"It's over! The fight is over! The mysterious and strange human has won!" the announcer declares enthusiastically, quickly gathering a heaping stack of smuggler's notes from betters around. Gardulla gives a roar of anger and petulance, thrashing her small and stubby arms about, her tail killing a servant with a harsh whack to the neck. Many spectators simply cheer and others throwing money to the ground and stomp away.

But amidst the cacophony of noises, Anakin simply let go of the body, and quickly scrambled away, terror coating his expression. Unable to look upon the girl's corpse, he instead looks at his hands, looking at them the way one would a bloody knife or a hot blaster. Few notice him, too busy celebrating or sulking, but Padmé and Niisen both take notice, but it is the former who leaps over the rails and into the pit. She looks at Anakin and approaches slowly, calmly, and with only the slightest frown.

She knows the expression he carries, understands it. The adrenaline and fear now gone, there was nothing to cushion Anakin's mind from his actions, and the end of the last fight had been disturbing enough to the spectators, let alone the boy himself. She had felt much the same as she had sat there in the killing field of Mandalore's palace. She grieved her family, but she had also been made to face the bloodlust and cruelty she herself had felt. And so Padmé, Darth Niisen a few paces behind her, knelt and hugged the small child, constantly trying not to think of him as the hulking figure she swore she had seen for a split second before he killed the miraluka.

The Sith Chevalier, on his part, understood that the fight was traumatic, but unlike the Mandalorian princess, Niisen stood tall, looming over the boy, before extending out a hand. "Well done, boy," he said warmly, "Now let's go. You're free."

The fear in Anakin's eyes begs to differ. "You're...you're going to make me a Sith, right?" comes his shaky response.

"Yes, yes, that's right."

"A-a-a-and what I did...that was Sith power?"

"...Yes it was."

"Then I can't go with you...I can't do something like that again."

"Anakin, what are you—"

"What I did was...it was evil and cruel and...and bad!" he cries, his young mind failing to grant him a proper word to convey his feelings. Beside him, Padmé says nothing, but gives Niisen a pointed look thats says, "Do something!"

Clearing his throat and pausing to formulate his thoughts, the Sith puts a hand on the boy's shoulder before speaking. "Anakin...Anakin look at me," he begins, and once the now freed slave does, the Dark Lord continues, "Any and all power can be used for good or for evil. The Sith use darkness for good, but it takes practice. One must gain mastery over their emotions, using them as tools. Fearing your power, your feelings...that is the path to ruin. And your power Anakin...it's immeasurable. You will be a great Sith...if you wish to be."

At that, the boy becomes confused. "You mean...you'll let me choose not to?"

"Of course! Anakin...you're free now! You're not a slave any longer, you are free to choose your own path. But you would do well to remember that without your power, without the victory and strength it gave you, you would not be free. Those words you spoke during the fight...that is the Sith Code, and every word of it is true. You're free Anakin, as free as any normal being. But if you choose, choose of your own volition, to become a Sith, then you will become more powerful than anyone and freer than anyone. Right now, Anakin, you're free to choose your fate; as a Sith, you will be free from fate. You would hold the reigns of your destiny, not merely a passenger."

By this point, the crowd has begun to grow quiet, impatiently waiting for the pit to clear for another match to begin. Smirking, Darth Niisen then adds, "No need to choose now, boy. It's a long flight to Coruscant," before turning to address Gardulla, Padmé helping the now calmed and introspective Anakin up. "I believe the agreement has been met. Three fights won, to the death. Now then, the boy comes with me, and you'll accept the lessened price."

