blah the Prussian

Chapter 2: Operation Durge's Lance The Separatist Battleship Devastation sailed past the ruins of a once mighty fleet. Trailing behind it was the naval might of the Confederacy of Independent Systems; Frigates, Battleships, Carriers, and guarded by a vast cloud of Vulture Droids. Behind them was what had once been the Republican Navy's Eighth Fleet, now so much rubble. As the Separatist fleet proceeded towards its target, the Hypori System, what had once been the mighty gatekeepers of the Core Worlds faded into the vacuum of space, indistinguishable from the stars. It was imperceptible under his ghoulishly white mask, but Supreme Commander Qymaen Jai Shaleel was smiling. The Republic's soldiers, he had heard, had taken to calling him "General Grievous"; good. Let them fear me. For him, no greater pleasure existed than being feared by the scum who had confined him to this cage of a body. "Supreme Commander," a Nemoidian technician said tentatively, "Hologram call from Mustafar. It seems to be urgent." He seems to lack none of his species' survival instinct, Qymaen thought, as he answered the call. Seeing those on the other line, he fought the urge to curse. It was the Separatist Council; the people in the entirety of the galaxy he wanted to see least of all. "Commander Shaleel!" blustered Geonosian Archduke Poggle the Lesser over hologram, jowls shaking lightly with anger, "what is the meaning of this? Republic Stormtroopers sit in my palace, eating my food, no doubt bedding my harem-" I doubt that, Qymaen thought, mind turning to the "beauties" of Geonosis- "and where were you?" Poggle the Lesser continued. "Where was your fleet?" A thousand replies flashed through Qymaen's head. I am not one of those pathetic bugs you call your subjects, Archduke. You do not scare me. Or: On Kalee we have flowers more intimidating than you, Archduke. Or he could even simply crush Poggle's stupid, ugly skull in the massive talons adorning his feet. Qymaen Jai Shaleel, however, had not become the terror of the Republic because he was reckless or stupid(the indignities he suffered through to avenge his honor and people!) so instead, he replied haltingly: "I was winning the war, Archduke. Our fleets have seized Hypori, the gates to the Core. The road to Alderaan lies open." "You think I care about Alderaan?" Poggle demanded. "I had to sleep on MUSTAFAR last night!" "Regardless of Poggle's sleeping arrangements," Wat Tambor interjected, "Geonosis was vital to our war effort. The loss of its cloning facilities are a grave blow, to be sure." "Which is why it was so effective as bait," Qymaen replied flatly. After the raging Archduke had been escorted out of the room, he continued: "The Republic were so eager to take Geonosis they badly weakened their own defenses. Now, the linchpin of their defenses has been pierced. There are other Geonosises- Kamino, for one. And yet, the Republic only has one world we must take to utterly break them." Realization dawned on the face of Nute Gunray; "Alderaan," he breathed, looking like a preschooler who had learned that two and two made four. "Alderaan," confirmed a deep, stately voice, this time from behind Qymaen. Count Augustinias Dooku, leader of the Separatist Alliance and one of the few humans alive Qymaen respected. "The Organa family, like many of the so-called nobility of the Core, got rich from the resources of their home planet. Now, those resources feed the Republic's fleets. If we take Alderaan-" "-we ensure that the Republic has no fleet," Qymaen finished. "The sacrifice of Geonosis will not be forgotten," Dooku declared with a sweep of his hand, "but we must not forget that we are an alliance. Any sacrifices made by our members will be rewarded when we are all free from the crushing yoke of the Republic." If Qymaen Jai Shaleel had cared, he might have pointed out the irony of the Count's statement. Qymaen Jai Shaleel, however, most definitely did not care. As the holograms shut off, the pair turned to the Devastation's viewport; as expected, the laser fire on Hypori was dying down, as the last pockets of Republican resistance were annihilated. "We're taking a massive risk," Dooku warned. "If this doesn't work-" "This is our only hope," Qymaen responded. "You know that. Our Clone armies mean nothing without naval superiority; the campaigns in the Mid Rim proved this. Alderaan will be a battle neither of us can afford to lose." His insectoid face twisted with a smile under his mask again. "Just the way I like it." The Separatist fleet moved into their occupation formation. Operation Durge's Lance, or what would go down in history as the First Core Campaign of the Clone Wars, had begun. The Mon Calamari Senator sunk to the ground, eyes wide with terror, as the red lightsaber raked across his gills. As he writhed around on the ground, slowly suffocating to death, Maul turned away from his latest victim. Striking blow after blow against the Senate, epicenter of the accursed Republic, should have thrilled him. And yet, it was getting so... monotonous. There was no satisfaction in slaughtering a bunch of morons who thought it was a good idea to take their Star Yachts on pleasure cruises in the midst of civil war. Of course, his Master had impressed upon him the need to lay low after the Battle of Naboo. Naboo... With a snarl, he turned on what had become the corpse of the murdered Senator, lightning bursting from his fingers. It hurled the corpse against the Yacht's hull, as it snaked into the vessel's air vents. Finally, Maul sunk to the floor, exhausted. The infuriating face of that boy flashed before him, mocking him. The howl of grief he let out upon seeing Maul murder his master still rang in the Sith's ears. Why couldn't he get the brat out of his head? Why did he care? His audio transmitter let out its telltale crackle. Master. His fingers darted over to the device, the representation of the only contact with another human being he had had for over a decade. As his fingers brushed the activation button, the voice of his master, garbled by the communication device, filled the room. "Report, my apprentice." "Senator Cilan Ackbar is dead, Master," Maul responded, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. Evidently, he failed. "Something... disturbs you, apprentice?" Darth Sidious asked. No use in hiding it. "Master," he began, "I understand the need to hide after Naboo. But I tire of this! Slaughtering Senators is nothing more than busywork, I need-" "The Skywalker boy bothers you," Sidious replied. It was not a question. "Why?" "I don't know," Maul responded, truthfully(though, he wasn't sure he wanted to know). "I just- I hate him! I want him dead!" Dead, or out of mind? He dismissed the idea. A chuckling came from the other side of the comm link. "Well, my apprentice," said Sidious, "I have a new assignment. One you may prefer." "Where?" Maul tried and failed to mask the apprehension in his voice. "Tatooine." Obi-wan found his apprentice staring out the Pride of the Core's viewport at the blue of the hyperspace tunnel in his bedchambers. The Republic's fleet was returning to Coruscant- something about a new Separatist offensive- but not before a cloud of Star Destroyers reduced the Cloning facility to rubble. Obi-wan had felt the voices of the workers cry out in terror, and felt them, over the course of minutes, slowly and excruciatingly be silenced. He knew Anakin had felt it too. He shut the sliding door behind him, fully entering the bedroom. "Anakin." His apprentice turned, regarding him silently. His eyes were red; he had been crying. "What does the Council have to say?" Anakin asked evenly. "They're apparently having a hearing for you;" at this dread flashed across Anakin's face. "Don't worry," Obi-wan continued, raising his hand to his apprentice's shoulder, "I can represent you there if you wish." Anakin raised his head, meeting his Master's eyes for the first time. "You're not angry," he observed. Obi-wan sat down across from his apprentice. "I was down there with you. I saw what you saw. How could I be angry after that?" Anakin raised his eyebrows; this clearly wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. "What?" Obi-wan asked. "You think I never lose myself? You think I'm always some perfect saint, some warrior monk? Hopefully, after three years, you know me better than that." Anakin exploded. "Then why aren't we searching for him?" He didn't need to say who 'him' referred to. Obi-wan's face darkened despite himself. "Anakin," he said, "there has not been a single day since Naboo where part of me doesn't want to crush that bastard for what he did to Qui-gon. But we can't let what we hate define who we are; that isn't just true of Jedi, it's true of all of us." He leaned forwards. "Anakin, how do you feel about what happened?" "Terrible," Anakin replied without hesitation. "I felt every single miner who died in there. I owed it to them." He stared Obi-wan straight in the eyes. "But I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I'd do it because there wasn't another option. I'd do it because I wasn't going to send men it was my duty to protect back into that hell. What do you want me to do, just let them die?" Obi-wan sat still for a long time, lost in thought. Finally, he responded. "Maybe." He swept his hand gently on the table, cutting off a response from Anakin he knew was coming. "Anakin, I know the Jedi Code isn't perfect. But what code is? Justice isn't perfect; it can hurt people. But it's when the Codes hurts people that it's most important to follow them; that's when the pull of the Dark Side is the strongest. I'll never be rid of the part of me that wants the quick and easy path, I don't think. I'll never be rid of the part of me that would like nothing more than to kill Darth Maul slowly and painfully. But I can resist it; and I have." He clasped his apprentice's hand in his own. "You're a strong man, Anakin, one of the strongest men I've ever known. We can and will resist this part of you together." As he reached the sliding door, he turned. "By the way," he said, "you've apparently been invited to a party on Coruscant. For the successful conclusion of this campaign." He cracked a smile. "What are my commands, against an invitation from Chancellor Valorum himself?" He resumed his rounds on the Pride of the Core, pushing another voice back to his subconscious. It wasn't enough.

