(A/N: in the previous chapter I had written that Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin were all sent on the mission with Palpatine. I'm changing it to only be Anakin.
Also, the scene where Maximus confronts Dooku and the other force wielders about Vulkan has been changed to Raxor confronting them. My original reasoning is that I believed Raxor would have been too volatile for the situation after finding out that Vulkan has actually been found after more than 10,000 years. But someone pointed that out, and told me essentially it didn't fit very well, which i agreed with, so i changed it.
Thank you!)
=== Anakin ===
Anakin felt the familiar hum of the Temple's polished floors under his boots as he made his way through the long arching corridor that led toward the Chancellor's private hangar.
As the massive blast doors to the Chancellor's private hangar hissed open, the sleek vessel that awaited him gleamed beneath the white lights, a slim-bodied, razor-lined craft of polished obsidian plating and burnished silver trim. Anakin's eyes narrowed for the slightest moment. He recognized it at once, the same personal transport that Palpatine had taken him aboard only weeks before.
Palpatine stood at the base of the ship's extended ramp, flanked by two red-armored guards whose helmets gleamed like blood-bright glass beneath the lights. The Chancellor's smile greeted him, warm and practiced, layered in that unbothered charm he wielded like a politician's favorite blade.
"Knight Skywalker," Palpatine said, stepping forward with arms spread wide in welcome. "You honor me, and your presence brings me great comfort."
"The honor is mine, Chancellor," Anakin replied. "I was told this mission is of some urgency."
"Indeed it is," Palpatine said, and the lines of worry etched across his expression seemed to deepen, perhaps naturally, perhaps crafted with intent. "The Kaminoans have requested a private audience. It seems they have developed something… significant. Something they insist must be shown to me personally, and away from the prying eyes of both the Senate and the broader Republic bureaucracy."
"With the Imperium now fully in control of Kamino's former territories, the Kaminoan leadership has been relocated to Lah'mu. A remote world, quiet and unassuming, but isolated enough that they feel safe continuing their research there. A courtesy the Republic granted them when the Imperium began… assimilating advanced civilizations." His tone carried a shadow of disapproval, but Anakin caught the faint note of satisfaction beneath it.
"The Kaminoans want to reveal this project directly to me, but they insist on strict privacy and minimal staff. Given the sensitivity of what they have found, and the risks involved, I requested you. And… after our last discussion, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to speak to you more about things concerning the Imperium."
"If this creation of theirs is so important," Anakin said slowly, "why bring so few guards? Why not dispatch a Senate security detail?"
Palpatine's smile softened in a way that almost masked the calculation beneath. "Because the Kaminoans demanded Jedi, my boy. Only Jedi. They trust the Order… or rather," he corrected gently, "they trust you. They said the matter concerns knowledge that must not fall into the wrong hands."
That answer soothed something in Anakin's mind, making him stand even taller. "Then I will remain vigilant. And will ensure your safety for as long as the mission requires."
"Splendid," Palpatine said, lifting a gloved hand toward the ramp. "Please, board. We must depart quickly. Lah'mu is far, quiet, and deeply secluded. The journey will be long."
Anakin ascended the ramp, the ship's interior unfolding in pristine corridors of muted lighting and soft mechanical hums. The door sealed shut behind them with a hydraulic hiss, and beneath their feet, the deck thrummed as the engines awoke. Anakin settled near the forward windows, arms crossed tightly across his chest.
Palpatine's hand rested lightly on the back of the pilot's chair.
"Well then," he said, voice smooth, almost serene, "let us begin."
The stars stretched out ahead as the vessel turned its nose toward the outer reaches of the system, leaving Coruscant behind… just as planned.
=== Quinlan Vos ===
Quinlan could feel the weight in his chest long before the Temple even came into view. Plo Koon walked at his side with that calm, resolute stride he carried into every battlefield, but even behind the Kel Dor's mask, Quinlan could sense the tension threading through him. The two of them passed the outer gates without slowing. The Temple Guards stiffened immediately, crossing their force pikes, issuing sharp commands to halt, but neither Quinlan nor Plo so much as acknowledged them.