For a moment, Gardulla's eyes flick to her guards, and Niisen's hand goes to his lightsaber, but then after a few tense seconds, the Hutt laughs, slapping her hand against her bulbous body in amusement. "Alright Sith, a deal is a deal. Jo'guul! Ring up their part, and have a droid and some guards go out with them to ensure installation; I don't want to see my own parts floating on the market!"

|-o-|

A few minutes later, three humans, one trandoshan, and two gamorreans stand outside the palace of Gardulla the Hutt. From the open gate comes a hovering dolly carrying the hyperdrive, the wookie pushing the device being berated constantly by a BLX labour droid, rusted and covered in hasty repairs of silver paneling that clashed with his base bronze. "Push it more steadily!" comes its gruff voice, "If you make it move too much it could very well become unusable!" The wookie growls angrily, stopping and gesturing to the gamorreans to take control of the dolly before throwing up his hands and walking back inside. Anakin chuckles as the droid quickly begins to gripe about the handling of the equipment by the gamorreans.

"Hey, Threepio," Anakin says with a smile.

The droid whirls around, "Slave-5191999!" it says with a bit of simulated mirth.

"Haha. It's Anakin now. Not a slave anymore."

"Joyous day, free sentient Anakin! Hey! Keep that dolly steady!"

At this, Padmé wanders over. "Anakin? You know this droid?"

The boy grins at this point. "This is BLX-3P0, or Threepio for short. He helps-helped-me out in the shop. And I kept him working whenever the guards used to beat him up… mostly because he gets pretty, uh…"

"Particular?" the girl provides with a smirk glad to see the boy's recent somber mood broken.

The droid defends itself quickly, "If you want well-working machinery, proper care must be done!"

Both of the humans chuckle at that, and the ensuing minutes spent walking out into the desert are spent snickering at the expense of the gamorreans, who do in fact keep the hyperdrive clean and the dolly fairly steady, but not enough to satisfy the nagging droid.

Niisen looks upon the affair with a feeling of contentment. The Sith'ari was found and free, and he was certain the boy would accept becoming a member of the Order. The ward of Mandalore was in one piece, Jar-jar had learned to be quiet—not to mention the heaps of notes the trandoshan had won—the hyperdrive would be prepared, and his apprentice would likely have bounced back from his punishment when they got back to the ship. As the lightly damaged vessel came into view, the Sith Lord could not help but surmise that his luck was one the uptick.

That was about when he decided to look behind him, and realized he had surmised too soon.

|-o-|

Darth Vornskr is not happy. His Chevaliers had not reported in at the agreed time, and while it was likely tardiness on Niisen's part, the Supreme Lord of the Sith Order could not help but feel that something was wrong.

Sighing, the scarred Korun drags a gloved hand down his face. Niisen was an old friend, and they had known each other since they were still known as Qui-gon Jinn and Mace Windu. Mace had been older, but the two had felt a bond as youths, always chatting in the temple. As a Chevalier and Dark Councilor, the two were often more in conflict than allied, but friends nonetheless. It had been Niisen who had been first at his bedside when he had to lie in healing after besting Darth Rinpoche. It had been Niisen who was the first to acknowledge him as Supreme Lord, ignoring the many in the Order who were angered by his killing of the ancient green creature, despite the verification of the entire Dark Council that Vornskr's offer of mercy was rejected. And it had been Niisen who gave him kind words at the passing of his apprentice.

It was for these reasons that, despite the Sith's often unorthodox and outright suicidal tactics, Vornskr had always granted the man leniency, usually by talking down other Councilors when they demanded suspension or even expulsion from the Order. Favoritism though it may be, the Korun Sith felt a duty to look out for the man he had seen as a little brother all those years ago.

Taking a deep breath, the Dark Side came to him, allowing him to see all the passion and power of every being in the galaxy. As usual, it was all Darkness, the worlds protected in its strong and empowering embrace. But as he looked for the force signature of his friend, there came a sudden bright spot, a cold light the pierced the dark in an arrogant declaration of its existence.

Vornskr's eyes snap open. "Jedi…" he whispers, a feel of dread in his gut.

|-o-|

"Run!" Niisen shouts, "Run for the ship!" Unfortunately, the group, confused by his urgency, is slow to respond. Growling in frustration, the Sith grabs the dolly with the Force and shoves it through the sand and up the waiting ramp. Obi-wan at this point was already in the cockpit, starting the engines. He too had felt the burst of light, and his master's screams were more than enough to let him know a quick getaway was preferable.