Nah, I've already played the original game and have a bunch of other stuff to play right now.

That isn't hedonism, though. Hedonism holds that it is most moral to seek happiness for YOU SPECIFICALLY. Your beliefs sound like positive utilitarianism; utilitarianism holds that the best course of action is that which leads to the greatest good for the greatest number of people, and you seem to define good as how happy people are. Your system does seem to have another problem, additionally. What about situations where you can't be certain of the facts of the situation, or results? What if, for example, a classmate jokes about shooting up a school? You could report it, in order to avoid a massacre, but you can't be certain if they actually intend to do it; if they didn't, you'd be ruining the life of someone basically just because they made a joke in bad taste. Personally, I essentially support Kant's system of ethics. Before taking any action, ask: what the results would be if everyone took this action. For example, you could lie in court to protect someone you think is innocent, but if everyone lied in court we would have no way to find criminals. It's when following our moral principles hurts others that it's most important to follow them; corruption and evil always starts with evil acts the perpetrators believe are necessary.

It has been three years since the Galaxy descended into civil war. The Republic, led by Chancellor Valorum, seeks to reassert control over the corporation-planets of the Separatist Alliance, led by the former Jedi Knight Count Dooku. Families are torn apart, planets despoiled, livelihoods ruined- the Galaxy bleeds. On Coruscant, dissatisfaction rises against the Jedi Order, once revered as guardians of peace. The Jedi themselves fear the return of the mysterious and sinister Sith Lords. There is, however, hope. A Republic fleet has succeeded in breaking through Separatist defenses and now stands poised to strike the key Separatist world of Geonosis, known for its resources needed for the production of the Separatist's Clone Army. The coming battle could prove decisive for the future of the entire Galaxy... Chapter 1: The Battle of Geonosis The massive blue tunnel of hyperspace seemed to consume the bridge of the ship, bathing it in light. The sense of calm this imparted clashed with the actual atmosphere; tension gripped the men and women of the bridge, as it did in every bridge of the Republic fleet. Anyone who said they had grown used to what had been termed the "hellish hour" was lying. No one could ever truly get over the impending dread of an event that had such a high probability of killing them. And the probability of death in a battle of the Clone War was high indeed. Admiral Mitsuki Sato, standing in front of the thronelike chair in the center of the room, hands clasped behind her back, had grown used to masking this dread. That, she reasoned, was one of her responsibilities as a commander. "Prepare to exit hyperspace," she ordered evenly. "All crew, battle stations." The hyperspace tunnel receded around them, the target of the most ambitious(not to mention important) offensive of the war came into view. Geonosis. Sato's eyes darted to the bridge's viewscreen, as her fleet exited light speed one by one. Star Destroyers, the backbone of the Republic's fleets. Star Carriers, each holding tens of thousands of Tie Fighters. Star Frigates, quick and nimble. And her own ship: The Pride of the Core, the first of what was being called a Star Dreadnought. The Republic had spared no expense for this operation. Glancing at the enemy fleet, she noted with relief that the Republic's speed had payed off. The Separatist fleet defending Geonosis was outnumbered by over three to one; they clearly hadn't been expecting the Republican Navy to tear out of the Core so quickly. Let's keep it that way, Sato thought, drawing in her breath. "Frigates to the flanks," she barked, "First and Third Carrier Flotillas, with them. Destroyers, begin laying down fire!" It was a tried and true tactic exploiting the weakness of the Separatist Destroyer; while absurdly heavily armored to their front, their rears were drastically under equipped. When they were outnumbered, overwhelming them was simple. Apparently, the Separatists could see it too. As the Star Carriers released a swarm of Tie Fighters, a small group of Separatist Cruisers peeled off from the main fleet. Sato reacted instantly. "13 Star Destroyer Wing, tail those cruisers," she demanded. "Don't let them jump." It went without saying that the Separatist's communications had been jammed; their high command would discover the situation eventually, but it was best to put that off for as long as possible. As the Separatist fleet crumbled under pressure from the Ties and Destroyers, Sato shook her head; who tries to jump into hyperspace in open battle anymore? Making that jump required all of a ship's energy; with no shields any commander with a modicum of competence would cripple it long before it made the jump. The Separatists never had a chance. She picked up her comm link. "Enemy fleet cleared. General Windu, ground assault can begin." Mace Windu's familiar voice read out commands mechanically, filling the interior of the gunships as they swarmed from the bays of the troopships. "Legions 1-55, assault the surface capitol. Legions..." his voice droned on, as if it was some schoolmaster's speech at a graduation no one wanted to be at. As if it was anything but men being informed how they would die. Finally, the fated words filled the lead gunship. "Legions 500 and 501, attack the anti-air formations around the catacombs." The dread that had been building in Anakin Skywalker's stomach exploded all at once. The Separatists would have fortified their anti-air most of all. It would be a slaughter. Once, a different man would have snarled in rage and frustration. It wasn't fair! This was the second time in a row the 501st had been assigned to AA duty. He was no longer that man, however. He was a Jedi, a leader of men- men that, unlike him, did not have a lightsaber. He turned to his adjutant in the 501st, Captain Rex, who, like most Stormtroopers, had elected to keep his helmet off until absolutely necessary. Their eyes met; Rex nodded grimly. The pair had fought through hundreds of battles on hundreds of systems; any terror had been beaten out of them. The rest of the 501st were keeping it together as well. Their reputation as the elites of the Grand Army of the Republic was well-deserved. Clearly, though, it was a double edged sword. The Gunship's bay doors opened; the grim resolve evaporated. Spread out before them was a scene out of hell. Tie Bombers, Gunships, even a few Frigates swarmed around a hulking mountain that had once been grey but now was bristling with steel. Geonosis's famous cloning facility. Each laser blast sent a tremor through the planet's surface, hurling vast clouds of dust into the air. Laser fire emanated from the mountain, too; a Star Frigate buckled under the pressure, hurtling to the ground wrapped in flames. Before the mountain extended a vast desert, crossed with countless trenches manned by Clones bred only to kill. And on the highest peak: the anti-air formation. This was Geonosis. A woman's voice from the back of the ship expressed what everyone was thinking: "We have to take that?" Anakin turned around, speaking almost automatically. "Yes," he replied, "and we will take that. We'll take it, together, because the alternative is death. And I swear on my honor as a Jedi that today is not the day we die! We'll take that mountain, and live!" He ignored the part of him that knew his bravado was false. Fortunately, the Stormtrooper didn't seem to notice, slipping on her helmet; the rest of the 501st followed suit. The Gunship lowered to the ground, at the foot of the mountain. The 501st charged out to be met by a hail of fire. With practiced ease, Anakin sliced through the laser fire. Behind him, his squad advanced, spread out in a group, crawling, partially concealed by dust. Intellectually he knew the strategy saved lives; in the moment, with screams of agony bursting from men and women he had been promising to protect less than a minute ago, it seemed comically foolish. His eyes caught another blade of blue light in the makeshift sandstorm. Obi-wan. Sure enough, his(soon to be former) Master emerged from the cloud, deflecting shot after shot. Their eyes met. "We can't keep up like this!" Obi-wan bellowed. He was right; the usual strategy, of using the Jedi as magnets for fire, clearly was failing in the face of overwhelming enemy firepower. "So clear the trench!" Anakin yelled back. The pair dashed forwards, the first Separatist trench quickly approaching. They landed in it back to back, Clone defenders struggling to retreat. Lightsabers flashing, they advanced methodically; any acknowledgement of the Clones as anything other than the enemy was long gone. Stormtroopers reached the edge of the trench, spitting blaster fire down into the chaos. Clone resistance melted away. The 501st, now mixed interchangeably with Obi-wan's men, collapsed into the trenches. Men and women from all across the Core lay together in shared relief, and tried to ignore the path that this trench was just one of dozens standing between them and their goal. Obi-wan and Anakin didn't have that luxury. The younger Jedi peeked over the top of the trench. The view from the gunship hadn't really done the sandstorm on the ground justice. He wasn't even secure in the direction the enemy was in. They'd have to... no... The flashes of electrical light gave him a warning of one second as to the onslaught to come. A horde of lithe, armored figures stormed into the trench. Clone Commandos, genetically modified to be killers. Magnaguards. One caught Anakin's lightsaber on its deadly electrostaff; cries of shock and fear filled the trench as the Magnaguards cut through the unprepared Stormtroopers like scythes. Pain seared up in Anakin's calf; the next instant Obi-wan was there, decapitating the Magnaguard whose staff had moments before been boring into the Jedi's leg. After a wordless glance, they threw themselves back into battle. Anakin sliced through the metallic handle of a Magnaguard's staff, a nearby explosion throwing him off balance. Wait... that means... An eardrum-shattering blast seemed to explode all around him. Earth was flung up all around him as his world became black. Anakin strode through the sickbay of the Pride of the Core, ignoring the protestations of the nurses calling after him. Truthfully, his head was still pounding, but that didn't matter. He was an officer of the Grand Army of the Republic, and he had a job to do. Suddenly, someone caught his eye; he stopped. It was the Stormtrooper from before; she lay propped against the wall, hugging her legs to her chest. What really froze the Jedi were her eyes. They stared straight ahead, unmoving, unresponsive. We'll take that mountain and live. Damn liar. He banished these thoughts from his head, and strode out the door. "What happened?" Mace Windu's fearsome reputation was, Mitsuki Sato decided, well founded. How the other Jedi maintained his composure in the face of it baffled her. "What happened was," Obi-wan Kenobi replied evenly, "we launched an attack on a Separatist trench system in the midst of a sandstorm! Just what did you think was going to happen when we used orbital bombardment on a desert?" Windu, apparently bereft of a response, turned on Sato. "How close are the Separatists?" He demanded. Sato didn't flinch. "Our scout ships report a large enough fleet to disrupt surface operations no more than three days away." She let that hang in the air; both Obi-wan and Windu paled. Three days was hardly any leeway at all. Windu ignored the sound of an opening door that heralded the arrival of Anakin Skywalker. "Then our only option," he declared, "is a full-scale assault on the entrance to the Geonosian mining facilities. It will-" "WHAT?" Anakin had stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched. "I just saw my soldiers broken because of your stupid plan! The only thing they have left is the fact that they're not going back there, and you want to take that from them too!" Obi-wan rested his hand on his forehead, sighing. "There is no other option!" Mace retorted. "Either we take the mine in the next three days or we lose everything we worked for, making the whole operation pointless!" "There is another choice." An aristocratic voice cut through the argument. Mace, Sato, Anakin, and Obi-wan turned and saluted stiffly. Grand Admiral Willhuff Tarkin exuded class and menace, even in the form of a hologram. His thin face, aquiline nose, and beady eyes gave him the appearance of a predator. It had been he who had designed the strategy for the Republic's grand offensive; he opted to simply destroy Separatist fleets, while leaving their Clone garrisons to starve. "And what might that be, Grand Admiral?" Mace asked stiffly. "We have total orbital supremacy, do we not?" Tarkin asked nonchalantly. "We could simply bombard the mine from space until the falling rocks seal it off." The room was silent. Finally, Mace said: "There are civilians in that mine. Innocent civilians-" "Your so-called civilians are working day in and day out to produce the Clone soldiers that kill our brave troops every day," Tarkin sneered. "They are traitors to the Republic. You wouldn't be prioritizing traitors over our soldiers?" His expression of righteous distaste showed no indication of being false but for the experience of those with him. "I forbid it," Mace declared. "You know military law as well as I: you need the approval of a Jedi for something like this." The old approval clause. Sato grimaced. It had been introduced by the Jedi as condition for their support of the war effort. They wouldn't- "I'll give support." Everyone in the room froze. It was Anakin.

