading circuitry.

"Artoo?" Anakin shook his comlink sharply. The blastedling had been on the blink ever since Obi-Wan had stepped on: during one of the turbolift fights.

"Artoo, do you copy? I need you to activate—" The smokewas so thick he could barely make out the numerals on the codeMate. "—elevator three-two-two-four. Three-two-two-four, doyou copy?" The comlink emitted a fading wheep that might have been anacknowledgment, and the doors slid apart, but before Anakincould carry Obi-Wan through, the turbolift pod shot upwardand the artificial gravity vector shifted again, throwing him andhis partner into a heap next to Palpatine in the lobby's opposite corner.

Palpatine was struggling to rise, still coughing, soundingweak. Anakin let the Force lift Obi-Wan back to his shoulder,then picked himself up. "Perhaps you should stay down, sir," hesaid to the Chancellor. "The gravity swings are getting worse."

Palpatine nodded. "But, Anakin—"

Anakin looked up. The turbolift doors still stood open."Wait here, sir." He opened himself more fully to the Force and in his mind placed himself and Obi-Wan balanced on the edge of the opendoorway above. Holding this image, he leapt, and the Forcemade his intention into reality: his leap carried him and the unconscious Jedi Master precisely to the rim. The altered gravitic vector had made the turbolift shaft intoa horizontal hallway of unlit durasteel, laser-straight, shrinkinginto darkness. Anakin was familiar with the specs for Trade Federation command cruisers; the angled conning spire was somethree hundred meters long. As it stood, they could walk it in twoor three minutes. But if the wrong gravity shift were to catchthem inside the shaft... He shook his head, grimly calculating the odds. "We'll haveto be fast." He glanced back over his shoulder, down at Palpatine, whostill huddled below. "Are you all right, Chancellor? Are you wellenough to run?"

The Supreme Chancellor finally rose, patting his robes in afutile attempt to dust them off. "I haven't run since I was a boyon Naboo."

"It's never too late to start getting into shape." Anakinreached through the Force to give Palpatine a little help in clambering up to the open doorway. "There are light shuttles on the hangar deck. We can be there in five minutes."

Once Palpatine was safely within the shaft-hall, Anakin said,"Follow me," and turned to go, but the Chancellor stopped himwith a hand on his arm.

"Anakin, wait. We need to get to the bridge."

Through an entire shipful of combat droids? Not likely. "Thehangar deck's right below—well, beside us, now. It's our bestchance."

"But the bridge— Grievous is there."Now Anakin did stop. Grievous. The most prolific slaughterer of Jedi since Durge. In all the excitement, Anakin had entirely forgotten that the bio-droid general was aboard.

"You've defeated Dooku," Palpatine said. "Capture Grievous and you will have dealt a wound from which the Separatistsmay never recover."

Anakin thought blankly: I could do it.

He had dreamed of capturing Grievous ever sinceMuunilinst—and now the general was close. So close Anakincould practically smell him... and Anakin had never felt so powerful. The Force was with him today in ways more potent than he had ever experienced.

"Think of it, Anakin." Palpatine stood close by his shoulder, opposite to Obi-Wan, so close he needed only to whisper. "Youhave destroyed their political head. Take their military commander, and you will have practically won the war. Single- handed.Who else could do that, Anakin? Yoda? Mace Windu?They couldn't even capture Dooku. Who would have a chanceagainst Grievous, if not Anakin Skywalker? The Jedi have neverfaced a crisis like the Clone Wars—but also they have never had a hero like you. You can save them. You can save everyone."

Anakin jerked, startled. He turned a sharp glance toward Palpatine. The way he had said that...Like a voice out of his dreams.

"That's—" Anakin tried to laugh; it came out a little shaky. "That's not what Obi-Wan keeps telling me."

"Forget Obi-Wan," Palpatine said. "He has no idea how powerful you truly are. Use your power, Anakin. Save the Republic."Anakin could see it, vivid as a HoloNet feature: arriving atthe Senate with Grievous in electrobonds, standing modestlyaside as Palpatine announced the end of the war, returning to theTemple, to the Council Chamber, where finally, after all thistime, there would be a chair waiting, just for him.

They could hardly refuse him Mastership now, after he hadwon the war for them... But then Obi-Wan shifted on his shoulder, moaning faintlyand Anakin snapped back to reality.

"No," he said. "Sorry, Chancellor. My orders are clear. Thisis a rescue mission; your safety is my only priority."

"I will never be safe while Grievous lives," Palpatine countered. "Master Kenobi will recover at any moment. Leave himhere with me; he can see me safely to the hangar deck. Go for thegeneral."

"I—I would like to, sir, but—"

"I can make it an order, Anakin."

"With respect, sir: no. You can't. My orders come from theJedi Council, and the Council's orders come from the Senate.You have no direct authority."

The Chancellor's face darkened. "That may change."

Anakin nodded. "And perhaps it should, sir. But until itdoes, we'll do things my way. Let's go."

"Sir?" The thin voice of the comm officer interrupted Grievous'spacing. "We are being hailed by Integrity, sir. They proposea cease-fire."

Dark yellow eyes squinted through the skull-mask at the tactical displays. A pause in the combat would allow Invisible Hand's turbolaser batteries to cool, and give the engineers achance to get the gravity generators under control. "Acknowledge receipt of transmission. Stand by to cease fire."

"Standing by, sir." The gunnery officer was still shaking.

"Cease fire."

The lances of energy that had joined the Hand to the HomeFleet Strike Force melted away.

"Further transmission, sir. It's Integrity's commander." Grievous nodded. "Initiate."

A ghostly image built itself above the bridge's ship-to-shiphologenerator: a young human male of distinctly average height andbuild, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant commander. The onlything distinctive about his otherwise rather bland featureswas the calm confidence in his eyes.

"General Grievous," theyoung man said briskly, "I am Lieu tenant Commander Lorth Needa of RSS

Integrity. At my request, my superiors have consented to offer you the chance to surrenderyour ship, sir.''

"Surrender?" Grievous's vocabulator produced a very credable reproduction of a snort. "Preposterous."

"Please give this offer careful deliberation, General, as it will not be repeated. Consider the lives of your crew."

Grievous cast an icy glance around his bridge full of craven Neimoidians. "Why should I?" The young man did not look surprised, though he did show atrace of sadness. "Is this your reply, then?"

"Not at all." Grievous drew himself up; by straightening the angles of his levered joints, he could add half a meter to his already imposing height. "I have a counteroffer. Maintain your cease-fire, move that hulk Indomitable out of my way, and withdraw to a minimum range of fifty kilometers until this shipachieves hyperspace jump."

"If I may use your word, sir: preposterous."

"Tell these superiors of yours that if my demands arenot met within ten minutes, I will personally disembowelSupreme Chancellor Palpatine, live on the HoloNet. Am Iunderstood?" The young officer took this without a blink. "Ah. The Chan cellor is aboard your ship, then."

"He is. Your pathetic Jedi so-called heroes have failed. They are dead, and Palpatine remains in my hands."

"Ah,"theyoung officer repeated. "So you will, of course, allow me to speak with him. To, ah, reassure my superiors that you are notsimply—well, to put it charitably—bluffing?"

"I would not lower myself to lie to the likes of you." Grievous turned to the comm officer. "Patch in Count Dooku."

The comm officer stroked his screen, then shook his head"He's not responding, sir." Grievous shook his head disgustedly. "Just show the Chancellor, then. Bring up my quarters on the security screen."

The security officer stroked his own screen, and made achoking sound. "Hrm, sir?"

"What are you waiting for? Bring it up!"

He'd gone as pink as the gunner. "Perhaps you should havea look first, sir?" The plain urgency in his tone brought Grievous to his sidewithout another word. The general bent over the screen thatshowed the view inside his quarters and found himself looking atjumbled piles of energy-sheared wreckage surrounding theempty shape of the General's Chair. And that—that there—that looked like it could have been abody...

Draped in a cape of armorweave.

Grievous turned back toward the intership holocomm. "TheChancellor is—indisposed."

"Ah. I see."

Grievous suspected that the young officer saw entirely toowell. "I assure you—"

"I do not require your assurance, General. You have the sameamount of time you offered us. Ten minutes from now, I will haveeither your surrender, or confirmation that Supreme ChancellorPalpatine is alive, unharmed— and present— or Invisible Handwill be destroyed."

"Wait—you can't simply—"

"Ten minutes, General. Needa out.v

When Grievous turned to the bridge security officer, hismask was blankly expressionless as ever, but he made up for itwith the open murder in his voice.

"Dooku is dead and the Jedi are loose. They have the Chancellor Find them and bring them to me." His armorplast fingers curled into a fist that crashed down on the security console so hard the entire thing collapsed into asparking, smoking ruin.

" Find them!"

=6=

RESCUE

Anakin counted paces as he trotted along the turboliftshaft, Obi-Wan over his shoulder and Palpatine at his side. He'd reached 102—only a third of the way along the conning spire—when he felt the gravity begin to shift.

Exactly the wrong way: changing the rest of the long, longshaft from ahead to down. He put out his free arm to stop the Chancellor. "This is aproblem. Find something to hang on to while I get us out ofhere."

One of the turbolift doors was nearby, seemingly lying on itsside. Anakin's lightsaber found his hand and its sizzling bladeburned open the door controls, but before he could even moveaside the sparking wires, the gravitic vector lurched toward vertical and he fell, skidding along the wall, free hand grabbing des perately at a loop of cable, catching it, hanging from it—

And the turbolift doors opened.

Inviting. Safe. And mockingly out of reach: a meter above hisoutstretched arm—

And his other arm was the only thing holding Obi-Wanabove a two-hundred-meter drop down which his lightsaber'shandgrip now clanked and clattered, fading toward infinity. Forhalf a second Anakin was actually glad Obi-Wan was unconscious because he wasn't in the mood for another lecture about hanging on to his lightsaber right now, and that thought blewaway and vanished because something had grabbed on to his leg —

He looked down.

It was Palpatine.

The Chancellor hugged Anakin's ankle with improbable strength, peering fearfully into the darkness below. "Anakin, do something! You have to do something!"

I'm open to suggestions,he thought, but he said, "Don'tpanic. Just hang on."

"I don't think I can..."The Chancellor turned his anguished face upward imploringly. "Anakin, I'm slipping. Give meyour hand—you have to give me your hand!" And drop Obi-Wan? Not in this millennium.

"Don't panic," Anakin repeated. The Chancellor had clearlylost his head. "I can get us out of this." He wished he were as confident as he sounded. He had beencounting on the artificial gravity to continue to swing until thehaft turned back into a hallway, but instead it seemed to havetopped where it was.This would be an especially lousy time for the generators tostart working right. He fixed a measuring glance on the open lift doorway above;perhaps the Force could give him enough of a boost to carry allthree of them to safety.

But that was an exceedingly large perhaps.

Obi-Wan, old buddy old pal,he thought, this would be a really good time to wake up. Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes to find himself staring at what he strongly suspected was Anakin's butt.

It looked likeAnakin's butt—well, his pants, anyway—thoughit was thoroughly impossible for Obi-Wan to be certain, since hehad never before had occasion to examine Anakin's butt upsidedown, which it currently appeared to be, nor from this rather uncomfortably close range.

And how he might have arrived at this angle and this rangewas entirely baffling. He said, "Um, have I missed something?"

"Hang on," he heard Anakin say. "We're in a bit of a situation here." So it was Anakin's butt after all. He supposed he might take a modicum of comfort from that. Looking up, he discoveredAnakin's legs, and his boots—and a somewhat astonishing close-up view of the Supreme Chancellor, as Palpatine seemingly balanced overhead, supported only by a white-knuckled death-grip on Anakin's ankle.

"Oh, hello, Chancellor," he said mildly. "Are you well?" The Chancellor cast a distressed glance over his shoulder. "I hope so..." Obi-Wan followed the Chancellor's gaze; above Palpatinerose a long, long vertical shaft—

Which was when he finally realized that he wasn't looking up at all. This must be what Anakin had meant by a bit of a situation.

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. At least he was finally coming to understand where he stood.Well, lay. Hung. Whatever.

"And Count Dooku?"

Anakin said, "Dead."

"Pity." Obi-Wan sighed. "Alive, he might have been a helpto us."

"Obi-Wan—"

"Not in this particular situation, granted, but nonetheless—"

"Can we discuss this later? The ship's breaking apart."

"Ah."

A familiar electrosonic feroo-wheep came thinly through someone's comlink. "Was that Artoo? What does he want?"

"I asked him to activate the elevator," Anakin said.From the distant darkness above came a clank, and a shirr, and a clonk, all of which evoked in Obi-Wan's still-somewhat-addled brain the image of turbolift brakes unlocking. The accuracy of his imagination was swiftly confirmed by a suddendowndraft that smelled strongly of burning oil, followed closelyby the bottom of a turbolift pod hurtling down the shaft like ameteorite down a well.

Obi-Wan said, "Oh."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time—"

"No need to get defensive."

"Artoo!" Anakin shouted. "Shut it down!"

"No time for that," Obi-Wan said. "Jump."

"Jump?" Palpatine asked with a shaky laugh. "Don't youmean, fall?"

"Um, actually, yes. Anakin—?"

Anakin let go.

They fell.

And fell. The sides of the turboshaft blurred.

And fell some more, until the gravitic vector finally eased a couple of degrees and they found themselves sliding along the side of the shaft, which was quickly turning into the bottom of theshaft, and the lift pod was still shrieking toward them faster thanthey could possibly run until Anakin finally got the comlink working and shouted, "Artoo, open the doors! All of them! All floors!"One door opened just as they skidded onto it and all three ofthem tumbled through. They landed in a heap on a turboliftlobby's opposite wall as the pod shot past overhead.

They gradually managed to untangle themselves. "Are... all of your rescues so..." Palpatine gasped breathlessly."... entert aining?"

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a thoughtful frown.

Anakin returned it with a shrug.

"Actually, now that you mention it," Obi-Wan said, "yes." Anakin stared into the tangled masses of wreckage that littered the hangar bay, trying to pick out anything that still evenresembled a ship. This place looked as if it had taken a direct hit;wind howled against his back through the open hatchway where Obi-Wan stood with Chancellor Palpatine, and scraps of debriswhirled into the air, blown toward space through gaps in the scorched and buckled blast doors.

"None of those ships will get us anywhere!" Palpatineshouted above the wind, and Anakin had to agree.

"What are wegoing to do?"

Anakin shook his head. He didn't know, and the Force wasn'toffering any clues. "Obi-Wan?"

"How should I know?" Obi-Wan said, bracing himself in thedoorway, robe whipping in the wind.

"You're the hero, I'm justa Master!"

Past Obi-Wan's shoulder Anakin saw a cadre of super battle droids marching around a corner into the corridor. "Master! Behind you!"

Obi-Wan whirled, lightsaber flaring to meet a barrage of blaster bolts. "Protect the Chancellor!" And let you have all the fun? Anakin pulled the Chancellorinto the hangar bay and pressed him against the wall beside thehatch. "Stay under cover until we handle the droids!" He was about to jump out beside Obi-Wan when he remembered that he had dropped his lightsaber down the turboshaft;fighting super battle droids without it would be a bit tricky. Not to mention that Obi-Wan would never let him hear the end of it."Droids are not our only problem!" Palpatine pointed acrossthe hangar bay. "Look!"

On the far side of the bay, masses of wreckage were shifting,sliding toward the wall against which Anakin and Palpatinestood. Then debris closer to them began to slide, followed bypiles closer still. An invisible wave-front was passing through thehangar bay; behind it, the gravitic vector was rotated a full ninetydegrees.

Gravity shear.

Anakin's jaw clenched. This just kept getting better andbetter.

He unspooled a length of his utility belt's safety cable andpassed the end to Palpatine. The wind made it sing. "Cinch thisaround your waist. Things are about to get a little wild!"

"What's happening?"

"The gravity generators have desynchronized—they'll tearthe ship apart!" Anakin grabbed one of the zero-g handles besidethe hatchway, then leaned out into the firestorm of blaster bolts and saber flares and touched Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Time to go!"

"What?"

Explanation was obviated as the shear-front moved past themand the wall became the floor. Anakin grabbed the back of Obi-Wan's collar, but not to save him from falling; the torque ofthe gravity shear had buckled the blast doors—which were nowoverhead—and the hurricane of escaping air blasting from the corridor shaft blew the Jedi Master up through the hatch. Anakindragged him out of the gale just as pieces of super battle droidsbegan hurtling upward into the hangar bay like misfiring torpedoes. Some of the super battle droids were still intact enough to open fire as they flew past. "Hang on to my belt!" Obi-Wanshouted and spun his lightsaber through an intricate flurry to deflect bolt after bolt. Anakin could do nothing but hold himbraced against the gale; his grip on the zero-g handle was theonly thing keeping him and Obi-Wan from being blown out into space and taking Palpatine with them.

"This is not the best plan we've ever had!" he shouted.

"This was a plan?" Palpatine sounded appalled.

"We'll make our way forward!" Obi-Wan shouted. "Thereare only droids back here! Once we hit live-crew areas, there willbe escape pods!"

Only droids back hereechoed inside Anakin's head. "Obi-Wan, wait!" he cried. "Artoo's still here somewhere! We can'tleave him!"

"He's probably been destroyed, or blown into space!" Obi-Wan deflected blaster bursts from the last two gale-blown droids.They tumbled up to the gap in the blast doors and vanished intothe infinite void. Obi-Wan put away his lightsaber and fought hisway back to a grip beside Anakin's. "We can't afford the time tosearch for him. I'm sorry, Anakin. I know how much he meant toyou." Anakin desperately fished out his comlink. "Artoo! Artoo,come in!" He shook it, and shook it again. Artoo couldn't have been destroyed. He just couldn't. "Artoo, do you copy? Whereare you?"

"Anakin—" Obi-Wan's hand was on his arm, and the Jedi Master leaned so close that his low tone could be heard over therising gale. "We must go. Being a Jedi means allowing things—even things we love—to pass out of our lives."

Anakin shook the comlink again. "Artoo!" He couldn't justleave him. He couldn't. And he didn't exactly have an explanation.

Not one he could ever give Obi-Wan, anyway.

There are so few things a Jedi ever owns; even his lightsaber isless a possession than an expression of his identity. To be a Jedi isto renounce possessions. And Anakin had tried so hard, tried forso long, to do just that.

Even on their wedding day, Anakin had had no devotion-gift for his new wife; he didn't actually own anything.

But love will find a way.

He had brought something like a gift to her apartments inTheed, still a little shy with her, still overwhelmed by finding thefeelings in her he'd felt so long himself, not knowing quite howto give her a gift which wasn't really a gift. Nor was it his to give.

Without anything of his own to give except his love, all he could bring her was a friend.

"I didn't have many friends when I was a kid," he'd told her, "so I built one." And C-3P0 had shuffled in behind him, gleaming as thoughhe'd been plated with solid gold. Padme had lit up, her eyes gleaming, but she had at first triedto protest. "I can't accept him," she'd said.

"I know how muchhe means to you."

Anakin had only laughed. What use is a protocol droid to aJedi? Even one as upgraded as 3PO—Anakin had packed his creation with so many extra circuits and subprograms and heuristic algorithms that the droid was practically human.

"I'm not giving him to you," he'd told her. "He's not evenreally mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I'm a Jedi. Ilave renounced possessions. I guess that means he's free now. What I'm really doing is asking you to look after him for me."

"Look after him?"

"Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He's a little fussy," he'd admitted, "and maybe I shouldn't have given him quite so muchself-consciousness—he's a worrier—but he's very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat... like, say, a Senator from Naboo?"

Padme then had extended her hand and graciously invited C-3PO to join her staff, because on Naboo, high-functioningdroids were respected as thinking beings, and 3PO had been soflustered at being treated like a sentient creature that he'd beenbarely able to speak, beyond muttering something about hopinghe might make himself useful, because after all he was "fluent inover six million forms of communication." Then she had turned to Anakin and laid her soft, soft hand along his jawline to draw him down to kiss her, and that was all he had needed, all he hadhoped for; he would give her everything he had, everything hewas—

And there had come another day, two years later, a day thathad meant nearly as much to him as the day they had wed: theday he had finally passed his trials.

The day he had become a Jedi Knight.

As soon as circumstances allowed he had slipped away, on hisown now, no Master over his shoulder, no one to monitor hiscomings and his goings and so he could take himself to the vastCoruscant complex at 500 Republica where Naboo's seniorSenator kept her spacious apartments. And he had then, finally, two years late, a devotion-gift forher.

He had then one thing that he truly owned, that he hadearned, that he was not required to renounce. One gift he couldgive her to celebrate their love.

The culmination of the Ceremony of Jedi Knighthood is thesevering of the new Jedi Knight's Padawan braid. And it was thisthat he laid into Padme's trembling hand.

One long, thin braid of his glossy hair: such a little thing, ofno value at all. Such a little thing, that meant the galaxy to him.

And she had kissed him then, and laid her soft cheek against his jaw, and she had whispered in his ear that she had somethingfor him as well.

Out from her closet had whirred R2-D2.

Of course Anakin knew him; he had known him for years—the little droid was a decorated war hero himself, having savedPadme's life back when she had been Queen of Naboo, not to mention helping the nine-year-old Anakin destroy the Trade Federation's Droid Control Ship, breaking the blockade and saving theplanet. The Royal Engineers of Naboo's aftermarket wizardry made their modified R-units the most sought after in thegalaxy; he'd tried to protest, but she had silenced him with a soft finger against his lips and a gentle smile and a whisper of "After all what does a politician need with an astromech?"

"But I'm a Jedi—"

"That's why I'm not giving him to you," she'd said with a smile. "I'm asking you to look after him. He's not really a gift. He's a friend."

All this flashed though Anakin's mind in the stretching secondbefore his comlink finally crackled to life with a familiar fwee- wheoo,and his heart unclenched.

"Artoo, where are you? Come on, we have to get out ofhere!"

High above, on the wall that was supposed to be the floor,the lid of a battered durasteel storage locker shifted, pushed asideby a dome of silver and blue. The lid swung fully open andR2-D2 righted itself, deployed its booster rockets, and floatedout from the locker, heading for the far exit. Anakin gave Obi-Wan a fierce grin. Let someone he lovespass out of his life? Not likely. "What are we waiting for?" he said."Let's go!"

From Invisible Hand's bridge, the ship's spin made the vastcurve of Coruscant's horizon appear to orbit the ship in a dizzying whirl. Each rotation also brought a view of the lazily tumbling wreckage of the conning spire, ripped from the ship andcast out of orbit by centripetal force, as it made the long burning fall toward the planetary city's surface.General Grievous watched them both while his droid circuitry ticked off the seconds remaining in the life of his ship.

He had no fear for his own life; his specially designed escapemodule was preprogrammed to take him directly to a shipalready primed for jump. Mere seconds after he sealed himselfand the Chancellor within the module's heavily armored hullthey would be taken aboard the fleeing ship, which would thenmake a series of randomized microjumps to prevent beingtracked before entering the final jump to the secret base onUtapau.

But he was not willing to go without the Chancellor. This operation had cost the Confederacy dearly in ships and personnel; toleave empty-handed would be an even graver cost in prestige.Winning this war was more than half a matter of propaganda:much of the weakness of the Republic grew from its citizens'

superstitious dread of the Separatists' seemingly inevitable victory—a dread cultivated and nourished by the CIS shadowfeed thatpoisoned government propaganda on the HoloNet. The common masses of the Republic believed that the Republic was losing; to see the legendary Grievous himself beaten back and fleeinga battle would give them hope that the war might be won.

And hope was simply not to be allowed.

His built-in comlink buzzed in his left ear. He touched thesensor implant in the jaw of his mask. "Yes."

"The Jedi almost certainly escaped the conning spire, sir."Thevoice was that of one of his precious, custom-built IG 100-seriesMagnaGuards: prototype self-motivating humaniform combatdroids designed, programmed, and armed specifically to fightJedi. "We recovered a lightsaber from the base of the turbolift shaft before the spire tore free."

"Copy that. Stand by for instructions." One long stride putGrievous next to the Neimoidian security officer. "Have you located them, or are you about to die?"

"I ah, I ah—" The security officer's trembling finger pointedto a schematic of Invisible Hand's hangar deck, where a brightblip slid slowly through Bay One.

"What is that?"

"It's, it's, it's the Chancellor's beacon, sir."

"What? The Jedi never deactivated it? Why not?"

"I, well, I can't actually—"

"Idiots." He looked down at the cringing security officer, considering killing the fool just for taking so long to figure thisout.

The Neimoidian might as well have read Grievous's thoughtspelled out across his bone-colored mask.

"If, if, if you hadn't—er, I mean, please recall my security console has been destroyed,and so I have been forced to reroute—"

"Silence." Grievous gave a mental shrug. The fool would bedead or captured soon enough regardless.

"Order all combatdroids to terminate their search algorithms and converge on thebridge. Wait, strike that: leave the battle droids. Useless things,"he muttered into his mask. "A greater danger to us than to Jedi. Super battle droids and droidekas only, do you understand? Wewill take no chances." As the security officer turned to his screens, Grievous againtouched the sensor implant along the jaw of his mask. "IG-One-oh-one."

"Sir."

"Assemble a team of super battle droids and droidekas—asmany as you can gather—and report to the hangar deck. I'll give you the exact coordinates as soon as they are available."

" Yes, sir."

"You will find at least one Jedi, possibly two, in the company ofChancellor Palpatine, imprisoned in a ray shield. They are tobe considered extremely dangerous. Disarm them and deliver them to the bridge."

"If they are so dangerous, perhaps we should execute them on thespot."

"No. My orders are clear that the Chancellor is not to beharmed. And the Jedi—"The general's right hand slipped beneath his cape to strokethe array of lightsabers clipped there.

"The Jedi, I will execute personally."

A sheet of shimmering energy suddenly flared in front of them, blocking the corridor on the far side of the intersection they were trotting across, and Obi-Wan stopped so short thatAnakin almost slammed into his back. He reached over andcaught Palpatine by the arm. "Careful, sir," he said, low. "Betternot touch it till we know what it is."

Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber, activated it, and cautiously extended its tip to touch the energy field; an explosiveburst of power flared sparks and streaks in all directions, nearlyknocking the weapon from his hands. "Ray shield," he said,more to himself than to the others. "We'll have to find a wayaround—" But even as he spoke another sheet shimmered into existenceacross the mouth of the corridor they'd just left, and two moresizzled into place to seal the corridors to either side. They were boxed in.

Caught.

Obi-Wan stood there for a second or two, blinking, thenlooked at Anakin and shook his head in disbelief. "I thought wewere smarter than this."

"Apparently not. The oldest trap in the book, and we walkedright into it." Anakin felt as embarrassed as Obi-Wan looked.

"Well, you walked right into it. I was just trying to keep up."

"Oh, so now this is my fault?"

Anakin gave him a slightly wicked smile. "Hey, you're theMaster. I'm just a hero."

"Joke some other time," Obi-Wan muttered. "It's the darkside—the shadow on the Force. Our instincts still can't betrusted. Don't you feel it?"

The dark side was the last thing Anakin wanted to thinkabout right now. "Or, you know, it could be that knock on thehead," he offered.

Obi-Wan didn't even smile. "No. All our choices keep goingawry. How could they even locate us so precisely? Something isdefinitely wrong, here. Dooku's death should have lifted theshadow—"

"If you've a taste for mysteries, Master Kenobi," Palpatineinterrupted pointedly, "perhaps you could solve the mystery ofhow we're going to escape."

Obi-Wan nodded, scowling darkly at the ray shield box asthough seeing it for the first time; after a moment, he took out hislightsaber again, ignited it, and sank its tip into the deck at his feet.The blade burned through the durasteel plate almost withoutresistance—and then flared and bucked and spat lightning as it hita shield in place in a gap below the plate, and almost threw Obi-Wan into the annihilating energy of the ray shield behind him.

"No doubt in the ceiling as well." He looked at the othersand sighed. "Ideas?"

"Perhaps," Palpatine said thoughtfully, as though the ideahad only just occurred to him, "we should simply surrender toGeneral Grievous. With the death of Count Dooku, I'm surethat the two of you can..." He cast a significant sidelong glanceat Anakin. "... negotiate our release." He's persistent, I'll give him that,Anakin thought. He caughthimself smiling as he recalled discussing

"negotiation" withPadme, on Naboo before the war; he came back to the presentwhen he realized that undertaking "aggressive negotiations"could prove embarrassing under his current lightsaber-challenged circumstances.

" I say...," he put in slowly, "patience."

"Patience?" Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow. "That's a plan?"

"You know what Master Yoda says: Patience you must have until the mud settles and the water becomes clear. So let's wait."

Obi-Wan looked skeptical. "Wait."

"For the security patrol. A couple of droids will be along in a moment or two; they'll have to drop the ray shield to take us intocustody."

"And then?"

Anakin shrugged cheerfully. "And then we'll wipe them out."

"Brilliant as usual," Obi-Wan said dryly. "What if they turnout to be destroyer droids? Or something worse?"

"Oh, come on, Master. Worse than destroyers? Besides, security patrols are always those skinny useless little battle droids."

At that moment, four of those skinny useless battle droids came marching toward them, one along each corridor, clankingalong with blaster rifles leveled. One of them triggered one of itspreprogrammed security commands: "Hand over your weapons!" The other three chimed in with enthusiastic barks of

"Roger, roger!"anda round of spastic head-bobbing."See?" Anakin said. "No problem." Before Obi-Wan could reply, concealed doors in the corridorwalls zipped suddenly aside. Through them rolled the massivebronzium wheels of destroyer droids, two into each corridor.The eight destroyers unrolled themselves behind the battledroids, haloed by sparkling energy shields, twin blaster cannons targeting the two Jedi's chests.

Obi-Wan sighed. "You were saying?"

"Okay, fine. It's the dark side. Or something." Anakin rolledhis eyes. "I guess you're off the hook for the ray shield trap." Through those same doorways marched sixteen super battledroids to back up the destroyers, their arm cannons raised to fireover the destroyers' shields.Behind the super battle droids came two droids of a typeAnakin had never seen. He had an idea what they were, though.And he was not happy about it.

Obi-Wan scowled at them as they approached. "You're theexpert, Anakin. What are those things?"

"Remember what you were saying about worse than destroyers?" Anakin said grimly. "I think we're looking at them."

They walked side by side, their gait easy and straightforward,almost as smooth as a human's. In fact, they could have been human—humans who were two meters tall and made out ofmetal. They wore long swirling cloaks that had once been white, but now were stained with smoke and what Anakin strongly suspected was blood. They walked with the cloaks thrown back overone shoulder, to clear their left arms, where they held some unfamiliar staff-like weapon about two meters long—somethinglike the force-pike of a Senate Guard, but shorter, and with anodd-looking discharge blade at each end. They walked like they were made to fight, and they hadclearly seen some battle. The chest plate of one bore a roundshallow crater surrounded by a corona of scorch, a direct blasterhit that hadn't come close to penetrating; the other bore a scarfrom its cranial dome down through one dead photoreceptor—ascar that looked like it might have come from a lightsaber.This droid looked like it had fought a Jedi, and survived.The Jedi, he guessed, hadn't.

These two droids threaded between the super battle droidsand destroyers and casually shoved aside one battle droid hard enough that it slammed into the wall and collapsed into a sparking heap of metal. The one with the damaged photoreceptor pointed its staff at them, and the ray shields around them dropped. "He said, handover your weapons, Jedi!" This definitely wasn't a preprogrammed security commandAnakin said softly, "I saw an Intel report on this; I thinkthose are Grievous's personal bodyguard droids. Prototypes built to his specifications." He looked from Obi-Wan to Palpatine andback again. "To fight Jedi."

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. "Then under the circumstances, I suppose we need a Plan B." Anakin nodded at Palpatine. "The Chancellor's idea issounding pretty good right now." Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully.

When the Jedi Master turned away to offer his lightsaber to the bodyguard droid, Anakin leaned close to the Supreme Chancellor and murmured, "So you get your way, after all." Palpatine answered with a slight, unreadable smile. "I frequently do." As super battle droids came forward with electrobinders for their wrists and a restraining bolt for R2-D2, Obi-Wan cast one frowning look back over his shoulder.

"Oh, Anakin," he said, with the sort of quiet, pained resignation that would be recognized instantly by any parent exhausted by a trouble-prone child. "Where is your lightsaber?" Anakin couldn't look at him. "It's not lost, if that's whatyou're thinking." This was the truth: Anakin could feel it in theForce, and he knew exactly where it was.

"No?"

"No."

"Where is it, then?"

"Can we talk about this later?"

"Without your lightsaber, you may not have a 'later.' "

"I don't need a lecture, okay? How many times have we hadthis talk?"

"Apparently, one time less than we needed to."

Anakin sighed. Obi-Wan could still make him feel about nine years old. He gave a sullen nod toward one of the droid bodyguards. "He's got it."

"He does? And how did this happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Anakin—"

"Hey, he's got yours, too!"

"That's different—"

"This weapon is your life, Obi-Wan!" He did a credible-enough Kenobi impression that Palpatine had to smother asnort. "You must take care of it!"

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan said, as the droids clicked the bindersonto their wrists and led them all away, "we should talk aboutthis later."

Anakin intoned severely, "Without your lightsaber, you maynot have a—"

"All right, all right." The Jedi Master surrendered with a rueful smile. "You win." Anakin grinned at him. "I'm sorry? What was that?" Hecouldn't remember the last time he'd won an argument withObi-Wan. "Could you speak up a little?"

"It's not very Jedi to gloat, Anakin."

"I'm not gloating, Master," he said with a sidelong glance atPalpatine. "I'm just... savoring the moment." This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, for now:

The Supreme Chancellor returns your look with a hint ofsmile and a sliver of an approving nod, and for you, this tiny, trivial, comradely victory sparks a warmth and ease that relaxes thedragon-grip of dread on your heart.

Forget that you are captured; you and Obi-Wan have beencaptured before. Forget the deteriorating ship, forget the Jedi-killing droids; you've faced worse. Forget General Grievous.What is he compared with Dooku? He can't even use the Force.So now, here, for you, the situation comes down to this: you are walking between the two best friends you have ever had, withyour precious droid friend faithfully whirring after your heels.

On your way to win the Clone Wars.

What you have done—what happened in the General's Quarters and, more important, why it happened—is all burning awayin Coruscant's atmosphere along with Dooku's decapitatedcorpse. Already it seems as if it happened to somebody else, as ifyouwere somebody else when you did it, and it seems as if thatman—the dragon-haunted man with a furnace for a heart and amind as cold as the surface of that dead star—had really onlybeen an image reflected in Dooku's open staring eyes. And by the time what's left of the conning spire crashes intothe kilometers-thick crust of city that is the surface of Coruscant, those dead eyes will have burned away, and the dragon will burnwith them. And you, for the first time in your life, will truly be free.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker.

For now.

=7=

OBI-WAN AND ANAKIN2

This is Obi-Wan Kenobi in the light:

As he is prodded onto the bridge along with Anakin andChancellor Palpatine, he has no need to look around to see thebanks of control consoles tended by terrified Neimoidians. Hedoesn't have to turn his head to count the droidekas and superbattle droids, or to gauge the positions of the brutal droid body guards. He doesn't bother to raise his eyes to meet the cold yellow stare fixed on him through a skull-mask of armorplast.He doesn't even need to reach into the Force.He has already let the Force reach into him.The Force flows over him and around him as though he has stepped into a crystal-pure waterfall lost in the green coils of aforgotten rain forest; when he opens himself to that sparklingstream it flows into him and through him and out again without theslightest interference from his conscious will. The part of him that calls itself Obi-Wan Kenobi is no more than a ripple, an eddy inthe pool into which he endlessly pours.

There are other parts of him here, as well; there is nothinghere that is not a part of him, from the scuff mark on R2-D2's dometo the tattered hem of Palpatine's robe, from the spideringcrack in one transparisteel panel of the curving view wall above tothe great starships that still battle beyond it. Because this is all part of the Force.

Somehow, mysteriously, the cloud that has darkened theForce for near to a decade and a half has lightened around himnow, and he finds within himself the limpid clarity he recalls fromhis schooldays at the Jedi Temple, when the Force was pure, andclean, and perfect. It is as though the darkness has withdrawn,has coiled back upon itself, to allow him this moment of clarity,to return to him the full power of the light, if only for the moment; he does not know why, but he is incapable of even wondering. In the Force, he is beyond questions.

Whyis meaningless; it is an echo of the past, or a whisper from the future. All that matters, for this infinite now, is what, and where, and who.

He is all sixteen of the super battle droids, gleaming in laser-reflective chrome, arms loaded with heavy blasters. He is thoseblasters and he is their targets. He is all eight destroyer droidswaiting with electronic patience within their energy shields, andboth bodyguards, and every single one of the shivering Neimoidians. He is their clothes, their boots, even each drop of reptile-scented moisture that rolls off them from the misting sprays theyuse to keep their internal temperatures down. He is the bindersthat cuff his hands, and he is the electrostaff in the hands of the bodyguard at his back. He is both of the lightsabers that the other droid bodyguard marches forward to offer to General Grievous.

And he is the general himself.

He is the general's duranium ribs. He is the beating of Grievous'salien heart, and is the silent pulse of oxygen pumpedthrough his alien veins. He is the weight of four lightsabers at thegeneral's belt, and is the greedy anticipation the captured weapons sparked behind the general's eyes. He is even the plan for his own execution simmering within the general's brain.

He is all these things, but most importantly, he is still Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is why he can simply stand. Why he can simply wait. Hehas no need to attack, or to defend. There will be battle here, buthe is perfectly at ease, perfectly content to let the battle startwhen it will start, and let it end when it will end.

Just as he will let himself live, or let himself die.

This is how a great Jedi makes war.

General Grievous lifted the two lightsabers, one in each duranium hand, to admire them by the light of turbolaser blasts outside, and said, "Rare trophies, these: the weapon of AnakinSkywalker, and the weapon of General Kenobi. I look forward toadding them to my collection."

"That will not happen. I am in control here." The reply came through Obi-Wan's lips, but it was not truly Obi-Wan who spoke. Obi-Wan was not in control; he had noneed for control. He had the Force. It was the Force that spoke through him.Grievous stalked forward. Obi-Wan saw death in the cold yellow stare through the skull-mask's eyeholes, and it meantnothing to him at all. There was no death. There was only the Force.He didn't have to tell Anakin to subtly nudge Chancellor Palpatine out of the line of fire; part of him was Anakin, and wasdoing this already. He didn't have to tell R2-D2 to access its combat subprograms and divert power to its booster rockets,claw-arm, and cable-gun; the part of him that was the little astromechhad seen to all these things before they had even en tered the bridge.

Grievous towered over him. "So confident you are, Kenobi."

"Not confident, merely calm." From so close, Obi-Wancould see the hairline cracks and pitting in the bone-pale mask and could feel the resonance of the general's electrosonic voicehumming in his chest. He remembered the Question of MasterJrul: What is the good, if not the teacher of the bad? What is the bad if not the task of the good?

He said, "We can resolve this situation without further violence. I am willing to accept your surrender."

"I'm sure you are." The skull-mask tilted inquisitively. "Does this preposterous I-will-accept-your-surrender line of yours everactually work?"

"Sometimes. When it doesn't, people get hurt. Sometimesthey die." Obi-Wan's blue-gray eyes met squarely those of yellow behind the mask. "By people, in this case, you should understandthat I mean you."

"I understand enough. I understand that I will kill you."Grievous threw back his cloak and ignited both lightsabers. "Here. Now. With your own blade."

The Force replied through Obi-Wan's lips, "I don't thinkso."

The electrodrivers that powered Grievous's limbs couldmove them faster than the human eye can see; when he swunghis arm, it and his fist and the lightsaber within it would literallyvanish: wiped from existence by sheer mind-numbing speed, an imitation quantum event. No human being could move remotelyas fast as Grievous, not even Obi-Wan—but he didn't have to.

In the Force, part of him was Grievous's intent to slaughter,and the surge from intent to action translated to Obi-Wan's response without thought. He had no need for a plan, no use fortactics. He had the Force.

That sparkling waterfall coursed through him, washing awayany thought of danger, or safety, of winning or losing. TheForce, like water, takes on the shape of its container without effort, without thought. The water that was Obi-Wan poured itself into the container that was Grievous's attack, and while some m aterials might be water-tight, Obi-Wan had yet to encounter anythat were entirely, as it were, Force-tight...

While the intent to swing was still forming in Grievous'smind, the part of the Force that was Obi-Wan was also the partof the Force that was R2-D2, as well as an internal fusion-welderAnakin had retrofitted into R2-D2's primary grappling arm, andso there was no need for actual communication between them; it was only Obi-Wan's personal sense of style that brought his customary gentle smile to his face and his customary gentle murmurto his lips."Artoo?"

Even as he opened his mouth, a panel was sliding aside in thelittle droid's fuselage; by the time the droid's nickname had lefthis lips, the fusion-welder had deployed and fired a blindingspray of sparks hot enough to melt duranium, and in the quarter of a second while even Grievous's electronically enhanced reflexes had him startled and distracted, the part of the Force thatwas Obi-Wan tried a little trick, a secret one that it had been saving up for just such an occasion as this.

Because all there on the bridge was one in the Force, fromthe gross structure of the ship itself to the quantum dance of theelectron shells of individual atoms—and because, after all, thenerves and muscles of the bio-droid general were creations ofelectronics and duranium, not living tissue with will of its own— it was just barely possible that with exactly the right twist of hismind, in that one vulnerable quarter of a second while Grievous was distracted, flinching backward from a spray of flame hotenough to burn even his armored body, Obi-Wan might be ableto temporarily reverse the polarity of the electrodrivers in the general's mechanical hands.

Which is exactly what he did.

Durasteel fingers sprang open, and two lightsabers fell free.

He reached through the Force and the Force reachedthrough him; his blade flared to life while still in the air; it flippedtoward him, and as he lifted his hands to meet it, its blue flameflashed between his wrists and severed the binders before thehandgrip smacked solidly into his palm.

Obi-Wan was so deep in the Force that he wasn't evensuprised it had worked. He made a quarter turn to face Anakin, who was already in the air, having leapt simultaneously with Obi-Wan's gentle murmur because Obi-Wan and Anakin were, after all, two parts ofthe same thing; Anakin's flip carried him over Obi-Wan's head atthe perfect range for Obi-Wan's blade to flick out and burnthrough his partner's binders, and while Grievous was still flinching away from the fountain of fusion fire, Anakin landed with hisown hand extended; Obi-Wan felt a liquid surge in the waterfallthat he was, and Anakin's lightsaber sang through the air andAnakin caught it, and so, one single second after Grievous hadbegun to summon the intent to swing, Obi-Wan Kenobi andAnakin Skywalker stood back-to-back in the center of the bridge,expressionlessly staring past the snarling blue energy of their lightsabers.

Obi-Wan regarded the general without emotion. "Perhapsyou should reconsider my offer." Grievous braced himself against a control console, its dura-steel housing buckling under his grip. "This is my answer!"

He ripped the console wholly into the air, right out fromunder the hands of the astonished Neimoidian operator, raised it over his head, and hurled it at the Jedi. They split, rolling out ofthe console's way as it crashed to the deck, spitting smoke andsparks.

"Open fire!"Grievous shook his fists as though each held aJedi's neck. "Kill them! Kill them all!" For one more second there was only the scuttle of priminglevers on dozens of blasters. One second after that, the bridge exploded into a firestorm.

Grievous hung back, crouching, watching for a moment ashis two MagnaGuards waded into the Jedi, electrostaffs whirlingthrough the blinding hail of blasterfire that ricocheted aroundthe bridge. Grievous had fought Jedi before, sometimes even inopen battle, and he had found that fighting any one Jedi wasmuch like fighting any other.Kenobi, though—

The ease with which Kenobi had taken command of thesituation was frightening. More frightening was the fact that ofthe two, Skywalker was reportedly the greater warrior. And eventheir R2 unit could fight: the little astromech had some kind ofaftermarket cable-gun it had used to entangle the legs of a super droid and yank it off its feet, and now was jerking the droid this way and that so that its arm cannons were blasting chunks off its squadmates instead of the Jedi.

Grievous was starting to think less about winning this particular encounter than about surviving it. Let his MagnaGuards fight the Jedi; that's what they weredesigned for—and they were doing their jobs well. IG-101 hadpressed Kenobi back against a console, lightning blazing from hiselectrostaff's energy shield where it pushed on Kenobi's blade;the Jedi general might have died then and there, except that one of the simple-minded super battle droids turned both arm cannons on his back, giving Kenobi the chance to duck and allowthe hammering blaster bolts to slam 101 stumbling backward.Skywalker had stashed the Chancellor somewhere—that sniveling coward Palpatine was probably trembling under one of the control consoles—and had managed to sever both of 102's legsbelow the knee, which for some reason he apparently expected toend the fight; he seemed completely astonished when 102 whirled nimbly on one end of his electrostaff and used thestumps of his legs to thump Skywalker so soundly the Jedi went down skidding.

On the other hand,Grievous thought, this might be salvage able after all. He tapped his internal comlink's jaw sensor to the generaldroid command frequency. "The Chancellor is hiding under oneof the consoles. Squad Sixteen, find him, and deliver him to my escape pod immediately. Squad Eight, stay on mission. Kill theJedi."

Then the ship bucked, sharper than it ever had, and the viewwall panels whited out as radiation-scatter sleeted through thebridge. Alarm klaxons blared. The nav console flared sparks intothe face of a Neimoidian pilot, setting his uniform on fire andadding his screams to the din, and another console exploded, ripping the newly promoted senior gunnery officer into a pile ofshredded meat. Ah,Grievous thought. In all the excitement, he had entirelyforgotten about Lieutenant Commander Needa and Integrity.

The other pilot—the one who wasn't shrieking and slappingat the flames on his uniform until his own hands caught fire—leaned as far away from his screaming partner as his crash webbing would allow and shouted, "General, that shot destroyed thelast of the aft control cells! The ship is deorbiting! We're going toburn!"

"Very well," Grievous said calmly. "Stay on course." Now itno longer mattered whether his bodyguards could overpowerthe Jedi or not: they would all burn together.

He tapped his jaw sensor to the control frequency for the escape pods; one coded order ensured that his personal pod wouldbe waiting for him with engines hot and systems checks complete. When he looked back to the fight, all he could see of IG-102was one arm, the saber-cut joint still white hot. Skywalker was pursuing two super battle droids that had Palpatine by the arms. While Skywalker dismantled the droids with swift cuts, Kenobi wasin the process of doing the same to IG-101—the MagnaGuard was hopping on its one remaining leg, whirling its electrostaff with its one remaining arm, and screeching some improbablethreat regarding its staff and Kenobi's body cavities—and afterKenobi cut off the arm, 101 went hopping after him, still screeching. The droid actually managed to land one glancing kick beforethe Jedi casually severed its other leg, after which 101's limblesstorso continued to writhe on the deck, howling.

With both MagnaGuards down, all eight destroyers openedup, dual cannons erupting gouts of galvened particle beams. Thetwo Jedi leapt together to screen the Chancellor, and before Grievous could command the destroyers to cease fire, the Jedihad deflected enough of the bolts to blow apart three-quarters of the remaining super battle droids and send the survivors scurrying for cover beside what was left of the cringing Neimoidians.

The destroyers began to close in, hosing down the Jedi with heavy fire, advancing step by step, cannons against lightsabers; the Jedi caught every blast and sent them back against the destroyers' shields that flared in spherical haloes as they absorbedthe reflected bolts. The destroyers might very well have prevailedover the Jedi, except for one unexpected difficulty—Gravity shear. All eight of them suddenly seemed, inexplicably, to leap intothe air, followed by Skywalker, and Palpatine, and chairs andpieces of MagnaGuards and everything else on the bridge thatwas not bolted to the deck, except for Kenobi, who managed tograb a control console and now was hanging by one hand, upside down, still effortlessly deflecting blaster bolts.

The surviving Neimoidian pilot was screaming orders for thedroids to magnetize, then started howling that the ship wasbreaking up, and managed to make so much annoying noise thatGrievous smashed his skull out of simple irritation. Then helooked around and realized he'd just killed the last of his crew: allthe bridge crew he hadn't slain personally had sucked up the bulkof the random blaster ricochets. Grievous shook the pilot's brains off his fist. Disgusting creatures, Neimoidians. The invisible plane of altered gravity passed over the bio-droid general without effect—his talons of magnetized duraniumkept him right where he was—and as one of the MagnaGuards'electrostaffs fell past him, his invisibly fast hand snatched it fromthe air. When another plane of gravity shear swept through the bridge, droids, Chancellor, and Jedi all fell back to the floor.

Though the droideka, also known as the destroyer droid, wasthe most powerful infantry combat droid in general production,it had one major design flaw. The energy shield that was so effective in stopping blasters, slugs, shrapnel, and even lightsaberswas precisely tuned to englobe the droid in a standing position;if the droid was no longer standing—say, if it was knocked down,or thrown into a wall—the shield generator could not distinguisha floor or a wall from a weapon, and would keep ramping up power to disintegrate this perceived threat until the generator shorted itself out. Between falling to the ceiling, bouncing off it, and fallingback to the floor, the sum total output of all the shield generatorsof Squad Eight was, currently, one large cloud of black smoke. It was impossible to say which one of them opened fire onthe Jedi, and it didn't matter; inside of two seconds, eightdroidekas had become eight piles of smoking scrap, and two Jedi,entirely unscathed, walked out of the smoke side by side.Without a word, they parted to bracket the general.Grievous clicked the electrostaffs power setting to overload;it spat lightning around him as he lifted it to combat ready. "I amsorry I don't have time to fight you—it would have been an interesting match—but I have an appointment with an escape pod.And you..."

He pointed at the transparisteel view wall and triggered his ownconcealed cable-gun, not unlike the one that fancy astromechof theirs had; the cable shot out and its grappling clawburied itself in one of the panel supports.

"You," he said, "have appointments with death."The Jedi leapt, and Grievous hurled the overloading electrostaff—but not at the Jedi. He threw it at a window.One of the transparisteel panels of the view wall had crackedunder a glancing hit from a starfighter's cannon; when the sparking electrostaff hit it squarely and exploded like a protongrenade, the whole panel blew out into space. A hurricane roared to life, raging through the bridge, seizing Neimoidian corpses and pieces of droids and wreckage and hurling them out through the gap along with a white fountain offlash-frozen air. Grievous sprang straight up into the instant hur-ricane, narrowly avoiding the two Jedi, whose leaps had becomefrantic tumbles as they tried to avoid being sucked through alongwith him. Grievous, though, had no need to breathe, nor had he any fear of his body fluids boiling in the vacuum—the pressurized synthflesh that enclosed the living parts within his droidexoskeleton saw to that—so he simply rode the storm right outinto space until he reached the end of the cable and it snappedtight and swung him whipping back toward Invisible Hand's hull.

He cast off the cable. His hands and feet of magnetized duranium let him scramble along the hull without difficulty, thelight-spidered curve of Coruscant's nightside whirling aroundhim. He clambered over to the external locks of the bridge escape pods and punched in a command code. Looking back overhis shoulder, he experienced a certain chilly satisfaction as he

watched empty escape pods blast free of the Hand's bridge andstreak away. All of them.

Well: all but one.

No trick of the Force would spring Kenobi and Skywalkerout of this one. It was a shame he didn't have a spy probe handy to leave on the bridge; he would have enjoyed watching the Republic's greatest heroes burn.

The ion streaks of the escape pods spiraled through the battle that still flashed and flared silently in the void, pursued bystarfighters and armed retrieval ships. Grievous nodded to himself; that should occupy them long enough for his command podto make the run to his escape ship.

As he entered his customized pod, he reflected that he was, for the first time in his career, violating orders: though he was under strict orders to leave the Chancellor unharmed, Palpatine was about to die alongside his precious Jedi.

Then Grievous shrugged, and sighed. What more could hehave done? There was a war on, after all. He was sure Lord Sidious would forgive him.

On the bridge, a blast shield had closed over the destroyed transparisteel window, and every last surviving combat-modeldroid had been cut to pieces even before the atmosphere had had a chance to stabilize.

But there was a more serious problem.

The bucking of the ship had become continuous. White-hotsparks outside streamed backward past the view wall windows.Those sparks, according to the three different kinds of alarms that were all screaming through the bridge at once, were what was left of the ablative shielding on the nose of the disabledcruiser. Anakin stared grimly down at a console readout. "All the escape pods are gone. Not one left on the whole ship." He looked capeat Obi-Wan. "We're trapped."

Obi-Wan appeared more interested than actually concerned."Well. Here's a chance to display your legendary piloting skills, my young friend. You can fly this cruiser, can't you?"

"Flying's no problem. The trick is landing, which, ah..."Anakin gave a slightly shaky laugh. "Which, you know, thiscruiser is not exactly designed to do. Even when it's in one piece." Obi-Wan looked unimpressed. "And so?"

Anakin unsnapped the crash webbing that held the pilot's corpse and pulled the body from its chair.

"And so you'd betterstrap in," he said, settling into the chair, his fingers sliding overthe unfamiliar controls. The cruiser bounced even harder, and its attitude began toskew as a new klaxon joined the blare of the other alarms. "Thatwasn't me!" Anakin jerked his hands away from the board. "I haven't even done anything yet!"

"It certainly wasn't." Palpatine's voice was unnaturally calm."It seems someone is shooting at us."

"Wonderful," Anakin muttered. "Could this day get any better?"

"Perhaps we can talk with them." Obi-Wan moved over tothe comm station and began working the screen. "Let themknow we've captured the ship."

"All right, take the comm," Anakin said. He pointed at the copilot's station. "Artoo: second chair. Chancellor?"

"Yes?"

"Strap in. Now. We're going in hot." Anakin grimaced at thescraps of burning hull flashing past the view wall. "In more waysthan one."

The vast space battle that had ripped and battered Coruscantspace all this long, long day, finally began to flicker out.The shimmering canopy of ion trails and turbolaser burstswas fading into streaks of ships achieving jump as the Separatist strike force fled in full retreat. The light of Coruscant'sdistant star splintered through iridescent clouds of gas crystals that were the remains of starfighters, and of pilots. Damagedcruisers limped toward spaceyards, passing shattered hulks thathung dead in the infinite day that is interplanetary space. Prizecrews took command of surrendered ships, imprisoning theliving among their crews and affixing restraining bolts to thedroids.

The dayside surface of the capital planet was shrouded in smoke from a million fires touched off by meteorite impacts of ship fragments; far too many had fallen to be tracked and destroyed by the planet's surface-defense umbrella. The nightside's sheet of artificial lights faded behind the red-white glow from craters of burning steel; each impact left a caldera of unimaginable death. In the skies of Coruscant now, the important vessels were no longer warships, but were instead the fire-suppressionand rescue craft that crisscrossed the planet.

Now one last fragmentary ship screamed into the atmosphere, coming in too fast, too steep, pieces breaking off tospread apart and stream their own contrails of superheated vapor;banks of turbolasers on the surface-defense towers isolated theirsignature, and starfighters whipped onto interception courses to thin out whatever fragments the SD towers might miss, and farabove, beyond the atmosphere, on the bridge of RSS Integrity, Lieutenant Commander Lorth Needa spoke urgently to a knee-high blue ghost scanned into existence by the phased-array lasersin a holocomm: an alien in Jedi robes, with bulging eyes set in a wrinkled face and long, pointed, oddly flexible ears.

