The Sith & the Senator Ch. 32

Chapter 32: Senator, Interrupted

Darth Vader

I frown and shake my head in exasperation as Padmé darts out the door before I can stop her. After being without her for a whole week, I don’t want her anywhere but by my side. She should be happy that I haven’t handcuffed her to me, so serious am I about her presence. Surely whatever she wants to show me isn’t more important than another session of cuddl– carnal bliss.

Allowing my body to relax, I sigh, resigned to waiting for her return. I’m not too annoyed with her actions as her absence gives me time to think on the significant events of the night. If I hadn’t believed attending the ball would be at all beneficial, then I was disabused of that notion quickly. Attending confirmed something that I have been suspicious of for a while: Obi-Wan does indeed know who I am. When we exchanged gazes as I descended the grand staircase with Sloan, I saw it in his eyes. It was in the brief flash of weakness that escaped, the pathetic facade of sorrow that he allowed to leak for a fraction of a second. It was such an obvious display that it took all I had not to sneer at his pitiful attempt to unsettle me.

As if I would fall for his tactics again. I will never trust a Jedi again.

But that begs the question; has Obi-Wan told anyone else about me, namely the Order? It seems likely. Obi-Wan has always been the poster boy for the perfect Jedi; perfectly in control of his emotions, perfectly obedient, perfectly respectful when presenting a dissenting opinion … perfectly capable of deceiving and using a young boy who trusted him and all for the sake of the kriffing Jedi Order.

Yes, Obi-Wan would surely have told the Jedi about me by now. But now what? What do I do now that the Jedi surely know that I am Sith?

It’s a disastrous development, one that begs my immediate attention. It demands that I begin making contingency plans, to figure out how to control for such a devastating progression. But I don’t move, I continue to lay there on the bed, sheets damp with sweat and seed, a delightful testimony to Padmé and my lovemaking. A cool breeze wafts through the window then, caressing my moist skin as I languish there, utterly and completely at ease. I feel strangely warm and comfortable; it’s quite a novel experience. It’s all Padmé fault, of course. Loving, licking, touching, easing into, thrusting, pounding into her for hours has completely taken the edge off my mind, my senses.

So agreeable am I that I cannot bring myself to react properly to the news that the Jedi probably know that I, Anakin Skywalker, Senator to the newly reinstated Arkanis Sector of the Republic, am a Sith Lord. I’ll care tomorrow when the drugging effects of Padmé’s body fades. But for now … for now I will rest.

Closing my eyes, I feel myself begin to drift off. There’s no harm in getting in a quick nap before Amidala returns.

Moments later, I am asleep.

#*#*#*#*#

An alert at my door wakes me.

Frowning, I rise, but not before realizing I’m still in bed alone. That shouldn’t be: Where the fuck is Amidala? Did she not return yesterday? Or did she return and leave again upon seeing that I was asleep? Both options are unlikely as it would be more like her to simply climb in bed with me. Not only that, I would have noticed her entry into my apartment. Amidala did not return last night as she said she would.

Gritting my teeth, I push the covers away and rise, quickly grabbing my clothes and throwing them on. Knowing Amidala, she could have decided to leave or remain away for several reasons; emergency senatorial duties, becoming angry at me for any number of unknown reasons and staying away, being summoned by the Queen of Naboo, being angry at me for any number of unknown reasons and staying away, falling asleep at her apartment or, the most probable; becoming angry at me for any number of unknown reasons and simply staying away.

Fuck, but why do women have to be so confusing? And who the kriffing hell is at my door? Amidala wouldn’t have knocked. After the first time she came to my apartment, she made it clear that alerting the system was beneath her and as such, now simply hacks it and comes in. So who the fuck is at my door at five in the fucking morning?

This had better be good, because I really don’t have time or patience for any bullshit.

Reaching the door, I tap the control panel and immediately a screen appears, showing a group of people standing at my door.

I freeze.

For a moment, I quickly consider what would be a dizzying amount of options for anyone else before quickly disregarding all of them. They all require me to do something that I rarely ever do which is run. I don’t run from shit, shit runs from me. And if these fucking Jedi at my door don’t have a good reason for being here, they’re going to understand first hand why this is so.   

Fixing a proper senatorial smile on my face, I open the door.

The Jedi’s faces are expressionless as I am revealed. Neither their body language nor their faces give anything away and I must say I’m very vaguely impressed with their stony visages. Seems that the Jedi have chosen well the minions they have put in danger by invading the sanctity of my home. I take a moment to study them, cognizant that I am being rude by simply staring at them and refraining from polite acknowledgment.

After several long, strained moments of silence, I finally speak. “A bit early in the year for Hallowe’en, isn’t it? I know the Jedi are hard up for some fun, but this is just sad. Come back in a few months, guys, I’ll be sure to have some candy then.”

I turn to leave, only to sense the Jedi move closer. Turning back, I see that they are clearly not amused by my incredible wit. “Anakin Skywalker,” a Twi’lek female, dressed in traditional Jedi garb, says stoically, “your presence is requested at the Jedi Temple.”

So, it’s Anakin Skywalker and not Senator Skywalker. The designation speaks volumes. I fold my arms across my chest, rubbing my chin as I make a show of thinking extremely hard about their request. “And if I refuse?” I ask softly, allowing the slightest hint of danger to slip out.

They immediately tense, and I can feel their anxiety and fear through the Force, though they try hard to contain it. Their whole beings focus on me as their hands slowly lower to their sides. “It would be in your best interest to agree,” the Twi’lek Jedi speaks again, her voice forcibly calm.

