Alternate Episode I: Converging Fates

[DarthSolo]

This is the first installment of a project I am working on called SWAPT: Star Wars Alternate Prequal Trilogy. That makes it pretty self-explanatory. I'll be using essentially the same characters and places, just re-working the plot to be, IMO, better, and hopefully tie in with the OT a little better, too! Anyway, tell me what you think!

[DarthSolo]

Prologue: The Thoughts of the Wandering Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn

I may never truly understand the ways of the Force. I am not sure the Force has ways. I am no longer sure of many things, in fact. My mere existence seems to defy the laws of the physical world, but that is a daily activity for a Jedi, isn’t it? And for a Sith, as well.

I never thought the fates of those around me would converge the way they have. Yet, I still have faith in my decisions. The stars below me swirl around the galactic core as they always have. They will continue to swirl, and one day, the Force will be in balance once again. The gravest mistake the Jedi made was not being acutely aware of just how out of balance the Force already was.

And I thought one young man could change it all. I still do think that, though he is no longer a young man. Is he even a man? But I still have faith in him. He still has good deep in his heart. I can feel it.

Yet I am still in awe of how things changed with that young man. The day I felt our fates begin to converge, I never would have imagined one boy could be at the heart of it all. Not with a change as massive as this. I never could have imagined.

[Emalin]

Okay. Just had to log back on before retiring because I was too curious.

This is a great beginning, DarthSolo! I'm hooked already. You capture Qui-Gon's voice excellently, and using his thoughts for a prologue is the perfect way to get things started. I can't wait to get into the meat of the story. :w00t:

[DarthSolo]

***Chapter One

It was Anakin Skywalker’s favorite time of the day on Tatooine: just before twilight. The heat of the long day under twin suns was finally losing its edge and giving way to a beautiful night sky, soon to be filled with stars that held infinite possibility. The cool evening breeze whispered of what would be a freezing desert night. Anakin had lived on this planet his entire life and had come to know that this hour was the only time Tatooine was worth living on.

His sandy blond hair tossed in the wind as his limbs pumped. He ran faster than any thirteen year-old boy in Mos Eisly, and faster than many full-grown men. His eyes scanned the dirt streets for signs of the thief he was chasing, but he saw nothing. Some might give up after losing sight of their quarry, but Anakin followed a hunch, and took a right turn. He was rewarded by the sight of a boy, about the same size as himself but dark-haired, running at full speed, attempting to keep a box overflowing with parts under his arm. Gotcha, Anakin thought, and added a burst to his already impressive speed. He was gaining on the thief quickly. Maybe one day I’ll be a famous bounty hunter, he allowed himself. But that optimistic thought didn’t last long, for he reminded himself that he was still, in fact, a slave, no matter how free running after thieves made him feel. He was a slave and he always would be. He was stuck on this planet forever. The anger from that notion fueled his legs to pump even faster.

The child-thief looked over his shoulder and Anakin recognized panic in his eye. He rounded another corner to follow the kid, but stopped as he noticed an old speeder clunking away. Frag! he swore to himself. But before giving up, he reoriented himself and began running in the opposite direction.

After one block, he stopped and began pounding on a door. “Vel, open up! I need your speeder!”

After a few moments, the door slid open to reveal a shaggy brown haired man in his thirties who obviously hadn’t shaven in a couple days. “Anakin? What’s going on?”

“I’m chasing a thief, Vel! Let’s go!”

“Wh—?” Vel started.

“He’s right down the road, Vel! Come on! No time to lose.” And before Vel had a chance to answer, Anakin was dashing around to the garage where Vel kept his speeder. When Vel finally did arrive in the garage, Anakin was in the driver’s seat, warming up the engines. “Come on!”
“Well, if you’re just gonna drive it without me, why am I coming?” Despite his protests, Vel was strapping into the passenger seat.

“I just thought you might wanna come along for the ride,” the boy said, and grinned.

“You’re a good kid, Ani.”

Anakin lurched the speeder to full throttle and sent them hauling down the narrow street that was not much more than an alley. It was essentially deserted and only a few people had to jump out of the way. “How do you know where’s he’s goin’, kid?”

“I saw his speeder go down this way. I’ll find him.”

“Lemme guess. A hunch?”

“Sure.”

On an impulse, Anakin flung the speeder into a left turn. Their new street was slightly more crowded, and a few Twi’leks cursed at them as they flew past. But Anakin didn’t notice, for he thought he’d spotted another speeder up a few blocks.

“Pretty crowded street, huh, kid?” Anakin could tell Vel was slightly nervous. While he would never admit to being scared by telling Anakin to slow down, that was as close as it got.

Too bad Anakin had his own plan in mind. “It’s not that bad,” Anakin said, grinning again, and slowly accelerating. He held Vel’s gaze for a few uncomfortable seconds, just long enough to make Vel twitch, but not long enough for him to actually tell him to keep his eye on the road.

When he looked back to his path, he had to steer clear of a family of Defel that weren’t quite as visible as he’d have liked them to be. But it appeared as though the speeder he was following still thought they’d ditched any pursuit. Anakin looked over to Vel again, his grin as mischievous as ever. “Got your blaster?”

“Of course. Shall I set it to stun?”

“Set it to whatever you want. I don’t need your help.” It was a slight boast. He knew he could take out the kid he’d seen easily enough, but had no idea who else might be in the speeder.

He was right up behind his quarry now and taking inventory of the speeder. It was an open roof with elevated flanks. He couldn’t quite see who or what was inside, even standing and driving at the same time. But a hunch told him he’d be alright. Swinging Vel’s speeder up onto the left, he said to Vel, “Get ready to take the wheel!” then jumped out of his seat and onto the other speeder.

He clung to the side, and got a foothold on a step-up bar under the door, cursing himself for misjudging the jump. He was almost so startled as to not hear Vel’s surprise protests and curses.

Heaving himself fully upright and into the speeder, he noticed the child-thief in the passenger’s seat with the box. He didn’t notice, right away, a young man that must have been the child-thief’s older – and larger – brother, now brandishing a blunt object of some sort. Quickly, he slugged the boy with the box, but didn’t get time in for a second hit when he felt a painful thump on the side of his head. It was enough to disorient him, though he retained consciousness. He knew another hit like that, and it would be a different story.

Luckily, that hit didn’t come. In its stead came the sound of a stun-blast, and a crash, as the now unconscious older brother lost control of his speeder and it went hurling into a building. Anakin was still trying to get his bearings over the pain in his head when Vel wrestled him off of the boy-thief. The next time he could think clearly, he was sitting in the passenger’s seat of Vel’s speeder with the recovered box of parts in his lap. He looked over to Vel driving. “You owe me one,” said Vel.

“Put it on my tab,” Anakin replied, shaking his head to clear his vision further. The movement only caused more regretful pain. “Where are we going, and why am I not driving?”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re up to it, kid,” Vel returned, then continued,

“Watto’s shop. Where else?”

“Watto won’t be happy to see you involved. He doesn’t like owing you money.”

“He may not like it, but he’s damn good at it. I won’t charge him for this. And I imagine he’ll be happy to have his parts back.”

“He might blame you for dinging up his precious slave.”

“I’d love to see him try.”

Anakin laughed, slightly. He’d failed and probably would have been dead if it weren’t for Vel. Sometimes he dreamed his heroics against the petty thieves of Tatooine would one day earn him his freedom. Not on days like today though. On days like today, he was just another slave boy.

[DarthSolo]

***

Hyperspace swirled around them in shades of black and white and silver and even purple, if Obi-Wan Kenobi looked at it long enough. He was told that looking directly into a hyperspace sky was not healthy on the mind, but he found it fascinating. Of course, he made sure to often inventory his body and mind with the Force, as to make sure everything was functioning properly. He knew he needed to be in tip-top shape when the Trials came around, and they could come around any day now. In fact, he had a suspicion that Master Qui-Gon would present him to the Jedi Council for Knighthood when they returned from this mission. The Force seemed to be tingling around him.

“Obi-Wan,” came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice from behind, giving Obi-Wan a start. Master Qui-Gon’s hand was on Obi-Wan shoulder now, and they both gazed into the hyperspace sky. “Obi-Wan, you’ve been a phenomenal Padawan learner. I have great faith in your abilities. You will make an astounding Jedi Knight someday soon.”

When his Master paused to give Obi-Wan an opportunity to respond, Obi-Wan dutifully replied “Thank you, Master.” Though his response to a compliment was automatic, he really was thankful, and excitement sparked in his gut at his Master’s allusion to his future Knighthood.

“Do you sense anything strange about this mission, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon’s voice was impossibly even. He sounded wise even though he was asking his apprentice a question he obviously had the answer to.

Obi-Wan answered calmly and confidently. “I haven’t felt anything dangerous, Master. The feelings I’ve had I’d written off to excitement about such an important and secretive mission.” He was no longer ashamed of his feelings in front of his master, even though they were often very un-Jedi.

This mission to Naboo was naturally very dangerous, and Obi-Wan had felt optimistic with no warnings from the Force. It also had the potential of being a high-profile mission. The Trade Federation was blockading the planet of Naboo, and the Senators from Naboo and the Trade Federation had fought for support in the Senate. The Trade Federation claimed that their presence was perfectly legal, as Naboo had not been delivering its quota of mined goods, and the Federation suspected foul play. Naboo claimed that the mining season had been extraordinarily dangerous due to agencies, including the Trade Federation, not living up to their promises of safety equipment. Naboo miners had started the mining season, but a record number had died within two weeks, and a strike had followed immediately thereafter. Complaints from all sides had flared, and soon enough a controversial Trade Federation fleet orbited Naboo.

The courts tediously debated over the legality of the blockade. The Senate was deadlocked, and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, a native of Naboo, remained dutifully neutral. He was obviously torn himself, supported heavily by corporate organizations like the Trade Federation and feeling the pressure from home. Ultimately, he was waiting for definitive evidence from either side.

This is where the Jedi Council had come in. Palpatine hoped to convince the two sides to come to an agreement to keep the Naboo system unoccupied, yet providing the Trade Federation with its essential materials. To make matters worse, multiple complaints from the Trade Federation, the Banking Clan, and the Techno Union had arisen after the Naboo occupation, with threats of similar action. The Jedi stance had almost unwaveringly been with the planets and against the corporate entities. The exception to the case was Jedi Master Dooku, Qui-Gon’s former Master, who staunchly supported corporate bodies. Eventually the tension in the Jedi Council led Dooku to give Masters Yoda and Mace Windu his resignation from the Jedi Order, handing in his lightsaber and robes.

He did not, of course, go quietly into the night. Instead, he was more vocal than ever, and charismatically rounded up support in the Senate. All the while, the Senate, the Jedi, and the Republic as a whole was split on the issue of creating a Grand Army of the Republic to defend itself and its planets against pirates, and, though it went unvoiced, against a possible rebellion from the corporate systems. Any attempt to do anything seemed bogged down in bureaucracy to Obi-Wan, and he was glad to be out of the offices of politicians and into action.

Qui-Gon was silent, and Obi-Wan knew he must be deep in thought. Obi-Wan took the time to delve into thought himself. Obviously, the particular issue could not be truly solved until sufficient evidence was brought forth. This was one of the secondary objectives of their mission, but the primary objective was to reach a settlement that rid the Naboo system of the fleet occupying it. Naboo could supply itself with food and water for years, but its economy would suffer so much that it might never regain its high status in the galaxy, especially if they were found to be in the wrong in the end. But when Obi-Wan had met with the Senators from the Naboo and the Trade Federation, he’d gotten a more honest impression from Naboo’s Senator Jmila. Obi-Wan knew Jmila had met with Palpatine, and wondered why Palpatine didn’t believe her and push the Senate in the favor of Naboo. But not everyone had Jedi senses.

