Chapter Text
Obi-Wan Kenobi did not like a single thing about his current predicament. He didn't like being in the company of politicians, nor the small ship that offered little reprieve. He most certainly didn't like that he seemed to be the only one who had a bad feeling.
Sate Pestage, Chief of Staff of the Office of the Chancellor, also did not like a single thing about this. Palpatine had ignored his rather strong wishes to provide an armed escort of fighters and additional trooper ships. A mission this far out to the edge of the Republic put his teeth on edge, even in a “safe” zone with minimal Separatist activity. He sat mildly glaring at the two arrogant Jedi that Palpatine had invited instead, fingers caressing one of the many knives in his sleeve. Hmph. Palpatine insisted that the Chancellor’s presence was necessary to assure the passage of the trade agreements along this system, agreements that would greenlight the further production of critical components for the Venator-class Destroyers, along with more secretive star ship designs that were not yet public knowledge.
Lord Sidious, more commonly known as mild-mannered Chancellor Palpatine, sat in his special seat, pretending to work as he kept a weather eye on his three protectors.
He rather wished he could have left Sate behind. Two Jedi–the foremost in the entire Temple–were more than enough, and would only reinforce his plans for this trip. The conference could have done without Chancellor Palpatine, but the opportunity, revealed to him during a precognition meditation, to push young Skywalker ever closer to darkness, he simply could not ignore.
Exactly how it would play out, he did not know. The dark side was active in that meditation, rushing and tingling in his veins in a way he had never felt before. It excited him, awaiting this.
He enjoyed how Anakin kept close proximity, offering him caf and water, almost fussing over him. Anakin knew that Senate sessions had run over late into the night and that Palpatine hadn't slept in almost two days. The depth of his concern pleased Lord Sidious. That attachment to him would serve both of them well.
However, the eyes of both Kenobi and Pestage told Lord Sidious the same did not sit well with either man. Of course Kenobi's animosity made sense, but Pestage ... What was going on with him? Professional jealousy?
Sidious found himself quite amused at Kenobi, but annoyed at Pestage. He did not need his right hand and trained assassin arousing suspicion. Someone had advised him once that his chief of staff needed to be every bit as genteel as Chancellor Palpatine himself, and he was beginning to appreciate that advice as he sat, one eye on his datapad and the other upon his august company.
Anakin stood next to Obi-Wan, trying to focus on the swirl of hyperspace through the viewport. Their ship was a small diplomatic shuttle, and was equipped with forward blaster cannons and a pretty decent shield. Pretty decent didn’t sit well with Anakin, especially when it came to the Chancellor’s safety. But the Chancellor’s security team had cleared the shuttle as perfectly acceptable for travel. It was just … so small. There was no distinction between the main room of the ship and the cockpit.
Despite this, there were only two things that would’ve made this trip more enjoyable for him.
The first was if Senator Amidala had been invited to come. It had been a while since he’d seen her, even though it was a kind of torment every time. Two years since the Clone Wars began, two years since he had escorted her to Naboo and confessed his love to her. Two years since they’d spent one glorious night together in each other’s arms. The next day, she had broken his heart, promising it would never happen again. And it didn’t. He still longed for her, still yearned to be in her presence every moment of every day. But he respected her wishes, and they had remained friends.
Second was if the despicable Sate Pestage had been forced to remain at home. He wasn’t entirely sure why he disliked the advisor so much, because the man took Palpatine’s safety very seriously and deserved respect for that. However, Anakin got this strange feeling that Sate did not trust Anakin to prioritize the Chancellor's safety, and that was a bit insulting.
Overall, though, he had high hopes for this trip. As much as he loved Ahsoka, Anakin was glad to be assigned a mission with just Obi-Wan. It would be like the old days. In addition, he was really looking forward to spending some time with Chancellor Palpatine alone. There was so much he wanted to tell him– needed to tell him. Though so far, Pestage had remained at the Chancellor's side when it wasn't even necessary.
Anakin stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the back of Sate's head, wishing the Chancellor would dismiss him for a time.
On his wrist com, a red light flickered twice, a sign they were about to exit hyperspace.
Sate turned slightly and met Anakin's glare with his own icy gaze. He was not impressed. This Jedi boy wonder was reckless with Palpatine's life too often, making up plans on the spot that were as likely to kill them as save them. He hoped when Palpatine secured his new apprentice, he would at least teach Anakin some thinking skills in the process.
But that would be a miracle, and even Sith Lords usually couldn't pull those off. Other than old dead Hego Damask ... Sate's lips pressed thinner at the memories. Dark and wild days, those.
A soft chime announced the drop from hyperspace.
Anakin sauntered over to Palpatine's chair and rested his hand on the Chancellor's shoulder. "Sir," Anakin said. "Is there anything I can–"
A bad feeling.
He glanced back to Obi-Wan, questioning, looking for guidance.
Something was wrong.