They pressed forward, brushing past the line of robed sentinels with a sweep of presence that left the guards hesitating. These were not ordinary intruders; these were Masters who had once walked these halls with authority. The Temple Guards fell back on protocol, reporting their breach through their comms rather than initiating a fight they were not ordered to begin.
The council chamber doors opened, and both men stopped short.
Cin Drallig sat in the Grandmaster's seat.
The room looked hollow without the familiar presence of Yoda or Windu. The new composition of the council sat silent and stern, as if carved out of the stone itself. And in the center of it all was Drallig, back straight, expression a blend of exhaustion and unwavering command.
His gaze sharpened the moment he saw them.
"Well," he said, tone edged like a training saber, "to what do the traitors owe their return to the Jedi Temple?"
Quinlan felt that word bite, but Plo stepped forward instead, shoulders lifting with that subtle authority he carried effortlessly.
"There is no time for accusations and labels," Plo Koon said, voice calm but resonant. "We come with a dire warning."
Before Drallig could respond, Pong Krell rose from his seat. His towering form loomed over the chamber, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
"You have no right to be here," Krell hissed. "The business of this Council is no longer yours. You forfeited that when you abandoned the Order in its most desperate hour. You will leave. Now."
Krell flicked two of his hands toward the guards at the door.
"Remove them."
The guards hesitated, glancing at each other. Even with orders, laying hands on two former council members was something none of them wanted to be responsible for.
But Cin Drallig lifted a single hand.
"Stand down," he ordered.
The guards froze at once.
Drallig turned his attention back to Plo and Quinlan. His voice softened only a fraction. "Explain yourselves. Quickly."
Plo nodded, stepping further into the room. "We need only a single answer. Have you been concealing Vulkan the Primarch, from the Imperium?"
His words rippled through the chamber. Even Krell paused, though not with guilt, only irritation at the question itself.
Then he scoffed.
"Even if we did possess this… Vulkan," Krell said, "we would never entrust him to that militaristic empire. They have brought nothing but destruction and tyranny to every world they touch."
Plo ignored him and kept his eyes on Drallig.
"Master Cin?"
Drallig exhaled slowly, rubbing his brow. "We are not hiding this… Vulkan. But if we did have him, we would not hand him over to them. They have shown the galaxy what they do with power."
Quinlan stepped forward, unable to stay still. "Then you need to evacuate the Temple, now. The Imperium plans on laying waste to the Temple."
The council murmured in alarm and disbelief.
Krell barked out a sharp laugh, stepping forward until his towering frame nearly eclipsed the light overhead.
"You expect us to run?" Krell growled. "From them? You underestimate the Order you abandoned. If the Imperium intends to march into this Temple, then they have no idea what awaits them."
His sabers clattered subtly at his belt as he leaned forward, eyes burning with challenge.
"We do not flee."
Quinlan stared at him, disbelief turning to anger.
"You arrogant," he cut himself off before continuing. "This isn't some border skirmish. You think the Imperium is going to knock on your door and exchange pleasantries? They're coming to level this place!"
Krell's expression hardened further, a dark satisfaction curling at the edge of his lips.
"Let them try."
Plo reached out, resting a hand lightly on Quinlan's arm before the argument ignited into something worse. He turned back to the council, tone grave and weighted.
"You do not understand the magnitude of what is coming. We aren't speaking of a threat or a rumor. We are telling you the Imperium is already en route."
The room fell silent for a long, heavy and oppressive moment.
Drallig finally rose from the Grandmaster's chair, pacing once behind it with slow, deliberate steps.
"If what you say is true," he began, "then we must prepare, but we must not panic—"
Quinlan cut him off, voice low and shaking with frustration.
"Prepare? There is no preparing for this! The Black Templar comes, and he will finish what he started that day so long ago! And he won't be alone. You think this Temple, this planet, is ready for that?"
Krell's eyes blazed. "Enough. I will not listen to fearmongering from deserters."
Quinlan's jaw clenched, and Plo's hand tightened on his arm, pulling him back a step.
But it was Quinlan who spoke first.
"If you stay," he said quietly, "you're going to die. All of you."
The council stared in shocked silence.
Then he turned sharply and strode toward the door.
Plo followed, pausing only long enough to give Drallig a final, sorrowful look.
"This did not have to be your path, but now I see it is the one you wish to walk. And perhaps you deserve it." he said softly. "May the Force guide you."
