| abstract
| - Above a vast conference chamber in the Geonosian city, Obi-Wan watched a curious gathering he felt sure he would have been allowed to witness otherwise. He could identify pretty much everyone in the room. Shu Mai, president of the Commerce Guild, San Hill of the Inter-Galactic Banking Clan, Passel Argente of the Corporate Alliance, Wat Tambor of the Techno-Union and of course Nute Gunray of the Trade Federation. There was also the Aqualish senator Po Nudo and the Quarren senator of Mon Calamari Tikkes. Last and perhaps foremost was Count Dooku himself, conducting the meeting with practised ease. “I once again thank you my friends for attending,” Dooku said in a velvet-covered tone. “And as I explained to you earlier I am quite convinced that ten thousand more systems will rally to our cause with your support, gentlemen.” “You do realise that what you are proposing could be constituted as treason,” quipped Shu Mai in her own language. “Matters such as that do not apply to us,” droned San Hill. “The Techno-Union army,” pronounced Wat Tambor, who paused as he vocorecorder malfunctioned. “Is at your disposal, Count.” “The Banking Clan will sign your treaty,” interjected San Hill. Around the table all pledged their support, including the senators. All bar the Trade Federation as they had already thrown their lot in with Dooku. “Good, very good,” Dooku said finally. “Our friends from the Trade Federation have pledged their support, and when their battle droids are combined with yours we shall have an army greater than any in the galaxy. The Jedi will be overwhelmed, the Republic will agree to any demands we make. All that remains now is for the final plans to be put into action.” With his robe pulled over his head, Anakin noiselessly approached the Tusken Camp. He lay on the edge of a cliff, watching the light from their campfires below and touching each of the bantha-hide tents with the Force. When he was certain he slipped over the cliff, coming to the ground with barely a sound. Sandpeople were normally very vigilant sentries, detecting the slightest disturbance without hesitation. Yet Anakin slipped past the sentries before they were even aware he was coming, the only noise he made was the sound of his lightsaber burning a hole in the tent for him to step through. For a moment Anakin froze near the hole he had made, on the other side was his mother tied to a wooden rack, her face was beaten and bloodied. She let out a low moan as Anakin crossed to her, her eyes fluttering open as he helped her towards the hole. “Mom, it’s okay,” he said softly, trying to reassuring himself as much as her. “I'm here, you’re safe. I'm going to get you out of here.” “Annie?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper and her grip was weak, yet the warm gaze he knew and loved was still there as she examined him. “Is it you?” “It’s me, Mom,” Anakin said, trying to move her as gently as he could. Her legs clearly could not support her. “Annie…Annie.” He had her in his arms now, fully supporting her weight. “Oh, you’re so handsome!” She murmured, her callused hand stroking his face. “My son,” she whispered with a smile, “my grown up son, I’m so proud of you Annie.” “I've missed you,” Anakin said, trying to hold her attention, trying to fight the creeping fear that was slowly clawing into his mind. “They made you a Jedi,” she said, touching the braid that hung next to his ear. Yet there was no denying it now, he was losing her. “Stay with me, Mom,” he pleaded, holding her tight as if by doing so he could hold onto her life. Yet he could feel her presence in the Force flickering delicately, like a candle about to go out. “Please, there’s so much I want to tell you,” he added in desperation. How could he lose her now just when he was on his way to become a Jedi Knight, before he could tell her what had happened to him, tell her about Padmé… “Now, I am complete,” she announced, her voice softening. “I…I love…” Her voice trailed off then her body became limp in his arms, her head going back. But Anakin still held her, hot tears wetting his cheeks. She just couldn’t be gone, just couldn’t. He had always pictured his mother waiting for him so he could go back to her, her eyes lighting up as she listened to what he had been doing. A hope now gone because he had come too late. Gently, he closed his mother’s eyes. In the desert he had made a promise to make those pay who had hurt his mother, now she was dead he would show them no mercy. Yoda’s normally peaceful meditation was interrupted by inhumane screams in the Force, somewhere there was also the sound of a lightsaber. But rather the peace and serenity that was normally meant for a Jedi when their lightsaber was used, this was rather a song of pain and anguish for one particular student of the Force: Anakin Skywalker. And through it all was a voice that made Yoda start, a voice from someone long since dead, the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn. Yoda shook his head, not knowing how he could hear such a voice or whence it came from. When he opened his eyes Mace Windu was sitting across from him. “What is it?” the dark skinned Master asked. “Pain, suffering,” murmured Yoda, “death I fear. Something terrible has happened. Young Skywalker is in pain, terrible pain.”
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)