Chapter Twenty Eight: Not Just Our Own

[ladyofleithian]

In which Terminus goes to Sullust.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

Author's Notes: Sorry if this is late! 

Below, Sullust was almost a vision out of Terminus’ nightmares. Something about the barren wasteland, the rivers of lava below...there was something about it, at least, that was enough to make Terminus at least momentarily uneasy. It wasn’t exactly a bad planet – after all, there were no doubt worse planets that Sidious could have sent Terminus to – and yet at the same time, there was something about it that made Terminus uneasy.

Terminus didn’t seem to be the only one, really; if anything, Ar One, next to him, beeped uneasily.

“I know, Ar One,” Terminus said. “But it isn’t as if there’s any other choice.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “At least,” he said, “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Ar One beeped as if to show disagreement.

“The Chancellor did demand it,” Terminus said. “It isn’t as if there was any other choice.”

Ar One gave another beep of annoyance.

“Ar One,” Terminus said, his own annoyance rising, “Do you think that I had any other choice? I didn’t want to do this. I warned them and they wouldn’t...they wouldn’t...” He could already hear his voice cracking. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

He hadn’t wanted to do what he did. Killing almost every Jedi in the Temple – he said “almost” if only because he knew that some must have escaped. He had tried to bring this factor up to Lord Sidious, really. The Sith Lord, naturally, didn’t seem to listen.

That was the problem with Sidious, Terminus mused. For someone supposedly so brilliant, if anything else, he could be mindbogglingly stupid. Brilliant enough to spin out a plan that tricked almost all of the Republic, and yet when one got down to it, he seemed to overlook the smaller details.

For example, if his apprentice was already planning on overthrowing him once the mission to Sullust was finished.

It was really a pity that it had to end this way. And yet at the same time, Terminus doubted that he had much of a choice.

He was doing his duty to the end, after all. Nothing more.

 

***

It was much later that Padmè, Bail and Sabe found Master Yoda. To say that Master Yoda didn’t look happy, Padmè thought, was no doubt an understatement. If anything, Padmè doubted that she had ever seen Master Yoda look more tired. More weary. And more than that, Padmè thought – it was almost as if any sort of idealism had been stripped away from the wise Jedi Master. As if the Master Yoda she knew had effectively died.

Perhaps it wasn’t the case. Perhaps, Padmè thought, it was just an overreaction. And yet at the same time, there was something about it that made her unable to keep from wondering. There was something about it that made her wonder if Yoda had, in a way, died – and what had caused Yoda to look almost as if his world had ended.

Because the look in his eyes – if there was a more powerful expression of grief, of devastation, of emptiness, Padmè doubted she would ever see it again.

“Master Yoda,” Sabe said, “Thank goodness you’re alive.”

“Surprised, are you?” But there seemed to be at least some degree of a trace of affection in Yoda’s voice. That, Padmè supposed, was probably good.

“I didn’t think that you would survive,” Sabe said. “Not after all this time. After the news I heard on the Holonet, I thought you had most certainly died.”

“Escape, I managed to. But far from a victory it was.”

“We saw what the Chancellor did,” Sabe said. “Declaring himself Emperor and whatnot.” She rubbed her temples. “It’s positively absurd; Master Windu would never try and assassinate the Chancellor. There had to be some sort of mistake – ’’

And before Padmè knew it, she was joining in as well. And Bail Organa. “ – he said something about making a new Empire – ’’

“ – the Senate actually applauded him – ’’

On and on they went. And somehow, Padmè thought, it was almost a relief. Almost a relief to lose her composure if only once.

Yoda cleared his throat, almost as if signaling to them that they could calm themselves now.

They did, but if anything, Padmè thought, it was less following his directions now – well, all right, maybe that contributed somewhat – and at least a perverse sort of desire to hear what else might have gone wrong while she was on that mission to Mustafar.

“Far worse events have turned out to be,” Yoda said. “If anything...fear I do that the worst is yet to come.”

“How can it possibly get worse, Master Yoda?” Bail, this time. “We watched liberty die in front of us. How can it possibly get worse?”

Yoda seemed to pause now. And he seemed so afraid now, so shaken, so alone, that Padmè almost wished that Bail hadn’t asked the question. She supposed that now was the best time to cut in.

“We’ve got to change the recall beacon first,” she said. “And then we can get some answers.”

