Revenge of the Sith

by Matthew Stover

  "Of course, of course. Mustn't step on any Jedi toes, must we? They are so jealous of their political prerogatives. Still, I shall wonder at their collective wisdom if they choose someone else."

  "As I said in my report, they've already assigned Obi-Wan to find Grievous." Because they want to keep me here, where I am supposed to spy on you.

  "To find him, yes. But you are the best man to apprehend him—though of course the Jedi Council cannot always be trusted to do the right thing."

  "They try. I—believe they try, sir."

  "Do you still? Sit down." Palpatine looked at the other two beings in the box. "Leave us."

  They rose and withdrew. Anakin took Mas Amedda's seat.

  Palpatine gazed distractedly down at the graceful undulations of the Mon Calamari principal soloist for a long moment, frowning as though there was so much he wanted to say, he was unsure where to begin. Finally he sighed heavily and leaned close to Anakin.

  "Anakin I think you know by now that I cannot rely upon the Jedi Council. That is why I put you on it. If they have not yet tried to use you in their plot, they soon will." Anakin kept his face carefully blank. "I'm not sure I understand."

  "You must sense what I have come to suspect," Palpatine said grimly. "The Jedi Council is after more than independence from Senate oversight; I believe they intend to control the Republic itself."

  "Chancellor—"

  "I believe they are planning treason. They hope to overthrow my government, and replace me with someone weak enough that Jedi mind tricks can control his every word."

  "I can't believe the Council—"

  "Anakin, search your feelings. You do know, don't you?" Anakin looked away. "I know they don't trust you... Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy itself, for that matter. The Jedi Council is not elected. It selects its own members according to its own rules—a less generous man than I might say whim—and gives them authority backed by power. They rule the Jedi as they hope to rule the Republic: by fiat."

  "I admit..." Anakin looked down at his hands. "... my faith in them has been... shaken."

  "How? Have they approached you already? Have they ordered you to do something dishonest?" Palpatine's frown cleared into a gently wise smile that was oddly reminiscent of Yoda's. "They want you to spy on me, don't they? It's all right, Anakin. I have nothing to hide."

  "I—don't know what to say..."

  "Do you remember," Palpatine said, drawing away from Anakin so that he could lean back comfortably in his seat, "how as a young boy, when you first came to this planet, I tried to teach you the ins and outs of politics?"

  Anakin smiled faintly. "I remember that I didn't much care for the lessons."

  "For any lessons, as I recall. But it's a pity; you should have paid more attention. To understand politics is to understand the fundamental nature of thinking beings. Right now, you should remember one of my first teachings: all those who gain power are afraid to lose it."

  "The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said, a little too firmly.

  "Good is a point of view, Anakin. And the Jedi concept of good is not the only valid one. Take your Dark Lords of the Sith, for example. From my reading, I have gathered that the Sith believed in justice and security every bit as much as the Jedi—"

  "Jedi believe in justice and peace."

  "In these troubled times, is there a difference?" Palpatine asked mildly. "The Jedi have not done a stellar job of bringing peace to the galaxy, you must agree. Who's to say the Sith might not have done better?"

  "This is another of those arguments you probably shouldn't bring up in front of the Council, if you know what I mean," Anakin replied with a disbelieving smile.

  "Oh, yes. Because the Sith would be a threat to the Jedi Order's power. Lesson one."

  Anakin shook his head. "Because the Sith are evil."

  "From a Jedi's point of view," Palpatine allowed. "Evil is a label we all put on those who threaten us, isn't it? Yet the Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power."

  "The Jedi's quest is for greater understanding," Anakin countered. "For greater knowledge of the Force—"

  "Which brings with it greater power, does it not?"

  "Well... yes." Anakin had to laugh. "I should know better than to argue with a politician."

  "We're not arguing, Anakin. We're just talking." Palpatine shifted his weight, settling in comfortably. "Perhaps the real difference between the Jedi and the Sith lies only in their orientation; a Jedi gains power through understanding, and a Sith gains understanding through power. This is the true reason the Sith have always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side so much they cut themselves off from the most important aspect of life: passion. Of any kind. They don't even allow themselves to love."