It is indeed, thanks very much!

Right, so you all know how there's that one song that has a few notes that sound like the Game of Thrones theme? It's like Bum bum bum bum bum- BUM bum bum bum... etc. It plays when Mikhail is about to do the thing in Chapter 8. What's the name of the song?

Chapter 13: End of a Master Anders Valorum hadn't met his daughter's eyes since she had returned. for Padme, that was the worst thing of all. She could handle rage, or shouting, or even disappointment- but not knowing? That was worse than simple rage ever could be. Sitting across from her father at the breakfast table, she finally spoke up. "I'm sorry." Whatever response she had been expecting, it wasn't what she got. "Finally," her father responded, almost wryly. "I was wondering when you'd say it." Padme almost choked. "You were staying silent like it was a game?" she demanded. "You're in no position to get angry," her father replied flatly. "What were you thinking?" "I wanted to do something." "Like getting yourself killed? Do you think I want that? Do you think the Republic wants that?" "It's better than-" she blurted, then stopped herself. "Better than what?" Valorum asked calmly, steel in his eyes. She didn't respond. "BETTER THAN WHAT?" She jumped slightly. "Better than- better than sitting in an office all day doing nothing. Like you." Valorum looked about to respond; with a forcefulness that shocked even her, Padme continued. "I saw slavery on Tatooine. I saw people under our protection who had given up all hope because our officials were bribed. Where were we for them?" "What would you have me do?" Valorum demanded. "Kill all the corrupt officials? Send Stormtroopers to kill Jabba the Hutt, who we have a treaty with? I'm limited by Republic law." She was silent. "What would you have me DO?!" "I don't know." It was a lie, but she thought, a needed one. Her father wouldn't like to hear her thoughts. Change the law. The first thing Anakin felt as he regained consciousness was softness. That was strange. The bridge wasn't soft. Was this- A kindly voice cut through his thoughts. "It seems he's awake." His eyes blinked open, meeting those of a middle-aged woman in a white coat, hair done back in a bun. "Do you feel your hand?" she asked. My hand... my hand... no... It all came flooding back. Haltingly, he raised his arm and was greeted with the sight of metal fingers. His fist clenched and unclenched before his eyes, almost of its own accord; his mind was swimming. Qui-gon... He sunk back into his bed, sobs wracking his body like never before. Obi-wan had never expected, nor wanted, Qui-gon's funeral to be like this. It had all the trappings of a traditional Jedi funeral, to be sure. The entire Order stood in a semicircle, first Masters, then Knights, then Padawans. At the center of it all, a massive pyre burned Qui-gon's body, as his soul became one with the Force. It was impossible, though, to ignore what was different. Stormtroopers stood at attention on either side of the ceremony; this was now a military funeral, as well as one for a Jedi. A pall hung over the ceremony; Mace Windu and Yoda had been conversing in a hushed tone during all of the proceedings. The smoke began to dissipate, as his Master was reduced to ashes. The Stormtroopers snapped to attention, marching out of the temple. The members of the Order followed in a trickle. Obi-wan weaved his way through them. The charred corpse that had once been his Master and best friend would have been hard to look at had it been recognizable; all Obi-wan could do was picture Qui-gon's face. The tears didn't come; he had cried them all on the voyage back to Coruscant. His Master dead and for what? Oh, they were calling it a victory, with Naboo being liberated. Anyone at the battle could tell you the truth. The Separatist fleet, outnumbered ten to one, had been able to escape mostly intact. Another victory like this and the war will be lost. "Obi-wan." A high pitched yet wizened voice interrupted his reverie. He turned around, and was greeted by the hunched form of Master Yoda. "For your loss, sorry I am. Sadness, Jedi are not supposed to feel, but..." he shifted on his cane. "Now, inevitable it is." Obi-wan simply nodded; he didn't know what there was to say. "Difficult, in this time it is," Yoda continued, "but the matter of Anakin Skywalker, we must discuss." "He will need a new Master," Obi-wan replied hoarsely. "I don't-" "You, it will be." Obi-wan greeted Yoda's interjection with stunned silence. Finally, he spoke up. "Me?" "Sell yourself short, you do, hmmm?" Yoda smiled knowingly. "Qui-gon's will, it was. Confidence in you, he had." "I don't know if I-" Yoda gently waved his hand. "Right, he i-was. Your apprentice, Skywalker shall be." His brow furrowed with mild effort. "Ah. Time to meet your apprentice, I sense." With that, he hobbled away. Obi-wan stood as if anchored to the floor, until a familiar figure entered through the door. "I've been told-" Anakin Skywalker said stiffly. "That I'm your Master," Obi-wan replied. "As an Order we teach two control your emotions. But you're not technically in the Order yet." He moved towards his apprentice, wrapping him into a hug. Anakin's arms hung limply by his sides, in shock, before he tentatively met his Master's embrace. What a disappointment, thought Darth Sidious, lingering in the shadows of a fallen Knight's funeral. His apprentice had shown so much promise- and all to be humbled by a spoiled rich girl who had never held a blaster. Maul really was a mad dog- pure destruction, with no direction. All that work, wasted. The Knight- Obi-wan Kenobi- finally released his new apprentice from his embrace. They exchanged words- meaningless drivel, Sidious knew- and the Master departed. The Palawan approached the corpse of the man who would be his Master. The Sith Lord leaned in. It was almost imperceptible- but the boy clenched his fist. Sidious smiled. Perhaps it wasn't a waste after all.

