Obi-Wan gazed at the silver stars sprinkled on the black canvas of space. The vast bridge viewport of the Venator-class Mandalorian warship Hodayc Verd provided an unobstructed view for thirty meters from side-to-side.
Obi-Wan could handle the darkness of space. This was calm. There was very little risk to sub-light space travel in wide-open space. His eyes darted around the command console as he reminisced about the Clone War on a bridge similar to this one.
While of contemporary construction, the ship's design hearkened back to the days of the Old Republic, at least a thousand years before. It was very similar to the Jedi cruisers used in the Clone War and the Victory-class Imperial star destroyers of today.
The triangular shape provided maneuverability in tight locations. Its weaponry included cannons, lasers, and sonic charges.
When Captain Rex's image appeared on the holocomm device behind Obi-Wan, the Jedi turned and addressed the man. "What's the status, Rex?"
"All systems are go. We are awaiting your signal to jump to lightspeed."
"All right." Obi-Wan punched a few buttons on the console. "Waiting for a response from the Alliance." A few seconds later, a text transmission displayed on Obi-Wan's wrist communicator. "It's a go. All ships, jump to lightspeed on my mark. Three, two, one, mark!"
The twinkling stars transformed into streaks of blue light before settling into the geometric planes of hyperspace.
The general activated the ship's intercom. "Minimal crew rotations while we are in hyperspace for the next two days. All troops be ready to fight upon entry into the system."
Some would take that announcement to mean rest and relaxation, but the sergeants and captains would make sure physical conditioning as well as briefings on the upcoming missiontook place.
Kenobi kept his head lowered to avoid seeing the hyperspace distortion through the starboard-side corridor viewports as he exited the bridge. He collided with a figure heading toward him.
"Forgive me, please," he said, not looking up, gulping the bile that churned in his stomach even now. He wondered if everyone on board knew how much space travel made him uneasy. Obi-Wan waited for the figure to pass by him for many silent moments.
"I do," a velvety voice murmured.
Obi-Wan involuntarily jerked his head up at that voice, locking his eyes onto the owner. His breathing increased when he saw her, the second time in as many days. His lips opened, wanting to say something to this woman.
After a long silence, she tried to push past him. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry."
He reached out his hand in a bold move, blocking her way. "Satine, I don't understand. Maul . . . You were dead. I held you. You were dead."
"Med droids revived me, but it took years to recover. When I came out, the clans were in an uproar, all fighting for the throne. I tried to find you. You were gone. Some said you were dead."
Kenobi looked at his feet. "The Rebellion. I was protecting someone. In hiding." He dared to raise his eyes to her, fighting the nausea hyperspace caused.
The former duchess tilted her head and looked at her old friend. The years had been hard on the man. The Clones Wars, the Empire, losing his best friend to the dark side. It had all taken a toll on him.
She said, "I never forgot you. I never forgot what you said. I only regretted that our duties got in the way."
She moved closer to him, bringing herself within inches of the man, the Jedi Master. "And I'm not going to live the rest of my life with regrets." She reached forward quickly and pulled Obi-Wan's head to hers, pressing her lips to his with tenderness.
Obi-Wan pulled away, looking around for anyone that may have seen them. "Satine . . ." He shook his head, full of regrets, knowing where his duty lay. "Satine, I can't."
"You told me once you would leave the Order if I asked. I'm asking now."
Obi-Wan grabbed her hand and pulled her into an alcove. The blue distortion of hyperspace lit their faces erratically as he spoke. "There's a good chance that none of us are going to survive this operation."
"I know." The former duchess lowered her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I don't want you to die without hearing the truth." She gazed into his eyes and took his hand. "Obi-Wan, I love you." Tears glistened in her eyes as she waited for his response.
"I know. I've always known."
"Is that it? Is that all I mean to you?"
"I've taken vows, Satine. I cannot violate them."
"Vows to what? A defunct Jedi Order? It doesn't even exist anymore, Obi-Wan." Satine pulled her hand from his. "How can you be loyal to a non-entity?" She clenched lips together and narrowed her eyes. "You're afraid."
Obi-Wan looked away from her at the bulkhead beside him.
"I see now that you were hiding behind everything. They weren't obstacles to you. They were welcome barriers. First it was my position, then it was the war, and now it's the non-existent Jedi Order. I guess I was wrong. I thought you were a man of courage." Satine crossed her arms.
"But, no, you're only a slave to an outdated ideal. Well, don't worry, Obi-Wan, I won't be bothering you anymore with such trivial ideas of love." The exasperated woman gathered her flowing skirts together and strode out of the alcove and down the corridor.
Obi-Wan leaned against the bulkhead of the alcove, holding his head in his hands.
Bail sat at the comm desk in the cockpit of the Silver Streak when the hyperspace exit alarm alerted. The turbo lift doors opened, revealing the hulking figure of Darth Vader in his life-support suit.
Viceroy Organa stared at Anakin, the senator's heart palpitating at the sight of the Dark Lord of the Sith. Bail fingered the control chip in his pocket, ready to push the detonator if the man stepped out of line even once.
Anakin sat in the pilot's seat. "As soon as I hit the sub-light engines, start your transmission. Once the Imperials spot us on their scanners, they will deactivate our long-range communications array."
Organa jumped at the ominous, deep voice through the vocalizer of the helmet, so different from the voice he had heard these last few days. Bail held his hands over the control, the frequency already set.
