Reconciliation
by Amberlee
Author: Amberlee
Contact: amberleewriter at yahoo dot com
Category: angst, established relationship, series, non-Q/O, Obi-Bail, unresolved sexual tenstion, drama, romance, political intrigue, action
Pairing(s): Bail Organa/Breha Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, others
Other featured characters: Breha Organa, Raymus Antilles, Mon Mothma, Garm Bel Iblis, Count Dooku, Tia Organa, Rahm Kota, Yoda, Mace Windu, Darth Sidious
Summary: As the Clone Wars rage, Bail and Obi-Wan have separate near death experiences. Will the insights gained during these close calls bring to an end their long estrangement?
Warning: While the majority of the story is rather tame, later chapters will include some explicit content and graphic representations of violence.
Notes: This is the last of a relationship arc between Bail Organa and Obi-Wan Kenobi begun in the story Echo. Stories in order are: Echo, Juncture, Homecoming, Disclosure (WIP), Exigency (WIP), and Reconciliation. Other one-shot stories in this "reality" include Match, Always, Grunts and Groans, and Memories of Water. If a story is not on M/A, it is on Archive of Our Own.
Disclaimer and Spoilers: Background information and war details are taken from the Star Wars: Republic and Star Wars: Obsession comic books published by Dark Horse Comics with some dialogue pulled directly from Republic 60, 61, and 62, the entire Obsession line; and the movie and novelization of Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover. Additional insights and information into the Clone Wars are taken from the Clone Wars animated series (the original shorts produced prior to the RotS release, not the current batch), and the LucasArts game The Force: Unleashed. Most of the characters in this work are not my own and are borrowed from original material created by George Lucas or under Lucas imprints. No copyright infringement is intended by this work of fiction and no profit is gained by its creation or distribution.
Thanks: Sarien Palth, Laura McEwan, Katbear, and Claude all get shout-outs for feedback. Katbear and Claude gave editor's notes and kept my nose looking in my Chicago Manual of Style. In the end, however, any problems are my own.
Reconciliation - Part 1
Republic Battle Report 16013215
Security Level: Classification IV
Location: Jabiim
Source Verification: Anakin Skywalker
Report Approved: Jedi Council
Troops were sent to Jabiim on 14:9:09 after overtures by the Alderaan Diplomatic Corps to negotiate between the Republic and Jabiim Separatist leader, Alto Stratus, failed. Jedi Masters Kenobi and Sirrus were charged with making contact with remaining Loyalist leaders, to offer support, to engage the enemy, and, if possible, to capture Alto Stratus.
After making planetfall and setting up base camp, Republic forces were attacked by Separatist troops lead by Stratus. The base was ravaged and abandoned, and thirty-two clones from the 43rd Battalion along with Jedi Dalnus Cam, Sana-Jis Ilowa, and Rallcema Bylissura were lost. One ARC Trooper, designation "Alpha," along with Jedi Masters Kenobi and Sirrus, are now missing in action and presumed dead. Additionally, more than 167 troopers sustained injuries during . . .
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Chapter 1
"We are being boarded. I repeat, we are being boarded! We have Senator Bail Organa on board and require immediate assistance! This is Senate transport three-five-niner broadcasting on all emergency frequencies. I say again, we are under attack and are being boarded!"
The Corellian-built consular-class cruiser shook with the force of multiple impacts. Klaxons blared the impending failure of the vessel's deflector shields, and cabin lights flickered as backup emergency power generators took over from disabled atomizer engines. Bail Organa, flanked by two Senate Guards and followed by his aides, rushed through the corridors in an effort to reach the diplomatic salon pod. While it wasn't a perfect plan -- a jettisoned pod would be an easy target for the pirates -- ejecting and using the emergency thrusters could buy maneuverability and time until rescue ships arrived.
The group rounded a corner and came under attack. An Ithorian and a Snivvian, armed with blasters, opened fire. Bail was unceremoniously shoved to the floor by one of the guards and the other pulled him back around the corner.
"Dat's da guy! Get 'em," the Ithorian grunted in Basic. A hail of red bolts followed.
Isaru, the senior of Bail's guards, darted to the other side of the corridor. "Two more now. They're between us and the pod," he shouted. The guards returned fire and there was a loud scream from the other end of the hall. "Make that one. Senator Organa, we'll hold them off as long as we can! Run!"
"This is a ship, Isaru!" Bail pulled his pistol from the holster. "One runs out of space to run very fast. I'll stand with you here."
"Senator!"
Bail ignored the protest. He darted around the guard in front of him and fired off three shots before ducking behind the bulkhead. There was another scream.
"Nice shooting, Senator."
Bail panted, his back to the wall. "Thanks, Janx, but I can't say it's much help. Our sport models only have a stun setting."
"Here come more of them!"
"Stun or no, Senator, it'll put them out of commission long enough for help to arrive."
The ship shook. Another barrage of fire kept the group pinned down. Bail pulled the comlink from his belt. "Captain! What was that?"
"The Jedi have arrived, Senator."
"Thank the nine planets." Bail switched off the comm and turned to his guards. "Janx! Did you hear? The Jedi have. . ."
Bail's words were drowned out by a scream. Janx dropped to the floor, a smoking hole in his chest.
"Janx!"
Sateen Vestswe pulled out his sidearm and moved next to Bail. "Your Highness, cover me."
"Sateen. . ."
