The Moons of Iego: The Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker Website

FAN FICTION : EPISODE II ERA (PRE-AOTC)

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

I gon and dun' wrote a dern fanfic!
Part 3/3

by The Irish Jedi

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

Obi-Wan could feel the hands grappling for him, tugging at his tunic, lunging for his hair, his beard, his boots.

So many of the hoard had he cut down, killing indiscriminately, moving through the masses. Yet there seemed no end of them, his progress marginal at best. Pivoting on his left foot, he brought his right leg up high in a sweeping kick, catching several of his attackers across their helmets.

The maneuver bought him some space to bring his lightsaber back into play, the blue-white blade flashing across him, defensively.

This isn't working, he realized. He would never make it to the back of the horde, he had to go around the square if he was going to reach the naval base.

With the few feet of space he had around him, Obi-Wan gathered the Force about him like a cloak, and launched himself into a forward flip, body arching a good twenty feet above the crowd.

As soon as his boots felt the ground below, he zigzagged between the columns outside the municipal building he was in front of. Stray blaster bolts ripped into the columns, spraying stone shrapnel around him.

Off to his right, Obi-Wan saw Anakin leap from the masses, apparently coming to the same conclusion his master had.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted, trying to get his Padawan's attention.

He was far too engrossed deflecting the scores of blaster bolts being leveled at him to heed Obi-Wan's call, though.

Again focusing his powers, Obi-Wan raced through the hail of fire and came to Anakin's side.

"Anakin!" he repeated. This time, he heard him. Over the din of the battle, his words were swallowed, though.

Far off, Obi-Wan saw B'dras, making considerably more progress, as he was nearing the base itself. He was the only one in sight though.

"Anakin! Where's Choldon? Where's Conner?" he asked.

If Anakin heard his master, Obi-Wan couldn't tell. The young Jedi shouted something back, but the words were lost.

As he struggled to deflect more shots, Obi-Wan saw the path that B'dras had taken. Along the right side of the square, there was covered hallway, a traffic tunnel by the looks of it. Metal, and sturdy.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, he told Anakin to follow. He would have tried to contact him telepathically, but the strain of keeping the blaster bolts at bay was too severe.

Exploding like a pouncing predator, Obi-Wan surged into the crowd, swinging his lightsaber with savage fury.

He was at peace with the living Force, feeling the moment. Such was his command and speed, that as soon as his saber ripped through one set of armor, it was already penetrating another.

From his peripheral glance, Obi-Wan saw Anakin snared by a thin cord, then pulled into the horde.

Focusing his will into a push, he flung the nearest soldiers away from him, giving him a brief respite.

He had already lost sight of Anakin, and attempts at contacting him were futile. Too many minds, too much interference.

Dammit, he cursed. There was no way he could reach his apprentice. To try and penetrate deeper into the crowd was certain death. He wouldn't even get within a hundred yards of Anakin.

Even as he contemplated his next move, a series of explosions rocked the square. Huge, spiral-like mushroom clouds erupted into the night sky.

Obi-Wan barely held onto his footing, the enemies around him all falling to the ground as the explosions hit with earthquake like effect.

From his right, he felt a surge in the Force. Dozens of the armored soldiers were propelled into the air, as if thrown by a beast. From the spot were they had been standing, Anakin rushed forth, saber criss-crossing in a vicious clearing attempt.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but marvel at his Padawan's raw power. To summon that much power in those circumstances was amazing. Qui-Gon's words of the Chosen One rang in his ears.

Reunited, the two Jedi, master and apprentice, raced through the confused horde. The warriors barely paid heed to the two men cutting down their rank as they neared the traffic tunnel.

As they moved through the fringes of the square, Obi-Wan noticed that the soldiers were speaking basic. From under their helmets, he could ascertain a very human presence, only twisted, as if a few degrees different. Their thoughts had an eerie ring in his mind, like an echo, or a chorus.

Once Obi-Wan and Anakin reached the tunnel's entrance, both bleeding and battered, but not severely injured, they paused.

Smaller detonations were going off near the Capitol building now.

"What do you suppose they are?" Anakin asked breathlessly.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I can't be sure. I hope Ocen-Bai and Bail are safe. B'dras is deeper in the tunnel, waiting for us. Where are Conner and Choldon?"

Anakin was bent over slightly, gripping his pants, trying to regain his breath.

"I lost them... when we hit the crowd. What are the-- ...those things?" he said, face contorting in disgust. "Their thoughts... they're like... a virus or something."

Obi-Wan's visage was grim. "They're clones. Their claims of being Mandalorians seem to be validated."

Then, in a blur of tan robes, Dagan Conner appeared, bleeding and panting, but otherwise unharmed.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, still watching the nearest soldiers, who seemed to have no interest in the Jedi.

"Yes," the Padawan replied, also winded. "We set up a series of thermal detonators. Figured it would buy us some time."

Anakin nodded emphatically. "It did. Saved my life, while it was at it. Good timing. Where's Choldon?

A shadow crossed the young man's face, his green eyes darkening. "He didn't survive."

Obi-Wan felt his head drop a bit. The young Rodian was a promising student, and a good friend to B'dras.

"We cannot linger on that tragedy, or it will be compounded, I'm afraid. We must move with haste."

The three Jedi sprinted down the tunnel, any resistance already lying dead thanks to B'dras.

The tunnel was dark for the most part, thin, dash-like fluorescent lights creating any visibility. Abandoned and destroyed hovercrafts lined the ground, a few bodies still in the vehicles.

The walls must have been extremely thick and insulated, as the sounds of the explosions outside were gone, only the echoes of the Jedi's boots slapping the concrete to be heard now.

As they turned the corner, Holven B'dras stood waiting, brown cloak still on his shoulders and intact, unlike the others.

Obi-Wan clasped the other Knight's hand.

"Holven, I'm sorry--"

"I know," B'dras cut him off. His face was tight, harsh. "And he will be avenged. But now is not the time. We must move, they'll figure out where we went soon enough."

So the Jedi continued their march towards the base, moving quick and quiet, covering the space of two miles in a little over a minute.

With the underground entrance to the Naval base in sight, Obi-Wan felt the stirrings of the Force, a prickle at the nape of his neck.

"Down!" he cried, grabbing Anakin by his tunic and bringing him to the ground with him.

As they all dove, a wide beam of blaster fire immolated the ground they had previously stood on.

Obi-Wan immediately threw his legs up and then snapped the rest of his body up, saber twirling in his hands.

"Two squads, on both sides, front and back," Anakin reported, already having taken stock.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "Move together, circle formation," he called out to the others. Time to see how well these Mandalorians knew the Jedi.

"Surrender immediately!" one of the armored warriors called out. On his shoulder harness, a yellow and red cord dangled down, marking him as an officer.

"Place your weapons down and move away from each other!" he shouted again. The Jedi for their part had moved into a circle, backs almost touching.

Obi-Wan decided they needed some provoking. Closing his eyes, he reached out to a large slab of sheet rock that had been blasted from the ceiling. Wrapping it in the Force, he flung it at the nearest group of Mandalorians, the debris smashing into several of them.

In response, the other Mandalorians, all crouched and leveled their blaster rifles.

"No! Don't shoot! Don't fir--" the officer began to scream, arms waving, but too late. The soldiers, which had the Jedi surrounded, all opened fire, rifles spewing blaster fire in rapid succession.

The blasts were returned right back to them, however. In their tight formation, the Jedi all spun their sabers in blindingly fast circles, so as all that was visible were blurs of green and blue energy.

The volleys of blaster fire all struck the swirling sabers, and promptly roared right back to their senders, tearing through the ranks of Mandalorians.

Still, they didn't comprehend. The clone-warriors tried to shift positions to better angle their shots, but the Jedi shield was seemingly impenetrable, and moreover, deadly. The wall of energy simply reflected the shots, decimating the soldiers.

When they finally stopped their firing, the Jedi struck.

Moving far too fast for the Mandalorians to see, the five warriors cut through their hapless enemy mercilessly. The officer fell last, but not too long after his subordinates.

"Definitely Mandalorians," Conner said as he inspected the bodies. He had removed the helmets of two of the soldiers. They bore the same features.

"They all have the title Fett after their first name. Implies clone naming, certainly," B'dras agreed.

"They didn't seem all too formidable," Conner said.

"That's because we haven't faced their higher order," Obi-Wan responded. "If the tales are to be trusted, the Mandalorians are warriors, but they are in a caste system of sorts. These-" he indicated the dead before them - "were the lowest class, the infantry. There are several other classes and sub-classes, but the highest order... they may give us pause."

B'dras glared, usually kind features twisted in anger. "There will be no pause. For Choldon, I will cut them all down." Beneath his voice, a low rumble.

Obi-Wan cut a harsh glare to his compatriot. "Contain yourself, Jedi Knight Holven B'dras. You set a poor example for the Padawans. You're letting your anger control you."

B'dras only seemed to bristle further, though. His eyes were glowing with hatred.

"They killed my Padawan, Obi-Wan! My friend, my son! And you ask me to set a proper example? I will, when I decorate the halls of this base with the fiends' hides!"

Obi-Wan gripped B'dras by the shoulder. "I understand what you feel, Holven. Believe me, I do. But you mustn't give in to your anger, your hate. It will corrode your motives, your will. Remain on the path, Holven, remain on the path."

Obi-Wan's words seemed to have only minimal effect, so he pressed on.

"Think, Holven, think. Would Choldon have wished you to tread down the dark path for his death? No. He would have you complete our mission. As would I. Now, gather yourself, or stay behind."

Obi-Wan's ice-blue eyes bored into B'dras's, demanding an answer, no pity to be found.

At last, B'dras lowered his head. "You're right. I apologize. Let us continue."

Inclining his head, Obi-Wan motioned for the two Padawans to follow.

Soon, the Jedi were moving through the halls of the naval base, sabers ready, eyes wary.

As they moved, Anakin inched closer to his master.

"Obi-Wan, your words to Master B'dras ..." the Padawan began.

"Were harsh and borderline insensitive," Obi-Wan finished. "I know. I too feel pain at Choldon's death, and I know that if you had died, my heart would demand revenge."

Turning those intense and wise eyes upon Anakin now, Obi-Wan's stare was almost unnerving.

"A Jedi must be clear of mind and conscious at all times to be true to the Force, though. Had Holven held onto his anger, it would have gotten him, and very possibly us, killed. Remember, Anakin, the power of the Force flows from inside us. From our intentions, and more importantly, our actions. We must never stray from the path of the light, or it will dominate our destiny forever."

Anakin took his master's words silently. While any instruction could not be exactly taken in depth at the moment, he would remember it.

And so they pressed deeper into the base...

************************

Time had run out for The Daytripper.

Like slow moving eels, the pitch-black warships appeared off the port side of the Orbital defense station. At first just the front of two ships, then three, then four more.

With the yellow sun glinting off the smooth hulls of the obsidian ships, highlighting the weapon turrets bristling like antennae on a sea creature, the ships spotted their crippled prey.

"Damn," Captain Belsaurus murmured, finger scratching his bearded chin, absently pulling at the iron colored strands.

Beside him, Trosk drew a deep breath, one of resignation almost.

"We have no means to fight, sir," the Bothan said. "Nor any to run."

"I know, commander," the captain replied, voice hushed, sad. "I know.

"Lieutenant," he said, hand resting on the back of the navigation tech's seat. "Begin the auto-destruct sequence. Maybe if they get close enough, we can take some of them with us."

Belsaurus couldn't help but feel slightly numb. This was not the way he ever envisioned his life ending. Despite his warrior's life, he had always felt sure he would die at home, in bed, maybe reading, maybe having a drink. It just had always seemed in the cards for him to die a simple man, not a captain aboard a starship, not a military man.

Apparently, the cards were not always right.

"Sir!" the comm tech all but shouted. "We have ships emerging from hyperspace at seven to ten o' clock!"

Belsaurus lifted his head up to watch the view screen. There was no way the fighter he had sent could have even reached Coruscant, much less sent reinforcements.

Yet, there, before him, a fleet of Republic warships appeared, already in attack formation. More importantly, dwarfing the enemy fleet.

Even as his bridge crew began cheering, however, Belsaurus felt a twinge in his neck. Something wasn't right. The fleet... this wasn't any ordinary fleet.

"Incoming message from the Fearless, sir," his comm tech reported.

The Fearless. General Bel Iblis's flagship of the main Coruscant fleet. What in space was it doing here?

Belsaurus keyed his comm. "Captain Belsaurus here. Not to sound ungrateful, General, but just what the hell is the main fleet doing here?"

A soft chuckle came from the comm. "Ever the pragmatist, eh Dal?"

"You know me, Garm."

"I wouldn't presume. Truth be told, Captain, I'm here on General Tarkin's orders. He apparently decided this was worthy of the entire fleet's attention."

Belsaurus studied the massive fleet that had now emerged from lightspeed. The assorted cruisers, destroyers, frigates, and fighter escorts spread past the view screen's confines, marching towards the black fleet.

"Gonna be a hell of a battle," one of the weapons officers said, punctuating his words with a low whistle.

Something wasn't sitting right with Belsaurus, though. In his gut, he knew something was wrong.

"Garm," he said, activating his comm.

"Dal, this is a bad time for conversation. If you can't tell, I'm about to engage the enemy fleet and save your hoop." The General's words were lined with humor.

Belsaurus's were not, though. "If Tarkin sent the entire Coruscant fleet, what's guarding the planet itself?"

"I'd assume he called in one of the sector fleets."

The captain nodded to himself. "Yes, so would I. But..."

"What is it, Dal?"

"I don't know. There's something behind all this... this is all too convenient. I can't explain..."

As his words were spoken, lances of green turbolaser fire spewed forth from the black fleet, pounding into the onrushing Republic fleet.

"Save it for later, Dal. I have to attend to this. Bel Iblis out."

As soon as the line was cut, the Republic fleet issued its answer, a veritable hail of fire that ripped through the ranks.

From the bowels of the warships and the fighter escorts, swarms of fighters poured out, screaming to meet with the enemy fighters.

The battle was joined in full force, the huge spacecraft playing a deadly game of chicken, advancing on each other, batteries blazing.

Then why was the bulk of the enemy fleet staying back? Belsaurus asked himself. They were already outgunned and overmatched. What could they be doing?

Were they trying to pull their forces off the planet?

No. The ships were actually moving out of orbit, away from the battle.

"Sir, it looks like they're retreating," Trosk said, his tone similar to his superior's thoughts. "The General must have scared them stupid."

Belsaurus said nothing, eyes taking in the entire scene. What was he missing?

Why would they pull out so quickly? And why only three fourths of them. Could they so willingly sacrifice an entire wing of their fleet?

As hard to swallow as it all was, they were doing it. At least twenty of their cruisers were pulling away, not only fleeing the battle, but the system itself it seemed.

Their strategy left much to be desired. The Republic Fleet would just track them down now and wipe them out. It wouldn't take long for Bel Iblis to handle what remained of the fleet and than he would -

Belsaurus stopped in mid-thought. He saw it. There, almost tiny, appearing behind the Republic fleet. A small cruiser, almost insignificant to the leviathans battling it out nearby, but perhaps much more important.

The interdictor cruiser was not armed or protected very well, but warfare was not its design. It stopped ships from making the jump to hyperspace.

Still, if these mysterious foes thought that the interdictor would give the fleet more than a minute of pause, they were dead wrong.

"Commander, home in on that vessel," Belsaurus instructed, finger pointing to the interdictor.

Given the Bothan's surprise, it was evident he hadn't seen it there. Nonetheless, he did as told.

The magnified image of the cruiser showed exactly what he expected. A lightly armored ship, almost harmless as a weapon of war.

"Sir, I'm getting energy fluctuations from the orbital station," the nav tech reported.

"What sort?" Belsaurus demanded.

"Hard to tell, sir. The sensors are barely functioning. But it looks like plasma readings."

Plasma readings... What in the name?

"How severe?"

The tech shook his head, checking his readings. "Can't tell again, sir. I think they're building up, though."

"Any long-range sensors online yet?" the captain asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. The puzzle was coming together and he didn't like what he was seeing.

"No, sir. But I can tell you right now, those orbital stations are moving."

He craned his neck to the right immediately, watching the two other stations.

True to his ensign's words, the stations were slowly moving, taking flanking positions around the battle.

"Good God," Belsaurus swore. Plasma... like the energy emitted from the self-destruct detonations in ships. And in Orbital Stations.

"Get me Bel Iblis!" he shouted.

"Comm traffic is heavy, sir, the General is personally directing the fleet."

"I don't care! Get me through!"

As the comm tech continued her attempts, the nav tech turned to him.

"Sir, the plasma readings are spiking."

That was when Belsaurus realized how close they were to the Orbital station.

"Do we have engines online?" he asked.

"Only marginal drives online sir, towing capacity really," Trosk answered.

"Then get us moving, now!" he barked. "Everything you can muster, move the ship away from the station!"

"I have Bel Iblis on the comm, captain," the comm tech said, keying the frequency.

"Dal, what the hell is it?" the General's voice came, angry and preoccupied.

"The Orbital stations are surrounding you and the fleet, on self destruct mode. The enemy must have taken them."

"How do you know?"

"The plasma readings. There's also an interdictor cruiser--"

"Plasma readings?" Bel Iblis cut him off. "The front line of the Mandalorian fleet is giving off the same?"

From the corner of the screen, a flash of pseudomotion appeared.

The bulk of the enemy fleet had jumped to lightspeed.

"Garm, it was a trap! Pull your ships out, now!! Pull them out, dammit!"

Then everything turned to hell.

The far side station erupted first, a gargantuan fireball igniting space. The waves of the massive station's destruction poured out, into the black ships, as well as the Republic fleet, doing considerable damage.

Then the next station exploded, red and orange corona slamming into the fleets, tossing ships about like small fishing boats in a sea squall.