“Look deeply into your feelings, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, finally breaking the silence. “Look into the present, the near future, and the distant future.”

Obi-Wan was slightly worried by his Master’s insistence. He seemed to be genuinely unsure, something that did not happen often. Obi-Wan considered himself a generally confident man, but Qui-Gon always seemed sure of himself.

He calmed his thoughts and focused on his situation. He felt the galaxy flashing by him at a rate faster than the speed of light, some systems teaming with life and optimism, some nearing poverty, some under the grasp of the Trade Federation or one of its corporate allies. He felt Naboo rapidly approaching, no violence resonating yet, but a definite possibility in the near future. The aggression was coming from the people of Naboo and the Neimodians in the Trade Federation fleet. It would only take a spark to erupt into violence. It would be a delicate situation. He could not tell if they could reach their objective of convincing the Trade Federation to leave, and wondered if their unspoken duty, to protect the people of Naboo, would come into play. How would Qui-Gon interpret that duty? He tended to use means not always in the norm to get the best ends. But those means were always justified, as far as Obi-Wan was concerned. Some Jedi did not share his view, of course.

He looked deeper into the future, and oddly felt a fire of possibilities coming from this moment. He thought that fire had been his excitement in his gut, but now he believed it was the Force. He was not experienced enough to see the possible futures in detail, but few of them seemed good. From the planet of Naboo seemed to sprout a plethora of galactic turmoil. But not only did the fate of the galaxy seem to be twisting in the balance, but Obi-Wan’s personal fate seemed at stake, as did Qui-Gon’s, and the Jedi Order’s as a whole. All stemming from this mission.

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open, though he hadn’t realized he’d closed them. He was breathing hard and sweating. He’d wanted a high-profile mission for the selfish motivation of gaining galactic fame. That was not, of course, the Jedi way, but he was only twenty-three years old, and Qui-Gon knew that was natural. But now he wished he was nowhere near this conflict. He wished to be at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, or in some Senator’s office. The pressure of this mission’s responsibility seemed to press on his temples.

“What do you sense, Obi-Wan?” asked Qui-Gon, with just a hint of desperation in his voice. Or maybe Obi-Wan heard that on his own.

“I sense many things, Master,” the Jedi apprentice said cautiously. “I can’t decipher all of them, but this mission seems to be what Master Windu would call a shatterpoint. Everything seems to change with this mission: on a galactic scale, but also on a personal level. It seems that this mission and what comes of it holds much more than I thought it did.” He almost didn’t hear his own voice as he spoke.

Qui-Gon did not reply right away. Obi-Wan was surprised, though, to hear himself speak before his Master. “But we cannot turn back now, Master.”

Qui-Gon turned to him with tight-lipped smile and a chuckle. “You’re right, Obi-Wan, of course. Sometimes the wisest words are the simplest and most obvious.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You may want to strap into the co-pilot’s seat,” Qui-Gon said as he himself sat down. “I’ll need to employ your skills as a pilot.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan didn’t question his Masters suggestion though he wanted to. Instead, he readied himself for whatever was to come as the hyperspace skies began to twist and streak into an image of the planet Naboo with the Trade Federation’s massive ringed ships in orbit. He found that many times when he wanted to question his Master, it was because he was choosing a less predictable path. With the Force showing so many paths in front of them, and few of them being good, he thought it would be best to trust his Qui-Gon’s judgment.

“Shields up,” Qui-Gon ordered, as he took the ship in a wide arc away from the nearest Federation ship.

Obi-Wan was taken by such surprise that he actually asked, “Excuse me, Master?”

“Shields up, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon answered with a bit more urgency. The Federation was deploying its droid starfighters.

“Are we running the blockade?” Obi-Wan was astonished. That was certainly not what he expected.

“We are trying.”

Obi-Wan almost made a sarcastic comment about Master Yoda’s tendency to tell a Jedi to “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” But instead, he simply asked, “Do you think we can do that?”

“No.”

“Master?”

“Concentrate on keeping the ship together. I will get us to the planet.”
Obi-Wan found himself frozen with confusion. Was this a suicide run? Why? Had his Master lost his mind? He had been very close to Master Dooku. Maybe being almost directly opposed to his former Master had made something in his mind snap and now he was taking Obi-Wan down with him.

But he only said, “Yes, Master,” and concentrated on managing the shields and manning the weak array of laser cannons their transport came with. But the droid fighters came in mass, over thirty of them, and all of them were pounding the transport’s shields with dual laser batteries. Obi-Wan routed power from every system in the ship except maneuvering and laser batteries to reinforce the shields. He even shunted power from fore and port shields to reinforce the aft and starboard sides, which were in more immediate danger. Obi-Wan knew that wouldn’t last long despite Qui-Gon’s skill with maneuvering. The droids were faster and more agile, and soon Qui-Gon would have to pull up, or enter the atmosphere of Naboo at a perilous angle.

“Our shields won’t hold much longer, Master.” To his credit, Obi-Wan kept his voice steady.

“Use the Force. Trust your instincts.” Qui-Gon was as calm as ever though the planet was filling their view almost completely. They would start an atmospheric burn, soon. And it would be fatal, at this point.

“Yes, Master.” Emergency lights began flaring, showing that aft shields were near their breaking point. Obi-Wan decided that the laser batteries were all but useless at this point, and took all their power to strengthen the aft shields. It would give them a few precious seconds. Unfortunately, that did nothing about the atmosphere tearing them to shreds. That was the more immediate threat, it seemed.

But Obi-Wan was proven wrong, as emergency lights flared up again. The starboards shields were now being overwhelmed. “Master, I need to route power from somewhere, but there’s nowhere left.”

“You will find something.”

Almost at a loss for words, he replied, “Yes, Master.” Was this some sort of test? The only thing left was life-support and the engines. If they killed life-support, they would have to abandon ship within minutes, assuming they survived. And engines would leave them at the mercy of gravity and the droid laser cannons. The cockpit was getting hot with the atmosphere burning around them. Qui-Gon’s eyes were closed. He seemed to be meditating. He must be making peace with the Force at death!

But an idea struck him. “Master, I need the engines!”

“Good,” Qui-Gon said without budging.

How could he have been so stupid? They needed to slow their descent anyway, and gravity had them going fast enough to keep the starfighters off. The one advantage they did have was more bulk than the droids, meaning they could handle more of a pounding upon entry.

With the flip of a switch, the engines died and the shields were back at a hearty strength. “Master, can the ship take this harsh of an entry?”

“It does not matter. Escape pod.”

As they scrambled out of the cockpit, Obi-Wan commented, “I hate escape pods.”

“A Jedi should hate nothing, my young padawan.”

“Alright, I dislike them very much.” As an illustration, it seemed, he struggled to fit his frame comfortably in the small pod with his Master.

“I thought you said you disliked flying.” They were shooting away from their burning ship now. The escape pod would calculate a safe path for them to continue their venture through the atmosphere. Hopefully the droids would have retreated by now, thinking the ship was dead.

“I do, just as I dislike escape pods.”

“You seemed to enjoy our little flight, my young padawan.”

“I assure you, Master,” Obi-Wan said with good humor, “I was not enjoying that. I thought you’d gotten us killed.”

“The Force was guiding me.”

“I know that, Master.”

“The Force was guiding you, too, Obi-Wan. You did very well. If you had cut the engines any earlier, then we would have been taken by the droids. Any later and we would have burnt in the atmosphere.”

“Thank you, Master, but I’m sure you could have cut the engines.”

“No, Obi-Wan. I was concentrating on keeping the ship together. I could not have stretched myself that far. One of the greatest skills a Jedi can have, or any person for that matter, is knowing his own limits.”

“Yes, Master. But do you really think they’ll assume we’re dead? Won’t they come hunting for us?”

“Jedi can sense droids. Droids cannot sense Jedi.” Qui-Gon smiled.

Obi-Wan smiled, too. He knew he had a habit of assuming everyone had the same Force-powers he had. “Yes, Master.”

[Emalin]

This is all very good...well-written, with an interesting start. I love how you portray Anakin and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan; you've got their characters *down.* And I look forward to seeing where you take this!

(I also noticed you changed Anakin's age! :yeah: That'll change a LOT of things....)

[DarthSolo]

Yes, indeedy! I intend to change a lot of things!

[Cydon]

FABULOUS! Remember, I'm a TFN Beta Reader so if you ever think of submitting it...

[Stephaleff]

You have begun to spin quite an interesting tale, sir. I'll be excited to see where this goes. There were some very differnt parts in there that I thought really added to the story overall. Good job. I likey likey. :)

[DarthSolo]

***Chapter Two

Dooku – that was the extent of his name now; no titles, no pomp and circumstance, no hypocrisy – walked through one of the many empty, anonymous alleyways in the lower levels of industrial Coruscant, all long abandoned since sunset for the residential or social sections of the city-planet. Life would teem in these streets once again in a few hours, with the pulse of the galaxy’s industries. Though trillions of credits swirled into, out of, and around this planet, Dooku knew that the core of wealth was here. From here, the people climbed the corporate ladder – and fell from it as well. Raw materials from across the galaxy funneled into these factories to pump out durasteel or transparisteel, which would be crafted into the products that fueled the galaxy. To think the Republic could turn its back on industrial and corporate value. The Jedi, of all people, should have been wise enough to see the galaxy’s true heart. Fools.

Even as his thoughts festered, he knew he would manipulate these factories, and many like these across the galaxy, for his own good. His departure from the Jedi came primarily from political reasons, but he no longer lied to himself about his ambition. The Jedi could never truly do anything useful with the galaxy. They were too passive, too afraid, always trying to please everyone. Well, Master Yoda, Dooku thought to himself, the galaxy is too large to be catered to! To affect change, you must use your aggression! Dooku had been taught to trust his instincts since birth, but Yoda’s mantra became contradictory as Dooku had grown in age and wisdom. His instincts told him that the Jedi were spelling their own doom. His instincts forced him to swim upstream until he’d finally gotten out of the water.

Now his instincts led him here: a dark rendezvous with someone who brought out the bloodlust in his old friends on the Jedi Council. The Force had told Dooku that the galaxy was spinning and turning to a tune other than science and evolution. Events danced and swirled into place, as if a conductor crafted them like a symphony. And it was a conscious being. This was not the will of the Force, or the Light Side or the Dark Side, if those distinctions could even be made. Someone powerful, very powerful, was pulling the galaxy’s strings. Dooku knew that to affect true change, he must ally himself with this powerful man.

It’d been the Neimoidians who had slipped and given him his clue. He’d been working with the Trade Federation for years before his resignation from the Jedi and his search for a way to truly change the galaxy. He knew them to be sniveling cowards, always worrying about their purse. He found it odd when they began building their droid army, and completely out of character when they began enforcing their space-lanes with it, Neimoidians in the front-line control ships and all. But the true shock came when, just days ago, they had blockaded Naboo. The planet was fairly well armed, though not nearly well-armed enough to make a dent in the droid fleet. Also, Naboo held great swing in the Senate, and pitting themselves as enemies of Senator Jmila was almost like pitting themselves as enemies of the Chancellor. But the Chancellor remained neutral in the uprising, wisely keeping a cool head and looking for evidence. Upon his own curiosity, Dooku had paid Viceroy Nute Gunray a visit in orbit around Naboo. The Viceroy attempted to hide his secrets, but Dooku’s Force-probes had been too powerful. The secret had come out at last. The Sith were back, and had struck an alliance with the Trade Federation. He imagined many more such alliances had been put into place secretly, and many more would come.

