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Star Wars: Vertex.


“Ok, that was odd,”

Jedi Master Brandon Hale’s voice echoed oddly through the cockpit. The dropout of hyperspace felt wrong some how, oddly stretched and sort of inverted, if that made any sense. Life rarely did, even for Jedi Masters.

“Hmmm?” muttered his Padawan, a lithe blonde Elven girl, “What was odd?”

“That.”

“What?”

“You didn’t feel it?”

“You’re imagining things in your old age, master.”

Brandon grinned.

“Enough cheek, whippersnapper. We still have a job to do.”

The light freighter Booted Vulture, registered under the Jedi Council, soared through the atmosphere of the outer rim planet, –placeholder–, and with a slight crunch settled down on a gravelled landing pit.

The ramp descended with a hiss and a crash. Oria smirked.

“The council sure splashed out for this gig, Master” she chortled.

“Shut up, my young padawan and let’s go to business”

The Jedi strolled down their ramp and into the hot rays of the local sun, the landing field was pretty rudimentary but he supposed it served. There seemed to be rather to a lot of droids about though and of a design he was not familiar with. They were the yellow–y white colour of bone and had elongated heads. Two brown robed officials stood before them. Brandon nodded respectfully and greeted them,

“Greetings, I am Jedi Master Brandon Hale and this is my apprentice Oria Thenn, we come on behalf of the Republic Senate and the Chancellor.”

One of the brownrobes, an alien with thick leathery looking purple skin snarled at him,

“And what would that corrupt old man have with us? Or allegiance to the separatists is unchanged. So I suggest you leave.”

Brandon was now utterly lost. For one thing, the natives had specifically request a team be sent to them and for another the Chancellor was currently female. A dozen questions burst through his mind, but he settled for a polite;

“Excuse me?”

The brownrobe was enraged.

“Was basic not your first language, Jedi dog? Leave! We will have nothing to do with that despot Palpatine.”

He then spun on his heel and marched off. Brandon was quite angry now, not only was he completely confused now be he’d also been spurned by people he done nothing to and in fact had come here to help.

“Now just you look here” He sated in a raised voice, setting off after the Administrator but he’d barely got three paces when his danger sense flared.

All around him the droids pulled out blasters and fired.

The Jedi’s hands leapt toward lightsabre hilts as fiery red bolts blasted past them. Even with the roar of blasters filling the clearing, the snap–hiss was clearly distinguishable. Brandon’s Blade was a clear calm blue whereas Oria’s blade was the same brilliant glowing green colour as her eyes. She smirked at him as they manoeuvred themselves back to back with long practised ease.

“What did you say to them, master?”

They bounced half a dozen bolts back to their originators.

“Me? Nothing! Why do you ask?”

More droids swarmed into the clearing and fired. The Jedi’s movements began slightly more focused as the challenge increased…minutely.

“Well, whenever someone shoots at us, it’s never been because of me.”

“Yeah, but that kid on Ord Mantell, did chuck a thermal detonator at us because of you.”

“Your point?”

Larger droids began marching towards them. Large gun metal grey droids and spiders. Larger bolts smashed down all around the Jedi, sprays of dust and gravel pelted them. Still they sabres flashed in tight controlled movements, rebuffing dozens of bolts.

“Things are not improving, Oria.”

“And what do you expect me to do about it, Master?”

“I don’t know! Think of something! I don’t want to die confused.”

Then as if to prove the Force or the God’s or just dumb luck liked them, their enemies were smote from above. Great fiery green lines swept through the aggressors’ ranks as dirty great white gunships popped out of the heavens and blasted the droids.

With a great mechanical wail a Gunship swooped to a stop in front of the bewildered Jedi and a dozen white armoured soldiers jumped out. One had Gold markings on his armour, he ran up to them,

“Master Jedi, forgive me, we were unaware of your presence.”

The Jedi just glanced at each other, their confusion not abated In the slightest.

“Well that’s great,” smiled Brandon, “Umm… Who are you?”

“Sir, I am Commander Fry, Trooper 1298, 413th Division.” Barked the man.

“Wonderful,” said Brandon, “And… umm… which army would that be?”

“Sir?” now Fry seemed confused, “Are you all right, sir?”

“Of course I am, now answer the question.”

The Clonetrooper’s face was hidden beneath his helmet, but Brandon had the idea the man was frowning at him all the same.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before, sir. Who are you? What’s your operating number?”

“I am Jedi Master Brandon Hale, as to my operating number, I don’t have a clue what you mean.”

All around him, the troopers seem to edge closer, Their very large rifles weren’t exactly pointed at him and his apprentice, but they weren’t at ease at any rate. The commander barked orders to them,

“Taking action in a combat area without a valid operating code, is a offence under military law, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me…”

Sounds fun, and I want to know what happens, but did you mean to cut if off there? It seems to be missing at least part of a sentence.

Lusankya wrote:Sounds fun, and I want to know what happens, but did you mean to cut if off there? It seems to be missing at least part of a sentence.

Whoops, missed off the end of the last sentence. Fixed now.

Ooh! Very good. I want more.

(To tell the truth, I was kinda hoping that you'd forgotten more than part of a sentence so I could see what was going to happen.)

You wanted more? (though you seem to be alone) Here it is.

Chapter 2
Several hours’ later, Brandon and Oria were settled once more in a spaceship. This time it was a small squat troop transport of the ‘Grand Army of the Republic.’ They were still surrounded by very nervous clones with very big rifles not quite being pointed at them. The Jedi however were long practised at ignoring such things and were presently conversing at great length, wondering what the kriff was going on.

“Ok, so when you woke up this morning, did the Republic have a grand army?”

“No, master”

“And the chancellor…?”

“Was female, Master.”

“Well, at least I’m not going crazy then.”

“Of course. The universe must be wrong, that is all, Master.”

“Damn straight.”

At that moment there was loud bang and a whirr of machinery as the transport exited hyperspace.

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“Does something feel strange to you?”

“What asides from the fact, the ‘verse has decided to completely change while our backs were turned?”

“Yes, the force itself. It seems oddly muted.”

“Ah, so that’s not just me.”

“What’s going to happen to us Master?”

“Well, that depends no where these fine folks are taking us. Hopefully its to some sort of authority, and with any luck they’ll be as confused as we are. Either that or they’ll chuck is in a loony bin. Of course that’s in the short term as to the wavering force issue, well that’s anyone’s guess, matter of the force always are.”

“Well that’s great, I find you oddly encouraging.”

“That is one of my many virtues child.”

The odd whoosh of the ship enter the upper atmosphere of a planet sounded but Brandon ignored it and Spoke to the Sergeant commanding the troops with the guns not quiet pointing at them,

“Oi you, the faceless drone, where are you taking us?”

The trooper turned and titled his head.

“You are being taken to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. They will decide if you are impostors or not. Further more there is no need for such aggravating terms, sir. I am only doing my job.”

“Yes, of course, Trooper. My apologies.”

Soon the roar of the engines faded away to the whine of repulsor lifts, which in turn ceases as the mechanical clanks heralded the deploying of the landing gear. Finally only the pitter–patter of rain was audible.

The trooper motioned with us gun for them to descend the ramp.

“End of the Line, Folks. Off to meet the Jedi.”
Oria and Brandon walked down into the Rain. Before them stood another man in Jedi robes. Brandon opened his mouth to speak,

“I am Jedi Master Brandon Hale and this is my Padawan Learner, Oria Thenn.”

“I am Jedi Master Obi–Wan Kenobi and I’ve never heard of either of you ”

“That’s strange Master Kenobi, I was about to say the same of you.”

“Very well. If you’d follow me, I’ll take you to the council.”

And so they set off, walking up the great steps, in between statues. Brandon gazed around finally on familiar ground, until he saw one of the statues and almost burst out laughing.

“Quincey? You put up a statue to Quincey?”

Obi–Wan looked at him confused.

“That statue was erected in the memory of Jedi Master Quintain Fen the Valiant almost six hundred years ago. It is hardly a source of amusement.”

Still Brandon couldn’t help laughing.

“Would you believe me if I said I knew this man? He’s a librarian for force’s sake.”

Obi–Wan just told him to keep moving. So they walked the familiar but unfamiliar halls of the Jedi temple until they came to the council chamber.

Half the masters were Holograms. Kenobi left them to take his seat. A dark man at the centre of the council spoke,

“Just who do you think you are?”

“That who do you think you are, Master ? As I have the honour of the rank of Jedi Master.”

“And I am a member of the Council whereas you two are not alive according to the archives.”