Before him, Belsaurus saw the coming detonation, his brown eyes widening in predestination. The colors of the inferno that was what had become space shone in those eyes, glistening.

"Brace for impact!" he screamed, voice straining as he saw the station before them swell like a raising bread loaf.

The sheer force of the explosion flipped the Daytripper over repeatedly, the bridge crew tossed into walls and ceilings like toys. The secondary and third waves shredded much of the main hull, fires and explosions igniting everywhere, it seemed.

Consoles on the bridge burst into showers of sparks, and the floor itself was cracking.

Belsaurus gripped the arm of his chair, trying to scream instructions, but his ears were already deaf from the detonations.

Like a hulk of dead weight, the Daytripper careened into space, lifeless.

***********************

Coruscant loomed like a ball of metal in the sky, even this far out, the sun catching the sea of technology below.

As many times as she had been to the planet, Amidala could never quite shake the distaste she had for Coruscant. Maybe it was the entire orb being a progression of cities, no lakes, no forests, no mountains, no valleys ... only steel and glass. There was a certain marvel to it at first, but the luster was short lived on her, especially in comparison to her planet of Naboo, a veritable paradise of beauty.

It wasn't truly the artificial aspects of Coruscant that triggered the enmity in Amidala, though. It was the bureaucracy that dwelled there. As a child she only felt safe in the womb of the Old Republic. It had existed for longer than any creature could recall. It had always been. It was the glue that held the fabric of the universe's collective society together.

Now, though, she could smell the stink of the decay under the finely tailored illusion. Something was rotten, spoiled, like a bad fruit.

"We've received landing coordinates, your highness," her pilot informed her. Ric Olie was the commander of the entire Naboo space garrison, small though it was, and had been another of her trusted advisers and confidents for years. Like Panaka and Sabe, Olie had weathered all the storms and battles the last decade had brought.

"Did you do as I instructed?" she asked, eyes trained on the galactic capital world, growing larger as they neared its atmosphere.

"That's affirmative, Ambassador Padme. All Coruscant knows is that a lowly delegate from the Naboo is arriving to prepare things for the Queen's arrival next week," Olie answered with a smirk. His face had aged mightily the last few years, lines appearing around his eyes, and what hair he had left going gray. The vigor of his spirit remained as strong as ever, however.

"Excellent. Make my itinerary public knowledge, and that Ambassador Padme will be visiting the art shops and museums today. That sounds trivial enough."

Olie nodded, than returned to his controls as the they began to pierce the thick white clouds.

Beside Amidala, Panaka stirred. The captain had kept his stony silence almost the entire trip, his way of showing his displeasure with her decision, but as they had reached the planet now he was dropping the facade.

"My Queen, I still don't understand the logic here. If we are trying to reach Skywalker, for whatever reason you may have, why are we on Coruscant? You yourself said he wasn't there, but on some alien world."

The look of skepticism was thick on his dark features.

Amidala sighed. "Yes, I know he wasn't on Coruscant in my vision, and he still isn't. But I have a part to play here, something vital to Anakin's survival, I'm sure of it."

She wished she could explain it more elaborately to her confused captain, but truth be told, she didn't fully understand. When she awoke from her vision, she just felt imbued with purpose, with the clear path. She knew she had to be here, that it was all she could do to help Anakin.

Exactly what she was supposed to do on Coruscant, that remained to seen. She just hoped it came to her.

"And if Skywalker is on the planet? Sitting at home, reading a book, or eating his lunch, suitable confused as to why the Queen of Naboo has rushed from her crippled planet that desperately needs her, on the whim of a vision?" Panaka's tone was growing harsher.

In reply, she only sighed again, shoulders dropping.

"Captain, I don't expect you to understand what I'm doing. I don't even expect you to like it."

She then put her hand on his arm, gently.

"But I do expect you to have faith in me. This is the thing I must do. I need you to believe in me. In what I do. If I don't have your faith, the faith of my friends... then I have nothing."

Panaka's stone face crumbled with her words, his eyes dropping to the floor in shame. Slowly, he reached his hand over and placed it atop Amidala's.

"You have my faith, your highness, always," he breathed, barely audible.

She smiled thinly and mouthed the words "thank you."

She turned to the front windows on the cockpit, watching as the millions of spires grew as they approached. She had her support, her friends, her help. Now, it was on her to make the move.

"As soon as we set down, Captain," she began, speaking to Panaka, "I want you to set up quarters in the palace for the Queen's arrival next week. Meanwhile have Ambassador Padme's quarters set up in the Congressional Building's guest quarters."

The captain nodded, but she felt the unspoken question from both he and Olie.

"I have a feeling I'll need to be able to operate in the palace. Without anyone knowing that I'm here."

Even as she spoke, however, she noticed Olie scowling at some of his panels.

"What is it?" she asked.

Olie shook his head slightly, still staring hard at the controls. "I don't know. But according to the sensors, a large amount of ships just popped up in front of Coruscant."

Panaka laughed. "I think the good commander is forgetting that this is the busiest planet in the known universe. That's not that out of the ordinary.

"No, but emerging from hyperspace that close to the planet is," Olie retorted. "In fact it's down right illegal. They've all but dropped in on the planet itself."

"How many?" Amidala pressed.

"Can't tell. A lot, though. Large ships too."

"Might be a sector fleet, or something. If anyone can break proximity regs, its the military," Panaka suggested.

"Whatever the case," Amidala decided, "it isn't our problem. Bring us down, commander, and let's get our house straight."

With that, the Naboo transport came in to the landing pad, setting down.

**************************

The hazy image of Darth Sidious hovered over the hologram projector, cloaked form facing the trio of commanding Mandalorians.

The Mandalorian in the center of the group was a towering presence, almost two meters in height, dark crimson armor the color of dried blood.

"The entrapment maneuver has been successful," the armored warrior said, voice distorted by the speakers under his helmet's jaw line. "The Republic fleet is surrounded by debris, and are still currently engaged with the remnants of the third division currently."

"As expected," Sidious replied.

"I do not believe it will hold them for long, however," he continued.

"It needn't do so," the Sith Master said, smugly. "Once the planet is sieged, and the Jedi dealt with, I may consolidate my power. When the fleet returns, they will find themselves part of my empire."

The Mandalorians gave no response, only waited for further instructions.

"And now, Bandon Fett, you and your officers must make best possible speed for Coruscant. Vrantive is of no use to me. Your soldiers will need a guidance, as my hand will be limited."

The Mandalorians nodded, heads almost synchronized. Then, as before, the lead Fett spoke.

"We have a flotilla of transports awaiting our departure. There is, however, the matter of the Jedi. A group of them have penetrated the base."

Sidious nodded. "As expected. Leave one of your lieutenants to deal with them. You shall extradite what forces you can from the planet and depart immediately. Instruct the garrison you leave to destroy both the base and the database, and wire the rest of the square for detonation. Leave Bel Iblis a small surprise in case he decides to snoop around."

The Mandalorians inclined their heads again.

"Very well. I will see you when you reach Coruscant."

With that, Sidious's hologram winked out.

As soon as the hologram faded, Bandon Fett turned to his two subordinates.

"The Sith means to betray us."

The lieutenant on his right, who wore faded blue armor with a red face shield shifted slightly.

"How can you tell? We are his only way of taking Coruscant."

Next to the adjunct, his fellow stepped forward. His armor matched the other's almost completely, save for the markings on his breastplate, and a red campaign cloak instead of a black one.

"I concur with Boba Fett. Sidious cannot afford to double cross us."

The leader made a harsh grating sound under his helmet, a twisted wheeze of a laugh.

"Do not underestimate the Sith. He has usurped the entire Old Republic completely without alerting any to his presence. That should speak volumes of his formidability."

"So what action do we take?" the subordinate asked.

"We shall indeed take Coruscant. And when we have destroyed the Jedi and left the Republic in ashes, we will deal with Sidious. We shall fashion his empire for us."

The lead Mandalorian's words were not lost on his subordinates, who nodded in turn.

"Now... Boba Fett, you wire the Capitol Building for destruction, and wipe the data base. Savir Fett, you take a core of officers and wipe out the Jedi. When done, board your transports and make best possible speed for Coruscant. If all goes according to schedule, I'll meet you at the palace, as the planet lies under our feet."

The two Mandalorians inclined their heads, then were off to complete their tasks.

******************************

The transport shuttle slid between the docking clamps elegantly, the elongated snout of the ship connecting with the clamps as two jets of steam hissed out.

After a few moments, the latch on the hull popped, and down descended a landing ramp.

Standing at attention, flanking the ramp, a half dozen palace guards, dressed in royal blue armor and cloaks waited.

As always a contrast in size and shape, the co-chairs of the Jedi Council emerged from the shuttle. While dressed in nearly identical robes of tan and brown, Yoda and Mace Windu were quite distinguishable from each other, the tiny alien Jedi Master only just reaching his compatriot's knee.

Behind the two Jedi Masters, the guards fell in step, an escort. Their times footfalls echoed off the palace walls as they moved on, the only sound present while they turned the corners that made up the maze of corridors of the palace.

Upon reaching the repulsor lifts the Jedi dismissed their escort, instructing them to wait with the transport.

As the lift doors hissed shut, Mace turned to Yoda.

"Exactly what are we going to tell the Chancellor? He will not comprehend our visions through the Force as we do. He is a politician, he needs proof."

The small master lifted his head up and towards his companion.

"A correct assessment, that is. But treachery abounds around us... beneath, in the walls, in the ground we cannot see, in the air we breath... That, shall he understand."

Mace couldn't help but look vaguely skeptical. "That's hardly concrete proof. Besides, what can he do when we only offer the knowledge of impending disaster?"

"Soon enough and by itself, shall disaster show. To prevent it, we can do nothing. To prepare ... that is our goal."

The taller Jedi seemed pacified. "I suppose..."

"Uneasy you are, Mace." Yoda's large, languid eyes were trained on his friend's face intently.

Releasing a deep sigh, Mace pursed his lips.

"I know. I can't explain... it's just... from the Chancellor..."

"Doubt have you in Palpatine?"

"No," Mace answered, eyes still searching. "But I do sense something... something that isn't right. An inconsistency, like patchwork."

Yoda put his chubby finger to his chin, pondering.

"Similar things, have I perceived. Hiding something, he is. An agenda perhaps..."

The lift shuddered slightly, coming to a halt.

"We shall use this opportunity to better ascertain what lies behind the Chancellor's veil. With circumstances as they are, we can afford no doubt," Mace said, hands knotted together under his robe.

The doors opened, the expansive lobby of the palace greeting the two Jedi.

A monstrous grand room, made up of at least twenty separate levels, the lobby was the offices of all the delegates to the Republic.

Thousands of flags, standards, and sigils hung from every corner it seemed, a smear of colors and languages.

The afternoon traffic of the lobby was thick as always, thousands of creatures from various species moving about, from office to office, the daily bureaucracy of the universe being transacted.

Dozens of different PA systems spewed an endless stream of information and personal messages, all in different languages. The loudspeaker announcements mixed with the din of conversation wafting from every corner of the lobby, all the different sounds and syllables of different tongues intermingling to create a constant tapestry of sound that was nigh unintelligible.

Yoda and Mace were used to it of course, despite their distaste for it. They moved through the mass of people and creatures effortlessly, making their way for the private lift that would take them to the Chancellor's personal floor.

Despite the endless stream of thoughts crossing the area the two Jedi Masters walked past, one mind in particular caught Yoda's attention.

The small creature stopped his hobbling walk, his twisted wood cane coming to a halt.

"What is it?" Mace asked, also stopping.

Yoda's eyes were closed, searching for a moment. His small arm outstretched, finger moving through the crowd.

"There." His arm stopped, pointing to a small progression sifting through the mob. Mace immediately recognized the subject of Yoda's attention.

"Queen Amidala? She isn't supposed to be on Coruscant, is she?" he asked.

"Know not, do I. Find out, I will."

The two Jedi hardly had to move, as the Queen and her small entourage were coming their direction.

Yoda stepped slightly to his right, directly in the Naboo matriarch's path.

Seeing the small creature, the Queen stopped her walk instantly, a look of indecision crossing her face.

"Greetings, Queen Amidala," Mace said, smiling almost mischievously.

"Masters Yoda and Windu," she replied.

"You are quite hard to recognize without the make-up and gown. Not that the flightsuit is not becoming," Mace smiled.

The Queen seemed to be debating something, eyes moving from figure to figure.

"Were you looking for me, then?" she asked, caution in her voice.

"I think it is you who is seeking us out," Yoda said, studying the young woman. "Much distress I sense in you. Searching for young Skywalker, you are."

Amidala's lips tightened, brows knitting. She obviously didn't like being so easily read.

"Yes," she answered though. "But he isn't here."

"Correct you are. Your insight serves you well... a strong bond you have with Skywalker."

Amidala didn't seem to know how to take the comment. She just waited for the Jedi Master to continue.

"If knew you that Anakin was not here, why then, are you on Coruscant?

Still guarded, her rich brown eyes were trained on the diminutive alien, as if searching.

Coming to a decision apparently, she pressed on.

"I... have had a... an urging. A vision. About Anakin."

Stepping closer to the Queen, Yoda pointed his finger at her again.

"Powerful are your feelings towards him. Ignore them, you should not. There, you shall find the answers you seek."

Now annoyance crept up her features. She did not ask for advice from the Jedi, and did not look like she wanted it.

"Tell me your vision... and your plan, and see what help we can offer..." Yoda said, turning to Mace.

The unspoken thought was received by Mace.

"I'll go keep our appointment with Palpatine. Gather what you shall from the Queen, and meet me there."

Yoda nodded as the other Master bid Amidala a good afternoon and moved off.

No words exchanged, the young queen and the ancient Jedi Master fell in step, slowly crossing the lobby.

"I felt Anakin in danger," she said, no preamble this time. The concern in her voice was apparent.

Yoda's eyes still were trained forward, but his large ear seemed to perk.

"What sort?"

"I don't know..." she said, voice trailing off. "It was very hazy, confusing. He and Obi-Wan were battling some sort of androids, or armored soldiers I think. I didn't recognize them."

Yoda made a humming sound, deep and low. "Sent to Vrantive IV they were, investigating an invasion. Found the enemy they must have."

Now his eyes turned to Amidala.

"But again the question persists... why here are you?"

Behind the Queen, the look on her entourage seemed to ask the same question.

"I can't really explain, Master Yoda," she started, an uncertain look. "But I know I need to be here, for Anakin. Maybe for me. I don't know. But something is wrong on Coruscant, I'm sure of it. Something that will involve myself and Anakin."

Yoda didn't speak for long moments, the group just walking further across the lobby. Finally, he replied.

"Felt what you describe I have. About Skywalker, I know not of his involvement, nor yours. But the darkness about Coruscant... I feel it."

"But from where?" she asked.

"Know not do I."

"We must find out," the Queen stated, adamant. "Before it's too late."

As if in response, klaxons began screaming, blue lights flashing.

Over the PA system, all the announcements stopped. Only one, this in Basic, began blaring.

"Coruscant is under attack, repeat, Coruscant is under attack. Seek shelters immediately. Coruscant is under attack," the announcement came, quickly followed by the same one, in different languages.

"For the order to take shelter to be given, the attackers must have already moved into orbit," one of the Queen's adjuncts said, a tall dark skinned man. Panaka, if Yoda recalled.

Yoda merely stood in his place, as the thousands of people in the lobby began running for separate doors, screaming.

From outside, the sounds of explosions began to report.

Amidala's head craned around, almost frantically.

"We have to find shelter, Master Yoda," she said, reaching down for his arm.

"No," came the adamant reply. "Stay here we must. Follow me."

With a speed she wouldn't have thought he possessed, the Jedi Master moved towards one of the lifts.

"Come on," she urged her subordinates as she hurried to follow Yoda though the insane rush of the fleeing people.

Outside, Coruscant began to reel.

***************************

"Blast it!" Bail Organa swore, the Alderaanian senator inching his head from around the corner of the hall.

"There are at least a dozen Mandalorians in the damn room," he growled.

In the last twenty minutes, Organa had gone from skepticism, to creeping suspicion, to total belief. These warriors were indeed the infamous and supposedly mythical Mandalorians, an army of clones. If their fighting ability and sheer numbers weren't enough proof, he had seen their faces under the helmets. For twenty dead warriors, he saw three faces.

Where had they come from? Where had they been hiding? Why did they choose now to attack? What were their goals?

Those questions, plus about a thousand more had all crossed Organa's mind as he and the Jedi Knight Ocen-Bai Talz moved through the Vrantive IV Capitol building, trying to find the communications center. None of the questions had yet to be answered.

"This may prove difficult," Ocen-Bai Talz said grimly, the severe-looking Jedi training his clear blue eyes on the comm room. Indeed, there were a healthy contingent of Mandalorians, at least several of them the far more deadly officers.

The two Republic commandoes that had accompanied Organa on the mission did not survive their battle through the main square. The only reason he himself was still alive was Talz's power and abilities.

Now, though, they were down to just themselves against a full squadron. To make matters worse, the Jedi was beginning to show signs of fatigue, after fighting through the square and the battles they fought once in the building.

"I believe I have a solution, if only somewhat," Talz said, snow-white brows arching as he turned to meet Organa's gaze.

"I can set a suitable distraction, than engage the Mandalorians. While I accomplish this, you make for the communication hub, behind that bulkhead. I'll fend them off for as long as possible while you send the message to Coruscant. And remember to use the outer system satellites, as they will have jammed the closer ones."

Organa nodded, but did have a protest. "Can you hold them that long? You've taken a few hits..."

"Long enough for you to send the message, I assure you," Talz answered, no doubt in his voice.

"What about after that?" the senator asked.

"That is not our concern at the moment. We'll deal with that once the message is sent."

Organa chuckled a bit. "You know, I wouldn't mind getting out of this alive, if at all possible."