The Jedi shift slightly allowing the most marginal glimpse of their lightsabers. I nearly smile at their gall. Jedi do not show weapons at all, it’s part of their code, an effort to appear to be peacemakers by encouraging civilians to forget that those of the Order are highly skilled killers. To allow even the barest hint of their lightsabers to show sends a very strong message; they don’t intend to take ‘no’ as an answer from me, and if I resist, they’ve been authorized to negotiate … aggressively.  Although I would like nothing more than to tell these Jedi to get the kriff away from my door, I cannot. I must play this game carefully because I know the Jedi are looking for any and every reason to attack me. It goes without saying that they know I’m the Sith. There is no other reason for the Jedi to be at my door right now.

I roll my eyes, uttering a childish huff. “Well, if you put it that way, I guess I have no choice do I?”

The expressions on their faces and the clear preparation for violence etched in the rigidity of their bodies tell me that no, I do not have a choice at all.

#*#*#*#*#

Being in the Jedi Temple feels … strange.

I close my eyes, inhaling slightly as I step through the tall entryway. Being here unsettles me in a way that is entirely discomfiting. I pause, startling my guards, even as the cognizance of their presence fades. I can almost feel … echoes of a time; visions of a life that could be. Every way I turn my head, I see myself; in the corner by the statue, peeking around it hiding from someone; walking with a faceless group of people, laughing as we stroll to our destination. Then, quickly as it comes, it’s gone, the harsh reality of the present solidifying my existence in the here and now. Yet even as the visions hang on the edges of my memory, right out of reach, the feeling remains. It’s as though this is not my first time being in this building; it’s as though I know this place, as though I’m returning home after a long journey.

I don’t understand it, and I like it even less. It disturbs me more than I can say.

My steps are measured as I am escorted down long halls, past structures, holograms and paintings. They tell the history of the Jedi Order, of its conflict with the Sith. They tell of a holy reverence for the Force.

The Force …

I take another breath as a wave of energy crashes over me. It is strong here, so strong that I understand now why it is called a Temple. I have rarely felt the Force so strongly, the only other place being the Sith Fortress of Thule. The presence becomes more intense the deeper I am led into the Temple. But it’s not the angry, wild, volatile energy that I am familiar with. It is calm, smooth … soothing, insidiously taking the edge off without one knowing,

I don’t like it either … and that is what I will continue to tell myself.

My eyes move steadily over my surroundings as I am escorted deeper into the headquarters of the Jedi Order. I take in everything that I lay my eyes on, using my ability in the Force to send my senses much further than my vision allows. It gives me a workable knowledge of the immediate layout of the Jedi Temple and I have to say, it’s … eye opening.

However much I despise the Jedi, their living quarters are magnificent. Its long halls and tall majestic pillars lend it a grace and elegance seen only in the most exclusive dwellings. It’s an appropriate phenomenon, considering the Jedi are one of the most exclusive cliques in the known galaxy.

As we continue to walk, there is little movement. The place is a lot emptier than I know it to normally be. I notice quickly there are no younglings or civilians around; no non-combat ready personnel can be seen anywhere. The few who linger about are warriors; yet another strong message sent by the Jedi. They stare at me from behind pillars and from along the carpeted paths in the main hall. They center their attention on the Sith Lord surrounded by Knights, the enemy being led willingly into their sanctum.

It’s strange to think that I could have grown up here, that the echoes could have been reality, that I could have learned in this place; become friends with some of these Jedi. I could have called these halls home, run through this temple as a free child. Now, it’s just a carrot; a cruel reminder of what was dangled before my eyes to control me, only to be snatched away once I was no longer of any use. The only thing I want now is for these plush carpets, stone walls and fancy beams to burn down just as Sidious’ sanctuary did.

I’m startled by an unexpected pang at the thought. Perhaps I will allow the structure to stand, if only to honor its commitment to the Force, however weak Ashla is.

Against my will, I become more agitated as I am led into the inner sanctum of the Jedi Temple, no doubt to the Jedi’s High Council Chambers. Taking me so deep into this place is a very clever ploy on the Jedi’s part. If this meeting doesn’t go their way, they can simply insist that this was an impromptu meeting with a senator; unusual, but not inappropriate. But if this meeting does go the way they expect, I’ll be a Sith Lord surrounded by what will no doubt be some of the strongest Jedi in the Order. And if, by some miracle, I were able to defeat them, it’d be hell for me to fight through a Temple full of Jedi to escape.

It is good that I have not underestimated the Jedi thus far, but I am not too happy to have been so right about their competence.

Finally, we reach the doors of the High Council Chambers. They are opened for me and I enter without preamble. The room is smaller than I thought it would be, with plush, maroon chairs siting in a circle around the room. No doubt an effort to show that all the Jedi Master’s words carry equal weight. How very Jedi of them.

Every seat is filled and every eye lands of me when I enter. A great deal of bodies in the room stiffen, save a few, the most notable being Master Yoda. I study him for a moment, feeling my body tense, then warm as the feeling of peril increases exponentially. I would have been a fool not to have heard of him. If anyone in this room can take my ass down it’s that stumpy, little shit. He has nearly a millennium worth of experience on me and I’m not going to be so foolish as Sidious to think I can take him in addition to the others.

Fuck, but this whole situation pisses me off. I haven’t been in this much danger in a very long time.

My eyes narrow as my gaze lands on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. My hands clench at my sides, fingers twitching for my absent lightsaber. I left it at 500 Republica to ensure that I would not lose my temper and draw it on the Jedi, thereby effectively providing them with an excellent reason to kill me. But now, I wish I had thrown caution to the wind and brought it, just to slay the two people in front of me. Of course these traitorous bastards would have seats on the Council. After all, they’ve well proven their loyalty to the Order in the worst way. Obi-Wan returns my gaze, brown eyes expressionless, but I immediately turn away. I don’t want to look at him for fear that doing so will make me lose control. I must have the utmost discipline for this situation if I am to make it out of here alive.

Time to throw them off their game.

