Star Wars - Altered Path 3
And here's the third chapter...
Chapter 3
Fallen Icon
Siri folded her arms inside of her voluminous sleeves and squinted up at the damage that hadn’t been visible the previous night. The entire back wall of the Senate Rotunda building from the Supreme Chancellor’s office window on down was covered in black scorch marks. There didn’t seem to be a single window on that side of the building that hadn’t been broken by the mysterious explosion and it looked that there were patches of the outer wall that had actually been deformed or melted, which shouldn’t be possible. She couldn’t think of any weapon or explosive compound that could do the sort of damage that she was seeing.
What happened here?
Nearly all of the Jedi who had searched the Coruscanti streets the previous night were now searching again in the daylight. The greatly improved visibility should’ve aided them in locating further clues as to what had happened in the Supreme Chancellor’s office and what Dar’ti Vader’s fate was. But with the morning light had come reporters, camera droids, and all manner of curiosity seekers that kept trying to slip into the locked-down section of the city-planet. That left their efforts split between trying to carry out their assignment and keeping the public from getting in the way and seeing things that they weren’t supposed to.
Shaking her head, Siri turned away from the blackened flank of the building and returned to combing through the warren of lower levels beneath it. She hadn’t found anything in her search area so far and she had a feeling that she probably wouldn’t find anything further no matter how long she searched. But, as Master Ti had reminded them as they’d set out, it was important to be thorough. Especially in this instance, where a single missed scrap of evidence could contradict whatever tall tale the High Council cobbled together for the Senate.
I understand why we have to lie about the Supreme Chancellor. He made himself too powerful and too popular. The Senate wouldn’t believe the truth, or even really understand it.
But I am sick unto death of all the deceptions, lies, and mysteries that have cropped up since the Clone Wars began!
When the war had started, she had accepted that the Jedi needed to be involved and lead the Republic’s new army of clones. There was no other combat-capable organization that was big enough and flexible enough to take on the role. However, accepting it hadn’t meant that she liked it, and the title of “General” had not been the most comfortable fit.
But as the war lasted longer and longer, the more unsettled she became with it and the Jedi Order’s participation. The Order was stretched beyond thin and Jedi were dying left and right. Even her own former Master, Adi Gallia, fell to the relentless grind of battle, and Siri herself nearly joined her a few times. And then there were the Jedi who had Fallen to the Dark Side, like Master Depa Billaba on Haruun Kal-driven mad by the pain and chaos of war.
And as the tide of battle swung back and forth between the Republic and the Confederacy, the more wrong it all felt to her. She couldn’t clearly define it and it was made worse by the continual darkening of the Force from all of the widespread death and suffering. It poked at the back of her brain every time that she took a moment to contemplate the course of the war, and it made her irritable. Everything was cloudy and uncertain, and that murkiness had spread everywhere, even within the Temple itself.
The mystery of Dar’ti Vader was one of the biggest sore spots for her. He had been the apprentice of one of her oldest and dearest friends, Obi-Wan Kenobi, but the pair was a complete mismatch in her opinion. Vader had been lax in his studies and undisciplined in his behavior, and he’d always caused some friction with his fellow Padawans. From all that she’d seen of him, she was left baffled as to why Obi-Wan had chosen him.
Then she’d caught sight of a mess of old scars on the boy’s back and been disturbed by the fact that Obi-Wan couldn’t explain them, and Vader simply wouldn’t. Trying to find answers in his files in the Archives had only deepened the mystery. Vader’s records were full of holes and inconsistencies; his family history, home planet, and his Midi-Chlorian count were all blank with no explanation as to why. And when she checked the master rosters for the Initiate Clan and basic level courses that his file said that he was supposed to be in, his name was absent.
Confronting Obi-Wan and Master Yoda about the problem had gotten her nowhere. None of the Council Members would give her any answers about why such important information was missing or apparently falsified. It was like a conspiracy, and such a thing shouldn’t exist within the Jedi Order. There should be no reason for one.
And now the young man was apparently embroiled in this mess up to his eyebrows. The Supreme Chancellor had selected Vader, a Jedi who seemed to actively avoid recognition from the media or the Senate, to be his chosen representative on the Jedi High Council. In turn, the Council had used Vader as a spy to determine if the Chancellor had ties to the shadowy Sith Master. Vader somehow discovered that Palpatine was the Sith Master, and was able to slay him when several highly-skilled Jedi Masters had been unable to, but had apparently died in the process.
But…with all the uncertainty and mystery that clung to Vader, himself, Siri couldn’t help but doubt that Mace’s account of the battle in Palpatine’s office was fully accurate.
What if Mace was mistaken about what he saw? What if Vader didn’t kill the Sith? What if he helped the Sith Master fake his death-
“Master?”
Siri paused in her perusal of a trash bin, set aside her dark thought, and looked over her shoulder at her former apprentice.
“Yes, Ferus? Did you find something?”
“No,” he sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I’ve checked my entire search zone and found nothing. Did you find anything?”
“Nothing so far,” she replied, tossing her head to get some loose blonde hairs out of her eyes. “Want to help me finish up?”
Ferus nodded agreeably and moved to check the other side of the alley for her. She managed a faint but genuine smile as she watched him methodically examine a dumpster. While he was still a bit too focused on rules for her taste, he had matured into a fine young Knight and he made her very proud.
Now if only the war would end so that I don’t have to worry as much about him living long enough to take a Padawan of his own…or worry about me living long enough to see it.
Feeling her brief good mood fade away, she shook herself and returned to sifting through alley rubbish.
“…Master?” Ferus piped up hesitantly as they made their way to the next alley on the street. “Do you think Vader could’ve survived? I mean, I saw the Rotunda building, but…”
“I don’t see how,” Siri replied with reluctance. “He hasn’t turned up at the Temple, and with all that damage…”
“But his body hasn’t been found, so there’s no definitive proof that he’s dead,” Ferus argued as he peered into a ruined speeder.
“True,” Siri conceded and dug through a mildew-stained stack of news-faxes. “However, lack of a body also doesn’t guarantee that he’s alive and well somewhere.”
“I know,” Ferus muttered with a slight scowl. “It just…seems unfair that his reward for ending the Sith is death.”