"Is that our primary goal?" Talz asked, eyes narrow.

"No, I suppose not."

"Then it is of no consequence right now."

Organa nodded, holding back a few comments about Jedi and their bizarre outlook on life.

"On my call," Talz said, inching towards the corner. "And for what it's worth, senator, I too would very much like to survive."

"Good. Very reassuring."

A wry grin appeared on the stoic Jedi's face as he braced himself.

Closing his eyes, Talz's hand outstretched, fingers pointing to the far end of the comm room. For a few seconds he just stood there, pointing.

Then, as if touched by a ghost, the fire extinguisher coolant gel began to shoot from the ports, covering some of the Mandalorians.

The spray was quite heavy, knocking a few of them down. Even as they began to get up, however, more of the coolant knobs began to spout aqua-green gel.

As the Mandalorians gave assorted curses and exclamations, Talz pulled his saber free from his belt.

"Follow behind me, then break for the hub," he instructed.

With a snap-hiss, his lightsaber ignited, a bright green blade. Even as the saber screamed to life, the Jedi was in the Mandalorian's midst, cutting down two immediately.

Organa pumped his legs for all they were worth, running behind the surging Talz. The senator was a man in his mid-thirties, and in peak physical condition for his age, not to mention his military training. Yet after all they had gone through already, he felt the fatigue in his muscles as he raced for the communications hub.

Fortunately, adrenaline kicked in, and Organa was in the small sub-room even as the report of blaster shots could be heard.

Shutting the hatch and locking it, he keyed the holonet access command.

Instantly, a three-dimensional panel came to life before him, a hologram projection of the main menu.

With the speed of one quite comfortable around tech, Organa sped through the various screens and access pads, his Republic clearance easily getting him into the Holonet satellite prime directory.

Finding a suitably secure and un-jammed satellite to use, he connected. As the connection was initialized and the codes were verified, Organa couldn't help but feel the burn of impatience and dread. Outside the hub, he heard the sounds of the battle, blasters roaring, and the sound of detonations and screams.

With a slight sound effect built into the system, he was connected with the satellite, via the Holonet. He keyed the access codes for Coruscant, and then the sub-codes for the senate's link.

For long moments, the screen was just a blue void, the sound of static behind it. Organa clutched his blaster nervously, wondering just what in the hell was taking the connection so long. He was half-ready for the doors to be ripped open, and Mandalorians to pour through, guns blazing.

Finally, the blue disappeared. Instead, the image of one of the military's communication rooms appeared, a dire looking officer appearing.

"This is Commander Yeovil, head of communications on Coruscant for the Old Republic. This is a recorded message. The planet is presently under siege from unknown attackers. By executive mandate #2278-98, stipulation #45, all incoming ships or cargo are ordered not to attempt to reach the planet. I repeat, do not attempt to reach Coruscant. Our forces will not be able to discern your ship from the enemy vessels and may react accordingly. Further information will be broadcast later."

With that, the transmission was cut off, replaced by the holographic message: TRANSMISSION TERMINATED.

"What in the name?" Organa said, feeling panic begin to creep up on him. "They've attacked Coruscant itself," he continued, not believing his own words.

This was all an elaborate ruse, he realized. They must have lured more of our forces to Vrantive, and than struck Coruscant.

They had to get back to Coruscant, immediately. He cut the connection off, and began unlocking the door.

Suddenly, a howl of pain pierced his sanctuary. The sounds of the battle had died down outside, no more blasters firing.

Fearing the worst, Organa readied his blaster. Surely, the system would have registered a Holonet connection. They would discover him.

"Organa," came a weak call from the room. "Hurry." It was Ocen-Bai's voice.

Barreling out of the hub, the senator ran back into the room.

Strewn about the wreck that was the communications center, the entire squad lay dead or dying, smoke coming from most of the destroyed console's and small fires burning at opposite corners of the room.

Standing over two of the dead Mandalorians, Ocen-Bai waited for the senator. He was standing awkwardly, favoring a leg, and his face was paler than usual. The green blade of his lightsaber had been shut down, though he still clutched the handle.

"I'd say I'm amazed," Organa began, walking towards Talz, "but with you Jedi, I guess I shouldn't be. Remind me not to get one of you angry -- ever."

Talz nodded weakly. "I saw the message you received from Coruscant. It appeared on the exterior Holonet station out here. They tricked us, drove us away from Coruscant on a feint."

"I know."

"Do you know about the main fleet being here as well?"

"What?" Organa demanded. "The main fleet? Here?"

Talz nodded again, head seeming far too heavy for his shoulders. "Yes. Right now battling what's left of the Mandalorian fleet that isn't presently attacking Coruscant. They're trapped in a field of debris as well, akin to a small meteor field, by the looks of it. It won't hold them for long, but it doesn't need to."

"No, it doesn't," Organa concurred. "We need to get out of here immediately."

Not speaking any further, the senator and the Jedi began to make their way out of the building they had just fought their way into. As they walked, Organa noticed how slow the Jedi was moving, limping and breathing heavy. That was when his eyes saw the gaping wound in his side, a dark wet blotch on his tunic, blood running down to his light tan pants.

"Good God, Ocen-Bai, you're wounded!" Organa said, stopping.

"It's not important at the moment," the Jedi replied, not stopping.

"What do you mean, it isn't important? That's a serious wound, you could go into shock any moment! Even Jedi aren't invulnerable!"

Talz laughed slightly. "A fact I'm becoming all too aware of, my good senator. But we don't have time to deal with it. When we reach a transport, I'll see to it. Now come."

Breaking off any more argument, Organa fell in step with Talz as they headed for the lower hangar.

On the way down, they hastily put together a plan. They would commandeer a transport, from there contact Obi-Wan and his group, and make a pick-up, provided they still lived. Than, make the best speed they could for Coruscant, along the way, informing General Bel-Iblis about the situation. Hopefully the General, a cunning man certainly, could fashion a way to free the fleet quicker.

Once the turbolift touched down in the hangar, the two exited, immediately setting sight on a large transport, a sleek, dark green vessel, that was obviously meant for battle. It would certainly have a sufficient hyper-drive on it, not to mention the capabilities to get them off of Vrantive even with the resistance they might meet.

"Come on, I'm sure I can fly it," Organa said, breaking out into a run for the ship.

As he did so, however, he heard a thud behind him, like boots striking the metal floor.

The senator spun around to find a Mandalorian between he and Talz. This one wore light green plating over a pale blue suit, his black cloak swirling behind him as he faced Ocen-Bai. This one was definitely one of the officers, by the looks of his markings, a high-ranking one.

Before he could even react, the Mandalorian's foot shot out from behind him, catching Organa on the chin, knocking him down to the floor, head ringing as he tasted blood between his teeth.

As he struggled to maintain consciousness and right himself, Organa registered the sounds of Ocen-Bai's lightsaber igniting, and clashing with something. The blows were coming repeatedly, which meant whatever the Mandalorian was using could withstand the power of a lightsaber.

Turning over, he saw the speedy warrior press into the weakened Jedi, a large, almost flat staff shaped weapon, vibrating with kinetic energy smashing into Ocen-Bai's lightsaber. Organa had heard of such weapons. He couldn't be sure, but he believed they were surrounded with small saw teeth, vibrated at incredible speeds, building up enough kinetic energy to pierce solid steel. The same principal as mining cutters he supposed, only more localized and focused.

Whatever it was, it was holding it's own against the Jedi's saber. The Mandalorian, on the other hand, was doing more than that.

Already perhaps mortally wounded, Ocen-Bai was no match for the lightning quick warrior. He fended off a procession of strikes, but the Mandalorian bore into him, right fist burying itself into the Jedi's chest.

Even as his gauntleted fist struck Ocen-Bai, the forearm armor ignited, a small, arrow-headed projectile launching itself through the Jedi's body.

The small missile exploded though Ocen-Bai in a mist of blood, a thin chrome wire attached to the weapon. Hissing through the air, the sharpened end of the projectile imbedded itself into a wall, some twenty feet behind Ocen-Bai.

As the dying Jedi hung suspended on the wire, arms hanging limp and dropping his saber, a harsh cackle could be heard from the Mandalorian.

"No!" Organa shouted before he could stop himself, drawing the Mandalorian's attention. Turning its domed helmet to the senator, a perceivable air of menace emanated from the warrior. He read the breastplate of the Mandalorian, seeing the same title of Fett on its tag as the others, soldier and officer alike, proceeded by the name Boba. Boba Fett. By the decorations and markings under his name, Boba Fett was perhaps the commanding officer of these Mandalorians, or maybe a close second.

Whatever the case, he had just slain a Jedi and was staring at Organa.

Hands fumbling to his sides, Organa reached for his blaster, only to find it missing.

The Mandalorian reached out a powerful looking blaster rifle, the shiny black barrel aimed straight at him.

Before the shot came, though, Ocen-Bai stirred from death, flinging a bloody hand out, gripping Boba Fett's forearm. As the warrior turned to see how the Jedi was still alive, Talz lashed out with the back of his fist, striking the Mandalorian across his faceplate, sending him staggering back.

The cord that was still piercing through Ocen-Bai's body wrenched as Boba Fett fell back, causing the Jedi to roar in pain, the fight gone out of him again.

Keying a button on his forearm sheath, the Mandalorian retracted the cord from the wall, the head running through the Jedi again. As the projectile was called home to its holster, Ocen-Bai's legs gave out, no cord supporting them, and he slumped to the ground.

Grunting in frustration, Boba Fett grabbed a fistful of the Jedi's tunic and dragged him across the floor, a smear of red trailing behind him.

Where the ships were serviced and fueled there was the standard fuel dumpsite, a cavern into the deeper ground of the hangar. There, excess fuel and waste would be dumped, then filtered into the polluted air.

The cavern, only a few meters across was deep though, and at its bottom was an immolator ready to destroy any object that struck the surface.

With a sneer of contempt, the Mandalorian hauled Ocen-Bai's body over the edge and released his grip on the Jedi. Ocen-Bai's form instantly disappeared.

The violent disposal of Ocen-Bai snapped Organa from his horrified stupor. Spotting his blaster across the floor, towards the transport, he leapt for it.

Coming up in a roll, the senator leveled the pistol at the Mandalorian, immediately triggering several blasts.

The red bolts of energy fired wide, but Organa was a good shot and quickly corrected. One of the blasts seared through Boba Fett's cape as he dove hard to the right.

The warrior was quicker than the politician, though, and reacted with a terse shot from his rifle, the blast hitting Organa square in the shoulder.

"Aaaaaa!!!" he screamed, feeling the flesh burn away with blood and bone. He dropped the pistol, clutching his burning shoulder.

Standing up again, the Mandalorian lowered his rifle, walking across the floor again, in no real hurry.

Organa bit his lip hard, determined not to scream as he met his end. He wouldn't give the scum the pleasure.

Cutting off his preclusions of death, a blur of color launched into the room, too fast for Organa's eyes to register.

He wasn't the only one surprised. For all the Mandalorian's quickness, he was only able to hastily raise up his rifle in defense.

The blazing yellow lightsaber blade, like a sliver cut from a burning star, sliced through the rifle and knocked the clone warrior back and down across the slick floor.

Ocen-Bai's Padawan, Dagan Conner, was immediately on the Mandalorian, roaring with an animal-like intensity and incoherence.

Scrambling back, Boba Fett barely avoided two slashes from the saber, sparks flying from the impacts on the ground.

The officer flipped back onto his feet, drawing his vibro-staff and extending it again.

Conner was not a mortally wounded and exhausted foe, however, but an insanely enraged Jedi, faster and stronger than his Master had been. Leveling a series of mammoth blows at the Mandalorian, the young Padawan pushed him back step by step.

With a vicious upstrike, Conner pierced the vibrating kinetic shield on the staff, slicing off its top end. Even as the strike was completed, the Jedi spun around amazingly fast, saber cutting through Boba Fett's wrist, sending the severed hand, and the staff careening down the same cavern Ocen-Bai's body had been cast down.

Finishing off the smooth, yet astonishingly swift strike combo, Conner focused the might of the Force behind his hand, and then brought his flattened hand up to the Mandalorian's chest. The explosive power behind the blow smashed into his armor, shattering the plates and sending the clone warrior screaming down the fuel burn cavern.

Conner didn't seem to want to believe the fight over, pacing the edge of the cavern, nova-bright saber humming dangerously.

Then, as if realizing his foe wasn't returning, he dropped to his knees over the cavern.

"Ocen-Bai! Ocen-Bai! Ocen-Bai!" he screamed, voice racked by sorrow and the futility that he already knew existed. His master had probably been dead before he had been thrown down the shaft.

Clutching his shoulder wound, Organa limped over to the grieving Padawan.

"Conner, we must leave," he said softly, hand settling on the young man's shoulder, comforting.

"No," the Padawan replied, barely a whisper. "No..."

"He's gone, Dagan. As is his murderer. You have avenged Ocen-Bai, Dagan. But we will join them if we do not make haste."

Conner shook his head. "He could still be alive. The ignition ... I didn't hear it go off... Ocen-Bai may be alive down there..."

"No, Dagan. No." Organa put more force behind his words. "Your master is dead, young Jedi. And soon so will Obi-Wan and the others if we don't get this ship and pick them up."

When no reaction came, he pressed on. "Coruscant is under attack, Dagan. Do you hear me? Coruscant is presently being attacked by the Mandalorian fleet, and the main fleet is here, trapped. If we don't do something, the Republic may fall in a matter of hours!"

That seemed to snap the young Jedi's attention back from the shaft.

"Now, come on!" Organa urged.

Hesitantly, Conner pulled himself away, following the senator to the ship.

Within minutes, Organa had the ship warmed up, engines igniting.

"Obi-Wan and the others have reached the Naval base, but learned of the main fleet arriving," Conner explained as they began to lift off. His voice was a soft hush, obviously thick with pain. "Obi-Wan decided that we didn't need to get the shields on, but instead get back to Coruscant. He came to the same conclusion you did about the trap. So he sent me to get you and--" the Padawan broke off, eyes red and watery, jaw shivering as he clenching his teeth.

Organa let the Jedi grieve. He had heard of the bond between a Jedi Knight or Master and their Padawan. It was only comparable to that of a father and son.

Thoughts of sorrow couldn't long dwell in the senator's mind, however. If he and the others didn't think of something soon, the Republic might indeed fall, after all these millennia.

Organa piloted the Mandalorian ship out of the hangar, heading for the Naval base, and the others.

Time was short.

****************************

Ripping through the Vrantive atmosphere, the hijacked Mandalorian transport roared into space.

Gathered in the cockpit, the four remaining Jedi and the senator all viewed the scene before them grimly. For miles, debris of the destroyed orbital defense stations and the wreckage of starships formed a makeshift halo or sorts, a field littered with hunks of metal.

Through the thick wall of debris, green and red flashes could be seen, the Republic fleet, still trapped within the ring, battling it out with the remains of the Mandalorian fleet.

"I had hoped they would have finished the Mandalorians by now," Obi-Wan Kenobi murmured. "It's going to take long enough for them to get out from that debris."

Anakin merely nodded his agreement. Words were few and far between on the ship, and had been since Dagan and Senator Organa returned from the Capitol building. The death of Ocen-Bai Talz had intensified the sorrow of Choldon's loss, and seemed to cast Dagan and B'dras into meditative states, eyes almost glazed, turned inward surely.

Anakin looked over at Obi-Wan. His friend and master were staring at the battle ahead, jaw tight, obviously considering which course to take. Through the entire battle on Vrantive, Obi-Wan had been the one to keep things in order, keep the objective in mind. It was very likely the rest of the Jedi would have perished had he not made his decisions as wisely and promptly as he did.

There was a term in wartime that Anakin had heard some use. Survivor's guilt. He had been so sure a Jedi was larger than life, an elemental force not to be reckoned with.

When he could feel the Force flowing through him, he felt that he was too, unstoppable and unerring.

Yet when they had departed Coruscant days ago for Vrantive IV, he would never had believed that two of them would die there, not to mention the commandoes sent with Organa. Anakin didn't really know them, but he has sensed that they were brave souls indeed, undeserving of the fate they had met.

What weighed on Anakin's mind heavier than the rest though, was that of the three Jedi duos, only he had returned with his other half, his Master. The expression on Dagan Conner's face, or lack there of, told Anakin enough of what it might feel like. Conner was a handsome young man, with bright eyes, pleasant features, and a wide smile that always seemed ready to laugh. Now, though, he looked like a refugee, a homeless, defeated boy who had become resigned to his fate. The look on B'dras's face wasn't much different.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice said, hushed. "Stay focused. I need you."

Anakin snapped to attention. His master's gentle chiding had brought to his attention that they were fast approaching the battle.

"Bail, have you contacted The Fearless yet?" Obi-Wan asked the senator, who was bent over the comm console, pale blue light illuminating his face.

"I can't get a straight beam to the ship itself, too much interference, not to mention the traffic of coordinating the ships. But I think I can get a coded transmission on delay to him," Organa answered.

"If that's what's possible than do it," Obi-Wan replied. "I would prefer to talk to General Bel Iblis, but time is short. Tell him the situation, and to begin having ships try to pierce the debris."

"What of the Interdictor cruiser?"

Obi-Wan frowned at the senator's question, immediately searching the ship's tracking equipment.

"I show no sign of it here," the Jedi said, obviously confused.

"Perhaps it went to Coruscant with the rest of the Mandalorian fleet," Anakin surmised.

"What good would an Interdictor ship do in a battle of siege? No one on Coruscant will be running or trying to escape, save maybe the merchants, and I don't see the Mandalorians caring much about that. Besides, one Interdictor can only do so much with a planet the size of Coruscant."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Whatever the case, we can't worry about it now. Finish sending the message to Bel Iblis while I plot in the coordinates in the Navicomputer."

