I OCRed the scanned images. This is all of the text.

Chapter 21
A New Order

A Naboo skiff reverted to realspace and flashed toward an alien medical installation in the asteroid belt of Polis Massa.

Tantive IV reentered reality only moments behind.

And on Mustafar, below the red thunder of a volcano, a Sith Lord had already snatched from sand of black glass the charred torso and head of what once had been a man, and had already leapt for the cliffbank above with effortless strength, and had already roared to his clones to bring the medical capsule immediately!

The Sith Lord lowered the limbless man tenderly to the cool ground above, and laid his hand across the cracked and blackened mess that once had been his brow, and he set his will upon him.

Live, Lord Vader. Live, mv apprentice.

Live.

----------------------

Beyond the transparent crystal of the observation dome on the airless crags of Polis Massa, the galaxy wheeled in a spray of hard, cold pinpricks through the veil of infinite night.

Beneath that dome sat Yoda. He did not look at the stars.

He sat a very long time.

Even after nearly nine hundred years, the road to self-knowledge was rugged enough to leave him bruised and bleeding.

He spoke softly, but not to himself.

Though no one was with him, he was not alone.

"My failure, this was. Failed the Jedi, I did."

He spoke to the Force.

And the Force answered him. Do not blame yourself, my old friend.

As it sometimes had these past thirteen years, when the Force spoke to him, it spoke in the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn,

"Too old I was," Yoda said. "Too rigid. Too arrogant to see that the old way is not the only way. These Jedi, 1 trained to become the Jedi who had trained me, long centuries ago—but those ancient Jedi, of a different time they were. Changed, has the galaxy. Changed, the Order did not—because let it change, I did not."

More easily said than done, my friend.

"An infinite mystery is the Force." Yoda lifted his head and turned his gaze out into the wheel of stars. "Much to learn, there still is."

And you will have time to learn it.

"Infinite knowledge . . ." Yoda shook his head. "Infinite time, does that require."

With my help, you can learn to join with the Force, yet retain consciousness. You can join your light to it forever. Perhaps, in time, even your physical self.

Yoda did not move. "Eternal life . . ."

The ultimate goal of the Sith, yet they can never achieve it; it comes only by the release of self, not the exaltation of self. It comes through compassion, not greed. Love is the answer to the darkness.

"Become one with the Force, yet influence still to have . . ." Yoda mused. "A power greater than all, it is."

It cannot be granted; it can only be taught. It is yours to learn, if you wish it.

Slowly, Yoda nodded. "A very great Jedi Master you have become, Qui-Gon Jinn. A very great Jedi Master you always were, but too blind I was to see it."

He rose, and folded his hands before him, and inclined his head in the Jedi bow of respect.

The bow of the student, in the presence of the Master.

"Your apprentice, I gratefully become."

He was well into his first lesson when the hatch cycled open behind him. He turned.

In the corridor beyond stood Bail Organa. He looked stricken,

"Obi-Wan is asking for you at the surgical theater," he said. "It's Padme. She's dying."

Obi-Wan sat beside her, holding one cold, still hand in both of his. "Don't give up, Padme."

"Is it . . ." Her eyes rolled blindly. "It's a girl. Anakin thinks it's a girl."

"We don't know yet. In a minute . .. you have to stay with us."

Below the opaque tent that shrouded her from chest down, a pair of surgical droids assisted with her labor. A general medical droid fussed and tinkered among the clutter of scanners and equipment.

"If it's ... a girl—oh, oh, oh no . . ."

Obi-Wan cast an appeal toward the medical droid. "Can't you do something?"

"All organic damage has been repaired." The droid checked another readout. "This systemic failure cannot be explained."

Not physically, Obi-Wan thought. He squeezed her hand as though he could keep life within her body by simple pressure. "Padme, you have to hold on."

"If it's a girl . . . ," she gasped, "name her Leia . . ."

One of the surgical droids circled out from behind the tent, cradling in its padded arms a tiny infant, already swabbed clean and breathing, but without even the hint of tears.

The droid announced softly, "It's a boy."

Padme reached for him with her trembling free hand, but she had no strength to take him; she could only touch her fingers to the baby's forehead.

She smiled weakly. "Luke ..."

The other droid now rounded the tent as well, with another clean, quietly solemn infant. ". . . and a girl."

But she had already fallen back against her pillow.

"Padme, you have twins," Obi-Wan said desperately. ""They need you—please hang on ..."

"Anakin ..."

"Anakin . . . isn't here, Padme," he said, though he didn't think she could hear.

"Anakin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry . . . Anakin, please, I love you . .."

In the Force, Obi-Wan felt Yoda's approach, and he looked up to see the ancient Master beside Bail Organa, both staring the same grave question down through the surgical theater's observation panel.

The only answer Obi-Wan had was a helpless shake of his head.

Padme reached across with her free hand, with the hand she had laid upon the brow of her firstborn son, and pressed something into Obi-Wan's palm.

For a moment, her eyes cleared, and she knew him.

"Obi-Wan . . . there ... is still good in him. I know there is... still..."

Her voice faded to an empty sigh, and she sagged back against the pillow. Half a dozen different scanners buzzed with conflicting alarm tones, and the medical droids shooed him from the room.

He stood in the hall outside, looking down at what she had pressed into his hand. It was a pendant of some kind, an amulet, unfamiliar sigils carved into some sort of organic material, strung on a loop of leather. In the Force, he could feel traces of the touch of her skin.

When Yoda and Bail came for him, he was still standing there, staring at it.
"She put this in my hand—" For what seemed the dozenth time this day, he found himself blinking back tears. "—and I don't even know what it is."

"Precious to her, it must have been," Yoda said slowly. "Buried with her, perhaps it should be."

Obi-Wan looked down at the simple, child-like symbols carved into it, and felt from it in the Force soaring echoes of transcendent love, and the bleak, black despair of unendurable heartbreak.

"Yes," he said. "Yes. Perhaps that would be best."

Around a conference table on Tantive TV, Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Yoda met to decide the fate of the galaxy.

"To Naboo, send her body . . ." Yoda stretched his head high, as though tasting a current in the Force. "Pregnant, she must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept. Foundation of the new Jedi Order, they will be."

"We should split them up," Obi-Wan said. "Even if the Sith find one, the other may survive. I can take the boy. Master Yoda, and you take the girl. We can hide them away, keep them safe— train them as Anakin should have been trained—"

"No." The ancient Master lowered his head again, closing his eyes, resting his chin on his hands that were folded over the head of his stick.

Obi-Wan looked uncertain. "But how are they to learn the self-discipline a Jedi needs? How are they to master skills of the Force?"

"Jedi training, the sole source of self-discipline is not. When right is the time for skills to be taught, to us the living Force will bring them. Until then, wait we will, and watch, and learn."

"I can . . ." Bail Organa stopped, flushing slightly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Masters; I know little about the Force, but I do know something of love. The Queen and I—well, we've always talked of adopting a girl. If you have no objection, I would like to take Leia to Alderaan, and raise her as our daughter. She would be loved with us."

Yoda and Obi-Wan exchanged a look. Yoda tilted his head. "No happier fate could any child ask for. With our blessing, and that of the Force, let Leia be your child."

Bail stood, a little jerkily, as though he simply could no longer keep his seat. His flush had turned from embarrassment to pure uncomplicated joy. "Thank you, Masters—I don't know what else to say. Thank you, that's all. What of the boy?"

"Ciiegg Lars still lives on Tatooine, I think—and Anakin's stepbrother . . . Owen, that's it, and his wife, Beru, still work the moisture farm outside Mos Eisley . . "

"As close to kinfolk as the boy can come," Yoda said approvingly. "But Tatooine, not like Alderaan it is-—deep in the Outer Rim, a wild and dangerous planet."

"Anakin survived it," Obi-Wan said. "Luke can, too. And I can—well, 1 could take him there, and watch over him. Protect him from the worst of the planet's dangers, until he can learn to protect himself."

"Like a father you wish to be, young Obi-Wan?"

"More an ... eccentric old uncle, I think. It is a part I can play very well. To keep watch over Anakin's son—" Obi-Wan sighed, finally allowing his face to register a suggestion of his old gentle smile. "I can't imagine a better way to spend the rest of my life."

"Settled it is, then. To Tatooine, you will take him."

Bail moved toward the door. "If you'll excuse me, Masters, I have to call the Queen . . ." He stopped in the doorway, looking back. "Master Yoda, do you think Padme's twins will be able to defeat Palpatine?"

"Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line. Only hope, we can. Until the time is right, disappear we will."

Bail nodded. "And I must do die same—metaphorically, at least. You may hear . . . disturbing things . . . about what I do in the Senate. I must appear to support the new Empire, and my comrades with me. It was . . . Padme's wish, and she was a shrewder political mind than I'll ever be. Please trust that what we do is only a cover for our true task. We will never betray the legacy of the Jedi. I will never surrender the Republic to the Sith."

"Trust in this, we always will. Go now; for happy news, your Queen is waiting."

Bail Organa bowed, and vanished into the corridor.

When Obi-Wan moved to follow, Yoda's gimer stick barred his way. "A moment, Master Kenobi. In your solitude on Tatooine, training I have for you. I and my new Master."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Your new Master?" v;
"Yes." Yoda smiled up at him. "And your old one . . ."

C-3PO shuffled along the starship's hallway beside R2-D2, following Senator Organa who had, by all accounts, inherited them both. "I'm certain I can't say why she malfunctioned," he was telling the little astromech. "Organics are so terribly complicated, you know."

Ahead, the Senator was met by a man whose uniform, C-3PO's conformation-recognition algorithm informed him, indicated he was a captain in the Royal Alderaan Civil Fleet.

"I'm placing these droids in your care," the Senator said. "Have them cleaned, polished, and refitted with the best of everything; they will belong to my new daughter."

"How lovely!" C-3PO exclaimed. "His daughter is the child of Master Anakin and Senator Amidala," he explained to R2-D2. "I can hardly wait to tell her all about her parents! I'm sure she will be very proud—"

"Oh, and the protocol droid?" Senator Organa said thoughtfully. "Have its mind wiped."

The captain saluted.

"Oh," said C-3PO. "Oh, dear."

------------

In the newly renamed Emperor Palpatine Surgical Reconstruction Center on Coruscant, a hypersophisticated prototype Ubrikkian DD-13 surgical droid moved away from the project that it and an enhanced FX-6 medical droid had spent many days rebuilding.

It beckoned to a dark-robed shadow that stood at the edge of the pool of high-intensity light. "My lord, the construction is finished. He lives."

"Good. Good."

The shadow flowed into the pool of light as though the overhead illuminators had malfunctioned.

Droids stepped back as it came to the rim of the surgical table.

On the table was strapped the very first patient of the EmPalSuRecon Center.

To some eyes, it might have been a pieced-togcther hybrid of droid and human, encased in a life-support shell of gleaming black, managed by a thoracic processor that winked pale color against the shadow's cloak. To some eyes, its jointed limbs might have looked ungainly, clumsy, even monstrous; the featureless curves of black that served it for eyes might have appeared inhuman, and the underthrust grillwork of its vocabulator might have suggested the jaws of a saurian predator built of polished blast armor, but to the shadow—

It was glorious.

A magnificent jewel box, created both to protect and to exhibit the greatest treasure of the Sith.

Terrifying.

Mesmerizing.

Perfect.

The table slowly rotated to vertical, and the shadow leaned close.

"Lord Vader? Lord Vader, can you hear me?"

-----------------

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, forever:

The first dawn of light in your universe brings pain.

The light burns you. It will always burn you. Part of you will always lie upon black glass sand beside a lake of fire while flames chew upon your flesh.

You can hear yourself breathing. It comes hard, and harsh, and it scrapes nerves already raw, but you cannot stop it. You can never stop it. You cannot even slow it down.

You don't even have lungs anymore.

Mechanisms hardwired into your chest breathe for you. They will pump oxygen into your bloodstream forever.

Lord Vader? Lord Vader, can you hear me?

And you can't, not in the way you once did. Sensors in the shell that prisons your head trickle meaning directly into your brain.

You open your scorched-pale eyes; optical sensors integrate light and shadow into a hideous simulacrum of the world around you.

Or perhaps the simulacrum is perfect, and it is the world that is hideous.

Padme? Are you here? Are you all right? you try to say, but another voice speaks for you, out from the vocabulator that serves you for burned-away lips and tongue and throat.

"Padme"? Are you here? Are you all right?"

I'm very sorry, Lord Vader. I'm afraid she died. It seems in your anger, you killed her.

This burns hotter than the lava had.

"No . . . no, it is not possible!

You loved her. You will always love her. You could never will her death.
Never.

But you remember . . .

You remember all of it.

You remember the dragon that you brought Vader forth from your heart to slay. You remember the cold venom in Vader's blood. You remember the furnace of Vader's fury, and the black hatred of seizing her throat to silence her lying mouth—

And there is one blazing moment in which you finally understand that there was no dragon. That there was no Vader. That there was only you. Only Anakin Skywalker.

That it was all you. Is you.

Only you.

You did it.

You killed her.

You killed her because, finally, when you could have saved her, when you could have gone away with her, when you could have been thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself. . .

It is in this blazing moment that you finally understand the trap of the dark side, the final cruelty of the Sith—

Because now your self is all you will ever have.

And you rage and scream and reach through the Force to crush the shadow who has destroyed you, but you are so far less now than what you were, you are more than half machine, you are like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf, you can remember where the power was but the power you can touch is only a memory, and so with all your world-destroying fury it is only droids around you that implode, and equipment, and the table on which you were strapped shatters, and in the end, you cannot touch the shadow.

In the end, you do not even want to.

In the end, the shadow is all you have left.

Because the shadow understands you, the shadow forgives you, the shadow gathers you unto itself—

And within your furnace heart, you burn in your own flame.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywatker.

Forever. . .

--------------------------------------------------

The long night has begun.

Huge solemn crowds line Palace Plaza in Theed, the capital of Naboo, as six beautiful white gualaars draw a flower-draped open casket bearing the remains of a beloved Senator through the Triumphal Arch, her fingers finally and forever clasping a snippet of japor, one that had been carved long ago by the hand of a nine-year-old boy from an obscure desert planet in the far Outer Rim . . .

On the jungle planet of Dagobah, a Jedi Master inspects the unfamiliar swamp of his exile . . .

From the bridge of a Star Destroyer, two Sith Lords stand with a sector governor named Tarkin, and survey the growing skeleton of a spherical battle station the size of a moon . . .

But even in the deepest night, there are some who dream of dawn.

On Alderaan, the Prince Consort delivers a baby girl into the loving arms of his Queen.

