Disclaimer: Lucas owns all. He's a very rich man.

Description: This is an Alternate Universe story set in the time period of Episode III. The "opening crawl" will tell you most of what you need to know, and I don't imagine you'll find the storyline difficult to follow. Essentially, it's a reimagining of the Clone War. Rather than fighting the Separatists, the Republic and the Jedi are at war with the Sith, who -- led by Darth Sidious and Count Dooku -- are seducing wavering Jedi and have amassed a fleet comparable to the Republic's.

I hope that this story, while dark in parts, will convey the sense of great fun present in Mr. Lucas' wonderful movies. There will be an Obidala tilt to this story that will be clear, but it will be far from the sole focus. I hope to provide an entertaining adventure with some twists and turns throughout.

A/N: Feedback is always greatly appreciated. Do me a favor and leave a review. Criticism, praise, and questions are all more than welcome. Thanks!

THE MERCY SEAT

War! The Republic is buckling beneath the strain of the evil Sith’s attacks. Led by the Dark Lord, Darth Sidious, the Sith continue to conquer and decimate worlds. Lured with the promise of power, disillusioned Jedi Knights and Padawans are joining their ranks in droves.

In a campaign of terrorism, the Sith have begun kidnapping key Republic politicians. Senators and planet rulers live in abject fear. Some have resigned from office; others have joined the Sith.

In space above the Outer Rim world of Sarna, Republic warships do battle with a Sith fleet commanded by the ruthless General Grievous. Infiltrating Grievous’ flagship, a Jedi Knight leads a daring mission to rescue a captive Senator.

...

The chaos was almost beautiful in its random, violent way.

Hapless short-range fighters were carved apart as they attempted to negotiate their way through the crossfire of the battleships. One after the other, A-Wings exploded, erasing from existence some of the Republic’s most skilled pilots, and even some Jedi. Dying screams reverberated over the fleet comm system.

Obi-Wan Kenobi wove a path through the narrow spaces between weapons fire, drawing a wide circle around the Sith command ship to reach the docking bay on the other side.

Before he was able to turn about, though, a stray bolt of blaster fire rocked his diminutive vessel, tearing off a chunk of its left wing, which flew back overhead of R2D2, narrowly missing the astromech droid, who loudly whined his protest to the Jedi pilot.

“Calm down, R2,” the human’s smooth voice replied with but a hint of apprehension. “We’re all right. Shift the stabilizers to compensate.”

The ship steadied a measure when the droid complied, but another hit would surely take them.

As Obi-Wan finished bringing the A-Wing around, grimacing when the vessel lurched off-course momentarily, he could see the docking bay of Grievous’ battleship. Its shields were down, just as he’d known they would be. It appeared as though a new batch of fighters were preparing to take off from within, though.

“This might be one of our more memorable landings,” the Jedi quipped, dodging fire as he navigated toward the capacious bay. “Not too fast now, R2…”

Much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin, the ship’s speed began to increase rather than let up, accelerating the closer they got.

“R2!” he growled, clutching the console in front of him as his weight shifted forward none too gently. “Perhaps I wasn’t explicit. I said not too fast. This is too fast!”

His loyal droid bantered back with a series of contrary beeps that denied culpability.

“Don’t play innocent with me!”

R2 didn’t have time to reply.

The A-Wing crashed into the open bay, wiping out a group of engineering droids and side-swiping the Sith Interceptor they were servicing, grinding past it across the large docking area with a most distasteful howl of metal on metal before finally gnashing to a halt.

Two dozen battle droids reacted immediately to the intrusion, surrounding the crippled vessel on all sides, blaster rifles drawn.

“Careful with this one,” the nasally droid leader warned.

There was silence for several long seconds as the robotic guards waited. Time stood still before R2’s shrill beep finally shattered the thick quiet, distracting some of the battle droids, who were subsequently caught off-guard when the cockpit window shot off of its hinges high into the air and Obi-Wan followed after it with a graceful leap.

Igniting his lightsaber in mid-air, the Jedi sliced three of the droids in half as he landed, ducking into a roll so that he sprang right back to his feet.

With a quick flick of his wrist, palm-out, he commanded the Force to send another six of them flying back into the wreckage of his ship, where they broke apart and crumbled as scrap to the ground.