The doors closed behind them with a metallic thud, leaving the council chamber tense and divided, bracing for a storm none of them were ready for.
===
The long corridors of the Temple stretched before the two once Jedi Masters, filled with the gentle hum of younglings reciting lessons and knights exchanging murmured greetings. It was a peaceful scene, painfully oblivious to the storm racing toward them. Quinlan slowed, jaw tight, fingers flexing at his sides as the urge to scream built in his chest. Plo Koon watched him, already aware that his companion was reaching a breaking point.
Quinlan stopped halfway down the hall, slamming his fist against one of the columns, the sound echoing like a cannonshot through the corridor. "They're going to die," he hissed, voice low and sharp with frustration. "All of them. And they're too blind to see it." He turned toward the open expanse of the temple floor.
He felt the anger boiling up, hot and desperate. "RUN!" he suddenly shouted, the sound so loud that every head turned. "Get out of here! All of you, get the younglings out of the temple!" His voice cracked through the still air like lightning. "The Black Templar is coming! He'll tear this place apart! He'll kill every last one of you if you stay!"
The sudden roar of his words froze the great hall. Dozens of Jedi stopped where they stood, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disbelief. A few knights began to approach, hands lifted, trying to calm him. "Vos, what are you talking about?" one of them asked, brow furrowed.
"The Imperium!" Quinlan barked, stepping forward, waving his arms like a madman. "They're on their way here right now! You need to get out, move! Take whoever you can and—"
He didn't finish.
The world exploded.
A thunderous detonation ripped through the upper spires of the temple, shaking the floor so violently that many fell where they stood. The lights flickered, the air filled with dust, and from above came the sickening groan of splitting stone. Chunks of debris rained from the ceiling, smashing into statues, cracking marble, and sending terrified Jedi scrambling for cover. The blast had come from somewhere above, and within moments, the tranquil sanctum of the Jedi had turned into chaos.
Then came the mist.
Through the shattered ceiling drifted a faint, shimmering blue haze, like the breath of some ethereal storm. It fell quietly, gracefully almost. Within seconds, Jedi all around began coughing, staggering, clutching their throats as the Force itself seemed to slip from their grasp. The serene hum of energy that had always surrounded them, the pulse of life that tied them to the galaxy, was simply gone. Severed. Like a candle snuffed out in a vacuum.
Plo Koon stumbled, one hand gripping a column for balance. He could feel it too, the terrifying emptiness where the Force had once been, replaced by nothing but a cold, hollow silence. "The toxin…" he rasped. "Force-nullifying compound, Quinlan, we need to move!"
Quinlan was already dragging a young padawan out of the open center of the hall. "You don't have to tell me twice!" he yelled, shoving the child toward the nearest corridor. He then looked up, and froze.
Through the temple's great front arch, light began to vanish. The blue haze outside thickened, and through it, a vast shadow emerged, a ship descending fast, its engines roaring like the wrath of a god. The gleam of its lights cut through the mist, and as it neared the ground, Quinlan's stomach dropped.
A Thunderhawk.
"GET DOWN!" he shouted, his voice cracking from strain. He grabbed a nearby youngling and tackled them to the ground, Plo Koon doing the same for a nearby knight. A heartbeat later, the massive gunship smashed through the main entrance. The explosion of impact was deafening, stone columns shattered like glass, the ancient doorways splintered, and the very floor buckled under the weight of the crash.
The Thunderhawk tore through the grand hall in a storm of smoke, fire, and screaming metal before grinding to a halt amid the rubble. Dust filled the air in thick, choking clouds, and the silence that followed was absolute, a heavy, suffocating quiet, broken only by the crackle of flame and the groans of the wounded.
Then the ramp began to lower.
Slowly, with a hiss of hydraulics, the ship's hatch descended. No sound came from within, no movement, only darkness so deep that even the light from the fires could not pierce it. The Jedi who were still conscious stared, half-blind, half-terrified. Then, one by one, red lights flickered to life within the black. Dozens of them. Twin points of crimson glowing from behind armored visors, cutting through the smoke like bloody stars.
"Purge the unfaithful!"
And then the temple of the Jedi, once the sanctuary of peace, became a warzone.
===
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