And on Tatooine, a Jedi Master brings an infant boy to the homestead of Owen and Bern Lars—

Then he rides his eopie off into the Jundland Wastes, toward the setting suns.

The Face of the Dark

Depowered lampdisks were rings of ghostly gray floating in the gloom. The shimmering jewelscape of Coruscant haloed the knife-edged shadow of the chair.

This was the office of the Chancellor.

Within the chair's shadow sat another shadow: deeper, darker, formless and impenetrable, an abyssal umbra so profound that it drained light from the room around it.

And from the city. And the planet.

And the galaxy.

The shadow waited. It had told the boy it would. It was looking forward to keeping its word.

For a change.

-------

Night held the Jedi Temple.

On its rooftop landing deck, thin yellow tight spilled in a stretching rectangle through a shuttle's hatchway, reflecting upward onto the faces of three Jedi Masters.

"I'd feel better if Yoda were here," This Master was a Nautiloid, tall and broad-shouldered, his glabrous scalp-tentacles restrained by loops of embossed leather. "Or even Kenobi. On Ord Cestus, Obi-Wan and I—"

"Yoda is pinned down on Kashvyyk, and Kenobi is out of contact on Utapau. The Dark Lord has revealed himself, and we dare not hesitate. Think not of if, Master Fisto; this duty has fallen to us. We will suffice." This Master was an Iktotchi, shorter and slimmer than the first. Two long horns curved downward from his forehead to below his chin. One had been amputated after being shattered in battle a few months before. Bacta had accelereated its regrowth, and the once maimed horn was now a match to the other. "We will suffice,”' he repeated. "We will have to."

"Peace," said the third Master, a Zabrak. Dew had gathered on his array of blunt vestigial skull-spines, glistening very like sweat. He gestured toward a Temple door that had cycled open. "Windu is coming."

Clouds had swept in with the twilight, and now a thin drizzling rain began to fall. The approaching Master walked with his shaven head lowered, his hands tucked within his sleeves.

"Master Ti and Gate Master Jurokk will direct the Temple's defense," he said as he reached the others. "We are shutting down all nav beacons and signal lights, we have armed the older Padawans, and all blast doors are sealed and code-locked." His gaze swept the Masters. "It's time to go."

"And Skywalker?" The Zabrak Master cocked his head as though he felt a distant disturbance in the Force. "What of the chosen one?"

"I have sent him to the Council Chamber until our return." Mace Windu turned a grim stare upon the High Council Tower, squinting against the thickening rain. His hands withdrew from his sleeves. One of them held his lightsaber.

"He has done his duty. Masters. Now we shall do ours."

He walked between them into the shuttle.

The other three Masters shared a significant silence, then Agen Kolar nodded to himself and entered; Saesee Tiin stroked his regrown horn, and followed.

"I'd still feel better if Yoda were here . . . ," Kit Fisto muttered, and then went in as well.

Once the hatch had sealed behind him, the Jedi Temple belonged entirely to the night.

----

Alone in the Chamber of the Jedi Council, Anakin Skywalker wrestled with his dragon.

He was losing.

He paced the Chamber in blind arcs, stumbling among the chairs. He could not feel currents of the Force around him; he could not feel echoes of Jedi Masters in these ancient seats.

He had never dreamed there was this much pain in the universe.
Physical pain he could have handled even without his Jedi mental skills; he'd always been tough. At four years old he'd been able to take the worst beating Watto would deliver without so much as making a sound.

Nothing had prepared him for this.

He wanted to rip open his chest with his bare hands and claw out his heart.

"What have I done?" The question started as a low moan but grew to a howl he could no longer lock behind his teeth. "What have I done?"

He knew the answer: he had done his duty.

And now he couldn't imagine why.

When I die, Palpatine had said, so calmly, so warmly, so reasonably, my knowledge dies with me ...

Everywhere he looked, he saw only the face of the woman he loved beyond love: the woman for whom he channeled through his body all the love that had ever existed in the galaxy. In the universe.

He didn't care what she had done. He didn't care about conspiracies or cabals or secret pacts. Treason meant nothing to him now. She was everything that had ever been loved by anyone, and he was watching her die.

His agony somehow became an invisible hand, stretching out through the Force, a hand that found her, far away, alone in her apartment in the dark, a hand that felt the silken softness of her skin and the sleek coils of her hair, a hand that dissolved into a field of pure energy, of pure feeling that reached inside her—

And now he felt her, really felt her in the Force, as though she could have been some kind of Jedi, too, but more than that: he felt a bond, a connection, deeper and more intimate than he'd ever had before with anyone, even Obi-Wan; for a precious eternal instant he was her ... he was the beat of her heart and he was the motion of her lips and he was her soft words as though she spoke a prayer to the stars—

I love you, Anakin. I am yours, in life, and in death, wherever you go, whatever you do, we will always be one. Never doubt me, my love. I am yours.

—and her purity and her passion and the truth of her love flowed into him and through him and every atom of him screamed to the Force how can I let her die?

The Force had no answer for him.

The dragon, on the other hand, did.

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

And no matter how hard he tried to summon it, no wisdom of Yoda's, no teaching of Obi-Wan's, not one scrap of Jedi lore came to him that could choke the dragon down.

But there was an answer; he'd heard it just the other night.

With such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?

Anakin stopped. His agony evaporated.

Palpatine was right.

It was simple.

All he had to do was decide what he wanted.

The Coruscant nightfall was spreading through the galaxy.

The darkness in the Force was no hindrance to the shadow in the Chancellor's office; it was the darkness. Wherever darkness dwelled, the shadow could send perception.

In the night, the shadow felt the boy's anguish, and it was good. The shadow felt the grim determination of four Jedi Masters approaching by air.

This, too, was good.

As a Jedi shuttle settled to the landing deck outside, the shadow sent its mind into the far deeper night within one of the several pieces of sculpture that graced the office; an abstract twist of solid neuranium, so heavy that the office floor had been specially reinforced to bear its weight, so dense that more sensitive species might, from very close range, actually percieve the tiny warping of the fabric of space-time that was its gravitation.

Neuranium of more than roughly a millimeter thick is impervious to sensors; the standard security scans undergone by all equipment and furniture to enter the Senate Office Building had shown nothing at all. If anyone had thought to use an advanced gravimetric detector, however, they might have discovered that one smallish section of the sculpture massed slightly less than it should have, given that the manifest that had accompanied it, when it was brought from Naboo among the then-ambassador's personal effects, clearly stated that it was a single piece of solid-forged neuranium.

The manifest was a lie. The sculpture was not entirely solid, and not all of it was neuranium.

Within a long, slim, rod-shaped cavity around which the sculpture had been forged rested a device that had lain, waiting, in absolute darkness—darkness beyond darkness—for decades.

Waiting for night to fall on the Republic.

The shadow felt Jedi Masters stride the vast echoic emptiness of the vaulted halls outside. It could practically hear the cadence of their boot heels on the Alderaanian marble.

The darkness within the sculpture whispered of the shape and the feel and every intimate resonance of the device it cradled. With a twist of its will, the shadow triggered the device.

The neuranium got warm.

A small round spot, smaller than the circle a human child might make of thumb and forefinger, turned the color of old blood.

Then fresh blood.

Then open flame.

Finally a spear of scarlet energy lanced free, painting the office with the color of stars seen through the smoke of burning planets.

The spear of energy lengthened, drawing with it out from the darkness the device, then the scarlet blade shrank away and the device slid itself within the softer darkness of a sleeve.

As shouts of the Force scattered Redrobes beyond the office's outer doors, the shadow gestured and lampdisks ignited. Another shout of the Force burst open die inner door to the private office. As Jedi stormed in, a final flick of the shadow's will triggered a recording device concealed within the desk.

Audio only.

"Why, Master Windu," said the shadow. "What a pleasant surprise."

----------

Shaak Ti felt him coming before she could see him. The infra- and ultrasound-sensitive cavities in the tall, curving montrals to either side of her head gave her a sense analogous to touch: the texture of his approaching footsteps was ragged as old sacking. As he rounded the corner to the landing deck door, his breathing felt like a pile of gravel and his heartbeat was spiking like a Zabrak's head.

He didn't look good, either; he was deathly pale, even for a human, and his eyes were raw.

"Anakin," she said warmly. Perhaps a friendly word was what he needed; she doubted he'd gotten many from Mace Windu. "Thank you for what you have done. The Jedi Order is in your debt—the whole galaxy, as well."

"Shaak Ti. Get out of my way."

Shaky as he looked, there was nothing unsteady in his voice: it was deeper than she remembered, more mature, and it carried undertones of authority that she had never heard before.

And she was not blind to the fact he had neglected to call her Master.

She put forth a hand, offering calming energies through the Force. "The Temple is sealed, Anakin. The door is code-locked. "

"And you're in the way of the pad."

She stepped aside, allowing him to the pad; she had no reason to keep him here against his will. He punched the code hungrily. "If Palpatine retaliates," she said reasonably, "is not your place here, to help with our defense?"

"I'm the chosen one. My place is there." His breathing roughened, and he looked as if he was getting even sicker. "I have to be there. That's the prophecy, isn't it? I have to be there—"

"Anakin, why? The Masters are the best of the Order. What can you possibly do?"

The door slid open.

"I'm the chosen one," he repeated. "Prophecy can't be changed. I'll do—"

He looked at her with eyes that were dying, and a spasm of unendurable pain passed over his face. Shaak Ti reached for him— he shouid be in the infirmary, not heading toward what might be a savage battle—but he lurched away from her hand.

I’ll do what I'm supposed to do," he said, and sprinted into the night and the rain.

[the following is a transcript of an audio recording presented before the Galactic Senate on the afternoon of the first Empire Day; identities of all speakers verified and confirmed by voiceprint analysis]

PALPATINE: Why, Master Windu. What a pleasant surprise.

MACE WINDU: Hardly a surprise. Chancellor. And it will be pleasant for neither of us.

PALPATINE: I'm sorry? Master Fisto, hello. Master Kolar, greetings. I trust you are well. Master Tiin—I see your horn has regrown; I'm very glad. What brings four Jedi Masters to my office at this hour?

MACE WINDU: We know who you are. What you are. We are here to take you into custody.

PALPATINE: I beg your pardon? What I am? When last I checked, I was Supreme Chancellor of the Republic you are sworn to serve. I hope I misunderstand what you mean by custody, Master Windu. It smacks of treason.

MACE WINDU: You're under arrest.

PALPATINE: Really, Master Windu, you cannot be serious. On what charge?

MACE WINDU: You're a Sith Lord!

PALPATINE: Am I? Even if true, that's hardly a crime. My philosophical outlook is a personal matter. In fact— the last time I read the Constitution, anyway—we have very strict laws against this type of persecution. So I ask you again: what is my alleged crime? How do you expect to justify your mutiny before the Senate? Or do you intend to arrest the Senate as well?

MACE WINDU: We're not here to argue with you.

PALPATINE: No, you're here to imprison me without trial. Without even the pretense of legality. So this is the plan, at last: the Jedi are taking over the Republic.

MACE WINDU: Come with us. Now.

PALPATINE: I shall do no such thing. If you intend to murder me, you can do so right here.

MACE WINDU: Don't try to resist.

[sounds that have been identified by frequency resonances to be the ignition of several lightsabers]

PALPATINE: Resist? How could I possibly resist? This is murder, you Jedi traitors! How can I be any threat to you? Master Tiin—you're the telepath. What am I thinking right now?

[sounds of scuffle]

KIT FISTO: Saesee—

AGEN KOLAR: [garbled; possibly “lt doesn't hurt"(?)]

[sounds of scuffle]

PALPATINE: Help! Help! Security—someone! Help me! Murder! Treason!

[recording ends]

A fountain of amethyst energy burst from Mace Windu's fist. "Don't try to resist."

The song of his blade was echoed by green fire from the hands of Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, and Saesee Tiin. Kolar and Tiin closed on Palpatine, blocking the path to the door. Shadows dripped and oozed color, weaving and coiling up office walls, slipping over chairs, spreading along the floor.

"Resist? How could I possibly resist?" Still seated at the desk, Palpatine shook an empty fist helplessiy, the perfect image of a tired, frightened old man. "This is murder, you Jedi traitors! How can I be any threat to you?"

He turned desperately to Saesee Tiin. "Master Tiin—you're the telepath. What am I thinking right now?"

Tiin frowned and cocked his head. His blade dipped. A smear of red-flashing darkness hurtled from behind the desk.

Saesee Tiin's head bounced when it hit the floor.

Smoke curled from the neck, and from the twin stumps of the horns, severed just below the chin.

Kit Fisto gasped, "Saesee!"

The headless corpse, still standing, twisted as its knees buckled, and a thin sigh escaped from its trachea as it folded to the floor.

"It doesn't. . ." Agen Kolar swayed.

His emerald blade shrank away, and the handgrip tumbled from his opening fingers. A small, neat hole in the middle of his forehead leaked smoke, showing light from the back of his head.

". . . hurt. . ."

He pitched forward onto his face, and lay still.

Palpatine stood at the doorway, but the door stayed shut. From his right hand extended a blade the color of fire.

The door locked itself at his back.

"Help! Help!" Palpatine cried like a man in desperate fear for his life, "Security—someone! Help me! Murder! Treason!"

Then he smiled.

He held one finger to his lips, and, astonishingly, he winked.

In the blank second that followed, while Mace Windu and Kit Fisto could do no more than angle their lightsabers to guard, Palpatine swiftly stepped over the bodies back toward his desk, reversed his blade, and drove it in a swift, surgically precise stab down through his desktop.

"That's enough of that."

He let it burn its way free through the front, then he turned, lifting his weapon, appearing to study it as one might study the face of a beloved friend one has long thought dead. Power gathered around him until the Force shimmered with darkness.

"If you only knew," he said softly, perhaps speaking to the Jedi Masters, or perhaps to himself, or perhaps even to the scarlet blade lifted now as though in mocking salute, "how long I have been waiting for this . . ."

Anakin's speeder shrieked through the rain, dodging forked bolts of lightning that shot up from towers into the clouds, slicing across traffic lanes, screaming past spacescrapers so fast that his shock-wake cracked windows as he passed.

He didn't understand why people didn't just get out of his way. He didn't understand how the trillion beings who jammed Galactic City could go about their trivial business as though die universe hadn't changed. How could they think they counted for anything, compared with him?

How could they think they still mattered?

Their blind lives meant nothing now. None of them. Because ahead, on die vast cliff face of the Senate Office Building, one window spat lightning into the rain to echo the lightning of the storm outside—but this lightning was the color of clashing lightsabers.

