Sohna - The Star Kingdom

It wasn’t until much later that Virginia and Wolf found out everything that had happened. When she had activated the emergency beacon on the mirror key by twisting the distal end three times, a veritable hoard of dwarves had poured through the mirror into the chancellor’s office. She couldn’t count how many there were and supposed she would never know. But they went to work immediately, bringing everything they needed with them, as if they had been waiting on the other side of the mirror, watching with bated breath, for the signal to pass through. They worked in teams, one on Anakin, one apparently to study Palpatine’s mirror, and others she couldn’t keep track of. She and Wolf had to literally back up to get out of their way.

It was while she was moving aside that she finally saw what had become of Palpatine - and had promptly vomited in the corner. This, naturally, aroused Wolf’s protective instinct, however it also made it apparent that there was a team of dwarves devoted to them. When Wolf had suggested that Virginia really should go back through the mirror to rest, his words were echoed by at least ten little men who wouldn’t take no for an answer. It would have been galling for her to be smothered in that manner, even though she knew they were right, except that they also insisted that Wolf accompany her. So they returned to the Ninth Kingdom, where they were given very nice accommodations, and she fell promptly asleep as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.

When she woke up hours later, Wolf sitting beside her on the bed, hovering solicitously, he told her the dwarves still had not returned to tell them what had happened, even though they’d promised to do so. She told him it was probably because they still thought they were sleeping. So she’d gotten dressed and they’d gone out looking.

Bail Organa was sitting late at his desk in the rotunda, finishing up some senatorial duties, as he intended to return home to Alderaan the next day. He knew the Jedi were very close to defeating Grievous, and he had no intention of being in the capital, if he could avoid it, when the news was brought to the chancellor; he sincerely doubted the man’s willingness to surrender his power, and feared for the safety of his people if it became known that he’d supported the petition of the 2000 (he’d heard what reception it had gotten when Senator Mothma of Chandrila, with a selection of distinguished delegates, had presented it to the man). It might be too late, he conceded, but he felt he could still mitigate matters by staying far away until the shock waves subsided. Then, and only then, would he begin quietly working with a resistance group.

It was usually very quiet at this time of night, so he was surprised to hear the soft tread of footsteps hurrying, coming closer to his office, and stood up to investigate. He needn’t have bothered, for though he hadn’t known it, the clone commander he ran into - one with the insignia of the elite 501st unit - was coming to find him.

“Senator Organa,” the clone greeted him.

“Yes,” he replied, becoming, for some reason, uneasy.

“Your presence is required at once in the chancellor’s office.”

Organa hesitated, not liking at all how this sounded.

“What is this about?” he asked, not moving a centimeter.

“It’s an emergency,” the clone replied, oblivious to the finer nuance of his quarry’s reaction. “Someone has been hurt.”

Still Organa hesitated.

“Then the emergency crew would be the one needed,” he said. “I have no emergency training.” This wasn’t entirely true, but the clone had no way of verifying it.

“They have been summoned,” the clone assured him. “But your presence was specifically requested. The chain of command is apparently in question.”

Chain of command?

“Who has been injured?” Bail finally asked.

“The chancellor and several of the Jedi,” was the reply. The clone might have added more, but those words were enough for Organa to make his decision.

They still, however, didn’t prepare him for the sight that greeted him when he arrived at his destination. Chancellor Palpatine was not merely injured, he was dead, as were three unfortunate Jedi Masters. Moreover, if one went by what was left of his corpse, the chancellor had apparently been dead for a very long time indeed. Organa had no time to dwell on the implication of what this might mean, however, for in the center of the room, on the floor, was a glass coffin (at least that’s what it looked like to him) with Anakin Skywalker laid full out inside it. As he approached, he saw that the famous Jedi knight’s eyes were closed and that he did not appear to be breathing. But if he’s dead too, then why this odd treatment? Bail wondered, bewildered. He stepped closer, and put his hand out to touch the glass, curious not only about its occupant but about its construction as well, as the interior seemed to be lit from within, as if the transparent sides gathered up all the available light around them and refracted them onto their subject. It surprised him to discover that there was no lid, but he snatched his hand back before it touched Skywalker’s clothing (though not before noticing some scorch marks on the cloth), when a movement deeper in the room caught his eye.

