The Chosen Apprentice/Chapter 31

The lists were up for Exhibition Day the next and Sona was not surprised to see her name among those selected for the presentation in a few days. She felt a hollow opening up in her stomach. Since Sona’s thirteenth birthday was in a matter of months this would be the last time she would take part, and if she failed to attract the attention of a Master she would be place in a group assigned to ‘Advanced Basic Training’. It was the new solution to the Jedi initiates who were not selected instead of taking them away from the Temple. The need for more Jedi outweighed everything else.

Sona felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” said her friend Jenai. “Master Kenobi said there’s more Masters looking for a Padawan learner, you’ll be chosen.”

“It’s not that I'm worried about,” Sona confessed as the two of them walked back to their rooms.

“What is it then?” Jenai asked.

Sona shook her head. “I don’t know what it is,” she said. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

“Perhaps you should meditate,” Jenai suggested, “that’s what they always tell us, isn’t it?”

Sona smiled weakly, but she didn’t believe it would do anything.

It was also morning of the beginning of Gunray’s trial, and Coruscant was rampant with the news as well as the speculation. There was talk about nothing else in the corridors of the Senate and the various exclusive restaurants and tapcafes that the Capitals high-flyers frequented. The Neimoidian had changed lawyers at least three times…the Chancellor himself was going to appear …the entire trial was being broadcast live over the HoloNet.

Most of these of course were false yet there was one rather persistent one that was reputed to be true. Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, celebrated hero of the Clone Wars, would be giving evidence at the trial. Yet what would come of this no one could say for certain.

The crowds were sense outside the Republic Courts Building and several sharp-eyed entrepreneurs were doing what they could to sell the limited seats inside the courtroom. Holo-journalists had set up stations near the front doors making commonplace remarks to pass the time before the action would really begin.

Above the crowds an armoured speeder hovered for a moment. Inside along with the pilot and several clonetroopers were Viceroy Nute Gunray and his attorney Sarn Retray. While Retray ignored the crowds below, Gunray looked at them with some trepidation.

Suddenly those below looked up and noticed the speeder. Pictures were taken and several camera droids flew up for a closer look. With a smile the pilot activated the shields and the camera droids bounced off the sides and fell to the ground below.

Sarn smiled as he noticed this and the speeder flew over the crowd, entering an opened hatch and coming to rest inside. Several more troops were waiting to escort them in.

Anakin was aware of the crowds even before the Courts Building was in sight. The feeling of anticipation in the Force was stifling and he could feel sweat building up at the back of his neck.

There was no chance that he could get through the mob ahead without being recognised.

However, there were ways to avoid a scene.

He parked his airspeeder a fair distance from the Courts Building and walked the rest of the way. As he came the building he found a disused service entrance and went inside there, mind-tricking anyone who questioned his being there.

Yet this could not be done for the crowd outside the courtroom. Fortunately he had not been seen, so before anyone could spot him he entered a room with ‘Male’ printed on the door. No one would think of looking for him there.

At a table at the front of the courtroom, Taur Cel-Dral representing the Republic against Nute Gunray watched his droid collate the files so he would have them to refer to during the trial. He smiled as he did this, his dark eyes glinting as he went over his opening address in his mind. While Cel-Dral was not the first to have the Republic as his client in a trial like this—there had been other before him in the trials of the Separatist leaders—he knew that his future career depended on the degree of success for he knew that success was guaranteed in the case of Nute Gunray’s trial.

The crowd was pouring in right now, squabbling over seats and falling over each other in an effort to get the best ones. When the room was full—and it didn’t take long—many were turned away, grumbling how such things as this should be better organised as they left.

“Bets,” Cel-Dral said to his droid, “can you see Skywalker among them?”

The droid scanned the crown. “No sir, I can’t,” said the droid in a soft feminine voice.

“Should have expected it,” murmured Cel-Dral to himself. “He better be here when I want him.”

A soft hush fell over the chattering crowd as a thick durasteel door at the front of room opened. Out came several clonetroopers who took up posts either side of the accused box. Next came Sarn Retray, his battered briefcase under one arm and his eyes averted from the curious stares. And finally, as complete silence fell over the courtroom, came the Viceroy himself.

The silence continued as the Neimoidian took his seat next to his attorney, neither of them looked at the crowd which was gradually starting to titter and whisper. Suddenly a woman of some species that Cel-Dral could not identify stood up from where she was sitting.