Green fans, sheets of purple—

And crimson flame.

He was too late.

The green fire faded and winked out; now the lightning was only purple and red.

His repulsorlifts howled as he heeled the speeder up onto its aide, skidding through wind-shear turbulence to bring it to a bobbing halt outside the window of Palpatine's private office. A blast of lightning hit the spire of 500 Republica, only a kilometer away, and its white burst flared off the window, flash-blinding him; he blinked furiously, slapping at his eyes in frustration.

The colorless glare inside his eyes faded slowly, bringing into focus a jumble of bodies on the floor of Palpatine's private office.

Bodies in Jedi robes.

On Palpatine's desk lay the head of Kit Fisto, faceup, scalp-tentacles unbound in a squid-tangle across the ebonite. His lidless eyes stared blindly at the ceiling. Anakin remembered him in the arena at Geonosis, effortlessly carving his way through wave after wave of combat droids, on his lips a gently humorous smile as though the horrific battle were only some friendly jest. His severed head wore that same smile.

Maybe he thought death was funny, too.

Anakin's own blade sang blue as it slashed through the window and he dived through the gap. He rolled to his feet among a litter of bodies and sprinted through a shattered door along the small private corridor and through a doorway that flashed and flared with energy-scatter.

Anakin skidded to a stop.

Within the public office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, a last Jedi Master battled alone, blade-to-blade, against a living shadow.

-------------

Sinking into Vaapad, Mace Windu fought for his life.

More than his life: each whirl of blade and whipcrack of lightning was a strike in defense of democracy, of justice and peace, of the rights of ordinary beings to live their own lives in their own ways.

He was fighting for the Republic that he loved.

Vaapad, the seventh form of lightsaber combat, takes its name from a notoriously dangerous predator native to the moons Sarapin: a vaapad attacks its prey with whipping strikes of its blindingly fast tentacles. Most have at least seven. It is not uncommon for them to have as many as twelve; the largest ever killed had twenty-three. With a vaapad, one never knew how many tentacles it had until it was dead: they move too fast to count. Almost too fast to see.

So did Mace's blade.

Vaapad is as aggressive and powerful as its namesake, but its power comes at great risk: immersion in Vaapad opens the gates that restrain one's inner darkness. To use Vaapad, a Jedi must allow himself to enjoy the fight; he must give himself over to the thrill of battle. The rush of winning. Vaapad is a path that leads through the penumbra of the dark side.

Mace Windu created this style, and he was its only living master.

This was Vaapad's ultimate test.

-----------------

Anakin blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Maybe he was still a bit flash-blind—the Korun Master seemed to be fading in and out of existence, half swallowed by a thickening black haze in which danced a meter-long bar of sunfire. Mace pressed back the darkness with a relentless straight-ahead march; his own blade, that distinctive amethyst blaze that had been the final sight of so many evil beings across the galaxy, made a haze of its own: an oblate sphere of purple fire within which there seemed to be dozens of swords slashing in all directions at once.

The shadow he fought, that blur of speed—could that be Palpatine?

Their blades flared and flashed, crashing together with bursts of fire, weaving nets of killing energy in exchanges so fast that Anakin could not truly see them—

But he could feel them in the Force.

The Force itself roiled and burst and crashed around them, boiling with power and lightspeed ricochets of lethal intent.

And it was darkening.

Anakin could feel how the Force fed upon the shadow's murderous exaltation; he could feel fury spray into the Force though some poisonous abscess had crested in both their hearts.

There was no Jedi restraint here.

Mace Windu was cutting loose.

Mace was deep in it now: submerged in Vaapad, swallowed by it, he no longer truly existed as an independent being.

Vaapad is a channel for darkness, and that darkness flowed both ways. He accepted the furious speed of the Sith Lord, drew the shadow's rage and power into his inmost center—

And let it fountain out again.

He reflected the fury upon its source as a lightsaber redirects a blaster bolt.

There was a time when Mace Windu had feared the power of the dark; there was a time when he had feared the darkness in himself. But the Clone Wars had given him a gift of understanding: on a world called Haruun Kal, he had faced his darkness and had learned that the power of darkness is not to be feared.

He had learned that it is fear that gives the darkness power.

He was not afraid. The darkness had no power over him. But—

Neither did he have power over it.

Vaapad made him an open channel, half of a superconducting loop completed by the shadow; they became a standing wave of battle that expanded into every cubic centimeter of the Chancellor's office. There was no scrap of carpet nor shred of chair that might not at any second disintegrate in flares of red or purple; lampstands became brief shields, sliced into segments that whirled through the air; couches became terrain to be climbed for advantage or overleapt in retreat. But there was still only the cycle of power, the endless loop, no wound taken on either side, not even the possibility of fatigue.

Impasse.

Which might have gone on forever, if Vaapad were Mace's only gift.

The fighting was effortless for him now; he let his body handle it without the intervention of his mind. While his blade spun and crackled, while his feet slid and his weight shifted and his shoulders turned in precise curves of their own direction, his mind slid along the circuit of dark power, tracing it back to its limitless source.

Feeling for its shatterpoint.

He found a knot of fault lines in the shadow's future; he chose the largest fracture and followed it back to the here and the now—

And it led him, astonishingly, to a man standing frozen in the slashed-open doorway. Mace had no need to look; the presence in the Force was familiar, and was as uplifting as sunlight breaking through a thunderhead.

The chosen one was here.

Mace disengaged from the shadow's blade and leapt for the window; he slashed away the transparisteel with a single flourish.

His instant's distraction cost him: a dark surge of the Force nearly blew him right out of the gap he had just cut. Only a desperate Force-push of his own altered his path enough that he slammed into a stanchion instead of plunging half a kilometer from the ledge outside. He bounced off and the Force cleared his head and once again he gave himself to Vaapad.

He could feel the end of this battle approaching, and so could the blur of Sith he faced; in the Force, the shadow had become a pulsar of fear. Easily, almost effortlessly, he turned the shadow's fear into a weapon: he angled the battle to bring them both out onto the window ledge.

Out in the wind. Out with the lightning. Out on a rain-slicked ledge above a half-kilometer drop.

Out where the shadow's fear made it hesitate. Out where the shadow's fear turned some of its Force-powered speed into a Force-powered grip on the slippery permacrete.

Out where Mace could flick his blade in one precise arc and slash the shadow's lightsaber in half.

One piece flipped back in through the cut-open window. The other tumbled from opening fingers, bounced on the ledge, and fell through the rain toward the distant alleys below.

Now the shadow was only Palpatine: old and shrunken, thinning hair bleached white by time and care, face lined with exhaustion.

"For all your power, you are no Jedi. All you are, my lord,” Mace said evenly, staring past his blade, "is under arrest."

"Do you see, Anakin? Do you?" Palpatine's voice once again had the broken cadence of a frightened old man's. "Didn't I warn you of the Jedi and their treason?"

"Save your twisted words, my lord. There are no politicians here. The Sith will never regain control of the Republic. It's over. You’ve lost." Mace leveled his blade. "You lost for the same reason the Sith always lose: defeated by your own fear." Palpatine lilted his head. His eyes smoked with hate.

"Fool," he said.

He lifted his arms, his robes of office spreading wide into raptor's wings, his hands hooking into talons.

"Fool!" His voice was a shout of thunder. "Do you think the fear you feel is mine?"

Lighting blasted the clouds above, and lightning blasted from Palpatine's hands, and Mace didn't have time to comprehend what Palpatine was talking about; he had time only to slip back into Vaapad and angle his blade to catch the forking arcs of pure, dazzling hatred that clawed toward him.

Because Vaapad is more than a fighting style. It in a state of mind: a channel for darkness. Power passed into him and out again without touching him.

And the circuit completed itself: the lightning reflected back to its source.

Palpatine staggered, snarling, but the blistering energy that poured from his hands only intensified.

He fed the power with his pain.

"Anakin!" Mace called. His voice sounded distant, blurred, as if it came from the bottom of a well. "Anakin, help me! This is your chance!"

He felt Anakin's leap from the office floor to the ledge, felt his approach behind—

And Palpatine was not afraid.

Mace could feel it: he wasn't worried at all.

"Destroy this traitor,” the Chancellor said, his voice raised over the howl of writhing energy that joined his hands to Mace's blade. "This was never an arrest. It's an assassination!”

That was when Mace finally understood. He had it. The key to final victory. Palpatine's shatterpoint. The absolute shatterpoint of the Sith.

The shatterpoint of the dark side itself.

Mace thought, blankly astonished, Palpatine trusts Anakin Skywalker. . .

Now Anakin was at Mace's shoulder. Palpatine still made no move to defend himself from Skywalker; instead he ramped up the lightning bursting from his hands, bending the fountain of Mace's blade back toward the Korun Master's face.

Palpatine's eyes glowed with power, casting a yellow glare that burned back the rain from around them. "He is a traitor, Anakin. Destroy him."

"You're the chosen one, Anakin," Mace said, his voice going thin with strain. This was beyond Vaapad; he had no strength left to fight against his own blade, "Take him. It's your destiny."

Skywalker echoed him faintly. "Destiny . . .”

"Help me! I can't hold on any longer!" The yellow glare from Palpatine's eyes spread outward through his flesh. His skin flowed like oil, as though the muscle beneath was burning away, as though even the bones of his skull were softening, were bending and bulging, deforming from the heat and pressure of his electric hatred. "He is killing me, Anakin—! Please, Anaaahhh—"

Mace's blade bent so ciose to his face that he was choking on ozone. " Anakin, he's too strong for me—"

"Ahhh—" Palpatine's roar above above the endless blast of lightning became a fading moan of despair.

The lightning swallowed itself, leaving only the night and the rain, and an old man crumpled to his knees on a slippery ledge.

"I ... can't. I give up. I ... I am too weak, in the end. Too old, and too weak. Don't kill me, Master Jedi. Please. I surrender."

Victory flooded through Mace's aching body. He lifted his blade. "You Sith disease—'"

"Wait—" Skywalker seized his lightsaber arm with desperate strength. "Don't kill him—you can't just kill him, Master—"

"Yes, I can," Mace said, grim and certain. "I have to."

"You came to arrest him. He has to stand trial—"

"A trial would be a joke. He controls the courts. He controls the Senate—"

"So are you going to kill all them, too? Like he said you would?"

Mace yanked his arm free. "He's too dangerous to be left alive. If you could have taken Dooku alive, would you have?"

Skywalker's face swept itself clean of emotion. "That was different—"

Mace turned toward the cringing, beaten Sith Lord. "You can explain the difference after he's dead."

He raised his lightsaber.

"I need him alive!'" Skywalker shouted. "I need him to save Padme!”

Mace thought blankly, Why? And moved his lightsaber toward the fallen Chancellor.

Before he could follow through on his stroke, a sudden arc of blue plasma sheared through his wrist and his hand tumbled away with his lightsaber still in it and Palpatine roared back to his feet and lightning speared from the Sith Lord's hands and without his blade to catch it, the power of Palpatine's hate struck him full-on.

He had been so intent on Palpatine's shatterpoint that he'd never thought to look for Anakin's.

Dark lightning blasted away his universe.

He fell forever.

Anakin Skywalker knelt in the rain.

He was looking at a hand. The hand had brown skin. The hand held a lightsaber. The hand had a charred oval of tissue where it should have been attached to an arm.

"What have I done?"

Was it his voice? It must have been. Because it was his question.

"What have I done?"

Another hand, a warm and human hand, laid itself softly on his shoulder.

"You're following your destiny, Anakin," said a familiar gentle voice. "The Jedi are traitors. You saved the Republic from their treachery. You can see that, can't you?"

"You were right," Anakin heard himself saying. "Why didn't I know?"

"You couldn't have. They cloaked themselves in deception, my boy. Because they feared your power, they could never trust you,"

Anakin stared at the hand, but he no longer saw it. "Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan trusts me ..."

"Not enough to tell you of their plot."

Treason echoed in his memory.

,.. this is not an assignment for the record ...

That warm and human hand gave his shoulder a warm and human squeeze. "I do not fear your power, Anakin, I embrace it. You are the greatest of the Jedi. You can be the greatest of the Sith. I believe that, Anakin. I believe in you. I trust you. I trust you. I trust you."

Anakin looked from the dead hand on the ledge to the living one on his shoulder, then up to the face of the man who stood above him, and what he saw there choked him like an invisible fist crushing his throat.

The hand on his shoulder was human.

The face . . . wasn't.

The eyes were a cold and feral yellow, and they gleamed like those of a predator lurking beyond a fringe of firelight; the bone around those feral eyes had swollen and melted and flowed like durasteel spilled from a fusion smelter, and the flesh that blanketed it had gone corpse-gray and coarse as rotten synthplast.

Stunned with horror, stunned with revulsion, Anakin could only stare at the creature. At the shadow.

Looking into the face of the darkness, he saw his future.

"Now come inside," the darkness said.

After a moment, he did.

-------------

Anakin stood just within the office. Motionless.

Palpatine examined the damage to his face in a broad expanse of wall mirror. Anakin couldn't tell if his expression might be revulsion, or if this were merely the new shape of his features. Palpatine lifted one tentative hand to the misshapen horror that he now saw in the mirror, then simply shrugged.

"And so the mask becomes the man," he sighed with a hint of philosophical melancholy, "I shall miss the face of Palpatine, I think; but for our purpose, the face of Sidious will serve. Yes, it will serve.”

He gestured, and a hidden compartment opened in the office's ceiling above his desk. A voluminous robe of heavy black-on-black brocade floated downward from it; Anakin felt the current in die Force that carried the robe to Palpatine's hand.

He remembered playing a Force game with a shuura fruit, sitting across a long table from Padme in the retreat by the lake on Naboo. He remembered telling her how grumpy Obi-Wan would be to see him use the Force so casually.

Palaptine seemed to catch his thought; he gave a yellow sidelong glance as the robe settled onto his shoulders.

"You must learn to cast off the petty restraints that the Jedi have tried to place upon your power," he said. "Anakin, it's time. I need you to help me restore order to the galaxy."

Anakin didn't respond.

Sidious said, "Join me. Pledge yourself to the Sith. Become my apprentice.”

A wave of tingling started at the base of Anakin’s skull and spread over his whole body in a slow-motion shockwave.

"I—I can't."

"Of course you can."

Anakin shook his head and found that the rest of him threatened to begin shaking as well. "I—came to save your life, sir. Not to betray my friends—"

Sidious snorted. "What friends?"

Anakin could find no answer.

