All students of time know that history marches mercilessly on through the ages, crushing any who stand in the way of its inexorable progress. Its oft repeating patterns can be tracked easily through large events, through those things which in their happening seem to have diverted the very course of Fate itself.

However, it is sometimes the smallest events which help to shape a galaxy; a single word, the briefest look, the most inconsequential individual can make all the difference in the world, even though it is often not remembered later by those whom it touched. Such was case on this fateful day.

Chancellor Palpatine was a student of time. Through his study and unusual acumen, he was usually able to accurately predict the reactions and realities of individuals and events around him. On this day, he had risen with purpose, feeling younger and more energetic than he had in weeks. All was proceeding as he had foreseen: the Republic was falling, the Jedi were weakening, his own power was growing considerably, and even such small details as the proselytization and procuration of Morru were going exactly according to his plans.

Unfortunately for him, two things were happening which he did not foresee, things being accomplished right under his nose by those whom he thought he knew and trusted. Things which he never would have predicted in a thousand generations' time.

One was betrayal by his apprentice.

The other was the insanity of Ungrid Maldad.

***

Traffic on Coruscant never slowed, never grew quiet. The cosmopolitan commerce was such that ships came and went on and off planet all the time, 25 hours a day. After all, a planet so completely metropolitan as Coruscant had little choice but to feed its multi-billion inhabitants with exported goods. Ships of all kinds, colors, and causes were to be found both in its skies and on its landing pads.

So, it was a safe assumption that any attention Maldad's ship received was not due to the fact that it was of foreign extract.

Maldad's ship was a true work of genius, a memento to his intellect that would, in all likelihood, remain to champion him long after he was gone. Such things as "artificial intelligence" were, obviously, long since past perfected, but Maldad had gone a step further. It was one thing to create an entirely new mind; it was another to replicate one's own.

In his ship, his sizable, complicated, and extremely illegal vessel, he had successfully created another him. This other mind did not possess the same complexities as he did himself, of course, but it was - on a slightly vegetable-ized level - him. The ship could (and did) run without his influence. Shaped like a pointed, elongated turnip and light metallic-purple in color, the Anomaly had slipped as smoothly as was possible for a ship her size into Coruscant's planet-bound traffic. Like Maul before him, Maldad had easily hacked into the central computer systems of the planet and generated clearance for himself.

One might wonder what would possess a man of such obvious intelligence and talent to risk so much for so little. If he were caught piloting (or even owning, for that matter) a ship of this kind in airspace he had no right to claim, attempting to do what he was attempting to do, there was no doubt he would face incarceration, lose his freedom and his license (both to pilot his vessel and to continue the dubious scientific research for which he was known), as well as any credibility he had among the higher-ups of the "civilized" worlds.

It was worth it.

Now, nesting safely in a rented room, his ship housed carefully in a warehouse nearby, Maldad reached into his pocket and took out a small, rectangular box, black except for a concave silver button inset in its middle.

Sitting on his bed and leaning back against the wall, one foot on the bed and one hanging off, Maldad meditatively caressed the box. Smiling, he ran his thumb ever so lightly - just once - over the silver button.

*

The lovely gold bracelet on Morru's left wrist suddenly twinged, tightened, sent that strange, unique numb/hurt feeling given by an electric shock down into her hand.

She jumped and sat staring at her outstretched hand as though it were a foreign thing, the color in her face draining. Her hand, though still flexible, had gone completely numb.

When she finally did speak, it was in tones of quiet, cold resolution.

"He's here," she said.

*

Darth Maul gasped and jerked to a stop in the middle of his training exercise, landing on his feet with an ungraceful and uncharacteristic thump. Sidious, who had been only half watching him, now turned to his student with full attention and a question in his eyes.

Maul said nothing; he just stood where he was, breathing heavily and staring blankly at the nunchucks in his hands.

"Is something the matter, my apprentice?" Sidious prompted. Maul stopped panting and looked up.

"A disturbance in the Force, my master. From the Jedi temple."

The Sith master showed no visible reaction. He rose from his seat and crossed the room to where Maul stood, nunchucks dangling. Sidious looked into his eyes and scowled slightly.