"Obi-Wan," Organa called, hand settling on the Jedi's sleeve. "You'd best bring us out early. The planet might be taken." The senator's face was grim, eyes sad.

Tightening his lips in frustration, Obi-Wan nodded nonetheless.

As they prepared to make the jump to lightspeed, Anakin felt some flash of misgiving wash over him suddenly. Surely he already had enough to grieve for and enough to be braced for without added trauma. Under the layers of his mind, however, he could feel a faint tugging, almost like a pleading, saying All is not right here. Nothing is as it seems.

Anakin already knew things were not right. Two Jedi lay dead on Vrantive and the capital world of the known universe was under siege from cloned warriors, mad with some revenge scheme. It didn't get more wrong than that. Yet still he couldn't shake the nagging tingle in his brain.

Then, the stars turned to blurred flashes and they began their race to save Coruscant.

Somehow.

*************************************

Even without the blanket of the main fleet, Coruscant was a daunting target.

At least a dozen Mandalorian ships were lost to the guns of the orbital defense stations and platforms before the fleet was able to destroy them.

Then, the swarm of fighters launched from various points on the planet screamed up to meet their attackers. Combined with groundside batteries firing magma hot blasts wide as tree trunks into the Mandalorians' midst, advancing on the planet was costing the clone warriors dearly.

Yet still they came.

A flotilla of what had originally been ten drop ships but had been cut down to three began to make landfall. On ship cannon clusters raked the streets and buildings before them, plowing the way.

So tightly built were the skyscrapers on Coruscant that the drop ships were forced to land on top of some of the shorter yet wider spires. Still the ground was hundreds of feet below.

With a slow moaning sound, the front end of the wedge-shaped drop ships opened, steam firing out. From the openings, hundreds and hundreds of Mandalorians poured out, all roaring a collective battle cry loud enough to be heard over the constant sound of cannons and explosions.

They were all riding small hover speeders, shaped like mechbikes, with high-arching handlebars, and small ion engines powering them. All of the small craft were armed to the teeth, ready to lay waste to the galaxy's most proud world.

To the eyes of any unfortunate enough to witness the Mandalorian's landing on Coruscant, it must have seemed that warriors just kept emerging from the three large drop ships, an endless supply of bloodthirsty invaders. After a time, though, the flow ceased, the horde screaming out into the sky, their numbers darkening the sun.

They did not break rank and begin to raze the surrounding city proper however, but maintain a tight formation, all heading for one direction.

The Jedi Council.

Amidala barely kept her balance as the entire palace rocked. Chunks of rock and powder fell from the ceiling above, smashing into the marble floor.

She sidestepped a large section of one of the tapestries that had fallen, but the rain of debris was growing in intensity.

"They're pounding this place," Ric Olie said direly, blaster pistol in hand, looking pathetically insignificant.

"How long can the palace hold out against this bombardment?" Panaka asked.

"Trying to destroy the palace, they are not," Yoda answered, the Jedi Master still leading the small group through the back corridors of the palace, away from the grand lobby.

"A siege this is, a conquest. The palace, and who resides in it, they want."

Still in a steady run, they moved through the maze of hallways, turn after turn, side hall after side hall. Amidala hoped the tiny alien knew what he was doing, because she was completely lost.

Apparently he did. They came upon a turbo lift shaft, one almost hidden behind a bulkhead on the side of one of the larger corridors.

"Where the bloody hell are the palace guards?" Panaka demanded. "I haven't seen one of them this whole time."

Olie shrugged. "Most likely, they've been called to defend the palace outside."

Panaka shook his head emphatically. "No. I've heard about the palace guards. They don't leave their posts unless directly ordered to. They're supposed to protect the people inside the palace, the senators and dignitaries, and especially the Chancellor. They wouldn't be called off."

"Correct the Captain is," Yoda said. "Here should the guards be."

Amidala looked around impatiently. "Well they're not here now, so it makes little difference to debate the why or why not of it. We need to keep moving, the palace will surely be stormed soon."

Yoda inclined his head slightly and then pointed to the turbolift.

"I hardly think riding a turbolift while the palace is being blasted to rubble is an entirely wise thing," Amidala said, scorn in her tone. She was getting far too used to dealing with siege situations, and she was far too used to vague Jedi decisions.

"The lift we must take," Yoda answered simply.

"And go where?" Panaka demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, that lift only goes up. The hangar bays are down."

Yoda shook his head. "Our destination, the hangar bays are not."

"Just where have you been taking us then?" Panaka said, anger in his words.

"In the Chancellor's floor will the crux of the battle be determined," the small Jedi answered. "There we must go."

"Your highness, we can still get you to the transport before they storm the palace," Ric Olie said. "But we must hurry."

Amidala turned her gaze to Yoda, whose pale green eyes were studying her. Patient, even in the middle of an invasion.

"Wish to help Anakin, do you? Wish to uncover the truth?" Yoda asked.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation, almost too quiet to hear.

"Then come with me you shall," Yoda said, keying the doors open and walking into the small lift.

"Your highness, we still have a good chance of escaping," Panaka urged. "We can make it to the hangar bay."

Amidala stood on the cusp of the lift doors. Anakin had once told her something Obi-Wan had in turn told him.

Many paths will be presented to you. The Force will do that, it will open the doors. It is in your control which path you take, which door you step through. And all depends on that decision.

She couldn't help but feel this was one of those situations. Her decision would affect more than could be perceived at the moment, she was sure.

In the back of her mind, she felt a tugging, almost a reassuring. It was faint, but she could definitely feel it, and more importantly, comprehend it.

Anakin was on his way.

She stepped into the elevator, much to Panaka and Olie's protest.

"Head for the hangar bays, Captain. Ready the ship. If the invaders begin to reach the hangars, leave. That is an order, and do not question it. I am with a Jedi Master, and that's the safest I'm going to get right now." Her brown eyes were steel, unrepenting.

"Your highness," Panaka said, confused. "I do not agree. And I don't understand."

As the doors began to shut, Amidala gave a slight smile to her faithful companions.

"Some things travel faster than light, Captain. May the Force be with you."

The doors shut, the lift moving up.

********************************

Palpatine watched from his window. He could feel the destruction, the death, the sorrow, like some hazy breeze wafting up from below, creeping into his boots, up his legs, into his body. Lives were being snuffed out in abundance, whether it be the Coruscant fighter pilots or the Mandalorian invaders, all were dying, throwing themselves and their lives at each other like so much fodder.

And fodder they were. Whether any of them knew it, all were serving his whims, his designs. Palpatine envisioned the rivers of blood spilt, seeping into the unseen ground of Coruscant, far below the ruined spires, collecting, growing like weeds of crimson. The blood would spread all around the buildings, encompassing them, crawling to the sky, a parasitic growth. It would climax into a mighty throne which he would rule the universe from, constructed with the lives of his enemies, their very blood and their very souls.

His lips turned upward slightly, watching the monstrous black swarm descending on the Jedi Temple and Council. Soon, very soon indeed, he would be at last rid of the Jedi, his revenge, the revenge of the Sith complete. He would have to keep at least a few of them alive, to see the awe and fear in their eyes at the Sith who had conquered them, brought them down. To see his own greatness reflected in their defeated eyes.

"This would explain much."

Palpatine spun around, the voice alerting him to the intruder.

Standing before the door, dark features as placid as always, Jedi Master Mace Windu stood, arms akimbo, eyes locked on the Chancellor.

How the Jedi had gotten into his quarters, Palpatine didn't know. Especially without him feeling the Jedi's presence.

"Master Windu," he greeted, letting his features relax, smile. "Under the present circumstances, I'm afraid I can't say I'm happy to see you. It appears we are under siege. I had thought you would be at the Temple."

Windu's head was slightly bowed, his brown eyes staring at Palpatine under a brooding brow.

"All in good time, Chancellor," the Jedi Master said, slowly advancing. "Why, pray tell, are you here? If memory serves me correctly, under invasion terms, the Chancellor is always taken to what safety may be found."

Palpatine smiled with no real humor, eyes wary.

"Perhaps there is no safety," he replied.

"Indeed. It would seem there has been none for some time."

Windu had crossed the room now, but still kept his distance from the Chancellor. The two stood on opposite ends of the great seal of the Old Republic, the red and gold signet a circlet almost ten feet in circumference.

"Are you being prophetic, Master Windu?" Palpatine asked. "Living up to your title?"

Windu smiled back, tight-lipped. "I can't speak of prophesy, but I have come to a realization, one that has somehow eluded my fellow Jedi, as well as everyone else on Coruscant it would seem."

Palpatine sighed, turning to his side slightly, hand resting on his desk as he studied the battle outside the window.

"I suppose it couldn't have lasted forever," he said, hand waving dismissively. "I had hoped to be the one to reveal it, though. You know, wave the failure of your vaunted insight in your faces at the end. It would have a nice bonus, but it's really irrelevant now."

"Oh?" Windu said.

Outside, the city rocked with a mighty explosion, shaking the very foundation of Coruscant it seemed. A blast, so large it seemed to cocoon the entire sky momentarily, mushroomed, the red and orange blaze dwarfing the sun. Immediately after the explosion, the black and gray smoke began to immerse itself in the already taxed clouds, darkening the afternoon sky.

"Ah, the Jedi Temple and Council, if my eyes are to be believed," Palpatine said, smiling pleasantly. "A shame, really. Wonderful architecture, I must admit, very artfully rendered."

Windu didn't seem affected by the destruction of the temple, however.

"Not as artfully rendered as your ruse, it would appear. You're correct. We should have seen it sooner."

Palpatine laughed, his jovial, politician's laugh, hands clasping together.

"Well, you were the first, so give yourself a pat on the back, Master Windu. All the more unfortunate, however, that it is far too late. It has been far too late for some time. My empire is beginning."

Windu's brow arched up, almost as if in curiosity.

"We shall have to see about that, Sith."

The Jedi Master's cloak dropped around his feet as he drew his lightsaber from his belt.

Palpatine turned to face Windu.

"Very well, Jedi. Let it finish as it began."

********************************

As soon as they emerged from lightspeed, Anakin felt it. Cutting through the din of battle and death, panic and sorrow, her presence was like a shining beacon, a blazing star amidst a field of grayness.

"Amidala," he breathed, staring at Coruscant, the planet looming in the cockpit's canopy and viewscreens.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked, still piloting the stolen Mandalorian transport.

"Amidala is on Coruscant," Anakin replied, eyes trained on the sieged world, as if somehow trying to root out from whence came her presence. "I can feel her."

"What in the hell is she doing on Coruscant?" Senator Organa asked, standing between the two Jedi's seats.

"The same thing everyone else is, I would guess," B'dras chimed in, his first words since they had left Vrantive IV. "Trying to stay alive."

A few stray blasts careened by the canopy, as the fringes of the mighty battle going on around Coruscant's local space met them.

"You may have taken us out too close to the planet, Obi-Wan," Organa said. "It looks as if the Mandalorians control the battle."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Exactly. That should give us the easiest way into the planet itself."

Organa pondered for a moment, than nodded. "Of course. They'll identify this as the officer's ship, and escort us into the main city."

"Hopefully," Obi-Wan said, gritting his teeth as he dodged through the intensifying barrage of fire.

"We may need to know some form of code," Anakin surmised.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Obi-Wan said. "These clones have a hive like mentality to them, their thoughts are quite easy to discern, once you get past the queerness of it, of course. I'll get the code."

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan's plan was the best, and stood a good chance of success. Yet all he felt was misgiving. Why was Amidala on Coruscant?

He knew he wasn't supposed to be concerned with her. She had cut him loose, hung him out to dry. She herself had urged him to forget her, forget what they once had.

Those words rang on deaf ears now, though. His feelings were unconditional, he knew that now. No matter how badly she had hurt him, how much she mistreated him, his feelings, he loved her. It was part and parcel of who he was, what he was. His love for her defined his true self in his mind.

Now that she was in immediate danger, he knew all that. He could feel his stomach knotting in the beginnings of panic. He had to reach her.

"The palace," Anakin said suddenly.

"What of it?" Organa asked.

"That is where -- we must reach the palace," the young Jedi said, urgency in his voice.

"I'd think the Jedi Council should be our primary target and goal," B'dras said. "The palace will be tightly defended, they should be able to hold out for awhile."

"No," Anakin said, steel in his voice. "Everything depends on us getting to the palace. That is the crux, the epicenter. We must reach the palace."

Obi-Wan studied his Padawan, searching his pale blue eyes. For long moments the Jedi said nothing, only watching his young friend and student.

"Very well, Anakin. I trust your insight. We will head for the palace."

With that, the ship began to wade through the dogfight that had erupted outside of Coruscant's atmosphere.

*************************************

A battle cry so fierce and loud it actually caused the surroundings to shake, glass windows tremble to the point of breaking was issued from the Mandalorians.

Only moments before, their first gargantuan volley had ripped into the Jedi Temple and Council, destroying much of the building and leveling the buildings next to it for nearly a mile.

All around the scorched earth, trails of fire sprouted, like small waves on the sea, washing over the mile-long blackened mound that had been part of a city.

While the majority of the thousands of Mandalorians cried out in triumph as they stood before the destroyed Jedi Temple, the lead officers did not join in. Instead, they watched the ruins with intensity. While the majority of the huge building had been immolated instantly, the base of the temple, a rectangular shaped construct, easily more than a mile in length, had survived somehow. Those few Mandalorians knew enough of the Jedi to not celebrate a victory prematurely. They had landed the first blow, nothing more.

As if on cue, the front of the base began to open, lifting up, an amazingly long door that slowly merged into the top of the building.

The Mandalorian horde fell silent then, watching the scene unfold, rapt, ready.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of seconds, the door disappeared with a groan. It was obvious it hadn't been used in some time. In its place there was only darkness.

The Mandalorians shifted nervously in their ranks as they faced the open base, trying to pierce the darkness inside. An obscene silence passed over the battlefield, the only sound the crackling of the fires on the field before the base of the ruined temple, and the crunching of recently destroyed rocks settling.

"Hold formation," one of the officers called out, hand held up to keep his soldiers steady.

Jetsof steam were fired from the sides of the opening, hissing out into the smoke filled air. The Mandalorians knew that a force field had just been deactivated, the steam a signal of it being shut off.

At the front of the horde, the commanding officer turned to one of his lieutenants.

"Here it comes," he said simply, gripping his rifle anxiously.

"Here what comes?" the lieutenant asked.

In reply, the silence was ripped apart by hundreds of hissings, like a pit of snakes all roaring at once. The darkness in the temple's remains disappeared into a smearing of glows, blue, yellow, green, and purple lights igniting.

Moving out of the base of the temple, hundreds of Jedi Knights all advanced onto the still smoldering black field, lightsabers held high, the glowing blades pulsating together.

For a few brief moments, the two armies took in the others measure. The Mandalorians were far superior in numbers, but not in a millennia had there ever been this many Jedi gathered together for battle, this many sabers cutting through the black haze of smoke at once.

With no further preamble, the two sides launched themselves at each other, swallowing up the black ground as they roared into battle.

Coruscant reeled and shook.

*******************************

Despite several near misses, and the occasional Republic fighter almost taking them out, the Jedi and the senator managed to make it through Coruscant's atmosphere.

"Controls are a bit sluggish," Anakin observed, navigating the craft through a crop of clouds.

"We took a small hit to the starboard dorsal fin," Organa replied, checking the instruments. "It shouldn't matter too much, as long as we land soon."

"That may be easier said than done," Obi-Wan said, entering the cockpit.

"How do you mean?" Organa asked.

"According to the last transmission I received, the palace has been sieged already. Landing there will be quite a task, even in a Mandalorian craft. Sooner or later someone will realize we don't belong." Obi-Wan's expression was dire, taut.

"You feel it as well," Anakin said, watching his master's tense movements.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," the Jedi Knight said, sitting in the pilot's seat again.

"What is it?" Organa asked. "I'm no bloody telepath, remember?"

Obi-Wan cracked a wry grin. "Of course not, senator. My apologies. What Anakin and I refer to is a disturbance in the Force."

"The temple has been destroyed," B'dras's voice cut in. The Jedi had been silent for some time, but no seemed more alert, ready.

"Yes. Only recently. But many Jedi remain alive, the battle has only just begun."

Coming through the door, Dagan Conner appeared again. "Should we not join the battle at the temple, then?"

Obi-Wan and B'dras both turned to Anakin, questioning looks on their faces.

Lips tight, Anakin returned their stares. "Join the battle if you wish. I know where I must go."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, hand on his Padawan's shoulder. "Then we go together, Anakin."

Conner also inclined his head. "After what we've been through... I trust you, Anakin. I'm just a bit anxious."

B'dras actually laughed at that. "You'll get your fill, lad, I wouldn't worry about that."

As if on cue of his words, the ship cleared the cloud cover, bearing down upon the main city sector of Coruscant.

"My God," Organa said, voice trailing off, eyes trained on one thing.

The Jedi made no sound, but the tension was thick in the air as they all stared upon the struggle that took place where the Jedi Temple and Council once stood.

"Bring us closer," B'dras murmured, not taking his sight from the battle.

Anakin did as told, and the ship moved towards the battle.

By now, it was one monstrous gridlock of bodies, blasters firing from every direction, lightsabers moving through the ranks. The bodies of the dead were soon trampled over, made part of the blackened ground.

It was apparent that many of the Mandalorians had died in the first volley, judging by the veritable pile of corpses lining their side of the battlefield. Most likely they had opened up with blaster fire, only to have the sea of lightsabers return it all back to them.

Now, closer in, they employed their short-range weapons, such as vibro-staffs and blades, as well as small blaster pistols. The Jedi were inflicting much heavier casualties than the Mandalorians, but the invading clones were at least four times more numerous.

Conner turned to Kenobi, urgency on his face. "We cannot leave our brethren to fight this battle, Obi-Wan." He then turned to Anakin. "I trust you my friend, but I must join the fight."

