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| - Anakin walked down the clean crisp hallway that led to the High Council chamber. As he walked, he passed by the statues of Jedi Masters gone before. Their likeness seemed alive, as if these statues they remained in this world. He felt as if they were always judging him. Beside him walked Yoda, bent with age. He felt extremely young, almost a babe, around the wizened Jedi Master. How old was he again? 700 he believed. But, there was certainly no harm in asking. “Master Yoda,” he said, “I have a question for you.” “An answer, I have for you,” Yoda replied with a chuckle. “How old are you?” he asked. “702 years old, am I,” Yoda smiled, the tapping of his stick sounding loud as they walked, “When 700 years old, you reach, look as good, you will not.” Anakin smiled at that. Good old Yoda. Rely on him for a laugh. “I have barely reached 38,” he muttered. “Twenty times older then you, I am,” Yoda laughed at his own joke, “A youngling you are. Old tree am I.” “And yet,” Anakin smiled, “I am a member of the Council, and you are not.” Yoda shrugged. “Want to be on the Council, I do not,” he replied, “Too much responsibility, it is. For you, this responsibility lies. Your destiny this is.” “What do you want to do then, my Master?” Anakin asked as they rounded the corner, leading to the Council chambers. “Work with younglings, all I wish to do is,” Yoda replied, “The future of the order they are. Truly wonderful, a child is. But the Force, if calls me to do something, do it I will.” The council doors opened, and they entered the room, lit by floor lights, the Coruscant sky dark as it was midnight. They could clearly see the pinpricks of thousands of speeders and other vehicles as they went their way down long sky lanes of traffic. How unaware any of those people were to the danger the Swoop Gang had been. Thankfully, they most likely would never know. Anakin walked to his empty seat, right next to the head of the Council, a Nuetolan named Lit Ristro. Six other seats in the circle of chairs were empty, but, none of those members would return. They had been killed by that same swoop gang on multiple worlds. One in particular, Lorbacca, a wookie, had been killed, but not until after he had put up a stubborn fight. It saddened Anakin to see so many seats empty. “Master Skywalker,” Lit said, “I am glad to see you safe. Was your hunt productive?” Anakin jumped into a detailed account of the hunt. After maybe five minutes, it wound to a close. “All but two of those scum were killed,” he said, sighing, “But, those two were the most dangerous. I feel we should not rest until they are caught, Master Ristro.” “A time will come for that,” Lit replied, “But, now, what does Master Yoda say? How did your old padawan do?” “Master Skywalker, ingenious trap he planned,” Yoda said, nodding, “Able to catch them off guard, we were able.” “Were many Mandalorians killed?” he asked. “Twelve of the ambushing force,” Anakin said, calling upon his memory, “Eleven of the drivers and guards. Twenty three were wounded total.” “Their sacrifice will be long remembered by the Jedi Order and the Galaxy,” a human, by the name Ken Doffar said, “The people of my home world, Raxas, suffered greatly at their hands.” “This threat was much bigger then a single planet,” a Calamri by the name of Lackstar said, “It involved the entire galaxy. Or have you forgotten?” “I have not,” Doffar stated, “I was just stating the truth.” “What weapons did they carry?” Ristro asked, looking with his black eyes towards Yoda. “Blaster pistols,” Yoda said, tapping the ground with his staff with each word, “And lightsabers. A Jedi weapon.” “Lightsabers?” Doffar gasped, “How did they get them?” “They probably stole them from the Masters they slew,” Lackstar suggested. “They were knowledgeable in the Force,” Anakin interjected. “Are you suggesting they were Dark Jedi?” Lackstar asked. “They shot lightning at several Mandalorians that were in the air,” he recounted, “I think they were----” “What do you think?” Doffar asked, looking at the young Council member. “I don’t want to say,” Anakin shook his head, “But, if not, it will be bad.” “Perhaps,” an elderly Ithorian across the room said slowly, “This threat is not yet passed. Perhaps, we should focus all our efforts on locating the survivors.” “Wisely does Master Tindora speak,” a Twi’lek woman sitting by herself in the middle of the section of empty seats, “Perhaps we should be more decisive against these renegades.” “No,” Ristro said bluntly, “With the Senate electing a new Chancellor, now is not the time for this.” “Perhaps,” Yoda said, suddenly speaking up, “Two can be sent. Search and hunt them down, they can.” “This is a matter for the Council to decide,” Lackstar said, his eyes drooping. “Master Yoda,” Ristro said, looking kindly towards the little master, “You may leave whenever you wish.” “Indeed, I shall,” he said, bowing to his leaders, “To my chambers to sleep, go, I shall.” With that, he turned and hobbled off. His small bent back was defiant as anything, and his ears jiggled as he walked with his staff. The doors swished open, and soon they closed behind him, shutting him out from the affairs of the High Jedi Council.
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