by James Luceno
They’re afraid of me. They’ve heard about me.
For an instant, their fear empowered him; then he felt shame, and averted his glance.
The eldest was holding up his hands. “Take it easy, Jedi. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Pack it yourself if you want to,” another said.
Anakin swallowed hard. “It’s important, that’s all. I don’t want anything to happen to it.” He let the mechno-chair settle to the floor.
“Carefully, this time,” the eldest said, refusing to so much as glance at Anakin.
“General Skywalker!” a trooper called from behind him.
Anakin turned, saw the trooper motioning to the shuttle.
“Hyperwave commo for you—from the office of the Supreme Chancellor.”
Now the three technicians looked at him again. As well they should.
Without a word, Anakin spun on his heel and ascended the shuttle’s boarding ramp. Above a holoprojector plate in the ship’s comm center, a flickering image of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was resolving. When Anakin had positioned himself on the transmission grate, Palpatine smiled.
“Congratulations, Anakin, on your victory at Cato Neimoidia.”
“Thank you, sir. But I’m sorry to report that Viceroy Gunray escaped, and that fighting continues in the rock-arch cities.”
Palpatine’s smile faltered. “Yes, I was informed as much.”
It wasn’t the first time Anakin had heard from Palpatine in the field. At Jabiim, Palpatine had ordered Anakin to retreat before the planet fell to the Separatists; at Praesitlyn he had praised Anakin for having saved the day. Still, the communications were often as awkward as they were flattering.
“What’s wrong, my boy?” Palpatine asked. “I sense that you’re troubled about something. If it involves Gunray, accept my word that he won’t be able to hide from us forever. None of them will. One day you’ll have your chance for complete victory.”
Anakin wet his lips. “It’s not about Gunray, sir. Just a small incident here that made me angry.”
“What incident?”
Anakin was tempted to disclose the details of his and Obi-Wan’s discovery, but Yoda had told him to remain silent about the mechno-chair. “Nothing important,” he said. “But I always feel guilty when I become angry.”
“That’s a mistake,” Palpatine said gently. “Anger is natural, Anakin. I thought we’d been through all this—regarding what took place on Tatooine?”
“Obi-Wan doesn’t show anger—except, of course, at me. Even then, it’s more like … aggravation.”
“Anakin, you’re a passionate young man. That’s what separates you from your Jedi comrades. Unlike Obi-Wan and the others, you weren’t raised in the Temple, where younglings are taught to conquer their anger by transcending it. You enjoyed a natural childhood. You can dream, you have imagination and vision. You’re not some unthinking machine, some heartless piece of technology. Not that I’m suggesting that the Jedi are,” Palpatine was quick to add. “But for someone like you, any threat to someone or something important to you is likely to evoke an emotional response. It happened with your mother; it will happen again. But you shouldn’t fight those responses. Learn from them, but don’t fight them.”
Anakin suppressed an impulse to reveal his marriage to Padmé, as well.
“Do you think I’m immune to anger?” Palpatine said into the short silence.
“I’ve never seen you angry.”
“Well, perhaps I’ve grown adept at reserving my anger for private moments. But it grows more difficult to do so, in the face of the frustrations I face with the Senate. With the way this war persists … Oh, I know that you and the other Jedi are doing everything you can … But the Jedi Council and I don’t always see eye-to-eye on how this war should be waged. You know my love for the Republic knows no bounds. That’s why I’m struggling so hard to keep it from falling to pieces.”
Anakin forced a derisive breath. “The Senate should simply follow your lead. Instead, they block you. They tie your hands. It’s as if they envy the power they gave you.”
“Yes, my boy, many do. But many support me, as well. More important, we must abide by the rules and regulations of the Constitution, or else we are no better than those who stand in the way of freedom.”
“Some individuals should be above the rules,” Anakin grumbled.
“A case can be made for it. And, indeed, you are one of those people, Anakin. But you must know when to act, and when not to.”
Anakin nodded. “I understand.” He paused, then said, “How is Coruscant, sir? I miss it.”