The rest of the droids attacked him in mass, but he easily deflected their blaster shots, felling half of them with their own weapons fire and cutting through the other half with graceful strokes of his lightsaber.

Soon enough, he stood alone, grinning momentarily at his handiwork. R2’s self-conscious mewl drew the Master’s eyes.

“Well you can come out now,” Obi-Wan encouraged with a teasing smirk. As the droid popped up out of his slot in the A-Wing and cautiously lowered himself down to the deck, the Jedi couldn’t help but add, “And a lot of help you were.”

R2 beeped petulantly.

“Sure, sure. You’ll get the next ones,” the Jedi jibed quietly, his eyes no longer on the droid, but searching the bay for the elevator. When his gaze landed upon it on the far side from where they were, he gestured for R2 to follow him. “All right, come on. Stay close.”

His diminutive companion trailed after him as he crossed the expanse calmly, his unlit lightsaber held in a loose grip at his side. This might have felt routine in another circumstance, if the hostage weren’t of such personal importance to him. But it didn’t, and she was.

When he was nearing the elevator, one of the tall bulkheads – which led out of the bay to destinations on the same deck – retracted into the wall above it, and just as he’d expected, a new wave of droids appeared, opening fire immediately.

Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and leaned back into a fighting stance, as if entrenching himself for a protracted struggle, but after he deflected a pair of incoming blaster bolts, he reached out and snapped his off-hand downward, watching casually as the bulkhead door slammed closed from above, crushing the three droids standing in the doorway and trapping the rest outside of the bay.

The Jedi continued to the elevator placidly, pressing a key on the computer pad to gain entry, then stepping inside, waiting as R2 followed and the doors closed behind them.

A quick glance at the near wall showed another computer panel, which displayed a ship’s schematic.

“Do you think you can hack in and find out where they’re keeping the Senator?”

R2 beeped in the affirmative, turning so that he was facing the panel and connecting to an input with his thin mechanical port. In a matter of seconds, though Obi-Wan’s impatient posture seemed to indicate that it took longer, the droid disconnected and relayed the information orally.

“Deck 47? What’s on that level?”

R2 answered him.

“The General’s Quarters? That’s an observation chamber, as I recall. A rather open space,” the Jedi said thoughtfully. “I imagine it’s a trap.”

The droid expressed his uneasiness.

“Thwarting schemes is my speciality, little one. Besides, you get to wait in the elevator. I’m doing all the leg work, as usual.”

R2 relented with a somber whine and, anticipating the Master’s order, turned back to the panel, reinserting his computer port and inputting their destination. Seconds later, the elevator began its descent.

Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment’s rest, leaning back against the wall behind him. His thoughts predictably turned to the hostage, his friend of many years. He’d been shaken by the kidnapping, so much so that he implored Masters Yoda and Mace Windu not to select him for this mission. But even though he’d freely admitted his difficulty in maintaining a professional detachment from the matter, the venerable Council had deemed him the man most qualified to see to it.

It would soon be clear if they were wrong.

It was a beautiful room, the General’s Quarters, if foreboding in its black, gray, and red color scheme, with pale yellow lights that spawned shadows throughout. On the far side, near enormous windows that revealed the scope of the battle in space, sat the hostage in an ornate throne chair, her wrists held down by metal trappings.

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped when he saw her, as relief, disgust, and apprehension all gripped him in a muddled mess of feelings. He wasted no time in descending the near staircase, then crossing the wide-open chamber, navigating past the only obstacle – a long table at the center flanked by a pair of bolted-down chairs.

Stepping up onto the slightly elevated floor where the chair was and stopping to stand beside the hostage, he ably managed to conceal his many emotions, smiling gently with a mock bow.

“Senator,” he greeted.

Padme looked upon the Jedi with delighted, comforted eyes.

“Obi-Wan,” she breathed. “How did you get in here?”

“It wasn’t as difficult as you might imagine,” he said, removing her metal bonds with just the slightest tweak of the Force. “Getting out will likely be the greater task.”

She stood up, rubbing one tender wrist with her other hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently.

