Tonight, Order Sixty-Six goes out across the galaxy one more time, and this time it fails. On Utapau, a clone commander hears it, pulls off his helmet, and lowers his rifle. The war is three years old. By the only count we're given, it names about ten thousand Jedi, enough to half fill a basketball arena. In the film, by most counts, a hundred or fewer survive it. But the man who sent it still holds the Republic, and before he sent it, he had already won the one thing no lowered rifle can take back. By the end of tonight, you're going to understand what becomes of the Chancellor, of the Jedi everyone assumes this story saves, and of the galaxy a thousand years on. You'll also find one quiet reason to think kindly of the men in white armor.

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