As Obi-Wan made eye contact with Anakin, he knew his former apprentice had sensed it as well. Trouble lay ahead. Though for the sake of not causing a panic, it was best to keep it discreet for now. "Anakin, a word?"
Anakin retreated from the Chancellor to stand next to Obi-Wan once more. “Something’s off,” Anakin said in a low voice, as worry wormed its way into his stomach. “I sense conflict ahead.” He glanced toward the Chancellor, and felt a fresh rush of anxiety. “We should tell them to call this off.”
"I agree," Obi-Wan said. He turned to Palpatine. "Chancellor, I'm afraid we have a problem."
"Are you sensing something in the Force, Master Jedi?"
"Potential trouble. Rest assured, Anakin and I have everything under control, but we are acting in the interest of your safety, and of Advisor Pestage."
Sate had moved to the console across the small quarters, flicking through data speedily. "Transmissions jamming. Level 14," he said tersely, shooting a glance at Palpatine that gave nothing away but the outward concern of a chief of staff worrying about his commander-in-chief.
The agreement had been a smaller jamming range. Much smaller.
Sate's thoughts worked quickly. With this jamming range, it could take weeks to be found if ... if ... he frowned as another thought occurred. This far out, it wasn't guaranteed the attack planned to drive Anakin further to the dark side would play out on the right planet …
He hastily, and covertly, began checking the galactic map on the console.
The ship lurched and shuddered. This was not good. Anakin stepped forward and called to the two clones piloting the ship.
“Oddball, what’s our status?” Anakin asked.
“We’re taking fire from an unidentified vessel, sir!” came the hurried response.
“Our shields are holding?” Anakin asked.
“Yes sir, for the moment, sir!”
Anakin turned to the Chancellor, the man who had been there for him and comforted him, the man who always made him feel worthy.
“What are your orders, sir?” Anakin asked. He knew he should have deferred to Obi-Wan, but this mission was the Chancellor’s idea. And Anakin was determined to support him, the way Palpatine had always supported Anakin.
"Do we have any idea who or what is attacking us?" Palpatine looked toward one of the consoles.
“Nothing has been confirmed,” Anakin said. His expression turned dark. “Though, I’m sure the Separatists are involved somehow. Our shields are holding, but …” he lowered his voice. “I am concerned for your safety, sir.”
"I just want everyone set down in one piece and safe, of course," said Palpatine. "That takes precedence over any conference." He furrowed his brow in a way calculated to worry Anakin to the utmost.
Anakin felt utterly useless when he saw the Chancellor's expression. This was exactly the kind of thing he was supposed to prevent. How had he not foreseen this? What can I do? Obi-Wan had felt something was off hours ago, but Anakin had felt nothing. He was spiraling, but he couldn't stop himself. Anakin was the most powerful Jedi to ever exist–and yet once more, he was completely powerless to fix anything. He felt like he'd let Palpatine down. Palpatine had more faith in him than anyone else, yet he was clearly undeserving of Palpatine's trust–
The ship lurched again, this time much harder. Anakin nearly lost his balance, then he took Palpatine's arm and said, "Sir, I think we should get you to the safe room. If anything happened to you …"
He wouldn't finish that sentence, couldn't even finish the thought in his mind.
Anakin glared once more at Sate Pestage, who seemed to be looking at a galactic map. What was he doing? For someone obsessed with the Chancellor’s safety, Pestage didn’t seem to be taking much interest at the moment.
"Sate, what is our location?" snapped Palpatine. He supposed his plans may still work if the ship didn't go down where he had intended, but, oh, not nearly so well. Then again, Mantare … Mantare was strong with the dark side, and he had never visited there. Could this be the will of the dark side? Palpatine took the briefest instant, lowered his shields. Yes. He would not disobey so strong a suggestion from the dark side of the Force. He was indeed Master, but the dark side generally made such a powerful prompt for a reason.
Kenobi hurried to the front and conferred with the pilot, and Palpatine suspected chance would determine where they ended up, not Kenobi or Sate.
Sate looked up. "We're halfway between Orushadan and Mantare, Chancellor. And ... about four parsecs off course. The coordinate data we were given for this conference has been sabotaged." He left unsaid the fact that Palpatine's original plan was to be caught between Mantare and Vinbarran, and closer to Vinbarran, the undeclared planet where the conference was to take place. Sate arched an eyebrow at him, their secret code from back in the days of exploring the lower levels of Coruscant for, Call it off?
Palpatine said, "Options?" He was not looking at Anakin or Obi-Wan.
Out loud Sate said, "We could attempt to accelerate the hyperdrive capacities."
"Chancellor," Obi-Wan called back, "I suggest you strap in. The pilot is going to attempt a landing and it will not be a smooth ride. Anakin, he could use some assistance." His voice was even, a skill gained both through his Jedi training and combat. It was his best attempt at preventing his esteemed companions from panicking, as there was valid reason for them to.
