Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith Page 10

  Darth Sidious looked at the incoming message coordinates and frowned slightly. Mustafar? He hadn’t been expecting a transmission from that planet yet. Had something gone wrong? He pressed the response button, and a blue hologram appeared. It was a Neimoidian—the Trade Federation viceroy, Nute Gunray. My apprentice has not yet reached Mustafar, then.

  Gunray bowed deeply. Behind him, Darth Sidious could see the rest of the Separatist Council. “The plan has gone as you had promised, my lord,” the Neimoidian told him.

  “You have done well, Viceroy,” Darth Sidious responded automatically. “Have you shut down your droid armies?”

  “We have, my lord.”

  He smiled. “Excellent! Has my new apprentice, Darth Vader, arrived?”

  “He landed a few moments ago,” Gunray replied.

  “Good, good. He will take care of you.” The ambiguity of the words pleased him. He reached for the controls, to end the transmission, and paused.

  The transparent blue faces all turned to look at something outside the range of the hologram pickup. Their expressions changed from surprise to bewilderment, and then to fear. Darth Sidious leaned forward in anticipation.

  A glowing lightsaber slashed across the pickup field. A head fell one way—Poggle the Lesser, Sidious noted—and the body the other. The rest of the Separatist Council shook off their stupor and fled, screaming, as the transmission cut off at the other end.

  “I see my apprentice has arrived,” Darth Sidious said softly. “Yes, he will take care of you.”

  Bail Organa’s coordinates were closer than Obi-Wan had expected. It didn’t take long for him to reach the Alderaan starcruiser. The first thing he saw when he entered the ship was Master Yoda, standing placidly next to the worried-looking Senator.

  “You made it!” Senator Organa said.

  “Master Kenobi, dark times are these.” Yoda’s gravelly voice sounded refreshingly ordinary after everything that had happened. “Good to see you, it is.”

  “You were attacked by your clones, also?” Obi-Wan asked.

  Yoda nodded. “With the help of the Wookiees, barely escape, I did.”

  If Master Yoda says he barely escaped, it must have been a hair-raising trip! It’s a pity he’ll never say anything more about it. “How many other Jedi managed to survive?”

  Yoda bowed his head. “We’ve heard from…none.”

  None? Obi-Wan stared, speechless.

  Bail Organa nodded in confirmation. “I saw thousands of troops attack the Jedi Temple. That’s why I went looking for Yoda.”

  “Have you had any contact with the Temple?” Surely someone must be left. Master Windu…Kit Fisto…Anakin! Anakin was on Coruscant—had he been at the Temple?

  “Received the coded retreat signal, we have,” Yoda said.

  The one that requests all Jedi to return to Coruscant! But if the clones were in control of the Temple…

  “The war is over,” Bail Organa said, his voice was bitter.

  One of the pilots appeared in the doorway. “We are receiving a message from the Chancellor’s office.”

  “Send it through,” Bail told him.

  A moment later, the oily voice of Mas Amedda, Chancellor Palpatine’s chief aide, filled the room. “Senator Organa, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic requests your presence at a special session of the Senate.”

  “Tell the Chancellor I will be there,” Bail said.

  “Very well,” Mas Amedda replied, and the transmission ended.

  Bail looked at Yoda and Obi-Wan. “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan replied after a moment’s consideration. “The Chancellor won’t be able to control thousands of star systems without keeping the Senate intact.” Bail looked with concern at the two Jedi, and Obi-Wan replied to his unasked question about returning to the Jedi Temple. “We have to go back. If there are other stragglers, they will fall into the trap and be killed.”

  Yoda looked at him and nodded. He didn’t have to say anything. They would go to the Jedi Temple and destroy the signal beacon that was calling other Jedi home to die. And perhaps—just perhaps—they would also learn how all of this had happened.

  Bail parted from Obi-Wan and Yoda at the Senate landing platform. The two Jedi used their mind-clouding abilities to pass the red guards, then raised their hoods and slipped off. Bail watched them go with considerable misgiving. They were undoubtedly two of the best and most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, and they were warned and ready—but there were thousands of clone troops and security guards. If they were discovered, and it came to a battle…

  But there was nothing he could do about that. He told Captain Antilles to keep the starcruiser ready to leave at any moment. Then, signaling his aides, he started for the Senate.

