The Chosen Apprentice/Chapter 29

Anakin didn’t know exactly when he fell asleep, in fact he didn’t know that he was asleep until he realised he was having one of the dreams again. He tried to fight it, stop whatever was going to happen from happening. But he was helpless.

He could feel a hard table beneath him and a strong light overheard that dazzled his eyes. Yet these sensations were merely secondary compared to the immense burning pain that he was in. It was like another one of his dreams, yet it was not. There he had been encased in some sort of black shell that covered his torso, here…something else was happening.

Sharp metal probes were pricking his arms and when he moved to fight them off he noticed he didn’t have hands. The right was replaced with a mechanical prosthetic like Padmé’s had been, and the left was only a stump. He could hear himself scream as the droids around him stabbed and jabbed and prodded…yet he could not work out what they were doing.

He didn’t have legs either and had no idea why he didn’t have them. All he could see were the replacements the droids had given him attached to the scarred stumps on his lower body.

His skin! Why hadn't he noticed it before? It was mangled beyond belief, burnt and scarred to the point where he could see blood vessels pumping away. For a moment, he wondered if the rest of him looked like that. It was not a comforting thought.

They were enclosing him now and he could hardly move, pinning down the re-attached limbs so he couldn’t move.

“No!” he screamed, fighting them off but their grip was too strong and his was too weak.

Something black was hovering over his head, coming closer and closer to completely enclose his face.

“NO! NO!” Anakin screamed, but there was nothing he could do as the black mask came down.

Their was a pause and then he felt his lungs fill with air in a slow hiss just like…just like his other dream and he could escape this one as easy as he had that one.

But there was something else, a vision or dream within a dream that floated past his face and whispered in his ears.

Anakin!

Padmé? She sounded as if she was pain, like when she was being tortured by Sidious.

Padmé, they need you, hang on.

Was that Obi-Wan’s voice? He sounded…like he was pleading with her.

I…I can’t…

And that was Padmé. Her voice was weak and laboured as if…she was breathing her last.

“No, Padmé!” He couldn’t lose her again, couldn’t face losing her again.

Save your energy.

His voice sounded urgent now, Anakin could just see him. His face fearful, holding something in his arms. Padmé was lying below him, the same expression on her face as when Anakin had last held her.

Obi-Wan…barely a whisper, ''there…is still good in him. I know there is…still…''

Her eyes closed and for a moment he could feel her in the Force again. Feel her spirit call out to his, spent and fragile, and then die like a drop of rain before a rising sun.

“Anakin?”

That was Obi-Wan’s voice, but not faint like in his dream. This was loud, curt and right in his ear.

“Anakin, wake up!” He felt his face being slapped, Anakin opened his eyes and the dream faded away into the concerned features of Obi-Wan.

“Wha…what happened?” Anakin asked, wiping his eyes and looking around him. It was early morning, had he been here the whole night?

“You were asleep,” Obi-Wan said, “and I heard you shouting.”

Anakin stared at him, his expression wary. “What was I saying?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Anakin shook his head, getting to his feet. “It’s not something I want to talk about,” he muttered, yet Obi-Wan’s firm hand on his shoulder prevented him from going anywhere.

“Anakin, how long have you been having these dreams?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“Long enough,” Anakin replied.

This didn’t satisfy him. “How long?”

“They’ve been on and off since…since…” He searched for the words. “Since it happened.”

“You could have told me,” Obi-Wan gently reproached.

“There were other things,” Anakin told him.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and glared at him. “You’re not going to use that excuse with me,” he warned. “Remember the real reason you’re still here on Coruscant?”

Anakin averted his eyes. “I thought you had forgotten all about that.”

“Don’t think I’ll hold you here longer if I feel I have to,” Obi-Wan reproached. “Whatever you were dreaming Anakin, it was certainly what you’ve refused to acknowledge for yourself for so long. Dreams can do that to you.”

At this, Anakin stared at him. “You've been talking to Master Yoda, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t have to in order to find out what was going on,” Obi-Wan told him. “I’ve watched you try and push this away from the past few days, but it follows you, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anakin lied, walking away and hoping Obi-Wan would take the hint.

But he wouldn’t, Obi-Wan grabbed him by the sleeve. “Look, I know you want this to stop,” he said. “But there’s only one way to stop these dreams and whatever else it is that’s haunting you.”

“Oh yeah?” Anakin replied sceptically. “And what’s that?”

“Confront them,” Obi-Wan said as if the answer was obvious, giving Anakin a wary look and then leaving.

