The Weaving Force: Chapter 118- Season Finale (Patreon)

Chapter 118:

Anakin:

“I messed up mom.”

Anakin barely recognized his own voice, barely grasped with the reality that he was here, sitting across from his mother, staring into a cup of warm Mandalorian tea, grasping the ceramic with hands that were still bandaged to keep the shards of bone in place to help them heal. 

The guilt nearly crushed him under its weight. The guilt of his silence. Of his stupidity. Of the fact that he wasn’t faster. Of the fact that he was here now, bringing the weight of his actions to burden his own mother.

Guilt at his own fall.

It was everything. A building mound of pressure that hammered down on him like it was beating against an anvil.

And all through this, his own mother simply sat there. Listening, taking in the words, the fears and confessions. She sat and listened and… didn’t judge him. 

“I knew something was wrong.” He said. “I knew. Karla told me and I just…”

He sighed, his head falling into one of his hands “I don’t even know how I’m going to face them again.”

“Anakin.” His mother sighed, her hand rubbing circles on his back. “We all make mistakes sweetling.”

He shook his head “Not like this. I thought… I thought I could just handle things. Didn’t tell Obi-Wan. Didn’t tell Master Yoda and its cost us Master Plo… Taylor and Vicky… I might as well have killed their Master myself.”

“Have you spoken to them about this?” She asked gently

“How could I?”

“Then how would you know how they feel?” She pressed. “I’ve met Miss Hebert, and Miss Dallon. They’re both kind, loving girls. And I believe they wouldn’t blame you for any of this. Anymore than they would blame the clones for what was done to them.”

He didn’t answer her,  staring down into his cup and the lukewarm tea within. 

Shmi sighed. 

“When I was a little girl-” she began “I served many Masters. One day; when I was about Eleven; I served under a Master, I thought was kind.” She explained, Anakin turning to look at her. 

The skin around Shmi’s neck tightened as she swallowed. “One day- I overheard another slave, planning to escape. He had a plan. People to help him. I was his bunkmate. But I was new. So he did not tell me.”

She looked down. “I was afraid. Afraid that I would be blamed. That I would be held responsible.”

“But you just said you were new; and you were eleven.” Anakin protested. “You couldn’t have-”

Anakin trailed off… 

The smile on Shmi’s face was a sad, pained thing. A thing that carried a deep, long held shame. “We all make mistakes.” She repeated; her hand grasping tight over Anakin’s fingers. 

She took another deep breath. “I thought my Master Kind. I thought… that I could protect myself. And that… it would be nothing but a whipping. Perhaps a tighter collar.

Anakin was almost afraid to ask. 

“What happened?”

“My Master executed him, and his friends… and then, he sent men to capture… and enslave their families as recompense for… lost property.”

“Oh… Mom.”

Shmi nodded, her eyes closed. “I’ve regretted that day… for my entire life.”

She scooted her seat forward, drawing closer to her son, who now carried his own regrets, her hands rose, cutting his cheeks, and pulling him close to place a kiss on his head. 

“We do not know what might’ve been different in the past.” She said. “We can only live this, our one life, with both our triumphs and our failures and try with all our might to do better.” She nodded. “I know it hurts… this… our first true hurt. Our first true failure. But Night comes to the desert… all at once and yet-”

“The day always comes right behind it.” He sighed, his hands rising to grasp at her wrists. 

“I’m sorry mom.” He said… he wasn’t even sure what he was apologising for.

Whatever it may have been, she accepted it, like everything else.

She gave him one more kiss. “Come. Get to the fresher. Little Jen and Daryan will be back soon and you’d rather not meet your favorite niece and nephew looking a mess.”

He sniffed, trying to laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

—

Alexandria:

It had been a long time since Alexandria had to walk through someone through a panic attack… or more accurately it had been a long time since she felt the need to bother.

She should do it more often. She’d forgotten how unintentionally humorous it could be.

“Just breathe-”

The bag crinkled as Padme sucked down and exhaled air through it. She’d have to ask Fay where exactly she’d managed to find one to deliver her pastries to her and Amidala’s office today because it was doubling up in service duty today. 

“You breathe!” Amidala didn’t quite screech but it was a close thing. “You’re not the one that suddenly has sole authority on the lives of a million Clones!”

“Oh its much more than a million.” She blithely corrected the girl.

Obviously she’d been going off of Hyperbole, but Amidala’s fury filled gaze suddenly grew distant, then widened  considerably, no doubt ‘remembering’ that the full Grand army of the republic including reserves on Kamino, numbered a little over half a billion right now.

Her breathing suddenly got a lot quicker. Alexandria had to remind herself that rolling her eyes at the dramatics wasn’t likely to help and merely continued to lightly pat the young woman on the back as Padme stuffed her face back into that paper bag.

Suddenly she stood up. “I’m going to the Chancellor- there has to be a different solution-”

She barely took half a step before Alexandria was infront of her, both hands on her shoulders, somewhat but not really shoving her back down into her seat. 

“You’re not giving Palpatine a say in this!” She didn’t snarl, she didn’t. 

But by god it was a close thing.

“This is too much power for one person to have!” Padme shouted.

“Palpatine has more power than anyone in the galaxy she reminded firmly. “You will not hand him more now that he’s finally lost a sliver of it!”

Padme shook her head. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You didn’t intend to.” She interrupted, she could give Amidala that much credit at least. “But he’d take it. He’d slither and worm his way through any opening you give him and exploit every loophole until that power was his again!”

Padme stared up at her, frowning. “He’s not a bad man.”

She believed that. Of course she did. 

Its what Palpatine preyed on.

“Neither are you.” She reminded. “And even if you trust Palpatine- do you trust others in this Senate? People that have profited from this war? People who wouldn’t bat an eye at using those orders en masse to seize power?”

At that, Padme of course, hesitated. As devoted as she was to her ideals and democracy, the callow girl wasn’t quite so blind as to the nature of some of her colleagues. 

“On top of that-” She pressed. “Bail, Mothma, myself, we placed much of our political capital on this. If you reneg, if you squander it; that damages all of us going forward for everything you or they might want to do. The Clones. The War. The Jedi. All of it goes right down alongside your resolve."

Alexandria let the silence hang for a moment, straightening and pulling her hands off of Padme’s shoulders. “What’s done is done. And the measure is a temporary one until a more permanent solution can be found.” She reminded.

Of course, she was omitting the fact that the more permanent solution that came to mind would only be eliminating Palpatine from the Chancellorship, or, even more short term, getting those Clone contingency orders under her; or Mandalore and Satine’s authority.

Padme gnawed at her lip; still afraid, still worried about the Clones; and yes- herself. She knew that a giant target had just been painted on her back.

But Alexandria could see her stiffening her resolve. Pulling herself together. 

That was enough… for now.

—

Obi Wan:

Kenobi knew that it was not… entirely unusual for either Mace or Yoda, or both to speak privately with some members of the Council or even just normal Jedi on occasion. It had happened more than once to his own Masters, both of them, Qui-Gon and Dooku.

It hadn’t happened to him however- at least, not… like this. With this tension and gravity hanging over the air.

If he were being honest; he almost felt like a crecheling about to get a scolding.

He doubted that’s what he was actually being called for, but it felt that way.