I walk through the chairs to the window, causing several of them to slightly shift in alarm. I ignore them in favor of staring at the picturesque view of Coruscant. This view is nearly as good as mine at 500 Republica. I tell them so.

“This is a really nice view, you guys have here,” I say conversationally, finally turning to face them. “Who knew the Republic paid you guys so well?”

They all exchange glances and I smirk as their gazes harden.

“Do you know why you’ve been called here today?” a dark skinned man speaks, Mace Windu, I believe, one of the most skilled Jedi in the Order.

I shrug. “Perhaps because I’m a Sith Lord?” I say carelessly.

They inhale sharply, several of them stand, their hands falling to their waists where their lightsabers hang.

“Why should I lie?” I continue, crossing my arms over my chest, leaning on the window sill. “It’s not like you guys don’t know.”

Even more of them stand, but I remain where I am, relaxed.

“But of course, you couldn’t come to me, you had to escort me from my home and at such an early time too! I’m not a morning person, you know, so that only made it worse,” I speak candidly, nodding. “That was just rude.”

“If you are aware that we know who you are, then why did you come here? Are you that eager to meet your fate?” Kit Fisto, a renowned male Nautolan, speaks incredulously, head tentacles swaying slightly as he leans forward.

“And what fate would that be?” I ask, eyebrow rising. “Surely you upstanding Jedi don’t plan on killing me, do you?” My tone is mocking.

The Jedi exchange forbodding glances.

“There is only one outcome between the Sith and the Jedi,” Master Windu says harshly, standing as well, “even one as young and ignorant as you should know that.”

“Is that so?” I sneer. “And how, pray tell, would you justify killing me before the Senate? The last time I checked, it wasn’t a crime to believe differently from the Jedi. That isn’t grounds for my execution, which is what you’re suggesting and is something the Jedi have absolutely no authority to do. You won’t be able to justify killing me in a court of law. According to the statues of the Republic, rules that must be followed by everyone,” I pause for a moment allowing that to sink in. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

They pause and foreheads burrow all over the room. They are startled and some stare at me with wide eyes as though the things I said never occurred to them. But perhaps, it hasn’t. The Jedi and the Sith have been fighting a secret war for so long that it never dawned on them that I would bring something as inconsequential as law into our little spat. It’s almost unfathomable to them and my words have truly stunned the Jedi. My logic is too civil for the ferocity of our conflict, too smart. I’m playing by different rules and they are at a loss as how to combat it. They weren’t expecting this and they all stare at me, clearly at a loss for words

All but one.

My gaze turns to Master Yoda, who sits with eyes closed and head tilted as though listening to something. He has displayed absolutely no shock at my words.

“We know that you are responsible for the death of Nute Gunray, and for several Jedi whose bodies were found near the Temple,” an unnamed Jedi Master states as she finally gains her composure.

“Oh?” I respond, staring at them all blankly. “Where is your proof?”

“Proof we have not, but proof we shall soon have.”

I allow myself a bit more seriousness to surface as I turn to face the greatest threat in the room: Master Yoda. Drawing on the Force, I exhale as my eyes turn a sickly yellow, uncaring that the Dark Side of the Force has invaded the room like a sickness in the body. The remaining Jedi in the room stands at the change, their faces drawn at the strength of Boga, correctly deducing that the time for playing has ended. Yoda remains seated.

The atmosphere is strung so tightly with tension that it’s nearly palpable.

“Master Yoda,” I state stonily, “nice of you to finally join the conversation. Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does yours,” the diminutive Jedi responds, finally opening his eyes to look at me. There is so much wisdom there, such an incredible connection with the Force that I delve deeper into the Dark Side just to meet his eyes. This little fucker is in a class all of his own. The very air around him seems to swim with wisdom and power. I want that, I want to be that powerful!

“I sense much anger in you, young Skywalker,” Yoda continues solemnly, hands clasping his cane.

“Oh really,” I ask sarcastically, rolling my eyes, “did you need the Force to tell you that, Master Obvious? Of course I’m fucking angry.”

“You will not speak to Master Yoda in that manner, Sith,” Master Windu speaks, voice infuriatingly commanding.

“Or what? You’ll run me through with your lightsaber?” I ask, turning my amber gaze to him. “And a purple lightsaber? Really? Is there something you want to share with the class, Windu?” I reply, smirking, while inwardly seething. To think that the vision on Naboo showed me that this prick would be my son’s master! Over my dead, rotting corpse.

“Anakin, please stop this,” Qui-Gon Jinn speaks up for the first time, taking a step forward, “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but acting this way is beneath you. This isn’t you.”

I still and turn slowly to face him, the older half of the duo that betrayed me. How dare he have the nerve to speak to me, to act like he knows me. How dare he. “What the kriff did you just say to me? This from you? The man who the Jedi sent all the way to the Outer Rim just to get out of the fucking Temple because you wouldn’t behave?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes widen even as frowns litter the faces of the others.

I smirk at him and it’s an unholy, malevolent thing. “Yeah, you bastard, I remember what you said all those years ago, about how the Jedi weren’t too pleased with your non-conformist ways. Didn’t take long to figure out that they sent you away because they were tired of your bullshit. But it seems that you did something right because they’ve rewarded you with a banana!”

I laugh and I know it sounds slightly unhinged, but I don’t care. It feel so good to be a Sith! And I’m not even done with the faithless worm yet. “I wonder,” I say in feigned wonder, “how many hoops you jumped though to get that comfy seat you’re sitting in,” the innocent expression drops as a vicious scoff twists my feature, “fucking monke—”

My words push one Jedi too far and it’s just the person I’ve been dreading and anticipating hearing since entering this room. His voice cuts through the air, effectively ending the venomous words pouring from my mouth.

“Anakin!”

