Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (24 page)

He found his eyes turning unaccountably hot, and his vision swam with unshed tears.

"And I'm not entirely sure he should."

=12=

Not from a Jedi

The sunset over Galactic City was stunning tonight: enough particulates from the fires remained in the capital planet's atmosphere to splinter the light of its distant blue-white sun into a prismatic smear across multilayered clouds.

Anakin barely noticed.

On the broad curving veranda that doubled as the landing deck for Padme's apartment, he watched from the shadows as Padme stepped out of her speeder and graciously accepted Captain Typho's good night. As Typho flew the vehicle off toward the immense residential tower's speeder park, she dismissed her two handmaidens and sent C-3PO on some busywork errand, then turned to lean on the veranda's balcony right where Anakin had leaned last night.

She gazed out on the sunset, but he gazed only at her.

This was all he needed. To be here, to be with her. To watch the sunset bring a blush to her ivory skin.

If not for his dreams, he'd withdraw from the Order today. Now. The Lost Twenty would be the Lost Twenty-One. Let the scandal come; it wouldn't destroy their lives. Not their real lives.

It would destroy only the lives they'd had before each other: hose separate years that now meant nothing at all.

He said softly, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She jumped as if he'd pricked her with a needle. "Anakin!"

"I'm sorry." He smiled fondly as he moved out from the shadows. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She held one hand pressed to her chest as though to keep her heart from leaping out. "No-no, it's all right. I just-Anakin, you shouldn't be out here. It's still daylight-"

"I couldn't wait, Padme. I had to see you." He took her in his arms. "Tonight is forever from now-how am I supposed to live that long without you?"

Her hand went from her chest to his. "But we're in full view of a million people, and you're a very famous man. Let's go inside."

He drew her back from the edge of the veranda, but made no move to enter the apartment. "How are you feeling?"

Her smile was radiant as Tatooine's primary as she took his flesh hand and pressed it to the soft fullness of her belly. "He keeps kicking."

"He?" Anakin asked mildly. "I thought you'd ordered your medical droid not to spoil the surprise."

"Oh, I didn't get this from the Emdee. It's my . . ." Her smile went softly sly. "... motherly intuition."

He felt a sudden pulse against his palm and laughed. "Motherly intuition, huh? With a kick that hard? Definitely a girl."

She laid her head against his chest. "Anakin, let's go inside."

He nuzzled her gleaming coils of hair. "I can't stay. I'm on my way to meet with the Chancellor."

"Yes, I heard about your appointment to the Council. Anakin, I'm so proud of you."

He lifted his head, an instant scowl gathering on his forehead. Why did she have to bring that up?

"There's nothing to be proud of," he said. "This is just political maneuvering between the Council and the Chancellor I got caught in the middle, that's all."

"But to be on the Council, at your age-"

"They put me on the Council because they had to. Because he told them to, once the Senate gave him control of the Jedi " His voice lowered toward a growl. "And because they think they can use me against him."

Padme's eyes went oddly remote, and thoughtful. "Against him," she echoed. "The Jedi don't trust him?"

"That doesn't mean much. They don't trust me, either." Anakin's mouth compressed to a thin bitter line. "They'll give me a chair in the Council Chamber, but that's as far as it will go. They won't accept me as a Master."

Her gaze returned from that thoughtful distance, and she smiled up at him. "Patience, my love. In time, they will recognize your ability."

"They already recognize my abilities. They fear my abilities," he said bitterly. "But this isn't even about that. Like I said: it's a political game."

"Anakin-"

"I don't know what's happening to the Order, but whatever it is, I don't like it." He shook his head. "This war is destroying everything the Republic is supposed to stand for. I mean, what are we fighting for, anyway? What about all this is worth saving?"

Padme nodded sadly, disengaging from Anakin's arms and drifting away. "Sometimes I wonder if we're on the wrong side."

"The wrong side?"

You think everything I've accomplished has been for nothing-?

He frowned at her. "You can't mean that."

She turned from him, speaking to the vast airway beyond the veranda's edge. "What if the democracy we're fighting for no longer exists? What if the Republic itself has become the very evil we've been fighting to destroy?"

"Oh this again." Anakin irritably waved off her words. "I've been hearing that garbage ever since Geonosis. I never thought

I'd hear it from you."

"A few seconds ago you were saying almost the same thing!"

"Where would the Republic be without Palpatine?"

"I don't know," she said. "But I'm not sure it would be worse than where we are."

All the danger, all the suffering, all the killing, all my friends who gave their lives-? All for nothing-? He bit down on his temper. "Everybody complains about Palpatine having too much power, but nobody offers a better alternative. Who should be running the war? The Senate? You're in he Senate, you know those people-how many of them do you trust?"

"All I know is that things are going wrong here. Our government is headed in exactly the wrong direction. You know it, too-you just said so!"