“You know that life isn’t fair,” Siri chided him. “I thought that you didn’t like Vader.”
“I don’t,” Ferus replied. “I don’t like him, I don’t understand him…but he’s a fellow Jedi. He’s one of us.”
Siri nodded mutely and gnawed on her lower lip as a whisper of a doubt swirled at the back of her mind.
…Is he one of us, though?
***
Mace sighed wearily as he leaned up against the trunk of a tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and waited for Shaak Ti to return from debriefing the searchers they’d sent to examine the quarantined sector beside the Senate Rotunda. The stump of his right wrist throbbed as the nerve block began to wear off, but the Force helped him bear it and remain focused. The Healers had removed all the charred flesh and applied some Bacta ointment and fresh bandages to the wound, but there was little more they could do until he submitted himself for surgery. But that had to wait until after the High Council had updated the Senate and a few more members had returned to help Shaak Ti carry the burden of command while he was incapacitated.
His Togruta colleague had already selected a replacement to take command of the Utapau campaign. The Kiffar Jedi, Quinlan Vos was on his way to the planet now from Kashyyyk and would take command of Obi-Wan’s clone forces by nightfall, Coruscant time. Not only was Master Vos experienced with the Confederacy because of his undercover work, his skills in reading the impressions left behind by living beings on inanimate objects could prove useful in tracking the fugitive ruling council of the Separatists.
That was one of the few bright spots he could see in the immediate future. Another was that, so far, the Republic was ignorant of the Supreme Chancellor’s death. And very soon Obi-Wan and Yoda would arrive so that Mace could get the surgery that he needed to prepare his stump to take a mechanical prosthetic once it was manufactured for him.
But the rest of the future looked grim and treacherous to Mace. He and Shaak had to address the Senate in little more than an hour and inform them of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s death, the end of General Grievous, the Jedi Order’s temporary custodianship of the government. They needed to sell the Senators whatever story they formulated concerning Palpatine’s demise and somehow keep the Senate from collapsing into anarchy. They also had to secretly investigate Palpatine’s many allies in the Senate and see if there were any more like Sly Moore, his senior administrative aide who had seemingly vanished into thin air somehow. And when Obi-Wan arrived on the planet, he needed to tell him about Vader’s end.
Mace had never liked or trusted the boy from the first moment he’d skulked into the High Council’s meeting chamber. He had been very leery of the Council’s decision to shelter Vader, and ambivalent of his participation in the war. But he knew that Obi-Wan had bonded with the young man as if he’d actually been the Jedi Padawan that he’d been disguised as, and learning of his loss would be difficult for the Jedi Master.
The Master from Haruun Kal leaned his bald head back against the tree’s rough bark and reached out into the Force, to see if it would share any insight with him…but it was still turbulent and unsettled from the shockwaves of the Sith Master’s destruction and it showed him nothing.
When will the Force recover? He wondered. Will it be in my lifetime? Or will it take generations before the damage heals?
Shaak Ti’s bright presence approaching his position pulled him from his contemplation and he opened his eyes to greet her. She moved smoothly to sit on the soft grass across from him and bowed slightly in return to him. Their location in the large indoor park was nearby one of the rushing waterfalls and screened in by rock formations and tall bushes, which prevented eavesdroppers and insured privacy.
“Did they find anything?” he asked.
“Beyond a few more scraps of charred clothing and the remains of a boot, they found nothing,” she replied with a regretful shake of the head.
“I feared as much,” he grunted. “Time is running out. We must proceed under the assumption that Vader is dead. Now it is time to decide exactly what we are going to tell the Senators.”
“It must be kept simple,” Shaak cautioned. “We cannot have any reasonable doubt take root in the Senate or the Republic will crumble.”
Mace agreed with an emphatic nod. “I’ve already considered a few things…”
***
Padmé sat in the repulsor pod assigned to the Naboo delegation and struggled not to touch her stomach. Her heavy dresses did a lot to hide her condition but a single careless touch would undo all her efforts at secrecy. Any nervous fidgeting was something that she sought to avoid to keep up her image as a calm and confident Senator, but it was the lesser evil in this situation and she occupied her restless hand with tracing the carved lines of her Japor pendant.
The rest of her delegation was just as anxious as she was. Jar Jar plucked restlessly at the sleeve of his intricately embroidered robes and his yellow eyes darted around the cavernous chamber at the rows upon rows of identical pods docked to the walls. Sabé sat stiffly in her chair with her hands fisted tightly in her lap and while she wasn’t looking around Padmé had no doubt that she was intensely aware of everything going on around her. And Captain Typho stood just outside of their pod, guarding its entrance and exit and watching her back like a loyal guard dog.
The Grand Convocation Chamber was abuzz with the echoing whispers of thousands of Senators, Representatives, various political aides, and security personnel. The air was heavy and tense and Padmé did her best to ignore how stifling it felt to her. Again she glanced down at the controls of the repulsor pod to check its time display, and again it wasn’t quite yet time for the mysterious announcement that they had all been summoned to hear.
I wonder what this special session is going to be about…
It could be anything. The most likely subject was the mysterious attack on the Senate Building that had left a large section of airspace near the building closed to all traffic, and most of the lower offices sealed off. But it could also pertain to the state of the war. Perhaps General Grievous was dead and the Senate could proceed with diplomatic overtures to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Or maybe the Separatists had rallied once more and landed yet another devastating offensive against loyal worlds of the Republic. Or it could be that the Supreme Chancellor-
A familiar voice at the back of her pod interrupted her musings and Padmé turned to see Bail Organa of Alderaan chatting with her security man. He was a handsome, well-manicured man, the husband of Alderaan’s Queen Breha and the Senatorial representative of his highly respected Core World. Padmé liked him and respected him and as the war dragged on found him to be one of her greatest allies in the Senate. And recently he’d helped form the Delegation of Two Thousand in response to his concerns about the Supreme Chancellor, and invited her to join.
“Good afternoon, Senator Amidala,” he greeted with a warm smile. “I hope that I’m not intruding, but the entrance that I normally use falls in that no-fly zone.”
“You’re not intruding at all,” she replied, gently shaking her head. “Please,” she gestured to the open seat beside her, “sit down. Have you heard anything about this announcement?”