"We need his rifle, Your Highness. Ours won't kill."
Bail gave a terse nod. Sateen might be his aide, but he was also trained for situations such as this thanks to a policy instituted years ago by his old Chief of Security, Arc. Every individual in the service of the Viceroy was required to double as a bodyguard. Only since the war had Bail come to appreciate the prudence of that decision. He crouched so he could fire low while Isaru fired high.
"One. Two. Go!"
Sateen dropped to the floor and fired as he slid toward Janx's lifeless body. Red and blue bolts whizzed through the air as the man snatched the rifle and wriggled back to safety. After taking a moment to compose himself, Sateen switched his pistol for the rifle and took up Janx's former position.
Two more attackers went down before Isaru was hit in the shoulder. The wound wasn't fatal, but it made targeting problematic. Bail's other aide, Sheltay, moved forward. Another round of suppressive fire gave her cover as she darted across the hall and took Isaru's rifle. Bail was starting to worry. It was only a matter of time before either he or one of his aides got hit.
Luck was with them.
The arrival of the Jedi freed the Captain and crew from the confines of the command center. Soon, the pirates were trapped and under heavy crossfire. The ones still standing started running.
A shockwave from another explosion shook the cruiser, sending everyone into floors and walls. Seconds later the ship's comm broke through the noise, broadcasting on the emergency frequency.
"This is Jedi Master Plo Koon to Republic Transport! We came as quickly as we could. Is Senator Organa all right?"
It was over.
Bail pulled his comlink from his belt. The relief in his voice was undisguised. "I'm here, Master Koon! Your timing couldn't have been better. Thank you. One of my guards is down and the other is wounded. We could use some medical attention as well as an escort."
~~~~~~~~
"Rumor in the Senate is that you were killed."
Bail shook his head at Mon Mothma as they crossed the landing platform to a waiting shuttlecraft. "As you can see, the rumor mill is as accurate as ever."
They talked about his wife for a few moments, and Mon Mothma extended her condolences on the latest miscarriage. It was kind of her, Bail thought. Most of his other collogues were too self-absorbed to bother with such sentiment. Mon Mothma was young, but she had a strong will and clear sense of purpose. In some ways, she reminded him of Padme Amidala when she first came to the Senate: full of fire and idealism. He sometimes wondered what had happened to Padme since Geonosis. She seemed, not disinterested exactly, but preoccupied. She often returned to Naboo for extended periods since the war began, and when she did stay on Coruscant she played her cards close to the vest. Many times Bail had wanted to talk to her as they had during the days when they steered the Loyalist Committee. Her insights, her political savvy, were amazing. Bail had learned so much from her. But many old friends and allies had fallen away in the wake of the war as Palpatine's rule was extended well past the term limit.
"Come, tell me the latest news. What is going on in the Senate? What of the war?"
Bail offered his hand to Mon Mothma and they took their seats. The shuttle headed for the Senate building.
"More and more Senators seem content to leave the running of the war to the Supreme Chancellor and the Jedi," Mon Mothma began. "The war news seems mixed -- what we know of it."
Bail arched an eyebrow at the comment. He had often thought Mon Mothma suspicious when she voiced concerns that Palpatine was covering up heavy casualties and gains by the Separatists. However, he had recently begun comparing Senate reports to reports from the Jedi Council and it was clear the Senate was getting a watered-down version the story. Bail had also found that enormous amounts of credits were being funneled to military outlays via the Chancellor's office. Palpatine seemed to be using the Emergency Powers Act to circumvent Senate oversight. It was worrisome.
"There has been a victory on a planet called Aargonar, but I also hear reports of terrible losses on Jabiim." Mon Mothma shook her head in frustration. "The Jedi are supposed to report to the Senate today. Perhaps we will learn more then."
Bail looked toward the Senate building. Once he had been filled with enthusiasm for his work. Now seeing the building brought a growing sense of helplessness and dread. Where was the Republic he had devoted his life to? What had happened to the thousand years of peace? When would it all end?
"I hear rumors that they lost almost a dozen Jedi on Jabiim -- Masters as well as Padawans. Anakin Skywalker has returned to Coruscant, but they say that no one has seen Master Kenobi."
Bail felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.
~~~~~~~~
Twenty days is a long time to be tortured, even for a Jedi.
There were times after Asajj Ventress visited him that Obi-Wan considered allowing himself to fall into a meditative state and slip away into the Force. They were fleeting thoughts brought on by some of the more vigorous and painful of their sessions together. The Sith torture mask encasing his head kept him from concentrating and sometimes it took all the ability he could muster to resist the toxins they injected into him. His arms and shoulders had long ago gone numb from days of hanging from chains. When Ventress left him alone, Obi-Wan would test the limits of his abilities under the Force-dampening effects of the mask. It had taken him just a few hours to ascertain that freeing himself was out of the question. The best he could do was sense his immediate surroundings and project pressure. The latter ended up being somewhat useful when Obi-Wan realized he had enough strength to project pressure as far as the ceiling grate and water pipes above him. At the very worst, Obi-Wan mused, he could weaken the pipes over time and drown himself before he gave out under Asajj's inventive and skillful hands.
He'd had a lot of time to think in twenty days. Since the war started, there had been few moments for introspection. When Obi-Wan thought about it, he'd been avoiding doing just that for a lot longer than the term of the war. So, he set himself a task: what mental focus he didn't expend weakening the pipes above him or purging poisons, he used to review his life. If it was the will of the Force for him to die here, he would be ready when the moment came and would have no regrets.