"Your concentration is not good today, my apprentice. I felt no such disturbance. I worry for you - if your mind wanders too far when you meditate, you will lack the discipline necessary to complete your goals. Begin the exercise again. This time, I want you to have complete concentration; you will be aware of nothing but the weapons in your hands and the floor beneath your feet. Strive for perfection in this as in all things, my apprentice." And he glided back to his table and sat down.

Maul obediently strode to the middle of the room and positioned himself in open-leg stance, feet shoulder width and arms curved slightly in front of him. Then in a whirl of movement, he took a quick stride forward and leaped into the air, nunchucks spinning to either side of him like helicopters rotors. Aware that his master was now monitoring him very carefully, Maul did his best to keep his mind clear, concentrating to his fullest ability on the smoothness of his movements, on the combination of grace and power which made him so very effectively deadly.

He completed a front flip and stood in left-forward stance, spinning the nunchucks expertly as he weaved his arms in and out in a complicated, synchronized pattern.

His bride-to-be was not safe. The future mother of his child was in pain, threatened by an outside source. And, for the first time in his memory since he had begun to enter her dreams in his daily meditation, she was afraid. Such a strong, beautiful creature - afraid.

Maul grimaced, baring blackened teeth, then cried out with a "Hut!" and leaped into the air once more, creating a synchronized circle of whirling wood with his nunchucks, then folding his body with startling flexibility and leaping through the circle his own arms had made. He experienced no grand feeling, no emotion of concern for Morru, not even empathetic fear. It was simply the jealous annoyance one feels when one's property is being bothered by another, accentuated as it was when the source of annoyance was unknown.

Calmly, inwardly, Darth Maul swore to destroy that source.

Bending his mind completely to his work, Maul continued to leap and parry, spin and thrust, all the while keeping the twirling weapons inches from his own body. He could have easily been, as the saying went, his own worst enemy; yet the nunchucks never touched him, and when he was through with his flawless performance, he was not even out of breath. Sidious had been right. Such prolonged concentration was good for the soul, cleansing. Perhaps he would do it again before seeking out his property's tormentor.

Moving again to the middle of the room, Maul continued his routine. Determination such as his was not to be trifled with, as some would soon enough discover to their own detriment.

***

It was only three hours after Maldad circuitously announced his presence to Morru when Obi-Wan came to talk to her. He found her, of all places, in the Northeast tower's aquatic training facility.

Initially, it seemed that she did not even know he was there.

Morru swam back and forth, back and forth, lap after lap, not stopping to catch her breath or rest her muscles. In fact, as Obi-Wan's slowing steps brought him closer to the edge of the pool, he thought there was a franticness to her motions, a desperation to each rhythmic gasp, as if some part of her secret heart hoped that by pacing aquatically she could escape from what plagued her.

The sense of fearful power coming from her was stifling.

Obi-Wan stood where he was, trying to decide whether or not to break her concentration by speaking. He was spared the decision; abruptly, she stopped.

For a moment, their eyes met, and for the first time Obi-Wan knew he was looking at true fear. Not nameless, vague foreshadowings, but rather the true comprehension of fear; fear with knowledge and surety behind it.

"Are you all right?" he said.

"No," Morru said, and then, abruptly as she had stopped, she resumed her swimming.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan said quietly, trusting that she would hear him with more than her audio senses. In response, Morru side-stroked to the edge of the pool and rested her arms on the side, looking with apparent great interest at Obi-Wan's boots as she spoke.

"He's back. My old master. I don't know how he found me, but he's here on Coruscant and he's not going to rest until I'm dead." Her tone more than her words frightened Obi-Wan; it was calm, cold, almost lifeless. Hopeless. He sighed. She continued, eyes unfocused as if talking to herself. "Being in the Jedi Temple is no protection at all because he knows where I am and doesn't need to actually be in my presence to hurt me."

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about," Obi-Wan interrupted her reverie with a much gentler tone than he had originally planned to use. "There's a rumor - that is, Ki-Adi-Mundi said - that Chancellor Palpatine had approached you and offered you a.... job, or something. A way to leave the Temple, and possibly the planet."