The two gamorreans sent by Gardulla gave squeals of protest, and Threepio was doing much the same, when suddenly, a whirling white lightsaber whirled through the air. The two porcine sentients were decapitated, and the droid was bisected at his torso, much to Anakin's horror.

Following the boomeranging weapon's path, Anakin settled his gaze on the hooded figure that caught the lengthy handle. He is tall, wearing dark brown on beige robes that made him at times blur with the sand, but his face was easily seen beneath his hood; red, bright red, smooth and without blemish. "Anakin, let's go!" Padmé then shouts, breaking the boy out of his observation. Nodding, Anakin then does quite the opposite and runs over to Threepio's body, just as Darth Niisen draws his blade and begins rushing the stranger.

"There's no time! Anakin, we can't drag that thing and make it to the ship in one piece!" the girl says, guessing the former slave's intentions. But Anakin doesn't move, and says, "I can fix him! Rebuild him! I just need his primarry harddrive." The Mandalorian looks with concern at the two force users circling each other, but lets the boy keep fiddling with the droid's head. As orange saber meets white, Anakin rips out a large device. "Okay, I hav—"

Before he can finish, Padmé grabs him, picking the boy up in her arms as she runs for the ship, ascending the ramp that has only just begun to lift off the desert sands.

Darth Niisen remains privy to this, his senses outstretched as he faces a foe he had been taught was long extinct. As such, he had no idea what to expect. The stranger was an excellent duelist, that much could be said, and each thrust Niisen gave was parried perfectly, and it was only the Sith's defensive style the saved him from the powerful retaliatory strikes of his opponent. It quickly dawns on Niisen that this would be a battle of attrition, the first to weaken becoming the loser.

But he did not have that kind of time. The ship was hovering, waiting for him, but still rising, and would soon be too high for him to jump to. So Niisen waits, waits for the exact moment that the ship starts to leave range, and that is when he dips his lighsaber into the sand, flicking it up to send searing dirt at his foe's face. As the sentient reals, Niisen gathers the Force and jumps. As he ascends, the Sith extends his arm, and he grabs the ramp of the Clone I with his fingertips. Looking down, he can feel the cool gaze of the attacker lock with his own, despite the distance.

Hauling himself up, Niisen presses the button for the ramp to lift as he walks passed it. Obi-wan stands not much further, a confused and concerned look on his face, his helmet under his arm. Niisen only frowns and gives a short, grim response. "Jedi."

|-o-|

The next few minutes are a strange mix of quiet and hurried, as Obi-wan observes. While the ship was up in the air, the lack of hyperdrive meant that they would only be safe so long as the "Jedi"—for Obi-wan was unsure if such a myth was really what his master had faced—did not become spaceborne himself. It was imperative, then, that the hyperdrive be installed quickly. While Obi-wan isn't sure how that is going to be achieved, he shelves his worry and decides to focus purely on his own job, namely piloting the Clone I to be safely hidden by the shadow of a nearby moon, and thus gaining more time for the repairs.

Sitting in his seat for a few more minutes, he finally rises and makes his way to the back of the ship, hoping to inquire on the hyperdrive's progress. As he enters the engine room, he finds his master standing by the entrance as a young boy sits cross-legged in front of the hyperdrive port. All around him, parts float, configuring themselves in the proper place in mid-air. As Obi-wan watches, flabbergasted, the last components of the drive are inserted.

The boy, whom Obi-wan recognizes as being brought onboard by Padmé amidst the fight, drops his hands, panting and sweating. "I…I did it!" he proclaims, exhaustion on his features as his hands, formerly outstretched, drop to his sides.