"You have to stand down the surface-defense system, sir! It'sGeneral Kenobi!" Needa insisted. "His code verifies, Skywalkeris with him—and they have Chancellor Palpatine!"

"Heard and understood this is,"the Jedi responded calmly.

"Tell me what they require."

Needa glanced down at the boil of hull plating that wasburning off the falling cruiser, and even as he looked, the ship broke in half at the hangar deck; the rear half tumbled, explod-ing in sections, but whoever was flying the front half must havebeen one of the greatest pilots Needa had ever even heard of: thefront half wobbled and slewed but somehow righted itself usingnothing but a bank of thrusters and its atmospheric drag fins.

"First, a flight of fireships," Needa said, more calmly now. "Ifthey don't get the burnoff under control, there won't be enoughhull left to make the surface. And a hardened docking platform,the strongest available; they won't be able to set it down. Thiswon't be a landing, it will be a controlled crash. Repeat: a con-trolled crash."

"Heard and understood this is,"the hologrammic Jedi repeated. "Crossload their transponder signature." When this wasdone, the Jedi nodded grave approval. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. Valiant service for the Republic you have donetoday— and the gratitude of the Jedi Order you have earned. Yoda out."

On the bridge of Integrity, Lorth Needa now could onlystand, and watch, hands clasped behind his back. Military discipline kept him expressionless, but pale bands began at his knuckles and spread whiteness nearly to his wrists.

Every bone in his body ached with helplessness.Because he knew: that fragment of a ship was a death trap.No one could land such a hulk, not even Skywalker. Each secondthat passed before its final breakup and burn was a miracle in itself, a testament to the gifts of a pilot who was justly legendary—but when each second is a miracle, how many of them can be strung together in a row? Lorth Needa was not religious, nor was he a philosopher ormetaphysician; he knew of the Force only by reputation, butnonetheless now he found himself asking the Force, in his heartthat when the fiery end came for the men in that scrap of a shipit might as least come quickly.

His eyes stung. The irony of it burned the back of his throatThe Home Fleet had fought brilliantly, and the Jedi had done their superhuman part; against all odds, the Republic had wonthe day. Yet this battle had been fought to save Supreme ChancellorPalpatine.

They had won the battle, but now, as Needa stood watching helplessly, he couldn't help feeling that they were about to losethe war.

This is Anakin Skywalker's masterpiece:

Many people say he is the best star pilot in the galaxy, butthat's merely talk, born of the constant HoloNet references tohis unmatched string of kills in starfighter combat. Blowing up vulture droids and tri-fighters is simply a matter of superior reflexes and trust in the Force; he has spent so many hours in the cockpit that he wears a Jedi starfighter like clothes. It's his ownbody, with thrusters for legs and cannons for fists.

What he is doing right now transcends mere flying the wayJedi combat transcends a schoolyard scuffle. He sits in a blood-spattered, blaster-chopped chair behind aconsole he's never seen before, a console with controls designedfor alien fingers. The ship he's in is not only bucking like a maddened dewback through brutal coils of clear-air turbulence, it's on fire and breaking up like a comet ripping apart as it crashes into a gas giant. He has only seconds to learn how to maneuveran alien craft that not only has no aft control cells, but has no aft at all.

This is, put simply, impossible. It can't be done.

He's going to do it anyway.

Because he is Anakin Skywalker, and he doesn't believe inimpossible.

He extends his hands and for one long, long moment hemerely strokes controls, feeling their shape under his fingers, listening to the shivers his soft touch brings to each remaining control surface of the disintegrating ship, allowing their resonancesto join inside his head until they resolve into harmony like a Ferroanjoy-harp virtuoso checking the tuning of his instrument.

And at the same time, he draws power from the Force. Hegathers perception, and luck, and sucks into himself the instinctive, preconscious what-will-happen-in-the-next-ten-seconds intuition that has always been the core of his talent.And then he begins.

On the downbeat, atmospheric drag fins deploy; as he tweaks their angles and cycles them in and out to slow the ship's descentwithout burning them off altogether, their contrabass roar takeson a punctuated rhythm like a heart that skips an occasional beat.The forward attitude thrusters, damaged in the ship-to-ship bat-tle, now fire in random directions, but he can feel where they're raking him and he strokes them in sequence, making their songthe theme of his impromptu concerto. And the true inspiration, the sparkling grace note of geniusthat brings his masterpiece to life, is the soprano counterpoint: a syncopated sequence of exterior hatches in the outer hull slidingopen and closed and open again, subtly altering the aerodynamics of the ship to give it just exactly the amount of sideslip or liftor yaw to bring the huge half cruiser into the approach cone of apinpoint target an eighth of the planet away.

It is the Force that makes this possible, and more than theForce. Anakin has no interest in serene acceptance of what the Force will bring. Not here. Not now. Not with the lives of Palpatine and Obi-Wan at stake. It's just the opposite: he seizesupon the Force with a stark refusal to fail. He will land this ship.

He will save his friends.

Between his will and the will of the Force, there is no contest

=Part Two=

SEDUCTION

The dark is generous, and it is patient.

It is the dark that seeds cruelty into justice, that drips contemptinto compassion, that poisons love with grains of doubt.

The dark can be patient, because the slightest drop of rain willcause those seeds to sprout. The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the dark is the soil in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waitsbehind the star that gives them light.

The dark's patience is infinite.

Eventually, even stars burn out.

=8=

FAULT LINES

Mace Windu hung on to the corrugated hatch grip besidethe gunship's open troop bay with one hand, squinting into the wind that whipped his overcloak behind him. His other handshaded his eyes against the glare from one of the orbital mirrorsthat concentrated the capital planet's daylight. The mirror wasslowly turning aside now, allowing a band of twilight to approachthe gunship's destination. That destination, a kilometer-thick landing platform in theplanet's vast industrial zone, was marked with a steeply slantingtower of smoke and vapor that stretched from the planet's surface to the uppermost reaches of the atmosphere, a tower thatonly now was beginning to spread and coil from its tiny source point to a horizon-spanning smear across the stratosphericwinds.

The gunship roared over the bottomless canyons of durasteeland permacrete that formed the landscape of Coruscant, arrowing straight for the industrial zone without regard for the rigidtraffic laws that governed flight on the galactic planet; until martial law was officially lifted by the Senate, the darkening skieswould be traveled only by Republic military craft, Jedi transports, and emergency vehicles. The gunship qualified as all three.

Mace could see the ship now—what was left of it—restingon the scorched platform far ahead: a piece of a ship, a fragmentless than a third of what once had been the Trade Federationflagship, still burning despite the gouts of fire-suppression foamraining down on it from five different ships and the emergencysupport clone troops who surrounded it on the platform. Mace shook his head. Skywalker again. The chosen one.

Who else could have brought in this hulk? Who else couldhave even come close? The gunship swung into a hot landing, repulsors howling;Mace hopped out before it could settle, and gave the pilot anopen-palm gesture to signal him to wait. The pilot, facelesswithin his helmet, responded with a closed fist.

Though, of course, the pilot wasn't faceless at all. Under hisarmored helmet, that clone pilot had a face that Mace Windu remembered all too well. That face would always remind him that he had once held Dooku within his grasp, and had let him slip away.

Across the platform, an escape pod hatch cycled open. Emergency crews scrambled with an escape slide, and a moment laterthe Supreme Chancellor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker were all on the deck beside the burning ship, closely followed by a somewhat battered R2 unit that lifted itself down oncustomized maneuvering rockets.

Mace strode swiftly out to meet them.

Palpatine's robes were scorched and tattered at the hem, andhe seemed weak; he leaned a bit on Skywalker's shoulder as theymoved away from the ship. On Skywalker's other side, Master Kenobi seemed a touch the worse for wear himself: caked withdust and leaking a trickle of blood from a scalp wound.

Skywalker, by contrast, looked every bit the HoloNet hero he was supposed to be. He seemed to tower over his companions,as though he had somehow gotten even taller in themonths since Mace had seen him last. His hair was tousled, hiscolor was high, and his walk still had the grounded grace of a natural fighter, but there was something new in his physicality: inthe way he moved his head, perhaps, or the way the weight ofPalpatine's arm on his shoulder seemed somehow to belongthere... or something less definable. Some new ease, new confidence. An aura of inner power.

Presence.

Skywalker was not the same young man the Council had sentoff to the Outer Rim five standard months ago.

"Chancellor," Mace said as he met them. "Are you well? Doyou need medical attention?" He gestured over his shoulder atthe waiting gunship. "I have a fully equipped field surgery—"

"No, no, no need," Palpatine said, rather faintly. "Thankyou, Master Windu, but I am well. Quite well, thanks to thesetwo."

Mace nodded. "Master Kenobi? Anakin?"

"Never better," Skywalker replied, looking as if he meant it, and Kenobi only shrugged, with a slight wince as he touched his scalp wound.

"Only a bump on the head. That field surgery must beneeded elsewhere."

"It is." Mace looked grim. "We don't have even a preliminary estimate of civilian casualties." He waved off the gunship, and it roared away toward the countless fires that painted red the approach of night.

"A shuttle is on its way. Chancellor, we'll have you on theSenate floor within the hour. The HoloNet has already been notified that you will want to make a statement."

"I will. I will, indeed." Palpatine touched Mace on the arm.

"You have always been of great value to me, Master WinduThank you."

"The Jedi are honored to serve the Senate, sir." There might have been the slightest emphasis on the word Senate. Mace remained expressionless as he subtly moved his arm away from theChancellor's hand. He looked at Obi-Wan. "Is there anythingelse to report, Master Kenobi? What of General Grievous?"

"Count Dooku was there," Skywalker interjected. He had a look on his face that Mace couldn't decipher, proud yet wary—even unhappy. "He's dead now."

"Dead?" He looked from Anakin to Obi-Wan and backagain. "Is this true? You killed Count Dooku?"

"My young friend is too modest; he killed Count Dooku." Smiling, Kenobi touched the lump on his head.

"I was... taking a nap."

"But..."Mace blinked. Dooku was to the Separatists whatPalpatine was to the Republic: the center of gravity binding together a spiral galaxy of special interests. With Dooku gone, theConfederacy of Independent Systems would no longer really bea confederacy at all. They'd fly to pieces within weeks. Within days.

Mace said again, "But..."

And, in the end, he couldn't think of a but.

This was all so astonishing that he very nearly—almost, but not quite—cracked a smile.

"That is," he said, "the best news I've heard since..." Heshook his head. "Since I can't remember. Anakin—how did youdoit ?"

Inexplicably, young Skywalker looked distinctly uncomfortable; that newly confident presence of his collapsed as suddenly as an overloaded deflector, and instead of meeting Mace's eyes,his gaze flicked to Palpatine. Somehow Mace didn't think thiswas modesty. He looked to the Chancellor as well, his elation sinking, becoming puzzlement tinged with suspicion.

"It was... entirely extraordinary," Palpatine said blandly,oblivious to Mace's narrowing stare. "I know next to nothing ofswordplay, of course; to my amateur's eye, it seemed that CountDooku may have been... a trace overconfident. Especially after having disposed of Master Kenobi so neatly." Obi-Wan flushed, just a bit—and Anakin flushed considerably more deeply.

"Perhaps young Anakin was simply more... highly moti vated,"Palpatine said, turning a fond smile upon him. "After all,Dooku was fighting only to slay an enemy; Anakin was fightingto save—if I may presume the honor—a friend."

Mace's scowl darkened. Fine words. Perhaps even truewords, but he still didn't like them. No one on the Jedi Council had ever been comfortable withSkywalker's close relationship with the Chancellor—they'd hadmore than one conversation about it with Obi-Wan while Skywalker had still been his Padawan—and Mace was less than happyto hear Palpatine speaking for a young Jedi who seemed unprepared to speak for himself. He said, "I'm sure the Council will bevery interested in your full report, Anakin," with just enoughemphasis on full to get his point across. Skywalker swallowed, and then, just as suddenly as it had collapsed, that aura of calm, centered confidence rebuilt itselfaround him. "Yes. Yes of course, Master Windu."

"And we must report that Grievous escaped," Obi-Wan said."He is as cowardly as ever." Mace accepted this news with a nod. "But he is only a military commander. Without Dooku to hold the coalition together,these so-called independent systems will splinter, and they knowit." He looked straight into the Supreme Chancellor's eyes."This is our best chance to sue for peace. We can end this warright now."

And while Palpatine answered, Mace Windu reached into theForce.

To Mace's Force perception, the world crystallized aroundthem, becoming a gem of reality shot through with flaws andfault lines of possibility. This was Mace's particular gift: to seehow people and situations fit together in the Force, to find theshear planes that can cause them to break in useful ways, and tointuit what sort of strike would best make the cut. Though he could not consistently determine the significance of the structures he perceived—the darkening cloud upon the Force thathad risen with the rebirth of the Sith made that harder andharder with each passing day—the presence of shatterpoints wasalways clear. Mace had supported the training of Anakin Skywalker,though it ran counter to millennia of Jedi tradition, because fromthe structure of fault lines in the Force around him, he had beenable to intuit the truth of Qui-Gon Jinn's guess: that the youngslave boy from Tatooine was in fact the prophesied chosen one,born to bring balance to the Force. He had argued for the elevation of Obi-Wan Kenobi to Mastership, and to give the trainingof the chosen one into the hands of this new, untested Master,because his unique perception had shown him powerful lines ofdestiny that bound their lives together, for good or ill. On the day of Palpatine's election to the Chancellorship, he had seenthat Palpatine was himself a shatterpoint of unimaginable significance: a man upon whom might depend the fate of the Republicitself. Now he saw the three men together, and the intricate latticeof fault lines and stress fractures that bound them each to theother was so staggeringly powerful that its structure was beyondcalculation. Anakin was somehow a pivot point, the fulcrum of a leverwith Obi-Wan on one side, Palpatine on the other, and thegalaxy in the balance, but the dark cloud on the Force prevented his perception from reaching into the future for so much as a hintof where this might lead. The balance was already so delicate that he could not guess the outcome of any given shift: the slightest tip in any direction would generate chaotic oscillation. Anythingcould happen.Anything at all.

And the lattice of fault lines that bound all three of them toeach other stank of the dark side. He lifted his head and looked to the sky, picking out thedropping star of the Jedi shuttle as it swung toward themthrough the darkening afternoon.

"I'm afraid peace is out of the question while Grievous is at large," the Chancellor was saying sadly.

"Dooku was the onlycheck on Grievous's monstrous lust for slaughter; with Dookugone, the general has been unleashed to rampage across thegalaxy. I'm afraid that, far from being over, this war is about toget a very great deal worse."

"And what of the Sith?" Obi-Wan said. "Dooku's deathshould have at least begun the weakening of the darkness, but instead it feels stronger than ever. I fear Master Yoda's intuition iscorrect: that Dooku was merely the apprentice to the Sith Lord,not the Master."

Mace started walking toward the small-craft dock where theJedi shuttle would land, and the others fell in with him.

"The Sith Lord, if one still exists, will reveal himself in time.They always do." He hoped Obi-Wan would take the hint andshut up about it; Mace had no desire to speak openly of the investigation in front of the Supreme Chancellor. The less Palpatine knew, the better.

"A more interesting puzzle is Grievous," he said. "He hadyou at his mercy, Chancellor, and mercy is not numbered amonghis virtues. Though we all rejoice that he spared you, I cannothelp but wonder why." Palpatine spread his hands. "I can only assume the Separatistspreferred to have me as a hostage rather than as a martyr.Though it is of course impossible to say; it may merely have beena whim of the general. He is notoriously erratic."

"Perhaps the Separatist leadership can restrain him, in exchange for certain..."Mace let his gaze drift casually to a pointsomewhere above the Chancellor's head. "... considerations."

"Absolutely not." Palpatine drew himself up, straighteninghis robes. "A negotiated peace would be a recognition of the CIS as the legitimate government of the rebellious systemstantamount to losing the war!

No, Master Windu, this war canend only one way. Unconditional surrender. And while Grievouslives, that will never happen."

"Very well," Mace said. "Then the Jedi will make the captureof General Grievous our particular task." He glanced at Anakinand Obi-Wan, then back to Palpatine. He leaned close to theChancellor and his voice went low and final, with a buried intensity that hinted—just the slightest bit—of suspicion, and warn ing. "This war has gone on far too long already. We will find him,and this war will end."

"I have no doubt of it." Palpatine strolled along, seeminglyoblivious. "But we should never underestimate the deviousnessof the Separatists. It is possible that even the war itself has beenonly one further move," he said with elegant, understated precision, "in some greater game." As the Jedi shuttle swung toward the Chancellor's privatelanding platform at the Senate Offices, Obi-Wan watched Anakinpretending not to stare out the window. On the platform was asmall welcome-contingent of Senators, and Anakin was tryingdesperately to look as if he wasn't searching that little crowdhungrily for a particular face. The pretense was a waste of time; Anakin radiated excitement so powerfully in the Force that Obi-Wan could practically hear the thunder of his heartbeat. Obi-Wan gave a silent sigh. He had entirely too good an idea whose face his former Padawan was so hoping to see.

When the shuttle touched down, Master Windu caught hisfrom beyond Anakin's shoulder. The Korun Master made a nearly invisible gesture, to which Obi-Wan did not visibly respond; but when Palpatine and Anakin and R2 all debarkedtoward the crowd of well-wishers, Obi-Wan stayed behind. Anakin stopped on the landing deck, looking back at Obi-Wan. "You coming?"

"I haven't the courage for politics," Obi-Wan said, showinghis usual trace of a smile. "I'll brief the Council."

"Shouldn't I be there, too?"

"No need. This isn't the formal report. Besides—" Obi-Wannodded toward the clot of HoloNet crews clogging the pedestrian gangway. "—someone has to be the poster boy."Anakin looked pained. "Poster man."

"Quite right, quite right," Obi-Wan said with a gentlechuckle. "Go meet your public, Poster Man."

"Wait a minute—this whole operation was your idea. Youplanned it. You led the rescue. It's your turn to take the bows."

"You won't get out of it that easily, my young friend. Without you, I wouldn't even have made it to the flagship. You killedCount Dooku, and single-handedly rescued the Chancellor...all while, I might be forgiven for adding, carrying some oldbroken-down Jedi Master unconscious on your back. Not to mention making a landing that will be the standard of Impossible in every flight manual for the next thousand years."

"Only because of your training, Master—"

"That's just an excuse. You're the hero. Go spend your glorious day surrounded by—" Obi-Wan allowed himself a slightly disparaging cough. "—politicians."

"Come on, Master—you owe me. And not just for saving your skin for the tenth time—"

"Ninthtime. Cato Neimoidia doesn't count; it was yourfault in the first place." Obi-Wan waved him off.

"See you at theOuter Rim briefing in the morning."

"Well... all right. Just this once." Anakin laughed andwaved, and then headed briskly off to catch up with Palpatine asthe Chancellor waded into the Senators with the smooth-as-oiled-transparisteel ease of the lifelong politician.

The hatch cycled shut, the shuttle lifted off, and Obi-Wan'ssmile faded as he turned to Mace Windu.

"You wanted to speakwith me."

Windu moved close to Obi-Wan's position by the window,nodding out at the scene on the landing platform. "It's Anakin.I don't like his relationship with Palpatine."

"We've had this conversation before."

"There is something between them. Something new. I couldsee it in the Force." Mace's voice was flat and grim. "It felt powerful. And incredibly dangerous."

Obi-Wan spread his hands. "I trust Anakin with my life."

"I know you do. I only wish we could trust the Chancellor with Anakin's."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, frowning. "Palpatine's policies are...sometimes questionable. But he dotes on Anakin like a kindly olduncle on his favorite nephew."

Mace stared out the window. "The Chancellor loves power. If he has any other passion, I have not seen it."

Obi-Wan shook his head with a trace of disbelief. "I recall that not so long ago, you were something of an admirer of his."

"Things," Mace Windu said grimly, "change."

Flying over a landscape pocked with smoldering wreckagewhere once tall buildings filled with living beings had gleamed in the sun, toward a Temple filled with memories of so many, manyJedi who would never return from this war, Obi-Wan could notdisagree.

After a moment, he said, "What would you have me do?"

"I am not certain. You know my power; I cannot always interpretwhat I've seen. Be alert. Be mindful of Anakin, and becareful of Palpatine. He is not to be trusted, and his influence onAnakin is dangerous."

"But Anakin is the chosen one—"

"All the more reason to fear an outsider's influence. We havecircumstantial evidence that traces Sidious to Palpatine's innercircle."

Suddenly Obi-Wan had difficulty breathing. "Are you certain?"

Mace shook his head. "Nothing is certain. But this raid—the capture of Palpatine had to be an inside job. And the timing...we were closing in on him, Master Kenobi! The information you and Anakin discovered—we had traced the Sith Lord to an abandoned factory in The Works, not far from where Anakin landedthe cruiser. When the attack began, we were tracking himthrough the downlevel tunnels." Mace stared out the viewport ata vast residential complex that dominated the skyline to the west."The trail led to the sub-basement of Five Hundred Republica."Five Hundred Republica was the most exclusive address onthe planet. Its inhabitants included only the incredibly wealthy or the incredibly powerful, from Raith Sienar of the Sienar Systemsconglomerate to Palpatine himself. Obi-Wan could only say,"Oh."

"We have to face the possibility—the probability—that what Dooku told you on Geonosis was actually true. That the Senateunder the influence—under the control—of Darth Sidious. That it has been for years."

"Do you—" Obi-Wan had to swallow before he could go on.

"Do you have any suspects?"

"Too many. All we know of Sidious is that he's bipedal, of roughly human conformation. Sate Pestage springs to mind. I wouldn't rule out Mas Amedda, either. The Sith Lord mighteven be hiding among the Red Guards. There's no way toknow."

"Who's handling the questioning?" Obi-Wan asked. "I'd behappy to sit in; my perceptions are not so refined as some, but—"Mace shook his head.

"Interrogate the Supreme Chancellor's personal aides and advisors? Impossible."

"But—"

"Palpatine will never allow it. Though he hasn't said so..."Mace stared out the window. "... I'm not sure he even believes the Sith exist."

Obi-Wan blinked. "But—how can he—"

"Look at it from his point of view: the only real evidence wehave is Dooku's word. And he's dead now."

"The Sith Lord on Naboo—the Zabrak who killed Qui-Gon—"

Mace shrugged. "Destroyed. As you know." He shook hishead. "Relations with the Chancellor's Office are... difficult. Ifeel he has lost his trust in the Jedi; I have certainly lost my trustin him."

"But he doesn't have the authority to interfere with a Jedi investigation..."Obi-Wan frowned, suddenly uncertain. "Doeshe?"

"The Senate has surrendered so much power, it's hard to saywhere his authority stops."

"It's that bad?"

Mace's jaw locked. "The only reason Palpatine's not a suspect is because he already rules the galaxy."

"But we are closer than we have ever been to rooting out theSith," Obi-Wan said slowly. "That can only be good news. Iwould think that Anakin's friendship with Palpatine could be ofuse to us in this—he has the kind of access to Palpatine that otherJedi might only dream of. Their friendship is an asset, not a danger."

"You can't tell him."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Of the whole Council, only Yoda and myself know howdeep this actually goes. And now you. I have decided to share this with you because you are in the best situation to watch Anakin. Watch him. Nothing more."

"We—" Obi-Wan shook his head helplessly. "We don't keepsecrets from each other."

"You must keep this one." Mace laced his fingers togetherland squeezed until his knuckles crackled like blasterfire. "Skywalker is arguably the most powerful Jedi alive, and he is still getting stronger. But he is not stable. You know it. We all do. It is why he cannot be given Mastership. We must keep him off the Council, despite his extraordinary gifts. And Jedi prophecy... isnot absolute. The less he has to do with Palpatine, the better."

"But surely—" Obi-Wan stopped himself. He thought ofhow many times Anakin had violated orders. He thought of howunflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.He thought of the danger Palpatine faced unknowingly, with aSith Lord among his advisers...

Master Windu was right. This was a secret Anakin could notbe trusted to keep.

"What can I tell him?"

"Tell him nothing. I sense the dark side around him. Aroundthem both."

"As it is around us all," Obi-Wan reminded him. "The dark side touches all of us, Master Windu. Even you."

"I know that too well, Obi-Wan." For one second Obi-Wansaw something raw and haunted in the Korun Master's eyes.Mace turned away. "It is possible that we may have to... moveagainst Palpatine."

"Move against —?"

"If he is truly under the control of a Sith Lord, it may be the only way." Obi-Wan's whole body had gone numb. This didn't seemreal. It was not possible that he was actually having this conversation.

"You haven't been here, Obi-Wan." Mace stared bleaklydown at his hands. "You've been off fighting the war in theOuter Rim. You don't know what it's been like, dealing with allthe petty squabbles and special interests and greedy, graspingfools in the Senate, and Palpatine's constant, cynical, ruthless maneuvering for power—he carves away chunks of our freedomand bandages the wounds with tiny scraps of security. And forwhat? Look at this planet, Obi-Wan! We have given up so muchfreedom—how secure do we look? "

Obi-Wan's heart clenched. This was not the Mace Windu heknew and admired; it was as though the darkness in the Forcewas so much thicker here on Coruscant that it had breathed poison into Mace's spirit—and perhaps was even breeding suspicionand dissension among the members of the Jedi Council. The greatest danger from the darkness outside came whenJedi fed it with the darkness within. He had feared he might find matters had deteriorated when he returned to Coruscant and the Temple; not even in his darkest dreams had he thought it would get this bad.

"Master Windu—Mace. We'll go to Yoda together," he saidfirmly. "And among the three of us we'll work something out.We will. You'll see."

"It may be too late already."

"It may be. And it may not be. We can only do what we can do, Mace. A very, very wise Jedi once said to me, We don't have to win. All we have to do is fight." Some of the lines erased themselves from the Koran Master'sface then, and when he met Obi-Wan's eye there was a quirk atthe corner of his mouth that might someday develop into asmile—a tired, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I seem," hesaid slowly, "to have forgotten that particular Jedi. Thank you for reminding me."

"It was the least I could do," Obi-Wan said lightly, but a sadweight had gathered on his chest.Things change, indeed.

Anakin's heart pounded in his throat, but he kept smiling,and nodding, and shaking hands—and trying desperately towork his way toward a familiar golden-domed protocol droidwho hung back beyond the crowd of Senators, right arm lifted in a small, tentative wave at R2-D2.

She wasn't here. Why wasn't she here?Something must have happened.

He knew, deep in his guts, that something had happened toher. An accident, or she was sick, or she'd been caught in one of the vast number of buildings hit by debris from the battletoday... She might be trapped somewhere right now, mightbe wounded, might be smothering, calling out his name, might be feeling the approach of flames —

Stop it,he told himself. She's not hurt. If anything had hap-pened to her, he would know. Even from the far side of theOuter Rim, he would know.So why wasn't she here?Had something... He could barely breathe. He couldn't make himself eventhink it. He couldn't stop himself from thinking it. Had something changed? For her?In how she felt?

He managed to disengage himself from Tundra Dowmeia'sclammy grip and insistent invitations to visit his family's deepwaterestate on Mon Calamari; he slid past the Malastarian Senator Ask Aak with an apologetic shrug.

He had a different Senator on his mind.

R2 was wheeping and beeping and whistling intensely whenAnakin finally struggled free of the mass of sweaty, graspingpoliticians; C-3PO had turned away dismissively. "It couldn'thave been that bad. Don't exaggerate! You're hardly evendented."

R2's answering feroo sounded a little defensive. C-3PO sent a wisp of static through his vocabulator that sounded distinctlylike a disapproving sniff. "On that point I agree; you're longoverdue for a tune-up. And, if I may say so, a bath."

"Threepio—"

Anakin came up close beside the droid he had built in the back room of his mother's slave hovel on Tatooine: the droidwho had been both project and friend through his painful childhood: the droid who now served the woman he loved...

Threepio had been with her all these months, had seen herevery day, had touched her, perhaps even today —he could feelechoes of her resonating outward from his electroplated shell,and they left him breathless.

"Oh, Master Anakin!" Threepio exclaimed. "I am very gladto find you well! One does worry, when friends fall out of touch!Why, I was saying to the Senator, just the other day—or was itlast week? Time seems to run together so; do you think youmight have the opportunity to adjust my internal calendar settings while you're—"

"Threepio, have you seen her?" Anakin was trying so hardnot to shout that his voice came out a strangled croak. "Where is she? Why isn't she here?"

"Oh, well, certainly, certainly. Officially, Senator Amidala isextremelybusy," C-3PO said imperturbably.

"She has been sequestered all day in the Naboo embassy, reviewing the new Security Act, preparing for tomorrow's debate—"

Anakin couldn't breathe. She wasn't here, hadn't come tomeet him, over some debate? The Senate. He hated the Senate. Hated everything about it.A red haze gathered inside his head. Those self-righteous, narrow-minded, grubby little squabblers... He'd be doing the galaxy a favor ifhewere to go over there right now and just— "Wait," he murmured, blinking. "Did you say, officially?" "Oh, yes, Master Anakin." Threepio sounded entirely virtuous. "That is my official answer to all queries regarding theSenator's whereabouts. All afternoon."

The red haze evaporated, leaving only sunlight and dizzyingly fresh air.

Anakin smiled.

"And un officially?"

The protocol droid leaned close with an exaggeratedly conspiratorial whisper: "Unofficially, she's waiting in the hallway."

It felt like being struck by lightning. But in a good way. Inthe best way any man has ever felt since, roughly, the birth of theuniverse.

Threepio gave a slight nod at the other Senators and theHoloNet crews on the gangway. "She thought it best to avoid a,ah, public scene. And she wished for me to relate to you that shebelieves the both of you might... avoid a public scene... allafternoon.And perhaps all night, as well."

"Threepio!" Anakin blinked at him. He felt an irrational desire to giggle. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say, sir. I am only performing as per the Senator's instructions."

"You—" Anakin shook his head in wonder while his smile grew to a grin he thought might split open his cheeks. "You areamazing."

"Thank you, Master Anakin, though credit for that is duelargely—" C-3PO made an elegantly gracious bow. "—to mycreator."

Anakin could only go on grinning.

With that, the golden protocol droid laid an affectionatehand on R2's dome. "Come along, Artoo. I have found the most delightful body shop down in the Lipartian Way."

They moved away, whirring and clanking after the Senators who were already off among the HoloNet crews. Anakin's smilefaded as he watched them go.

He felt a presence at his shoulder and turned to find Palpatinebeside him with a warm smile and a soft word, as he alwaysseemed to be when Anakin was troubled.

"What is it, Anakin?" The Chancellor asked kindly. "Something is disturbing you. I can tell." Anakin shrugged and gave his head a dismissive shake, embarrassed. "It's nothing."

"Anakin, anything that might upset a man such as yourself iscertainly something. Let me help."

"There's nothing you can do. It's just—" Anakin noddedafter 3PO and R2. "I was just thinking that even after all I'vedone, See-Threepio is still the only person I know who calls meMaster."

"Ah. The Jedi Council." Palpatine slid an arm aroundAnakin's shoulders and gave him a comradely squeeze. "I believeI can be of some use to you in this problem after all."

"You can?"

"I should be very much surprised if I couldn't."

Palpatine's smile was still warm, but his eyes had gone distant.

"You may have noticed that I have a certain gift," he murmured, "for getting my way."

=9=

PADME

From the shadow of a great pillar stretching up into the red-ening afternoon that leaked through the vaulted roof of transparisteel over the Atrium of the Senate Office Building, shewatched Senators clustering in through the archway from the Chancellor's landing platform, and then she saw the Chancellor himself and C-3PO and yes, that was R2-D2! —and so be couldnot be far behind... and only then did she finally find himamong them, tall and straight, his hair radiation-bleached togolden streaks and on his lips a lively smile that opened her chestand unlocked her heart.

And she could breathe again.

Through the swirl of HoloNet reporters and the chatterof Senators and the gently comforting tones of Palpatine'smost polished, reassuringly paternal voice, she did not move, notso much as to lift a hand or turn her head. She was silent, and still, only letting herself breathe, feeling the beat of her heart, and she could have stood there forever, in the shadows, andhad her fondest dreams all fulfilled, simply by watching him bealive...

But when he moved away from the group, pacing in soft conversation with Bail Organa of Alderaan, and she heard Bail sayingsomething about the end of Count Dooku and the end of the war and finally an end to Palpatine's police-state tactics, her breathcaught again and she held it, because she knew the next thing sheheard would be his voice.

"I wish that were so," he said, "but the fighting will continueuntil General Grievous is spare parts. The Chancellor is very clearon this, and I believe the Senate and the Jedi Council will both agree." And beyond that, there was no hope she could be happier— until his eye found her silent, still shadow, and he straightened,and a new light broke over his golden face and he said, "Excuseme," to the Senator from Alderaan, and a moment later he cameto her in the shadows and they were in each other's arms. Their lips met, and the universe became, one last time, perfect.

This is Padme Amidala:

She is an astonishingly accomplished young woman, who inher short life has been already the youngest-ever elected Queenof her planet, a daring partisan guerrilla, and a measured, articulate, and persuasive voice of reason in the Republic Senate.

But she is, at this moment, none of these things.

She can still play at them—she pretends to be a Senator, she still wields the moral authority of a former Queen, and she is not shy about using her reputation for fierce physical courage to heradvantage in political debate—but her inmost reality, the mostfundamental, unbreakable core of her being, is something entirely different.

She is Anakin Skywalker's wife.

Yet wife is a word too weak to carry the truth of her; wife issuch a small word, such a common word, a word that can come from adownturned mouth with so many petty, unpleasant echoes. For Padme Amidala, saying 1 am Anakin Skywalker's wife issaving neither more nor less than I am alive. Her life before Anakin belonged to someone else, somelesser being to be pitied, some poor impoverished spirit whocould never suspect how profoundly life should be lived. Her real life began the first time she looked into Anakin Sky-walker's eyes and found in there not the uncritical worship of little Annie from Tatooine, but the direct, unashamed, smolderingpassion of a powerful Jedi: a young man, to be sure, but every centimeter a man —a man whose legend was already growingwithin the Jedi Order and beyond. A man who knew exactly what he wanted and was honest enough to simply ask for it; aman strong enough to unroll his deepest feelings before herwithout fear and without shame. A man who had loved her for adecade, with faithful and patient heart, while he waited for theact of destiny he was sure would someday open her own heart tothe fire in his. But though she loves her husband without reservation, lovedoes not blind her to his faults. She is older than he, and wiseenough to understand him better than he does himself. He is nota perfect man: he is prideful, and moody, and quick to anger—but these faults only make her love him the more, for his every flaw is more than balanced by the greatness within him, his capacity for joy and cleansing laughter, his extraordinary generosityof spirit, his passionate devotion not only to her but also in theservice of every living being.

He is a wild creature who has come gently to her hand, a vinetiger purring against her cheek. Every softness of his touch, everykind glance or loving word is a small miracle in itself. How canshe not be grateful for such gifts?

This is why she will not allow their marriage to become publicknowledge. Her husband needs to be a Jedi. Saving people iswhat he was born for; to take that away from him would crippleevery good thing in his troubled heart.

Now she holds him in their infinite kiss with both arms tightaround his neck, because there is a cold dread in the center of herheart that whispers this kiss is not infinite at all, that it's only a pause in the headlong rush of the universe, and when it ends, shewill have to face the future. And she is terrified.

Because while he has been away, everything has changed.

Today, here in the hallway of the Senate Office Building, shebrings him news of a gift they have given each other—a gift ofjoy, and of terror. This gift is the edge of a knife that has alreadycut their past from their future.

For these long years they have held each other only in secret,only in moments stolen from the business of the Republic andthe war; their love has been the perfect refuge, a long quiet after-noon, warm and sunny, sealed away from fear and doubt, fromduty and from danger. But now she carries within her a planetary terminator that will end their warm afternoon forever and leavethem blind in the oncoming night. She is more, now, than Anakin Skywalker's wife.

She is the mother of Anakin Skywalker's unborn child.

After an all-too-brief eternity, the kiss finally ended.

She clung to him, just breathing in the presence of him after so long, murmuring love against his broad strong chest while hemurmured love into the coils of her softly scented hair. Some time later, she found words again. "Anakin, Anakin, ohmy Anakin, I—I can't believe you're home. They told me..."She almost choked on the memory. "There were whispers...that you'd been killed. I couldn't—every day—"

"Never believe stories like that," he whispered. "Never. I willalways come back to you, Padme."

"I've lived a year for every hour you were away—"

"It's been a lifetime. Two."

She reached up to the burn-scar high on his cheek. "Youwere hurt..."

"Nothing serious," he said with half a smile. "Just an unfriendly reminder to keep up with my lightsaber practice."

"Five months.'' It was almost a moan. "Five months—howcould they do that to us?" He rested his cheek lightly on the crown of her head. "If theChancellor hadn't been kidnapped, I'd still be out there. I'm almost—it's terrible to say it, but I'm grateful. I'm glad he waskidnapped. It's like it was all arranged just to bring me homeagain..."

His arms were so strong, and so warm, and his hand touchedher hair in the softest caress, as though he was afraid she were as fragile as a dream, and he bent down for another kiss, a new kiss,a kiss that would wipe away every dark dream and all the days andhours and minutes of unbearable dread—

But only steps away, the main vault of the Atrium still heldSenators and HoloNet crews, and the knowledge of the priceAnakin would pay when their love became known made her turn her face aside, and put her hands on his chest to hold him away."Anakin, not here. It's too risky."

"No, here! Exactly here." He drew her against him again, effortlessly overpowering her halfhearted resistance. "I'm tired ofthe deception. Of the sneaking and the lying. We have nothing to be ashamed of!

We love each other, and we are married. Just like trillions of beings across the galaxy. This is something we shouldshout,not whisper—"

"No, Anakin. Not like all those others. They are not Jedi. Wecan't let our love force you out of the Order—"

"Force me out of the Order?" He smiled down at her fondly "Was that a pun?"

"Anakin—" He could still make her angry without even trying. "Listen to me. We have a duty to the Republic. Both of us—but yours is now so much more important. You are the face ofthe Jedi, Anakin. Even after these years of war, many people stilllove the Jedi, and it's mostly because they love you, do youunderstand that? They love the story of you. You're like something out of a bedtime tale, the secret prince, hidden among thepeasants, growing up without ever a clue of his special destiny—except for you it's all true. Sometimes I think that the only reason the people of the Republic still believe we can win the war isbecause you're fighting it for them—"

"And it always comes back to politics for you," Anakin said.His smile had gone now. "I'm barely even home, and you're already trying to talk me into going back to the war—"

"This isn't about politics, Anakin, it's about you."

"Something has changed, hasn't it?" Thunder gathered inhis voice. "I felt it, even outside. Something has changed."She lowered her head.

"Everything has changed."

"What is it? What?" He took her by the shoulders now, hishands hard and irresistibly powerful. "There's someone else. Ican feel it in the Force! There is someone coming between us—"

"Not the way you think," she said. "Anakin, listen—"

"Who is it? Who?"

"Stopit. Anakin, stop. You'll hurt us."

His hands sprang open as though she had burned them. Hetook an unsteady step backward, his face suddenly ashen."Padme—I would never—I'm so sorry, I just—"

He leaned on the pillar and brought a hand weakly to hiseyes. "The Hero With No Fear. What a joke... Padme, I can'tloseyou. I can't. You're all I live for. Wait..." He lifted his head,frowning quizzically. "Did you say, us?"

She reached for him, and he came to meet her hand. Risingrears burned her eyes, and her lip trembled.

"I'm... Annie, I'mpregnant..."

She watched him as everything their child would mean cycled through his mind, and her heart caught when she saw firstof all the wild, almost explosive joy that dawned over his face, because that meant that whatever he had gone through on theOuter Rim, he was still her Annie.

It meant that the war that had scarred his face had notscarred his spirit. And she watched that joy fade as he began to understand thattheir marriage could not stay hidden much longer; that even thevoluminous robes she wore could not conceal a pregnancy forever. That he would be cast out in disgrace from the Jedi Order.That she would be relieved of her post and recalled to Naboo.That the very celebrity that had made him so important to thewar would turn against them both, making them the freshestpossible meat for an entire galaxy full of scandalmongers.And she watched him decide that he didn't care."That is," he said slowly, that wild spark returning to hiseyes,"... wonderful... Padme—that's wonderful. How longhave you known?"

She shook her head. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to be happy, that's what we're going to do.And we're going to be together. All three of us."

"But—"

"No." He laid a gentle finger on her lips, smiling down ather. "No buts. No worries. You worry too much as it is."

"I have to," she said, smiling through the tears in her eyes."Because you never worry at all." Anakin lurched upright in bed, gasping, staring blindly intoalien darkness. How she had screamed for him—how she had begged for him,how her strength had failed on that alien table, how at thelast she could only whimper, Anakin, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you—thundered inside his head, blinding him to the contours ofthe night-shrouded room, deafening him to every sound save theturbohammer of his heart.

His hand of flesh found unfamiliar coils of sweat-damp silkensheets around his waist. Finally he remembered where he was.He half turned, and she was with him, lying on her side, herglorious fall of hair fanned across her pillow, eyes closed, half asmile on her precious lips, and when he saw the long, slow riseand fall of her chest with the cycle of her breathing, he turned away and buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

The tears that ran between his fingers then were tears ofgratitude.

She was alive, and she was with him.

In silence so deep he could hear the whirring of the electro-drivers in his mechanical hand, he disentangled himself from thesheets and got up.

Through the closet, a long curving sweep of stairs led to the veranda that overlooked Padme's private landing deck. Leaningon the night-chilled rail, Anakin stared out upon the endless nightscape of Coruscant.

It was still burning.

Coruscant at night had always been an endless galaxy oflight, shining from trillions of windows in billions of buildings that reached kilometers into the sky, with navigation lights and advertising and the infinite streams of speeders' running lightscoursing the rivers of traffic lanes overhead. But tonight, local power outages had swallowed ragged swaths of the city into vastnebulae of darkness, broken only by the malignant red-dwarfglares of innumerable fires.

Anakin didn't know how long he stood there, staring. Thecity looked like he felt. Damaged. Broken in battle.

Stained with darkness.

And he'd rather look at the city than think about why he washere looking at it in the first place. She moved more quietly than the smoky breeze, but he felther approach.

She took a place beside him at the railing and laid her soft human hand along the back of his hard mechanical one. And shesimply stood with him, staring silently out across the city thathad become her second home. Waiting patiently for him to tellher what was wrong. Trusting that he would. He could feel her patience, and her trust, and he was sograteful for both that tears welled once more. He had to blinkout at the burning night, and blink again, to keep those freshtears from spilling over onto his cheeks. He put his flesh hand ontop of hers and held it gently until he could let himself speak."It was a dream," he said finally.She accepted this with a slow, serious nod.

"Bad?"

"It was—like the ones I used to have." He couldn't look ather. "About my mother." Again, a nod, but even slower, and more serious. "And?"

"And—" He looked down at her small, slim fingers, and heslipped his between them, clasping their two hands into a knot ofprayer. "It was about you."

Now she turned aside, leaning once more upon the rail, star-ing out into the night, and in the slowly pulsing rose-glow of thedistant fires she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her."All right," she said softly. "It was about me."

Then she simply waited, still trusting.

When Anakin could finally make himself tell her, his voicewas raw and hoarse as though he'd been shouting all day. "It was... about you dying," he said. "I couldn't stand it. I can'tstand it." He couldn't look at her. He looked at the city, at the deck,at the stars, and he found no place he could bear to see.

All he could do was close his eyes."You're going to die in childbirth."

"Oh," she said.That was all.

She had only a few months left to live. They had only a fewmonths left to love each other. She would never see their child. And all she said was, "Oh."

After a moment, the touch of her hand to his cheek broughthis eyes open again, and he found her gazing up at him calmly."And the baby?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

She nodded and pulled away, drifting toward one of the veranda chairs. She lowered herself into it and stared down at herhands, clasped together in her lap.He couldn't take it. He couldn't watch her be calm and accepting about her own death. He came to her side and knelt.

"It won't happen, Padme. I won't let it. I could have savedmy mother—a day earlier, an hour—I..."He bit down on therising pain inside him, and spoke through clenched teeth. "Thisdream will not become real."

She nodded. "I didn't think it would." He blinked.

"You didn't?"

"This is Coruscant, Annie, not Tatooine. Women don't diein childbirth on Coruscant —not even the twilighters in the downlevels. And I have a top-flight medical droid, who assuresme I am in perfect health. Your dream must have been... somekind of metaphor, or something."

"I—my dreams are literal, Padme. I wouldn't know ametaphor if it bit me . And I couldn't see the place you were inyou might not even be on Coruscant..."

She looked away. "I had been thinking—about going somewhere... somewhere else. Having the baby in secret, to protectyou. So you can stay in the Order."

"I don't want to stay in the Order!" He took her face between his palms so that she had to look into his eyes, so that she had to see how much he meant every word he said. "Don't protect me. I don't need it. We have to start thinking, right now,bout how we can protect you. Because all I want is for us to be together."

"And we will be," she said. "But there must be more to yourdream than death in childbirth. That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. But I can't begin to guess what it might be. It's too—Ican't even think about it, Padme. I'll go crazy. What arewe going to do?"

She kissed the palm of his hand of flesh. "We're going to dowhat you told me, when I asked you the same question this afternoon. We're going to be happy together."

"But we—we can't just... wait. I can't. I have to do something."

"Of course you do." She smiled fondly. "That's who you are.That's what being a hero is. What about Obi-Wan?"He frowned.

"What about him?"

"You told me once that he is as wise as Yoda and as powerfulas Mace Windu. Couldn't he help us?"

"No." Anakin's chest clenched like a fist squeezing his heart."I can't—I'd have to tell him ... "

"He's your best friend, Annie. He must suspect already."

"It's one thing to have him suspect. It's something else toshove it in his face. He's still on the Council. He'd have to reportme. And..."

"And what? Is there something you haven't told me?"He turned away.

"I'm not sure he's on my side."

"Yourside? Anakin, what are you saying?"

"He's on the Jedi Council, Padme. I know my name hascome up for Mastery—I'm more powerful than any Jedi Master alive. But someone is blocking me. Obi-Wan could tell me who,and why... but he doesn't. I'm not sure he even stands up for me with them."

"I can't believe that."

"It has nothing to do with believing," he murmured, softlybitter. "It's the truth."

"There must be some reason, then. Anakin, he's your bestfriend. He loves you."

"Maybe he does. But I don't think he trusts me." His eyeswent as bleak as the empty night. "And I'm not sure we can trusthim."

"Anakin!" She clutched at his arm. "What would make you say that?"

"Noneof them trust me, Padme. None of them. You knowwhat I feel, when they look at me?"

"Anakin—"

He turned to her, and everything in him ached. He wantedto cry and he wanted to rage and he wanted to make his rage aweapon that would cut himself free forever. "Fear," he said. "Ifeel their fear. And for nothing?"

He could show them something, though. He could showthem a reason for their fear.He could show them what he'd discovered within himself inthe General's Quarters on Invisible Hand. Something of it must have risen on his face, because he saw aflicker of doubt shadow her eyes, just for a second, just a flash,but still it burned into him like a lightsaber and he shuddered,and his shudder turned into a shiver that became shaking, and hegathered her to his chest and buried his face in her hair, and the strong sweet warmth of her cooled him, just enough.

"Padme," he murmured, "oh, Padme, I'm so sorry. Forget Isaid anything. None of that matters now. I'll be gone from theOrder soon—because I will not let you go away to have our baby in some alien place. I will not let you face my dream alone. I will be there for you, Padme. Always. No matter what."

"I know it, Annie. I know." She pulled gently away andlooked up at him. Tears sparkled like red gems in the firelight.Red as the synthetic bloodshine of Dooku's lightsaber.

He closed his eyes.

She said, "Come upstairs, Anakin. The night's getting cold.

Come up to our bed."

"All right. All right." He found that he could breathe again,and his shaking had stilled. "Just—" He put his arm around her shoulders so that he didn't have tomeet her eyes. "Just don't say anything to Obi-Wan, allright?"

=10=

MASTERS

Obi-Wan sat beside Mace Windu while they watched Yodascan the report. Here in Yoda's simple living space within theJedi Temple, every softly curving pod chair and knurled organiformtable hummed with gentle, comforting power: the samewarm strength that Obi-Wan remembered enfolding him even as an infant. These chambers had been Yoda's home for more thaneight hundred years. Everything within them echoed with theharmonic resonance of Yoda's calm wisdom, tuned through centuries of his touch. To sit within Yoda's chambers was to inhaleserenity; to Obi-Wan, this was a great gift in these troubledtimes. But when Yoda looked at them through the translucentshimmer of the holoprojected report on the contents of the latest amendment to the Security Act, his eyes were anything butcalm: they had gone narrow and cold, and his ears had flattenedback along his skull.

"This report—from where does it come?"

"The Jedi still have friends in the Senate," Mace Windureplied in his grim monotone, "for now."

"When presented this amendment is, passed it will be?"

Mace nodded. "My source expects passage by acclamation. Overwhelming passage. Perhaps as early as this afternoon."

"The Chancellor's goal in this—unclear to me it is," Yoda saidslowly. "Though nominally in command of the Council, theSenate may place him, the Jedi he cannot control. Moral, our authority has always been; much more than merely legal. Simplyfollow orders, Jedi do not!"

"I don't think he intends to control the Jedi," Mace said."By placing the Jedi Council under the control of the Office ofthe Supreme Chancellor, this amendment will give him the constitutional authority to disband the Order itself."

"Surely you cannot believe this is his intention."

" His intention?" Mace said darkly. "Perhaps not. But his intentions are irrelevant; all that matters now is the intent of theSith Lord who has our government in his grip. And the JediOrder may be all that stands between him and galactic domination. What do you think he will do?"

"Authority to disband the Jedi, the Senate would nevergrant."

"The Senate will vote to grant exactly that. This afternoon."

"The implications of this, they must not comprehend!"

"It no longer matters what they comprehend," Mace said."They know where the power is."

"But even disbanded, even without legal authority, still Jediwe would be. Jedi Knights served the Force long before therewas a Galactic Republic, and serve it we will when this Republic is but dust."

"Master Yoda, that day may be coming sooner than any of usthink. That day may be today." Mace shot a frustrated look at Obi-Wan, who picked up his cue smoothly.

"We don't know what the Sith Lord's plans may be," Obi-Wan said, "but we can be certain that Palpatine is not to betrusted. Not anymore. This draft resolution is not the product of some overzealous Senator; we may be sure Palpatine wrote ithimself and passed it along to someone he controls—to make itlook like the Senate is once more 'forcing him to reluctantly accept extra powers in the name of security.' We are afraid that theywill continue to do so until one day he's 'forced to reluctantly accept'

dictatorship for life!"

"I am convinced this is the next step in a plot aimed directly atthe heart of the Jedi," Mace said. "This is a move toward our destruction. The dark side of the Force surrounds the Chancellor." Obi-Wan added, "As it has surrounded and cloaked the Separatists since even before the war began. If the Chancellor isbeing influenced through the dark side, this whole war may havebeen, from the beginning, a plot by the Sith to destroy the JediOrder."

"Speculation!" Yoda thumped the floor with his gimer stick,making his hoverchair bob gently. "On theories such as these wecannot rely. Proof ' we need. Proof!"

"Proof may be a luxury we cannot afford." A dangerous lighthad entered Mace Windu's eyes. "We must be ready to act!"

"Act?" Obi-Wan asked mildly.

"He cannot be allowed to move against the Order. He cannot be allowed to prolong the war needlessly. Too many Jedihave died already. He is dismantling the Republic itself! I haveseenlife outside the Republic; so have you, Obi-Wan. Slavery.Torture. Endless war."

Mace's face darkened with the same distant, haunted shadowObi-Wan had seen him wear the day before. "I have seen it inNar Shaddaa, and I saw it on Haruun Kal. I saw what it did toDepa, and to Sora Bulq. Whatever its flaws, the Republic is oursole hope for justice, and for peace. It is our only defense againstthe dark. Palpatine may be about to do what the Separatists cannot: bring down the Republic. If he tries, he must be removedfrom office."

"Removed?" Obi-Wan said. "You mean, arrested?" Yoda shook his head. "To a dark place, this line of thought will lead us. Great care, we must take."

"The Republic is civilization. It's the only one we have." Mace looked deeply into Yoda's eyes, and into Obi-Wan's, and Obi-Wan could feel the heat in the Korun Master's gaze. "We must be prepared for radical action. It is our duty."

"But," Obi-Wan protested numbly, "you're talking about t reason..."

"I'm not afraid of words, Obi-Wan! If it's treason, then so be it. I would do this right now, if I had the Council's support. Therealtreason," Mace said, "would be failure to act!"

"Such an act, destroy the Jedi Order it could," Yoda said."Lost the trust of the public, we have already—"

"No disrespect, Master Yoda," Mace interrupted, "but that'sa politician's argument. We can't let public opinion stop us fromdoing what's right.''

"Convincedit is right, I am not," Yoda said severely. "Working behind the scenes we should be, to uncover Lord Sidious! Tomove against Palpatine while the Sith still exist—this may be partof the Sith plan itself, to turn the Senate and the public against the Jedi! So that we are not only disbanded, but outlawed."

Mace was half out of his pod. "To wait givesthe Sith the advantage—"

"Have the advantage already, they do!" Yoda jabbed at himwith his gimer stick. " Increase their advantage we will, if in haste we act!"

"Masters, Masters, please," Obi-Wan said. He looked fromone to the other and inclined his head respectfully. "Perhapsthere is a middle way."

"Ah, of course: Kenobi the Negotiator." Mace Windu settledback into his seating pod. "I should have guessed. That is whyyou asked for this meeting, isn't it? To mediate our differences. Ifyou can."

"So sure of your skills you are?" Yoda folded his fists aroundthe head of his stick. "Easy to negotiate, this matter is not!"

Obi-Wan kept his head down. "It seems to me," he said carefully, "that Palpatine himself has given us an opening. He hassaid—both to you, Master Windu, and in the HoloNet addresshe gave following his rescue—that General Grievous is the trueobstacle to peace. Let us forget about the rest of the Separatist leadership, for now. Let Nute Gunray and San Hill and the restrun wherever they like, while we put every available Jedi and allof our agents—the whole of Republic Intelligence, if we can—towork on locating Grievous himself. This will force the hand of the Sith Lord; he will know that Grievous cannot elude our fullefforts for long, once we devote ourselves exclusively to his capture. It will draw Sidious out; he will have to make some sort ofmove, if he wishes the war to continue."

"If?" Mace said. "The war has been a Sith operation from thebeginning, with Dooku on one side and Sidious on the other—it has always been a plot aimed at us. At the Jedi. To bleed us dryof our youngest and best. To make us into something we werenever intended to be."

He shook his head bitterly. "I had the truth in ray handsyears ago—back on Haruun Kal, in the first months of the war. Ihad it, but I did not understand how right I was."

"Seen glimpses of this truth, we all have," Yoda said sadly."Our arrogance it is, which has stopped us from fully openingour eyes."

"Until now," Obi-Wan put in gently. "We understand nowthe goal of the Sith Lord, we know his tactics, and we knowwhere to look for him. His actions will reveal him. He cannot escape us. He will not escape us."

