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Sidious sat in his office, where he would have been basking in his moment of triumph – he had his Empire, he had Anakin Skywalker, he had the culmination of a millennium of planned revenge – except that he had the disconcerting feeling that not everything had gone according to plan.
The Force should’ve been screaming with the deaths of the Jedi, their collective suffering in their simultaneous dying moments tearing through the Force and reverberating throughout the galaxy, a cacophony of pain that would be called the Symphony of the Sith – no, the Symphony of Sidious. He had been looking forward to relishing in it as the backdrop to his victory…
...But instead, there was nothing.
Well, not nothing. There was, of course, the usual fear and suffering and death of war pouring continually into the Force. But for Sidious, this was hardly enough, a weak and pale tribute to his power that should’ve grown to a great crescendo in this moment.
Frustrated, he decided to call up the various clone commanders and demand a status report. He started, as he had with the order itself, with Commander Cody.
“The traitor has been disposed of, my Lord,” Cody said evenly, holding up a lightsaber as if in support of that statement. A perfectly satisfactory report – except for the small fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi was, in fact, standing right behind Cody in clear view of the holotransmitter. Sidious wasted no time in informing the clone of this.
Cody didn’t even turn around. “We hired a stripper and gave him the traitor’s cloak when he got cold,” he said, his words so completely deadpan and unexpected that Sidious was taken aback.
“That is clearly Master Kenobi,” Sidious said, a few beats late.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, my Lord,” Cody said, still just as thoroughly deadpan. “That’s our stripper, not a Jedi. Certainly not our commanding officer, who you ordered us to murder in cold blood, which we, of course, did.”
Sidious stared. A clone wouldn’t have the audacity to lie to him, nor the foolishness to do so so blatantly. So how could this one be doing just that?
Perhaps Kenobi had mind-tricked the clone into truly believing this absurdity. It was the only explanation that made sense.
“Whatever you believe, Commander, that man is a traitor and must be executed as such under Order 66.”
At this, Kenobi finally stepped forward, flashing a smile that Sidious supposed others must have found charming. “Perhaps the Chancellor would like a demonstration as proof that I am what the Commander says I am?”
“I most certainly would not!” Sidious snapped, appalled. Gathering himself together, he continued harshly, “Commander, if you refuse to carry out Order 66, you and your men will be considered traitors as well, and I will not hesitate to commit forces to hunting you all down.”
And with that, he hung up.
Cody turned from the now-dead transmitter and shook his head as he looked over at Obi-Wan.
“The Chancellor has no taste, sir. I’m sure you would’ve given an excellent performance.”
Sidious scowled and seethed. He didn’t know how Kenobi had broken through the clones’ programming, but Sidious would not let it go unpunished.
Enjoy your little victory while you can, he thought viciously, you may have the loyalty of your clones, but your cherished apprentice serves me now. That thought returned a smile to his face. Perhaps Kenobi’s survival was for the best, after all. Oh, the wonderful agony Kenobi would suffer at the realization that Anakin had sworn himself to the Sith...Sidious could only hope he was there to see it. Hmm...perhaps he would order Vader to torture Kenobi before killing him; Sidious would savor hearing Kenobi’s heartbroken, desperate, futile pleas to his former apprentice.
Yes...it would be worth it to capture him rather than kill him. The clones, however, could simply be killed for their treachery.
His spirits lifted, Sidious started making more calls, to hear their reports and start sending troops to deal with the rogue 212th…
...Only to have his plans come crashing down when it turned out they were all just as bad as Kenobi’s troops had been.
“He’s a bounty hunter who got caught up in the battle,” Commander Wolffe said, already looking and sounding bored with the conversation. “I don’t see what that has to do with the orders to take out General Plo Koon.”
Sidious glared over at the serene Kel Dor. He’d put the slightest more effort into it than Kenobi had, which was to say that he’d put on a hat that looked like it could’ve come from Cad Bane’s personal collection, but he was still unmistakably Jedi Master Plo Koon.
Did these clones think Sidious was stupid‽
“He’s carrying a lightsaber,” he said, pointedly.
“Not my business what weapon a being favors, my Lord, only how well they use it,” Wolffe said blandly. “Will that be all? We do have a war to fight.”
