Slaves Of The Empire {1}

| Interlude |

Two years ago...

When Anakin pushed open the secret door into the basement of Chancellor Palpatine's manor, the air was so charged with fear even a person blind and deaf to the Force would sense it.

"Master...?" he began, looking back at Obi-Wan over his shoulder. His old teacher nodded, looking troubled.

In the same heartbeat, Anakin felt Ahsoka's mental shields go up through their bond, locking any Force wielder but himself and Obi-Wan out of her mind. A glance at her from the corner of his eye brought back a small frame that was all balanced posture and battle-ready muscles. Pride briefly rose up through Anakin's unease before it was overtaken again – but it wasn't completely overcome.

I wish I'd bet money against Obi-Wan's estimate. She'll definitely make full Knight before nineteen, he thought, and nearly smiled.

"I sense it too," Ahsoka murmured, drawing Anakin back to the present, and scampered on ahead. Anakin and Obi-Wan slowed their pace on reflex, falling back on old strategies that had long become reflex: letting Ahsoka act as vanguard with her speed and precision while Anakin waited to dive in with the heavy artillery and cause some damage. Obi-Wan came last, covering the rear and ready to smooth things over, should Knight or Padawan get drawn too far into the heat of battle.

A soft pulse in Ahsoka's aura signalled the all-clear, but Anakin wasn't going to drop his guard just yet – and, by the feel of things, neither was Obi-Wan. Their caution was rewarded when, a few seconds later, Ahsoka came skidding back down the hallway. Her big blue eyes were dark with worry.

"A reassessment may be in order," she said. Anakin tensed. That was one of the first code phrases and gestures they'd developed for tense situations when they didn't want anyone to know what they were planning: Expect trouble.

But Anakin found himself frowning once he put the two pieces of information together. An all-clear, but with the expectation of trouble? What did that mean?

Catching his confusion through their bond, Ahsoka added, "Admiral Tarkin just turned the conference room into a witch trial."

Obi-Wan hissed out a terse breath between his teeth, the closest he ever let himself get to swearing. As one, the three of them picked up the pace, and after a few seconds, a biting voice raised loud enough to intimidate reached their ears.

"–and should anyone so much as think of betraying news of the chancellor's passing to the Separatists," Tarkin was saying – spitting, more like –, "I will have the lot of you tried for treason against the Galactic Republic and executed, as is befitting of the lowest criminals. In fact–"

As they crossed from the foyer into the conference room, Obi-Wan sped to the front of their group with a subtle warning look at Anakin and Ahsoka. "Hello, Admiral Tarkin," he broke in when Tarkin took a breath, folding his hands demurely into his sleeves. "My condolences on your loss. It was my understanding that you were a friend of Chancellor Palpatine's."

Tarkin spluttered into silence, his cadence lost, and the chancellor's staff exchanged relieved looks. The undercurrent of fear was still there, but seeping into it was... hope. A chance of rescue. As Anakin glanced between the admiral's scowl and the Jedi Master's pleasant smile, he realized what Obi-Wan was doing: he was setting himself up as a civil alternative to Tarkin, and the one the staff would be more likely to confide in if there was anything they hadn't already told Ahsoka or Anakin himself.

Clever, he thought, forming up on Obi-Wan's right side while Ahsoka took his left as Anakin's old teacher crossed into the conference room where, up until a moment ago, Tarkin had been holding court uncontested. He was definitely angry, but that wasn't the whole reason why he was worked up. It couldn't be. Tarkin had always seemed rigidly logical, and set on doing whatever needed to be done in the theatre of war as efficiently as possible – something that was worthy of respect.