Even so when he was called he answered, approaching the chamber where he could sense both Masters beyond the door, a small little sitting room for privacy, with a view over the thousand fountains. He was dressed in clothes that were far more akin to Master Dooku’s than the normal Jedi robes but they would suffice.

Placing his hand on the access panel, the door slid into the wall beside him. “Pardon me for being late Masters.” He said politely as he stepped within; both Mace and Yoda turning to face him.

“Late, you are not.” Yoda answered, pointing with his stick at a seat that made up the last third of the mini triangle. “Sit. Discuss things we must.”

Mace didn’t say anything , merely leaning back in his own seat as Obi-Wan nodded and closed the distance to take the offered place across the two of them. 

“I imagine…” He thought for a moment, racking his brain for what might be the most pressing issue out of the… many that were currently facing the Council. Trying to deduce which one he might be of particular help with. “That you’d like to discuss the current… rumblings of Jedi preparing to formally leave the temple?”

That, out of everything was the most troubling news circulating around the temple. Like an ember to a dry field, it seemed to catch fire startlingly quickly throughout many Jedi of all ranks and ages.

The ringleader, or at least the most outspoken as far as Obi-Wan could gather, was a young knight named Rhad Tarn. Master Poof, just yesterday had informed Obi-Wan, Gallia and a few others that Tarn always held views against the republic, even going so far as to argue openly that the Jedi should be fighting on the side of the separatists.

Now, with the losses on Geonosis, Bulq’s betrayal and everything else, his feelings had boiled over; and while there weren’t any Jedi saying they should defect like Tarn was; at the very least, they were ill at ease with the current status quo enough that they were ready to leave the Temple entirely, abandon it and sever themselves from the Republic, if not the order as a whole.

A schism of the Jedi order.

Obi-Wan had little reason to believe it would end any better than the previous ones throughout the Jedi’s history.

Especially now, when Darkness and treachery seemed to lurk around every furtive shadow and fearful glance.

“That is a matter of great concern; but its not why we’re speaking today.” Mace said, his voice carrying a note of grave seriousness that made Obi-Wan concerned.

“Has something happened?” He found himself asking.

Mace… hesitated… closing his eyes the master of the order brought his hands up, cupping his mouth as he seemingly took a moment to even find the words.

“The events on Geonosis. Master Plo. Master Bulq. As you no doubt know- and perhaps feel on some level yourself, has left the Council and its members… uncertain… shaken.” The last word looked painful to admit, but it was an undeniable truth that they all needed to recognize. 

Master Windu sighed through his nostrils. “Master Koth and Master Mundi, have both come to myself and Master Yoda independently. Both have expressed feeling… as though it might be pertinent for them to step down from the Council.”

That came as a shock to Obi-Wan and his voice was leaden as he spoke, answering robotically as he felt his brain sputter and catch, trying to wrap itself around what was just said. “I see.”

Mundi and Koth had been council members for… decades now. Longer than even Obi-Wan had been a Jedi in Mundi’s case.

The thought of one, or both of them leaving; especially now.”

“What is to be done?” He asked; almost demanded really.

“Their own peace, their own choices, Masters Mundi and Masters Koth must make.” Yoda cut in, shaking his head. “Persuade them to stay, we should not. Stay they should, only if at peace with such a choice they find themselves.”

“I… then… what was I called here for?” Obi-Wan asked. A task, a solution to pursue. That he understood. But merely calling him to speak about his fellow Council members didn’t make much sense.

Mace- stared straight at him. 

“You’re here, Master Kenobi… because I’m afraid I share feelings of doubt and unease of my own capability as Master of the order, just as they do for their Council seats.”

Obi-Wan’s brain didn’t “stutter” so much as it simply… refused to comprehend what was just said.

“I- I’m sorry I-” He blinked, staring uncomprehendingly towards Master Windu, then, looking to Master Yoda, then back to WIndu again, and back to Yoda.”

“Master?” He called towards the small green alien who sat with his head bowed 

—”I’m not abdicating.” Windu continued bringing Obi-Wan’s attention back to him. “Not yet.” He said firmly. “Master Yoda believes, and I agree, that doing so now at this moment of crisis will only further destabilize the order. And what little faith might remain in the Council will be irrevocably shaken if not destroyed.”

Obi-Wan tried to follow his words, to follow the information and push away… everything else. His own shock, his own… genuine dismay even..

“I… understand.”

Mace’s eyes looked- sad still staring at him.

It was Yoda who spoke.

“But-” The Grandmaster said. “While remain he does. A plan, in place it must be. A line of succession made ready.”

Obi-Wan felt his throat go bone dry and his lungs refused to breathe.

Mace nodded; no doubt reading what was writ large across Obi-Wan’s entire face to answer his unspoken question. 

“Master Yoda and I are in agreement both. Of all potential candidates. We feel that you are the most qualified to be Master of the order… should I be unfit for the position.”

Obi-Wan did not consider himself a particularly ‘slow’ or stupid man.

But he acknowledged, somewhere in the back of his mind that he must’ve looked like a simpleton indeed, just staring back at Windu with his mouth hanging open, unable to formulate a sentence. 

—

Iskt:

“I think it’s clear-” Miss Taylor noted, hand at her chin. “-it’s a subset of your shield.”

“I can see it.” Master Vicky said, flicking Iskt’s head with her finger, the impact just strong enough to turn his flesh into a mass of stone like scales and hardened flesh, before poking him with the Lightsaber- the fully powered, not set to stun -lightsaber and again his scales changed into a fiery, orange red.

The burn mark that had just begun to mar his flesh was the only other sign of the blade touching him and already his trandoshan regeneration was beginning to take care of it.

Miss Taylor smacked Master Vicky on the arm. “Stop thwacking him with that thing.”

His Master blinked “But he likes being Red.” She answered easily.

It was true. He did like being red. It reminded him of an old story from his homeworld about a… well… a Hero figure. Tall tales of a Trandoshan with Scales so red the Scorekeeper could see their gleam from her hunting grounds. Childish but… he liked it.

It made him feel a bit like a Hero from all the stories his Masters told him of their world.

Miss Taylor rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she began to pace in thought. “So its an ability that takes a sliver of damage and then adapts his body to be resistant to that form of energy.”

He raised a brow ridge, but luckily Karla beat him to the question.

“Miss Vicky’s finger has energy?” She asked.

“Kinetic energy, yes.”  Miss Taylor answered absently before continuing to think aloud. “Honestly coupled with Trandoshan regeneration and strength, especially as he gets older, it can be a surprisingly resilient Breaker/Brute power.

Karla’s lekku twitched, shuffling and adjusting her seat. “So… is Iskt invincible now?” Her features scrunched up. “I get emotion reading and control and he gets invincibility!?”

Master Vicky chuckled. “Is that jealousy?”

Karla paused, cheeks puffing. “I like Mr. Care Bear… but… a little yeah.”

“Not invincible.” Miss Taylor corrected. “Not by a long shot. Pretty sure Vicky or I could take you down. And that’s not even getting into the more esoteric powers the Force can provide that could bypass it. The force still does bypass Vicky’s shield to a certain degree.”

“How would you do it?” He found himself asking. “For theory crafting sake.”