“Of course this isn’t General Secura, my Lord,” Commander Bly said, gesturing to his side. “General Secura doesn’t have a mustache.”
Sidious glanced incredulously between the clone and the twi'lek beside him, whose ridiculous set of spectacles, peach nose that stuck out from her natural blue tone, and yes, dark mustache – did nothing to hide her identity.
“Twi'leks do not have mustaches!” he snarled back.
“She has a condition,” Bly said, unperturbed.
“If those are your ‘brothers’, Commander,” Sidious said, rapidly losing patience, “why are they wearing Jedi robes instead of regulation armor?”
“Regulation allows for customization, sir – I mean, my Lord,” Commander Grey said.
“And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that you and another trooper are currently missing your helmets?”
“That’s right, my Lord.”
The small padawan, helmet much too big for him compared with his master and the troopers who had kept theirs, let out a poorly stifled giggle.
“I don’t know what you’re seeing, my Lord, but I assure you, General Mundi is dead. We shot and disposed of the body very thoroughly.”
“He is. right. behind you,” Sidious said through gritted teeth.
Commander Bacara turned around, swept his gaze right over the aforementioned Jedi, and turned back to the transmitter. “There’s nothing there, my Lord.”
“Oooooooo…” Master Mundi vocalized, looking entirely too pleased with his impression of a ghostly apparition out of a third-rate horror holofilm.
Bacara didn’t even bat an eyelash. Sidious would’ve been impressed if he wasn’t so infuriated.
“We took out Tapal, but we think the padawan escaped into the ventilation. We’re trying to track him now,” the clone said, and Sidious felt relieved. Finally, here were troops doing what they were supposed to. He didn’t know what had gone wrong with the others, but as long as they were kept contained…
Then, above the trooper, a small padawan dropped from the ceiling, tackling the trooper to the ground as he shouted wordlessly.
“Ah! Ack! No! I’m done for!” the clone gasped dramatically...and unconvincingly.
Sidious felt his rage surge again, and his patience snapped. These clones were supposed to follow orders!
Master Tapal rose up from the corner and the clone fell into mock shrieking about the dead rising, and Sidious cut the connection, tired of the hysterics.
“That’s a green wookiee, my Lord.”
“A green,” Sidious echoed, feeling his eye twitching, “wookiee.”
“Yessir,” Commander Gree said, seemingly oblivious to Sidious’s rising blood pressure. “They’re very rare, and hard to find on top of that, on account of how unusually small they are. I’m very fortunate to have gotten to meet one...”
“Enough!” Sidious growled. “I’m afraid I am growing very tired of these...excuses. Why have you not carried out Order 66 as you were commanded?”
“But we did, my Lord...”
In frustration, Sidious shut down the transmitter, but he wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid hearing Master Yoda’s dreadful cackling.
“Captain...”
“Commander.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s ‘commander’ now, sir. General Skywalker promoted me just before he left for Coruscant.”
Sidious closed his eyes briefly, and re-opened them. Of course he did.
“Very well. Commander Rex. Explain to me why you have not carried out Order 66.”
“There are no Jedi aboard this cruiser, so the order was moot. My Lord.”
Sidious scowled. “I can see Ahsoka Tano behind you.”
“Ahsoka Tano is not a Jedi, my Lord.”
“A matter of semantics, “ Sidious said, dismissively. “She is to be terminated with the other traitors.”
“With all due respect,” Rex said, sounding like he meant none at all, “Emergency Protocol 66 explicitly specifies Jedi are to be terminated, not Jedi and those who were once Jedi. Since Ahsoka Tano left the Jedi Order months ago, I cannot legally execute her under it.”
“Then forget about Protocol 66!” Sidious said. “I, as your Emperor and Commander-In-Chief, am ordering you, directly, to execute Ahsoka Tano as a traitor and threat to the Republic, and if you fail to comply, you will be subject to the same termination!”
His words hung in the silence for several moments, as Rex stared, unmoving, directly into Sidious’s eyes. Sidious expected another absurd excuse.
To his surprise, Rex instead gave him a sudden vehement and vulgar refusal, and abruptly cut the connection.
