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  The thought caused Anakin’s lip to curl up ever so slightly. A Padawan? For him? That sounded like the worst thing in the galaxy. And as if on cue, his eyes caught Obi-Wan looking directly at him.

  Of course Obi-Wan saw his smirk.

  Anakin forced his expression back to neutral, then adjusted his posture, pushing his chest out and chin up to uphold Jedi formality; if he had been speaking, his voice would have reverted to the formal monotone he always used around elder Jedi.

  “We are at war. This is unprecedented within our lifetimes,” Mace continued. “And you are among the first to reach Knighthood during this time of war. Remember that war is like a fire across the galaxy. It spreads and it consumes. We must never waver in the face of that fire. We are keepers of the peace. We are Jedi. The Republic needs us more than ever, which means our faith in the Force, our connection to the Force must never waver.” Though Mace’s face remained stoic and cold, Anakin detected the most unexpected shift coming from him, a single drop in the ocean of the Force. But it rippled outward, and while most probably didn’t notice it, Anakin had always found his senses tuned in to emotions at a far deeper level than others.

  Maybe because he actually let himself feel emotions. He reached into the Force for a further understanding of this strange deviation.

  Was that…concern? From Mace Windu?

  But the ripple passed, evaporating as would happen with any Jedi and their emotions. Anakin wanted to shake his head, figuring the moment was nothing more than an extension of Mace’s constant disdain for his being there, his very existence. From the moment Qui-Gon Jinn presented Anakin to the debriefing after Geonosis, Master Windu always seemed irked by his presence, like he should not have even been there. One time, Anakin caught his look when fellow Padawans mentioned the Chosen One prophecy—in jest, of course—and the power of his instant glare felt more deadly than his renowned fighting technique.

  Anakin rubbed him the wrong way. He always had, and this was probably just another example. Anakin reminded himself to be bigger than that petty moment and push it aside. He took in a breath, and though his eyes tracked Mace during the rest of the speech, his mind wandered to his childhood. The ceremony played out as the opposite of those Tatooine nights when the desert chill would work its way through the cracks of their worn-down home. Rather than the cold grand speech amid the Jedi Temple’s exquisite designs, he thought of his mother retelling a story for the umpteenth time in their small hovel, the warmth of her hand enough to reassure his whole body and mind. “The sun-dragon lives inside a star, guarding everything it loves and treasures,” she would say, as she had done so many times throughout his childhood. Generations of Tatooine dwellers heard the same story told with their own family variations, but his mother’s version carried the most feeling—appropriate for a myth about heart. “It guarded them through the fire and flame, always keeping them safe. It could persevere through anything, even life within a star itself. Because the sun-dragon has the biggest heart in the galaxy, a furnace of flames powerful enough to protect everything and everyone it loves. The strongest heart—stronger than the heart of a star.” She told Anakin this story dozens, possibly hundreds of times when he was growing up, usually after he’d gotten into an argument with Kitster or Watto was unnecessarily cruel or one of his inventions exploded in his face.

  He could see her expression now, the way her smile brought lines to frame her mouth, the way her eyes never judged, the way stray hairs fell across her forehead after a long day. Those were the moments she’d always squeeze his hand and look him straight in the eye. “You are the sun-dragon. You have the strongest heart. Always believe in it.”

  Suddenly the loving face of Shmi Skywalker disappeared from Anakin’s mind’s eye, replaced with the blistering cool of night, the flicker of flame, the cries of Sand People.

  The smell of blood.

  All through these thoughts, he stood stoic alongside his fellow Jedi Knights, fighting to keep his feelings at bay. Another memory arrived with a surprise, one that draped calm over the open wounds of Tatooine. It echoed, a feeling as real as the moment it first happened:

  The strong hands of Qui-Gon Jinn on his shoulders, his soothing words whispering in his ears.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the presence of the fallen Jedi. Whether a flash of deep memory or one of the Force’s great tricks in his favor, the presence always recentered him, in a way that Obi-Wan’s lectures never did.