Yoda and Mace frowned at each other for one long moment, then both of them turned to Obi-Wan and inclined their heads inmirrors of his respectful bow.

"Seen to the heart of the matter, young Kenobi has."

Mace nodded. "Yoda and I will remain on Coruscant, monitoring Palpatine's advisers and lackeys; we'll move against Sidious the instant he is revealed. But who will capture Grievous? Ihave fought him blade-to-blade. He is more than a match formost Jedi."

"We'll worry about that once we find him," Obi-Wan said. Aslight, wistful smile crept over his face. "If I listen hard enough,I can almost hear Qui-Gon reminding me that until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction."

General Grievous stood wide-legged, hands folded behindhim, as he stared out through the reinforced viewport at the towering sphere of the Geonosian Dreadnaught. The immense ship looked small, though, against the scale of the vast sinkhole thatrose around it.

This was Utapau, a remote backworld on the fringe of the Outer Rim. At ground level—far above where Grievous stoodnow—the planet appeared to be a featureless ball of barren rock, scoured flat by endless hyperwinds. From orbit, though, its citiesand factories and spaceports could be seen as the planet's rota-tion brought its cavernous sinkholes one at a time into view.These sinkholes were the size of inverted mountains, and everyavailable square meter of their interior walls was packed with city.And every square meter of every city was under the guns of Separatist war droids, making sure that the Utapauns behaved themselves.

Utapau had no interest in the Clone Wars; it had never beena member of the Republic, and had carefully maintained a stanceof quiet neutrality.

Right up until Grievous had conquered it.

Neutrality, in these times, was a joke; a planet was neutralonly so long as neither the Republic nor the Confederacy wantedit. If Grievous could laugh, he would have.

The members of the Separatist leadership scurried acrossthe permacrete landing platform like the alley rats they were-—scampering for the ship that would take them to the safety ofthe newly constructed base on Mustafar.

But one alley rat was missing from the scuttle.

Grievous shifted his gaze fractionally and found the reflection of Nute Gunray in the transparisteel. The Neimoidianviceroy stood dithering in the control center's doorway. Grievous regarded the reflection of the bulbous, cold-blooded eyesbelow the tall peaked miter.

"Gunray." He made no other motion. "Why are you stillhere?"

"Some things should be said privately, General." Theviceroy's reflection cast glances either way along the hallway beyond the door. "I am disturbed by this new move. You told usthat Utapau would be safe for us. Why is the Leadership Councilbeing moved now to Mustafar?"

Grievous sighed. He had no time for lengthy explanations;he was expecting a secret transmission from Sidious himself. Hecould not take the transmission with Gunray in the room, norcould he follow his natural inclinations and boot the Neimoidianviceroy so high he'd burn up on reentry. Grievous still hoped, every day, that Lord Sidious would give him leave to smash the skulls of Gunray and his toady, Rune Haako. Repulsive snivelinggrub-greedy scum, both of them. And the rest of the Separatistleadership was every bit as vile.

But for now, a pretense of cordiality had to be maintained.

"Utapau," Grievous said slowly, as though explaining to achild, "is a hostile planet under military occupation. It was neverintended to be more than a stopgap, while the defenses of the base on Mustafar were completed. Now that they are, Mustafaris the most secure planet in the galaxy. The stronghold preparedfor you can withstand the entire Republic Navy."

"It should," Gunray muttered. "Construction nearly bankrupted the Trade Federation!"

"Don't whine to me about money, Viceroy. I have no interest in it-"

"You had better, General. It's my money that finances thisentire war! It's my money that pays for that body you wear,and for those insanely expensive MagnaGuards of yours! It's mymoney—'" Grievous moved so swiftly that he seemed to teleport fromthe window to half a meter in front of Gunray.

"How much useis your money," he said, flexing his hand of jointed duranium inthe Neimoidian's face,

"against this?"

Gunray flinched and backed away. "I was only—I have someconcerns about your ability to keep us safe, General, that's all. I—we—the Trade Federation cannot work in a climate of fear.What about the Jedi?"

"Forget the Jedi. They do not enter into this equation."

"They will be entering into that base soon enough!"

"The base is secure. It can stand against a thousand Jedi. Ten thousand."

"Do you hear yourself? Are you mad?"

"What I am," Grievous replied evenly, "is unaccustomed tohaving my orders challenged."

"We are the Leadership Council! You cannot give us orders!Wegive the orders here!"

"Are you certain of that? Would you care to wager?" Grievous leaned close enough that he could see the reflection of hismask in Gunray's rose-colored eyes. "Shall we, say, bet your lifeon it?" Gunray kept on backing away. "You tell us we'll be safe on Mustafar—but you also told us you would deliver Palpatine as a hostage, and he managed to escape your grip!"

"Be thankful, Viceroy," Grievous said, admiring the smoothflexion of his finger joints as though his hand were some species of exotic predator, "that you have not found yourself in my grip." He went back to the viewport and reassumed his original position, legs wide, hands clasped behind his back. To look on thesickly pink in Gunray's pale green cheeks for one second longerwas to risk forgetting his orders and splattering the viceroy'sbrains from here to Ord Mantell.

"Your ship is waiting."

His auditory sensors clearly picked up the slither of Gunray'ssandals retreating along the corridor, and not a second too soon:his sensors were also registering the whine of the control center'sholocomm warming up. He turned to face the disk, and whenthe enunciator chimed to indicate the incoming transmission, he pressed theaccept key and knelt.Head down, he could see only the scanned image of the hemof the great Lord's robes, but that was all he needed to see.

"Yes, Lord Sidious."

"Have you moved the Separatist Council to Mustafar?"

"Yes, Master." He risked a glance out the viewport. Most ofthe council had reached the starship. Gunray should be joiningthem any second; Grievous had seen firsthand how fast theviceroy could run, given proper motivation. "The ship will lift offwithin moments."

"Well done, my general. Now you must turn your hand topreparing our trap there on Utapau. The Jedi hunt you personallyat last; you must be ready for their attack."

"Yes, Master."

"I am arranging matters to give you a second chance to do mybidding, Grievous. Expect that the Jedi sent to capture you will beObi-Wan Kenobi."

"Kenobi?" Grievous's fists clenched hard enough that hiscarpal electrodrivers whined in protest. "And Skywalker?"

"I believe Skywalker will be... otherwise engaged."

Grievous dropped his head even lower. "I will not fail youagain, my Master. Kenobi will die."

"See to it."

"Master? If I may trouble you with boldness—why did younot let me kill Chancellor Palpatine? We may never get a betterchance."

"The time was not yet ripe. Patience, my general. The end of thewar is near, and victory is certain."

"Even with the loss of Count Dooku?"

"Dooku was not lost, he was sacrificed— a strategic sacrifice, as one offers up a piece in dejarik: to draw the opponent into a fatalblunder."

"I was never much the dejarik player, my Master. I prefer real war."

"And you shall have your fill, I promise you."

"This fatal blunder you speak of—if I may once again troubleyouwith boldness..."

"You will come to understand soon enough."Grievous could hear the smile in his Master's voice."All will be clear, once you meet mynew apprentice."

Anakin finger-combed his hair as he trotted out across the restricted landing deck atop the Temple ziggurat near the base ofthe High Council Tower. Far across the expanse of deck stood the Supreme Chancellor's shuttle. Anakin squinted at it, and atthe two tall red-robed guards that stood flanking its open accessramp.

And coming toward him from the direction of the shuttle,shielding his eyes and leaning against the morning wind that whipped across the unprotected field—was that Obi-Wan?

"Finally," Anakin muttered. He'd scoured the Temple for hisformer Master; he'd nearly giving up hope of finding him whena passing Padawan had mentioned that he'd seen Obi-Wan on hisway out to the landing deck to meet Palpatine's shuttle. Hehoped Obi-Wan wouldn't notice he hadn't changed his clothes. It wasn't like he could explain.

Though his secret couldn't last, he wasn't ready for it tocome out just yet. He and Padme had agreed last night that theywould keep it as long as they could. He wasn't ready to leave theJedi Order. Not while she was still in danger.

Padme had said that his nightmare must be only a metaphor, but he knew better. He knew that Force prophecy was notabsolute—but his had never been wrong. Not in the slightest detail. He had known as a boy that he would be chosen by the Jedi. He had known his adventures would span the galaxy. As a mere nine-year-old, long before he even understood what love was, he had looked upon Padme Amidala's flawless face and seen therethat she would love him, and that they would someday marry. There had been no metaphor in his dreams of his mother.Screaming in pain. Tortured to death. I knew you would come to me, Annie... I missed you so much.

He could have saved her.

Maybe.

It had always seemed so obvious to him—that if he had onlyreturned to Tatooine a day earlier, an hour, he could have found his mother and she would still be alive. And yet—

And yet the great prophets of the Jedi had always taught thatthe gravest danger in trying to prevent a vision of the future fromcoming to pass is that in doing so, a Jedi can actually bring it topass—as though if he'd run away in time to save his mother, hemight have made himself somehow responsible for her death. As though if he tried to save Padme, he could end up—blankly impossible though it was—killing her himself...

But to do nothing... to simply wait for Padme to die...

Could something be more than impossible?

When a Jedi had a question about the deepest subtleties ofthe Force, there was one source to whom he could always turn;and so, first thing that morning, without even taking time to stopby his own quarters for a change of clothing, Anakin had gone toYoda for advice.

He'd been surprised by how graciously the ancient Jedi Master had invited him into his quarters, and by how patiently Yodahad listened to his stumbling attempts to explain his question without giving away his secret; Yoda had never made any attemptto conceal what had always seemed to Anakin to be a gruff dis approval of Anakin's very existence.

But this morning, despite clearly having other things on his mind—even Anakin's Force perceptions, far from the most subtle had detected echoes of conflict and worry within the Master's chamber—Yoda had simply offered Anakin a place on one of the softly rounded pod seats and suggested that they meditate together.

He hadn't even asked for details.

Anakin had been so grateful—and so relieved, and so unexpectedly hopeful—that he'd found tears welling into his eyes, and some few minutes had been required for him to composehimself into proper Jedi serenity.

After a time, Yoda's eyes had slowly opened and the deepfurrows on his ancient brow had deepened further. "Premonitions... premonitions... deep questions they are. Sense the future, once all Jedi could; now few alone have this skill. Visions...gifts from the Force, and curses. Signposts and snares. These vi sions of yours..."

"They are of pain," Anakin had said. "Of suffering."He had barely been able to make himself add: "And death."

"In these troubled times, no surprise this is. Yourself you see,or someone you know?" Anakin had not trusted himself to answer."Someone close to you?" Yoda had prompted gently.

"Yes," Anakin had replied, eyes turned away from Yoda'stoo-wise stare. Let him think he was talking about Obi-Wan. Itwas close enough.

Yoda's voice was still gentle, and understanding. "The fear ofloss is a path to the dark side, young one."

"I won't let my visions come true, Master. I won't."

"Rejoice for those who transform into the Force. Mournthem not. Miss them not."

"Then why do we fight at all, Master? Why save anybody?"

"Speaking of anybody, we are not," Yoda had said sternly"Speaking of you, and your vision, and your fear, we are. Theshadow of greed, attachment is. What you fear to lose, trainyourself to release. Let go of fear, and loss cannot harm you."

Which was when Anakin had realized Yoda wasn't going to be any help at all. The greatest sage of the Jedi Order had nothing better to offer him than more pious babble about LettingThings Pass Out Of His Life.

Like he hadn't heard that a million times already.Easy for him —who had Yoda ever cared about? Really cared about? Of one thing Anakin was certain: the ancient Master hadnever been in love. Or he would have known better than to expect Anakin to just fold his hands and close his eyes and settle in to meditate whilewhat was left of Padme's life evaporated like the ghost-mist of dew in a Tatooine winter dawn...

So all that had been left for him was to find some way to respectfully extricate himself. And then go find Obi-Wan.

Because he wasn't about to give up. Not in this millennium.

The Jedi Temple was the greatest nexus of Force energy inthe Republic; its ziggurat design focused the Force the way a lightsaber's gemstone focused its energy stream. With the thousands of Jedi and Padawans within it every day contemplatingpeace, seeking knowledge, and meditating on justice and surrender to the will of the Force, the Temple was a fountain of thelight. Just being on its rooftop landing deck sent a surge of powerthrough Anakin's whole body; if the Force was ever to show him a way to change the dark future of his nightmares, it would do sohere. The Jedi Temple also contained the archives, the vast librarythat encompassed the Order's entire twenty-five millennia of existence: everything from the widest-ranging cosmographical surveys to the intimate journals of a billion Jedi Knights. It wasthere Anakin hoped to find everything that was known aboutprophetic dreams—and everything that was known about preventing these prophecies from coming to pass.

His only problem was that the deepest secrets of the greatestMasters of the Force were stored in restricted holocrons; sincethe Lorian Nod affair, some seventy standard years before, accessto these holocrons was denied to all but Jedi Masters.

And he couldn't exactly explain to the archives Master whyhe wanted them. But now here was Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan would help him,Anakin knew he would—if only Anakin could figure out the rightway to ask...

While he was still hunting for words, Obi-Wan reached him."You missed the report on the Outer Rim sieges."

"I—was held up," Anakin said. "I have no excuse."

That, at least, was true.

"Is Palpatine here?" Anakin asked. It was a convenient-enough way to change the subject. "Has something happened?"

"Quite the opposite," Obi-Wan said. "That shuttle did notbring the Chancellor. It is waiting to bring you to him."

"Waiting? For me?" Anakin frowned. Worries and lack ofsleep had his head full of fog; he couldn't make this make sense.He patted his robes vacantly. "But—my beacon hasn't gone off.If the Council wanted me, why didn't they—"

"The Council," Obi-Wan said, "has not been consulted."

"I don't understand."

"Nor do I." Obi-Wan stepped close, nodding minutely backtoward the shuttle. "They simply arrived, some time ago. Whenthe deck-duty Padawans questioned them, they said the Chancellor has requested your presence."

"Why wouldn't he go through the Council?"

"Perhaps he has some reason to believe," Obi-Wan said carefully, "that the Council might have resisted sending you. Perhapshe did not wish to reveal his reason for this summons. Relationsbetween the Council and the Chancellor are... stressed."

A queasy knot began to tie itself behind Anakin's ribs. "Obi-Wan, what's going on? Something's wrong, isn't it? You knowsomething, I can tell."

"Know? No: only suspect. Which is not at all the same thing."

Anakin remembered what he'd said to Padme about exactlythat last night. The queasy knot tightened.

"And?"

"And that's why I am out here, Anakin. So I can talk to you. Privately. Not as a member of the Jedi Council—in fact, if theCouncil were to find out about this conversation... well, let'ssay, I'd rather they didn't."

" What conversation? I still don't know what's going on!"

"None of us does. Not really." Obi-Wan put a hand onAnakin's shoulder and frowned deeply into his eyes. "Anakin,you know I am your friend."

"Of course you are—"

"No. No of courses, Anakin. Nothing is of course anymore. Iam your friend, and as your friend, I am asking you: be wary ofPalpatine."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you are his friend. I am concerned that he may notbe yours. Be careful of him, Anakin. And be careful of your ownfeelings."

"Careful? Don't you mean, mindful?"

Obi-Wan's frown deepened. "No. I don't. The Force growsever darker around us, and we are all affected by it, even as we affect it. This is a dangerous time to be a Jedi. Please, Anakin—please be careful"

Anakin tried for his old rakish smile. "You worry too much."

"I have to—"

"—because I don't worry at all, right?" Anakin finished forhim. Obi-Wan's frown softened toward a smile. "How did youknow I was going to say that?"

"You're wrong, you know." Anakin stared off through the morning haze toward the shuttle, past the shuttle— Toward 500 Republica, and Padme's apartment.He said, "I worry plenty." The ride to Palpatine's office was quietly tense. Anakin had tried making conversation with the two tall helmet-masked fig-ures in the red robes, but they weren't exactly chatty.

Anakin's discomfort only increased when he arrived at Palpatine's office. He had been here so often that he didn't even reallysee it, most times: the deep red runner that matched the softly curving walls, the long comfortable couches, the huge arc ofwindow behind Palpatine's desk—these were all so familiar that they were usually almost invisible, but today—

Today, with Obi-Wan's voice whispering be wary of Palpatine in the back of his head, everything looked different. New. Andnot in a good way.

Some indefinable gloom shrouded everything, as though theorbital mirrors that focused the light of Coruscant's distant sun into bright daylight had somehow been damaged, or smudgedwith the brown haze of smoke that still shrouded the cityscape.The light of the Chancellor's lampdisks seemed brighter thanusual, almost harsh, but somehow that only deepened thegloom. He discovered now an odd, accidental echo of memory,a new harmonic resonance inside his head, when he looked atthe curving view wall that threw into silhouette the Chancellor'ssingle large chair.

Palpatine's office reminded him of the General's Quarters on Invisible Hand. And it struck him as unaccountably sinister that the robesworn by the Chancellor's cadre of bodyguards were the exactcolor of Palpatine's carpet.

Palpatine himself stood at the view wall, hands clasped behind him, gazing out upon the smoke-hazed morning.

"Anakin." He must have seen Anakin's reflection in thecurve of transparisteel; he had not moved. "Join me."

Anakin came up beside him, mirroring his stance. Endlesscityscape stretched away before them. Here and there, the remains of shattered buildings still smoldered. Space lane trafficwas beginning to return to normal, and rivers of gnat-like speeders and air taxis and repulsor buses crisscrossed the city. In thenear distance, the vast dome of the Galactic Senate squatted likea gigantic gray mushroom sprung from the duracrete plain thatwas Republic Plaza. Farther, dim in the brown haze, he couldpick out the quintuple spires that topped the ziggurat of the JediTemple.

"Do you see, Anakin?" Palpatine's voice was soft, hoarsewith emotion. "Do you see what they have done to our magnificent city? This war must end . We cannot allow such... such..." His voice trailed away, and he shook his head. Gently, Anakinlaid a hand on Palpatine's shoulder, and a hint of frown fleetedover his face at how frail seemed the flesh and bone beneath therobe. "You know you have my best efforts, and those of every Jedi," he said.

Palpatine nodded, lowering his head. "I know I have yours,Anakin. The rest of the Jedi..." He sighed. He looked evenmore exhausted than he had yesterday. Perhaps he had passed asleepless night as well.

"I have asked you here," he said slowly, "because I need yourhelp on a matter of extreme delicacy. I hope I can depend uponyour discretion, Anakin."

Anakin went still for a moment, then he very slowly lifted hishand from the Chancellor's shoulder. Be wary of Palpatine

"As a Jedi, there are... limits... to my discretion, Chancellor."

"Oh, of course. Don't worry, my boy." A flash of his familiarfatherly smile forced its way into his eyes.

"Anakin, in all the yearswe have been friends, have I ever asked you to do anything eventhe slightest bit against your conscience?"

"Well—"

"And I never will. I am very proud of your accomplishmentsas a Jedi, Anakin. You have won many battles the Jedi Council insisted to me were already lost—and you saved my life. It's franklyappalling that they still keep you off the Council yourself."

"My time will come... when I am older. And, I suppose,wiser." He didn't want to get into this with Palpatine; talking with the Chancellor like this—seriously, man-to-man—madehim feel good, feel strong, despite Obi-Wan's warning. He certainly didn't want to start whining about being passed over for Mastery like some preadolescent Padawan who hadn't been chosen for a scramball team.

"Nonsense. Age is no measure of wisdom. They keep you off the Council because it is the last hold they have on you, Anakin; itis how they control you. Once you're a Master, as you deserve, how will they make you do their bidding?"

"Well..." Anakin gave him a half-sheepish smile. "They can't exactly make me, even now."

"I know, my boy. I know. That is precisely the point. You arenot like them. You are younger. Stronger. Better. If they cannotcontrol you now, what will happen once you are a Master in yourown right? How will they keep your toes on their political line?You may become more powerful than all of them together. Thatis why they keep you down. They fear your power. They fearyou."

Anakin looked down. This had struck a little close to thebone. "I have sensed... something like that."

"I have asked you here today, Anakin, because I have fears ofmy own." He turned, waiting, until Anakin met his eye, and onPalpatine's face was something approaching bleak despair. "I amcoming to fear the Jedi themselves."

"Oh, Chancellor—" Anakin broke into a smile of disbelief."There is no one more loyal than the Jedi, sir—surely, after all this time—"

But Palpatine had already turned away. He lowered himselfinto the chair behind his desk and kept his head down as thoughhe was ashamed to say this directly to Anakin's face. "The Council keeps pushing for more control. More autonomy. They havelost all respect for the rule of law. They have become more concerned with avoiding the oversight of the Senate than with winning the war."

"With respect, sir, many on the Council would say the sameof you." He thought of Obi-Wan, and he had to stop himselffrom wincing. Had he betrayed a confidence just now?

Or had Obi-Wan been doing the Council's bidding afterall?... Be wary of Palpatine, he'd said, and be careful of your feelings...

Were these honest warnings, out of concern for him? Or hadthey been calculated: seeds of doubt planted to hedge Anakin away from the one man who really understood him?

The one man he could really trust...

"Oh, I have no doubt of it," Palpatine was saying. "Manyof the Jedi on your Council would prefer I was out of officealtogether—because they know I'm on to them, now. They'reshrouded in secrecy, obsessed with covert action against mysteriously faceless enemies—"

"Well, the Sith are hardly faceless, are they? I mean, Dookuhimself—"

"Was he truly a Lord of the Sith? Or was he just another inyour string of fallen Jedi, posturing with a red lightsaber to intimidate you?"

"I..." Anakin frowned. How could he be sure? "But Sidious..."

"Ah, yes, the mysterious Lord Sidious. "The Sith infiltrator in the highest levels of government.'' Doesn't that sound a little overly familiar to you, Anakin? A little overly convenient? Howdo you know this Sidious even exists? How do you know he is not a fiction, a fiction created by the Jedi Council, to give theman excuse to harass their political enemies?"

"The Jedi are not political—"

"In a democracy, everything is political, Anakin. And everyone. This imaginary Sith Lord of theirs—even if he does exist, ishe anyone to be feared? To be hunted down and exterminatedwithout trial?"

"The Sith are the definition of evil—"

"Or so you have been trained to believe. I have been reading about the history of the Sith for some years now, Anakin.Ever since the Council saw fit to finally reveal to me their...assertion...that these millennium-dead sorcerers had supposedly sprung back to life. Not every tale about them is sequestered in your conveniently secret Temple archives. From what I haveread, they were not so different from Jedi; seeking power, to besure, but so does your Council."

"The dark side—"

"Oh, yes, yes, certainly, the dark side. Listen to me: if this'Darth Sidious' of yours were to walk through that door rightnow—and I could somehow stop you from killing him on thespot—do you know what I would do?"

Palpatine rose, and his voice rose with him. "I would ask himto sit down, and I would ask him if he has any power he could useto end this war! "

"You would—you would—" Anakin couldn't quite makehimself believe what he was hearing. The blood-red rug beneathhis feet seemed to shift under him, and his head was starting tospin.

"And if he said he did, I'd bloody well offer him a brandy andtalk it out!"

"You—Chancellor, you can't be serious —"

"Well, not entirely." Palpatine sighed, and shrugged, andlowered himself once more into his chair. "It's only an example,Anakin. I would do anything to return peace to the galaxy, doyou understand? That's all I mean. After all—" He offered atired, sadly ironic smile. "—what are the chances of an actual SithLord ever walking through that door?"

"I wouldn't know," Anakin said feelingly, "but I do knowthat you probably shouldn't use that... example... in front ofthe Jedi Council."

"Oh, yes." Palpatine chuckled. "Yes, quite right. They mighttake it as an excuse to accuse me."

"I'm sure they'd never do that —"

"I am not. I am no longer sure they'll stop at anything,Anakin. That's actually the reason I asked you here today." Heleaned forward intently, resting his elbows on the desk. "Youmay have heard that this afternoon, the Senate will call upon thisoffice to assume direct control of the Jedi Council." Anakin's frown deepened. "The Jedi will no longer report to the Senate?"

"They will report to me. Personally. The Senate is too unfocused to conduct this war; we've seen this for years. Now thatthis office will be the single authority to direct the prosecution ofthe war, we'll bring a quick end to things."

Anakin nodded. "I can see how that will help, sir, but theCouncil probably won't. I can tell you that they are in no mood forfurther constitutional amendments."

"Yes, thank you, my friend. But in this case, I have no choice.This war must be won."

"Everyone agrees on that."

"I hope they do, my boy. I hope they do."

Inside his head, he heard the echo of Obi-Wan, murmuringrelations between the Council and the Chancellor are... stressed.What had been going on, here in the capital?

Weren't they all on the same side?

"I can assure you," he said firmly, "that the Jedi are absolutely dedicated to the core values of the Republic."

One of Palpatine's eyebrows arched. "Their actions willspeak more loudly than their words—as long as someone keepsan eye on them. And that, my boy, is exactly the favor I must askof you."

"I don't understand."

"Anakin, I am asking you—as a personal favor to me, in re-spect for our long friendship—to accept a post as my personalrepresentative on the Jedi Council."

Anakin blinked.He blinked again.He said, "Me?"

"Who else?" Palpatine spread his hands in a melancholyshrug. "You are the only Jedi I know, truly know, that I can trust.I needyou, my boy. There is no one else who can do this job: tobe the eyes and ears—and the voice—of the Republic on the Jedi Council."

"On the Council...," Anakin murmured.

He could see himself seated in one of the low, curving chairs,opposite Mace Windu. Opposite Y oda. He might sit next to Ki-Adi-Mundi, or Plo Koon—or even beside Obi-Wan! And hecould not quite ignore the quiet whisper, from down within the furnace doors that sealed his heart, that he was about to become the youngest Master in the twenty-five-thousand-year history ofthe Jedi Order... But none of that really mattered.

Palpatine had somehow seen into his secret heart, and hadchosen to offer him the one thing he most desired in all thegalaxy. He didn't care about the Council, not really—that was achildish dream. He didn't need the Council. He didn't needrecognition, and he didn't need respect. What he needed was therank itself.

All that mattered was Mastery.

All that mattered was Padme.

This was a gift beyond gifts: as a Master, he could access those forbidden holocrons in the restricted vault.

He could find a way to save her from his dream...

He shook himself back to the present. "I... am overwhelmed, sir. But the Council elects its own members. They willnever accept this."

"I promise you they will," Palpatine murmured imperturbably. He swung his chair around to gaze out the windowtoward the distant spires of the Temple. "They need you morethan they realize. All it will take is for someone to properly..."He waved a hand expressively."...explainit to them."

=11=

POLITICS

Orbital mirrors rotated, resolving the faint light of Coruscant's sun to erase the stars; fireships crosshatched the sky withcontrails of chemical air scrubber, bleaching away the last reminders of the fires of days past; chill remnants of night slid down the High Council Tower of the Jedi Temple; and withinthe cloistered chamber itself, Obi-Wan was still trying to talkthem out of it.

"Yes, of course I trust him," he said patiently. "We can always trust Anakin to do what he thinks is right. But we can't trust him to do what he's told. He can't be made to simply obey. Believe me: I've been trying for many years."

Conflicting currents of energy swirled and clashed in theCouncil Chamber. Traditionally, decisions of the Council werereached by quiet, mutual contemplation of the flow of the Force,until all the Council was of a single mind on the matter. But Obi-Wan knew of this tradition only by reputation, from tales in the archives and stories told by Masters whose tenure on the Council predated the return of the Sith. In the all-too-short years sinceObi-Wan's own elevation, argument in this Chamber was morethe rule than the exception.

"An unintentional opportunity, the Chancellor has givenus," Yoda said gravely. "A window he has opened into the operations of his office. Fools we would be, to close our eyes."

"Then we should use someone else's eyes," Obi-Wan said "Forgive me, Master Yoda, but you just don't know him the wayI do. None of you does. He is fiercely loyal, and there is not agram of deception in him. You've all seen it; it's one of the arguments that some of you, here in this room, have used against el evating him to Master: he lacks true Jedi reserve, that's what you've said. And by that we all mean that he wears his emotions like a HoloNet banner. How can you ask him to lie to a friend,to spy upon him?"

"That is why we must call upon a friend to ask him," saidAgen Kolar in his gentle Zabrak baritone.

"You don't understand. Don't make him choose between meand Palpatine—"

"Why not?"asked the holopresence of Plo Koon from thebridge of Courageous, where he directed the Republic Navystrike force against the Separatist choke point in the Ywllandr system. "Do you fear you would lose such a contest?"

"You don't know how much Palpatine's friendship hasmeant to him over the years. You're asking him to use thatfriendship as a weapon! To stab his friend in the back. Don't you understand what this will cost him, even if Palpatine is entirelyinnocent? Especially if he's innocent. Their relationship will neverbe the same—"

"And that," Mace Windu said, "may be the best argument in favor of this plan. I have told you all what I have seen of the energy between Skywalker and the Supreme Chancellor. Anythingthat might distance young Skywalker from Palpatine's influenceis worth the attempt."

Obi-Wan didn't need to reach into the Force to know that hewould lose this argument. He inclined his head. "I will, ofcourse, abide by the ruling of this Council."

"Doubt of that, none of us has." Yoda turned his green gaze on the other councilors. "But if to be done this is, decide wemust how best to use him."

The holopresence of Ki-Adi-Mundi flickered in and out offocus as the Cerean Master leaned forward, folding his hands. "I, too have reservations on this matter, but it seems that in these desperate times, only desperate plans have hope of success. We have seenthat young Skywalker has the power to battle a Sith Lord alone, ifneed be; he has proven that with Dooku. If he is indeed the chosenone, we must keep him in play against the Sith— keep him in a po sition to fulfill his destiny."

"And even if the prophecy has been misread," Agen Kolaradded, "Anakin is the one Jedi we can best hope would survive an encounter with a Sith Lord. So let us also use him to help usset our trap. In Council, let us emphasize that we are intensifyingour search for Grievous. Anakin will certainly report this to the Chancellor's Office. Perhaps, as you say, that will draw Sidiousinto action."

"It may not be enough," Mace Windu said. "Let us take thisone step farther—we should appear shorthanded, and weak, giving Sidious an opening to make a move he thinks will go unobserved. I'm thinking that perhaps we should let the Chancellor'sOffice know that Yoda and I have both been forced to take thefield—"

"Too risky that is," Yoda said. "And too convenient. One ofus only should go."

"Then it should be you, Master Yoda," Agen Kolar said. "Itis your sensitivity to the broader currents of the Force that a SithLord has most reason to fear."

Obi-Wan felt the ripple of agreement flow through theChamber, and Yoda nodded solemnly. "The Separatist attack on Kashyyyk, a compelling excuse will make. And good relations with the Wookiees I have; destroy the droid armies I can, and stillbe available to Coruscant, should Sidious take our bait."

"Agreed." Mace Windu looked around the half-emptyCouncil Chamber with a deepening frown. "And one last touchLet's let the Chancellor know, through Anakin, that our mostcunning and insightful Master—and our most tenacious—is tolead the hunt for Grievous."

"So Sidious will need to act, and act fast, if the war is to bemaintained,"Plo Koon added approvingly. Yoda nodded judiciously. "Agreed." Agen Kolar assented aswell, and Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"This sounds like a good plan," Obi-Wan said. "But whatMaster do you have in mind?" For a moment no one spoke, as though astonished he wouldask such a question. Only after a few seconds in which Obi-Wan looked from thefaces of one Master to the next, puzzled by the expressions ofgentle amusement each and every one of them wore, did it finallyregister that all of them were looking at him.

Bail Organa stopped cold in the middle of the Grand Concourse that ringed the Senate's Convocation Chamber. The torrent of multispecies foot traffic that streamed along the hugecurving hall broke around him like a river around a boulder. Hestared up in disbelief at one of the huge holoprojected Proclamation Boards; these had recently been installed above the concourse to keep the thousands of Senators up to the momenton news of the war, and on the Chancellor's latest executive orders. His heart tripped, and he couldn't seem to make his eyesfocus. He pushed his way through the press to a hardcopy standand punched a quick code. When he had the flimsies in hishands, they still said the same thing.

He'd been expecting this day. Since yesterday, when the Senate had voted to give Palpatine control of the Jedi, he'd known itwould come soon. He'd even started planning for it. But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

He found his way to a public comm booth and keyed a privacycode. The transparisteel booth went opaque as stone, and a moment later a hand-sized image shimmered into existence above the small holodisk: a slender woman in floor-length white, with short, neatly clipped auburn hair and a clear, steadily intelligent gaze from her aquamarine eyes. "Bail," she said. "What's happened?" Bail's elegantly thin goatee pulled downward around his mouth. "Have you seen this morning's decree?"

"The Sector Governance Decree? Yes, I have— "

"It's time, Mon," he said grimly. "It's time to stop talking, and start doing. We have to bring in the Senate."

"I agree, but we must tread carefully. Have you thought aboutwhom we should consult? Whom we can trust?"

"Not in detail. Giddean Danu springs to mind. I'm sure we can trust Fang Zar, too."

"Agreed. What about Iridik'k-stallu? Her hearts are in theright place. Or Chi Eekway." Bail shook his head. "Maybe later. It'll take a few hours atleast to figure out exactly where they stand. We need to start withSenators we know we can trust."

"All right. Then Terr Taneel would be my next choice. And, I think, Amidala of Naboo."

"Padme?" Bail frowned. "I'm not sure."

"You know her better than I do, Bail, but to my mind she is exactly the type of Senator we need. She is intelligent, principled, extremely articulate, and she has the heart of a warrior."

"She is also a longtime associate of Palpatine," he remindedher. "He was her ambassador during her term as Queen ofNaboo. How sure can you be that she will stand with us, and notwith him?" Senator Mon Mothma replied serenely, "There's only one way to find out." By the time the doors to the Jedi Council Chamber finallyswung open, Anakin was already angry. If asked, he would have denied it, and would have thoughthe was telling the truth... but they had left him out here for solong,with nothing to do but stare through the soot-smudgedcurve of the High Council Tower's window ring at the scarredskyline of Galactic City—damaged in a battle he had won, by theway, personally. Almost single-handedly —and with nothing tothink about except why it was taking them so long to reach sucha simple decision...

Angry? Not at all. He was sure he wasn't angry. He kepttelling himself he wasn't angry, and he made himself believe it.

Anakin walked into the Council Chamber, head lowered in ashow of humility and respect. But down inside him, down aroundthe nuclear shielding that banked his heart, he was hiding. It wasn't anger he was hiding. His anger was only camouflage.

Behind his anger hid the dragon.

He remembered too well the first time he had entered this Chamber, the first time he had stood within a ring of Jedi Masters gathered to sit in judgment upon his fate. He rememberedhow Yoda's green stare had seen into his heart, had seen the coldworm of dread eating away at him, no matter how hard he'd tried to deny it: the awful fear he'd felt that he might never seehis mother again. He couldn't let them see what that worm had grown into.

He moved slowly into the center of the circle of brown-toned carpet, and turned toward the Senior Members.

Yoda was unreadable as always, his rumpled features composed in a mask of serene contemplation. Mace Windu could have been carved from stone.

Ghost-images of Ki-Adi-Mundi and Plo Koon hovered a centimeter above their Council seats, maintained by the seats' internalholoprojectors. Agen Kolar sat alone, between the empty chairs belonging to Shaak Ti and Stass Allie.

Obi-Wan sat in the chair that once had belonged to OppoRancisis, looking pensive. Even worried.

"Anakin Skywalker." Master Windu's tone was so severe thatthe dragon inside Anakin coiled instinctively. "The Council hasdecided to comply with Chancellor Palpatine's directive, andwith the instructions of the Senate that give him the unprecedented authority to command this Council. You are herebygranted a seat at the High Council of the Jedi, as the Chancellor's personal representative." Anakin stood very still for a long moment, until he could beabsolutely sure he had heard what he thought he'd heard.

Palpatine had been right. He seemed to be right about a lotof things, these days. In fact—now that Anakin came to think ofit—he couldn't remember a single instance when the SupremeChancellor had been wrong.

Finally, as it began to sink in upon him, as he gradually allowed himself to understand that the Council had finally decidedto grant him his heart's desire, that they finally had recognizedhis accomplishments, his dedication, his power, he took a slow,deep breath.

"Thank you, Masters. You have my pledge that I will upholdthe highest principles of the Jedi Order."

"Allow this appointment lightly, the Council does not."Yoda's ears curled forward at Anakin like accusing fingers. "Disturbing is this move by Chancellor Palpatine. On many levels." They have become more concerned with avoiding the oversightof the Senate than they are with winning the war...

Anakin inclined his head. "I understand."

"I'm not sure you do." Mace Windu leaned forward, staringinto Anakin's eyes with a measuring squint. Anakin was barely paying attention; in his mind, he was already leaving the Council Chamber, riding the turbolift to thearchives, demanding access to the restricted vault by authority of his new rank—

"You will attend the meetings of this Council," the KorunMaster said, "but you will not be granted the rank and privilegesof a Jedi Master."

"What?"

It was a small word, a simple word, an instinctive recoil fromwords that felt like punches, like stun blasts exploding inside hisbrain that left his head ringing and the room spinning aroundhim—but even to his own ears, the voice that came from his lipsdidn't sound like his own. It was deeper, darker, clipped and oiled, resonating from the depths of his heart.

It didn't sound like him at all, and it smoked with fury.

"How dare you? How dare you?"

Anakin stood welded to the floor, motionless. He wasn'teven truly aware of speaking. It was as if someone else were usinghis mouth—and now, finally, he recognized the voice. It sounded like Dooku. But it was not Dooku's voice.

It was the voice of Dooku's destroyer.

"No Jedi in this room can match my power—no Jedi in thegalaxy!You think you can deny Mastery to me?"

"The Chancellor's representative you are," Yoda said. "Andit is as his representative you shall attend the Council. Sit in thisChamber you will, but no vote will you have. The Chancellor'sviews you shall present. His wishes. His ideas and directives. Notyour own."

Up from the depths of his furnace heart came an answer sofar transcending fury that it sounded cold as interstellar space."This is an insult to me, and to the Chancellor. Do not imagine that it will be tolerated." Mace Windu's eyes were as cold as the voice from Anakin'smouth. "Take your seat, young Skywalker." Anakin matched his stare. Perhaps I'll take yours. His ownvoice inside his head, had a hot black fire that smoked from the depths of his furnace heart. You think you can stop me from saving my love? You think you can make me watch her die? Go aheadand Vaapadthis, you—

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly. He gestured to an empty seat beside him. "Please." And something in Obi-Wan's gentle voice, in his simple,straightforward request, sent his anger slinking off ashamed, andAnakin found himself alone on the carpet in the middle of theJedi Council, blinking. He suddenly felt very young, and very foolish."Forgive me, Masters." His bow of contrition couldn't hide the blaze of embarrassment that climbed his cheeks.

The rest of the session passed in a haze; Ki-Adi-Mundi said something about no Republic world reporting any sign of Grievous, and Anakin felt a dull shock when the Council assigned thetask of coordinating the search to Obi-Wan alone.

On top of everything else, now they were splitting up theteam?

He was so numbly astonished by it all that he barely registered what they were saying about a droid landing onKashyyyk—but he had to say something, he couldn't just sit here for his whole first meeting of the Council, Master or not—and heknew the Kashyyyk system almost as well as he knew the back al leys of Mos Espa. "I can handle it," he offered, suddenly brightening. "I could clear that planet in a day or two—"

"Skywalker, your assignment is here.'" Mace Windu's starewas hard as durasteel, and only a scrape short of openly hostile.

Then Yoda volunteered, and for some reason, the Councildidn't even bother to vote.

"It is settled then," Mace said. "May the Force be with usall." And as the holopresences of Plo Koon and Ki-Adi-Mundiwinked out, as Obi-Wan and Agen Kolar rose and spoke together in tones softly grave, as Yoda and Mace Windu walked from the room, Anakin could only sit, sick at heart, stunned with helplessness.

Padme— oh, Padme, what are we going to do?

He didn't know. He didn't have a clue. But he knew onething he wasn't going to do. He wasn't going to give up.

Even with the Council against him—even with the wholeOrderagainst him—he would find a way. He would save her.

Somehow.

"I am no happier than the rest of you about this," Padmesaid, gesturing at the flimsiplast of the Sector Governance Decreeon Bail Organa's desk. "But I've known Palpatine for years; he was my most trusted adviser. I'm not prepared to believe his intent is to dismantle the Senate."

"Why should he bother?" Mon Mothma countered. "As apractical matter—as of this morning—the Senate no longer exists."

Padme looked from one grim face to another. Giddean Danunodded his agreement. Terr Taneel kept her eyes down, pretending to be adjusting her robes. Fang Zar ran a hand over his unruly gray-streaked topknot.

Bail leaned forward. His eyes were hard as chips of stone."Palpatine no longer has to worry about controlling the Senate.By placing his own lackeys as governors over every planet in theRepublic, he controls our systems directly.'' He folded his hands,and squeezed them together until his knuckles hurt.

"He's become a dictator. We made him a dictator."

And he's my husband's friend, and mentor,Padme thought. I shouldn't even be listening to this.

"But what can we do about it?" Terr Taneel asked, still gazing down at her robe with a worried frown.

"That's what we asked you here to discuss," Mon Mothma told her calmly. "What we're going to do about it."Fang Zar shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I like wherethis is going."

"None of us likes where anything is going," Bail said, half rising "That's exactly the point. We can't let a thousand years ofdemocracy disappear without a fight!"

"A fight?"Padme said. "I can't believe what I'm hearing—Bail, you sound like a Separatist!"

"I—" Bail sank back into his seat. "I apologize. That was notmy intent. I asked you all here because of all the Senators in thegalaxy, you four have been the most consistent—and influential —voices of reason and restraint, doing all you could to preserve ourpoor, tattered Constitution. We don't want to hurt the Republic.With your help, we hope to save it."

"It has become increasingly clear," Mon Mothma said, "thatPalpatine has become an enemy of democracy. He must bestopped."

"The Senate gave him these powers," Padme said. "The Senate can rein him in." Giddean Danu sat forward. "I fear you underestimate justhow deeply the Senate's corruption has taken hold. Who willvote against Palpatine now?"

" I will," Padme said. She discovered that she meant it. "AndI'll find others, too." She'd have to. No matter how much it hurt Anakin. Oh, my love, will you ever find a way to forgive me?

"You do that," Bail said. "Make as much noise as you can—keep Palpatine watching what you're doing in the Senate. Thatshould provide some cover while Mon Mothma and I beginbuilding our organization—"

"Stop." Padme rose. "It's better to leave some things unsaid.Right now, it's better I don't know anything about... anything."

Don't make me lie to my husbandwas her unspoken plea. Shetried to convey it with her eyes. Please, Bail. Don't make me lie to him. It will break his heart.

Perhaps he saw something there; after a moment's indecision, he nodded. "Very well. Other matters can be left for othertimes. Until then, this meeting must remain absolutely secret Even hinting at an effective opposition to Palpatine can be aswe've all seen, very dangerous. We must agree never to speak ofthese matters except among the people who are now in thisroom. We must bring no one into this secret without the agreement of each and every one of us."

"That includes even those closest to you," Mon Mothmaadded. "Even your families—to share anything of this will exposethem to the same danger we all face. No one can be told. Noone." Padme watched them all nod, and what could she do? Whatcould she say? You can keep your own secrets, but I'll have to tell my Jedi husband, who is Palpatine's beloved protege... She sighed. "Yes. Yes: agreed."

And all she could think as the little group dispersed to theirown offices was Oh, Anakin — Anakin, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.

Anakin was glad the vast vaulted Temple hallway was deserted save for him and Obi-Wan; he didn't have to keep hisvoice down.

"This is outrageous. How can they do this?"

"How can they not?" Obi-Wan countered. "It's your friendship with the Chancellor—the same friendship that got you a seatat the Council—that makes it impossible to grant you Mastery.In the Council's eyes, that would be the same as giving a vote to Palpatine himself!"

He waved this off. He didn't have time for the Council's political maneuvering— Padme didn't have time.

"I didn't ask for this. I don't need this. So if I wasn't friends with Palpatine I'd be aMaster already, is that what you're saying?"

Obi-Wan looked pained. "I don't know."

"I have the power of any five Masters. Any ten. You know it, and so do they."

"Power alone is no credit to you—"

Anakin flung an arm back toward the Council Tower. "They'rethe ones who call me the chosen one!

Chosen for what?To be a dupe in some slimy political game?"

Obi-Wan winced as if he'd been stung. "Didn't I warn you,Anakin? I told you of the... tension... between the Counciland the Chancellor. I was very clear. Why didn't you listen? Youwalked right into it!"

"Like that ray shield trap." Anakin snorted. "Should I blamethison the dark side, too?"

"However it happened," Obi-Wan said, "you are in a very... delicate situation."

" What situation? Who cares about me? I'm no Master, I'mjust a kid, right? Is that what it's about? Is Master Windu turningeveryone against me because until I came along, he was theyoungest Jedi ever named to the Council?"

"No one cares about that—"

"Sure they don't. Let me tell you something a smart old mansaid to me no so long ago: Age is no measure of wisdom. If it were,Yoda would be twenty times as wise as you are—"

"This has nothing to do with Master Yoda."

"That's right. It has to do with me. It has to do with themall being against me. They always have been—most of themdidn't even want me to be a Jedi. And if they'd won out, wherewould they be right now? Who would have done the thingsI've done? Who would have saved Naboo? Who would have saved Kamino? Who would have killed Dooku, and rescuedthe Chancellor? Who would have come for you and Alpha afterVentress—"

"Yes, Anakin, yes. Of course. No one questions your accomplishments. It's your relationship to Palpatine that is the problem. And it is a very serious problem."

"I'm too close to him? Maybe I am. Maybe I should alienatea man who's been nothing but kind and generous to me eversince I first came to this planet! Maybe I should reject the onlyman who gives me the respect I deserve —"

"Anakin, stop. Listen to yourself. Your thoughts are of jealousy, and pride. These are dark thoughts, Anakin. Dangerousthoughts, in these dark times—you are focused on yourself whenyou need to focus on your service. Your outburst in the Councilwas an eloquent argument against granting you Mastery. How can you be a Jedi Master when you have not mastered yourself?"

Anakin passed his flesh hand over his eyes and drew a long,heavy breath. In a much lower, calmer, quieter tone, he said,"What do I have to do?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"They want something from me, don't they? That's whatthis is really about. That's what it's been about from the beginning. They won't give me my rank until I give them what theywant."

"The Council does not operate that way, Anakin, and youknow it." Once you're a Master, as you deserve, how will they make you dotheir bidding?

"Yes, I know it. Sure I do," Anakin said. Suddenly he wastired. So incredibly tired. It hurt to talk. It hurt even to standhere. He was sick of the whole business. Why couldn't it just be over? "Tell me what they want."

Obi-Wan's eyes shifted, and the sick fatigue in Anakin's gutsturned darker. How bad did it have to be to make Obi-Wan unable to look him in the eye?

"Anakin, look, I'm on your side," Obi-Wan said softly. He looked tired, too: he looked as tired and sick as Anakin felt. "Inever wanted to see you put in this situation."

"What situation?"Still Obi-Wan hesitated.Anakin said, "Look, whatever it is, it's not getting any better while you're standing here working up the nerve to tell me.Come on, Obi-Wan. Let's have it." Obi-Wan glanced around the empty hall as if he wanted tomake sure they were still alone; Anakin had a feeling it was just an excuse to avoid facing him when he spoke.

"The Council," Obi-Wan said slowly, "approved your appointment because Palpatine trusts you. They want you to reporton all his dealings. They have to know what he's up to."

"They want me to spy on the Supreme Chancellor of the Re public?"Anakin blinked numbly. No wonder Obi-Wan couldn'tlook him in the face. "Obi-Wan, that's treason!"

"We are at war, Anakin." Obi-Wan looked thoroughly miserable. "The Council is sworn to uphold the principles of the Republic through any means necessary. We have to. Especially whenthe greatest enemy of those principles seems to be the Chancel lor himself!"

Anakin's eyes narrowed and turned hard. "Why didn't theCouncil give me this assignment while we were in session?"

"Because it's not for the record, Anakin. You must be able to understand why."

"What I understand," Anakin said grimly, "is that you aretrying to turn me against Palpatine. You're trying to make mekeep secrets from him—you want to make me lie to him. That's what this is really about."

"It isn't," Obi-Wan insisted. He looked wounded. "It's aboutkeeping an eye on who he deals with, and who deals with him."

"He's not a bad man, Obi-Wan—he's a great man, who'sholding this Republic together with his bare hands —"

"By staying in office long after his term has expired. By gathering dictatorial powers—"

"The Senate demanded that he stay! They pushed those powers on him—"

"Don't be naive. The Senate is so intimidated they give himanything he wants!"

"Then it's their fault, not his! They should have the guts tostand up to him!"

"That is what we're asking you to do, Anakin."

Anakin had no answer. Silence fell between them like a hammer.

He shook his head and looked down at the fist he had madeof his mechanical hand. Finally, he said, "He's my friend, Obi-Wan."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said softly. Sadly. "I know."

"If he asked me to spy on you, do you think I would do it?" Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to fall silent.

"You know how kind he has been to me." Anakin's voice washushed. "You know how he's looked after me, how he's doneeverything he could to help me. He's like family.''

"The Jedi are your family—"

"No." Anakin turned on his former Master. "No, the Jedi areyourfamily. The only one you've ever known. But I'm not like you—I had a mother who loved me—" And a wife who loves me,he thought. And soon a child who will love me, too.

"Do you remember my mother? Do you remember what hap penedto her—?"

— because you didn't let me go to save her? he finished silently.And the same will happen to Padme, and the same will happen toour child.Within him, the dragon's cold whisper chewed at hisstrength. All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out.

"Anakin, yes. Of course. You know how sorry I am for yourmother. Listen: we're not asking you to act against Palpatine.We're only asking you to... monitor his activities. You must believe me." Obi-Wan stepped closer and put a hand on Anakin's arm.

With a long, slowly indrawn breath, he seemed to reach somedifficult decision. "Palpatine himself may be in danger," he said."This may be the only way you can help him."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am not supposed to be telling you this. Please do not reveal we have had this conversation. To anyone, do you understand?"

Anakin said, "I can keep a secret."

"All right." Obi-Wan took another deep breath. "MasterWindu traced Darth Sidious to Five Hundred Republica beforeGrievous's attack—we think that the Sith Lord is someonewithin Palpatine's closest circle of advisers. That is who we wantyou to spy on, do you understand?" A fiction created by the Jedi Council... an excuse to harasstheir political enemies...

"If Palpatine is under the influence of a Sith Lord, he may bein the gravest danger. The only way we can help him is to findSidious, and to stop him. What we are asking of you is not treason, Anakin—it may be the only way to save the Republic!"

If this Darth Sidious of yours were to walk through that doorright now...I would ask him to sit down, and I would ask him if he has any power he could use to end this war.

"So all you're really asking," Anakin said slowly, "is for me tohelp the Council find Darth Sidious."

"Yes." Obi-Wan looked relieved, incredibly relieved, asthough some horrible chronic pain had suddenly and inexplicably eased. "Yes, that's it exactly."

Locked within the furnace of his heart, Anakin whispered anecho—not quite an echo—slightly altered, just at the end: I would ask him to sit down, and I would ask him if he has any powerhe could use—to save Padme.

The gunship streaked through the capital's sky.

Obi-Wan stared past Yoda and Mace Windu, out through thegunship's window at the vast deployment platform and the swarmof clones who were loading the assault cruiser at the far end.

"You weren't there," he said. "You didn't see his face. I thinkwe have done a terrible thing."

"We don't always have the right answer," Mace Windu said."Sometimes there isn't aright answer."

"Know how important your friendship with young Anakin isto you, I do." Yoda, too, stared out toward the stark angles of the assault cruiser being loaded for the counterinvasion ofKashyyyk; he stood leaning on his gimer stick as though he didnot trust his legs. "Allow such attachments to pass out of one'slife, a Jedi must."

Another man—even another Jedi—might have resented therebuke, but Obi-Wan only sighed. "I suppose—he is the chosenone, after all. The prophecy says he was born to bring balance tothe Force, but..."

The words trailed off. He couldn't remember what he'dbeen about to say. All he could remember was the look onAnakin's face.

"Yes. Always in motion, the future is." Yoda lifted his headand his eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits.

"And the prophecy,misread it could have been."

Mace looked even grimmer than usual. "Since the fall ofDarth Bane more than a millennium ago, there have been hundreds of thousands of Jedi—hundreds of thousands of Jedi feeding the light with each work of their hands, with each breath,with every beat of their hearts, bringing justice, building civil so ciety, radiating peace, acting out of selfless love for all livingthings—and in all these thousand years, there have been only two Sith at any time. Only two. Jedi create light, but the Sith donot create darkness. They merely use the darkness that is alwaysthere. That has always been there. Greed and jealousy, aggression and lust and fear—these are all natural to sentient beings. Thelegacy of the jungle. Our inheritance from the dark."

"I'm sorry, Master Windu, but I'm not sure I follow you. Are yousaying—to follow your metaphor—that the Jedi have casttoo much light? From what I have seen these past years, thegalaxy has not become all that bright a place."

"All I am saying is that we don't know. We don't even trulyunderstand what it means to bring balance to the Force. We haveno way of anticipating what this may involve."

"An infinite mystery is the Force," Yoda said softly. "Themore we learn, the more we discover how much we do notknow."

"So you both feel it, too," Obi-Wan said. The words hurt him. "You both can feel that we have turned some invisible corner."

"In motion, are the events of our time. Approach, the crisis does."

"Yes." Mace interlaced his fingers and squeezed until his knuckles popped. "But we're in a spice mine without a glow rod. If we stop walking, we'll never reach the light."

"And what if the light just isn't there?" Obi-Wan asked."What if we get to the end of this tunnel and find only night?"

"Faith must we have. Trust in the will of the Force. Whatother choice is there?" Obi-Wan accepted this with a nod, but still when he thoughtof Anakin, dread began to curdle below his heart. "I should haveargued more strongly in Council today."

"You think Skywalker won't be able to handle this?" Mace Windu said. "I thought you had more confidence in his abilities."

"I trust him with my life," Obi-Wan said simply. "And that isprecisely the problem." The other two Jedi Masters watched him silently while hetried to summon the proper words.

"For Anakin," Obi-Wan said at length, "there is nothingmore important than friendship. He is the most loyal man I haveever met—loyal beyond reason, in fact. Despite all I have tried toteach him about the sacrifices that are the heart of being a Jedi he—he will never, I think, truly understand." He looked over at Yoda. "Master Yoda, you and I have beenclose since I was a boy. An infant. Yet if ending this war one weeksooner—one day sooner—were to require that I sacrifice your life, you know I would."

"As you should," Yoda said. "As I would yours, young Obi-Wan. As any Jedi would any other, in the cause of peace."

"Any Jedi," Obi-Wan said, "except Anakin."

Yoda and Mace exchanged glances, both thoughtfully grim.Obi-Wan guessed they were remembering the times Anakin hadviolated orders—the times he had put at risk entire operations,the lives of thousands, the control of whole planetary systems—to save a friend.

More than once, in fact, to save Obi-Wan.

"I think," Obi-Wan said carefully, "that abstractions likepeacedon't mean much to him. He's loyal to people, not to principles. And he expects loyalty in return. He will stop at nothing to save me, for example, because he thinks I would do the samefor him."