"I didn't mean that. I just-I'm tired of this, that's all. This political garbage. Sometimes I'd rather just be back out on the front lines. At least out there, I know who the bad guys are."

"I'm becoming afraid," she replied in a bitter undertone, "that I might know who the bad guys are here, too."

His eyes narrowed. "You're starting to sound like a Separatist."

"Anakin, the whole galaxy knows now that Count Dooku is dead. This is the time we should be pursing a diplomatic resolution to the war-but instead the fighting is intensifying! Palpatine's your friend, he might listen to you. When you see him tonight, ask him, in the name of simple decency, to offer a ceasefire-"

His face went hard. "Is that an order?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Do I get any say in this?" He stalked toward her. "Does my opinion matter? What if I don't agree with you? What if I think Palpatine's way is the right way?"

"Anakin, hundreds of thousands of beings are dying every day!"

"It's a war, Padme. We didn't ask for it, remember? You were there-maybe we should have 'pursued a diplomatic resolution' in that beast arena!"

"I was-" She shrank away from what she saw on his face blinking harder, brows drawn together. "I was only asking ..."

"Everyone is only asking. Everyone wants something from me. And I'm the bad guy if they don't get it!" He spun away from her, cloak whirling, and found himself at the veranda's edge, leaning on the rail. The durasteel piping groaned in his mechanical grip.

"I'm sick of this," he muttered. "I'm sick of all of it."

He didn't hear her come to him; the rush of aircars through the lanes below the veranda drowned her footsteps. He didn't see the hurt on her face, or the hint of tears in her eyes, but he could feel them, in the tentative softness of her touch when she stroked his arm, and he could hear them in her hesitant voice. "Anakin, what is it? What is it really?"

He shook his head. He couldn't look at her.

"Nothing that's your fault," he said. "Nothing you can help."

"Don't shut me out, Anakin. Let me try."

"You can't help me." He stared down through dozens of crisscross lanes of traffic, down toward the invisible bedrock of the planet. "I'm trying to help you."

He'd seen something in her eyes, when he'd mentioned the Council and Palpatine.

He'd seen it.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Her hand went still, and she did not answer.

"I can feel it, Padme. I sense you're keeping a secret."

"Oh?" she said softly. Lightly. "That's funny, I was thinking the same about you."

He just kept staring down over the rail into the invisible distance below. She moved close to him, moved against him, her arm sliding around his shoulders, her cheek leaning lightly on his arm. "Why does it have to be like this? Why does there have to even be such a thing as war? Can't we just . . . go back? Even just to pretend. Let's pretend we're back at the lake on Naboo, just the two of us. When there was no war, no politics. No plotting. Just us. You and me, and love. That's all we need. You and me, and love."

Right now Anakin couldn't remember what that had been like.

"I have to go," he said. "The Chancellor is waiting."

Two masked, robed, silent Red Guards flanked the door to the Chancellor's private box at the Galaxies Opera. Anakin didn't need to speak; as he approached, one of them said, "You are expected," and opened the door.

The small round box had only a handful of seats, overlooking the spread of overdressed beings who filled every seat in the orchestra; on this opening night, it seemed everyone had forgotten there was a war on. Anakin barely gave a glance toward the immense sphere of shimmering water that rippled gently in the stage's artificial zero-g; he had no interest in ballet, Mon Calamari or otherwise.

In the dim semi-gloom, Palpatine sat with the speaker of the Senate, Mas Amedda, and his administrative aide, Sly Moore. Anakin stopped at the back of the box.

If I were the spy the Council wants me to be, I suppose I should be creeping up behind them so that I can listen in.

A spasm of distaste passed over his face; he took care to win it off before he spoke. "Chancellor. Sorry I'm late."

Palpatine turned toward him, and his face lit up. "Yes, Anakin! Don't worry. Come in, my boy, come in. Thank you for your report on the Council meeting this afternoon-it made most interesting reading. And now I have good news for you-Clone Intelligence has located General Grievous!"

"That's tremendous!" Anakin shook his head, wondering if Obi-Wan would be embarrassed to have been scooped by the clones. "He won't escape us again."

"I'm going to-Moore, take a note-I will direct the Council to give you this assignment, Anakin. Your gifts are wasted on Coruscant-you should be out in the field. You can attend Council meetings by holoconference."

Anakin frowned. "Thank you, sir, but the Council coordinates Jedi assignments."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chancellor-"

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

"I can't believe the Council-"

"Anakin, search your feelings. You do know, don't you?" Anakin looked away. "I know they don't trust you . . ."

"Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy itself, for that matter. The Jedi Council is not elected. It selects its own members according to its own rules-a less generous man than I might say whim-and gives them authority backed by power. They rule the Jedi as they hope to rule the Republic: by fiat."