"And do you think that task is finished, my boy?" Sidious seated himself on the corner of the desk, hands folded in his lap, the way he always had when offering Anakin fatherly advice; the misshapen mask of his face made the familiarity of his posture into something horrible. "Do you think that killing one traitor will end treason? Do you think the Jedi will ever stop until I am dead?"

Anakin stared at his hands. The left one was shaking. He hid it behind him.

"It's them or me, Anakin. Or perhaps I should put it more plainly: It's them or Padme."

Anakin made his right hand—his black-gloved hand of durasteel and electrodrivers—into a fist.

"It's just—it's not. . . easy, that's all. I have—I've been a Jedi for so long—"

Sidious offered an appalling smile. "There is a place within you, my boy, a place as briskly clean as ice on a mountaintop, cool and remote. Find that high place, and look down within yourself; breathe that clean, icy air as you regard your guilt and shame. Do not deny them; observe them. Take your horror in your hands and look at it. Examine it as a phenomenon. Smell it. Taste it. Come to know it as only you can, for it is yours, and it is precious."

As the shadow beside him spoke, its words became true. From a remote, frozen distance that was at the same time more extravagantly, hotly intimate than he could have ever dreamed, Anakin handled his emotions. He dissected them. He reassembled them and pulled them apart again. He still felt them—if anything, they burned hotter than before—but they no longer had the power to cloud his mind.

"You have found it, my boy: I can feel you there. That cold distance—that mountaintop within yourself—that is the first key to the power of the Sith."

Anakin opened his eyes and turned his gaze fully upon the grotesque features of Darth Sidious.

He didn't even blink.

As he looked upon that mask of corruption, the revulsion he felt was real, and it was powerful, and it was—

Interesting.

Anakin lifted his hand of durasteel and electrodrivers and cupped it, staring into its palm as though he held there the fear that had haunted his dreams for his whole life, and it was no larger than the piece of shuura he'd once stolen from Padme's plate.

On the mountain peak within himself, he weighed Padme's life against the Jedi Order.

It was no contest.

He said, "Yes."

"Yes to what, my boy?"

"Yes, I want your knowledge."

"Good, Good!"

"I want your power. I want the power to stop death."

"That power only my Master truly achieved, but together we will find it. The Force is strong with you, my boy. You can do anything."

"The Jedi betrayed you," Anakin said. "The Jedi betrayed both of us."

"As you say. Are you ready?"

"I am," he said, and meant it. "I give myself to you. I pledge myself to the ways of the Sith. Take me as your apprentice. Teach me. Lead me. Be my Master."

Sidious raised the hood of his robe and draped it to shadow the ruin of his face.

"Kneel before me, Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin dropped to one knee. He lowered his head.

"It is your will to join your destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

Darth Sidious laid a pale hand on Anakin's brow. "Then it is done. You are now one with the Order of the Dark Lords of the Sith. From this day forward, the truth of you, my apprentice, now and forevermore, will be Darth . . ."

A pause; a questioning in the Force—

An answer, dark as the gap between galaxies—

He heard Sidious say it: his new name.

Vader.

A pair of syllables that meant him.

Vader, he said to himself. Vader.

"Thank you, my Master."

"Every single Jedi, including your friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, have been revealed as enemies of the Republic now. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, my Master."

"The Jedi are relentless. If they are not destroyed to the last being, there will be civil war without end. To sterilize the Jedi Temple will be your first task. Do what must be done, Lord Vader."

"I always have, my Master."

"Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. Leave no living creature behind. Only then will you be strong enough with the dark side to save Padme."

"What of the other Jedi?"

"Leave them to me. After you have finished at the Temple, your second task will be the Separatist leadership, in their 'secret bunker' on Mustafar. When you have killed them all, the Sith will rule the galaxy once more, and we shall have peace. Forever.

"Rise, DarthVader."

The Sith Lord who once had been a Jedi hero called Anakin Skywalker stood, drawing himself up to his full height, but he looked not outward upon his new Master, nor upon the planet-city beyond, nor out into the galaxy that they would soon rule. He instead turned his gaze inward: he unlocked the furnace gate within his heart and stepped forth to regard with new eyes the cold freezing dread of the dead-star dragon that had haunted his life.

I am Darth Vader, he said within himself.

The dragon tried again to whisper of failure, and weakness, and inevitable death, but with one hand the Sith Lord caught it, crushed away its voice; it tried to rise then, to coil and rear and strike, but the Sith I,ord laid his other hand upon it and hrokc its power with a single effortless twist.

I am Darth Vader, he repeated as he ground the dragon's corpse to dust beneath his mental heel, as he watched the dragon's dust and ashes scatter before the blast from his furnace heart, and you—

You are nothing at all.

He had become, finally, what they all called him.

The Hero With No Fear.

Gate Master Jurokk sprinted through the empty vaulted hallway, clattering echoes of his footsteps making him sound like a platoon. The main doors of the Temple were slowly swinging inward in answer to the code key punched into the outside lockpad.

The Gate Master had seen him on the monitor.

Anakin Skywalker.

Alone.

The huge doors creaked inward; as soon as they were wide enough for the Gate Master to pass, he slipped through.

Anakin stood in the night outside, shoulders hunched, head down against the rain.

"Anakin!" he gasped, running up to the young man. "Anakin, what happened? Where are the Masters?"

Anakin looked at him as though he wasn't sure who the Gate Master was. '"Where is Shaak Ti?"

"In the meditation chambers—we felt something happen in the Force, something awful. She's searching the Force in deep meditation, trying to get some feel for what's going on ..."

His words trailed away. Anakin didn't seem to be listening.

"Something has happened, hasn't it?"

Jurokk looked past him now. The night beyond the Temple was full of clones. Battalions of them. Brigades.

Thousands.

"Anakin," he said slowly, "what's going on? Something's happened, Something horrible. How bad is it - ?"

The last thing Jurokk felt was the emitter of a lightsaber against the soft flesh beneath his jaw; the last thing he heard, as blue plasma chewed upward through his head and burst from the top of his skull and burned away his life, was Anakin Skywalker's melancholy reply.

"You have no idea . . ."

Order Sixty-Six is the climax of the Clone Wars.

Not the end—the Clone Wars will end some few hours from now, when a coded signal, sent by Nute Gunray from the secret Separatist bunker on Mustafar, deactivates every combat droid in the galaxy at once—but the climax.

It's not a thrilling climax; it's not the culmination of an epic struggle. Just the opposite, in fact. The Clone Wars were never an epic struggle. They were never intended to be.

What is happening right now is why the Clone Wars were fought in the first place. It is their reason for existence. The Clone Wars have always been, in and of themselves, from their very inception, the revenge of the Sith.

They were irresistible bait. They took place in remote locations, on planets that belonged, primarily, to "somebody else." They were fought by expendable proxies. And they were constructed as a win-win situation.

The Clone Wars were the perfect Jedi trap.

By fighting at all, the Jedi lost.

With the Jedi Order overextended, spread thin across the galaxy, each Jedi is alone, surrounded only by whatever clone troops he, she, or it commands. War itself pours darkness into the Force, deepening the cloud that limits Jedi perception. And die clones have no malice, no hatred, not the slightest ill intent that might give warning. They are only following orders.

In this case, Order Sixty-Six.

Hold-out blasters appear in clone hands. ARC-170s drop back onto the tails of Jedi starfighters. AT-STs swivel their guns. Turrets on hovertanks swung silently.

Clones open fire, and Jedi die.

All across the galaxy. All at once.

Jedi die.

----

Kenobi never saw it coming.

Cody had coordinated the heavy-weapons operators from five different companies spread over an arc of three different levels of the sinkhole-city. He'd served under Kenobi in more than a dozen operations since the beginning of the Outer Rim sieges, and he had a very clear and unsentimental estimate of just how hard to kill the unassuming Jedi Master was. He wasn't taking any chances.

He raised his comlink. "Execute."

On that order, T-21 muzzles swung, shoulder-fired torps locked on, and proton grenade launchers angled to precisely calibrated elevations.

"Fire."

They did.

Kenobi, his dragonmount, and all five of the destroyer droids he'd been fighting vanished in a fireball that for an instant outshone Utapau's sun.

Visual polarizers in Cody's helmet cut the glare by 78 percent; his vision cleared in plenty of time to see shreds of dragon-mount and twisted hunks of droid raining into the ocean mouth at the bottom of the sinkhole.

Cody scowled and keyed his comlink. "Looks like the lizard took the worst of it. Deploy the seekers. All of them."

He stared down into the boil of the ocean mouth.

"I want to see the body."

C-3PO paused in the midst of dusting the Tarka-Null original on its display pedestal near his mistress's bedroom view wall, and used the electrostatic tissue to briefly polish his own photoreceptors. The astromech in the green Jedi starfighter docking with the veranda below—could that be R2-D2?

Well, this should be interesting.

Senator Amidala had spent the better part of these predawn hours simply staring over the city, toward the plume of smoke tiiat rose from the Jedi Temple; now, at last, she might get some answers.

He might, too. R2-D2 was far from the sort of sparkling conversationalist with whom C-3PO preferred to associate, but the little astromech had a positive gift for jacking himself into the motherboards of the most volatile situations…

The cockpit popped open, and inevitably the Jedi within was revealed to be Anakin Skywalker. In watching Master Anakin climb down from the starfighter's cockpit, 3PO's photoreceptors captured data that unexpectedly activated his threat-aversion subroutines. "Oh," he said faintly, clutching at his power core. "Oh, I don't like the looks of this at all. . ."

He dropped the electrostatic tissue and shuffled as quickly as he could to the bedroom door. "My lady," he called to Senator Amidala, where she stood by the broad window. "On the veranda. A Jedi starfighter," he forced out. "Has docked, my lady."

She blinked, then rushed toward the bedroom door.

C-3PO shuffled along behind her and slipped out through the open door, making a wide circle around the humans, who were engaged in one of those inexplicable embraces they seemed so fond of.

Reaching the starfighter, he said, "Artoo, are you all right? What is going on?"

The astromech squeaked and beeped; C-3PO's autotranslator interpreted: NOBODY TELLS ME ANYTHING.

"Of course not. You don't keep up your end of the conversation."

A whirring squeal: SOMETHING’S WRONG. THE FACTORS DON’T BALANCE.

"You can't possibly be more confused than I am."

YOU’RE RIGHT. NOBODY CAN BE MORE CONFUSED THAN YOU ARE.

"Oh, very funny. Hush now—what was that?"

The Senator was sitting now, leaning distractedly on one of the tasteful, elegant bistro tables that dotted the veranda, while Master Anakin stood above her. "I think—he's saying something about a rebellion—that the Jedi have tried to overthrow the Republic! And—oh, my goodness. Mace Windu has tried to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine! Can he be serious?"

I DON'T KNOW. ANAKIN DOESN'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE.

C-3PO shook his cranial assembly helplessly. "How can Master Windu be an assassin? He has such impeccable manners."

LIKE I TOLD YOU: THE FACTORS DON'T ADD UP.

"I've been hearing the most awful rumors—they're saying the government is going to banish us—banish druids, can you imagine?"

DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU HEAR.

"Shh. Not so loud!"

I'M ONLY SAYING THAT WE DON'T KNOW THE TRUTH.

"Of course we don't." C-3PO sighed. "And we likely never will.”

"What about Obi-Wan?"

She looked stricken. Pale and terrified.

It made him love her more.

He shook his head. "Many of the Jedi have been killed."

"But. . ." She stared out at the rivers of traffic crosshatching the sky. "Are you sure? It seems so ... unbelievable ..."

"I was there, Padme. It's all true."

"But . . . but how could Obi-Wan be involved in something like that?"

He said, "We may never know."

"Outlawed . . . ," she murmured. "What happens now?"

"All Jedi are required to surrender themselves immediately," he said. "Those who resist . . . are being dealt with."

"Anakin—they're your family—"

"They're traitors. You're my family. You and the baby."

"How can all of them be traitors—?"

"They're not the only ones. There were Senators in this as well."

Now, finally, she looked at him, and fear shone from her eyes.

He smiled.

"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

"To me?"

"You need to distance yourself from your . . . friends ... in the Senate, Padme. It's very important to avoid even the appearance of disloyalty."

"Anakin—you sound like you're threatening me . . ."

"This is a dangerous time," he said. "We are all judged by the company we keep."

"But—I've opposed the war, I opposed Palpatine's emergency powers—I publicly called him a threat to democracy!"

"That's all behind us now."

"What is? What I've done? Or democracy?"

"Padme—"

Her chin came up, and her eyes hardened. "Am I under suspicion?"

"Palpatine and I have discussed you already. You're in the clear, so long as you avoid . . . inappropriate associations."

"How am I in the clear?"

"Because you're with me. Because I say you are."

She stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. "You told him."

"He knew."

"Anakin—"

"There's no more need for secrets, Padme. Don't you see? I'm not a Jedi anymore. There aren't any Jedi. There's just me."

He reached for her hand. She let him take it. "And you, and our child."

"Then we can go, can't we?" Her hard stare melted to naked appeal. "We can leave this planet. Go somewhere we can be together—somewhere safe."

"We'll be together here," he said. "You are safe. I have made you safe."

"Safe," she echoed bitterly, pulling her hand away. "As long as Palpatine doesn't change his mind."

The hand she had pulled from his grasp was trembling.

"The Separatist leadership is in hiding on Mustafar. I'm on my way to deal with them right now."

"Deal with them?" The corners of her mouth drew down. "Like the Jedi are being dealt with?"

"This is an important mission. I'm going to end the war."

She looked away. "You're going alone?"

"Have faith, my love," he said.

She shook her head helplessly, and a pair of tears spilled from her eyes. He touched them with his mechanical hand; the fingertips of his black glove glistened in the dawn.

Two liquid gems, indescribably precious—because they were his. He had earned them. As he had earned her; as he had earned the child she bore.

He had paid for them with innocent blood.

"I love you," he said. "This won't take long. Wait for me."

Fresh tears streamed onto her ivory cheeks, and she threw herself into his arms. "Always, Anakin. Forever. Come back to me, my love—my life. Come back to me."

He smiled down on her. "You say that like I'm already gone."

----------------------

Icy salt water shocked Obi-Wan back to full consciousness. He hung in absolute blackness; there was no telling how far underwater he might be, nor even which direction might be up. His lungs were choked, half full of water, but he didn't panic or oven particularly worry; mostly, he was vaguely pleased to discover that even in his semiconscious fall, he'd managed to hang on to his lightsaber.

He clipped it back to his belt by feel, and—using only a minor exercise of Jedi discipline to suppress convulsive coughing—he contracted his diaphragm, forcing as much water from his lungs as he could. He took from his equipment belt his rebreather, and a small compressed-air canister intended for use in an emergency, when the breathable environment was not adequate to sustain his life.