As soon as the secret had entered Dooku’s ear, he knew that the Sith had been orchestrating these strange galactic events. It was with the Sith that Dooku was aligning himself. The prospect excited him, even as he walked. Abandoning the tradition of the Jedi had not been easy. Fellowshipping with fellow Force-users, always gaining new insights and perspectives on the Force – as well as sharing them – that had been a beautiful thing. Now he could gain a perspective no Jedi would ever have. The Force was surely leading him to the Sith, to build on his Jedi legacy and skills, to change the galaxy with the fervor that only a Sith could bring.

Dooku flung his gray cape around himself dramatically, as the music to this galactic orchestra reached a crescendo in his mind. His destiny awaited him at the top of this turbo-lift, he was sure.

The gray cloak was fitting, he realized as the lift took him up. It was between black and white. He did not consider himself an evil man, as some of the Sith legacies truly were. He would never be so dark as to be compared with Exar Kun or Darth Bane. Nor was he consumed with the plain and useless white of the Jedi. He found himself walking – no, dancing – a beautiful step in the middle. This was wiser than any of Master Yoda’s mantras, surely.

At the top of the turbo-lift shaft, Dooku exited and looked around. The meeting was set for this building, but exactly where, he did not know. He was standing in a large, empty room, with smaller offices lining the walls. The only light came through the open doors of the offices which also filtered through the walls: the glow of the city.

A nudge from the Force led him to the corner office exactly opposite of his position in the room. He walked slowly and with dignity through the shadows, then stepped through the opened doors into a plain office with a simple metal desk. A cloaked figure, human by his Force-signature, and powerful too, sat peering out the window to the cityscape before them. The man radiated a dark presence in the Force, pulsing with wisdom and strength. This was surely the Sith Lord.

“Lord Sidious,” Dooku said in greeting.

The Sith did not turn. He did nothing to show recognition of Dooku’s presence for a few tense moments. “Welcome, Master Dooku.”

“My title as Jedi Master has been revoked, my lord. I have no allegiances with the Jedi now.”

“Yes, of course. You are still a powerful man. I can feel the Force swirling around you. You have a great destiny.”

You have no idea, Dooku thought, though not letting his imagination wander at the moment. “Thank you, Master Sidious.”

“You assume I am the Master, not the apprentice?”

This was something that had not entered Dooku’s mind. The Sith tradition allowed for only two Sith at any given time, a Master and an Apprentice. The Sith sought power, and with so many beings roaming the galaxy, their only motivation to gain power, there could be no unity. By minimizing their numbers, the Sith had eliminated their greatest threat: themselves. It was a brilliant solution to a sad flaw. Dooku brought his thoughts back to the present, then spoke carefully. “A man as powerful as you could not be second to any, I imagine.”

“You needn’t tend my ego, Dooku. I am not a politician to be pampered. I already know what you wish, and know that I can provide some, but not all.” The cloaked figure still did not move. Silence fell as Dooku’s mind raced.

But then he stopped himself. Of course a man as powerful as this could sense his intentions. But how much did he really know? “What is it, Master, that I wish?” A simple spar of words could teach him a great deal about this mysterious Sith.

“You wish for power.” Sidious spoke quickly and bluntly. “Power to change the galaxy. Power to shape it to your will.”

“Is that not the aspiration of all great men, men of destiny?”

“From a certain point of view.” Silence. Dooku had no retort for that, and the Sith had still avoided truly answering his original question. “More specifically, Dooku, you want Sith training. You want to fully experience the Force. That is the true power you seek.”

This was true. “Yes, Master.” But was this what he could or could not provide?

“I am not your Master, Dooku. Not yet.” The former Jedi decided to hear those words in a positive light. “You also wish to shake the galaxy by its shoulders. You wish to show them the truth as you see it. You are confident in your views to the point of arrogance, and you wish more than anything to prove the Jedi wrong. You want Master Yoda bowing at your feet. You wish more than anything to be right, so that your hours sparring with the Council were not in vain.” Sidious’ voice was rising in drama, though its tones were still low. His figure still had not moved, until that moment. He turned in the chair to face Dooku. “You wish for vengeance,” he said, staring at Dooku through the hood that covered his eyes and most of his nose. His thin lips curled in a subtle smile, then moved with words once again. “Vengeance, Dooku, is what you seek, though you may not know it.”

Dooku was still swallowing all of the words. They struck deep within him, igniting passion in his heart. Yes. Yes he did want vengeance. He wanted to bring the arrogant Jedi Council to its knees. He wanted the diminutive green Yoda to beg for mercy at the tip of his lightsaber! He wished for the galaxy to praise him for his actions, bringing the treacherous Jedi to justice. Yes, this Sith was right. He did seek vengeance. “You are very wise, my Master.”

“I am not, Dooku, your master. That is the one thing I cannot provide at this time.” Sidious paused, then turned back to the window. “You know the Sith rule of two. If I were the apprentice, to take you as my own would require me to kill my Master, for he would surely be cunning enough to sense my treachery. If I were the Master, I would have to destroy my current apprentice that you might supplant him. I am not prepared to do either. If I were seeking your apprenticeship, I would have approached you myself.”

“I understand, Master.” This was a temporary problem, for sure. Dooku was confident he could find the Sith apprentice, for he was sure that Sidious was in fact the Master, and destroy him without the help of Sidious.

“But, my friend, I can offer you a place at my side when the Jedi are shown humility. I can utilize you in my fight against them. Together, Dooku, you and I can shape this galaxy into something that functions, something strong, something mighty.” Again, the Sith’s words ignited something inside Dooku. He was inspired, as he had not been inspired before. The Sith must have been keepers of a deep, powerful secret to affect him like this with simple words. “Yes, my friend, I can help you gain the power you wish to achieve.”

“I look forward to it, Master.”

Sidious began to chuckle, a deep, dark, cackle from the throat, almost disturbing in its power. “Of course you do, my friend.” Again Sidious turned back. “And, while you will not be my full apprentice, I would be glad to pass my wisdom of the Dark Side to you. Surely, a man with your destiny needs more powers than the Jedi Council can offer.” The smile from under the cloak was wider now, almost fearfully confident.

“Thank you, Master Sidious.”

[DarthSolo]

I had a request on another board to post smaller sections, so the rest of Chapter Two will probably be posted tomorrow!

[Emalin]

Indeed, this bite was just the right size. Not too little, not too much. :bigsmile:

Just so you know, I really enjoyed this installment. 'Tis very descriptive and well-written. Also, it's nice to see Dooku at this point; I've always wondered how he came to be allied with Palpatine. (A pretty large step for an ex-Jedi, y'know!) I appreciate your delving into his motives.

And your use of Dooku's gray cloak -- to illustrate his view of himself -- really stood out to me. Bravo! :thumbs-up:

"From a certain point of view." Interesting quote. Perhaps suggesting that Obi-Wan's later actions (and consequent defense of them) aren't entirely pure of Sith influence?

Great work, DarthSolo! I'm looking forward to the next part. :happydance:

[DarthSolo]

Thanks! Look for the second part of this chapter likely tomorrow or the next day!

[DarthSolo]

***

Darth Maul waited in the shadows as the Jedi – yes, the Jedi; once a Jedi always a Jedi – walked but a meter away from him, out the door. Though he was doing nothing more than standing in a corner listening, he was exhausted. Sweat dripped from his horned Zabrak scalp, giving the black and red body tattoo a glimmer. It had taken a massive amount of concentration simply to cloak his Force presence from Dooku. Sidious had more than once paused in the midst of his conversation to lend Maul a helping hand through the Force. It was slightly embarrassing, but Maul knew that he was not as in tune with the Force as his Master. And these strange powers Sidious seemed to know about always stretched him more than the traditional Sith abilities did. His skill was with a lightsaber, not in meddling deeply in the Force. He took more joy in severing limbs with his blade than he did from unleashing the Dark Side via Force lightning. But he did respect his Master for those unique abilities he always seemed to conjure.

When he heard the door to the turbo-lift across the room shut he let his Force-cloak down with relief. “Lord Maul,” Sidious called to him, looking once again out the window at Coruscant’s lights.

“Yes, Master,” Maul answered dutifully.

“What do you think of our new ally?” Sidious questioned.

I would never trust a Jedi, Master, Maul thought. Or a traitor. That scum simply wants our power, and obviously wants to supplant me. I should have run him through with my lightsaber. But he simply said, “He will be a convenient resource, Master.”

“He has the mind of a politician, Lord Maul, unlike you. I think he will be able to overtake many of the tasks that have been occupying your time.” Maul’s gut burned with hatred and jealousy in that first instance, but then he looked further into what Sidious’ true meaning must be. The Sith Master continued to speak. “This will free you to doing what you do best: assassination.”

Maul allowed a smile at this. He had been stressfully dealing with politicians and businessmen, getting them to vote one way or another, or helping them develop the most deadly – yet obnoxiously cost effective – battle droids and destroyer droids, a concept he himself had thought up. Dealing with these people, all under a false identity, of course, had aggravated him. He preferred to walk up to someone and slice their head off before they even knew his lightsaber was drawn. Instead of dressing in the fine robes and suits of the aristocracies, he preferred the simple garb of his black Sith robe and leather gloves. He took pleasure in scowling out from under that hood, frightening off any who caught his eye. His true power was in his pure physical ability, not in the manipulation of politics. He’d grown so agitated that he found himself creating free time to hunt down local criminals or even interplanetary bounties with the markings of “Wanted Dead” on them. That hobby had given him some convenient contacts in the world of bounty hunting, as he knew he shouldn’t turn in the bounties himself. He started passing them off to hunters like Zam Wessel or, his favorite, Aurra Sing. That woman, whatever her species, was a fierce warrior, powerful with the Force. She was the one former Jedi that he found he could forgive for their past allegiances. He’d even taught her a few skills with the Dark Side, and sparred with her every so often, as well as other exercises only a woman could provide him with.

He brought his thoughts back to the present. Surely Sidious did not need his opinion on Dooku. He must be giving him last minute instructions about tonight’s assassinations, very high profile assassinations that Maul had been looking forward to for quite some time in his dealings with the bureaucrats. It would be challenging but fulfilling.

“Unfortunately, Lord Maul,” Sidious continued, “something else has been brought to my attention through the Force. It has been nagging at me since shortly after you left Coruscant last. I’ve been waiting for you to return. Only you can be trusted with this mission.”

“What is it, Master?” Maul’s irritation began to rise, sensing that he would not be assassinating multiple high profile victims tonight.

“I’ve sensed a new presence in the Force, Lord Maul, one that is just being revealed. It is immensely powerful, though completely untrained. It could destroy us, my friend.”

Maul paused, wondering what to think. He was still annoyed that he wouldn’t be killing anyone tonight, but this threat sounded serious. It must be, if Sidious though it could destroy them.

“It could destroy everything we’ve been working towards,” Sidious continued. This sparked rage in Maul’s heart. He had worked frustratingly hard with the most stubborn and arrogant of people to bring Sidious’ wishes into affect. Maul sensed that they were very close to the completion of their project, and soon he would be able to reveal himself to the galaxy. He would be able to stand as the deadliest being the galaxy had ever known at his Master’s side, as they fixed the galaxy, once and for all. “It is urgent, Lord Maul. You must meditate on this as you travel towards the Rim. In my own meditations, I have not been able to place the exact planet of this being’s origin, but I trust you will. You must bring this presence back to me alive, Lord Maul. It must not be damaged. We must keep in close to us, and manipulate it for our purposes. Go. Quickly.”

