Jedi Insurgency 216 (Interlude 24)

Within her office, Padmé stood near the window, one hand braced lightly against the edge of her desk, the other still at her side from where she had removed her gloves only moments ago. 

Behind her, the doors slid open on a private clearance and admitted three of the few people on Coruscant she trusted enough to meet without putting up a mask, or false smile. 

Mon Mothma entered first, graceful and composed, her pale robes and fiery red hair gave off a heroic countenance. There was gentleness in her face, but her expression was one of steady resolve. She was the sort of woman who could oppose a war with such clarity that generals sometimes found themselves feeling rebuked without ever being insulted.

Bail Organa came beside her, cloak set neatly over one shoulder, every inch the senator and statesman. Even in private, he carried himself like a man conscious that words mattered, that bearing mattered, that as King of Alderaan, and de facto ruler of a thousand worlds, he must consider the fate of over a trillion sentients. His expression tonight, however, was darker than his usual self. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi arrived last.

He stepped through the doorway with his hood already lowered, his robe travel-worn, his hair a touch more disordered than he ever would have permitted in more orderly times. The room’s light caught the lines of fatigue around his eyes. He looked like a man who had not rested properly in months, perhaps longer. Yet his posture remained straight, his manner courteous, and the Force moved around him with that familiar restrained presence of his, except tonight it seemed unsettled, troubled, as if he were being tugged at by something vast and malevolent outside the room.

Padmé turned from the window to greet her friends. 

For half a second, no one said anything. They simply looked at one another, taking stock, perhaps grounding themselves in the fact that they had all made it here alive. After five long years of war, constant assassination attempts, kidnappings, and a change in government, they had all been reunited once again. 

Mon crossed the room in three swift steps and took Padmé’s hands in hers.

“My dear, that was one of the bravest things I have ever seen.” Mon said in a strong voice. 

“Anyone could see the injustice in his words.” Padmé said, shaking her head to downplay her speech. 

“No, let me say it. You did what needed to be done. In that chamber, with all of them watching, with him standing there and the entire rotunda bending around his will, you stood up and made them remember that reason still exists. That good people yet remain in this institution.” Mon replied. 

Bail let out a quiet breath and moved toward the sideboard where a tray full of snacks waited untouched. “And if the Senate feels discomfort at what you said, it is only because you forced them to see the atrocity of their own actions.”

“I highly doubt they felt much of anything.” Padmé sighed in defeat. “The applause was rather lackluster.” 

“I saw several senators who agreed with you, but were too terrified to show it.” Bail sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

Mon released Padmé’s hands and moved to sit, though she remained poised rather than relaxed. “The silence helped, as strange as that may sound. Had there been applause, Palpatine might have twisted it into a spectacle of division. Had there been shouting, he would have painted it as chaos. But silence...silence is harder to control.” Mon offered her own two creds. 

Obi-Wan, who had thus far said nothing, drifted a little apart from the others and stood near one of Padmé’s shelves, studying nothing in particular. His gaze seemed fixed on the middle distance, as if the city itself had become unpleasant to look at.

Padmé noticed his peculiarity at once, but Bail spoke again before she could. “The danger in silence, however, is that they are lacking in courage to stand up.”

Bail began to pace as he spoke: 

“There are senators-colleagues of ours, vocal ones-who have openly disagreed with the Emperor in recent months and then vanished from public life. Officially, they retired. Took ill. Returned home, etc. The explanations are always administratively tidy with no evidence of foul play. In practice, their offices are emptied overnight, their aides redistributed, and within a week some more pliant replacement is speaking in their pod.”

Mon lowered her gaze for a moment. “I had hoped the reports were exaggerations.”

“They were not.” Bail firmly stated. 

“None of us are safe, then.” Padmé said quietly, and looked out the window, worrying about the future and her twins. 

“I highly doubt the Emperor would do something so outrageous as to replace the sovereign of Alderaan.” Mon scoffed. “They're more likely to destroy your home planet with some super weapon.” She joked. 

That, finally, drew the slightest huff from Obi-Wan. 

Padmé turned fully toward him. “Obi-Wan? You’ve hardly spoken three words since you arrived.”

“Well, it seemed impolite to interrupt.” Obi-Wan absentmindedly retorted in his classic dry, witty tone. 

Bail snorted softly in amusement. 

“Are you worried about the execution?” Mon asked in a gentle tone, trying not to ruffle any feathers. 

Obi-Wan glanced toward the window, toward the city, toward the Senate district with its towers and the Jedi Temple undergoing reconstruction. Where a vast nexus of darkness was currently ensorceling all of Coruscant. 

“Yes. I fear Master Windu isn't the only Jedi prisoner either.” Obi-Wan muttered. 

Padmé searched his face. There was a strain in him tonight that went beyond concern for one friend. The whole planet seemed to chafe against his senses.