Morru smiled wryly, still not looking at him. "Hm. No such thing as a secret on Coruscant, is there? Yes, he came to me with such an offer. I didn't take it, if it makes any difference to you."

"Yet."

"Yet," nodded Morru, finally glancing up in his direction. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some stress relief to do." And with that, she resumed her swimming.

Obi-Wan watched her for a short while, his mind working furiously. He was not sure exactly how remaining on Coruscant would be fatal to her, but her conviction hinted to him that perhaps, there was something in the situation he did not know. And Palpatine's offer did look good, from the outside.... but Obi-Wan had been in the world long enough to know that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. There was something more involved.

Palpatine didn't sit well with him anyway, although he could not have said why. And it did make sense, in a way, for Morru to simply leave the planet - although he doubted the Council would go for the idea. If Morru was panicked enough, as it seemed she was, she would take up Palpatine's offer. And that would put her in hands best left alone.

But if a compromise could be reached....

Obi-Wan retreated to his meditation room to think.

***

"You're doing what?" cried Maul, and then with the honed finesse and righteous fury of a millennia of Sith flowing through him, he drew his lightsaber and clove his master in two.

At least, that's what he wanted to do.

In reality, Maul simply stood where he was and received Sidious' news as he had the rest of the information he'd been fed that day. Storing it away for later use. Nothing more.

After all, why should he react because for some strange reason his master had taken an (unhealthy) interest in one of the Jedi's latest victims? Midichlorian counts aside, Sidious often liked to single out people, make them feel important, and send them out on glorious missions, yet never letting them know that they were not the only begotten agents of their master, but one of hundreds doing his bidding. Of late, he'd gotten to calling them his "hands;" presumptuous, perhaps, but it seemed to have a satisfactory psychological effect on the subjects concerned.

And Morru was going to become one of those hands.

Sidious was thrilled with his new acquisition; this particular toy was immensely strong with the Force, but unaware of her strength and therefore not pretentious. She was highly intelligent, articulate, and fluent in several different languages as well as the various mannerisms and customs of the worlds those languages belonged to. She spoke and moved with authority, was attractive, healthy, and trained in the art of self defense.

And she was alone. This meant that she was simply ripe for the plucking - to be molded, made dependent, taught that Palpatine was the only one she could or would ever trust.

And best of all: he would be taking her away from the Jedi.

Maul was ready to chew and spit nails. This was not how things were supposed to work, although as he forced himself to think calmly, it only made sense that Morru would stand out to the master as well as the apprentice. After all, she'd shone like a beacon to him from the first moment he'd gotten near her - why should Sidious be exempt from such appeal? Why, technically speaking, Darth Bane's theory could even apply to Sidious and not Maul, should the elder Sith be possessed of the idea to replace him in the less than usual way.

Such thinking obviously did lend calmness to his thoughts. He was glad, yet again, that he'd thought to hide that one single sheet, that ancient manuscript, lest his master come across it and draw conclusions. So far, it had not been missed.

Not for the first or the last time, Darth Maul wished that he now had the power to defeat his master, to strike him down.

Wishful thinking. There was still no chance of success at this point. At least, not alone.

In the back of his mind, the Voices soothed. Trying to listen to their crooning while concentrating on the information still streaming from the elated and oblivious Chancellor help Maul to calm down a little; nothing like successfully doing two things at once to focus one's mind.

Maul clenched his teeth, flexing the muscles along his jawline. Something drastic would have to be done about this situation, that much was clear. But what?

No fear.

The answer would come to him, in the right time. It always did.

***

Maldad sat in his ship's helm, relishing the way the custom made seat seemed to mold itself to his skin. A specialty, that chair - perfect for thinking, relaxing, planning. He now knew exactly how he was going to "get" Morru. It would be absurdly simple, especially now that the decision had come down from on high to move her from the planet. Really, she should have known better. Perhaps she subconsciously wanted to join her Mother.

Maldad leaned back, putting his hands behind his head, and sighed the sigh of the well-contented. He had already done the calculations in his head: 19 standard hours, and Morru - as well as some very important and influential hostages - would be in his hands. He frowned slightly; it was really a shame about the Jedi and the Chancellor, but such were the casualties of war. Besides, who knew? He could probably come up with a very good use for his extra tag-alongs by the time he was finished with Morru. Improvisation always had been one of his strong points.