“Tap you with the saber-” His Master… bonked him on the head with her saber the blue blade bouncing off his red scales like a toy with a flash and a discharge of plasma. “Then punch you as hard as I could.” She nodded. “That split second between you being resistant to extreme heat and kinetic energy would be enough for me to, if not, outright knock you out cause some serious internal damage. You’re more durable, but you can still feel pain. And when you’re in pain, you’d get slower, and slower, and slower, each time I hurt you. From there it’d just be a matter of time.”

He nodded, it made sense.

“And that’s assuming her first blow doesn’t outright kill you.” Miss Taylor added. “A big enough hit, from a different energy source from what you’re… tuned for could just outright one-shot you.”

“I understand.” He acknowledged. “And you Miss Taylor?”

“Few ways.” She shrugged. “Kinetic energy might only cover blunt force. There’s a possibility a vibro or mono-molecular knife could still cut you. Suffocating you with flames or bugs is an option and-”

Karla tugged on Miss Taylor’s sleeve drawing the Crechemaster’s attention towards her, before the little red twilek pointed.

Miss Taylor followed the finger towards Miss Vicky who’s expression was…

…

“Point is-” Miss Taylor suddenly declared. “Don’t think you’re invincible because you’re not. It's a tool. A useful tool. But don’t let it become a crutch.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

Miss Taylor and Master Dallon’s holo’s suddenly chimed; Iskt saw both of their features… close off, growing serious and grim, Karla’s lips thinned with worry.

It was Miss Taylor who answered the call first.

The blue holo bloomed to life in her palm- it was Master Gallia on the other end.

“Master Hebert. And Master Dallon is with you.” She noted; there was a hesitancy to her. An almost… he wanted to say fear in her stance but that wasn’t quite right. 

“The Council would like to speak with the two of you regarding… the recent events. All of them.”

“Maybe we don’t feel like talking.” Iskt’s Master all but spat out the words. 

The tone, if not the words had an effect, Master Gallia turned, facing the younger woman- “Master Dallon please.”

His Master turned away; he knew her well enough to know that she was trying to hold onto her feeling. And that she considered Master Gallia to be a friend.

There was a long beat of silence, finally broken by Miss Taylor.

“We’ll be there shortly.” She said before clicking off the holo without another word.

The two human women shared a look, and an entire conversation passed between them before Miss Vicky turned towards him and Karla.

“You two keep practicing- safely ok. We’ll be back in a bit.”

He nodded as Karla too voiced her affirmation before both of them turned and began marching out of the training hall.

He watched and heard them grow further and further away, the door hissing open before shutting behind them.

“It was shame.”

He turned his head towards Karla. “Hmm?”

“Master Gallia.” His best friend said softly, shrugging as she answered his unspoken question. “You were confused- about what she was feeling. It wasn’t fear… It was shame.”

She hopped off her seat on the bench. “Come on.” She demanded. “Lets go check on Master Plo. It’ll make Miss Taylor and Miss Vicky happy.”

He wanted to practice, but he nodded anyway.

She was right.

It would make them happy.

—

Taylor:

We made our way through the halls.

It was quiet.

We were quiet.

Anywhere between seven and nine thousand Jedi walked through these archways, arcades and chambers.

And even with my insects, I could barely hear more than whispers.

It was a tension that hung over this place now. Loomed over it like a pall.  A pale sense of… dread that just… infected everyone here.

It wasn’t just Geonosis. It wasn’t just Bulq, or the war, or the Clones orders. It was more like… everything. That the Jedi as a collective whole were finally grasping the reality of their situation. Their unpreparedness. Their lack of… even the proper tools to get ready.

That they were drowning.

And land was suddenly nowhere in sight.

In that sense, it was no wonder so many were entertaining the idea of just leaving.

I could liken it to rats abandoning a sinking ship.

Maybe that was unfair of me.

But right now it's what it felt like. 

Vicky and I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to have it carry us to the Council chambers far above.

The doors closed, and we felt the light push of gravity on our bodies as the elevator began to rise.

That’s when Vicky broke the silence.

She breathed out not quite a sigh, but not as simple as just an exhale.

“You know what they’re calling us for?”

It was a good question.

Right now; there were so many problems… too many fires to put out. 

“I’d be guessing, honestly.” I admitted.

I felt more than saw Vicky turn to look at me in curiosity. “That’s not like you. Not spying on them I mean.”

“Partially its because they’ve been careful.” I said. “Bulq is making them reevaluate a lot of what they thought was safe.”

She snorted. “Too fucking late to matter.” She spat, anger and bitterness coating her voice.

I couldn’t blame her for it. I felt the same way. 

If they’d have been more cautious. If they’d have pulled their fucking heads out of their asses… then maybe Master Plo wouldn’t be dying right now. 

The elevator pinged, and then the door slid open.

“Let's play it by ear.” I said. I was fairly sure; with the way we were both feeling neither of us would say no to giving them a piece of our minds regardless of how this started or proceeded.

Vicky nodded, and we stepped out of the elevator and towards the Council chamber door.

Somehow, the walk was both too short, and stretched on for an eternity.

But it wasn’t an eternity, and so, eventually, the door was opened, and we stepped into the Council chamber.

Four of the eighteen seats were empty for obvious reasons. But beyond the dead and the dying every single Council member was present in the flesh. 

There were two additional seats, not council seats. Guest seats.

Usually the Jedi had those they summoned stand. 

Part tradition, part formality, part show of respect, intimidation tactic, posturing and everything in between depending on who you asked or what you came here for.

The fact that they were eschewing it now either meant that they were trying to get on our good side… or that they intended this to be a long meeting

Mace, spoke up first, as was his way.

“Thank you for coming.” The Master of the order said, his voice calm and placid. I couldn’t read his emotions underneath the mask.

He gestured towards the two guest seats. “Please.” Came the invitation.

Vicky and I didn’t look at eachother, but I could almost feel how we both braced ourselves in our own individual ways.

Vicky took her seat, I did too a split second later.

“Why are we here?” She asked, her voice flat and lacking inflection as I held my silence. 

Yoda shifted in his seat. “Many matters, we must discuss. All of equal importance.” he said. “Firstly; Address we should, the growing rift within the order.”

“With us?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think we have anything to add on the matter?”

It was Mundi who answered me. “Many of those expressing and perpetuating these sentiments are-” He hesitated. “Younger. Some are even your former Crechelings; now Padawans, if not Knights .”

“We were hoping you might calm them.” Gallia continued, picking it up. “If not arguing against the idea, at least grant us time to find a way to ease their fears.”

“Lie to them, you mean.” I accused.

She shook her head. “That is not what I said.”

“Its what I heard.” I stood from my seat hands clasped infront of me “You want us to tell them to stay; to sit and wait and be calm. What I’m not hearing is what any of you are planning to actually do beyond platitudes.

 Saese Tiin answered me, a frowning curl to his lip. “The senate has agreed that all chips will be immediately and henceforth be removed proactively from any and all Clones entering Legion service-”

“Treating the symptom and not the cause.” Vicky cut in. “The Clones didn’t give the order to off themselves.” This time, it was Vicky who sneered; showing teeth and the simmering rage that had been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since Geonosis beginning to rise to the surface. “That happened because of a Council member-” Now she tossed Mundi, a downright venomous look. “A Council member that I and all those Padawans and Knights were told, couldn’t possibly fall because there’s just no way the Council could just… not detect a Sith in their own temple. That’s just unthinkable. Right?”