Finally, finally, Obi-Wan Kenobi speaks.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” I say after a long moment of silence, gaze finally landing on the one place my eyes avoided since my earlier lapse, “didn’t see you there. You’re looking … aged.”

I smirk upon seeing the flicker in his eyes at the remark.

Anakin: 1, Obi-Wan 0.

“You have changed as well, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says neutrally, taking a step forward.

I fold my arms, staring at him pointedly. “That’s what happens when you grow up,” I say slowly, sarcasm heavy in my voice, “you get big.”

Obi-Wan stares at me and slowly begins to shake his head. “How did you become this way, Anakin?” he asks softly, pain in his voice, his features. “What happened to the young lad who loved to race speeders? The one who had a special gift for building things and fixing anything his hands touched? What happened to him?.”

And Obi-Wan scores.

I stare at him, and for a moment, I falter, my expression dropping as his words strike me to my core.

What happened to that boy? I would say it was Sidious, but long before I was ripped away from my mother, long before I was bought by a Sith Lord, my heart was broken by a Jedi. That was the beginning. Sidious? He just completed the work.

“You’re right, Obi-Wan. I am not the boy you knew; he died a long time ago,” I murmur, unable to hide my bitterness, my hate. “He died when two Jedi he trusted abandoned him to slavery after using him to get what they wanted. He was buried when a Sith Lord bought him, ripping him away from his mother, never to see her again. His memory faded when he was tortured for years just for shits and giggles. When you’re a nine-year old whipping boy for a lunatic, it tends to fuck you up.”

Their eyes widen and I can’t help but feel disgust as they struggle to hide their horrified expressions. I don’t want their fucking pity! I want them to suffer as I suffered. I did not mean to divulge such information, something that they have no fucking right to, but it did what I needed which was unbalance them. But it’s not enough. I need more.

I smile at them, effectively hiding my fury in a second. It’s a talent I knows startles many people and the Jedi are no different.

“I can solve a mystery for you though,” I say cheerfully, in a sing-song voice, “seems the Sith have a penchant for politics. I can give you one guess as to who my jailer was … “

I pause, letting the anticipation build. “It rhymes with —alpatine,” I say finally, dramatically, giving them a smile.

It takes a second for my implication to sink in.

“Preposterous,” a Jedi sputters.

“You lie!” one shouts in shock, but the proclamation is drowned out by the sudden outburst of noise as they deny my words. The cornucopia of chaos continues for nearly a minute before someone intervenes.

“Enough!” Master Yoda says, and the Jedi quiet at an impressive speed even though I can see questions still seething beneath their skins, “calm we must be to figure out this mystery.”

After a few moments of silence, Mace Windu speaks.

“Are you trying to tell us that Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, was your Master?” he asks incredulously.

In an instant, a violent, overpowering fury envelops me. Those are the wrong fucking words, Mace Windu.

“I have no master! I had no master!” I howl in acute rage, eyes blazing a bright gold in fury as the Dark Side of the Force whips around me in response to my sudden wrath. “That monster held me prisoner, he called me his apprentice, but he was never my master! He never fucking broke me! But I sure as hell broke him.”

The room began to shake with my vicious anger, cracks appearing in the walls even as I take a deep breath, struggling to control my overwhelming hatred. The Jedi look at me in alarm and amazement and I know I’ve released too much power, showed them just how dangerous I am. But it can’t be helped. It’s been so long since I’ve thought of Sidious, the one person I hate even more than the Jedi. For the last month my life has been filled with Amidala; her skin, her wit, her smile, so much so that it doesn’t feel as though there was ever anything else. It leaves me unprepared to handle the rage that hit me at the thought of my tormentor, but I am stronger than the desire for the Dark Side that rages within me and in a moment, Boga slinks away, leaving me feeling achy and hollow.

Opening my eyes, I survey them. “You can accept the information or not,” I say calmly, matter-of-factly, noting the plethora of emotions on their faces, including alarm, shock, confusion, and in some, contemplation, which I do not like, “but you can feel the Force as I do. You know my words to be true.”

Silence descends over the room and I can tell that more than one Jedi is paralyzed by the implications of my words. A Sith Lord was in a position of incredible power over the Republic and they didn’t know. Who knows what else the Sith are up to?

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says carefully and I turn to face him, immediately on guard. “I know that I failed you all those years ago and there isn’t anything I can say or do to express how much I regret that, how much that knowledge has haunted me. But we did have a good reason for our actions and if you allow Qui-Gon and I to explain …”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies, Obi-Wan,” I reply softly, shaking my head. “I believed them once, I won’t believe them again.”

“And if they’re not lies?’ he counters gently.

I pause, gazing at him and for a moment, it’s as though we’re the only ones in the room; just two people who made a powerful connection many years ago, one that even now struggles to live. “What does it matter, now?” I answer softly, unable to destroy the hint of sadness in my voice. “I am what I am. Nothing can change that. I am a Sith and …” I pause, knowing that completing the phrase is unnecessary. Everyone in the room knows it. Once a person starts down the path of the Dark Side, it will forever dominate his destiny. Just like it has mine.

“It matters because you would know the truth,” he replies earnestly, his voice and eyes gently pleading, “and because if I know anything about Anakin Skywalker, it’s that he has ever shown that he can do the unexpected … and the impossible.”

I stare at him, feeling an uncomfortable lump form in my throat. This … this is how he got me the first time and it won’t work again. I won’t fucking let it work again! I’m not that little boy looking for approval anymore. I’m a man, a Sith Lord and I don’t need those types of platitudes. And the truth? What other truth is there but that he left? How can he possibly justify that? What could have been so important? I don’t want to hear it; I won’t hear it. This meeting is over.