***

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not naturally a compromiser. Flexibility was something that had had to be trained into him, his various Jedi teachers spending hours to teach him the improvisation skills necessary to be a Jedi. That was why he couldn't help but be a bit proud of himself for coming up with the present solution.

The problem was simple, really. Morru could not be allowed freedom as other people because leaving the Jedi Temple could result in her being captured and impregnated by the Sith. But an order had come down from none other than Chancellor Palpatine himself that Morru was to be released into his personal custody and taken off-planet, and (in theory) out of harm's way.

The disagreement this sparked in the Council was as bad a one as Obi-Wan had ever witnessed. There was none of the chaos that sounded all-too-often these days in the halls of the Senate, but the tension, though quiet, was somehow worse. Now that Palpatine had joined them, it was almost too thick to breathe.

To obey the Chancellor would put Morru - and therefore the future - in danger. To disobey the Chancellor was unthinkable. The Jedi had all sworn loyalty to him upon becoming Jedi; it was one of the principles of stability in the Republic, and to rebel now would begin a precedent that would cause much damage in the future.

Back and forth the "discussion" went. Palpatine promised he could protect her; the Council argued that without Jedi, such protection was impossible. Palpatine grew more insistent to the point of commandeering; the Council remained silently, patiently, infuriatingly stubborn.

And then Obi-Wan had an idea.

The Council did not want to let Morru leave because she would be out from under the influence and protection of Jedi. Palpatine wanted Morru to leave the planet because he believed that was the only way she would be safe.

So why not do both?

Speaking respectfully and as articulately as he could, he proposed a compromise: Let the Jedi - Council members, if need be - escort Morru off the planet along with Palpatine to wherever their final destination was. Then assign Jedi, perhaps in rotating basis, to guard her. They had been planning to implement a program to provide extra protection to the Chancellor, after all; if Morru was going to be with him as constantly as he claimed, why not extend that protection to her?

His suggestion was received with more enthusiasm than he had expected; it seemed that in their view, he had averted disaster. Qui-Gon, he was assured, would be proud.

For some reason, he didn't think so. In fact, for some reason, he thought Qui-Gon would not have agreed at all. Probably he just would have spirited her off the planet himself rather than trust her to the hands of Palpatine, who had not been one of his favorite people.

Silently praying that he had done the right thing, Obi-Wan retreated to his quarters to pack and prepare Anakin for the journey. It was going to be a long voyage.

***

What happened in the next few days would have made one of the pivotal "turning points" touted in the history books, had it been recorded. Unfortunately, or fortunately, perhaps, other ensuing trivialities such as the overthrow of the Republic and instatement of Palpatine as Emperor overshadowed the strange events of that week. You may judge for yourself whether or not they deserved as high a place in those histories.

***

The small red ambassadorial vessel lifted off from the planet less than 13 standard hours after the decision had been made. Aboard were Yoda, Windu, Mundi, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and their fellow Jedi, Shuri ka Lin and Men'del Punt. Also along for the ride were Morru and Palpatine, and, unknown to all but the Chancellor himself, Darth Maul, who had hid himself neatly and unobtrusively in the storage bay. They were going to make as pleasant a journey of it as possible, even stopping along the way at Naboo to greet the Queen. Politics were politics, after all.

The trouble in the engine made its presence known after three standard hours. Its heat increased steadily until the automated pilot had no choice but to slow down and see if somewhere, someone could fix the problem. When they emerged from lightspeed three standard hours later, Maldad (who had through some rather complicated remote-control droid work fiddled with the hyperdrive) and the Anomaly were waiting for them. Surprised as they all were by the appearance of the much larger vessel directly off their port bow, the next move of the ship surprised them even more.

To the end of his days, Obi-Wan wondered why no one tried to stop it.

Its movement emphasized by the silence of space, the Anomaly suddenly seemed to split in half as it opened like a giant mouth and swallowed the Ambassadorial ship whole.

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