“Well quite evidently I am alive, otherwise I would find it difficult to talk to you. And to the former, all I have to say is the Council I know paid a lot more respect to any who came before them.”

The man looked quite angry with this and opened his mouth to respond but the master next to him cut him off.

“This bickering, Pointless it is. Recognise these Jedi, I do. From long ago, I remember”

Brandon regarded the creature for a second, and then his draw dropped.

“Yoda?” He asked incredulously.

“It is, I,” Stated the small, green and now apparently ancient Jedi, “Jedi Master Hale, Padawan Thenn, disappeared you did, over six hundred years ago.”

Brandon blinked.

“Jeez, I shouldn’t have hit the snooze button this morning, I guess.”

Kenobi chose this moment to speak up,

“Maser Yoda, are you suggesting time travel?”

“Only solution, it is. However unprecedented, it is.” Yoda replied.

“If it as you say Master Yoda,” The first man spoke up again, “Then the only question that remains is what to do with them,”

“As had pressed as we are in the war,” A white bearded Cerean declared, “No one can be spared, we shall have to press these Jedi in active service, lost in time or not.”

“Excuse me,” Brandon butted in, “But I’d rather be finding away home.”

“The choice is not yours.” the Black one blunt stated, “Master Yoda has already stated that you never made it back. You would be doomed to failure.”

“All the same...” Brandon tried to state, but Yoda cut him off sadly.

“Sorry, I am Master Hale but send here by the force you were. Argue we cannot. Too great, our need is.

Ooh. Exciting.

Two things, though:

The Clonetrooper’s face was hidden beneath his helmet, but Brandon had the idea the man was frowning at him all the same.

The Jedi don't know that he's a Clonetrooper here, and since you seem to be writing with a bias towards Brandon's viewpoint, it would probably be best if the soldier introduced himself as a Clonetrooper earlier or if Brandon just thought of him as a "soldier" or a "trooper".

“And I am a member of the Council whereas you do are not alive according to the archives.”

It's just me nitpicking, but I think Mace is trying to say "you TWO are not alive according to the archives."

Ooh and More!

I like. Write some more.

Chapter 3

The thrum and hiss of lightsabres filled the temple, in terrible contrasts with the whines of Blaster fire. Terror permeated the force, turning into swirling grey morass of pain and despair, just as the stench of scorched flesh filled the air. Oria walked through the halls of the dead, listening to the screams and the thrums fade until there was just one sabre’s worth of humming. There was no screaming, no Blaster fire, just the humming from the blade of a traitor.

Oria’s arms trembled. She was meditating, alone in her room. Sweat travelled her well-defined muscles, as she struggled to keep her balance and stay with the force at the same time. Her shoulder length blonde hair and hang down towards the floor exposing her long pointed ears.

Oria ran down the halls of the Jedi order, her Lightsabre in one hand, the fingers of her trailed against the war, dipping in and out of the pocks and holes left by Blaster bolts after they burnt through children’s bodies. Anger and fear gave her wings as she charged down on the betrayer but they did not control her. She was Jedi.

She reached the temple courtyard with a snap–hiss. The Clonetroopers barely had a time to see her bear down on them like an Avenging Angel when an energy blade spelt their doom. She scythed through them like a reaper through corn. Effortlessly catching Blaster bolts from all angles and smashing them back at her foes.

Liquid fire ran through Oria’s veins burning her muscles to a crisp. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as sweat ran free and stayed in the Force’s ethereal hands.

One poor fool tried to use Plex Bazooka, Oria blew it up in his hands, and on the slaughter went, common men with blasters no match for an angel caught in the Force’s flow.

Until the traitor stepped forward and waved aside the Drones. He was a man of Darkness, a once good man wreathed in shadows. They were consuming him. He lit his sabre and struck at Oria. Her own sabre rose in a block and counter. She pressed forward wit ha series of short stabs and thrusts. The shadow effortlessly blocked them and locked their sabres. With a small gesture his fingers shot out black cords wrapping around Oria’s neck. She gasped as the black noose pulled her up, up, up. The last thing she heard was a kind of insane cackle as the true master of evil chuckled over the scene he had created like some kind of crazed wraith.


Oria collapsed on to her floor gasping for breath. Rolling over she pulled herself to her sink and splashed water in her face. Then she pulled on an over robe and went looking for her master.

***

The thrum and hiss of lightsabre’s filled the temple, freezing Oria’s blood but she forced herself to enter the practise room.

There, according to some idiotic notion of Mace Windu about discovering the time traveller’s abilities, her master duelled with a young knight called Anakin Skywalker. The man was wearing dark robes, had very large muscles and was pressing her Master hard. Or so it seemed.

With a flick of his light blue blade, Hale disengaged their Lightsabres and skipped away. Anakin chased him with a series of brutal shien strikes, descending slashes and diagonal swipes. Hale caught each of them with elegant makashi parries before dancing forward with a series of sharp thrusts and short stabs well suited to his blade.

Her Master’s lightsabre was one of the finest ever built, the internal design was simple with one large power source directed through the crystals, rather than using many smaller power sources. The exterior however was the thing of beauty, it was excellent balance and crafted to his hand, it feature a ricassso finger ring to bring the blade in line with his arm for better control.

Oria’s own sabre was similar in design, although with only a pale shadow of the craftsman ship, the main difference being the lack of a ricasso with a convex dish emitter in its place.

Master Hale was using his superior precision now, pressing Anakin back. The point of his sabre thrust within centimetres of Anakin’s leg showing he could have had his leg off. Skywalker didn’t concede though, lunging forward with a power rising stroke that could cleave her master in two if they were both not careful. Hale twisted out of the way and lashed out with a foot. Slapping Anakin lightly on the belly, not hard but hard enough to give him pause and with that pause Hale’s blade levelled at Skywalker’s throat.

Skywalker swore. Hale grinned.

“Seems we, old timers have still got it.”

Anakin’s words came back.

“Again. I am better than you are, stronger. Your tricks would not save you in battle.”

All the humour went out of Brandon, in less than a wink.

“So sure are you, young knight. Very well”

They levelled their blades at centre guard. There was a split second of hesitation, then Skywalker bull–rushed forward with a series of heavy blows. Brandon gave ground easily. Their blade’s locked, high. Brandon’s foot danced out as he narrowed his eyes. A telekinetic blast slammed Anakin’s chest while Hale’s foot swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground first. Instantly Hale was on him kicking his lightsabre away, while Hale's own energy blade hover above his throat.

“Still, you do not understand, young Jedi.”

Oria shivered, Brandon’s voice was harsh and sharp. Those last words came out with biting sarcasm she’d never heard in him nor had he ever used such a harsh tone with her no matter what her follies or failings as a student. He’d always been calm and jovial and more than little bit daft. Now he seemed someone completely different.

“Strength does not matter, neither from muscles nor in the Force. Balance, that is what you need. Calm control. You are no better than any other Jedi, the sooner you realise it, the better. The living Force is near limitless. How can you be stronger with it than anyone else? All Jedi can access the same Force, you may have a larger personal supply but when a Jedi is truly with the force, he is equal in power to any other being flowing with it. Learn this and you will be Jedi but I sense you have learnt nothing. We are done.”

He deactivated his ‘Sabre and strolled out of the door. Oria followed him and matched his long annoyed stride.

“Master?” her called. He looked slightly surprised but still very grim from the ‘practice’ duel.

“Oria? I didn’t see you. I thought you were meditating?”

“I was, Master” Her told her of vision of the death and desolation of the Jedi at the hands of the traitor shadow.

He listened attentively and his face drew even grimmer.

“Have you told anyone else?” He sighed

“I don’t know anyone else, Master.”

He glanced at him and she smiled slightly.

“And wouldn’t tell them if I did of course. I would ask your wisdom before anyone else’s Bran.”

“Don’t. You know I have the greatest respect for your intuitions, hell I know their better than mine, but we’re going through massive stress here. It could simply be related to all those people we loved and left behind in time.”

“Master? Surely we should tell the council. They can decide for themselves”

“And if it were the council of our day I would. But these ‘Jedi’…”

Again with the bitter edge to his tone.

“You don’t trust them master?”

“Oria there’s one thing I’ve always tried to teach you. The Force can grant us knowledge, strength and a vast assortment and array of powers…”

Oria finished off the credo she had taken to heart.

“..but wisdom comes from here” she said tapping two fingers to her temple.

“These ‘Jedi’,” Master Brandon Hale told her, “Don’t seem to understand that. Or that Skywalker would never have been more than a padawan.