"Indeed you did," Niisen says proudly, and his tone catches Obi-wan offguard. Rare was it that he ever received such praise, and now it was being given to some unknown child. A hot and acidic spurt of jealousy grew in the apprentice's gut, and he embraced it, using it to empower his boldness and allow him to step into the room fully.

"What I want to know is how," he says, suspiciously looking upon the boy.

Darth Niisen grins, beckoning Anakin as he puts an arm on Obi-wan's shoulder. "Obi-wan, this is Anakin, a gifted young force user we met on Tatooine. We're taking him to be trained. Anakin? This is my apprentice, Obi-wan Kenobi."

Despite his newfound envy for how his master treated the boy, Obi-wan felt his heart soften considerably as he realized that the scared young boy likely barely understood his immense power. At the least, that notion certainly pleased his jealousy, as it meant that Ob-wan was still superior. Holding out his hand, he says, "A pleasure to meet you."

As their hands connect, a sudden current runs through them, a strange sensation of familiarity that makes both go numb for several moments. When it passes, Obi-wan retracts his hand slowly, unsure at what had just happened.

His ponderings are cut short when his master pats him on the shoulder with excessive force. "Right then! The hyperdrive is repaired. I believe it's time we made a fast exit to Coruscant. Obi-wan man the helm, I need to contact the Council."

It was with one quick look the young man confirmed that Anakin too had felt the strange sensation. The boy then shrugs. "You should probably get to flying us out of here. I'm gonna…I'm gonna go lie down, I think," he says, and slowly walks off towards the cargo bay.

Obi-wan can only nod and frown before he makes his way back to the cockpit. As he inputs the proper codes and eases the vessel into hyperspace, a thought occurs to him. "I never got his last name…"

On nearly the other side of the ship, Darrh Niisen kneels before a holo-projector. After a moment, a Korun appears, and Darth Vornskr gives an unhappy grunt of affirmation rather than a traditional command to rise. Regardless, Niisen stands, but does not crack the smile Vornskr had been awaiting to criticize. "I take it that the…anomaly I felt while searching for you was not a false alarm?"

Niisen shakes his head. "I am aboard the Clone I, my lord. It is the private vessel of the now deceased Mandalore th Preserver."

"Jango is dead?" Vornskr asks, clearly shocked.

"Yes, my lord. He and his whole family; Satine Kryze-Fett, Myli Fett, Boba Fett, and Sora Fett were all executed by the Alderaanians, who have invaded the planet and are fighting and killing the populace block by block as they slowly conquer. Only one member of Clan Fett remains: Padmé Fett, Jango's ward and adopted daughter. By her report, a man named Tor Vizsla now stands as Mandalore, but given her royal ties and the status of the planet, we took her with us to have her testify before the Delegation."

The hologram nods slowly. "A decent plan. If the whole of the Commonwealth intervenes, Alderaan will have to bend knee."

"Our thinking as well, Supreme Lord. However, we were attacked en route, and our hyperdrive damaged. We were then forced to land on the Hutt-controlled world of Tatooine. After a bit of…haggling that I will go over in more detail in my reports, we gained a new hyperdrive, and freed a young slave boy."

"I assume this was not simply out of charity?"

"No, my lord. He is strong with the Force…amazingly strong. He is powerful enough to be, in my belief, the—"

"Niisen, I know what word is about to leave your mouth. Let's not debate that legend now. Continue with your report."

"Yes, Darth Vornskr. As we were entering our ship, I looked behind us and saw…a figure. It was he who let loose the burst of light into the Force, as a warning, or perhaps it's better said that it was…"

"Boasting."

"Indeed. And yet, for a creature that boasts…My lord, as we dueled, I kept my senses open. And the sentient I fought…I was almost certain I was fighting a droid, if not, of course, for the living Force signature. But the creature felt nothing. No fear of death, no rush of victory, no anger at pain, nothing! While all other sentients are vessels carrying pools of darkness, of emotion and passions, the thing I fought was but a husk, filled with light as if it were a puppet and the puppeteer."