“I don’t want to hear this,” I say sharply, turning away from the older man. “I won’t subject myself to this any more. You have summoned me here and I came. And while this was not unusual, it is highly irregular and inappropriate considering you brought me here to kill me. If you want to see me again, please contact my secretary at the senate, but don’t come to my home. An accident may happen.”

With that not-so-subtle threat hanging in the air, I walk toward the door, escaping really, even though I’d go to my grave before admitting it. I am about to exit when another voice troubles the air.

“And what of Senator Amidala?” Master Yoda speaks softly, his eyes on me.

I still, everything in me pausing at Yoda’s words.

What?

How? How did they know?

I maintain my composure.

“What about her?” I reply smoothly without missing a beat, my back still to them.

“What interest has the Sith in her?” Master Yoda’s words are firm, and I can see Obi-Wan recoil in my peripheral.

I turn slowly to face the council once again. “Padmé Amidala amuses me. She is quite feisty,” I give them a lecherous grin, giving them little doubt as to what I’m referring. “She thinks she’s so clever, but she is no match for the Sith. I quite like playing with her.”

“Know she not that you are the Sith?” Yoda presses, ignoring my crudeness. “Worked hard to keep you off our radar, she has.”

I laugh softly. “I think we all know what would happen to her if she knew,” I say with a cruel smirk. “But I am happy to see that I still got it. Few women can resist the Skywalker charm. I can give you a few pointers, Yoda, if you want to hit the dating scene again. Must have been a few years since you last saw some action.”

Eyebrows rise all over the room. A look almost like amusement crosses Master Yoda’s face. “An interesting offer you make, but fine I am.”

This time when I smile, it’s genuine. Who knew that Master Yoda had a sense of humor?

After a moment, my smile fades and I survey them. “This is a game between the Sith and the Jedi,” I tell them, yellow eyes keen as I look at each one in turn. “There is no need for anyone else.”

After a moment, I once again turn toward the door.

“If that’s all, I must be going. I have a peace meeting to prepare for,” I pause and turn to them, throwing a wicked smirk over my shoulder. “May the Force be with you in the days to come.”

#*#*#*#*#

I am the object of the attention of nearly double the amount of Jedi in the building as I am graciously escorted out of the Jedi Temple by Obi-Wan and a small group of nameless Jedi peons.

“I hope you understand what your actions have done, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly as we near the huge, towering entryway of the Jedi Temple. I release a breath even as my body tenses.

The moment of weakness I had toward Obi-Wan before is gone and now, his very voice angers me, causing a sharp sensation of fury to rip through me. Force, I hate the temperance and patience that surrounds him like a cloud. There’s a treacherous softness to his voice, a tone that portrays understanding when in reality it is really a siren’s song to one’s destruction. He speaks to me as an elder speaks to an errant child and I am fucking tired of it. Perhaps he is mentally challenged because my little demonstration a moment ago should have told him in no uncertain terms that I am not the same slave child he screwed over on Tatooine. No, I am a totally different creature. Perhaps he simply needs to be told again.

“Oh, I understand Obi-Wan,” I reply smoothly, barely reigning in my rage at this whole fucking fiasco, “more than you ever will.”

“Is that so?” he responds, his voice harsh, “then I suppose you haven’t heard just who’s been accused of your crime, have you?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I reply, face closed, sparing him a fierce glance, “and I would ask that you not slander my character without any proof of your preposterous claims.” Sometimes it pays to be a politician; bullshit becomes one’s native language.

“Where is Padmé?” the Jedi asks abruptly, staring hard at me.

I smirk, eyes glowing yellow for a second, causing him to stiffen and his face to harden. “In her apartment, but hopefully in my bed soon to be fucked. Why?” I have no kriffing clue where Padmé is, a fact that is eroding my nearly non-existent patience, but Obi-Wan doesn’t need to know that.

A rage most unbecoming of a Jedi flashes across his face. I watch, fascinated, as Obi-Wan takes a deep breath in a clear effort to remain calm. My smirk deepens; I’ve always been proud of my ability to rile the older man, it’s good to know that some things haven’t changed.

He shakes his head slowly, releasing the breath. “Why am I not surprised that you would disrespect her in such a way? You really don’t care about her at all.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel, Obi-Wan,” I nearly growl, turning around to face him with unconscionable speed, putting every Jedi present, both those who are ‘escorting’ me and those simply milling around the temple, on guard. “It was always been the Jedi’s penchant to deny and be confused about their emotions, not the Sith’s. Why don’t you acknowledge your emotions, Jedi.” I spit the word out like it’s something foul. “Perhaps if you had, then it wouldn’t be my name she’ll be screaming soon.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to attack me. He stares at me for a long moment before abruptly turning and walking away, leaving me with my Jedi escort.

Score: Anakin 2, Obi-Wan 1

“It was good catching up, Obi-Wan” I call cheerily to his retreating form, “maybe we could do it again sometime!”

#*#*#*#*#

My walk from the Jedi Temple is relaxed and unhurried.

It’s nice to take my time withdrawing from the enemy’s camp, to taunt them in this way. It’s a small, petty thing, but it makes me feel better somehow. I can feel the eyes of various Jedi on me, questioning and affronted. I can feel their ire, the underlying aggression they’re trying so hard to suppress. Many of them do not understand why the Council has allowed me, the age old adversary, to walk free. Some of them made it amusingly clear that they would have cut me down where I stood, laws be damned.

Gutsy. Seems as though some of the Jedi have balls.

Lucky for me the Council are smarter than that and realized that the consequences of such an action would be dire and potentially spell the end of the Jedi of the Order.

Extremely lucky for me.

A few moments later I finally reach the boundaries of the Jedi Temple and immediately step into an immense, nearly crushing crowd of people. It’s strange. It’s as though a wall separates the Jedi’s sanctum from the rest of the world and leaving its influence allows one to step into a completely different reality. This has been said to be true of the Jedi in more ways than one. I wonder if even they realize how separate they are from the populace.