His life as a Jedi he easily reconciled. He had always given his life to the principles of the Light. Though there had been times in his youth when he had fallen away from the path he was meant for, those moments had only served to teach him the depth and strength of commitment. His years with Qui-Gon, though challenging, were a joy and some of the most wonderful times of his life. His only regret was his inability to save his Master on Naboo.
Thoughts of Qui-Gon turned to thoughts of Anakin. He had not been the best Master for the boy, he knew that, but he had taken his friend Quinlan's recent advice and made a concerted effort to build true trust and friendship between them. Things had definitely improved. Still, he had misgivings from time to time. He worried about Anakin's tendency to rush headlong into situations and trust the Force to guide him. He felt concern at Anakin's passionate nature. But, day by day, Anakin was leaving his impetuous youth behind. The boy would make the best of Knights one day, the best of all the Jedi, given time and patience. And what young person wasn't impatient, Obi-Wan mused. He certainly had been.
Finally, Obi-Wan's thoughts settled on the hardest things of all. Bail and Siri. Siri he had come to terms with years ago. They made their choices and, in the end, Obi-Wan felt they were the right ones. Had he loved her? Yes. She had loved him too. But they chose duty over love. Did he wonder what might have been? Of course. It was only natural. Did he mourn the loss of her? Most certainly. But they had lived their lives, made their choices, and reconciled to one another before Siri's death.
It was Bail that Obi-Wan couldn't face.
Every time Obi-Wan tried to look at his relationship with Bail -- to make peace with how it ended -- he felt pain. All these years later, seeing Bail in the Senate or in the Council Chamber re-opened old wounds. He wasn't angry with Bail, not anymore. The wounds that refused to heal were those of his own making; his own guilt. He long ago forgave Bail for doing his duty, for that was what Bail had done when he married Breha. If Obi-Wan had been blinded by his own desire into refusing to see that truth, it was not Bail's fault. He had always known Bail was heir to the throne. The Ascendancy Controversy and near civil war on Alderaan were still fresh. Jorus C'baoth's elevation of House Organa to the throne was known to him. When Obi-Wan thought back on those three years with Bail, he could see that there had been times when Bail had tried to talk to him about their relationship and where it was going. It was Obi-Wan's own fear -- fear of the depth of his emotions for Bail and his denial about their inappropriateness in the life of a Jedi -- that had led the relationship to its bitter ending. He had said terrible things to Bail that were undeserved, words that could never be taken back.
It was a simple truth: Obi-Wan's regret over his treatment of Bail weighed heavily on him. Knowing he could not reconcile himself to death without confronting his mistake and asking for forgiveness, Obi-Wan resolved to do everything he could to survive. He made a silent plea to the Force to give him the strength to free himself so he might finally confront his greatest fear: love.
When they fed him the muscle maggots he knew he had little time left. Ventress was relentless, if nothing else, and there was only so long Obi-Wan could slow the progress of the parasites in his body. The fact that she had used them told Obi-Wan that Ventress no longer cared if he lived or died no matter what Dooku had to say about it.
That was when Asajj made a mistake. She tried to use Obi-Wan as leverage to get the ARC trooper, Alpha, to talk.
Obi-Wan could have told her it wouldn't work. If Alpha hadn't turned or cracked by now, he wasn't going to. Leaving him in the same cell with Obi-Wan? That was stupidity caused by arrogance -- a common flaw in those who gave themselves to the dark in Obi-Wan's opinion. He hung there and continued to keep his real level of strength hidden from Ventress until she left.
"Alpha," he said, "you're not dead."
"Not yet. Though I don't expect to survive my next interrogation," Alpha replied. "But you've been here for three weeks. I assume you've devised an escape plan."
Part of Obi-Wan wanted to laugh. Leave it to a clone trooper to assume the superiority of his General in dire circumstances. That misconception was going to have to end at some point. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't have the start of a plan.
"This mask has kept me from concentrating enough to rip the door down. But not enough to stop me from pushing on water pipes . . . for twenty days straight."
"Great. So we either drown or get electrocuted."
Obi-Wan almost grinned at the sarcasm. "Or the water shorts out your manacles."
"Okay, so I drown with my hands free."
Independent thinking wasn't the hallmark of a clone. It was bred out of all but a few. But Alpha was smart enough to get Obi-Wan's train of thought.
"Just get this mask off me."
By the time Alpha managed to free them both, the water was up to their waists. With the mask removed, Obi-Wan felt a rush of relief. He still didn't know if he'd survive this, if he'd even make it off the planet, but he was going to try.
~~~~~~~~
Bail paused in the hallway. Part of him wondered what he was doing here. He had only visited the apartment at 500 Republica twice in the years since he and Obi-Wan had parted company. Unable to face the memories that confronted him in every portion of the space, Bail had abandoned the property to the care of his staff. Before his marriage, when he was required on Coruscant he stayed with his sister, Celly. After the wedding, he took suites in opulent hotels he thought would please Breha. Three years ago, not long before he was killed, Arc had selected a building just off the Glitannai Esplanade to serve as a new Alderaanian Embassy. Cantham House, as it was called, had an interesting history but had seen better days. Arc had worked closely with architects to ensure the restoration of the property would shore up the foundations and conceal the development of a high-tech training facility deep in the lower levels. Cantham House was where Bail should have gone when he left his office but, for some reason, he gave the address for Republica to the droid when he got into the air taxi. He told himself he didn't want to bother the staff at Cantham House. He told himself he didn't want to roam the huge building when his wife back on Alderaan. He rationalized that the place was in the midst of the redecoration Breha had ordered during her last visit, and he would only find it irritating.
