Chapter 31

The politician accepted with a nod the deferential bows of the Senators who had come to see him, and allowed a pleasant smile to linger on his lips as they swept out of his expansive office with the swish of silken robes.

The smile vanished as the doors swiftly shut behind them and a profound silence filled the room at last. Ensuring the Senators liked him was part of the plan, it was true, but that didn't mean he had to like them, the prating fools.

Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, rose from his desk and strolled over to the expansive curved window that afforded him an unrivaled view of the Senate District. The sun was setting in a blood-red sky as the revolving mirrors in orbit twinkled on to bathe the sides of the buildings in reflected light. Cloud cars traveling in tightly formed lines between the skyscrapers began to switch on their running lights, appearing from this vaunted position to be nothing more than insects. Insignificant little creatures buzzing about on their own meaningless little errands, their ambitions as miniscule as themselves. Palpatine felt his lips curl in disgust.

The doors behind him swished open again and the politician heard the familiar flapping footsteps of his assistant approach, and the clatter of the datapads on his desk being gathered for filing away. Palpatine ignored this. Just another insect scurrying about. A small creature doing small things. Right now he only had one small creature on his mind, and it wasn't his assistant.

Palpatine stared unseeing out the window. I could do it, he thought. I could kill him now. Perhaps I should.

At this stage it would be simple. Darth Tyranus was straining at the leash to kill a Jedi, any Jedi. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was no Sith-slayer, despite the title his exultant peers in the Jedi Temple had given him after the Battle of Naboo. One moment of dumb blind luck had given him a reputation greater than what he deserved. Tyranus would have no trouble putting him out of his misery. A quiet assassination would be just the thing. Ambush him during one of his assignments. Get in, kill him, get out. Leave no traces, nothing for the Council to investigate. The identities of Sith must stay hidden a little longer. The Padawan would have to die, too. There should be no witnesses. What was the boy's name again? Ah well, it didn't matter. Killing him would be mere child's play for Tyranus.

The assistant was speaking to him now, cutting into his thoughts, asking if there was anything else he needed. Palpatine assured the Rodian that he required nothing else for the day, and would now retire. It babbled some polite nothing and mercifully left the room. The politician turned his back on the darkening skies outside and pressed his hand against a touchpad on the wall. The concealed door that led to his personal quarters slid open and he stepped through into the darkness beyond.

Palpatine's valet was waiting for him in the dressing room, the old man rising to greet the Chancellor.

"Good evening, Your Excellency," the valet said, bowing as deeply as his age-stiffened joints would permit.

"Good evening, Tepend."

"I hope you are well, sir?"

"Perfectly well, thank you."

"May I take your cloak, sir?" As always, Tepend was solicitous but not fawning, a trait the Chancellor valued highly.

"No, thank you, Tepend. I will undress myself tonight," Palpatine replied.

Tepend was too experienced a servant to betray his surprise at this change in the routine. He merely dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Very well, sir."

"You may wait outside," Palpatine said. "I will summon you when all is ready."

"As you wish, Your Excellency." Tepend opened a drawer in one of the many floor-to-ceiling wardrobes lining the perimeter of the room, withdrew a silken sleeping kimono and draped it neatly on the elaborate trifold dressing screen in the corner of the room before retreating to the antechamber. There he would await his opportunity to re-enter the room and inspect the garments the Chancellor wore today and either store them away carefully or see it it that any necessary repairs or cleaning were completed by the staff in a timely fashion.

Alone again, Palpatine seated himself on a settee and with deliberate movements removed first one and then the other of his elaborately tooled Emori leather boots. Next the stockings came off and were replaced by soft-soled dark slippers.

The politician rose and untied the narrow ribbon that fastened his elegantly draped ferraiolo cloak. He did not restrain the sigh of relief that slipped from his lips as the rich red velvet material dropped off his shoulders and crumpled onto the carpet. His Master had taught him to make full use of the advantages deception could give him, and he had been an apt pupil - more apt, in point of fact, than any other student of the Sith art of duplicity - but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it, this business of wearing another man's clothes and speaking through another man's voice and smiling through another man's face. As much as Chancellor Palpatine was hated by certain factions within the Republic, he could not be hated more by the shadow-man that coiled behind his mask.

In the silence of his dressing room, Palpatine unbuttoned his surcoat, his fingertips brushing the elaborately brocaded garment as he worked his way down. At last, the surcoat fell open and he peeled it off and let it, too, fall. Next he removed the cuff links and jeweled broach that adorned his silken kimono, and then removed the kimono itself. Layer by layer, the trappings of the politician began to fall away.

