Jedi 227 (Interlude 35)

AN: Last interlude for a bit?

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The chamber of the Senate had been busy these last few days. Testimonial after testimonial had been presented. Witness after witness had vowed upon their honor, taking sacred oaths that their words were true. 

90% of the people who went to speak before the Senate had nothing good to say. Each and every one of their statements was a damning condemnation of the old order. Of the corrupt nature of the Republic. Of the underhandedness of the Jedi. But most importantly, their fingers were pointed towards the old, weary Human. The rag wearing, unkempt man with a hand missing, one white eye, and long dreads was none other than the Order Master of the Jedi Order, Mace Windu. 

Of course, 10% of the remaining speakers were allowed to raise their defense. To allow some modicum of ‘fairness’ for the masses. Yet these voices were always compelled to speak first, so that the pro-Imperial litigators could then tear these arguments to shreds. Amongst those ‘defenders’ of Windu, half were plants, chosen to give falsified, or easily dismissed information. 

Where once there had been honest debate, now there was theater. Where once there had been voices that spoke of justice, now that word had become a cruel mockery of what it once was. The circular tiers of senators-what few remained unsilenced, un-replaced, or unafraid-sat in rigid stillness as the final hour of Jedi Master Mace Windu’s trial began.

Floating within a heavy gravity well, and pumped full of a constant stream of drugs that dulled his connection to the Force, the middle-aged Jedi kept his head low. 

Binders of cortosis-laced phrik locked around his wrists humming faintly, suppressing what little connection to the Force the Empire allowed him to retain. They had learned their lesson after this dastardly terrorist had attempted to take the then Supreme Chancellor's life. There would be no more risks. Not with him.

To the untrained eye, he looked diminished, gaunt from imprisonment. His shoulders were slack, and his once powerful muscles had atrophied, giving him a somewhat anorexic appearance. After repeated visits from the suctioning claws of Darth Sidious, this once vibrant warrior of the Light now appeared like a man twice his age. 

Above him, in the Emperor’s private viewing box, Palpatine sat motionless, hands folded within his sleeves. His expression was one of detached interest, though the faint curl of his lip betrayed something more indulgent. A sense of satisfaction, and ownerships possessed him. He had meticulously planned for this moment the instant Windu had been captured. 

Ten Legions of his best Stormtroopers were stationed around the Senate District. A billion volunteers, fresh from bootcamp had come to play witness to this most momentous of occasions. 500 capital ships, and 2,500 supporting craft (cruisers, frigates, destroyers) waited 30 min inside hyperspace, awaiting just the right moment to emerge from the blue void. His spies had been instructed to leave the ‘unknown’ hyperlane that Grievous had accidentally discovered alone. To this nascent rebellion, a direct path had been opened directly into the heart of the galaxy. 

Project Z. Project G. His Inquisitorious. All sat in wait, prepared to confront even the likes of Yoda. 

Beside him, looming like a shadow given form, stood Darth Vader.

Vader did not move. He did not speak. But his presence pressed down upon the chamber like a gravitational well, suffocating, and absolute. A gear ticked upon his chest like a clock, the hatred in his gaze for Windu was naked and uncontrollable. 

Palpatine internally scoffed at his young apprentice. The naive boy's vision was blinded by love, as he desperately attempted to hide every ‘secret’ glance he gave towards Padmé Amidala. Vader was not so clever. His yearning for power was as blatant as could be. The asthmatic cyborg no doubt intended to use the conflict with the Jedi to slay both himself, and assume the mantle of Emperor. 

How naive. 

Palpatine had foreseen a great deal, and had prepared much for this ambush. By the end of today, the Jedi, and the Republic would have lost a great deal…perhaps they would have lost it all. 

Vader could not contain the excitement he felt in his heart. For the first time since his accident, he was laying eyes upon her. 

His wife had been absolutely radiant these last few days. Her arguments full of hope, and candor. Principled, imaginative, full of passion, of life. By the Force how he wished to hold her close, and never let go again. 

The Darkside coalesced around him, and the steady thrum of his gear poured molten hot hatred into his veins. Screams & pain of the clones sacrificed to the Infinite Engine echoed in his mind, the fear of the younglings, the pain of Mustafar. They gathered around him in a bubble of raw psychic might. 

Power. Absolute. Unadulterated POWER. 

It surged around Vader. He knew Obi-Wan was keeping his children from him. That his duplicitous Master had wanted to court Padmé all along. To steal her from him. That Kenobi was nearby, he could sense it. 

Vader clenched his fists as he imagined breaking the spine of his Master's one after another. If things should progress as he had foreseen, Palpatine would be in dire straits this day. Then, all should belong to Vader! 

As the pair of Sith calculated and schemed, the trial continued. 

The prosecutor, a thin, severe man in Imperial crimson droned on.

“-and thus, the accused, Mace Windu, stands guilty of treason against the Galactic Empire, conspiracy to assassinate the Emperor, and the orchestration of Jedi-led insurrection across multiple sectors.”

The words washed over Windu without meaning. He didn't even raise an eyelid at the accusation, as he had heard that much and worse during this farce of a trial. 

Six months ago, he had stood in Palpatine’s office, lightning tearing through the air, the fate of the galaxy balanced on the edge of his blade. He had been certain then. Certain of the outcome. Certain of the necessity of his actions. 