Padme smiled with a resourceful bravery, though it didn’t feel like her own. Perhaps it was siphoned from the strength in his demeanor and the mild, but genuine concern she saw in his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

He accepted the answer with a nod, then gestured toward the door.

“We should really be – ”

The sentence was interrupted by a craven man’s arrival.

Emerging through the doors onto the platform by the entrance was Quinlan Vos, a hard-looking brute of about thirty-five years, whose sharp features were made deeper and more gaunt by the taint of the Dark Side within him. His eyes, once black, shined the same shade of yellow now as the stripe that crossed the bridge of his nose. A pair of advanced combat droids stood on either side of him, each brandishing an electrostaff.

While Padme took a reactionary step back, her stomach tightening, Obi-Wan looked on the room’s new occupants tranquilly.

It had been difficult for him the year prior when he’d first heard of Vos’ fall from grace, but he’d made peace with it in the period since. Perhaps, he sadly realized, it was because such a fall was now heartbreakingly common. It no longer surprised him when a Jedi betrayed his oath. That was just the way it was.

“Hello, Quinlan,” he said evenly.

“I have been eagerly awaiting this moment,” the Sith replied, his voice sounding as if glass were crunching in his throat with each word. “For longer than you know.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Put down your sword. I wouldn’t want to bloody you in front of your biggest fan.”

He glanced at Padme distastefully with his last words. She felt a shiver run through her as his hateful eyes studied her. Obi-Wan took one step to his right, blocking Vos’ view.

“I don’t think so,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “You’ll not get away this time, Sith.”

Vos flipped forward over the platform railing, elegantly landing on the floor below, unclipping his lightsaber and igniting it. Obi-Wan followed suit, glancing back at Padme.

“Try to stay out of the way.”

She nodded, but his small smile of reassurance did little to sooth her. His skills were plain and her confidence in him infinite, but it terrified her just the same to see this dark Jedi before her, his consuming drive the harm of her dearest friend.

The senator did as was requested of her, circling back behind the chair where she’d been held captive, well out of Obi-Wan’s way.

Satisfied she was safe for the moment, he began a deliberate walk toward his childhood friend, who was moving to meet him halfway, his red blade humming at his side.

“Your death will curry me much favor with Lord Sidious,” Vos taunted.

“I’m afraid you’ll both be disappointed.”

The Sith christened the duel with a wide swing that Obi-Wan easily deflected, the Jedi dropping back into a defensive posture as was his style, careful as he was backing up that it was in a direction leading them away from Padme.

Vos’ attacks were undisciplined and erratic, a mishmash of hammer strikes and lunges that didn’t amount to a cohesive offensive. The hate he had within him wasn’t fueling his movements, but rather adversely defining them.

Obi-Wan was patient, whirling his lightsaber fluidly with blocks and deflections.

When Vos committed himself too far on a lunge, the Jedi planted his foot on top of the Sith’s, holding him in place momentarily so that he could deliver a long, vicious slash across the traitor’s neck. Vos’ hand flew up to cover the wound instantly as the blood began to flow from it, pouring through the cracks in his fingers as he howled in pain.

Obi-Wan took a step back and, as Vos desperately raised is lightsaber in a final, wild lashing-out, the Jedi severed his arm at the elbow, watching with pity as the detached half of the limb fell, the red lightsaber switching off as the deadened hand hit the metal floor.

The Sith, thoroughly humbled and in excruciating pain, stumbled around for a few moments, his throat conjuring horrible growls, before he fell to his knees, dizzied and nauseated by the quick and heavy blood loss.

“You always were…” the man croaked, “the… lesser… of us. You will… die…” He paused as he coughed violently, and wheezed. “Before… this war… is over.”

Obi-Wan looked down on him sadly, the man’s fate – and misery – plain, and he drew back his lightsaber.

“I wish it were different,” he said.

And then he delivered the final blow.

Vos crumpled onto his side in an undignified heap, one leg twisted under him, one wrist bent awkwardly beneath his hip.

With a final melancholy look at the remains, Obi-Wan gave Padme a meaningful glance from across the chamber. For a moment, she didn’t move, too stunned and disturbed and relieved by what she’d seen. But when her friend uttered her name softly, she finally stepped out from behind the chair and hurried toward him, swallowing back bile when she saw the body up close.