Later, in a room in the Temple, Obi-Wan watched the holographic Bail Organa give his speech in the Senate. Yoda and several other Jedi were with him.

Given what he knew was coming, Obi-Wan didn’t disagree.

“Too long we have debated over the new constitution,” Organa said. “And too long have others and myself held out for altruistic or self-interest reasons, yet this standstill has gone on long enough.”

There was a cheer of agreement.

“What I propose,” continued Bail, “is that the remainder of the constitution—and this is a relatively small part may I add—is voted upon by the Senate and not the Constitutional Committee.” He paused and there were murmurs, yet he did not pause for long. “I am speaking of Article Ten, Clause Seventeen, for which two alternatives have been proposed. These are displayed for reference as the subject of this vote will be for one or the other. This is what I put to this body, as we all agree that the Republic must move away from the effects of the war that devastated us, and we can no longer make excuses for this.”

There was applause after Organa finished, yet Obi-Wan’s face was expressionless. In his mind he counted to ten.

At four Stokra’s pod entered the arena, his face contemptuous and eyes smarting.

“That was fast,” Obi-Wan whispered, “even for him.”

Yoda’s ears twitched as he watched but he did not reply.

“I must say that Organa of Alderaan’s proposal is nothing short of reprehensible and entirely without precedent,” Stokra began, revelling in the moment of being the centre of attention. “And might I remind my noble colleagues that the Constitutional Committee was formed to present the draft of the new constitution to the Senate. Not, as Organa of Alderaan proposes, to hand it over to the Senate if the committee is deadlocked due to the political agenda of those that continue to call themselves Loy-al-ists.” He said the word long and laboured as if its very existence was a joke, titters were heard from his supports before he continued. “Furthermore—”

“That will do, Stokra,” growled Amedda. He spoke in a low voice yet that was enough to curtail the senator’s speech. “The Corporate Sector was not recognised by the chair and if I recall the rules of procedure, they clearly state that representatives must wait to be recognised before they begin to speak. Not,” added Amedda, “to merely sail in as you have done or otherwise the Senate will be little more than a slanging match.”

There were shouts of protest against this, but Obi-Wan wasn’t smiling. But he knew Stokra too well to assume that it would end there.

“If one was to take recent events into account, Chancellor,” Stokra said slowly, his eyes burrowing into the Chagrian’s, “one may say that you are not as neutral in this issue as you appear to be.”

Murmurs and whispers followed this remark which was as close to a direct accusation as Stokra had gone yet. Obi-Wan noticed Yoda muttering to himself.

“Bodes well this does not,” the little Jedi Master said. “Muddies the waters this does, makes the truth harder to see.”

Obi-Wan found he didn’t have an answer.

“The Senator of the Corporate Sector is warned,” Amedda intoned, his deep voice rising above the murmur of noise. “And is reminded that unless he has something to say directly about this vote he had better hold his peace or he may be removed from the chamber.”

Stokra made as if to say something then decided against it. Cursing under his breath he retreated his pod back to his box while all the while there were jeers of protest around the chamber.

Dekau called for silence and Amedda spoke again.

“The issue for debate is whether the remainder of our new constitution will be up for a full Senate vote,” he said. “Will there be any to second this motion?”

At this the Avingnon pod moved to join the Alderaan one. “Avingnon seconds the motion,” Senator Perenine affirmed, catching Bail’s eye for a moment. “We also wish to move that the vote shall be taken anonymously so that no affiliations or views will influence this.”

Stokra was about to move against this, but Bel Iblis beat him too it. “Corellia also supports this vote, and seconds the motion of anonymity.”

Amedda seemed satisfied with this. “Are there any objections?” He directed this question at Stokra yet the green-skinned senator chose not to respond.

“Good move,” murmured Obi-Wan approvingly. “Let’s hope he stays quiet.”

Yoda shook his head and looked depreciatingly at Obi-Wan. “Let rest this he will not,” he asserted, his voice grave. “Bad feeling about this I have.”

Even though he had not expected to hear from his contact again, the Zabrak had called him and they had arranged for a meeting an hour from now in the lower levels of the Uscru District. Martreyea was at first against his going. “It’s late,” she pointed out. “Do you have to leave at this time of night?”

Shinai smiled wanly. “I can’t choose the time or place, they do,” he told her, touching her face gently. “Arrin’s asleep, he won’t even know that I'm gone.” He pulled on his coat and kissed Martreyea on the cheek. “I won’t be long,” he promised, leaving her in the apartment.

With a shudder, Martreyea sat down and tried to think of something else. But still the question remained: why did her husband have to take this line of work? Couldn’t he have refused as he promised her he would some day?