  It was a shock to see the Senate building looking so…normal. The endless lines of traffic flowed around it at all levels, as if nothing unusual were happening. It was even more of a shock to see the sinister, hooded figure in the central pod, flanked by Mas Amedda and Sly Moore. The voice sounded like Chancellor Palpatine, but—

  Then Bail heard the words the Chancellor was speaking: “The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you, my resolve has never been stronger.”

  Well, that explains the hood. Bail missed the next few sentences as he looked for the Naboo pod. Senator Padmé Amidala would tell him what he’d missed. He hurried over. “I was held up,” he said in a low voice. “What happened?”

  Padmé looked at him with shadowed eyes. “The Chancellor has been elaborating on a plot by the Jedi to overthrow the Senate.”

  “That’s not true!”

  But Padmé only looked at him hopelessly and said, “He’s been presenting evidence all afternoon.”

  And the Senate will go along with it, just as they always do. But why would the Chancellor want to destroy the Jedi? With the war over—

  As if he could hear what Bail was thinking, the voice from the central podium announced, “The war is over! The Separatists have been defeated, and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning.”

  The Senate burst into applause. As the noise went on and on, Bail stared at the hooded figure of the Chancellor in bewilderment. Now was the time for the Chancellor to give up his emergency powers, to return the Republic to its full democratic status. But the Jedi…

  The applause began to die. The Chancellor held up his hand for quiet. When the arena was silent at last, he said, “In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will now be reorganized into the First Galactic Empire, which I assure you will last for ten thousand years!”

  Empire? Bail stared, stunned. He saw the same look on Padmé Amidala’s face. Of all the possibilities, they had never anticipated anything like this! And the Senate was applauding! Palpatine went on, describing his new Empire in glowing terms, and with each sentence, the applause grew louder. Padmé looked away, and Bail saw tears in her eyes.

  “So this is how liberty dies,” she said softly. “With thunderous applause…”

  Bail’s mind began to move at last. He was a Senator; he could speak out against this…abomination. He started to stand, and Padmé put a restraining hand on his arm. He stared at her. “We cannot let this happen!” he said. Surely she agreed with him!

  But Padmé shook her head. “Not now!” she said urgently. She glanced toward the podium, and then toward the entrances, and for the first time Bail noticed the red-clad guards and clone troopers standing at attention. They had always been there, it seemed; first, as part of the ceremony and respect due the Senate, and later, during the war, as a security measure to protect the Senators. But just who would they be protecting now?

  Feeling cold, Bail relaxed back into his seat. Padmé nodded sadly. “There will be a time,” she said, but she sounded as if it was more of a hope or a dream than a certainty.

  Yes. There will be a t
ime, Bail thought. He stared at the figure on the podium, and felt his face harden. He had been devoted to democracy all his life. He would spend the rest of it trying to restore what the Chancellor—no, Emperor, now—had taken away.

  It hurt Obi-Wan to see black smoke billowing from the Jedi Temple. It hurt more to enter and find clones dressed in Jedi robes, waiting to ambush any real Jedi who came in. But what hurt the most was seeing the bodies of beings he had known and worked with, lying everywhere, and the Padawans and younglings. No one had survived.

  Most disturbing of all were the bodies that had been killed, not by laser blasts, but by a lightsaber. The Sith Lord! Obi-Wan thought. Who else would use a lightsaber against Jedi? Obi-Wan swallowed hard. It had to be the Sith. Nobody else would…it had to be him.

  Obi-Wan and Yoda had no trouble disposing of the first few clones they encountered. Once they were inside, they had even less trouble avoiding the others. The Jedi Temple was an enormous warren of passages and rooms; it took new Padawans years to learn their way around all of the sections. The clones had been there for less than a day.

  Still, avoiding the clones took time. It was full night by the time they reached the main control center. Yoda stood guard while Obi-Wan reset the beacon and then added a few twists to hide what he had done. When Yoda gave him an impatient look, Obi-Wan explained, “I’ve recalibrated the code to warn any surviving Jedi away.” That was much better than simply disabling the beacon.

