Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones

  Copyright © 2002 Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or TM.

  Cover art by Louise Bova and Lucasfilm.

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Lucasfilm Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-4847-1729-5

  Visit www.starwars.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

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  A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

  For generations, the Jedi Knights had kept peace among the many worlds of the Galactic Republic. They did not make the laws—that was the task of the Galactic Senate. The Jedi merely enforced them. Sometimes they negotiated; sometimes they used their awesome fighting skills; sometimes they used the mysterious power of the Force. Their methods had been extremely effective. For a thousand generations, there had been no major war in the galaxy. Only a few planets had experienced severe conflicts.

  One of these planets was the small, watery world of Naboo. During an argument over taxing trade routes, the powerful Trade Federation landed a huge droid army on Naboo. The recently elected Queen of Naboo, young Padmé Amidala, refused to surrender. Her heroism and the efforts of the Jedi brought a quick end to the conflict, but many of the Naboo people had been hurt or killed.

  The experience left a strong impression on Padmé. When she finished her two terms of office as Queen, she did not retire from politics. Instead, at the urging of the new Queen, she ran for the office of Galactic Senator, and became Naboo’s representative. In the Senate, she was a strong voice for peace.

  Such a voice was much needed. The Senate had become large and choked with bureaucracy. Many people were frustrated; some even talked of leaving the Republic and forming their own government. These Separatists were not a serious threat until Count Dooku, a former Jedi Knight, brought them together under his leadership.

  The Separatist movement made it difficult for the limited number of Jedi Knights to continue to maintain peace. As the Jedi’s task grew harder, more and more star systems joined the Separatists. Many in the Senate feared that if the Separatists refused to see reason, there would be war—and everyone knew that there were too few Jedi to keep the peace. For the first time in a thousand generations the Senate had to vote on whether to create an army.

  Tension rose as those who feared the chaos caused by the Separatists clashed with those who feared that creating an army would destroy all hope for peace. Senator Padmé Amidala was one of the leaders fighting to prevent the creation of an army. Her passion and her commitment to peace, strengthened during the brief invasion of Naboo ten years earlier, made her arguments very convincing when she spoke to the Senate. More than one of the Senators who favored creating an army would have been glad to see Padmé disappear for good.

  Padmé knew the danger, but her sense of duty was strong, and her love of peace was stronger. As the time for the final decision drew near, she headed for Coruscant to cast her vote against the Military Creation Act.

  Senator Padmé Amidala stared out the main window of her spacecraft at the approaching planet. Even from space, Coruscant looks different from other worlds, she thought. Most worlds showed colors on their daylight side—the greens of the forest worlds, the blues of watery planets, the glittering white of ice worlds, the sandy yellow of desert planets like Tatooine. On their night side, most planets were dark, with an occasional twinkle of light marking the largest cities.

  Coruscant’s day side was a dull, metallic gray, the color of the millions of buildings and platforms that covered its entire surface. Its night side glowed amber from the lights of those same buildings, like the stars of the galaxy in miniature. Only on Coruscant is night more attractive than day, Padmé thought.

  The royal Naboo cruiser and its three fighter escorts curved around Coruscant toward their assigned landing platform. Padmé hadn’t wanted the escorts, but her security officer had insisted that she was in danger. Captain Typho was good at his job, so she had reluctantly agreed. Since the trip had been uneventful, she already regretted giving in.

  The three lobes of the landing platform came in sight. The royal cruiser landed on the center leaf. The three fighters took the other leaves, two to one side and one to the other. Captain Typho, who had been piloting one of the fighters, swung out of his cockpit and removed his helmet.

  “We made it,” he said. “I guess I was wrong; there was no danger at all.”

  Padmé hardly heard him. On the platform, she could see Dormé, one of her handmaiden-bodyguards, waiting among the landing crew. Dormé looked tired and tense. She’s just worried, Padmé thought. She can’t know how easy the trip was.

  The cruiser’s ramp lowered. Padmé’s guards came down first, then the rest of the Senatorial party. As they reached the foot of the ramp, the ground crew watched their arrival.

  In the next instant, something knocked Padmé flat. Through the roaring in her ears, she heard cries of terror. She choked and blinked to clear the dark afterimage from her eyes—the image of the royal cruiser exploding. Captain Typho was right after all, she thought, and then, Cordé! Is Cordé all right?

  She was still a little breathless from her fall, but she could not wait. She shoved herself to her feet and ran toward the wreckage. At the foot of the ramp lay several crumpled figures; one was Cordé, the decoy double who had been pretending to be Senator Amidala…pretending much too successfully for her own good.

  Padmé ripped off her pilot’s helmet and gathered Cordé in her arms. “Cordé…”

  Cordé’s eyes opened. She stared blankly at Padmé for an instant, then seemed to recognize her. “I’m sorry, M’lady,” she gasped weakly. “I’m…not sure I…I’ve failed you, Senator.”