***

Sorry I could resist the shameless self insertion. Note the name of the Jedi's transport in chapt. 1? That's one of my other aliases.

OK I'm not sure how well either of the scenes worked out but nonetheless...

Chapter 4.

Mace Windu sank down on to seat in the meditation room and closed his eyes. The room, reserved for the Masters of the Order, had fallen into disuse since the beginning of the Clone Wars, the modern Jedi had very little time for quietly pondering life the universe and everything and a lot of time to spent planning, doing and recovering from military campaigns.

Mace’s breathing began to level out, as did the beating of his heart. He had a lot of things on his mind, first and foremost was a couple of Jedi who’d appeared out of nowhere and had been belligerent and disrespectful from the start. It was war out there and the last thing Mace needed was uncertainty and doubt in his own home. He should be able to count on, without thought, any Jedi and He did with scant few exceptions. These two presented a drastic increase in this list of exceptions.

“A Snap Judgement, you have made,” said a voice close to Mace’s left ear. “Unjust to them, it is.”

“Master Yoda,” Windu addressed the Ancient Jedi, “ Hale and his apprentice are unruly. They have made it blatantly clear they do not recognise our authority or our competence. Look what happened with Jedi Skywalker. We cannot trust them.”

“Said nothing, did Master Hale, that has not been said to Jedi Skywalker before. Many times, similar comments have you made, Master Windu.”

“It matters not. The Council made Skywalker a knight to question his rank is to question us all.”

“Been discouraged, since when, have questions been?”

“Since we went to war, Master Yoda. Hale and his padawan have strong emotional connections. They do not have the detachment to prosecute the campaign we need to wage.”

“Misunderstand them, still you do. Harsher time, they come from. Many more Jedi, to darkness fell. Many more fools and rogues, left the order badly. Those who remained, truer they were. Fail us Master Hale will not. My final word is this. Speak now of other concerns, we will.”

“Yes, Master Yoda.”

“Recent trend, in the usage of the force, scares me it does.”
“But we have been able to draw on the more much more powerfully lately, Master.”

“Yes, we have. Your exploits on Dantooine to mind, comes. Great Warrior you were. Yet many more Jedi perished they have.”

“That is to be expected in full scale war, Yoda.”

“The shroud of the Darkside, covers all yes. Cloud our sense it does. But more than that, it must be. Our own actions, cutting us off from guidance, it could be. Disturbing the prospect is, but explored it must be.”

“We shall have to meditate on this further.”

Yoda turned to leave but Mace called after him.

“Master Yoda…about Hale…”

“My final decision, make clear did I not?”

“Master Yoda, Are you forcing me to assign them a unit to lead? To put large amounts of firepower in the charge of commanders of unknown ability?”

“Do this, did we not? At the Battle of Geneosis. No Jedi, an army had commanded for centuries.” Yoda saw that Mace’s mind was made up. He would not budge from his position. That Master Hale was unreliable and Not to be trusted. Yoda decided to compromise.

“Very well. Under command of another Jedi, assign Master Hale and Padawan Thenn. Established a friendship with General Kenobi, I believe they have.”

***

“This is intolerable!” snarled Anakin Skywalker. His mentor and former Master Obi–Wan Kenobi gazed on him as patiently as ever.

“And why is that?” Anakin whirled around, annoyance writ large across his bearing and features.

“That…” Anakin struggled to find an acceptable noun “… man, has no respect for me, or for you or for the republic!”

Obi–Wan sighed, his friend was overreacting as he so often did.

“No Anakin, he bested you in a practise duel nothing more. As have I, on occasion.” A wry smile crossed Kenobi’s face. His victories over his former apprentice were few and far between; it was a truly marvellous day when a student surpassed his teacher. Obi–Wan only wished it had happened a bit later, that was all.

“No, Obi–Wan, it was more than that. I’m twice as powerful as he is; I’m Jedi Knight! A galactic hero! Yet he treated me as no more than an errant child.”

“Anakin, please, try to see his side of it. He does not know you at all. His attitude was not a judgement, merely an uninformed opinion. You cannot expect everyone and everything to immediately up to you.”

Anakin didn’t seem to be listening. In fact, Obi Wan often wonder what Anakin actually listening to thing he didn’t like hearing, would seem like. Obi wan had little experience in the phenomena. Anakin was waving of his remark now.

“Of course not. But I would expect the respect he gives any other Jedi Knight. It’s not fair. He treat’s every other Jedi properly but not me.”

“Anakin you’ve barely met the man. You’re making snap judgements.” Anakin carried on regardless.

“And now Master Windu has us basically babysitting the man. Its disgraceful.”

“Anakin. Calm yourself. Regardless of Master Hale’s status or attitude to you, he will be accompanying us. I suggest you deal with it.

I'm liking this one already.

Chapter 6 will be up tomorrow or the day after.

A cookie and an explanation if any one figures whats wrong with the above statement.

EDIT: Yay, I finally got around to writing this bit:




Chapter 5

Argosh was a mid–rim world. As worlds went it was a fairly normal world, green grassland and rolling hills interspersed with the odd desert, mountain range or Mega City. It had remained relative aloof and separate from the Wars so far. That was about to change. The grand Galactic Republic was coming with fire and laser swords…

‘Clone Intelligence’ had informed the Jedi that several top ranking CIS leaders had taken and fortified the planet. They had quickly dispatched a team of four Jedi: Two masters and two apprentices. Well two masters, one apprentice and a knight who was formerly apprenticed to one of the masters but that’s not really relevant is it? And to be completely honest we should say Four Jedi (two masters, one apprentice and a knight who was formerly apprenticed to one of the masters) and a few hundred clones whom come with planet melting troopships as fun extras.
The Separatists, of course, had thrown up massive theatre shields over their base. Strong enough to deflect any bombardment the Republic could throw at it in a reasonable amount of time. In response the Republic landed her armies and marched on the City–Fortress going under the shields.

That was two weeks ago. Since then the fighting had devolved into a series of skirmishes between clones and Droids or mercenaries or both in what used to be the inner suburbs of the city. All the Tactical Enforcers had either been destroyed or waylaid far from the action. They blew stuff up with their main projectile cannons now and again just to remind people they were there; otherwise they were liable to be forgotten.
LAATs were in limited use ever since one of them had managed to fly into the energy shields above their heads and what’s more it was raining. Anakin had no idea how it could rain under an energy shield but it was managing it.

Anakin was sitting in the burned out remains of a building over looking a central road in the area. With him were several clones and, much to his disgust, Jedi Master Brandon Hale. ‘General Kenobi’ had send him off with the annoying old man, probably trying to make them work together. Obi–Wan of course was with the pretty Padawan, across the street with the rest of the clones. Typical, not that Anakin really cared that he was missing out, being a married man and all.

“It will Burn you, Anakin.”

Hale’s annoyingly calm voice sounded from behind him.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Anakin muttered as way of reply.

“Your anger, your fear. You have walled it all away. “ Hale closed his hand into a fist. “But one day you will crack.” He opened his fist spreading his fingers wide. “And you and all those around you will burn.”

Anakin didn’t Look at him.

“Now you’re starting to sound like a Sith, Master Hale.” He snarled harshly.

“Perhaps” replied Hale, “But a Sith would revel it in and I wish to warn you away.”

“Well don’t. I got enough lectures from Obi–Wan.”

“Perhaps” repeated Hale “If you listened to them, they would cease.”

“You don’t know me,” Anakin snapped, “You’ve never known War. You don’t know what we have to do to survive. You’ve not seen the massacres we suffered when we did not.”

“It matters not,” came the insufferably calm reply, “I see the step you have taken and I have seen the rutted path they follow, the Path that leads to the Dark side.”

“Shut up,” said Anakin, so loudly several of the Clone’s head turned.
Images of the past swirled up in front of him: his dying mother in his arms, the corpses of slaughtered Tuskens strewn across the desert and his own smoking severed limb as he cowered at the feet of Dooku. “Just shut up.”

Master Hale finally looked perturbed and opened his mouth to make a heated reply but then several explosions rocked them, they looked up to see mercs and droids swarming out towards them.

“I Suggest we go kill them,” Anakin said sarcastically.

***

The Other side of the street, Oria leaned heavily against a wall with her back to the street, regarding Jedi Master General Obi–Wan Kenobi. He seemed a fair enough man, cunning in tactics and skilled at battle. They were chatting amiably. Confident that the forces (or the Clones for that matter) would warn them of trouble far before anything could happen.

“That’s an elegant blade,” complimented Kenobi, indicating the lightsabre clipped to her belt, “We rarely have the time to take such obvious care in the making of our weapons, you said you favour the Soresu form?”