Her voice was acid and her and on the canvas of her expression was a painting of pure contempt and bitter resentment. 

The Cerean Jedi Master closed his eyes, taking a deep breath where he sat.

But he didn’t say a word.

Wether or not that was because of shame, or because he didn’t want to throw fuel on the proverbial fire I couldn’t tell.

“Victoria… Taylor.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Mistakes were made. No one is denying that.”

Vicky, in a rare show of vindictiveness, didn’t let up.  “I’m not hearing him admitting it either.” She sneered. “What’s wrong Mundi? That pride too stuck in your throat to let out the words?”

Now the cerean opened his eyes. “You will not goad me into anger, Master Dallon.”

“Oh!” Vicky gasped, reeling back, hands in the air “Heaven forbid that you give a shit.”

“You’re deliberately twisting things.” Mundi accused.

The other Masters watched silently, expressions varying from pained, to placid, to troubled. But it seemed a silent consensus of either not stepping into this, or letting them have at it had been reached. No one even looked as though they were contemplating stepping in between them.

I wouldn’t either. Vicky needed this and Mundi… fucking deserved it.  

“What happened to Master Plo is a travesty, a tragedy.” He continued. “But we are Jedi we cannot allow rampant feeling to guide our actions!”

Vicky growled. “Even now… even after all this… you just can’t fucking let go of the platitudes.” She turned away a muscle bunching at the base of her jaw as she grit her teeth, staring out towards the skyline of Corruscant through the window.

“Platitudes that Master Plo himself believed in as well-” 

I could feel my bugs, hissing between the walls, clawing and biting, my own anger simmering even as I felt Vicky go utterly cold. 

And Mundi continued, in that calm, placid, infuriatingly calm voice. “You should not be so quick to dismiss-”

“HE’S GOING TO DIE YOU FUCK!” Vicky roared, her voice all but swallowing the whole of the chamber like a gunshot.

She rounded on him, and tears brimmed at her eyes. “Look around you! Look at this- this.” Her head turned, looking around the room. Seemingly searching for the right description to encapsulate what she was trying to say. 

“This prison you’ve put yourselves in.” She finally said. “This divorced detatched wall between you and everything else, even your own fucking Jedi right under your feet!” She stomped on the floors, her foot leaving spiderwebbing cracks through the marble and making the ground tremble beneath us. “Try to actually see see the blood and the death and the pain-” 

Her voice thickened with emotion, raw, and heavy, to the point that I felt the urge to march towards her and place a hand on her shoulder even as I forced myself to stand still. 

The tears burned hot as they trailed down her cheeks; as her voice rose and rose, until by the end she was screaming at him. “Try to see what’s happening the way those who have a soul see it! TRY. Just for a moment. To. Be. Angry!

—

Karla

“Hi master Allie.”

“Hello Karla, Iskt.” The Jedi healer smiled at them, her features kind and gentle. And not just for show like some others. Karla appreciated that about her.

“Are you two here to keep Master Plo company?” She asked.

Karla nodded. “Yes Ma’am… Miss Taylor and Miss Vicky are with the Council.”

What she said was already known, and it was troubling Master Allie, worrying her. But even so she hid it as best she could, smiling. “That’s good. Well I wont keep you. Just remember to be quiet for Master Plo and the other patients okay?”

“Yes ma’am”

Before they left, Master Allie stood infront of Iskt.

“Iskt…” Her features scrunched up, unsure of how to proceed. “Could you erm… turn off?”

Her Trandoshan friend raised a brow ridge. “Turn off?”

“You’re in fire mode.” Karla reminded him.

Her friend looked at himself, remembering that his scales were indeed ‘red’.

No, he couldn’t exactly light himself, or anything else on fire… but a distinct heat haze around him did make people a bit nervous.

Karla ‘helpfully’ took a hold of her lightsaber hilt, hopped up… and bonked him on the head.

Just like that, his scales went from red, to an earthen, rocky brown.

He tossed her an annoyed look.

She smiled beatifically.

She learned that word from Miss Vicky.

“Thank you.” Master Allie said with a smile of her own, before turning away and proceeding with her duties.

They made their way towards Master Plo’s room.

The room was, as it was yesterday. 

Silent, with medical machines hooked up to their Grandmaster. Iskt took his place on a seat across from the door, pulling free a Datapad to read through.

Karla sat at her Grandmaster’s bedside, opening up her power to, in a way, also read.

It wasn’t done maliciously. Her power she found, could detect emotions even in those who were sleeping. Or, dreaming.

Dreams were strange. Muddied and confused. Miss Taylor explained that it was likely too many, or too few neurons firing for her power to get an accurate read on.

With Master Plo… it was always strange. Sometimes his dreams were troubled… but always, within those dreams she felt him calm. Finding a peace even in the depths of his nightmares. 

She hadn’t found anyone who could do that.

She knew he was dying. And… it made her sad. Not just for Miss Taylor and Miss Vicky… but because she felt- she knew -that this world, and the Jedi would just be… less without him. 

She hoped he woke up… before he died. Miss Taylor and Miss Vicky would like that.

When she looked upon her Grand Master this time however… there was something odd.

Something new.

Determination.

—

Obi Wan:

This… needed to turn around

Obi-Wan understood what was happening in front of him. He understood the why’s and the truth; of both sides. 

Victoria and Taylor were… angry… emotional. They had a right to such feelings. The Council had made a great many mistakes. Too many. 

But those feelings were indeed ruling them in this moment. He knew them well enough to know when there was a difference in that.

Taylor said she wanted solutions, propositions, but she had to know on some level that given the scale and the time they’d had available it wasn’t possible to just wave a magic wand and simply meet those demands outright. .

And while Victoria’s arguments were based on her feeling she did not… want anything concrete. She wanted to air her grief, to rage at the unfairness of the galaxy and the Council was its easiest target available to her.

As he said, both had a right to their feelings. Obi-Wan himself had acted out against the Council both when Qui-Gon and Dooku died.

But he’d had others there to pull him back from the worst of his grief and his anger. Dooku and Anakin the first time. And when Dooku died. Anakin was still there, and… Master Plo, and even Taylor and Victoria had been there too in their way.

Plo had been that for them. So was Yoda. So was Anakin.

And perhaps even Obi-Wan could have been too.

But Plo couldn’t do that now. Ever again.

Anakin was gone.

And Yoda and Obi-Wan had responsibilities. Responsibilities that made them, in this moment, symbols to the cause of their grief.

They were feeding off of their own negative emotions with eachother, A feedback loop that had grown and grown and grown.

He’d advocated to give both of them time. To let them grieve in private as long as the Council could afford to let them.

Perhaps that had been yet another mistake.

They seemed to be making so many these days.

And even, across the aisle he could see what they couldn’t. That yes, in spite of all outward appearances Mundi was grieving. Not just Master Plo, but his own role in this entire tragedy, in the fall of Master Bulq, in the real time rapid dissipation of the Jedi order. In the hundreds of Deaths of Jedi on Geonosis; Knights, Padawans. Some of which Mundi had seen grow from crechelings.