“All I’ve heard is that representatives of the Jedi Order will be present,” he answered. “What about you? Were you able to reach the Supreme Chancellor? I couldn’t get through to his office at all.”
“I haven’t been able to reach him or any of his staffers, either,” Padmé admitted unhappily. Palpatine was a fellow native of Naboo who had served her early in her tenure as Queen, and if anyone in the Senate had direct access to him it logically should’ve been her. “It could be that he’s simply caught up in business.”
The excuse sounded hollow to her own ears, and she knew that Bail didn’t believe it any more than she did. The Supreme Chancellor could very well be ignoring them as they both had fallen out of his favor, especially after Padmé had presented him with the Delegation’s petition earlier in the week. But the fact that they couldn’t even reach a lowly secretary to leave a message for the leader of the Republic was troubling.
Bail thoughtfully stroked his neatly trimmed goatee and leaned back in his seat. “Perhaps-”
A loud chime echoed through the cavernous room, interrupting Bail’s thought and silencing the rumble of whispers from the thousands of other Senators. Down below, the floor opened up and the podium that hosted the Supreme Chancellor, the Vice Chancellor, and a Senior Administrative Aide of the Chancellor’s office, rose up to its active position. However, only the Vice Chancellor, Mas Amedda, was present at the podium, and the blue horned Chagrian looked intensely unhappy.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and his favored aide, the Umbaran woman, Sly Moore, were nowhere to be seen.
This absence immediately sparked fresh whispers and even a few louder exclamations, which had Mas Amedda’s forked tongue flickering in agitation as he slammed the ceremonial Speaker’s Staff against the floor.
“Order, Senators!” Amedda bellowed into his microphone. “This special session will now come to order!”
Several repulsor pods undocked from the Grand Convocation Chamber walls and floated to the center of the room without permission, and the delegations began calling out frantic questions.
“Where is the Supreme Chancellor?”
“Lord Speaker, what about the attack on the Senate Rotunda Building?”
“Was the Supreme Chancellor hurt in the attack? Is that why he is not present?”
“Order!” Amedda bellowed, again banging the Speaker’s Staff. “The floor is not yet open for comments or questions! Dock your pods and wait until after today’s announcement.”
The various delegations were clearly unhappy, but they didn’t want to be expelled from the session so they obeyed and returned their pods to their docks.
“Now,” the Chagrian continued as soon as the rogue pods were back in their proper places, “the Jedi Order has requested this special session be called. They have an important announcement to share with the Senate. All questions and comments will wait until after they have spoken their piece.”
Once more cracking the butt of the Speaker’s Staff against the floor, he signaled for a spare repulsor pod to approach the podium at the center of the chamber.
Padmé eagerly shifted closer to the rail of her own pod to get a glimpse of the Jedi. Since Vader had been appointed to the Jedi High Council it was possible that he would be among them. But there were only two Jedi in the pod: Mace Windu and Shaak Ti.
Disappointed, she leaned back in her seat and focused on the pod’s vid-screen, which displayed a close-up of whoever was at the center of the chamber, with her Japor pendant clutched tightly in her right hand.
“I wonder if Master Windu is all right,” Bail murmured in concern. “He looks a bit pale.”
“He does,” Padmé agreed as she studied his image on the screen. He stood stiffly with his arms hidden in his sleeves as most Jedi did, but it looked off somehow. “Maybe he was injured?”
“Hesa could be tired,” Jar Jar suggested and tugged at one of his floppy fin ears. “Da Jedi be always so busy, busy wit’ da war.”
Anything further comment in the Nabooan pod was halted when Master Windu activated his pod’s microphone and began to speak.
“Senators of the Republic,” the Jedi spoke, his voice firm and untouched by pain or fatigue. “Yesterday evening it was reported to us that Master Kenobi had engaged General Grievous on Utapau and destroyed him.”
A surge of giddy relief washed over Padmé at the news. Without General Grievous, the Confederacy’s droid army had no central leader. Now surely her more anxious colleagues in the Senate could be persuaded to put an end to the senseless fighting and reach out to the Separatists with diplomacy instead of blaster bolts. A clear end to the war was within sight.
“I went to share this information with the Supreme Chancellor along with several of my colleagues of the High Council,” Master Windu continued once he was certain that the Senate had digested that bit of information. “However, upon our arrival in the Supreme Chancellor’s offices, we discovered that he was under attack.” Cries of shock began to erupt from the Senators, but the Jedi Master continued on doggedly, his voice rolling over them through the chamber’s powerful speakers. “An unknown cloaked figure armed with a red-bladed lightsaber was threatening the Supreme Chancellor. We immediately moved to intercede and protect Chancellor Palpatine, but the attacker was powerful and skilled. My comrades were slain and I was wounded.”
The Jedi paused briefly to pull back the baggy sleeve of his cloak to reveal his maimed right arm to the assembled Senators, and a corner of Padmé’s mind dimly noted that it wasn’t as severe as the injury that Vader had sustained on Geonosis at the start of the war.
“The battle culminated with an explosion of unknown origin, which damaged the lower outside portion of this building and caused the crash of several private airspeeders that were nearby. We believe that the attacker was a being known only as Darth Sidious, who we feel was driven out of the shadows and into direct action at last by the death of his apprentice, Count Dooku. Darth Sidious was killed; however, in the chaos of the fighting, we were unable to protect the Supreme Chancellor and he was slain by the intruder.”
There was a beat of stunned silence before the entire Convocation Chamber exploded. Cries of horror and rage rebounded off the walls in a deafening cacophony that could rattle bones. Nearly a dozen repulsor pods belonging to some of the Supreme Chancellor’s closest political allies rushed haphazardly to encircle the Jedi’s pod so that they could better question and berate the two Jedi Masters. Mas Amedda should’ve chastised the rogue delegations, but the Chagrian seemed too stunned by the news of Palpatine’s death to intervene. Both Jedi stood silent and stoic like they were made of stone, and the verbal abuse washed over them to no effect.
Padmé’s reaction to the news was a fresh surge of relief that was immediately followed by guilt.