“Yes, my master,” said Maul, his disappointment growing further, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to kill whatever this thing was. Yet he moved on. “What of my mission tonight?”

Sidious thought for a moment. “Send Jango Fett. He may not be able to kill the Jedi, but the Senator will die at his hands, surely.”

Fett would not be happy at getting such short notice on a job. “Is Fett even on the planet, my Lord?” Maul asked.

“I have summoned him to report on his special assignment. He is on Coruscant. He will do this job.”

“Yes, Master,” Maul said, not as sure as Sidious.

“Go, Lord Maul. With all haste.”

“Yes, Master.” Darth Maul was not happy, though he knew his duty. And Jango Fett would not be happy either.

[Emalin]

Brilliant, yet again! :wtg: It's sooooo satisfying to see Maul's thoughts on Dooku. Just another thing I've always wondered about. And I like how you brought Jango into the picture, too. He and Dooku just "appeared" in Episode II, so it's great to see them here.

Again, a good writer, are you! :yoda:

[DarthSolo]

To all my readers, I've just decided to make Obi-Wan 23 instead of 21. I editted it in the post where I mentioned his age for those of you who aren't caught up, but for those of you who are, just wanted to let you know!

[Emalin]

^ Oh! Any particular reason?

[DarthSolo]

When I did the math, belatedly, I realized that Obi-Wan would only be 8 years older than Anakin at the age I'd put him at. There was really no reason I'd made Obi-Wan 21, so when I did some researchand found out he was actually 25 in the actual Episode I, I decided I could rethink the age thing! So, now he's a full 10 years older than Anakin, which will come in a bit of handy for him if and when he has to train the boy.

[Cydon]

Smart thinking.

[Emalin]

^ I second that. :bigsmile:

[James]

Hey is this VERY good DS!! looking forward to seeing more. :) :)

[DarthSolo]

Alright then! I'll probably post the first part of Chapter 3 this evening.

It pains me to have to post this stuff so slowly. I finished writing Chapter Eight last night.

[James]

Post it all at once!! I'd prefer it that way. :)

[DarthSolo]

Well, I've heard a lot of other people say they like it piece by piece, plus I'd feel bad posting everythin I had, and then making you people wait while I come up with the next chapter. Not to mention, there'd be no revision time! But, I will post part of Chapter Three tonight

[DarthSolo]

***Chapter Three

“This meeting is adjourned,” said Jedi Master Mace Windu, finally giving Kit Fisto a sense of relief. “May the Force be with you all.” Jedi Masters of all species began to rise and head for the door, as did Kit.

“Master Fisto,” came the voice of Master Yoda, “A moment with us, could you spare?” The tiny, green being’s strained voice combined with his inverted word order would have been comical to Kit had he not seen the Jedi Master in action. Yoda had earned his position as the leader of the Jedi not only by his wisdom, but by his skills in battle and his ability to train younglings and apprentices. Yoda was truly the most impressive being Kit had ever encountered.

Kit turned to see Yoda and Mace still seated. He nodded silently, and slowly worked his way through the migrating Jedi Masters, though he did not wish to weigh in any further on the discussion of the day. He had not decided where he stood on the ever-boiling issue of creating an army for the Republic. He could not imagine there would be a war, but he knew he was not always privy to political events. He supposed that was something that would have to change, now that he was sitting on the Council. Master Dooku’s boots would not be easy to fill.

Yaddle floated by on her repulsor-chair and gave him a nod with her green head. Adi Gallia welcomed him to the Council, as Plo Koon and Even Piel – vocal allies in favor of the creation of the Army – nearly bumped into him on their way out. The Quermia Jedi Master Yarael Poof nodded his long neck as they passed, then continued talking to the ancient – though not as ancient as Yoda – and hair-covered Thisspiassian Master Oppo Rancisis, both staunchly opposed to the creation of an Army. The last to leave the room, besides Windu, Yoda, and himself, was the also undecided Zabrak Master Eeth Koth. On his way past Kit, Koth said, “Welcome to the Council, my friend. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun with us.” He put an arm on Kit’s shoulder and gave him a knowing smile then continued towards the door.

The room was finally empty, and Kit strode towards Windu and Yoda. “Yes, Masters?”

“Yoda and I have a secret meeting with a Senator tonight on the issue we discussed with the Council,” Windu said. “As you know, Master Yoda and I are on opposite ends of this issue, and we know that you still stand undecided. We were hoping you would join us tonight so we could have a less biased opinion.”

“I would be honored,” Kit lied. It wasn’t really a lie; he was honored that Masters Yoda and Windu sought his opinion, but this was not an issue he wished to speak on. He strode across the room again and sat in his chair, specialized for his Nautolan body. The three Masters sat in silence for a few minutes, Kit wondering what to say. He was not a speaker, but instead a fighter. He did not consider himself wise in comparison with the other Masters of the Council, and certainly not as wise as former Master Dooku.

The room was filled with tension. Fisto hadn’t realized the rift that this issue may have put between Windu and Yoda. The old friends sat next to each other, but did not converse. They stared off in other directions, often meeting Kit’s lidless black eyes for a moment, then looking away. It was Windu who finally broke the silence. “Senator Organa should be here momentarily.”

“Of course,” Kit said automatically. Senator Organa? he found himself thinking. This was no ordinary Junior Senator. This was the leader of the anti-Army movement. The Senator from Alderaan was perhaps the most vocal in all the Senate about this issue. Bail Organa must be getting desperate to hold secret meetings with the Jedi. Or maybe this was simply how politics worked. Being on this Council would teach Kit many things, he realized. And then he realized that he would be the only non-biased party at this meeting.

To pass the time and ease the tension, Kit reached into his robes, and felt around for the equipment he kept there. Every Jedi would hold a lightsaber at all times, but Kit found himself to be more armed than most. A hold-out blaster rested in his boot, and an all purpose hydrospanner was in one inner pocket of his robes. In the other pocket was a few odd trinkets and a homing device. Kit’s Master had drilled the mantra “Always be prepared” into him as a youth, and to this day Kit took it to heart.
After a few minutes, the Senator arrived, looking sharp in his classy Alderaanian tunic and cloak. All three Jedi rose to meet him, saying words of greeting. “Senator Organa,” Yoda said, “Jedi Master Kit Fisto, this is. Met, I believe you have not.”

“I have only seen the results of your work, Master Fisto.” The Senator’s voice was warm with his smile. “You are a very effective Master, it seems. Your help in clearing up Alderaan’s illegal spice lane problem three years ago was invaluable. I’m glad I’m finally getting the opportunity to thank you in person.”

“Thank you, Senator Organa,” Kit said, then wondered if he should instead be saying “You’re welcome.” He put the possible blunder behind him. “I was simply doing my duty.”

“It seems you always do your duty well.”

“The Force willing. It is an honor to meet you, as well, Senator.”

“Now, gentlemen,” Organa started, visibly switching modes, “shall we begin our discussion?”

“Indeed,” Yoda said. “Let us walk, though. Heard too much debate on this issue already, this room has.”

“I do feel the need to stretch my legs,” Windu agreed, and Kit was thankful. It had been a long meeting. He hoped that all Council meetings did not go so long.

They walked through the mostly deserted temple, drawing a few interested looks from Jedi in the library, listening to Organa’s arguments. “Gentlemen, this is a delicate time for the Republic. We need not help escalate our situation into violence. The Jedi have always been keepers of the peace, and I would think that they would see the logic behind keeping the Republic without a galactic military. The systems that defend themselves with local militaries and militias would see it as a threat to their sovereignty, as many supporters of the Army Creation Act already speak of disarming all systems in favor of a galactic military. Some systems would surely see this as cause for secession, as if the ruckus being caused by the Trade Federation and its allies is not enough. The Republic has stood for millennia without a galactic military. If we create one now, it could throw us into chaos. The Senate and the Jedi cannot be keepers the peace while preparing for a war.” Organa finished his speech looking directly at Kit. Obviously, the Senator knew who could and could not be convinced. One of Kit’s many green head-tails twitched nervously until Organa’s brown eyes moved to gaze upon Yoda.

“Wise words, Senator,” Yoda agreed. “Wise words.”

“Senator,” Master Windu said, obviously gearing up for arguments of his own, “you mention the ruckus that the Trade Federation is causing. You also mention systems that keep their own militaries. Naboo is one of those systems, and the Trade Federation is occupying it. Both bodies involved have militaries, yet Naboo has no chance of defending itself against such massive droid armies. If Naboo cannot protect itself as it is, who will? The only other option would be Naboo’s allies with militaries, but that line of thought leads us to a civil war between individual systems and large, interstellar corporations.”

During Windu’s speech, something in the Force caught Kit’s attention. While Yoda, Mace, and Organa all began to make point and counter-point, their voices subtlety rising, Kit let them drown out, and put himself in-tune with the Force. They were on the balcony outside the library, feeling a cool, gentle breeze run in the night sky. The air was a bit dry for the amphibious Nautolan’s tastes, but he’d learned to drown out that discomfort over his years on the capital planet. Just as he was drowning out all noise now. There was a prickling sense of danger in back of his mind. Nautolans could see better in the dark naturally than humans, so Kit didn’t bother stopping the argument while he scanned the surrounding area. Surely, Masters Windu and Yoda weren’t so enthralled in their debate that they did not sense the danger. Hopefully.

With an impulse from the Force, Kit pulled his lightsaber out and ignited it, finding himself blocking three red bolts of laser, only a meter from Senator Organa’s chest. In the direction of the shots, about a kilometer away, was an armored figure standing. It dropped the instant Kit saw it, but he was able to reach out and get a vague grasp on the presence: cold and efficient, and frustrated at being foiled.

Before Master Windu was able to say anything, Kit had jumped off the balcony and onto a passing speeder. He thought he may have heard an echo of Windu calling “May the Force be with you” but couldn’t be sure. He was now intent on tracking the would-be assassin.

The speeder he’d fallen into was a taxi driven by an Aqualish. Kit gave the driver a strong but wordless Force-impression that the passenger should be driving, and that the driver would be well paid at the end of the trip. With minimal protest, Kit was in the driver’s seat, hurling towards the last known location of the assassin at top speed. Aggravated yells and honks didn’t make it to Kit’s ear, as he was focused intently on the hunt. This was his natural arena, not sparring with politicians.

When he reached the building that had held the assassin, he felt a stab or surprise and fear from the speeder-lanes on the other side of the building. Swinging the speeder around on a hunch that that surprise might be connected with his quarry, he was rewarded to see a jetpack-equipped figure go crashing into the window of the building opposite him. Kit pulled the speeder up to the broken window, tossed a large amount of cred-coins in the Aqualish’s lap, and dove through the window. The armored figure was standing in front of a repulsor-lift, and was suddenly shocked to see Kit in the building with him. He fired a few shots which Kit easily dodged, then dove out the adjacent window, igniting his jetpack once again.

Peering out the newly broken window, he saw the assassin landing on a moving walkway and running to Kit’s left. Using the Force to pad his fall, the Jedi was able to follow, though by the time he landed, the armored figure was around a corner. When he rounded the corner, a ship shaped like an upside-down boot was hovering at his level, and the armored figure was running up its ramp as the top of the boot came shut. The ship was blasting away in moments.

Without a thought, he reached into his robe for the homing device he kept with him. Centering himself with the Force, he hurled the device towards the departing ship, then pushed it along further with his powers, and thought he felt it connect with the hull of the escaping ship.