There was a long pause on the other end. "You think then that this creature…this emotionless force user was…a Jedi?"

"Yes, my lord."

"We will…discuss this further when you arrive on Coruscant. Stay safe, Darth Niisen."

"Of course, Mace." And with that, the line went dead.

|-o-|

Padmé paces nervously in the cargo hull, her armored boots clacking as she does so. After the mess on Tatooine, she had berated herself for not armoring up, and knowing she was to represent her people before the Senate, Padmé went and found her armor, which was kept alongside that of her adoptive parents and elder brother Boba; Myli and Sora had been too young to have armor of their own. It's shape was the same as the other three sets, in a classic Mandolarian style of the age. Her undersuit was white, the armor painted red and accented with gold. As she had held the T-shaped visor, Padmé could feel the spirits of her adopted ancestors gazing back at her.

Mandalorians had no issue with adoption. Anyone could be a Mandalorian, and anyone could be taken in by any clan. In doing so, you became a part of its history. Its blood was your blood, its legacy was yours. But Padmé could not bring herself to don the helm, and had set it down for the moment.

Behind her, Anakin and Jar-jar were in the midst of a game of pazaak. The trandoshan had thought the slave boy easy pickings, even if they were playing Senate rules, only to find himself at his third straight loss—meaning of course, he had been beaten in nine consecutive rounds. "This…but…how?!" the reptilian demands, confused by the boy's skill. "You hustled me! You said you never played!"

Anakin simply laughs. "I haven't! It's a fun game though. I mean, c'mon, don't you have a feeling when you should hit or stand?"

"Yes, but your 'feeling' is always right! Unfair! Sith magic unfair!"

Anakin only laughs more, before suggesting they try a different card game. However, before Jar-jar can suggest something, for he indeed had come to like the boy even with his constant losses, Padmé heard a ping. More specifically, it was that of her personal communicator. Panicking, she begins searching her person for the device, cursing all of the pockets as she does so.

"Aha!" she declares, and turns on the comm. Even in his full armor, she knew who it was. "Tor!"

"Paddy! Thank the stars you're alive!" the small hologram says.

"Hold on! Give me just a second. She rushes through the ship, curiosity bringing Jar-jar and Anakin on her heels, before she arrives at holoprojector, where Niisen and Obi-wan stand speaking. Ignoring the looks of the Sith, she plugs her communicator in, and Tor's hologram grows to life-size proportions. "There!" she says, and then looks around her at her new audience. She then drops to one knee, "Glory to you, Mandalore."

Tor Vizsla raised a brow and rolls his eyes before saying, "Rise, warrior of Mandalore. Paddy, didn't we talk about not doing exactly that?"

Padmé, seeming a bit sheepish, shakes her head. "It's more proper this way."

He sighs. "Fine, who are your friends, and where the kriff are you?"

"I am Darth Niisen, Sith Chevalier, and this is my apprentice, Obi-wan Kenobi," Niisen says, bowing.

"Chevalier, huh? Never got why you Sith use fancy Inner Core words."

At that, Niisen smirks. "Mostly to appease them, honorable Mandalore. Beside me is Anakin, our…mechanic as it were, and next to him is Jar-jar Bissk, a Mandalorian trandoshan who has joined us."

"Hm…a motley crew. And the part where I learn what happened is…?"

"Now," Padmé says, "After we last spoke, the Sith found me. We're en route to Coruscant. We've had a bit of trouble, but we're nearly there. I'm going to go before the Delegation and ask them to intervene. The Alderaanians are all about appearances; this will cripple them quick, force them to retreat."

"And if this fails?"

"Then the fight goes on unaffected. But this is our best shot, so we might as well try."

"Alright…I'm sending you our delegate's comm number on Coruscant. He's young, but he's kin. I'd contact him myself, but your ship is the only one we've been able to contact, and that was theough your diredt comm, Paddy. I think the Aldies are blocking transmissions."