"I as well," B'dras agreed, captivated by what lay below. "Every saber will matter it seems."

Organa shook his head. "I think we need to stay together, tight knit."

Obi-Wan looked from person to person, finger on his chin, blue eyes taking in everything.

"B'dras is right. We may very well be able to turn the tide of the battle."

Anakin stood firm, however. "I understand, master. But I must reach the palace."

Studying his apprentice's eyes for long moments, Obi-Wan pursed his lips. "She is there?"

"Yes," Anakin answered tersely.

"Very well," Obi-Wan said, standing up, removing his robe and pulling his saber handle free. "Take senator Organa with you and do what you must. We will join the fight."

Anakin felt a surge of misgiving well up in his stomach. So many Jedi had already died this day.

"Master..."

"It is the correct path, Anakin. You have yours, we have ours. Hopefully they lead back to each other soon."

With that, Obi-Wan gave his Padawan's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"May the Force be with you, Anakin," B'dras said, following Obi-Wan to the hatch. Conner simply nodded as he fell in with the two Jedi Knights.

"And with you," Anakin said to the closed door that stood where they had been.

*******************************

Panaka hit the ground hard, ribs feeling the marble floor dig into him.

Where his head had been moments earlier, two blasts ripped into the wall.

"Stay down!" Ric Olie shouted, peppering the corridor with his blaster rifle he had taken from a dead Mandalorian. "I'll cover you!"

Panaka crawled his way towards the other side of the hallway. His progress felt maddeningly slow as blaster bolts whizzed by his head. He actually felt the heat from several of them, so close had they come, but he eventually reached the other side.

The two had considered following their orders from their Queen for all of about two seconds. Unfortunately, they didn't know their way around the palace as Master Yoda had, and they had stumbled right into the incoming Mandalorians.

"You know, I really had better hopes for today," Olie shouted across the corridor to Panaka as they both returned fire.

"Oh? Like what?" Panaka replied, squeezing off two more blasts, catching one of the Mandalorians in the chest. The clone fell back, breast flaming as he screamed.

"I don't know, maybe one of the museums, or check out some of the new cruisers being designed at the shipyards," Olie said, cringing back as a blast tore into the wall by his head.

"Or better yet, maybe go shopping. You know, all the stylish shops are here. Get something for that Rita, she's into all the cutting edge stuff."

Panaka laughed a bit as he fired two more bursts. "You still seeing her? I thought she wasn't your type, too high maintenance or something like that."

"Yeah, but that was before I found out what she could do! Man, let me tell you..." Olie trailed off as ducked from more shots.

"Please refrain," Panaka smiled. "Your last story almost made me spit out my lunch."

"So sorry," Olie laughed back.

"How close are they now?" Panaka asked.

"Close enough."

"You ready?"

"Always."

The captain nodded. "All right. On three. One, two, three--"

From their belts, both men produced small spherical mechanical constructs, red lights flashing on them.

They both flung the metal balls directly into the Mandalorians' midst, then immediately hit the ground, hands over their heads.

Before the Mandalorians could react, the thermal detonators erupted, disintegrating them immediately and ripping apart the corridor. Windows smashed in and marble and metal were flung about, burning shrapnel.

As soon as the explosion died down, the two men rose from the ground.

"Can you hear a thing?" Olie shouted.

"What?!"

"Never mind! C'mon!" Olie waved his arm towards the other end of the hallway.

They made their way through the rubble and around another corner, where they hoped they would find an elevator.

Instead, they found Yoda.

The tiny green Jedi Master was standing in the center of hallway, looking as passive as ever. Strewn about him, however, were at least two dozen dead Mandalorians, bodies ripped apart.

"Unfortunate was your explosion," Yoda said, looking a bit upset.

Still in awe of the Jedi Master's handiwork, Panaka could only offer a garbled, "What?"

"Your detonations. Cut off our route to the Chancellor's quarters, it did. Now find another way we must."

Panaka and Olie looked at each other. "Well, we didn't really have a choice--"

"Always there is a choice. Considered all of yours, you just did not. Now come, before more time is lost."

Confused and slightly annoyed, they fell in step with Yoda.

*******************************

The very air itself was thick with the very sense of evil, menace and destruction permeating all of Anakin's senses.

Due to the massive infiltration of the Mandalorians into the palace, he had to enter the huge complex from the hangar bays. After a few minutes of dodging the occasional squad of shock troopers, Anakin had reached the maze of corridors that made up the heart of the palace's interior.

What raised the hair on his arms up even more than the sensations he perceived in the air was the absolute silence around. No blasters being fired, no explosions, no cries, not even any alarms blaring. There should have been something making noise, one way or the other.

The only marginal comfort he could draw was that he was keenly aware of her presence. He could feel her, moving through the corridors, not far from him, unhurt as far as he could ascertain.

Whether or not it was the Force, Anakin couldn't be sure, but he could feel a tingling at the edge of his perceptions whenever she was near, and had since he had first met her all those years ago. He felt her, and he was fairly sure she felt him.

Amidala? he called out, his mind stretching the short distance.

A sensation washed over him in response, like a warm wind. It was inarticulate, but he knew that it was her reply. She knew he was here. And she was glad, even relieved.

I'm on my way, wait there. He hoped she was in a safe area, where she could hide for the few minutes it would take him to reach her level.

Again the sensation returned, the very feeling of her consciousness brushing past his making his heart pump a little faster. Only he could feel a sense of negativity in her reply this time, and he could tell she was still moving.

Apparently, whatever Amidala was doing, she could not arrest her progress. Fine, then. He would just have to quicken his pace and catch up with her.

Focusing his abilities with the Force, Anakin began moving through the hallways, using her presence as a beacon of sorts. He was moving quite fast, zigzagging through corners and turns, perceptions alerted for any possible threat.

Those perceptions failed him as he rounded yet another corner. Anakin screeched to a halt as he met face to face with a full complement of Mandalorians.

Chief among them, a towering warrior, wearing scarlet armor and a sweeping black campaign cloak turned to the Jedi. He bore the marks of rank, higher than any Anakin had seen before.

Almost disdainfully, the Mandalorian general turned away, making a small gesture with his hand towards Anakin.

On cue, the rest of the warriors leveled their blaster rifles at the wide-eyed Padawan.

"Uh-oh..."

*****************************

Tarkin shook his head, obviously disappointed in the report. The young comm tech bit his lower lip, knowing very well how little the General took disappointment.

"That palace should have been taken hours ago!" he seethed, hands clasped in fists. "What of the Jedi?"

"That battle continues, sir," the tech replied.

"Blast it. Blast it!" Tarkin said between clenched teeth.

"Sir..." the tech begun, obviously very nervous. "I... don't understand. You... expect the palace to be taken?"

Tarkin sighed. He had hand-picked his bridge crew, most of them veterans of the Naboo siege, but not all of his men were part of his and Palpatine's plans. Fortunately, that wouldn't matter in a little while.

"Ensign," Tarkin said, leaning over the tech, voice frosty, "You will have to forgive me. I was unaware that the commander of the Republic military forces had to clear his motives with his bridge techs."

The ensign immediately looked down, gulping.

"I-I, uh, didn't mean that, s-sir, bu--"

"But what, ensign?" Tarkin cut him off. "You felt you might have some brilliant insight that could bring the Republic to glory? That you might have thought of something a legion of your superiors had somehow over-looked? That you were more competent that the command chain of our military forces? Than me?" Tarkin's voice had risen with every question, indignation turning to borderline fury.

"N-no, sir, I-I just--" the tech stammered.

"I don't care what you meant, ensign, and I don't have the time to entertain it. Suffice it to say that I fully expect you to execute whatever orders I give without question, no matter what you might think about them. Do you understand?" The General's ice blue eyes pierced into the young officer.

"Yes sir," came the meek reply.

"Good," Tarkin said, straightening back up. "Then order the fleet to move into firing position and lock all batteries on the coordinates of the Jedi Temple. We'll end this once and for all," he growled.

Even as his crew began to execute their orders, one of the navigation officers cried out in alarm.

"Sir, ships coming out of hyperspace, off our port side! Too many to count, sir!"

Tarkin swiveled to his side to watch out of the nearest observation glass.

True to the tech's words, ships were appearing by the dozens, all roaring right at Coruscant.

The Republic main fleet.

Tarkin quickly called up the radar report on his console and saw that the Mandalorian fleet was already scrambling to meet the Republic armada, battlecruisers turning to face the incoming threat.

They would do it alone. Tarkin knew the odds of this one.

"Pull our ships away from the battle, ensign," he ordered. "Take us to a safe distance on the planet's dark side."

As his orders were being carried out, he managed a tight smile. If things were going even close to plan on the planet, all Bel Iblis would be coming home to was the new galactic Empire.

************************************

From every direction the cacophony of blasters, explosions, screams, grunts and battle cries assaulted Obi-Wan's ears. The stench of the battlefield, all blood, oil, sweat and death was bad enough, not to mention the few glimpses he could catch of his surroundings, but the sound was all encompassing.

Ducking under another swipe of a vibro-staff, Obi-Wan bore his lightsaber through the Mandalorian's stomach, cutting through armor, cloth, bone and flesh. Even as the warrior slid to the ground dying, Obi-Wan had pulled his blade free, cutting through another enemy who had taken his comrade's place.

He had lost count long ago just how many of the Mandalorians he had killed, and yet they continued coming, wave after wave of the faceless warriors. Even more disconcerting was the fact that he had seen far too many of his fellow Jedi meet their ends, some of them friends since his childhood at the Temple.

Oddly enough, Obi-Wan never found war the right occurrence to exercise revenge. It was far too extreme. How could one harbor any emotion in their hearts, good or ill, when forced to wade into a veritable sea of human wreckage, solely for the purpose of shedding blood. Even a Jedi must de-sensitize themselves, cut off their facets of reason, or they could tread the line of the Dark side dangerously.

So, as he ripped through two more clone warriors, Obi-Wan felt nothing, only the pressing need to hold the onslaught back. His almost apathetic state allowed him a rare communion with the Force, not unlike when he meditated. He could feel the stirrings on every side, and reacted accordingly.

A surge from behind told him of a new threat, and he spun on his heel, saber at the ready. A trio of Mandalorians had finished off one of the Jedi, an alien Padawan, and realized that Obi-Wan was doing far more damage than most. As with any pack mentality, they had identified the strongest warrior, and would now attempt to take him down en masse.

Obi-Wan had different ideas, though. Outstretching his open hand towards the rushing group, he thrust it out viciously, focusing his grip of the Force through the gesture.

The wave of power caught the Mandalorians full on, smashing into them like a steel wall and sending them careening in different directions, broken.

Even as he dealt with them, Obi-Wan caught a stray thought from one of the warriors, a sense of motive, a plan. They had been a feint.

Dropping to one knee quickly, he still felt the vibro-staff tear through his shoulder, shredding flesh and bone. As the agony spiked in the wound, like fiery coals on bare skin, Obi-Wan thrust his saber backwards forcefully, both hands pushing the handle.

A guttural moan of death came from behind him as he buried the saber to the hilt in the Mandalorian's chest. The hand which had held the staff fell to the side, limp, the weapon which had done the damage to the Jedi dropping to the ground.

With his shoulder burning in pain, Obi-Wan didn't exercise the precision he usually would when removing his saber, and simply ripped it through the rest of his attacker, jaggedly halfing him.

Two hands, slick with blood, gripped him by the shoulders, helping him up. Obi-Wan grunted as he got to his feet, his own blood flowing down his torn sleeve.

Dagan Conner pulled the older Jedi Knight along with him, away from the center of the battle, swinging his brilliant yellow lightsaber in a reckless defense.

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan shouted as he tried to push the pain of his wound from his mind.

"We can't hold!" the young Padawan replied as the two began to scramble up the side of a newly-made hill.

So fierce and intense had the battle been so far that the two combatant forces had worn the blackened ground down, creating a bowl, an indention into the earth. Conner was now pulling Obi-Wan out of the bowl, up the far side hill.

Obi-Wan looked behind him and saw dozens of other Jedi following them. They had struck down thousands of Mandalorians, easily five times their number, but it wasn't enough. Many Jedi had died already, and if they stayed on the battleground, they all would.

As blaster bolts whizzed by their heads, Conner turned wide eyes to his elder.

"We must regroup! Where?"

Obi-Wan's breathing was certainly labored, but he could feel his clarity returning as the Force helped him deal with his wound.

"The palace!" he shouted, indicating the massive building only blocks away. "We'll make our stand there!"

The surviving Jedi made their way towards the palace, bloodthirsty Mandalorians dogging their heels.

**************************

On the first strike, all the glass in the penthouse had shattered immediately, as well as many of the electronic consoles erupting in small explosions. The carpet had furrowed up and the decorative wood beneath splintered beneath the Jedi Master's feet.

Mace Windu's response was no less impressive, though, a concentrated bolt of pure energy, ripping into Palpatine's defense. The traitorous chancellor's parry dispersed the blow around him, carving up the floor as shrapnel wood chips littered his royal blue robes.

With both parties having taken each other's measure, they stared at one another for long seconds. Mace's deep brown eyes bored into Palpatine's, and the chancellor's lip curled in a snarl. The millennia old feud of the Sith and Jedi was as potent as ever, with two masters preparing to battle to the death.

"You can't win, you know," Palpatine said, forcing a dastardly smile.

"Any particular reason?" Windu replied, stepping around the ruined floor before him, saber still ignited and humming.

"This moment has been prophesied, my foolish Jedi. If you and your now dead council hadn't been so blind, perhaps you would have seen it."

All around Palpatine, dark purple energy danced about his form, crackling in anticipation of release. Like tiny strikes of lightning, the power writhed about his hands, some of it jumping into the ground and sparking onto the carpet.

"You see, the balance of the Force must be served, Windu. For too long have the Jedi coated the universe in your ignorance. Now, the power of the Dark side, the might of the Sith shall change all that." He held a clenched fist out before him, trembling with stored up energy surging in his palm.

"I will hold the worlds of this Republic you have created in my fist, squeezing when I wish, and then fashioning them in my image, my mold! Every creature, sentient or not, will bow at my feet as I hold sway over this existence as the God that I am!"

Windu's expression was still of measured casualness, almost boredom.

"You're gravely mistaken, Palpatine. No one hand can guide the universe, no single fist can hold all in terror." The Jedi Master's eyebrow arched up then. "You do not credit my fellows and I enough. We have foreseen much. Even if you momentarily succeed, in doing so you seal your own fate. Remember this Palpatine... from the maw of your victory will be spawned the means to your defeat. Those worlds will slip through your fingers far easier than they were every gathered."

Palpatine's lips were a thin, even line, full of hate. Then, they formed a crooked grin.

"Is that so, Jedi Master? Let us see if you do indeed see as much as you say. Let us find that which is in my hand!"

The fist unclenched, the bolts of energy screaming out towards Windu, spiderwebs of evil power.

The Jedi hastily raised his saber to the attack, catching the energy on his blade. When it began to crawl up the saber, towards his hands, Windu spun his blade about, wrapping the power around it like cloth.

Unfortunately for him, it was too much energy for the saber to handle. Just seconds before it detonated, Windu heard the crystals in his saber handle begin to crack under the strain. Hurling the weapon to the side, he dove hard to his left as the lightsaber exploded.

Palpatine cackled as the Jedi Master slid across the marble portion of the executive suite. Windu came up in a crouch, cuts on his clean-shaven pate bleeding freely.

"I was so hoping this would at least prove entertaining, my dear Master Windu," Palpatine taunted. "Perhaps if your little green colleague survives long enough he can prove more fun."

As he moved closer, the chancellor fired off short burst of the purple energy from fingers, pushing the Jedi back towards the wall.

Windu was prepared, however. Once Palpatine's feet struck the marble, the Jedi Master truly flexed his muscles, extending his will into the floor, like a giant pike.

Beneath Palpatine, the marble floor erupted, ripping open with a scream, and the Sith plunged down the hole, crying out in surprised rage.

As his foe disappeared, Windu stood up, wiping the blood from his head with his sleeve. Even as he collected himself, though, he readied himself. He knew the Sith wasn't close to done.

A flash of precognitive warning struck the Jedi Master, and he focused his power about him like a cocoon, levitating himself off of the ground.

Even as he did, the entire floor of the large room began to shake profusely, marble, wood and steel being torn open. All the furniture in the suite started to rip in two and the very foundation was trembling.

With one monstrous roar, the whole floor shredded apart, like fabric being pulled, and it too fell to the next level down. Windu maintained his hold on his concentration, now completely suspended in mid-air.

Across from him, the Jedi Master found Palpatine levitating as well, facing him.

With a fierce growl, the Sith gestured towards his foe, and chunks of metal debris from below flew at Windu.

In response, Windu pointed is arm towards Palpatine, and more wreckage was hurled at the Sith. The two continued simultaneously animating shrapnel and using the Force to deflect that which had been thrown against them. One hand launching their attacks, the other diffusing the other's.

Frustrated at the stalemate, Palpatine grunted, an inhuman sound. He focused his power about him again, energy flaring almost white about his clenched fists, and he flung himself through the air.

Anticipating the Sith's move, Windu brought his palms together, fingers pointing at his foe. His own energy began to animate about his arms, glowing bright green.

Letting a slight moan loose, as the strain was daunting, even for a Jedi Master, Windu flew at the Sith, the two meeting half way. Their palms slapped together, faces only inches apart. The dark purple energy pored from Palpatine, only to meet the surging ribbons of bright green power.

All around the two floating warriors, their respective energies wrapped around each other, warring for an advantage.

Under thick white brows, Palpatine's eyes burned with hatred.

"One of us will break, Jedi!" he hissed, straining.

"That much is certain," Windu responded, laboring to speak as well.

Determined, they both intensified their output, pouring power into each other.