“Always be prepared,” Kit muttered to himself as he hailed a taxi to take him back to the Jedi Temple. He could have walked a few kilometers for the nearest repulsor-train station, but he needed to report back to Master Yoda immediately. Of course, he felt vaguely guilty for not using public transportation twice in one night when he knew profits from the repulsor-train helped fund the Jedi Temple. I’m not a politician, Kit assured himself, I don’t have to worry about nonsense like that.

“Fisto to Master Windu,” Kit said, pulling out his commlink.

“Windu here,” came the Jedi Master’s voice. “Have you apprehended the assassin.”

“He escaped, Master Windu, but I am tracking him,” Kit informed.

“Permission to follow.”

“How are you tracking him?” Windu asked, somewhat surprised.

“I’m always prepared, Master,” Kit said triumphantly. “I believe he’s heading out of Coruscant space, but I will be able to pinpoint his exact position when I get access to Jedi computers.”

“Then get back to the Temple immediately.”

“Permission to track the assassin upon returning?”

“We’ll discuss that when you make a full report to Masters Yoda and I.” After a pause, Windu added, “And I’ll have a shuttle prepped for you.”

“Thank you, Master.” Maybe this will get me out of a few Council meetings.

[Emalin]

Cool! It's Kit Fisto! *claps* And, what's more, he's doing exactly what Obi-Wan does in Episode II. How will that affect things, I wonder?

Oh, and I can't help but wonder how Kit Fisto speaks. His species does look very...unique. :happy:

Looking forward to more!

[DarthSolo]

Well, not exactly what Obi-Wan does, but similar.

[Emalin]

^ :um: Oh, did I say "exactly"? *looks at previous post* Why, yes, I did! :confused: What was I thinking, I wonder? Definitely not "exactly." Only "basically." Yeah.

I think I stayed up waaaay too late. :ohwell:

[DarthSolo]

Well, maybe Kit Fisto will get his ship into the orbits of Coruscant and get blown out of the sky! Or maybe the assassin wasn't Jango Fett, but instead someone else! I could be throwing you a curve. Ya never know with me. I'm tricky!

[Emalin]

^ Ah, yes. Gotta love those tricky writers. :P You know, I'm pretty keen on throwing curves myself.

We'll see. *discomfiting laughter* We'll see.

[DarthSolo]

Here's a fun little (well, not so little) section with some character devolopment. Happy Holidays to all my readers.

[DarthSolo]

***

“Master,” Obi-Wan started, as respectfully as he could manage with his legs covered in the muck of Naboo’s swamps, “where exactly are we going?”

“I sense a settlement nearby, Padawan,” Qui-Gon returned simply.

“As do I, Master, but it is nowhere in the vicinity of Theed City, that much I can tell. The inhabitants are not human, Master.”

“I know that, Obi-Wan,” the Jedi Master replied, completely detached as he moved through the swamp, with a bit more ease that Obi-Wan seemed to be able to manage. Obi-Wan also got the impression that his Master was concentrating very hard on something in the distance, something Obi-Wan obviously didn’t sense.

“So, if this settlement we are heading towards isn’t Theed City or even related to Theed, why are we going there?” Obi-Wan pulled a foot out of a bog, and heaved his tired body forward again.

“It is the closest settlement.”

“Yes, but what if they are enemies of the Queen? I’ve heard there are other civilizations on Naboo that the Queen has no power over.”

“Are you sensing danger, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon’s question came as if he already knew the answer.

“No, Master.”

“Are you asking me these questions simply because of your physical discomfort in the swamp?”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, but decided to answer honestly and simply. “Yes, Master.”

Qui-Gon stopped, turned to look back at Obi-Wan, and smirked. “How well you’ve learned to cloak that, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan sighed and continued moving, making an effort to catch up to his Master. “Is there something you can sense that I cannot, Master?” Obi-Wan did not like being unaware of anything in the situation, though he’d gotten used to it, spending the last decade or so of his life under the tutelage of Qui-Gon.

“I am sure there are many things I can sense that you cannot,” Qui-Gon said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Of course, Master,” Obi-Wan said, returning the sarcastic hint. “Is there anything I should be aware of that I am not, Master?”

“I am sure there are, Obi-Wan.”

“Would you like to inform me of them, Master?”

“I think you should be able to find them yourself, Padawan,” the Jedi Master said cryptically. “Reach out in the Force, Obi-Wan, and you will sense what I sense.” Qui-Gon stopped moving, and Obi-Wan followed suit. He sighed and closed his eyes, wondering what Qui-Gon might be referring to. Nothing in the Force became terribly apparent, but he didn’t give up right away. Qui-Gon’s words broke into his concentration, but did not destroy it. “The dangers you expressed your fear of, I think, may be legitimate, but likely not. The discomfort you spoke of, though, will only be increased.”

Those hints led the apprentice to what he needed to sense. Concentrating on the settlement that could not be too far off now, he realized that whatever people this was they were much different than any species Obi-Wan had yet encountered. They seemed peaceful, though wary. Obi-Wan did not sense any open hostility towards anything in the vague sense of their general character that he felt. Of course, he could be completely wrong.

The other thing Obi-Wan began to sense as he slowly let the Force form a picture of the settlement in his mind was that its image was distorted, its lights wavering in a deep darkness. The buildings he could see were spheroids and many of them were transparent. They were arrayed as if in the sky, detached buildings floating above and below others. Even the most technologically advanced civilizations in the galaxy rarely had entirely floating cities, at least not with independently floating buildings. And no surroundings could be that dark, unless it was in the deep of space, which couldn’t be logically possible. The conclusion Obi-Wan came to was that it was an underwater city. The people must be aquatic.

He let the vision fade away. “Wonderful. Looks like we’ll be going for a swim.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan. I trust you have your aquatic breather with you.”

“Of course, Master.” And they began to trek onwards through the swamp, which became more watery with almost every step, probably emptying into an ocean or lake that held this strange city.

They didn’t speak for quite awhile, but Obi-Wan grew restless. He’d been wondering about many things, yet had had little time to pose any questions to his Master about them.

“Master,” he began, “why do you think the Jedi Council did not ask you to take Master Dooku’s seat?”

“You know the answer to that, Obi-Wan. What do you think?”

“Well, I assumed that you would have rejected the offer, but that shouldn’t have stopped them from offering it. You are one of the most experienced Jedi Masters not on the Council.”

“Yes, that may be one reason.” Obi-Wan sensed his Master was somewhat conflicted about that answer. “Why do you assume I would have rejected the position?”

“You’ve never fallen completely in line with their views, Master. I assumed you wouldn’t want to have much to do with them.”

“But would a position on the Council not give me the opportunity to influence their decisions?”

Obi-Wan thought about this, but rejected the notion. “I think not, Master, for Master Dooku was just as controversial as you were, it seemed. And the Council didn’t seem terribly influenced by him.” Obi-Wan thought back to the old man that was once an outspoken Jedi Master, growing increasingly so with time as his views constantly conflicted with those of his peers. Eventually, Dooku had simply left the Order. Being Dooku’s former apprentice, Qui-Gon surely had something to say on the matter, and Obi-Wan was quite interested in what that might be.

Qui-Gon was quick to jump on Obi-Wan’s answer. “Master Dooku was controversial in a much different way than I was.”

“But that doesn’t mean the Council would listen to you any more than they would have listened to him.”

“You are correct, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said with seemingly infinite wisdom in such a simple statement. He continued, as Obi-Wan knew he would. “And therein lies the answer to your original question.”

Obi-Wan paused, recollecting his thoughts. “Ah,” he said when it finally registered. “They wouldn’t want to risk giving you too much influence.”

“This is my thought on the matter. Of course, only Masters Yoda and Windu know the exact reasons.”

“I don’t understand the Council sometimes,” said Obi-Wan. “Master Yoda seems not to have a problem with your actions. Master Windu, though….” Obi-Wan let the thought trail off.

“Master Yoda is very wise. And so is Master Windu, in his own way.” Obi-Wan never sensed what Qui-Gon might be thinking past that statement, but he was sure there must be something. “Master Yoda understands that tradition must be broken at times, for a Jedi to be more effective. Master Windu is less likely to admit that, unless of course he is in a fight. There is no one more potent in battle than Master Windu.”

“Yes, Master. I have heard stories. He and Master Fisto are thought of as legends to some of the younger apprentices in the Order.” Obi-Wan admitted that he had once idolized those two Masters. He’d dreamed of training under Master Windu. Of course, he was thankful now to be Qui-Gon’s apprentice. It was a very unique experience.

“Yes, indeed. Their talents with a lightsaber should be revered throughout the galaxy.” Qui-Gon’s voice held true respect. “Any apprentice would be overjoyed to train under either one of them.”

“Many padawans don’t know what they are missing,” Obi-Wan replied. “I would hope that your somewhat tainted image in the eyes of the Council would not influence the thoughts of any young Jedi.”

“Those things are not in my control, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied, unconcerned, “nor yours. We simply do our duty as we see it.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan paused as the trudged along further. They were almost wading in knee-level water now, an expansive pure-water ocean opening in front of them. The tree cover was becoming thin, and Obi-Wan thought they would have to submerge themselves in the ocean soon. He decided he would ask his remaining questions without hesitation. “Master, you’ve never discussed with me your thoughts on Master Dooku’s departure.”

Qui-Gon did not answer immediately, but did pause in his steps. Obi-Wan stopped as well, attempting to remain respectful and humble, while hoping Qui-Gon did not dodge the question, as he knew his Master could skillfully do.

But the Jedi Master did answer when he spoke. “I was quite sad to see him go, I must admit. But he had become increasingly distant from the Jedi Order, even in my controversial eyes. I hope he is happy.”

“Don’t you worry that he might have fallen,” Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment but continued, “to the Dark Side.”

“Obi-Wan, the Dark Side can never be completely defined, in my opinion. But I do not think Dooku is an evil man. Controversial, yes, but not evil. I was very close to him even through my Knighthood. I do not believe he could have fallen that far. Some may disagree.”

“Wasn’t Dooku trained by Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan knew this was true, but was using the question to further his conversation. He hoped Qui-Gon answered quickly, because the water was nearly waist deep.

“He was. Yoda’s last Padawan, in fact, before he took on the role of training the younglings.”

“Odd that one of Yoda’s apprentices could become so controversial.”

“As I said before, Yoda knows when traditions must be broken. Dooku simply decided to break tradition more often.”

“And you even more often than him?”

“I suppose you could view it that way. Dooku was a very traditional Jedi in many ways. His controversy came in his unique political views. Mine is not limited to that.”

“It’s an interesting line that I find myself in. The wise head of the Order who pushes the limits in his own right. A Jedi Master who has resigned from the Order for political reasons. And my own Master, always on the wrong side of the Council’s decisions. Maybe I’ll be the one to fall completely dark.”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Though we are controversial, Obi-Wan, I don’t think any of us are evil. You will make a fine Jedi Knight and Master someday. And I’m sure all of your padawans will be just as successful.”

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a smile, and the Padawan felt a chill up his spine. His Jedi trials would come soon. Soon he would be a Jedi Knight. Soon his time with his Master would come to a close. Bittersweet.

Qui-Gon continued. “Now, shall we go for a swim?”

[Cydon]

Very good DS.

[Emalin]

Good job, as always. :D

Hmmmmmm...I see you cut out Jar Jar's role in leading the two Jedi to the Hidden City. Does this mean Jar Jar won't be in this at all? :blink:

[DarthSolo]

Well, maybe he shows up in the Hidden City...

EDITED because I realized I hadn't posted what I thought I had. No spoilers for you!

[Emalin]

^ Eh? :confused:

Okay, never mind. I prefer surprises!