“Yes, my Master recommended it, He said it was favourable to my deeper connection to the Force.”

“Strange,” said Kenobi, then off Oria’s look, he continued, “It’s just that most masters teach their padawans their own style and as I recall Master Hale is rather effective with the makashi form, doesn’t he find Soresu too passive for his tastes?”

“I’m sure he does, but he is not such a poor teacher, He would put his own views in front of what worked best for me. I don’t believe Anakin uses Soresu, like you and I?” Obi–Wan grinned ruefully.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t recommend it to him. He just Ignored me.” Oria laughed politely.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh, all the time.”

“I would never dream to ignore Master Hale’s instructions. Reinterpret them heavily perhaps but not Ignore.”

Obi–Wan made a vague noncommittal sound. Then he changed the subject,
“Tell me more about your Master Hale, he seemed fair enough to me and you give a good account but he seemed very harsh in his training with Anakin.”

“Yes,” muttered Oria as a worried expression crossed her pretty features, “That was…unlike him. I think he’s feeling a little on edge at the moment. How would you feel if you were unknowingly thrown several hundred years into the future and then pushed into a war you know next to nothing about?”

“I see your point” conceded Kenobi.

“Usually he’s very collected. He quite often praises my skills as superior to his and yet I’ve always been able to turn to him for useful advice and comfort. I’m very lucky to have such a calm and knowledgeable teacher.”

Kenobi smiled,

“Which nicely leads to my next question, your skills are obvious and you say your master acknowledges them: then why are you still a padawan, I would have thought you ready for the mantle of Knighthood.”

“As does he but the council…err…our old council however felt the rank could not be granted to one so young. But Bran and I work more like partners now than master and Apprentice. Much like you and Skywalker.”

Kenobi smiled again and glanced through a hole in the building and saw troops pouring towards them.

“Well as charming as this conversation is, Padawan Thenn I think we’re going to have to bring it to a close, we have important hero type activities to be doing.”

***

Aris Early, famed bounty hunter and mercenary General, was swearing at his Neimoidian ‘Commanders.’ He’d just left the command centre for a couple hours, to scout around a bit and by the time he’d to back, they’d managed to doom them all.

They’d order an out and out attack at the republicans, way before any such move was warranted, now he could only watch as his mercenaries pulled out and fell back to the command post under his frantic order. The Droids however were already done for. So he ordered them to provide suppressing fire. They were only light units, B1s and 2s mainly; anything heavier was either already destroyed or virtually immobile in the urban arena. Two Jedi had leapt into the middle of their formation and after slicing and dicing every Droid within reach acted as a focal point for droids to concentrate fire on. Effortlessly deflecting Blaster fire back into their ranks and letting the clones burn them down with minimal return fire. Within minutes the Droids had been wiped out and the Clones where exchanging long–range fire with the retreating mercs.

Ebal turned to tell the Neimodians they were through and should retreat to the escape craft…when the wall exploded and half a dozen ARCs stormed in… Followed by Two more Jedi, an older man and a bulky young man whose faced has been splashed over the Holonet since about day one… Anakin Skywalker. Cursing Aris yanked both is heavy blasters (full auto modified DL–44s) out of his hip rig and pulled the triggers as he ducked behind a control panel. With a roar half a dozen angry red bolts ripped through an ARC trooper’s chest, smashing him to the floor with a series of angry smoking craters where his chest should be. Aris scythed his gun back and forth over the advancing troops, he watched as one of the neimoidans was pasted in to gooey vapour in the crossfire.

Grimly he continued his relentless fire until the older Jedi with streaks of grey in his hair stepped in his line of fire; the Jedi’s azure blade briefly transformed into a great fan of light as it deflected a three shot burst right back at him. Aris barely had time to scream as both his pistol where vaporised out of his hands and the third bolt slammed in to his chest. His armourweave jumpsuit glowed red as Blaster energy coursed over and through it. Aris was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall behind him as his entire chest sizzled and smoked. He lost consciousness momentarily and when he woke up, the guard Droids were littered across the floor in semi–molten pieces, the sole unpasted neimodian was cowering and the Grey streaked Jedi was standing over him. The Jedi smiled grimly and said,

“Do you want to surrender now?”

Aris could only cough and nod.

”Good you are a prisoner of war then. Don’t move.”

Aris was astounded by the sheer arrogance of the man as he turned his back and turned to regard the neimodian, the man didn’t even consider him a threat, fury filled Aris as he lurched to his feet. He’d teach the upshot sorcerer a lesson in respect. Reaching into his left sleeve he pulled out a one–shot hold out and pointed it square at the Jedi’s back. He tried to squeeze the trigger but inexplicably couldn’t an impossible large thrum filled his ears, the oneshot didn’t fire. It instead fell from his spasm grip. Aris looked blankly down and saw a brilliant blue bar sticking out his chest. Thrumming of a lightsabre filled him up and suddenly the Blade died and so did Aris.

***

Brandon whirled around in time Anakin ignite his blade through the mercenary’s chest. The man dropped dead. Bran stared at the young Knight then yelled,

“What the bloody kriff did you do that for?”

“I saved your life,” replied Anakin equally angered at the hostility in the Master’s voice.

“You killed a helpless prisoner, that’s what you did,” Brandon said, his voice had dropped to the other extreme know it was barley more than a whisper strangled in suppressed rage and his hand was gripping his Lightsabre now, his knuckles were white.

“He had a gun,” Anakin practically screamed.

“Don’t give me that Bantha shit, we just cut our way through platoons of automatic weapon wielding robots to get here! There’s no serious way you could thing a oneshot was any threat!”

Anakin flushed his hand was on his Lightsabre now to, long moments pasted and even the clones looked about nervously at the very real threat of a Duel breaking out there and then.

Then the atmosphere was suddenly broken as another Clone trooper, his armour scored and pitted by numerous types of weapons fire, burst into the room fresh from Kenobi’s ‘distraction’ battle.

“Master Jedi! General Hale! Commander Skywalker! Urgent transmission from Courscant! It the chancellor sirs, He’s been kidnapped!”

Um.....the last chapter was chapter 4?

YES. THAT MEANS DOUBlE SHOT. YAY FOR CAPSLOCK!

Agent R wrote:Um.....the last chapter was chapter 4?

*pelts Agent R with cookies* Now what do ya think of the story?

Anyhoo othe reason for the missing chapter 5 is that it was being a bitch to write and I kept thinking about the fights scenes here. Chapter 5 will be edited in when I finsih it. Nothing much happens in it aside from a coupel of jedi convosations (Oria/Kenobi Brandon/Anakin chats) and possible some action.. It'll end with a 'the chancellor has kidnapped; dun-dun-DUUUH! Ending.

So without further ado lets start ripping of RotS shall we?

***
Chapter 6.

Courscant, the beating heart of the Galactic Republic, the practical centre of the galaxy and home to trillions, had thus far been barely effected by the war. Sure there might have been a few troops on the street or a few more shield drills than usual but life went on. Coruscant with multiple layers of shielding and entire fleets of defence craft was far to hard a nut for even the CIS to dream of cracking. People were safe here.

The impossible was happening. The Shields had failed. The fleets were caught unaware. Vast droid armies landed on the capital unopposed. Clones and Jedi fought desperate battle against the mechanised hordes but it was all for naught, for in a fiendish move the great droid General, known as Grievous captured the Supreme Chancellor and tried to carry him off to be the Separatist’s Hostage.

Now desperate fleets clash in Courscanti skies. Republic reinforcements flood in to prevent the CIS escaping and the CIS are desperate to safely enter hyperspace with their prize. The result: a massive melee in Coruscant’s Upper atmosphere. With every Republic unit scrambling to intercept the Confederates their desperation and lack of co–ordination meant it was less of a proper battle and had more in common with a bar brawl. Venator Carriers and Acclaimator troopships were pushed into destroyer duties along with Victory Destroyers as well as Dreadnaught and Carrack picket cruisers.

Between the duelling behemoths, flitted small droids and starfighters. Weaving another deadly layer to the conflict as Scarab, Vulture and Tri–fighter droids and even the occasional Genosian Nantex engaged in running light fights with Republican Torrents, Headhunters and ARC–170s. In fact the battle had raged for so longer, entire squadrons had been blasted into smithereens and most units had reformed on the fly as strange mixes of fightercraft.

In all this confusion it was easy for the four micro fighters to be missed. They dropped out of the hanger of a Venator recently entering the fray from the mid rim.