The truth was, it was a strange masochistic nostalgia, a restless ennui, that drew him to the apartment where he had shared so many hours with Obi-Wan.
Bail had spent the majority of his day trying to track down information about Jabiim. Anakin Skywalker was, indeed, on Coruscant and was there for the Senate briefing. But, instead of Obi-Wan, Master Ki-Adi-Mundi stood by Anakin's side to deliver the reports. When Bail brought up Jabiim, Sly Moore abruptly shut down the inquiry. Tracking the rumor mill was little help -- Bail knew from experience how wrong it could be -- but it was all he had since he was unable to reach Master Windu or another member of the Jedi Council for more information. The official notice about Jabiim in the Senate archive was so short as to be absurd, and his frustration with the obvious misdirection had him contacting Sly Moore to insist on a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor in the morning. Given Bail's status in the Senate, and his former position as a member of Palpatine's inner circle, a request for a meeting could never be refused, but Bail suspected there would soon come a day when Palpatine felt confident enough in his stranglehold on the supermajority that he could toss aside even this remaining courtesy.
Everything about the situation was disturbing. The fact that he could find no answer to the question of Obi-Wan's whereabouts only served to put him more on edge. Though their relationship had ended nearly a decade ago, his love for the Jedi had never faded. It was only Obi-Wan's edict that Bail never speak to him again -- along with his loyalty to his wife and her love -- that kept Bail from trying to mend the rift in what had been a long and significant friendship. The fear and helplessness he felt when he stood in Palpatine's office and watched as Obi-Wan was attacked by unseen foes on Geonosis nearly undid him. The idea of never seeing Obi-Wan again, never being able to set right the wrongs they had done to one another in their short time together, was a wound that, for Bail, had never healed.
"You're insane, Bail," he said aloud. "Why don't you just go home? Nothing good can come of this."
He went inside anyway.
There had been surprisingly few changes made to the apartment. The carpets had been updated and were now the same gray-purple shade as those that decorated Bail's Senate office. The partition wall that had separated the foyer from the sunken living space had been removed. The artwork had changed -- there was less of it now that Bail no longer lived in the space and, instead, plants and flowers took prominence -- but the furniture placement was exactly as it had been.
A protocol droid approached him with a tray. Hot tea, as if he had been expected, but there were two steaming cups instead of one.
"Hello, Bail."
Bail nearly dropped his cup, startled by the sound of an unexpected voice. As far as he knew, no one was supposed to be using the apartment. He turned toward the sound. A form stood on the other side of the room, outlined by the glowing fireplace.
"Finis! Finis Valorum!"
Bail wasn't sure if he felt happiness or concern that his former mentor and friend was standing in the room. As far as Bail knew, Finis had not returned to Coruscant since his ouster twelve years ago. Had random chance engineered this moment, or had Finis come looking for him at his old residence, not knowing that Bail was more likely to be found at Cantham House these days? Even so, his presence seemed strange. Bail knew Finis had been working closely with Celly and the Refugee Relief Movement since leaving the service of the Republic, giving enormous sums to fill its coffers. It would have been a simple thing for Finis to ask Celly where to find him.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries. Bail felt somewhat uncomfortable as Finis stared out at the city. Bail never truly believed the charges of corruption leveled against Finis, but they had weakened his leadership so much as to make his Chancellorship impotent. It had been Bail who had seconded the Vote of No Confidence that ended Finis' political career forever.
"I've been watching the politics here on Coruscant very carefully. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Have you all lost your minds?"
Bail blinked, shocked by the vehemence in Finis' tone. "I beg your pardon?"
"Palpatine! The Senate votes him these extraordinary powers and he asks for more. Then, the senate gives them to him!"
Many thought Finis had lost his grasp on reality after he left Coruscant. He had often railed against Palpatine and spun conspiracy theories that made anyone who heard him blush in embarrassment. Bail had listened to the titters, the jeers, and the jokes at Finis' expense during parties but thought little of it. It was gossip and rumor like anything else. But being confronted with it like this was more than disconcerting, it was shocking. "These are extraordinary times, Finis, and the powers granted the Supreme Chancellor are temporary ones."
"The Senate barters away fundamental rights upon which the Republic was built! You trust that the tyrant you are creating will give them back to you when this crisis is over? Palpatine will give back nothing! No one who seeks power the way that he does will ever surrender it willingly!"
"That's simply not true, Finis! The Senate still retains final authority, and the Jedi themselves are independent!"
"For how much longer in either case? Palpatine will make sure that any individual or group that opposes him or is in his way is removed! Look what happened to King Veruna! Look what happened to me! I know it was Palpatine who had me framed. I was forced to resign as Supreme Chancellor so he could ascend to it! Just as I am certain he arranged for those pirates to attack your transport."
The accusation stopped Bail cold. "What proof . . ."
"I have no more proof than I do that he masterminded my fall. If I did have it, Palpatine would be in chains at this moment."
