Chapter 13

Daruc was scanning the smoking ruins of the banquet hall with a smug smile. Ha-ha! Lord Sidious will be so pleased with my handiwork! His train of thought was interrupted, though, when he saw part of a wall falling away from the ruins. He squinted through the lenses of the macrobinoculars and saw a hand punch through the hole, followed by a face that looked around and then smiled at the night air. The figure then seemed to turn around and beckon to people behind him. He was bloodied and dirtied, but there was no mistaking who that person was.

"No!" Daruc said aloud. "Not the prince!" That's impossible! How could he be alive? That blast was strong enough to kill a rancor!

He growled and viciously threw his macrobinoculars into the back of the speeder. He jumped behind the wheel and sped away, barely missing the small astromech droid that was only a few feet behind him.

* * *

R2-D2 had finally managed to pick the lock. He had sped out of the palace as quickly as he could, which was not an easy feat with the numerous staircases. When he had finally reached the outside, he had tried following the garden path to the banquet hall. There were too many people though who were running in every direction possible. They blocked his way, so the small droid had turned down a side road that circled the palace.

It was down this side road that he came across a parked speeder. There was a tall man standing outside of it who was watching the disaster in the distance. Artoo was about to approach him when the man started screaming about the prince. He slowly wheeled closer to see if he could get a clear picture of the man's face. Suddenly, the angry man jumped into his speeder and pulled away rapidly, leaving Artoo's wheels spinning backwards, sending him into a nearby bush.

After taking a few minutes to right himself, the faithful astromech began heading towards the ruined banquet hall once again.

* * *

Cort was very busy at the moment. He was helping all able-bodied people climb up the slick marble surface to the hole he had broken to the outside. General Loran's impromptu rescue crew was doing a credible job, and Mrs. Loran's temporary medics were proving themselves to be equally as helpful. Cort was in the process of helping a woman down to the outside when he noticed someone back in the dusky interior. The figure was carrying a smaller, immobile body in his arms.

Oh no . . .

Cort's stomach dropped when he saw the pained expression on Obi-Wan's face. He quickly slid down the marble slab and rushed to his friend's side.

"Ben, is he . . . he's not . . ?"

"No," Obi-Wan answered quietly. "He's not dead. He's badly hurt, though. I need to get him out of here."

Cort looked down at the unconscious Anakin. The boy was dirty and his padawan robes were torn. He had an ugly gash across his forehead. Cort reached out to the boy, but Anakin moaned painfully and turned away from the prince's worried touch at his arm.

The prince reached out and grabbed hold of Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Come on, this way." He led Obi-Wan to the exit and helped him out. Then he turned around and shouted back to the general.

"General Loran, I have to go help my friends. I'll send more help back. Do you think your people can handle it?"

"Yes, sir! We'll keep it under control. Good luck with you friend." The general waved him on, and Cort turned to leave.

The elderly general's voice echoed after him. "May the Force be with you, young prince!"

Thank you, old man, he thought. I have a feeling we will all need the Force more now then ever before.