Mace and Yoda gazed at him steadily, and Obi-Wan had to lower his head.

"Because," he admitted reluctantly, "he knows I would dothe same for him."

"Understand exactly where your concern lies, I do not.Yoda's green eyes had gone softly sympathetic. " Named mustyour fear be, before banish it you can. Do you fear that performhis task, he cannot?"

"Oh, no. That's not it at all. I am firmly convinced that Anakin can do anything. Except betray a friend. What we havedone to him today..."

"But that is what Jedi are," Mace Windu said. "That is whatwe have pledged ourselves to: selfless service—"

Obi-Wan turned to stare once more toward the assault shipthat would carry Yoda and the clone battalions to Kashyyyk, buthe could see only Anakin's face.

Ifhe asked me to spy on you, do you think I would do it?

"Yes," he said slowly. "That's why I don't think he will ever trust us again." He found his eyes turning unaccountably hot, and his visionswam with unshed tears.

"And I'm not entirely sure he should."

=12=

NOT FROM A JEDI

The sunset over Galactic City was stunning tonight: enoughparticulates from the fires remained in the capital planet's atmosphere to splinter the light of its distant blue-white sun into aprismatic smear across multilayered clouds.

Anakin barely noticed.

On the broad curving veranda that doubled as the landingdeck for Padme's apartment, he watched from the shadows asPadme stepped out of her speeder and graciously accepted Captain Typho's good night. As Typho flew the vehicle off towardthe immense residential tower's speeder park, she dismissed hertwo handmaidens and sent C-3PO on some busywork errand,then turned to lean on the veranda's balcony right where Anakin had leaned last night.

She gazed out on the sunset, but he gazed only at her.This was all he needed. To be here, to be with her. To watchthe sunset bring a blush to her ivory skin.

If not for his dreams, he'd withdraw from the Order today.Now. The Lost Twenty would be the Lost Twenty-One. Let thescandal come; it wouldn't destroy their lives. Not their real lives. It would destroy only the lives they'd had before each other: those separate years that now meant nothing at all.

He said softly, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She jumped as if he'd pricked her with a needle. "Anakin!"

"I'm sorry." He smiled fondly as he moved out from theshadows. "I didn't mean to startle you." She held one hand pressed to her chest as though to keep herheart from leaping out. "No—no, it's all right. I just—Anakin, you shouldn't be out here. It's still daylight —"

"I couldn't wait, Padme. I had to see you." He took her inhis arms. "Tonight is forever from now—how am I supposed tolive that long without you?"

Her hand went from her chest to his. "But we're in full view of a million people, and you're a very famous man. Let's go inside."

He drew her back from the edge of the veranda, but made no

move to enter the apartment. "How are you feeling?"

Her smile was radiant as Tatooine's primary as she took hisflesh hand and pressed it to the soft fullness of her belly. "Hekeeps kicking."

"He?" Anakin asked mildly. "I thought you'd ordered yourmedical droid not to spoil the surprise."

"Oh, I didn't get this from the Emdee. It's my..." Hersmile went softly sly."...motherly intuition." He felt a sudden pulse against his palm and laughed. "Motherly intuition, huh? With a kick that hard? Definitely a girl."

She laid her head against his chest. "Anakin, let's go inside." He nuzzled her gleaming coils of hair. "I can't stay. I'm onmy way to meet with the Chancellor."

"Yes, I heard about your appointment to the Council.Anakin, I'm so proud of you." He lifted his head, an instant scowl gathering on his forehead. Why did she have to bring that up?

"There's nothing to be proud of," he said. "This is just political maneuvering between the Council and the Chancellor Igot caught in the middle, that's all."

"But to be on the Council, at your age—"

"They put me on the Council because they had to. Becausehe told them to, once the Senate gave him control of the Jedi "His voice lowered toward a growl. "And because they think theycan use me against him."

Padme's eyes went oddly remote, and thoughtful. "Against him," she echoed. "The Jedi don't trust him?"

"That doesn't mean much. They don't trust me, either."Anakin's mouth compressed to a thin bitter line.

"They'll giveme a chair in the Council Chamber, but that's as far as it will go.They won't accept me as a Master."

Her gaze returned from that thoughtful distance, and shesmiled up at him. "Patience, my love. In time, they will recognize your ability."

"They already recognize my abilities. They fear my abilities,"he said bitterly. "But this isn't even about that. Like I said: it's apolitical game."

"Anakin—"

"I don't know what's happening to the Order, but whateverit is, I don't like it." He shook his head. "This war is destroyingeverything the Republic is supposed to stand for. I mean, whatare we fighting for, anyway? What about all this is worth saving?"

Padme nodded sadly, disengaging from Anakin's arms anddrifting away. "Sometimes I wonder if we're on the wrong side."

"The wrong side?"

You think everything I've accomplished has been fornothing—?

He frowned at her. "You can't mean that."

She turned from him, speaking to the vast airway beyond theveranda's edge. "What if the democracy we're fighting for nolonger exists? What if the Republic itself has become the very evil we've been fighting to destroy?"

"Oh this again." Anakin irritably waved off her words. "I'vebeen hearing that garbage ever since Geonosis. I never thought I'd hear it from you."

"A few seconds ago you were saying almost the same thing!"

"Where would the Republic be without Palpatine?"

"I don't know," she said. "But I'm not sure it would beworse than where we are." All the danger, all the suffering, all the killing, all my friendswho gave their lives—?All fornothing—?He bit down on his temper. "Everybody complains aboutPalpatine having too much power, but nobody offers a better alternative. Who should be running the war? The Senate? You're inhe Senate, you know those people—how many of them do you trust?"

"All I know is that things are going wrong here. Our government is headed in exactly the wrong direction. You know it,too—you just said so!"

"I didn't mean that. I just—I'm tired of this, that's all. Thispolitical garbage. Sometimes I'd rather just be back out on the front lines. At least out there, I know who the bad guys are."

"I'm becoming afraid," she replied in a bitter undertone,"that I might know who the bad guys are here, too."

His eyes narrowed. "You're starting to sound like a Separatist."

"Anakin, the whole galaxy knows now that Count Dooku isdead. This is the time we should be pursing a diplomatic resolution to the war—but instead the fighting is intensifying! Palpatine'syour friend, he might listen to you. When you see himtonight, ask him, in the name of simple decency, to offer a ceasefire—" His face went hard. "Is that an order?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Do I get any say in this?" He stalked toward her. "Does my opinion matter? What if I don't agree with you? What if I thinkPalpatine's way is the right way?"

"Anakin, hundreds of thousands of beings are dying everyday!"

"It's a war, Padme. We didn't ask for it, remember? You werethere—maybe we should have 'pursued a diplomatic resolution'in that beast arena!"

"I was—" She shrank away from what she saw on his faceblinking harder, brows drawn together. "I was only asking... "

"Everyone is only asking. Everyone wants something fromme. And I'm the bad guy if they don't get it!" He spun awayfrom her, cloak whirling, and found himself at the veranda'sedge, leaning on the rail. The durasteel piping groaned in his mechanical grip.

"I'm sick of this," he muttered. "I'm sick of all of it." He didn't hear her come to him; the rush of aircars throughthe lanes below the veranda drowned her footsteps. He didn'tsee the hurt on her face, or the hint of tears in her eyes, but he could feel them, in the tentative softness of her touch when she stroked his arm, and he could hear them in her hesitant voice.

"Anakin, what is it? What is it really?"

He shook his head. He couldn't look at her.

"Nothing that's your fault," he said. "Nothing you canhelp."

"Don't shut me out, Anakin. Let me try."

"You can't help me." He stared down through dozens ofcrisscross lanes of traffic, down toward the invisible bedrock ofthe planet. "I'm trying to help you." He'd seen something in her eyes, when he'd mentioned theCouncil and Palpatine. He'd seen it.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Her hand went still, and she did not answer.

"I can feel it, Padme. I sense you're keeping a secret."

"Oh?" she said softly. Lightly. "That's funny, I was thinking the same about you." He just kept staring down over the rail into the invisible distance below. She moved close to him, moved against him, herarm sliding around his shoulders, her cheek leaning lightly on hisarm. "Why does it have to be like this? Why does there have toeven be such a thing as war? Can't we just... go back? Even justto pretend. Let's pretend we're back at the lake on Naboo, justthe two of us. When there was no war, no politics. No plotting. Just us. You and me, and love. That's all we need. You and me,and love." Right now Anakin couldn't remember what that had beenlike.

"I have to go," he said. "The Chancellor is waiting." Two masked, robed, silent Red Guards flanked the door tothe Chancellor's private box at the Galaxies Opera. Anakin didn'tneed to speak; as he approached, one of them said, "You are expected," and opened the door.

The small round box had only a handful of seats, overlookingthe spread of overdressed beings who filled every seat in the orchestra; on this opening night, it seemed everyone had forgottenthere was a war on. Anakin barely gave a glance toward the immense sphere of shimmering water that rippled gently in the stage's artificial zero-g; he had no interest in ballet, Mon Calamarior otherwise. In the dim semi-gloom, Palpatine sat with the speaker of theSenate, Mas Amedda, and his administrative aide, Sly Moore.Anakin stopped at the back of the box.

If I were the spy the Council wants me to be, I suppose I should be creeping up behind them so that I can listen in.

A spasm of distaste passed over his face; he took care to winit off before he spoke. "Chancellor. Sorry I'm late."

Palpatine turned toward him, and his face lit up. "Yes,Anakin! Don't worry. Come in, my boy, come in. Thank you foryour report on the Council meeting this afternoon—it mademost interesting reading. And now I have good news for you—Clone Intelligence has located General Grievous!"

"That's tremendous!" Anakin shook his head, wondering ifObi-Wan would be embarrassed to have been scooped by theclones. "He won't escape us again."

"I'm going to—Moore, take a note—I will direct the Council to give you this assignment, Anakin. Your gifts are wasted onCoruscant—you should be out in the field. You can attendCouncil meetings by holoconference."

Anakin frowned. "Thank you, sir, but the Council coordinates Jedi assignments."

"Of course, of course. Mustn't step on any Jedi toes, mustwe? They are so jealous of their political prerogatives. Still, I shallwonder at their collective wisdom if they choose someone else."

"As I said in my report, they've already assigned Obi-Wan tofind Grievous." Because they want to keep me here, where I am sup posed to spy on you.

"To find him, yes. But you are the best man to apprehend him—though of course the Jedi Council cannot always betrusted to do the right thing."

"They try. I—believe they try, sir."

"Do you still? Sit down." Palpatine looked at the other twobeings in the box. "Leave us." They rose and withdrew. Anakin took Mas Amedda's seat.

Palpatine gazed distractedly down at the graceful undulations of the Mon Calamari principal soloist for a long moment,frowning as though there was so much he wanted to say, he wasunsure where to begin. Finally he sighed heavily and leaned closeto Anakin.

"Anakin I think you know by now that I cannot rely upon the Jedi Council. That is why I put you on it. If they have not yet triedto use you in their plot, they soon will." Anakinkept his face carefully blank. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You must sense what I have come to suspect," Palpatinesaid grimly. "The Jedi Council is after more than independencefrom Senate oversight; I believe they intend to control the Republic itself."

"Chancellor—"

"I believe they are planning treason. They hope to overthrowmy government, and replace me with someone weak enoughthat Jedi mind tricks can control his every word."

"I can't believe the Council—"

"Anakin, search your feelings. You do know, don't you?"Anakin looked away. "I know they don't trust you...Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy itself, forthat matter. The Jedi Council is not elected. It selects its ownmembers according to its own rules—a less generous man than Imight say whim

—and gives them authority backed by power.They rule the Jedi as they hope to rule the Republic: by fiat."

"I admit..."Anakin looked down at his hands."...myfaith in them has been... shaken."

"How? Have they approached you already? Have they ordered you to do something dishonest?" Palpatine's frown cleared into a gently wise smile that was oddly reminiscent of Yoda's."They want you to spy on me, don't they? It's all right, Anakin. I have nothing to hide."

"I—don't know what to say..."

"Do you remember," Palpatine said, drawing away fromAnakin so that he could lean back comfortably in his seat, "howas a young boy, when you first came to this planet, I tried toteach you the ins and outs of politics?"

Anakin smiled faintly. "I remember that I didn't much carefor the lessons."

"For any lessons, as I recall. But it's a pity; you should havepaid more attention. To understand politics is to understand thefundamental nature of thinking beings. Right now, you shouldremember one of my first teachings: all those who gain power areafraid to lose it."

"The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said, a little toofirmly.

"Good is a point of view, Anakin. And the Jedi conceptof good is not the only valid one. Take your Dark Lords of theSith, for example. From my reading, I have gathered that theSith believed in justice and security every bit as much as theJedi—"

"Jedi believe in justice and peace."

"In these troubled times, is there a difference?" Palpatineasked mildly. "The Jedi have not done a stellar job of bringing peace to the galaxy, you must agree. Who's to say the Sith mightnot have done better?"

"This is another of those arguments you probably shouldn'tbring up in front of the Council, if you know what I mean,"Anakin replied with a disbelieving smile.

"Oh, yes. Because the Sith would be a threat to the JediOrder's power. Lesson one." Anakin shook his head. "Because the Sith are evil."

"From a Jedi's point of view," Palpatine allowed. " Evil is alabel we all put on those who threaten us, isn't it? Yet the Sithand the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their questfor greater power."

"The Jedi's quest is for greater understanding," Anakincountered. "For greater knowledge of the Force—"

"Which brings with it greater power, does it not?"

"Well... yes." Anakin had to laugh. "I should know betterthan to argue with a politician."

"We're not arguing, Anakin. We're just talking." Palpatine shifted his weight, settling in comfortably.

"Perhaps the real difference between the Jedi and the Sith lies only in their orientation; a Jedi gains power through understanding, and a Sith gainsunderstanding through power. This is the true reason the Sithhave always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side so much they cut themselves off from the most important aspect of life: passion. Of any kind. They don't even allowthemselves to love." Except for me,Anakin thought. But then, I've never been ex actly the perfect Jedi.

"The Sith do not fear the dark side. The Sith have no fear.They embrace the whole spectrum of experience, from theheights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair.Beings have these emotions for a reason, Anakin. That is why theSith are more powerful: they are not afraid to feel."

"The Sith rely on passion for strength," Anakin said, "butwhen that passion runs dry, what's left?"

"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. Perhaps it never runsdry at all. Who can say?"

"They think inward, only about themselves."

"And the Jedi don't?"

"The Jedi are selfless—we erase the self, to join with the flowof the Force. We care only about others...

"

Palpatine again gave him that smile of gentle wisdom. "Or soyou've been trained to believe. I hear the voice of Obi-WanKenobi in your answers, Anakin. What do you really think?" Anakin suddenly found the ballet a great deal more interesting than Palpatine's face. "I... don't know anymore."

"It is said that if one could ever entirely comprehend a single grain of sand—really, truly understand everything about it—onewould, at the same time, entirely comprehend the universe.Who's to say that a Sith, by looking inward, sees less than a Jedidoes by looking out?"

"The Jedi—Jedi are good. That's the difference. I don't knowwhosees what."

"What the Jedi are," Palpatine said gently, "is a group of verypowerful beings you consider to be your comrades. And you areloyal to your friends; I have known that for as long as I haveknown you, and I admire you for it. But are your friends loyal to you?"

Anakin shot him a sudden frown. "What do you mean?"

"Would a true friend ask you to do something that's wrong?"

"I'm not sure it's wrong," Anakin said. Obi-Wan might havebeen telling the truth. It was possible. They might only wantto catch Sidious. They might really be trying to protect Palpatine. They might.

Maybe.

"Have they asked you to break the Jedi Code? To violatethe Constitution? To betray a friendship? To betray your ownvalues?"

"Chancellor—"

"Think,Anakin! I have always tried to teach you to think—yes, yes, Jedi do not think, they know, but those stale answers aren't good enough now, in these changing times. Consider theirmotives. Keep your mind clear of assumptions. The fear of losingpower is a weakness of both the Jedi and the Sith." Anakin sank lower in his seat. Too much had happened intoo short a time. Everything jumbled together in his head, and none of it seemed to make complete sense.

Except for what Palpatine said.

That made too much sense.

"This puts me in mind of an old legend," Palpatine murmured idly. "Anakin—are you familiar with The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

Anakin shook his head.

"Ah, I thought not. It is not a story the Jedi would tell you.It's a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sightinward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and master life itself. And—because the two are one, when seen clearlyenough—death itself."

Anakin sat up. Was he actually hearing this? "He could keepsomeone safe from death?"

"According to the legend," Palpatine said, "he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with such knowledge,to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?"

A universe of possibility blossomed inside Anakin's head. He murmured, "Stronger than death... "

"The dark side seems to be—from my reading—the pathway to many abilities some would consider unnatural."

Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "What happened tohim?"

"Oh, well, it is a tragedy, after all, you know. Once he hasgained this ultimate power, he has nothing to fear save losing it—that's why the Jedi Council brought him to mind, you know."

"But what happened?"

"Well, to safeguard his power's existence, he teaches the pathtoward it to his apprentice."

"And?"

"And his apprentice kills him in his sleep," Palpatine saidwith a careless shrug. "Plageuis never sees it coming. That's thetragic irony, you see: he can save anyone in the galaxy fromdeath—except himself."

"What about the apprentice? What happens to him?"

"Oh, him. He goes on to become the greatest Dark Lord theSith have ever known..."

"So," Anakin murmured, "it's only a tragedy for Plagueis —for the apprentice, the legend has a happy ending..."

"Oh, well, yes. Quite right. I'd never really thought of it that way—rather like what we were talking about earlier, isn't it?"

"What if," Anakin said slowly, almost not daring to speak thewords, "it's not just a legend?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What if Darth Plagueis really lived —what if someone reallyhadthis power?"

"Oh, I am... rather certain... that Plagueis did indeedexist. And if someone actually had this power—well, he wouldindeed be one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, not tomention virtually immortal..."

"How would I find him?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say. You could ask your friends on the Jedi Council, I suppose—but of course, if they ever found himthey'd kill him on the spot. Not as punishment for any crime,you understand. Innocence is irrelevant to the Jedi. They wouldkill him simply for being Sith, and his knowledge would die withhim."

"I just—I have to—" Anakin found himself half out of hisseat, fists clenched and trembling. He forced himself to relax andsit back down, and he took a deep breath. "You seem to know so much about this, I need you to tell me: would it be possible, possible at all, to learn this power?" Palpatine shrugged, regarding him with that smile of gentlewisdom.

"Well, clearly," he said, "not from a Jedi."

For a long, long time after leaving the opera house, Anakinsat motionless in his idling speeder, eyes closed, resting his headagainst the edge of his mechanical hand. The speeder bobbedgently in the air-wakes of the passing traffic; he didn't feel it.Klaxons blared, rising and fading as angry pilots swerved aroundhim; he didn't hear them.

Finally he sighed and lifted his head. He stroked a privatecode into the speeder's comm screen. After a moment the screen lit up with an image of Padme's half-asleep face.

"Anakin—?" She rubbed her eyes, blinking. "Where are you? What time is it?"

"Padme, I can't—" He stopped himself, huffing a sigh out through his nose. "Listen, Padme, something's come up. I haveto spend the night at the Temple."

"Oh... well, all right, Anakin. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." He swallowed. "I miss you already."

"We'll be together tomorrow?"

"Yes. And soon, for the rest of our lives. We'll never have tobe apart again." She nodded sleepily. "Rest well, my love."

"I'll do my best. You, too."

She blew him a kiss, and the screen went blank.

Anakin fired thrusters and slid the speeder expertly into traffic, angling toward the Jedi Temple, because that part—the partabout spending the night at the Temple—was the part that wasn'ta lie. The lie was that he was going to rest. That he was going toeven try. How could he rest when every time he closed his eyeshe could see her screaming on the birthing table?

Now the Council's insult burned hotter than ever; he evenhad a name, a story, a place to start—but how could he explain to the archives Master why he needed to research a Sith legendof immortality? Yet maybe he didn't need the archives after all.

The Temple was still the greatest nexus of Force energy on the planet, perhaps even the galaxy, and it was unquestionablythe best place in the galaxy for intense, focused meditation. Hehad much he needed the Force to teach him, and a very shorttime to learn.

He would start by thinking inward.Thinking about himself...

=13=

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

When her handmaiden Motee awakened her with theword that C-3PO had announced a Jedi was waiting to see her, Padme flew out of bed, threw on a robe, and hurried out to herliving room, a smile breaking through her sleepiness like thedawn outside—

But it was Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master had his back to her, hands clasped behindhim as he drifted restlessly about the room, gazing with abstracted lack of interest at her collection of rare sculpture.

"Obi-Wan," she said breathlessly, "has—" She bit off the following something happened to Anakin ? How would she explainwhy this was the first thing out of her mouth?

"—has See-Threepio offered you anything to drink?"He turned to her, a frown clearing from his brow.

"Senator,"he said warmly. "So good to see you again. I apologize for the early hour, and yes, your protocol droid has been quite insistent on offering me refreshment." His frown began to regather. "Butas you may guess, this is not a social call. I've come to speak withyou about Anakin." Her years in politics had trained her well; even as her heartlurched and a shrill How much does he know? echoed inside her head, her face remained only attentively blank. A primary rule of Republic politics: tell as much truth as you can. Especially to a Jedi. "I was very happy to learn of his appointment to the Council."

"Yes. It is perhaps less than he deserves—though I'm afraid itmay be more than he can handle. Has he been to see you?"

"Several times," she said evenly. "Something is wrong, isn't it?" Obi-Wan tilted his head, and a hint of rueful smile showedthrough his beard. "You should have been a Jedi."

She managed a light laugh. "And you should never go intopolitics. You're not very good at hiding your feelings. What is it?"

"It's Anakin." With his pretense of cheer fading away, heseemed to age before her eyes. He looked very tired, and profoundly troubled. "May I sit?"

"Please." She waved him to the couch and lowered herself onto its edge beside him. "Is he in trouble again?"

"I certainly hope not. This is more... a personal matter." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "He's been put in a difficult position as the Chancellor's representative, but I think there's more to it than that. We—had words, yesterday, and weparted badly."

Her heart shrank; he must know, and he'd come to confronther—to bring their whole lives crashing down around their ears.She ached for Anakin, but her face showed only polite curiosity.

"What were these words about?" she asked delicately.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he said with a vaguely apologeticfrown. "Jedi business. You understand." She inclined her head. "Of course."

"It's only that—well, I've been a bit worried about him. Iwas hoping he may have talked to you."

"Why would he talk to me about—" She favored him withher best friendly-but-skeptical smile. "—Jedi business?"

"Senator—Padme. Please." He gazed into her eyes withnothing on his face but compassion and fatigued anxiety. "I amnot blind, Padme. Though I have tried to be, for Anakin's sake.And for yours."

"What do you mean?"

"Neither of you is very good at hiding feelings, either."

"Obi-Wan—"

"Anakin has loved you since the day you met, in that horriblejunk shop on Tatooine. He's never even tried to hide it, thoughwe do not speak of it. We... pretend that I don't know. And Iwas happy to, because it made him happy. You made him happy when nothing else ever truly could." He sighed, his brows drawing together. "And you, Padme, skilled as you are on the Senate floor, cannot hide the light that comes to your eyes when anyoneso much as mentions his name."

"I—" She lurched to her feet. "I can't—Obi-Wan, don'tmake me talk about this..."

"I don't mean to hurt you, Padme. Nor even to make youuncomfortable. I'm not here to interrogate you; I have no interest in the details of your relationship."

She turned away, walking just to be moving, barely consciousof passing through the door out onto the dawn-painted veranda. "Then why are you here?"

He followed her respectfully. "Anakin is under a great deal ofpressure. He carries tremendous responsibilities for a man soyoung; when I was his age I still had some years to go as aPadawan. He is—changing. Quickly. And I have some anxietyabout what he is changing into. It would be a... very great mistake... were he to leave the Jedi Order."

She blinked as though he'd slapped her. "Why—thatseems... unlikely, doesn't it? What about this prophecy the Jediput so much faith in? Isn't he the chosen one?"

"Very probably. But I have scanned this prophecy; it saysonly that a chosen one will be born and bring balance to theForce; nowhere does it say he has to be a Jedi."

She blinked harder, fighting down a surge of desperate hopethat left her breathless. "He doesn't have to—?"

"My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, believed that it was the will of the Force that Anakin should be trained as a Jedi—and we allhave a certain, oh, I suppose you could call it a Jedi-centric bias. It is a Jedi prophecy, after all."

"But the will of the Force—isn't that what Jedi follow?"

"Well, yes. But you must understand that not even the Jediknow all there is to be known about the Force; no mortal mindcan. We speak of the will of the Force as someone ignorant ofgravity might say it is the will of a river to flow to the ocean: it isa metaphor that describes our ignorance. The simple truth—ifany truth is ever simple—is that we do not truly know what thewill of the Force may be. We can never know. It is so far beyondour limited understanding that we can only surrender to its mystery."

"What does this have to do with Anakin?" She swallowed,but her voice stayed tight and thin. "And with me?"

"I fear that some of his current... difficulty... has to dowith your relationship." If you only knew how much,she thought. "What do you want me to do?" He looked down. "I cannot tell you what to do, Padme. Ican only ask you to consider Anakin's best interests. You knowthe two of you can never be together while he remains in theOrder." A bleak chill settled into her chest. "Obi-Wan, I can't talkabout this."

"Very well. But remember that the Jedi are his family. TheOrder gives his life structure. It gives him a direction. You know how... undisciplined he can be."

And that's why he is the only Jedi I could ever love..."Yes. Yes,of course."

"If his true path leads him away from the Jedi, so be it. Butplease, for both of your sakes, tread carefully. Be sure. Some decisions can never be reversed."

"Yes," she said slowly. Feelingly. "I know that too well." He nodded as though he understood, though of course hedid not understand at all. "We all do, these days."

A soft chiming came from within his robe. "Excuse me " hesaid, and turned aside, producing a comlink from an innerpocket. "Yes... ?"

A man's voice came thinly through the comlink, deep andclipped: "We are calling the Council into special session. We've lo cated General Grievous!"

"Thank you, Master Windu," Obi-Wan said. "I'm on myway." General Grievous? Her eyes went hot, and stung with suddentears. And so they would take her Anakin away from her again.

She felt a stirring below her ribs. Away from us, sheamended, and there was so much love and fear and joy and lossall swirling and clashing within her that she dared not speak. Sheonly stared blindly out across the smog-shrouded cityscape as Obi-Wan came close to her shoulder.

"Padme," he said softly. Gently. Almost regretfully. "I willnot tell the Council of this. Any of it. I'm very sorry to burden you with this, and I—I hope I haven't upset you too much. Wehave all been friends for so long... and I hope we always willbe."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," she said faintly. She couldn't look at him. From the corner of her eye she saw him incline his head respectfully and turn to go.

For a moment she said nothing, but as his footsteps receded she said, "Obi-Wan?" She heard him stop.

"You love him, too, don't you?"

When he didn't answer, she turned to look. He stood motionless, frowning, in the middle of the expanse of buff carpeting.

"You do. You love him."

He lowered his head. He looked very alone.

"Please do what you can to help him," he said, and left.

The holoscan of Utapau rotated silently in the center of theJedi Council Chamber. Anakin had brought the holoprojectorfrom the Chancellor's office; Obi-Wan wondered idly if the projector had been scanned for recording devices planted by theChancellor to spy on their meeting, then dismissed the thought.In a sense, Anakin was the Chancellor's recording device.And that's our fault,he thought. The only Council members physically present, other than Obi-Wan and Anakin, were Mace Windu and Agen Kolar. TheCouncil reached a quorum by the projected holopresences of Ki-Adi-Mundi, en route to Mygeeto, Plo Koon on Cato Neimoidia,and Yoda, who was about to make planetfall on Kashyyyk.

"Why Utapau?" Mace Windu was saying. "A neutral system, of little strategic significance, and virtually no planetary defenseforce—"

"Perhaps that is itself the reason," Agen Kolar offered. "Easily taken, and their sinkhole-based culture can hide atremendous number of droids from long-range scans."Ki-Adi-Mundi's frown wrinkled the whole length of his forehead. " Our agents on Utapau have made no report of this."

"They may be detained, or dead," Obi-Wan said.Mace Windu leaned toward Anakin, scowling. "How couldthe Chancellor have come by this information when we knownothing about it?"

"Clone Intelligence intercepted a partial message in a diplomatic packet from the Chairman of Utapau," Anakin told him. "We've only managed to verify its authenticity within the pasthour." Obi-Wan felt a frown crawl onto his forehead at the wayAnakin now referred to the Chancellor's Office as we... "Clone Intelligence," Mace said heavily, "reports to us."

"I beg your pardon, Master Windu, but that is no longer thecase." Though Anakin's expression was perfectly solemn, Obi-Wan thought he could detect a hint of satisfaction in his youngfriend's voice. "I thought it had been already made clear. Theconstitutional amendment bringing the Jedi under the Chancel lor's Office naturally includes troops commanded by Jedi. Palpatineis now Supreme Commander of the Grand Army of theRepublic."

"Pointless it is, to squabble over jurisdiction,"the image ofYoda said. "Act on this, we must."

"I believe we all agree on that," Anakin said briskly. "Let'smove to the operational planning. The Chancellor has requestedthat I lead this mission, and so I—"

"The Council will decide this," Mace said sternly. "Not the Chancellor."

"Dangerous, Grievous is. To face him, steady minds are needed-Masters, we should send." Perhaps of all the Council, only Obi-Wan could detect theshadow of disappointment and hurt that crept into Anakin'seyes. Obi-Wan understood perfectly, and could even sympathize:to take the field would have slipped Anakin out from under thepressures of what he saw as his conflicting duties.

"Given the strain on our current resources," Mace Windu said, "I recommend we send only one Jedi—Master Kenobi."

Which would leave Mace and Agen Kolar—both among thegreatest bladesbeings the Jedi Order had ever produced—hereon Coruscant in case Sidious did indeed take this opportunity tomake a dramatic move. Not to mention Anakin, who was abrigade's worth of firepower in his own right. Obi-Wan nodded. Perfectly logical. Everyone would agree. Except Anakin. He leaned forward, red climbing his cheeks. "He wasn't so successful the last time he met Grievous!"

"Anakin—" Obi-Wan began.

"No offense, my Master. I am only stating a fact."

"Oh no, not at all. You're quite right. But I have a feel forhow he fights now—and for how he runs away. I am certain I can catch him."

"Master—"

"And you, my young friend, have duties here on Coruscant.Extremely important duties, that require your full attention," Obi-Wan reminded him. "Am I being clear?" Anakin didn't answer. He sank back into his chair and turnedaway.

"Obi-Wan, my choice is,"Yoda said.

Ki-Adi-Mundi's image nodded. "I concur. Let's put it to a vote." Mace Windu counted nods. "Six in favor."

He waited, looking at Anakin. "Further comment?"

Anakin only stared at the wall.

After a moment, Mace shrugged.

"It is unanimous."

Senator Chi Eekway accepted a tube of Aqualish hoi-brothfrom C-3PO's refeshment tray. "I am very grateful to be included here," she said, her dewlaps jiggling as she tilted her blue head in a gesture around Padme's living room at the gathering ofSenators. "I speak directly only for my own sector, of course, butI can tell you that many Senators are becoming very nervous indeed. You may not know that the new governors are arrivingwith full regiments of clone troops—what they call security forces. We all have begun to wonder if these regiments are intended toprotect us from the Separatists... or to protect the governorsfrom us."

Padme looked up from the document reader in her hand"Ihave... reliable information... that General Grievous has beelocated, and that the Jedi are already moving against his position.The war may be over in a matter of days."

"But what then?" Bail Organa leaned forward, elbows toknees, fingers laced together. "How to we make Palpatine withdraw his governors? How do we stop him from garrisoningtroops in all our systems?"

"We don't have to make him do anything," Padme said reasonably. "The Senate granted him executive powers only for theduration of the emergency—"

"Yet it is only Palpatine himself who has the authority to declare when the emergency is over," Bail countered. "How do wemake him surrender power back to the Senate?" Chi Eekway shifted backward. "There are many who are willing to do just that," she said. "Not just my own people. ManySenators. We are ready to make him surrender power." Padme snapped the document reader closed. She lookedfrom Senator to Senator expressionlessly.

"Would anyone care for further refreshment?"

"Senator Amidala," Eekway said, "I fear you don'tunderstand—"

"Senator Eekway. Another hoi-broth?"

"No, that's—"

"Very well, then." She looked up at C-3PO. "Threepio, thatwill be all. Please tell Motee and Elle that they are dismissed forthe day, then you are free to power down for a while."

"Thank you, Mistress," Threepio replied. "Though I mustsay, this discussion has been most stimu—"

"Threepio." Padme's tone went a trace extra firm. "That willbe all."

"Yes, Mistress. Of course. I quite understand." The droid turned stiffly and shuffled out of the room.As soon as 3PO was safely out of earshot, Padme brandished the document reader as though it were a weapon.

"This is a very dangerous step. We cannot let this turn into another war."

"That's the last thing any of us wants," Bail said with a disapproving look at Senator Eekway. "Alderaan has no armedforces; we don't even have a planetary defense system. A politicalsolution is our only option."

"Which is the purpose of this petition," Mon Mothma said,laving her soft hand over Padme's. "We're hoping that a show ofsolidarity within the Senate might stop Palpatine from furthersubverting the Constitution, that's all. With the signatures of afull two thousand Senators—"

"—we still have less than we need to stop his supermajorityfrom amending the Constitution any way he happens to want," Padme finished for her. She weighed the reader in her hand. "I am willing to present this to Palpatine, but I am losing faith inthe Senate's readiness, or even ability, to rein him in. I think we should consult the Jedi."

Because I really think they can help, or because I just can'tstand to lie to my husband?She couldn't say. She hoped that bothwere true, though she was sure only of the second.

Bana Breemu examined her long, elegantly manicured fingertips. "That," she said remotely, "would be dangerous."

Mon Mothma nodded. "We don't know where the Jedistand in all this." Padme sat forward. "The Jedi aren't any happier with thesituation than we are." Senator Breemu's high-arched cheekbones made the lookhe gave Padme appear even more distant and skeptical. "You seem... remarkably well informed about Jedi business, SenatorAmidala."Padme felt herself flush, and she didn't trust herself to answer.

Giddean Danu shook his head, doubt plainly written across his dark face. "If we are to openly oppose the Chancellor, weneed the support of the Jedi. We need their moral authority.Otherwise, what do we have?"

"The moral authority of the Jedi, such as it is," Bana Breemusaid, "has been spent lavishly upon war; 1 fear they have none leftfor politics."

"OneJedi, then," Padme offered to the others. At least let me speak the truth to my love. At least. Please, she pleaded withthem silently. "There is one Jedi—one whom I truly know all ofus can trust absolutely..." Her voice trailed off into appalled silence when she realizedthat she wasn't talking about Anakin. This had been all about him when she'd started—all abouther love, her need to be open with him, the pain that keeping thissecret stabbed her heart at each and every beat—but when thethought had turned to trust, when it became a question of someone she knew, truly and absolutely knew, she could trust—

She discovered that she was talking about Obi-Wan.

Anakin... Something was breaking inside her. Oh, my love, what are they doing to us? Chi Eekway shook her head. "Patience, Senator."

Fang Zar unknotted his fingers from his raggedly bushybeard and shrugged. "Yes, we cannot block the Chancellor'ssupermajority—but we can show him that opposition to hismethods is growing. Perhaps that alone might persuade him to moderate his tactics."

Bana Breemu went back to examining her fingertips. "Whenyou present the Petition of the Two Thousand, many things maychange."

"But," Giddean Danu said, "will they change for the better?" Bail Organa and Mon Mothma exchanged glances that whispered of some shared secret. Bail said slowly, "Let us see what wecan accomplish in the Senate before we involve the Jedi." And as one after another of the Senators agreed, Padmecould only sit in silence. In mourning.Grieving for the sudden death of an illusion.

Anakin— Anakin, I love you. If only—

But that if only would take her to a place she could not bear togo. In the end, she could only return to the thought shefeared would echo within her for the rest of her life.

Anakin, I'm sorry.

The last of the hovertanks whirred up the ramp into the sky-shrouding wedge of the assault cruiser. It was followed by rankupon immaculately regimented rank of clone troopers, marshaled by battalions, marching in perfect synchrony.

Standing alongside Obi-Wan on the landing deck, Anakinwatched them go.

He couldn't quite make himself believe he wasn't goingalong.

It wasn't that he really wanted to go with Obi-Wan to Utapau—even though it'd be a relief to pull out of the political quagmire that was sucking him down. But how could he leavePadme now? He didn't even care anymore about being the Jedi to capture Grievous, though such a feat would almost certainlybring him his Mastery. He was no longer certain he needed to bea Master at all.

Through the long, black hours of meditation last night—meditation that was often indistinguishable from brooding—hehad begun to sense a deeper truth within the Force: a submergedreality, lurking like a Sarlacc beneath the sunlit sands of Jeditraining.

Somewhere down there was all the power he would ever need.So no, it wasn't that he wanted to go. It was more, inexplicably, that he wanted Obi-Wan to stay.

There was a cold void in his chest that he was afraid wouldsoon fill with regret, and grief. Of course there was no chance at all that Obi-Wan wouldn'tgo; he'd be the last Jedi in the galaxy to defy an order of theCouncil. Not for the first time, Anakin found himself wishingthat Obi-Wan could be a little more like the late Qui-Gon.Though he'd known Qui-Gon for mere days, Anakin could almost see him right now, brow furrowing as he gently inclined hishead over his shorter Padawan; he could almost hear his gentlebaritone instructing Obi-Wan to be mindful of the currents of the living Force: to do one's duty is not always to do right. Concernyourself with right action. Let duty take care of itself.But he couldn't say that. Though he'd passed his trials manymonths ago, to Obi-Wan he was still the learner, not the Master.

All he could say was, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Obi-Wan was frowning as he watched a clone deck crew loadhis blue-and-white starfighter onto the assault cruiser's flightdeck. "I'm sorry, Anakin. Did you say something?"

"You're going to need me on this one, Master." And he could feel an unexpected truth there, too—if he were to goalong, if he could somehow bring himself to forget about Padmefor a few days, if he could somehow get himself away from Palpatine and the Council and his meditations and politics andeverything here on Coruscant that was dragging him this wayand that way and sucking him under, if he could just tag alongand play the Kenobi and Skywalker game for a few days, everything might still be all right.If only.

"It may be nothing but a wild bantha chase," Obi-Wan said."Your job here is much more important, Anakin."

"I know: the Sith." The word left a bitter taste in Anakin's mouth. The Council's manipulation had a rank stench of politicson it. "I just—" Anakin shrugged helplessly, looking away. "I don't like you going off without me like this. It's a bad idea tosplit up the team. I mean, look what happened last time."

"Don't remind me."

"You want to go spend another few months with somebodylike Ventress? Or worse?"

"Anakin." Anakin could hear a gentle smile in Obi-Wan's voice. "Don't worry. I have enough clones to take three systemsthe size of Utapau's. I believe I should be able to handle thesituation, even without your help."

Anakin had to answer his smile. "Well, there's always a firsttime." Obi-Wan said, "We're not really splitting up, Anakin. We'veworked on our own many times—like when you took Padme to Naboo while I went to Kamino and Geonosis."

"And look how that turned out."

"All right, bad example," Obi-Wan admitted, his smile shading toward rueful. "Yet years later, here we all are: still alive, andstill friends. My point, Anakin, is that even when we work separately, we work together. We have the same goals: end the war,and save the Republic from the Sith. As long as we're on thesame side, everything will come out well in the end. I'm certainof it."

"Well..." Anakin sighed. "I suppose you could be right.You are, once in a while. Occasionally." Obi-Wan chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Farewell, old friend."

"Master, wait." Anakin turned to face him fully. He couldn'tjust stand here and let him walk away. Not now. He had to saysomething...He had a sinking feeling he might not get another chance.

"Master...," he said hesitantly, "I know I've... disappointed you in these past few days. I have been arrogant. Ihave... not been very appreciative of your training, and what'sworse, of your friendship. I offer no excuse, Master. My frustration with the Council... I know that none of it is your fault, and I apologize. For all of it. Your friendship means everything to me."

Obi-Wan gripped Anakin's mechanical hand, and with hisother he squeezed Anakin's arm above the joining of flesh andmetal. "You are wise and strong, Anakin. You are a credit to theJedi Order, and you have far surpassed my humble efforts at instruction."

Anakin felt his own smile turn melancholy. "Just the otherday, you were saying that my power is no credit to me."

"I'm not speaking of your power, Anakin, but of your heart.The greatness in you is a greatness of spirit. Courage and generosity, compassion and commitment. These are your virtues."Obi-Wan said gently.

"You have done great things, and I am veryproud of you."

Anakin found he had nothing to say.

"Well." Obi-Wan looked down, chuckling, releasing Anakin'shand and arm. "I believe I hear General Grievous calling my name. Good-bye, old friend. May the Force be with you." All Anakin could offer in return was a reflexive echo."May the Force be with you." He stood, still and silent, and watched Obi-Wan walk away.Then he turned and slowly, head hanging, moved toward hisspeeder.The Chancellor was waiting.

=14=

FREE FALL IN THE DARK

A chill wind scoured the Chancellor's private landing deckat the Senate Office Building. Anakin stood wrapped in his cloak,chin to his chest, staring down at the deck below his feet. Hedidn't feel the chill, or the wind. He didn't hear the whine ofthe Chancellor's private shuttle angling in for a landing, or smellthe swirls of brown smog coiling along the wind.

What he saw were the faces of Senators who had stood onthis deck to cheer for him; what he heard were exclamations of joy and congratulations when he returned their Supreme Chancellor to them unharmed. What he felt was a memory of hotpride at being the focus of so many eager HoloNet crews, anxious to get even the slightest glimpse of the man who had conquered Count Dooku. How many days ago had that been? He couldn't remember.Not many. When you don't sleep, days smear together into ahaze of fatigue so deep it becomes a physical pain. The Forcecould keep him upright, keep him moving, keep him thinking,but it could not give him rest. Not that he wanted rest. Rest might bring sleep.

What sleep might bring, he could not bear to know.

He remembered Obi-Wan telling him about some poet he'd once read—he couldn't remember the name, or the exact quote, but it was something about how there is no greater misery than to remember, with bitter regret, a day when you were happy...

How had everything gone so fast from so right to so wrong?

He couldn't even imagine.

Greasy dust swirled under the shuttle's repulsors as it settledto the deck. The hatch cycled open, and four of Palpatine's personal guards glided out, long robes catching the breeze in silkenblood-colored ripples. They split into two pairs to flank thedoors as the Chancellor emerged beside the tall, bulky form of Mas Amedda, the Speaker of the Senate. The Chagrian's hornstilted over Palpatine as they walked together, seemingly deep inconversation.

Anakin moved forward to meet them. "Chancellor," he said,bowing a greeting. "Lord Speaker." Mas Amedda looked at Anakin with a curl to his blue lipsthat, on a human, would have signaled disgust; it was a Chagriansmile. "Greetings, Your Grace. I trust the day finds you well?" Anakin's eyes felt as if they'd been dusted with sand. "Verywell, Lord Speaker, thank you for asking." Amedda turned back to Palpatine, and Anakin's polite smile faded to a twist of contempt. Maybe he was just overtired, but somehow, looking at the curlings of the Chagrian's naked head-tentacles as they twisted across his chest, he found himself hoping that Obi-Wan hadn't been lying to him about Sidious. Herather hoped that Mas Amedda might be a secret Sith, because something about the Speaker of the Senate was so revolting that Anakin could easily imagine just slicing his head in half... It gradually dawned on Anakin that Palpatine was giving MasAmedda the brush-off, and was sending the Redrobes with him.Good. He wasn't in the mood to play games. By themselves,they could talk straight with each other. A little straight talk might be just what he needed. A little straight talk might burn through the fog of half-truths and subtle confusions that the JediCouncil had poured into his head.

"So, Anakin," Palpatine said as the others moved away, "did you see your friend off?" Anakin nodded. "If I didn't hate Grievous so much, I'd almost feel sorry for him."

"Oh?" Palpatine appeared mildly interested. "Are Jedi allowed to hate?"

"Figure of speech," Anakin said, waving this off. "It doesn'tmatter how I feel about Grievous. Obi-Wan will soon have hishead."

"Provided, of course," Palpatine murmured as he tookAnakin's arm to guide him toward the entryway,

"that the Council didn't make a mistake. I still believe Master Kenobi is not theJedi for this job." Anakin shrugged irritably. Why did everyone keep bringingup things he didn't want to talk about? "The Council was...very sure in its decision."

"Certainty is a fine thing," the Chancellor allowed. "Though it too often happens that those who are the most entirely certainare also the most entirely wrong. What will the Council do ifKenobi proves unable to apprehend Grievous without yourhelp?"

"I'm sure I cannot say, sir. I imagine they will deal with that if and when it happens. The Jedi teach that anticipation is distraction."

"I am no philosopher, Anakin; in my work, anticipation isoften my sole hope of success. I must anticipate the actions of myadversaries—and even those of my allies. Even—" He opened a hand toward Anakin, smiling. "—my friends. It is the only way I can be prepared to take advantage of opportunity... and con versely, to avoid disaster."

"But if a disaster comes about by the will of the Force—"

"I'm afraid I don't believe in the will of the Force," Palpatine said, his smile turning apologetic. "I believe it is our will thatmatters. I believe that everything good in our civilization hascome about not by the blind action of some mystical field of energy, but by the focused will of people: lawmakers and warriors inventors and engineers, struggling with every breath of theirbodies to shape galactic culture. To improve the lives of all."

They stood now before the vaulted door to Palpatine's office. "Please come in, Anakin. Much as I enjoy a philosophicalchat, that was not the reason I asked you to meet me. We havebusiness to discuss, and I fear it may be very serious business indeed."

Anakin followed him through the outer chambers to Palpatine's intimate private office. He took up a respectful standingposition opposite Palpatine's desk, but the Chancellor wavedhim to a chair. "Please, Anakin, make yourself comfortable.Some of this may be difficult for you to hear."

"Everything is, these days," Anakin muttered as he took aseat.

Palpatine didn't seem to hear. "It concerns Master Kenobi.My friends among the Senators have picked up some... disturbing rumors about him. Many in the Senate believe thatKenobi is not fit for this assignment."

Anakin frowned. "Are you serious?"

"I'm most serious, I'm afraid. It is a... complicated situation, Anakin. It seems there are some in the Senate who now regret having granted me emergency powers."

"There have been dissenters and naysayers since beforeGeonosis, sir. Why should it be cause for concern now? And howdoes it affect Obi-Wan?"

"I'm getting to that." Palpatine took a deep breath andswung his chair around so that he could gaze through his window of armored transparisteel onto the cityscape beyond. "Thedifference is that now, some of these Senators—actually a large number of them—seem to have given up on democracy. Unableto achieve their ends in the Senate, they are organizing into a cabal, preparing to remove me by... other means."

"You mean treason?" Anakin had enough Jedi discipline toforce away his memory of using that word with Obi-Wan.

"I'm afraid so. The rumor is that the ringleaders of thisgroup may have fallen victim to the... persuasive powers... ofthe Jedi Council, and are on their way to becoming accomplicesin the Council's plot against the Republic."

"Sir, I—" Anakin shook his head. "This just seems... ridiculous."

"And it may be entirely false. Remember that these are onlyrumors. Entirely unconfirmed. Senate gossip is rarely accurate,but if this is true... we must be prepared, Anakin. I still havefriends enough in the Senate to catch the scent of whatever thisdisloyal cabal is cooking up. And I have a very good idea of whothe leaders are; in fact, my final meeting this afternoon is with adelegation representing the cabal. I would like you to be presentfor that as well."

"Me?" Couldn't everyone leave him alone for day? For evena few hours? "What for?"

"Your Jedi senses, Anakin. Your ability to read evil intent. Ihave no doubt these Senators will put some virtuous facade ontheir plotting; with your help, we will pierce that veil and discover the truth."Anakin sighed, rubbing his stinging eyes. How could he letPalpatine down?

"I'm willing to try, sir."

"We won't try, Anakin. We will do. After all, they are onlySenators. Most of them couldn't hide what they're thinking froma brain-damaged blindworm, let alone the most powerful Jedi inthe galaxy." He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers pensively."The Jedi Council, however, is another matter entirely. A secretsociety of antidemocratic beings who wield tremendous powerindividually as well as collectively—how am I to trace thelabyrinth of their plots? That's why I put you on the Council. If these rumors are true, you may be democracy's last hope."

Anakin let his chin sink once more to his chest, and his eyelids scraped shut. It seemed like he was always somebody's lasthope.Why did everyone always have to make their problems into his problems? Why couldn't people just let him be?

How was he supposed to deal with all this when Padmecould die:

He said slowly, eyes still closed, "You still haven't told mewhat this has to do with Obi-Wan."

"Ah, that—well, that is the difficult part. The disturbing part. It seems that Master Kenobi has been in contact with a certain Senator who is known to be among the leaders of this cabal.Apparently, very close contact. The rumor is that he was seenleaving this Senator's residence this very morning, at an... unseemly hour."

"Who?" Anakin opened his eyes and sat forward. "Who is this Senator? Let's go question him."

"I'm sorry, Anakin. But the Senator in question is, in fact, aher.A woman you know quite well, in fact."

"You—" He wasn't hearing this. He couldn't be. "Youmean—" Anakin choked on her name.

Palpatine gave him a look of melancholy sympathy. "I'mafraid so." Anakin coughed his voice back to life. "That's impossible! Iwould know —she doesn't... she couldn't—"

"Sometimes the closest," Palpatine said sadly, "are those whocannot see." Anakin sat back, stunned. He felt like he'd been punched inthe chest by a Gamorrean. By a rancor. His ears rang, and theroom whirled around him.

"I would know," he repeated numbly. "I would know..."

"Don't take it too hard," Palpatine said. "It may be only idle gossip. All this may be only a figment of my overheated imagination; after all these years of war, I find myself inspecting everyshadow that might hide an enemy. That is what I need from you, Anakin: I need you to find the truth. To set my mind at rest." A distant smolder kindled under Anakin's breastbone, sofaint as to be barely there at all, but even a hint of that fire gaveAnakin the strength to throw himself to his feet.

"I can do that," he said.The flame grew stronger now. Hotter. The numb fatigue that had dragged at his limbs began to burn away.

"Good, Anakin. I knew I could count on you."

"Always, sir. Always."

He turned to go. He would go to her. He would see her. Hewould get the truth. He would do it now. Right now. In the middle of the day. It didn't matter who might see him.

This was business.

"I know who my friends are," he said, and left.

He moved through Padme's apartment like a shadow, like aghost at a banquet. He touched nothing. He looked at everything.

He felt as if he'd never seen it before.

How could she do this to him?

Sometimes the closest are those who cannot see.

How could she?

How could he!

In the Force, the whole apartment stank of Obi-Wan.

His finger traced the curving back of her couch.

Here. Obi-Wan had sat here.

Anakin rounded the couch and settled into that same spotHis hand fell naturally to the seat beside him... and there he feltan echo of Padme.

The dragon whispered, That's a little close for casual conver sation. This was a different kind of fear. Even colder. Even uglier.

Fear that Palpatine might be right...

The apartment's air still hummed with discord and worryand there was a smell of oxidized spices and boiled seaweedhoi-broth, that was it. Someone in the past few hours had beendrinking hoi-broth in this room.

Padme hated hoi-broth.

And Obi-Wan was allergic to it—once on a diplomatic mission to Ando, his violent reaction to a ceremonial toast hadnearly triggered an intersystem incident.

So Padme had been entertaining other visitors, too.

From a pocket on his equipment belt he pulled a flimsi ofPalpatine's list of suspect Senators. He scanned down the list,looking for names of Senators he knew well enough that hemight recognize the Force-echoes of their presence here. Manyhe'd never heard of; there were thousands of Senators, after all.But those he knew by reputation were the cream of the Senate:people like Terr Taneel, Fang Zar, Bail Organa, Garm Bel Iblis—

He began to think Palpatine was just imagining things afterall. These beings were known to be incorruptible.He frowned down at the flimsi. It was possible...

A Senator might carefully construct a reputation, appearingto all the galaxy as honest and upright and honorable, all thewhile holding the rotten truth of himself so absolutely secret thatno one would sense his evil until he had so much power that it was too late to stop him...

It was possible.

But so many? Could they all have accomplished that?

Could Padme?

Suspicion leaked back into his mind and gathered itself into so thick a cloud that he didn't sense her approach until she wasalready in the room.

"Anakin? What are you doing here? It's still the middle of theafternoon..." He looked up to find her standing in the archway in full Senatorial regalia: heavy folds of burgundy robes and a coif like astarfighter's hyperdrive ring. Instead of a smile, instead of sunlight in her eyes, instead of the bell-clear joy with which she hadalways greeted him, her face was nearly expressionless: attentively blank.

Anakin called it her Politician Look, and he hated it."Waiting for you," he replied, a little unsteadily.

"What areyoudoing here in the middle of the afternoon?"

"I have a very important meeting in two hours," she saidstiffly. "I left a document reader here this morning—"

"This meeting—is it with the Chancellor?" Anakin's voicecame out low and harsh. "Is it his last meeting of the afternoon?"

"Y-yes, yes it is." She frowned, blinking. "Anakin, what's—"

"I have to be there, too." He crumpled the flimsi and stuffedit back into his equipment belt. "I'm starting to look forwardto it."

"Anakin, what is it?" She came toward him, one hand reaching for him. "What's wrong?" He lurched to his feet. "Obi-Wan's been here, hasn't he?"

"He came by this morning." She stopped. Her hand slowlylowered back to her side. "Why?"

"What did you talk about?"

"Anakin, why are you acting like this?"One long stride brought him to her. He towered over her.For one stretching second she looked very small, very insignificant, very much like some kind of bug that he could crush beneath his heel and just keep on walking."What did you talk about?" She gazed steadily up at him, and on her face was only concern, shaded with growing hurt. "We talked about you."

"What about me?"

"He's worried about you, Anakin. He says you're under a lotof stress."

"And he's not?"

"The way you've been acting, since you got back—"

"I'mnot the one doing the acting. I'm not the one doingthe pretending! I'm not the one sneaking in here in the morning!"

"No," she said with a smile. She reached up to lay the palmof her hand along the line of his jaw. "That's usually when you'resneaking out.''

Her touch unclenched his heart.

He half fell into a chair and pressed the edge of his flesh hand against his eyes. When he could overcome his embarrassment enough tospeak, he said softly, "I'm sorry, Padme. I'm sorry. I know I'vebeen... difficult to deal with. I just—I feel like I'm in free fall.Free fall in the dark. I don't know which way is up. I don't knowwhere I'll be when I land. Or crash." He frowned against his fingers, squeezing his eyes moretightly shut to make sure no tears leaked out. "I think it's going to be a crash."

She sat on the wide-rolled arm of his chair and laid her slim arm along his shoulders. "What has happened, my love? You'vealways been so sure of yourself. What's changed?"