Really collaboration in general during WWII is interesting to me. It's obviously an extremely sensitive topic, but I can't help but feel that whether you're a treasonous collaborator or a forwards thinking hero depended on if your side won.

Chapter 12: Fear and Anger Anakin Skywalker guessed it had been around half an hour had passed since he had realized he had never known true fear. He had been scared before, certainly. Scared of walking in on one of Watto's drunken rages, scared of Sebulba getting more enthusiastic than usual in his beatings, scared of being sold to someone else, into the unknown. But through all of it, he had kept going; he had walked into the room, he had met Sebulba's gaze without flinching. Not like now. He was sitting on the floor of the cargo hold, staring at the door, immobile. His hands were clenched into fists beside him, knuckles white; it was all he could do to keep his breath in control. He had never wanted anything in his life more, it seemed, than to not leave the room. "The- I don't here fighting." That was Padme, speaking for the first time since this nightmare started. In the back of his mind, Anakin admired her composure; she sat upright, calmly, the only indication of what she felt a quiver in her voice. "Can you find where he is?" Anakin was shaken out of his stupor. He tried and failed to quiet the terror; he needn't have bothered. The intruder was bathed in pure, undisguised hatred. And it was moving away. "I think he's heading for the bridge," Anakin said flatly. Towards Qui-gon. He dismissed the notion. Don't be a fool. Qui-gon wouldn't have wanted that. "I think- if we hurry, we can reach the escape pods." They burst out of the room, passing scene after scene of pure carnage. Stormtroopers lay scattered on the floor like rag dolls; Anakin nearly tripped over a severed, armored forearm. He clenched and unclenched his fist. They ran through corridors filled with dead men whose faces were frozen with sheer terror. The door to the escape pod bay slid open; Padme darted in ahead of him. Anakin didn't move. She turned to him. "Anakin? Come o-" "I hate this." "What?" "I hate this. Being powerless." He pointed behind him. "Qui-gon, my master, the man who freed me from slavery, is back there, fighting, and here I am, running away." "Maybe he'll win," Padme offered, edging closer to an escape pod. Anakin shook his head. "You saw that man on Tatooine. We both did. He was better, more powerful." "Then what can you DO?!" Padme demanded, desperation finally breaking into her voice. Anakin ignored her. Turning on his heels, he marched back, towards the bridge and his destiny. If he was honest with himself, the fear was still there. But something else was there, too. It grew with every corpse he passed- every man who would never see his family again, cut down by a Dark Lord of the Sith with nothing but a blaster at his side. By what right does he take their lives? Anakin's stride quickened into a run. The doors to the bridge slid open. Qui-gon Jinn rose from his meditation, meeting the Sith's glare with his own steely gaze. "So this is where you were," Maul sneered. "Hiding in the bridge as your men were slaughtered. Not much has changed in your order since Dathomir." Dathomir. Yet again, the Jedi were paying for that sin. "Did killing them ease your pain?" "It was the greatest moment of my life," Maul retorted, the uneasy edge to his voice betraying his false bravado, "but not half as great as killing you." "I'm sorry." The Sith looked taken aback. "What did you say?" "I know you're too far down the dark path for this to matter," Qui-gon said evenly, "but that doesn't change the fact that what the Republic did to your people, and the Jedi doing nothing, were inexcusable. So I'm sorry." Maul's eyes widened. "How-" his lips curled into a snarl. Igniting both sides of his lightsaber, he hurled himself at the Jedi Master. Qui-gon's blade rose to meet him. Qui-gon blocked Maul's initial strike, his arms nearly buckling under the pressure of the younger man's attack. He retreated across the bridge, maintaining a defensive stance. Maul advanced, swinging his lightsaber in wide arcs; sparks flew as Maul dragged his blades across the computers that lined the room. He launched into a spinning somersault with his lightsaber in front, knocking Qui-gon's blade aside; the Jedi reflexively jumped back, Maul's blade passing mere inches from his face. Qui-gon regained his balance, his saber darting up and catching Maul's own blade. "I understand your rage," Qui-gon shouted, "but this won't ease my pain?" "Then what will?" the Sith roared, knocking Qui-gon's lightsaber aside in a sudden surge of strength. The Jedi cried out in pain as his opponent's saber seared his forearm. Rebalancing, he lunged at Maul's defenses; their blades clashed for a split second, before Qui-gon threw himself back, recovering his defensive stance. "You could still end this," he said. "Forget all this happened, turn away from this path!" "SHUT UP!" Maul swung his lightsaber up, and Qui-gon caught it again. Every bone in the Sith's body strained as he pushed at Qui-gon's braced muscles with all his hatred. The Jedi could feel his strength being sapped, his muscles quivering, his body screaming at him to just give in. Maul could feel it too. With a predatory grin, he redoubled his attack, pushing his blade closer and closer to his rival. This is the end. Qui-gon felt the strife within him fade. I accept my end. I accept my sacrifice that others may escape. Others... Anakin. His eyes widened in shock. What was the boy doing? It was the last thing he ever felt. Like lightning, Maul reversed his grip on his weapon. Before Qui-gon could react, his opponent's blade lunged towards him. A burning pain seared through Qui-gon's chest. He heard a clatter next to him; it felt so far away. The fssst of a lightsaber retracting sounded somewhere far away. He felt nothing. Anakin heard it before he saw it. Something clattering. It could only be- No. He dismissed the thought. Rushing into the bridge- he saw it. Qui-gon Jinn lay crumpled on the ground, lightsaber by his side, the Sith Lord standing over him in triumph. Anakin could have felt a lot of things. The desire to flee. Blame for himself. Devastation. Instead, he felt only one- it wasn't really a feeling, so much as it was a need. Reflexively, his hand reached out, as his mind zeroed in on the weapon that had once belonged to the man who would have been his master. It hurtled into his hand; green light burst from it once more. Anakin let out a bloodcurdling, guttural howl: "I'LL KILL YOU!" He hurled himself at Maul, seeing only his master and the one who killed him. The Sith Lord turned towards him, in utter shock. He barely rose his blade in time to block Anakin's first strike. The boy let out another cry, bludgeoning Maul's blade with his own. The Sith took one step back, then another, then another, each of Anakin's frenzied blows a tide that eroded his defenses. Yes. Yes! He was doing it. He was- A spin from his opponent's blade swept his lightsaber to the side. Maul's foot rose up. smashing into Anakin's stomach, the wind flying out. Anakin slid across the floor, being brought to a stop by a chair. He gasped for air, the fear now rising within him. Looking up, he expected death. It never came. Maul was staring silently at him, seeming almost... frozen. The idea of flight sprung into Anakin's mind. No. If I give into fear I lose. He pushed himself to his feet and charged again. His assault seemed to end his opponent's stupor. Maul ignited his second blade, rising up his weapon to meet Anakin's with a practiced ease. The two forms were frozen in combat, Anakin struggling to push against the Sith's seemingly effortless defense. As he stood there, with a weapon he had never wielded, against an opponent who had felled the most powerful Jedi he had ever seen, an awful realization washed over Anakin. This is how I die. Maul seemed to confirm this idea. He twisted his weapon up, his second blade arcing towards Anakin's arm. Before the boy could react his opponent sliced through his wrist like butter. Anakin screamed; the feeling of his hand had been replaced by a pure, white-hot agony. He tried to think; the pain triumphed over all. Nothing seemed to matter anymore; nothing except making the pain stop. Maul pushed out his arm; his opponent was lifted off the ground and slammed against the bridge's viewport. He slid to the ground, his body refusing to response to his pleas for movement.The Sith moved towards him, almost haltingly, his lightsaber the sign of the end. Anakin closed his eyes, waiting for the end. At least he had gotten off of Tatooine. A single blaster shot rang out; Maul stumbled, pain etched across his face. Anakin looked up. Padme stood there, a blaster in her shaking hands, firing shot after shot at the Sith. Maul turned, his blade flashing as he deflected shot after shot, nursing a blaster burn on his leg. Suddenly, the red was joined by flashes of blue. Obi-wan? As Obi-wan Kenobi hurled himself at Maul, lightsabers crackling, Padme rushed to Anakin's side. She cradled him in her arms; he was groaning. "It will be okay," she reassured. "Everything will be all right." As she soothed him, part of her realized how pathetic it must have sounded; the other part, though, didn't care. "You're safe now. We're safe." Maul and Obi-wan remained locked in struggle; the Sith's leg wound slowed him down. Maul sent out a wave of the Force, sending Obi-wan stumbling back. It was all he needed; the Sith turned and vanished into the bowels of the ship. Obi-wan turned around, his eyes falling on the corpse of his Master. He collapsed to the floor. The Republic fleet was in disarray. From its Lucrehulks, the Separatist armada had focused a counterattack on the center of the enemy lines; with contact mysteriously lost with the Command Ship, the Republic's defense turned into a mess. With its center decimated by Vulture Droids, the left and right flanks of the fleet were drifting, like useless appendages. "My Count," Lot Durd, the fleet's Nemoidian Admiral, said from the Separatist flagship's bridge, "the enemy fleet is in complete confusion. Now is our chance to-" "Initiate a complete withdraw," Count Dooku interjected, his voice stiff. "We have been granted a-" he took in a breath- "an unprecedented opportunity. We must not waste it. Send the fleet into hyperspace and leave me." As he watched the space around him be consumed by the blue of hyperspace, the new leader of half of the galaxy let the tears flow freely.