Organa stood up to his full height, which was considerable, and peered into the dimly lit shadows, astonished to find a single miniature man standing there. As their eyes met, the tiny man stepped forward, consulted a large piece of paper in his hand, and asked, “Are you Bail Organa?”

Organa nodded, then, finding his voice, added, “Yes.” After a fleeting pause, he also began to ask about the glass coffin, but the little man waved him off.

“I’ll get to that in a moment,” he said gruffly, though at Bail’s obvious discomfiture, added, “Oh, he’ll keep,” in an effort to be reassuring, though Organa wasn’t sure whether he meant ‘in reasonable health’ or ‘like a pickle.’ But the man was going on: “I was asked to relate the following information to you. You understand that I don’t know any more than I’m reporting and that I can’t personally vouch for its accuracy.”

Bail nodded, wondering what was revelation was coming. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Chancellor Palpatine,” the tiny man said, glancing dubiously at the rotting corpse in the corner so that the whites of his eyes showed momentarily, “was your Sith Lord. He was the one responsible for the war, instigating one side against the other. Most immediately important for you is that the vice chancellor aided and abetted him. And that the clone army takes orders directly from the office of the chancellor.

“There is a standing order, so far not implemented, called ‘Order 66' which, when issued by the chancellor, will cause the clone army to turn on the Jedi,” he continued, to Organa’s astonishment - and horror, adding, “And on the chancellor’s private computer - in the other room” - he pointed - “are the plans for a superweapon that can destroy an entire planet, and which could be already under construction, although my informants aren’t sure of the timetable.”

The small man looked away then, as if there might be more information associated with that which he didn’t want to relate.

“What else?” Organa prompted.

The man lowered the paper to his side and sighed deeply.

“Only that my informants express their hopes that a security recording exists of what went on in this office, and that if one does, it is protected from anyone who would benefit from tampering with it.”

As if on cue, Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda entered, flanked by three members of the medical team.

“What is going on?” he asked imperiously, then addressing Organa specifically, added, “What are you doing here?"

“It seems that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord,” Bail answered evenly as the medical team passed him to check on the fallen.

Amedda blinked, momentarily taken aback by the accusation, but recovered almost immediately.

“What evidence exists to support this outlandish theory?” he demanded.

“That’s what we’re trying to determine right now,” Organa told him equitably. “However, the state of his body alone is sufficient evidence that he was not who he said he was, no matter what that turns out to be.”

“His body?” Amedda stepped forward, a bit too anxiously, Organa thought. His eyes, however, did not fall on the chancellor’s remains, but on the glowing glass coffin in the center of the room, now surrounded by the medical team. “What is that thing?” he demanded coldly.

The lead member of the medical team stood and faced them.

“Sir, it appears to be generating a stasis field of some sort,” he said. “We’re detecting very low-level life signs, consistent with that. But it’s of some alien technology that we’re unfamiliar with.”

“He’s not dead, then?” Organa asked hopefully.

“He could be,” came the reply, “This could simply have him on life support. It’s impossible to say unless we remove him. But that, in itself, could kill him. We don’t dare do anything unless we know what happened to him.”

Organa’s eyes sought out the tiny man who’d been present when he’d first arrived. He was oddly surprised to see that he was still present.

The little man didn’t wait for the question. He raised the paper and read, “It says here that you should contact Senator Amidala, and that she will know what to do.”

“Who are you?” Amedda demanded again, this time of the dwarf.

“I might ask you the same thing,” the dwarf replied, folding his arms, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I am the Vice Chancellor of the Republic,” Amedda told him, his chest puffed out as he said it. “And in fact, since the chancellor appears to be dead, that would make me the ...”