The man closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure, feeling more and more of himself return with each garment's removal. So tiresome, it was, to play his chosen part. Sometimes these costly clothes felt more like fetters than adornments. One day he would not need them. One day the galaxy would see his true guise. It wouldn't be long now. He had been so patient, and he would be patient for a while yet.

The last of the garments fell away and the man shuddered sinuously, as a snake will when it sheds its skin. At last, the politician was gone, and in his place the shadow inside stood revealed.

Darth Sidious slowly drew in breath, feeling the dark ectasy roiling in the Force as it responded to the barest hints of his presence snaking out into its currents. But he knew better than to let himself go fully, as much as he might wish to. Instead, by long discipline, he took the necessary steps to ensure that the Force remained clouded enough to hide his presence from any other beings that might be touching the Force at that moment.

No time to linger here. There was work to be done tonight. Looking with disdain at the patterned ecru sleeping kimono Palpatine's valet had laid out, Darth Sidious instead opened another drawer, this one little-used, and removed a more appropriate garment.

He held the folded bundle in his arms for a moment and rubbed his palm reverently over the familiar surface, and then let the rough material of this other robe slide through his fingers until he held it by the top, its thick ebony folds dropping heavily down to strike the floor with a muffled thud.

The Sith Lord slid his left arm into a sleeve robe, and then his right, feeling the welcome weight of the robe settle on his shoulders. He pulled the edges tight around his throat and began fastening the tiny hooks on the front of the robe, starting at the top and working his way down. When he was finished, he was draped in black folds from shoulder to floor,seeming in the light of a dozen wall lamps to be a dark haze in the center of the room, a black hole surrounded by glittering stars. As the crowning touch, he reached back and lifted up the voluminous black hood, draping it low over his face so that only the lower portion of his face could be seen.

Sidious moved to the controls on the wall, his slippered feet making no sound on the carpet, and pressed the button to admit Palpatine's valet.

The door hissed upward and the old man stepped into the dressing room once again. After catching a glimpse of the dark figure standing across from him, the valet started with surprise.

But a moment later he seemed to recognize the Chancellor's features in the shadow of that dark hood and he quickly covered his unfortunate reaction by bowing once again and inquiring in a polite tone whether the Chancellor had found everything he needed.

Darth Sidious merely stared at the old man, having nothing to say to him and no inclination to waste a single breath on the insignificant creature.

The valet grew nervous under this intense gaze; although he could not see the Chancellor's eyes in the darkness of that hood, he could sense an unspoken malice directed at him, and despite the fact that he had served many beings of great power and even greater vagrancies of mood, he felt himself inexplicably break into a sweat.

"Is there anything further I can get you this evening, Your Excellency?" he managed to get out.

"You will refer to me as 'My Lord,'" the shadowed man spat out in a carefully controlled rage.

"My- My Lord," the valet amended quickly. "What else can I do for you, My Lord?"

Sidious was gratified at the way the old man's voice trembled ever so slightly, and he deigned to respond.

"I will be working now. Alone. See to it I am not disturbed."

The warm tenor of his voice, which only minutes ago had been touched by the melodic cadence of the Naboo, had subtly changed: now it sounded deeper, and more nasal. The valet heard the difference without consciously acknowledging it, and felt the icy hand of fear tighten about his throat.

"As you wish, Your Ex-, I mean, My Lord..."

"Get out of my sight," Darth Sidious commanded in that strange new timbre, and the valet turned and fled blindly from the room, treading on the Chancellor's velvety red cloak as he went.

Sidious did not waste another thought on his valet, but turned now to the matter at hand. Moving silently on slippered feet, the Sith Lord entered another room in his suite: his private archive. The square room was lined on all sides with equipment: secure databases, holoprojectors, vidscreens, HoloNet links, analytical software, subspace transceivers, holomaps. Sidious pressed his palm against another touchpad and activated the particular database he was interested in. A moment later, the equipment around him flared to life, and the dim room was filled with the flickering blue light of dozens of holograms and vids, and the conflicting sounds of numerous recordings filled the air.

Most beings would find the resulting chaos disorienting, but Sidious began to slowly pace around the room, studying each recording in turn as he passed it by.

