pronker

Part Seventy-Eight

There was nothing in Yoda's eight hundred-year-plus existence that had been more worth waiting for than this council meeting.

He had insisted upon the complete group. He looked around the council chamber at his assembled fellows, actual attendance seven out of twelve with five flickers of blue from holo-emitters, each locked in a brief meditation for calm before beginning the session in the wake of this morning's shocking news. Good, this death was. Why? And why is young Obi-Wan exuding happiness in such amounts? Solemn, too solemn, his character always has been. Something has changed inside for him. As one, the council looked to Yoda, meditations complete. Yoda passed a small holo-emitter along to Plo Koon on his right. It displayed the latest holonews on the death, including the autopsy report placing its time within minutes. For a meeting of this import, it was imperative that all members have access to the same pertinent data. The off-planet members held their own holo-emitters with individual feeds, giving an odd double effect of a hologram observing a hologram. Plo Koon shifted his gaze one time to Obi-Wan, then jerked his attention back to Yoda. It was almost unseemly. "Felt yesterday, I did, a tremendous event in the Force," Yoda began. "This morning we know what it was." The council nodded, serious expressions on each face or emanating from their Force signature if faces weren't visible. Yoda lifted his gimer stick and lay it across his knees, rubbing the width of it with one hand in a polishing motion. "Good, this event was."

"Master?" Mace was the first to speak coherently. "Are you well?"

"Well, I am. Mostly lifted, the cloud from the dark side is. Palpatine's death has done this. Gathered together, we are, to understand." Yoda heard his own voice say the words and knew he had to lead today's discussion personally. "Begin with the positive about the departed, we shall, by saying that Palpatine was friendly to the Jedi, always. His politics and himself, overstretching his authority. Gone badly for the Republic in general, despite the clones, despite Palpatine's extra powers, the war has." All in the room thought of crechemates, clanmates and even friends whom they would never again pass in the Temple hallways.

Oppo Rancisis concurred. "Our victories have been few and hard-won. The speed of the CIS' production of droids has been a factor I have learned not to ignore. We could be overwhelmed." It was a humid day in Coruscant's manufactured climate and the hirsute Thisspiasian clawed at his frizzy beard.

"Your strategies are all that have saved us, Master Rancisis," Mace avowed, glancing once at the holo-emitter and passing it along. "Without you, we would have relied on outdated ploys even more."

Rancisis bowed gracefully, sinuously. The end of his tail twitched in that way that he had of showing pleasure. "My thanks. But returning to our main discussion, Palpatine's emergency powers could have led to abuses." Yoda snorted. "Even more abuses, I mean. If I were in a battle to control the Senate and by extension our galaxy, this is a tactic I would use." Rancisis folded his long-nailed hands.

Obi-Wan spoke up. "Master Windu and Master Yoda, the Sith Zabrak on Naboo inspired no such ecstasy as you described when he died, although I was only a Padawan and may not have been able to sense it." He left me happy when I bisected him; that is, until I sensed Qui-Gon's fading Force signature. Then I thought that I would never be happy again, but I was wrong.

Yoda pointed one ear in Obi-Wan's direction. "Underrate yourself you do, young Obi-Wan. Greater your connection to the Living Force lately, I sense" --- how? and why? --- "yet even back then, actually witnessing a Sith master's taint passing you would have perceived." Yoda paused to give his next words the import they demanded. "The Zabrak, the Sith apprentice must have been. Yesterday the Sith master was no more. Yesterday Palpatine died. Coincidence?" He turned his ears downwards to protect them from the tumult which followed.

"Master!"

"Think what you are saying!" The cerulean Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned so far back in his seat that the holo-transmitter aboard his transport deleted the top of his head.

"I know that I distrust politicians, but --- "

// Kel Dor flare of disbelief // Plo Koon covered his tri-ox mask with his hand in embarrassment at his lapse in telepathic shielding.

Even the sizzling blue of the holograms surged in an analog of dismay. Yoda gave his colleagues' consternation the respect it deserved. "Shocking, such a notion. Return to our meditations for calm, we must." The room hushed, its occupants' quest for understanding leading them down unused paths to seek a united conclusion. "Time of Palpatine's demise matches," said Yoda carefully.

"He'd always shown a great interest in Anakin," muttered Obi-Wan.

"The Chosen One would make a prime target for a Sith," agreed Adi Gallia in staticky blue resolution. She twirled one of the tendrils in her Tholoth headdress thoughtfully.

"I never liked him," stated Plo Koon. The others turned in their seats. "But then, I don't like most beings. Don't dislike them either," he mumbled.

Mace's face wore its heartfelt smile no longer. "Could this be? We're not dark-sighted as we were. This might be the Council's epiphany today" --- he looked at each member directly in turn --- "that pierces the last few shrouding shadows."

"Count Dooku's black character veils my sight to a degree," sighed Yoda. "Yet now shot through with the Light my vision is. Disappointed, Dooku will be to learn his evil is not all-enveloping. Always wanted the best, he did."

Obi-Wan pushed the robes from his shoulders and stood up. "Master Yoda, everyone, given these circumstances, I believe we ought to consult my Pa--- " Obi-Wan broke off and clutched his right arm to his chest, dropping the holo-emitter. He closed his lips upon a cry as tightly as he closed his end of the training bond.