***

Most of the Separatists tried to flee the moment that Terminus entered. And they would have been wise to do so. But it wasn’t as if it mattered, in the end. Terminus hadn’t wanted to do this. And yet at the same time, it wasn’t as if he had any other choice in the matter. If anything, it was the same as he had always done. Duty to the Jedi Order since he was a boy. Duty to the Republic. And duty to the new Emperor.

He had no love for the Trade Federation. And yet there was something in how they pleaded for mercy – even or especially Gunray, the miserable, pitiful creature – that made him, almost, want to turn back.

And yet the damage was done in the end.

By the time that Terminus was done, the Separatists were no more than butchered corpses. He looked over them, all of them, and the first thing that came into his mind – which he supposed was something that said volumes about what had happened now – was how simply, honestly, uncivilized all of this was.

Because that was the best he could really muster, at least in the end.

Still, he managed to swallow whatever nausea that was boiling in his throat and walk if only to give his status report to Sidious. Sidious approved, of course – of course he did. It was what he always did, Terminus supposed. For all his pretensions of it all being for the sake of order in the Empire and whatnot, he was doing this for his own pleasure. Terminus could sense it.

It would be a joy to kill Sidious and seize power for himself. That enough was certain.

“Lord Terminus,” Sidious said, “I already sense that there may be insurgents returning to the Republic. I advise you to return to Coruscant and thus get rid of them.”

Terminus could already feel his blood freezing in his veins even as Sidious said the words. He could already infer who Sidious was speaking of. He was speaking of Padmè, no doubt. And Sabe. And Bail.

Don’t be absurd, a part of him said. It’s probably Rahm Kota or Roan Shryne or the others. Don’t jump to conclusions.

And yet at the same time, Terminus could already sense that it was, indeed, his no doubt former friends. And even the thought of having to kill them...even that was almost too much.

Still, he played his usual role of good soldier, saying that of course he would return to Coruscant and root out whatever traitors were left; one wouldn’t want to leave any loose ends after all, and Sidious seemed to buy it. Even as the hologram winked out of existence, Terminus had to smile if only slightly.

Because for all of Sidious’ brilliance, he still seemed to overlook the obvious.

For example, the matter of the fact that his apprentice was still far from pleased in regards to Order 66. Overthrowing him would be only right. And perhaps then...then he could find a way to reform the Empire and make it how it should be.

Except...

Except there was still the matter of the fact that Terminus doubted that there was a way out after all that he had no done. Even looking at the bodies on the floor, he could still hear how the Separatists had screamed for mercy and he had denied them. He had always been one for not killing a helpless opponent. And yet at the same time...

Was that who he had now turned into? A butcher, a vigilante?

Had Sidious made him that way?

Terminus walked towards the windows now...walked towards the windows overlooking the Sullustan hills. The sun was already setting, casting an almost eerie, yet somehow beautiful glow on the hills. He could still remember watching the sunset with Sabe on Naboo, and the sunsets of Coruscant...how they had brought a rich glow to everything.

And now...now if anything, the sunset seemed to be stained with blood. Blood that he had spilled this day.

There was no way that Padmè and the others would forgive him for what he had done. And yet what choice had he? The Clone Wars had gone on too long. They had to end.

And Terminus knew, more than anything, that he had at least done all of this for the right reasons. Because too many people had died during the Clone Wars. Steela. Ninety Nine. Ahsoka.

They would be so proud of you, wouldn’t they? A part of him seemed to niggle now at him. Steela, Ahsoka? Depa Billaba and Adi Gallia? Qui Gon Jinn? They would be so proud of you.

And Terminus knew, even overlooking the hills, that the opposite was true. Qui Gon wouldn’t forgive him. Ahsoka wouldn’t forgive him either. He swore that he could hear her, arguing with him about decisions following the Code, but not truly being the right thing. Ahsoka, at least in some ways, had made him better. Padmè had made him better.

And now they were gone.

Terminus stood overlooking the hills of Sullust, and, quietly, shed a tear if only for those who had died. Those he had loved, and those who he hadn’t thought fondly of, but mourned all the same. Because someone had to mourn them.

And who would do it, if not him?

Master Yoda had once said that they mourned all lives lost, even their own. Terminus supposed the right words were that they mourned all lives lost, not just their own.

It seemed right, at least.