Palpatine considered. The whole idea had been to get Anakin alone and stressed, with himself the proverbial (and perpetual) damsel in distress, as it were. As the ship shook and a frantic, steady beeping started from the pilot’s console, he reflected that he was doing very well with that last bit.
Sate could take care of himself. Lord Sidious could take care of himself. Anakin could take care of himself. As for Obi-Wan and the oddly named Oddball, Sidious did not care. He made his decision, looked pointedly at Kenobi, and nodded once.
Obi-Wan strapped himself in, alert and ready to act if the situation required it. Or, rather, when , considering the way things were going.
A sudden rumble shook the ship heavily.
Sidious bridled. In his last meditation, he had not foreseen anything like his own death. He glanced at his faithful Sate.
Anakin hurried to the front of the ship, and Oddball gave up the pilot’s chair for him. Anakin pressed a few buttons, which switched complete control of the ship to his side of the console. He took the helm and tried to alter their course, but the steering seemed sluggish.
“This is going to be a rough landing,” Anakin muttered under his breath.
Sate moved toward Palpatine. He had seen that rare look of uncertainty from his leader. "We're already in the outer limits of Mantare's atmosphere. If Skywalker can control the ship and turn it at least four degrees, we might be able to pull off a crash landing where most of us live."
Then Sate’s eyes narrowed. "With all respect though, sir, Skywalker is correct. I want you in the emergency safety pod." Strapping in might not be enough if Palpatine could not access the Force.
And this was where Sidious truly hated the limitations of the role he had to play. Were Sith not the enemy from time immemorial, he could have helped Skywalker and Kenobi land the craft. Never mind the fact that he himself had engineered this attack to begin with.
Yet, still. He stood and headed for the pod, all too aware–as, judging from his look, Kenobi was, too–of Anakin Skywalker's glance following his movement to the back of the craft.
Sate followed him, but called up to Anakin, "Can you do that, Skywalker? Can you turn the ship enough?"
Anakin bristled at Sate’s question. “Of course I can,” Anakin snapped in response. And he knew he could. He just … wasn’t sure how he was going to do it yet. “Worry about the Chancellor! I’ve got this.”
The ship hit a rough patch of turbulence, and Anakin did what he could.
Four degrees.
He could do that. Right?
Anakin pressed another series of buttons on the control panel, and reached into the Force. He could feel the ship humming around him, feel the metal hull warming as they plummeted into the atmosphere. He could feel it as if all of it were part of him.
Sate urged Palpatine toward the back of the quarters where the emergency pod lay dormant. It was designed precisely for the Chancellor's physical and biometric specifications and was the ultimate latest in technology. The price had been exorbitant, but Sate had finagled many deals--and two assassinations, such mysterious illnesses--to find the funding for it.
Palpatine allowed Sate to strap him in, reflecting that, since he could not use his Sith abilities in these situations, the pod remained the next best thing.
Sate was so protective of him. He should have designed a second seat for him. Hopefully, the assassin would survive whatever would follow.
Sate leaned in to tighten the straps across Palpatine's chest and shoulders, and spoke so low only Sidious could hear him. "We have a saboteur somewhere in the works." Even if overheard, it would only be the concern of a chief of staff fearing his leader had been betrayed. And clearly, he had.
Palpatine nodded.
Sate backed up and placed his hand on the pod’s activator. The doors began sliding shut, and he shared another look with the Chancellor. Palpatine was in the safest place in the ship. Time for Sate to get himself to safety now. Nothing more could be done, but he hoped Skywalker could pull off another one of his “miracles.”
Back in the cockpit, a desperate battle unfolded.
"How's it coming along?" Obi-Wan called to Anakin, bracing himself in one of the chair harnesses. "I do not wish for us to be in immediate danger for longer than necessary, if you don't mind."
"I'm working on it!" Anakin grumbled through his concentration.
In the Force, Anakin was the ship. No boundary existed between himself and the hunk of metal careening through the lower atmosphere.
The controls barely responded to his input, so he worked through the Force. He found the manual activation switches for every panel on the outside of the ship, hoping to increase drag and slow them down. He only opened them on the right side of the ship, hoping it would allow for a slight shift in trajectory.
At least he was able to get the reverse thrusters working.
He checked the scanners, but everything was scrambled. Anakin had no idea what Mantare's atmosphere was like, what its terrain was like.
When he looked outside the viewport, he thought he could make out a forest somewhere below. Night had fallen on this side of Mantare. It was better than rocky, mountainous terrain, but a flat, grassy plane would have been much better for this.
By his calculation, the ship had turned three degrees, and it wasn't enough.
"Brace yourselves!" Anakin shouted.
The ship bucked and heaved like a wild animal. Sate barely made it back to his seat, efficiently working with the straps before everything abruptly came to a jolting halt. Something large made contact with his head, cutting him off-mid thought: I'm going to have to keep saving his a-
When the ship finally lost its fight and they crashed into the ground at an awkward angle, Anakin's head whipped forward and then slammed back into his chair.
Everything went black.