Sohna - The Star Kingdom

The midday sun beat down upon the city outside as Wolf sat in the chair, watching his mate sleep as he devoured the last dregs of the fourth room service meal he’d ordered since returning from his full moon prowl. He’d returned early in the morning, elated beyond measure - it had been the first full moon in his entire life where he could clearly remember every detail of his actions, and even direct, from a somewhat rational viewpoint, what his actions would be. Of course, that direction had to be something to which his animal nature would agree, but it hadn’t taken him long to get the hang of that - he’d spent a lifetime juggling exactly that balance when it wasn’t full moon, albeit on a vastly less intense scale.

As the morning progressed, his animal nature waned, allowing his rational mind to once more become dominant. With it, his elation began to fade, and he began to dwell instead on the reason they’d come here, and the problem which remained unsolved. He knew, somewhere inside, that Virginia was right; they’d tried and failed (which was better than not trying at all, he conceded), and that because they’d failed, they needed to hurry home before they were caught up in the consequences. Yet the side of him that identified so heavily with Anakin refused to give up. There had to be a way, he kept thinking. There had to. But he had only the slimmest chance of an idea to work with, despite having spent a good portion of the night trying unsuccessfully to find a back way into the Naboo embassy.

On the bed, Virginia finally stirred, and he held his breath, filled with hope that she was going to wake up - for he wouldn’t have dreamed of waking his pregnant mate (unless, of course, their lives depended on it).

Her eyes opened.

“Wolf!” she exclaimed, nearly flying off the bed and throwing her arms around him. “You’re all right! Oh, my God, I was so worried, I stayed awake most of the night waiting for you, listening to the news to see if ... Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Guilt overwhelmed him (not a new feeling following a full moon, but one he’d hoped to avoid this time). That’s why she was sleeping so late, he realized.

“I’m fine, Virginia,” was all he said out loud, stating the obvious as he held her.

She clung to him a few moments more, then pulled back and stared at him severely.

“Don’t you ever run off on me like that again!” she scolded him.

He didn’t need to put on an act to appear contrite. There was no good reason for him to continue to endanger her. He squelched the part of his mind that told him she wouldn’t have been endangered if she’d only listened to him and stayed home; he knew her well enough by now to know she’d never let him go off by himself on some dangerous quest ... and that thought made him feel guilty all over again for running off and leaving her alone to worry.

“What is that?” she suddenly demanded, having noticed the multitude of room service carts wedged into the room. “Wolf ... how much did you order?”

“I tried to leave some bacon for you,” he said placatingly, “but you didn’t wake up and it was getting cold - we could order some more if you’re ...”

“I mean how much did all that cost?” she clarified.

“Don’t worry, Virginia, we have enough to cover it,” he assured her. “I checked.”

“When is checkout time?” she asked.

“Tomorrow. You already slept past it,” he told her, adding hastily, “I already paid for the next night - and two of these meals.”

“Fine,” she said, heading for the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. Whatever you do, don’t forget to leave enough money for us to take a cab to the rotunda.” She paused for a moment, evidently waiting for him to argue about the destination. When he said nothing, she added, “We’re going home as soon as I shower, okay?”

“We can go to the rotunda then,” he agreed.

“Wolf.”

He looked up. “I just thought ...”

“Home.”

“Virginia ...”

“Home.”

“Virginia, please let me talk.”

She sighed and folded her arms, waiting.

“I thought we could just try to see Padme in her office in the rotunda,” he said. “If it doesn’t work, then we could go right home.”

She sighed again.

“Wolf, you know as well as I do that we’re probably wanted for impersonating officials from Naboo. Now you want to just walk into their office? Are you out of your mind?”

“The people who work in that office aren’t the same ones that work in the embassy,” he told her. “They won’t have any idea who we are. And if it looks like it’s too risky, we won’t do it.”

She was silent a moment, thinking.

“Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaassssse?” he added.

“On one condition,” she told him. “I’m the one who gets to decide if it’s too risky.”

Darth Sidious, still disguised as Palpatine, took a deep breath and slowly let it out, repeating one of the first breathing exercises he’d been taught to do on that long-ago day when he’d been a young apprentice himself. Not ten minutes ago, he’d revealed himself at last to the new apprentice he’d chosen - Anakin Skywalker - and it had not gone quite as well as he’d hoped. Still, he told himself, Anakin’s initial rejection was to be expected. He was, after all, the Chosen One of Sith and Jedi prophecy, a fact Sidious recognized well, though he knew the Jedi were too blind and set in their ways to accept it. In fact, it was quite possible they wouldn’t even believe him when he told them what he’d just learned ...