  “It is your time to serve the galaxy and the Republic,” Mace said. “May the Force be with you.” The group began clapping as Mace walked off without hesitation to take his place next to Master Yoda. Obi-Wan looked around the courtyard, then back at the other Masters. They all exchanged glances, and Anakin caught a rare moment of confusion from his old teacher.

  Obi-Wan, able to negotiate and improvise his way out of anything with grace and tact, now stood flustered because of an apparent scheduling problem. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin thought with an amused sigh, frustrated by protocol and formalities in a time of war. He watched as Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his hair, thick locks flowing to his shoulders, having grown even longer since Geonosis. “Well, it appears that our guests are a little late,” he said, stepping in front of the group. By “guests,” he referred to Chancellor Palpatine, various senators, and a few of the clone commanders who happened to be onplanet, a mixture of ceremony and duty for each of them. “I’m certain they will be here soon. In the meantime—”

  An electronic chirp rang through the space, something urgent enough for Yoda to wave his hand at the control panel for holocommunications at the far wall. Palpatine did appear, but as a hologram floating in the middle of the courtyard rather than in person. And instead of a two-minute cursory speech about duty, the chancellor addressed Yoda and Mace specifically, not the gathered invitees. “Master Yoda. Master Windu. We have urgent news that is sure to impact the war effort. Cato Neimoidia has been bombed.”

  Yoda and Mace looked at each other, only their eyes moving. Obi-Wan had a slightly more animated response, at least for a seasoned Jedi—a small inhale, then a hand up to his beard. The others reacted within the range of those extremes, though the air itself shifted. Yoda tapped his stick. “Padawans and younglings, this discussion they do not need. To further study, they should go.”

  Obi-Wan moved over to gather, then direct them out, and Anakin took a reflexive step forward until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan spoke, his voice gentler than his usual redirections of Anakin’s instincts. “Not you. You are a Jedi Knight now, remember?” He looked over to the Padawans, who had started to leave. “We are equals,” he said with a slight and forced smile beneath his beard.

  Anakin wondered if the gesture’s awkward nature was because of the dire circumstance about Cato Neimoidia or if his old Master simply hadn’t gotten used to seeing Anakin as something other than an apprentice. “Do I still have to call you Master?” he asked, more bite to his question than it should have had. A flush came to Anakin’s cheeks, betraying the muscle memory that wanted to argue with Obi-Wan about rules and fairness no matter what the situation.

  “Only if you know your place,” Obi-Wan replied, but this time his smile gave off a genuine glow, almost amusement at their old push-and-pull relationship. The courtyard cleared of Padawans, the Jedi now gathered in front of the holographic figure of the most powerful man in the Republic.

  “Bombed?” Mace asked Palpatine. “How bad? By whom?”

  “Intelligence is still coming in. But early reports indicate the scope is a larger catastrophe than Cato Neimoidia has seen in recorded history. It is—”

  A clone commander faded into view. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Chancellor. But we have further details.” Palpatine nodded, and the clone continued. “It appears an entire segment of the capital city of Zarra has been severed from the foundational struts. It has completely collapsed.”

  CH
APTER 3

  OBI-WAN KENOBI

  Obi-Wan stood side by side with his former Padawan, just as they’d done many times over the past decade, and yet this was different. This felt different. Together, they watched the holos of Palpatine and the clone commander flicker, alongside intercepted security recordings from Cato Neimoidia that lacked enough clarity to fully define the scope of the devastation. But for several seconds, Obi-Wan ignored galactic catastrophes and instead thought of Anakin, who stood quiet with arms behind his back, his usual commanding stance with intense eyes taking in the unfolding conflict.

  A powerful Jedi, an intense heart, an uncontrollable impulse—all of those things were central to Anakin’s being. And now, an equal, his Padawan braid severed. But more than the symbolism of his braid, Anakin’s emotional transition to Jedi Knight was proving rougher than Obi-Wan expected. Rather than a simple flick of a mental switch, Anakin seemed to take several steps forward toward confident decision making before skirting back into deference.