“Coruscant is as ever, a shining example of what life could be. But I’m far too busy to indulge in its manifold pleasures.”
Anakin searched for some way to frame the question he needed to ask. “I guess you’ve been meeting frequently with the Loyalist Committee.”
“As a matter of fact, I have. A treasured group of Senators, who value the high standards of the Republic as much as you and I do.” Palpatine smiled. “Senator Amidala, for example. So filled with vigor and compassion—the same qualities she brought to her term as Queen of Naboo. She causes a stir wherever she goes.” He looked directly at Anakin. “I’m so glad that you and she have become such dear friends.”
Anakin swallowed nervously. “Will you tell her … will you tell her hello from me?”
“Of course I will.”
An ensuing silence lingered an instant too long.
“Anakin, I will somehow see to it that you return from the Outer Rim soon,” Palpatine said. “But we cannot rest until those responsible for this war have been held accountable for their crimes and eliminated as a threat to lasting peace. Do you understand?”
“I’ll do my part, sir.”
“Yes, my boy. I know you will.”
In the reception area of the holding office, Bail Organa paced restlessly. He was preparing to vent his exasperation on Palpatine’s appointments secretary when the door to the Supreme Chancellor’s office opened once again, and his advisers began to file out between the imposing, red-cowled guards that flanked the opening.
Advisers Sim Aloo and Janus Greejatus; director of Intelligence Armand Isard; senior member of the Security and Intelligence Council, Jannie Ha’Nook of Glithnos; Chagrian Speaker of the Senate Mas Amedda; and staff aide Sly Moore, tall and ethereal looking in her Umbaran shadowcloak. Last to exit was Pestage.
“Senators, you’re still here, I see.”
“We’re nothing if not patient,” Bail said.
“Good to know, since the Supreme Chancellor still has much to attend to.”
Just then Palpatine himself appeared, glancing at Bail and the others, then at Pestage.
“Senator Organa, Senator Amidala—all of you. What a delight to find you here.”
“Supreme Chancellor,” Bail said, “we were under the impression we had an appointment with you.”
Palpatine lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed? Why wasn’t I informed of this?” he asked Pestage.
“Your schedule is so full, I didn’t want to overburden you.”
Palpatine frowned. “My day is never so full that I can’t take time to confer with members of the Loyalist Committee. Leave us, Sate, and don’t allow us to be disturbed. I’ll call for you when you’re needed.”
Stepping aside, he gestured Bail and the others into the circular office. C-3PO was last to cross the threshold, twisting his head to regard both of the motionless guards.
Bail took a seat directly across from Palpatine’s high-backed chair, which was said to house some sort of shield generator—necessary for his protection, as were the guards, though something that would have been unheard of three years earlier. Saturated in red, the windowless, carpeted office contained several singular pieces of statuary, as did Palpatine’s chambers in the Senate Office Building, and his suite in the crown of 500 Republica. Rumored to work for days on end without sleeping, Palpatine seemed alert, curious, somewhat imperious.
>
“So, what matters have brought you here on such a glorious Coruscant afternoon?” he said from his chair. “I can’t help but sense a certain urgency …”
“We’ll come directly to the point, Supreme Chancellor,” Bail said. “Now that the Confederacy has been chased from the Core and Inner Rim, we wish to discuss the abrogation of some of the measures that were enacted in the name of public safety.”
Palpatine gazed at Bail over steepled fingers. “Our recent victories have made you feel so secure?”
“They have, Supreme Chancellor,” Padmé said.
“The Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act in particular,” Bail continued. “Specifically those measures that permit the unrestricted use of observation droids, and searches and seizures without the need for warrants or due process.”
“I see,” Palpatine said slowly. “Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is that the war is far from won, and I, for one, am not entirely satisfied that traitors and terrorists are not a continued threat to public safety. Oh, I realize that our victories give all appearances of a quick resolution to the war, but as of this morning I was informed that the Separatists still hold many key worlds in the Outer Rim, and that our sieges there could go on indefinitely.”
“Indefinitely?” Eekway said.