To be fair, though, Sephiran as Chancellor of Begnion had a fair bit of influence over international relations. Rudolph, meanwhile, had no control whatsoever over whether or not Alm gets cancer or something. Although, we never actually see Sephiran use his position as Chancellor to further his plans... Come to think of it, RD would have made so much more sense if Sephiran was leading the Senate and had couped Sanaki and we knew this from day one; then his motives could still be revealed as a twist but his plan would be so much more likely to succeed.

Somewhat related: one of my friends is now leaning away from going to the US for university partially because of this(he's also black, so that's a factor too). I wasn't going to go anyway because the UK lets me focus on history right away, but this certainly doesn't help matters.

Right, I guess this counts. On the surface, the events of Conquest happen as presented. However, the specific events and motivations behind the actions of the characters has been changed. My headcanon is that Xander and Corrin were just as bad as Garon and waited until the conquest of Hoshido to stage a coup; then King Xander used a propaganda machine to claim that Garon was possesed, justifying his removal. He also presented himself and Corrin as opposing Nohrian atrocities in an attempt to win over his new Hoshidan subjects. Thus, the story of Conquest is revisionist official history produced by the Nohrian state to cover up its atrocities in Hoshido or blame it all on one man who's now gone, somewhat analogous to the Turkish government's treatment of the Armenian Genocide.

Chapter 11: First Blood Qui-gon had sensed them about 3/4ths of the way to Naboo. Standing on his flagship's bridge, still not quite used to the grey Republic Admiral's uniform he now wore, the Jedi Master had resolved to continue on. It was obviously far too late to turn back, and even the time it would take to organize a smaller escort back to Coruscant would give the new Confederacy of Independent Systems valuable time to prepare. That could cost the lives of his men; he refused to have that on his conscience. Besides, it wasn't as if Anakin or Padme were being hurled into a war zone; this was the flagship of the Republic fleet! Unless something went terribly wrong they would be completely safe. He shook his head slightly. Jedi Master, and I take this long to detect a pair of children. Then again, he supposed, it was quite hard to find things with the Force that one wasn't explicitly looking for. "Master Jedi," a man in a similar uniform said, saluting, "we're about to exit hyperspace." That was Admiral Dodonna. The Jedi Council had insisted that Qui-gon be sent as the general supervisor of the operation, but that didn't mean normal military men weren't sidelined. "Very good, Admiral," he responded. "You have command." Qui-gon had studied the campaigns of the Second Mandalorian War, but he was hardly stupid enough to confuse that for actual experience. "Pull up the operational map," he continued, "and make sure our troopships are prepared for planetary assault." The blue tunnel surrounding the fleet morphed into lines, and there it was- the green dot of Naboo. Looming ahead of them was the enemy- row upon row of Frigates, Destroyers, and even the mighty Lucrehulks. This was it. Qui-gon drew in his breath. "Begin full scale assault!" The display screen towered over the throne room of the Naboo royal palace, capturing the battle exactly as it proceeded. Dooku's eyes darted back and forth, absorbing every play and counter-play. The CIS were outnumbered; it was to be expected, with their fleet being whatever could be rushed in from the spread that dominated the outer rim. Time, Dooku reminded himself as a flotilla of frigates were brushed aside by five Star Destroyers, their forwards armor smashed by turbolasers. We just need more time. It was true; the Confederacy's fleet was mighty, and her clones numerous. If they could organize a defense of the Outer Rim they could win a war of attrition. They needed to bloody the Republic here. Unfortunately, that didn't look like it was about to happen. The hold left by the Star Destroyer's assault had been skillfully exploited by the Republic's commander; Tie Fighters surged into the Separatist's midst, forcing them to divert some power to rear shields. The Republic punished them; laserfire surged from the Star Destroyers, concentrating on widening the gap. It was hardly a complete disaster. Their center remained firmly anchored to the cluster of Lucrehulks, who vomited swarms of Vulture Droids into the void of space. The Count's eyes darted back to the time display. Three hours since the battle had started. This could work yet. The small black craft hung in space next to Naboo's moon, unseen amid the carnage of battle. His hands darted across his face, going through the motions he had repeated thousands of times. Red and Black. The traditional warpaint of his people. His master had let him keep that much of his past, at least. The ships that had burned everything he knew sat in the void of space like flies. He felt his breath quicken; his knuckles turned white gripping his lightsaber. His father's lifeless face flashed in front of his eyes. Once, a weaker man would have pushed it away. No, never. He knew not to fear his past; it was his strength. He had to admit, part of him was saddened as the Republic crushed its opponents. The hole torn in the Separatist line had been a feint; Tie Bombers sallied forth from the Carriers, pounding the now under defended Lucrehulks, as the Star Destroyers advanced along the line. The Separatists were losing. More for me, he thought flatly. A savage rage welled up within him, as the whole ship seemed to quiver. Small dots left the bays of the Star Destroyers; that, according to his master, was his signal. He had never felt anticipation like this. Darth Maul steeled himself. His pain... it would soon end. It had to. The craft sailed off towards his target. Their descent into Naboo's atmosphere had been uneventful; the Separatist fleet was reeling far too much to even think of contesting the squadron of gunships. Once again, Obi-wan found his hand darting towards his lightsaber, nestled in his cloak. It would be a few minutes before they were thrown into a bloodier full scale battle than any of them had ever known. Even if Obi-wan hadn't had access to the Force, the nervousness would have been palpable. The side-doors to the Republic gunships opened, and the city of Theed spread out before them. Anti-air fire curved up from its spires; a flight of Tie Fighters shrieked past them, blasting a dangerously close AA nest. The plains to the south of the cities were already a bloodbath; Republic medium Walkers advanced towards the southern gate, met by floating Separatist tanks. They were the distraction that would get the tanks out of the city. A flight of Tie Bombers cleared the plaza in front of the Royal Palace. Obi-wan took a deep breath. "Men," he began, "in less than two minutes we're going to be thrown into the epicenter of battle. I can tell you're scared. I-" he searched for the right thing to say. Fear was the path to the Dark Side, wasn't it? But- he felt fear. He shook his head, banishing the thought. There was a time and place for the codes. "Fear is natural," he declared. "And as your commander I will-" The din of battle cut him off. He leapt out of the gunship, lightsaber blazing. Qui-gon stood at the head of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back. The battle was going exceptionally. The fleet was rolling up both flanks of the Separatists, with only their center, now consisting of two Lucrehulks, holding. Meanwhile, Obi-wan's force had reached the center of Theed; the chance to end the war in a single stroke still existed. "Sir," a technician said suddenly, "we've detected a breach on the left hull." Odd. Qui-gon hurried over to the display. Indeed, the left hull had been breached. "Looks like a landing craft," Qui-gon mused, "but that doesn't make sense. How did it get past our fighters, and why did the Separatists only send a single one? It's probably noth-" Then he felt it. Raw hate, all being released at once. He'd only felt that hate once before. No. A panicked voice burst onto the bridge communication channel, confirming his suspicions. "Code Red," the soldier screamed, "we have a code red near the left hull-" the comm link suddenly, and horribly, cut out. Dodonna rose to his feet. "All Stormtroopers to the left hull," he ordered. "We must protect the bridge at all costs." "No!" Qui-gon shouted. "I've fought him. The Stormtroopers have no chance against someone like him. They'd be wasting their lives." "So what do you propose we do?" Dodanna shot back. "Stand and fight," Qui-gon replied with grim certainty. "That way, at the very worst, only we have to die." "That's your plan?" Dodanna asked, sneering. "I'm commanding officer. I'm responsible for this fleet. I can't die here. We're heading for the escape pods." And against all protestations, he stormed out of the bridge. Qui-gon moved to follow him, but stopped. The Sith wasn't after Dodanna(Qui-gon hoped); he was after him. Qui-gon Jinn breathed in, strode to the center of the bridge, and sat down. He closed his eyes and submerged into the Force- for what he hoped wasn't the last time. Obi-wan advanced forwards, towards the gates to the Royal Palace. A hailstorm of laserfire came at him; he deflected it with practiced ease. A volley of fire from the Stormtroopers sent the Clones scattering. With a tremendous push, Obi-wan heaved the massive doors open. The great hall spread out before them. A squad of Clones took defensive positions, leveling their weapons; suddenly, they parted. An older man, gray yet still with an aura of power, strode forwards. Count Dooku. Obi-wan leveled his lightsaber. "Count," he declared, "you are under arrest for treason against the Republic. Will you come quietly?" Dooku ignited his lightsaber, its blade bright yellow, by way of response. Chaos surrounded them, Clones and Stormtroopers exchanging fire, but Obi-wan only had one target. The two men charged each other, Dooku's age clearly not having erased his physical prowess, and clashed. Obi-wan launched a series of probing stabs; Dooku blocked them effortlessly. Obi-wan changed tactics, launching full on assault, his lightsaber battering the Count's weapon, driving the man back. Dooku backed towards the wall, his opponent's weapon not far behind. It was all an illusion. Seamlessly, Dooku sidestepped one of Obi-wan's strikes, his lightsaber lashing out with blinding speed in response. Obi-wan caught his opponent's blade on his hilt, but only just- he could feel the heat of the lightsabers against his face. Before he could react, the Count's foot expertly shot up; Obi-wan felt a blinding pain in his knee. He sunk to a kneeling posture, Dooku towering above him. Even now, Obi-wan's youthful vitality was an advantage; a younger opponent would have already smashed his last-ditch defense. Still, though, Dooku steadily pushed his weapon towards the Jedi. Was this the end? Suddenly, Obi-wan felt a stab of horror. Not from Dooku. Qui-gon. Despite himself- he lowered his guard. No. Panic gripped him. Was this the end? How could he have been so stupid? He braced himself for a blow that never came. As he looked up, Dooku's eyes met his. The other man was frozen, his lightsaber still above Obi-wan's head. After what felt like an eternity, he shook his head slightly; the blade retreated back into the weapon. "Go," he said. "He was my apprentice." He turned on his heels and hurried away. Obi-wan lay there, in stunned silence, before forcing himself up. The Stormtrooper commander, Cody if Obi-wan recalled correctly, came up to him. "Sir," he asked, "do we pursue?" "No, commander," Obi-wan replied. He looked up to the sky. "Our command ship is under attack. With a clatter, the severed head of the Stormtrooper hit the floor; Maul stepped over the corpse, lightsaber glowing. The rest of the squad, panicked, retreated behind a set of blast doors, which began to slide shut ever so sluggishly. With a lazy flick of his wrist, Maul stopped them in their tracks; blue lightning burst from his other hand, sending the squad to the ground, screaming. The Sith Lord was on them in an instant, his lightsaber deadly and beautiful, tracing a path of red and death with practiced grace. He ached to, to, desecrate the corpses, hit them with lightning, it never seemed enough. But no. There were other targets. Speaking of... A man in an official-looking uniform, escorted by Stormtroopers, rounded the bend. His face paled. "What the hell," he demanded, "how did he get this far?" Panicking, he turned and fled. Maul cut through his escort like wheat and a chaff. Reaching his hand out with the Force, he caught the fleeing Admiral and lifted him into the air. Tears streamed down his face; Maul noted a wet spot on his pants. "Wh-why?" he choked out. Maul regarded him with contempt. "Were my people," he spat out, "as scared as you are now when you burned them from your flying fortresses like the cowards you are?" Recognition dawned on the Admiral's face; Maul pulled him forwards, lightsaber out. As the man sunk to the ground, the Sith closed his eyes. All that was left was the Bridge. And- a Jedi. For the first time in over a decade Maul allowed himself a smile. There would be no mistakes this time.