Sidious sat motionless, shocked into silence. The flimsy and absurd excuses, creative reinterpretations, and twisting of words had been bad enough, but for a clone to so firmly (and disrespectfully) refuse a direct order?
Clearly the Kaminoans had been overselling the supposed ‘total obedience’ of these clones and the inhibitor chips installed within them. They would regret selling him defective product, especially when this product had now failed at such a crucial step in his plans. With the Jedi surviving, it would be that much more difficult to hold onto his Empire and rule as he pleased.
At least, he reflected, Lord Vader would not fail him. With that thought, he called up his new apprentice, only to be dismayed as he instead was faced with a clone. The shrieks of children could be heard in the background, but they were of entirely the wrong sort; of merriment, rather than terror and suffering.
“Commander Appo. Where is Lord Vader?”
“Taking a nap, my Lord. He could use it.”
“A...a nap,” Sidious said in disbelief. No, not Vader too...surely, the threat against Padmé was enough to continue to drive him? “This is a crucial hour, and he decided to go and take a nap‽”
“Well, I wouldn’t say he ‘decided’, my Lord. We...pressed the issue. He didn’t seem exactly...well. Stun-sleep isn’t the most restful of states but...it’s better than nothing. There are healers looking after him now.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. He had finally acquired the most powerful apprentice, only for that apprentice to be so sleep-deprived and useless as to be taken down by a handful of clones. And was now back in Jedi custody.
“And why,” Sidious asked, carefully avoiding that train any further, and already dreading the answer to the next one, “are you not carrying out Order 66 without him?”
“Oh, we are, my Lord.”
“I see several Jedi near you, very much alive.”
“I’ll take care of it right away, sir,” Appo said, to Sidious’s surprise...then pulled out some sort of toy slugthrower, and shot Shaak Ti where she stood.
The foam slug bounced harmlessly off of her, but she dropped to the floor with a dramatic and showy groan. Several younglings crowded around her.
“Master Ti! Master Ti! We’ll save you!”
A game.
What was supposed to be the ultimate act of revenge, brought about by a millennium of meticulous planning and patience...had become a game. To amuse children. To amuse Jedi children.
Sidious cut the connection.
He still had allies. Politics were mostly on his side. The remnants of the Separatists might still have some use left yet. And the part of the military that wasn’t Jedi or clones was on his side. But the clones’ disloyalty, the incapacitation of his apprentice, and the continued existence of the Jedi was no small threat. He needed to act quickly, position his allies, and recruit more.
He considered the Coruscant Guard. Perhaps he would be able to salvage at least some of the clones.
Sidious made the call.
“Commander Fox, I require your assistance to put down the Jedi Rebellion...” Sidious cut himself off as he registered that Fox was answering from a medcenter. Or more specifically, he registered who was being treated at the medcenter.
“Commander, what is going on here?” Sidious asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“We found an injured civilian on our patrol, and brought him here for treatment," Fox said easily.
“That is not a civilian. That is Master Windu, who made an attempt on my life.”
Damn him for surviving.
“That’s impossible, my Lord.” Fox said. “General Windu has two hands; this man has one. This man has hair, General Windu has none.”
Sidious had had quite enough of this nonsense by now. He wasn’t even going to touch the absurdity of the hands comment, or how the supposed “hair” on Master Windu was an obviously fake wig, made all the more evident by the fact that it was bright blue and was shifted askance on his head, as if it had been shoved on there in a hurry. But he would make sure that Fox knew that Sidious was done with games.
“I know you are not stupid, Commander, so I will give you another chance – execute Master Windu, or be considered a traitor like him.”
Fox didn’t move, but in that stillness, Sidious could see the flimsy pretense drop.
“You would choose disloyalty.”
“I think you will find, sir, that I was created to be loyal to the Republic. That hasn’t changed. But as of a few hours ago, by your own words, the Republic has been dissolved,” Fox said coolly. “So I am no longer required to follow your orders, Emperor.”
Sidious scowled. So that was the way these clones were going to justify themselves. Trying to get out on a technicality, as if the Empire wasn’t the entire reason they existed at all.
Fine.
“This is treason,” he told Fox.
“It is,” Fox agreed, looking him directly in the eyes. “But not on my part.”