"Nothing," he said. "Everything. I don't know. It's all soscrewed up, I can't even tell you. The Council doesn't trust me,Palpatine doesn't trust the Council. They're plotting againsteach other and both sides are pressuring me, and—"

"Surely that's only your imagination, Anakin. The JediCouncil is the bedrock of the Republic."

"The bedrock of the Republic is democracy, Padme—something the Council doesn't much like when votes don't gotheir way. All those who gain power are afraid to lose it —that'ssomething you should remember." He looked up at her. "You and your friends in the Senate." She took this without a blink. "But Obi-Wan is on the Council; he'd never participate in anything the least bit underhanded—"

"You think so?"

Because it's not for the record, Anakin. You must be able tounderstand why. He shook the memory away. "It doesn't matter. Obi-Wan'son his way to Utapau."

"What is this really about?"

"I don't know,'' he said helplessly. "I don't know anything a nymore. All I know is, I'm not the Jedi I should be. I'm not themanI should be."

"You're the man for me," she said, leaning toward him tokiss his cheek, but he pulled away.

"You don't understand. Nobody understands. I'm one of themost powerful Jedi alive, but it's not enough. It'll never beenough, not until—"

His voice trailed away, and his eyes went distant, and hismemory burned with an alien birthing table, and blood, andscreams.

"Until what, my love?"

"Until I can save you," he murmured.

"Save me?"

"From my nightmares."

She smiled sadly. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"I won't lose you, Padme. I can't." He sat forward andtwisted to take both of her hands, small and soft and deceptivelystrong and beyond precious, between his own. "I am still learning, Padme—I have found a key to truths deeper than the Jedicould ever teach me. I will become so powerful that I will keepyou safe. Forever. I will."

"You don't need more power, Anakin." She gently extricatedone of her hands and used it to draw him close. "I believe youcan save me from anything, just as you are." She pulled him to her and their lips met, and Anakin gave himself to the kiss, and while it lasted, he believed it, too.

A shroud of twilight lowered upon Galactic City.

Anakin stood at what a clone trooper would have called parade rest—a wide, balanced stance, feet parallel, hands claspedbehind his back. He stood one pace behind and to the left of thechair where Palpatine sat, behind his broad desk in the small private office attached to his large public one. On the other side of the desk stood the Senate delegation.

The way they had looked at him, when they had entered the office—the way their eyes still, even now, flicked to his, thenaway again before he could fully meet their gaze—the way noneof them, not even Padme, dared to ask why the Supreme Chancellor had a Jedi at his shoulder during what was supposed to bea private meeting... it seemed to him that they already guessedwhy he was here. They were simply afraid to bring it up.Now they couldn't be sure where the Jedi stood. The onlything that was clear was where Anakin stood—

Respectfully in attendance upon Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

Anakin studied the Senators.

Fang Zar: face creased with old laugh lines, dressed in robesso simple they might almost be homespun, unruly brush of hair gathered into a tight topknot, and an even more unruly brush ofbeard that sprayed uncontrolled around his jaw. He had a gentle, almost simplistic way of speaking that could easily lead one to forget that he was one of the sharpest political minds in the Senate. Also, he was such a close friend of Garm Bel Iblis that thepowerful Corellian Senator might as well have been present inperson. Anakin had watched him closely throughout the meeting. Fang Zar had something on his mind, that was certain—something that he did not seem willing to say.

Nee Alavar and Male-Dee he could dismiss as threats; the twostood together—perhaps needing each other for moral support—and neither had said anything at all. And then, of course, therewas Padme. Glowing in her Senatorial regalia, the painted perfection ofher face luminous as all four of Coruscant's moons together, nota single hair out of place in her elaborate coif—

Speaking in her Politician Voice, and wearing her PoliticianLook.

Padme did the talking. Anakin had a sickening suspicion thatthis was all her idea.

"We are not attempting to delegitimize your government,"she was saying. "That's why we're here. If we were trying to organize an opposition—if we sought to impose our requests asdemands—we would hardly bring them before you in this fashion. This petition has been signed by two thousand Senators, Chancellor. We ask only that you instruct your governors not tointerfere with the legitimate business of the Senate, and that youopen peace talks with the Separatists. We seek only to end thewar, and bring peace and stability back to our homeworlds.Surely you can understand this."

"I understand a great many things," Palpatine said.

"This system of governors you have created is verytroubling—it seems that you are imposing military controls evenon loyalist systems."

"Your reservations are noted, Senator Amidala. I assure youthat the Republic governors are intended only to make your systems safer—by coordinating planetary defense forces, and ensuring that neighboring systems mesh into cooperative units, andbringing production facilities up to speed in service to the war effort. That's all. They will in no way compete with the duties andprerogatives—with the power—of the Senate." Something in the odd emphasis he put on the word power made Anakin think Palpatine was speaking more for Anakin'sbenefit than for Padme's.

All those who gain power are afraid to lose it

"May I take it, then," Padme said, "that there will be no further amendments to the Constitution?"

"My dear Senator, what has the Constitution to do with this?I thought we were discussing ending the war. Once the Separatists have been defeated, then we can start talking about theConstitution again. Must I remind you that the extraordinarypowers granted to my office by the Senate are only in force for the duration of the emergency? Once the war ends, they expireautomatically."

"And your governors? Will they 'expire' too?"

"They are not my governors, my lady, they are the Republic's," Palpatine replied imperturbably. "The fate of their positions will be in the hands of the Senate, where it belongs." Padme did not seem reassured. "And peace talks? Will youoffer a cease-fire? Have you even tried a diplomatic resolution tothe war?"

"You must trust me to do the right thing," he said. "That is, after all, why I am here." Fang Zar roused himself. "But surely—"

"I have said I will do what is right," Palpatine said, a testyedge sharpening his voice. He rose, drawing himself up to his fullheight, then inclining his head with an air of finality. "And thatshould be enough for your... committee."

His tone said: Don't let the door crunch you on the way out.

Padme's mouth compressed into a thin, grim line. "On behalf of the Delegation of the Two Thousand," she said withtight-drawn formality, "I thank you, Chancellor."

"And I thank you, Senator Amidala, and your friends—" Palpatine lifted the document reader containing the petition. "—forbringing this to my attention."

The Senators turned reluctantly and began to file out. Padmepaused, just for a second, to meet Anakin's eyes with a gaze as clear as a slap on the mouth.He stayed expressionless. Because in the end, no matter howmuch he wanted to, no matter how much it hurt... he couldn'tquite make himself believe he was on her side.

=15=

DEATH ON UTAPAU

When constructing an effective Jedi trap—as opposed tothe sort that results in nothing more than an embarrassingly briefentry in the Temple archives—there are several design featuresthat one should include for best results.

The first is an irresistible bait. The commanding general of an outlaw nation, personally responsible for billions of deaths acrossthe galaxy, is ideal.

The second is a remote, nearly inaccessible location, one thatis easily taken and easily fortified, with a sharply restricted field ofaction. It should also, ideally, belong to someone else, preferablyan enemy; the locations used for Jedi traps never survive the operation unscathed, and many don't survive it at all. An excellent choice would be an impoverished desert planet in the Outer Rim,with unwarlike natives, whose few cities are built in a cluster of sinkholes on a vast arid plateau. A city in a sinkhole is virtually agiant kill-jar; once a Jedi flies in, all one need do is seal the lid.

Third, since it is always a good idea to remain well out ofreach when plotting against a Jedi's life—on the far side of thegalaxy is considered best—one should have a reliable proxy to dothe actual murder. The exemplar of a reliable proxy would be, forexample, the most prolific living Jedi killer, backed up by a squadof advanced combat droids designed, built, and armed specifically to fight Jedi. Making one's proxy double as the bait is animpressively elegant stroke, if it can be managed, since it ensuresthat the Jedi victim will voluntarily place himself in contact withthe Jedi killer—and will continue to do so even after he realizesthe extent of the trap, out of a combination of devotion to dutyand a not-entirely-unjustified arrogance.

The fourth element of an effective Jedi trap is a massively overwhelming force of combat troops who are willing to burnthe whole planet, including themselves if necessary, to ensurethat the Jedi in question does not escape.

A textbook example of the ideal Jedi trap is the one thatwaited on Utapau for Obi-Wan Kenobi.As Obi-Wan sent his starfighter spiraling in toward a landingdeck that protruded from the sheer sandstone wall of the biggestof Utapau's sinkhole-cities, he reviewed what he knew of theplanet and its inhabitants. There wasn't much.

He knew that despite its outward appearance, Utapau was not a true desert planet; there was water aplenty in an underground ocean that circled its globe. The erosive action of thisburied ocean had undermined vast areas of its surface, and frequent groundquakes collapsed them into sinkholes large enoughto land a Victory- classStar Destroyer, where civilization couldthrive below reach of the relentless scouring hyperwinds on thesurface. He knew that the planet had little in the way of hightechnology, and that their energy economy was based on windpower; the planet's limited interstellar trade had begun only afew decades before, when offworld water-mining companies haddiscovered that the waters of the world-ocean were rich in dissolved trace elements. He knew that the inhabitants were near-human, divided into two distinct species, the tall, lordly,slow-moving Utapauns, nicknamed Ancients for their astonishing longevity, and the stubby Utai, called Shorts, both for theirstature and for their brief busy lives.

And he knew that Grievous was here.

How he blew, he could not say; so far as he could tell, hisconviction had nothing to do with the Force. But within secondsof the Vigilance's realspace reversion, he was sure. This was it.One way or another, this was the place his hunt for GeneralGrievous would come to a close.

He felt it in his bones: Utapau was a planet for endings.

He was going in alone; Commander Cody and three batallionsof troopers waited in rapid-deployment vehicles—LAAT/i'sand Jadthu- classlanders—just over the horizon. Obi-Wan's planwas to pinpoint Grievous's location, then keep the bio-droidgeneral busy until the clones could attack; he would be a one-man diversionary force, holding the attention of what was sure tobe thousands or tens of thousands of combat droids directed inward toward him and Grievous, to cover the approach of theclones. Two battalions would strike full-force, with the third inreserve, both to provide reinforcements and to cover possible escape routes.

"I can keep them distracted for quite some time," Obi-Wanhad told Cody on the flight deck of Vigilance. "Just don't taketoo long."

"Come on, boss," Cody had said, smiling out of Jango Fett's face, "have I ever let you down?"

"Well—" Obi-Wan had said with a slim answering smile,"Cato Neimoidia, for starters..."

"That was Anakin's fault; he was the one who was late..."

"Oh? And who will you blame it on this time ?" Obi-Wan hadchuckled as he climbed into his starfighter's cockpit and strappedhimself in. "Very well, then. I'll try not to destroy all the droidsbefore you get there."

"I'm counting on you, boss. Don't let me down."

"Have I ever?"

"Well," Cody had said with a broad grin, "there was CatoNeimoidia..." Obi-Wan's fighter bucked through coils of turbulence; the rim of the sinkhole caught enough of the hyperwinds above that he first few levels of city resided in a semipermanent hurricane. Whirling blades of wind-power turbines stuck out from the sinkhole's sides on generator pods so scoured by the fierce winds that they might themselves have been molded of liquid sandstone. Hefought the fighter's controls to bring it down level after leveluntil the wind had become a mere gale; even after reaching the landing deck in the depths of the sinkhole, R4-G9 had to extend the starfighter's docking claws to keep it from being blown, skid-ding, right off the deck.

A ribbed semitransparent canopy swung out to enfold thelanding deck; once it had settled into place around him, the howlof winds dropped to silence and Obi-Wan popped the cockpit. A pack of Utai was already scampering toward the starfighter,which stood alone on the deck; they carried a variety of tools anddragged equipment behind them, and Obi-Wan assumed theywere some sort of ground crew. Behind them glided the stately form of an Utapaun in a heavy deck-length robe of deep scarletthat had a lapel collar so tall it concealed his vestigial ear-disks.The Utapaun's glabrous scalp glistened with a sheen of moisture,and he walked with a staff that reminded Obi-Wan vaguely ofYoda's beloved gimer stick.

That was quick,Obi-Wan thought. Almost like they've been expecting me.

"Greetings, young Jedi," the Utapaun said gravely in accented Basic. "I am Tion Medon, master of port administrationfor this place of peace. What business could bring a Jedi to our remote sanctuary?" Obi-Wan sensed no malice in this being, and the Utapaun radiated a palpable aura of fear; Obi-Wan decided to tell the truth."My business is the war," he said.

"There is no war here, unless you have brought it with you "Medon replied, a mask of serenity concealing what the Forcetold Obi-Wan was anxiety verging on panic.

"Very well, then," Obi-Wan said, playing along. "Please permit me to refuel here, and to use your city as a base to search thesurrounding systems."

"For what do you search?"

"Even in the Outer Rim, you must have heard of General Grievous. It is he I seek, and his army of droids."

Tion Medon took another step closer and leaned down tobring his face near Obi-Wan's ear. "He is here!" Medon whispered urgently. "We are hostages—we are being watched!" Obi-Wan nodded matter-of-factly. "Thank you, MasterMedon," he said in a thoroughly ordinary voice.

"I am gratefulfor your hospitality, and will depart as soon as your crew refuelsmy starfighter."

"Listen to me, young Jedi!" Medon's whisper became evenmore intense. "You must depart in truth! I was ordered to revealtheir presence—this is a trap!"

"Of course it is," Obi-Wan said equably.

"The tenth level—thousands of war droids— tens of thousands!"

"Have your people seek shelter." Obi-Wan turned casuallyand scanned upward, counting levels. On the tenth, his eyefound a spiny spheroid of metal: a Dreadnaught-sized structurethat clearly had not been there for long—its gleaming surface had not yet been scoured to matte by the sand in the constantwinds. He nodded absently and spoke softly, as though to himself. "Geenine, take my starfighter back to the Vigilance. InstructCommander Cody to inform Jedi Command on Coruscant that Ihave made contact with General Grievous. I am engaging now. Cody is to attack in full force, as planned." The astromech beeped acknowledgment from its forward socket, and Obi-Wan turned once more to Tion Medon. "Tellthem I promised to file a report with Republic Intelligence. Tell them I really only wanted fuel enough to leave immediately."

"But—but what will you do?"

"If you have warriors," Obi-Wan said gravely, "now is thetime." In the holocomm center of Jedi Command, within the heartof the Temple on Coruscant, Anakin watched a life-sizedholoscan of Clone Commander Cody report that Obi-Wan hadmade contact with General Grievous.

"We are beginning our supporting attack as ordered. And— if I may say so, sirs— from my experience working with General Kenobi, I have a suspicion that Grievous does not have long to live". If I were therewith him, Anakin thought, it'd be more than a suspicion. Obi-Wan, becareful—

"Thank you, Commander." Mace Windu's face did not betray the slightest hint of the mingled dread and anticipationAnakin was sure he must be feeling; while Anakin himself feltready to burst, Windu looked calm as a stone. "Keep us apprisedof your progress. May the Force be with you, and with Master Kenobi."

"I'm sure it will be, sir. Cody out."

The holoscan flickered to nothingness. Mace Windu turnedbrief but seemingly significant glances upon the other two Masters in attendance, both holoscans themselves: Ki-Adi-Mundifrom the fortified command center on Mygeeto, and from aguerrilla outpost on Kashyyyk, Yoda.

Then he turned to Anakin. "Take this report to the Chancellor."

"Of course I will, Master."

"And take careful note of his reaction. We will need a fullaccount."

"Master?"

"What he says, Anakin. Who he calls. What he does. Everything. Even his facial expressions. It's very important."

"I don't understand—"

"You don't have to. Just do it."

"Master—"

"Anakin, do I have to remind you that you are still a Jedi? You are still subject to the orders of this Council."

"Yes, Master Windu. Yes, I am," he said, and left.

Once Skywalker was gone, Mace Windu found himself in achair, staring at the doorway through which the young JediKnight had left. "Now we shall see," he murmured. "At last. The waters will begin to clear." Though he shared the command center with the holoscansof two other Jedi Masters, Mace wasn't talking to them. Hespoke to the grim, clouded future inside his head.

"Have you considered,"Ki-Adi-Mundisaid carefully, from faraway Mygeeto, "that if Palpatine refuses to surrender power, re moving him is only a first step?"

Mace looked at the blue ghost of the Cerean Master. "I amnot a politician. Removing a tyrant is enough for me."

"But it will not be enough for the Republic,"Ki-Adi-Mundicountered sadly. "Palpatine's dictatorship has been legitimized —and can be legalized, even enshrined in a revised Constitution— by the supermajority he controls in the Senate."

The grim future inside Mace's head turned even darker. The Cerean was right.

"Filled with corruption, the Senate is,"Yoda agreed fromKashyyyk. "Controlled, they must be, until replaced the corrupted Senators can be, with Senators honest and— "

"Do you hear us?" Mace lowered his head into his hands."How have we come to this? Arresting a Chancellor. Taking overthe Senate —! It's as though Dooku was right —to save the Republic, we'll have to destroy it..."

Yoda lifted his head, and his eyes slitted as though he struggled with some inner pain. "Hold on to hope we must; our true enemy, Palpatine is not, nor the Senate; the true enemy is insteadthe Sith Lord Sidious, who controls them both. Once destroyed Sidious is... all these other concerns, less dire they will instantly become."

"Yes." Mace Windu rose, and moved to the window, handsfolded behind his back. "Yes, that is true." Indigo gloom gathered among the towers outside.

"And we have put the chosen one in play against the lastLord of the Sith," he said. "In that, we must place our faith, andour hopes for the future of the Republic."

The landing deck canopy parted, and the blue-and-white Jedi starfighter blasted upward into the gale. From deep shadows at the rear of the deck, Obi-Wan watched it go.

"I suppose I am committed, now," he murmured.

Through electrobinoculars produced from his equipmentbelt, he examined that suspiciously shiny spheroid high above onthe tenth level. The spray of spines had to be droid-control antennas. That's where Grievous would be: at the nerve center ofhis army.

"Then that's where I should be, too." He looked around,frowning. "Never an air taxi when you need one..."

The reclosing of the deck canopy quieted the howl of the wind outside, and now from deeper within the city Obi-Wancould hear a ragged choir of hoarsely bellowing cries that had the resonance of large animals—they reminded him of something...

Suubatars, that was it—they sounded vaguely like the calls ofthe suubatars he and Anakin had ridden on one of their last missions before the war, back when biggest worry Obi-Wan had hadwas how to keep his promise to Qui-Gon...

But he had no time for nostalgia. He could practically hearQui-Gon reminding him to focus on the now, and give himselfover to the living Force.

So he did.

Mere moments of following the cries through the shadowsof deserted hallways carved into the sandstone brought Obi-Wan in sight of an immense, circular arena-like area, where a ring ofbalcony was joined to a flat lower level by spokes of broad, corrugated ramps; the ceiling above was hung with yellowish lamp-rods that cast a light the same color as the sunbeams strikingthrough an arc of wide oval archways open to the interior of thesinkhole outside. The winds that whistled through those widearchways also went a long way toward cutting the eye-wateringreptile-den stench down from overpowering to merely nause ating.

Squatting, lying, and milling aimlessly about the lower levelwere a dozen or so large lizard-like beasts that looked like theproduct of some mad geneticist's cross of Tatooine krayt dragons with Haruun Kal ankkoxen: four meters tall at the shoulder, long crooked legs that ended in five-clawed feet clearly designed forscaling rocky cliffs, ten meters of powerful tail ridged with spinesand tipped with a horn-bladed mace, a flexible neck leading up to an armor-plated head that sported an impressive cowl of spines ofits own—they looked fearsome enough that Obi-Wan mighthave thought them some sort of dangerous wild predators or vicious watchbeasts, were it not for the docile way they toleratedthe team of Utai wranglers who walked among them, hosingthem down, scraping muck from their scales, and letting themtake bundles of greens from their hands.

Not far from where Obi-Wan stood, several large racks werehung with an array of high-backed saddles in various styles anddegrees of ornamentation, very much indeed like those the Alwari of Ansion had strapped to their suubatars.Now he really missed Anakin...

Anakin disliked living mounts almost as much as Obi-Wanhated to fly. Obi-Wan had long suspected that it was Anakin's giftwith machines that worked against him with suubatar or dew-back or bantha; he could never get entirely comfortable ridinganything with a mind of its own. He could vividly imagineAnakin's complaints as he climbed into one of these saddles.

It seemed an awfully long time since Obi-Wan had had anopportunity to tease Anakin a bit. With a sigh, he brought himself back to business. Movingout of the shadows, he walked down one of the corrugatedramps and made a slight, almost imperceptible hand gesture in the direction of the nearest of the Utai dragonmount wranglers."I need transportation."

The Short's bulging eyes went distant and a bit glassy, and he responded with a string of burbling glottal hoots that had adecidedly affirmative tone.

Obi-Wan made another gesture. "Get me a saddle."With another string of affirmative burbles, the Short waddled off.

While he waited for his saddle, Obi-Wan examined the dragonmounts. He passed up the largest, and the one most heavilymuscled; he skipped over the leanest built-for-speed beast, anddidn't even approach the one with the fiercest gleam in its eye.He didn't actually pay attention to outward signs of strength orhealth or personality; he was using his hands and eyes and earspurely as focusing channels for the Force. He didn't know whathe was looking for, but he trusted that he would recognize itwhen he found it. Qui-Gon, he reflected with an inward smile, would approve.

Finally he came to a dragonmount with a clear, steady gleamin its round yellow eyes, and small, close-set scales that felt warmand dry. It neither shied back from his hand nor bent submis-sively to his touch, but only returned his searching gaze withcalm, thoughtful intelligence. Through the Force, he felt in the beast an unshakable commitment to obedience and care for itsrider: an almost Jedi-like devotion to service as the ultimate duty.This was why Obi-Wan would always prefer a living mount.A speeder is incapable of caring if it crashes.

"This one," he said. "I'll take this one."

The Short had returned with a plain, sturdily functional saddle; as he and the other wranglers undertook the complicatedtask of tacking up the dragonmount, he nodded at the beast and said, "Boga."

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. "Thank you."

He took a sheaf of greens from a nearby bin and offeredthem to the dragonmount. The great beast bent its head, itswickedly hooked beak delicately withdrew the greens from Obi-Wan's hand, and it chewed them with fastidious thoroughness.

"Good girl, Boga. Erm—" Obi-Wan frowned at the Short."—she is a she, isn't she?" The wrangler frowned back. "Warool noggaggllo?" he said,shrugging, which Obi-Wan took to mean I have no idea what you're saying to me.

"Very well, then," Obi-Wan said with an answering shrug."Sheyouwill have to be, then, Boga. Unless you care to tell meotherwise."

Boga made no objection.

He swung himself up into the saddle and the dragonmountrose, arching her powerful back in a feline stretch that lifted Obi-Wan more than four meters off the floor. Obi-Wan looked downat the Utai wranglers. "I cannot pay you. As compensation, I canonly offer the freedom of your planet; I hope that will suffice."

Without waiting for a reply that he would not have understood anyway, Obi-Wan touched Boga on the neck. Boga rearedstraight up and raked the air with her hooked foreclaws asthough she were shredding an imaginary hailfire droid, thengathered herself and leapt to the ring-balcony in a single bound.Obi-Wan didn't need to use the long, hook-tipped goadstrapped in a holster alongside the saddle; nor did he do morethan lightly hold the reins in one hand. Boga seemed to understand exactly where he wanted to go. The dragonmount slipped sinuously through one of the wideoval apertures into the open air of the sinkhole, then turned andseized the sandstone with those hooked claws to carry Obi-Wanstraight up the sheer wall.

Level after level they climbed. The city looked and felt deserted. Nothing moved save the shadows of clouds crossing thesinkhole's mouth far, far above; even the wind-power turbines had been locked down. The first sign of life he saw came on the tenth level itself; ahandful of other dragonmounts lay basking in the midday sun, not far from the durasteel barnacle of the droid-control center. Obi-Wan rode Boga right up to the control center's open archway, then jumped down from the saddle. The archway led into a towering vaulted hall, its durasteel decking bare of furnishing. Deep within the shadows that gathered in the hall stood a cluster of five figures. Their faces were thecolor of bleached bone. Or ivory armorplast.

They looked like they might, just possibly, be waiting forhim.

Obi-Wan nodded to himself.

"You'd best find your way home, girl," he said, pattingBoga's scaled neck. "One way or another, I doubt I'll have further need of your assistance."

Boga gave a soft, almost regretful honk of acknowledgment, then bent a sharper curve into her long flexible neck to place herbeak gently against Obi-Wan's chest.

"It's all right, Boga. I thank you for your help, but to stayhere will be dangerous. This area is about to become a free-firezone. Please. Go home."

The dragonmount honked again and moved back, and Obi-Wan stepped from the sun into the shadow. A wave-front of cool passed over him with the shade'sembrace. He walked without haste, without urgency. The Forcelayered connections upon connections, and brought them all tolife within him: the chill deck plates beneath his boots, and thestone beneath those, and far below that the smooth lightless currents of the world-ocean. He became the turbulent swirl of wind whistling through the towering vaulted hall; he became the sunlight outside and the shadow within. His human heart in its cageof bone echoed the beat of an alien one in a casket of armorplast,and his mind whirred with the electronic signal cascades that passed for thought in Jedi-killer droids.

And when the Force layered into his consciousness the awareness of the structure of the great hall itself, he becameaware, without surprise and without distress, that the entire expanse of vaulted ceiling above his head was actually a storagehive.

Filled with combat droids.

Which made him also aware, again without surprise andwithout distress, that he would very likely die here.Contemplation of death brought only one slight sting of regret, and more than a bit of puzzlement. Until this very moment, he had never realized he'd always expected, for nodiscernible reason—that when he died, Anakin would be with him.

How curious,he thought, and then he turned his mind tobusiness.

Anakin had a feeling Master Windu was going to be disappointed.

Palpatine had hardly reacted at all.

The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic sat at the smalldesk in his private office, staring distractedly at an abstract twistof neuranium that Anakin had always assumed was supposed to be some kind of sculpture, and merely sighed, as though he hadmatters of much greater importance on his mind.

"I'm sorry, sir," Anakin said, shifting his weight in front ofPalpatine's desk. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. Obi-Wan hasmade contact with General Grievous. His attack is already under way—they're fighting right now, sir!"

"Yes, yes, of course, Anakin. Yes, quite." Palpatine still lookedas if he was barely paying attention. "I entirely understand yourconcern for your friend. Let us hope he is up to the task."

"It's not just concern for Obi-Wan, sir; taking General Grievous will be the final victory for the Republic!"

"Will it?" He turned to Anakin, and a distinctly troubledfrown chased the distraction from his face. "I'm afraid, my boy,that our situation is a great deal more grave than even I hadfeared. Perhaps you should sit down."

Anakin didn't move. "What do you mean?"

"Grievous is no longer the real enemy. Even the Clone Warsthemselves are now only... a distraction."

"What?"

"The Council is about to make its move," Palpatine said,grim and certain. "If we don't stop them, by this time tomorrowthe Jedi may very well have taken over the Republic."

Anakin burst into astonished laughter. "But sir—please, youcan't possibly believe that—"

"Anakin, I know. I will be the first to be arrested—the first to be executed —but I will be far from the last."

Anakin could only shake his head in disbelief. "Sir, I know that the Council and you have... disagreements, but—"

"This is far beyond any personal dispute between me and the members of the Council. This is a plot generations in themaking—a plot to take over the Republic itself. Anakin, think you know they don't trust you. They never have. You know theyhave been keeping things from you. You know they have madeplans behind your back—you know that even your great friendObi-Wanhas not told you what their true intentions are... It'sbecause you're not like them, Anakin—you're a man, not justa Jedi." Anakin's head drew down toward his shoulders as though hefound himself under enemy fire. "I don't—they wouldn't—"

"Ask yourself: why did they send you to me with this news?Why?Why not simply notify me through normal channels?"

And take careful note of his reaction. We will need a full account.

"Sir, I—ah—"

"No need to fumble for an explanation," he said gently."You've already as much as admitted they've ordered you to spyupon me. Don't you understand that anything you tell themtonight—whatever it may be—will be used as an excuse to ordermy execution?"

"That's impossible—" Anakin sought desperately for an argument. "The Senate—the Senate would never allow it—"

"The Senate will be powerless to stop it. I told you this isbigger than any personal dislike between the Council and myself.I am only one man, Anakin. My authority is granted by the Senate; it is the Senate that is the true government of the Republic.Killing me is nothing; to control the Republic, the Jedi will haveto take over the Senate first."

"But the Jedi—the Jedi serve the Senate!"

"Do they?" Palpatine asked mildly. "Or do they serve certainSenators?"

"This is all—I'm sorry, Chancellor, please, you have tounderstand how this sounds... "

"Here—" The Chancellor rummaged around within his deskfor a moment, then brought forth a document reader. "Do you know what this is?"

Anakin recognized the seal Padme had placed on it. "Yes,sir—that's the Petition of the Two Thousand—"

"No,Anakin! No!" Palpatine slammed the document readeron his desktop hard enough to make Anakin jump. "It is a roll oftraitors."

Anakin went absolutely still. "What?"

"There are, now, only two kinds of Senators in our government, Anakin. Those whose names are on this so-called peti tion,"Palpatine said, "and those whom the Jedi are about toarrest." Anakin could only stare.

He couldn't argue. He couldn't even make himself disbelieve.

He had only one thought.

Padme... ?

How much trouble was she in?

"Didn't I warn you, Anakin? Didn't I tell you what Obi-Wanwas up to? Why do you think he was meeting with the leaders ofthis... delegation... behind your back?"

"But—but, sir, please, surely, all they asked for is an end tothe war. It's what the Jedi want, too. I mean, it's what we all want, isn't it? Isn't it?"

"Perhaps. Though how that end comes about may be the single most important thing about the war. More important, even,than who wins."

Oh, Padme,Anakin moaned inside his head. Padme, what have you gotten yourself into?

"Their... sincerity... may be much to be admired," Palpatine said. "Or it would be, were it not that there was much moreto that meeting than met the eye."

Anakin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Their... petition... was nothing of the sort. It was, in facta not-so-veiled threat." Palpatine sighed regretfully. "It was ashow of force, Anakin. A demonstration of the political powerthe Jedi will be able to muster in support of their rebellion."

Anakin blinked. "But—but surely—" he stammered, round-ing Palpatine's desk, "surely Senator Amidala, at least, can betrusted..."

"I understand how badly you need to believe that," theChancellor said. "But Senator Amidala is hiding something.Surely you sensed it."

"If she is—" Anakin swayed; the floor seemed to be tiltingunder his feet like the deck of Invisible Hand.

"Even if she is," hesaid, his voice flat, overcontrolled, "it doesn't mean that what sheis hiding is treason." Palpatine's brows drew together. "I'm surprised your Jedi insights are not more sensitive to such things."

"I simply don't sense betrayal in Senator Amidala," Anakininsisted. Palpatine leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, studying Anakin skeptically. "Yes, you do," he said after a moment."Though you don't want to admit it. Perhaps it is because neither you nor she yet understands that by betraying me, she is alsobetraying you.''

"She couldn't—" Anakin pressed a hand to his forehead; hisdizziness was getting worse. When had he last eaten? He couldn'tremember. It might have been before the last time he'd slept."She could never... "

"Of course she could," Palpatine said. "That is the nature ofpolitics, my boy. Don't take it too personally. It doesn't mean thetwo of you can't be happy together."

"What—?" The room seemed to darken around him. "Whatdo you mean?"

"Please, Anakin. Are we not past the point of playing childish games with one another? I know, do you understand? I havealwaysknown. I have pretended ignorance only to spare you discomfort." Anakin had to lean on the desk. "What—what do you know?"

"Anakin, Padme was my Queen; I was her ambassador to theSenate. Naboo is my home. You of all people know how I valueloyalty and friendship; do you think I have no friends among thecivil clergy in Theed? Your secret ceremony has never been secret.Not from me, at any rate. I have always been very happy for youboth."

"You—" Words whirled through Anakin's mind, and none of them made sense. "But if she's going to betray us —"

" That, my boy," Palpatine said, "is entirely up to you." The fog inside Anakin's head seemed to solidify into a long,dark tunnel. The point of light at the end was Palpatine's face. "Idon't—I don't understand..."

"Oh yes, that's very clear." The Chancellor's voice seemed tobe coming from very far away. "Please sit, my boy. You're looking rather unwell. May I offer you something to drink?"

"I—no. No, I'm all right." Anakin sank gratefully into a dan-gerously comfortable chair. "I'm just—a little tired, that's all."

"Not sleeping well?"

"No." Anakin offered an exhausted chuckle. "I haven't beensleeping well for a few years, now."

"I quite understand, my boy. Quite." Palpatine rose androunded his desk, sitting casually on its front edge. "Anakin, wemust stop pretending. The final crisis is approaching, and ouronly hope to survive it is to be completely, absolutely, ruthlesslyhonest with each other. And with ourselves. You must understand that what is at stake here is nothing less than the fate of thegalaxy."

"I don't know—"

"Don't be afraid, Anakin. What is said between us here neednever pass beyond these walls. Anakin, think: think how hard ithas been to hold all your secrets inside. Have you ever needed tokeep a secret from me? "

He ticked his fingers one by one. "I have kept the secret ofyour marriage all these years. The slaughter at the Tusken camp,you shared with me. I was there when you executed CountDooku. And I know where you got the power to defeat him. Yousee? You have never needed to pretend with me, the way you must with your Jedi comrades. Do you understand that you need never hide anything from me? That I accept you exactly as you are?"

He spread his hands as though offering a hug. "Share with me the truth. Your absolute truth. Let yourself out, Anakin."

"I—" Anakin shook his head. How many times had he dreamed of not having to pretend to be the perfect Jedi? Butwhat else could he be? "I wouldn't even know how to begin."

"It's quite simple, in the end: tell me what you want."

Anakin squinted up at him. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." The last of the sunset haloed his ice-white hair and threw his face into shadow.

"You've been trainedto never think about that. The Jedi never ask what you want.They simply tell you what you're supposed to want. They nevergive you a choice at all. That's why they take their students—

their victims —at an age so young that choice is meaningless.By the time a Padawan is old enough to choose, he has been soindoctrinated—so brainwashed —that he is incapable of even considering the question. But you're different, Anakin. You had areal life, outside the Jedi Temple. You can break through the fogof lies the Jedi have pumped into your brain. I ask you again: what do you want?"

"I still don't understand."

"I am offering you... anything," Palpatine said. "Ask, and it is yours. A glass of water? It's yours. A bag full of Coruscagems? Yours. Look out the window behind me, Anakin. Picksomething, and it's yours."

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"The time for jokes is past, Anakin. I have never been moreserious." Within the shadow that cloaked Palpatine's face,Anakin could only just see the twin gleams of the Chancellor's eves. "Pick something. Anything."

"All right..." Shrugging, frowning, still not understanding,Anakin looked out the window, looking for the most ridiculouslyexpensive thing he could spot. "How about one of those newSoroSuub custom speeders—"

"Done."

"Are you serious? You know how much one of those costs?You could practically outfit a battle cruiser—"

"Would you prefer a battle cruiser?"

Anakin went still. A cold void opened in his chest. In a small,cautious voice, he said, "How about the Senatorial Apartments?"

"A private apartment?"

Anakin shook his head, staring up at the twin gleams in thedarkness on Palpatine's face. "The whole building."Palpatine did not so much as blink.

"Done."

"It's privately owned—"

"Not anymore."

"You can't just—"

"Yes, I can. It's yours. Is there anything else? Name it."Anakin gazed blankly out into the gathering darkness. Stars began to shimmer through the haze of twilight. A constellationhe recognized hung above the spires of the Jedi Temple.

"All right," Anakin said softly. "Corellia. I'll take Corellia."

"The planet, or the whole system?"

Anakin stared.

"Anakin?"

"I just—" He shook his head blankly. "I can't figure out ifyou're kidding, or completely insane."

"I am neither, Anakin. I am trying to impress upon you afundamental truth of our relationship. A fundamental truth ofyourself'."

"What if I really wanted the Corellian system? The wholeFive Brothers— all of it?"

"Then it would be yours. You can have the whole sector, ifyou like." The twin gleams within the shadow sharpened. "Doyou understand, now? I will give you anything you want.'''' The concept left him dizzy. "What if I wanted—what if Iwent along with Padme and her friends? What if I want the war to end?"

"Would tomorrow be too soon?"

"How—" Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "How canyou do that?"

"Right now, we are only discussing what. How is a differentissue; we'll come to that presently." Anakin sank deeper into the chair while he let everything sinkdeeper into his brain. If only his head would stop spinning—whydid Palpatine have to start all this now! This would all be easier to comprehend if the nightmares ofPadme didn't keep screaming inside his head.

"And in exchange?" he asked, finally. "What do I have todo?"

"You have to do what you want."

"What I want?"

"Yes, Anakin. Yes. Exactly that. Only that. Do the one thingthat the Jedi fear most: make up your own mind. Follow yourown conscience. Do what you think is right. I know that you havebeen longing for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi.Committothat life. I know you burn for greater power than any Jedi can wield; give yourself permission to gain that power, and allow yourself license to use it. You have dreamed of leaving theJedi Order, having a family of your own—one that is based onlove,not on enforced rules of self-denial."

"I—can't...I can't just... leave... "

"But you can."

Anakin couldn't breathe.He couldn't blink.

He sat frozen. Even thought was impossible."You can have every one of your dreams. Turn aside from thelies of the Jedi, and follow the truth of yourself. Leave them. Joinme on the path of true power. Be my friend, Anakin. Be my student. My apprentice."

Anakin's vision tunneled again, but this time there was nolight at the far end. He pulled back his hand, and it was shakingas he brought it up to support his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, but—but as much as I wantthose things—as much as I care for you, sir—I can't. I just can't.Not yet. Because there's only one thing I really want, right now.Everything else will just have to wait."

"I know what you truly want," the shadow said. "I have onlybeen waiting for you to admit it to yourself." A hand—a humanhand, warm with compassion—settled onto his shoulder. "Listento me: I can help you save her?''

"You—"Anakin blinked blindly."How can you help?"

"Do you remember that myth I told you of, The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"the shadow whispered.The myth—directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with suchknowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seema small matter...

"Yes," Anakin said. "Yes, I remember."

The shadow leaned so close that it seemed to fill the world.

"Anakin, it's no mere myth."

Anakin swallowed.

"Darth Plagueis was real."

Anakin could force out only a strangled whisper. "Real... ?"

"Darth Plagueis was my Master. He taught me the key to hispower," the shadow said, dryly matter-of-fact, "before I killedhim."

Without understanding how he had moved, without even intending to move, without any transition of realization or dawningunderstanding, Anakin found himself on his feet. A blue barof sizzling energy terminated a centimeter from Palpatine's chin its glow casting red-edged shadows up his face and across theceiling.Only gradually did Anakin come to understand that this was his lightsaber, and that it was in his hand.

"You," he said. Suddenly he was neither dizzy nor tired.

Suddenly everything made sense.

"It's you. It's been you all along!"

In the clean blue light of his blade he stared into the face ofa man whose features were as familiar to him as his own, but nowseemed as alien as an extragalactic comet—because now he finallyunderstood that those familiar features were only a mask.

He had never seen this man's real face.

"I should kill you," he said. "I will kill you!" Palpatine gave him that wise, kindly-uncle smile Anakin hadbeen seeing since the age of nine. "For what?"

"You're a Sith Lord!"

"I am," he said simply. "I am also your friend."

The blue bar of energy wavered, just a bit.

"I am also the man who has always been here for you. I amthe man you have never needed to lie to. I am the man whowants nothing from you but that you follow your conscience. Ifthat conscience requires you to commit murder, simply over a...philosophical difference... I will not resist."His hands opened, still at his sides. "Anakin, when I told youthat you can have anything you want, did you think I was excluding my life?"

The floor seemed to soften beneath Anakin's feet, and theroom started to swirl darkness and ooze confusion. "You—youwon't even fight— ?"

"Fight you?" In the blue glow that cast shadows up from Palpatine's chin, the Chancellor looked astonished that he wouldsuggest such a thing. "But what will happen when you kill me?What will happen to the Republic?" His tone was gently reasonable. "What will happen to Padme?"

"Padme..."

Her name was a gasp of anguish.

"When I die," Palpatine said with the air of a man remindinga child of something he ought to already know, "my knowledgedies with me."

The sizzling blade trembled.

"Unless, that is, I have the opportunity to teach it... to myapprentice..." His vision swam.

"I..." A whisper of naked pain, and despair. "I don't knowwhat to do... " Palpatine gazed upon him, loving and gentle as he had everbeen, though only a whisker shy of a lightsaber's terminal curve. And what if this face was not a mask? What if the true face ofthe Sith was exactly what he saw before him: a man who hadcared for him, had helped him, had been his loyal friend whenhe'd thought he had no other?What then? "Anakin," Palpatine said kindly, "let's talk." The four bodyguard droids spread out in a shallow arc between Obi-Wan and Grievous, raising their electrostaffs. Obi-Wan stopped a respectful distance away; he still carried bruisesfrom one of those electrostaffs, and he felt no particular urge to add to his collection.

"General Grievous," he said, "you're under arrest."

The bio-droid general stalked toward him, passing throughhis screen of bodyguards without the slightest hint of reluctance."Kenobi. Don't tell me, let me guess: this is the part where yougive me the chance to surrender."

"It can be," Obi-Wan allowed equably. "Or, if you like, it canbe the part where I dismantle your exoskeleton and ship youback to Coruscant in a cargo hopper."

"I'll take option three." Grievous lifted his hand, and thebodyguards moved to box Obi-Wan between them. "That's the one where I watch you die."

Another gesture, and the droids in the ceiling hive came tolife.

They uncoiled from their sockets heads-downward, with a rising chorus of whirring and buzzing and clicking that thickened until Obi-Wan might as well have stumbled into a colony ofCorellian raptor-wasps. They began to drop free of the ceiling, first only a few, then many, like the opening drops of a summercloudburst; finally they fell in a downpour that shook the stone-mounted durasteel of the deck and left Obi-Wan's ears ringing. Hundreds of them landed and rolled to standing; as many more stayed attached to the overhead hive, hanging upside down bytheir magnapeds, weapons trained so that Obi-Wan now stood at the focus of a dome of blasters.

Through it all, Obi-Wan never moved.

"I'm sorry, was I not clear?" he said. "There is no option three.'" Grievous shook his head. "Do you never tire of this pathetic banter?"

"I rarely tire at all," Obi-Wan said mildly, "and I have no better way to pass the time while I wait for you to either decide tosurrender, or choose to die."

"That choice was made long before I ever met you.'' Grievous turned away. "Kill him." Instantly the box of bodyguards around Obi-Wan filled withcrackling electrostaffs whipping faster than the human eye could see—which was less troublesome than it might have been, forthat box was already empty of Jedi.

The Force had let him collapse as though he'd suddenlyfainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his handand ignited it while he turned his fall into a roll; that roll carriedhis lightsaber through a crisp arc that severed the leg of one ofthe bodyguards, and as the Force brought Obi-Wan back to hisfeet, the Force also nudged the crippled bodyguard to topple sideways into the path of the blade and sent it clanging to thefloor in two smoking, sparking pieces.One down.

The remaining three pressed the attack, but more cautiously;their weapons were longer than his, and they struck from beyond the reach of his blade. He gave way before them, his defensivevelocities barely keeping their crackling discharge blades at bay.

Three MagnaGuards, each with a double-ended weapon thatgenerated an energy field impervious to lightsabers, each with reflexes that operated near lightspeed, each with hypersophisticated heuristic combat algorithms that enabled it to learn fromexperience and adapt its tactics instantly to any situation, werecertainly beyond Obi-Wan's ability to defeat, but it was not Obi-Wan who would defeat them; Obi-Wan wasn't even fighting. Hewas only a vessel, emptied of self. The Force, shaped by his skilland guided by his clarity of mind, fought through him.

In the Force, he felt their destruction: it was somewhereabove and behind him, and only seconds away. He went to meet it with a backflipping leap that the Force used to lift him neatly to an empty droid socket in the ceilinghive. The MagnaGuards sprang after him but he was gone by thetime they arrived, leaping higher into the maze of girders andcables and room-sized cargo containers that was the control center's superstructure.

Here,said the Force within him, and Obi-Wan stopped, balancing on a girder, frowning back at the oncoming killer droids that leapt from beam to beam below him like malevolent dura-steel primates. Though he could feel its close approach, he hadno idea from where their destruction might come... until theForce showed him a support beam within reach of his blade andwhispered, Now. His blade flicked out and the durasteel beam parted, fresh-cut edges glowing white hot, and a great hulk of ship-sized cargocontainer that the beam had been supporting tore free of its other supports with shrieks of anguished metal and crasheddown upon all three MagnaGuards with the finality of a meteor strike.

Two, three, and four.

Oh,thought Obi-Wan with detached approval. That worked out rather well. Only ten thousand to go. Give or take.An instant later the Force had him hurtling through a stormof blasterfire as every combat droid in the control center openedup on him at once. Letting go of intention, letting go of desire, letting go of life,Obi-Wan fixed his entire attention on a thread of the Force thatpulled him toward Grievous: not where Grievous was, but whereGrievous would be when Obi-Wan got there...

Leaping girder to girder, slashing cables on which to swingthrough swarms of ricocheting particle beams, blade flickering so fast it became a deflector shield that splattered blaster bolts in alldirections, his presence alone became a weapon: as he spun andwhirled through the control center's superstructure, the blasts of particle cannons from power droids destroyed equipment andshattered girders and unleashed a torrent of red-hot debris thatcrashed to the deck, crushing droids on all sides. By the time heflipped down through the air to land catfooted on the deck oncemore, nearly half the droids between him and Grievous had beendestroyed by their own not-so-friendly fire.

He cut his way into the mob of remaining troops as smoothlyas if it were no more than a canebrake near some sunlit beach; his steady pace left behind a trail of smoking slices of droid.

"Keep firing!" Grievous roared to the spider droids thatFlanked him. "Blast him!" Obi-Wan felt the massive shoulder cannon of a spider droidtrack him, and he felt it fire a bolt as powerful as a protongrenade, and he let the Force nudge him into a leap that carriedhim just far enough toward the fringe of the bolt's blast radius sothat instead of shattering his bones it merely gave him a very strong, very hot push —that sent him whirling over the rest of the droids to landdirectly in front of Grievous.

A single slash of his lightsaber amputated the shoulder cannon of one power droid and continued into a spinning Force-assisted kick that brought his boot heel to the point of the otherpower droid's duranium chin, snapping the droid's head backhard enough to sever its cervical sensor cables. Blind and deaf,the power droid could only continue to obey its last order; itstaggered in a wild circle, its convulsively firing cannon blastingrandom holes in droids and walls alike, until Obi-Wan deactivated it with a precise thrust that burned a thumb-sized holethrough its thoracic braincase.

"General," Obi-Wan said with blandly polite smile as thoughunexpectedly greeting, on the street, someone he privately disliked. "My offer is still open."

Droid guns throughout the control center fell silent; Obi-Wan stood so close to Grievous that the general was in the line offire.

Grievous threw back his cloak imperiously. "Do you believethat I would surrender to you now?"

"I am still willing to take you alive." Obi-Wan's nod took inthe smoking, sparking wreckage that filled the control center."So far, no one has been hurt."

Grievous tilted his head so that he could squint down intoObi-Wan's face. "I have thousands of troops. You cannot defeatthem all."

"I don't have to."

"This is your chance to surrender, General Kenobi." Grievousswept a duranium hand toward the sinkhole-city behind him. "Pau City is in my grip; lay down your blade, or I will squeeze... untilthis entire sinkhole brims over with innocent blood."

"That's not what it's about to brim with," Obi-Wan said."You should pay more attention to the weather." Yellow eyes narrowed behind a mask of armorplast. "What?"

"Have a look outside." He pointed his lightsaber toward the archway. "It's about to start raining clones." Grievous said again, turning to look, "What?" A shadow had passed over the sun as though one of the towering thunderheads on the horizon had caught a stray current inthe hyperwinds and settled above Pau City. But it wasn't a cloud. It was the Vigilance.

While twilight enfolded the sinkhole, over the bright desertabove assault craft skimmed the dunes in a tightening ring centered on the city. Hailfire droids rolled out from caves in thewind-scoured mesas, unleashing firestorms of missiles toward theoncoming craft for exactly 2.5 seconds apiece, which was howlong it took for the Vigilance's sensor operators to transfer data to its turbolaser batteries. Thunderbolts roared down through the atmosphere, andhailfire droids disintegrated. Pinpoint counterfire from the bubble turrets of LAAT/i's met missiles in blossoming fireballs that were ripped to shreds of smoke as the oncoming craft blastedthrough them.

LAAT/i's streaked over the rim of the sinkhole and spiraleddownward with all guns blazing, crabbing outward to keep their forward batteries raking on the sinkhole's wall, while at the rimabove, Jadthu- class armored landers hovered with bay doorswide, trailing sprays of polyplast cables like immense ice-white tassels that looped all the way to the ocean mouths that gapedat the lowest level of the city. Down those tassels, rappelling sofast they seemed to be simply falling, came endless streams of armored troopers, already firing on the combat droids that marchedout to meet them.

Streamers of cables brushed the outer balcony of the control center, and down them slid white-armored troopers, eachwith one hand on his mechanized line-brake and the other full ofDC-15 blaster rifle on full auto, spraying continuous chains ofpacketed particle beams. Droids wheeled and dropped and leaptinto the air and burst to fragments. Surviving droids opened upon the clones as though grateful for something to shoot at, blasting holes in armor, cooking flesh with superheated steam fromdeep-tissue hits, blowing some troopers entirely off their cablesto tumble toward a messy final landing ten levels below.When the survivors of the first wave of clones hit the deck,the next wave was right behind them. Grievous turned back to Obi-Wan. He lowered his head like an angry bantha, yellow glare fixed on the Jedi Master. "To thedeath, then."

Obi-Wan sighed. "If you insist."

The bio-droid general cast back his cloak, revealing the fourlightsabers pocketed there. He stepped back, spreading wide hisduranium arms. "You will not be the first Jedi I have killed, norwill you be the last."

Obi-Wan's only reply was to subtly shift the angle of hislightsaber up and forward. The general's wide-spread arms now split along their lengths,dividing in half—even his hands split in half—

Now he had four arms. And four hands.

And each hand took a lightsaber as his cloak dropped to thefloor.

They snarled to life and Grievous spun all four of them in a flourishing velocity so fast and so seamlessly integrated that heseemed to stand within a pulsing sphere of blue and green energy.

"Come on, then, Kenobi! Come for me!" he said. "I havebeen trained in your Jedi arts by Lord Tyranus himself!"

"Do you mean Count Dooku? What a curious coincidence,"Obi-Wan said with a deceptively pleasant smile. "I trained the man who killed him."

With a convulsive snarl, Grievous lunged.

The sphere of blue lightsaber energy around him bulgedtoward Obi-Wan and opened like a mouth to bite him in half. Obi-Wan stood his ground, his blade still.

Chain-lightning teeth closed upon him.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, right now:

You don't remember putting away your lightsaber.

You don't remember moving from Palpatine's private officeto his larger public one; you don't remember collapsing in the chair where you now sit, nor do you remember drinking waterfrom the half-empty glass that you find in your mechanical hand.

You remember only that the last man in the galaxy you still thought you could trust has been lying to you since the day youmet.

And you're not even angry about it.

Only stunned.

"After all, Anakin, you are the last man who has a right to beangry at someone for keeping a secret. What else was I to do?"Palpatine sits in his familiar tall oval chair behind his familiardesk; the lampdisks are full on, the office eerily bright.

Ordinary.

As though this is merely another one of your friendly conversations, the casual evening chats you've enjoyed together for so many years.

As though nothing has happened.

As though nothing has changed.

"Corruption had made the Republic a cancer in the body ofthe galaxy, and no one could burn it out; not the judicials, notthe Senate, not even the Jedi Order itself. I was the only man strong and skilled enough for this task; I was the only man who dared even attempt it. Without my small deception, how shouldI have cured the Republic? Had I revealed myself to you, or toanyone else, the Jedi would have hunted me down and murderedme without trial—very much as you nearly did, only a momentago." You can't argue. Words are beyond you.

He rises, moving around his desk, taking one of the smallchairs and drawing it close to yours.

"If only you could know how I have longed to tell you,Anakin. All these years—since the very day we met, my boy. Ihave watched over you, waiting as you grew in strength and wisdom, biding my time until now, today, when you are finally readyto understand who you truly are, and your true place in the history of the galaxy."

Numb words blur from your numb lips. "The chosenone..."

"Exactly, my boy. Exactly. You are the chosen one." He leanstoward you, eyes clear. Steady. Utterly honest. "Chosen by me."

He turns a hand toward the panorama of light-sprayedcityscape through window behind his desk. "Look out there,Anakin. A trillion beings on this planet alone—in the galaxy as awhole, uncounted quadrillions—and of them all, I have chosenyou,Anakin Skywalker, to be the heir to my power. To all thatI am."

"But that's not... that's not the prophecy. That's not theprophecy of the chosen one..."

"Is this such a problem for you? Is not your quest to find away to overturn prophecy?" Palpatine leaned close, smiling,warm and kindly. "Anakin, do you think the Sith did not knowof this prophecy? Do you think we would simply sleep while itcame to pass!"

"You mean—"

"This is what you must understand. This Jedi submission tofate... this is not the way of the Sith, Anakin. This is not my way.This is not your way. It has never been. It need never be." You're drowning.

"I am not...," you hear yourself say, "... on your side. Iam not evil."

"Who said anything about evil? I am bringing peace to the galaxy. Is that evil? I am offering you the power to save Padme.Is that evil? Have I attacked you? Drugged you? Are you beingtortured? My boy, I am asking you. I am asking you to do the right thing.Turn your back on treason. On all those who would harm the Republic. I'm asking you to do exactly what you have sworn to do: bring peace and justice to the galaxy. And save Padme, of course—haven't you sworn to protect her, too... ?"

"I—but—I—" Words will not fit themselves into the answersyou need. If only Obi-Wan were here—Obi-Wan would know what to say. What to do.

Obi-Wan could handle this.

Right now, you know you can't.

"I—I'll turn you over to the Jedi Council— they'll know whatto do—"

"I'm sure they will. They are already planning to overthrowthe Republic; you'll give them exactly the excuse they're lookingfor. And when they come to execute me, will that be justice? Willthey be bringing peace!"

"They won't—they wouldn't —!"

"Well, of course I hope you're correct, Anakin. You'll forgiveme if I don't share your blind loyalty to your comrades. I suppose it does indeed come down, in the end, to a question of loyalty," he said thoughtfully. "That's what you must ask yourself, my boy. Whether your loyalty is to the Jedi, or to the Republic."

"It's not—it's not like that—"

Palpatine lifted his shoulders. "Perhaps not. Perhaps it's simply a question of whether you love Obi-Wan Kenobi more thanyou love your wife."

There is no more searching for words.

There are no longer words at all.

"Take your time. Meditate on it. I will still be here when youdecide." Inside your head, there is only fire. Around your heart, thedragon whispers that all things die. This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, right now.

There is an understated elegance in Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsabertechnique, one that is quite unlike the feel one might get fromthe other great swordsbeings of the Jedi Order. He lacks entirelythe flash, the pure bold elan of an Anakin Skywalker; there is nowhere in him the penumbral ferocity of a Mace Windu or a Depa Billaba nor the stylish grace of a Shaak Ti or a Dooku, and he isnothing resembling the whirlwind of destruction that Yoda canbecome.