Obi-Wan was fairly certain that his current situation qualified as an emergency.

He remembered . . .

Boga's wrenching leap, twisting in the air, the shock of impacts, multiple detonations blasting both of them farther and farther out from the sinkhole wall . . .

Using her massive body to shield Obi-Wan from his own troops.

Boga had known, somehow ... the dragonmount had known what Obi-Wan had been incapable of even suspecting, and without hesitation she'd given her life to save her rider.

I suppose that makes me more than her rider, Obi-Wan thought as he discarded the canister and got his rebreathcr snugged into place. I suppose that makes me her friend.

It certainly made her mine.

He let grief take him for a moment; grief not for the death of a noble beast, but for how little time Obi-Wan had had to appreciate the gift of his friend's service.

But even grief is an attachment, and Obi-Wan let it flow out of his life.

Good-bye, my friend.

He didn't try to swim; he seemed to be hanging motionless, suspended in infinite night. He relaxed, regulated his breathing, and let the water take him whither it would.

-----------------

C-3PO barely had time to wish his little friend good luck and remind him to stay alert as Master Anakin brushed past him and climbed into the starfightcr's cockpit, then fired the engine and blasted off, taking R2-D2 goodness knows where—probably to some preposterously horrible alien planet andint a perfectly ridiculous amount of danger - with never a thought how his loyal droid might feel about being dragged across the galaxy without so much as a by-your-leave . . .

Really, what had happened to that young man's manners?

He turned to Senator Amidala and saw that she was crying.

"Is there anything I can do, my lady?"

She didn't even turn his way. "No, thank you, Threepio."

"A snack, perhaps?"

She shook her head.

"A glass of water?"

"No."

All he could do was stand there. "I feel so helpless. . ."

She nodded, looking away again, up at the fading spark of her husband's starfighter.

"I know, Threepio," she said. "We all do."

In the underground shiplift beneath the Senate Office Building, Bail Organa was scowling as he boarded Tantive IV. When Captain Antilles met him at the top of the landing ramp, Bail nodded backward at the scarlet-clad figures posted around the accessways. "Since when do Redrobes guard Senate ships?"

Antilles shook his head. "I don't know, sir. I have a feeling there are some Senators whom Palpatine doesn't want leaving the planet."

Bail nodded. "Thank the Force I'm not one of them. Yet. Did you get the beacon?"

"Yes, sir. No one even tried to stop us. The clones at Chance Palp seemed confused—like they're not quite sure who's in charge."

"That'll change soon. Too soon. We'll all know who's in charge," Bail said grimly. "Prepare to raise ship."

"Back to Alderaan, sir?"

Bail shook his head. "Kashyyyk. There's no way to know if any Jedi have lived through this—but if I had to bet on one, my money'd be on Yoda."

------------------------

Some undefinable time later, Obi-Wan felt his head and shoulders breach the surface of the lightless ocean. He undipped his lightsaber and raised it over his head. In its blue glow he could see that he had come up in a large grotto; holding the lightsaber high, he tucked away his rebreather and sidestroked across the current to a rock outcropping that was rugged enough to offer handholds. He pulled himself out of the water.

The walls of the grotto above the waterline were pocked with openings; after inspecting the mouths of several caves. Obi-Wan came upon one where he felt a faint breath of moving air. It had a distinctly unpleasant smell—it reminded him more than a bit of the dragonmount pen—but when he doused his lightsabcr for a moment and listened very closely, he could hear a faint rumble that might have been distant wheels and repulsorlifts passing over sandstone—and what was that? An air horn? Or possibly a very disturbed dragon ... at any rate, this seemed to be the appropriate path.

He had walked only a few hundred meters before the gloom ahead of him was pierced by the white glare of high-intensity searchlights. He let his blade shrink away and pressed himself into a deep, narrow crack as a pair of seeker droids floated past.

Apparently Cody hadn't given up yet.

Their searchlights illuminated—and, apparently, awakened— some sort of immense amphibian cousin of a dragonmount; it blinked sleepily at them as it lifted its slickly glistening starfighter-sized head.

Oh, Obi-Wan thought. That explains the smell.

He breathed into the Force a suggestion that these small bobbing spheroids of circuitry and durasteel were actually, contrary to smell and appearance, some unexpected variety of immortally delicious confection sent down from the heavens by the kindly gods of Huge Slimy Cave-Monsters.

The Huge Slimy Cave-Monster in question promptly opened jaws that could engulf a bantha and snapped one of the seekers from the air, chewing it to slivers with every evidence of satisfaction. The second seeker emitted a startled and thoroughly alarmed wheeepwbeepwheep and shot away into the darkness, with the creature in hot pursuit.

Reigniting his lightsaber and moving cautiously back out into the cavern, Obi-Wan came upon a nest of what must have been infant Huge Slimy Cave-Monsters; picking his way around it as they lunged and snapped and squalled at him, he reflected absently that people who thought all babies were cute should really get out more.

Obi-Wan walked, and occasionally climbed or slid or had to leap, and walked some more.

Soon the darkness in the cavern gave way to the pale glow of Utapaun traffic lighting, and Obi-Wan found himself standing in a smallish side tunnel off a major thoroughfare. This was clearly little traveled, though; the sandy dust on its floor was so thick it was practically a beach. In fact, he could clearly see the tracks of the last vehicle to pass this way.

Broad parallel tracks pocked with divots: a blade-wheeler.

And beside them stretched long splay-clawed prints of a running dragon.

Obi-Wan blinked in mild astonishment. He had never entirely grown accustomed to the way the Force always came through for him—but neither was he reluctant to accept its gifts. Frowning thoughtfully, he followed the tracks a short distance around a curve, until the tunnel gave way to the small landing platform.

Grievous's starfighter was still there. As were the remains of Grievous.

Apparently not even the local rock-vultures could stomach him.

-----------

Tantive IV swept through the Kashyyyk system on silent running; this was still a combat zone. Captain Antilles wouldn't even risk standard scans, because they could so easily be detected and backtraced by Separatist forces.

And the Separatists weren't the only ones Antilles was worried about.

"There's the signal again, sir. Whoops. Wait, I'll get it back," Antilles riddled some more with the controls on the beacon. "Blasted thing," he muttered. "What, you can't calibrate it without using the Force?"

Bail stared through the forward view wall. Kashvyyk was only a tiny green disk two hundred thousand kilometers away. "Do you have a vector?"

"Roughly, sir. It seems to be on an orbital tangent, headed outsystem."

"I think we can risk a scan. Tight beam."

"Very well, sir."

Antilles gave the necessary orders, and moments later the scan tech reported that the object they'd picked up seemed to be some sort of escape pod. "It's not a Republic model, sir—wait, here comes the database—"

The scan tech frowned at his screen. "It's . . . Wookiee, sir. That doesn't make any sense. Why would a Wookiee escape pod be outbound from Kashyyyk?"

"Interesting." Bail didn't yet allow himself to hope, "lifesigns?"

"Yes-—well, maybe . . . this reading doesn't make any . . ." The scan tech could only shrug. "I'm not sure, sir. Whatever it is, it's no Wookiee, that's for sure . . ."

For the first time all day, Bail Organa allowed himself to smile. "Captain Antilles?"

The captain saluted crisply. "On our way, sir."

-------------

Obi-Wan took General Grievous's starfighter screaming out of the atmosphere so fast he popped the gravity well and made jump before the Vigilance could even scramble its fighters. He reverted to realspace well beyond the system, kicked the starfighter to a new vector, and jumped again. A few more jumps of random direction and duration left him deep in interstellar space.

"You know," he said to himself, "integral hyperspace capability is rather useful in a starfighter; why don't we have it yet?"

While the starfighter's nav system whirred and chunked its way through recalculating his position, he punched codes to gang his Jedi comlink into die starfighter's system.

Instead of a holoscan, the comlink generated an audio signal—an accelerating series of beeps.

Obi-Wan knew that signal. Every Jedi did. It was the recall code.

It was being broadcast on every channel by every HoloNet repeater. It was supposed to mean that the war was over. It was supposed to mean that the Council had ordered all Jedi to return to the Temple immediately.

Obi-Wan suspected it actually meant what had happened on Utapau was far from an isolated incident.

He keyed the comlink for audio. He took a deep breath.

"Emergency Code Nine Thirteen," he said, and waited.

The starfighter's comm system cycled through every response frequency.

He waited some more.

"Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Repeat: Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. Are there any Jedi out there?"

He waited. His heart thumped heavily.

"Any Jedi, please respond. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi declaring a Nine Thirteen Emergency."

He tried to ignore the small, still voice inside his head that whispered he might just be the only one out here.

He might just be the only one, period.

He started punching coordinates for a single jump that would bring him close enough to pick up a signal directly from Coruscant when a burst of fuzz came over his comlink. A quick glance confirmed the frequency: a Jedi channel.

"Please repeat," Obi-Wan said. "I'm locking onto your signal. Please repeat."

The fuzz became a spray of blue laser, which gradually resolved into a fuzzy figure of a tall, slim human with dark hair and an elegant goatee. "Master Kenobi? Are you all right? Have you been wounded?"

"Senator Organa!" Obi-Wan exclaimed with profound relief. "No, I'm not wounded—but I'm certainly »otall right. I need help. My clones turned on me. I barely escaped with my life!"

"There have been ambushes all over the galaxy."

Obi-Wan lowered his head, offering a silent wish to the Force that the victims might find peace within it.

"Have you had contact with any other survivors?"

"Only one," the Alderaanian Senator said grimly. "Lock auto my coordinates. He's waiting for you."

----------

A curve of knuckle, skinned, black scab corrugated with dirt ami leaking red—

The fringe of fray at the cuff of a beige sleeve, dark, crusted with splatter from the death of a general—

The tawny swirl of grain in wine-dark tabletop of polished Alderaanian kriin—

These were what Obi-Wan Kenobi could look at without starting to shake.

The walls of the small conference room on Tantive IV were too featureless to hold his attention; to look at a wall allowed his mind to wander...

And the shaking began.

The shaking got worse when he met the ancient green stare of the tiny alien seated across the table from him, for that wrinkled leather skin and those tufts of withered hair were his earliest memory, and they reminded Obi-Wan of the friends who had died today.

The shaking got worse still when he turned to the other being in the room, because he wore politician's robes that reminded Obi-Wan of the enemy who yet lived.

The deception. The death of Jedi Masters he had admired, of Jedi Knights who had been his friends. The death of his oath to Qui-Gon.

The death of Anakin.

Anakin must have fallen along with Mace and Agen, Saesee and Kit; fallen along with the Temple.

Along with the Order itself.

Ashes.

Ashes and dust.

Twenty-five diousand years wiped from existence in a single day.

All the dreams. All the promises.

All the children . . .

"We took them from their homes." Obi-Wan fought to stay in his chair; the pain inside him demanded motion. It became wave after wave of tremors. "We promised their families—"

"Control yourself, you must; still Jedi, you are!"

"Yes, Master Yoda." That scab on his knuckle—focused on that, he could suppress the shaking. "Yes, we are Jedi. But what if we're the last?"

"If the last we are, unchanged our duty is." Yoda settled his chin onto hands folded over the head of his gimer stick. He looked every day of his nearly nine hundred years. "While one Jedi lives, survive the Order does. Resist the darkness with every breath, we must."

He lifted his head and the stick angled to poke Obi-Wan in the shin. "Especially the darkness in ourselves, young one. Of the dark side, despair is."

The simple truth of this called to him. Even despair is attachment: it is a grip clenched upon pain.

Slowly, very slowly, Obi-Wan Kenobi remembered what it was to be a Jedi.

He leaned back in his chair and covered his face with both hands, inhaling a thin stream of air between his palms; into him self with the air he brought pain and guilt and remorse, and as he exhaled, they trailed away and vanished in the air.

He breathed out his whole life.

Everything he had done, everything he had been, friends and enemies, dreams and hopes and fears.

Empty, he found clarity. Scrubbed clean, the Force shone through him. He sat up and nodded to Yoda.

"Yes," he said. "We may be the last. But what if we're not?"

Green leather brows drew together over lambent eyes. "The Temple beacon."

"Yes. Any surviving Jedi might still obey the recall, and be killed."

Bail Organa looked from one Jedi to the other, frowning. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Obi-Wan replied, "that we have to go back to Coruscant."

"It's too dangerous," the Senator said instantly. "The whole planet is a trap—"

"Yes. We have a—ah . . ."

The loss of Anakin stabbed him.

Then he let that go, too.

"I have," he corrected himself, "a policy on traps . .."

Dialogue my ass....

Not in full, but this is the general SUMMARY... (taken straight from the audio novel):

"My Lord. Damage to the ship is becoming severe. 30% of automated weapons systems are down. We may soon loose Hyperspace capability." - Grievous (via intercom)

Dooku nodded.

He was watching a holo of Anakin and Obi-Wan.

"Sound the retreat for the entire strike force, General, and prepare the ship for jump. Once the Jedi are dead, I will join you on the bridge." - Dooku

"As my Lord commands. Grievous out." - Grievous

The transponder shuts off.

To himself: "Indeed you are, vile creature. Out of luck, and out of time." - Dooku

He threw the comlink across the deck. He nodded at two super battle droids, and they flanked him on either side.

Dooku strode into the lobby of the lift tube area. The door to Grievous' quarters was still smoldering from where the lightsabers had cut it.

Dooku didn't want to risk squeezing through. No point fighting two Jedi while his robes were on fire.

So, he used the Force to quiety slide the door out of his way.

//cut to Anakin/Obi-Wan

Anakin and Obi-Wan walked on either side of the table in the center of main room of Grievous' quarters. The only illumination came from the view wall on the far side of the room.

The light from that came from the explosions of ships outside in space.

That light created a shadow when mixed with a certain element of the room: a tall chair.

Anakin nodded at the chair. Obi-Wan signaled to approach with caution and be ready for action.

The lights came back on. The figure in the chair was, indeed. Palpatine.

The Chancellor looked very old and tired. He looked ancient, in the way that Yoda looked ancient.

Not only that: Anakin saw fear on Palpatine's face. This was something he had never seen before. He didn't want to imagine what they had done to Palpatine to put fear on such a brave man's face.

Anakin was struck by a sudden feeling of distress. Obi-Wan remained calm.

"Chancellor." - Obi-Wan, calmly

"Anakin, behind you..." - Palpatine

Anakin didn't turn around; he didn't have to.

He could feel Dooku behind him in the Force.

Anakin grabbed his lightsaber.