The first holorecording that caught his eye was one of his predecessor, then-Senator Valorum, making his report to the Senate on the Republic's victory in the Stark Hyperspace War. Behind him stood Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing as representatives of the Jedi team who had made the victory possible. Next to it was a screen displaying Kenobi's written report to the Senate's Military Oversight committee regarding the portion of the mission he had been involved in. Sidious skimmed through it briefly, though he had already read it so many times that a review was hardly necessary. Frowning, he moved on.

Next came a flickering hologram of Jurnel Arrant – from a personal interview conducted by Senator By Bluss - describing in scathing tones a trade agreement mediated by Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi during one of his early assignments – an agreement that had eventually led the man's business to financial ruin. The man was eloquently brutal in his denunciation of Kenobi and his favoritism toward the Bomodon delegation. Meanwhile, on the next console, Satine Kryze, fresh from the ceremony officially confirming her title of Duchess of Mandalore, was warmly singing Kenobi's praises to the HoloNet reporters in attendance. A nearby screen displayed the text of a scholarly paper Kenobi had submitted to the Society of Political History regarding the ever-changing dynamics between the Republic government and the Jedi Order, next to a grainy camdroid vid of the Knight entering a café in Cocotown.

Sidious surveyed the accumulated information with a satisfied air. This room contained every scrap of intelligence on Obi-Wan Kenobi that money could buy or influence could wrangle.

There were the HoloNet recordings, of course, mostly consisting of news reports from throughout the last 17 years that related to missions Kenobi had participated in, both as an apprentice and a Knight. Every statement he had ever made to the media, every official function he had attended, even the commentaries where local political analysts tore apart his diplomatic decisions and military leaders pontificated about his combat strategies.

Many of the recent vids had been taken surreptitiously via camdroid, tiny machines that had been deployed to follow Kenobi everywhere he went on Coruscant the moment he left the security of the Jedi Temple, meticulously cataloging every building he entered, every purchase he made, who his professional contacts were, who his friends were - and what he said to them, whenever it was possible to pick up audio.

Sidious hadn't neglected to gather first-person accounts of Kenobi. There were scores of interviews, some conducted by himself in his office, others conducted by various aides and Senators in his camp, each one centered on someone who had known Kenobi personally, whether fellow Jedi, politician or civilian. Some were eager to flatter the man; others, quick to lambast him for making decisions that weren't in their favor. Little did any of them suspect that a Dark Lord of the Sith would make use of their insights.
In some ways, the transcripts of speeches and essays Kenobi had prepared for various academic organizations on Coruscant were more useful. He was obviously less guarded when speaking before an audience filled with those of like minds, and he spoke and wrote with a clear and incisive voice that gave a great deal of insight into what he thought, and why. He was very nearly a match for Sidious' new acolyte when it came to diplomatic theory, which was saying something indeed, and he had a fairly good grasp on military tactics as well. Kenobi had a brilliant mind, it must be admitted, if he did put it to rather mundane uses.

Easiest to obtain were the holorecordings of each visit Kenobi had made to Palpatine, the hidden cams picking up both audio and visual in perfect quality, revealing every microexpression, every hesitation, every nuance of tone from the subject. In and of themselves, these holorecordings weren't as valuable as they might seem, since Kenobi would be a fool not to know that the Chancellor of the Supreme Republic would have cams in his office and that they would likely be scrutinized by his team for any useful political information Kenobi might inadvertently provide. So cautious, this one. So guarded with his words. Not at all like the other Jedi now under the watchful eye of the Sith Lord.

Darth Sidious had a similar avalanche on information on Anakin Skywalker, to which he had devoted much study, but today his thoughts were on Kenobi, whose friendship with Skywalker was growing day by day. Sidious had spent years collecting the images, sounds and text that now occupied every electronic device in this room. He had studied every file countless times, noting every nuance and analyzing every detail.

But more valuable to Sidious were the impressions in the Force he had received during the visits. Kenobi was surprisingly strong-minded for a Jedi without the advantages of a powerful natural connection to the Force, such as Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker had, but even so he was no match for a Dark Lord of the Sith. Sidious had penetrated his mind, and learned much.

Enough to pinpoint his weakness. For Kenobi, like all mortal beings - only excepting Sidious himself - had them. The only question that remained now was how best to exploit them.

The first option Sidious had considered, and the easiest to accomplish, was assassination. Simply kill Kenobi, before he could fulfill the vision of the future Sidious had seen in which the galactic war he was planning raised up not one but two heroes to whom the galaxy would look to for salvation: Kenobi and Skywalker. Skywalker and Kenobi. The unbeatable Jedi duo. Or so the people would say as they trembled in fear for the survival of the Republic, grasping on to any scrap of hope for its salvation, whether imagined or real.