“Shame on you for the mercy given to you!” she shrieked, her deep voice sonorous from her painted blue lips. “You didn’t show the same mercy to my people!”

“Or mine!” piped up another voice.

“He killed my brother!” shouted someone.

“He doesn’t deserve a trial!” screamed a voice from the back row. “He should be killed right now!”

There was a loud chorus of agreements of this that made Cel-Dral feel nervous. What would happen if the crowd went violent? Surely it was not a mistake for Gunray to be given such a public trial? If it went badly…Cel-Dral shook his head, loosening his collar slightly.

The shouts and jeers continued until a burly Duro wearing the uniform of the Republic Judicial Authority stood at the front of the room. “Silence!” he boomed, glancing at the crowd to see if anyone challenged his orders. He folded his arms across his chest, satisfied. “Now,” he said in a lower tone, “all rise for His Honour, Chief Justice Flimone.”

The once unruly crowd compiled with the order as the door behind the judicial dais opened and Tagir Flimone, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the Galactic Republic, presided to his chair. He was a tall, gaunt humanoid with pale skin drawn rather too-tightly over his face. The robes of office hung somewhat loosely over his slender frame as he walked, his long bony fingers were rather pale in the dark sleeves.

Flimone coughed before speaking, as he would continue to do so throughout the trial as he was only rather recently appointed to this position and the Coruscanti air did not entirely agree with his lungs.

“Be seated,” he instructed, his voice as long and thin as his body was yet with the diction of authority that was also apparent in the keen blue-grey gaze in his eyes. His appointment by Chancellor Amedda had been a controversial one as he had not been on the bench of Republic Judicial Authority during the war, which was probably so much for the better. His predecessor had been in office since not long after Palpatine was elected Chancellor and his methods had been none too transparent as to their motives.

Flimone folded his long hands before him, he knew it was necessary to make a few perfunctory remarks before the trial began which would undoubtedly be long and outdrawn.

“Before we begin,” he said, satisfied that every eye in the room was on him, “there are a few matters that need consideration, I will address these now.”

When he heard silence in the room beyond, Anakin slipped out of his hiding place. He surveyed the room with a satisfied smile, only two shocktroopers stood outside the door in a parade-rest position, yet their black blaster rifles ready for action.

“Sir?” Anakin’s head whipped around as one of them spoke to him. “I’m sorry, but you cannot stay here, strict orders.”

Anakin frowned, had it been that long since the war that a trooper would not know a Jedi when he saw one?

“It’s all right,” Anakin said casually, opening his cloak so as to reveal the lightsaber on his belt. “I don’t mean any trouble.”

“I'm sorry, Master Jedi,” the trooper replied in a monotone. “But I have orders from my superiors that no one is to be here while the trial is in progress. Now, if you don’t mind…?”

Anakin glared at him, orders or no orders the clone needed to know where both of them stood. “I’m Anakin Skywalker,” he said, “and I’ll be giving evidence of this trial, so I have every right to be here.”

“Oh, sorry sir,” the trooper said, giving a nod. “But…shouldn’t you be inside?”

Anakin shook his head. “I don’t want to go inside,” he told the trooper, leaning against the wall. “All I need to do is wait out here until they call me in.”

“But that may be a while, Jedi Skywalker,” the trooper said.

“I know,” Anakin replied, closing his eyes and sinking into a sitting position.

After Flimone had finished speaking Taur Cel-Dral got to his feet and began to pace the courtroom with his pudgy hands behind his back. He began to speak in a slow, melodious voice enunciating every syllable and pausing now and again to illustrate some particular point. Cel-Dral reminded the judge of the Clone Wars and how some of the devastating atrocities that had taken place could be linked to actions and decisions made by Viceroy Nute Gunray. He mentioned several systems of the many that had suffered, citing statistics of terrible proportion—all attributed to the Trade Federation. And as he said this he watched Gunray’s face, watched it quiver and blanch at what he said, watched the Neimoidian’s features twitch as he spoke, watched him starting to speak until Retray silenced him.

Satisfied he had said enough, Cel-Dral went to close his address.