"This... is not a problem." - Anakin

"General Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker. Gentlemen. A term I use in it's... loosest possible sense. You are my prisoners." - Dooku

Palpatine, though strapped to a chair, was not the audience: he was the author.

Anakin kept his back turned to Dooku, but he did draw his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan was relaxed, which impressed Dooku.

Dooku focussed the dark side around him.

"Get help! You must get help...neither of you is any match for a Sith Lord!" - Palpatine

Anakin turned and stared at Dooku.

"Tell that to the one Obi-Wan left in pieces on Naboo." - Anakin

"Anakin... this time we do it together." - Obi-Wan

"I was about to say exactly that." - Anakin

"Fine then. Time to move this little comedy along." - Dooku

Dooku spread his arms, and leapt from the balcony, allowing the Force to gracefully carry him down below where the others were.

"Your weapons, please, gentlemen. Let's not make a mess of this in front of the Chancellor." - Dooku

Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber.

"You won't escape us this time, Dooku." - Obi-Wan

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

"This is a little more than an attempt..." - Anakin

"... and a little less than a rescue." - Dooku

Dooku threw off his cloak, and gestured to the super battle droids.

"Now please, gentlemen. Must I order the droids to open fire? That would become so untidy, what with blaster bolts bouncing about at random. Little danger for the three of us, of course, but I would certainly hate for any harm to come to the Chancellor." - Dooku

Kenobi moved towards Dooku.

"Why do I find that difficult to believe? You weren't so particular about bloodshed on Geonosis." - Obi-Wan

"Ahhh. (smiles) And how IS Senator Amidala?" - Dooku

"Don't... Don't even speak her name!" - Anakin

"I bid Chancellor Palpatine no ill will, foolish boy. He is neither soldier nor spy, whereas you and your friend here are both. It is only an unfortunate accident of history that he has chosen to defend a corrupt Republic, against my endevor to reform it." - Dooku

"You mean destroy it." - Anakin

"The Chancellor is a civillian. You and General Kenobi, on the other hand, are legitimate military targets. It is up to you whether you accompany me as captives." - Dooku

Dooku used the Force to bring his lightsaber to his hand.

"Or... as corpses." - Dooku

"Now there's a coincidence." - Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan shifted positions to place Dooku directly between him and Anakin.

"You face the identical choice." - Obi-Wan

Dooku looked at them calmly.

"Just because there are two of you, do not presume you have the advantage." - Dooku

"Oh, we know. Because there are two of you. Or maybe I should say... WERE two of you. We're on to your partner. Sidious. We tracked him all over the galaxy. He's probably in Jedi custody right now!" - Anakin

"Is he?" - Dooku

Dooku was tempted to wink at Palpatine, but knew he could not.

"How... fortunate for you." - Dooku

"Surrender. You'll be given no further chance." - Obi-Wan

"Unless one of you happens to be carrying Yoda in his pocket, I hardly think I shall need one." - Dooku

Dooku faked a look over his shoulder, and they all three moved at once. Anakin lurched towards Dooku, ligthsaber out, ready for the kill. Obi-Wan leapt from the other side in perfect coordination.

However, they met in the middle, because Dooku was no longer there. Anakin looked up just in time to see Dooku's boot land on his face.

The impact sent Anakin tumbling to the floor.

Obi-Wan's and Dooku's lightsabers crashed together as Anakin righted himself and readied himself for attack once again.

Anakin lunged at Dooku's back. Dooku turned, holding Obi-Wan back with one arm while using the other to make a gesture with the Force that sent chairs flying into Anakin's path.

He sliced the first in half, but the second hit him in the knees. The third smashed into his shoulder, and knocked him down.

Anakin reached out with the Force to get some chairs of his own.

Too late. The whole table smashed into him and pinned him against a wall.

Anakin's lightsaber slipped through his fingers and rolled along the table and to the ground on the other side. Dooku hardly even seemed as if he was paying attention to him.

Dooku and Obi-Wan are battling it out.

Anakin uses the Force to shove the table away from him and the wall, and sent it flying towards Dooku's back.

Dooku barely dodged it in time.

"My, my... (chuckles) The boy has some power, after all." - Dooku

Anakin, still unarmed, was charging at Dooku.

"I'm twice the Jedi I was last time." - Anakin

Anakin drew his lightsaber to his hand with the Force, and immediately slashed at Dooku.

"My powers have DOUBLED since we last met." - Anakin

"How... lovely for you." - Dooku

They do a few manuevers that result in them blocking each other's complicated attacks. Due to a mistkae on Anakin's part, he put himself directly in Obi-Wan's path. Obi-Wan had to jump and do a roll in the air to avoid hitting Anakin with his blade... unfortunately taking him right into the path of Dooku's blade.

Obi-Wan slashed at it, Dooku sidestepped, and now Obi-Wan was in Anakin's way.

"Really. This is pathetic." - Dooku

lows were going everywhere, at each other, slicing up chairs, etc.

Dooku outmanuevered them so well that he could hardly keep from laughing out loud. He was very methodical in his moves.

Anakin came in quickly; Obi-Wan was slower, but more precise (in general).

They were good at fighting together against large numbers, not one opponent. Dooku had always fought alone. This is why he had the advantage.

They had learned nothing to help them since Geonosis.

He drove them off balance and disrupted their timing, and he could have slain them easily. He only planned to kill Obi-Wan, though.

He was getting tired of the duel, and tired in general. He decided it was time to move in for the kill on Obi-Wan.

"Your moves are too slow, Kenobi. Too predictable. You'll have to do better." - Dooku

"Very well, then." - Obi-Wan

He jumped up, over Dooku's head. Anakin's blade was now where Obi-Wan had been, and it was being driver straight toward Dooku's heart.

He manged to avert the attack, but it still singed his cloak.

Dooku spun and jumped, landing on the table. He needed a brief moment to regain his composure.

It had been too close for his ilking.

But by the time he touched down on the table, Obi-Wan was already there to meet him, attacking with much quicker speed than he had before.

Dooku attacked Obi-Wan; Obi-Wan got out of the way; Dooku almost lost his foot to an attack from Anakin.

Anakin carved through the table and it collapsed under Dooku's weight. Dooku hit the floor.

Anakin swung so hard that it buckled Dooku's arms; Dooku backrolled and got to his feet, but when he got up, Obi-Wan's blade was there to meet his neck.

He kicked Obi-Wan, leapt away, but by that time, Anakin was already there to meet him.

Anakin's first swing brought down Dooku's guard.
The second bent Dooku's wrist.
The third bent Dooku's arm so far back toards him that it scorched his shoulder.

Dooku was forced to give ground.

Still Anakin came, unbelievably strong.

Anakin struck hard with each step, forcing Dooku backwards quickly. Dooku began to breathe hard. He was no longer even trying to block Anakin's strikes; he just wanted to direct them out of the way.

Dooku realized he had been trick.

Anakin started the battle weakly; pretending to fight a certain way. He was faking it. He was much more powerful than Dooku had dared to imagine, and Dooku could not fight him off: especially not against two attackers.

Dooku dropped low and went for a leg sweep. It threw Anakin off balance. It gave Dooku time to leap away.

Too bad for him that Obi-Wan was there to meet and greet him.

Dooku decided maybe he should try to kill them now.

He drew thrusts at Obi-Wan's legs. He knew the style; for he had taught Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan met every strike without hardly moving.

When Anakin made his way in that direction, Dooku understood that Obi-Wan had been faking in the beginning as well.

Quote from the book because it's cool: "Dooku found himself having a sudden, unexpected, overpowering, and entirely distressing bad feeling about this."

Dooku was afraid. These two Jedi were dangerous. And he realized he could be beaten.

He drew the Force together, and sent Obi-Wan into the wall with the Force; but Anakin was now all over him, attacking with even double the effort, if that was possible.

Dooku could barely meet the attacks. Anakin was getting stronger as Dooku became more fatigued.

Dooku now didn't even try to strike back. He was exhausted, his perceptions were weakened, and he he could barely even notice the details of the room.

He tried to retreat up stairs to the balcony, but Anakin kept coming. His blade was everywhere, flashing faster and faster.

And now Kenobi was back. He shot up the stairs, and Dooku realized there was only one thing he could: cheat.

"Guards!" he said to the pair of battle droids. "Open Fire!"

The two droids sprange forward and began firing at Anakin and Kenobi; but Anakin blocked every single blast back at them. The blasts bounced back off of them, and around the room.

Kenobi reached the top of the stairs and sliced both droids in half. Dooku used his last burst of power to spin and knock Anakin down, followed by a kick into Obi-Wan's chin that sounded like he broke his neck. It send Kenobi down the stairs.

Dooku sent a surge that accelerated Obi-Wan's fall, and Kenobi skidded along the floor and into the wall very hard. So hard that the permacrete buckled and collpased.

By the time he turned to look at Anakin, his vision was blocked by a boot with Anakin's foot inside smashing into his face at a very high velocity.

There was a second impact against his back: the balcony.

He flipped over the rail and fell head first toward the rail, and his arms and legs were not listening to him.

He was mortified.

The Force cradled his fall and he got to his feet. Anakin looked down at him from the balcony. Anakin stared. Dooku couldn't hold it.

It was a complete reversal of fortune: Anakin standing where he had early, and vice versa.

Dooku once again let the Force take control. He lifted his blade and beckoned.

Anakin leapt and attacked. Dooku realized that Anakin was so good because he was a natural. He could be thrown into any situation and adapt accordingly.

Anakin was half-Sith already and didn't even know it.

Anakin rained blows against Dooku's defenses. Anakin held back his fury that was trying to escape. He did not want to give into his anger.

"I sense great fear in you. You are consumed by it. Hero with no fear, indeed. You're a fraud, Skywalker. You are nothing but a posturing child," Dooku said. He pointed his lightsaber at Anakin. "Aren't you a little old to be afraid of the dark?"

Anaked raged at Dooku, and this time, Dooku met the charge easily. They stood nearly toe to toe, blades quicker than the eyes could see.

A simple taunt had broken Anakin's concentration. The angrier he got, the more fearful of losing his control he was. As he was afraid of what he was doing, his moves were more careful, and not nearly as troublesom for Dooku.

Then Palpatine intervened.

"Don't fear what you're feeling, Anakin! Use it! Call upon your fury. Focus it, and he cannot stand against you! RAGE is your weapon! Strike now! Strike! KILL HIM!" - Palpatine

Dooku and Anakin paused for an instant, blades locked together, and stared.

Dooku thought that Sidious had lost his mind. Whose side was Sidious on?

Dooku saw in Anakin's eyes: "the promise of hell"

He knew the answer to his question. Treachery is the way of the Sith.

Anakin says to himself: "Oh, I get it now." He realized the fear in his heart can be a weapon.

Anakin knew Dooku would die. He just needed the details. Their fight turned into a one time play for one audience member. All of it was for nothing, though.

Anakin's fear became fury. Any further battle was pointless.

Because Anakin had one. Dooku's lifetime of study of lightsaber skills, everything he's ever done, for that matter, are now useless. They are bending his neck before the axe.

This knowledge showed him his death. He knew it was coming.

Not one shed tear will mark the passing of Dooku.

Anakin is filled with terror and rage. He holds nothing back. His fear tried to remind him that Dooku had defeated him in the past, and so on.

All his fears and doubts, though, shriveled when he unleased the flame of fury. Dooku flies towards him, but Anakin's fist flies at him and knocks him back.

Dooku hurls a piece of a table at him, but Anakin smashes it aside. The memories of his past fuel his actions. They make him stronger, they add to the hurt is placing on Dooku.

He must decide: he decides to win. He decides that Dooku should lose the hand he took.

Decision became reality.

Dooku's lightsaber hand is no longer a part of him. He reaches out the Force and catches Dooku's lightsaber. He cuts off Dooku's other hand.

Dooku falls to the floor on his knees. He crosess the blades at Dooku's throat...

Dooku cringes, but still finds hope that Palpatine has not betrayed him.

Until he hears: "Good Anakin, good. I knew you could do it" from Palpatine.

"Kill him. Kill him now." - Palpatine

"Chancellor, please! Please, you promised me immunity! We had a deal! Help me!" - Dooku

"A deal only if you released me. Not if you used me as bait to kill my friends." - Palpatine

Dooku realized the Jedi were his bait.

"Anakin. Finish him." - Palpatine

Anakin hesitated.

He looked at Dooku and saw not a Sith, but an old man.

"I shouldn't." - Anakin

"Do it! Now!" - Palpatine

It wasn't an order. It was permission.

Dooku looked into the eyes of Anakin for the final time. Dooku was a tool his entire life. Everything he had ever done, owned, all his dreams, were only a sham.

He was the first victim of Anakin's cold blooded murder. But not the last.

The blades cross his throat. Then uncrossed. Dooku's head separated from his body.

He was dead.

Anakin killed the Tuskens out of his anger, to avenge his mom's death, for Dooku he did it cold blood.
(the first victim of Anakin's cold blooded murder)

I honestly haven't been liking the dialogue from the chapter scans that I've read, but I really, really like the Dooku duel dialogue. I hope it's in the movie.

Is anyone ever going to post the sidious vs yoda duel from the novel?

once i get there in my listening, i'll transcribe a quick synopsis with dialogue

Been there, done that over at TFN in Cheebo's thread. Hope ya'll don't mind if the Kenobi/Vader duel is included... along with a speech from Palpatine. Obviously this is nothing more than a summary, but you get the idea.

SENATE:
"These Jedi murderers left me scarred, left me deformed, but they could not scar my integrity! They could not deform my resolve! The remaining traitors will be hunted down, rooted out wherever they may hide, and brought to justice, dead or alive. All collaborators will suffer the same fate. Those who protect the enemy ARE the enemy. Now is the time! Now, we will strike back! Now, we will destroy the destroyers! DEATH to the enemies of democracy!" - Palpatine, address to the Senate

"This has been the most trying of times, but we have passed the test. The war is OVER! The Separatists have been utterly defeated, and the Republic will stand... united! United and free! The Jedi rebellion was our final test. It was the last gasp of the forces of darkness, and now we have left that darkness behind us forever. A new day has begun. It is morning in the Republic." - Palpatine (continued)

"Here is comes." - Padme
"Here WHAT comes?" - Bail
"You'll see." - Padme

"Never again will we be divided. Never again will sector turn against sector, planet turn against planet, sibling turn against sibling. We are one nation, indivisible. To ensure that we will always stand together, that we will always speak with a single voice, and act with a single hand, the Republic must change. We must evolve! We must grow! We have become an Empire, in fact! Let us become an Empire in name as well. We are the first Galactic Empire!" - Palpatine, continued

(the Senate chamber goes wild)

"What are they doing? Don't they understand what they're cheering for?" - Bail

"We are an Empire that will continue to be ruled by this august(?) body! We are an Empire that will never return to the political maneuvering and corruption that wounded us so deeply. We are an Empire that will be directed by a single sovereign chosen for life! We are an Empire ruled by the majority! An Empire ruled buy a new constitution! An Empire of laws, not of politicians! An Empire dedicated to the preservation of a just society! Of a safe, and secure society! We are an Empire that will stand ten thousand years! (the Senate is cheering incessantly at this point) We will celebrate the anniversary of this day as Empire Day, for the sake of our children, for our chilren's children, for the next ten thousand years! Safety, security, justice and peace. (the Senate went berserk). Say it with me: Safety! Security! Justice! and Peace! Safety, Security, Justice, and Peace!" - Palpatine

The Senate chanted along, until it seemed as if the entire galaxy was all chanting at once.