Palpatine had been a roadblock to a diplomatic solution to the war, and his hoarding of emergency powers and his worrying attitude towards the petition that she’d brought before him on behalf of the Delegation of Two Thousand had concerned her immensely. His death brought peace even closer and should return the Republic to its democratic roots, removing any need for the organization that Bail had hinted at in their recent meetings. The Republic’s slide into a dictatorship was over, and it was an immense comfort to her.
But Palpatine was one of her people. He was a fellow native of Naboo who had mentored her in her youth, and represented her world before ascending to the position of Supreme Chancellor. And although they had been at odds more and more as the war dragged on, she should only feel grief for his tragic death, not relief.
Eventually Mas Amedda regained enough of his senses to bully the Senate back into order and Padmé was surprised that he didn’t snap the wooden Speaker’s Staff in half with how violently he had to bang it to regain the panicked Senators’ attentions. When a measure of order was restored, Master Windu stepped aside and Shaak Ti took his place at the pod’s microphone. The red-skinned Togruta stood calm and strong under the collective weight of the half-terrified Senate’s collective gaze.
“Because the war is at a critical stage, the Jedi Order will hold custodianship over the Senate until the Clone Wars are concluded,” Shaak Ti calmly explained. “With Count Dooku and General Grievous dead, the Confederacy’s droid army is leaderless, and we are in the process of locating the fugitive Separatist ruling council so that we may begin negotiations to end the conflict. We encourage the Senate to form a committee to assist Jedi negotiators when contact is made with Confederacy leaders so that peace and reconciliation can occur as quickly as possible. Once peace is achieved, the Jedi Order will stand aside and the Senate will elect a new Supreme Chancellor. In the meantime, the Jedi will endeavor to keep the Senate informed of the State of the Republic, and a full written report of the death of Chancellor Palpatine will be made available no later than two weeks from today.”
The Togruta woman gave the gathered Senators a moment to assimilate her words before continuing.
“We understand that this is a difficult situation and we appreciate your cooperation so that we may speedily close this dark chapter in the Republic’s history. Please be calm, confer with your home governments and colleagues, but do not spread panic. The Republic must remain united, or else the sacrifice and suffering of the previous years will have been for nothing. We deeply regret and grieve the loss of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, but we must forge ahead-”
“Will there be a funeral for the Chancellor?” Orn Free Taa, the grossly obese Twi’lek Senator of Ryloth, interrupted, steering his repulsor pod towards the center of the vast chamber. “Or,” the blue Twi’lek continued in a caustic tone, “is winning this dreadful war too important to bother with honoring our tragically lost leader?”
“Of course there will be a funeral,” Shaak Ti replied smoothly, before Mas Amedda could scold the Senator. “No details have been decided concerning the date. Perhaps, as Chancellor Palpatine’s friend, you might reach out to the Naboo delegation and offer your assistance in this matter?”
Padmé swallowed a sigh of dismay at the reminder that she would have to play a large part in Palpatine’s funeral, both here and on Naboo, and at the idea of working with the hedonistic Twi’lek politician, even though it would greatly lighten her load.
“(I demand an independent investigation into the Supreme Chancellor’s death!)” Ask Aak, the Gran Senator of Malastare, bleated and brayed in his native language as his delegation’s pod joined Orn Free Taa’s near the central podium and the Jedi. “(The Jedi failed to protect him. They will undoubtedly slant their report to hide their incompetence!)”
“Please wait until you have read our report before passing judgement,” Shaak Ti responded, still calm and unruffled. “Then, if the Senate is still unsatisfied, another investigation may be approved. However, I personally feel that would be a waste of time and resources that the Republic cannot afford at this moment.”
“I have a question.” Shayla Paige-Tarkin, a Human Senator of Eriadu, joined Orn Free Taa and Ask Aak in violating protocol to confront the Jedi, although she was more polite about it than her colleagues. “The Supreme Chancellor had appointed a Jedi to your High Council; one that he trusted.” She leaned forward in her repulsor pod to pin the two Jedi with sharp, challenging eyes. “When Chancellor Palpatine was being attacked, where was he?”
“(Yes!)” Ask Aak agreed, pounding the rail of his pod with an angry fist. “(Where was he that he failed to protect his patron? Where is he now? He should be made to answer before the Senate!)”
An angry rumble of agreement swirled around the Grand Convocation Chamber like a growl of distant thunder.
Padmé’s hand had a death grip on her Japor necklace as an ice-cold rush of fear danced up her spine. Vader had been Palpatine’s chosen representative to the Jedi High Council. While she had faith in his strength and skill, Master Windu was certainly a stronger Jedi and he’d barely survived this Darth Sidious character. And Master Windu had said that the other Jedi with him had all died…
The Togruta Jedi hesitated, then stood aside so that Master Windu could retake the microphone.
“This will be the last question that we will answer,” he warned them. “There is much that we have to do and it is important that we return to the Temple quickly.” Mace paused a moment before getting to the heart of the matter. “The Jedi in question, Knight Dar’ti Vader, was in the Temple at the time my colleagues and I went to inform the Supreme Chancellor of General Greivous’s demise. On his own initiative, he came to assist us, but did not arrive in time to save Chancellor Palpatine. I was losing the duel with Darth Sidious and he interceded on my behalf. He was the one who landed the killing blow on Darth Sidious…at the cost of his own life.”
It was as if someone had stabbed Padmé in the chest with a blade made of ice. The loud response to Master Windu’s revelation sounded far away and muffled, like she had cotton stuffed in her ears. She tried to breathe and make sense of what the Jedi had said, but she couldn’t seem to get enough air.
No…
Someone’s hand gripped her shoulder, but she could barely feel it.
It can’t be…
The person was shaking her, speaking urgently near her ear now.
I just saw him yesterday…
A sob tore at her throat but there wasn’t enough air for it to escape.
He can’t be…
Her vision blurred and went gray around the edges.
The baby…
They forced her head to turn and she saw Bail’s and Sabé’s concerned faces before her.
Our baby hasn’t been born yet…
They were speaking to her but she couldn’t hear them at all over the distant gasping of her own breathing.
My son…
Her chest was crushing itself and it felt like the room was spinning.
He’ll never know his father…
She swayed in her seat and Captain Typho was suddenly there, supporting her.
He made it through so much…
A strangled sob finally escaped her.
How could he be…
And then there was only blackness.