*****************************

Every corner he turned, Bail Organa found a squad of Mandalorians waiting for him, it seemed, weapons ready.

He couldn't help feeling splitting up from Jedi Skywalker was a bad idea, now. Especially since all he had was a single blaster pistol. Against the clone warriors' armor, the small gun was little help.

Wasn't politics supposed to be turning the other cheek? he asked himself, rhetorically of course.

A bolt of crimson energy blew apart the wall section near his head, where he thought he had found suitable shelter. Four more tore into the spot he had just fled, the blasts dogging his trail.

Firing blindly as he jetted across the hallway, Organa felt a stray bolt graze his heel. Already slowed by his injury he sustained on Vrantive IV, his threshold for pain was dropping quickly.

He rolled along the slick floor, using a small bulkhead for cover for the moment. Surprisingly enough, he found it already occupied.

"Don't even twitch," a voice said, as the steel of a blaster barrel pressed against his temple.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered, with a sheepish grin.

"Put your gun down, Ric, it's the senator," another voice said.

As the gun lowered, Organa turned to see two similarly uniformed men crouched beside him. Both were helpers of the Naboo queen, Amidala, if he recalled.

"Apologies, senator," Olie said, shrugging.

"Can't be too careful when in a firefight I suppose," the senator replied. "Please tell me you have a way out of this."

Captain Panaka, Amidala's chief bodyguard, smiled. "Actually, we do. Just wait a moment."

Two more shots struck the ground near Organa's feet, tearing up the floor.

"That may prove difficult if I'm dead," Organa said, pulling back farther behind the bulkhead.

"Happen that will not," a gravely voice said suddenly, a tiny form appearing from between the two Naboo soldiers.

Yoda stepped over Organa's legs and walked out into the open hallway, almost lackadaisically. As he did, the small Jedi Master's eyes closed slowly.

"Uh, Master Yoda--" Organa began, but he was cut off by the roar of the Mandalorians' first volley, dozens of blaster shots screaming at Yoda.

With apparent ease and calm, the diminutive alien moved his hand in a circle, spinning the shots away from him, back at those who had fired them.

In a matter of seconds, a full squad littered the floor, smoking holes in their tunics. The last four decided discretion to be the greater valor and turn and began to run.

Yoda wasn't being merciful, however. The green eyes shot open, intense and powerful. His taloned hand outstretched and gestured in a swift, harsh line, as if cutting something. With no visible reason, the retreating enemy immediately collapsed, as if struck down.

Beside Organa, he felt Olie shiver. The power of the Jedi Master was daunting, especially to those who had never witnessed it.

Slowly, Yoda turned back to the trio. The aura of pure power was still about him, but more reserved again.

"That which we seek is there," he announced, pointing to a door at the end of the corridor.

"I thought we were trying to reach the chancellor's suite," Panaka said. "That's where the queen is, right?"

Yoda gave no answer, only began walking towards the door.

Muttering a frustrated curse, Panaka followed, Olie and Organa coming behind.

"Enjoying yourself, senator?" Olie cracked, wry grin flashing.

"Oh, certainly. Glad I didn't go on vacation like I was supposed to," Organa replied dryly.

"You would have missed all this wonderful chaos," Olie laughed. He put his hands up, palms upturned, as if weighing something. "Hmm. Tropical weather, lovely scenery, lovely women, lovely drinks... orrrrr.... hordes of demented clone warriors wanting only to rip your lungs out?"

Organa scoffed, shrugging. "Who needs lovely scenery anyway? Can't beat all the pretty explosions, now can you?"

The two's banter was cut off as they stepped through the door.

The room was a massive communications center, at least eight over-sized screens showing scenes of the engulfing battle. Shouts and hisses of static came from dozens of speakers, as well as battle orders and reports.

Lying on the floor, next to what had been his chair, the communications officer was face down, a deep red stain on the floor from where he had shot himself.

"Knew I was coming did he," Yoda said, standing over the corpse. "Warned was he."

Organa was deeply confused. "What are talking about? He's a Republic officer!"

"And a traitor I surmise," Panaka said, standing by the speakers. "This is the Mandalorian frequency. He was letting them in on the Republic force's moves."

"He couldn't let a Jedi get into his mind," Olie said. "So he blew it out. Dedicated."

"Damned is more like it," Organa seethed, resisting the urge to spit on the dead traitor.

"The fleet is here," Yoda announced, watching the main screen.

True to the Jedi's words, the massive and mighty main Republic fleet filled the local space of Coruscant, attempting to take back its own planet. The Mandalorian fleet was trying to retaliate, but was severely overmatched.

A wedge of Republic ships was making an extremely dangerous gambit, a diamond formation attempting to break straight through into orbit. Unfortunately for them, that was the heaviest occupied area of Mandalorians.

"What are they doing?" Olie wondered. "They're getting hammered, pushing too fast."

"That's Bel Iblis," Organa realized, spotting the Fearless at the head of the wedge. With recognition came realization as well.

"It doesn't matter if they defeat the Mandalorian fleet. That's inevitable. But they can't beat them before they've totally taken the palace and all the principals. Then it won't matter. They'll have to surrender," the senator said direly.

"He's trying to punch through now, then," Olie said, obviously shocked. "There's no way he'll be able to. Not even a chance. Even if they survive, it'll take too long."

"Dying are the Jedi," Yoda said suddenly, intense sadness in his voice, the first real emotion they had heard from him.

They all turned their stares to a side monitor, one which showed the front steps and columns of the palace's main entrance. A few dozen Jedi were moving in and out of the mighty columns, using them from cover and dodging and deflecting the volleys coming from the Mandalorian horde advancing.

It was a valiant last stand, the proud warriors making the Mandalorians pay dearly for every step they took, but nonetheless they came.

"Another doomed effort, I fear," Panaka said. "Far too many heroes will die today."

"I don't play the martyr role very well, Captain," Organa bit out, frustrated. "You can also add hopeless idealist to that fault as well. We're not through yet."

Olie laughed, darker than before. "I'd love to believe you, senator, but I can't help but feel the light at the end of the tunnel coming up fast. I say we go out and die with the Jedi, with honor."

Panaka pulled his blaster out again. "You can ask for no more in life than to die with honor and bravery."

"Obsessed with death you are," Yoda said. "Correct the senator is. Done we are not." The small Jedi Master turned to the men. "Contact General Bel Iblis we must," he said, a hint of urgency in his voice.

When they hesitated, trying to discern Yoda's motive, the Jedi's jaw clenched and the room seemed to shake for a moment.

"Now."

Panaka and Organa were immediately at the controls of the comm unit, hands working feverishly.

For long minutes they sped through hundreds of frequencies, each one fruitless. Frustrated and exasperated, Organa turned to the Jedi Master.

"There's just way too much traffic. Both sides are jamming and counter-jamming in dozens of sectors. With out a decryption of the Fearless�s code itself, there's no way we can reach them."

Yoda's eyes narrowed, thinking again. He was hiding it far better than the rest, but even the wise old creature was growing desperate.

Olie's head shot up, as if struck. He began to pull at his belt, yanking off several devices.

"What are you doing?" Panaka asked.

"Where the hell is the damn thing?" Olie growled, sifting through his pockets.

"Where's what?" Organa said.

"The blasted piece of-- yes!" he shouted, holding aloft a small metal device, blinking with red lights.

"It's a long shot, but it's all I can think of," Olie said, triggering the controls.

"By God, it just might," Panaka said, smiling, a glimmer of hope at last.

Yoda nodded, as if understanding.

Organa grunted, fed up. "Am I the only who has no clue just what in the hell is going on?!"

********************************

Amidala was breathing quite hard when she finally reached the doors to the chancellor's suite. She had to avoid quite a few stray Mandalorians storming the castle, but fortunately the remaining palace security was fighting bravely, holding them back, at least for the time being.

She could feel Anakin's thoughts from below, as he raced for her. He broadcast reassuring things, and pleaded for her to wait. Also in those thoughts was a signal of love, pure, unconditional love. A signal she tried her hardest to return.

She felt a mix of embarrassment and shame at how she had treated Anakin, how she had fooled herself from her own feelings. Sabe's words on Naboo rung true. She was her own woman, her own queen. Part of that individuality was Anakin being beside her, she knew now. She was not whole without him, had been incomplete in her life until she met him all those years ago on Tatooine.

She just hoped she got to tell him that. Because, unconditional love or not, she knew she couldn't wait for him. The same urging which had led her to come to Coruscant in the first place was still tugging at her awareness. She must make it into the suite, and she had to do it now, she knew. How, she couldn't tell, but the urgency was powerful.

Drawing her blaster and breathing deeply, Amidala sent a simple message to Anakin.

I love you, she said, hoping he understood her, could discern her wordless thought.

With that, she kicked open the door, blaster out, and barreled in.

Only to find pure chaos.

The entire floor separating the two levels of the suite had been destroyed, the wreckage all about. Where she would have ordinarily seen the ceiling, a nova burst of pure energy flared, green and purple ribbons of power washing over everything. Her eyes immediately began to water, the power as bright as the sun it seemed, and far hotter. Before it became too much and she had to avert her eyes, she made out two silhouettes inside the burst of power, pressing against each other.

A chunk of stray debris, part of the wall it seemed, crashed by her head, making her dive for the floor. Missiles of wreckage flew about the room as if alive themselves, caught up in the gale of the furious maelstrom, whipping back and forth and smashing together.

Jagged bolts of power fired off of the epicenter of the clash, striking the ground by her. One caught the floor next to her boot and she felt a powerful shock.

What in the name --? she wondered, jumping back as more stray lines of energy landed by her.

Even as she tried to figure out exactly what she was going to do, the lift at the far side of the room opened. Out stepped four Mandalorians, rifles ready.

Amidala barely paid the other three soldiers any attention, so riveted upon their obvious leader was she.

Standing nearly two meters in height, the warrior was clad in crimson armor over black clothing. A sweeping campaign cloak of deep blue hung from his massive shoulders, whipping about in the gale. On the sides of his dome-like helmet of black and red, a trio of pure obsidian spikes jutted out from each side, long and very sharp. The only sign of expression on the fierce mask were two neon green eyes blazing under a metallic brow, searching the suite.

Seemingly unconcerned with the flashes of energy coming from above, the fearsome looking Mandalorian walked further towards the center of the floor, stepping over the wreckage as he did.

Turning to his subordinates, he nodded, then drew a blaster rifle from his back. Pointing it upwards, towards the area where the intense battle was happening, he seemed to be aiming.

Amidala readied her pistol. Odds were that one of the two combatants above was on her side, and the Mandalorian was readying to fire up at them. She had a good inkling which one the Mandalorian would be shooting at.

Before she could react, another form shot out of the open lift, coming from below, it seemed.

Catching the Mandalorians by complete surprise, Anakin flipped over the back three soldiers and landed between them and the leader.

The young Jedi flashed his boot out and caught the Mandalorian leader on the head, knocking him back. Even as he did, his blue saber flared to life, cutting down the nearest warrior.

Extending his bare hand out towards the other, Anakin used a wedge of the Force to smash into his enemy, flinging him back like a rag doll. Simultaneously, he blocked the remaining Mandalorian warrior's vibro-staff.

With an upthrust, Anakin pushed the staff up. As he did, the Jedi spun around completely, blue blade slashing through the Mandalorian's midsection.

The two halves of the warrior fell around Anakin's feet as he turned to face the leader, who had gotten back to his feet.

The few seconds the two combatants took to appraise each other felt like an eternity to Amidala, as if in slow motion. All around them, strikes of purple lightning flashed along with waves of green power, washing over everything. She could feel the tension of both battles make its way into her blood, causing the hair on her arms to stand up.

Then, without any further preamble, the two warriors rushed each other, so fast she was barely able to register it.

Anakin's lightsaber met the Mandalorian's long staff, which was glaring with kinetic energy at both ends, the two weapons clashing into each other impossibly swiftly.

The Jedi was faster, but so powerful were the Mandalorian's blows that Anakin had to choose his strikes carefully, pace himself. He had learned from his clash with the Sith two months ago.

Back and forth they went, one pressing, the other retreating, then vice versa. Amidala briefly entertained trying to pick the Mandalorian off, but they were moving far too fast and switching positions too quickly for her to be accurate. Their constant shifting was partly due to the stray bolts of energy from the battle above, the warriors having to sidestep and leap over blasts as they dueled.

Anakin was the first to guess wrong, a bolt of purple lightning catching his thigh.

Howling in pain, he reflexively clutched his leg, teeth gritting. Taking his opening, the Mandalorian battle king batted aside Anakin's saber and whipped his gauntleted fist across the Padawan's face.

Even as Anakin fell to the ground, the Mandalorian pressed into him, boot digging into his chest, lifting him up. He was the Mandalorian's Battle King, and had to earn that rank. Unlike the Sith Anakin had defeated before, this warrior wasn't underestimating the Jedi. Both fists clutching the middle handle of the vibro-staff, the Mandalorian pushed aside Anakin's hastily raised saber, and rammed the metal handle into his forehead.

Before the blow had even been landed, Amidala had begun to race across the room. As she was hardly being stealthy in her sprint towards the fierce warrior, the Mandalorian turned to her. She fired off a quick succession of blasts, all fairly accurate, pushing the Battle King away from Anakin.

One blast caught him on the breastplate, knocking the Mandalorian from his feet. As she did this, Amidala dove behind a fallen table. This proved to be a sound maneuver as the villain's response was immediate.

The vibro-staff ripped through the thick wood of the table, missing her head by centimeters, a few strands of hair flying through the air after being cut.

She rolled around from the destroyed shelter and saw that the Mandalorian's rifle was on the floor, too far away from him. He was weaponless.

Remembering something Captain Panaka had told her about facing a superior foe, Amidala rushed the Mandalorian, firing off blasts from her pistol as she did. The Battle King deflected the blasts with his forearm armor, so she flung her pistol at his head as he neared him.

Right as she reached the Mandalorian, and his swinging arm lashed out, Amidala dove hard to the ground, rolling under his legs. With both of her hands she gripped his left ankle, holding it as tight as she could.

Throwing all of her weight into it, she thrust her boot heel at his right inside thigh with as much force as she could muster. She heard a bone crack in his leg as the Mandalorian howled like some crazed beast.

Throwing herself away from the wounded warrior, Amidala rolled to her feet, drawing her long dagger from her belt, rushing in for his throat.

Even wounded, though, he was far too fast for her. With his right hand he swept across her arm, knocking the dagger loose as her whole arm seemed to go numb. Then his left fist came around, catching her on the forehead, snapping her neck back viciously.

Amidala fell to the ground, holding onto consciousness by the skin off her teeth, tasting blood.

The only thing that kept her awake was the sudden snap-hiss and flare of brilliant blue light from the side.

As her hearing cleared she heard Anakin match the Mandalorian's ferocity in his battle cry as he bore back into his foe.

******************************

"We must hold!" a voice cried through the din. From whence it came, Obi-Wan couldn't be sure, but the sentiments were obvious.

The remaining Jedi zigzagged through the dozens of columns that stood in front of the massive stairs which led to the front entrance of the palace.

With their smaller numbers, they had gone to guerrilla warfare tactics, picking and choosing when to strike at the on coming Mandalorians. The clone army was advancing, but slowly. An obscene amount of their shock troopers had paid the ultimate price for attempting to make it up the stairs, the Jedi dealing out death quickly and mercilessly.

Such were their numbers, however, that the Mandalorians could afford such a wasteful tactic. Even as more of their corpses piled up on the stairs, they crept closer and closer.

Sending one of their blaster shots right back into one of the warrior's chest, Obi-Wan leapt behind another column. He was breathing hard, his injury severely impairing his stamina and abilities.

Not that it mattered in the long scheme anyway. He might just die that much later. As bravely as the Jedi were fighting, Obi-Wan knew their time was short. The Mandalorians were coming even faster know, huge batteries from ground cannons blasting through the columns, flushing the Jedi out.

Beside him, Dagan Conner was preparing another run across the stairs. The young Padawan was also panting, as well as bleeding from several small wounds. Yet his bright green eyes still flared with intensity. There would be no giving up this day.

"We may wish to make one last charge, Dagan," Obi-Wan said. "The fiends are pushing us out into the open anyway. A counter charge would finish us off, but perhaps we might be able to do them serious damage, or slow them down further."

Conner shook his head tiredly. "Doubtful, Master."

Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "I agree. But not definite. The rest of our options are all definite in their ending."

The young man swallowed hard, understanding their fate. Then, gathering strength, he nodded.

"All right, get ready. I'll let the others know," Kenobi instructed as he opened his mind.

Before he could transmit anything, though, another broadcast came.

Hazy and grainy, like a poor hologram display, the ghostly form of Yoda appeared, staring at Obi-Wan.

"Master Yoda?"

"Listen shall you, Obi-Wan," Yoda's form said. "A plan have we."

Obi-Wan and Dagan listened intently as the Jedi Master explained. They both concluded it was a severe long shot, but they also agreed it was their only chance.

As Yoda's astral projection faded, Obi-Wan turned to Conner.

"Hold here," he said. "I'll tell the others what Yoda plans to do."

*******************************

Anakin gripped the Mandalorian Battle King by the clasp under his helmet chin. Throwing his full strength behind the blow, he rammed his foe's head against the solid steel wall, feeling the clone shiver as the back of his helmet started to crack.

Reacting swifter than Anakin would have thought, the Mandalorian buried his knee in the Jedi's gut, doubling him over. He then gripped the smaller man by the sleeves and tossed him to the side roughly.

Anakin was up in a flash, rushing the Battle King saber ignited. No longer in such close quarters, the massive warrior brought his vibro-staff in to play again. As the two began to exchange thrusts and parries, it was obvious that the Mandalorian's broken leg was a serious liability, along with the fact that Anakin was simply a better swordsman.