Sidious permitted himself a small amount of satisfaction from this fact, it helped him regain his iron hold on the virtue of patience which had served him so well. Patience ... He told himself again, holding the word in his mind as his mantra ... as indeed it had been for the past thirteen years. It had taken an unending amount of patience to corrupt one so pure of heart, yet the challenge had been fulfilling in its own way - helping the time pass while he put everything else in place for his new (post-Darth Maul) plan. Patience ... The most common vision he’d had of his own future included just this development - Anakin’s initial rejection. But in those same visions, he’d nearly always come around eventually - even if Sidious had to nudge him a bit over the edge at the end. Apprentices did need help sometimes, he reflected, especially if they had no real natural talent for evil and had to develop it all from scratch. Patience ...

A door chime interrupted his thoughts and he walked into his public office to see his receptionist standing in the doorway to the waiting room. Patience ... he scolded himself silently as he felt a wave of outrage boil up within (What does she want NOW?). Patience ...

“Sharia,” he said warmly, “Is there something the matter?”

“I am so sorry to bother you, Chancellor,” she began.

I’ll show you what it’s like to be truly sorry, just you wait, he thought, though the smile on his lips remained fully in place and his eyes danced with apparent kindness. Out loud he said, “You don’t need to worry about that, Sharia. Now what seems to be the trouble?”

“There were reports of a monster roaming the corridors of the rotunda last night, sir,” she said. “I know it sounds silly, but I keep thinking, it might not be a monster, might it? I just ... I just don’t believe I’ll be very comfortable staying here by myself – that is, if you don’t mind, sir.”

He blinked.

“A monster?” he repeated, trying not to sound as if he disbelieved her. Patience, not that much longer to keep this painful smile plastered to my face; not that much longer, patience ... “What sort of monster?”

“Well, that’s just it,” she said, “They said it was some kind of animal in the shape of a man - with glowing yellow eyes.”

Yellow eyes? This did interest him. Haven’t I been careful enough? he wondered immediately, followed by, Of course I have; I wouldn’t make that kind of foolish blunder, certainly not for no good reason, and there was nothing of any remote interest going on last night ... It was too bad, he thought. He’d intended to cut her throat himself and blame it on the Jedi if they came for him tonight. But apparently it wasn’t quite her time to go. No doubt a slower, more pleasant idea for her murder would occur to him later.

“It’s all right, Sharia,” he told her. “Why don’t you go ahead and take this afternoon off? I’m sure they’ll find out what’s going on soon. The rotunda has an excellent security system, you know. I’ll be all right here by myself for one afternoon.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” she gushed. “You’re so understanding.”

If you only knew ... he thought with a smile as he watched her leave.

An uneasy thought occurred to him a few moments after she’d gone. Curiosity, more than anything, overcoming him, he walked back into the inner lounge where he’d told Anakin his true identity and stared speculatively at his mirror. His own reflection - or rather Palpatine’s - stared mutely back at him. He had inherited the mirror from his master, who’d amassed a vast collection of rare artifacts. Most were not something one could openly own, however, and still maintain the appearance of an upstanding citizen. But the mirror served perfectly well as an ordinary mirror, albeit with a rather unusual frame, however, since the frame was purely decorative and did nothing itself (except conceal the controls to work the mirror’s special function), he could explain it away as simply gaudy taste in a ‘family’ heirloom.

Now, however, he stared at it suspiciously, the story his receptionist told running through his mind. He kept the mirror locked at all times (except when he used it himself - generally for quick trips to a location the Jedi couldn’t detect, where he was free to give in to his Sith urges without compromising his personal mission), but he supposed it was possible someone had managed to find the key and activate it without his knowledge (although the idea generated a rage he had to force himself to sublimate - patience!). Quickly he strode to his private desk, where he entered a passcode which opened a concealed drawer. The key to his mirror lay inside, just where he had left it. Picking it up, he returned to the mirror, inserted it, and then slid the activation mechanism to the ‘on’ position. His reflected image dissolved, and, after a momentary flash of interior refraction, he beheld the same location he’d last seen in it, as expected: A mountainous area with mostly scrub vegetation, rocky, save for the planted landscape of the owner’s mansion. No monsters prowled that place, he knew. Animals, yes, but not animals in the shape of a man. He switched the mirror off, noticing only then, by the contrast with the brilliant daylight of the world he’d just observed, how late it was getting. Time to stop chasing phantoms, he told himself. No doubt someone had just had a bit too much to drink. He walked back into his private office, deciding to busy himself with inspecting the plans for his newest project. That should keep his mind occupied until either the Jedi arrived to confront him or Anakin returned to begin his training. He honestly didn’t know which it would be, not yet. Sighing with contentment at a plan well executed, he sat down and turned on his computer.