Suddenly, Bail remembered what the pirates had said, "Dat's da guy! Get 'em." The strangeness of such words had not registered until now. The situation on the ship had been tense and Bail had spent the intervening hours focused on the injuries of those on the transport and the possibility that Obi-Wan was dead. Pirates attacked ships for goods, not for people. Unless they were hired. In a split second, Bail realized he was starting to believe what Finis had to say. "Why would he want me killed?"
"Because you embody what the Republic was. What it should be. What it could be again. And that is very dangerous in these 'extraordinary' times."
Bail chuckled. "I'm afraid you have no idea how out of fashion I am with most of my colleagues. I have very little influence, Finis."
"Really? Is that why Palpatine is using the attack on you to push through the Security and Enforcement Act?"
"What?"
Bail shivered. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Bail had seen to it himself that the Security and Enforcement Act was tabled for giving too much latitude and power to the Supreme Chancellor. The measure would allow the Executive to restructure military assets without Senate oversight under the guise of protecting individuals deemed: "vital to the survival of the Republic." It gave the military carte blanche to fire on unidentified or unregistered craft without warning and allowed for the destruction of pirates and criminals without negotiation, capture, or trial. The passage of such a bill would compromise the checks and balances of the constitution, increase deadly violence by criminals, and repeal some of the most basic tenants of the Republic's jurisprudence system. It was unwise and unnecessary to instill so much authority in one individual. It went against everything the Republic stood for. To have the attack on his transport used to reopen debate on the Act was appalling to him.
"You won't be able to stop it." Finis pulled up the hood of his cloak, his voice sad. "I came here to warn you, Bail. Don't make yourself a target. Learn from what happened to me. You have too much to lose, my friend."
My friend. Even after everything that had happened to him, that Finis could still use those words cut Bail to the quick. If Finis was right, no one had ever given Palpatine half the credit he was due. To achieve the kind of power transfer that had occurred in recent years -- and to do so without tainting his own image or bringing about calls for his resignation -- Palpatine had to be one of the greatest political masterminds ever known. It was almost ludicrous to think that any one being was capable of manipulation of such magnitude.
Finis turned and headed for the door. Bail reached to stop him. "Please, don't go. I'm not a great man like you, but I will confront the Supreme Chancellor. I won't be used as an excuse to further erode personal liberties."
"I should leave. If you pursue your intended course, Bail, you will have enough problems without being associated with me." He stepped into the hallway. The cleaning droids polishing the floor skittered away. "I will depart Coruscant in a day or two. We'll speak again before I leave."
As Bail watched Finis move down the hallway and into a turbolift, he found himself wondering: was such a conspiracy truly possible? And, if it was, was it already too late?
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Chapter 2
To say that Bail's meeting with Palpatine went poorly was an understatement.
Bail stormed through the halls of the Senate Annex, seething with nearly unchecked rage. How was it he never noticed before how smooth every answer was? Why had the fact that Palpatine always had a convenient scapegoat when someone tried to blame him for something not raised a warning flag until now?
"Not every heart is as unwavering as yours, Senator Organa. Some worlds might join the enemy if they think he is stronger," Bail mimicked as he charged toward a turbolift. "What kind of logic is that? It's perfectly fine to cover up the truth as long as it suits your own ends?"
Then there was the all too opportune answer when pressed about the Security and Enforcement Act.
"Your many friends in the Senate are so offended by this wanton attack on your person that they insisted I re-introduce it," Bail grumbled under his breath. "Bantha poodoo! Not one of my friends would have allowed him to use me as an excuse to pass legislation like this. And how dare that man make veiled threats to my reputation! How in the nine planets did he know I'd seen Finis anyway? Is he having me followed?"
"Bail!"
Bail turned around to see Mon Mothma rushing to catch up with him. He waved at her and let out a calming breath in an effort to keep himself from saying something he shouldn't. "Senator Mon Mothma, how are you today?"
When Mon Mothma fell in beside him they moved away from the lifts toward a less congested area. "Did you see the Chancellor?"
Bail frowned. "Oh yes. I saw him all right."
"I hear the Security and Enforcement Act has been placed on tomorrow's list of agenda items."
"I know. It seems the Chancellor is responding to outrage over the attack on my transport," he replied, his voice full of sarcasm. "I told him in no uncertain terms that I would oppose it."
"You did?"
"Of course I did." Bail kept moving and lowered his voice. He told her that Finis Valorum was on Coruscant, that he had warned Bail that Palpatine saw him as a threat and to keep his head down. "I'm beginning to wonder if Finis isn't right! I'd always thought him a little. . ."
"Crazy?" Mon Mothma offered.
Bail shrugged and gave her a sidelong glance. "I was going to say obsessed. Although, I know many do think he's crazy. Now I wonder just how bad things really are."
Mon Mothma looked around then quickly leaned toward Bail, her hand shrouding her mouth from view. "If you would know something of the answer," she whispered harshly, "come with me to the Jedi Temple."
"When?"
Mon Mothma resumed her normal stance as if she had said nothing. "Now."
Bail turned to look at her. Somehow, he was not surprised. "We'll take my speeder."