Still, the warrior's defense was solid, and Anakin was only able to press him back towards the wall again, the two trading furiously fast blows, as well as decking and dodging.

Vision cleared at last, Amidala sprang into action. The discarded blaster rifle was lying on the floor, away from the two combatants.

Minding the random blasts of energy from above, the young queen scooped up the rifle. She noticed it wasn't a particularly powerful weapon, and might not be able to penetrate the Mandalorian Battle King's thick armor. After all, Anakin had already scored two slashes on it, and it had held up for the most part.

Nearing the battle, she closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she was able.

Anakin, the corner, she tried to say. Move him to that corner.

Whether or not the Jedi understood or not, she didn't know, but he slowly began to push the Mandalorian back towards the corner. The last standing construct, the chancellor's personal communication center was tucked into the corner, still operating if she was correct.

Anakin pushed into the Mandalorian's body, saber pulled the vibro-staff away from his enemy's body. As he did, the young Jedi leapt in the air, spinning around as he did, and landing a powerful kick directly under the Battle King's chest armor.

The blow lifted the clone from his feet and pushed him back a good ten meters into the comm center.

As soon as the Mandalorian struck the front controls, Amidala crouched and took aim. Lining up the electronic sighting up, she fired a single burst right into the heart of the hub.

Even as the Battle King was struggling to his feet, burst of sparks began to emanate from the screens, hissing prophetically.

With a deafening clap of thunder, the entire structure exploded. The initial blast once again lifted the Mandalorian from his feet, as if swept by a angry tide, and along with literal tons of debris and shrapnel flung him against the nearest wall.

The detonation let loose other fragile structures near where the Mandalorian had landed, the flaming structures toppling atop his already still form.

Leaping over the pile of smoking rubble, Anakin moved between two more strikes of the energy from the struggle above.

Amidala rose from her knee and slung the rifle around her shoulder as Anakin ran over to her.

"We have to find out what to do about--" she started, but was cut off as he gripped her by her shoulders and pressed his lips against hers.

"Mmmmmrrfff!" she tried to say as he drew her closer.

Despite the fires blazing all about her, the bolts of pure energy cascading to the floor, the armada of conquering Mandalorians beating down the palace gates, Amidala felt herself melt against the young Jedi, opening her mouth and kissing him back.

She slipped her arms under his, and felt his fingers begin to sift through her hair, cradling the back of her head.

After what seemed an all too brief time, they split, though both were breathing hard.

"Anakin, I--" she began.

"No need for words," he said. "I know. So do you."

She smiled up at him, seeing the brilliant light reflect in his clear blue eyes.

The light which was coming from the raging battle above their heads.

Catching the change on her expression, Anakin released her and began to address the situation.

He had little time to contemplate though, as the lift door was blasted open suddenly.

"Mandalorians! They've taken the palace!" Amidala shouted as she swung the rifle from her shoulder to her hands.

As the first warrior burst from the doors, she blasted him through the helmet, sparks and blood showering as the Mandalorian collapsed.

Anakin ignited his saber again, blue blade immediately fending off the retaliations coming their way.

Adopting a hasty strategy, Amidala crouched by Anakin's leg, firing off bursts towards onrushing warriors, her aim proving more than competent. As she did, he protected them from the responding blasts. They hoped it would make actually getting out of the lift nigh impossible.

They both knew the Mandalorians would keep coming, though.

****************************

Above the Jedi and the Queen's struggle, a far more intense one raged.

For absurdly long minutes, Mace Windu and Palpatine had been grappling, pouring every ounce of power they could muster into each other. Both Jedi and Sith were showing obvious signs of exhaustion, blood coming from their nostrils and clenched teeth beginning to tremble.

Deciding to force the issue, Palpatine summoned all his reserves into one scintillating pike of pure, raw energy.

Reaching back, as if hefting a monstrous weight, the Sith drove the wedge of power into Mace Windu.

The Jedi Master reeled, purple shards of lighting running all along his body as he howled.

Just as Palpatine began laughing, however, Windu's howl turned to one of triumph. He threw both of his arms out wide, pushing to the walls as he forced the pike of energy from his body. The power dispersed from his form, and for that brief moment, the space between Palpatine and Windu was clear.

Green power wrapped around his arm, the Jedi Master lashed out, the back of his fist viciously striking the Sith.

So powerful was the blow that it sent Palpatine flying backwards like a rocket, across the room, and then smashing into the wall with a brutal sound. The metal of the reinforced wall crumpled about his body as he struck. Then, the broken form of Palpatine fell to the ground below.

Utterly spent, Windu fell from above as well, landing ungracefully and collapsing.

********************************

"There goes the Nova," Panaka said, watching the screen. "Bel Iblis's force is getting carved up."

True to the captain's words, the wedge of Republic warships trying to break into Coruscant's atmosphere was down to two vessels, and they were both taking serious hits.

"There's no way he's making it through," Organa murmured. "And we won't have time to pull anything off in a few minutes."

For his part, Yoda still stood in front of the monitor, eyes closed, meditating it seemed.

"Where the blazes is Olie anyway?" Organa demanded, frustration eating up from inside. He was watching the Republic, the Old Republic, the only way which had existed for as long as anyone could recall, topple in one day.

A loud squeaking sound was his answer from outside. Olie came sprinting in, blaster drawn and smoking. A red blotch of blood oozed from his arm, but he seemed otherwise fine.

Coming hot on the pilot's heels, a small dome shaped droid was rolling for all it was worth, blue and silver paneling showing some recent scorch marks.

"An R2 unit?" Organa said. "Where did you find that?"

"This-" Olie said, patting the droid's top, "is R2-D2, and he was sitting around quite bored on our transport."

"So the beckon call worked, then," Panaka surmised.

"Mostly. He wasn't real happy to wade through the sieging Mandalorians, but they didn't seem to care much about droids. Until he got to this level they didn't even fire at him. I took care of that, though," he said, holding his pistol up.

"Who cares?!" Organa shouted, pushing the droid over to the console. "Can he get through to Bel Iblis?"

"One way to find out," Olie said, as R2 extended a cylindrical arm from one of its panels on its torso. The mechanical arm jacked into the main computer, and immediately began to spin, the small screen next to the controls scrolling through hundreds of separate diagnostics.

Organa watched two of the massive screens above, riveted by what he saw. On one, the Republic fleet was beginning to tear through the Mandalorian fleet, dozens of holed and flaming cruisers careening off into space lifeless. Below it, though, one of the two remaining Republic cruisers burst into explosions, the bridge catching a turbo laser blast.

"Better make it quick!" Organa shouted.

From the other screen, the full force of the Mandalorians had reached the steps of the palace and where climbing, step by step. More and more bodies of Jedi were beginning to litter the steps along with the dead clone warriors.

Panaka slammed his fist against the console. "Dammit, we're running out of time!" Outside the comm center's door, blaster bolts began to fire in the room.

"They've found us!" Olie shouted, running back to the door, blaster already spewing return fire.

Panaka followed close behind the Naboo pilot, blaster also firing through the door. The two took up flanking position around the door, ducking then firing.

"Organa!" Panaka called. "Get over here, there's too many of them!"

Just as the senator drew his pistol and began to run over, the R2 unit began warbling excitedly, tipping back and forth on its mechanical legs.

On the screen, the entire diagnostic make up of the flagship Fearless was scrolling down.

"He got it!" Organa screamed. "He got it!"

"Then get on it already!" Panaka roared back.

As the senator quickly punched in the decryption code to get into the Fearless's direct comm unit, he looked over at Yoda.

The old Jedi Master was sill standing completely still, eyes closed. The aura of power about him was as potent as ever, and Organa could tell the small alien was thinking about something.

Above, the large view screen switched images to that of the Fearless's bridge. Bel Iblis was standing before his chair, shouting instructions to his crew, as various small fires raged throughout the bridge.

"General!" Organa shouted. The fleet commander turned to his view screen.

"Organa? Where in the blazes are you now?" the old campaigner asked.

"In the palace! Listen, you can't make it through the Mandalorian line in time!"

Bel Iblis shook his head forcefully. "There's no choice! We have to!"

Stepping next to the senator, Yoda appeared. The Jedi Master's taloned hands began punching in coordinates to the computer.

"General, concentrate all batteries on these coordinates you will," he instructed. "Full barrage, immediately."

Organa saw the coordinates and did a double take.

Bel Iblis knew them as well. "That's the front of the palace! The Jedi are still fighting there!"

"Matter that does not. Fire at will," the stoic Jedi commanded.

"You're going to butcher your own brethren?" Organa demanded, shocked.

"I can't fire with the Jedi there!" Bel Iblis stated, adamant.

"Understand little do you," Yoda replied. "Fire now, or all will be lost. Trust me you must."

Something in the Jedi's eyes struck Organa. A ring of confidence and surety. The Force was with him.

"Do it, General!" he shouted. "Do it now, that's an order!"

From behind them, a blaster bolt ripped into the room, cutting through one of the screens.

"We can't hold them!" Panaka screamed.

"Now General, now!" Organa ordered.

Bel Iblis turned to his bridge crew. Face ashen, he gave the order.

"Prepare to fire all batteries on these coordinates on my command. Full barrage!"

"Fire!"

*********************************

Night settled on Coruscant with far more difficulty than it was used to encountering. From every corner of the sky, flashes of color and light reported, the ring of clouds around the main city area like deep crimson rolls of fire.

From the titanic struggle that was going on in the capital planet's orbit, roars far more fierce than the most monstrous of thunder rocked the very world. As starships were destroyed, their flaming carcasses plummeted from the sky, turned into deadly meteors to further batter the city world.

The intensity of the battle had seeped into the very atmosphere and climate of Coruscant. Elongated wisps of dirty black smoke wafted up from the scorched earth, warping the brief flashes of explosions and blaster fire the seemed to engulf everything. From all of the destruction, the heavy scent of sulfur ripped at the senses, and the air was thick with radioactive heat.

The epicenter of the madcap struggle raged at the steps to the main palace. For hours, the Mandalorian horde had pushed the dwindling Jedi Knights step by bloody step backwards, until the doors themselves were clearly visible to the clone warriors.

The excitement among the surging raiders was evident. They could feel the tide of victory close at hand, they were confident that they stood on the cusp of literally conquering the universe in one battle. As they pressed further, the Jedi still reacting with swift and deadly precision, the Mandalorians screamed battle cries and words of encouragement, that they were about to exterminate the most feared force in all the universe. They had all but whipped out the order of the Jedi, and were only moments from sacking the head of the Old Republic's government.

They found the last section of stairs particularly brutal, however. With quarters becoming close again, the Jedi could implement their lightsabers with much more effect, and they were showing no signs of fatigue or giving of any quarter.

At the front of the line, Obi-Wan Kenobi surveyed the state of things. For as far as even his eyes could see, there were Mandalorians, a veritable sea of domed helmets, glistening from the artificial light that came from thousands of blasters firing and the orbital battle above. It was far worse than he had seen on Vrantive IV. It was inevitable. The Jedi had no chance to stop that number of foe, not the slightest.

Even as he cut down another of the foot soldiers who were for all intents and purposes throwing their lives at the Jedi, Obi-Wan turned to Dagan Conner. The young Padawan had the same look that all the Jedi bore upon their faces. One of determined resignation. They knew their fates were sealed, and they were resolute in their stand to die with honor and to make the Mandalorians pay for whatever they gained.

Obi-Wan had adopted much of that fatalistic attitude, yet he still clung to a sliver of hope. If Master Yoda's plan somehow did work, they might yet survive. At least they knew that the Mandalorians would die, that the Republic was still in the fight.

"Dagan!" Obi-Wan shouted. "Begin to pull back! It's time!"

The young Jedi nodded, and then gave the hand signal to the other Jedi. Slowly, the remaining Knights began to inch back.

For their part, the Mandalorians saw their foes retreating further. The front line saw what befell their fellows that rushed the Jedi, however, and made no move to follow. Apparently the order had come down that they would use the long-range blaster cannons to wipe what remained out. So, they waited as the Jedi all fell back, behind the front gates of the palace.

Obi-Wan gathered the Jedi around him. There were only a fraction of the Knights left alive, somewhere between thirty and forty, but those who survived were still ready to fight.

"We must all find communion in the Force," Obi-Wan instructed. He wasn't the eldest of the collected Jedi, but he was recognized as the strongest and most experienced, and so had come to lead the Knights.

"Master Yoda had given us a chance, nothing more, nothing less," he explained. "If we are to survive, all of us must perform perfectly, must be one with the Force."

"How? That's hard enough for a Master, much less a collection of us who are battle weary," one of the Knights protested.

"Nonetheless, we must, or we will surely die," Obi-Wan pressed on. "We must all wrap our power around each other, weave a tapestry about us, a blanket."

"You mean a Force shield?" Conner asked, eyes wide.

"For lack of a better term, yes. A shield made up of the Force," Kenobi confirmed.

"That's never been done," B'dras said. The weathered Knight was bloodied but still fighting. "I don't think it's even been attempted."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Probably for very good reasons. But we have neither the luxury nor the ability to contemplate them now. We simply must do it. There are no chances or odds to it. We either do, or we do not."

"I know which I'd prefer," Conner smirked.

Obi-Wan laughed breathlessly. "Me too. But the time for conversation is past. We must act. Hold your sabers aloft."

Raising his blue lightsaber in a two-handed grip over his head, Obi-Wan demonstrated.

In response, the rest of the Jedi, gathered in a multi-layered circle of sorts, held their lightsabers toward the open sky, white knuckles holding firm.

"You must pour your willpower, your very essence through the lightsaber. You must force the beam to widen, to expand," Obi-Wan said, voice rising over the din of the battle.

He himself could feel his grasp of the Force tighten. From every pore of his body, he could feel the outpouring of power. As he did so, the brilliant blue-white blade began to swell.

"The saber is not a weapon, but an extension of yourself, part of you and part of the Force," he chanted, feeling the surge of power around him. All along the circle, lightsaber blades began to expand, the humming becoming a roar.

The circle gathered power.

**************************

Inside the palace, Yoda stood before the shattered glass of the ruined window. All around him, blaster fire was ripping into the walls and the floor, Panaka, Organa and Olie all trying to hold back the Mandalorians.

Yet the old Jedi Master's eyes were turned inward, away from everything but the living Force. He felt the swell and the recession of the Force' tide, the ripples and the wake of things.

Feeling more in touch with the Force then he ever had before, Yoda felt himself become immersed in the constantly moving stream that was the shape of things. His brain was stretched from a fleshy, pulp-like organ to a transparent tapestry, moving within the current. So many things, so many events, so many times of so many dimensions seemed to flow through the stream, all too fast for him to properly comprehend. He was only looking for one in particular, however.

Suddenly, he found it. Digging his heels in, Yoda forced his perceptions to a more singular awareness. He was with the Jedi, all gathered in rows of a circle, sabers held on high, standing before the palace. Their collective crossing of power was like a beacon of color and light among an otherwise drab surrounding. They shone like a small sun.

They did not shine enough, though, he knew that. The Jedi would not survive, they did not have the symmetry, the design to their raw power. The shield would not hold.

Knowing of no alternative, Yoda let his essence seep into their corona of power, his thin, blanket-like presence coating the inferno-colored ring, stitching it together.

As he did, Yoda felt a bellow of pure rage ignite the world, the very heart of hellfire spew from the atmosphere.

For the thousands of turbo lasers and ion cannons fired among the warring starships, it would be inconceivable for one volley to stand out.

Nonetheless, it seemed the entire battle came to a stand still as the Fearless shuddered with painful ecstasy. Every turret and cannon blazed at once, erupting towards the planet.

The barrage was an impressively aimed one. All but several of the blasts got through the quickly disappearing Mandalorian line, shredding aside clouds in great bursts of steam as they screamed towards Coruscant.

While the Republic fleet didn't react to the Fearless's sudden volley, the Mandalorians knew exactly what was happening. The airwaves immediately began hissing with hundreds of different warnings towards the planet, all far too late.

Sitting in the middle of his shaken bridge, General Bel Iblis watched with macabre fascination as the streaks of pure red energy disappeared into Coruscant's atmosphere. The flashes of explosions played along his steadily aging face, which was composed in complete blankness at the moment. The only animate features to his expression were his eyes, which vainly tried to watch the surface for some sign.

He knew he had just signed the deaths of thousands, including the last of the Jedi Knights. A sacrifice he doubted he could live with, compounded with the fact that the move might only just buy them time.

He sighed, though, and he sat back. No matter what his feelings, fate had taken its path. What happened next was already decided. He had played his part.

Still, he found himself hoping.

******************************

From above them, the Jedi felt the swell of heat, the predestination of the coming firestorm.

Seeping from every crevice, from every pour hole of the planet, they could feel the ground ready itself for the hammer blow. As the planet shook, they turned their eyes to the rolling black and crimson clouds that kept a cover over the city.

With the look of the apocalypse, the black clouds split like over-taxed sacks, moving apart. What filled the gap immediately shone in the eyes of the Jedi

Burning the very air as it rushed its target, the huge volley of turboblasts from the Fearless caught the Mandalorians completely by surprise. They had time to acknowledge the sudden screaming cacophony that erupted on their comms, but that was about it.

The blasts tore into the front of the palace, immolating metal, stone, flesh, and everything else it struck immediately. So intense were the blasts that some structures just seemed to disappear, completely vaporize on impact.

The majority of the Mandalorian horde died thus, scores of armored soldiers turned to ash in less than two seconds. For the ones who weren't as lucky, and did not die instantly, the waves of secondary explosions caught them, ripping them asunder.

At the very rear of their lines, some of the warriors had time to acknowledge what was happening. Screaming in terror and some in rage, they pulled back as fast as possible. The hail of fire that had spewed from above had begun to move into the surrounding building however, and there was no safe harbor.