“The Darkside is strong here. Stronger than any planet I've ever set foot on. It hangs over the city like weather that never breaks. Every corridor near the Senate feels as though something is listening. The closer one gets to Palpatine’s reach, the worse it becomes.” He said, rubbing absently at one temple. “So yes. I am worried about the execution. And rather a great many other things besides.”

Padmé’s expression softened with sympathy. “Then sit down before you fall down.”

“An excellent suggestion, I’d hate to create additional drama in your office. Coruscant already has enough of that.” Obi-Wan drily replied, then took a seat. 

“Whatever you need, please feel free to ask, Obi-Wan. If Windu is to be executed in seven days, then seven days is what we have. My security forces can be placed at your disposal.” Bail sincerely offered. 

“And I will filibuster the Senate, giving you all the time I can.” Mon added on. 

Obi-Wan looked from one to the other and his expression, though grateful, turned almost apologetic.

“You are both very kind, however, help is already on the way. I would not want either of you to be outed for me. This is a Jedi matter.” Obi-Wan said with some finality. 

“Please tell me you haven’t conjured up an army of Jedi?” Bail rhetorically questioned in a good mood. 

“I have…from a certain point of view.” Obi-Wan replied, hiding half a smile behind his hand as he went to stroke his beard. 

Padmé’s eyes narrowed as she didn't like what she was hearing. “Obi-Wan, you aren't thinking about asking him for help are you?” 

“Revan?” Bail asked in a somewhat excited tone. 

That single word of Bail's held something almost hopeful, which was not an expression Padmé was prepared to hear attached to that name. Mon, less familiar with Revan in personal terms but not ignorant of his reputation, looked between them with immediate concern. Obi-Wan, for his part, took a nearby cup, and poured himself some tea. 

“If it is Revan, then frankly that may be the best news we’ve had all day. The man is audacious, resourceful, and whatever else may be said of him, he does get results.” Bail said, his grim mood somewhat lifting. 

“The man is a rogue element, a war criminal. He extrajudiciously executed the ruling class on Eriadu without so much as a trial. In that regard, he is no worse than Palpatine!” Padmé sharply rebutted, folding her arms in strong disagreement. 

“He saved Breha. When the doctors believed we might lose both mother and child, he intervened. I owe him more than I can express with words.” Bail took a deep breath, and laid out his stance regarding the masked man. 

Padmé’s jaw set. “And I do not deny that he has done good. But heroics do not erase this clearly criminal behavior, Bail.”

Obi-Wan very carefully studied the rim of his teacup, though he too had had his misgivings regarding the ancient Jedi. 

“Every report I hear about Revan places him at the center of escalation. Raids. Armed interventions, impossible operations that somehow leave entire sectors destabilized after he has passed through them. He draws conflict to himself like gravity. People call it strategy because he often wins, but his methodology hurts the common man.” Padmé retorted, emotion began to creep into her voice. 

“Would you prefer he lose?” Bail asked mildly.

“I would prefer, that the galaxy would stop mistaking their appetite for war as a substitute for moral clarity.” Padmé snapped. 

“You believe him to be power hungry.” Mon asked. 

“Yes I do. I think he wants to be another Emperor Palpatine.” Padmé instantly replied. 

“I think that is unfair. His acts of healing, the restoration of Tatooine, Revan has done countless acts of good. To paint the man with such broad brush strokes will only alienate future allies.” Bail spoke in a soothing tone, attempting to calm his friend down. 

“He may not wear a crown, but he behaves like a man who believes history belongs to those willing to seize it. That sort of man frightens me, no matter who his enemies are.” Padmé clenched her fists, thinking that Revan was all too similar to Anakin. 

“Revan is aggressive, yes. Perhaps too much so at times. But there is a difference between decisiveness and ambition. We cannot afford to reject allies simply because they are dangerous to our sensibilities. War is ugly, but this is the true nature of the galaxy.” Bail replied. 

Padmé’s eyes flashed, and just as she was about to continue tearing into Revan, Mon cleared her throat. 

“Before we divide the entire room over a man who is not in it, perhaps we should establish whether he is actually coming.” Mon looked her arguing friends in the eyes, and interrupted. 

“I have not summoned Revan.” Obi-Wan said in amusement, taking a long sip of his teacup. 

Padmé’s shoulders eased by a fraction at this, and opened her mouth to say something, only for Obi-Wan to continue his narration. 

“However, I cannot rule out the possibility that he may independently decide to become involved. He isn't exactly bound by the High Council.” Obi-Wan sarcastically remarked. 

Bail laughed under his breath. “That sounds like him.”

“The help I referred to is not Revan. Or Master Yoda, before anyone asks.”

“Master Yoda's self exile is a large loss to the galaxy. Wisdom such as his is in short supply.” Bail lamented. 

“Indeed. Master Yoda retreated to Ruusan some time ago. I haven’t heard from him since Order 66.” Obi-Wan sighed. 

“Nothing at all?” Mon questioned. 

“Not a whisper. I can only hope he makes an appearance, but don't count on it.” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“And Ahsoka? You’ve been in contact with her?” Padmé questioned. 