The four Eta–2 fighters skimmed low down over a Venator and passed through a crossfire between a Providence– star cruiser and an Acclaimator. Off to the side a Carrack flashed out as it was hit by a barrage from a Munificent frigate which was in turn blasted by a withering barrage of ion cannon fire from several other Carracks.

The fighters danced out formation, as a Trade Fed Missile Frigate frisked them, then ducked back into formation behind the cover of a battleship. The Frigate was blasted to bits by a deluge of missiles fired by a passing squadron of Torrents and Headhunters.

In the lead Fighter, Jedi Master Brandon Hale clicked on his radio,

“Alpha One to Control. We are approaching the objective, an escort would be appreciated.”

“Roger Alpha One,” the massive jamming and ECM in the battle caused control voice to sound scratch and frequently drowned out by static, “Red Squadron is being released to your command.”

“Acknowledged. Red squadron you have our six.”

“Alpha One, Red Leader. Acknowledged.”

Twelve ARC–170 Gunships zoomed into formation behind the Jedi Flight as it soared into the heart of the battle. A Wing of droid fighters accelerated towards the Jedi Formation.

“Here they come” muttered Red leader as the craft opened fire. Green bolts blazed forth from the Republic while the droid sent red blasts streaking back. The distance between them closed in an instance, their course marked by fireballs and the floating debris of wrecked ships. Quickly, the droids wheeled about and pelted after the still accelerating Republic fighters. The Rear guns of the ARC–170s blasted away trying to discourage pursuit. Unfortunately the droids lacked any courage to be dissed. There were to many of them. More and more ARCs were holed, shredded or exploded.

“They’re all over us!” Yelled Red Leader as blaster bolts walked up his left wing before blasting through an empty cockpit. Red Leader now ejected dozens of meters away from his broken ship, floated limply, waiting for a shuttle to pick him up before he froze.

“They’re getting slaughter back there,” radioed Anakin Skywalker, obviously agitated, “I’m going back to help.”


“No, Anakin!” Snapped General Kenobi in Alpha 4, “They’re doing their Job we have to do ours.”

“Neg that, Kenobi. Alpha 3 take Alpha 2 and help Red squadron. We’ll never make it to the Chancellor’s ship without them covering us.”

Anakin’s and Oria’s fightercraft swooped away from the formation and turned back to aid the embattled clones.

“Tighten it up Alpha four. I’ve located the chancellor signal. It’s coming from that hot–rodded Providence at point oh–three–five. Must be the general’s flagship.”

“You mean the one swarming with Vulture droids?”

“That’s the One.”

Droid fighters sidled about on their wings clutching the side of the Invisible Hand and looking about for threats. When they spotted the Two Jedi Fighters zooming towards them, they leapt forward, their wings rotated into “flight position” and stretched weirdly to release a pair of missiles apiece. Borne on great blue gouts of fire the missiles shot straight at the Jedi fighters closing with ludicrous speed in the last microseconds the Jedi fighters lift a wing and side slipped slightly as the missiles shot past and snapped through tight turns twisting back towards the fighters.

“They’ve overshot us.” Kenobi stated the obvious.

Applying extra powers to the thrusters for a second, Brandon deftly hit his port retrothruster and yanked his yoke to the right swiftly reversing his course to face the missiles. As he drew on the force the world around him slowed down until it seemed as if it were simply a horribly accurate painting or fresco depicting a war scene. In this state it was child’s play to set the targeting reticule upon the formerly fast moving missiles; two blasts and they flashed out of existence. Space and time blurred pack to normal speeds as Brandon flipped his craft back the way it came from.

Obi Wan seemed to be having much more problems with his missiles. Brandon righted himself in time to see Obi–Wan’s fight swarmed with small insect like robots and to see the astrodroid’s head being ripped off.

“Nasty pest problem you’ve got there, Obi–Wan” Hale spoke through his comlink, “like some assistance?”


“Oh would you? “ Obi–Wan’s voice came back a shade more sarcastic than before, “Thanks but I was actually thinking of letting them tear my ship apart.”

“Very funny, now hold still.”

Brandon dropped his craft on Obi–Wan’s aft. His laser cannons flared. Droid vapour drifted off the hull of Kenobi’s fighter.

“You’re all clear, now lets end this thing and go home.”

“Yes about that… Have you noticed the shields are still up?!?!”

“Yes, yes,” sighed Brandon, ” nothing but complaints from you, is it?”

The nose of Brandon’s fighter shifted slightly, the cannons flared again and the Hangar bay shield generator detonated. Instantly heavy blast doors slid in position to prevent catastrophic decompression but not quickly enough to prevent two microfighters careening into the hangar.

Brandon gently eased off the repulsors and settled on to his landing struts without incident.

Obi–Wan’s slightly chewed craft did less well and smashed into the deck nose first, crumbled and slowly slid its way to a halt just before the energy shield on the opposite side of the Hangar. Mean while Obi–Wan had leapt free of his crippled fighter in a flamboyant force assisted jump right into the middle of several the battle droids standing guard and started swinging his Lightsabre about lustily.

Brandon, who regarded himself as far too old for the fancy stuff, simply clambered out of his craft to old–fashioned way. Just in time to help Obi–Wan finish off the last couple of droids, whose vocoders seemed to be malfunctioning if their high pitch groans were any indications.

Brandon quickly led the astrodroid recently assigned to his fighter to the nearest computer terminal.

“See if you can pull up some schematics, Arfour, we need to pinpoint Palpatine’s location.”

The droid beeped and whistled incomprehensibly for several seconds then projected as wire model of vessel, with a flashing white dot at the very top of a dorsal fin to represent the chancellor’s homing signal.


“Very good, Arfour,” congratulated Kenobi, “Now see if you can activate those turbolifts over, there.”

The droid blatted unflattering at the condescending tone in Kenobi’s voice and went to work.

As it turned out the astrodroid hacking skills were not needed. No sooner had Arfour turned to his task then a beep sounded from the turbolift as its doors opening and a dozen B1 battle droids swarmed out.

Igniting their Lightsabre Brandon and Obi–Wan charged the new comers. The battledroid responded with ill-aimed Blaster fire. Although many bolts went high or wide and as many blasted the deck around several were on target. The Jedi effortless caught these and sent the straight back to their originators. More than half the droids had been wrecked before the Jedi even reached swinging distance. However the remainders were quickly dealt with, dismembered by broad sweeps of the Jedi’s azure energy swords.

The Jedi quickly commandeered the droid’s turbolift and set it to take them to the observation tower where the chancellor was held. In stubborn defiance of the laws of dramatics and other common entertainment values, the ride went with out incident.

A couple of minutes later the Jedi stepped out in a room that, to Brandon’s eye at least, looked as it had been designed for lightsabre duels. It was mainly a flat open area with a couple of consoles lining to walls opposite the turbolift doors, which were on a raised platform, was a great transparisteel window offering and excellent view and the carnage unravelling in space. In front of the window Supreme Chancellor Palpatine sat handcuffed to a command chair.

They hurried to wards him.

“Ah, Master Kenobi! How nice of you to join me.” Palpatine started and then stopped as a very strange look passed his face as he saw Brandon,

“Who is this? Where is Skywalker?” snapped he Chancellor.

“Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, it’s my honour to introduce to Jedi Master Brandon Hale who has recently arrive from a long long time ago. As to Anakin he’s somewhere,” Obi waved at the window ” out there with the fighters. He’s not leashed to me you know.”

At that point the other turbolift clicked and an old man walked out. He elegantly flip forwarded off the raised platform. A snap–hiss sounded in mid air and crimson blade ignited in his hand as he landed.

“You can’t face him” hissed Palpatine, “He’s a Sith Lord”

“Supreme Chancellor,” drawled Kenobi “Sith Lords are our speciality”

And then battle was joined, Kenobi’s and Hale’s azure blades lit in elegant contrast to Sith’s red blade. They spread out, edging to opposite sides of the Sith and slashed in wards. The Sith’s face was a mask of fury an fear and his twisted the curved hilt of his Lightsabre almost unnaturally to block each and every strike at him, batting away another strike and quickly move out of range. He treated them to a mirthless grin.

“You’re still a disappointment, Obi–Wan. It’s a wonder you made it this far without your arrogant whelp watching your back and your time lost friend here is no match for me either.”

The Lightsabre briefly clashed in another flurry of strikes and blocks as they back up the great stairway.

“Ah but were are my manner, Master Hale? We have not been properly introduced. I am the most illustrious Count Dooku of Serenno, former Jedi and now freed from your weakness. I am the harbinger of the Jedi’s doom and the flame that will sear the corruption from the Republic.”