This new vision would not have troubled Sidious much, since it made no difference to him whether the Republic won or lost the approaching conflict. He would be satisfied to see the galaxy ruled in the name of Palpatine or Sidious. But he was troubled, by the effect Kenobi's presence could have on Skywalker during a time Sidious had intended Skywalker to be alone, friendless and masterless, and vulnerable to the seductions of the Dark Side. Kenobi himself posed little threat to the Grand Plan, but he was just charismatic enough to awaken in Skywalker the same fierce loyalty the boy gave to all he deemed worthy of his friendship. And therein lay the true danger. Kenobi could anchor Skywalker, could keep his eyes fixed on the destiny the dogma-blinded Jedi had inflicted on the so-called Chosen One: to defeat the Sith once and for all. Malleable as Skywalker was, he might allow Kenobi to guide him further into the light. Sidious could not permit this to happen.

Assassination. It was tempting. He could kill Kenobi easily. Darth Tyranus would not find the task difficult – or disagreeable in the least.

However, the easiest way was not always the best way. Killing Kenobi could have unforeseen consequences. The Dark Side of the Force did not show Sidious all the possibilities, only the most likely ones.

He could not afford to make a mistake now. Skywalker was unique, not only among living Force users, but in all the history of the galaxy, as far back into the depths of time as Sith records went. One such as him would not come again. There was no room for error. Killing Kenobi might only provide opportunity for some other Jedi Master to take Skywalker under his wing, one possibly even worse. Sidious imagined Yoda taking on Skywalker's training himself, and a shudder of distaste crawled down his spine. Best to avoid that, if it could be done.

Then again… there was a second option.

Here he paused, and gave particular attention to the only holovid in the room that showed Obi-Wan Kenobi dressed in garb other than the traditional Jedi tunic and robe. Instead he wore a simple woven shirt under a dark blue overcoat; collar turned up, but buttons left undone, so that each step he took revealed the flash of a blaster strapped to his leg. Here he was young, scarcely into adolescence, but his face was grave beyond his years as he silently walked past somber rows of children and teenagers.
He carried a dead girl cradled in his arms.

This holovid was a favorite of the propaganda machine on Melida-Daan. They loved to use it to illustrate the evils of violence and try to convince the populace that no matter how deeply they might disagree with the policies of its government, bloodshed was not the answer. Seventeen years ago, the planet had been nearly torn apart by civil war, but in the intervening years, its leaders had managed to establish a new rule of law and keep the peace for the most part, although violence still broke out from time to time on a smaller scale. Whenever it did, government propagandists dusted off this old holovid and splashed it across the local HoloNet channels in an effort to bring the populace back under control. Remember Our Beloved Martyr, the voiceovers pleaded. Every bomb you set off could kill the next generation's Cerasi.

It also served as a less-than-subtle reminder that the current government had been founded in part by a Jedi, a claim few systems could make, and a claim Melida-Daan made proudly. Never mind that Kenobi had renounced his Jedi affiliation before taking control of the planet, along with the now-martyred girl and a charismatic boy who organized a group of children and teenagers called simply "The Young."

Sidious loved the holovid for another reason entirely.

He stilled his pacing and watched the holovid play out to the end. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, struggling valiantly to maintain his Jedi calm, carried the body of his friend through the Hall of Evidence, past rows of mourning members of The Young. But as he mounted the steps up to the stone platform where the body was to be laid, he lost the battle with his emotions, and grief twisted his face as he gently lowered the body to its resting place.

Sidious felt his lips curl up into a smile like looked more like a grimace. Kenobi looked almost human here, compared to his impenetrable buttoned-up manner during his visits to Palpatine. He scarcely seemed the same person. But thanks to his Force-probing, Sidious knew that the boy-Kenobi, seething with a whirlpool of love and pain and passion and anger, still existed inside the man - buried deep, fathoms deep, so deep that Kenobi himself was unaware of it - but still there.

It was this holovid, and the story behind it, that had led Sidious to reconsider plan to assassinate Kenobi.

Sidious picked up the holodisk emitting the image of the boy Kenobi kneeling at the foot of his martyred friend's deathbed. Idly he let his hand pass in and out of the projection, causing the image to flicker and blur with static.

This image was the key to uncovering Kenobi's weakness. And it had started on Melida-Daan.