Even the feelings of uncertainty and doubt within his colleagues on the Council.

Yes, Mundi was grieving. 

He was dealing with it in the only way he understood how. And they were mistaking withdrawal for apathy. Callousness. 

Victoria would have been the one to normally point that out. To say that people expressed themselves differently. To try and understand someone else and what they were going through.

She’d done it before. With him. With Anakin.

She’d taught him to do it.

But right now; neither side could see the other for what they were… or they simply did not wish to. 

And Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do about it.

Finally, as the argument seemed to be reaching its boiling point-

Master Yoda raised a clawed hand.

It wasn’t so much the action as a feeling that thrummed through the force, like a spoken word, asking for silence. All eyes turned towards the grand master as his hover seat detached itself from its berth, lowering itself down to the floor to let him dismount and march towards Dallon and Hebert near the center of the room.

Both women watched him, Victoria with an air of sadness, Taylor far more guardedly.

“Understand I do.” Yoda said. “Your feeling.” He nodded. “Your disappointment.” 

He looked to the rest of the room. “Feel it. I do. Disappointment; in myself. Sadness- for those lost- because of our error.” He affirmed. “Acknowledge I do- that error. Acknowledge I do. That learn from it, we must.”

“Then why aren’t you?” Victoria pleaded, lowering herself to kneel on the floor to be at eye to eye with the small grandmaster. She swallowed thickly. “Why does this… why does this just sound like every other Council meeting?” She demanded. “Guard your feelings. Watch your emotions. It feels like we’re just… regurgitating the same playbook. A playbook that’s failing.”

At that, Obi-Wan saw Yoda’s face grow crestfallen.

“Old I am.” He finally said. “One thousand years of peace, the Code has given us. The order has stood.” He shook his head. “One thousand years. But- Stagnant we have grown. To change, difficult it is, even when necessary we know it might be.”

“Then that just adds to the reasons we should let those who want to leave to leave.” Taylor cut in. “One institution might not change, but two, or three, or ten-”

“If the Jedi order divides-” Billaba cringed in her seat, as though the thought alone caused her pain. “-If there is another schism. What it might bring about could be far far worse. We’ve seen that throughout so many periods of our history. A history that I know you’ve read Master Hebert!”

Taylor’s features didn’t even twitch. “The Enclaves seem to be doing well enough-”

“That is not the same as what’s happening and you know it.” Obi-Wan found his voice at last, shaking his head. “And even if that were not the case, what do you think will happen if the Jedi order were to collapse in such a way? Do you think the Seperatists, led by the Sith will be satisfied that we’ve split ourselves? Weakened ourselves? Or do you believe that they will refrain from repeating Corellia across several, much smaller temples, over and over again until they’re done.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So what’s your alternative? That everyone stay? Just… be happy with the status quo of being led by this” She cast her hand around the room. “Eighteen people who can’t even fully trust eachother? A place where their Masters can turn their Padawans to the darkside right under everyone’s noses?”

Yes. He stopped himself from saying, because there indeed was no other choice.

“No one is denying that things must change-” 

She snorted, and he had the feeling that she would have tossed a look towards several of his colleagues if she had a less disciplined Sabbac face. 

“But we cannot do that. We cannot change if we… disembowel ourselves with infighting now.”

“And how many more Geonosis hellholes are we going to get dragged into before that change? How many more Illums? How many more Padawans and Knights are we gonna throw into the meat grinder before we see change?” She shook her head. “I’ve tried to change institutions like this before. You don’t change. Just shuffle things around until it just looks different enough for you to say you did something.”

He frowned. “You know that isn’t fair. Whatever your experiences were before you came here- we are not them.”

She frowned, opening her mouth to answer when- a whisper. A faint pull on their senses. 

Barely there in the Force it may have been. But it was there, insistent and deliberate.

He realized, perhaps a second after Victoria and Taylor themselves, just what this was- or rather, who.

—

Taylor: 

From the outside looking in, it must’ve been an odd sight; unprecedented really.

After all, the full Council, leaving their chambers and descending down to the healing wing, to my knowledge didn’t happen, ever.

But it certainly happened now.

Vicky was the first through the door, though I of course, got a full picture of what was happening long before either of our physical selves were even on the same building floor.

As she looked, her eyes filled with tears, one hand covering her quivering lip.

“It’s alright Victoria, don’t cry now.”

His voice… almost made me cry. 

I didn’t think I’d ever hear it again.

I stepped through the door, and even though I’d braced myself, even though I’d seen it before the sight still broke my heart.

Master Plo lay on the bed, hooked up to wires and tubes. He looked thin and frail, one of his eyes had evaporated where the lens had cracked previously. His skin, normally a rust brown was now almost a pale pink

Yoda floated in on his chair, and behind him I knew Mace, Obi-Wan and several of the Council members hovered by the door. I could even hear Master Gallia trying to reassure her cousin, Master Allie that they’d be as unobtrusive as possible towards the still recovering patients. 

It must’ve been an odd sight

“Grandmaster.” Plo greeted weakly. “Forgive me. I wasn’t exactly capable of making my way to the Council chambers.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Yoda answered with a shake of his head. “Pleased, I am, to see you awake again.

Plo turned his head to his left and his right towards Karla and Iskt, who still held his hands where they’d been, apparently, lending him enough strength in the force to call out to us. 

“Thank you, little ones.” He said, pulling his hands away-

The effect was almost immediate, Plo nearly sagged even as he lay down, what little strength he had, quite literally abandoning him. 

Vicky moved forward, and I was moving too before I even realized my feet were carrying me forward.

“You should be resting.” I said, feeling my own eyes burn.

“I…” He breathed; the sound was wheezing and painful  as several of the other Council members entered the room. “Do not have much time…”

The words stung, and they thrummed in the Force with a measure of Truth.

He was going to die; and I could almost see it; hear it. How he was willing himself to stay alive. Forcing his body to endure and hang on just that little bit longer. Just long enough- to do what he felt he needed to do.

He fell into a brief but painful looking coughing fit, and the medical droid by the wall bleeped and blooped in alarm, hovering forward to quietly adjust medications and dosages. 

“Councilors… forgive me. But I would speak for a brief moment in private with my students… before I join your Council one last time.”

Mace gave a nod of understanding, as did Yoda, whatever the others felt, or thought, I didn’t notice and I didn’t care. The two leaders of the Order began to file out of the room, Iskt turning to follow after them, as did Karla, after taking a moment to place Angelica on the Kel Dor’s stomach, the little mushroom settling in as Plo laughed and raked his claws ever so gently over its bulbous back; eliciting a delighted coo.

The door hissed shut.

“You’ve raised magnificent students.” Was the first thing he said. “I would not have had the strength to reach out, without their help.”

“They’re pretty good aren’t they.” Vicky agreed “Though-” Her voice wobbled. “You’ll have to teach Iskt not to be so sarcastic when you get out of here. Bad habit  he picked up from Tay.”

“Oh I’m sure.” I answered…. Drily.

“See!” She gave a cheeky smirk, forcing it onto her face.

I wanted to play along, to pretend… just for a little while longer.

But Plo reached his hand up, and Vicky took it in hers, and I could see, in how her expression simply shattered… just how weak he must’ve been. How- just with a touch, the truth came rushing back all over again. 