“You’re a bag of hot air. Are trying to talk us to death?” Brandon advanced quickly his blade dancing in a series of jabs and thrusts; Dooku swept the last thrust far aside and then reserved his sabre’s path, slashing horizontally at Brandon’s chest. Brandon jerked back but the point of the bloodblade skimmed a bare millimetre his chest close enough to leave a long scorch mark across his brown jump suit. Dooku spun deflecting Kenobi’s slash one handed. The other hand gesturing upwards and curling into a fist. Instantly Brandon rose of the ground on hand instinctively grasping at his throat as it constricted. Luckily this was far from his fight against a rogue dark Jedi, in a move well practised over half a century ago his hand moved in a short sharp cut off gesture that countered the force choke and dropped him to the floor. He stabbed wildly at Dooku’s turned back. Then disaster struck.

Not only did Dooku mange turn and block Brandon’s block he also lashed out at Kenobi, who had tried to take advantage of an opening, which a massive wave of telekinetic energy that hurled Kenobi across he room and smashed him against the console.

Cursing Brandon force jumped over Dooku’s next slash and with grace and agility that’s seemed to defy all logic flipped to the lower floor and crossed toe room to check Kenobi. His pulse was slow but steady. He was alive, just very, very unconscious.

Dooku slowly advanced down the stairs laughing.

“So one Master flaws and another soon to follow. By now you must know you cannot triumph. These Jedi you fight for are the merest shadow of the ones you left behind. They are foolish, weak and corrupt but Join me and me and you can restore the order to its true power!”

“For some one who claims to be some much more powerful than me you sure seem intent on converting me to your cause.”

“A mere pleasantry I assure you Master Hale. Certain standards have to be obeyed before I cut you down like at dog.”

They stood barely two meters apart they’re blades poised. Dooku’ held high waiting for an aggressive overhand blow while Hale’s pointed out in front of him, faking nonchalance as the blue tip of blade waved in lazy figures of eight.

“Yes. Well here’s what I think. I don’t think you’re ready to cut me down like a dog. In fact I think you’re trying to rattle me so I don’t notice how afraid you are.”

“Your Impudence is music to my ears, fool.” Snarled Dooku, “I see you have never faced a Sith before. Sith have no fear!”

And with that he slashed downwards savagely. Hale’s blade rose to match and they both let of a flurry slashes, hacks and parries.

“Heh. A bold Move but you are not Sith.”

With a smash and a side step they were clear of each other. Their blades moved in slight circles shifting from one guard to another waiting for a clear shoot.

“You fight like the Sith” sidestep thrust, parry, block. Hack. “You have the trappings of a Sith.” Duck, slash, check, swing. “But this can be imitated.” Parry, reverse stab, rising block. “You lack a vital quality found in all Sith...”

Dooku roared and smashed his sabre down with uncharacteristic force and lack of elegance. The blades locked, hissing and mid guard between them. Brandon grinned coldly.

“… Any real power.”

Dooku roared and charged launching series of never ceasing slashes from all directions. Brandon backed away his sabre dance in a complicated blocking weave. Each successful deflection punctuated with a word.

“Face it My lord, you’re a dupe, a pawn nothing more than a means to the real Sith Lord’s ends. Just as much a tool as Fett or Durge or Ventress.“


“NEVER! I AM SITH! ” Dooku hissed through clenched teeth. His face burning with exertion and anger. Anger that he turned into an all too potent weapon. A combined wave of telekinetic energy and force lightening smashed into Brandon. Gasping he rolled with the push but the lightening course over him burning. His stumbled and slid to a halt. He’d lost his Lightsabre and yet he laughed. The groan and rolled onto his back. Dooku advanced and raised his own crimson blade.

“That’s…–koff– that’s it? Your coup de grace? Your stunning rebuttal? Force lightening?!?! Any mildly anguished teenager can pull it off.”

“Your word mean nothing” snarled Dooku; all his civilised veneer had dropped. Hate ravaged his features, “ Take action if you dare. Oh wait! You can’t” The blade blurred down in a lethal arc.

Brandon caught it.

Dooku stared disbelieving, as Brandon appeared to catch the blade between his hands and kept them!

While keeping Dooku’s blade in a solid force grip, Brandon lashed out with his boot catching Dooku high the chest and propelling him across the room. Swiftly regaining his footing, Brandon shifted his telekinetically shielded hands and flipped Dooku’s sabre end over end and caught the hilt.

Taking a step forward he scythed the blade down towards Dooku’s chest but a blue bar intersected the strike a good foot from Dooku, who lunged forward back to his feet with Hale’s own forgotten lightsabre in hand.

They stood their blades locked barely half a meter between them and knew it was the end. There was nothing in Brandon’s eyes any more they were just cold and hard. Speaking of calm, bordering emotionless, A long second passed, stretching into an eternity as they tensed for action and then it was over.

Brandon shoved their locked blades to the left as his right elbow raised in a short brutal arc into the Count’s temple. He dropped like a sack of concrete. Brandon’s hand reached out and grabbed his sabre as it fell from Dooku’s stunned hand. An instant later the tow blades were scissored around Dooku’s neck.

“Surrender!” he wheezed. His exertion through the force has wearied him. He fell faintly dizzy and slightly blurred but alert enough to finish the mission.

“I…I surrender” muttered Dooku.

“G–good” groaned Hale, “You are a prisoner of war then.”

At this point the Supreme Chancellor, more or less silent through out the fight chose to speak, though he still looked rather irate. Annoyed by the outcome? Surely not. You must be imagining things.

“Master Jedi! Surely you cannot think to keep this man captive?”

Brandon turned his back on Dooku to stare incredulously at he supposedly wise politician.

“And what are you suggesting? An execution?”

“Precisely. The mans to dangerous to be left behind.”

“He’s right you know” came Dooku’s high-class veneer from behind Hale. Then force lightening erupted from his finger tips in a last desperate gamble. It didn’t pay off. Brandon whirled around the blue sabre caught and absorbed the energy tendrils the red blade slashed out horizontally. Dooku’s body slumped to the floor. Ho head bounced away slightly.

“Damn,” said Brandon.

The Supreme Chancellor looked slightly amused. Brandon gave him a piecing look as he undid the restraints. Then he went to check on Kenobi. Who groaned and rolled over.
“Leave him” called out Palpatine, again with the strange looking on his face, the one that seem annoyed both Jedi had survived. “He’ll slow us down.” Once again Brandon was appalled by the apparent callousness of the Chancellor.

“Chancellor, I don’t about the Jedi of your time but I was always taught one simple rule: Never leave a fellow Jedi behind.” At this point he hooked Kenobi’s arm over his shoulder and pulled the concussed man to his feet.

“So grab an arm and lets get out of here.”

Nice....by all means, continue ripping off RotS. It looks like Palpatine will need to revise his plans a little.


You do realize that you have another copy of chapter 6 right under the other?

Chapter 5 will be editted in my post above Chapter Six in the next few minutes.

I'm liking the story but you might want to find a proof reader: some of those grammar and spelling errors are really bringing this down.

ZOMG! After 8 months I finally managed to write more of this. Mainly because it made little sense to me after I read the RotS novelisation. Oh well. Enjoy.


Chapter 7

It had been nine days since the daring rescue of the beloved Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of Naboo from the dastardly clutches of the fiendish droid General Grievous and the heroic Jedi Master Brandon Hale was still trying to avoid the Holonet news crews. Luckily they had long since been banned from entering the Jedi Temple uninvited so he was left in relative peace once he retreated there with his Padawan. A Padawan whose Lightsabre had just narrowly avoided taking his head off.

Brandon quickly ducked back from his mock opponent checking a flurry of over hand blows before aiming a low slash at Oria who blocked it with almost contemptuous ease.

“You’re getting slow old man,” she said but she was smiling.

“Old? Old?” said Bran with apparent severity but he was smiling to, ”Really, a man gets thrown six hundred years through time and suddenly manners get thrown out the airlock?”

“Yeah, that’s Right” She said, with the cocky assurance of youth. She fluidly counter attacked. Bran backed away in a swirl of elegant Makashi parries.

“I’m not so old, you’ll beat me like that.” Brandon smirked, “don’t use standard attacks. Try the unconventional.”

Then he had to hop away sharply to avoid a sweep from one of Oria’s shapely legs. Then a too quickly blocked raising strike sent his Lightsabre flying out of his grip.

Oria smirked at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’m an old done man. You happy?” he said lightly. He stooped to pick up his Lightsabre and then wincing. Rolled his shoulder in small circles trying to work out the aches.