Metal supports screeching apart with an awful sound, two mighty skyscrapers began to collapse upon themselves. The top floors and layers of the tall buildings were first to topple off, the sky above the fleeing Mandalorians suddenly turning gray.

Not afforded the luxury of being instantly vaporized, the remnants of the horde all seemed to scream as one as tons upon tons of wreckage crushed down upon them.

Farther up, at the center of the volley's strike, an outcropping of jagged power shone like a flare. Among the burning city and scorched ground, the small area was a spike of pure white light, shining up to the blackened sky.

Inside the hub of power, the Jedi opened their beings, their souls, all pouring it into the physical manifestation of the Force above and around them. It was a mass of intense raw power, all held in an ordered form by the engulfing presence of Master Yoda. The solar heat of the turbolaser blast washed over the pocket of Force, splitting up into streaks of red energy, falling off of the shield like a vermillion rain shower.

The effort left the Jedi completely exhausted and spent, the mighty shield collapsing almost immediately after the blasts had stopped. The Jedi all fell from their feet, like puppets who suddenly had their strings cut. As they did, the lightsabers all winked out, burned clean by the power that had been channeled through them.

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not lose consciousness, however. As he slumped to the ground, feeling more empty than he ever had before, utterly devoid of anything inside him, he felt the pangs of elation set in.

They had done it.

All in front of him, the Mandalorians were merely steaming piles of ash, or slowly dying under piles of rubble and ruined towers. He also knew that there would be no reinforcements. The Republic fleet would soon be done tearing through the last of the Mandalorian ships, if the clones were foolish enough to try and stay and battle. The battle was theirs, the Republic saved.

Yet he felt a dark spot upon his perceptions. He sensed another struggle going on, one smaller in numbers, but somehow far more significant in its implications. He felt the order of things swaying along to its course.

That all slipped out of his control, however. Obi-Wan felt the tide of exhaustion surge over him, and everything went dark.

**********************************

Mace Windu struggled to regain his focus. So much power had he expended in his battle with the traitorous Palpatine, that he feared even his reserves were spent.

The fact that the chancellor and former senator of Naboo had truly been a Sith Master all this time, right under the collective noses of the Jedi Council was amazing to Windu. He was truly powerful, and his evil cunning haunting in its plans. He had come so close to utterly collapsing the Republic, fashioning it into an Empire under him.

He had defeated the Sith, though. The vile creature lay crumbled across the room, not moving. Windu's blow was a powerful one, and may have indeed killed the Sith. As they had battled, a name repeatedly bore into him. Darth Sidious. So that was Palpatine's true name, his true face.

Then that would be the name above his gravestone, Windu decided, as he tried to sit up. He could feel the victory outside, could feel the thousands of Mandalorians die in one moment, felt the surge of power that had let the Jedi pull victory from the very jaws of defeat. The Republic had survived, had withstood the siege and beaten it back.

That didn't change the present situation, though. Young Anakin Skywalker, who had literally come to the Jedi Master's rescue, and the Naboo queen Amidala, how had in turn come to her paramour's rescue were both engaged in a pitch battle with the remaining Mandalorians.

Skywalker was using his lightsaber to protect he and the Queen from the soldiers' blasters, and she was picking them off with her rifle. The Mandalorians were slowly flanking them, however, stretching the Jedi's defense, angling in for a better shot at he and the Queen.

Unfortunately, Windu didn't know if he had an iota of power in him to help at the moment. Just moving seemed to tax his beaten body, every muscle exploding in agony. It had taken everything he had to defeat Sidious, and what was left was keeping him alive.

A stirring of debris across the room caught Windu's attention. From under the massive weight of a pile of wreckage, the Battle King of the Mandalorians slowly pulled himself from under his prison. Obviously, his armor could withstand a large amount of pressure, as he didn't even seem fatally injured.

Raising to his feet, the Battle King collected himself and studied his surrounding. He saw his soldiers beginning to encircle the Jedi and the woman, and he moved to take the final shot. As he did so, however, his gaze caught the stunned form of Palpatine.

Windu sensed a gross satisfaction come from the warrior. Taking the opportunity, the Mandalorian found his vibro-staff, scooped it up and walked over towards the fallen Sith.

Feeling a sense of irony, Windu decided to try and gather some power to help Anakin and Amidala. Let the co-conspirators kill each other. Whichever survived, Skywalker and Amidala would certainly deal with.

Once again, though, the unexpected happened. Anakin saw the Battle King moving towards Palpatine, whom the Jedi Padawan still believed to be the Chancellor of the Republic.

Reacting instantly, Anakin shoved the Queen hard to the side, behind a wall of wreckage. As he did so, the Jedi broke into a blurred run, legs launching him through the air. The blasts of the startled Mandalorians all missed the soaring Skywalker as he flew towards the Battle King.

Spinning to meet the oncoming Jedi, the Mandalorian warrior held up its vibro-staff in defense. Anakin possessed the force of momentum, however, and his saber split the staff in half, the Mandalorian falling back. He managed to hang onto the front half of the weapon, barely managing to hold off the ferocious strikes the Jedi was leveling.

He and Anakin both knew that all the Mandalorian had to do, though, was hold his foe off. The others were quickly reacting, coming to their leader's aid. Out in the open, Anakin couldn't hope to block all the blasts. The remaining troops were beginning to blast through Amidala's sanctuary.

Finding some reserve of energy in his desperation, Windu rose to his feet, legs trembling as he did so.

He closed the distance to the struggle in what seemed like an absurdly slow time, each step taxing him sorely. He would have to split what power he had, one burst to free up Amidala, the other to ease the pressure from Anakin. He couldn't be sure if it would save the queen, but he was confident that would be all the young apprentice would need.

Waiting until the absolute last second, letting the Mandalorians come more into his scope of power, Windu held his arms out, one hand extended towards Amidala's attackers, the other behind Anakin.

Grunting with exertion and pain, the Jedi Master let the power fire from his fingers, the energy ragged and barely controlled in its rawness.

The move worked, however, one burst scattering the trio of Mandalorians surrounding Amidala, the other plowing into the clone warriors dogging Anakin.

Even as he saw the success he had wrought, Windu felt all stability in his legs go out, his knees falling to the ground. His knuckles pressed against the ruined marble, shoulder feeling like massive weights. He was completely spent, a burned out battery.

He realized he needn't do any more, though. Showing just how well trained and how intelligent she was, the Naboo Queen didn't even pause to register from whence came the mystery blow that bought her some time. She immediately pounced on the nearest stunned warrior, killed him, snatched his rifle and shot down his two fellows.

Meanwhile, Anakin used the diversion to land a powerful blow to the Battle King, then turned and dealt with the shock troopers in quick and decisive fashion. Obi-Wan's Padawan tore through the surprised clones in a flurry of blindingly fast strikes, then turned back to the still reeling Battle King.

The relief of his situation quickly was eclipsed by a sense of impending doom, however. Windu registered some sort of automatic warning in his brain, a sense of imminent danger.

Before he could even attempt to muster some reaction, though, Mace felt his entire chest explode in fiery pain. The tang of his own blood came to his mouth as he saw the front end of the Mandalorian's severed vibro-staff rip through his chest. The kinetic energy around the weapon wasn't activated, but it didn't need to. The strike had pierced the Jedi Master's heart cleanly, utterly fatal.

Windu felt his legs and arms become encased in ice, his eyes dimming, all color in the world disappearing.

In his steadily failing vision, the snarling visage of Palpatine, Darth Sidious, appeared.

"Know this as you die, Jedi," the Sith whispered through gritted and bloodied teeth. "I am not defeated. None save you know the truth, and it will die with you. I will still have this universe in my grasp, and now all around me, the Jedi are dead. While your blood dries on the Mandalorian's blade, I will squeeze this empire, drip it down my throat." An evil glint flared in the Sith's eyes, a purple flash among the bottomless black holes. "And I have the tool for it now. You've killed all my apprentices, laid waste to my clone army. But I matters not. I will preserve by using one of your own."

Sidious gripped Windu by the back of his head and held the drooping Jedi up, eyes forward, trained on Anakin Skywalker.

"I have seen the power in this one, and I have seen the dark spots. He is flawed, this Skywalker, he hides a secret rage." Thin lips pulled back over his wrinkled face, the Sith grinned ferally. "And I will fashion his rage to finish toppling the Jedi, and meld this Republic into my kingdom. I will listen to you scream as you watch it from hell."

With that, Sidious drove the blade deeper into the Jedi Master, the front end completely bursting through his chest cavity.

As his blood flowed out and his life began to leave him, Windu focused his last thought like a laser and let it fly towards Anakin.

Palpatine... beware.... The thought was barely a whisper to the young Jedi, but he received it.

Then, Jedi Master Mace Windu collapsed to the ground, dead.

Anakin immediately felt the elder's death. He spun around only to see Windu's body sprawled out on the floor, blood flowing onto the marble.

"No!" he screamed, looking for the killer. Jutting from the Master's chest, the Mandalorian vibro-ax was easily discernable. One of the clone warriors must have struck the blow while Anakin was distracted.

Enraged, he turned back to the Battle King, who was collecting himself for another surge by Anakin.

Collected or not, there was little the clone leader could do to stop the fury of the Jedi. Anakin pounded into the Battle King's defense, severing both hands in one strike, then running him through with his saber. Anakin pushed forward relentlessly as he did so, lifting up the mighty warrior and shoving him back into the wall. Sparks began to flow as the blue saber tip struck the wall behind the Mandalorian. With a last frustrated roar, Anakin yanked the saber from out of the Battle King. Even as the clone's corpse fell to the ground, Anakin had turned around, walking towards Windu's body.

The young man didn't even bother running, or pleading with the fallen Jedi. He knew Windu was dead, could feel the blackness where a powerful aura once shone. Instead he fell to his knees next to the Jedi's body, shoulders dropping in utter defeat.

His eyes seemed to stare at nothing as tears welled up in them. The wisest of the Jedi, along with Yoda the chairman of the Jedi Council, lay dead before him. He also sensed the uncountable deaths of many other Jedi outside. As he studied Windu's expressionless and bland face, Anakin realized that he truly didn't believe such a thing possible. He thought the Jedi untouchable, too powerful to hurt. He never knew he could be so wrong.

Then Amidala was beside him, arms wrapping around his shoulder, lips on his forehead. Her cheeks were also wet with tears as she whispered to him. He didn't hear any of it, though, his despair overtaking him. He had spent his rage, had struck down the source of his pain already. All he had was an immeasurable sense of loss, a profound grief. He could feel the disattachment from the Force, the utter darkness of total defeat seep into his pores.

"Anakin," a forceful voice cut through the din. "Anakin, look at me."

Amidala's voice was a blazing sun in the murky gloom he was in. Her eyes burned into his, demanding he recognize her. She had both of her hands on his cheeks, palms on his skin, fingers in his hair.

"Listen to me," she commanded, voice like steel. "You mustn't give in to despair."

Anakin felt his body and mind slowly obeying. He could feel his insides again, the exhaustion of being in pitched battle for days now, the pain of many wounds, both physical and mental.

"You have to remember... I love you," she said, tenderness in her tone now, and longing, as if afraid of his reply.

Under the pain and dirt, Anakin's lips upturned in a shallow smile. He took her hands in his, holding them tight.

"I know. I love you." He let his eyes meet hers, conveying much more in them than he could with just the words themselves.

"We won here, Anakin," she said. "We lost much, we paid dearly. But we won. We live, the Republic lives." Then, much quieter, yet far more intense, she whispered. "Our love lives. Together."

"Together," he breathed, bringing his lips to hers.

******************************

The weeks passed quickly after the Battle of Coruscant. Being the hub of the known universe meant that the capital world's reconstruction and aid quickly became the single most important issue in the galaxy. Questions of how the terrible battle had come to happen were pushed aside as the healing process began. Much of the Republic was badly injured in one way or another, so a mass licking of wounds was undertaken.

None were more deeply affected than the Jedi Order. When the smoke of the battle had cleared, they found themselves only a fraction of former numbers.

Not glory, however, as the remaining Jedi were heralded as the heroes of the galaxy, along with the names of Bail Organa, Bel Iblis, Captains Panaka and Ric Olie, who had whipped out the majority of the Mandalorian force. The sole surviving member of the Jedi Council, Yoda, was also praised as a savior, along with Chancellor Palpatine, who sustained some injuries while battling Mandalorians intent on assassinating him.

Others were regarded as martyrs, dying heroes' deaths. The name of Jedi Master Mace Windu would forever be linked to unmatched glory, as well as the crew of the starship Daytripper who were lost in space after the battle of Vrantive, as well the names of Jedi Knight Ocen Bai-Talz and Jedi Padawan Cholden, who died on Vrantive. Along with far too many others, they would go down as slain heroes of the brief yet bloody Clone Wars.

With all the death and destruction as the leavings of the war, Coruscant was finally afforded a day of joy, something to cheer about and relish. The two biggest heroes of the battle were being celebrated.

With most of the main city area still undergoing massive reconstruction, the ceremony was being held in the hold of the newly repaired starship Fearless, itself a hero. The entire main hangar bay of the Republic flagship had been emptied out, turned into a massive ballroom. Thousands of guests, friends, and dignitaries lined the rows of seats that stitched back from the large dais to the end of the bay.

From the high ceilings, the banner of the Old Republic hung proud, along with the standard of the Royal Order of the Naboo. Morale was at a high, the people of the Republic, especially Coruscant now having the stamina of survivors, relieved to at last have a happy occasion to look forward to.

On the left side of the massive gallery of guests, scores of Republic officers stood in perfect, trained formation. Palace guards in their cobalt blue finery with feathered helmets, fleet officers in their multi-colored dress uniforms, pilots in their flight suits, infantry soldiers in their most crisp outfits, all stood at attention, facing the dais.

On the other side of the gallery, the entire Republic senate crowded together, mixed with other notables, press personages, and at the front, the remaining hundred or so Jedi. The few Jedi who had been off planet during the assault had returned home to mourn and help rebuild, and now to attend one of their fellow's ceremony.

A notable absence, at least to Obi-Wan Kenobi, was Dagan Conner. A few days after the battle, the young man, who had been bestowed the rank of Jedi Knight almost immediately, left for Vrantive IV, vowing to bring back his master, Ocen-Bai Talz's body. Obi-Wan felt the quest pointless and rather painful, but he couldn't deny the young Jedi. He understood the reasoning.

Next to him, Obi-Wan felt Ric Olie squirm in his seat.

"Uncomfortable, Admiral Olie?" Kenobi asked, eyebrow arching.

The new head of the Naboo military smirked. "Uh, no. Just nervous, I guess. I hate these things."

"You hate weddings?" the Jedi was smiling broadly.

"Well, no. I mean, obviously I'm happy for both of them. It's just..." he trailed off.

"You can't help but feel old, seeing the girl you saw raised in front of you, getting married," Obi-Wan surmised.

Olie gave the Jedi a queer look, mouth twisting in annoyance.

"No, I actually hadn't thought about that until you mentioned it, but thanks for the extra thought," he said.

"Sorry," Obi-Wan laughed.

"No, I just hate getting dressed up. I mean, you Jedi just put on cleaner robes. You don't have to wear a tunic that's pressed until it's cardboard."

Obi-Wan regarded his clean, crisp Jedi robes. He, like most of his brethren bore many healing wounds under their robes, but they certainly looked decked out.

"You'll live," Obi-Wan retorted, as music began to sound from the giant speakers above. "Now quiet up. Here comes Anakin."

The symphony began to play the resolute, powerful theme as Anakin appeared from the back of the hold. The symphony strung together the notes of a hero, telling praise in music of Anakin's deeds, what he had done. The looks of inspiration and pride seemed to cross all those whom Anakin strode past down the aisle.

As he neared his former Padawan, Obi-Wan stepped out into the aisle, walking in stride with Anakin, as the ceremony went. Jedi did not often marry, but when they did, it was extravagant. Especially when they married a queen.

Even as the two Jedi climbed the wide dais, to where Master Yoda and Chancellor Palpatine stood, the lights dimmed, the music changing. The crowd collectively turned from the groom to the rear of the hangar again.

Obi-Wan could hear Anakin's breath get caught in his chest as he saw his bride. He himself had to stare in wonder at the Queen's ethereal beauty. He wasn't the only one thusly affected either, as thousands of photographs and holo-vids were snatched the moment she appeared.

With the elegant, beautiful music seeming to surround her, Queen Amidala strode down the aisle, Captain Panaka on her arm. While the captain was dressed in his most notable finery, all eyes were turned on the queen.

Her gown was pure white, woven with cloth and small crystals, the fabric catching the light and reflecting in every direction. The ends of the flowing gown almost appeared organic, flowing like wings on a bird, together, moving to the music.

Surprising Obi-Wan, she wore little make-up, save the crimson on her lips, and a shade of blue around her eyes. The role of the masquerading, untouchable queen was forever gone.

With the entire assemblage hypnotized by her grace and beauty, Amidala climbed the dais, standing across from Anakin, who couldn't contain his smile of awe.

Even as Palpatine began his words, the actual ceremony, Obi-Wan could tell the young Jedi Knight wasn't hearing a word. He was simply staring at his bride, an outpouring of love crossing in their eyes.

When the Chancellor stopped speaking, Jedi Master Yoda began the ancient words of the Jedi marriage ritual, binding their souls together in the Force, he called it. Again, Obi-Wan doubted either of them really listened to the old Master. They simply waited for the words.

"By the authority of the highest office of the Old Republic, I hereby declare Queen Amidala of Naboo and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, man and wife."

As the crowd roared with jubilation, fireworks showing from outside the massive observation windows on the hangar's ceilings, the two betrothed leaned into each other.

Only Obi-Wan, Palpatine, Panaka and Yoda heard their words of love, as the universe seemed to come together in joy for a brief moment.

Slowly, the two lovers kissed, together forever they hoped.

<<back to episode ii era p/a fanfiction
<<back to p/a fanfiction