“Why not consider ceding some of those worlds,” Fang Zar suggested. “Trade in the Core and Inner Rim has resumed almost to prewar standards.”
Palpatine shook his head. “Some of those Outer Rim worlds were Republic worlds, taken by force. And I fear we risk setting a dangerous precedent by allowing the Confederacy to retain them. I believe, furthermore, that now is the very time to press our attack, until the Separatists no longer present a threat to our way of life.”
“Is there not some other way than continued warfare?” Bail asked. “Surely Dooku can be persuaded to listen to reason now.”
“You misjudge his resolve, Senator. But even if I’m wrong, suppose we decide to cede some worlds, as a conciliatory gesture. Who will choose which worlds? Me? You? Shall we submit the matter to a Senate vote? And how might the denizens of those ceded worlds respond to our gesture? How would the good people of Alderaan feel about being a Confederacy world? Should loyalty to the Republic count for so little? Such decisions were what prompted many worlds to ally with Count Dooku in the first place.”
“But can we even triumph in the Outer Rim,” Eekway said, “with the army so reduced, the Jedi so dispersed? Might it not appear that the Jedi are deliberately perpetuating this war?”
Palpatine stood up and paced away from his huge chair, turning his back to everyone. “This has become a very regrettable situation—one we have attempted to correct, with limited success.” He swung around. “We must consider how others view this war. A former Jedi at the helm of the Separatist movement; the clone army of the Republic led by Jedi … Many remote worlds see this war as an attempt by the Jedi to dominate the galaxy. To many, the Jedi were not to be trusted before the war—in part as a result of the aggressive negotiations they were constrained to undertake during the terms of my predecessors. Word reaches those same worlds that it was the Jedi who invaded Geonosis, all because two of the Order had been sentenced to death for espionage. We know better, of course, but how to amend the misinterpretation?”
Realizing that he had allowed the discussion to go off track, Bail said: “Returning to the matter of rescinding the Security Act—”
“I serve the Republic, Senator Organa,” Palpatine said, cutting him off. “Introduce a measure to repeal in the Senate. I will accept whatever outcome ensues from a vote.”
“Will you remain impartial during the debates?”
“You have my word.”
“And these amendments to the Constitution,” Mon Mothma started to say.
“I view the Constitution as a living document,” Palpatine interrupted. “As such, it must be allowed to expand and contract according to circumstances. Otherwise, what do we have but stasis.”
“If we can be assured of a certain … exhalation of power,” Bana Breemu said.
Palpatine grinned faintly. “Of course.”
“Then we’ve made a beginning,” Padme said. “Just as I knew we would.”
Palpatine beamed at her. “Senator Amidala, is that not the droid Jedi Skywalker constructed?”
Padmé looked at C-3PO. “Yes, it is.”
For a moment it appeared that C-3PO was speechless—but only for a moment.
“I am honored that you remember me, Your Majesty,” he said.
Palpatine returned an abrupt laugh. “A title more fit for a king or emperor.” He glanced at Padmé. “In fact, I have just spoken with him, Your Highness.”
“Anakin?” Padmé said in surprise.
Palpatine held her gaze. “Why Senator Amidala, I do believe you’re blushing.”
Returning to the launching bay with Yoda, Obi-Wan observed Anakin and Yoda trade the briefest of looks, the meaning of which escaped him. Neither Jedi appeared to be bothered by the silent exchange, and yet Yoda doddered off without a word to speak with the Intelligence analysts huddled near the shuttle’s boarding ramp.
“Jedi Council business?” Anakin asked when Obi-Wan joined him.
“Nothing of the sort. Yoda believes that the mechno-chair may yield clues to the whereabouts of Darth Sidious. He wants us to take up the search.”
Anakin didn’t respond immediately. “Master, aren’t we obligated to notify the Supreme Chancellor of our find?”
“We are, Anakin, and we will.”
“When the Council sees fit, you mean.”
“No. After the matter has been discussed.”
“But suppose one or two of you should disagree with the majority?”