[DarthSolo]

***Chapter Four

Queen Padmé Amidala, sovereign leader of the Democratic State of Naboo, sat uncomfortably in her luxurious throne, watching with no expression on her face—heavily adorned with the royal makeup—as the members of the Theed Committee assembled. She sat at the head of the Committee as elected Queen of Naboo, despite her young age of only sixteen. While many planets scoffed at the tradition of electing a ruler so young, the people of Naboo adamantly stood behind their Queen, knowing that because of her youth, she would not be corrupted or influenced by bureaucracies and political games. She had been educated for a job in politics since she was seven, but had been kept safely away from Theed during her years of training. Now, two years into her five year term as Queen, she sat on the Throne at the gravest of times.

“Captain Panaka, Captain Typho,” she said, calling the meeting to an abrupt start. The military chiefs stiffened as they looked at her, both dark skinned and middle aged. “Do we have an accurate assessment of the Trade Federation’s power? Do we yet have any hard numbers?”

Captain Panaka, long-time Chief of Aerial Security, spoke gravely. “M’lady, it is impossible to compile complete data. We know that there are a dozen capital ships orbiting the planet,” he said, keeping any sort of defeat out of his expression and posture, “but how many starfighters can be deployed from each capital ship, we do not know.”

“Estimates, Captain?” she demanded, strength in her voice. She knew that strength of leadership, more than anything, was what the people needed now. “We must be able to assess our situation more fully if we are to take any action.”

“You speak of taking action, Queen,” said Theed City Governor Sio Bibble, nodding his white-haired head respectfully, though Amidala thought she heard a twinge of defiance in it, “but what action can we take? We are simply outnumbered.”

Before he could go on or anyone else could truly let his words sink in, Amidala spoke. “Governor, we will do something, and help will come to our aide. To sit idly by and complain about the situation will gain us nothing. Please, Governor, keep your pessimistic remarks to yourself.” Tension filled the silence as her voice echoed off the white and brown marble walls. “Now, Captain Panaka has not—”

“With due respect, M’lady, what aide do you speak of?” Bibble stared defiantly. “We have heard no word from the Jedi or the Republic. Senator Jmila has not contacted us, nor has Chancellor Palpatine. Would you attempt to call upon the Gungans, M’lady, as if they would come out of their swamps?”

She cut him off with a hand gesture and a brief, but powerful glance. I must remain strong, she told herself, wishing she could lose all dignity and give the man a piece of her mind. I am the leader of my people. I will remain strong.

“We will discuss the matter of aide after Captains Panaka and Typho finish their reports.” She let her gaze settle on the Governor again, keeping him silent in his seat. “I apologize, Captain, for the interruption,” she said, slowly looking away from Bibble and to Panaka once again. “Please, continue.”

“As for estimates, M’lady, the numbers we have compiled, though they be highly based on guesswork, say there could be as many as two hundred droid starfighters on each of the twelve capital ships.” The Committee members gasped, all but Amidala, who continued to hold her gaze. “That would leave our starfighters outnumbered ten to one.”

A low roar of grumbles spread throughout the meeting chamber, echoing clearly at times off the marble walls and floor. Words like “hopeless” and “surrender” met Amidala’s ears, and she wished she could shed a tear without damaging her thick, royal makeup.

Without asking for silence, she demanded it with her voice. “And you, Captain Typho. What would be the situation on the ground, if there were to be an invasion?”

The younger, recently promoted Chief of Groundside Security gulped visibly before speaking. “M’lady, the Trade Federation is known for using massive amounts of battle droids in their campaigns. With twelve capital ships to carry them, I would think that the number of droids would be in the thousands. Five thousand is my official estimate, M’lady, all controlled from the flagship in orbit. Their attacks would be efficiently unified, more so that we could ever imagine. We would be completely overrun.”

The grumbles filled the air again, this time louder and more desperate. Sio Bibble’s voice rose above them all. “We must surrender, M’lady. We must resolve this peacefully, else the people of Theed will be slaughtered!” Some cried out in assent, some in dissent. The two Captains sat seemingly unmoved, dutiful to the last. The commerce leaders and mining representatives stood by the Queen, though they held little true power. Bibble and the other two governors present cried out for surrender. The voices rose and the room’s noise level felt chaotic.

“Silence!” the Queen demanded. A hush fell quickly over the room, and some had to take their seats. “There is still hope for a peaceful solution without surrender, Governor. We have not yet exhausted all options. You forget that this blockade is illegal, and surely the Senate or the Courts on Coruscant will not allow it. We have little control over that now, but we must have faith in the Republic.”

Without letting Bibble start another uproar, she pressed on. “We have not yet exhausted all options on this front, either, gentlemen. Though our own times of peace have seen our military all but disappear, we do not know the might of the Gungans. They will surely come to our aide, and we have never been able to properly assess their numbers. There is hope yet. Though our starfighter corps is small, we produce some of the finest ships in the galaxy. Our N-1 Fighters have been proclaimed to be the fastest, most maneuverable snub-fighters from the Core to the Outer Rim. There is hope yet.”

Her impromptu speech did seem to inspire hope in a few, but Sio Bibble was quick with a comeback. “M’lady, it takes more than speed and maneuverability to destroy twelve capital ships. And you speak once again of the Gungans. You, more than any other on Theed’s throne, have attempted to bring the Gungans out of their hiding place in the ocean. They have no desire to interact with us beyond debating fishing territory. You’ve already given the Gungans more than enough, and they have not shown any sign of returning your favors. Why would this situation bring any sort of change?”

“Because, Governor,” the Queen snapped, coming as close as she would to losing control of herself, though her tone remained even, “the Gungans are not stupid people, as much as some of the more xenophobic of you might want to believe.” Her accusing gaze did not waiver for an instant, and Bibble could not break eye contact. “When they see what forces orbit our planet, they will surely take action.

“And though our N-1s may not be able destroy the blockading force, they can surely outrun them. We still have the option open to us to run the blockade and send for help. Surely our brave pilots would not shy away from such an opportunity.

“Governor Bibble,” she said after taking a deep and powerful breath, “you may have given up hope, but I have not. I will not give up hope. I will stand face to face with the Viceroy of the Trade Federation, surrounded by his battle droids, and force him to cut me down before I give away the freedom of my people. The Democratic State of Naboo is a sovereign state, protected by the Republic and its Senate, to say nothing of our brave soldiers. Our situation may look dim, Governor, but I refuse to give up hope. I will stay strong.” And for that moment, more than ever before, she believed it.

“It is decision time,” she continued, “and I have made my decision. Captains Panaka and Typho, I am ordering you to assemble a liaison group with you as the leaders. You will go to Otoh-Gunga and inform them of our situation. Then you will begin to plan in conjunction with the Gungans our military plan of action. Take what information you have,” she said. “This is of the utmost importance. We are adjourned.”

[Emalin]

:wtg:

I like your portrayal of Queen Amidala. In just one section of writing, you've managed to capture her strength. For that, I applaud you.

Also, Sio Bibble seems more "opposed" to the queen than he was in the movie. Is this something that was introduced in the novelization, or is it your own interpretation of his character?

[DarthSolo]

My own, new interpretation of his character.

[Emalin]

^ It'll be interesting to see where that leads, then. Hopefully not a betrayal? :worried:

[DarthSolo]

Alright, well, sorry it's taken so long to post this next section! I've been sort of unmotivated the last week, due to hanging out with old friends and whatnot over the holidays. And somehow that lack of motivation translated into not posting here! Anyway, here's the rest of Chapter Four.

[DarthSolo]

***

The water grew colder and darker with almost every stroke Obi-Wan made. Using the Force to displace more water than his arms and legs could alone, the Jedi apprentice made comparatively good progress behind the flowing tails of his Master’s robes. The two Jedi had been swimming exhaustingly hard for quite some time before the beautiful underwater civilization had come into view. When Obi-Wan first saw the dimly lit yet transparent bubble-buildings, he almost gasped, before realizing that his aquatic breather would have fallen out of his mouth with the movement of his jaw.

They’d come over a beautiful reef dancing in the Force, vibrant species of fish and crustacean almost blending in with the ancient coral. Obi-Wan had no clue which of the aquatic beings might be dangerous, so he used a technique Qui-Gon had been teaching him to ease the defensive instincts of non-sentient species. He suspected his Master was doing the same, and they ran into no trouble from the sea-life, not even from some of the frighteningly large beings lurking in the deeper, darker parts of this ocean.

When they did come over the reef into sight of the underwater city, Obi-Wan actually had to stop swimming for a moment, just to take it all in, visually and through the Force. They came at it from above, and even from a distance, Obi-Wan could not take the whole of it in with one glance. Aquatic vehicles darted between the massive bubble-buildings. The bubbles near the center were all at least translucent, some even fully transparent. The outskirts of the city, Obi-Wan hypothesized, were mostly residential, and therefore more private. Almost none of those bubble-buildings, all much smaller, were at all translucent. To block view, they included beautiful swirls of color, greens, and reds, and blues predominately, though most in the color spectrum could be found somewhere. It truly was an amazing sight.

And now they were close enough that they might be noticed. There was no longer any risk of a poisonous fish attacking them, for the area was obviously dominated completely by whomever inhabited the cities. But occasionally, a water vehicle would pass within range to give Obi-Wan a jump. Whenever one of those ships did pass by, Obi-Wan reached out into the Force, trying to get a sense of the person inside. All of them gave the same sort of feeling, alien but not hostile. Curious and alert. All of the vehicles were enclosed against the water, so they had no auditory contact with any of them, and the Jedi’s comm equipment had been shut off and sealed away before submerging.

Qui-Gon led them deeper into the city, obviously heading for the largest bubbles, which Obi-Wan was starting to think of as the government buildings. His Master had likely come to the same conclusion. Obi-Wan began to recognize patterns in the outlay of the city near the center, rings of sorts. With each ring, the bubbles began to grow larger and more transparent. Interesting, Obi-Wan thought. If my hypothesis is correct, and the largest buildings at the center are the government buildings, it is quite a statement of trust, having the most important buildings being the most transparent. He filed the thought away for further use and analysis upon dealing with these people.

When they cleared the boundaries of the third to last ring, a vehicle burst out of one of the bubbles in the next ring inward. As it approached, the Jedi slowed, watching six individual figures drop out of the bottom of the vehicle to begin swimming toward them. They swam much faster and more effectively than the Force-assisted humans did. The vehicle circled around as the swimmers approached, and a half dozen more swimmers were deposited behind the Jedi, surrounding them. Qui-Gon stopped and Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber, wondering how well it would serve him underwater. But Qui-Gon put a hand up to him, and reassured him in the Force. There was no need to feel threatened. Yet.

The group behind them fanned out to create an enclosing half-circle, while three in the group in front stopped and began to spread. The remaining three swam in smooth, synchronized formation toward the two Jedi, obviously well-trained. This must be some sort of military. When the swimmers were in close enough for Obi-Wan to take a visual inventory of them, he saw that they were long, lean figures, probably orange in skin color, though he couldn’t be sure in the dim underwater lighting. They had ears flowing behind them and large, nostrilled bills that ended in lips for a mouth as well. As the swimmers came to a halt in front of them, they oriented themselves as if standing as a human would, as Qui-Gon was doing himself. Obi-Wan followed suit, all the while taking in more features of these strange swimmers. Their arms were long and thin, though adorned with impressive muscle. Their midsection and legs were clothed by a material that was dyed black with crossing blue stripes across the chest. Their eyes protruded on short stalks from the tops of their orange heads, though Obi-Wan didn’t notice the stalks having the ability to turn very far. He also noticed that they were using their ears to tread the water, keeping them at level wit the Jedi who were relying on the Force to do the same.