The time has come, Mace reflected again, as he and three other masters - Kit Fisto, Saesee Tinn & Agen Kolar - set off on their way to the rotunda to test Palpatine’s reaction to the news that Grievous was dead. Obi-Wan’s report of mission accomplished had come only moments before. He only hoped the chancellor would choose wisely, for he knew he and Master Yoda differed greatly on how the situation should be handled if the chancellor refused to relinquish his powers now that no vestige whatsoever remained of the state of emergency he’d declared three years earlier.

When they reached the hangar bay, however, he was surprised to see Anakin Skywalker striding purposefully towards them when he was supposed to be in the chancellor’s office. For a split second, he thought it might be possible that the chancellor had sent him to let them know he had already returned the powers to the senate (possibly the petition Obi-Wan had described had worked?), but as he got closer, the grave expression on Skywalker’s face precluded that happy outcome.

“Master Windu, I must talk with you,” he said, his tone soft but urgent.

Mace nodded to the others to continue to the waiting taxi, and told Skywalker where they were headed and why.

“He won’t give up his powers,” Anakin told him. “I’ve just learned a terrible truth. I think Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord.”

“A Sith Lord?” asked Mace incredulously. That the man could be working for one, he didn’t doubt, but it seemed unlikely that any Sith could have operated right under the Order’s noses for as long as Skywalker was implying.

“Yes, the one we’ve been looking for,” continued Skywalker, undaunted.

“How do you know this?” Mace demanded.

“He knows the ways of the Force,” Anakin explained simply. “He’s been trained to use the Dark side.”

“Are you sure?” Mace pressed, still unwilling to believe the Jedi could have failed that completely.

“Absolutely,” Anakin assured him. To Mace’s disquiet there was none of the doubt and confusion behind the word that he usually associated with Skywalker’s presence.

“Then our worst fears have been realized,” he said, moving beyond his initial disbelief to take charge of the situation. “We must move quickly if the Jedi Order is to survive.”

“Master, the chancellor is very powerful. You’ll need my help if you’re going to arrest him,” Anakin continued, doubt creeping back into his aura as he spoke.

Mace couldn’t imagine where any doubt could come from - clearly the young man had not doubted the chancellor’s guilt. But there was no way he would agree to take someone who wasn’t completely confident into such a precarious situation with him. Whether Skywalker hesitated or became a loose cannon, a Sith would be sure to use his doubts and fears against him.

“For your own good, stay out of this affair,” he told the younger man. “I sense a great deal of confusion in you, young Skywalker. There is much fear that clouds your judgement.”

“I must go, Master,” Skywalker insisted.

“No,” Mace told him flatly, then added, “If what you’ve told me is true, you will have gained my trust. But for now, remain here. Wait in the council chambers until we return.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’m sorry, but Senator Amidala isn’t available,” Virginia heard the receptionist tell Wolf. She had remained outside the office, having decided that if they showed up together, they were too likely to be recognized.

“Oh, but it’s an emergency!” he told her, adding, “of a personal nature.” In Virginia’s mind’s eye she could even see him wringing his hands, until he hit a certain note and she knew exactly what he was doing ... using his Persuasion. But she couldn’t really blame him for it - this was, after all, their last chance.

“I’m very sorry but she isn’t here,” came the sympathetic reply. “It hasn’t been officially announced, but Senator Amidala resigned this morning. I’m sure she’s packing right now to return home. Her replacement won’t arrive for a couple of days. But I can give you the number of the Naboo embassy; that might even be faster for you. Senator Amidala was always willing to help her constituents, however she would just have contacted the embassy for you if she were here.”

“Ooooohhhhh,” he said, clearly distraught. “All right.”

“And I know I can trust you to keep Senator Amidala’s resignation a secret until it’s officially announced,” she said trustingly.

It took a moment, but presently a very disappointed Wolf appeared beside her in the hallway holding a datapad.

“I’m sorry, Wolf,” she told him, meaning every word. It wasn’t just a story anymore for her either, and she tried not to think of what would happen to all the people around them. “But we have to go before we’re trapped here,” she added, speaking the rest of her thoughts aloud.

He nodded mutely.

“Which way is it to the chancellor’s office?” she asked.

He pointed to it with the datapad.

“We’ll have to wait to go in, though,” he told her.

She looked at him sharply.

“Just until the workday is over,” he clarified. “You wouldn’t want to meet him, would you?”

She shuddered visibly at the thought. It was one thing for an actor to play Evil Incarnate on the screen. It would be quite another to actually face someone - or some thing - of that actual persuasion.