…Dead?
Chapter 3
Fallen Icon
Siri folded her arms inside of her voluminous sleeves and squinted up at the damage that hadn’t been visible the previous night. The entire back wall of the Senate Rotunda building from the Supreme Chancellor’s office window on down was covered in black scorch marks. There didn’t seem to be a single window on that side of the building that hadn’t been broken by the mysterious explosion and it looked that there were patches of the outer wall that had actually been deformed or melted, which shouldn’t be possible. She couldn’t think of any weapon or explosive compound that could do the sort of damage that she was seeing.
What happened here?
Nearly all of the Jedi who had searched the Coruscanti streets the previous night were now searching again in the daylight. The greatly improved visibility should’ve aided them in locating further clues as to what had happened in the Supreme Chancellor’s office and what Dar’ti Vader’s fate was. But with the morning light had come reporters, camera droids, and all manner of curiosity seekers that kept trying to slip into the locked-down section of the city-planet. That left their efforts split between trying to carry out their assignment and keeping the public from getting in the way and seeing things that they weren’t supposed to.
Shaking her head, Siri turned away from the blackened flank of the building and returned to combing through the warren of lower levels beneath it. She hadn’t found anything in her search area so far and she had a feeling that she probably wouldn’t find anything further no matter how long she searched. But, as Master Ti had reminded them as they’d set out, it was important to be thorough. Especially in this instance, where a single missed scrap of evidence could contradict whatever tall tale the High Council cobbled together for the Senate.
I understand why we have to lie about the Supreme Chancellor. He made himself too powerful and too popular. The Senate wouldn’t believe the truth, or even really understand it.
But I am sick unto death of all the deceptions, lies, and mysteries that have cropped up since the Clone Wars began!
When the war had started, she had accepted that the Jedi needed to be involved and lead the Republic’s new army of clones. There was no other combat-capable organization that was big enough and flexible enough to take on the role. However, accepting it hadn’t meant that she liked it, and the title of “General” had not been the most comfortable fit.
But as the war lasted longer and longer, the more unsettled she became with it and the Jedi Order’s participation. The Order was stretched beyond thin and Jedi were dying left and right. Even her own former Master, Adi Gallia, fell to the relentless grind of battle, and Siri herself nearly joined her a few times. And then there were the Jedi who had Fallen to the Dark Side, like Master Depa Billaba on Haruun Kal-driven mad by the pain and chaos of war.
And as the tide of battle swung back and forth between the Republic and the Confederacy, the more wrong it all felt to her. She couldn’t clearly define it and it was made worse by the continual darkening of the Force from all of the widespread death and suffering. It poked at the back of her brain every time that she took a moment to contemplate the course of the war, and it made her irritable. Everything was cloudy and uncertain, and that murkiness had spread everywhere, even within the Temple itself.
The mystery of Dar’ti Vader was one of the biggest sore spots for her. He had been the apprentice of one of her oldest and dearest friends, Obi-Wan Kenobi, but the pair was a complete mismatch in her opinion. Vader had been lax in his studies and undisciplined in his behavior, and he’d always caused some friction with his fellow Padawans. From all that she’d seen of him, she was left baffled as to why Obi-Wan had chosen him.
Then she’d caught sight of a mess of old scars on the boy’s back and been disturbed by the fact that Obi-Wan couldn’t explain them, and Vader simply wouldn’t. Trying to find answers in his files in the Archives had only deepened the mystery. Vader’s records were full of holes and inconsistencies; his family history, home planet, and his Midi-Chlorian count were all blank with no explanation as to why. And when she checked the master rosters for the Initiate Clan and basic level courses that his file said that he was supposed to be in, his name was absent.
Confronting Obi-Wan and Master Yoda about the problem had gotten her nowhere. None of the Council Members would give her any answers about why such important information was missing or apparently falsified. It was like a conspiracy, and such a thing shouldn’t exist within the Jedi Order. There should be no reason for one.
And now the young man was apparently embroiled in this mess up to his eyebrows. The Supreme Chancellor had selected Vader, a Jedi who seemed to actively avoid recognition from the media or the Senate, to be his chosen representative on the Jedi High Council. In turn, the Council had used Vader as a spy to determine if the Chancellor had ties to the shadowy Sith Master. Vader somehow discovered that Palpatine was the Sith Master, and was able to slay him when several highly-skilled Jedi Masters had been unable to, but had apparently died in the process.
But…with all the uncertainty and mystery that clung to Vader, himself, Siri couldn’t help but doubt that Mace’s account of the battle in Palpatine’s office was fully accurate.
What if Mace was mistaken about what he saw? What if Vader didn’t kill the Sith? What if he helped the Sith Master fake his death-
“Master?”
Siri paused in her perusal of a trash bin, set aside her dark thought, and looked over her shoulder at her former apprentice.
“Yes, Ferus? Did you find something?”
“No,” he sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I’ve checked my entire search zone and found nothing. Did you find anything?”
“Nothing so far,” she replied, tossing her head to get some loose blonde hairs out of her eyes. “Want to help me finish up?”
Ferus nodded agreeably and moved to check the other side of the alley for her. She managed a faint but genuine smile as she watched him methodically examine a dumpster. While he was still a bit too focused on rules for her taste, he had matured into a fine young Knight and he made her very proud.
Now if only the war would end so that I don’t have to worry as much about him living long enough to take a Padawan of his own…or worry about me living long enough to see it.
Feeling her brief good mood fade away, she shook herself and returned to sifting through alley rubbish.
“…Master?” Ferus piped up hesitantly as they made their way to the next alley on the street. “Do you think Vader could’ve survived? I mean, I saw the Rotunda building, but…”
“I don’t see how,” Siri replied with reluctance. “He hasn’t turned up at the Temple, and with all that damage…”
“But his body hasn’t been found, so there’s no definitive proof that he’s dead,” Ferus argued as he peered into a ruined speeder.
“True,” Siri conceded and dug through a mildew-stained stack of news-faxes. “However, lack of a body also doesn’t guarantee that he’s alive and well somewhere.”
“I know,” Ferus muttered with a slight scowl. “It just…seems unfair that his reward for ending the Sith is death.”