"So this... is how liberty dies. With cheering and applause." – Padme

"We can't let this happen! (stands up) I have to get to my pod. We can still enter a motion." -Bail Organa

"No! No Bail, you can't enter a motion. You can't! Fang-Zhar (sp?) has already been arrested. And Tuntra Domay (no idea how to even begin spelling that one, lol). It won't be long until the entire delegation of 2,000 are declared enemies of the state. You stayed off that list for good reason. Don't add your name by what you do today." - Padme

"But I can't just stand by and watch-" -Bail

"Right, you can't just watch. You have to vote FOR him." - Padme

"WHAT?!?" - Bail

"Bail, it's the only way. It's the only hope you have of remaining in a position to do anyone ANY good. Vote for Palpatine. Vote for the Empire. Make Mon Mothma vote for him too. Be good little senators... mind your manners, and keep your heads down. And keep doing all those things we can't talk about. All those things I can't know. Promise me, Bail." - Padme

"Padme, what you're talking about ... what we're not talking about ... it could take twenty years! (EU reference!!!11) Are you under suspicion? What are YOU going to do?" - Bail

"Don't worry about me. I don't know that I'll live that long." – Padme
---------------------------------------------

Vader talking to Sidious via hologram from Mustfar after killing the Separatists:

"The Separatist leadership is no more, my master." - Vader

"It is finished, then. You have restored peace and justice to the galaxy, Lord Vader." - Sidious

"That is my sole ambition, Master." - Vader

"Lord Vader. I sense a disturbance in the Force. You may be in danger." - Sidious

(Anakin recognizes Padme's ship landing outside, and thinks "In danger of being kissed to death, maybe" to himself)

"How should I be in danger, Master?" - Vader

"I cannot say. But the danger is real. Be mindful." - Sidious

(Anakin's thoughts: Be mindful? Be MINDFUL? Is that the best you can do? I could get that much Obi-Wan.)

"I will, my Master. Thank you." - Vader

The hologram dissipates. Anakin stands up, and says to himself: "You're the one who should be mindful, Master. I AM a disturbance in the Force."
-------------------------

As Vader approaches Padme's ship, he switches back into Anakin mode, making sure that he gives no hint to her of what just happened. He let Anakin's love flow through him, and "reassembled his Anakin Skywalker face."

He didn't think she'd like the way he "redecorated" the control room. His thoughts: After all, there's no point arguing taste!

Before anything was said, it just cut to Palpatine's office... (cue suspenseful music).
----------------------------------

Location: Holding Office of the Supreme Chancellor

A circular preperations area, where guests may be entertained before entering the senate chamber itself.

The transmission to Vader is just completing. The Royal Guards, dressed in red, stand on either side of the room.

As the hologram fades out, another presence is revealed. This time, a physical presence. "Tiny, and aged. Clad in robes, and leaning on a twist of wood."

But his physical presense was an illusion. The truth of him could be seen only in the Force. In the Force, he was a fountain of light.

"Pity, your new disciple, I do. So lately an apprentice, so soon without a Master." – Yoda

"Why, Master Yoda, what a delightful surprise. Welcome." - Sidious.

The voice of the shadow hummed with anticipation.

"Let me be the first to wish you HAPPY EMPIRE DAY!" - Sidious.

"Find it happy, you will not. Nor will the murderer you call Vader." - Yoda

"Ah. So THAT is the threat I felt. Who is it, if I may ask. Who have you sent to kill him?" - Sidious

"Enough it is, that you know your own destroyer." – Yoda

"Oh, psh, Master Yoda. It wouldn't be Kenobi, would it? Please say it's Kenobi. Lord Vader gets such a thrill from killing people who care for him." - Sidious

Mas Amedda is in the shadows, near a doorway. Palpatine whipsers to him: "flee." He did.

"So easily slain, Obi-Wan is not!" - Yoda

"Neither are you, apparently. But that is about to change." - Sidious

Sidious takes two steps toward Yoda.

Yoda ignites his lightsaber.

"The test of that, today will be." - Yoda

"Even a fraction of the dark side is more powerful than your Jedi arrogance can conceive. Living in the ilght, you have never seen teh depth of the darkness. (he raises his arms) Until now." - Sidious

Lightning spews from his outstretched hands.

The battle is on.

//cut to Mustafar
------------------------------------
Padme stumbled down the landing ramp into Anakin's arms. Her eyes were raw and numb. Inside the ship, her emotional control had finally shattered.

She was so grateful that Anakin was alive.

And she was excited that he had come running to greet her.

"Anakin... my Anakin. (crying) I've been so frightened." - Padme

"Shh... shh. It's alright." - Anakin

He stoked her hair until her trembling began to subside, then put his hand on her chin and leaned in for a kiss.

"You never need to worry about me. Didn't you understand... no one can hurt me. No one will ever hurt either of us." - Anakin

"It wasn't that my love. It was, oh Anakin... he said such terrible things about you." - Padme

"About me? Who would want to say bad things about me? (chuckles) ... who would dare?" - Anakin

"Obi-Wan." – Padme

Padme wiped tears from her cheek.

"He told me you had turned to the dark side... that you... murdered Jedi. Even younglings." - Padme

She looked into his eyes, but did not see love. Only reflections of lava.

But instead of denying his turn to the dark side, or the muder of younglings, he said:

"Obi-Wan's alive?" – Anakin

Anakin's voice became much deeper and colder.

"Y-yes. He... he said he was looking for you." - Padme

"Did you tell him where I am?" - Anakin

"No, Anakin! He wants to kill you! I didn't tell him anything--I wouldn't!" - Padme

"Too bad." - Anakin

"What" - Padme

"He's a traitor, Padme. He's an enemy of the state. He has to die." - Anakin

"Stop it! Stop talking like that! You're frightening me!" - Padme

"You're not the one who needs to be afraid." – Anakin

"It's like... it's like (tears flow) ... I don't even know who you are anymore." - Padme

"I'm the man who loves you! I'm the man who would do anything to protect you! (clenches teeth; frustrated) Everything I have done, I have done for YOU!" - Anakin

"Anakin... (now a whisper) what have you done?" - Padme

"What I have done... is bring peace to the Republic." - Anakin

"The Republic is dead. You killed it." – Padme

"It needed to die." - Anakin

New tears started. But it didn't matter. She'd never have enough tears for this.

"Anakin, can't we just... go? Please... let's leave. Together. Today. Now. Before you-- before something happens." - Padme

"Nothing will happen. Nothing CAN happen. Let Palpatine call himself Emperor. Let him. He can do the dirty work. All the... messy brutal oppression it'll take to unite the galaxy forever. United against him. He'll make himself into the most hated man in history. And when the time is right, we'll throw him DOWN!" – Anakin

"Anakin, stop!" - Padme

"Don't you see! We'll be heroes! The whole GALAXY will love us! And we will rule TOGETHER!" - Anakin

"Please STOP! Anakin, please stop, I can't stand it!" - Padme

But he was no longer listening to her. He was no longer looking at her.

He was looking past her shoulder.

"You!" - Anakin

"Padme, move away from him." - Obi-Wan

"Obi-Wan!" - Padme

She turned and saw him on the landing ramp.

"No!" - Padme

"You... (growling his words out) you brought him here!" - Anakin

Padme turned back to Anakin. This time, he was looking at her.

And his eyes were full of flame.

"Anakin... ?" - Padme

"Padme, move away!" - Obi-Wan

There was an urgency in Obi-Wan's voice closer to fear than Padme had ever heard from him.

"He's not who you think he is. He WILL harm you." - Obi-Wan

"I would thank you for this, if it were a gift of love!" - Anakin

"No, Anakin. No..." - Padme

"Palpatine was right. Sometimes it is the closest who cannot see. I loved you too much, Padme." - Anakin

He made a fist, and she couldn't breath.

"I loved you too much to see you ... to see what you are!"

Padme clawed at her throat, but there was nothing she could do.

"Let her go, Anakin!" - Obi-Wan

Anakin snarled.

"You will not take her from me." - Anakin

She wished to call out... to tell him that she loves him... but was not able to.

"LET HER GO!" - Obi-Wan

"NEVER!" - Anakin

The ground fell away beneath her, and then a white flash of impact blaster her into night.

//cut to Coruscant


In the Senate Arena, lightning forth from the hands of a Sith and bent away by the gesture of a Jedi, to shock red robes into unconsciousness. Then there were only the two of them.

Their clash transcended the personal. When new lightning blazed, it was not Palpatine burning Yoda with his hate, it was the Lord of All Sith scorching the Master of All Jedi into a smoldering pile of clothing and green flesh.

A thousand years of hidden Sith exaulted in their victory.

"Your time is over. The Sith rule the galaxy... now and forever!" - Sidious

And it was the whole of the Jedi Order that rocketed from it's huddle, making of it's own a body a weapon to blast the Sith to the ground.

"At an end, your rule is... and not short enough, it was, I must say." – Yoda

There appeared a blade the color of life. From the shadow of a black wing, a small weapon, a hold out, an easily concealed backup, a tiny bit of treachery expressing the core of Sith Mastery, slid into a withered hand, and spat a flame colored blade of its own.

When those blades met, it was more than Yoda against Palpatine, more than millennia of Sith against legions of Jedi.

This was the expression of the fundamental conflict of the universe itself.

Light against dark.

Winner take all.

//cut to Mustafar


Obi-Wan knelt beside Padme.

He barely found a pulse.

"Anakin... Anakin, what have you done?!?" - Obi-Wan

"You turned her against me!" - Anakin

Obi-Wan looked at the best friend he had ever had.

"You did that yourself." - Obi-Wan

"I'll give you a chance, Obi-Wan. For old times sake. Walk away." - Anakin

"If only I could." - Obi-Wan

"Go someplace out of the way. Retire. Meditate. That's what you like, isn't it? You don't have to fight for peace anymore. Peace is here! MY Empire IS peace!" - Anakin

"YOUR Empire? It will never have peace. It was founded on treachery and innocent blood." - Obi-Wan

"Don't make me kill you, Obi-Wan." – Anakin

"If you are not with me, you are against me." - Anakin

"Only Sith deal in absolutes, Anakin. The truth is never black and white." Obi-Wan

He stands, holding up his open hands in a sign of peace.

"Let me take Padme to a med center. She's hurt, Anakin. She needs medical attention." - Obi-Wan

"She stays." – Anakin
"Anakin!" - Obi-Wan

"You don't get to take her ANYWHERE! You don't get to touch her! She's MINE, do you understand? It's your fault... all of it! You made her betray me!" - Anakin

"Anakin..." - Obi-Wan

Anakin drew his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan drew his own lightsaber.

"Then I will do what I must." - Obi-Wan

"You'll try." - Anakin

Anakin leapt toward Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan jumped to meet him in the air. As the blades crossed, the volcano aboved echoed with a shot of fire.

//cut to 3PO

3PO looked cautiously through the hatch of Padme's skiff. There's a goofy paragraph about things 3PO would rather be doing... it was pretty funny.

He walked down the landing ramp.

He didn't really know what was going on, other than hearing that Padme was hurt.

He couldn't find Padme.

He heard R2 in the distance. It translated to "Don't worry, you'll be alright."

"Artoo? Artoo, are you out here?" - 3PO

Artoo was pulling Padme across the ground toward the ship (he tangled his maniupulor arm in his clothing, which was what was pulling her).

"Artoo, stop that this instant! You'll damage her!" - 3PO

"What exactly do you suggest?" - R2 (I love how Stover translated R2...)

"Well... alright... we'll do it together." - 3PO

//cut to Coruscant.


(Just a quick summary.)
There came a turning point in the light versus dark.

The battle shifted from the holding office to the podium.

It began to raise, over 100 meters up... it became the focal point of the arena... had anyone been in it to witness this.

The senate pods began flying every which way, crashing into each other in a thunderous roar... almost echoing the cheers for Palpatine that had emanated through the chamber earlier that day.

Yoda's vision finally pieced the darkness that had taken control over the Force.

He saw the truth...

That he was the avatar of light; the Supreme master of the Jedi Order.

The truth...

That he just didn't have it.

Yoda... had never had it.

He had lost before he had started.

He had lost before he was born.

The Sith had grown; had changed; had adapted.

Palpatine was the culmination of the past 1,000 of Sith training, as well as the intensive study the Sith put into Jedi lore itself.

The past 1,000 years of Sith history had been a preparation for this moment.

The Jedi had been training to fight the last war. The wrong war.

The new Sith could not be destroyed with a ligthsaber, or with a touch of the Force.

The more the light side flowed through Yoda, the more the dark side swelled in Palpatine.

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

How could one win a war against the dark, when the war had become the weapon of the dark?

Yoda realized this insight held the hopes of the galaxy.

If he were to be destroyed, that hope would die with him.

//cut to Mustafar.

After thousands of hours of lightsaber sparring together, Obi-Wan and Anakin's techniques were almost identical. They knew what the other was going to do before he did it... every time.

Punches and kicks were blocked, all strikes were parried. They knew each other too well.

They then were inside the facility...

Seems like they're using the Force to set off the blasters in the dead people's hands...

Obi-Wan managed to a deflect a few towards Anakin.

Anakin deflected.

And they send the laser beams back and forth at each other until they dissipated into radioactive gas.

"Don't make me destroy you, Obi-Wan." – Anakin

"You're no match for the power of the dark side." - Anakin

"I've heard that before... but I never thought I'd hear it from you." - Obi-Wan

Anakin Force-pushes Obi-Wan into a wall.

Anakin steps toward him, over dead bodies... and lifts his blade in preparation for the kill.

Obi-Wan had one trick left. One that wouldn't twice.

One that worked on Grievous.