Obi-Wan nodded, then shook his head. “She'll probably be there, yet her relationship with Master Windu was anything but pleasant. Rest assured, I am assembling a strike squad. Perhaps once free of his bonds, we might be able to take down the Emperor himself, yet I am not optimistic.”

Mon’s expression immediately became tense. 

“A strike squad?” She asked. 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. 

“The law is on our side. The Empire is still draped in Republican language, Republican institutions, Republican procedure. Palpatine needs that appearance. That gives us ground to work with. If the Jedi attack-if there is any public violence associated with Windu’s release-then every pro-Imperial voice in that chamber will claim vindication.” Mon said, her voice filled with conviction. 

Her gaze moved from Obi-Wan to Padmé and Bail alike.

“They will say: there, you see? The Jedi are exactly what the Emperor said. Armed fanatics unwilling to submit to law & order. Terrorists who preach peace, yet resort to violence the moment they do not get their way.”

Obi-Wan did not answer at once. When he did, his tone had lost much of its wit. “And if we place our faith entirely in procedure?”

Mon held his gaze. “Then we fight Palpatine where he is pretending to be weakest. In public. We can make him overreach, lose the support of the masses-”

“Mon, with respect, he has been overreaching for years, yet nothing has ever come of it.” Bail softly disagreed. 

“Then let him do so where everyone can see it.” Mon primly turned her face away. 

“He controls what everyone sees…are you saying we should let Master Windu die for democracy?” Obi-Wan grimaced. 

“...if it should come to it, all of us should prepare ourselves to become martyrs for the Republic.” Mon said, glancing down at her feet. 

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, and remained quiet. The Jedi were prepared to sacrifice everything for the Republic, but dying to prove the sanctity of their laws did not sit right with him. Perhaps the Jedi of seven months ago would have happily consigned one of their own to the gallows in the name of democracy. But so much had changed since then, could he in good conscience do that to one of his friends? 

“Master Windu has seven days until execution, assuming Palpatine doesn’t move the date forward the moment he feels threatened.” Padmé added on. 

“Which is why each delay matters. Every hour matters. Every procedure matters. Every witness request, every dispute over evidence, every question raised in committee. It need not save him by itself. It only needs to slow the machine. I believe we can push this trial back weeks, if not months.” Mon confidently stated. 

“What do you think?” Obi-Wan asked Padmé. 

“I think Mon is right…from a certain point of view.” Padmé said, glancing at Obi-Wan mischievously. “If the Jedi bring violence to Coruscant, to seize a prisoner from Imperial custody, Palpatine will use it. He will use every second of this commotion as justification for his actions for years to come. He will replay it, narrate it, carve it into the public mind until even people who doubted him at first might be swayed by his silver tongue.”

Obi-Wan watched her steadily, his face unreadable.

“And I also think that leaving a friend to die because his rescue might be politically inconvenient is intolerable.” Padmé stared into his eyes, and spoke with a fiery passion that had made her famous in the first place over a decade ago. 

Mon opened her mouth, but Padmé lifted one hand. “No. Let me finish.”

“Compassion is not the enemy of principle. Nor is action. The question is not whether Master Windu deserves to be saved. He does. The question is how to save him without handing Palpatine the very weapon he wants.”

“You’re proposing we pursue both options, aren't you?” Bail stated, more than asked. 

“I am.” Padmé said.

Mon silently frowned, unwilling to accept the direction that this meeting was going in. 

“You will filibuster, Mon. You will make the Senate remember its procedures if you have to recite them line by line if you have to. And while you do that, Bail and I will pull every thread we have among sympathetic senators, planetary delegations, legal scholars, press channels, anyone who can raise the cost of a sham trial.”

Padmé paused, and made sure she met everyone in the eyes. 

“Then, if the legal effort succeeds, then the Jedi need not move. If the legal effort fails, or if Palpatine accelerates matters, or turns the trial into execution by another name, then Obi-Wan should not be standing empty-handed because we preferred a cleaner story.”

Mon rose from her seat. “And if the rescue happens? If there is fighting?”

“Then I will say what is true. That the Empire has gone against the very foundation.”

“After conducting such a raid, the galaxy may not believe it.” Mon shook her head with a pained smile. 

“Then we keep telling the truth until it does,” Padmé said, refusing to back down. 

For a moment neither woman looked away. They were very different people in some respects, but both had built entire lives around the stubborn conviction that truth mattered.

“I hate that this may be necessary.” Mon sighed. 

“So do I.” Padmé replied with a hug. 

“Then we are in agreement then.” Bail said with the ghost of a smile. 

“I love democracy.” Obi-Wan sarcastically raised his teacup. 

“Whatever else happens, we are not giving him Mace Windu. So long as I draw breath, I will oppose the Emperor or anyone who would claim his throne. This I solemnly swear.” Padmé finished the meeting, looking everyone in the eyes.