He is simplicity itself.

That is his power.

Before Obi-Wan had left Coruscant, Mace Windu had toldhim of facing Grievous in single combat atop a mag-lev train during the general's daring raid to capture Palpatine. Mace had toldhim how the computers slaved to Grievous's brain had apparently analyzed even Mace's unconventionally lethal Vaapad andhad been able to respond in kind after a single exchange.

"He must have been trained by Count Dooku," Mace hadsaid, "so you can expect Makashi as well; given the number of Jedi he has fought and slain, you must expect that he can attackin any style, or all of them. In fact, Obi-Wan, I believe that of allliving Jedi, you have the best chance to defeat him." This pronouncement had startled Obi-Wan, and he hadprotested. After all, the only form in which he was truly evenproficient was Soresu, which was the most common lightsaber form in the Jedi Order. Founded upon the basic deflection principles all Padawans were taught—to enable them to protect themselves from blaster bolts—Soresu was very simple, and sorestrained and defense-oriented that it was very nearly downrightpassive.

"But surely, Master Windu," Obi-Wan had said, "you, with the power of Vaapad—or Yoda's mastery of Ataro—"

Mace Windu had almost smiled. "I created Vaapad to answermy weakness: it channels my own darkness into a weapon of thelight. Master Yoda's Ataro is also an answer to weakness: the limitations of reach and mobility imposed by his stature and his age. But for you? What weakness does Soresu answer?"

Blinking, Obi-Wan had been forced to admit he'd never actually thought of it that way.

"That is so like you, Master Kenobi," the Korun Master hadsaid, shaking his head. "I am called a great swordsman because Iinvented a lethal style; but who is greater, the creator of a killingform—or the master of the classic form?"

"I'm very flattered that you would consider me a master, butreally—"

"Not a master. The master," Mace had said. "Be who you are,and Grievous will never defeat you." So now, facing the tornado of annihilating energy that isGrievous's attack, Obi-Wan simply is who he is. The electrodrivers powering Grievous's mechanical arms let eachof the four attack thrice in a single second; integrated by combatalgorithms in the bio-droid's electronic network of peripheralprocessors, each of the twelve strikes per second came from a different angle with different speed and intensity, an unpredictablybroken rhythm of slashes, chops, and stabs of which every singleone could take Obi-Wan's life.Not one touched him.

After all, he had often walked unscathed through hornet-swarms of blasterfire, defended only by the Force's direction ofhis blade; countering twelve blows per second was only difficult,not impossible. His blade wove an intricate web of angles andcurves, never truly fast but always just fast enough, each motionof his lightsaber subtly interfering with three or four or eight ofthe general's strikes, the rest sizzling past him, his precise, minimal shifts of weight and stance slipping them by centimeters. Grievous, snarling fury, ramped up the intensity and velocityof his attacks—sixteen per second, eighteen—until finally, attwenty strikes per second, he overloaded Obi-Wan's defense. So Obi-Wan used his defense to attack.A subtle shift in the angle of a single parry brought Obi-Wan's blade in contact not with the blade of the oncominglightsaber, but with the handgrip.— slice—

The blade winked out of existence a hairbreadth before itwould have burned through Obi-Wan's forehead. Half the severed lightsaber skittered away, along with the duranium thumb and first finger of the hand that had held it.

Grievous paused, eyes pulsing wide, then drawing narrow.He lifted his maimed hand and stared at the white-hot stumpsthat held now only half a useless lightsaber.

Obi-Wan smiled at him.

Grievous lunged.

Obi-Wan parried.

Pieces of lightsabers bounced on the durasteel deck.

Grievous looked down at the blade-sliced hunks of metalthat were all he had left in his hands, then up at Obi-Wan's shining sky-colored blade, then down at his hands again, and then heseemed to suddenly remember that he had an urgent appointment somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

Obi-Wan stepped toward him, but a shock from the Forcemade him leap back just as a scarlet HE bolt struck the floor rightwhere he'd been about to place his foot. Obi-Wan rode the explosion, flipping in the air to land upright between a pair of superbattle droids that were busily firing upon the flank of a squad of clone troopers, which they continued to do until they foundthemselves falling in pieces to the deck. Obi-Wan spun.

In the chaos of exploding droids and dying men, Grievous was nowhere to be seen. Obi-Wan waved his lightsaber at the clones. "The general!" he shouted. "Which way?" One trooper circled his arm as though throwing a protongrenade back toward the archway where Obi-Wan had first entered. He followed the gesture and saw, for an instant in the sun-shadow of the Vigilance outside, the back curves of twin bladedrings—ganged together to make a wheel the size of a starfighter—rolling swiftly off along the sinkhole rim.

General Grievous was very good at running away.

"Not this time," Obi-Wan muttered, and cut a path throughthe tangled mob of droids all the way to the arch in a single sustained surge, reaching the open air just in time to see the blade-wheeler turn; it was an open ring with a pilot's chair inside, andin the pilot's chair sat Grievous, who lifted one of his bodyguards'

electrostaffs in a sardonic wave as he took the scooter straight out over the edge. Four claw-footed arms deployed, digging into the rock to carry him down the side of the sinkhole, angling away at a steep slant.

"Blast." Obi-Wan looked around. Still no air taxis. Not thathe had any real interest in flying through the storm of battle thatraged throughout the interior of the sinkhole, but there was certainly no way he could catch Grievous on foot...

From around the corner of an interior tunnel, he heard a resonant honnnnk! as though a nearby bantha had swallowed an air horn. He said, "Boga?"

The beaked face of the dragonmount slowly extendedaround the interior angle of the tunnel.

"Boga! Come here, girl! We have a general to catch." Boga fixed him with a reproachful glare.

"Honnnnnk."

"Oh, very well." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "I was wrong; youwere right. Can we please go now?" The remaining fifteen meters of dragonmount hove intoview and came trotting out to meet him. Obi-Wan sprang to the saddle, and Boga leapt to the sinkhole's rim in a single bound.Her huge head swung low, searching, until Obi-Wan spottedGrievous's blade-wheeler racing away toward the landing decksbelow.

"There,girl—that's him! Go!"

Boga gathered herself and sprang to the rim of the next leveldown, poised for an instant to get her bearings, then leapt againdown into the firestorm that Pau City had become. Obi-Wanspun his blade in a continuous whirl to either side of the dragonmount's back, disintegrating shrapnel and slapping away stray blasterfire. They plummeted through the sinkhole-city, gainingtens of meters on Grievous with every leap. On one of the landing decks, the canopy was lifting and parting to show a small, ultrafast armored shuttle of the type favored by the famously nervous Neimoidian executives of the Trade Federation. Grievous's wheeler sprayed a fan of white-hot sparksas it tore across the landing deck; the bio-droid whipped the wheeler sideways, laying it down for a skidding halt that showered the shuttle with molten durasteel. But before he could clamber out of the pilot's chair, severalmetric tons of Jedi-bearing dragonmount landed on the shuttle'sroof, crouched and threatening and hissing venomously down athim.

"I hope you have another vehicle, General!" Obi-Wan wavedhis lightsaber toward the shuttle's twin rear thrusters. "I believethere's some damage to your sublights!"

"You're insane! There's no—"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Show him, Boga."

The dragonmount dutifully pointed out the damage withtwo whistling strikes of her massive tail-mace—

wham and wham again—which crumpled the shuttle's thruster tubes intocrimped-shut knots of metal. Obi-Wan beckoned. "Let's settle this, shall we?"

Grievous's answer was a shriek of tortured gyros thatwrenched the wheeler upright, and a metal-on-metal scream ofblades ripping into deck plates that sent it shooting straighttoward the sinkhole wall—and, with the claw-arms to help,straight up it.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Didn't we just come from there?"

Boga coiled herself and sprang for the wall, and the chase wason once more. They raced through the battle, clawing up walls, shootingthrough tunnels, skidding and leaping, sprinting where the waywas clear and screeching into high-powered serpentines where it was not, whipping around knots of droids and bounding over troopers. Boga ran straight up the side of a clone hovertank and sprang from its turret directly between the high-slanting ringwheels of a hailfire, and a swipe of Obi-Wan's blade left the droid crippled behind them. Native troops had taken the field: Utapaun dragonriders armed with sparking power lances charged along causeways, spearing droids on every side. Grievous ran right over anything in his path, the blades of his wheeler shredding droid and trooper and dragon alike; behind him, Obi-Wan'slightsaber caught and returned blaster bolts in a spray that shattered any droid unwise enough to fire on him. A few stray bolts he batted into the speeding wheeler ahead, but without visibleeffect.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's try this from a little closer.'' Boga gained steadily. Grievous's vehicle had the edge in rawspeed, but Boga could out-turn it and could make instant leapsat astonishing angles; the dragonmount also had an uncanny instinct for where the general might be heading, as well as a seemingly infinite knowledge of useful shortcuts through side tunnels,along sheer walls, and over chasms studded with locked-down wind turbines. Grievous tried once to block Obi-Wan's pursuitby screeching out onto a huge pod that held a whole bank ofwind turbines and knocking the blade-brakes off them withquick blows of the electrostaff, letting the razor-edged bladesspin freely in the constant gale, but Obi-Wan merely brought Boga alongside the turbines and stuck his lightsaber into theirwhirl. Sliced-free chunks of carboceramic blade shrieked throughthe air and shattered on the stone on all sides, and with a curse Grievous kicked his vehicle into motion again.

The wheeler roared into a tunnel that seemed to lead straightinto the rock of the plateau. The tunnel was jammed withgroundcars and dragonmounts and wheelers and jetsters and all manner of other vehicles and every kind of beast that might bearor draw the vast numbers of Utapauns and Utai fleeing the battle. Grievous blasted right into them, blade-wheel chewingthrough groundcars and splashing the tunnel walls with chunksof shredded lizard; Boga raced along the walls above the trafficsometimes even galloping on the ceiling with claws gouging chunks from the rock.

With a burst of sustained effort that strangled her honnnk ingto thin gasps for air, Boga finally pulled alongside Grievous. Obi-Wan leaned forward, stretching out with his lightsaber, barelyable to reach the wheeler's back curve, and carved away an arc ofthe wheeler's blade-tread, making the vehicle buck and skid; Grievous answered with a thrust of his electrostaff that crackled lightning against Boga's extended neck. The great beast jerkedsideways, honking fearfully and whipping her head as though theburn was a biting creature she could shake off her flank.

"One more leap, Boga!" Obi-Wan shouted, pressing himselfalong the dragonmount's shoulder. "Bring me even with him!"

The dragonmount complied without hesitation, and whenGrievous thrust again, Obi-Wan's free hand flashed out andseized the staff below its discharge blade, holding it clear ofBoga's vulnerable flesh. Grievous yanked on the staff, nearly pulling Obi-Wan out of the saddle, then jabbed it back at him, discharge blade sparking in his face—

With a sigh, Obi-Wan realized he needed both hands.

He dropped his lightsaber.

As his deactivated handgrip skittered and bounced along thetunnel behind him, he reflected that it was just as well Anakinwasn't there after all; he'd have never heard the end of it. He got his other hand on the staff just as Grievous jerked the wheeler sideways, half laying it down to angle for a small sidetunnel just ahead. Obi-Wan hung on grimly. Through the Forcehe could feel Boga's exhaustion, the buildup of anaerobic breakdown products turning the dragonmount's mighty legs to cloth. An open archway showed daylight ahead. Boga barely made the turn, and they raced side by side along the empty darkened way, joined by the spark-spitting rod of the electrostaff. As they cleared the archway to a small, concealed landingdeck deep in a private sinkhole, Obi-Wan leapt from the saddle, yanking on the staff to swing both his boots hard into the side ofGrievous's duranium skull. The wheeler's internal gyros screamedat the sudden impact and shift of balance. Their shrieks cycled upto bursts of smoke and fragments of metal as their catastrophicfailure sent the wheeler tumbling in a white-hot cascade of sparks.Dropping the staff, Obi-Wan leapt again, the Force liftinghim free of the crash.

Grievous's electronic reflexes sent him out of the pilot's chairin the opposite direction. The wheeler flipped over the edge of the landing deck andinto the shadowy abyss of the sinkhole. It trailed smoke all the way down to a distant, delayed, and very final crash. The electrostaff had rolled away, coming to rest against thelanding jack of a small Techno Union starfighter that stood onthe deck a few meters behind Obi-Wan. Behind Grievous, thearchway back into the tunnel system was filled with a panting, exhausted, but still dangerously angry dragonmount.Obi-Wan looked at Grievous. Grievous looked at Obi-Wan.

There was no longer any need for words between them.Obi-Wan simply stood, centered in the Force, waiting forGrievous to make his move.

A concealed compartment in the general's right thigh sprang open, and a mechanical arm delivered a slim hold-out blaster tohis hand. He brought it up and fired so fast that his arm blurredto invisiblity. Obi-Wan... reached.

The electrostaff flipped into the air between them, one dis-charge blade catching the bolt. The impact sent the staffwhirling—

Right into Obi-Wan's hand.

There came one instant's pause, while they looked into eachother's eyes and shared an intimate understanding that their relationship had reached its end.

Obi-Wan charged.

Grievous backed away, unleashing a stream of blaster bolts asfast as his half a forefinger could pull the trigger.

Obi-Wan spun the staff, catching every bolt, not even slowing down, and when he reached Grievous he slapped the blasterout of his hand with a crack of the staff that sent blue lightning scaling up the general's arm.

His following strike was a stiff stab into Grievous's jointedstomach armor that sent the general staggering back. Obi-Wanhit him again in the same place, denting the armorplast plate,cracking the joint where it met the larger, thicker plates of hischest as Grievous flailed for balance, but when he spun the staff for his next strike the general's flailing arm flailed itself against the middle of the staff and his other hand found it as well and heseized it, yanking himself upright against Obi-Wan's grip, hismetal skull-face coming within a centimeter of the Jedi Master'snose.

He snarled, "Do you think I am foolish enough to arm mybodyguards with weapons that can actually hurt me?"

Instead of waiting for an answer he spun, heaving Obi-Wanright off the deck with effortless strength, whipping up him over his head to slam him to the deck with killing power; Obi-Wancould only let go of the staff and allow the Force to angle his fallinto a stumbling roll. Grievous sprang after him, swinging the electrostaff and slamming it across Obi-Wan's flank before theJedi Master could recover his balance. The impact sent Obi-Wan tumbling sideways and the electroburst discharge set his robe on fire. Grievous stayed right with him, attacking before Obi-Wancould even realize exactly what was happening, attacking fasterthan thought—

But Obi-Wan didn't need to think. The Force was with him,and he knew. When Grievous spun the staff overhand, discharge blade sizzling down at Obi-Wan's head for the killing blow, Obi-Wanwent to the inside.

He met Grievous chest-to-chest, his upraised hand blockingthe general's wrist; Grievous snarled something incoherent andbore down on the Jedi Master's block with all his weight, drivingthe blade closer and closer to Obi-Wan's face—

But Obi-Wan's arm had the Force to give it strength, and thegeneral's arm only had the innate crystalline intermolecular structure of duranium alloy.

Grievous's forearm bent like a cheap spoon.

While the general stared in disbelief at his mangled arm, Obi-Wan had been working the fingers of his free hand around thelower edge of Grievous's dented, joint-loose stomach plate.Grievous looked down.

"What?"

Obi-Wan slammed the elbow of his blocking arm into the general's clavicle while he yanked as hard as he could on thestomach plate, and it ripped free in his hand. Behind it hung atranslucent sac of synthskin containing a tangle of green and grayorgans.

The true body of the alien inside the droid.Grievous howled and dropped the staff to seize Obi-Wanwith his three remaining arms. He lifted the Jedi Master over hishead again and hurled him tumbling over the landing decktoward the precipice above the gloom-shrouded drop. Reachinginto the Force, Obi-Wan was able to connect with the stone itselfas if he were anchored to it with a cable tether; instead ofhurtling over the edge he slammed down onto the rock hardenough to crush all breath from his lungs. Grievous picked up the staff again and charged.

Obi-Wan still couldn't breathe. He had no hope of rising tomeet the general's attack. All he could do was extend a hand.

As the bio-droid loomed over him, electrostaff raised for thekill, the hold-out blaster flipped from the deck into Obi-Wan'spalm, and with no hesitation, no second thoughts, not even thefaintest pause to savor his victory, he pulled the trigger.

The bolt ripped into the synthskin sac.

Grievous's guts exploded in a foul-smelling shower the color of a dead swamp. Energy chained up his spine and a mist of vaporized brain burst out both sides of his skull and sent his face spinning off the precipice.

The electrostaff hit the deck, followed shortly by the general's knees.

Then by what was left of his head.

Obi-Wan lay on his back, staring at the circle of cloudless skyabove the sinkhole while he gasped air back into into his spasming lungs. He barely managed to roll over far enough tosmother the flames on his robe, then fell back.And simply enjoyed being alive.

Much too short a time later—long before he was actuallyready to get up—a shadow fell across him, accompanied by thesmell of overheated lizard and an admonitory honnnk.

"Yes, Boga, you're right," Obi-Wan agreed reluctantly.Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet.He picked up the electrostaff, and paused for one last glanceat the remains of the bio-droid general.

"So..."He summoned a condemnation among the most offensive in his vocabulary."... uncivilized." He triggered his comlink, and directed Cody to report toJedi Command on Coruscant that Grievous had been destroyed. "Will do, General," said the tiny holoscan of the clone commander. "And congratulations. I knew you could do it."

Apparently everyone did,Obi-Wan thought, except Grievous, and me...

"General? We do still have a little problem out here. About tenthousand heavily armed little problems, actually.""On my way. Kenobi out."Obi-Wan sighed and clambered painfully onto the dragonmount's saddle.

"All right, girl," he said. "Let's go win that battle, too." As has been said, the textbook example of a Jedi trap is the one that was set on Utapau, for Obi-Wan Kenobi.It worked perfectly.

The final element essential to the creation of a truly effectiveJedi trap is a certain coldness of mind—a detachment, if you will,from any desire for a particular outcome.

The best way to arrange matters is to create a win-win situation.

For example, one might use as one's proxy a creature thatnot only is expendable, but would eventually have to be killedanyway. Thus, if one's proxy fails and is destroyed, it's no loss—in fact, the targeted Jedi has actually done one a favor, by takingcare of a bit of dirty work one would otherwise have to do one self.

And the final stroke of perfection is to organize the Jedi trap so that by walking into it at all, the Jedi has already lost.

That is to say, a Jedi trap works best when one's true goal is merely to make sure that the Jedi in question spends some hours or days off somewhere on the far side of the galaxy. So that hewon't be around to interfere with one's real plans.

So that by the time he can return, it will be already too late.

=16=

REVELATION

Mace Windu stood in the darkened comm center of JediCommand, facing a life-sized holoscan of Yoda, projected from aconcealed Wookiee comm center in the heart of a wroshyr treeon Kashyyyk.

"Minutes ago," Mace said, "we received confirmation from Utapau: Kenobi was successful. Grievous is dead."

"Time it is to execute our plan."

"I will personally deliver the news of Grievous's death."Mace flexed his hands. "It will be up to the Chancellor to cede his emergency powers back over to the Senate."

"Forget not the existence of Sidious. Anticipate your action, hemay. Masters will be necessary, if the Lord of the Sith you mustface."

"I have chosen four of our best. Master Tiin, Master Kolar,and Master Fisto are all here, in the Temple. They are preparingalready."

"What about Skywalker? The chosen one."

"Too much of a risk," Mace replied. "I am the fourth." With a slow purse of the lips and an even slower nod, Yodasaid, "On watch you have been too long, my Padawan. Rest you must."

"I will, Master. When the Republic is safe once more." Macestraightened. "We are waiting only for your vote."

"Very well, then. Have my vote, you do. May the Force be with you."

"And with you, Master."

But he spoke to empty air; the holoscan had already flickeredto nonexistence. Mace lowered his head and stood in the darkness and the silence.

The door of the comm center shot open, spilling yellow glare into the gloom and limning the silhouette of a man half collapsed against the frame.

"Master..." The voice was a hoarse half whisper. "MasterWindu... ?"

"Skywalker?" Mace was at his side in an instant. "What'swrong? Are you hurt?" Anakin took Mace's arm in a grip of desperate strength, andused it like a crutch to haul himself upright.

"Obi-Wan...," he said faintly. "I need to talk toObi-Wan—"

"Obi-Wan is operational on Utapau; he has destroyed General Grievous. We are leaving now to tell the Chancellor, and tosee to it that he steps down as he has promised—"

"Steps—steps down —" Anakin's voice had a sharply bitteredge. "You have no idea... "

"Anakin? What's wrong?"

"Listen to me— you have to listen to me—" Anakin saggedagainst him, shaking; Mace wrapped his arms around the young Jedi and guided him into the nearest chair. "You can't—please,Master Windu, give me your word, promise me it'll be an arrest, promise you're not going to hurt him—"

"Skywalker—Anakin. You must try to answer. Have you beenattacked? Are you injured? You have to tell me what's wrong!"

Anakin collapsed forward, face into his hands.

Mace reached into the Force, opening the eye of his special gift of perception—

What he found there froze his blood.

The tangled web of fault lines in the Force he had seen connecting Anakin to Obi-Wan and to Palpatine was no more; intheir place was a single spider-knot that sang with power enoughto crack the planet. Anakin Skywalker no longer had shatter-points. He was a shatterpoint.Theshatterpoint.Everything depended on him.Everything.

Mace said slowly, with the same sort of deliberate care hewould use in examining an unknown type of bomb that mighthave the power to destroy the universe itself, "Anakin, look atme." Skywalker raised his head.

"Are you hurt? Do you need—"

Mace frowned. Anakin's eyes were raw, and red, and his facelooked swollen. For a long time he didn't know if Anakin wouldanswer, if he could answer, if he could even speak at all; the youngJedi seemed to be struggling with something inside himself, asthough he fought desperately against the birth of a monster hatching within his chest.

But in the Force, there was no as though; there was no seemed to be.In the Force, Mace could feel the monster inside AnakinSkywalker, a real monster, too real, one that was eating him alivefrom the inside out.Fear.

This was the wound Anakin had taken. This was the hurt thathad him shaking and stammering and too weak to stand. Someblack fear had hatched like fever wasps inside the young Knight'sbrain, and it was killing him.

Finally, after what seemed forever, Anakin opened his blood-raw eyes.

"Master Windu..."He spoke slowly, painfully, as though each word ripped away a raw hunk of his own flesh. "I have... bad news."

Mace stared at him.

"Bad news?" he repeated blankly.

What news could be bad enough to make a Jedi like AnakinSkywalker collapse? What news could make Anakin Skywalkerlook like the stars had gone out?Then, in nine simple words, Anakin told him. This is the moment that defines Mace Windu.

Not his countless victories in battle, nor the numberless battles his diplomacy has avoided. Not his penetrating intellect, orhis talents with the Force, or his unmatched skills with thelightsaber. Not his dedication to the Jedi Order, or his devotion to the Republic that he serves. But this.

Right here.

Right now.

Because Mace, too, has an attachment. Mace has a secretlove.

Mace Windu loves the Republic.

Many of his students quote him to students of their own:"Jedi do not fight for peace. That's only a slogan, and is as misleading as slogans always are. Jedi fight forcivilization, because only civilizationcreates peace."

For Mace Windu, for all his life, for all the lives of a thousandyears of Jedi before him, true civilization has had only one true name: the Republic.

He has given his life in the service of his love. He has takenlives in its service, and lost the lives of innocents. He has seen beings that he cares for maimed, and killed, and sometimes worse:sometimes so broken by the horror of the struggle that their only answer was to commit horrors greater still. And because of that love now, here, in this instant, Anakin Skywalker has nine words for him that shred his heart, burn its pieces, and feed him its smoking ashes.

Palpatine is Sidious. The Chancellor is the Sith Lord.

He doesn't even hear the words, not really; their true meaning is too large for his mind gather in all at once.

They mean that all he's done, and all that has been done tohim—

That all the Order has accomplished, all it has suffered—

All the Galaxy itself has gone through, all the years of suffering and slaughter, the death of entire planets

—

Has all been for nothing.

Because it was all done to save the Republic.

Which was already gone.

Which had already fallen.

The corpse of which had been defended only by a Jedi Orderthat was now under the command of a Dark Lord of the Sith.Mace Windu's entire existence has become crystal so shot-through with flaws that the hammer of those nine words has crushed him to sand.

But because he is Mace Windu, he takes this blow without a change of expression. Because he is Mace Windu, within a second the man of sandis stone once more: pure Jedi Master, weighing coldly the risk offacing the last Dark Lord of the Sith without the chosen one—

Against the risk of facing the last Dark Lord of the Sith witha chosen one eaten alive by fear. And because he is Mace Windu, the choice is no choice at all.

"Anakin, wait in the Council Chamber until we get back."

"Wh—what? Master—"

"That's an order, Anakin."

"But—but—but the Chancellor —" Anakin says desperately, clutching at the Jedi Master's hand. "What are you going to do?" And it is the true measure of Mace Windu that, even now,he still is telling the truth when he says, "Only as much as Ihave to."

In the virtual nonspace of the HoloNet, two Jedi Masters meet.

One is ancient, tiny, with skin of green leather and old wis-dom in his eyes, standing in a Kashyyyk cave hollowed from thetrunk of a vast wroshyr tree; the other is tall and fierce, seated be-fore a holodisk in Coruscant's Jedi Temple.

To each other, they are blue ghosts, given existence by scanning lasers. Though they are light-years apart, they are of onemind; it hardly matters who says what.

Now they know the truth.

For more than a decade, the Republic has been in the handsof the Sith.

Now, together, blue ghost to blue ghost, they decide to takeit back.

=Part Three=

APOCALYPSE

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.

It always wins because it is everywhere.

It is in the wood that burns in your hearth, and in the kettle on the fire; it is under your chair and under your table and under thesheets on your bed. Walk in the midday sun and the dark is with you,attached to the soles of your feet.

The brightest light casts the darkest shadow.

=17=

THE FACE OF THE DARK

Depowered lampdisks were rings of ghostly gray floating inthe gloom. The shimmering jewelscape of Coruscant haloed theknife-edged shadow of the chair.

This was the office of the Chancellor.

Within the chair's shadow sat another shadow: deeper,darker, formless and impenetrable, an abyssal umbra so profoundthat it drained light from the room around it.

And from the city. And the planet.

And the galaxy.

The shadow waited. It had told the boy it would. It waslooking forward to keeping its word. For a change.

Night held the Jedi Temple.

On its rooftop landing deck, thin yellow light spilled in astretching rectangle through a shuttle's hatchway, reflecting upward onto the faces of three Jedi Masters.

"I'd feel better if Yoda were here." This Master was a Nautiloid, tall and broad-shouldered, his glabrous scalp-tentaclesrestrained by loops of embossed leather. "Or even Kenobi. On Ord Cestus, Obi-Wan and I—"

"Yoda is pinned down on Kashyyyk, and Kenobi is out of contact on Utapau. The Dark Lord has revealed himself, and we darenot hesitate. Think not of if, Master Fisto; this duty has fallen to us. We will suffice." This Master was an Iktotchi, shorter andslimmer than the first. Two long horns curved downward fromhis forehead to below his chin. One had been amputated afterbeing shattered in battle a few months before. Bacta had accelereatedits regrowth, and the once maimed horn was now a matchto the other. "We will suffice," he repeated. "We will have to."

"Peace," said the third Master, a Zabrak. Dew had gatheredon his array of blunt vestigial skull-spines, glistening very likesweat. He gestured toward a Temple door that had cycled open."Windu is coming." Clouds had swept in with the twilight, and now a thin drizzling rain began to fall. The approaching Master walked with hisshaven head lowered, his hands tucked within his sleeves.

"Master Ti and Gate Master Jurokk will direct the Temple'sdefense," he said as he reached the others.

"We are shuttingdown all nav beacons and signal lights, we have armed the olderPadawans, and all blast doors are sealed and code-locked." Hisgaze swept the Masters. "It's time to go."

"And Skywalker?" The Zabrak Master cocked his head asthough he felt a distant disturbance in the Force. "What of thechosen one?"

"I have sent him to the Council Chamber until our return."Mace Windu turned a grim stare upon the High Council Tower, squinting against the thickening rain. His hands withdrew fromhis sleeves. One of them held his lightsaber.

"He has done his duty, Masters. Now we shall do ours."

He walked between them into the shuttle.

The other three Masters shared a significant silence, thenAgen Kolar nodded to himself and entered; Saesee Tiin strokedhis regrown horn, and followed.

"I'd still feel better if Yoda were here...," Kit Fisto muttered, and then went in as well. Once the hatch had sealed behind him, the Jedi Temple belonged entirely to the night. Alone in the Chamber of the Jedi Council, Anakin Skywalkerwrestled with his dragon. He was losing.

He paced the Chamber in blind arcs, stumbling among the chairs. He could not feel currents of the Force around him; hecould not feel echoes of Jedi Masters in these ancient seats. He had never dreamed there was this much pain in the universe.

Physical pain he could have handled even without his Jedimental skills; he'd always been tough. At four years old he'd beenable to take the worst beating Watto would deliver without somuch as making a sound.

Nothing had prepared him for this.

He wanted to rip open his chest with his bare hands and clawout his heart.

"What have I done?" The question started as a low moan but grew to a howl he could no longer lock behind his teeth. "What have I done?"

He knew the answer: he had done his duty.

And now he couldn't imagine why.

When I die,Palpatine had said, so calmly, so warmly, so reasonably, my knowledge dies with me... Everywhere he looked, he saw only the face of the woman heloved beyond love: the woman for whom he channeled throughhis body all the love that had ever existed in the galaxy. In theuniverse. He didn't care what she had done. He didn't care about conspiracies or cabals or secret pacts. Treason meant nothing to himnow. She was everything that had ever been loved by anyoneand he was watching her die.

His agony somehow became an invisible hand, stretchingout through the Force, a hand that found her, far away, alone inher apartment in the dark, a hand that felt the silken softnessof her skin and the sleek coils of her hair, a hand that dissolvedinto a field of pure energy, of pure feeling that reached inside her—

And now he felt her, really felt her in the Force, as thoughshe could have been some kind of Jedi, too, but more than that:he felt a bond, a connection, deeper and more intimate than he'dever had before with anyone, even Obi-Wan; for a precious eternal instant he was her...he was the beat of her heart and he wasthe motion of her lips and he was her soft words as though shespoke a prayer to the stars—I love you, Anakin. I am yours, in life, and in death, whereveryou go, whatever you do, we will always be one. Never doubt me, my love. I am yours—and her purity and her passion and the truth of her loveflowed into him and through him and every atom of himscreamed to the Force how can I let her die? The Force had no answer for him.

The dragon, on the other hand, did.

All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out.

And no matter how hard he tried to summon it, no wisdomof Yoda's, no teaching of Obi-Wan's, not one scrap of Jedi lorecame to him that could choke the dragon down.

But there was an answer; he'd heard it just the other night.

With such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?Anakin stopped. His agony evaporated.

Palpatine was right.

It was simple.

All he had to do was decide what he wanted.

The Coruscant nightfall was spreading through the galaxy.

The darkness in the Force was no hindrance to the shadow in the Chancellor's office; it was the darkness. Wherever darknessdwelled, the shadow could send perception.

In the night, the shadow felt the boy's anguish, and it wasgood. The shadow felt the grim determination of four Jedi Masters approaching by air.This, too, was good.

As a Jedi shuttle settled to the landing deck outside, theshadow sent its mind into the far deeper night within one of theseveral pieces of sculpture that graced the office: an abstract twistof solid neuranium, so heavy that the office floor had been specially reinforced to bear its weight, so dense that more sensitive species might, from very close range, actually percieve the tinywarping of the fabric of space-time that was its gravitation.

Neuranium of more than roughly a millimeter thick is impervious to sensors; the standard security scans undergone by all equipment and furniture to enter the Senate Office Building hadshown nothing at all. If anyone had thought to use an advancedgravimetric detector, however, they might have discovered that one smallish section of the sculpture massed slightly less than itshould have, given that the manifest that had accompanied it, when it was brought from Naboo among the then-ambassador'spersonal effects, clearly stated that it was a single piece of solid-forged neuranium.

The manifest was a lie. The sculpture was not entirely solid,and not all of it was neuranium. Within a long, slim, rod-shaped cavity around which thesculpture had been forged rested a device that had lain, waiting, in absolute darkness—darkness beyond darkness—for decades. Waiting for night to fall on the Republic.

The shadow felt Jedi Masters stride the vast echoic emptiness of the vaulted halls outside. It could practically hear the cadence of their boot heels on the Alderaanian marble. The darkness within the sculpture whispered of the shapeand the feel and every intimate resonance of the device it cradled.With a twist of its will, the shadow triggered the device. The neuranium got warm.

A small round spot, smaller than the circle a human child mightmake of thumb and forefinger, turned the color of old blood.

Then fresh blood.

Then open flame.

Finally a spear of scarlet energy lanced free, painting the officewith the color of stars seen through the smoke of burning planets.

The spear of energy lengthened, drawing with it out from the darkness the device, then the scarlet blade shrank away and thedevice slid itself within the softer darkness of a sleeve. As shouts of the Force scattered Redrobes beyond the office's outer doors, the shadow gestured and lampdisks ignited. Another shout of the Force burst open the inner door to the private office. As Jedi stormed in, a final flick of the shadow's willtriggered a recording device concealed within the desk. Audio only.

"Why, Master Windu," said the shadow. "What a pleasantsurprise." Shaak Ti felt him coming before she could see him. Theinfra-and ultrasound-sensitive cavities in the tall, curving montrals to either side of her head gave her a sense analogous totouch: the texture of his approaching footsteps was ragged as oldsacking. As he rounded the corner to the landing deck door, his breathing felt like a pile of gravel and his heartbeat was spikinglike a Zabrak's head. He didn't look good, either; he was deathly pale, even for ahuman, and his eyes were raw.

"Anakin," she said warmly. Perhaps a friendly word was whathe needed; she doubted he'd gotten many from Mace Windu."Thank you for what you have done. The Jedi Order is in yourdebt—the whole galaxy, as well."

"Shaak Ti. Get out of my way."

Shaky as he looked, there was nothing unsteady in his voice:it was deeper than she remembered, more mature, and it carriedundertones of authority that she had never heard before. And she was not blind to the fact he had neglected to call herMaster.

She put forth a hand, offering calming energies through theForce. "The Temple is sealed, Anakin. The door is code-locked."

"And you're in the way of the pad."

She stepped aside, allowing him to the pad; she had no reason to keep him here against his will. He punched the code hungrily. "If Palpatine retaliates," she said reasonably, "is not yourplace here, to help with our defense?"

"I'm the chosen one. My place is there." His breathing roughened, and he looked as if he was getting even sicker. "I have tobe there. That's the prophecy, isn't it? I have to be there —"

"Anakin, why? The Masters are the best of the Order. Whatcan you possibly do?" The door slid open.

"I'm the chosen one," he repeated. "Prophecy can't bechanged. I'll do—" He looked at her with eyes that were dying, and a spasm ofunendurable pain passed over his face. Shaak Ti reached for him—he should be in the infirmary, not heading toward what might bea savage battle—but he lurched away from her hand.

"I'll do what I'm supposed to do," he said, and sprinted intothe night and the rain.

[ the following is a transcript of an audio recording pre sented before the Galactic Senate on the afternoon of thefirst Empire Day; identities of all speakers verified and confirmed by voiceprint analysis]

PALPATINE: Why, Master Windu. What a pleasant surprise.

MACE WINDU: Hardly a surprise, Chancellor. And itwill be pleasant for neither of us. PALPATINE: I'm sorry? Master Fisto, hello. MasterKolar, greetings. I trust you are well. Master Tiin—I seeyour horn has regrown; I'm very glad. What brings fourJedi Masters to my office at this hour? MACE WINDU: We know who you are. What you are. We are here to take you into custody. PALPATINE: I beg your pardon? What I am? When lastI checked, I was Supreme Chancellor of the Republic youare sworn to serve. I hope I misunderstand what youmean by custody, Master Windu. It smacks of treason.

MACE WINDU: You're under arrest.

PALPATINE: Really, Master Windu, you cannot be serious. On what charge?

MACE WINDU: You're a Sith Lord!

PALPATINE: Am I? Even if true, that's hardly a crime.My philosophical outlook is a personal matter. In fact— the last time I read the Constitution, anyway—we havevery strict laws against this type of persecution. So I ask you again: what is my alleged crime? How do you expectto justify your mutiny before the Senate? Or do you intend to arrest the Senate as well?

MACE WINDU: We're not here to argue with you.

PALPATINE: No, you're here to imprison me withouttrial. Without even the pretense of legality. So this is theplan, at last: the Jedi are taking over the Republic.

MACE WINDU: Come with us. Now.

PALPATINE: I shall do no such thing. If you intend tomurder me, you can do so right here. MACE WINDU: Don't try to resist.

[sounds that have been identified by frequency resonances tobe the ignition of several lightsabers]

PALPATINE: Resist? How could I possibly resist? This ismurder,you Jedi traitors! How can I be any threat toyou? Master Tiin—you're the telepath. What am I thinking right now?

[sounds of scuffle]

KIT FISTO: Saesee—

AGEN KOLAR: [garbled; possibly "It doesn't hurt"(?)]

[sounds of scuffle]

PALPATINE: Help! Help! Security— someone! Help me!Murder! Treason!

[recording ends]

A fountain of amethyst energy burst from Mace Windu's fist. "Don't try to resist." The song of his blade was echoed by green fire from thehands of Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, and Saesee Tiin. Kolar and Tiinclosed on Palpatine, blocking the path to the door. Shadowsdripped and oozed color, weaving and coiling up office walls slipping over chairs, spreading along the floor.

"Resist? How could I possibly resist?" Still seated at the deskPalpatine shook an empty fist helplessly, the perfect image of atired, frightened old man. "This is murder, you Jedi traitors!How can I be any threat to you?"

He turned desperately to Saesee Tiin. "Master Tiin—you'rethe telepath. What am I thinking right now?" Tiin frowned and cocked his head. His blade dipped. Asmear of red-flashing darkness hurtled from behind the desk.

Saesee Tiin's head bounced when it hit the floor.

Smoke curled from the neck, and from the twin stumps ofthe horns, severed just below the chin. Kit Fisto gasped, "Saesee!"

The headless corpse, still standing, twisted as its knees buckled, and a thin sigh escaped from its trachea as it folded to thefloor.

"It doesn't..." Agen Kolar swayed.His emerald blade shrank away, and the handgrip tumbledfrom his opening fingers. A small, neat hole in the middle of his forehead leaked smoke, showing light from the back of his head."... hurt..."

He pitched forward onto his face, and lay still.

Palpatine stood at the doorway, but the door stayed shut.From his right hand extended a blade the color of fire.The door locked itself at his back.

"Help! Help!" Palpatine cried like a man in desperate fear for his life. "Security— someone! Help me!

Murder! Treason!"

Then he smiled.

He held one finger to his lips, and, astonishingly, he winked.

In the blank second that followed, while Mace Windu andKit Fisto could do no more than angle their lightsabers to guard,Palpatine swiftly stepped over the bodies back toward his desk,reversed his blade, and drove it in a swift, surgically precise stabdown through his desktop.

"That's enough of that."

He let it burn its way free through the front, then he turned,lifting his weapon, appearing to study it as one might study theface of a beloved friend one has long thought dead. Power gathered around him until the Force shimmered with darkness.

"If you only knew," he said softly, perhaps speaking to theJedi Masters, or perhaps to himself, or perhaps even to the scarlet blade lifted now as though in mocking salute, "how long Ihave been waiting for this..."

Anakin's speeder shrieked through the rain, dodging forkedbolts of lightning that shot up from towers into the clouds, slicing across traffic lanes, screaming past spacescrapers so fast that his shock-wake cracked windows as he passed.

He didn't understand why people didn't just get out of hisway. He didn't understand how the trillion beings who jammedGalactic City could go about their trivial business as though the universe hadn't changed. How could they think they counted for anything, compared with him? How could they think they still mattered?

Their blind lives meant nothing now. None of them. Because ahead, on the vast cliff face of the Senate Office Building, onewindow spat lightning into the rain to echo the lightning of the storm outside—but this lightning was the color of clashinglightsabers.

Green fans, sheets of purple—

And crimson flame.

He was too late.

The green fire faded and winked out; now the lightning wasonly purple and red. His repulsorlifts howled as he heeled the speeder up onto itsside, skidding through wind-shear turbulence to bring it to abobbing halt outside the window of Palpatine's private office. Ablast of lightning hit the spire of 500 Republica, only a kilometeraway, and its white burst flared off the window, flash-blindinghim; he blinked furiously, slapping at his eyes in frustration. The colorless glare inside his eyes faded slowly, bringing intofocus a jumble of bodies on the floor of Palpatine's private office.

Bodies in Jedi robes.

On Palpatine's desk lay the head of Kit Fisto, faceup, scalp-tentacles unbound in a squid-tangle across the ebonite. His lid-less eyes stared blindly at the ceiling. Anakin remembered him in the arena at Geonosis, effortlessly carving his way through waveafter wave of combat droids, on his lips a gently humorous smileas though the horrific battle were only some friendly jest. His severed head wore that same smile.Maybe he thought death was funny, too.

Anakin's own blade sang blue as it slashed through the window and he dived through the gap. He rolled to his feet amonga litter of bodies and sprinted through a shattered door along thesmall private corridor and through a doorway that flashed andflared with energy-scatter.

Anakin skidded to a stop.

Within the public office of the Supreme Chancellor of theGalactic Republic, a last Jedi Master battled alone, blade-to-blade, against a living shadow.

Sinking into Vaapad, Mace Windu fought for his life.

More than his life: each whirl of blade and whipcrack of lightning was a strike in defense of democracy, of justice andpeace, of the rights of ordinary beings to live their own lives intheir own ways. He was fighting for the Republic that he loved.

Vaapad, the seventh form of lightsaber combat, takes itsname from a notoriously dangerous predator native to themoons of Sarapin: a vaapad attacks its prey with whipping strikesof its blindingly fast tentacles. Most have at least seven. It is notuncommon for them to have as many as twelve; the largest everkilled had twenty-three. With a vaapad, one never knew how many tentacles it had until it was dead: they move too fast to count. Almost too fast to see. So did Mace's blade.

Vaapad is as aggressive and powerful as its namesake, but its power comes at great risk: immersion in Vaapad opens the gates that restrain one's inner darkness. To use Vaapad, a Jedi must allow himself to enjoy the fight; he must give himself over to the thrill of battle. The rush of winning. Vaapad is a path that leads through the penumbra of the dark side.

Mace Windu created this style, and he was its only livingmaster.

This was Vaapad's ultimate test.

Anakin blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Maybe he was still abit flash-blind—the Korun Master seemed to be fading in and out of existence, half swallowed by a thickening black haze in which danced a meter-long bar of sunfire. Mace pressed back thedarkness with a relentless straight-ahead march; his own blade,that distinctive amethyst blaze that had been the final sight of so many evil beings across the galaxy, made a haze of its own: anoblate sphere of purple fire within which there seemed to bedozens of swords slashing in all directions at once.

The shadow he fought, that blur of speed—could that bePalpatine?

Their blades flared and flashed, crashing together with bursts of fire, weaving nets of killing energy in exchanges so fast thatAnakin could not truly see them—but he could feel them in the Force. The Force itself roiled and burst and crashed around them, boiling with power and lightspeed ricochets of lethal intent.

And it was darkening.

Anakin could feel how the Force fed upon the shadow's murderous exaltation; he could feel fury spray into the Force thoughsome poisonous abscess had crested in both their hearts. There was no Jedi restraint here.

Mace Windu was cutting loose.

Mace was deep in it now: submerged in Vaapad, swallowedby it, he no longer truly existed as an independent being.

Vaapad is a channel for darkness, and that darkness flowedboth ways. He accepted the furious speed of the Sith Lord, drewthe shadow's rage and power into his inmost center—

And let it fountain out again.

He reflected the fury upon its source as a lightsaber redirectsa blaster bolt. There was a time when Mace Windu had feared the power of the dark; there was a time when he had feared the darkness inhimself. But the Clone Wars had given him a gift of understanding: on a world called Haruun Kal, he had faced his darkness andhad learned that the power of darkness is not to be feared.

He had learned that it is fear that gives the darkness power.

He was not afraid. The darkness had no power over him.But—

Neither did he have power over it.

Vaapad made him an open channel, half of a superconducting loop completed by the shadow; they became a standing waveof battle that expanded into every cubic centimeter of the Chancellor's office. There was no scrap of carpet nor shred of chairthat might not at any second disintegrate in flares of red or purple; lampstands became brief shields, sliced into segments thatwhirled through the air; couches became terrain to be climbedfor advantage or overleapt in retreat. But there was still only thecycle of power, the endless loop, no wound taken on either side, not even the possibility of fatigue. Impasse.

Which might have gone on forever, if Vaapad were Mace'sonly gift.

The fighting was effortless for him now; he let his body handle it without the intervention of his mind. While his blade spunand crackled, while his feet slid and his weight shifted and hisshoulders turned in precise curves of their own direction, hismind slid along the circuit of dark power, tracing it back to its limitless source.

Feeling for its shatterpoint.

He found a knot of fault lines in the shadow's future; hechose the largest fracture and followed it back to the here and thenow—

And it led him, astonishingly, to a man standing frozen in theslashed-open doorway. Mace had no need to look; the presencein the Force was familiar, and was as uplifting as sunlight breaking through a thunderhead.

The chosen one was here.

Mace disengaged from the shadow's blade and leapt for thewindow; he slashed away the transparisteel with a single flourish.

His instant's distraction cost him: a dark surge of the Forcenearly blew him right out of the gap he had just cut. Only a desperate Force-push of his own altered his path enough that he slammed into a stanchion instead of plunging half a kilometerfrom the ledge outside. He bounced off and the Force clearedhis head and once again he gave himself to Vaapad.

He could feel the end of this battle approaching, and socould the blur of Sith he faced; in the Force, the shadow had become a pulsar of fear. Easily, almost effortlessly, he turned theshadow's fear into a weapon: he angled the battle to bring themboth out onto the window ledge.

Out in the wind. Out with the lightning. Out on a rain-slicked ledge above a half-kilometer drop. Out where the shadow's fear made it hesitate. Out where theshadow's fear turned some of its Force-powered speed into a Force-powered grip on the slippery permacrete.

Out where Mace could flick his blade in one precise arc andslash the shadow's lightsaber in half. One piece flipped back in through the cut-open window. Theother tumbled from opening fingers, bounced on the ledge, andfell through the rain toward the distant alleys below. Now the shadow was only Palpatine: old and shrunken, thinning hair bleached white by time and care, face lined with exhaustion.

"For all your power, you are no Jedi. All you are, my lord,"Mace said evenly, staring past his blade, "is under arrest."

"Do you see, Anakin? Do you?" Palpatine's voice once againhad the broken cadence of a frightened old man's. "Didn't Iwarn you of the Jedi and their treason?"

"Save your twisted words, my lord. There are no politicianshere. The Sith will never regain control of the Republic. It's over. You've lost." Mace leveled his blade. "You lost for the same reason the Sith always lose: defeated by your own fear."

Palpatine lifted his head.

His eyes smoked with hate.

"Fool," he said.

He lifted his arms, his robes of office spreading wide intoraptor's wings, his hands hooking into talons.

"Fool!"His voice was a shout of thunder. "Do you think thefear you feel is mine?" Lighting blasted the clouds above, and lightning blastedfrom Palpatine's hands, and Mace didn't have time to comprehend what Palpatine was talking about; he had time only to slipback into Vaapad and angle his blade to catch the forking arcs ofpure, dazzling hatred that clawed toward him. Because Vaapad is more than a fighting style. It is a state ofmind: a channel for darkness. Power passed into him and outagain without touching him.

And the circuit completed itself: the lightning reflected backto its source. Palpatine staggered, snarling, but the blistering energy thatloured from his hands only intensified. He fed the power with his pain.

"Anakin!" Mace called. His voice sounded distant, blurred, asif it came from the bottom of a well.

"Anakin, help me! This is your chance!"

He felt Anakin's leap from the office floor to the ledge, felthis approach behind—

And Palpatine was not afraid.Mace could feel it: he wasn't worried at all."Destroy this traitor," the Chancellor said, his voice raisedaver the howl of writhing energy that joined his hands to Mace's blade.

"This was never an arrest. It's an assassination!"

That was when Mace finally understood. He had it. The keyto final victory. Palpatine's shatterpoint. The absolute shatterpoint of the Sith.

The shatterpoint of the dark side itself.

Mace thought, blankly astonished, Palpatine trusts Anakin Skywalker... Now Anakin was at Mace's shoulder. Palpatine still made nomove to defend himself from Skywalker; instead he ramped upthe lightning bursting from his hands, bending the fountain ofMace's blade back toward the Korun Master's face.

Palpatine's eyes glowed with power, casting a yellow glarethat burned back the rain from around them.

"He is a traitor, Anakin. Destroy him."

"You're the chosen one, Anakin," Mace said, his voice going thin with strain. This was beyond Vaapad; he had no strength leftto fight against his own blade. "Take him. It's your destiny.'" Skywalker echoed him faintly. "Destiny..."

"Help me! I can't hold on any longer!" The yellow glare fromPalpatine's eyes spread outward through his flesh. His skin flowedlike oil, as though the muscle beneath was burning away, asthough even the bones of his skull were softening, were bendingand bulging, deforming from the heat and pressure of his electric hatred. "He is killing me, Anakin—! Please, Anaa ahhh—" Mace's blade bent so close to his face that he was choking onozone. "Anakin, he's too strong for me—"

"Ahhh—" Palpatine's roar above above the endless blast oflightning became a fading moan of despair. The lightning swallowed itself, leaving only the night and therain, and an old man crumpled to his knees on a slippery ledge.

"I... can't. I give up. I... I am too weak, in the end. Tooold, and too weak. Don't kill me, Master Jedi. Please. I surrender."

Victory flooded through Mace's aching body. He lifted hisblade. "You Sith disease —"

" Wait —" Skywalker seized his lightsaber arm with desperatestrength. "Don't kill him—you can't just kill him, Master—"

"Yes, I can," Mace said, grim and certain. "I have to."

"You came to arrest him. He has to stand trial —"

"A trial would be a joke. He controls the courts. He controlsthe Senate—"

"So are you going to kill all them, too? Like he said youwould?" Mace yanked his arm free. "He's too dangerous to be leftalive. If you could have taken Dooku alive, would you have?"

Skywalker's face swept itself clean of emotion. "That wasdifferent—" Mace turned toward the cringing, beaten Sith Lord. "Youcan explain the difference after he's dead." He raised his lightsaber.

" I need him alive!" Skywalker shouted. "I need him to save Padme!" Mace thought blankly, Why? And moved his lightsabertoward the fallen Chancellor. Before he could follow through on his stroke, a sudden arc ofblue plasma sheared through his wrist and his hand tumbledaway with his lightsaber still in it and Palpatine roared back to hisfeet and lightning speared from the Sith Lord's hands and without his blade to catch it, the power of Palpatine's hate struck himfull-on.

He had been so intent on Palpatine's shatterpoint that he'dnever thought to look for Anakin's. Dark lightning blasted away his universe.He fell forever.

Anakin Skywalker knelt in the rain.

He was looking at a hand. The hand had brown skin. Thehand held a lightsaber. The hand had a charred oval of tissue where it should have been attached to an arm.

"What have I done?"

Was it his voice? It must have been. Because it was his question.

"What have I done?"

Another hand, a warm and human hand, laid itself softly onhis shoulder.

"You're following your destiny, Anakin," said a familiar gentle voice. "The Jedi are traitors. You saved the Republic fromtheir treachery. You can see that, can't you?"

"You were right," Anakin heard himself saying. "Why didn'tI know?"

"You couldn't have. They cloaked themselves in deception, my boy. Because they feared your power, they could never trustyou."

Anakin stared at the hand, but he no longer saw it.

"Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan trusts me..."

"Not enough to tell you of their plot."

Treason echoed in his memory.

... this is not an assignment for the record...

That warm and human hand gave his shoulder a warm andhuman squeeze. "I do not fear your power, Anakin, I embrace it.You are the greatest of the Jedi. You can be the greatest of the Sith. I believe that, Anakin. I believe in you. I trust you. I trust you. I trust you." Anakin looked from the dead hand on the ledge to the livingone on his shoulder, then up to the face of the man who stoodabove him, and what he saw there choked him like an invisiblefist crushing his throat. The hand on his shoulder was human.

The face... wasn't.

The eyes were a cold and feral yellow, and they gleamed likethose of a predator lurking beyond a fringe of firelight; the bone around those feral eyes had swollen and melted and flowed like durasteel spilled from a fusion smelter, and the flesh that blaneted it had gone corpse-gray and coarse as rotten synthplast. Stunned with horror, stunned with revulsion, Anakin could only stare at the creature. At the shadow. Looking into the face of the darkness, he saw his future.

"Now come inside," the darkness said.

After a moment, he did.

Anakin stood just within the office. Motionless.

Palpatine examined the damage to his face in a broad expanseof wall mirror. Anakin couldn't tell if his expression might be revulsion, or if this were merely the new shape of his features. Palpatine lifted one tentative hand to the misshapen horror that he now saw in the mirror, then simply shrugged.

"And so the mask becomes the man," he sighed with a hintof philosophical melancholy. "I shall miss the face of Palpatine, Ithink; but for our purpose, the face of Sidious will serve. Yes, itwill serve." He gestured, and a hidden compartment opened in the office's ceiling above his desk. A voluminous robe of heavy black-on-black brocade floated downward from it; Anakin felt the current in the Force that carried the robe to Palpatine's hand.

He remembered playing a Force game with a shuura fruit,sitting across a long table from Padme in the retreat by the lakeon Naboo. He remembered telling her how grumpy Obi-Wanwould be to see him use the Force so casually.

Palpatine seemed to catch his thought; he gave a yellow sidelong glance as the robe settled onto his shoulders.

"You must learn to cast off the petty restraints that the Jedihave tried to place upon your power," he said. "Anakin, it's time.I need you to help me restore order to the galaxy." Anakin didn't respond.

Sidious said, "Join me. Pledge yourself to the Sith. Becomemy apprentice." A wave of tingling started at the base of Anakin's skull and spread over his whole body in a slow-motion shockwave.

"I—I can't."

"Of course you can."

Anakin shook his head and found that the rest of him threat-ened to begin shaking as well. "I—came to save your life, sir. Notto betray my friends—"

Sidious snorted. " What friends?"

Anakin could find no answer.

"And do you think that task is finished, my boy?" Sidiousseated himself on the corner of the desk, hands folded in his lap,the way he always had when offering Anakin fatherly advice; themisshapen mask of his face made the familiarity of his postureinto something horrible. "Do you think that killing one traitorwill end treason? Do you think the Jedi will ever stop until I amdead?"

Anakin stared at his hands. The left one was shaking. He hidit behind him.

"It's them or me, Anakin. Or perhaps I should put it more plainly: It's them or Padme." Anakin made his right hand—his black-gloved hand ofdurasteel and electrodrivers—into a fist.