  Except for me, Anakin thought. But then, I've never been exactly the perfect Jedi.

  "The Sith do not fear the dark side. The Sith have no fear. They embrace the whole spectrum of experience, from the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair. Beings have these emotions for a reason, Anakin. That is why the Sith are more powerful: they are not afraid to feel."

  "The Sith rely on passion for strength," Anakin said, "but when that passion runs dry, what's left?"

  "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. Perhaps it never runs dry at all. Who can say?"

  "They think inward, only about themselves."

  "And the Jedi don't?"

  "The Jedi are selfless—we erase the self, to join with the flow of the Force. We care only about others..."

  Palpatine again gave him that smile of gentle wisdom. "Or so you've been trained to believe. I hear the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi in your answers, Anakin. What do you really think?"

  Anakin suddenly found the ballet a great deal more interesting than Palpatine's face. "I... don't know anymore."

  "It is said that if one could ever entirely comprehend a single grain of sand—really, truly understand everything about it—one would, at the same time, entirely comprehend the universe. Who's to say that a Sith, by looking inward, sees less than a Jedi does by looking out?"

  "The Jedi—Jedi are good. That's the difference. I don't know who sees what."

  "What the Jedi are," Palpatine said gently, "is a group of very powerful beings you consider to be your comrades. And you are loyal to your friends; I have known that for as long as I have known you, and I admire you for it. But are your friends loyal to you?"

  Anakin shot him a sudden frown. "What do you mean?"

  "Would a true friend ask you to do something that's wrong?"

  "I'm not sure it's wrong," Anakin said. Obi-Wan might have been telling the truth. It was possible. They might only want to catch Sidious. They might really be trying to protect Palpatine.

  They might.

  Maybe.

  "Have they asked you to break the Jedi Code? To violate the Constitution? To betray a friendship? To betray your own values?"

  "Chancellor—"

  "Think, Anakin! I have always tried to teach you to think— yes, yes, Jedi do not think, they know, but those stale answers aren't good enough now, in these changing times. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of assumptions. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jedi and the Sith."

  Anakin sank lower in his seat. Too much had happened in too short a time. Everything jumbled together in his head, and none of it seemed to make complete sense.

  Except for what Palpatine said.

  That made too much sense.

  "This puts me in mind of an old legend," Palpatine murmured idly. "Anakin—are you familiar with The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

  Anakin shook his head.

  "Ah, I thought not. It is not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sight inward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and master life itself. And—because the two are one, when seen clearly enough—death itself."

&
nbsp; Anakin sat up. Was he actually hearing this? "He could keep someone safe from death?"

  "According to the legend," Palpatine said, "he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?"

  A universe of possibility blossomed inside Anakin's head. He murmured, "Stronger than death..."

  "The dark side seems to be—from my reading—the pathway to many abilities some would consider unnatural."

  Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "What happened to him?"

  "Oh, well, it is a tragedy, after all, you know. Once he has gained this ultimate power, he has nothing to fear save losing it— that's why the Jedi Council brought him to mind, you know."

  "But what happened?"

  "Well, to safeguard his power's existence, he teaches the path toward it to his apprentice."

  "And?"

  "And his apprentice kills him in his sleep," Palpatine said with a careless shrug. "Plageuis never sees it coming. That's the tragic irony, you see: he can save anyone in the galaxy from death—except himself."

  "What about the apprentice? What happens to him?"

  "Oh, him. He goes on to become the greatest Dark Lord the Sith have ever known..."

  "So," Anakin murmured, "it's only a tragedy for Plagueis— for the apprentice, the legend has a happy ending..."

  "Oh, well, yes. Quite right. I'd never really thought of it that way—rather like what we were talking about earlier, isn't it?"

  "What if," Anakin said slowly, almost not daring to speak the words, "it's not just a legend?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  "What if Darth Plagueis really lived—what if someone really had this power?"