“Not yet,” Organa cut in quickly.

“I beg your pardon,” Amedda sneered.

“There is some question of your complicity in the chancellor’s crimes,” Organa told him, careful to speak so the clones still in the room could hear him.

“What crimes?” Amedda demanded.

“They will be investigated,” Bail told him. “However, until the investigation is complete, you can not be sworn in as chancellor.”

Amedda’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing. Organa took the opportunity to send one of the clones to summon Padme, though he was mystified about what she could possibly do.

“The security hologram will tell us what went on in this room,” Amedda suddenly announced, directing a clone near him to obtain it. “That’s all the proof the senate will need.”

Organa stopped the clone as he prepared to remove the disk.

“Leave it,” he told the soldier. To Amedda he said, “We shall keep each other honest. Senator Amidala will be here shortly. She and I will represent the senate. You will be a representative of the office of the chancellor...” He looked sadly back at Anakin and at the bodies he knew were just beyond the far door, then continued, “The Jedi are involved as well; Captain Morgan, will you please send someone to let them know what has happened and request a Jedi representative to join us? Then we can all watch the security hologram together right where it is.”

Amedda looked sullen, but did not argue as another clone left the room. Neither he nor Organa moved as they waited, each intent on keeping the other from gaining any advantage.

“You’ll regret this, Organa,” Amedda spat quietly after they’d been waiting awhile, showing the twin tips of his forked tongue.

“Possibly,” Bail admitted, hoping something would exist to implicate the Chagrian. But even if not, he had faith in the senate - with the backing of the 2000 - to declare that Palpatine’s special powers did not roll over automatically to his successor. If his own political career was ruined in the process, he thought it would be well worth the sacrifice.

Jedi Master Shaak Ti arrived soon thereafter, her eyes wide with apprehension which turned to curiosity when she saw where Anakin lay. Organa quickly explained what they knew, and also his own plan to view the security recording as a group to guard against anyone’s altering its content later. As they waited for Padme to arrive, she made the sad discovery of her three fellow masters lying dead on the threshold of the inner office.

“I’m sorry,” Organa told her as she returned to where they stood. “I should have warned you about what you would find.”

But she only waved away his apology and asked where Master Windu was.

“Windu?” he asked, surprised. “I haven’t seen him.”

She was in the process of explaining that Master Windu had been the one to lead the others to the chancellor’s office when Padme appeared on the doorstep, now dressed, he noticed, in a garment that did not attempt to hide her condition.

“Shall we get on with this?” Amedda said acerbically, the only acknowledgment of her presence he deigned to give.

“Bail?” she asked hesitantly, ignoring Amedda as he had her, though Organa saw raw fear in her eyes.

“Padme, come in,” he told her gently. “The chancellor is dead.”

“Dead?” she asked, shocked, as she slowly walked farther into the room. “Yes,” he assured her, and began once again to explain what they were about to do, when her eyes fell on the glass coffin containing Anakin Skywalker.

All the color drained from her face. Organa stepped forward as he saw her begin to sway, and caught her as her legs gave way beneath her. He eased her to the carpet, crouching beside her, noting that her eyes never left what had transfixed them. Beneath his hands, he felt her shaking.

“Wh ...” she whispered, unable to form the words.

He started to explain what the dwarf had said about her presence being necessary, and then stopped himself. In the middle of the explanation it had suddenly become remarkably obvious to him that Anakin Skywalker had to be her absent husband. His heart went out to her - how anguished and alone she must feel, walking in here to see that, unprepared, and unable to even admit to the relationship?

“He’s alive,” he told her quietly. “The medics say he’s in a sort of stasis chamber.”

At this news, she turned her head towards him, her tear-filled eyes beseeching him wordlessly for the answer to her unspoken question: What happened to him?