And then that future had fractured once Skywalker had come onto the scene. 

Then, a month ago, he had returned. Broken and bitter, he had seen a vergence in the Force. A path-no matter how narrow-that could end it all. He had come for vengeance. For justice. To fulfill his own prophecy, Chosen One be damned. 

And instead, he had discovered Palpatine’s trump card. An ability hereto unforeseen had sucked the life out of him, sapping him of his power just as he was about to slay the cretin. 

Even now, he could feel the echo of that defeat in his bones. The crushing weight of two Sith Lords moving as one, the storm of red blades and black lightning that had overwhelmed even Vaapad’s hungry edge. He had fallen, not for lack of will, but for lack of time. Windu had been too impatient, unwilling to gather with the other survivors. 

Before his fall, before he had been pumped full of drugs, and held in this immovable cage, he had foreseen one last Shatterpoint. 

A thread in the universe had spoken to him. It was thin, weak, almost impossible to grasp. But not only was it real, but it was his only hope. The hour of his rescue. Of his victory or demise was at hand. 

Windu’s breathing remained slow, measured. Each inhale was shallow as he imagined what he would do once these shackles had been broken. The Empire thought him weak, yet he had clawed his way out of Coruscant’s underbelly once, a jailbreak from the heart of the Senate was hardly something he feared. 

They thought him sedated when they had administered the compounds into his veins. Yet the pain had made him sharper, made him understand the dark emotions that had once plagued his heart at a deeper level. For the first time since he had killed a man all those years ago, he had become one with himself. He was at peace. 

Windu had seen the Senate chamber as it would be. He had seen the moment where everything broke. It was not a matter of if, but when. 

The prosecutor’s voice rose, swelling with rehearsed outrage. “-the Empire cannot stand while relics of the failed Jedi Order continue to threaten its peace. The accused has shown no remorse-”

No remorse. Windu almost smiled at the word. His fingers twitched, just slightly, against the binders, flexing them in preparation for what was to come next. 

A murmur rippled faintly through the Senate ranks. Not a word was said in dissent, but an uneasy air possessed them as they stared down at Windu, knowing that one day, that could be them. Tension gripped the crowd, as they also understood that some sort of prison break, or military action might take place today. The increased patrols, and number of troops did not escape anyone's notice. 

Mace Windu at this very moment was a fulcrum. A turning point for the war, and the fate of the galaxy. No one said this, but the trillions of sentients who tuned into the news this week all sensed something big was going to happen. 

It was as if the Force itself was holding its breath in anticipation. 

Above, Palpatine leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Look at him.” The Emperor murmured, his voice too soft for any but Vader to hear. “Still clinging to his illusions of destiny.”

Vader’s mask tilted a fraction.

“I sense…anticipation.” Vader said in a conflicted voice. 

Palpatine’s smile deepened.

“Good. Let him hope. The fall will be all the more spectacular.” Palpatine said meaningfully. 

Vader shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and went back to ‘not looking at his wife.’ 

Below, Windu slowly lifted his head.

For the briefest moment, his gaze locked with Palpatine’s. 

And something passed between them. Not fear or hatred, but a surreal kind of feeling, as if they were both actors for a play dancing to some invisible tune. 

Palpatine felt it. A flicker. A disturbance in the current he so carefully controlled.

Impossible.

The Emperor’s smile faltered for less than a heartbeat. The prosecutor continued, oblivious to it all. 

“-and therefore, the court finds the accused guilty on all counts. Sentencing will be carried out immediately upon the Emperor’s decree-”

The chamber seemed to hold its breath.

Windu closed his eyes, deep in thought. 

He could not see into the future. Not anymore. The drugs had burned that clarity away. But the memory remained, etched into him like a scar.

It was coming soon. A single moment where everything would pivot. A Shatterpoint was on the horizon. 

His shoulders straightened, and he once more regained the aura of the Order Master. The defeated prisoner was gone. In his place stood a Jedi Master.

Above, Vader shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber. He had sensed mass amounts of healing earlier in the day across all of Coruscant, yet he had remained silent. Measuring Palpatine’s smug satisfaction, it appeared as if he was unaware of this transpiring. Only Vader had an inkling of what was about to take place. 

Meanwhile, the Force-muted, distant, but not gone-whispered at the edges of Windu's awareness. Faint, yet still there, calling to him like a loved one calling their mother to wake up one last time upon the bed of a hospital. 

The prosecutor turned toward the Emperor’s box, bowing deeply. “Your Excellency, the court awaits your judgment.”

Silence fell upon the room as Palpatine rose. The entire chamber seemed to shrink beneath him as he slowly regarded them. 

“Citizens of the Empire, today we lay to rest the last illusion of Jedi authority. The man before you…”

Windu’s fingers tightened. Not yet. Almost.

A heartbeat passed, then two. And somewhere, deep within the currents of the Force, something shifted.

Windu’s eyes snapped open.

“We pronounce you guilty. The sentence is dea-” 

“I OBJECT!” 

Everyone went silent as the most wanted masked man in the galaxy had arrived. 

It was…!

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AN: Remember, Revan is a blind spot to Palpatine, and everyone else…save for Vader. Chosen of the Force vs Heart of the Force, baby!