  "Oh, I am... rather certain... that Plagueis did indeed exist. And if someone actually had this power—well, he would indeed be one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, not to mention virtually immortal..."

  "How would I find him?"

  "I'm sure I couldn't say. You could ask your friends on the Jedi Council, I suppose—but of course, if they ever found him they'd kill him on the spot. Not as punishment for any crime, you understand. Innocence is irrelevant to the Jedi. They would kill him simply for being Sith, and his knowledge would die with him."

  "I just—I have to—" Anakin found himself half out of his seat, fists clenched and trembling. He forced himself to relax and sit back down, and he took a deep breath. "You seem to know so much about this, I need you to tell me: would it be possible, possible at all, to learn this power?"

  Palpatine shrugged, regarding him with that smile of gentle wisdom.

  "Well, clearly," he said, "not from a Jedi."

  For a long, long time after leaving the opera house, Anakin sat motionless in his idling speeder, eyes closed, resting his head against the edge of his mechanical hand. The speeder bobbed gently in the air-wakes of the passing traffic; he didn't feel it. Klaxons blared, rising and fading as angry pilots swerved around him; he didn't hear them.

  Finally he sighed and lifted his head. He stroked a private code 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 have to 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 to be 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 part about spending the night at the Temple—was the part that wasn't a lie.

  The lie was that he was going to rest. That he was going to even try. How could he rest when every time he closed his eyes he could see her screaming on the birthing table?

  Now the Council's insult burned hotter than ever; he even had a name, a story, a place to start—but how could he explain to the archives Master why he needed to research a Sith legend of 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 unquestionably the best place in the galaxy for intense, focused meditation. He had much he needed the Force to teach him, and a very short time to learn.

  He would start by thinking inward. Thinking about himself...

  =13=

  THE WILL OF THE FORCE

  When her handmaiden Motee awakened her with the word 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 her living room, a smile breaking through her sleepiness like the dawn outside—

  But it was Obi-Wan.

  The Jedi Master had his back to her, hands clasped behind him 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 explain why 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. "But as you may guess, this is not a social call. I've come to speak with you about Anakin."

  Her years in politics had trained her well; even as her heart lurched 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 it may 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 showed through his beard. "You should have been a Jedi."

  She managed a light laugh. "And you should never go into politics. You're not very good at hiding your feelings. What is it?"

  "It's Anakin." With his pretense of cheer fading away, he seemed 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 we parted badly."

  Her heart shrank; he must know, and he'd come to confront her—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 apologetic frown. "Jedi business. You understand."

  She inclined her head. "Of course."

  "It's only that—well, I've been a bit worried about him. I was hoping he may have talked to you."

  "Why would he talk to me about—" She favored him with her best friendly-but-skeptical smile. "—Jedi business?"

  "Senator—Padme. Please." He gazed into her eyes with nothing on his face but compassion and fatigued anxiety. "I am not 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 horrible junk shop on Tatooine. He's never even tried to hide it, though we do not speak of it. We... pretend that I don't know. And I was 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 anyone so much as mentions his name."

  "I—" She lurched to her feet. "I can't—Obi-Wan, don't make me talk about this..."

  "I don't mean to hurt you, Padme. Nor even to make you uncomfortable. 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 conscious of 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 of pressure. He carries tremendous responsibilities for a man so young; when I was his age I still had some years to go as a Padawan. He is—changing. Quickly. And I have some anxiety about 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—that seems... unlikely, doesn't it? What about this prophecy the Jedi put so much faith in? Isn't he the chosen one?"

  "Very probably. But I have scanned this prophecy; it says only that a chosen one will be born and bring balance to the Force; nowhere does it say he has to be a Jedi."

  She blinked harder, fighting down a surge of desperate hope that 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 all have 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 Jedi know all there is to be known about the Force; no mortal mind can. We speak of the will of the Force as someone ignorant of gravity might say it is the will of a river to flow to the ocean: it is a metaphor that describes our ignorance. The simple truth—if any truth is ever simple—is that we do not truly know what the will of the Force may be. We can never know. It is so far beyond our limited understanding that we can only surrender to its mystery."