“I know you’re angry at them.” Plo said. “I know… that both of you want them to feel your hurt. To be hurt. I might not know what, or how, but I know you’re both lashing out.

A beat of silence.

“We warned them.” Vicky sobbed. Repeating that same damning truth once again.

“You did.” Plo conceded through labored breaths. “And the Force… warned me- I misinterpreted that warning… that too has hurt you, and for that I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the same” I said.

He turned to look at me and I felt the weight of that one remaining eye. 

“We all make mistakes. We all have done wrong… and we all deserve the chance to do better once we realize such. You… of all people know this to be a truth. An aspiration we must all strive for.”

I cursed, biting the inside of my cheek. “That isn’t-”

I trailed off, the lie dying on the tip of my tongue.

Plo’s chest rose and fell with his breaths and he still looked at me as he said his next words. “I won’t ask you to not be angry. I won’t ask you to not hold them accountable. But I will ask you… to not hurt them. To stop yourself from trying to punish them for a mistake, that they are no doubt punishing themselves for in ways you may not even realize.”

I wanted to argue, to hold onto that tight, coiled ball of bitter resentment buried deep in my chest that rightfully blamed the Council for their wilful ignorance, their blind, rank stupidity that had led to all of this.

But his next words, robbed me of that resolve, pulling the seed out root and stem from my chest.

“Please, do not let my death, be the weapon the enemy uses against us.”

I felt like the air had been punched out of me and in spite of myself, I felt the need to turn away, a knife of shame slicing through me, before I felt Plo’s hand fall on the back of my own; its weight resting over it, feeling the tips of his claws weakly pricking my skin. 

“Both of you… have always had a firm sense of justice… now its time to foster your ability to forgive as well.”

Vicky sucked down a shaky breath, and the three of us lingered in silence, her crying, me trying to keep myself together and Plo… I could only guess.

“Okay Master.”

Plo nodded. “Please, take a moment; and when you’re both ready, call the Council back in.”

Vicky took a moment to wipe at her eyes, and I reached over helping her straighten herself out as best I could as I pushed everything I could into my swarm, feeling the insects  buzzing and going absolutely insane between the walls. 

I turned to march away, before Vicky stopped me, pulling me back before she adjusted her sleeves to wipe them over my own face, and I felt the warmth of my own tears as she brushed them away.

Finally, we’d both pulled ourselves together from the mess we were, and I opened the door for the Council to come back in. 

One by one, they filed in, Vicky and I taking our places at either side of our Master as the room got ever more crowded. 

“I’m unsure…” Plo rasped  “-how much we’ve suffered. But I know there will be at least one Council seat left vacant soon.” 

He took another breath and what he said next, I think, surprised everyone stuffed in that room. “If it pleases this Council… I would nominate a successor.”

—

The meeting went on for what felt an eyeblink, and yet, much too long. Master Plo weakened more and more as the minutes ticked by, until by the end, Vicky and I were damn near holding him upright so he could sit on the bed.

He was told of the casualties. Of the chips. Of the Senate and even the Jedi schism. He advised on everything he could, tried, as ever, to build bridges and mend wounds.

And then- at last it was done.

“Master Yoda… Master Yaddle. Stay, please. There is one last thing. 

The others on the Council filed out of the room, saying their… their goodbyes. And I could almost feel the grief lingering like an incense in the air around several Masters as they left.

They knew; that it was very likely it’d be the last time they would ever speak to Plo Koon again. 

Yaddle and Yoda, as requested stayed behind, the two small green Jedi lingering at their hoverseats. 

Plo’s breathing was labored, and Vicky eased him back down towards the mattress, where he rested over his pillow again. 

“I’ve been remiss, it seems.” Plo said. “And… in my condition it might be too late already. But, I would like to leave at least one thing for my Grand students to remember me by.”

I felt more than saw the recognition in Yaddle’s emotions. She nodded. “Hmmm… a Holocron, you wish to craft.”

Plo nodded. “Yes.” 

He looked to me, and to Vicky. 

“I made a promise to teach my Grand Padawans… I would try to make good on at least that.”

—

Alexandria:

She sat at her desk, leaning back in her seat. 

She couldn’t get a headache. Her body didn’t get tired.

But it was one of those days, where she could almost swear that wasn’t the case.

She heard the footsteps coming closer and closer. 

“~Fay is here to save the day~.” The Jedi Master sing songed with a deliberately bubbly tone.

Alexandria opened one eye, trailing it over towards the woman, who set down a small little box.

“What is it?” She demanded. 

“Cream cakes. You’ll like them.” She assured.

“And what’s it for?”

“The force told me you’ve done something very good today.”

Alexandria snorted, doubtful. More likely than not she’d bribed Alexandria’s secretary or someone else with a cookie. She’d have to do a check to tighten up information control.

But that was for tomorrow.

Right now, her eyes raised upwards staring at the ceiling with a slow, deep breath.

“He came so close.” She admitted… confessed really. Almost to empty air more than Fay.

If she hadn’t grilled Amidalla… hadn’t ferreted out the information she got ahead of time because of her relationship with Skywalker.

If she’d missed a clue. If she’d… dismissed it because she didn’t care about Amidalla or Skywalker…

He came so so close to winning…

She heard the slide of the box against the dark grain wood of her desk, Fay inching her offering closer. 

“But he didn’t.” The Sephi smiled. 

Alexandria eyed her, wondering if her mind was being read, wondering how she could stop it from happening again.

Regardless, with one hand, she opened the box and took one of the offered cakes.

Because in the end- she was right.

“No he didn’t.” She affirmed.

—

CT: 3636- 

The hovertank transport was a smooth ride; they usually were, hovertank and all that. But compared to Geonosis, the byways and flat terrain of Corruscant was downright luxurious.

3636 felt a nervousness coiling around his insides like a writhing snake as he approached the Jedi Temple’s main training yard, or Rally yard as it was known today.

A massive space that had once been used for the Jedi in bygone eras when there were more of them, now co-opted for the Clone legions under their service. 

He could see millions of his brothers, armored in white, some of them even sporting the new Phase II mark armor sets. 

Shinies, fresh from Kamino no doubt.

3636 scratched at the scar just behind his ear. The little murderer now removed from him.

He tried not to think about it too much.

Five Hundred thousand of his brothers… killed by a madman.

And he’d been all but useless in killing the bastard.

General Plo had killed the Padawan, and all 3636 could do was shout out a warning, seconds before a console blowing up right beside him had knocked him out.

He would have died there… probably should have if General Skywalker hadn’t pulled him out of that wreck alongside General Plo.

But he wasn’t dead. And now, somehow, he landed on an unbelievable assignment. 

The transport lurched to a stop, he thanked his brother for the ride before stepping off, taking a deep breath as he steeled his nerve… and marched towards the five, dark armored troopers.

One, with a Cybernetic arm turned, looking at him. His helmet was on. So 3636 couldn’t read his expression; or discern what he thought as he signaled with a light jerk of his head in 3636’s direction, bringing the comm troopers attention towards him. 

He heard a third, a man with a long range sniper speak a little off to the side towards the medic.

“So that’s our new Number Six.”

“CT-3636?”