The leader of the three was making hand signals at Qui-Gon, none of which Obi-Wan understood. Qui-Gon was not responding, but he could feel his Master attempting to understand and communicate through the Force. He did the same, but made little progress. All he could tell was that these people did not want to harm them, but obviously viewed them as some sort of security breach.

Eventually, Qui-Gon must have gotten through, because the leader ordered, via his hand signals, his troops to escort them to one of the bubbles. The vehicle floated cautiously overhead as they swam along, a dozen of these strange swimmers surrounding them and watching them.

They finally reached a platform outside the bubble, and Obi-Wan was glad to give his arms a rest. The lead swimmer walked directly through the translucent wall, and Obi-Wan could vaguely see him beckoning them to do the same. Qui-Gon stepped through first, and Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised when he followed to find the inside of the bubble to be filled with oxygen. He gladly took his breather out of his mouth and inhaled a breath of natural air.

The breath turned into a gasp as he took in the contents of the building. They were on a walk way that bordered the outside of the building. In the center was a great pillar made of the same transparent material as the bubble’s walls, holding in a column of water. Following the column up and down, he realized that it served as a transportation device, as the swimmers made their way to the upper and lower levels of the bubble by swimming up and down the column. It worked like a repulsorlift, but with more effort being required.

The pillar of water was not the only thing to take Obi-Wan’s breath. The inside of the building was beautifully decorated with gorgeous blue tiling on the floor of the level he was on. The bottom of the level above was made of vibrant red tiles, and the edges of both floors were trimmed with bronze-colored railing, organically shifting with the slight contortions of the building’s strange walls.

As Obi-Wan continued taking this in, he realized the now-standing swimmers were talking. Their language was not anything Obi-Wan recognized. It was filled with throaty clicks and moans, interspersed with high pitched notes that would have been musical had they been less blunt and had more melody. The lead swimmer talked quickly, it seemed, and was still signaling with his hands. Obi-Wan noticed now that the swimmers’ feet were oddly hoof-like, indicating they must also be able to dwell on land. An interesting species indeed. And they still didn’t seem at all hostile, just cautious and wanting answers.

Finally the swimmer stopped talking, as if at a loss, and Qui-Gon spoke. “We are ambassadors from the Republic and the Jedi Council. Do you speak Basic?”
The leader looked at his companions briefly, then turned back to the Jedi Master. “Aaaaaaaah,” he said, prolonging the expression a little longer than Obi-Wan would have considered appropriate. “Soooo, you-s are speakers-of da Basic speak, hah? You-s are friends-of da Naboo.”

The accent was strange and strong but understandable. Qui-Gon responded quickly. “We are ambassadors to your planet, yes. We seek immediate transport to Theed City to speak with the Queen.”

“Aaaaaah, yess, I seeee.” The alien spoke slowly and deliberately, with a slight tinge of hostility in his voice now. Obi-Wan quickly wondered if it wasn’t the greatest idea to mention the human civilization that also populated this planet. “How like you ‘Umanss-ah? You-s like to seee da Queen, hah? Without even da formal introductions-ah?”

“Forgive me,” Qui-Gon responded without hesitation. “I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my Padawan Learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Aaaah, yesss. I am da Captain Tarples, of da Gungan Grand Army, section Otoh-Gunga. Welcome to our-s city, Jedi Master and Padawan Learner.” It was obvious that this Tarples didn’t understand the regular protocol for addressing a Jedi.
Qui-Gon did not seem to care. “It is a beautiful city. I have never met a Gungan before. Do your people extend beyond these oceans?”

“Aaah, my friend Jedi Master, we once did. Once, yess, once we did. Now, though, da Naboo and da Queen keep us deep in da oceans. Oh, not dat we mind. Da ocean be our home-s.” Obi-Wan sensed a sort of pride in the voice of Tarples when the captain spoke of the Gungans’ history. Hopefully these people weren’t on terrible terms with Theed, though Obi-Wan was beginning to think that less and less likely.

“I would be honored to learn more of your people, Captain,” Qui-Gon said respectfully, “but we are on an urgent mission. Your planet, as you may or may not know, is under siege from above.”

“Aaah, yes, Jedi Master,” Tarples said, not making any effort to speak faster. “Yess, we have seen da many strange things from da stars. We have seen. But, no, Jedi Master, we are hidden away. No one does know of da Gungans. And if dey find us-sa, well, pain on dem! We-sa have a grand army!”

If every system in the Republic had as much military confidence as the Gungans, Obi-Wan mused to himself, I wonder if we would be debating the creation of the Republic’s army in the Senate right now.

“Again, we would be honored to witness more of your troops,” Qui-Gon said, ever the diplomat, though Obi-Wan knew that could change at any moment. “But we must secure transport to Theed immediately.”

“Aaaah, yes-sa. But I cannot give you-sa dat me-self. No-sa. You must see da Circle of Elders, Jedi Master.”

“Please,” Qui-Gon prodded, “show us to them. And tell us more about the Gungans on the way.”

[Emalin]

Good job yet again...especially on your description of the seabed and underwater city! :D Just thinking about them took my breath away. And I enjoyed the Gungan dialogue, hee-hee! Though there was a part, near the start of the chapter, where the adverbs got distracting.

It was interesting to see what happens when Jar Jar isn't with the Jedi. But...he WILL be in this, won't he?

Won't he????? :worried:

[Leto Aldriss]

Take a Bow DS, this one makes me want to seal the actual DVD in Lucite as a reference only material.

Love the character expansions. And I always felt Bibble was whiney, Now there is no dispute.

PS

As long as Jar Jar appearance is more than comic releif I will approve.

[DarthSolo]

Thanks. I'll get around to posting again this weekend!

[DarthSolo]

***Chapter Five

Obi-Wan stood slightly behind and to the right of his Master, as Qui-Gon spoke to the Circle of Elders. The head of the Council, Boss Nas, as Tarples had explained on their journey to the inner-most ring of Otoh-Gunga, was of the minority tribe of Gungans, the Ankura. Tarples, and every other Gungan they had seen of yet, was of the majority tribe, the Otolla. The Otolla made of almost all of the Gungan Grand Army but for a small portion of the officers. The Ankura were more intellectually inclined, and much less physically imposing. In the stead of impressive muscles under orange skin, the Ankura were known for their layers of fat and green skin. The only other noticeable differences were that the Ankura’s eyes were not on stalks but placed similarly to that of humanoids and they lacked the nostrilled bills of the Otolla.

Obi-Wan had inquired on the trip over if there was a significant amount of rivalry between the Otolla and the Ankura, and Tarples denied it. Obi-Wan still wondered, as it seemed the Gungans’ history, which Tarples had happily outlined for the Jedi, consisted of many squabbles between the two tribes, at times the Otolla using pure military might to enslave the Ankura, and at other times, the Ankura using superior intellect and business-sense to suppress the Otolla. But within the last few centuries, it seemed, the two tribes had lived in harmony, though Obi-Wan still got the sense that there was a sort of sibling rivalry.

Boss Nas was a typical Ankura, according to Tarples’ description. His face showed heavy jowls instead of the Otolla’s billed face. He was a large, content looking Gungan, sitting in the center of the arch of seats that made up the Circle of Elders. The rest of the Circle was split between the two tribes, mostly older looking Gungans, their leathery skin either faded orange or faded green. They were all elegantly robed, the colors being dominantly natural and smooth. The decoration of this particular building was only slightly more elegant than the first building Obi-Wan had witnessed.

The Circle sat on the top floor of the central bubble of the city, and Obi-Wan enjoyed the radial view of Otoh-Gunga, though he was still wet from swimming up the central transportation shaft. He and Qui-Gon stood with heavy, wet robes and dripping hair. The Gungans’ clothing seemed to repel the water, as did their skin. An uncomfortable disadvantage in a possible tense political situation.

Qui-Gon was speaking. “The situation in the Senate is seemingly irresolvable, due to many unfortunate factors. We Jedi have been called upon by Naboo to attempt to force the hand of the Trade Federation, or at least bring the Queen to Coruscant with sufficient evidence to convince either the Courts or the Senate that the blockade of Naboo is uncalled for. Our situation has led us here, Your Eldership. We hope that we can count on you to help sustain the peace of this beautiful planet.”

Obi-Wan thought it interesting how vaguely Qui-Gon had described the “events” that had brought them here. He did not recall, currently, if the Trade Federation had deployed starfighters before they had decided to run the blockade, or if it had happened the other way around. At this point, those little details didn’t particularly matter, but on Coruscant they surely would.

“Hmmmm,” Boss Nas mused to himself. His voice was deep and jolly so far, but Obi-Wan had the feeling that voice had the power to send chills up his spine. “An interesting predicament you-sa ‘ave found, yess?”

The large Gungan took time to look at all of the members of the Circle of Elders before continuing, probably trying to assert authority and inspire a bit of fear into the Jedi. It wouldn’t work, Obi-Wan knew. Qui-Gon had seen thousands of situations in his years as a Jedi, and nothing seemed to shake him. Obi-Wan had almost mastered that same ability.

Nas continued. “It seems to me-sa, that you-sa are needing da help of da Gungans, yes? What a strange possssition for you-sa outsidersss, you-sa friendsss of da Naboo.”

“Yes, your Eldership,” Qui-Gon said matter-of-factly. “We are asking for your assistance in all humility.”

The Boss laughed a deep, hearty laugh that shook his jowls and belly. Many of the other Elders joined him. “’Umility? ‘Umility, you-sa sayin’? ‘Umility iss something da Naboo ‘as never shown to usss. Why should I-sa believe you-sa’s ‘umility? Da Gungans want no part of da Naboo and want no part in da Republic. We-sa are independent of da rest!”

“We are not asking you to give up that independence, Your Eldership,” Qui-Gon pressed, undeterred. “We are simply asking for your assistance. I am not sure you understand the gravity of the situation. Circling this planet right now are twelve massive vessels of war, carrying untold amounts of firepower. Not only will they take the sovereignty of Theed Palace, but they will destroy the independence you have built for yourselves in this beautiful ocean.”

“How do you-sa know that thisss Trade Federation knows about uss Gungans? We have had no contact with any outside for centuriesss long.”

“Unfortunately, Your Eldership,” Qui-Gon said without changing the tone in his voice in the least, “I cannot offer you any tangible evidence that the Trade Federation will have knowledge of your existence. I can only attempt to convince you with logical arguments. The Trade Federation has some of the most sophisticated war-making technology in the galaxy. Their sensors, from what I’ve witnessed, are second to none. Their military might has been unmatched thus far, and the political sway they have on Coruscant is nothing less than disturbing. Your Eldership, I do not know how knowledgeable you are of the Jedi and the Force, but I must tell you that on our way to Naboo, I felt terrible fates converging around this planet, for the entire galaxy. I did not know of the Gungans then, but now, I am sure your fate is intertwined with the rest of ours. This situation is grave, Your Eldership. The Naboo, the Jedi, and the Republic are all in dire need of your help.”

When Qui-Gon finished, the Elders all sat silently, in deep thought. Boss Nas did not look away from Qui-Gon, but the others began to mutter to each other. Qui-Gon’s words had gotten through, and Obi-Wan let tension he hadn’t previously noticed seep out of his muscles. Even this far into his apprenticeship, Obi-Wan was still learning a plethora of lessons from his Master, the latest in persuasive diplomacy.

“You-sa make a grand argument, Jedi Master,” the Ankura Gungan said slowly, cautiously, his gaze still unwavering, his voice as deep as ever, giving Obi-Wan a tingle at the base of his neck. “Yess, you-sa make a grand story.” He paused, and Obi-Wan started to feel the tension coming back into his shoulders. “But,” the Elder said abruptly, “We-sa ‘ave not been in da ‘abbit of trusting outssiderss. We-sa ‘ave ‘eld our ground since taking up diss-‘ere under-water ‘abitation. We-sa mussst stay true to ourselves-sa, until you-sa ‘ave real evidence.”