  Anakin Skywalker seemed unsure of where his place was. Which was quite unlike him, given all of the arguing they’d done for years, all those times Anakin insisted he was right.

  Perhaps the war muddied those waters. He thought back to his own early days, his ascension into Jedi Knighthood counterbalanced by the loss of Qui-Gon Jinn, and while his peers seemed to take their promotions in stride, his own circumstances created so many stumbling blocks. How long did it take for him to feel like he’d earned the title? And now that he was given an opportunity to sit on the Jedi Council, how could his input possibly carry the same insight and weight as that of more experienced Jedi Masters?

  A memory fluttered through Obi-Wan’s mind, an exchange with his former Master he hadn’t thought of in nearly a decade. “Don’t center on your anxieties.” Obi-Wan exhaled and felt the ground beneath his feet, returning to the here and now.

  “Early estimates put the death toll at four thousand, based on daily traffic of the Cadesura district,” the clone said. “The bridge held important political targets including the Trade Federation licensing office. But it also housed an arts district with numerous commercial buildings. I’m afraid the civilian casualty toll is high.”

  Palpatine’s holographic visage flickered as the chancellor frowned. “Understood. Thank you for the report, Commander.”

  Yoda stepped forward. “Neutral, Cato Neimoidia is. No reason for military targeting. Work with all sides, the Trade Federation does.”

  Obi-Wan considered the recent tactical report he’d seen on the splinter faction led by Nute Gunray, one that Lott Dod claimed was completely disconnected from the Trade Federation. “Has Senator Dod been informed?”

  Palpatine nodded. “He is just outside of communication range, but as I understand it, he is aware of the situation.”

  Yoda’s stick tapped on the floor. “Insight, our new Jedi Knights have?” Obi-Wan caught Anakin’s eyes dropping, as well as the short inhale that he quickly swallowed.

  “Could loyalists from the Republic have guerrilla fighters who went rogue?” Keer Stenwyt said, and though her voice projected confidence, she glanced at her mentor Ma-Dok Risto, who offered a subtle nod in return.

  “Bounty hunters?” D’urban Wen-Hurd offered. “War always drives their economics. It could be a coordinated effort to create demand for their services.”

  “Perhaps,” Yoda said. “Perhaps a true accident, this is.”

  “A Separatist trick,” Anakin finally interjected, the gravity of seriousness in his voice. “A ploy to gain sympathies. The Neimoidians are unscrupulous cowards.” The judgment in his voice caught Obi-Wan’s attention, though given his long, volatile history with them, it wasn’t that surprising.

  “That seems counterproductive. Even for Nute Gunray. He would not sacrifice a civilian population of his own people,” Mace said, his glare strong enough for Obi-Wan to feel from several meters away.

  Anakin inhaled to retort but then caught eyes with Obi-Wan again, and that mere thread of connection seemed to be enough to halt the young Jedi’s impulses. Yoda shook his head, his ears trembling with the movement. “Possibilities, war has created,” the old Jedi Master said, a rare disgust in his words. “Points of view, distorted. The scope of the Clone Wars, beyond the peacekeeping tradition of the Jedi.”

  Anakin straightened, turning back to the hologram of Palpatine, who looked off to the side before nodding and continuing. “Count Dooku appears to be making a statement right now.”

  And with that, the fallen Jedi appeared alone, his regal maroon cape draped over his shoulders as he stood in what was apparently a small office in his Serenno home. The feed caught him mid-sentence, though his tone and words quickly filled in the blanks. “…act of terrorism. As the primary representative of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, I assure the Trade Federation and the citizens of Cato Neimoidia that we have no involvement in such senseless violence. We condemn such things, and our relationship with the Trade Federation is, as it has always been, merely transactional in nature.

