Except heaven had come so near, so seemed to choose my door, the distance would not haunt me so, I had not hoped before. But just to hear the Grace depart, I never thought to see, afflicts me with a double loss, tis lost, and lost to me.

-Emily Dickinson

Five years after the rise of the Empire:

~Sidious's POV~

The Death Star was nearing completion. Darth Sidious waltzed unto the bridge of his cruiser, and watched as, outside of his windows, droids floated about the giant sphere idly, and tool's of welding in their clutches.

Acidly, he smiled in reflection. The Death Star would be indeed, his pride and joy. A monster not to be reckoned with, a monument to his leadership and power.

"How long until our weapon is fully functional?" He roared out to Captain Tarkin, standing directly behind him. Unlike most sentient beings, Tarkin was unafraid of him.

Probably because the inside of the captain's heart was as cold and hostile as the planet they were attacking.

Thanks to Dooku, the Jedi were predictable, easily foreseeable as stark daylight. The burning rays of sun may be able to blind, but that power came with a consequence: it often blinded both ally and enemy alike. That was why it had been so easy to hide underneath the Jedi's noses for four years.

They had been blinded by their own integrity, the determination to do good by their light. They were blind fools. Yet the dark gave sight, it gave reasoning, it gave true understanding. The Light Side-life- was resilient, but fragile, too easily breakable.

It would have only taken one man only to shatter everything the Jedi stood for, had Sidious gone with his original plan. Never the matter though, he had Vader to capture Anakin when the time came. His pupil had progressed well in his black body suit, his hatred more refined, honed, sharpened to a brisk edge.

The Order lived on in Sidious's Sith companion, halfway cross the galaxy, ignorant of the weapon of mass destruction that was being crafted by expressionless hands.

Dooku did not know it, could not see it so strong was his own blindness, but he was still honorable and gracious, it was in a dark way yes. But Sith were neither honorable or gracious at anytime, in any situation.

Dooku liked to pick and choose; he believed that to be evil, but Sidious knew that a true Sith had no clue what honor was at all. The fact that Dooku still knew, still used the code of honor, if not when chosen, meant something more.

So he was Sidious's model of Jedi mind-works. He actually was a very good model, for Sidious knew his plan, this time, would work he would own the Jedi, he would make the weak, fainthearted Order fall to its knees, and with it would go the Light Side. Sidious, in truth was not fighting the Jedi. They were not worthy of his time, his very breath.

They were inadequate compared to the greater enemy of the Light itself. He intended to squash its remaining guardians. He intended to have the Dark rule, without interference from the other half.

And in the end, he-only he-would then be king of the dark, immortal, insurmountable, insoluble. Sidious planned on being more than just the Emperor, he was going to be sovereign.

Forever.

~Yoda's POV~

Grand Jedi Master Yoda had lived over two centuries. He had seen the rise and fall of both Sith and Jedi. He had fought in many, many wars. He had survived many, many wars.

He knew of wisdom that others had discarded in favor of a new generation, and a new time. He had learned lessons from each new initiation as they came…And went, passing him by like leaves falling from the trees as the seasons altered.

This war, that many claimed was like no other, was different, but those others may have had differing opinions had they seen what Yoda had seen.

The diminutive Master would admit that the Jedi had lost more in this war than any other had. More people, more younglings, more supplies, more morals, more hope…More of their cherished traditions.

They could not lose one more. The Jedi Order could not afford to lose Ilum. Ilum was the Jedi Order, the very basis of their religion, their identities. It kept locked away their history, and without a history, there is no present, no future wisely found.

How could they expect to find a future if they lost their past? No, it would not do. Ilum, added to that, was also the home of lightsaber crystals. True ones, not those forged by the Sith.

Inside freezing caves lay saber crystals for thousands of generations ahead, and as every Jedi knew, your lightsaber was your life.

So in it lay the lives of thousands of future Jedi. All stored on the planet of Ilum, hidden in caves rested the future and past.

Every secret the Jedi had possessed over time, every secret mission and fable, axiom and morals, all lay in the caves, vulnerable to invaders. Ilum had never been invaded, nor populated, in the history of the Republic. Mostly because many people did not know about it.