“We’re about to play the security hologram of what happened; none of us really knows, although there has been an accusation that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord.” He waited a moment for the information to sink in, hearing Amedda huff in the background. Finally, he added, “Are you up to watching it with us?”

She swallowed and tried to blink away her tears, though she was obviously still shaking badly. After a moment of trying to regain her composure, during which she studiously avoided looking at the casket, she nodded. The waiting clone switched it on and they all stared at the display with interest.

“It’s blank,” said Amedda’s voice harshly, stating the obvious.

Organa was about to ask the clone what was the matter with it, when, abruptly, the picture switched on, showing the chancellor’s inner office as the four Jedi Masters burst through the door, Mace Windu announcing that they’d come to remove Palpatine from office.

Amedda interrupted to pounce on what he called the Jedis’ illegal act. Organa was in the process of trying to quiet him so they could hear what was being said when Palpatine unexpectedly pulled out a light saber and cut three of the surprised Jedi down where they stood. Amedda fell silent without further prompting.

Windu and Palpatine parried, the chancellor driving the Jedi back into the outer office. Once in the larger room, Palpatine’s advance stalled, and they fought more evenly back and forth before the floor-to-ceiling window, which abruptly shattered as the chancellor’s red light saber made contact with the glass. But the move, if it had been intentional, cost him. In the subsequent wind, he lost his advantage entirely, and Windu easily disarmed him. He stumbled backwards on the wide sill, shrinking away from the point of the Jedi’s weapon. But then, as Windu declared him beaten, he proved, beyond any shadow of lingering doubt, that he was indeed the Sith Lord as accused: He shot lightning from his fingertips, an offensive attack only possible for the Force-sensitive. Windu blocked it with his light saber, though it appeared he did so with great difficulty as, horribly, Palpatine’s face began to melt, his distinguished features taking on a harsh cast as they aged visibly in seconds, revealing his apparently true age to be far older than anyone would have imagined. Another figure appeared beside him - Anakin Skywalker - who simply walked up to the great duel and stood, watching it as a spectator. Organa felt Padme clutch his arm.

It soon became clear that he was much more than an audience, however, as each of the men took turns trying to convince him to intervene on their behalf. Windu appealed to his Jedi training; Palpatine, who was beginning to falter, appealed to his mercy; he was, he said, an old man, unable to continue the fight, but more importantly, at least from Organa’s viewpoint (now that he was aware of Anakin and Padme’s relationship), the chancellor called out in what sounded ominously like a threat that he had “the power to save the one you love.” Still, Skywalker stood like a statue and took no action as Palpatine’s Force-lightning ceased.

Mace stumbled slightly as the onslaught against him died away, and gasped with exertion. Then, renewing his grip on the hilt of his light saber, he announced, “I’m going to end this once and for all.” This statement finally got Skywalker’s attention, and he protested - rightly, Organa thought - that it was against the Jedi Code. But the older man paid no attention and raised his weapon to strike. The chancellor cowered in fear, wailing, begging Anakin to save him. As Windu began his follow-through, Skywalker suddenly cried out, “I need him!” and in a back-handed motion, engaged his own blade, neatly blocking the Master’s less than a meter from its target.

The distraction was all it took. Palpatine, who had been feigning weakness all along, obviously for Anakin’s benefit, suddenly renewed his attack in earnest. The Force-lightning now caught Windu bodily before he could disengage his light saber to block it as Palpatine cried out in triumph, “Unlimited power!” Windu screamed as the bolts ripped through his body, his weapon flashing out as it fell from his numbed fingers to the carpet.

Skywalker stood for a moment, apparently numb with shock. At last, after a long hesitation, he raised his own weapon with both hands and blocked Palpatine’s lightning. Beside him, Mace slumped to the floor, moaning, small arcs of electricity still licking at his frame. The chancellor snarled ferally and fixed his sickly yellow gaze upon the man still standing. In a gesture given almost as an afterthought, he swept one hand away in an arc. The leader of the Jedi Council lifted from the floor and was flung out the window, his screams fading into the distance.