~~~~~~~~
If Bail had not skipped his midday meal he would have heaved at the atrocities he heard described in the Jedi Council Chambers. The outrageous disregard of life on the part of the Separatists was astounding. He stood, silent, next to Mon Mothma and Senator Ask Aak of Malastare as reports were made from Jedi who looked as if they were lucky to be alive. It was sunset and the sky had turned a disturbing combination of rust and red, like human blood, when the worst of all was told. The horror of Parcelus Minor as described by Master Rancisis churned Bail's stomach. To think of an entire planet turned into little more than a ball of flame -- every life, every twig, every animal abandoned to smother in the smoke or roast -- made Bail weak in the knees.
"Another Jabiim! I thought Master Rancisis was some sort of military genius!" spat Ask Aak. "I have always said the Republic should have a strong military! We see now the folly of making peacemakers into generals!" An accusing hand pointed toward Master Yoda. "The leader of the Confederacy, Count Dooku, is one of you! I seriously question not only your ability, but your desire to defeat him. How do we know you aren't working with him?"
"Senator Ask Aak! That is completely out of line!" Mon Mothma jumped to the defense of the Jedi and the bandaged, disheartened being in the center of the chamber. "Perhaps the Senator would support a full, complete, and frank discussion of these matters, such as Jabiim and Parcellis Minor, in the Senate."
Bail was unsurprised by Ask Aak's response. Of course he backed the Supreme Chancellor in all things. Ask Aak was one of the first to call for an Army of the Republic when the Clones were discovered on Kamino. When Ask Aak finished his tirade and swept out of the chamber, Bail turned to Mon Mothma. "He has never liked the Jedi," he said. "Perhaps it's time to consult another ally. I'll meet you at my speeder."
Mon Mothma nodded as the Council dismissed the wounded Jedi Master and concluded its business. As the meeting broke up, Bail caught the eye of Mace Windu. "Master Windu, I know how busy the Jedi are, and I am loathe to take your time?"
"However?"
"I want to apologize on behalf of my colleague. His comments were inappropriate."
"Senator Organa, these are difficult times for us all. In one thing, Senator Ask Aak is correct, the Jedi were never meant to be generals. We are trained in combat tactics and history, but only for use as a last resort. There are many, myself included, who find the moral and spiritual drain of leading this war to be a heavy burden."
"Still, his words were insensitive."
"But many share the Senator's views. Should we silence such dissent and concern simply because it is hard to hear?"
Bail shook his head. The words echoed his own thoughts. "No, Master Windu, we should not."
"I think you have another question to ask, Senator Organa."
"Yes." Bail shifted and sighed. Now that the moment had arrived, he was reluctant. "Senator Ask Aak mentioned Jabiim. The official reports released to Senate archives say almost nothing about what happened there, but rumors say it was costly."
Mace bowed his head. "Very."
"I noticed when the reports were delivered to the Senate yesterday that Anakin Skywalker was present but not his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Mace tucked his hands in his sleeves and looked off into the distance. "He was one of the many lost on Jabiim."
Bail closed his eyes and tried to keep his composure. "Are you sure?"
"No body was found, but Skywalker witnessed the transport explosion and he no longer senses his Master through their training bond." Mace rested a hand on Bail's shoulder. "I am sorry to give you such news, Bail Organa. I know what he once was to you."
Bail opened his eyes but the room seemed dim. He felt dizzy.
"Breathe, Senator," Mace said softly. "It will pass."
Mace was right. A few shaky breaths and the weakness went away. The feeling of loss did not. "Thank you, Master Windu. I will not take any more of your time."
Instead of releasing him, Mace's hand remained. "In the past you have asked to see some of our unedited field reports."
"Yes."
"As a member of the Finance, Appropriations, and Intelligence Oversight Committees, the Council feels your security clearance more than justifies allowing you access to the material you requested." Mace studied Bail's face intently. "Should you wish access to any such records in the future; they are at your disposal."
"Will the Chancellor know if I access those records?"
Mace removed his hand from Bail's shoulder and tucked his hands in his sleeves. His expression was placid. "Should he?"
"I thought the Jedi were not interested in politics."
Master Windu's silence told Bail what he needed to know. He was being offered information without strings to do with as he would. Interesting.
"May the Force be with you, Senator Organa."
"And with you, Master Windu," Bail replied before turning and leaving the chamber.
Finis had mentioned something about King Veruna during their talk. Bail decided it was high time he took a deeper interest in the political history of Naboo.
~~~~~~~~
Darkness had fallen over the Senate District long ago. Bail's clothes still smelled of smoke, burned flesh, and duracrete dust. Any lingering doubts he had about Palpatine had dissolved when the freighter, Star of Iskin, exploded over the spaceport with Finis aboard; its remains plummeted from the sky and killing thousands of innocent civilians.
He sat in his office with the lights off, the events of the afternoon still fresh in his mind. Behind closed eyes, Bail could still see Finis standing on the platform next to Mon Mothma as he said goodbye.
"Listen to me, both of you. You must take the lead here. I'm going back out on the Rim. Palpatine has left traces somewhere, and what I learn I will make sure you know. Some fights must be fought whether you believe you can win them or not," Finis had said. "Watch yourselves. Be careful whom you trust. May the Force be with us."
It was sheer luck all of them weren't dead. Shrapnel from the explosion had pelted the platform, burning debris falling from the sky in a deadly rain. After the initial shock, he and Mon Mothma had run, along with the rest of the crowd, for the shelter of nearby buildings. When a rear thruster crashed down a few meters from where they stood, Bail had thrown Mon Mothma down and covered her with his own body. Somehow they managed to survive.