“Very.” Oria’s smirk grew wider. “Shall we go again?”

Brandon chuckled. “I think you’ve beaten me enough for one day. Besides the Council wants to see us again soon. Best we go and prepare.”

***

Anakin Skywalker stalked the corridors of the Jedi Temple. He was brooding. This would not have surprised anyone who knew him well or even anyone who merely knew him. It was his base state of being. It was not very Jedi but no one much cared about that these days. He was too good at fighting the Separatists for anyone to object. Even Obi-Wan had finally stopped lecturing but it had taken him until several weeks after Anakin was raised to Knighthood to break the habit.

Right at this moment, Anakin was brooding over the new Jedi. It was better than brooding over the disturbing dreams he’d been having recently. They’d more or less made an idiot of him during the Battle Of Coruscant. He shuddered as he thought of his own stupidity: Flying back to help the Clones. He’d failed his mission and he’d failed his friend. By the Time he reached the Invisible Hand Hale had managed to cut off access to the Landing bays with Pressure doors. One of his closest friends and mentors, the only person aside from his mother who looked out for him not out of duty or honour but simply for the sake of his friendship, and Anakin had left him to be rescued by a pair of barely competent Jedi.

Anakin was amazed Chancellor Palpatine had made it out alive at all with help like that…

Anakin glanced at his chrono and cursed to himself: He was once again late for a meeting with the Council. Obi-Wan was going to be pissed.

Several minutes later Anakin entered the large circular room almost at a run and came heavily to a stop. He had hated this room, ever since he had first entered it at age 8, the fact he had to stand in the middle with judgmental gazes falling on him from all sides. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

They were doing it now. That calm, passive stare. That said to him: You disappoint us Skywalker. Regardless of the fact that he was more powerful than they could ever be. More powerful than they were combined. He could still see it in their eyes.

Mace Windu’s forbidding glare dropped from Anakin to the datapad and back again. His voice was as ever disapproving as he spoke:

“Jedi Skywalker, what I have here is an official request from the Chancellor’s office. Requesting that you be raised to the Council as the Chancellor’s Personal Representative.”

Anakin tried not to smile, despite his failure in Coruscant’s skies, his friend was still looking out for him and the rank of Master would be of great use to him. He had many questions for the Master’s set of Holocrons. But as Mace continued his hopes were shattered.

“I have to tell you such a thing is not possible.”

“What?!?” Anakin half shouted, “you can’t do that!”

Windu glared at him.

“Skywalker, the Senate has given the Chancellor many powers but he still has no say in Jedi affairs. Besides the Council has a limited number of seats and they are all currently occupied.” Windu extended a hand, Anakin followed the Gesture and saw Brandon Hale sitting in one of the Council Chairs, his elbows on the rests his fingers steepled in mid-air. Anakin’s rage soared.

“Him?” Anakin snarled, it was clear what was happening, they were purposefully trying to deny him Mastery. The Chancellor had been right, it was their only hold on him the only control they could conceive of. They didn’t even consider his loyalty to his friends and to the Jedi.

He could have said more, could have demanded answers. But he suddenly knew that there was no good reason this council could offer, no rational justification they could use, not without lying through their teeth. So he turned and walked out of the room.

***

Hale watched as Skywalker stalked away, his dark cloak flowing out behind him like a raven’s wings. He had a very vague sense of foreboding about that young man. To his left the mild voice of Master Kenobi sounded,

“Was it really necessary to further antagonise him?”

Mace Windu turned his glare upon the younger Master.

“Yes.”

Brandon frowned, was Windu really so intractable? It seemed so.

“A pity,” pronounced the translucent Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, transmitting from the Mygeeto campaign, the faint sounds of a far away battle accompanied his words, “We could have used him to monitor Palpatine.”

“The last thing we need,” pronounced Windu, “is the boy spending more time with Palpatine. The influence he has upon Skywalker is a source of great worry.” And this seemed to settle the matter.

Brandon took a deep breath and decided to broach the matter,

“I have a matter I should like the Council to consider…”

The Council stared at him. He wondered if he’d broken some sort of protocol for an instant until Yoda nodded for him to continue.

“My Padawan, Oria Thenn, ought to be granted the rank of Jedi Knight.”

The council continued staring at him, so he continued speaking.

“I had, indeed, arranged the Trials with the council of my own time but as the whole time-displacement thingie screwed that up. I thought it only fair to her to ask you to confirm her rank.”

From their puzzled glances at each other, Brandon knew what the answer would be. It was the Twi’lek: Aayla Secura who voiced it.

“Umm… I, for one, wouldn’t feel it was appropriate for this council to judge Padawan Thenn on our limited experiences with her. Not to say that she is unworthy of the rank, only we can not in good faith grant it to her.”

No was what was meant. They’d could dress it up as prettily as they liked but No was what they were saying. Brandon flushed, he knew this was a battle for another day but he couldn’t let it drop.

“Yet you appointed me to the council having known me a similar amount of time?” There was an uneasy shifting of seats around the room. “Ah I see,” Brandon smiled coldly as he continued “Such political manoeuvring, was unheard of in my day but doubtless you have your reasons.”

Yoda broke through the guilty silence that followed…

“To the matter of Kashyyk, let our attentions turn now …”

It lives!

Coolness. I'd almost forgotten this, but it's nice to see it again.

After reading through the entire fic here's my take:

Likes- The obvious conflict in styles between the older Jedi and the Clone Wars era Jedi, Yoda recognizing the two from hundreds of years ago, the vague nature of the time travel.

Dislikes- Jedi Master Hale comes off as serious wank and really buzzkills the story, Dooku's dialogue during the fight on the invisible hand doesn't seem to fit him IMHO.

This has a lot of potential as a great AU fic and i'll keep reading if you keep updating.

Prozac the Robert wrote:It lives!

Coolness. I'd almost forgotten this, but it's nice to see it again.

Thanks!

Darth Fanboy wrote: After reading through the entire fic here's my take:

Likes- The obvious conflict in styles between the older Jedi and the Clone Wars era Jedi, Yoda recognizing the two from hundreds of years ago, the vague nature of the time travel.

Dislikes- Jedi Master Hale comes off as serious wank and really buzzkills the story, Dooku's dialogue during the fight on the invisible hand doesn't seem to fit him IMHO.

This has a lot of potential as a great AU fic and i'll keep reading if you keep updating.

Thanks very much for the review. And I was going to try and defened Hale untill I went back and actually considered everything I've had him do:

• 1.Beats Anakin Skywalker in a practise Duel
  2.Lectures Anakin about life, the force and everything. Twice.
  3. Does the weird slo-mo flying thing to kick buzz droid ass.
  4. Hands Dooku his ass with out even the darkside.

Shit. You're right. And now looking over the plan for the next couple of chapters, I'm worried its only going to get worse.

Ah well. In my defense, the whole point of this fic was "old skool" jedi appearing and kicking major ass. But I hope that I'll manage to aviod obvious stainage over the last few chapters.

Just stumbled on this gem. Keep writing CW its an enthralling read! The idea of the arrogent and pompus fools of this modern Jedi order getting shown up by a true master... its something I will watch with glee!

Actually, I thought the complaint (by Darth Fanboy) was about just that, Kartr_Kana... I very much noticed that in particular when I read it...

IMHO the "modern" Jedi are too weak. They lack the understanding of the Force that the old Jedi had. With no true enemys to fight they lost their strength, trading it for philsophy and dogmatism. They limited the Force and what they could do with it. The old Jedi knew the Force in a way that the new ones will never know it. Thats just IMHO of course. If Crazedwraith feels differently and changes it then it should still be an interesting read.

Huzzah! An update. And much more rapidly done than the last one...



Chapter 8.

The last day of the Jedi Order’s existence started much the same as any other for Padawan Oria Thenn: her Chronometer’s alarm went off. She rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. Several minutes (or hours if you talked to her Master) later she stepped out and hunted for her clothes. Finally finding a clear set of rather standard Jedi robes, she stalked out of her room to face the day ahead.

Her life had taken quite a detour into the lands of strangeness recently. Not the least of which was the whole inexplicable 600-year time jump thing. Which robbed her of all she had known and loved. And then there were the strange actions of this time’s Council to consider. At first throwing her and her master straight into the thickest of the fray with ‘Kenobi and Skywalker’ and now constantly holding both of them back, citing their inexperience as the reason why they should remain in the Temple. Faced with a lack of any real tasks. Oria had taken to working with the younglings, taking them through some of the most basic form III patterns used for deflecting Blaster bolts.