Pulling my hood over my head, I send a mild Force pulse outward from my locus, discouraging touch and notice. As I begin my trek calmly down the street, the bright lights of the night and the low roar of noise from Coruscant’s countless denizens flood around me. For once, it is welcome as the frenzied rush of beings going back and forth fits well with my present state of mind.

Slinking through the crowd, clinging to the shadows, I finally stop at the Outlander Club. While in its heyday the establishment was a place of high class, it degenerated over the years to a haven for illegal activity, gamblers and riffraff. It allows the worst of elements to enter its doors and it’s for that very reason that I’m here. The hazy atmosphere, garishly bright lights, and less than honest patrons makes this the perfect place for me at the moment.

Sitting down at one of the empty barstools, I order a Corellian brandy. It arrives in seconds and I down it, savoring the burn as it goes smoothly down my throat. It’s still the same shitty, horrible made drink; still my favorite too. The bartender is sliding me another brandy when someone sits next to me. I ignore him, even as I begin consuming my drink at a more sedate pace.

As suspected, the Jedi know who I am and have now confronted me. If it had not been for my foreknowledge of such, then that little episode would have gone very differently. I have no doubt that that meeting was supposed to end in my arrest or worse. Even I am not foolish enough to believe I could have defeated a whole temple full of Jedi.

To make matters worse, they know that I have some connection with Padmé and are clearly suspicious of our relationship and her motives. It’s equally obvious that they no longer trust her.  I did manage to do some damage control by implying that skillful manipulation of Padmé is the cause of her interest in me, but that won’t hold for long. Fortunately, as I so kindly explained to them, they have no legal grounds to do anything to me and thus, not her. Especially not her. As senators of the Republic in excellent standing, the most they’d be able to do legally is put us under constant surveillance, waiting for us to make a mistake and slip up.

Even that serves to threaten my plans. The secrecy of my activities have been compromised, but thankfully, not Maul’s. He is yet hidden to them. I am not fool enough to think that, that will remain so for long either. The time for me to act against the Jedi has finally come. It’s time to begin the Abstersion.

Fortunately, while I am enacting the final plan against the Jedi, they can’t touch me and will find nothing to connect the activities of the Sith to me even though they know I’m involved. A brief reprieve. So, while this disastrous turn of events does indeed alarm me, there’s a more immediate concern that bothers me even more: Amidala. Where the fuck is she? And why did Obi-Wan want to know where she was? Probably to warn her to stay away from me or to give her sensitive, sad, brown eyes of betrayal for spending time with someone she knows is suspected of being a Sith. All I know is that he’d better not hurt her. I know he wouldn’t touch her physically; he’s too kriffing noble for that. But if he even so much as hurts her feelings, he’ll be in the same way as Nute Gunray.

“Jedi fucker,” I murmur in vicious annoyance, the thought of Obi-Wan upsetting Padmé making my blood boil, “the sooner I destroy those bastards the better.”

“Master?” Darth Maul inquires, finally speaking after sliding next to me nearly ten minutes ago.

“They know that I’m the Sith,” I say without preamble, “and those Jedi shits are going to be watching me. We knew that this would happen, but it still fucks up our plans. Fortunately, they still do not know all.”

My gaze moves to him slowly. “They know me, but they have no knowledge of my partner. I would not be surprised if they suspected that I have some sort of apprentice, but they will never expect you, an equal,” I murmur, golden eyes staring at him.

He blinks, his face stilling. “Partner, my Master?” he says carefully, allowing only the slightest hint of awe to color his voice, “… Equal?”

I frown. “Yes, of course. What did you think you were? My slave?” The very thought of it disgusts me to my core. I will never own another being, ever.

He stares at me for a moment, bright red and yellow eyes blinking slowly.

“Whatever you wish, my master,” Maul says quietly, reverently, “that is what I am. Whatever you want, it shall be done.”

I gaze at him sharply. Leaning close, I murmur to him harshly, “You are not my slave.”

“No, my master,” he says simply.

I glare at him for a moment longer before turning back to my drink, disturbed.

Normally, I would be gratified that Darth Maul’s dedication to me has been renewed so obviously and in such a simple way but another small, nearly imperceptible part is … disgusted. What does it say about this galaxy, this existence, that even the smallest show of respect to the downtrodden garners such allegiance?

Normally, I wouldn’t care; life sucks and it doesn’t get better. It’s pain and disappointment and broken dreams. There’s no metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel. There is only the powerful and the weak. Those who are weak are the playthings of those with power and are helpless in determining their own destinies.

Those who cannot shake free of their shackles content themselves with inconsequential moments of incomplete, insubstantial happiness that fail to alleviate the heavy burdens of living. It’s a reality that all who live have to come to terms with and accept. Feeling sorry for any of them is a useless, pointless endeavor.

But Maul is different. I chose this course for freedom, because I determined in myself long ago that no one; not the Jedi, not Sidious, not the Senate, was going to control me. He chose nothing, nothing but to serve the man that saved his life. Would Maul still have do these things if I had not started him on this path? I cannot say. I have no idea who he is really, only that his loyalty and his willingness to be my tool has furthered my plans much faster than I could ever have done on my own.

The sudden realization, the abrupt epiphany, intrigues me. I had promised to do it long ago, to get to know this Dathomirian Zabrak in front of me, and I never did as plans to ensure the Jedi discovered Kamino—a successful endeavor—interrupted it, but perhaps the time has come. I sense that the Jedi are not yet following me, so, we are safe for the moment.

“What do you want out of life, Maul?” I ask him suddenly, turning to look at him.

His eyes widen visibly. “No one,” he says slowly, staring at me, “has ever asked me that.”