It was too cold for any species to thrive, but underneath the cold exterior lay in wait a rich history, and the lives of a greater future. But the Republic was dead, it's history cut short as well, its Senate Building inhabited by foolish, submissive cowards, its temple desecrated by Sith. Ilum was the only thing his Order had left; the only hope the Jedi could hang unto soundly.

The Sith knew this. That was why they strived to take it.

The Jedi knew this as well, though their spoken reasons varied, and this was why they strove to keep it. In truth, it had been much too long already. Two months spent fighting Empire forces to save Ilum. There were other planets, further goals elsewhere.

After all, this was no longer the Republic but the Alliance. There was no way to get more resources other than steal it from the Empire.

There were important Sith bases that required their attention, and slave markets to crash. And Jedi did not cling to something, fight for it so feverishly when there were greater targets elsewhere. That was attachment, that was selfish.

Yet Yoda could not bring himself to call Skywalker and Tano back.

He merely called to check on them. The last time he had checked, the two Jedi, both fancifully named and adored by the public had been outrageously outnumbered. It was miracle of the Force itself they had not been already decimated or captured.

It had been Mace, actually, to volunteer Skywalker, And Master Shaak Ti to advise Ahsoka. Yoda had expected different from the former. He had expected that, after the first week, Skywalker would demand to know why they were still trying to protect Ilum when there were greater adventures waiting for him.

Skywalker had made no such insinuation so far. In fact, he had fought as relentlessly, as gallantly, as devotedly as Yoda had only expected from his former teacher or from a dutiful, temple-born Jedi; not a stranger still new to their integrated web of family, bound by midi-chlorians.

"Your status, what is?" Yoda asked, abandoning his slightly hypocritical way of contemplation to gaze upon the tall form of Skywalker himself. "Not good, Master Yoda," Skywalker breathed. He was busy, apparently. His lightsaber buzzed in front of him, deflecting bolts. Yoda heard the screech of something primal in the background and shivered.

Sith.

Thankfully, their informants told them Vader was elsewhere in the galaxy. After Mustafar, his thirst for Anakin was worse than Sidious's. Though Yoda knew that their meeting was inevitable, he did not favor the idea of the cruel bringer of death to encounter Skywalker. Not after Mustafar.

Anakin noticed his disgust, and gave him a sly, tired grin. "We've been boarded again, I'm afraid," he explained somewhat apologetically, as if discussing nothing more than a slight change in wind temperature.

Yoda's ears twitched in mild irritation. They had been boarded ten times in the past two weeks. "You're defenses, holding they are not?" he questioned.

Anakin grunted as he pushed back a straggly droid. "Not well," he gasped, back to his task. "I've given them every trick I have, but we've got two ships to their six; we're dearly outnumbered and maneuvered. We'll need back up soon or we're- Rex, look out!- toast, master," he said, calm for all that was currently taking place on his side of the proceedings.

"Protect Ilum, you must!" Yoda ordered, alarm getting the best of him. Anakin glanced at him with vexation; yet steel determination.

"Until my dying breaths, master," he agreed a bit coldly, breathless himself. Yoda nodded. "The ambassadors, on their way they are. Reinforcements, coming soon they should be," he hoped they were.

He had perfect confidence in his chosen speakers, but sadly, not even the greatest Jedi were infallible. If these negotiations failed, if Bail did not hear the words behind the words, and paid more attention to the diplomatic strategy (something he was known for, to both advantage and disadvantage) rather than what was right, then Ilum would fall into the hands of….No, he would not think of this.

In this battle, they could not afford such weaknesses as doubt.

So I offer you the next chapter in this long saga! I hope it concedes to everyone's standard, and I greatly hope this story is as breathtakingly (if not less angsty) emotion inspiring as the ones before. By the way, Ilum probably was not the holding center for much of the Jedi's more...Interesting history, but for the sake of the plot, just try to imagine a whole treasures worth of historical data hidden in the caves, okay?

~Queen Yoda