“Where do we wait?” she asked, knowing they couldn’t just hang around outside his door, or even close by, for that matter. “If we get too close, he could use the Force to sense that we’re hanging around, couldn’t he?”

Wolf looked shocked, as if this hadn’t yet occurred to him. But he recovered quickly and pointed the other direction.

“There’s a really nice lounge this way,” he told her. “With lots of vending machines.”

She rolled her eyes and followed him.

“Wolf,” said Virginia after they’d spent a good hour in the luxuriously appointed lounge, which looked to her as if it should have had waiters, not just vending machines, “I’ve been thinking.”

He looked up from munching on some kind of unidentified food - jerky, perhaps, she thought.

“Did Padme resign in the movie?” she asked quietly. “I thought she was still in her senatorial seat when Palpatine announced ... you know ...”

He thought about it a moment and then agreed.

“Maybe something is different, anyway,” she suggested. “Maybe it didn’t - won’t - happen the way George Lucas wrote it.”

He shook his head.

“Minor things can get changed, to make a better story,” he told her. “Cinderella’s prince didn’t find her on the first try, but you wouldn’t know that from the story about them. Padme’s resignation won’t make any difference in the end, but having her still in office was a good way of showing her reaction to the empire being created.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “I just thought that maybe ... never mind.”

He swallowed.

“I guess it’s time to go,” he told her, standing up.

“Do you think it’s late enough?” she asked. “That he’s gone, I mean.”

“If he’s not, we’ll just walk past the door,” he reassured her. “I’ll be able to tell if he’s there or not.”

“How?”

“By the smell,” he said. “Evil has a very distinctive odor.”

“He’s still there,” Wolf told her as they approached the door, which, oddly, stood open.

Virginia froze.

“It’s okay,” her husband assured her. “Just keep walking.” He squeezed her hand.

They were just up to the door when Wolf himself froze in place, yanking Virginia to a terrified standstill beside him. She looked up at him, eyes wide. He put a finger to his lips, and mouthed the word listen.

She stared into the reception area and saw nothing, though her imagination conjured up far more than she wanted. But then she heard it, voices, coming from the office beyond - Palpatine’s office.

“... have lost,” said a deep, male voice from far away. Virginia realized abruptly that a breeze was filtering out of the room, one scented with the polluted vapors of the atmosphere.

“No, no, no. You will die!” a rough, older voice replied - it sounded half human and half ... something else. Flashes of light abruptly lit the office then, though neither of them could see its source.

Virginia and Wolf looked at each other, horrified. They were too late, even to go home. Unless ... unless they could make it to the mirror unseen while Palpatine was distracted? Wolf put his arm around her waist - as best he could - and they shrank down, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible, and they slunk into the receptionist’s alcove and peered hesitatingly around the office door.

As in the movie, Palpatine lay prone on the windowsill, lightning shooting from his fingertips while the wind whistled through the shattered pane. Mace leaned into him, blocking the attack with his light saber. Anakin stood beside them both, looking on, taking no apparent action, saying nothing.

“He’s a traitor!” Palpatine cried, his voice punctuated by the lightning.

“He is the traitor,” Mace replied.

There was no way of making it to the lounge where the mirror hung, Virginia realized. Not unless they wanted to dash across the room and hope they were faster than Palpatine. She didn’t doubt for a second that he couldn’t have crushed Mace where he stood, except that he wanted Anakin to think Mace was the aggressor. She pulled on Wolf’s arm to get him to back out of the room, hoping there was some way they could come back later and go home. Possibly when Palpatine was announcing his takeover to the senate, she thought. But she might as well have pulled on a stone. Her husband was frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

Oh, no, she thought, all her instincts telling her to run away, run away now! But she couldn’t just leave him. She couldn’t.

“I have the power to save the one you love,” Palpatine promised. She could hear the tone of his voice changing, getting older. But worse than that, she could hear the Persuasion (she couldn’t call it anything else) in it. “You must choose!”

“Don’t listen to him, Anakin!”

“Don’t let him kill me!” said the voice, older and older, its tone appearing to weaken considerably. But with the weakened tone, what humanity it had once possessed lessened as well. “I can’t ... I’ve become ... too weak.” He panted. “Anakin, help me!” he pleaded, and the lightning stopped. “I ... I ... I can’t hold on any longer.” To her horror, the Persuasion in his tone had not abated.

Then, as they watched, Mace made his fateful decision to abandon the Jedi code.

“I am going to end this once and for all,” he announced.

“You can’t!” Anakin said, speaking out at last. “He must stand trial.”