His head snapped straight ahead, finding a fifth staring down on him. The Squad commander; 3636 knew him by reputation alone.

Guelzo.

He snapped a salute “Sir. Yes sir!”

Guelzo offered a nod. “You’ll be fitted out for your armor soon, Get acquainted with your brothers; Six you’ll be with us for a long while.”

3636 nodded. “Understood sir.” 

He hesitated, and even though he was fully armored, it was noticed. 

“Speak up Six.” Guelzo demanded.

“Sir-” He choked down the reflexive urge to request permission to speak freely it’d be… redundant after that. “... Why me sir?”

For a long moment, Guelzo stared at him.

“Heard good things about you. He said. “Fought a Jedi hunter droid. Survived Geonosis, fought against Sora Bulq and his Padawan.”

“Just… doesn’t feel like I earned it.” He admitted honestly.

After all. If he couldn’t be honest with his brothers… Who could he be honest with?

Guelzo nodded. “Neither did we… You’ll fit right in.”

The commander extended his hand. 

“Welcome to Noble, Six.”

3636 reached out- and took a firm hold of his brothers hand.

—

Anakin:

He returned quietly to Coruscant, as quietly as he’d left. He used Padme’s clearance codes, descended on a nondescript Nubian ship; landed on the 500 Republica in the dead of night. When Padme saw him- she hugged him, worried beyond measure, asking him where he went, why he’d fled.

He told her. Truthfully and completely.

There was relief there when he did. But also another kind of hurt, wondering why he felt he couldn’t have spoken to her; she never voiced it, but he did sense it, however briefly.. Another thing to feel guilty about

But how could he have told her? How could he tell his Angel that he’d beaten a man to death with his bare hands. That he did it and that it had felt good. That even with the pain of shattered fingers, dislocated knuckles and torn ligaments Anakin could remember nothing but sheer satisfaction in the moment of the act.

He couldn’t… wouldn’t. 

It was a secret only he, and now one other person would know

He loved her, and he trusted her.

But some shames you just couldn’t say. 

That night he stayed with her, held her, let her hold him.

The next- he returned to the temple. 

Word of his arrival didn’t take long to spread. He was a recognizable face, and his departure he imagined had run through the rumor mill. 

He sought out her signature in the Force and made straight for her immediately.

He found her in the training yards, several other Padawans with her, Padawans that had been on Geonosis. All training, all focused and grimly determined to be ready… for the next battle. The next potential Geonosis. 

He didn’t recognize the Padawan that saw him first, the young Aqualish calling out his name. 

“Master Skywalker!”

All of the younglings turned to look at him, Ahsoka’s head whipped around so fast her montrals flew around her head.

“Master!” She cried, her sabers shutting down as she rushed towards him.

She drew close, and Anakin made a point to fall onto one knee, and be on eye level with her.

“Master, I- where did you-”

He held up his hand, cutting her off. And he said what she deserved to hear. 

“I’m sorry Ahsoka.” 

He was as sincere as he could be and he saw her features grow sad… empathetic.

“I shouldn’t have left you without a word.” His head bowed. “I’m your Master… and as much as I may have felt I needed time to think. I have a responsibility towards you. I let you down.”

“It's okay Master.” She whispered back.

But Anakin shook his head. “It isn’t… I promise I’ll do better” He held out his hand- “Partners?”

She looked at the extended limb and then smiled, the joke coming hesitantly… but it was welcome. “I dunno… I was gonna try trading up on Masters. Maybe Master Yoda.”

He laughed and as soon as he did she lurched forward, plowing into him to give him a hug, her weight nearly knocking him on his ass.

But she was still small enough that he could handle it

—

When he saw Obi-Wan, he expected a reprimand.

“Where did you go?” Was the question.

Anakin thought about lying, he really did.

But in the end-

“I went home.” He said, as simply, and perhaps as cryptically as he could make himself.

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed in thought, then relaxed in realization.

“I see.” He nodded, then- sighed.

There was a moment of silence and Anakin braced himself for his Master’s judgement, his recriminations or words of warning.

And then- Obi Wan just turned around.

“Come on… there have been many developments since you’ve been gone that you’ll need to be informed of. 

And… that was it.

Surprised as he might’ve been, Anakin didn’t press his luck, merely marching to catch up and walk at Obi-Wan’s side.

“I’ve been gone ten days or so.” He answered, hands falling into his sleeves; the unspoken query of ‘How much could have happened’ was unspoken but very much implied. 

Obi-Wan turned to look at him, releasing another sigh, this time with a more troubled undertone.

“Anakin-” He began, rubbing at his head, seemingly willing away a headache. “I’m not entirely sure how to tell you this… or even if I should. Nothing is finalized to say the least.”

Anakin took a moment to brace himself.

He’d left. He’d left without a word.

If they’d reassigned the 501rst or removed him from command or… did something well… he could accept it. He’d try to fix things of course… but a General and a Jedi, doesn’t just leave without a single word and expect no consequences. 

“Whatever it is Master we can deal with it.” He promised.

Obi-Wan’s answering gaze troubled him; more than he’d like to admit. 

And then of course, the man had to speak. 

“Anakin… Master Plo, has named you as his successor to his seat on the High Council.”

…

“That’s not funny Obi-Wan.”

“I’m not laughing, Anakin.”

The laughing General shook his head. “This has to-” His voice trailed off, knowing it was some kind of mistake. Some misunderstanding. 

Plo had… Plo had seen him. There was no way he would-

He began to walk away, towards the healer wing. “ I’ll go talk to him, clear this up.”

“You cant.”

Anakin stopped, and he didn’t dare to even breathe for a moment.

“Master Plo died… last night, Anakin.”

—

A datapad was left to him. 

And Victoria was the one who brought it to him.

Anakin couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, the shame and the guilt clawing away at him.

She too hadn’t said a word.

As she placed the pad down on the table, Anakin tried to force the apology out of him, to force himself to say the words and admit to his role in not exposing Bulq when he had the chance.

But then the opportunity was overtaken… when Vicky spoke.

“I’m sorry Annie.”

His head snapped up towards her, the shock of the words punching him across the face.

“What? Why are you sorry!?”

Vicky’s expressions were always an open book, and what he could read on it now was… guilt.

“We got so caught up.” She said. “In everything. Geonosis, Plo… all of it. And we never actually thought to check in on how you were doing. How you were feeling… we just… assumed you were fine and-” She shrugged. “I’m… I’m sorry that we didn’t help. I know Tay feels the same way.”

“Don’t be-” He pleaded. “Master Plo… He… He was your Master and… the only reason he’s dead is-”

Vicky’s hand reached up, one finger placing itself on his lips.

He was taller than her now, he suddenly realized.

“None of that.” She said with a firm shake of her head. “A lot of people could’ve done things different. There’s enough blame to pass around like an oversized rotation five times over. Even me and Tay can share some.” She looked down at the datapad. “He said that… the code would be the last words he said to you.”

You couldn’t have punched him harder with an angry wookie delivering the blow.

He reached down, plucking the thin pad off of the table. Code locked. Encrypted… no one had read it but him.

Vicky reached over, pulling him into a hug. “I’m grateful.” She whispered before pulling away. “That you came back… and… whatever Master Plo has to say. I’m sure whatever choice you make will make him proud.”