Probably not worth responding, but the UK bans guns and still makes Bond movies. Japan bans guns and has a bunch of violent anime and other media.

Fairly sure that an understanding of physics and general math stuff is really, really important to an airforce pilot. I'd suggest finding out specifically what you need to do/know; better now than later! Yeah, I'm a good studenthe said on Serenes Forest when he has IB mock exams but seriously, I've always managed to stay on top of things.

Well, yeah, but none of those are cases belli for rebellion, at least not in my book. That's another thing I'd like to see gun nuts answer, incidentally: how do we define government tyranny? I'm just saying, regimes installed by violent revolution have just about the worst track record in history as far as respecting human rights goes.

Well but that's through lack of action, and it isn't from malice, really. I was more referring to the idea gun nuts have that the government is perpetually trying to install a dictatorship.

Frankly in general I trust the government way more than the individual. The idea that the government has some kind of agenda to hurt the people is foolishness.

No, I think they did. Remember that the Dent Act just pushed a bunch of simmering problems under the rug that Bane exploited; it wasn't a permanent solution and was depicted as just helping the rich and powerful at the expense of the poor. Anyway, I might as well say it: putting armed police in schools is an even worse idea in inner city neighborhoods, because of existing tensions between blacks and police. It's just asking for even more police shootings, especially if they're paranoid from possible gang violence.

Right, so if you're wondering why there was a delay followed by two chapters in rapid succession, its because I forgot to cross post them from alternatehistory.com.

