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| - The Council sat with arms folded. Zward Windu stood infront of them, his arms laying at his side. Waiting, to hear the verdict. It almost was driving him nuts to watch the diliberations. Why must they make him wait? “Windu,” Lit Ristro said, “the Force is strong in your son.” “He is to be trained then?” Zward asked. “Yes, he will be trained,” Ristro replied. “Yes?” Zward asked excitedly. “He is ripe for training,” Lackstar said, his head tilting slightly. “He will be one of the most powerful Jedi ever,” Zward smiled inwardly, “As you must have seen.” “His future is clouded though,” Tindora said, “I saw that much.” “Train him, I will,” Yoda suddenly spoke. “A padawan you have, Master Yoda,” Sammera pointed out, “It is impossible to take on a second.” “The code forbids it,” Doffar put in. “Quickly, Nakoo learns,” Yoda stated, “There is not much more I can teach him, that immediately understand, he does not.” “The boy’s fate will be determined later,” Ristro said, “He must first be trained as a youngling.” “Indeed,” Doffar muttered. There was a chiming on Ristros comlink. He looked at it, surprised. Who needed to call him at the moment? He pressed the conection button with his green finger. “This is Master Lit Ristro,” he announced, and the voice on the other end surprised him. “This is Supreme Chancellor Carvatte,” the caller addressed himself, “I was hoping to meet with Your Graces.” “Okay,” Ristro replied, “We will be most pleased to receive you Chancellor.” As the communication ended, Ristro glanced back at Zward. “You may leave.” Carvatte stood near the doors of the temple, eyeing the two Jedi guards outside the temple. They were massive brutes, each carrying a double bladed lightsaber. Not people he wanted to mess with, he was sure of that. But, beyond them, he admired the richly engraved pillars holding up the outside roof leading to the doors. They were magnificently carved; rich with the 20,000 odd years of Jedi history. He loved the workmanship of the Jedi Temple. Standing in between the two guards, was a wookie Jedi Master, who growled as he walked up, his four blue robed senatorial guards following behind him. Carvatte raised his hand in greetings to the Jedi Master. “Master Worgruff,” Carvatte said, “How are you my fine friend?” The wookie barked, and Carvatte nodded. “Of course,” he nodded, and turned to his guards, “Wait out here.” “Sir!” the guards said in unison, and stood near the pillars, like they were told. The wookie howled softly, and Carvatte with a sweep of his hands said, “Lead the way, Master Jedi.” The doors opened, and in walked the human Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. He walked right to the middle of the mural on the floor and bowed to Master Ristro. “Welcome Chancellor,” Ristro said, “It’s been a long time since you graced this chamber.” “Seven years to this day,” Carvatte said, straightening his back, “Much too long, my friend.” “What do we owe your visit to?” Sammare asked. “As you must obviously know,” Carvatte said, “The election is almost up. You know the contenders. And, I am almost certain that Joshun Skywalker will become our new Chancellor.” “So certain are you?” Yoda asked. “Beyond a doubt,” the Chancellor stated, “Something is swaying the votes in his favor. Something so strong that even the best and strongest of Senator Dorm’s supporters are leaving him to join those voting for Senator Skywalker.” “Are you sure?” Tindora asked. “Most positive,” Carvatte said. “I know that the poitically circus is no certain ground when it comes to loyalty,” Lackstar mused, “Are you sure he isn’t buying up the votes?” “Seven hundred votes?” Carvatte exclaimed, “In a day? Who has ever had the money to buy seven hundred senators in a day? It’s not possible. Something else is at work. I can feel it. Remember, I was once a youngling in these hallowed halls. The Force is still guiding me.” “Politics have no sway in Jedi Affairs or Policies,” Doffar said. “True,” Ristro said, “Why is this of any importance to us?” “If Skywalker is elected, he will destroy you,” Carvatte replied. There was a dead silence in the chamber. This was not true. It did not make sense. Why would the Supreme Chancellor be so sure this would happen. It did not make sense in the least bit. “What makes you so certain?” Lackstar asked. “He wouldn’t dare,” Ristro buntly stated, “He needs us to keep the peace. He can’t afford to kill us.” “There was no logic behind his running for the elections either,” Carvatte pointed out, “He was the least liked politician. But now look at him. More then two-thirds of the Senate are with him. My gut tells me he will destroy the Jedi Order.” “It’s not possible,” Sammera stated. “Unless,” Yoda said, “Creates an army, he does. Or perhaps, has one, he does.” Carvatte nodded. “That’s my guess,” he admitted, “May I place guards around the Temple to help prepare the Jedi for such an event.” “No,” Ristro declared, “We do not need guards to defend this temple. All we need is good Jedi.” “I hope so,” Carvatte said, “I still feel you are making a big mistake by not allowing me to add some protection.” “Don’t worry about us,” Tindora rumbled, rubbing his long Ithorian head, “Jedi can handle themselves.” Carvatte sighed. “I shall leave now, your Graces,” he said, bowing and leaving the room. He walked out of the Temple, and saw rain clouds forming above. He had a bad feeling about this rain storm. He didn’t know why though. Rain storms certainly were invigorating. The guards fell in behind him as he walked to his shuttle. He walked down the stone steps, the feeling of bad growing in him. He reached the bottom step, looked up, and all he saw was the red laser slap him in the chest. The Chancellor had barely crumpled to the ground, his chest smoking, when his guards came under fire. One took a blast to the head, which shattered his helmet. As he fell, the three other guards moved quickly. One jumped out in front, firing in the general direction, as the other two grabbed their dead and tried to carry them off. The guard protecting them fell with a blast to his leg. He hardly even howled in pain before another bolt hit his throat, killing him. “We’re under attack!” one of the guards shouted, right as he fell flat on his face, his back now sporting a smoking hole. The two Jedi Guardians leaped down the steps, leaping over the guard carrying the Chancellor. They landed, igniting their lightsabers, and batted away at the bolts flying at them. As soon as the guard was up the last step, and under the protection of the roof, the firing ceased. “Perhaps,” Yoda said, having arrived at the scene, along with the Council, “More danger there is, then expect, we did.”
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