Obi-Wan grabbed her arm in a loose grip, stroking it for an instant with his thumb before he led her away from Vos’ corpse and up the stairs.

When they neared the top, he let go and pushed her back behind him as the two combat droids approached, attacking simultaneously with their electrostaffs. Obi-Wan ducked, and the two machines dealt each other devastating blows by mistake. As they reeled back, the Jedi sliced them apart with a few easy strokes of his blade.

“Come on,” he said, leading her out of the chamber and back out into the corridor.

Padme dutifully followed after him, grabbing onto his free hand, which he thoughtlessly relinquished to her. He took a glance in both directions, then led her to the right.

“You knew him,” she said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“The dark Jedi.”

He nodded dispassionately, his eyes darting in every direction, scanning for potential dangers as they moved.

“When we were younglings. He was a friend.”

“But he turned.”

“As has been the lot of many,” he said, his voice steady and serene, though it held the slightest hint of sadness that no one but Padme would have noticed. “He sealed his fate when it was pledged to evil.”

She knew it wasn’t that simple for him, that he’d take the violent act to heart and find a way to heap guilt upon himself for it, but this wasn’t the time for her to take the matter up. First, they needed to find a way to leave this place alive.

“How are we going to get off the ship?” she asked.

A pair of droids rounded a near bend, raising their rifles as soon as they spotted the Jedi, but Obi-Wan deflected their clumsy blasts easily, destroying both of them. Then he proceeded to answer Padme as if nothing had happened.

“That’s an excellent question, m’lady, but I left that matter to our capable companion.” Before she could request clarification, he grabbed his comm-link off of his belt and held it in front of his mouth. “R2, come in.”

The faithful droid beeped back over the channel.

“Have you secured us transportation yet?”

R2’s reply wasn’t to his satisfaction.

“Well what have you been doing this whole time?” He continued before the droid could answer, “Nevermind, I don’t want to know. But we have to leave. They obviously know we’re here by now. Are there any ships in the secondary bay?”

R2 beeped in the negative.

“What about the escape pods?” Padme asked.

“That’s too risky. They’ll have a clear shot to blow us out of the sky.”

The droid offered an alternative.

“Eject all the pods at the same time? That’s not a bad idea. By the time they figure out which one’s ours, we’ll be out of range. All right, what deck are the escape pods on?”

R2 replied.

“Deck 5. All right, we’ll meet you down there. Stay out of trouble.”

With one final set of beeps, the channel closed, and Obi-Wan placed the link back into a pouch on his utility belt.

They came to an intersection, and he once more stopped and looked both ways, trying to remember the ship’s layout, which was hazy in his mind.

“Which way, m’lady?”

“You’re asking me?” she said with mock indignation. “I was a little too busy kicking and screaming to remember directions.”

Obi-Wan smirked, but said nothing. After a long moment, he nodded his head to the left and led them in that direction. It was the correct decision. They came upon the elevator not more than a minute later.

The lift came to a stop. Before the doors opened, Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber and had it at the ready in case of a grim eventuality.

It proved a prudent move, for as the doors parted before them, more than fifteen droids were waiting for them, each with their weapons trained. But even with this enormous advantage of numbers and surprise, the Jedi proved too worthy a foe for them.

Igniting his lightsaber, he decapitated the row of six in front of him in one motion, then leaned in and shouldered the broken sextet into the droids behind them. Seven of the remaining nine fell to the ground, and he quickly carved them apart like a machete through tall grass. The last three at least managed to shoot at him, but it was their own weapons' fire that was their end.

When the last fell, Obi-Wan turned back to Padme.

“Come on.”

She wore a look of amazement as she came out of the elevator, carefully stepping over and between the fallen droids.

“How did you do that?”

“Beginner’s luck,” the Jedi quipped.

Padme managed a smile at that, trailing after him down the corridor. They didn’t run into any more trouble most of the way, but just as the escape pods came into view and Obi-Wan allowed himself a victorious smile, a bulkhead at the hall’s end opened, and he realized with a sinking feeling that the matter wasn’t yet resolved.

One by one, six black-clad Sith ignited their lightsabers, their sun-colored eyes looking on the Jedi and the Senator with pernicious intentions.

“I don’t suppose they’re here to see us off.”