  Failed? No! But before she could speak the words, Padmé felt the life leave Cordé. She gathered her decoy’s body close, as if she could call her back by sheer force of will. “No,” she whispered. “No!” Not now, not here, not when we were safe on Coruscant.

  But Coruscant was not safe. Captain Typho had thought that any attack would come during the trip, when an assassin would have all of space in which to flee. That was why he had insisted that Padmé pilot one of the fighters instead of relying solely on her double. “A decoy is no help if you’re standing right next to it,” he’d told her. “As long as you’re on board, anyone who attacks the cruiser will attack you, even if Cordé is playing the Senator. You have to be somewhere else.” So she had been, and now Cordé had died, just when they should all have been able to stop worrying at last.

  As if in echo of her thoughts, Padmé heard Captain Typho’s voice beside her saying urgently, “M’lady…you are still in danger here.”

  Gently, Padmé lowered Cordé—Cordé’s body—to the ground. She looked up and saw other motionless bodies: two of her guards, another hand-maiden. She swallowed hard and forced her eyes to move onto the twisted wreckage of the starship. The cruiser’s pilot was still on board, and others…how many others? Tears stung
her eyes. “I shouldn’t have come back,” she murmured, half to herself.

  “This vote is very important,” Typho reminded her. “You did your duty—and Cordé did hers. Now come.”

  Padmé hesitated, blinking the tears away. The least she could do was to see these people clearly, these people who had given their lives for her. I will not let their sacrifice be in vain, she promised silently. There WILL be peace.

  “Senator Amidala, please!”

  Captain Typho’s voice sounded desperate as well as urgent. He was right again; she should go. Padmé took a last look around, printing the picture of the wreckage on her memory. Then she turned and fell into step beside him. Behind her, she heard a small whimpering noise from her faithful droid, R2-D2, but she did not turn. She had work to do.

  It took longer than Padmé had expected to change and get to the Senate chamber. By the time she and her escorts arrived, most of the flying platforms that covered the walls of the vast arena were occupied and the session had started. Padmé heard one of the Senators shouting as she entered her platform.

  “…needs more security now! Before it comes to war.”

  Padmé craned her neck. The speaker was Orn Free Taa, the fat, blue-skinned Twi’leck Senator who was one of the biggest supporters of the Military Creation Act.

  “Must I remind the Senator that negotiations are continuing with the Separatists?” Chancellor Palpatine said firmly. Padmé found it hard to understand how he could remain so calm in the face of such constant provocation, but somehow Palpatine always seemed unaffected by the angry shouting around him. “Peace is our objective here,” the Chancellor went on, “not war.”

  As the Senators shouted responses to the Chancellor’s comments, Padmé flicked the controls of her platform, setting it in motion. Deftly, she maneuvered around the other platforms already hovering near the center of the arena. As she passed them, she noted the occupants of the other pods—Ask Aak of Malastare, Darsana of Glee Anselm, and, of course, Orn Free Taa, all supporters of the bill. It was a good thing she had arrived when she did.

  “My noble colleagues, I concur with the Supreme Chancellor!” Padmé said as soon as she reached the speaking area. “At all costs, we do not want war!”

  To Padmé’s surprise, a stunned silence fell over the entire Senate. A moment later, cheers and applause sounded from every platform. Even Orn Free Taa and Ask Aak joined in, though with less enthusiasm.

  “It is with great surprise and joy that the chair recognizes the Senator from Naboo, Padmé Amidala,” said Chancellor Palpatine. The unusual emotion in his voice told Padmé what had happened.

  They must have heard about the explosion, Padmé thought. Well, perhaps she could use the attack to show them just how important this bill was. “Less than an hour ago, an assassination attempt was made against my life,” she began. “One of my bodyguards and six others were ruthlessly and senselessly murdered.” Her voice wavered as she remembered Cordé, but she forced herself on. She must show them how important it was to avoid war.

  “I was the target,” Padmé continued, “but more important I believe this security measure before you was the target. I have led the opposition to build an army…but there is someone in this body who will stop at nothing to assure its passage.”

  Some of the Senators booed. Padmé kept her face calm with the skill of long practice, but inwardly she was dismayed to see how many of her colleagues were slipping toward supporting the army bill. “I warn you,” she said, “if you vote to create this army, war will follow. I have experienced the misery of war firsthand; I do not wish to do it again.

  “Wake up, Senators!” Padmé cried over the rising shouts from other platforms. “You must wake up! If we offer the Separatists violence, they can only show us violence in return!” With growing passion, she pleaded with the Senators to reject the “security measure,” but the response was a chorus of groans and boos.

  Orn Free Taa moved his platform next to hers and addressed the Chancellor. “My motion to defer the vote must be dealt with first. That is the rule of law.”

  Padmé glared at him. From the central podium, Chancellor Palpatine gave her a sympathetic look, but his voice was as firm as it had been when he rebuked Ask Aak earlier. “Due to the lateness of the hour and the seriousness of this motion we will take up these matters tomorrow. Until then, the Senate stands adjourned.”