Without hesitation Qui-Gon retorted. “We hope that you would at least give us transportation to reach Theed.”

But Boss Nas was now looking over Qui-Gon’s head. “What isss it, Captain?” Obi-Wan spun around to see Captain Tarples and a dozen of his soldiers standing with two dark skinned humans. “Who-sa iss dis, you ‘ave brought to uss?”
“Your Elderships,” Captain Tarples started, bowing his head, “Dese are Captains Panaka and Typho of da Naboo. Dey ‘ave com to beg our-sa assistance.”
One of the humans, the elder of the two, stepped forward. “Your Eldership, I am Captain Panaka, of the Democratic State of Naboo’s Ariel Defense. Queen Amidala sends a message to you from Theed. We need your help. And you need ours.”
Boss Nas cut him off. “’Ow clever of you, Jedi Master, to ‘ave arranged such a meeting at such a time.”

Nas was about to go on, but the younger of the two humans, Captain Typho spoke first. “Jedi?” It was then that the two Captains noticed Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. “The Queen has been expecting you, Master Jedi.”

Obi-Wan was so surprised and overjoyed by the turn in events that he spoke out of turn. “We got side-tracked.”

Even Qui-Gon seemed to be at a loss, as all the different parties looked back and forth at each other. The Force has a strange way of working things out, Obi-Wan thought.

[Cydon]

Ever thought of publishing that? Wow its good.

[DarthSolo]

If I attempted to publish this, LucasLawyers would seize every single asset I have. So, no, I haven't!

[Emalin]

Too bad, huh? Still, this is wonderful-good stuff. I really enjoyed this installment, especially the change in events. It's fun to watch how you make things go.
:happydance:

[Sam]

I've read through only the first four chapters so far, and it'll take some more time for me to get caught up. It's very interesting how you're combining elements of TPM and AOTC, and I think it works. TPM could have used the gravitas of Christopher Lee as one of its villains. We learn in his meeting with Sidious the nature of what separates the Sith from the Jedi. And I applaud your development of Darth Maul. As he was the most visible villain in the film, it needed him to be something more than just a scary-looking alien who fights great with a double-edged light saber.

I also agree with your making Anakin and Padme slightly older. It gives Anakin more range, and it makes Padme more believable as Queen of Naboo. (She didn't look 14 in the film anyway. She looked 16, and that's because Natalie Portman was about 16 when they were filming.) You've also established her character very well.

A couple of things stand out, in a good way.

In the scene with Bail Organa:

"The Senate and the Jedi cannot be keepers the peace while preparing for a war."

Striving for peace and preparing for war are incompatible with each other.

Albert Einstein


In the scene with Queen Amidala:


"The Gungans are not stupid people, as much as some of the more xenophobic of you might want to believe."

Great line, and I hope it signals a change in how the Gungans, especially one in particular, are going to be portrayed.

I'll comment on the rest of the chapters, as soon as I have time to read them. So far: :thumbs-up:

[Cydon]

If I attempted to publish this, LucasLawyers would seize every single asset I have. So, no, I haven't!
I know...its just...so good!

[DarthSolo]

***

Anakin Skywalker walked down the sandy roads of Mos Eisly under the already hot morning suns of Tatooine. Nights were short on this planet, given the twin-sun system it was in. Anakin found it hard to believe that the Dune Sea had once been an ocean, instead of thousands of kilometers of rolling sand.

He hadn’t said goodbye to his mother this morning and for that he felt a bit guilty. But the argument of the night prior still stung in his gut, and he just didn’t want to talk to the woman, no matter how warm and loving she was. They’d fought over what they always fought over: swoop-racing. It was a dangerous sport here on Tatooine, a sport where the competitors mounted swoops, which were nothing more than repulsor-engines with seats and a handle-bar, and dashed through caves and canyons at blinding speeds. A swoop offered no protection to its rider, and the races often turned violent on shady worlds like Tatooine. It was that violence that made swoop-racing such a popular sport in Mos Eisly, and Anakin Skywalker was a talented pilot.

With spare parts from Watto’s shop, Anakin had cobbled together a swoop that could go almost seven hundred kilometers per hour, while the average swoop could barely top six hundred. He had a knack for building all sorts of small things, but the swoop had been his finest invention. The other kids his age were in awe of the thing, and begged him for a chance to ride it. He never let them. It was too precious to him. But he would oblige them by blasting around the emptying roads at dusk while his friends cheered at the speed. He played hero to them, despite his lowly slave status, and relished nothing more than waving briefly, then blasting off into the desert to push the vehicle to its true limits, and have some time to himself.

Of course, the swoop had never seen real competition. Shmi Skywalker, Anakin’s mother, would not allow it, and for good reason. The sport was dangerous: an average of one serious injury occurred every race on Tatooine, and a death occurred every three. Anakin knew it was dangerous, but he also knew that he could handle it. He’d taken the swoop through many of the courses that the races were run on and had never had any difficulty, even in the dead of night, with nothing but the dim running light of the swoop to reveal the path. His instincts always guided him through to safety.

But his mother never understood this. “I’m good, Mom!” he’d yelled the previous night, as he had so many other nights before. “I could be the best!”

“But, Ani, it’s so dangerous,” Shmi had returned, on the verge of tears once again.

“I’ll be fine! Just let me try! Just once! Watto said he’d sponsor me!” That’d been a lie, but surely Watto would let Anakin race eventually. And if he profited from the winnings.

She’d stepped toward him with loving arms, wanting to wrap her boy up in her safety. “I love you Anakin, but—”

He’d turned away, hiding tears of his own. “No!” he cried. “If you loved me, you’d let me do this! You’d let me be happy!” He’d regretted it as soon as he’d said it, but it was too late, and he’d run out the door. The ride on the swoop last night had been long and full of tears. Full of thoughts. He was just a slave boy, but racing in a swoop race would make him something more, just for a moment. His mother didn’t understand. She’d been a slave too long to have hope for anything else. Anakin hoped he never lost that hope. He always hoped for freedom. Nothing could break his spirit.

When he returned home, she’d been waiting for him, her eyes red from tears. He walked past her, barely allowing a glance. She hadn’t tried to say anything to him, but he heard her resume her weeping when he entered his small room. Neither of them had slept well that night.

And now Anakin walked to Watto’s shop, for another long day at work, another long day as a slave. Maybe Watto would give him time off to work on the droid he’d been building. That thing had the potential to be as impressive as the swoop, if Anakin ever decided what to use it for. Currently, it had programs that could translate a lot of alien languages into Basic. It wasn’t impressive physically, as it only had a frail humanoid frame without even any coverings yet. Watto wasn’t too keen on letting Anakin have too many of his spare parts.

His mind wandered between the droid and the swoop the rest of the walk to Watto’s shop, until he caught the sound of a familiar argument. Vel Taph had paid Watto a visit this morning. Anakin smiled. That should make things interesting.

As he entered the shop, Watto and Vel were right in each other’s faces, yelling and screaming, Vel waving his arms viciously, Watto flapping his Toydarian wings, floating at eye level, and just a few centimeters from Vel’s face. There was someone else in the shop, though, someone different. It was a woman, humanoid, maybe even human. She was tall and mostly bald, with a long, red topknot protruding from her pale, white skull. She stood casually, arms crossed, a blaster in one of them, observing the argument with only mild interest. Her tall, athletically trimmed body was perfectly visible through her tight, red body suit which covered everything but her arms, neck and head. An intimidating blaster rifle was slung over one of her shoulders. At first, by the array of strange looking tools on her belt, Anakin thought she might have been a customer, but that didn’t make any sense. She had an air of confidence, making Anakin think that whatever the outcome of the argument, she would come out on top. As Anakin entered the room, she looked at him, and held his gaze for a little longer than made Anakin comfortable.

Vel was yelling, face red. “Yeah, well if you don’t get me that money, she’s gonna haul my hind to Jabba the Hutt! How’s that for fair, Toydarian scum?”

Watto flapped viciously, silent for just a moment, his beady eyes glaring, his leathery turquoise skin rippling from the activity of his wings. “Don’t think I don’t understand the sensitivity of the situation, Human, but what do you want me to do, huh? If I don’t pay her today for the thieves she brought in, she’s-a gonna haul me away to a holding cell of her own! Fleppa-ton-vui!”

The Toydarian curse didn’t have time to echo through the shop as it might have. “Well, why the frak didn’t you just get Anakin to track down your thieves? He catches about two a month for you anyway!” Vel swung his arm toward the entrance Anakin was standing in, and for a moment, there were six eyes on him. It was disconcerting.

“I don’t want,” Watto started slowly, “to risk damaging him! How many times do I gotta tell you that, huh? I don’t like you two gallivanting around together, you get that? You might get him in some trouble, and then Jabba’s Rancor will have you both!”

Anakin shuddered at the thought of being devoured by the massive Rancor the Hutt crime lord kept in his palace. Vel was about to begin yelling again when the woman stepped forward and between the two, then spoke. “Gentlemen,” she said, her voice deep and even, “I’m sure that we can all come to some sort of agreement. Why don’t Watto and I talk, while this young man calms Mr. Taph down in the back?” Though she spoke to Watto and Vel, her eye remained on Anakin, as if she was giving him some sort of subtle message. Though he didn’t understand, he nodded and walked toward the back, taking Vel by the arm.

“Vui!” Anakin heard Watto swear in frustration as the two humans walked into the back lot. This was where most of the larger spare parts were kept: hyperdrive cores and blaster cannons for starships, full speeders Anakin had helped to re-fit after accidents, a few pods that had seen some nasty pod races, even a swoop here and there, though most of them were small enough to be kept in the shop.

“What is it this time?” Anakin asked as they sat down on the edge of a speeder.

“Same damn thing,” Vel responded. “Just a bad coincidence. I showed up this morning to see if Watto had the money he owed me, as he said he would, and he was exchanging information with her. Well, she recognized me from Jabba’s list of debtors, and decided to try to take me in. I told her I had the money if Watto would pay it, but apparently your boss owes her some money for some petty thieves which you and I could have taken care of. Of course, if we did that, Watto would owe me even more money.”

Anakin allowed a chuckle. “Got pretty heated, then, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name’s Aurra Sing. She’s a pretty infamous bounty hunter. Never loses her prey. Always charges a high price. She could make a living anywhere in the galaxy, but apparently she’s on the wrong side of Republic authorities, so she stays on Tatooine, in the employ and protection of Jabba the Hutt, interstellar crime lord.”

“I don’t like her,” Anakin said. “She gives me a funny feeling.”

“She gives just about every one that feeling, kid. But I’d rather be under her gaze than the gaze of Jabba and his pet Rancor.”

“Yeah.”

“How you doin’ this morning, Ani?”

Anakin sighed, thinking of his mother. “I’m alright.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. We went at it again last night.”

“Oh? What is it this time?” Vel’s voice wasn’t as sympathetic as it could have been, but Anakin knew his heart was there. Vel and Shmi had been close friends even before Anakin was born. Vel had been a sort of father figure for Anakin in the absence of a real father. Anakin wondered sometimes if Vel knew something about his father, but never asked. He sometimes even wondered if Vel was his father. The subject always seemed somewhat touchy with his mother.

“Same damn thing.”

They sighed together, both of them feeling their lives turning in a frustrating circle, both of their fates seeming repetitive and less than desirable.
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