Inclining my head, I nod to the bartender. “Another drink, but make it a strawberry milk.”

It’s Maul’s favorite.

The bartender gives me a funny look but nods and complies.

I turn back to my subordinate. He is gazing at me in surprise, his normally expressionless eyes strangely lit.

I smirk. I know why he’s shocked; he’s never told me that he doesn’t like alcohol, that he loves strawberry milk. It’s not a very Sith-like beverage after all. But I know anyway and I want him to know that it amuses me. Mightily.

“Well now you can tell someone,” I say carelessly, giving him my undivided attention, “start talking, then.”

Then, after a full minute of silence and a hard, questioning stare directed toward me, his face relaxes and a slow smile stretches the black and red tattoos of his face.

#*#*#*#*#

Enough is enough. I have waited and waited and waited. But now, I am done. Any hope of non-violence fizzled and died hours ago and now I am ready to make someone pay.

It is the end of the day and although it has been fruitful, I am furious. Maul and I have formulated our plans for the Jedi, the Senate and the Trade Federation. I returned to 500 Republica, reviewed my notes for the next phase of the Peace Summit—if by some miracle it should happen—meditated, and engaged in lightsaber practice. But none of that matters right not because I still haven’t heard from Padmé.

I commed her a countless number of times and received no answer. I sent messages to her office in the Senate and to her secretary. I even visited her apartment and I still haven’t found her. At first I thought that perhaps she had been abducted or was in trouble, but a closer inspection of her flat revealed no sign of struggle or disarray anywhere. There wasn’t even any indication of foul play around her apartment. Now, after a whole day of unease and forced restraint, my anger is raging.

I thought we were beyond this shit, beyond these games. After last night I believed we had reached an understanding, but I see that I was wrong. She has run or is avoiding me again and that is unacceptable. I have resisted conducting a full out search for her, but now, it cannot be avoided. I will look for her and when I find her, she will be punished.

Teeth gritting, I move to the veranda and turn toward the bustling masses below. Time to find Amidala the hard way.

Closing my eyes, I stretch out with the Force, attempting to feel for her unique signature. I inhale deeply and then exhale, even as I center my mind on her. Where are you …

Ten minutes pass.

Thirty minutes.

An hour.

Time continues to creep by as I hunt her through the Force. Seeking someone in this way is an extremely time consuming venture and something only the most skilled of Force practitioners can do. It requires an incredible amount of focus and energy, as well as the ability to stretch a Force net over an area. The fact that it’s Coruscant, possibly one of the most populated planets in the galaxy, only makes the process that much harder. I have to sift through a rather annoying amount of persons to find the signature that I know to be hers.

I have been searching for her for nearly two hours when my eyes snap open. There. She’s northeast, in the vicinity of the Senate.

Nodding, I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I leave 500 Republica. Where the hell could she possibly be that’s in that direction, that’s not the Senate? It doesn’t matter. She can’t possibly have a reason for her absence that will spare her from my wrath.

When outside, I pause, briefly contemplating hailing a speeder, but I quickly discard the idea and began in Amidala’s direction. The Senate is not too far away and I want no one to be able to trace me to her location in case she’s engaging in her Karmacide activities. Even if she is, she won’t get away with not telling me, for concerning me. After I’ve made my displeasure known she will never do this again.

As I continue to walk, I frown upon noticing a strange tension in the air. People are acting … unusually. The number of citizens are beginning to condense; groups of people here and there are pausing and murmuring to one another when they normally ignore any and everybody who isn’t apart of their business. It is even worse when I near Coruscant Square. It is filled to capacity with people, as usual. However, looking around I notice that people are gathering close to the holovids when they would normally be milling around and paying more attention to the shops, only watching the screens in passing.

I can think of only one thing that would hold the populace’s attention in such a manner.

Without preamble, I move toward the group nearest me, easily slipping through the crowd until I am at the front near the screens. Ignoring the denizens talking and gossiping around me, I pause, head tilting, as a bright red sentence reads in basic at the bottom of the screen: Breaking News: Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation found hanging by genitals in Senate.

Impressive. The media is indeed quick to have found Nute Gunray’s remains before the Jedi or Coruscant Police Force was able to cover up the incident. It doesn’t hurt that an anonymous tip might have been sent to them about Gunray’s whereabouts … or, at least, what’s left of him.

I study the censored image with satisfaction. I’ll have to reward Darth Maul for the display. His work is as flawless as usual. Gunray’s mangled, violated form is nailed crudely to the doorway above the room to the Peace Talks, a rather ironic location. Though the media has blocked out the worst of the footage, everyone gets the gist, making the censored images nearly worse than the originals.

“Dear gods,” someone murmurs nearby and I turn my head to hide a smile as numerous denizens echo the sentiment.

I am quite amused by the horror and apprehension of the crowd surrounding me. I could care less about their feelings, but I wonder if they would change their tune if they knew what a monster the leader of the Trade Federation was. Nute Gunray deserved this, deserved his fate for his crimes and I only wish he were alive so he could suffer more. I wonder if Amidala has seen this; I think she will quite enjoy it.

Crossing my arms, I continue to read the headlines. The Trade Federation has declared war and has seen a boost in their numbers. I mull over the news. It’s not anything I didn’t expect, but it does bring to mind the fact that I have to implement my plan and meet with the Trade Federation soon.

I briefly consider allowing them to run wild, to allow their fury over Gunray’s death to take its course, but I quickly dismiss it. They’ve been cowed by Maul, true, but obviously it wasn’t enough because they dared to declare war on the Republic without seeking my express permission. They are taking way too many liberties and I will not allow it anymore, not for another day. Perhaps Maul’s demonstration was enough to straighten them out before, but obviously, their fury over Gunray’s demise has caused them to act on their emotions. Unfortunately for them, I don’t give a shit that they’re crying over Gunray. I run the fucking Trade Federation and I will see to it that no matter how angry or vengeful they are, they will be too afraid of me to even take a shit before seeking my approval. The absence of a show of excessive violence has given them a backbone. But it’ll be my pleasure to break it again. The sooner I remind them who’s in charge, the better.