"It's just—it's not... easy, that's all. I have—I've been a Jedifor so long—" Sidious offered an appalling smile. "There is a place withinyou, my boy, a place as briskly clean as ice on a mountaintop, cool and remote. Find that high place, and look down withinyourself; breathe that clean, icy air as you regard your guilt andshame. Do not deny them; observe them. Take your horror inyour hands and look at it. Examine it as a phenomenon. Smell it.Taste it. Come to know it as only you can, for it is yours, and itis precious."

As the shadow beside him spoke, its words became true.From a remote, frozen distance that was at the same time moreextravagantly, hotly intimate than he could have ever dreamed,Anakin handled his emotions. He dissected them. He reassembled them and pulled them apart again. He still felt them—if anything, they burned hotter than before—but they no longerhad the power to cloud his mind.

"You have found it, my boy: I can feel you there. That colddistance—that mountaintop within yourself—that is the first keyto the power of the Sith."

Anakin opened his eyes and turned his gaze fully upon thegrotesque features of Darth Sidious. He didn't even blink.

As he looked upon that mask of corruption, the revulsion hefelt was real, and it was powerful, and it was—interesting.

Anakin lifted his hand of durasteel and electrodrivers andcupped it, staring into its palm as though he held there the fearthat had haunted his dreams for his whole life, and it was no largerthan the piece of shuura he'd once stolen from Padme's plate.

On the mountain peak within himself, he weighed Padme'slife against the Jedi Order. It was no contest.

He said, "Yes."

"Yes to what, my boy?"

"Yes, I want your knowledge."

"Good. Good!"

"I want your power. I want the power to stop death."

"That power only my Master truly achieved, but together wewill find it. The Force is strong with you, my boy. You can doanything."

"The Jedi betrayed you," Anakin said. "The Jedi betrayedboth of us."

"As you say. Are you ready?"

"I am," he said, and meant it. "I give myself to you. I pledgemyself to the ways of the Sith. Take me as your apprentice. Teachme. Lead me. Be my Master."

Sidious raised the hood of his robe and draped it to shadowthe ruin of his face.

"Kneel before me, Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin dropped to one knee. He lowered his head.

"It is your will to join your destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords?" There was no hesitation. "Yes."

Darth Sidious laid a pale hand on Anakin's brow. "Then it isdone. You are now one with the Order of the Dark Lords of theSith. From this day forward, the truth of you, my apprentice,now and forevermore, will be Darth..."

A pause; a questioning in the Force—

An answer, dark as the gap between galaxies—

He heard Sidious say it: his new name.

Vader.

A pair of syllables that meant him. Vader,he said to himself. Vader.

"Thank you, my Master."

"Every single Jedi, including your friend Obi-Wan Kenobihave been revealed as enemies of the Republic now. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, my Master."

"The Jedi are relentless. If they are not destroyed to the lastbeing, there will be civil war without end. To sterilize the JediTemple will be your first task. Do what must be done, LordVader."

"I always have, my Master."

"Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. Leave no living creaturebehind. Only then will you be strong enough with the dark side to save Padme."

"What of the other Jedi?"

"Leave them to me. After you have finished at the Temple, your second task will be the Separatist leadership, in their 'secret bunker' on Mustafar. When you have killed them all, theSith will rule the galaxy once more, and we shall have peace. Forever."

"Rise, Darth Vader."

The Sith Lord who once had been a Jedi hero called AnakinSkywalker stood, drawing himself up to his full height, but helooked not outward upon his new Master, nor upon the planet-city beyond, nor out into the galaxy that they would soon rule.He instead turned his gaze inward: he unlocked the furnace gate within his heart and stepped forth to regard with new eyes thecold freezing dread of the dead-star dragon that had haunted hislife.

I am Darth Vader,he said within himself.

The dragon tried again to whisper of failure, and weakness, and inevitable death, but with one hand the Sith Lord caught it,crushed away its voice; it tried to rise then, to coil and rear andstrike, but the Sith Lord laid his other hand upon it and broke itspower with a single effortless twist. I am Darth Vader,he repeated as he ground the dragon'scorpse to dust beneath his mental heel, as he watched thedragon's dust and ashes scatter before the blast from his furnaceheart, and you —

You are nothing at all.

He had become, finally, what they all called him.

The Hero With No Fear.

Gate Master Jurokk sprinted through the empty vaulted hallway, clattering echoes of his footsteps making him sound like aplatoon. The main doors of the Temple were slowly swinging inward in answer to the code key punched into the outside lockpad.The Gate Master had seen him on the monitor.Anakin Skywalker.Alone.

The huge doors creaked inward; as soon as they were wideenough for the Gate Master to pass, he slipped through.

Anakin stood in the night outside, shoulders hunched, headdown against the rain.

"Anakin!" he gasped, running up to the young man."Anakin, what happened? Where are the Masters?" Anakin looked at him as though he wasn't sure who the GateMaster was. "Where is Shaak Ti?"

"In the meditation chambers—we felt something happen inthe Force, something awful. She's searching the Force in deepmeditation, trying to get some feel for what's going on..."His words trailed away. Anakin didn't seem to be listening."Something has happened, hasn't it?" Jurokk looked past him now. The night beyond the Templewas full of clones. Battalions of them. Brigades.Thousands.

"Anakin," he said slowly, "what's going on? Something'shappened. Something horrible. How bad is it?" The last thing Jurokk felt was the emitter of a lightsaberagainst the soft flesh beneath his jaw; the last thing he heard asblue plasma chewed upward through his head and burst from thetop of his skull and burned away his life, was Anakin Skywalker's melancholy reply.

"You have no idea..."

=18=

ORDER SIXTY-SIX

Pau City was a cauldron of battle.

From his observation post just off the landing ramp of the command lander on the tenth level, Clone Commander Codyswept the sinkhole with his electrobinoculars. The droid-controlcenter lay in ruins only a few meters away, but the Separatists hadlearned the lesson of Naboo; their next-generation combat droids were equipped with sophisticated self-motivators thatkicked in automatically when control signals were cut off, delivering a program of standing orders.

Standing Order Number One was, apparently, Kill Everything That Moves.

And they were doing a good job of it, too.

Half the city was rubble, and the rest was a firestorm ofdroids and clones and Utapaun dragon cavalry, and just whenCommander Cody was thinking how he really wished they had aJedi or two around right now, several metric tons of dragon-mount hurtled from the sky and hit the roof of the commandlander hard enough to buckle the deck beneath it.

Not that it did the ship any harm; Jadthu- classlanders are basically flying bunkers, and this particular one was triple-armoredand equipped with internal shock buffers and inertial dampeners powerful enough for a fleet corvette, to protect the sophisticatedcommand-and-control equipment inside. Cody looked up at the dragonmount, and at its rider. "General Kenobi," he said. "Glad you could join us."

"Commander Cody," the Jedi Master said with a nod. Hewas still scanning the battle around them. "Did you contact Coruscant with the news of the general's death?"

The clone commander snapped to attention and delivered acrisp salute. "As ordered, sir. Erm, sir?" Kenobi looked down at him."Are you all right, sir? You're a bit of a mess."The Jedi Master wiped away some of the dust and gore thatsmeared his face with the sleeve of his robe—which was charred,and only left a blacker smear across his cheek. "Ah. Well, yes. It has been a... stressful day." He waved out at Pau City. "But westill have a battle to win."

"Then I suppose you'll be wanting this," Cody said, holdingup the lightsaber his men had recovered from a traffic tunnel. "I believe you dropped it, sir."

"Ah. Ah, yes."

The weapon floated gently up to Kenobi's hand, and whenhe smiled down at the clone commander again, Cody couldswear the Jedi Master was blushing, just a bit. "No, ah, need to mention this to, erm, Anakin, is there, Cody?" Cody grinned. "Is that an order, sir?" Kenobi shook his head, chuckling tiredly. "Let's go. You'llhave noticed I did manage to leave a few droids for you..."

"Yes, sir." A silent buzzing vibration came from a compart-ment concealed within his armor. Cody frowned. "Go on ahead,General. We'll be right behind you."

That concealed compartment held a secure comlink, which was frequency-locked to a channel reserved for the commanderin chief.

Kenobi nodded and spoke to his mount, and the great beastoverleapt the clone commander on its way down into the battle.

Cody withdrew the comlink from his armor and triggered it.

A holoscan appeared on the palm of his gauntlet: a hoodedman.

"It is time,"the holoscan said. "Execute Order Sixty-Six." Cody responded as he had been trained since before he'deven awakened in his creche-school. "It will be done, my lord."

The holoscan vanished. Cody stuck the comlink back into itsconcealed recess and frowned down toward where Kenobi rode his dragonmount into selflessly heroic battle.

Cody was a clone. He would execute the order faithfully, without hesitation or regret. But he was also human enough to mutterglumly, "Would it have been too much to ask for the order to havecome through before I gave him back the bloody lightsaber ... ?"

The order is given once. Its wave-front spreads to clone commanders on Kashyyyk and Felucia, Mygeeto and Tellanroaeg andevery battlefront, every military installation, every hospital andrehab center and spaceport cantina in the galaxy.

Except for Coruscant.

On Coruscant, Order Sixty-Six is already being executed.

Dawn crept across Galactic City. Fingers of morning brought a rose-colored glow to the wind-smeared upper reach of a vasttwisting cone of smoke.

Bail Organa was a man not given to profanity, but when hecaught a glimpse of the source of that smoke from the pilot'schair of his speeder, the curse it brought to his lips would havemade a Corellian dockhand blush.

He stabbed a code that canceled his speeder's programmedroute toward the Senate Office Building, then grabbed the yokeand kicked the craft into a twisting dive that shot him throughhalf a dozen crisscrossing streams of air traffic.

He triggered his speeder's comm. "Antilles!"

The answer from the captain of his personal crew was instant."Yes, my lord?"

"Route an alert to SER," he ordered. "The Jedi Temple is onfire!"

"Yes, sir. We know. Senate Emergency Response has announceda state of martial law, and the Temple is under lockdown. There'sbeen some kind of Jedi rebellion."

"What are you talking about? That's impossible. Why aren't there fireships onstation?"

"I don't have any details, my lord; we only know what SER istelling us."

"Look, I'm right on top of it. I'm going down there to findout what's happening."

"My lord, I wouldn't recommend it— "

"I won't take any chances." Bail hauled the control yoke toslew the speeder toward the broad landing deck on the roof ofthe Temple ziggurat. "Speaking of not taking chances, Captain:order the duty crew onto the Tantive and get her engines warm.I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Sir?"

"Just do it."

Bail set the speeder down only a few meters from the deck entrance and hopped out. A squad of clone troopers stood in theopen doorway. Smoke billowed out from the hallway behindthem. One of the troopers lifted a hand as Bail approached. "Don'tworry, sir, everything is under control here."

"Under control? Where are the SER teams? What is the army doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I can't talk about that, sir."

"Has there been some kind of attack on the Temple?"

"I'm sorry, I can't talk about that, sir."

"Listen to me, Sergeant, I am a Senator of the Galactic Republic," Bail said, improvising, "and I am late for a meeting withthe Jedi Council—"

"The Jedi Council is not in session, sir."

"Maybe you should let me see for myself."

The four clones moved together to block his path. "I'msorry, sir. Entry is forbidden."

"I am a Senator —"

"Yes, sir." The clone sergeant snapped his DC-15 to hisshoulder, and Bail, blinking, found himself staring into its blackened muzzle from close enough to kiss it. "And it is time for youto leave, sir."

"When you put it that way..."Bail backed off, lifting hishands. "Yes, all right, I'm going." A burst of blasterfire ripped through the smoke and scatteredinto the dawn outside. Bail stared with an open mouth as a Jedi flashed out of nowhere and started cutting down clones. No: nota Jedi. A boy.

A child, no more than ten years old, swinging a lightsaberwhose blade was almost as long as he was tall. More blasterfirecame from inside, and a whole platoon of clones came peltingtoward the landing deck, and the ten-year-old was hit, and hit again, and then just shot to rags among the bodies of the troopers he'd killed, and Bail started backing away, faster now, and inthe middle of it all, a clone wearing the colors of a commandercame out of the smoke and pointed at Bail Organa."No witnesses," the commmander said. "Kill him."

Bail ran.

He dived through a hail of blasterfire, hit the deck, androlled under his speeder to the opposite side. He grabbed on toits pilot's-side door and swung his leg onto a tail fin, using thevehicle's body as cover while he stabbed the keys to reinitialize itsautorouter. Clones charged toward him, firing as they came. His speeder heeled over and blasted away.

Bail pulled himself inside as the speeder curved up into thecongested traffic lanes. He was white as flimsiplast, and his handswere shaking so badly he could barely activate his comm.

"Antilles! Organa to Antilles. Come in, Captain!"

"Antilles here, my lord."

"It's worse than I thought. Far worse than you've heard.Send someone to Chance Palp—no, strike that. Go yourself.Take five men and go to the spaceport. I know at least one Jediship is on the ground there; Saesee Tiin brought in Sharp Spiral late last night. I need you to steal his homing beacon."

"What? His beacon? Why?"

"No time to explain. Get the beacon and meet me at theTantive.We're leaving the planet." He stared back at the vast column of smoke that boiled from the Jedi Temple.

"While we still can."

Clone Wars have always been, in and of themselves, from their very inception, the revenge of the Sith. They were irresistible bait. They took place in remote locations, on planets that belonged, primarily, to

"somebody else." They were fought by expendable proxies. And they were constructed as a win-win situation.

The Clone Wars were the perfect Jedi trap.

By fighting at all, the Jedi lost.

With the Jedi Order overextended, spread thin across thegalaxy, each Jedi is alone, surrounded only by whatever clonetroops he, she, or it commands. War itself pours darkness intothe Force, deepening the cloud that limits Jedi perception. And the clones have no malice, no hatred, not the slightest ill intent that might give warning. They are only following orders.

In this case, Order Sixty-Six.

Hold-out blasters appear in clone hands. ARC-170s dropback onto the tails of Jedi star fighters. AT-STs swivel their guns.Turrets on hovertanks swung silently.

Clones open fire, and Jedi die.

All across the galaxy. All at once.

Jedi die.

Order Sixty-Six is the climax of the Clone Wars.

Not the end—the Clone Wars will end some few hours from now, when a coded signal, sent by Nute Gunray from the secretSeparatist bunker on Mustafar, deactivates every combat droid inthe galaxy at once—but the climax.

It's not a thrilling climax; it's not the culmination of an epicstruggle. Just the opposite, in fact. The Clone Wars were never an epic struggle. They were never intended to be.

What is happening right now is why the Clone Wars werefought in the first place. It is their reason for existence. TheKenobi never saw it coming.

Cody had coordinated the heavy-weapons operators fromfive different companies spread over an arc of three different levels of the sinkhole-city. He'd served under Kenobi in more thana dozen operations since the beginning of the Outer Rim sieges, and he had a very clear and unsentimental estimate of just howhard to kill the unassuming Jedi Master was. He wasn't takingany chances. He raised his comlink. "Execute."

On that order, T-21 muzzles swung, shoulder-fired torpslocked on, and proton grenade launchers angled to precisely calibrated elevations.

"Fire."

They did.

Kenobi, his dragonmount, and all five of the destroyer droidshe'd been fighting vanished in a fireball that for an instant outshone Utapau's sun.

Visual polarizers in Cody's helmet cut the glare by 78 percent; his vision cleared in plenty of time to see shreds of dragon-mount and twisted hunks of droid raining into the ocean mouthat the bottom of the sinkhole.

Cody scowled and keyed his comlink. "Looks like the lizardtook the worst of it. Deploy the seekers. All of them."

He stared down into the boil of the ocean mouth.

"I want to see the body."

C-3PO paused in the midst of dusting the Tarka-Null original onits display pedestal near his mistress's bedroom view wall, andused the electrostatic tissue to briefly polish his own photoreceptors. The astromech in the green Jedi starfighter docking withthe veranda below—could that be R2-D2? Well, this should be interesting.

Senator Amidala had spent the better part of these predawn hours simply staring over the city, toward the plume of smokethat rose from the Jedi Temple; now, at last, she might get someanswers. He might, too. R2-D2 was far from the sort of sparklingconversationalist with whom C-3PO preferred to associate, butthe little astromech had a positive gift for jacking himself into themotherboards of the most volatile situations...

The cockpit popped open, and inevitably the Jedi within was revealed to be Anakin Skywalker. In watching Master Anakin climb down from the starfighter's cockpit, 3PO's photoreceptors captured data that unexpectedly activated his threat-aversion subroutines. "Oh," he said faintly, clutching at his power core."Oh, I don't like the looks of this at all..."

He dropped the electrostatic tissue and shuffled as quickly ashe could to the bedroom door. "My lady," he called to SenatorAmidala, where she stood by the broad window. "On the veranda. A Jedi starfighter," he forced out. "Has docked, my lady."

She blinked, then rushed toward the bedroom door.

C-3PO shuffled along behind her and slipped out throughthe open door, making a wide circle around the humans, whowere engaged in one of those inexplicable embraces they seemed so fond of. Reaching the starfighter, he said, "Artoo, are you all right?

What is going on?"

The astromech squeaked and beeped; C-3PO's autotranslatorinterpreted:NOBODY TELLS ME ANYTHING.

"Of course not. You don't keep up your end of the conversation." A whirring squeal:SOMETHING'S WRONG. THE FACTORS DON'TBALANCE.

"You can't possibly be more confused than I am."

YOU'RE RIGHT. NOBODY CAN BE MORE CONFUSED THAN YOU ARE.

"Oh, very funny. Hush now—what was that?" The Senator was sitting now, leaning distractedly on one of the tasteful, elegant bistro tables that dotted the veranda, whileMaster Anakin stood above her. "I think—he's saying something about a rebellion —that the Jedi have tried to overthrow the Republic!

And—oh, my goodness. Mace Windu has tried to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine! Can he be serious?"

I DON'T KNOW. ANAKIN DOESN'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE.

C-3PO shook his cranial assembly helplessly. "How can Master Windu be an assassin? He has such impeccable manners."

LIKE I TOLD YOU: THE FACTORS DON'T ADD UP.

"I've been hearing the most awful rumors—they're sayingthe government is going to banish us—banish droids, can youimagine?"

DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU HEAR.

"Shh. Not so loud!"

I'M ONLY SAYING THAT WE DON'T KNOW THE TRUTH.

"Of course we don't." C-3PO sighed. "And we likely neverwill."

"What about Obi-Wan?"

She looked stricken. Pale and terrified.

It made him love her more.

He shook his head. "Many of the Jedi have been killed."

"But..."She stared out at the rivers of traffic crosshatchingthe sky. "Are you sure? It seems so... unbelievable... "

"I was there, Padme. It's all true."

"But... but how could Obi-Wan be involved in somethinglike that?" He said, "We may never know."

"Outlawed...," she murmured. "What happens now?"

"All Jedi are required to surrender themselves immediately,"he said. "Those who resist... are being dealt with."

"Anakin—they're your family —"

"They're traitors. You're my family. You and the baby."

"How can all of them be traitors—?"

"They're not the only ones. There were Senators in this aswell." Now, finally, she looked at him, and fear shone from her eyes.

He smiled.

"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

"To me?"

"You need to distance yourself from your... friends... inthe Senate, Padme. It's very important to avoid even the appearance of disloyalty."

"Anakin—you sound like you're threatening me..."

"This is a dangerous time," he said. "We are all judged by thecompany we keep."

"But—I've opposed the war, I opposed Palpatine's emergency powers—I publicly called him a threat to democracy!"

"That's all behind us now."

" What is? What I've done? Or democracy?"

"Padme—"

Her chin came up, and her eyes hardened. "Am I under suspicion?"

"Palpatine and I have discussed you already. You're in theclear, so long as you avoid... inappropriate associations."

"How am I in the clear?''

"Because you're with me. Because I say youare."She stared at him as if she'd never seen him before.

"You toldhim."

"He knew."

"Anakin—"

"There's no more need for secrets, Padme. Don't you see?I'm not a Jedi anymore.There aren't any Jedi. There's just me ."He reached for her hand. She let him take it. "And you, and our child."

"Then we can go, can't we?" Her hard stare melted to nakedappeal. "We can leave this planet. Go somewhere we can betogether—somewhere safe."

"We'll be together here,''' he said. "You are safe. I have made you safe."

"Safe," she echoed bitterly, pulling her hand away. "As longas Palpatine doesn't change his mind." The hand she had pulled from his grasp was trembling.

"The Separatist leadership is in hiding on Mustafar. I'm on my way to deal with them right now."

"Dealwith them?" The corners of her mouth drew down. "Like the Jedi are being dealt with?"

"This is an important mission. I'm going to end the war."

She looked away. "You're going alone?"

"Have faith, my love," he said.

She shook her head helplessly, and a pair of tears spilled fromher eyes. He touched them with his mechanical hand; the fingertips of his black glove glistened in the dawn.

Two liquid gems, indescribably precious—because they werehis.He had earned them. As he had earned her; as he had earnedthe child she bore.

He had paid for them with innocent blood.

"I love you," he said. "This won't take long. Wait for me." Fresh tears streamed onto her ivory cheeks, and she threwherself into his arms. "Always, Anakin. Forever. Come back tome, my love—my life. Come back to me."

He smiled down on her. "You say that like I'm alreadygone."

Icy salt water shocked Obi-Wan back to full consciousness. Hehung in absolute blackness; there was no telling how far underwater he might be, nor even which direction might be up. Hislungs were choked, half full of water, but he didn't panic or evenparticularly worry; mostly, he was vaguely pleased to discover that even in his semiconscious fall, he'd managed to hang on tohis lightsaber. He clipped it back to his belt by feel, and—using only a minorexercise of Jedi discipline to suppress convulsive coughing—hecontracted his diaphragm, forcing as much water from his lungs as he could. He took from his equipment belt his rebreather, anda small compressed-air canister intended for use in an emergency,when the breathable environment was not adequate to sustainhis life. Obi-Wan was fairly certain that his current situation qualifiedas an emergency. He remembered...

Boga's wrenching leap, twisting in the air, the shock of impacts, multiple detonations blasting both of them farther and farther out from the sinkhole wall...

Using her massive body to shield Obi-Wan from his owntroops.

Boga had known, somehow... the dragonmount had knownwhat Obi-Wan had been incapable of even suspecting, and without hesitation she'd given her life to save her rider. I suppose that makes me more than her rider,Obi-Wanthought as he discarded the canister and got his rebreathersnugged into place. I suppose that makes me her friend. It certainly made her mine. He let grief take him for a moment; grief not for the death of a noble beast, but for how little time Obi-Wan had had to appreciate the gift of his friend's service.

But even grief is an attachment, and Obi-Wan let it flow outof his life.

Good-bye, my friend.

He didn't try to swim; he seemed to be hanging motionless,suspended in infinite night. He relaxed, regulated his breathing,and let the water take him whither it would.

C-3PO barely had time to wish his little friend good luck andremind him to stay alert as Master Anakin brushed past himand climbed into the starfighter's cockpit, then fired the engineand blasted off, taking R2-D2 goodness knows where—probablyto some preposterously horrible alien planet and into a perfectlyridiculous amount of danger—with never a thought how hisloyal droid might feel about being dragged across the galaxy without so much as a by-your-leave...

Really, what bad happened to that young man's manners? He turned to Senator Amidala and saw that she was crying.

"Is there anything I can do, my lady?"

She didn't even turn his way. "No, thank you, Threepio."

"A snack, perhaps?"

She shook her head.

"A glass of water?"

"No."

All he could do was stand there. "I feel so helpless... " She nodded, looking away again, up at the fading spark ofher husband's starfighter.

"I know, Threepio," she said. "We all do."

In the underground shiplift beneath the Senate Office Building, Bail Organa was scowling as he boarded Tantive IV. WhenCaptain Antilles met him at the top of the landing ramp, Bail nodded backward at the scarlet-clad figures posted around theaccessways. "Since when do Redrobes guard Senate ships?" Antilles shook his head. "I don't know, sir. I have a feelingthere are some Senators whom Palpatine doesn't want leaving the planet."

Bail nodded. "Thank the Force I'm not one of them. Yet.Did you get the beacon?"

"Yes, sir. No one even tried to stop us. The clones at ChancePalp seemed confused—like they're not quite sure who's incharge."

"That'll change soon. Too soon. We'll all know who's incharge," Bail said grimly. "Prepare to raise ship."

"Back to Alderaan, sir?"

Bail shook his head. "Kashyyyk. There's no way to know ifany Jedi have lived through this—but if I had to bet on one, mymoney'd be on Yoda."

Some undefinable time later, Obi-Wan felt his head andshoulders breach the surface of the lightless ocean. He unclippedhis lightsaber and raised it over his head. In its blue glow hecould see that he had come up in a large grotto; holding thelightsaber high, he tucked away his rebreather and sidestroked across the current to a rock outcropping that was rugged enoughto offer handholds. He pulled himself out of the water.

The walls of the grotto above the waterline were pocked with openings; after inspecting the mouths of several caves, Obi-Wancame upon one where he felt a faint breath of moving air. It hada distinctly unpleasant smell—it reminded him more than a bit ofthe dragonmount pen—but when he doused his lightsaber for amoment and listened very closely, he could hear a faint rumblethat might have been distant wheels and repulsorlifts passingover sandstone—and what was that? An air horn? Or possibly avery disturbed dragon... at any rate, this seemed to be the appropriate path.

He had walked only a few hundred meters before the gloomahead of him was pierced by the white glare of high-intensitysearchlights. He let his blade shrink away and pressed himselfinto a deep, narrow crack as a pair of seeker droids floated past.Apparently Cody hadn't given up yet. Their searchlights illuminated—and, apparently, awakened—some sort of immense amphibian cousin of a dragonmount; itblinked sleepily at them as it lifted its slickly glisteningstarfighter-sized head. Oh,Obi-Wan thought. That explains the smell. He breathed into the Force a suggestion that these small bobbing spheroids of circuitry and durasteel were actually, contrary to smell and appearance, some unexpected variety of immortally delicious confection sent down from the heavens by thekindly gods of Huge Slimy Cave-Monsters.

The Huge Slimy Cave-Monster in question promptly openedjaws that could engulf a bantha and snapped one of the seekersfrom the air, chewing it to slivers with every evidence of satisfaction. The second seeker emitted a startled and thoroughlyalarmed wheeepwheepwheep and shot away into the darkness, withthe creature in hot pursuit.

Reigniting his lightsaber and moving cautiously back outinto the cavern, Obi-Wan came upon a nest of what must havebeen infant Huge Slimy Cave-Monsters; picking his way around it as they lunged and snapped and squalled at him, he reflectedabsently that people who thought all babies were cute should really get out more.

Obi-Wan walked, and occasionally climbed or slid or had toleap, and walked some more. Soon the darkness in the cavern gave way to the pale glow ofUtapaun traffic lighting, and Obi-Wan found himself standing ina smallish side tunnel off a major thoroughfare. This was clearlylittle traveled, though; the sandy dust on its floor was so thick itwas practically a beach. In fact, he could clearly see the tracks of the last vehicle to pass this way.

Broad parallel tracks pocked with divots: a blade-wheeler.

And beside them stretched long splay-clawed prints of a running dragon.

Obi-Wan blinked in mild astonishment. He had never entirely grown accustomed to the way the Force always camethrough for him—but neither was he reluctant to accept its gifts.Frowning thoughtfully, he followed the tracks a short distance around a curve, until the tunnel gave way to the small landing platform.

Grievous's starfighter was still there. As were the remains ofGrievous.

Apparently not even the local rock-vultures could stomachhim.

TantiveIV swept through the Kashyyyk system on silent running; this was still a combat zone. Captain Antilles wouldn't evenrisk standard scans, because they could so easily be detected andbacktraced by Separatist forces.

And the Separatists weren't the only ones Antilles was worried about.

"There's the signal again, sir. Whoops. Wait, I'll get it back."Antilles fiddled some more with the controls on the beacon."Blasted thing," he muttered. "What, you can't calibrate it without using the Force?" Bail stared through the forward view wall. Kashyyyk was onlya tiny green disk two hundred thousand kilometers away. "Doyou have a vector?"

"Roughly, sir. It seems to be on an orbital tangent, headedoutsystem."

"I think we can risk a scan. Tight beam."

"Very well, sir."

Antilles gave the necessary orders, and moments later thescan tech reported that the object they'd picked up seemed to be some sort of escape pod. "It's not a Republic model, sir—wait, here comes the database—"

The scan tech frowned at his screen. "It's... Wookiee, sir. That doesn't make any sense. Why would a Wookiee escape pod be outbound from Kashyyyk?"

"Interesting." Bail didn't yet allow himself to hope. "Lifesigns?"

"Yes—well, maybe... this reading doesn't make any..."The scan tech could only shrug. "I'm not sure, sir. Whatever it is,it's no Wookiee, that's for sure..."

For the first time all day, Bail Organa allowed himself tosmile. "Captain Antilles?" The captain saluted crisply. "On our way, sir."

Obi-Wan took General Grievous's starfighter screaming out of the atmosphere so fast he popped the gravity well and madejump before the Vigilance could even scramble its fighters. He reverted to realspace well beyond the system, kicked the starfighterto a new vector, and jumped again. A few more jumps of randomdirection and duration left him deep in interstellar space.

"You know," he said to himself, "integral hyperspace capability is rather useful in a starfighter; why don't we have it yet?"

While the starfighter's nav system whirred and chunked itsway through recalculating his position, he punched codes togang his Jedi comlink into the starfighter's system.

Instead of a holoscan, the comlink generated an audiosignal—an accelerating series of beeps. Obi-Wan knew that signal. Every Jedi did. It was the recallcode.

It was being broadcast on every channel by every HoloNet repeater. It was supposed to mean that the war was over. It wassupposed to mean that the Council had ordered all Jedi to return to the Temple immediately.

Obi-Wan suspected it actually meant what had happened onUtapau was far from an isolated incident. He keyed the comlink for audio. He took a deep breath.

"Emergency Code Nine Thirteen," he said, and waited.

The starfighter's comm system cycled through every response frequency.

He waited some more.

"Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Repeat: Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. Are there any Jedi outthere?"

He waited. His heart thumped heavily."Any Jedi, please respond. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi declaringa Nine Thirteen Emergency."

He tried to ignore the small, still voice inside his head thatwhispered he might just be the only one out here.

He might just be the only one, period.

He started punching coordinates for a single jump thatwould bring him close enough to pick up a signal directly from Coruscant when a burst of fuzz came over his comlink. A quick glance confirmed the frequency: a Jedi channel.

"Please repeat," Obi-Wan said. "I'm locking onto your signal. Please repeat." The fuzz became a spray of blue laser, which gradually resolved into a fuzzy figure of a tall, slim human with dark hair andan elegant goatee. "Master Kenobi? Are you all right? Have you been wounded?"

"Senator Organa!" Obi-Wan exclaimed with profound relief."No, I'm not wounded—but I'm certainly not all right. I needhelp. My clones turned on me. I barely escaped with my life!"

"There have been ambushes all over the galaxy."

Obi-Wan lowered his head, offering a silent wish to theForce that the victims might find peace within it.

"Have you had contact with any other survivors?"

"Only one,"the Alderaanian Senator said grimly. "Lock onto my coordinates. He's waiting for you." A curve of knuckle, skinned, black scab corrugated with dirtand leaking red—the fringe of fray at the cuff of a beige sleeve, dark, crustedwith splatter from the death of a general—the tawny swirl of grain in wine-dark tabletop of polishedAlderaanian kriin—

These were what Obi-Wan Kenobi could look at withoutstarting to shake.

The walls of the small conference room on Tantive IV weretoo featureless to hold his attention; to look at a wall allowed hismind to wander...

And the shaking began.

The shaking got worse when he met the ancient green stareof the tiny alien seated across the table from him, for that wrinkled leather skin and those tufts of withered hair were his earliestmemory, and they reminded Obi-Wan of the friends who haddied today.

The shaking got worse still when he turned to the otherbeing in the room, because he wore politician's robes that reminded Obi-Wan of the enemy who yet lived.

The deception. The death of Jedi Masters he had admired, ofJedi Knights who had been his friends. The death of his oath toQui-Gon.

The death of Anakin.

Anakin must have fallen along with Mace and Agen, Saeseeand Kit; fallen along with the Temple. Along with the Order itself.

Ashes.

Ashes and dust.

Twenty-five thousand years wiped from existence in a singleday.

All the dreams. All the promises.

All the children...

"We took them from their homes." Obi-Wan fought to stay inhis chair; the pain inside him demanded motion. It became wave after wave of tremors. "We promised their families —"

"Control yourself, you must; still Jedi, you are!"

"Yes, Master Yoda." That scab on his knuckle—focused onthat, he could suppress the shaking. "Yes, we are Jedi. But whatif we're the last?"

"If the last we are, unchanged our duty is." Yoda settled hischin onto hands folded over the head of his gimer stick. Helooked every day of his nearly nine hundred years. "While oneJedi lives, survive the Order does. Resist the darkness with everybreath, we must."

He lifted his head and the stick angled to poke Obi-Wan inthe shin. "Especially the darkness in ourselves, young one. Of thedark side, despair is."

The simple truth of this called to him. Even despair is attachment: it is a grip clenched upon pain. Slowly, very slowly, Obi-Wan Kenobi remembered what itwas to be a Jedi.

He leaned back in his chair and covered his face with both hands, inhaling a thin stream of air between his palms; into himself with the air he brought pain and guilt and remorse, and as he exhaled, they trailed away and vanished in the air.

He breathed out his whole life.

Everything he had done, everything he had been, friends and enemies, dreams and hopes and fears. Empty, he found clarity. Scrubbed clean, the Force shonethrough him. He sat up and nodded to Yoda.

"Yes," he said. "We may be the last. But what if we're not?" Green leather brows drew together over lambent eyes. "TheTemple beacon."

"Yes. Any surviving Jedi might still obey the recall, and bekilled." Bail Organa looked from one Jedi to the other, frowning.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Obi-Wan replied, "that we have to go back toCoruscant."

"It's too dangerous," the Senator said instantly. "The wholeplanet is a trap —"

"Yes. We have a—ah..."

The loss of Anakin stabbed him.

Then he let that go, too.

" I have," he corrected himself, "a policy on traps..."

=19=

THE FACE OF THE SITH

Mustafar burned with lava streaming from volcanoes ofglittering obsidian. At the fringe of its gravity well, a spray of prismatic starlightwarped a starfighter into existence. Declamping from its hyperdrive ring, the starfighter streaked into an atmosphere chokedwith dense smoke and cinders.

The starfighter followed a preprogrammed course towardthe planet's lone installation, an automated lava mine built originally by the Techno Union to draw precious metals from thecontinuous rivers of burning stone. Upgraded with the finestmechanized defenses that money could buy, the settlement hadbecome the final redoubt of the leaders of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It was absolutely impenetrable.

Unless one had its deactivation codes.

Which was how the starfighter could land without causingthe installation's defenses to so much as stir. The habitable areas of the settlement were spread among towers that looked like poisonous toadstools sprung from thebank of a river of fire. The main control center squatted atop thelargest, beside the small landing deck where the starfighter hadalit. It was from this control center, less than an hour before, thata coded command had been transmitted over every HoloNet repeater in the galaxy. At that signal, every combat droid in every army on everyplanet marched back to its transport, resocketed itself, andturned itself off. The Clone Wars were over.

Almost.

There was a final detail.

A dark-cloaked figure swung down from the cockpit of thestarfighter.

Bail Organa strode onto the Tan-five's shuttle deck to findObi-Wan and Yoda gazing dubiously at the tiny cockpit of Obi-Wan's starfighter. "I suppose," Obi-Wan was saying reluctantly,"if you don't mind riding on my lap..."

"That may not be necessary," Bail said. "I've just been summoned back to Coruscant by Mas Amedda; Palpatine hascalled the Senate into Extraordinary Session. Attendance is required."

"Ah." Obi-Wan's mouth turned downward. "It's clear whatthis will be about."

"I am," Bail said slowly, "concerned it might be a trap."

"Unlikely this is." Yoda hobbled toward him. "Unknown, isthe purpose of your sudden departure from the capital; dead,young Obi-Wan and I are both presumed to be."

"And Palpatine won't be moving against the Senate as awhole," Obi-Wan added. "At least, not yet; he'll need the illusion of democracy to keep the individual star systems in line. Hewon't risk a general uprising." Bail nodded. "In that case—" He took a deep breath."—perhaps I can offer Your Graces a lift?" Inside the control center of the Separatist bunker on Mustafar...Wat Tambor was adjusting the gas mix inside his armor—Poggle the Lesser was massaging his fleshy lip-tendrils—Shu Mai was fiddling with the brass binding that restrainedher hair into the stylish curving horn that rose behind her head—San Hill was stretching his bodystocking, which had begunto ride up in the crotch—Rune Haako was shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot—While Nute Gunray spoke to the holopresence of DarthSidious.

"The plan has gone exactly as you promised, my lord," Gun-ray said. "This is a glorious day for the galaxy!"

"Yes, indeed. Thanks, in great part, to you, Viceroy, and to yourassociates of the Techno Union and the IBC. And, of course, Archduke Toggle. You have all performed magnificently. Have yourdroid armies completed shutdown?"

"Yes, my lord. Nearly an hour ago."

"Excellent! You will be handsomely rewarded. Has my new apprentice, Darth Vader, arrived?"

"His ship touched down only a moment ago."

"Good, good,"the holoscan of the cloaked man said pleasantly. "I have left your reward in his hands. He will take care of you."

The door cycled open.

A tall cloaked figure, slim but broad-shouldered, face shadowed by a heavy hood, stood in the doorway.San Hill beat the others to the greeting. "Welcome, LordVader!" His elongated legs almost tangled with each other in hisrush to shake the hand of the Sith Lord. "On behalf of the leadership of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, let me be thefirst to—"

"Very well. You will be the first."

The cloaked figure stepped inside and made a gesture with ablack-gloved hand. Blast doors slammed across every exit. Thecontrol panel exploded in a shower of sparking wires. The cloaked figure threw back its hood.

San Hill recoiled, hands flapping like panicked birds sewn tohis wrists.

He had time to gasp, "You're—you're Anakin Skywalker!" before a fountain of blue-white plasma burned into his chest,curving through a loop that charred all three of his hearts. The Separatist leadership watched in frozen horror as thecorpse of the head of the InterGalactic Banking Clan collapsed like a depowered protocol droid.

"The resemblance," Darth Vader said, "is deceptive."

The Senate Guard blinked, then straightened and smoothedthe drape of his robe. He risked a glance at his partner, whoflanked the opposite side of the door.

Had they really just gotten as lucky as he thought they had?

Were this Senator and his aides really walking right out of theturbolift with a couple of as-yet-uncaptured Jedi?

Wow. Promotions all around.

The guard tried not to stare at the two Jedi, and did his best to sound professional. "Welcome back, Senator. May I see yourclearance?"

An identichip was produced without hesitation: Bail Organa, senior Senator from Alderaan.

"Thank you. You may proceed." The guard handed back theidentichip. He was rather pleased with how steady and businesslike he sounded. "We will take custody of the Jedi." Then the taller of the two Jedi murmured gently that itwould be better if he and his counterpart were to stay with theSenator, and really, he seemed like such a reasonable fellow, andit was such a good idea—after all, the Grand Convocation Chamber of the Galactic Senate was so secure there was really no wayfor a Jedi to cause any trouble for anyone and they could just aseasily be apprehended on their way out, and the guard didn't want to seem like an unreasonable fellow himself, and so hefound himself nodding and agreeing that yes, indeed, it would bebetter if the Jedi stayed with the Senator. And everyone was so reasonable and agreeable that it seemedperfectly reasonable and agreeable to the guard that the Jedi andthe Senator, instead of staying together as they'd said, made low-voiced Force-be-with-you farewells; it never occurred to the guardto object even when the Senator entered the ConvocationChamber and the two Jedi headed off for... well, apparently,somewhere else. All eight members of Decoy Squad Five were deployed at adownlevel loading dock, where supplies that Jedi could not growin their own Temple gardens had been delivered daily.

Not anymore.

This deep in Coruscant's downlevels, the sun never shone;the only illumination came from antiquated glow globes, theirfaded light yellow as ancient parchment, that only darkened theshadows around. In those shadows lived the dregs of the galaxy, squatters and scavengers, madmen and fugitives from the justice above. Parts of Coruscant's downlevels could be worse than NarShaddaa. The men of Decoy Squad Five would have been alert on anypost. They were bred to be. Here, though, they were in a combat zone, where their lives and their missions depended on their perceptions, and on how fast their blasters could come out from inside those Jedi-style robes. So when a ragged, drooling hunchback lurched out of thegloom nearby, a bundle cradled in his arms, Decoy Squad Fivetook it for granted that he was a threat. Blasters appeared withmiraculous speed.

"Halt. Identify yourself."

"No, no, no, Yer Graces, oh, no, I'm bein' here to help, y'see,I'm on yerr side!" The hunchback slurped drool back into hisslack lips as he lurched toward them. "Lookit I got here, I mean,lookit—'sa Jedi babby, ennit?"

The sergeant of the squad squinted at the bundle in thehunchback's arms. "A Jedi baby?"

"Oooh, sher. Sher, Yer Grace. Jedi babby, sher azzell iddiz!Come from outcher Temple, dinnit? Lookit!"

The hunchback was now close enough that the sergeantcould see what he carried in his filthy bundle. It was a baby. Sortof. It was the ugliest baby the sergeant had ever seen, alien ornot, wizened and shriveled like a worn-out purse of moldlyleather, with great pop eyes and a toothless idiot's grin. The sergeant frowned skeptically. "Anyone could grab somedeformed kid and claim it's anything they want. How do youknow it's a Jedi?"

The baby said, "My lightsaber, the first clue would be,hmm?"

A burning blade of green slanted across the sergeants face soclose he could smell the ozone, and the hunchback wasn't ahunchback anymore: he now held a lightsaber the color of asummmer sky, and he said in a clipped, educated Coruscanti accent, "Please don't try to resist. No one has to get hurt." The men of Decoy Squad Five disagreed.

Six seconds later, all eight of them were dead.

Yoda looked up at Obi-Wan. "To hide the bodies, no pointthere is." Obi-Wan nodded agreement. "These are clones; an abandoned post is as much a giveaway as a pile of corpses. Let's get tothat beacon."

Bail slipped into the rear of the Naboo delegation's Senate pod as Palpatine thundered from the podium,

"These Jedi murderers left me scarred, left me deformed, but they could not scarmy integrity! They could not deform my resolve! The remainingtraitors will be hunted down, rooted out wherever they mayhide, and brought to justice, dead or alive! All collaborators willsuffer the same fate. Those who protect the enemy are theenemy! Now is the time! Now we will strike back! Now we willdestroythe destroyers! Death to the enemies of democracy!"

The Senate roared.

Amidala didn't even glance at Bail as he slid into a seat besideher. On the opposite side, Representative Binks nodded at himbut said nothing, blinking solemnly. Bail frowned; if even the irrepressible Jar Jar was worried, this looked to be even worse thanhe'd expected. And he had expected it to be very, very bad. He touched Amidala's arm softly. "It's all a lie. You knowthat, don't you?" She stared frozenly toward the podium. Her eyes glistenedwith unshed tears. "I don't know what I know. Not anymore.Where have you been?"

"I was... held up." As she once had told him, some thingswere better left unsaid.

"He's been presenting evidence all afternoon," she said in aflat, affectless monotone. "Not just the assassination attempt.The Jedi were about to overthrow the Senate."

"It's a lie," he said again.

In the center of the Grand Convocation Chamber, Palpatineleaned upon the Chancellor's Podium as though he drewstrength from the Great Seal on its front. "This has been themost trying of times, but we have passed the test. The war isover!"

The Senate roared.

"The Separatists have been utterly defeated, and the Repub lic will stand!United! United and free! " The Senate roared.

"The Jedi Rebellion was our final test—it was the last gasp of the forces of darkness! Now we have left that darkness behind us forever, and a new day has begun! It is morning in the Republic!" The Senate roared.

Padme stared without blinking. "Here it comes," she saidnumbly. Bail shook his head. "Here what comes?"

"You'll see."

"Never again will we be divided! Never again will sector turnagainst sector, planet turn against planet, sibling turn against sib ling.We are one nation, indivisible!" The Senate roared.

"To ensure that we will always stand together, that we willalways speak with a single voice and act with a single hand, the Republic must change. We must evolve. We must strive. We havebecome an empire in fact; let us become an Empire in name aswell! We are the first Galactic Empire!" The Senate went wild.

"What are they doing?" Bail said. "Do they understand whatthey're cheering for?" Padme shook her head.

"We are an Empire," Palpatine went on, "that will continueto be ruled by this august body! We are an Empire that will neverreturn to the political maneuvering and corruption that havewounded us so deeply; we are an Empire that will be directed bya single sovereign, chosen for life!" The Senate went wilder.

"We are an Empire ruled by the majority! An Empire ruledby a new Constitution! An Empire of laws, not of politicians! AnEmpire devoted to the preservation of a just society. Of a safe andsecuresociety!

We are an Empire that will stand ten thousand years!"

The roar of the Senate took on a continuous boiling roll likethe inside of a permanent thunderstorm.

"We will celebrate the anniversary of this day as Empire Day. For the sake of our children. For our children's children! For the next ten thousand years! Safety! Security! Justice and peace!" The Senate went berserk.

"Say it with me! Safety, Security, Justice, and Peace! Safety,Security, Justice, and Peace!" The Senate took up the chant, louder and louder until itseemed the whole galaxy roared along. Bail couldn't hear Padme over the din, but he could read herlips.

So this is how liberty dies,she was saying to herself. With cheer ing, and applause.

"We can't let this happen!" Bail lurched to his feet. "I have to get to my pod—we can still enter a motion—"

"No." Her hand seized his arm with astonishing strength,and for the first time since he'd arrived, she looked straight intohis eyes. "No, Bail, you can't enter a motion. You can't. FangZar has already been arrested, and Tundra Dowmeia, and itwon't be long until the entire Delegation of the Two Thousandare declared enemies of the state. You stayed off that list for goodreason; don't add your name by what you do today."

"But I can't just stand by and watch —"

"You're right. You can't just watch. You have to vote for him."

"What?"

"Bail, it's the only way. It's the only hope you have of remaining in a position to do anyone any good. Vote for Palpatine.Vote for the Empire. Make Mon Mothma vote for him, too. Begood little Senators. Mind your manners and keep your heads down. And keep doing... all those things we can't talk about. All those things I can't know. Promise me, Bail."

"Padme, what you're talking about—what we're not talkingabout—it could take twenty years! Are you under suspicion? What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about me," she said distantly. "I don't knowI'll live that long." Within the Separatist leadership bunker's control center weredozens of combat droids. There were armed and armoredguards. There were automated defense systems.

There were screams, and tears, and pleas for mercy.None of them mattered.The Sith had come to Mustafar.Poggle the Lesser, Archduke of Geonosis, scrambled like an animal through a litter of severed arms and legs and heads, both metal and flesh, whimpering, fluttering his ancient gauzy wingsuntil a bar of lightning flash-burned his own head free of hisneck.

Shu Mai, president and CEO of the Commerce Guild,looked up from her knees, hands clasped before her, tearsstreaming down her shriveled cheeks. "We were promised a re ward,''she gasped. "A h—h—

handsome reward—"

"I am your reward," the Sith Lord said. "You don't find mehandsome?"

"Please!"she screeched through her sobbing. "Pleee — " The blue-white blade cut into and out from her skull, andher corpse swayed. A negligent flip of the wrist slashed through her column of neck rings. Her brain-burned head tumbled to thefloor.

The only sound, then, was a panicky stutter of footfalls as Wat Tambor and the two Neimoidians scampered along a hallway toward a nearby conference room.

The Sith Lord was in no hurry to pursue. All the exits fromthe control center were blast-shielded, and they were sealed, andhe had destroyed the controls.

The conference room was, as the expression goes, a dead end.

Thousands of clone troops swarmed the Jedi Temple.Multiple battalions on each level were not just an occupying force, but engaged in the long, painstaking process of preparing dead bodies for positive identification. The Jedi dead were to be tallied against the rolls maintained in the Temple archives; the clone dead would be cross-checked with regimental rosters. Allthe dead had to be accounted for. This was turning out to be somewhat more complicated thanthe clone officers had expected. Though the fighting had ended hours ago, troopers kept turning up missing. Usually small pa-trolling squads—five troopers or less—that still made random sweeps through the Temple hallways, checking every door and window, every desk and every closet.

Sometimes when those closets were opened, what was foundinside was five dead clones. And there were disturbing reports as well; officers coordinating the sweeps recorded a string of sightings of movement—usually a flash of robe disappearing around a corner, caught in atrooper's peripheral vision—that on investigation seemed to havebeen only imagination, or hallucination. There were also multi ple reports of inexplicable sounds coming from out-of-the-wayareas that turned out to be deserted. Though clone troopers were schooled from even beforeawakening in their Kaminoan creche-schools to be ruthlessly pragmatic, materialistic, and completely impervious to superstition, some of them began to suspect that the Temple might behaunted.

In the vast misty gloom of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, one of the clones on the cleanup squad caught a glimpse ofsomeone moving beyond a stand of Hylaian marsh bamboo."Halt!" he shouted. "You there! Don't move!"

The shadowy figure darted off into the gloom, and the clone turned to his squad brothers. "Come on!

Whatever that was, we can't let it get away!"

Clones pelted off into the mist. Behind them, at the spill ofbodies they'd been working on, fog and gloom gave birth to apair of Jedi Masters.

Obi-Wan stepped over white-armored bodies to kneel besideblaster-burned corpses of children. Tears flowed freely downtracks that hadn't had a chance to dry since he'd first entered theTemple. "Not even the younglings survived. It looks like theymade a stand here."

Yoda's face creased with ancient sadness. "Or trying to fleethey were, with some turning back to slow the pursuit."

Obi-Wan turned to another body, an older one, a Jedi fullymature and beyond. Grief punched a gasp from his chest. "Master Yoda—it's the Troll... "

Yoda looked over and nodded bleakly. "Abandon his youngstudents, Cin Drallig would not." Obi-Wan sank to his knees beside the fallen Jedi. "He was mylightsaber instructor..."

"And his, was I," Yoda said. "Cripple us, grief will, if let it wedo."

"I know. But... it's one thing to know a friend is dead, Master Yoda. It's another to find his body... "

"Yes." Yoda moved closer. With his gimer stick, he pointed ata bloodless gash in Drallig's shoulder that had cloven deep intohis chest. "Yes, it is. See this, do you? This wound, no blastercould make." An icy void opened in Obi-Wan's heart. It swallowed his painand his grief, leaving behind a precariously empty calm.

He whispered, "A lightsaber?"

"Business with the recall beacon, have we still." Yodapointed with his stick at figures winding toward them among thetrees and pools. "Returning, the clones are."

Obi-Wan rose. "I will learn who did this."

"Learn?"

Yoda shook his head sadly.

"Know already, you do," he said, and hobbled off into thegloom. Darth Vader left nothing living behind when he walked fromthe main room of the control center. Casually, carelessly, he strolled along the hallway, scoring thedurasteel wall with the tip of his blade, enjoying the sizzle of disintegrating metal as he had savored the smoke of charred alienflesh. The conference room door was closed. A barrier so paltrywould be an insult to the blade; a black-gloved hand made a fist.The door crumpled and fell.

The Sith Lord stepped over it.

The conference room was walled with transparisteel. Beyond, obsidian mountains rained fire upon the land. Rivers oflava embraced the settlement.

Rune Haako, aide and confidential secretary to the viceroy ofthe Trade Federation, tripped over a chair as he stumbled back. He fell to the floor, shaking like a grub in a frying pan, trying toscrabble beneath the table.

"Stop!" he cried. "Enough! We surrender, do you understand? You can't just kill us—" The Sith Lord smiled. "Can't I?"

"We're unarmed! We surrender! Please—please, you're a Jedi!"

"You fought a war to destroy the Jedi." Vader stood abovethe shivering Neimoidian, smiling down upon him, then fed himhalf a meter of plasma. "Congratulations on your success." The Sith Lord stepped over Haako's corpse to where WatTambor clawed uselessly at the transparisteel wall with his armored gauntlets. The head of the Techno Union turned at hisapproach, cringing, arms lifted to shield his faceplate from theflames in the dragon's eyes. "Please, I'll give you anything. Anything you want!"

The blade flashed twice; Tambor's arms fell to the floor,followed by his head."Thank you."Darth Vader turned to the last living leader of the Confederacyof Independent Systems. Nute Gunray, viceroy of the Trade Federation, stood trembling in an alcove, blood-tinged tears streaming down his green-mottled cheeks. "The war...," he whimpered. "The war isover—Lord Sidious promised —he promised we would be left inpeace..."

"His transmission was garbled." The blade came up. "Hepromised you would be left in pieces.'' In the main holocomm center of the Jedi Temple, high atop the central spire, Obi-Wan used the Force to reach deep withinthe shell of the recall beacon's mechanism, subtly altering the pulse calibration to flip the signal from come home to run and hide.Done without any visible alteration, it would take thetroopers quite a while to detect the recalibration, and longer stillto reset it. This was all that could be done for any surviving Jedi:a warning, to give them a fighting chance.

Obi-Wan turned from the recall beacon to the internal security scans. He had to find out exactly what he was warning themagainst.

"Do this not," Yoda said. "Leave we must, before discoveredwe are."

"I have to see it," Obi-Wan said grimly. "Like I said downstairs: knowing is one thing. Seeing is another."

"Seeing will only cause you pain."

"Then it is pain that I have earned. I won't hide from it." Hekeyed a code that brought up a holoscan of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. "I am not afraid."

Yoda's eyes narrowed to green-gold slits. "You should be."

Stone-faced, Obi-Wan watched younglings run into theroom, fleeing a storm of blasterfire; he watched Cin Drallig anda pair of teenage Padawans—was that Whie, the boy Yoda hadbrought to Vjun?—backing into the scene, blades whirling, cutting down the advancing clone troopers with deflected bolts.

He watched a lightsaber blade flick into the shot, cuttingdown first one Padawan, then the other. He watched the brisk stride of a caped figure who hacked through Drallig's shoulder,then stood aside as the old Troll fell dying to let the rest of theclones blast the children to shreds. Obi-Wan's expression never flickered.

He opened himself to what he was about to see; he was prepared, and centered, and trusting in the Force, and yet...Then the caped man turned to meet a cloaked figure behind him, and he was—

He was—

Obi-Wan, staring, wished that he had the strength to rip hiseyes out of his head. But even blind, he would see this forever.

He would see his friend, his student, his brother, turn andkneel in front of a black-cloaked Lord of the Sith.

His head rang with a silent scream.

"The traitors have been destroyed, Lord Sidious. And thearchives are secured. Our ancient holocrons are again in the handsof the Sith."

"Good... good... Together, we shall master every secret of theForce."The Sith Lord purred like a contented rancor. "You have done well, my new apprentice. Do you feel your power growing?"

"Yes, my Master."

"Lord Vader, your skills are unmatched by any Sith before you.Go forth, my boy. Go forth, and bring peace to our Empire."

Fumbling nervelessly, Obi-Wan somehow managed to shutdown the holoscan. He leaned on the console, but his armswould not support him; they buckled and he twisted to the floor. He huddled against the console, blind with pain.