  “However, we make no secret that Viceroy Nute Gunray and his associates are key officials of our movement.” Emotion surged from Anakin, a tangible wave at the mention of the Trade Federation viceroy. Obi-Wan observed his former apprentice, from the way his shoulders locked to the tightening of his jaw, a tension that came and went quickly—but not as quick as most Jedi. “I think the evidence is clear. The Republic targeted Nute Gunray, who was visiting the Cadesura district a mere hour before the bombing. Had the viceroy stopped to enjoy the cuisine of his people, or to take in the local museum to immerse himself in the culture he dearly misses, he would have been killed.”

  Dooku straightened, his unblinking eyes looking straight into the cam, piercing the distance from Serenno to Coruscant. “But despite this mountain of evidence against the Republic, I am nothing if not honorable. I invite the Republic to explain this action. I will stay away to avoid any perception of conflict. After all, the Trade Federation is a neutral entity and should be allowed to pass judgment using their own system of justice. For the Republic to truly be open to discussion of such a catastrophic event, it seems only right that Chancellor Palpatine himself go to Cato Neimoidia.” The mere suggestion caused a ripple through the space, from Anakin’s suddenly tensed fist to Mace’s furrowed brow. Next to Dooku’s hologram, Palpatine’s translucent image flickered, though the shock on his face broadcast clearly to all watching. “Such an action would be a remarkable gesture,” Dooku said with a smile, “in the name of transparency.”

  Yoda turned as Dooku’s feed broke apart, the count of Serenno’s image quickly disappearing. “Discuss this further, we will. Facts must be gathered. The Senate, we need.”

  “No,” Palpatine said, his mouth weary. “There is no time for Senate deliberation. I will go. I must leave as soon as possible. Every second counts. Without my presence, Dooku may sway the Trade Federation’s allegiances to the Separatists. They are far too important a galactic power to let that happen.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Anakin said.

  “A clone battalion. If he goes,” Mace said. “The chancellor needs the highest levels of security.”

  Palpatine, flying off to the scene of a disaster on a neutral world? Not just a neutral world, but the crown jewel of the Trade Federation, the same organization with ties to Nute Gunray? Obi-Wan shook his head, and in a rare moment of letting his impulses break through, he spoke without a fully considered plan. “Chancellor, you must not go. It’s a trap. Dooku is playing us.”

  All eyes suddenly turned to Obi-Wan. And now he had to coalesce those impulses into clear thoughts, with the fate of the galaxy at stake. “Dooku wants you arriving in a hostile environment, a no-win situation. Think about the optics. This planet is in a state of shock. Its people are mourning. If the chancellor arrives with troops and Jedi and a fleet, it will, at best, heighten tensions. At worst, it could lead
to violence. All while leaving him vulnerable to sabotage.”

  “Master Kenobi, I understand your concerns. But this is a risk I must take,” Palpatine said, a solemn gravel to his voice. “I will do anything to put a swift end to this war.”

  Obi-Wan shook his head again, mind sprinting for a solution that would pull Palpatine back from immediate departure. “A lone Jedi. A single emissary with a small crew of scientists and investigators, representing the good faith of the Republic.”

  As Palpatine’s eyebrow arched up, Yoda let out an audible “hmmm.”

  “It is the best balance of diplomacy, transparency, and investigation. A Jedi has the training to uncover the truth, the autonomy to make decisions, the abilities to move quickly. And the authority to represent the Republic,” Obi-Wan said, the words coming out so rapidly that he needed a large breath. “We are peacekeepers. Even the Trade Federation knows that.”

  “ ‘Peacekeepers,’ ” Palpatine said, a slight smile to his lips. “I am not entirely convinced this will work. However, the logistics of my sudden departure will, unfortunately, require a day to sort out. Master Kenobi, if you can convince the Cato Neimoidian government and the Trade Federation before that, then I will concede to you.”

  “One day.” Obi-Wan nodded, then looked around the courtyard. Palpatine. Yoda. Mace Windu.

  Anakin.

  They all watched him.

  “I will come up with a strategy to present within one day.”

  “In the meantime,” Mace said, “we will discuss potential security measures for the chancellor with the Senate. We must be prepared for both paths.”