"Oh Finis," Bail sobbed into his hands, "Both you and Obi-Wan are gone. Who can I trust now?"
Garm Bel Iblis was trustworthy, but the Corellian had retreated to his home world and turned his back on the Separatist controversy in an effort to save his people -- and their profitable shipyards -- from what he was certain would be a costly and disastrous war. Mon Mothma, he could trust her, but she was so young. Sometimes she took risks Bail thought unwise. There were a few others, Fang Zar, Giddean Danu, and Bana Breemu, who might be counted upon. He would have to be careful now, so careful, in how he moved forward if he wanted to avoid the fate of Finis Valorum.
The comm light on his desk flashed. "Organa speaking."
"Bail, I've heard something."
Mon Mothma's face was a close, grainy projection. She must have been making the connection from one of the many public booths instead of her office. There was still a large smudge on the left side of her face; ash from the explosion. He had tried to escort her to her residence, but she refused on the grounds that they should split up for safety reasons.
"The bill has been changed. It's even worse than the first! It grants the Chancellor's office unrestricted use of observation droids, allows for search-and-seizure without warrants of any kind, and effectively ends the practice of due process! Now he's using the Star of Iskin to justify the need for tighter security measures to prevent future terrorist incursions. And you'll never guess who is sponsoring it!"
Bail closed his eyes. "Ask Aak?"
Mon Mothma's response was a curt nod. "Bail, are you sure you want to speak out? The Senate needs someone like you, someone to be the voice of reason, but if it will put your life in danger?"
"I can't stand by and let this happen. I know too much now. Palpatine has to be stopped. The Republic is in danger and I have spent my life in the service of what it represents. What kind of man am I if I turn from what I know and hide to protect my own skin?"
"The kind with a wife who needs him."
Bail shook his head in an emphatic and defiant, no. "It was people like Finis that drew me away from my studies and made me think that a life of service in the Senate was a worthy cause. I still want to believe that, Mon Mothma. I need to believe that. But Finis was right, some fights must be fought whether you believe you can win them or not. This is one of those fights."
"Bail, I'm running out of time on the booth. I think from now on we should be more careful about our meetings and how we contact one another."
Bail nodded. "I agree. I know that Cantham House is safe, but if this bill passes there will be surveillance everywhere." He paused for a moment then added, "I've been considering others who might be trustworthy."
Mon Mothma looked relieved. "I have too."
"I'll set up a small dinner party before I leave for Alderaan. We can begin to sound out potential allies."
"May the Force be with you, Bail."
"You too."
~~~~~~~~
Often in his life, Bail had the feeling he'd done something before. He would have a conversation with someone and, in the middle of saying something, would swear that he'd already said the words in that exact place and time previously -- even though he knew it was impossible. He would read something on the holonet, go over a bill, even see an opera or performance of some kind, and get the odd sense he'd already seen it. He'd go into a room and think, "I've been here before," even though he knew he hadn't.
Bail chalked it up to d‚j… vu. No one knew for sure what caused such things, though it seemed to happen in all sentient species. Bail understood some specialists though it to be a "skip" where independent optical or auditory sensors relayed information to the brain at a slightly different rate, thus producing the effect you had seen or heard something before. It wasn't something that bothered Bail, but it was sometimes disconcerting.
Years ago, Bail had brought up the topic to Obi-Wan. It had lead to a long discussion regarding the differences between d‚j… vu, precognition, telekinesis, psychometrics, and clairvoyance. Bail had expressed skepticism that such things were possible, and Obi-Wan had immediately pointed out that without telekinetics they both would have frozen to death on Rhen Var. When Bail had asserted that the Force gave Obi-Wan such power, he was told that just because the Force gave a Jedi an ability didn't make it otherwise impossible. Obi-Wan went on to explain the differences in Force manifestations, and shared his friend Quinlan's experiences. The Jedi was blessed, or perhaps cursed, with psychometric ability and was forced to wear bandages on his hands and upper arms to keep from sensing so much that it drove him insane. They then discussed precognition and Jedi "visions." Obi-Wan said he felt the Force didn't allow for true clairvoyance. Instead, he said, the Force opened someone and allowed their inner vision to expand to see places and events far away; to sense the connections between beings and their environments. And, during his years as a Padawan, Obi-Wan said he had come into contact with two sentient species that exhibited clairvoyant abilities but that those with such power had not been Force-sensitive at all.
As odd and incomprehensible as Bail found nearly all of the things he had heard that night, the strange part of the conversation had come when Obi-Wan asked, "Bail, do you ever remember your dreams?"
It was then that Obi-Wan had told Bail that he sometimes walked around the apartment in his sleep. He accessed computer files. He commed his staff or colleagues and had long discussions. Sometimes he gave speeches or had imagined conversations as he sleepwalked or lay in bed dreaming.
Bail had been shocked.
Obi-Wan continued with even odder news. Sometimes the things Bail said or did were repeated later when he was awake. Obi-Wan insisted he had witnessed Bail replay his evening chatter months later. He had watched him hunt for something on his computer saying, "I think I remember something about this on the holonet," and retrieve the file he had created while asleep.
"I've often wondered about it, actually," Obi-Wan said. "It seems almost some kind of precognition, but then there are some things you say that are ludicrous."
"Like what?"
Obi-Wan had laughed. "Something about a war. You rail against a despot who controls the Galaxy with an iron fist. You conspire with a rebellion to overthrow this man and restore the Republic. You direct spy and rescue operations. Imagine it! You, a spy and insurgent! I don't think you're capable of that!"