  What is he doing? Padmé thought as she maneuvered her platform back toward its docking place. Is he so sure that we will lose the vote?

  A small viewscreen on the platform pinged, announcing a message. Padmé looked down. The Chancellor was asking her to a private meeting in his office. Perhaps she would get some answers there.

  Chancellor Palpatine’s office, high in a skyscraper overlooking the Senate building, was vast but comfortable. The deep-cushioned blue sofa that faced the Chancellor’s desk was wide enough and low enough to accommodate almost any life-form in the Republic with ease. Thick rugs covered the floor; tall windows let in light from every direction. The two royal guards, flanking the door in their new red robes and helmets, stood out against the soothing background, a reminder of both the power and the danger of the Chancellor’s position.

  Yoda approved of the windows, but the rest failed to impress him. Earned it, the Chancellor certainly had—no one could say he had not worked hard for the Republic and for peace. But Jedi preferred simpler surroundings, though none of the senior members of the Jedi Council who had come to discuss the situation with Chancellor Palpatine would ever have said so. The luxury made Yoda’s ears twitch.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can hold off the vote, my friends,” the Chancellor told the four Jedi facing him. His soft voice sounded tired. “More and more star systems are joining the Separatists.”

  And the Senators grew more afraid, and the more fearful they grew, the worse the situation became. Fear feeds the dark side, Yoda thought sadly. The clearest example of the spreading chaos was the explosion of Senator Amidala’s space cruiser. Seen it, we should have—seen it and prevented it. But the Jedi had not seen, and now many lives had been lost and the fear among the Senators grew as the Separatists threatened to break away and perhaps start a civil war.

  “If they do break away—” Mace Windu began reluctantly.

  “I will not let this Republic that has stood for a thousand years be split in two!” Palpatine interrupted. “My negotiations will not fail!”

  Afraid, the Chancellor is not, Yoda thought. He could sense the fearful emotions of the Senators, reflected in the Force, even at a distance. But from Palpatine he felt nothing but determination and confidence. Yet everyone knew that the Chancellor’s best efforts had only delayed the Military Creation Act, not stopped it.

  Mace Windu looked at Palpatine with a grave expression, and continued where he had left off. “But if they do, you must realize there aren’t enough Jedi to protect the Republic. We are keepers of the peace, not soldiers.” Beside him, Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded agreement.

  Palpatine stared at them for a moment, then turned. “Master Yoda, do you think it will really come to war?”

  Yoda closed his eyes and folded his long, flexible ears down, the better to feel the future shifting of the Force. The dark side hung like a thick fog over everything, hiding even the near events that usually were so clear, and growing more dense the further ahead he tried to look. Lightsabers flashed blue and green in the fog, but few, too few, and he caught more and more glimpses of a glowing red that no Jedi would ever wield. “Worse than war, I fear,” he murmured. “Much worse.”

  “What?” Palpatine demanded.

  “What do you sense, Master?” Mace Windu asked almost simultaneously.

  “The dark side clouds everything,” Yoda said, shaking his head. “Impossible to see, the future is. But this I am sure of—” He opened his eyes. “Do their duty, the Jedi will.”

  The other Jedi looked at him, considering, while Palpatine turned to answer
a buzzer on his desk. Yoda looked back, unsmiling. He had seen the Republic weather many crises during his near nine hundred years as a Jedi, but this one—this one was different. Never had the dark side felt so strong.

  The office door opened. Even before the delegation of loyalist Senators entered, Yoda felt a familiar presence. Smiling a little sadly, he rose and moved forward to greet Senator Padmé Amidala. It was like her to insist on returning to work at once, despite the attempt on her life and the deaths among her crew. Though her face was calm, Yoda could sense her grief. He spoke directly to it. “Padmé, your tragedy on the landing platform, terrible.”

  Padmé gave a tiny nod, as if she could not bear to speak.

  “With you, the Force is strong, young Senator,” Yoda went on, tapping her lightly with his cane. “To see you alive brings warm feelings to my heart.”

  “Thank you, Master Yoda,” Padmé replied softly. She looked up at the other Jedi and asked, “Do you have any idea who was behind this attack?”

  “Our intelligence points to disgruntled spice miners on the moons of Naboo,” Mace Windu told her.

  Padmé frowned. “I don’t wish to disagree, but I think that Count Dooku was behind it.”

  Even Padmé’s security officer looked startled by this announcement; apparently the young Senator had not told him of her theory. The other Senators murmured among themselves, except for Bail Organa, who studied Padmé thoughtfully. Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi exchanged glances. Then Mace said gently, “You know, M’lady, Count Dooku was once a Jedi. He wouldn’t assassinate anyone. It’s not in his character.”

  “In dark times, nothing is what it appears to be,” Yoda put in before the young Senator could say anything rash. He looked at his colleagues and twitched his ears reprovingly. They should know better than to make assumptions, and in any case, this was no time to start an argument about the character of a former Jedi. Besides, they were drifting from the most important point. “The fact remains for certain, Senator: in grave danger you are.”