Or perhaps, it’s time to simply rid myself of the Trade Federation all together, earlier plan be damned. It’s an appealing thought and one I will explore more fully after I’ve found Padmé.

I am poised to leave the gathering when the holovid changes and another headline story appears on the many screens in the square.

When I see what’s playing there, I still.

A roaring begins in my ears, drowning out the sudden shock and outburst from the crowd.

My eyes widen.

Teeth grinds.

Hands clench so hard that I feel blood bubble beneath my fingernails.

On every one of the huge screens of the square, one of the busiest places in this quadrant of Coruscant, there plays a video of Amidala being ‘escorted’ from 500 Republic plays by the Coruscant Police Force. It’s obvious that they caught her by surprise. She is in a very simple dress, one I know that she wears around her apartment. Her hair is down, flowing in long locks down her back which she only allows when we’re alone. The fact that everyone now sees it nearly paralyzes me.

Stunned, I watch as a reporter gleefully begins the story:

Senator Amidala of Naboo has been arrested for high treason on orders of Interim Vice Chancellor for the Murder of the Viceroy of the Trade Federation, Nute Gunray. The Senate is in a frenzy and is calling all senators to report to …

I stare at the screens, a nearly incomprehensible rage overcoming me even as my mind frantically replays Obi-Wan’s words from earlier in the Temple.

“I suppose you haven’t heard who’s been accused of your crime, have you?”

“Where is Padmé?”

“You really don’t care about her at all.”

Now, of course, it fucking makes sense. Padmé Amidala: My Padmé has been accused of killing Nute Gunray by Valorum! What the fuck is the Chancellor thinking accusing her and why the fuck haven’t I been notified? Why the hell did I find in the middle of fucking Coruscant Plaza?

I watch an obviously seething and mortified Padmé be stuffed not-so-gently into a police transport and …

“I knew it,” a man says nearby, his voice cutting through my stupefied mind, satisfaction heavy in his voice. “I knew that bitch wasn’t for real. She was just nailing those other senators for power.”

“I agree,” another sentient, a female Chiss agreed, “I’ve heard that the Coruscant Police Force don’t like her because she put a couple of the officer’s relatives away with her little Karmacide farce. She’s going to get hers now.”

It’s the last straw.

I snap.

Eyes narrow.

Then yellow.

Then glow.

The ground begins to shake infinitesimally … seconds before it begins to heave so hard that persons here and there begin to fall over in shock and horror as the ground that was so steady and solid beneath them moments before begins to rebel against them without warning.

Suddenly, the transceiver of the jumbo holovid in front of us shatters, raining fragments both large and small on unsuspecting citizens.

Someone screams, a high pitched, terrified sound. As though a switch is flipped, people begin to scatter in fear.

I stand, still and silent, amongst the pandemonium as I unleash the full force of my fury on the square. More screaming sound as one by one, the transceivers explode, hiding Padmé’s shame if only in this one place. As citizens panic and flee, the two that dared to badmouth my Empress find that they cannot run.

The world nothing more than a red haze, I gracefully lift a hand toward the two. Using the Force, and two fingers to beckon them, I draw them near. The action is lost in the sheer bedlam of the moment as citizens run in a mindless frenzy to escape the sudden destruction of their surroundings.

The terror in the eyes of the Man and the Chiss is intoxicating. Force, but how I’ve missed that look!

“Thank you,” I say fervently to them, yellow eyes gleaming madly, “for giving me a reason to kill again. It’s been so long …”

The Chiss is so terrified that she’s foaming at the mouth. The Man’s eyes looks as though they’re about to pop out of his head.

“For the crime of badmouthing my Empress,” I whisper, eyes gleaming with unspeakable malice, “death.”

I can feel them both beginning to faint, but I don’t allow it. Using the Force, I compel them to remain conscious: I can’t allow them to sleep on the best part. Slowly, I curve my hand, Force choking them, watching the agony in their eyes as I destroy their larynxes. Before long, they are dead and I allow their bodies to drop carelessly to the ground.

The square is still amass in discord when the Security Force finally arrives, desperately seeking to quell the panic and figure out what caused the destruction in the square.

I don’t give a kriff. I have unleashed my fury, but it is far from spent.

Padmé is in jail.

My Padmé is in jail and accused of treason.

There’s only one person who is responsible for this and he will pay for this blasphemous affront with all that he holds dear.

“Well, Mr. Chancellor,” I whisper into the heavy, permeable, atmosphere, even as my rage continues to darken the Force; whiplashing through the sacred energy, “looks like your time is up.”

Turning slowly, I zero in on the closest Security Officer. He’s a ways away from the others: Excellent. Immediately, I begin to walk slowly toward him even as chaos continues to reign. Someone runs into me, a screaming, hysterical woman. I immediately send the Force through her organs, exploding her heart in her chest. She drops like a stone in front of me. I step over her body.

I don’t like being touched.

When I am near the officer, I lift a hand once again. Using the Force, I draw the startled Security Officer to me. He yelps, a sound I can hear even behind his visored helmet. As he struggles futilely against my power, I bear down on his mind with Force Dominate Mind strong enough to control a raging herd of Gundark.

His mind shatters under the inconceivable might of it, but I don’t care. I only need him for one thing.

Turning my gaze to him, my voice lashing out like the sharp crack of a raucous, unstoppable lightning storm, I give him my command.

“Take me to Padmé Amidala. Now.”

---

Chapter 31

Chapter 33

~Table of Contents~