Skywalker’s face was now visible as he gazed despondently at the Sith Lord, tears clouding his eyes and rolling unheeded down his cheeks, his weapon fallen to the floor beside him in his shock.

“Become my apprentice, Anakin,” the chancellor told him, his rough, grating voice unlike any they had ever heard. “It is your destiny.”

Beside him, Organa heard Padme moan. Stealing a glance at her face, he saw it was wet with tears, as her husband’s. He squeezed her gently and returned his attention to the hologram, where nothing appeared to have changed.

The chancellor stood for a moment longer, waiting. Then he squared his shoulders within his robe and said, “You should have joined me willingly while you had the chance. Now your poor wife will not survive.”

As he unleashed the Force lightning upon Anakin, Padme cried out and looked away, burying her face in Organa’s shoulder. But none of them could avoid the sound of the young man’s screams or the evil laughter of his attacker. The punishment continued for a long time; long enough that Organa was about to ask the clone to mute the sound, when it abruptly ceased on its own: Writhing on the floor, Skywalker had rolled on top of Windu’s discarded light saber. In a single motion that cost him all his strength, he swung it around, ignited, and ran the Sith Lord through.

Both men fell to the floor, motionless. But that was not the end of the activity on the recording. Whispered voices sounded in the background, many of the words indistinct. But after a moment, the voices’ owners came into view - a man and pregnant woman - the mysterious Virginia Organa had seen when Kenobi had called her from his office. The two spoke a moment, the content of their conversation as mysterious as they were, though they appeared to be concerned for at least one of those who had fallen. Then, Virginia seemed to remember something and activated an instrument she’d had in her pocket. At she touched it, an army of little men had poured into the office, literally from nowhere, bringing materials with them to erect the glass coffin around Anakin Skywalker. When it was finished, everyone left, save for the one who still remained. When Organa entered the office, the clone stopped the recording and they all looked at each other and then at the dwarf still present.

He didn’t shrink from the sudden attention. Instead he stepped forward to where Padme and Bail sat huddled together on the floor, and looked her straight in the eye.

“Are you Senator Amidala?” he asked.

She stared at him numbly, but managed to nod and whisper, “yes,” in a broken voice.

“Then you are the one,” he said, gesturing to the glass casket containing her husband.

She blinked and a little life came back to her; at least it was the first time since she’d collapsed that Organa had felt her try to move of her own volition, save to turn her head away from the most painful part of the hologram. He got to his feet and half carried her over to the coffin, next to Anakin’s face, and sat her down beside him. She leaned forward, her hands clutching the glass sides of the container. As he stood to move away, he saw her tentatively reach out, then choke back a sob as she snatched her hand away before touching her husband For what seemed like several long moments, she sat there silently, crying, her eyes never leaving him. Then she began to speak, half-whispering in a low murmur.

“We said it would destroy us,” he heard her say sadly, “and now it has.” A few more sobs escaped her before she added, “So this is how your dream comes true. Now I understand ...” She raised the tips of her fingers to her tear-stained lips and kissed them. “Goodbye, my sweet love,” she whispered as she touched the fingers to her husband’s still lips. Tears slid off the end of her nose and her chin, falling onto the glass inside the casket.

Her fingers lingered long on his lips as her chest rose and fell, her breathing now becoming labored. She trailed her hand down his throat to his chest in a gentle caress. As she reached his solar plexus, he suddenly gave out a great gasp, choked, and twisted to the side.

“Anakin!” she cried, coming suddenly back to life, now leaning into the casket herself, one hand around him, the other slipped beneath his cheek. “Anakin...”

His eyes fluttered open as he blinked, winced, and tried to sit up.

“Padme ...” he croaked.

She helped pull him towards her and they embraced, holding each other for dear life, oblivious to the witnesses surrounding them.