Chapter 10: A Short Victorious War Naboo was beautiful. The sky, shining blue, was beautiful. The buildings, maintaining a classical style of marble, were beautiful. The canals, slices of brilliant blue serving as the city's streets, were beautiful. The rainforests, sitting undisturbed beyond the border of the city, playing host to animal life that had disappeared across the Galaxy. It was almost enough to ignore the new arrivals. Anti-air guns dotted the city's magnificent spires. Tanks drove through the streets on a daily patrol, platoons of Clone Soldiers marching by their side. A Battlefleet filled the sky, the largest one assembled since the Huttese War. Sitting in the entrance room to the Royal Palace's balcony, Count Dooku had to admit that the prospect of this planet's desolation did inspire a twinge of regret. The beauty of Naboo, he was certain, would soon be destroyed, along with the beauty of Ryloth, the beauty of Kasheek, the beauty of Christophsis, and the beauty of an entire galaxy. This was war. His eyes scanned his speech one last time. Written on the flight to Naboo, it was the document that would officially start the worst galactic war since Darth Revan. There's still time, a voice in the back of his head urged. It doesn't have to be like this. He pushed it to the back of his mind. The chance for peace died long ago; a war for freedom was far better than a tyrannical peace. "They're ready for you, sir." An official-looking Nemoidian gestured out to the balcony. Nodding by way of thanks, the Count gathered his speech and strode out into the sun. It was as if the Galaxy was spread before him. There were more Holonet camera crews surrounding him than he knew existed. The leaders of the Separatist Planets filled the square below him. It all looked very peaceful... if one ignored the legion of Clones standing at attention behind them. The might of the Separatists was on full display. They were his people now; he still hadn't gotten used to that fact. Dooku strode up to the podium, letting his presence hang in the air- at least, that was what he would have liked to believe. He had to force the words to come. "As I stand here today," he began, straightening his back, the very picture of a dignified statesman, "I wish I could proudly call myself a citizen of the Republic. For indeed, the dream of the Republic is a noble one. For thousands of years, the worlds of this galaxy existed side by side, for their common interest, solving disputes through debate and mutual agreement. But now, I am sad to say, that dream is dead." Shouts of agreement rose from the audience. "It did not just die," he continued, "It was murdered! Murdered, by the corrupt aristocracy of Coruscant, who abused their influence to levy unfair taxes on the corporations of the Outer Rim, in order to quash one more threat to their power. Murdered, by demagogues who paint seductive pictures of utopia and irresponsibly offer the unattainable in exchange for their own power. Murdered, by the Jedi, who have failed the Republic by siding with the Senate of the Galaxy over the people! Yes, the dream of the Republic, of the systems of the galaxy united together as equal partners, is dead, replaced by Chancellor Valorum's ambitions of direct rule from Coruscant." This was it. After the next sentence, there would be no going back. Dooku steeled himself, and continued. "It is in light of this inexcusable overreach on the part of the Galactic Senate that the worlds of the Separatist Alliance take this action, which is the result of the exhaustion of every possible legal path to resist Valorum's ambitions of tyranny. With a heavy heart, the worlds of the Separatist Alliance hereby sever all ties of allegiance and brotherhood to the worlds of the Galactic Republic, and declare independence as the Confederacy of Independent Systems!" A roar rose from the crowd; the Clones fired off a salute. Dooku raised his hand for calm. "We do not want war. We do not want conquest. We invite any and all worlds chafing under the yoke of Coruscant to join us; to those worlds that would prefer to remain with the Republic, we wish you the best. If, however"- at this his fist rose into the air- "the Republic seeks to forcibly destroy our new independence, we will have no choice but to resist to the end. I think I speak for the entire Confederacy when I say that we are more ready to die for freedom than you are for oppression. The choice between peace and war now lies with Chancellor Valorum. I pray he will make the right choice." Applause emanated from the audience as the Holocams flashed at him, projecting to the Galaxy the man who had pushed them into war. Dooku turned away. There really was no going back now. He didn't know if he was more relieved... or scared. Coruscant's blazing sun silhouetted its skyline as it rose. Obi-wan had always loved the sight of it, as it greeted him as he emerged from his slumber in his quarters in the Jedi Temple every day without fail. He had to admit, even the fleet of Star Destroyers hovering over the city(along with, if Obi-wan were being technical, the Senator Star Carriers) added their own eerie beauty to the sight. But it was impossible to purge the Fleet's true purpose from his mind. He heard the door behind him slide open; Qui-gon. His old Master moved to his side. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Obi-wan nodded by way of reply. "Did you hear the news?" Qui-gon continued. "The war's officially here. Dooku declared independence this morning on Naboo, with the entire Outer Rim and some of the Mid Rim joining him." Obi-wan shook his head. "But there was never really going to be any other result, right?" he asked. "The last chance for peace was at the elections." Qui-gon smiled sadly. "Maybe so. But that's in the past." He looked out over the fleet of Star Destroyers. "The Council have made me supreme commander of the assault on Naboo." Obi-wan smiled congradulatoraly. "Well that's great news!" He slapped his old master on the back. "You're perfect for the job." Qui-gon held his hand up. "That's not why. They're still trying to negotiate their role in this role fully. They probably want me away, fear I'll complain about the Zabrak War or something." He sunk in a chair, his face leaving the light of the sunrise. "Anakin wanted to come, you know; I told him of course not. The boy doesn't even have a lightsaber." His knuckles rapped gently against the wall. "From slave to soldier... what has the Galaxy come to, Obi-wan?" The two watched the Star Destroyers in silence. "Soldiers! You are about to embark on the most important war in the Galaxy's history for centuries!" Owen Lars couldn't remember the last time he had stood so... still. Any observer would laugh at that notion; Owen was incessantly tapping his feet, swaying from side to side. The Chancellor's speech, booming from every speaker in Coruscant, didn't help matters. Beru, standing beside him in line, nudged him for what had to be the fiftieth time. It's not my fault the Coruscant bureaucracy is slower than a Bantha herd at high noon! Owen wanted to scream. "It will, I'm, uh, sure, be a short victorious war. The enemy is protected by Clones, weak, fighting as slaves. You are fighting for freedom." It didn't help that it was a shit speech. Hell, Beru could be more inspiring than this Valorum! The woman at the recruiting station had been arguing with the man ahead of them for what felt like an eternity. It was like the Republic didn't actually want new soldiers, what with how hard it was making it for them. "The Republic expects that every man and woman will do their duty-" The man ahead of them finally finished; Owen practically lunged forwards; finally he didn't have to listen to that speech any more. The recruiting officer gave him a look he could only describe as bureaucratic, before beginning. "Name?" "Owen and Beru Lars," He replied quickly. "We're in a relationship." If this fact surprised the recruiting officer, she didn't show it. She continued dispassionately: "Previous lines of work?" "Well," Owen began, "we're basically freighter pilots. We were with the Trade Federation before they laid us off in favor of the Clones. Then I was a bombardier and she a gunner in the Zabrak War. Now we're here because we have nowhere else to go." "And what would you be doing in the Republican Navy?" By the Force, woman, Owen thought, it's just basically a job interview. Beru spoke up. "If possible we'd like to be on the same bomber again. We're probably some of the only veterans of the position you have." The woman considered this, then nodded. "Report to Star Carrier Hunter, Admiral Dodanna's command, Captain Ozzel." "You know, a few years ago, I never would have accepted going to war again," mused Owen as they navigated Coruscant's streets. "Not after Dathomir." Beru shook her head sadly. "I know," she replied, "but regrets won't put food on the table, and neither will being a freighter what with this war." The two walked on, finding their Star Carrier. Valorum had finally finished his speech; half-hearted applause filled the Senate chamber. Padme waited for him as he retreated into the Chancellor's Chambers; she finished her tea, handing it off to a servant. "So, daughter," he began, "how was it?" Padme wasn't really paying attention. "I want to go to Naboo." Valorum was taken aback. "What?" "I don't want to just sit back here while those men"- she gestured to the legions of Stormtroopers marching into Star Destroyers in the plaza below the Senate- "die for us! I'm not going to sit in some ivory tower while the galaxy tears itself apart!" "You're my daughter, and I'm not letting you put yourself in danger!" Valorum retorted. "What on earth would you do on Naboo anyway?" "Inspire the troops?" Padme had to admit, she hadn't exactly thought this part through. "Just the sight of their leader's daughter risking herself with them would have to be a morale boost." Valorum snorted in incredulity. "If the men need my daughter risking herself just to fight, then the war is already lost. No, you will stay here." Padme played her trump card. "You're arranging a marriage for me with Organa for political gain," she declared, an accusatory note in her voice. "The least you can do is let me do this." Valorum's face darkened. "You are my daughter!" he roared. "And you will do as I command. You will marry Prince Organa and you will not go anywhere near Naboo! Now return to your chambers; I have a war to win." With that, Anders Valorum swept out of the room. Anakin had had experience with sneaking before. He couldn't count the number of times he had snuck into Watto's shop to get goods he needed. It was ironic; even on Coruscant, he was still doing it. The Star Destroyers were unfathomably big up close. A single one of them was the size of Mos Eisley. Their engines illuminated the shipyard as Anakin snuck through it. A patrol of Stormtroopers moved towards him; he sent a rock away from him with the Force. As the Stormtroopers hurried to investigate the sound, Anakin snuck past them. What looked like the Flagship of the Star Destroyer fleet remained grounded, its landing gear bigger than skyscrapers. That was where Anakin needed to be. He hurried towards a loading bay; a group of Stormtroopers surrounded a large crate. Anakin snuck past them, crouching behind the crate as it rose up into the gaping hull of the Destroyer. Darkness surrounded him. The Star Destroyer began to rumble, as it ascended above Coruscant. Another bump, however, began to sound as well; it came from a crate behind him. It fell over; Anakin found himself face to face with Padme Valorum. AN: I swear to god the Battle of Naboo is next chapter.