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

"How? Have they approached you already? Have they ordered you to do something dishonest?" Palpatine's frown cleared into a gently wise smile that was oddly reminiscent of Yoda's. "They want you to spy on me, don't they?"

"It's all right, Anakin. I have nothing to hide."

"I-don't know what to say ..."

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

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

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

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

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

"Jedi believe in justice and peace."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They think inward, only about themselves."

"And the Jedi don't?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They might.

Maybe.

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

"Chancellor-"

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

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

Except for what Palpatine said.

That made too much sense.

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

Anakin shook his head.

"Ah, I thought not. It is not a story the Jedi would tell you.

It's a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sight inward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and master life itself. And-because the two are one, when seen clearly enough-death itself."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But what happened?"

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

"And?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry?"

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

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

"How would I find him?"

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

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

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

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

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

Finally he sighed and lifted his head. He stroked a private code into the speeder's comm screen. After a moment the screen lit up with an image of Padme's half-asleep face.

"Anakin-?" She rubbed her eyes, blinking. "Where are you? What time is it?"

"Padme, I can't-" He stopped himself, huffing a sigh out through his nose. "Listen, Padme, something's come up. I have to spend the night at the Temple."

"Oh . . . well, all right, Anakin. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." He swallowed. "I miss you already."

"We'll be together tomorrow?"

"Yes. And soon, for the rest of our lives. We'll never have to be apart again."

She nodded sleepily. "Rest well, my love."

"I'll do my best. You, too."

She blew him a kiss, and the screen went blank.

Anakin fired thrusters and slid the speeder expertly into traffic, angling toward the Jedi Temple, because that part-the part about spending the night at the Temple-was the part that wasn't a lie.

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

Now the Council's insult burned hotter than ever; he even had a name, a story, a place to start-but how could he explain to the archives Master why he needed to research a Sith legend of immortality?

Yet maybe he didn't need the archives after all.

The Temple was still the greatest nexus of Force energy on the planet, perhaps even the galaxy, and it was unquestionably the best place in the galaxy for intense, focused meditation. He had much he needed the Force to teach him, and a very short time to learn.

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

=13=

The Will of the Force

When her handmaiden Motee awakened her with the word that C-3PO had announced a Jedi was waiting to see her, Padme flew out of bed, threw on a robe, and hurried out to her living room, a smile breaking through her sleepiness like the dawn outside-But it was Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master had his back to her, hands clasped behind him as he drifted restlessly about the room, gazing with abstracted lack of interest at her collection of rare sculpture.

"Obi-Wan," she said breathlessly, "has-" She bit off the following something happened to Anakin ? How would she explain why this was the first thing out of her mouth?

"-has See-Threepio offered you anything to drink?" He turned to her, a frown clearing from his brow. "Senator," he said warmly. "So good to see you again. I apologize for the early hour, and yes, your protocol droid has been quite insistent on offering me refreshment." His frown began to regather. "But as you may guess, this is not a social call. I've come to speak with you about Anakin."

Her years in politics had trained her well; even as her heart lurched and a shrill How much does he know? echoed inside her head, her face remained only attentively blank.

A primary rule of Republic politics: tell as much truth as you -an. Especially to a Jedi. "I was very happy to learn of his appointment to the Council."

"Yes. It is perhaps less than he deserves-though I'm afraid it may be more than he can handle. Has he been to see you?"

"Several times," she said evenly. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan tilted his head, and a hint of rueful smile showed through his beard. "You should have been a Jedi."

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

"It's Anakin." With his pretense of cheer fading away, he seemed to age before her eyes. He looked very tired, and profoundly troubled. "May I sit?"

"Please." She waved him to the couch and lowered herself onto its edge beside him. "Is he in trouble again?"

"I certainly hope not. This is more ... a personal matter." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "He's been put in a difficult position as the Chancellor's representative, but I think there's more to it than that. We-had words, yesterday, and we parted badly."

Her heart shrank; he must know, and he'd come to confront her-to bring their whole lives crashing down around their ears. She ached for Anakin, but her face showed only polite curiosity.

"What were these words about?" she asked delicately.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he said with a vaguely apologetic frown. "Jedi business. You understand."

She inclined her head. "Of course."

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

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

"Senator-Padme. Please." He gazed into her eyes with nothing on his face but compassion and fatigued anxiety. "I am not blind, Padme. Though I have tried to be, for Anakin's sake. And for yours."

"What do you mean?"

"Neither of you is very good at hiding feelings, either."

"Obi-Wan-"

"Anakin has loved you since the day you met, in that horrible junk shop on Tatooine. He's never even tried to hide it, though we do not speak of it. We . . . pretend that I don't know. And I was happy to, because it made him happy. You made him happy when nothing else ever truly could." He sighed, his brows drawing together. "And you, Padme, skilled as you are on the Senate floor, cannot hide the light that comes to your eyes when anyone so much as mentions his name."