The river gasped.

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Part Seventy-Nine

Anakin slumped into the most uncomfortable seat he could find in the map room. He had chosen the hard plasticine deliberately. The holo-emitter had taken only a few minutes to reconfigure into displaying the ongoing Holonews coverage of Palpatine's death. All news feeds showcased his political career, if they didn't highlight his early life or his committed patronage of the arts. A musical play even now was in the early stages of discussion. Based upon his coming to prominence during the Naboo crisis, a tentative working title was Power's Purity of Purpose. Anakin thought the word 'purity' implied a morally cleaner meaning than the rest of the words in the title, and that on the whole it needed more work. One-word titles like Naboo! were easier to remember. He supposed an opera would be commissioned next.

Palpatine had listened to opera on their last ride together, in the soon-to-be-refurbished Courier fished out of Gitchy. "Let's just listen to music and fly, Anakin. We'll talk another time." But there had been no more time afterwards for their leisurely conversations filled with reminiscences and projections for Anakin's future, Anakin reflected sadly. Palpatine had wanted Anakin to be sophisticated about music after giving up on nurturing his acting talent when Anakin was fourteen. "Acting is simply not your forte, Anakin." The Padawan Follies in his thirteenth year convinced Anakin of that fact; he had started out with a one-line part, but the Master directing the production quickly sought his aid in lighting and on the soundboard and claimed on opening night that Anakin was more valuable behind the scrim than in front of it. Secretly pleased not to be center of attention, Anakin told Obi-Wan that he was more interested in the mechanical aspects of drama and Obi-Wan dropped his plans to speak to the Master director about the change in cast. He made certain that Anakin was included in the holopics of the event, however.

The afternoon wore on and when the coloratura sopranos and baritenors reached their thrilling peak of perfection in the twenty-second act, Palpatine broke his silence. "Anakin, I don't feel well. Would you be a good lad and fetch me a drink of water?"

"Of course, sir. I'll amp up the inertial dampers, too; we'll smooth out our flight pattern soon."

When Anakin returned to the cockpit with the water, Palpatine suddenly put a hand to his mouth and dashed to the rear of the craft towards the 'fresher. He spent some time in there, and when Anakin sympathetically asked through the door if he could help in any way, there was a mysterious drilling sound before Palpatine emerged, blowing his nose and smiling self-deprecatingly. "Too many banquets, my boy, too much rich food. What I wouldn't give for some simple Naboo cuisine at some of those tedious functions." Anakin flew slowly back to the Senate district, engendering countless angry klaxons and frustrated looks from their fellow travelers. Palpatine put his indisposition nobly aside and for the rest of the ride listened quietly to the thunderous finale, smiling intently at Anakin in a musical reverie while he placed both hands in his pockets and moved rhythmically in place to the composer's lively beat. At the crescendo, he appeared transported to an intellectual plane far beyond Anakin's ken, then relaxed as if the entire experience had drained him. Anakin had to help him stand when they reached their destination. He had never been in awe of the Chancellor more in his life than he had been on that ride. Where will I meet another friend with his cosmopolitan tastes who has the patience to mentor me? Anakin promised himself not to forget any of the Chancellor's lessons and to teach his own apprentice someday about the complexities of life in a galaxy that could produce a Palpatine.

One feed had a simple display of Palpatine's bust and dates only. Anakin surveyed his friend's features and washed away all subtext from his perception with the Force. What was left was a plain face, slightly on the homely side. Hours of soothing companionship in the man's company made him blink back tears and swallow hard. When he had left his scramball team in midseason, Palpatine had comforted him. "Save your strength for the academic side of your studies, young Anakin," he'd advised warmly. "Your team will get along without you well enough." In retrospect, it didn't sound as compassionate as he remembered. Generally, the people of Naboo impressed him with their warm-heartedness.

Naboo. Padmé came from that gorgeous, water-drenched place. What was the meaning of the droids' objective in their spying attempts? Why hadn't she been as supportive of his plans with Obi-Wan as he'd anticipated her to be? She had received nothing but the Jedi Order's great regard since Naboo. More than regard, he snorted. She's gotten their --- our --- ever-present help with her very existence. After Anakin had dispatched the kouhuns, Obi-Wan had leaped out a window to apprehend her attackers. What a moment that was. I hadn't an inkling that he'd do that. But their bond was different now. Would he know his Master's intentions better? He sighed at the turns his life had taken this morning and opened a section of his training bond. A little taste of Obi-Wan, that's what I need. Nothing. He opened a wider port, still hoping to slip in under Obi-Wan's notice without alarming him with his neediness. Nothing. Alarmed himself now, he rose, gathering his robes tightly in his hands. Frowning and closing his eyes, he opened their bond fully. There. A thread of it appeared, tarnished with pain. Anakin sprang through Palpatine's rotating image to the door and vanished down the hall. He Force-leaped down the steps, bounding past the bank of windows, following the Force-imprint of Obi-Wan to the infirmary. Inside the maproom, Palpatine played to an audience that had fled.

The river stormed.

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