He reached out through the Force, and reversed the electrodriver's on Anakin's mechanical hand.

His fingers sprang open, and his lightsaber flew out.

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and drew Anakin's lightsaber to him.

"The flaw of power is arrogance." - Obi-Wan

"You hesitate. The flaw of compassion." - Anakin

"It's not compassion, Anakin. It's reverence for life." - Obi-Wan

"It's not compassion, Anakin. It's reverence for life. (new:) Even yours. It's respect for the man you were. (sighs) It's regret for the man you should have been." - Obi-Wan

Anakin roared and flew at him.

Anakin used both the Force and his body to slam Obi-Wan into the wall.

He grabbed both of Obi-Wan's wrists an impossibly strong grip.

"I AM SO SICK OF YOUR LECTURES!" - Anakin

Obi-Wan could literally feel his bones bending, readying themselves for the break.

//cut to Coruscant

Palpatine whipped a pod at Yoda, and Yoda leaped half a second too slow. Palpatine unleashed his lightning while Yoda was still in the air, and "the little green freak took it's full power."

(Obviously, this is putting Palpatine's viewpoing into it, while staying in 3rd person.)

Yoda crashed against the podium.

And fell.

Far, far down...

The base of the arena was 100 meters below.

It was littered with shards of metal from the destroyed pods.

As the little green freak fell, the Shadow became, once again, simply Palpatine.

A tired and old man gasping for air.

He was old, but there was nothing wrong with his eyesight.

He scanned the wreckage, but did not see a body.

He used the Force to flip a switch, which sounded countless sirons throughout the building.

He then began lowering his pod towards the base of the rotunda.

Clone troops were already rushing in.

"It was Yoda! Another assassination attempt. Find him, and kill him. If you have to, blow up the building." - Palpatine

The Force sent a warning to Palpatine. Vader was in danger.

He stopped one of the commanders.

"You. Call the shuttle dock and tell them I'm on my way. Have my ship warmed and ready." - Palpatine

Palpatine ran.

//cut to Yoda

Yoda sprinted across the surface accessway below the arena.

He was running faster than any human could.

And was slicing through conduits and doors as he passed.

And filling the way behind him with high voltage cables.

He began stopping occasionally to slice an escape hole in the wall, so that the forces would have to divide up to search each of his possible exits.

Unfortunately, he knew they could afford to. There were thousands of them.

He pulled out his comlink.

The Force whispered coordinates to him, and he said them into the comm.

"Delay not. Closing is the pursuit. Failed, I have. And kill me they will." – Yoda

By the time Yoda got to the side of the chamber, he was breathing hard, even with the aid of the Force.

He cut through the floor and dropped into a maintence accessway.

He cut through one of the main power circuits for the lights.

He then cut through the wall and dove out into the open. He used his cloak to slow down his fall. He was too small to trigger the defenses.

However, the speeder flying below would get blasted if it deviated from it's path by even one meter.

He used the Force to push himself outward, and landed in the speeder next to Bail Organa.

They shot away into traffic.

"Master Yoda, are you wounded?" - Bail

"Only my pride... only my pride" – Yoda

//cut to Mustafar.

nakin forced Obi-Wan's arms down, pointing the lightsabers toward the ground.

Obi-Wan let go.

Of everything.

His hopes, his fears, his obligation to the Jedi... his promise to Qui-Gon and his failure with Anakin.

And the lightsabers.

(And the way this thread was going earlier, his bowels too!)

Anakin was taken by surprise, and instinctively let go of one of Obi-Wan's wrists to reach for his blade.

In that instant, Obi-Wan twisted free, grabbed his lightsaber, and swung it against Anakin's with such force that it pushed them both against the wall which Obi-Wan had been standing and cut through it.

He directed another swing against the wall.

And prepared to direct another, which would cut through so that he could jump through the wall.

He did.

Anakin followed, constantly on the attack.

Obi-Wan gave ground, retreating along a narrow balcony.

High above the lava and fire.

Obi-Wan continued to let Anakin drive him back.

Towards the place where Obi-Wan could sense death. A place, he decided, they should reach together.

[lots of cool action]

Anakin cut through a control panel on the balcony.

The shield holding back the lava vanished.

Fire shot all around them.

Obi-Wan backed up to the end of the walkway; the only thing behind him a power conduit no thicker than his arm.

He stopped unto the conduit without hesitation. His balance was flawless as he deflected attack after attack from Anakin.

Then Anakin hopped aboard the conduit too. Their blows came faster than before.

Smoke blocked out the sun.

The only light came from the lava below.

Unlike Yoda vs Sidious, this had nothing to do with Jedi vs Sith, or good vs evil, or light vs dark.

It was simply Anakin against Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan back flipped to a coupling nexus, and just as Anakin leapt to follow, Obi-Wan back flipped again.

They went on a chase, back and forth, through various levels of conduits and coupling nexuses, collection panels, etc.

They ended up on a collection panel. Obi-Wan ended up on the edge of one, hiding behind it for protection from the lava, while at the same time blocking Anakin's assault both with the Force and with the lightsaber.

Obi-Wan had an epiphany.

The man he was facing was the culmination of everything he had devoted his life to destroying.

Despite this, Obi-Wan still loved him.

That thing about attachments? Yeah, Obi-wan failed at that.

He had always stuck up for Anakin; had always covered for him.

And the attachment he denied even having had blinded him to the dark path his best friend walked.

The lava broke the shore of the factory, and it began to fall into lava, knocking both of them from where they stood.

They hung from stips of cable as the plant's superstructure flowed into the lava.

It sunk slowly as the lower levels melted and burned away.

Anakin kicked off and swung in a large arc; Obi-Wan shoved off and met him halfway; holding onto the cable with one hand and the Force, the other hand holding out his lightsaber.

Anakin whipped the bottom of his cable at Obi-Wan's knees.

Obi-Wan sliced through the cable above Anakin's head.

Anakin fell.

Pockets of gas boiled to the surface of the lava.

It shot up flames ... like arms reaching up to pull him in.

Between momentum and the Force, though, Anakin managed to reach another cable and grab hold. Obi-Wan shifted his weight to bring him in range of Anakin's new cable.

Anakin began swinging cable to cable, and Obi-Wan took chase (picture Tarzan, kinda).

Anakin used the Force to propel him higher upon each cable.

On this planet, altitude was everything.

They ended up on the top deck of the superstructure.

Obi-Wan barely had set foot upon it before Anakin pounced at him, and they stood toe to toe.

The factory was now being carried over a lavafall -- picture a house going over a waterfall.

Obi-Wan decided he didn't want to see what was at the bottom.

He through aside Anakin's blade with both hands, and landed a solid kick into Anakin's midsection.

Before Anakin could recover, Obi-Wan took a running jump/dive off the deck...

He fell down several levels...

And just before hitting the lava, the Force brought a cable to his hand, and he took hold.

He swung to the very peak of the cable's height limit -- and let go.

The swing shot him in an arc toward the river's shore.

Toward it... but not quite to it.

But the Force led him to jump, and it also led him to his safety.

In the form of a repulsorlift platform.

It's programming was having it deliver droids to the factory - it obviously didn't realize the factory was about to be destroyed.

He destroyed the navigation system, and sent it back towards the shore.

He watched as the plant fell over the cliff, and was swallowed by the lava below.

Obi-Wan lowered his head. "Good bye... old friend."

He raised his head again.

Just in time to see Anakin hurtling towards him.

Anakin was on a tiny repulsorlift platform... one that was much quicker than Obi-Wan's.

Anakin brought his platofrorm around to the other side of Obi-Wan's, and swung at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan shifted his weight, trying to redirect his platform, but it was just much too slow to do any good against Anakin.

The heat was intense enough to begin to crisp Obi-Wan's hair.

"This is the end for you, Master. I wish it were otherwise." - Anakin

"Yes Anakin, so do I." - Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan ran into a leaping dive, making a spear out of his lightsaber blade.

Anakin leaned aside, out of harm's way. He missed a cut at Obi-Wan's legs as Obi-Wan flew by.

Obi-Wan turned his dive into a roll that nearly send him off the edge of a narrow cliff.

Anakin snarled, for he realized he'd been tricked. Obi-Wan wasn't going to spear him; he was just trying to get on a more level playing field.

Anakin leaped at Obi-Wan's back...

Obi-Wan turned to block.

But instead of his blade meeting Anakin's blade, it met his knee. Then, his other knee.

And while the legs were just beginning to fall towards the lava; while Anakin was still in the air; Obi-Wan's attempt to regain balance sent his blade through Anakin's left arm above the elbow.

He stepped back as Anakin fell.

Anakin droped his lightsaber and clawed at the edge of the cliff.

His grip was too powerful for the lava bank to handle, and it crubmled.

He slid down onto the black sand.

His severed limbs rolled into the lava below him.

In sudden bursts of scarlet flame, they burned to ash.

The same color, Obi-Wan observed... as a Sith lightsaber.

Anakin clawed at the sand, but it only made things worse.

It was hot enough that it burned off his glove just by the touch.

His robes began to smolder.

Obi-Wan picked up Anakin's lightsaber.

He lifted his own as well.

He weighed them together. In a way, Anakin had designed his after Obi-Wan's.

They were similar.

But put to much different uses.

"Obi-Wan!" - Anakin

Anakins hair had blackened from the intense heat and flame around him.

"YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE! It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them! It was you who would bring balance to the Force. not leave it in darkness! You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you; but I could not save you." - Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan saw a flash of darkness in the sky, and felt the darkness close in around them both.

It was the Emperor's shuttle.

He knew Yoda had failed.

And below his feet, Vader burst into flame.

"I HATE YOU!" - Anakin

Obi-Wan looked down. It would be a mercy to kill him. Obi-Wan was not feeling merciful.

He was feeling calm, and clear. He knew that to climb down to the black beach would cost him more time than he had.

Obi-Wan only had one choice.

It was one he had made many years before. He could not murder a helpless man.

He would leave it to the will of the Force.

He turned and walked away.

Obi-Wan began to run.

If he was fast enough, there was still one thing he could do to help Anakin.

He could still do honor to Anakin's memory.

And to the Jedi Order they both had served.

Obi-Wan eventually made it back to Padme's skiff, where 3PO awaited, waving frantically.

"Master Kenobi! Please, hurry!" - 3PO

"Where's Padme?" - Obi-Wan

"Already inside, sir, but she is badly hurt." - 3PO

Obi-Wan ran to the cockpit and fired the engine.

Just as Palpatine's ship approached the landing deck, Padme's soared off towards the stars.

Nice to finally see some sidious vs yoda text.

Plus when Palpatine is talking about his 'August' body he means old and witherd. Because to everywhere else in the world except america 'Fall" (god i hate that expression) is actually august.

If the cast can convey even half of the internal emotion through their inflections or facial acting that are described in the novel, ROTS is going to be (surprisingly to many, perhaps startlingly) amazing in my opinion.

I feel that the effective portrayal of Anakin's increasing confusion and directionlessness as the storm clouds gather around him, and all that he cares for, will make or break the film's emotional impact.

The quality of the action sequences is almost guaranteed, but there is also the potential for some serious multi-leveled angst and internal conflict.

I just hope when the movie is released I won't find myself groaning "There IS no conflict!" ala Lord Vader. I want to see this gut-wrenching story of choice, betrayel, and desperate love, told on the faces of the cast.

ROTS has the best story of all the films in my opinion. I agree that it is up to the actors to make or break the film.

At best, it's easily the best of the saga, but at worst it would destroy Star Wars in the minds of many, many people.

Portman and Christensen are really young actors, and primarily film actors. I think that stage actors are better suited for all the blue-screen shit that they've been doing in these prequels. However, they are older and more experienced now, so I would imagine that they will do a better job.

Some of the things that they were asked to do and say in AOTC were ludicrous, by the way. This stuff, I think, should be easier to act out.

I think a big part of the problem is George Lucas' direction. I think he wants them to be somewhat emotionaly muted, because he's going for a certain stylized form of acting rather than realistic or emotionaly believable acting. It goes into the whole old fashioned Saturday morning serial vibe he wants Star Wars to have.

I respect his artistic whims, but I really hope he lets them cut loose more in this one.

Do you really believe this?!?!!!! George Lucas has always been ignorant or uninterested in the process of cultivating an actor's motivational needs. Every single actor who's spoken about being directed by him has stated this, and he's stated it himself, albeit with less a negative take on it. He's not directing them to be muted, for Chrissakes... he's not particularly directing them at all! If RotS is any more expressive, it's because he's finally alloted some time and effort to create an environment in which they can prosper as actors - this means giving them/encouraging motivation, and time/takes to get it right. Of course, he's still dropping them into antiseptic blue boxes, but people seem content to let the actors bear the burden of getting increasingly creative while their surroundings get increasingly uncreative.

For all his strengths, George Lucas has never been the actor's director; and this "he meant it that way" spin on rigid performances is borderline insane. A quick review of Portman's and McGregor's other works reveals them to be capable actors - their Star Wars performances are easily amongst their weakest showings. It's not on purpose.

_Mike

It's what I believe, yes, but I don't think anyone but GL himself actualy knows per say.

Lucas: "It's not deliberately camp. I made the film in a 1930s style. It's based on a Saturday matinée serial from the 1930s, so the acting style is very 30s, very theatrical, very old-fashioned. Method acting came in in the 1950s and is very predominant today. I prefer to use the old style. People take it different ways, depending on their sophistication."

Guess it's not all that far fetched lol.

Bingo.

That's why Christopher Lee and Ian McDiarmid thrive, they are classically trained. And a theater backdrop isn't that dissimilar to a blue or green screen, in that you can't rely much on the settings.

Boy you guys are gullible, aren't you? And I suppose Lucas had the story of the trilogy planned all along, too didn't he? Those press photos of Luke and Leia tongue-kissing in the hallway on Hoth were real brother/sister moments, weren't they? No wonder he can't lose no matter how bad his movies get. God love ya. If I ever need to start a cult, I know exactly where to begin recruiting people.

_Mike

Fuck you too.

Has everyone forgotten the feature on Starwars.com regarding the "Dialogue Coach", Chris Neal, that Lucas brought in for RotS? Apparently, this guy worked for Francis Ford Coppola on a few films and was hired at Coppola's urging to get more emotional performances out of the actors since George would be pretty distracted dealing with the F/X and things...

Anyway, you can read about it yourself:

http://www.starwars.com/episode-iii/bts ... index.html

Personally, I think this bodes very well for Revenge of the Sith.

"Neil has a special talent for getting actors to give their best performances in the most challenging of roles."

That scene was originally supposed to take place in Oklahoma.