It seemed quite ironic to her that The Order would trust her with its next generation but didn’t trust her getting anywhere the front lines. Though the speed of hyperdrives made the idea of front lines on the galactic scale a joke. Grievous had demonstrated that well enough a mere week ago.

Still darkly pondering her various worries, Oria went in search of her Master. Eventually finding Brandon in one of the Temple’s many meditation chambers in the lower levels of the Temple. It was one of the Temple’s smallest chambers holding only enough room for two occupants: A Master and an Apprentice: the smallest unit the Order could conceive of.

Bran’s face was smooth and serene, the meditation seem to wash away the lines of worry that so frequently creased his face these days.

Oria still frowned herself though. This was in fact the very same Chamber she’d left him in not eight hours before.

“Have you even slept tonight?”

Brandon opened one eye, rolled it at her and then answered,

“Oh, we Council Members are far to busy to sleep you know. Far to busy, indeed. Why sleep when we could be considering the infinite mysteries of the Sith? Or planning endless strategies against the quintillions of battle droids, Grievous and the others Separatists or even the Supreme Chancellor.”
Oria’s frowned deepened.

“Surely not?” She said, incredulous.

“Oh yes!” said Brandon, the lines were back on his face again making him look much older.

“Well,” Oria said, “why don’t you tell me all about it over breakfast then?”

So they did.

***

As it ended up Brandon eschewed proper food in favour of a very large pot of very dark caff, which was probably intended for a species with twice his capacity, and a pile of toast.

Oria, on the other hand, had a proper full breakfast with eggs and nerf sausages and various forms of savoury fruit.

“So,” Brandon said waving an odd bit of toast as he spoke, “Here I am elected to the Council, and they more or less ignore anything I say. Unless I’m agreeing with them, if not my opinions are six hundred years out of date and thus easily dismissed.”

Oria frowned.

“If they weren’t going to heed your council, why would they appoint you, Master?”

“Oh well that’s the real fun bit. To stop the Chancellor putting Skywalker on it.”

Oria’s frown deepened,

“But... didn’t you say that Skywalker was on the Council, yesterday?”

“Oh, he is now. The Chancellor got the Senate to vote him authority over the entire Jedi Order and then forced them to put Anakin on it ”

Oria exclaimed through a mouthful of sausage.

“-Grrmf- He can do that?”

“Apparently so. Do you come to realise now why the Council are worried about him?”
“They think he’s going to disband the Jedi order?”

“Oh yes. Not that I blame, that man was creeped me out back on the Invisible Hand. ”

“B-but…Why?”

“Oh because he’s being mind controlled…by a Sith Lord” said her Master, chuckling at the shocked look on her face.

“A Sith? Aren’t they supposed to have been extinct for the last four Centuries?”

“Neither are people supposed to travel through Time but I confess that’s of little relevance in this case. As to the Sith, I’m told they survived by limiting their number’s to just a Master and an Apprentice and going deep into hiding to bide their time to await their Revenge. Or so I’m told”

Oria snorted.

“You don’t seriously believe in this do you?”

Her master shrugged at her.

“Dooku put up quite a convincing act.”

“Oh come on!” said Oria, “How many fallen Jedi or half- trained force users have we fought who claimed to be the Sith Reborn, just to give themselves and a bit of a reputation?”

“Quite a few.”

“And what evidence is there that these “Sith” are just not more pretenders, in search on an ego-boost?” Brandon gave her a thin-lipped smile.

“Only the Words of Master Kenobi and Dooku himself, my young apprentice.”

Oria remained unconvinced and it must have shown because her master leaned over the table and keeping his voice low said,

“Sith or no. We have reason to be wary of the Republic’s leaders. Remember your vision. The temple was being sacked by Clonetroopers, you said.”

“Well that’s an encouraging thought.” She muttered back sarcastically. Brandon smiled at her again and clapped her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Padawan. The Force will guided us true.”

Then they left for their separate tasks, Oria to the Younglings and Brandon to the Council.

***

After long and careful consideration Master Brandon Hale had come to the conclusion that this council was an array of complete and utter idiots. After hearing one Commander Cody’s report that General Kenobi had decided to confront General Grievous and his personal army alone while his army advanced to support him. Rather than just taking his army with him in the first place.

And now after they had dispatched Skywalker with the news to Palpatine like a message bird. They were apparently openly advocating treason.

“ If he does not step down after the destruction of Grievous,” the hologram of Ki-Adi-Mundi was saying, “he should be removed from Office.”

Finally, Master Windu pushed him over the edge as he said,

“The Jedi will have to take control of the Senate to insure a peaceful transition.”

“What?!?” Spat Bran, “Have you listened to yourselves? This is nothing short of treason!”

“Master Hale,” Windu snapped back, “They are under control of the Sith. If we do not remove Palpatine, the Order will be destroyed.”

“Master Windu. Please. Prove. It. Have you any evidence aside hearsay from a dead man and gut instincts that a Sith Lord is control of the Senate?”

Windu remained Silent.

“Besides why exactly should Palpatine give up his powers after Grievous has gone? The War won’t end in that moment. The Separatist’s still have other leaders.”

“The heads of the companies that form the CIS,” said Master Shaak Ti from the other side of the status board, “they are not war leaders.”
“Wherein lies my point,” replied Bran, “Were you not telling me just yesterday that the CIS would shatter in short order with out Dooku?”

Shaak Ti nodded.

“Then we shall not have to wait long until the war is truly over and Palpatine has need for his power.”

Mace Windu was not appeased.

“To wait will only give the Sith, more time with which to work against us. We will move when we have confirmation of Grievous’ destruction.”

Brandon just gritted his teeth.

***

All to quickly, Commander Cody was back on the Holonet, the faint sounds of battle audible in the Background, telling of General Kenobi’s success: Grievous was dead.

Across the room, Master Windu rose to his feat.

“You are still resolute, then?” Asked Bran.

Windu ignored him and spoke,

“Masters, Kolar, Tinn, Fisto and myself will go ask the Chancellor to give up his powers. Master Ti, I’m leaving the temple’s defence in your hands. Have Gatemaster Jurokk lock it down and arm the Padawans.”

Brandon sighed as Mace Windu walked away.

“May the Force protect you in your darkness, Mater Windu.” He said.

And then Windu was gone.

***

Brandon went to the Temple library; he often did when he wasn’t being ignored by the council, trying to catch up on six hundred years worth of history.

Right now he was trying to absorb the history of the Sith. It wasn’t a subject he’d taken much interest in before. What with them being extinct and all.
He was staring a data entry. The first appearance of the Sith in the ‘modern’ era. Thirteen years earlier, there was an Iridonian Zabrak that slew a Jedi Master, one Qui-Qon Jinn on Naboo before being slain in turn by Jinn’s Padawan. The file also linked noted the Zabrak was assumed to be the cause of several disappearances and murders on Coruscant immediately before his demise on Naboo, which notable included a Neimoidian and several bodyguards, a minor crime lord and two further Jedi. Master Anoon Bondara and his apprentice Darsha Assant. Though these had not been proven to be his work.

But it wasn’t so much the Zabrak’s accomplishments that caught Bran’s eyes as the Date. It looked familiar. He rummaged through his pile of Datapads until he found it. Palpatine’s life History. The Zabrak’s appearance coincided with Palpatine’s elevation to High Chancellor. Bran frowned.

The next Jedi confrontation with the Sith was at the Battle of Geneosis, where Masters Kenobi and Yoda along with Anakin Skywalker had fought Count Dooku. Later confirmed to be the Sith Lord Darth Tyrannus. The result of the incident had the start of the Clone Wars and the granting of Palpatine’s emergency powers.

“Oh… kriff,” said Brandon.

Two incidents were hardly proof but Brandon couldn’t shake the suspicion. The one who gains the most, is most likely responsible was the rule most investigations adhered to in his experience. And no one else had gain from the Battle of Naboo. The Zabrak had died, the Trade Federation were arrested, only Palpatine had gain, raising in status.

Brandon remember Palpatine on the Invisible Hand, his look of annoyance at Dooku’s defeat, his orders to execute Dooku (so he couldn’t reveal what he knew?) and finally his attempts to convince Brandon to leave Kenobi, the man who was responsible for the death of his apprentice, to die.

A cold shiver ran down Brandon’s spine. Palpatine was the Sith Lord. Palpatine whom, Windu had just gone to try and arrest…

Brandon ran.

He reached the grand entrance hall of the Temple just in time to see Darth Vader ignite his blade through the Gatemaster’s Head.