Yoda was as sympathetic as the root of a wroshyr tree.

"Warned, you were."

Obi-Wan said, "I should have let them shoot me..."

"What?"

"No. That was already too late—it was already too late atGeonosis. The Zabrak, on Naboo—I should have died there... before I ever brought him here—"

"Stopthis, you will!" Yoda gave him a stick-jab in the ribssharp enough to straighten him up. " Make a Jedi fall, one cannot; beyond even Lord Sidious, this is. Chose this, Skywalker did." Obi-Wan lowered his head. "And I'm afraid I might knowwhy."

"Why? Why matters not. There is no why. There is only aLord of the Sith, and his apprentice. Two Sith." Yoda leanedclose. "And two Jedi."

Obi-Wan nodded, but he still couldn't meet the gaze of theancient Master. "I'll take Palpatine."

"Strong enough to face Lord Sidious, you will never be. Dieyou will, and painfully."

"Don't make me kill Anakin," he said. "He's like my brother, Master."

"The boy you trained, gone he is—twisted by the dark side.Consumed by Darth Vader. Out of this misery, you must puthim. To visit our new Emperor, my job will be." Now Obi-Wan did face him. "Palpatine faced Mace andAgen and Kit and Saesee—four of the greatest swordsmen our Order has ever produced. By himself. Even both of us togetherwouldn't have a chance."

"True," Yoda said. "But both of us apart, a chance we mightcreate..."

=20=

CHIAROSCURO

C-3PO identified the craft docking on the veranda as aDC0052 Intergalactic Speeder; to be on the safe side, he left thesecurity curtain engaged.

In these troubled times, safety outweighed courtesy, even forhim.

A cloaked and hooded human male emerged from theDC0052 and approached the veil of energy. C-3PO moved to meet him. "Hello, may I help you?"

The human lifted his hands to his hood; instead of taking itdown, he folded it back far enough that C-3PO could registerthe distinctive relationship of eyes, nose, mouth, and beard.

"Master Kenobi!" C-3PO had long ago been given detailedand quite specific instructions on the procedure for dealing with the unexpected arrival of furtive Jedi.

He instantly deactivated the security curtain and beckoned."Come inside, quickly. You may be seen." As C-3PO swiftly ushered him into the sitting room, MasterKenobi asked, "Has Anakin been here?"

"Yes," C-3PO said reluctantly. "He arrived shortly after he and the army saved the Republic from the Jedi Rebellion—"

He cut himself off when he noticed that Master Kenobi suddenly looked fully prepared to dismantle him bolt by bolt. Perhaps he should not have been so quick to let the Jedi in.Wasn't he some sort of outlaw, now?

"I, ah, I should—" C-3PO stammered, backing away. "I'lljust go get the Senator, shall I? She's been lying down—after theGrand Convocation this morning, she didn't feel entirely well,and so—" The Senator appeared at the top of the curving stairway, belting a soft robe over her dressing gown, and C-3PO decided his most appropriate course of action would be to discreetly withdraw. But not too far; if Master Kenobi was up to mischief, C-3POhad to be in a position to alert Captain Typho and the securitystaff on the spot.

Senator Amidala certainly didn't seem inclined to treat Master Kenobi as a dangerous outlaw... Quite the contrary, in fact: she seemed to have fallen into his arms, and her voice was thoroughly choked with emotion as sheexpressed a possibly inappropriate level of joy at finding the Jedistill alive. There followed some discussion that C-3PO didn't entirelyunderstand; it was political information entirely outside his programming, having to do with Master Anakin, and the Republichaving fallen, whatever that meant, and with something called aSith Lord, and Chancellor Palpatine, and the dark side of theForce, and really, he couldn't make sense of any of it. The only parts he clearly understood had to do with the Jedi Order being outlawed and all but wiped out (that news had been all over theLipartian Way this morning) and the not-altogether-unexpectedrevelation that Master Kenobi had come here seeking MasterAnakin. They were partners, after all (though despite all their yearstogether, Master Anakin's recent behavior made it sadly clear thatMaster Kenobi's lovely manners had entirely failed to rub off).

"When was the last time you saw him? Do you know wherehe is?"

C-3PO's photoreceptors registered the Senator's flush as shelowered her eyes and said, "No." Three years running the household of a career politicianstopped C-3PO from popping back out and reminding the Senator that Master Anakin had told her just yesterday he was on hisway to Mustafar; he knew very well that the Senator's memoryfailed only when she decided it should.

"Padme, you must help me," Master Kenobi said. "Anakinmust be found. He must be stopped."

"How can you say that?" She pulled back from him andturned away, folding her arms over the curve of her belly. "He'sjust won the war!"

"The war was never the Republic against the Separatists. Itwas Palpatine against the Jedi. We lost. The rest of it was justplay-acting."

"It was real enough for everyone who died!"

"Yes." Now it was Master Kenobi's turn to lower his eyes."Including the children at the Temple."

"What?"

"They were murdered, Padme. I saw it." He took her shoul-ders and turned her back to face him. "They were murdered byAnakin.''

"It's a lie —" She pushed him away forcefully enough thatC-3PO nearly triggered the security alert then and there, butMaster Kenobi only regarded her with an expression that matchedC-3PO's internal recognition files of sadness and pity. "He couldnever...he could never... not my Anakin..." Master Kenobi's voice was soft and slow. "He must befound."

Her reply was even softer; C-3PO's aural sensor barelyrecorded it at all.

"You've decided to kill him."

Master Kenobi said gravely, "He has become a very greatthreat." At this, the Senator's medical condition seemed to finallyovercome her; her knees buckled, and Master Kenobi was forcedto catch her and help her onto the sofa. Apparently MasterKenobi knew somewhat more about human physiology than didC-3PO; though his photoreceptors hadn't been dark to the on going changes in Senator Amidala's contour, C-3PO had no ideawhat they might signify. At any rate, Master Kenobi seemed to comprehend the situation instantly. He settled her comfortably onto the sofa andstood frowning down at her.

"Anakin is the father, isn't he?"

The Senator looked away. Her eyes were leaking again.The Jedi Master said, hushed, "I'm very sorry, Padme. If itcould be different..."

"Go away, Obi-Wan. I won't help you. I can't." She turnedher face away. "I won't help you kill him." Master Kenobi said again, "I'm very sorry," and left.C-3PO tentatively returned to the sitting room, intending toinquire after the Senator's health, but before he could access asufficiently delicate phrase to open the discussion, the Senatorsaid softly, "Threepio? Do you know what this is?" She lifted toward him the pendant that hung from the cordof jerba leather she always wore around her neck.

"Why, yes, my lady," the protocol droid replied, bemusedbut happy, as always, to be of service. "It's a snippet of japor.Younglings on Tatooine carve tribal runes into them to makeamulets; they are supposed by superstitious folk to bring goodfortune and protect one from harm, and sometimes are thoughtto be love charms. I must say, my lady, I'm quite surprised you've forgotten, seeing as how you've worn that one ever since it wasgiven to you so many years ago by Master An—"

"I hadn't forgotten what it was, Threepio," she said distantly."Thank you. I was... reminding myself of the boy who gave itto me."

"My lady?" If she hadn't forgotten, why would she ask? Before C-3PO could phrase a properly courteous interrogative, shesaid, "Contact Captain Typho. Have him ready my skiff."

"My lady? Are you going somewhere?"

"Weare," she said. "We're going to Mustafar."

From the shadows beneath the mirror-polished skiff's landing ramp, Obi-Wan Kenobi watched Captain Typho try to talk her out of it.

"My lady," the Naboo security chief protested, "at least letme come with you—"

"Thank you, Captain, but there's no need," Padme said distantly. "The war's over, and... this is a personal errand. And,Captain? It must remain personal, do you understand? You know nothing of my leaving, nor where I am bound, nor when I can beexpected to return."

"As you wish, my lady," Typho said with a reluctant bow."But I strongly disagree with this decision."

"I'll be fine, Captain. After all, I have Threepio to look afterme." Obi-Wan could clearly hear the droid's murmured "Oh,dear."

After Typho finally climbed into his speeder and took off,Padme and her droid boarded the skiff. She wasted no time at all;the skiff's repulsorlifts engaged before the landing ramp hadeven retracted. Obi-Wan had to jump for it.

He swung inside just as the hatch sealed itself and the gleaming starship leapt for the sky. Darth Vader stood on the command bridge of the Mustafarcontrol center, hand of durasteel clasping hand of flesh behindhim, and gazed up through the transparisteel view wall at thegalaxy he would one day rule.

He paid no attention to the litter of corpses around his feet.

He could feel his power growing, indeed. He had the measure of his "Master" already; not long after Palpatine shared thesecret of Darth Plagueis's discovery, their relationship would undergo a sudden... transformation.

A fatal transformation.

Everything was proceeding according to plan.

And yet...

He couldn't shake a certain creeping sensation... a kind of cold, slimy ooze that slithered up the veins of his legs and spreadclammy tendrils through his guts...

Almost as though he was still afraid...

She will die, you know,the dragon whispered.

He shook himself, scowling. Impossible. He was Darth Vader.Fear had no power over him. He had destroyed his fear.

All things die.

Yet it was as though when he had crushed the dragonunder his boot, the dragon had sunk venomed fangs into hisheel.

Now its poison chilled him to the bone.

Even stars burn out.

He shook himself again and strode toward the holocomm.

He would talk to his Master.

Palpatine had always helped him keep the dragon down.

A comlink chimed.

Yoda opened his eyes in the darkness.

"Yes, Master Kenobi?"

"We're landing now. Are you in position?"

"I am."

A moment of silence.

"Master Yoda... if we don't see each other again—"

"Think not of after, Obi-Wan. Always now, even eternity willbe." Another moment of silence.

Longer.

"May the Force be with you."

"It is. And may the Force be with you, young Obi-Wan."

The transmission ended.

Yoda rose.

A gesture opened the grating of the vent shaft where he hadwaited in meditation, revealing the vast conic well that was theGrand Convocation Chamber of the Galactic Senate. It wassometimes called the Senate Arena.

Today, this nickname would be particularly apt.

Yoda stretched blood back into his green flesh.

This was his time.

Nine hundred years of study and training, of teaching and ofmeditation, all now focused, and refined, and resolved into thissingle moment; the sole purpose of his vast span of existence hadbeen to prepare him to enter the heart of night and bring hislight against the darkness.

He adjusted the angle of his blade against his belt.

He draped his robe across his shoulders.

With reverence, with gratitude, without fear, and withoutanger, Yoda went forth to war. A silvery flash outside caught Darth Vader's eye, as thoughan elegantly curved mirror swung through the smoke and cinders, picking up the shine of white-hot lava. From one knee, hecould look right through the holoscan of his Master while he continued his report.

He was no longer afraid; he was too busy pretending to berespectful.

"The Separatist leadership is no more, my Master."

"It is finished, then."Theimage offered a translucent mockery of a smile. "You have restored peace and justice to the galaxy, Lord Vader."

"That is my sole ambition. Master."

The image tilted its head, its smile twisting without transitionto a scowl. "Lord Vader — I sense a disturbance in the Force. You may be in danger."

He glanced at the mirror flash outside; he knew that ship. In danger of being kissed to death, perhaps...

"How should I be in danger, Master?"

"I cannot say. But the danger is real; be mindful."Be mindful, be mindful,he thought with a mental sneer. Is that the best you can do? I could get that much from Obi-Wan..."I will, my Master. Thank you." The image faded.

He got to his feet, and now the sneer was on his lips and inhis eyes. "You're the one who should be mindful, my 'Master.' Iama disturbance in the Force."

Outside, the sleek skiff settled to the deck. He spent a moment reassembling his Anakin Skywalker face: he let Anakin Skywalker's love flow through him, let Anakin Skywalker's gladsmile come to his lips, let Anakin Skywalker's youthful energybring a joyous bounce to his step as he trotted to the entranceover the mess of corpses and severed body parts.

He'd meet her outside, and he'd keep her outside. Hehad a feeling she wouldn't approve of the way he had... redecorated... the control center.

And after all,he thought with a mental shrug, there's no arguing taste... The holding office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic comprised the nether vertex of the Senate Arena; it was littlemore than a circular preparations area, a green room, where guests of the Chancellor might be entertained before enteringthe Senate Podium—the circular pod on its immense hydraulicpillar, which contained controls that coordinated the movementof floating Senate delegation pods—and rising into the focalpoint of the chamber above.

Above that podium, the vast holopresence of a kneeling Sithbowed before a shadow that stood below. Guards in scarletflanked the shadow; a Chagrian toady cringed nearby.

"But the danger is real; be mindful."

"I will, my Master. Thank you."

The holopresence faded, and where its huge translucencyhad knelt was now revealed another presence, a physical presence, tiny and aged, clad in robes and leaning on a twist of wood.But his physical presence was an illusion; the truth of him couldbe seen only in the Force. In the Force, he was a fountain of light.

"Pity your new disciple I do; so lately an apprentice, so soonwithout a Master."

"Why, Master Yoda, what a delightful surprise! Welcome!"The voice of the shadow hummed with anticipation. "Let me be the first to wish you Happy Empire Day!"

"Find it happy, you will not. Nor will the murderer you callVader."

"Ah." The shadow stepped closer to the light. "So that isthe threat I felt. Who is it, if I may ask? Who have you sent to killhim?"

"Enough it is that you know your own destroyer."

"Oh, pish, Master Yoda. It wouldn't be Kenobi, would it?Pleasesay it's Kenobi—Lord Vader gets such a thrill from killingpeople who care for him..."

Behind the shadow, some meters away, Mas Amedda—theChagrian toady who was Speaker of the Galactic Senate—heard a whisper in Palpatine's voice. Flee.

He did.

Neither light nor shadow gave his exit a glance.

"So easily slain, Obi-Wan is not."

"Neither are you, apparently; but that is about to change."The shadow took another step, and another. A lightsaber appeared, green as sunlight in a forest. "The testof that, today will be."

"Even a fraction of the dark side is more power than yourJedi arrogance can conceive; living in the light, you have neverseen the depth of the darkness."The shadow spread arms that made its sleeves into black wings.

"Until now."

Lightning speared from outstretched hands, and the battlewas on.

Padme stumbled down the landing ramp into Anakin's arms. Her eyes were raw and numb; once inside the ship, her emotional control had finally shattered and she had sobbed the wholeway there, crying from relentless mind-shredding dread, and soher lips were swollen and her whole body shook and she was justso grateful, so incredibly grateful, that again she flooded withfresh tears: grateful that he was alive, grateful that he'd comebounding across the landing deck to meet her, that he was stillstrong and beautiful, that his arms still were warm around herand his lips were soft against her hair.

"Anakin, my Anakin... "She shivered against his chest."I've been so frightened... "

"Shh. Shh, it's all right." He stroked her hair until her trembling began to fade, then he cupped her chin and gently raised her face to look into his eyes. "You never need to worry aboutme. Didn't you understand? No one can hurt me. No one willever hurt either of us."

"It wasn't that, my love, it was—oh, Anakin, he said such terrible things about you!" He smiled down at her. "About me? Who would want to saybad things about me?" He chuckled. "Who would dare?"

"Obi-Wan." She smeared tears from her cheeks. "He said—he told me you turned to the dark side, that you murderedJedi... even younglings... "

Just having gotten the words out made her feel better; now allshe had to do was rest in his arms while he held her and huggedher and promised her he would never do anything like any ofthat, and she started half a smile aimed up toward his eyes—

But instead of the light of love in his eyes, she saw only reflections of lava. He didn't say, Icould never turn to the dark side.

He didn't say, Murder younglings? Me? That's just crazy.

He said, "Obi-Wan's alive?"

His voice had dropped an octave, and had gone colder than the chills that were spreading from the base of her spine.

"Y-yes—he, he said he was looking for you..."

"Did you tell him where I am?"

"No,Anakin! He wants to kill you. I didn't tell himanything—I wouldn't!"

"Too bad."

"Anakin, what—"

"He's a traitor, Padme. He's an enemy of the state. He has to die."

"Stop it," she said. "Stop talking like that... you're frightening me!"

"You're not the one who needs to be afraid."

"It's like—it's like—" Tears brimmed again. "I don't even know who you are anymore..."

"I'm the man who loves you," he said, but he said it throughclenched teeth. "I'm the man who would do anything to protectyou. Everything Ihave done, I have done for you ."

"Anakin..."Horror squeezed her voice down to a whisper:small, and fragile, and very young. "... what have youdone?"

And she prayed that he wouldn't actually answer.

"What I have done is bring peace to the Republic."

"The Republic is dead," she whispered. "You killed it. Youand Palpatine."

"It needed to die."

New tears started, but they didn't matter; she'd never haveenough tears for this. "Anakin, can't we just... go? Please. Let'sleave. Together. Today. Now. Before you—before somethinghappens—"

"Nothing will happen. Nothing can happen. Let Palpatinecall himself Emperor. Let him. He can do the dirty work, all the messy, brutal oppression it'll take to unite the galaxy forever—unite it against him. He'll make himself into the most hatedman in history. And when the time is right, we'll throw himdown—"

"Anakin, stop—"

"Don't you see? We'll be heroes. The whole galaxy will love us, and we will rule. Together."

"Please stop—Anakin, please, stop, I can't stand it..."

He wasn't listening to her. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her shoulder. Feral joy burned from his eyes, and his face was no longerhuman.

"You..."

From behind her, calmly precise, with that clipped Coruscanti accent: "Padme. Move away from him."

"Obi-Wan?" She whirled, and he was on the landing ramp,still and sad. " No!"

"You,"growled a voice that should have been her love's."You brought him here..." She turned back, and now he was looking at her.

His eyes were full of flame.

"Anakin?"

"Padme, move away." There was an urgency in Obi-Wan'svoice that sounded closer to fear than Padme had ever heard from him. "He's not who you think he is. He will harm you." Anakin's lips peeled off his teeth. "I would thank you forthis, if it were a gift of love." Trembling, shaking her head, she began to back away. "No,Anakin—no..."

"Palpatine was right. Sometimes it is the closest who cannotsee. I loved you too much, Padme." He made a fist, and she couldn't breathe.

"I loved you too much to see you! To see what you are!" A veil of red descended on the world. She clawed at her throat, but there was nothing there her hands could touch.

"Let her go, Anakin."

His answer was a predator's snarl, over the body of its prey."You will not take her from me!" She wanted to scream, to beg, to howl, No, Anakin, I'm sorry! I'm sorry... I love you...,but her locked throat strangledthe truth inside her head, and the world-veil of red smokedtoward black.

"Let her go!"

"Never!"

The ground fell away beneath her, and then a white flash ofimpact blasted her into night. In the Senate Arena, lightning forked from the hands of aSith, and bent away from the gesture of a Jedi to shock Redrobesinto unconsciousness.

Then there were only the two of them.

Their clash transcended the personal; when new lightning blazed, it was not Palpatine burning Yoda with his hate, it wasthe Lord of all Sith scorching the Master of all Jedi into a smoldering huddle of clothing and green flesh.

A thousand years of hidden Sith exulted in their victory.

"Your time is over! The Sith rule the galaxy! Now and for ever!" And it was the whole of the Jedi Order that rocketed from its huddle, making of its own body a weapon to blast the Sith to theground.

"At an end your rule is, and not short enough it was, I mustsay." There appeared a blade the color of life.

From the shadow of a black wing, a small weapon—a holdout, an easily concealed backup, a tiny bit of treachery expressingthe core of Sith mastery—slid into a withered hand and spat aflame-colored blade of its own.

When those blades met, it was more than Yoda against Palpatine, more the millennia of Sith against the legions of Jedi; this was the expression of the fundamental conflict of the universe itself. Light against dark.

Winner takes all.

Obi-Wan knelt beside Padme's unconscious body, where shelay limp and broken in the smoky dusk. He felt for a pulse. It wasthin, and erratic. "Anakin—Anakin, what have you done?" In the Force, Anakin burned like a fusion torch. "You turnedher against me." Obi-Wan looked at the best friend he had ever had. "You didthat yourself," he said sadly.

"I'll give you a chance, Obi-Wan. For old times' sake. Walkaway."

"If only I could."

"Go some place out of the way. Retire. Meditate. That'swhat you like, isn't it? You don't have to fight for peace anymore. Peace is here. My Empire is peace."

"YourEmpire? It will never have peace. It was founded ontreachery and innocent blood."

"Don't make me kill you, Obi-Wan. If you are not with me,you are against me."

"Only Sith deal in absolutes, Anakin. The truth is never black and white." He rose, spreading empty hands. "Let me takePadme to a medcenter. She's hurt, Anakin. She needs medical attention."

"She stays."

"Anakin—"

"Youdon't get to take her anywhere. You don't get to touch her. She's mine, do you understand? It's your fault, all of it—youmade her betray me! "

"Anakin—"

Anakin's hand sprouted a bar of blue plasma.

Obi-Wan sighed.

He brought out his own lighstaber and angled it before him."Then I will do what I must."

"You'll try," Anakin said, and leapt.

Obi-Wan met him in the air.

Blue blades crossed, and the volcano above echoed theirlightning with a shout of fire. C-3PO cautiously poked his head around the rim of theskiff's hatch.

Though his threat-avoidance subroutines were in fullscreaming overload, and all he really wanted to be doing wasfinding some nice dark closet in which to fold himself and powerdown until this was all over—preferably an armored closet, witha door that locked from the inside, or could be welded shut (he wasn't particular on that point)—he found himself nonetheless creeping down the skiff's landing ramp into what appeared to bea perfectly appalling rain of molten lava and burning cinders... Which was an entirely ridiculous thing for any sensible droidto be doing, but he kept going because he hadn't liked the soundof those conversations at all.

Not one little bit.

He couldn't be entirely certain what the disagreementamong the humans was concerned with, but one element hadbeen entirely clear.

She's hurt, Anakin... she needs medical attention...He shuffled out into the swirling smoke. Burning rocks clattered around him. The Senator was nowhere to be seen, andeven if he could find her, he had no idea how he could get herback to her ship—he certainly had not been designed for transporting anything heavier than a tray of cocktails; after all, weight-bearing capability was what cargo droids were for—but throughthe volcano's roar and the gusts of wind, his sonoreceptorspicked up a familiar ferooo-wheep peroo, which his autotranslationprotocol converted toDON'T WORRY, YOU'LL BE ALL RIGHT.

"Artoo?" C-3PO called. "Artoo, are you out here?"

A few steps more and C-3PO could see the little astromech:he'd tangled his manipulator arm in the Senator's clothing andwas dragging her across the landing deck. "Artoo! Stop that this instant! You'll damage her!"

R2-D2's dome swiveled to bring his photoreceptor to bearon the nervous protocol droid.WHAT

EXACTLY DO YOU SUGGEST?it whistled.

"Well... oh, all right. We'll do it together."

There came a turning point in the clash of the light againstthe dark.

It did not come from a flash of lightning or slash of energy blade, though there were these in plenty; it did not come from aflying kick or a surgically precise punch, though these weretraded, too. It came as the battle shifted from the holding office to thegreat Chancellor's Podium; it came as the hydraulic lift beneaththe Podium raised it on its tower of durasteel a hundred metersand more, so that it became a laserpoint of battle flaring at thefocus of the vast emptiness of the Senate Arena; it came as the Force and the podium's controls ripped delegation pods free ofthe curving walls and made of them hammers, battering rams,catapult stones crashing and crushing against each other in arolling thunder-roar that echoed the Senate's cheers for thegalaxy's new Emperor.

It came when the avatar of light resolved into the lineageof the Jedi; when the lineage of the Jedi refined into one singleJedi.

It came when Yoda found himself alone against the dark.

In that lightning-speared tornado of feet and fists and bladesand bashing machines, his vision finally pierced the darkness thathad clouded the Force.

Finally, he saw the truth.

This truth: that he, the avatar of light, Supreme Master of the Jedi Order, the fiercest, most implacable, most devastatinglypowerful foe the darkness had ever known...just—didn't—haveit. He'd never had it. He had lost before he started.

He had lost before he was born.

The Sith had changed. The Sith had grown, had adapted,had invested a thousand years' intensive study into every aspect of not only the Force but Jedi lore itself, in preparation for exactly this day. The Sith had remade themselves.

They had become new.

While the Jedi—

The Jedi had spent that same millennium training to refightthe last war. The new Sith could not be destroyed with a lightsaber; theycould not be burned away by any torch of the Force. Thebrighter his light, the darker their shadow. How could one win awar against the dark, when war itself had become the dark's ownweapon?

He knew, at that instant, that this insight held the hope ofthe galaxy. But if he fell here, that hope would die with him.Hmmm,Yoda thought. A problem this is...

Blade-to-blade, they were identical. After thousands of hoursin lightsaber sparring, they knew each other better than brothers, more intimately than lovers; they were complementary halves ofa single warrior.

In every exchange, Obi-Wan gave ground. It was his way.And he knew that to strike Anakin down would burn his ownheart to ash.

Exchanges flashed. Leaps were sideslipped or met with flyingkicks; ankle sweeps skipped over and punches parried. The doorof the control center fell in pieces, and then they were insideamong the bodies. Consoles exploded in fountains of white-hotsparks as they ripped free of their moorings and hurtled throughthe air. Dead hands spasmed on triggers and blaster bolts sizzledthrough impossibly intricate lattices of ricochet.

Obi-Wan barely caught some and flipped them at Anakin:a desperation move. Anything to distract him; anything to slow him down. Easily, contemptuously, Anakin sent them back, and the bolts flared between their blades until their galvening fadedand the particles of the packeted beams dispersed into radioactive fog.

"Don't make me destroy you, Obi-Wan." Anakin's voice hadgone deeper than a well and bleak as the obsidian cliffs. "You'reno match for the power of the dark side."

"I've heard that before," Obi-Wan said through his teeth, parrying madly, "but I never thought I'd hear it from you."

A roar of the Force blasted Obi-Wan back into a wall, smashing breath from his lungs, leaving him swaying, half stunned.Anakin stepped over bodies and lifted his blade for the kill. Obi-Wan had only one trick left, one that wouldn't worktwice—

But it was a very good trick.

It had, after all, worked rather splendidly on Grievous...

He twitched one finger, reaching through the Force to reverse the polarity of the electrodrivers in Anakin's mechanical hand.

Durasteel fingers sprang open, and a lightsaber tumbled free.

Obi-Wan reached. Anakin's lightsaber twisted in the air and flipped into his hand. He poised both blades in a cross beforehim. "The flaw of power is arrogance."

"You hesitate," Anakin said. "The flaw of compassion —"

"It's not compassion," Obi-Wan said sadly. "It's reverencefor life. Even yours. It's respect for the man you were."

He sighed. "It's regret for the man you should have been."

Anakin roared and flew at him, using both the Force and his body to crash Obi-Wan back into the wall once more. His handsseized Obi-Wan's wrists with impossible strength, forcing hisarms wide. "I am so sick of your lectures!"

Dark power bore down with his grip.

Obi-Wan felt the bones of his forearms bending, beginningto feather toward the greenstick fractures that would come before the final breaks.

Oh,he thought. Oh, this is bad.

The end came with astonishing suddenness.

The shadow could feel how much it cost the little green freakto bend back his lightnings into the cage of energy that enclosedthem both; the creature had reached the limits of his strength.The shadow released its power for an instant, long enough onlyto whirl away through the air and alight upon one of the delega tion pods as it flew past, and the creature leapt to follow—

Half a second too slow.

The shadow unleashed its lightning while the creature was still in the air, and the little green freak took its full power. Theshock blasted him backward to crash against the podium, and hefell. He fell a long way.

The base of the Arena was a hundred meters below, litteredwith twisted scraps and jags of metal from the pods destroyed in the battle, and as the little green freak fell, finally, above, the victorious shadow became once again only Palpatine: a very old, very tired man, gasping for air as he leaned on the pod's rail.

Old he might have been, but there was nothing wrong withhis eyesight; he scanned the wreckage below, and he did not seea body.

He flicked a finger, and in the Chancellor's Podium a dozenmeters away, a switch tripped and sirens sounded throughout theenormous building; another surge of the Force sent his podstreaking in a downward spiral to the holding office at the base ofthe Podium tower. Clone troops were already swarming into it. "It was Yoda," he said as he swung out of the pod. "Anotherassassination attempt. Find him and kill him. If you have to, blowup the building."

He didn't have time to direct the search personally. The Forcehummed a warning in his bones: Lord Vader was in danger. Mortal danger.

Clones scattered. He stopped one officer. "You. Call theshuttle dock and tell them I'm on my way. Have my ship warmed and ready."

The officer saluted, and Palpatine, with vigor that surprisedeven himself, ran. With the help of the Force, Yoda sprinted along the serviceaccessway below the Arena faster than a human being could run; he sliced conduits as he passed, filling the accessway behind himwith coils of high-voltage cables, twisting and spitting lightning.Every few dozen meters, he paused just long enough to slash ahole in the accessway's wall; once his pursuers got past the cables,they would have to divide their forces to search each of his possible exits.

But he knew they could afford to; there were thousands ofthem.

He pulled his comlink from inside his robe without slowingdown; the Force whispered a set of coordinates and he spokethem into the link. "Delay not," he added. "Swiftly closing is thepursuit. Failed I have, and kill me they will."

The Convocation Center of the Galactic Senate was a drum-mounted dome more than a kilometer in diameter; even with theaid of the Force, Yoda was breathing hard by the time he reachedits edge. He cut through the floor beneath him and droppeddown into another accessway, this one used for maintenance onthe huge lighting system that shone downward onto RepublicPlaza through transparisteel panels that floored the underside ofthe huge dome's rim. He cut into the lightwell; the reflectedwattage nearly blinded him to the vertiginous drop below the transparisteel on which he stood.

Without hesitation he cut through that as well and divedheadlong into the night. Catching the nether edges of his long cloak to use as an im-provised airfoil, he let the Force guide him in a soaring free fallaway from the Convocation Center; he was too small to triggerits automated defense perimeter, but the open-cockpit speedertoward which he fell would get blasted from the sky if it deviated one meter inward from its curving course.

He released his robe so that it flapped upward, making a sortof drogue that righted him in the air so that he fell feetfirst intothe speeder's passenger seat beside Bail Organa.

While Yoda strapped himself in, the Senator from Alderaanpulled the rented speeder through a turn that would have impressed Anakin Skywalker, and shot away toward the nearest intersection of Coruscant's congested skyways.

Yoda's eyes squeezed closed.

"Master Yoda? Are you wounded?"

"Only my pride," Yoda said, and meant it, though Bail couldnot possibly understand how deep that wound went, nor how itbled. "Only my pride."

With Anakin's grip on his wrists bending his arms near tobreaking, forcing both their lightsabers down in a slow but unstoppable arc, Obi-Wan let go.Of everything.His hopes. His fears. His obligation to the Jedi, his promiseto Qui-Gon, his failure with Anakin.And their lightsabers. Startled, Anakin instinctively shifted his Force grip, releasingone wrist to reach for his blade; in that instant Obi-Wan twistedfree of his other hand and with the Force caught up his ownblade, reversing it along his forearm so that his swift parry ofAnakin's thundering overhand not only blocked the strike but directed both blades to slice through the wall against which he stood. He slid Anakin's following thrust through the wall on the opposite side, guiding both blades again up and over his head ina circular sweep so that he could use the power of Anakin's nextchop to drive himself backward through the wall, outside intothe smoke and the falling cinders.

Anakin followed, constantly attacking; Obi-Wan again gaveground, retreating along a narrow balcony high above the black-sand shoreline of a lake of fire.

Mustafar hummed with death behind his back, only a mo-ment away, somewhere out there among the rivers of moltenrock. Obi-Wan let Anakin drive him toward it.

It was a place, he decided, they should reach together. Anakin forced him back and back, slamming his blade downwith strength that seemed to flow from the volcano overhead.He spun and whirled and sliced razor-sharp shards of steel fromthe wall and shot them at Obi-Wan with the full heat of his fury.He slashed through a control panel along the walkway, and the ray shield that had held back the lava storm vanished.

Fire rained around them.

Obi-Wan backed to the end of the balcony; behind him wasonly a power conduit no thicker than his arm, connecting it tothe main collection plant of the old lava mine, over a riverbedthat flowed with white-hot molten stone. Obi-Wan steppedbackward onto the conduit without hesitation, his balance flaw-less as he parried chop after chop.

Anakin came on.

Out on the tightrope of power conduit, their blades blurredeven faster than before. They chopped and slashed and parried and blocked. Lava bombs thundered to the ground below, shed-ding drops of burning stone that scorched their robes. Smokeshrouded the planet's star, and now the only light came from thehell-glow of the lava below them and from their blades them-selves. Flares of energy crackled and spat.

This was not Sith against Jedi. This was not light against darkor good against evil; it had nothing to do with duty or philosophy, religion or morals.

It was Anakin against Obi-Wan.

Personally.

Just the two of them, and the damage they had done to eachother.

Obi-Wan backflipped from the conduit to a coupling nexusof the main collection plant; when Anakin flew in pursuit, Obi-Wan leapt again. They spun and whirled throughout its levels, upits stairs, and across its platforms; they battled out onto the collection panels over which the cascades of lava poured, and Obi-Wan, out on the edge of the collection panel, hunching under acurve of durasteel that splashed aside gouts of lava, deflectingForce blasts and countering strikes from this creature of rage that had been his best friend, suddenly comprehended an unexpectedly profound truth. The man he faced was everything Obi-Wan had devoted hislife to destroying: Murderer. Traitor. Fallen Jedi. Lord of theSith. And here, and now, despite it all...Obi-Wan still loved him. Yoda had said it, flat-out: Allow such attachments to pass out of one's life, a Jedi must,but Obi-Wan had never let himselfunderstand. He had argued for Anakin, made excuses, coveredfor him again and again and again; all the while this attachment he denied even feeling had blinded him to the dark path his bestfriend walked.

Obi-Wan knew there was, in the end, only one answer for attachment...

He let it go.

The lake of fire, no longer held back by the ray shield,chewed away the shore on which the plant stood, and the whole massive structure broke loose, sending both warriors skidding,scrabbling desperately for handholds down tilting durasteelslopes that were rapidly becoming cliffs; they hung from scraps ofcable as the plant's superstructure floated out into the lava, sinking slowly as its lower levels melted and burned away.

Anakin kicked off from the toppling superstructure, swinging through a wide arc over the lava's boil. Obi-Wan shoved outand met him there, holding the cable with one hand and theForce, angling his blade high. Anakin flicked a Shien whipcrack at his knees. Obi-Wan yanked his legs high and slashed through the cable above Anakin's hand, and Anakin fell.

Pockets of gas boiled to the surface of the lava, gouting flamelike arms reaching to gather him in. But Anakin's momentum had already swung back toward thedissolving wreck of the collection plant, and the Force carriedhim within reach of another cable. Obi-Wan whipped his legsaround his cable, altering its arc to bring him within reach of theone from which Anakin now dangled, but Anakin was on to this game now, and he swung cable-to-cable ahead of Obi-Wan's advance, using the Force to carry himself higher and higher, forcing Obi-Wan to counter by doing the same; on this terrain,altitude was everything.

Simultaneous surges of the Force carried them both spinningup off the cables to the slant of the toppling superstructure'scrane deck. Obi-Wan barely got his feet on the metal beforeAnakin pounced on him and they stood almost toe-to-toe,blades whirling and crashing on all sides, while around them thecollection plant's maintenance droids still tinkered mindlessly away at the doomed machinery, as they would continue to dountil lava closed over them and they melted to their constituentmolecules and dissolved into the flow.

A roar louder even than the volcano's eruption came fromthe river ahead; metal began to shriek and stretch. The riverdropped away in a vertical sheet of fire that vanished into boiling clouds of smoke and gases.

The whole collection plant was being carried, inexorably, outover a vast lava-fall. Obi-Wan decided he didn't really want to see what was at thebottom.

He turned Anakin's blade aside with a two-handed block andlanded a solid kick that knocked the two apart. Before Anakincould recover his balance, Obi-Wan took a running leap that be-came a graceful dive headlong off the crane deck. He hurtleddown past level after level, and only a few tens of meters abovethe lava itself the Force called a dangling cable to his hand, turn-ing his dive into a swing that carried him high and far, to the verylimit of the cable.

And he let it go.

As though jumping from a swing in the Temple playrooms,his velocity sent him flying up and out over a catenary arc thatshot him toward the river's shore. Toward. Not quite to. But the Force had led him here, and again it had not betrayed him: below, humming along a few meters above the lava river, came a big, slow old repulsorlift platform, carrying droidsand equipment out toward a collection plant that its programming was not sophisticated enough to realize was about to be destroyed.

Obi-Wan flipped in the air and let the Force bring him to a catfooted landing. An adder-quick stab of his lightsaber disabledthe platform's guidance system, and Obi-Wan was able to direct it back toward the shore with a simple shift of his weight.

He turned to watch as the collection plant shrieked like thedamned in a Corellian hell, crumbling over the brink of the fallsuntil it vanished into invisible destruction.

Obi-Wan lowered his head. "Good-bye, old friend."But the Force whispered a warning, and Obi-Wan lifted hishead in time to see Anakin come hurtling toward him out fromthe boil of smoke above the falls, perched on a tiny repulsorliftdroid. The little droid was vastly swifter than Obi-Wan's logy oldcargo platform, and Anakin was easily able to swing around Obi-Wan and cut him off from the shore. Obi-Wan shifted weightone way, then another, but Anakin's droid was nimble as a sandpanther; there was no way around, and this close to the lava, theheat was intense enough to crisp Obi-Wan's hair.

"This is the end for you, Master," he said. "I wish it wereotherwise."

"Yes, Anakin, so do I," Obi-Wan said as he sprinted into a leaping dive, making a spear of his blade. Anakin leaned aside and deflected the thrust almost contemptuously; he missed a cut at Obi-Wan's legs as the Jedi Master flew past him.

Obi-Wan turned his dive into a forward roll that left himbarely teetering on the rim of a low cliff, just above the soft blacksand of the riverbank. Anakin snarled a curse as he realized he'dbeen suckered, and leapt off his droid at Obi-Wan's back—Half a second too slow.

Obi-Wan's whirl to parry didn't meet Anakin's blade. It methis knee. Then his other knee. And while Anakin was still in the air, burned-off lower legsonly starting their topple down the cliff, Obi-Wan's recovery toguard brought his blade through Anakin's left arm above theelbow. He stepped back as Anakin fell.

Anakin dropped his lightsaber, clawing at the edge of the cliffwith his mechanical hand, but his grip was too powerful for thelava bank and it crumbled, and he slid down onto the black sand.His severed legs and his severed arm rolled into the lava belowhim and burned to ash in sudden bursts of scarlet flame. The same color, Obi-Wan observed distantly, as a Sith blade.Anakin scrabbled at the soft black sand, but struggling onlymade him slip farther. The sand itself was hot enough that digging his durasteel fingers into it burned off his glove, and hisrobes began to smolder.

Obi-Wan picked up Anakin's lightsaber. He lifted his own aswell, weighing them in his hands. Anakin had based his designupon Obi-Wan's. So similar they were. So differently they had been used.

"Obi-Wan... ?"

He looked down. Flame licked the fringes of Anakin's robe, and his long hair had blackened, and was beginning to char.

"You were the chosen one! It was said you would destroy theSith, not join them. It was you who would bring balance to theForce, not leave it in darkness. You were my brother, Anakin,"said Obi-Wan Kenobi. "I loved you, but I could not save you."

A flash of metal through the sky, and Obi-Wan felt the darkness closing in around them both. He knew that ship: the Chancellor's shuttle. Now, he supposed, the Emperor's shuttle.Yoda had failed. He might have died.He might have left Obi-Wan alone: the last Jedi.Below his feet, Darth Vader burst into flame."I hate you," he screamed.

Obi-Wan looked down. It would be a mercy to kill him. He was not feeling merciful.He was feeling calm, and clear, and he knew that to climbdown to that black beach might cost him more time than he had.Another Sith Lord approached.

In the end, there was only one choice. It was a choice he hadmade many years before, when he had passed his trials of JediKnighthood, and sworn himself to the Jedi forever. In the end, he was still Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he was still a Jedi, and hewould not murder a helpless man. He would leave it to the will of the Force.He turned and walked away.After a moment, he began to run. He began to run because he realized, if he was fast enough,there was one thing he still could do for Anakin. He still could dohonor to the memory of the man he had loved, and to the vanished Order they both had served.

At the landing deck, C-3PO stood on the skiff's landingramp, waving frantically. "Master Kenobi!

Please hurry!""Where's Padme?"

"Already inside, sir, but she is badly hurt."Obi-Wan ran up the ramp to the skiff's cockpit and fired the engines. As the Chancellor's shuttle curved in toward the landing deck, the sleek mirror-finished skiff streaked for the stars.Obi-Wan never looked back.

=21=

ANEW JEDI ORDER

A Naboo skiff reverted to realspace and flashed toward an alien medical installation in the asteroid belt of Polis Massa.

Tantive IVreentered reality only moments behind.

And on Mustafar, below the red thunder of a volcano, a SithLord had already snatched from sand of black glass the charredtorso and head of what once had been a man, and had alreadyleapt for the cliffbank above with effortless strength, and had already roared to his clones to bring the medical capsule immediately!

The Sith Lord lowered the limbless man tenderly to the coolground above, and laid his hand across the cracked and blackenedmess that once had been his brow, and he set his will upon him. Live, Lord Vader. Live, my apprentice.

Live.

Beyond the transparent crystal of the observation dome onthe airless crags of Polis Massa, the galaxy wheeled in a spray ofhard, cold pinpricks through the veil of infinite night. Beneath that dome sat Yoda. He did not look at the stars.

He sat a very long time.

Even after nearly nine hundred years, the road to self-knowledge was rugged enough to leave him bruised and bleeding.

He spoke softly, but not to himself.

Though no one was with him, he was not alone.

"My failure, this was. Failed the Jedi, I did."

He spoke to the Force.

And the Force answered him. Do not blame yourself, my old friend. As it sometimes had these past thirteen years, when the Forcespoke to him, it spoke in the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Too old I was," Yoda said. "Too rigid. Too arrogant to seethat the old way is not the only way. These Jedi, I trained to become the Jedi who had trained me, long centuries ago—but thoseancient Jedi, of a different time they were. Changed, has the galaxy.Changed, the Order did not—because let itchange, I did not."

More easily said than done, my friend.

"An infinite mystery is the Force." Yoda lifted his head andturned his gaze out into the wheel of stars.

"Much to learn, therestill is."

And you will have time to learn it.

"Infinite knowledge..." Yoda shook his head. "Infinitetime, does that require." With my help, you can learn to join with the Force, yet retainconsciousness. You can join your light to it forever. Perhaps, in time,even your physical self.

Yoda did not move. "Eternal life..."

The ultimate goal of the Sith, yet they can never achieve it; itcomes only by the release of self, not the exaltation of self. It comesthrough compassion, not greed. Love is the answer to the darkness.

"Become one with the Force, yet influence still to have..."Yoda mused. "A power greater than all, it is." It cannot be granted; it can only be taught. It is yours to learn,if you wish it. Slowly, Yoda nodded. "A very great Jedi Master you have become, Qui-Gon Jinn. A very great Jedi Master you always were, but too blind I was to see it."

He rose, and folded his hands before him, and inclined his head in the Jedi bow of respect. The bow of the student, in the presence of the Master.

"Your apprentice, I gratefully become."

He was well into his first lesson when the hatch cycled open behind him. He turned. In the corridor beyond stood Bail Organa. He looked stricken.

"Obi-Wan is asking for you at the surgical theater," he said "It's Padme. She's dying." Obi-Wan sat beside her, holding one cold, still hand in both of his. "Don't give up, Padme."

"Is it..." Her eyes rolled blindly. "It's a girl. Anakin thinks it's a girl."

"We don't know yet. In a minute... you have to stay with us." Below the opaque tent that shrouded her from chest down, a pair of surgical droids assisted with her labor. A general medical droid fussed and tinkered among the clutter of scanners and equipment.

"If it's... a girl—oh, oh, oh no... "

Obi-Wan cast an appeal toward the medical droid. "Can't you do something?"

"All organic damage has been repaired." The droid checked another readout. "This systemic failure cannot be explained."

Not physically,Obi-Wan thought. He squeezed her hand as though he could keep life within her body by simple pressure. "Padme, you have to hold on."

"If it's a girl...," she gasped, "name her Leia..."

One of the surgical droids circled out from behind the tent, cradling in its padded arms a tiny infant, already swabbed clean and breathing, but without even the hint of tears.

The droid announced softly, "It's a boy."

Padme reached for him with her trembling free hand, but she had no strength to take him; she could only touch her fingers to the baby's forehead.

She smiled weakly. "Luke... "

The other droid now rounded the tent as well, with another clean, quietly solemn infant. "... and a girl." But she had already fallen back against her pillow.

"Padme, you have twins," Obi-Wan said desperately. "They need you —please hang on..."

"Anakin..."

"Anakin... isn't here, Padme," he said, though he didn't think she could hear.

"Anakin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... Anakin, please, I love you..." In the Force, Obi-Wan felt Yoda's approach, and he looked up to see the ancient Master beside Bail Organa, both staring the same grave question down through the surgical theater's observation panel. The only answer Obi-Wan had was a helpless shake of his head.

Padme reached across with her free hand, with the hand she had laid upon the brow of her firstborn son, and pressed something into Obi-Wan's palm.

For a moment, her eyes cleared, and she knew him.

"Obi-Wan... there... is still good in him. I know there is... still..." Her voice faded to an empty sigh, and she sagged back against the pillow. Half a dozen different scanners buzzed with conflicting alarm tones, and the medical droids shooed him from the room. He stood in the hall outside, looking down at what she had pressed into his hand. It was a pendant of some kind, an amulet, unfamiliar sigils carved into some sort of organic material, strungon a loop of leather. In the Force, he could feel traces of thetouch of her skin.

When Yoda and Bail came for him, he was still standingthere, staring at it.

"She put this in my hand—" For what seemed the dozenthtime this day, he found himself blinking back tears. "—and I don't even know what it is."

"Precious to her, it must have been," Yoda said slowly."Buried with her, perhaps it should be." Obi-Wan looked down at the simple, child-like symbolscarved into it, and felt from it in the Force soaring echoes oftranscendent love, and the bleak, black despair of unendurable heartbreak.

"Yes," he said. "Yes. Perhaps that would be best."

Around a conference table on Tantive IV, Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Yoda met to decide the fate of the galaxy.

"To Naboo, send her body..."Yoda stretched his head high, as though tasting a current in the Force.

"Pregnant, shemust still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept. Foundation of the new Jedi Order, they will be."

"We should split them up," Obi-Wan said. "Even if the Sithfind one, the other may survive. I can take the boy, Master Yoda, and you take the girl. We can hide them away, keep them safe—train them as Anakin should have been trained—"

"No." The ancient Master lowered his head again, closinghis eyes, resting his chin on his hands that were folded over thehead of his stick.

Obi-Wan looked uncertain. "But how are they to learn theself-discipline a Jedi needs? How are they to master skills of the Force?"

"Jedi training, the sole source of self-discipline is not. When right is the time for skills to be taught, to us the living Force willbring them. Until then, wait we will, and watch, and learn."

"I can..." Bail Organa stopped, flushing slightly. "I'm sorryto interrupt, Masters; I know little about the Force, but I doknow something of love. The Queen and I—well, we've always talked of adopting a girl. If you have no objection, I would liketo take Leia to Alderaan, and raise her as our daughter. Shewould be loved with us."

Yoda and Obi-Wan exchanged a look. Yoda tilted his head."No happier fate could any child ask for. With our blessing, andthat of the Force, let Leia be your child."

Bail stood, a little jerkily, as though he simply could nolonger keep his seat. His flush had turned from embarrassmentto pure uncomplicated joy. "Thank you, Masters—I don't know what else to say. Thank you, that's all. What of the boy?"

"Cliegg Lars still lives on Tatooine, I think—and Anakin's stepbrother... Owen, that's it, and his wife, Beru, still work themoisture farm outside Mos Eisley..."

"As close to kinfolk as the boy can come," Yoda said approvingly. "But Tatooine, not like Alderaan it is—deep in the OuterRim, a wild and dangerous planet."

"Anakin survived it," Obi-Wan said. "Luke can, too. And I can—well, I could take him there, and watch over him. Protect him from the worst of the planet's dangers, until he can learn to protect himself."

"Like a father you wish to be, young Obi-Wan?"

"More an... eccentric old uncle, I think. It is a part I canplay very well. To keep watch over Anakin's son—" Obi-Wansighed, finally allowing his face to register a suggestion of his oldgentle smile. "I can't imagine a better way to spend the rest ofmy life."

"Settled it is, then. To Tatooine, you will take him."Bail moved toward the door. "If you'll excuse me, Masters, Ihave to call the Queen..."He stopped in the doorway, lookingback. "Master Yoda, do you think Padme's twins will be able todefeat Palpatine?"

"Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line. Only hope, wecan. Until the time is right, disappear we will."

Bail nodded. "And I must do the same—metaphorically, atleast. You may hear... disturbing things... about what I do in the Senate. I must appear to support the new Empire, and mycomrades with me. It was... Padme's wish, and she was ashrewder political mind than I'll ever be. Please trust that what wedo is only a cover for our true task. We will never betray the legacyof the Jedi. I will never surrender the Republic to the Sith."

"Trust in this, we always will. Go now; for happy news, yourQueen is waiting." Bail Organa bowed, and vanished into the corridor.

When Obi-Wan moved to follow, Yoda's gimer stick barredhis way. "A moment, Master Kenobi. In your solitude onTatooine, training I have for you. I and my new Master." Obi-Wan blinked. "Your new Master?"

"Yes." Yoda smiled up at him. "And your old one..." C-3PO shuffled along the starship's hallway beside R2-D2,following Senator Organa who had, by all accounts, inherited them both. "I'm certain I can't say why she malfunctioned," hewas telling the little astromech. "Organics are so terribly complicated, you know."

Ahead, the Senator was met by a man whose uniform,C-3PO's conformation-recognition algorithm informed him, indicated he was a captain in the Royal Alderaan Civil Fleet.

"I'm placing these droids in your care," the Senator said."Have them cleaned, polished, and refitted with the best ofeverything; they will belong to my new daughter."

"How lovely!" C-3PO exclaimed. "His daughter is the childof Master Anakin and Senator Amidala," he explained to R2-D2."I can hardly wait to tell her all about her parents! I'm sure shewill be very proud—"

"Oh, and the protocol droid?" Senator Organa said thoughtfully. "Have its mind wiped."The captain saluted.

"Oh," said C-3PO. "Oh, dear."

In the newly renamed Emperor Palpatine Surgical Reconstruction Center on Coruscant, a hypersophisticated prototypeUbrikkian DD-13 surgical droid moved away from the projectthat it and an enhanced FX-6 medical droid had spent many daysrebuilding.

It beckoned to a dark-robed shadow that stood at the edgeof the pool of high-intensity light. "My lord, the construction isfinished. He lives."

"Good. Good."

The shadow flowed into the pool of light as though the overhead illuminators had malfunctioned. Droids stepped back as it came to the rim of the surgicaltable.

On the table was strapped the very first patient of the EmPalSuRecon Center. To some eyes, it might have been a pieced-together hybrid ofdroid and human, encased in a life-support shell of gleamingblack, managed by a thoracic processor that winked pale coloragainst the shadow's cloak. To some eyes, its jointed limbs mighthave looked ungainly, clumsy, even monstrous; the featurelesscurves of black that served it for eyes might have appeared inhuman, and the underthrust grillwork of its vocabulator might have suggested the jaws of a saurian predator built of polished blast armor, but to the shadow—It was glorious.

A magnificent jewel box, created both to protect and to exhibit the greatest treasure of the Sith. Terrifying.

Mesmerizing. Perfect.

The table slowly rotated to vertical, and the shadow leanedclose.

"Lord Vader? Lord Vader, can you hear me?"

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, forever:

The first dawn of light in your universe brings pain.

The light burns you. It will always burn you. Part of you willalways lie upon black glass sand beside a lake of fire while flameschew upon your flesh.

You can hear yourself breathing. It comes hard, and harsh,and it scrapes nerves already raw, but you cannot stop it. You cannever stop it. You cannot even slow it down.

You don't even have lungs anymore.

Mechanisms hardwired into your chest breathe for you. Theywill pump oxygen into your bloodstream forever.

Lord Vader? Lord Vader, can you hear me?

And you can't, not in the way you once did. Sensors in theshell that prisons your head trickle meaning directly into yourbrain.

You open your scorched-pale eyes; optical sensors integrate light and shadow into a hideous simulacrum of the world aroundyou.

Or perhaps the simulacrum is perfect, and it is the world thatis hideous. Padme? Are you here? Are you all right?youtry to say, but another voice speaks for you, out from the vocabulator that servesyou for burned-away lips and tongue and throat.

"Padme? Are you here? Are you all right?"

I'm very sorry, Lord Vader. I'm afraid she died. It seems in youranger, you killed her. This burns hotter than the lava had.

"No... no, it is not possible!"

You loved her. You will always love her. You could never willher death.

Never.

But you remember...

You remember all of it.

You remember the dragon that you brought Vader forthfrom your heart to slay. You remember the cold venom in Vader'sblood. You remember the furnace of Vader's fury, and the blackhatred of seizing her throat to silence her lying mouth—

And there is one blazing moment in which you finally understand that there was no dragon. That there was no Vader. Thatthere was only you. Only Anakin Skywalker.

That it was all you. Is you.

Only you.

You did it.

You killed her.

You killed her because, finally, when you could havesaved her,when you could have gone away with her, when you could havebeen thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself... It is in this blazing moment that you finally understand the trap of the dark side, the final cruelty of the Sith—because now yourself is all you will ever have.

And you rage and scream and reach through the Force tocrush the shadow who has destroyed you, but you are so far lessnow than what you were, you are more than half machine, youare like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf, you can remember where the power was but the power you can touch is only a memory, and so with all your world-destroying fury it isonly droids around you that implode, and equipment, and thetable on which you were strapped shatters, and in the end, you cannot touch the shadow.

In the end, you do not even want to.

In the end, the shadow is all you have left.Because the shadow understands you, the shadow forgives you, the shadow gathers you unto itself—and within your furnace heart, you burn in your own flame.This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker…Forever…

The long night has begun.

Huge solemn crowds line Palace Plaza in Theed, the capital of Naboo, as six beautiful white gualaars draw a flower-drapedopen casket bearing the remains of a beloved Senator throughthe Triumphal Arch, her fingers finally and forever clasping asnippet of japor, one that had been carved long ago by the hand of a nine-year-old boy from an obscure desert planet in the farOuter Rim... On the jungle planet of Dagobah, a Jedi Master inspects theunfamiliar swamp of his exile... From the bridge of a Star Destroyer, two Sith Lords standwith a sector governor named Tarkin, and survey the growingskeleton of a spherical battle station the size of a moon... But even in the deepest night, there are some who dream ofdawn.

On Alderaan, the Prince Consort delivers a baby girl into the loving arms of his Queen. And on Tatooine, a Jedi Master brings an infant boy to the homestead of Owen and Beru Lars—

Then he rides his eopie off into the Jundland Wastes, towardthe setting suns.

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins—butin the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.

Love is more than a candle.Love can ignite the stars.