Chapter 9: The Council The Jedi Council Chamber never failed to impress Qui-gon, no matter how many times he saw it. It was a vast circle, dominated by twelve large chairs on its edges. Through the windows, Coruscant's magnificent skyline was visible, suiting the dignity of the Masters present. Qui-gon Jinn was more used to sitting on his chair in the chamber, he had to admit. Then again, these were hardly normal circumstances. "Before consider the matter of young Skywalker we can, another matter is there, hmm?" Master Yoda might not have been the leader of the Jedi Order, but he was the most respected person in the room. Having lived for over 800 years, it was common knowledge that the only reason Mace Windu headed the order and not Yoda was down to the deceptively small Jedi's constant refusal of the position. Qui-gon nodded, and began. "As I told the Council en route to Tatooine," he began, "the interruption of our diplomatic mission to Naboo was not necessarily only due to the Separatists. On that planet I felt the presence of the Dark Side." A murmur rose up throughout the chamber; apparently Yoda and Windu had kept their conversation a secret. "I felt this force," he continued, "as a blaster bolt came soaring towards Madame Valorum. At the time, the Senate's belief is that this bolt came from the Separatists; I am not so sure." "And why is that?" asked Shaak Ti, the third highest ranked member of the Council and the highest ranked Togruta in the Order's history. "Several reasons." Qui-gon, as was characteristic of him(and his old master Dooku) began to pace. "Firstly, if the Separatists had intended this to be a trap, their execution of it was horrendously botched. As we escaped Naboo, we were met not with any sort of force that seemed prepared to capture us, but simply whatever happened to be in our path. Nute Gunray seems to be a fool, but even he, I think, wouldn't be foolish enough to attempt to capture two Jedi and the daughter of Chancellor Valorum without being prepared for this." Mace Windu stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And the other reason?" Qui-gon stopped pacing, returning the gaze. "The holder of this dark power tracked us to Tatooine... WITHOUT the Separatists. In fact, I engaged him in battle during our escape from the planet. I have reason to believe we are dealing with a Sith Lord." "A Sith?" That was Plo Koon; the masked Jedi leaned forwards in incredulity. "The Sith have been extinct for 1,000 years! Are you certain this wasn't simply another one of those Force Sensitives that turn to the Dark Side every century or so?" "That was what I initially thought as well," Qui-gon responded, "and I would love to believe it now. But I met this man in single combat, and he... he was better than me. I could feel him channeling the power of the Dark Side into his blows, and he was able to predict a shot from a Tie Bomber in time to jump away. No one can teach themselves to be that skilled. If he isn't a Sith Lord, he was certainly taught what he knows about the Dark Side by someone." The Council Chamber descended into silence, with the Masters digesting this information. Finally, Shaak Ti spoke up. "If what Master Qui-gon says is true," she mused, "then this business on Naboo was orchestrated by the Sith." "That certainly seems likely," Plo Koon agreed. "It's clear, at least, that the Sith would benefit from such a war. Hardship, after all, is the surest path to the Dark Side." "So what should we do with this information?" Shaak Ti asked. "Stop the war? I doubt the Senate would approve of that." Mace Windu nodded in agreement. "Or, for that matter, the people. This will be presented as just another case of the Jedi interfering in politics due to concerns that don't effect the common people. As with Revan, the Republic will suffer for their shortsightedness." He left the rest unsaid. "Regardless," Qui-gon said, hurriedly moving past the subtext of Windu's remark, "it doesn't seem useful to try to stop the war now. This is especially true because in my view the Senate has been provoked enough. Our goal is to uphold the laws of the Republic; regardless of the extent to which Viceroy Gunray was influenced by the Sith, he chose to break those laws. This war could be an opportunity, in fact, to investigate the matter of the Sith, much more so than staying on Coruscant." It was settled, then. As Windu rose from his seat to call in Anakin, Qui-gon surpassed the nervousness building in him. He would have liked to have thought it was about Anakin... but he couldn't shake the feeling that he, and the Council, had made the wrong choice. "Do you know why you are here?" The severe-looking, bald man-Mace Windu, Anakin remembered his name was- was doing nothing to alleviate the intimidation the boy felt. After all, he was surrounded by twelve of the most powerful people in the galaxy; even Qui-gon, so personable, looked down on him from atop his throne-like chair. "Y-yes, your, your, uh, e-e-eminence," Anakin managed, his face flushing with the acute sensation that he was doing this wrong. "Suffice, 'Master Jedi' will," reassured the short, green, elf-like creature, Yoda, sitting next to Windu. "Kings, we are not." "Yes, your- uh, Master Jedi," Anakin recovered; while he was grateful, his cheeks still burned. "And are you aware," Windu continued, "of the issues associated with your admittance into our order as a Padawan?" Anakin willed his hands to his sides, away from his hair, his robes, each other, anything really. "Yes, uh, Master Jedi," he responded, remembering what Obi-wan had told him. "I'm- I'm too old to become a Padawan. They usually start at ten." "Take seriously, our rules we do," mused Yoda, tapping his cane against the chair he was perched on. "And yet, without precedent, an initiate such as Skywalker is not. Your case you may state, Master Qui-gon." "Thank you, Master Yoda." The Jedi rose from his seat and moved down to join Anakin. "When I found Anakin Skywalker on Tatooine, I sensed, quite frankly, more raw Force potential than many on this Council. My feelings were confirmed that night. When I introduced the boy to the Force-" "You INTRODUCED HIM TO THE FORCE?" The mask of Plo Koon was not an obstacle for Anakin's understanding of his emotions. "That flies in the face of our doctrine!" "Peace, Master Koon." Yoda's voice was even, but severe. "Explain yourself, Master Qui-gon." "There's a war coming," Qui-gon responded evenly. "The era of the Jedi as simply diplomats and enforcers of the law is over. Where once we could afford to pass recruits up, that time is over. We cannot afford to pass up Skywalker's potential any more than we could afford to do that during the Mandalorian Wars." By this point Anakin's feet were practically begging him to move; refusing them took him more willpower than anything else in his life. "The Mandalorian comparison hardly serves your point," Windu retorted. "After all, was it not in that war that the Order lost one of its greatest champions, Revan, to the pull of the Dark Side?" "We weren't competing with the Sith then," retorted Shaak Ti. "During the Mandalorian Wars we had the option: take Revan or leave him. Here? If we don't train this boy and show him the right way the Sith will take him in. We have a choice between the chance of the boy turning to the Dark Side, or the certainty that he will." "See for certain, we must," declared Yoda, visibly cutting off what was assuredly a biting counterargument by Mace. "Young Skywalker, why, to become a Jedi do you desire?" Anakin started; he hadn't expected the conversation to return to him. He took a step back, then righted himself. Before he could think about it, the words came, pouring out of his mouth. "I was a slave like millions, maybe billions, more," he said, unable to fully excise a note of accusation. "Then Master Qui-gon and Obi-wan came. The Republic had always failed me but they didn't, even when their own lives were in so much danger. So I'm not going to repay them by ignoring people like me, not just slaves, but everyone in the Galaxy who are victims of the powerful. I'll use my power for good, to protect the innocent and give as many people as possible the same hope I got, the hope the Jedi are." He stopped, breathless. His eyes furiously darted from Master to Master, scanning for reactions. A small, almost imperceptible smile crept up Master Yoda's face. "Thank you, young Skywalker. Dismissed, you are." Anakin hurried out of the Council Chambers, his mind racing. What he said... thought it was enough. Yoda's reaction seemed to suggest as much. I just hope it wasn't a lie. Coruscant was different. Oh, a cursory glance would reveal little had changed. Speeders still soared through the skies, billboards still relayed news from the Holonet, drug dealers and prostitutes still pranced about in the underworld unmolested. And the Senate and Jedi Temple still towered over it all. But it was... the energy of the city. Where once it was wild, unfocused, chaotic, now it moved as one. Men and women rushed to recruitment offices. Hologram projectors, clothes, toys- these were being taken out of the factories, replaced with blasters. People still had places to be, but the roads were clear now, as legions of Stormtroopers marched to their transports. And the skies were different too- above Coruscant, above the factories, above the people, above the Senate, above even the Jedi, hung row after row of Star Destroyers. A fitting metaphor if there ever was one, thought Darth Sidious, the cool evening air tingling his skin. The rooftop, like thousands of others, was abandoned; as the Clones put people out of work in the Outer Rim, their families couldn't afford their homes. More bodies for the slaughter. It was all so perfect. Oh, how glad he was to have been born here and now! His (untraceable)comm link buzzed; that would be his greatest coup. Then again... not exactly, he amended, somewhat regretfully; a Sith's true weapon was always his mind. If his apprentice was a true Sith, he should have figured out who his Master was. Regardless, Sidious was proud of how the project had turned out. Ultimately, though, controlling the creation of a new apprentice too much had been far too limited. I shall have to rid myself of him soon. He put the comm link to his ear. "Master," Darth Maul began with a hollow, underused voice, "please forgive me. I was unable to destroy the Jedi scum." Sidious affected his best benevolent tone. "It is of no concern, my friend," he reassured. "It was enough merely that Gunray be left to fire the first shots. Now the corrupt tyranny that is the Republic is tearing itself apart. One more thing is necessary to complete our revenge." "Yes, anything!" Maul was breathless. Oh yes, definitely time to replace him. "The Galactic Senate now prepares an assault on Naboo. Their corrupt Chancellor aims to end this war with one blow. We must not allow that." In truth, that had been the only part that hadn't gone to plan. The Republican Navy was weak... but the Separatists were weaker. An assault on Naboo genuinely did risk the war coming to a swift end. And yet, Darth Sidious had not climbed so high without any backup plans. Maul, much like a rabid dog, certainly was not fit to rule the galaxy by his side, but a vicious ball of unrestrained hate had its uses. "What shall I do?" In the name of the Force, how much does he want spelled out for him? "Kill anyone you see fit. Good hunting, Lord Maul." Another Star Destroyer climbed into the sky, its engine washing Sidious's face with the fluorescent blue of its engines. And the Dark Lord of the Sith allowed himself a smile.

He is a figure in history, whether we like it or not.

While the introduction of Christianity had some negative consequences for human rights it also had some positive ones. For example, during the reign of Justinian Christianity provided homes and livelihoods to thousands of(fairly uniformly forced) former prostitutes.