“He has control of the senate and the courts,” Mace argued. “He’s too dangerous to be left alive.”

“I’m too weak,” Palpatine added, fueling Anakin’s justification. “Oh, don’t kill me ... please!”

“It’s not the Jedi way!” Anakin insisted, sounding, to anyone not familiar with the story as if he were the rational one trying to talk the other man down. “He must live!”

But Mace did not reply; he merely raised the light saber over his head, leaving himself wide open to attack if Palpatine had chosen to do so.

But Sidious had not gotten to where he was by losing his nerve. He held his helpless pose. Great rewards required great risk.

“I need him!” Anakin cried, the words singing in Sidious’s black soul.

“Please don’t ...” he cried piteously, injecting as much of the mind trick as he could. It might not work now that Anakin knew what he was, but it couldn’t hurt to try all the same.

Windu’s light saber began its downward arc.

“Please don’t ...” Sidious croaked, feeling rather than seeing Anakin reach for his own weapon. Patience ... patience ... the timing must be just right ... just a minor little Force push, less than twenty centimeters ... patience ...

A movement in the doorway to his receptionist’s chamber caught his attention, distracting him. Two people! A woman with her hand over a man’s mouth, eyes wide and terrified. As they should be! I’ll deal with them later ...

“No!” cried Anakin as his light saber met Windu’s...

He’d missed his cue! They would die slowly and horribly, he vowed it! She was pregnant, he noticed; what an interesting kill that would be ...

Virginia stared at Palpatine’s yellow eyes in terror, unable to move, her hand still firmly clamped over Wolf’s mouth, choking back the shout she should have known earlier would come (he’d cried out, ‘No, Anakin, don’t!’ in the theater). The pure evil malice in those eyes was nothing like the simple yellow refraction in her husband’s, and as the eyes held hers, for just a moment she heard the ugly whispers in her mind of exactly what retribution he wanted for their intrusion. Then he looked away, fortunately needing to deal with the matter at hand first.

As soon as the gaze was broken, Wolf yanked her back into the ante-office, out of sight of what was happening only meters away. She should run, she thought to herself. They should run. But her legs felt like jelly as she sat there on the floor, crying. She yanked on her husband’s arm, feeling as if all her movements were in slow motion. But he didn’t move, just leaned closer to her (if that was possible).

“It’s different, Virginia,” he whispered to her. “It’s different.”

She looked up at him questioningly.

“He didn’t kill Mace,” he elaborated.

But the next sound they heard belied his words: It was Mace Windu, screaming, screaming, his voice growing fainter as he evidently fell, or was thrown, out the window. She held her breath, holding onto her husband, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, shaking. But she could not close her ears to the voices in the room beyond.

“You should have joined me willingly while you had the chance,” said a rough voice which was now fully and completely the voice of a monster. “Now your poor wife will not survive.”

The crackle and pop of electricity returned, louder now, stronger. A man’s voice joined it, just a low moan at first, but gaining in volume. A cackle of laughter rose over it, triumphant - and cut off abruptly in a strangled shreik. The lightning ceased. Two heavy objects struck the floor. Then silence.

Virginia watched mutely as Wolf peered around the doorway.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, and started to get up.

“No!” she stage-whispered, finding her voice at last. “Wolf, no!”

To her dismay he paid her no attention as he stood fully up, exposing himself to who knew what from the room beyond. He looked back at her, his face stricken.

“We have to help him, Virginia,” he said.

“We have to get out of here!” she cried.

He helped her to her feet and took one of her shaking hands.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “The chancellor’s dead.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He glanced back into the room with distaste.

“Oh, yeah,” he said with conviction. “You might not want to look at him, though.”

The suggestion gave her courage and she started to peek hesitantly around the doorframe, but Wolf demanded her attention once again.

“But I think Anakin might be dead too,” he said piteously.

Still holding his hand, she let him lead her into the chancellor’s wrecked office. A man with tangled blonde hair lay collapsed on the floor, wrapped in a black cloak. Now and then the blue haze of electricity would sing in an angle of his body, winking out as another appeared elsewhere upon him. His pale face looked like wax; it was impossible to tell if he was breathing.

“We can’t touch him, Wolf,” she said miserably.

“We have to do something,” he insisted. “Call 9-1-1 or something. Don’t they have something like that here?”

Doubtlessly they did, she thought, but neither of them had any idea how to do it, even supposing they could find the chancellor’s phone in time. Why hadn’t she thought to ask how to make an emergency call when she’d asked for the cell phone? she demanded of herself.

And then she thought of it - the mirror key in her pocket. She twisted the end three times, just as the dwarf had shown her to do in case of an emergency.

And then all hell broke loose.