“You know that life isn’t fair,” Siri chided him. “I thought that you didn’t like Vader.”
“I don’t,” Ferus replied. “I don’t like him, I don’t understand him…but he’s a fellow Jedi. He’s one of us.”
Siri nodded mutely and gnawed on her lower lip as a whisper of a doubt swirled at the back of her mind.
…Is he one of us, though?
***
Mace sighed wearily as he leaned up against the trunk of a tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and waited for Shaak Ti to return from debriefing the searchers they’d sent to examine the quarantined sector beside the Senate Rotunda. The stump of his right wrist throbbed as the nerve block began to wear off, but the Force helped him bear it and remain focused. The Healers had removed all the charred flesh and applied some Bacta ointment and fresh bandages to the wound, but there was little more they could do until he submitted himself for surgery. But that had to wait until after the High Council had updated the Senate and a few more members had returned to help Shaak Ti carry the burden of command while he was incapacitated.
His Togruta colleague had already selected a replacement to take command of the Utapau campaign. The Kiffar Jedi, Quinlan Vos was on his way to the planet now from Kashyyyk and would take command of Obi-Wan’s clone forces by nightfall, Coruscant time. Not only was Master Vos experienced with the Confederacy because of his undercover work, his skills in reading the impressions left behind by living beings on inanimate objects could prove useful in tracking the fugitive ruling council of the Separatists.
That was one of the few bright spots he could see in the immediate future. Another was that, so far, the Republic was ignorant of the Supreme Chancellor’s death. And very soon Obi-Wan and Yoda would arrive so that Mace could get the surgery that he needed to prepare his stump to take a mechanical prosthetic once it was manufactured for him.
But the rest of the future looked grim and treacherous to Mace. He and Shaak had to address the Senate in little more than an hour and inform them of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s death, the end of General Grievous, the Jedi Order’s temporary custodianship of the government. They needed to sell the Senators whatever story they formulated concerning Palpatine’s demise and somehow keep the Senate from collapsing into anarchy. They also had to secretly investigate Palpatine’s many allies in the Senate and see if there were any more like Sly Moore, his senior administrative aide who had seemingly vanished into thin air somehow. And when Obi-Wan arrived on the planet, he needed to tell him about Vader’s end.
Mace had never liked or trusted the boy from the first moment he’d skulked into the High Council’s meeting chamber. He had been very leery of the Council’s decision to shelter Vader, and ambivalent of his participation in the war. But he knew that Obi-Wan had bonded with the young man as if he’d actually been the Jedi Padawan that he’d been disguised as, and learning of his loss would be difficult for the Jedi Master.
The Master from Haruun Kal leaned his bald head back against the tree’s rough bark and reached out into the Force, to see if it would share any insight with him…but it was still turbulent and unsettled from the shockwaves of the Sith Master’s destruction and it showed him nothing.
When will the Force recover? He wondered. Will it be in my lifetime? Or will it take generations before the damage heals?
Shaak Ti’s bright presence approaching his position pulled him from his contemplation and he opened his eyes to greet her. She moved smoothly to sit on the soft grass across from him and bowed slightly in return to him. Their location in the large indoor park was nearby one of the rushing waterfalls and screened in by rock formations and tall bushes, which prevented eavesdroppers and insured privacy.
“Did they find anything?” he asked.
“Beyond a few more scraps of charred clothing and the remains of a boot, they found nothing,” she replied with a regretful shake of the head.
“I feared as much,” he grunted. “Time is running out. We must proceed under the assumption that Vader is dead. Now it is time to decide exactly what we are going to tell the Senators.”
“It must be kept simple,” Shaak cautioned. “We cannot have any reasonable doubt take root in the Senate or the Republic will crumble.”
Mace agreed with an emphatic nod. “I’ve already considered a few things…”
***
Padmé sat in the repulsor pod assigned to the Naboo delegation and struggled not to touch her stomach. Her heavy dresses did a lot to hide her condition but a single careless touch would undo all her efforts at secrecy. Any nervous fidgeting was something that she sought to avoid to keep up her image as a calm and confident Senator, but it was the lesser evil in this situation and she occupied her restless hand with tracing the carved lines of her Japor pendant.
The rest of her delegation was just as anxious as she was. Jar Jar plucked restlessly at the sleeve of his intricately embroidered robes and his yellow eyes darted around the cavernous chamber at the rows upon rows of identical pods docked to the walls. Sabé sat stiffly in her chair with her hands fisted tightly in her lap and while she wasn’t looking around Padmé had no doubt that she was intensely aware of everything going on around her. And Captain Typho stood just outside of their pod, guarding its entrance and exit and watching her back like a loyal guard dog.
The Grand Convocation Chamber was abuzz with the echoing whispers of thousands of Senators, Representatives, various political aides, and security personnel. The air was heavy and tense and Padmé did her best to ignore how stifling it felt to her. Again she glanced down at the controls of the repulsor pod to check its time display, and again it wasn’t quite yet time for the mysterious announcement that they had all been summoned to hear.
I wonder what this special session is going to be about…
It could be anything. The most likely subject was the mysterious attack on the Senate Building that had left a large section of airspace near the building closed to all traffic, and most of the lower offices sealed off. But it could also pertain to the state of the war. Perhaps General Grievous was dead and the Senate could proceed with diplomatic overtures to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Or maybe the Separatists had rallied once more and landed yet another devastating offensive against loyal worlds of the Republic. Or it could be that the Supreme Chancellor-
A familiar voice at the back of her pod interrupted her musings and Padmé turned to see Bail Organa of Alderaan chatting with her security man. He was a handsome, well-manicured man, the husband of Alderaan’s Queen Breha and the Senatorial representative of his highly respected Core World. Padmé liked him and respected him and as the war dragged on found him to be one of her greatest allies in the Senate. And recently he’d helped form the Delegation of Two Thousand in response to his concerns about the Supreme Chancellor, and invited her to join.
“Good afternoon, Senator Amidala,” he greeted with a warm smile. “I hope that I’m not intruding, but the entrance that I normally use falls in that no-fly zone.”
“You’re not intruding at all,” she replied, gently shaking her head. “Please,” she gestured to the open seat beside her, “sit down. Have you heard anything about this announcement?”