“And you may ask why that I refer to events that are not only a matter of public record but are fairly accessible from any information kiosk on Coruscant.” He chuckled slightly, eying Gunray indulgently like a predator sizing up his next meal. “Yet it is because of this fact that I sought to mention them, Your Honour, as the actions of Nute Gunray are so well known that I doubt that any free-thinking individual in the Republic is of the opinion that he should not be made to answer for them.” He paused carefully, clasping his hands and then replacing them behind his back. “Yet what I wish to expose to you is not simply this—for surely we all have questions about the whys and wherefores about what he did—but the pure callousness and lack of compassion for any other living being that moved him to do so. And so I must insist upon the death penalty like Gunray’s colleagues have had for the crimes they committed. My only regret,” he said, his gaze hopeful and introspective for a moment, “is that there is no punishment in the long arm of justice that will deal with these monstrous crimes as they should be.”

There was a considerable amount of applause as Cel-Dral took his seat yet he did not permit himself to look back. Yet he revelled in it. The crowd was on his side, as after all he was the good guy. Flimone rapped his gavel to lull the crowd back into silence and Retray rose to his feet. For a moment he did not speak, he did not even look up and there were several in the crowd who nudged each other and whispered amongst themselves. Finally, Retray looked up at Flimone.

“I would not attempt to better such a speech as my colleague, Cel-Dral, just gave, Your Honour,” he began rather uncertainly. “But what I will do is give you a rather different point of view of some of the facts that my colleague just exposed, for surely some of what he said is true even if some of the views he imposed on those facts is wrong.”

To begin Retray spoke of the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, a Sith who had deceived them all as he had also called himself Palpatine and had been Supreme Chancellor for a number of years. He argued that his client had been deceived by this Sith Lord just as the millions upon millions of citizens of the Republic had been, even to the point of refusing any association with Sidious yet this was something that had not been easy or even complete.

“You may think my case is based on sympathy rather than justice,” Retray said, “and I suppose in a way, it is. Yet my client is as guilty as any being in this room to this Sith Lord’s deception, and I must say that I find my colleagues views rather extreme and narrow.”

Cel-Dral’s speech had ended in applause, Retray’s ended in jeers and hisses as he took his seat but he ignored this. He knew he would be deluding himself if he thought that his views would be popular ones.

To silence the room Flimone tapped his gavel. “I must say that this went on rather longer than anticipated,” he remarked, eying the two lawyers before him warily, “I will declare a recess for two standard hours and I would like both attorneys to see me in my chambers.”

He rapped the gavel again and got to his feet. The room began to clear and Retray followed Cel-Dral out of the courtroom after having a few words with his client. Gunray was transferred back to the holding cell below the courtroom and members of the audience started to stretch their legs.

Anakin was back on his feet as soon as he heard the noise rise up again from inside the courtroom. Before anyone came into the foyer he left the building, slipping out the back door with the speed of a thief leaving the scene of a crime.

Midway between Council sessions, Obi-Wan went down to the big room used for large gatherings of Jedi where the holoprojector in the middle of the room was showing the latest update on the Senate vote.

Obi-Wan’s features went into a frown, it didn’t look good.

“The vote, how goes it?” Obi-Wan turned to see Yoda limping towards him leaning heavily on his gimer stick.

“Stokra’s ahead,” Obi-Wan told him as the figure disappeared from the screen, “but only just.” He sat down on one of the chairs, his expression weary. “I don’t like this, Master,” he confessed. “A bunch of politicians deciding how we serve the Republic, it just isn’t right.”

Yoda jabbed him with his cane. “You think like this I do, hmm?” He brought the stick down with both his hands on it. “Yet unavoidable this is, right young Senator Organa was to see a way out of the situation that unmoved for so long it was.”

“But I don’t know what he plans to achieve with this,” Obi-Wan remarked. “If he wins surely that is only a good thing, but Stokra’s not going to let this pass.”

“Right you are,” Yoda agreed. “Watch Stokra we must for if not elected Chancellor he is, accept defeat he will not.”

“But what if—” Obi-Wan stopped there, he had been about to suggest Anakin’s findings or lack thereof about the connection between Shinai Stel-Ardak and Stokra. Yet as much as Obi-Wan’s instincts told him that Anakin was right, as yet there was no real proof.

And there’s not likely to be any, Obi-Wan added in thought, Stokra’s sure to keep his hands as clean as a Jedi Master’s formal robes.

With a sigh he followed Yoda out of the room, hoping the fog that had surrounded them ever since Anakin’s return to Coruscant would clear soon.