Ironically, despite the evidence to the contrary, Kenobi believed himself to be wholly loyal to the Jedi Order. But that wasn't quite right. In truth, Kenobi was wholly loyal to whatever cause he believed in the most. For most of his life, that cause had been the Jedi Order. For a brief time, it had been Melida-Daan. Or, perhaps more accurately, it had been Cerasi. Because Palpatine's casually curious question about the mission one day had awoken in Kenobi a chaotic storm of emotions, primary among them shame, but the mere mention of Cerasi's name a few minutes later had instantly calmed that tempest into a smooth and steady stream of a single emotion: tenderness. Kenobi may not have realized it himself, but his shocking decision to disobey Master Jinn's command and assist with The Young's guerrilla war had much to do with his feelings for Cerasi. The boy had been too young, perhaps, to understand what he was feeling for her and why, yet he had been just old enough to act on those feelings. He had abandoned the Jedi path, the only life he had ever known, instead choosing to walk by the side of this girl and make her path his own. There had been no trace of selfishness in his choice. He had done it out of a desire to make her happy.

Unfortunately for him, Cerasi ended up dead. Kenobi had abased himself before his Master and the Jedi Council, and in the end they had taken him back. By all appearances, Kenobi had once again given his complete allegiance to the Jedi Order. Kenobi himself believed this. The Council certainly did. But Sidious knew better. History had already repeated itself.

The audience Palpatine had held with Jinn and Kenobi and their apprentices after the arrest of the slaver Krayn had been all too revealing. Kenobi, normally so focused on his work and his duty, had been embarrassingly distracted by the presence of the Padawan the Jedi had sent to spy on Krayn. Siri Tachi.

There was desire there. Even a Force-blind Apilid worm could have seen that. Tachi was attractive and full of a vivacious energy that would appeal to plenty of red-blooded young men. And Sidious had learned there was a long and storied history between the two that had gradually evolved into a deep and abiding friendship. But that wasn't all. Kenobi's Force-aura had fairly crackled with electricity at every point that it touched Tachi's. So different they were in the Force, but the differences only amplified the tension binding them together. This was more than mere infatuation. This could be the beginning of a full-blown obsession.

Seeing through the eyes of the Force, penetrating deep into the Jedi Knight's mind, Sidious had sensed within Kenobi a powerful urge to devote himself to this woman to the exclusion of all else that he loved, as he had devoted himself to Cerasi. This time Kenobi was aware of that urge, and he was fighting it. For now, he was succeeding. It was possible that one day he would fail.

Darth Sidious made it his business to turn possibilities into reality.

If Kenobi could once again be lured away from the Jedi Order…

Yes, Sidious had come up with a new plan, a better one than merely killing Kenobi. If Kenobi was so determined to be friends with Skywalker, then Sidious would let him. Let them fight together, laugh together, grieve together, talk together, eat together, live together, learn together. Yes, in the end the two of them would stand together… and fall together.

For Sidious would ensure that Kenobi would fall. One does not waste good material. And Kenobi had the potential to serve as a Dark Acolyte, at least for a short time. Long enough to drag Skywalker down with him. For Skywalker, looking at Kenobi with eyes of admiration for his wisdom and gratitude for his friendship, would follow him wherever he led. Even if he led Skywalker right out of the Order. That path was already being laid, as the Jedi Council in their ignorance drove Qui-Gon Jinn further and further from their good graces, and Skywalker with him. Yes, Kenobi would finish what Jinn had inadvertently started. All it would require would be reminding Kenobi of all the reasons he already had to hate the leadership of the Order. Was it not their inaction that had led to Cerasi's death? Was it not their harsh rules against attachments that denied Kenobi the pleasure of being with the woman he now loved?

Sidious would see to it that for the love of Tachi, Kenobi would leave the Order. Then, once he had served his purpose in leading Skywalker away from the light, he would die after all. Perhaps his death would even become the final blow to Skywalker's self-control.

But first things first. Sidious had yet to strike the first blow against Skywalker. The Sith Lord permitted himself an amused smile when he thought of what was to come. Ironic, that for all their differences of personality, Skywalker and Kenobi shared the same weakness: they both gave too much of their love to a woman: Kenobi to Tachi, and Skywalker to his mother. Manipulating them would be as simple as introducing threats to the one they loved. Shmi Skywalker, after all, lived on a planet filled with dangers: sandstorms, marauding slavers, Tusken massacres. So many ways she could die. As for Tachi, well, once the war began she would be in no end of danger, along with all the other Jedi.