  “Good.” Yoda nodded his approval. “To discover the recalibration, a long time it will take. To change it back, longer still.” He gestured toward the door. “Hurry.”

  But Obi-Wan shook his head and crossed to the hologram area. As he reached for the switch that would replay the recordings, Yoda said gently, “Master Obi-Wan, the truth you already know. To face it will only cause you anger and pain.”

  No. He had to watch the killings. He needed to see the face of the Sith Lord who had helped butcher all the Jedi in the Temple. “I must know, Master.” His finger hit the button.

  A hologram sprang up, showing the carnage in grim detail. Clone troopers fired on unsuspecting Jedi, cutting them down. And then a lightsaber flashed, held by a cloaked figure who cut down Jedi after Jedi, and Obi-Wan leaned forward. The figure turned. It was Anakin.

  “It can’t be,” Obi-Wan whispered, heartbroken. “It can’t be!”

  But the holographic recording was pitiless. It played back the fight, exactly as it had occurred, and Obi-Wan had to watch Anakin kill and kill again. And then another figure entered the pickup, hidden beneath a hood. To Obi-Wan’s horror, Anakin turned and knelt before it.

  “The traitors have been destroyed, Lord Sidious,” Anakin said.

  “Good, good.” The voice—that was Chancellor Palpatine! He was Darth Sidious, the Sith Lord? “You have done well, my new apprentice. Do you feel your power growing?”

  “Yes, my Master,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan shuddered.

  “Lord Vader, your skills are unmatched by any Sith before you,” the cloaked figure said. “Now go, and bring peace to the Empire.”

  Empire?! Obi-Wan’s fingers flew over the hologram keys, shutting off the scene that was far too painful to continue watching. Instead, he searched the holovid network for recent news. In seconds, the two Jedi learned what had been happening in the Senate while they had been slipping through the silent halls of the Jedi Temple. Chancellor Palpatine—the Sith Lord Darth Sidious—had declared an Empire instead of the Republic. The Sith ruled the galaxy once more.

  Obi-Wan switched off the hologram completely, and the two Jedi stood in silence. How long had Darth Sidious been planning this? He had used the war, obviously—Count Dooku had been a Sith. Then Obi-Wan remembered: the first Sith he had encountered, back when he was still a Padawan. The Sith with the double-sided lightsaber, who had killed his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Did this plot go back that far?

  Yes, it had to. He saw it, now, the whole clever, subtle plan. The Jedi knew that Darth Sidious had urged the Trade Federation to start the long-ago war on Naboo. Now Obi-Wan could see the true purpose of that war: to provide the opportunity for Senator Palpatine to become Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. And then Palpatine must have seduced Count Dooku to the dark side, so that by the time his term as Chancellor was running out, the Separatists would be ready to start a larger war. Because of the Separatist threat, the Senate had begged Palpatine to stay on as Chancellor, and granted him more and more “emergency powers” in an effort to win a war that always seemed about to finish, but never was quite won.

  Even the clone troops—the Jedi had accepted without question that Master Sifo-Dyas had arranged for their creation. But Sifo-Dyas was long dead. And that bounty hunter, the one who had provided the original genetic material for the clones…he’d told Obi-Wan that a man named Tyranus had recruited him. Obi-Wan had thought it was another lie; they’d found no man named Tyranus. But I’ll bet there was a Darth Tyranus! Why didn’t I see it then?

  The war had thinned the ranks of the Jedi, and spread those who remained out over many worlds, so they would be easy prey when the time came for the final attack. And now—now only the two of them were left here. Obi-Wan could still hope that others had survived elsewhere, but the devastation he had seen in the last few hours had convinced him that no other Jedi remained alive on Coruscant.

  Yoda broke the silence at last, saying what they both knew. “Destroy the Sith, we must.”

  Not just Emperor Palpatine; the Sith. There are always two, a Master and an apprentice. Two of them, and two of us. And one of them is—“Send me to kill the Emperor,” Obi-Wan said. He bowed his head. “I will not kill Anakin.”