"I'll brief him before we arrive. How…how are things planetside?"

"We're fighting, but many have gone underground, building up strength before we retaliate en mass. It's been hard…but not the hardest war Mandalore's ever seen. But…we won't be able to keep this up long. Gather your politicians or send me an army. That's the only way out of this."

"That's…I'll do my best."

"Good luck, Paddy."

"And to you. Glory to Mandalore."

"Glory to Mandalore."

|-o-|

The flight to Coruscant is quickly finished, and the group descends the ramp of their ship directly before the Delegation Chambers. As they do, Anakin goes wide-eyed ashis gaze goes about the Coruscanti skyline. "Wow…and I thought Mos Eisley was big…"

Waiting for them are two men dressed in the standard purple garb of delegates. One is bulkier, with a shaved head and a youthful face. The other is far older, with a frailness to him, but alongside that is a certain elder kindness.

Padmé approaches them, helm under her arm, with cool confidence. "Delegate Pre Vizsla?" she asks, recognizing the bulkier man from her earlier holocall. The man smiles, and Anakin immediately decides he doesn't like him.

"Lady Fett, once again my deepest condolences. Trust me when I say we will gain justice for Mandalore. Now then, this is my good friend, and our ally here in the Delegation, Delegate Sheev Palpatine, Speaker for Naboo and the Chommel Sector."

Padmé stiffens up at the man's surname, and she is immediately grateful that she is in armor and not a dress. The House of Palpatine was a large one, and she doubted the man before her had any direct involvement in her family's murder, but part of her could not help but wonder. "I am surprised that Naboo is in such immediate support of us. As a nominally conservative system, I would have expected you to side with Alderaan."

Palpatine smiles warmly before responding. "Naboo and all its subjects in Chommel are a peaceful nation. The actions of the Alderaanians, be that blockade that threatens invasion or a murderous invasion, are ones that we will never truly support, not when diplomacy remains an option." As he spoke, Padmé could not help but believe him. Still, part of her raged to show defiance before the man who bore the name of her first kinslayers.

"So you would've 'diplomatically' shunned Mandalore into being a system without representation then?"

At this the older man gives a haughty laugh. "Ah quite a sharp tongue you have there. You truly are from Naboo, aren't you?"

Padmé can only grind her jaw a bit, and Pre steps in before anything else can transpire. "Well, I think it's best I bring you up to speed, milady. Arch Premier Valorum notified all Delegates that an emergency meeting might be needed, and all major Sector Sovereigns were found to approve in some capacity. After you contacted me, I contacted the Premier. The session has been called, but we have a few hours before everyone arrives. I suggest we take that time to strategize with our allies on what to do, how to proceed, and see what we can do about any naysayers. Odds are good that some ask for Alderaanian demands to be met, or that Mandalore agree to lessened system rights. I believe we can counter with a humanitarian plea, and if that fails, we could bluff and threaten to pull our system and all allied systems out of the Commonwealth completely. If they believe us, that would mean they risk a huge loss in trade and revenue by not aiding us. Galactic economy in ruins. And— Well we can talk more in my suite."

As the man finishes his delivery, Padmé finds herself impressed, realizing that the man's position was certainly earned in full capacity. Her feelings were shown on her face, and that only made Anakin dislike Pre further. Darth Niisen speaks, breaking the boy's envious thoughts."If that is the case, then I believe it best that we Sith journey to the Stronghold and report in. We will return here when our testimony is required."

The armored man then kneels to be closer to Anakin's height. "Now, Anakin…have you decided?"

There was a pregnant pause as the boy licks his lips. Niisen and Padmé seem to appear supportive, Obi-wan impatient, Pre intrigued, and Palpatine outright curious to hear his answer, already guessing the question. With one last gaze to Padmé, Anakin nods. "I'll go with you. I'll become the greatest Sith who ever lived. I'll be free, truly free."