Darth Sidious touched a control, and abruptly the recordings filling the room fell silent. Darkness reigned. Long familiarity permitted Sidious to move through the black shadows with confidence until he reached the subspace transceiver and activated a signal.

He didn't have to wait long for the response. Soon an amber light flared to indicate an incoming signal, and Sidious stepped on the glowing circle inlaid on the floor, the equipment instantly scanning his image and sending it hurtling across the lightyears in between himself and the hooded figure whose flickering hologram was now bowing low before him.

"What do you wish, my Master?" The voice of Darth Tyranus, normally low and husky, sounded tinny coming from the holoprocessors, but the carefully obsequious tone carried perfectly well. She was getting better at pretending to be a submissive apprentice, at least. If only Sidious could hope she would be able to keep it up on a permanent basis.

Based on previous history, it didn't seem likely.

"What progress have you made?" Sidious asked.

Tyranus kept her head lowered respectfully, so that her entire face was shadowed by her hood. "Gunray and the others are encouraged by your offers, my Lord, but they fear the reprisal of the Jedi when it becomes clear they are no longer adhering to the ban on droid armies."

"Their cowardice is great, but it is no match for their greed," Sidious reminded her. "Make your promises more generous, if you must."

"As you wish. My Lord will make good on every one of them, of course."

If Tyranus could wield her lightsabers as effectively as she did sarcasm, Sidious might be worried. Instead he ignored her insolence and pressed on. "I have an additional task for you, Tyranus. A most important one, regarding Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"The Sith-slayer?" Words could not express the contempt with which the title was uttered. "You mean to have your revenge at last, then, my Master?"

"Don't imagine you know my mind, Tyranus," Sidious snapped. "A Sith Lord is above mere revenge. Limitless power is our only goal, and to achieve this goal it is necessary that we spare Kenobi."

"Spare him?" Tyranus didn't bother hiding a sudden fury. She lifted up her chin, allowing light to slash tangentially across her face and throw her bone-white face into sharp relief. "Why? If any Jedi deserves to die, Kenobi deserves it three-fold! He is more false than any of them, and if-"

Sidious cut her off. "It is not a question of deserving, Tyranus. He will be useful to us. Would you not like a Dark Acolyte? One who would accept your instruction and do your bidding?"

"I already have one of those." Her voice was like steel.

"Yes, Count Dooku is most helpful in wooing systems away from the Republic, is he not? But eventually he will outlive his usefulness, as all acolytes do. Kenobi will make an acceptable replacement, I think. When you encounter him, as you will undoubtedly do once the war begins, you must spare him."

Tyranus hesitated a long moment, but at last dipped her head in acknowledgement. "As you wish, my Lord."

"Patience, my apprentice. Eventually Kenobi will die," Sidious soothed. "And in the meantime, you may hurt him as you like whenever you meet him. Taunt him. Anger him. Do anything you can to make him lose control."

"As with Skywalker?"

"As with Skywalker."

A feral grin widened Tyranus' mouth, distorting the dark tattoos marring the edges of her pale face. "My Lord is most kind."

"Don't condescend to me, Tyranus," Sidious snapped. "It doesn't suit you. Redouble your efforts with Gunray and his colleagues. We must have the support of the Trade Federation, and soon I will need you to pay our friend Shu Mai another visit. I will expect a more encouraging report from you, and soon."

"Yes, my Master," Tyranus bowed low, and Sidious cut off the transmission decisively.

It was done, then. The pieces were beginning to fall into place at last. Soon, the Jedi would feel the first tremblings of the gale that would tear down the very foundations of all they had worked so hard to build over the last few millenia. Poor fools. Soon they would pay the price for their lack of vision.

And Kenobi would be among the first to pay.

Alone, in the darkness of his chamber, Sidious smiled.

END OF PART 1

Author's note: Thank you, thank you, thank you to the many readers who have stuck with me to the end of this story! If you have enjoyed this story even half as much as I enjoyed writing it, I will consider my mission accomplished. And a particularly BIG thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a review! Reviews are invaluable in helping me judge the effectiveness of my storytelling and keep the story headed in the right direction.

I'll begin working on Part 2 soon. If you have any thoughts about what you think might happen in Part 2, based on what's happened in Part 1, I would love to hear them. I would also like to know which characters you want to see more or less of, and why. Your feedback will help shape the focus of Part 2, so please share! And again, THANK YOU ALL!