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Only three other members of the Council were available when Mace invited Anakin to explain why he was considering leaving the Order. Perhaps it was due to the smaller body convened, or maybe it was because of his enthusiasm for the subject at hand, but Anakin didn’t hold any detail back when describing his exploits with Chancellor Palpatine.
“—and then he took me to a bar, way down in the lower levels. I don’t know how far we were, but I felt a lot colder than usual, so probably pretty deep. And then the Chancellor showed me how even in the Republic, politicians gamble and win slaves, just like how Qui-Gon won me. But the Chancellor said that he’s not going to put up with it like the old chancellor did. Chancellor Palpatine is so brave.” Anakin’s eyes gleamed with the fervency of the newly converted. “But he’s old, and he’s the leader of the Republic, and since we serve the Republic, it’s our job to help him. We might not be able to stop slavery on places like Tatooine, but Coruscant is where our Temple is, so we should be able to stop it here, right?”
His blue gaze was wide and earnest as he looked at the four Council members before him. Meanwhile, all of them were still reeling from the deluge of information.
“The Chancellor brought you to a bar?” Ki-Adi was aghast.
“In the undercity?” Oppo simmered with indignation.
“Well, yeah, but—but—“ Anakin was clearly crestfallen. “What about stopping slavery?”
The child’s disappointment flared through the Force around him; even after three years at the Temple, he had difficulty shielding his emotions in times of distress. Furthermore, his tension had been palpable from the moment he’d inched inside the Council chamber.
Sensing Anakin’s obvious dismay and aware that they would reach little resolution if this meeting devolved into an argument, Mace endeavored to soothe.
“You are a credit to the Jedi, Anakin,” he said sincerely. “Even in unfamiliar circumstances, you are capable of recognizing injustice, and your first thought is a plan to rectify the situation and help those in need. You strive to live with decency and rectitude, and we are all grateful for it.”
The compliment seemed to take a moment to register with Anakin. Several times he blinked, as if unable to comprehend that someone would have anything nice to say to him, but then he beamed with an intensity that could illuminate the deepest, darkest Sith tomb on Korriban.
Mace grimaced. It was plain that Anakin was desperate for praise, glowing whenever a kind word was so much as spoken to him.
A child like that would be so easy to manipulate, he observed, and instantly reproved himself for thinking it.
But he wasn’t alone in his concern. Oppo’s tail coiled tightly beneath him as if he were poised to strike, Adi Gallia’s graze was trained on Anakin in that unreadable and unflinching manner she adopted whenever she was plainly disturbed, and Ki-Adi sat rigid in his chair, his fingers clenched over the armrests. Quite obviously, none of them were impressed by the tales of Anakin and Palpatine’s joint escapades.
“Thank you for your report, Padawan,” Ki-Adi managed. “Why don’t you wait in the outer chamber while we discuss your proposal?”
Anakin nodded eagerly, bouncing on his feet, and was halfway to the door before he remembered to turn around and offer them a parting bow.
But Mace couldn’t have cared less about the lapse in decorum, and the moment the door hissed closed behind Anakin, he turned to his fellow Councilors with a scowl.
“Unacceptable,” he said flatly. “We can’t have the Chancellor of our Republic dragging one of our Padawans all over Lower Coruscant bars. I was mistaken to allow a meeting between them in the first place.”
“What could the Chancellor of the Republic want with a child?” Oppo questioned, his voice laden with skepticism.
“Nothing he couldn’t want from a supervised meeting with Skywalker,” Adi remarked darkly, her eyes flashing as her gaze met Mace’s. “I don’t need to tell you that the situation as described does not bode well. Skywalker cannot be permitted to attend any further meetings with Palpatine. At least, not alone.”
Mace nodded decisively. “The Chancellor will interpret outright refusal as defiance, but I think it’s worth risking our ties to him. We cannot sacrifice Anakin’s well-being for the sake of maintaining a cordial relationship with the Senate.”
Oppo agreed. “Once we are willing to trade one of our children for the satisfaction of the Chancellor, we have lost ourselves.”
“But what about Skywalker?” Ki-Adi asked, clearly troubled. “He’s a . . . spirited child. The Chancellor has made him aware of his desire to spend time with him. If we refuse to allow a meeting and Skywalker gleans as much, I fear that we’re encouraging rebellion from him.”
“I have a solution,” Adi offered, steepling her fingers. “Now that Siri is Knighted, more and more I find myself idle. As a remedy, I’ve been considering bringing back the Temple piloting program, with myself as the leading teacher. Skywalker is supremely talented in this area, and no doubt he’d be thrilled to assist me as a student instructor. I haven’t offered him the position yet, and of course, I would need to request Obi-Wan’s permission. But it would occupy his time outside his training and allow him to use his individual talents to help others.”
“He’s a talented mechanic, isn’t he?” Mace mused, recalling the training droid Anakin had modified to resemble the Sith Lord on Naboo. He’d been unnerved by the display; it spoke of Anakin lingering on the past, focusing on battles from years ago instead of his present challenges. Ultimately, Mace had rationalized it as some kind of coping technique, reminding himself that Anakin had a very different background compared to his peers.
But maybe what Anakin needed was an impetus to jolt him out of the past and convince him to spend more time amongst his fellow Jedi. Surely sharing his knowledge and talents with others and being recognized for his unique gifts was far more beneficial than bar-hopping with Palpatine.
“I’m all for it,” Mace declared, “whether Obi-Wan allows it or not. Oftentimes, what a struggling Jedi needs most is to know their fellow Jedi trust them. By giving Anakin this responsibility, we’re letting him know that we value him.”
“An elegant solution,” Ki-Adi said with a nod. “By becoming an assistant in the pilot program, Skywalker knows we have faith in him, but it also offers a reasonable excuse to prevent any further travels with the Chancellor.”
“I’m relieved,” Adi admitted. “I’d been questioning if the revival of the program is what I truly need, given my existing Council duties. I see now that it’s not about my needs as a leader, but Skywalker needs to be closer to other Jedi. I’m grateful for the clarity.”
“Then we’re agreed,” Mace said with a nod, settling back into his chair. “Send Anakin back in. And Adi, you can be the one to tell him about his promotion.”
The solution wasn’t a perfect one, Mace knew. No doubt Anakin would always find battles to fight, injustices to vanquish. And he was all the more of a Jedi for it.
But for the moment, they could keep one of their young Jedi safe, give him the place that he needed.
For now, Mace could accept the minor victory, and he hoped Anakin would consider it a victory as well.