  Yoda gave him a stern look. “To destroy this Lord Sidious, strong enough, you are not.”

  I know, but—“Anakin’s like my brother,” Obi-Wan said in anguish. “I cannot do this.”

  “Twisted by the dark side, young Skywalker has become,” Yoda said firmly. “The boy you trained, gone is. Consumed by Darth Vader.”

  Obi-Wan flinched. “How could it have come to this?”

  “To question, no time there is.” Yoda started toward the door of the control room.

  “I don’t know where the Emperor sent him,” Obi-Wan said, in a last, desperate attempt to avoid the duty he knew he must face. “I have no idea where to look.”

  “Use your feelings, Obi-Wan, and find him, you will,” Yoda said, as if he were instructing a reluctant Padawan. “Visit the new Emperor, my task is.” He looked at Obi-Wan with sympathy and understanding, but no pity. “May the Force be with you.”

  “May the Force be with you, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan replied. Yoda was right, as usual. He did know where to start looking for Anakin.

  Padmé was still awake when the alarm went off. She reached for the laser pistol she kept hidden by her bed, but the noise stopped almost at once. A false signal? She checked the readouts and saw that C-3PO had shut off the alarm. Swiftly, she pulled on a robe and went downstairs. C-3PO wouldn’t deliberately let in an enemy, but he didn’t always have the best judgment. And these days, it wasn’t always clear who was an enemy, and who wasn’t.

  She heard voices as she came down the stairs. C-3PO was talking to—“Master Kenobi!” Padmé hurried down the last few steps as the protocol droid discreetly withdrew. “Oh, Obi-Wan, thank goodness you’re alive!”

  “The Republic has fallen, Padmé,” Obi-Wan said gravely. “The Jedi Order is no more.”

  “I know.” Padmé gazed at him, seeing the new lines in his face. “It’s hard to believe.” She took a deep breath. “But the Senate is still intact. There is some hope.”

  “No, Padmé,” Obi-Wan said sadly. “It’s over. The Sith now rule the galaxy, as they did before the Republic.”

  Padmé stared. “The Sith?” It was Palpatine who was in charge of the Repub—of the Empire. Surely Obi-Wan didn’t mean that Palpatine was a Sith Lord!

  “I’m looking for Anakin,” Obi-Wan went on.
“When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Yesterday,” Padmé said cautiously. Her head was spinning. Anakin had told her that his loyalties lay with the Republic, and with the Chancellor…but if the Chancellor was a Sith and the Republic no longer existed, what did that mean? And if there really had been a Jedi plot—no, no, she couldn’t believe that, but still…she couldn’t tell Obi-Wan too much until she understood.

  “Do you know where he is now?”

  She couldn’t look at Obi-Wan’s tired, worried face and lie to him. Her eyes fell. “No.”

  “Padmé, I need your help,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s in grave danger.”

  “From the Sith?” Padmé felt a moment’s relief. Anakin was a Jedi; if the Sith were, somehow, behind everything that had happened, it made sense that he was in danger. But Obi-Wan was shaking his head, and her heart went cold even before she heard his words.

  “Anakin has turned to the dark side.”

  “You’re wrong!” Padmé cried. “How can you say that?”

  “I’ve seen a security hologram of him killing…younglings.”

  “Not Anakin!” Padmé protested. “He couldn’t!” But he had, once before—when he murdered the Sand People who’d killed his mother. He was angry then. He lost control. He wouldn’t just…He wouldn’t!

  Obi-Wan was still talking, saying more horrible things—that Palpatine was a Sith Lord and Anakin his new apprentice. “I don’t believe you!” Padmé burst out. “I can’t.”

  The tired, sad voice stopped. “I must find him,” Obi-Wan said after a moment.

  But if he’s—if you think he’s a Sith…“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” she said, half accusing, half begging him to deny it.

  Obi-Wan did not deny it. His head bent, and he said softly, “He has become a very great threat.”

  Overcome with horror, Padmé sank onto the nearest chair. She saw Obi-Wan’s face change, and realized that she had let her robe twist close around her, so that he could see the unmistakable outline of her pregnancy. Too late, she pulled the robe away. “I can’t—”