“All I’ve heard is that representatives of the Jedi Order will be present,” he answered. “What about you? Were you able to reach the Supreme Chancellor? I couldn’t get through to his office at all.”
“I haven’t been able to reach him or any of his staffers, either,” Padmé admitted unhappily. Palpatine was a fellow native of Naboo who had served her early in her tenure as Queen, and if anyone in the Senate had direct access to him it logically should’ve been her. “It could be that he’s simply caught up in business.”
The excuse sounded hollow to her own ears, and she knew that Bail didn’t believe it any more than she did. The Supreme Chancellor could very well be ignoring them as they both had fallen out of his favor, especially after Padmé had presented him with the Delegation’s petition earlier in the week. But the fact that they couldn’t even reach a lowly secretary to leave a message for the leader of the Republic was troubling.
Bail thoughtfully stroked his neatly trimmed goatee and leaned back in his seat. “Perhaps-”
A loud chime echoed through the cavernous room, interrupting Bail’s thought and silencing the rumble of whispers from the thousands of other Senators. Down below, the floor opened up and the podium that hosted the Supreme Chancellor, the Vice Chancellor, and a Senior Administrative Aide of the Chancellor’s office, rose up to its active position. However, only the Vice Chancellor, Mas Amedda, was present at the podium, and the blue horned Chagrian looked intensely unhappy.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and his favored aide, the Umbaran woman, Sly Moore, were nowhere to be seen.
This absence immediately sparked fresh whispers and even a few louder exclamations, which had Mas Amedda’s forked tongue flickering in agitation as he slammed the ceremonial Speaker’s Staff against the floor.
“Order, Senators!” Amedda bellowed into his microphone. “This special session will now come to order!”
Several repulsor pods undocked from the Grand Convocation Chamber walls and floated to the center of the room without permission, and the delegations began calling out frantic questions.
“Where is the Supreme Chancellor?”
“Lord Speaker, what about the attack on the Senate Rotunda Building?”
“Was the Supreme Chancellor hurt in the attack? Is that why he is not present?”
“Order!” Amedda bellowed, again banging the Speaker’s Staff. “The floor is not yet open for comments or questions! Dock your pods and wait until after today’s announcement.”
The various delegations were clearly unhappy, but they didn’t want to be expelled from the session so they obeyed and returned their pods to their docks.
“Now,” the Chagrian continued as soon as the rogue pods were back in their proper places, “the Jedi Order has requested this special session be called. They have an important announcement to share with the Senate. All questions and comments will wait until after they have spoken their piece.”
Once more cracking the butt of the Speaker’s Staff against the floor, he signaled for a spare repulsor pod to approach the podium at the center of the chamber.
Padmé eagerly shifted closer to the rail of her own pod to get a glimpse of the Jedi. Since Vader had been appointed to the Jedi High Council it was possible that he would be among them. But there were only two Jedi in the pod: Mace Windu and Shaak Ti.
Disappointed, she leaned back in her seat and focused on the pod’s vid-screen, which displayed a close-up of whoever was at the center of the chamber, with her Japor pendant clutched tightly in her right hand.
“I wonder if Master Windu is all right,” Bail murmured in concern. “He looks a bit pale.”
“He does,” Padmé agreed as she studied his image on the screen. He stood stiffly with his arms hidden in his sleeves as most Jedi did, but it looked off somehow. “Maybe he was injured?”
“Hesa could be tired,” Jar Jar suggested and tugged at one of his floppy fin ears. “Da Jedi be always so busy, busy wit’ da war.”
Anything further comment in the Nabooan pod was halted when Master Windu activated his pod’s microphone and began to speak.
“Senators of the Republic,” the Jedi spoke, his voice firm and untouched by pain or fatigue. “Yesterday evening it was reported to us that Master Kenobi had engaged General Grievous on Utapau and destroyed him.”
A surge of giddy relief washed over Padmé at the news. Without General Grievous, the Confederacy’s droid army had no central leader. Now surely her more anxious colleagues in the Senate could be persuaded to put an end to the senseless fighting and reach out to the Separatists with diplomacy instead of blaster bolts. A clear end to the war was within sight.
“I went to share this information with the Supreme Chancellor along with several of my colleagues of the High Council,” Master Windu continued once he was certain that the Senate had digested that bit of information. “However, upon our arrival in the Supreme Chancellor’s offices, we discovered that he was under attack.” Cries of shock began to erupt from the Senators, but the Jedi Master continued on doggedly, his voice rolling over them through the chamber’s powerful speakers. “An unknown cloaked figure armed with a red-bladed lightsaber was threatening the Supreme Chancellor. We immediately moved to intercede and protect Chancellor Palpatine, but the attacker was powerful and skilled. My comrades were slain and I was wounded.”
The Jedi paused briefly to pull back the baggy sleeve of his cloak to reveal his maimed right arm to the assembled Senators, and a corner of Padmé’s mind dimly noted that it wasn’t as severe as the injury that Vader had sustained on Geonosis at the start of the war.
“The battle culminated with an explosion of unknown origin, which damaged the lower outside portion of this building and caused the crash of several private airspeeders that were nearby. We believe that the attacker was a being known only as Darth Sidious, who we feel was driven out of the shadows and into direct action at last by the death of his apprentice, Count Dooku. Darth Sidious was killed; however, in the chaos of the fighting, we were unable to protect the Supreme Chancellor and he was slain by the intruder.”
There was a beat of stunned silence before the entire Convocation Chamber exploded. Cries of horror and rage rebounded off the walls in a deafening cacophony that could rattle bones. Nearly a dozen repulsor pods belonging to some of the Supreme Chancellor’s closest political allies rushed haphazardly to encircle the Jedi’s pod so that they could better question and berate the two Jedi Masters. Mas Amedda should’ve chastised the rogue delegations, but the Chagrian seemed too stunned by the news of Palpatine’s death to intervene. Both Jedi stood silent and stoic like they were made of stone, and the verbal abuse washed over them to no effect.
Padmé’s reaction to the news was a fresh surge of relief that was immediately followed by guilt.