Anakin held his hand over the sub-light engines switch. "On my mark—three, two, one, mark!" Both men hit their buttons precisely together.
Bail stared at the comm station. "Come on! Come on! Someone, pick up!"
A blue hologram of a security officer appeared. "Mountain Palace Station One. Identify yourself."
"Viceroy Bail Organa, requesting to speak with Her Majesty the Queen. This is priority code besh-three-aurek-isk-five-eight-leth."
"Your Grace, I will transfer you now. Her Majesty has been trying to reach you—"
Anakin turned to Bail. "They've spotted us. Hurry up." TIE fighters circled around the small yacht, hovering but not firing.
"Never mind. There isn't enough time. Just tell her I have Lei—"
The transmission cut out as another voice came across the speakers. "Nubian yacht, this sector is restricted. Leave this system immediately or be boarded."
Anakin said, "Clearance Code vesk-auresh-five-one-dorn-esk-resh-six-three requesting permission to land."
Another voice came over the speaker in reply. "Lord Vader, an honor squadron will escort you to Landing Bay 1. Welcome home, my lord."
"Thank you, Piett. Vader out." Anakin turned to Bail. "When we land, follow to my left and behind me. Then Artoo. Padmé will follow last of all with the children, Master Yoda guarding them. Don't speak to anybody. Am I making myself clear, Organa?"
"I'll speak only if it is necessary. But I warn you, Anakin, I go where you go. If you prevent me from shadowing you, I will not hesitate to detonate the device."
"Understood." Anakin nodded his heavy helmet. He returned to the controls as the small ship entered the gigantic hangar on the Super Star Destroyer Executor. Lines of stormtroopers and officers stood in honor guard formation in the hangar.
Once the ship had touched its landing claws to the deck, the thrusters released excess steam. The loading ramp extended at a sedate pace, revealing the black figure of Darth Vader.
The Sith Lord stomped down the ramp, his black cape swirling behind him. Viceroy Bail Organa of Alderaan, dressed in his blue robes of office, followed behind him and to his left. A blue-and-white astromech droid rolled down the ramp, beeping and tweeting at the sight.
Behind them, a young woman draped in a blue sleeveless gown followed with two small children holding her hands, a boy and a girl. Lastly, an aged figure not even a meter tall hobbled with a cane down the ramp. A small, cylindrical object swung at his waist beneath his coarse robe.
Admiral Ozzel stood at attention at the end of the ramp, with Captain Piett beside him. Ozzel gazed at the small creature and sneered.
"Admiral Ozzel, make ready for the hyperspace jump to Coruscant. I want every ship at battle stations when we come out of lightspeed."
"Yes, Lord Vader." The Admiral raised his hand near his face with a hesitant finger curved near his chin. "Lord Vader."
"What is it, Admiral?"
The older man said with a shake to his voice, "We've had some difficulty with the clones when we removed their inhibitor chips, My Lord. Some went quite mad." Ozzel's eyes widened in fear.
Anakin bowed his head in compassion for the men. "Well, what did you do?"
"We tranquilized some, but others we had to shoot." Ozzel lowered his head, waiting for the wrath of Vader to descend.
"You what?" Vader advanced on the man, but he pulled back in a minute after catching a glimpse of Bail with his hand in his pocket. Anakin could feel the fear in Luke and Leia, as well as the sorrow in Master Yoda at his outburst.
Piett interrupted. "They started shooting indiscriminately. We had no choice, My Lord. When we saw what was happening, we sedated them for the procedure and brought them out slowly. Some adapted well. Others, not so well."
"How many of the troops did we lose?"
Admiral Ozzel said, "Forty-four permanently. Over a thousand are sedated."
"An eighth of our force? Is it the same on the other ships?"
"On the Coercer, it's worse. Over half had to be sedated," Ozzel said.
"That changes things. Admiral, have our medical staff work on reviving those men. Try to reach the Mandalorians. There are a few former clones with them that have removed their chips. See if they have any advice for this madness."
"Yes, Lord Vader." The Admiral saluted and departed quickly.
"Piett."
"Yes, my lord?"
"Show my guests to their quarters and find some real food for them." The canteen dispensaries served protein sludge and water only, as both were easier on the waste systems of both crew and ship. Anakin knew the children would need real food, and Padmé, too.
"Perhaps, we could bring some up from Brentaal's surface, My Lord."
"No time. Search the men's lockers. They usually have something stashed away, if I remember my days in the war." Anakin looked back at the Silver Streak, thinking for a few breathing cycles of his regulator. "Also, have maintenance install a full array of armament on the yacht. I want it operational by the time we come out of hyperspace."
"Yes, My Lord." Piett added yet another impossibility to his datapad. But impossible was what Piett specialized in.
Anakin marched off, conferring with Ozzel about the placement of the fleet.
Before Anakin exited the hangar, he turned one more time to Piett. "Captain Piett, order the men to paint their armor. Any design they prefer. One color per legion. They won't be able to tell friend from foe, otherwise."
"Yes, my lord." Piett quickly sent the order out through his datapad to all commands.
Did you know . . .
● During the Clone Wars, each clone painted a unique design on their helmets. Some also tattooed their faces and skulls with similar designs.
Tell me what you think . . .
● The battle is building. It's almost here. What do you think is going to go wrong?