“Decisions are not always unanimous. When we are truly divided, we defer to Yoda’s counsel.”
“Then the Force can sometimes be felt more strongly by one than by eleven.”
Obi-Wan tried to discern Anakin’s intent. “Even Yoda is not infallible, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“The Jedi should be.” Anakin glanced furtively at Obi-Wan. “We could be.”
“I’m listening.”
“By going farther with the Force than we allow ourselves. By riding its crest.”
“Master Sora Bulq and many others would agree, Anakin. But few Jedi have the stomach for such a ride. We’re not all as self-composed as Yoda or Master Windu.”
“But maybe we’re wrong to attach ourselves to the Force at the expense of life as most beings know it, which includes lust, love, and a lot of other emotions that are forbidden to us. Devotion to a higher cause is fine and good, Master, but we shouldn’t ignore what’s going on in front of our own eyes. You said yourself that we’re not infallible. Dooku understood that. He looked things squarely in the eye, and decided to do something about it.”
“Dooku is a Sith, Anakin. He may have had his good reasons for leaving the Order, but he is nothing now but a master of deceit. He and Sidious prey on the weak-willed. They deceive themselves into believing that they are infallible.”
“But I’ve seen instances where the Jedi lie to one another. Master Kolar lied about Quinlan Vos going to the dark side. We’re lying now, by not sharing our information about Sidious with Chancellor Palpatine. What would Sidious or Dooku have to say about our lies?”
“Don’t compare us to them,” Obi-Wan said, more harshly than he meant. “The Jedi are not a cult, Anakin. We don’t worship a leadership of elites. We’re encouraged to find our paths; to validate through personal experience the value of what we have been taught. We don’t offer facile justifications for exterminating a perceived enemy. We’re guided by compassion, and the belief that the Force is greater than the sum of those who open themselves to it.”
Anakin grew quiet. “I’m only asking, Master.”
Obi-Wan took a calming breath. Too sure of themselves, the Jedi have become, Yoda had once told him. Even the older, more experienced ones …
How might Anakin have fared under Qui-Gon’s guidance? he wondered. He was merely Anakin’s adoptive mentor, and a flawed mentor in many ways. So eager to live up to the memory of Qui-Gon that he was continually overlooking Anakin’s attempts to live up to him.
“Carries on his shoulders the weight of the galaxy, Obi-Wan does,” Yoda said, approaching with one of the Intelligence analysts. “Ease your concerns, this news might,” he added before Obi-Wan could respond.
The dark-haired, robust-looking analyst Captain Dyne perched himself on the edge of a shipping container. “While we still don’t know whether the mechno-chair was left behind deliberately, as some kind of trap, the image of Sidious is authentic. The transmission appears to have been received two days ago, local, but we’re going to have trouble tracking its source because it was routed through a system of hyperwave transceivers used by the Confederacy as a substitute for the HoloNet, and was encrypted using a code developed by the InterGalactic Banking Clan. We’ve been working on cracking that code for some time now, and when we do, we might be able to use the chair’s hyperwave receiver to eavesdrop on enemy communications.”
“Better you feel already, ummm?” Yoda said to Obi-Wan, motioning with his gimer stick.
“The chair bears the stamps of several of the manufacturers affiliated with Dooku,” Dyne continued. “The hyperwave receiver is equipped with a type-summoning chip and transponding antenna that are similar to ones we discovered in a mine-laying chameleon droid Master Yoda brought back from Ilum.”
“An image of Dooku, the droid contained.”
“For the time being we’re proceeding on the assumption that Dooku—or Sidious, for that matter—might have developed the chips, and had them installed in transceivers awarded to Gunray and other key members of the Council of Separatists.”
“Is the mechno-chair the same one I saw on Naboo?” Obi-Wan asked.
“We think so,” Dyne said. “But it has undergone some modifications in the years since. The self-destruct mechanism, for one, along with the self-defense gas.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Your hunch was right about it being the same one the Neimoidians have been using for years, and appears to have originally been developed by a Separatist researcher named Zan Arbor.”