Palpatine had been a roadblock to a diplomatic solution to the war, and his hoarding of emergency powers and his worrying attitude towards the petition that she’d brought before him on behalf of the Delegation of Two Thousand had concerned her immensely. His death brought peace even closer and should return the Republic to its democratic roots, removing any need for the organization that Bail had hinted at in their recent meetings. The Republic’s slide into a dictatorship was over, and it was an immense comfort to her.
But Palpatine was one of her people. He was a fellow native of Naboo who had mentored her in her youth, and represented her world before ascending to the position of Supreme Chancellor. And although they had been at odds more and more as the war dragged on, she should only feel grief for his tragic death, not relief.
Eventually Mas Amedda regained enough of his senses to bully the Senate back into order and Padmé was surprised that he didn’t snap the wooden Speaker’s Staff in half with how violently he had to bang it to regain the panicked Senators’ attentions. When a measure of order was restored, Master Windu stepped aside and Shaak Ti took his place at the pod’s microphone. The red-skinned Togruta stood calm and strong under the collective weight of the half-terrified Senate’s collective gaze.
“Because the war is at a critical stage, the Jedi Order will hold custodianship over the Senate until the Clone Wars are concluded,” Shaak Ti calmly explained. “With Count Dooku and General Grievous dead, the Confederacy’s droid army is leaderless, and we are in the process of locating the fugitive Separatist ruling council so that we may begin negotiations to end the conflict. We encourage the Senate to form a committee to assist Jedi negotiators when contact is made with Confederacy leaders so that peace and reconciliation can occur as quickly as possible. Once peace is achieved, the Jedi Order will stand aside and the Senate will elect a new Supreme Chancellor. In the meantime, the Jedi will endeavor to keep the Senate informed of the State of the Republic, and a full written report of the death of Chancellor Palpatine will be made available no later than two weeks from today.”
The Togruta woman gave the gathered Senators a moment to assimilate her words before continuing.
“We understand that this is a difficult situation and we appreciate your cooperation so that we may speedily close this dark chapter in the Republic’s history. Please be calm, confer with your home governments and colleagues, but do not spread panic. The Republic must remain united, or else the sacrifice and suffering of the previous years will have been for nothing. We deeply regret and grieve the loss of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, but we must forge ahead-”
“Will there be a funeral for the Chancellor?” Orn Free Taa, the grossly obese Twi’lek Senator of Ryloth, interrupted, steering his repulsor pod towards the center of the vast chamber. “Or,” the blue Twi’lek continued in a caustic tone, “is winning this dreadful war too important to bother with honoring our tragically lost leader?”
“Of course there will be a funeral,” Shaak Ti replied smoothly, before Mas Amedda could scold the Senator. “No details have been decided concerning the date. Perhaps, as Chancellor Palpatine’s friend, you might reach out to the Naboo delegation and offer your assistance in this matter?”
Padmé swallowed a sigh of dismay at the reminder that she would have to play a large part in Palpatine’s funeral, both here and on Naboo, and at the idea of working with the hedonistic Twi’lek politician, even though it would greatly lighten her load.
“(I demand an independent investigation into the Supreme Chancellor’s death!)” Ask Aak, the Gran Senator of Malastare, bleated and brayed in his native language as his delegation’s pod joined Orn Free Taa’s near the central podium and the Jedi. “(The Jedi failed to protect him. They will undoubtedly slant their report to hide their incompetence!)”
“Please wait until you have read our report before passing judgement,” Shaak Ti responded, still calm and unruffled. “Then, if the Senate is still unsatisfied, another investigation may be approved. However, I personally feel that would be a waste of time and resources that the Republic cannot afford at this moment.”
“I have a question.” Shayla Paige-Tarkin, a Human Senator of Eriadu, joined Orn Free Taa and Ask Aak in violating protocol to confront the Jedi, although she was more polite about it than her colleagues. “The Supreme Chancellor had appointed a Jedi to your High Council; one that he trusted.” She leaned forward in her repulsor pod to pin the two Jedi with sharp, challenging eyes. “When Chancellor Palpatine was being attacked, where was he?”
“(Yes!)” Ask Aak agreed, pounding the rail of his pod with an angry fist. “(Where was he that he failed to protect his patron? Where is he now? He should be made to answer before the Senate!)”
An angry rumble of agreement swirled around the Grand Convocation Chamber like a growl of distant thunder.
Padmé’s hand had a death grip on her Japor necklace as an ice-cold rush of fear danced up her spine. Vader had been Palpatine’s chosen representative to the Jedi High Council. While she had faith in his strength and skill, Master Windu was certainly a stronger Jedi and he’d barely survived this Darth Sidious character. And Master Windu had said that the other Jedi with him had all died…
The Togruta Jedi hesitated, then stood aside so that Master Windu could retake the microphone.
“This will be the last question that we will answer,” he warned them. “There is much that we have to do and it is important that we return to the Temple quickly.” Mace paused a moment before getting to the heart of the matter. “The Jedi in question, Knight Dar’ti Vader, was in the Temple at the time my colleagues and I went to inform the Supreme Chancellor of General Greivous’s demise. On his own initiative, he came to assist us, but did not arrive in time to save Chancellor Palpatine. I was losing the duel with Darth Sidious and he interceded on my behalf. He was the one who landed the killing blow on Darth Sidious…at the cost of his own life.”
It was as if someone had stabbed Padmé in the chest with a blade made of ice. The loud response to Master Windu’s revelation sounded far away and muffled, like she had cotton stuffed in her ears. She tried to breathe and make sense of what the Jedi had said, but she couldn’t seem to get enough air.
No…
Someone’s hand gripped her shoulder, but she could barely feel it.
It can’t be…
The person was shaking her, speaking urgently near her ear now.
I just saw him yesterday…
A sob tore at her throat but there wasn’t enough air for it to escape.
He can’t be…
Her vision blurred and went gray around the edges.
The baby…
They forced her head to turn and she saw Bail’s and Sabé’s concerned faces before her.
Our baby hasn’t been born yet…
They were speaking to her but she couldn’t hear them at all over the distant gasping of her own breathing.
My son…
Her chest was crushing itself and it felt like the room was spinning.
He’ll never know his father…
She swayed in her seat and Captain Typho was suddenly there, supporting her.
He made it through so much…
A strangled sob finally escaped her.
How could he be…
And then there was only blackness.
…Dead?