“You don’t want to stay?” 

She shook her head, smiling gently. 

“Don’t get me wrong, the curiosity is driving me crazy… but no. His words were for you. And I’ll respect that.”

She reached up, ruffling his hair, like she did when he was a child, forcing her smile to turn light and impish. He smiled back, if only to help with the effort.

Then she turned away… and marched out the door.

Leaving Anakin alone… with a small, tiny, Datapad that felt heavier than anything he’d ever held in his life.

—

Sidious

“And so… there was one.”

He could not help the smile that pulled at his lips as he spoke. 

To think. Of all his catspaws she would be the one to outlive her contemporaries.

He was certain it would have been Tann.

But no. Komari knelt before him, unbroken and uninjured, her eyes cast to his feet

Plans needed to be reevaluated, reassessed and calibrated. The board had shifted with Geonosis and everything after. Alexandria had removed a powerful tool from play, at least for now. But the game was still afoot. And new assets had emerged to replace the old.

The Holo bloomed at his side, and the metal monstrosity that was General Grievous emerged therein. 

“Lord Sidious.” The Cyborg rasped, bowing.

Tann’s death would see the metal monster take a place of far greater importance than Palpatine would have liked in his plans, but as needs must. Sith did not grow on trees.

But he would need to be very very careful. Grievous, especially in his present state was a dangerous tool. A double edged sword that could cut far more in both directions than Tann ever could.

And she’d cut deeply enough as her last act.

“General.” He nodded. “I can promise that there will be at least three weeks, of decreased Republic activity after the losses on Geonosis. The Jedi are licking their wounds. Take the time to consolidate your hold over the Seperatist command structure, organize your armies and fleets. Prepare yourself for a new campaign. 

The monster bowed. “It will be done.”

“One more thing.” He smiled again. “The Jedi that Tann captured…”

The Cyborg’s emotions betrayed him. “Many escaped after her death.”

“Many.” Sidious conceded. “But many is not all. Send them to me… alive… and un-spoiled.”

The Cyborg’s hate seethed off of him. This was not an order he wished to follow.

“Obey me General.” Sidious warned. “I have made you… and you can be unmade too.”

The Kaleesh held his silence, trembling with impotent rage. For all his skill with a blade, trained by Sidious himself and through hypno indoctrination- he could never match the power of the Force.

And he knew it.

“It will… be done.”

The holo shut off

Sidious turned from the projector, facing Komari once again. 

He smirked.

“You… are to return to Geonosis?”

That, surprised her. “What for?”

“The Jedi did not claim all of Jorus’ pets.” He explained. “I’m sure we might find a greater use for our fallen Necromancers creations.”

She didn’t move for a moment.

But then, she too obeyed.

“Yes… Master.”

Standing, she turned and began marching away.

“Oh- one last thing.” He laughed, feeling the chill crawl down her spine at the sound.

“Leave the Dragons.” He ordered the smile on his face growing cruel and wicked.. “One male. One female… they could always use a new hunting ground.”

“Hunting ground?”

He nodded. “Geonosians will make for fine prey.”

—

Taylor:

The Pyres had been burning for days. 

Days.

That’s how many had died on Geonosis.

Today… we were about to burn one more.

I felt… cold. A strange bone deep cold that no amount of heat, or fire could banish from me. 

Vicky was next to me, Iskt and Karla behind us

Around the courtyard, hundreds had gathered… including the Councilors I heard choked sobs and cries. I didn’t know if they were for Plo… or the others

More pyres began to burn.

“You’re crying.” 

I felt my tears then, as I turned to Vicky, my voice choked as I answered her.”And you’re not.”

Her expression was sad… I’d almost call it pity if I didn’t know her better than that… or if she didn’t know me better than that.

She reached towards me… Her hand grasping mine. “I think… I’ve cried a lot of my tears… its ok if you need to now.”

I swallowed, for all that I was pushing everything I could into my swarm, it wasn’t enough.

“I can cry.” I promised, bringing our hands up, palms facing upwards.

As I’d done with Cal, and Tapal, I pulled her force energy with mine, guiding it, helping her mold it.

She knew what I was doing, and she let me.

A flickering candle flame  suddenly hovered over her hand

We stepped forward… towards the Pyre.

Every step felt like my boots were made of lead, and my knees of jello. Every inch closer felt like I was tightening a vice around my lungs.

And still… I forced my body to move.

The flame took quickly. Catching on dry tinder and carefully arranged wood to maximize airflow.

And Master Plo… burned.

I’m not sure when Vicky’s arm coiled around me. I’m not sure when it was that she was holding me up rather than standing at my side.

I’m not sure when it was that I couldn’t see past the tears.

Don’t let go.

I’m not sure if the words were said, whispered, or just thought.

But whatever they were… she heard them anyway.

“Never… You and me against the world, right?”

I nodded.

“Goodbye.” I found the strength to say.

And I could almost almost hear his answer on the wind.

“There is no death, My students. There is only the Force.”

(X)(X)(X)

So, not gonna lie, this chapter was both longer than I expected, and fought me every, single step of the way.

There are some things, I might revisit here. For one thing; I kind of wanted to have a scene with Dennis and Ventress and her recovery since we haven't really seen any of that. But, genuinely I kinda stumbled because I don't know what the actual recovery would even look like enough to emulate it even in this sci fi setting.. Because I don't know what it would take for someone to relearn how to walk on a new leg, how easy or hard that would be.

So I might come and revisit that, along with Hannah and Aras getting back home.But beyond that this is the 'Season finale' of this entire arc.I will now be going on a fairly extensive "break" which I really need because NGL the weekly update pace, along side the fairly MASSIVE page count on some of these chapters has kinda pushed me a little bit towards that red line danger zone of the dreaded 'Burnout'I didn't hit it, thankfully, but I could feel it kinda creeping up on me, NGL. But during my 'Break'/Hiatus here as many of you know, I am going to be finishing/polishing the last bit of work needed for my own original story, working Title is "Carrion Worlds" you can find the first hundred pages right here on Patreon. It is a Sci-fi space opera and I've been quietly tinkering away at it here and there for the last year and now I'm going to take these last 2-3 months to finish it, and get it published at long last.I'm going to see if there's a way to publish it here first for those that have been supporting me in the publisher tier for all this time, because I think that's only fair. But I genuinely don't know what tools Patreon has for a limited release.Anyway, for those of you interested like I said, the first hundred pages are available in the Publisher tier, its a work thats got elements/inspiration from Dune, Star Wars, 40k and many many others and I'm very excited to show the first book to you all when it is finished.

In other news please remember that we have both a TV tropes page here:https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/TheWeavingForceWhich can always use more love (and my gratitude to those that have been quietly expanding the page as well)And we have a discord page here:https://discord.gg/4TyQp6BSWhere you can chat with me and others whenever you like and For those of you who get verified in the publisher tier, we can even talk about and answer any questions you might have regarding my own original story. I'd love to see you all there and I am so grateful to everyone who's made this particular story bigger than I ever could have dreamed and is helping me realize my lifelong desire to become a published author.

My gratitude and love to you all, and you can be sure to find me back here when its time to start updating again, where we will add this fic to the "Completed works" tally everywhere it can be found. Bye, much love to all of you :)