"Well, it's not like I can't fire a weapon or?"
"Don't misunderstand me. It's not that I think you can't take care of yourself in close quarters. It's just that you've always been so forthright about your political views. Everyone knows that. If there really was some kind of 'Empire,' and you were leading the charge to overthrow it, I can't imagine the man wouldn't know you to be a threat and try to eliminate you. You aren't that duplicitous."
Bail had forgotten the conversation -- perhaps he hadn't wanted to remember it because he found it disturbing -- but as he listened in the Senate Chamber to the applause and chorus of cries to pass the Security and Enforcement Act, Obi-Wan's words came back to him. Had he known this without knowing?
It was when he was recognized by Palpatine and allowed to speak -- jeers of traitor drowning out his early words -- that the sense of d‚j… vu nearly overwhelmed him. The words came to his lips as though he had written them down and practiced them for hours.
"This Chamber is a place of reason invested with certain powers and authorities! When power is invested in many it cannot be seized by one. That was the plan and the purpose when the Republic was formed! The powers that this Act seeks to invest in the Supreme Chancellor belong to the Senate! They are our responsibility and given to us in trust! Moreover, some of the powers in this act were never intended to be given to the central government. They are rights that belong to the citizens and to which we do not have a claim! I have often heard that these are extraordinary times calling for extraordinary measures to deal with them. Sacrifices, many say, must be made. I agree with that. But we dare not sacrifice who we are!"
The Chamber had become still. All eyes and ears were riveted on Bail as he spoke with conviction. He could feel the tension and electricity in the chamber as strongly as he felt he had said the words before.
"We fight for the Republic, but what is the Republic, if not the principles on which it is based? To cast aside those principles would make even a clear-cut victory in the war pointless." Bail raised a fist in the air. "These are terrible times! They stir great passions! But we cannot be ruled by our anger. These times call us all to greatness. History will record how we respond. We need beings of vision. We cannot cede our responsibilities to others. We cannot allow events, however terrible, to make us less than we should be."
Bail let his hand fall to his side. He looked toward Palpatine with defiance in his eyes. "We must say NO to this Act!"
~~~~~~~~
"Senator Organa!"
Bail turned to face Palpatine and his guards. Part of him wanted to scream. For a few moments after his speech, when hesitant clapping turned to applause, Bail thought he might have done the impossible. But, when the vote was called, only a little over two thousand were against the measure. Facing Palpatine, who was sure to gloat, was the last thing he wanted right now.
"I want to tell you I thought that was a passionate speech you gave in the Senate."
"Thank you, Supreme Chancellor." Bail's skin crawled as Palpatine put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Although it was ultimately ineffective."
"Very powerful nonetheless. It is good to know, in these troubled times, leaders can still rise to the occasion. I know I cannot do it alone." There was an edge of menace to Palpatine's overly kind and smooth tone as he walked away. "We will talk again soon."
Mon Mothma slid up behind Bail. "It was a good attempt, Bail," she said quietly.
"It still failed."
The pair walked, not quite beside one another, as if they just happened to be going in the same direction. "Do you think we've already lost?" she asked.
"The Jedi have their battles in this war and so have we," Bail growled. "Our battlefield is not in space or on some distant planet. It is right here in the Senate Chamber." He stopped and turned to look at Mon Mothma. "One battle is not the war."
Mon Mothma nodded. She moved forward and slid a hand up the lapel of Bail's robe as if to straighten it and discreetly slipped a folded bit of flimsi into his belt. "A place to start looking for warriors."
They moved apart then, walking in opposite directions. Bail tucked a hand into his belt and cradled the bit of flimsi lest it be lost or discovered. He realized, in that moment, he had taken the first step on a long road toward what might be another civil war, and felt sick. He was a loyalist; a Republican; a man who detested subterfuge. Obi-Wan had been right; Bail had never been duplicitous or devious like so many others.
He was going to have to learn.
~~~~~~~~
"Shields are gone, the hyperdrive is about shot, and the comm is out. Great escape we have going here."
"I never assumed Ventress would just give up and let us go. This is her own ship. Tracking it could not be that hard." Obi-Wan continued to fire from the gun turret at the droid starfighters that pursued them. "We might want to find the nearest planet where it would be safe to land."
Alpha banked, and did his best to avoid laser cannon fire, but with the fan of the Ginivex-class fighter jammed open in combat mode he lost a certain amount of maneuverability. Under normal circumstances it might not have been an issue, but there were now several holes shot through the length of the fan creating gaps in their deflectors. With more than half a dozen fighters on their tail, the odds weren't good.
"Great idea. I'll do that in my spare time."
Seconds stretched into minutes as the pair did their best to keep the craft out of the line of fire. Obi-Wan took out two more of droid fighters before Alpha came back with news.
"Nearest planet is Riflor. Barely habitable. Volcanic."
"Sounds lovely. Any other candidates?"
"None."
"Then Riflor it is."
Arc made a course adjustment and strained the engines to the limit. "Problem is we're not in Republic controlled space, and one of the three suns in this system is having sunspot activity. Going to make it difficult getting word to our side."
"We'll just have to find a comm when we get planetside. I trust you to get us safely to Riflor, Alpha."
"You're a trusting man, General Kenobi," Alpha said shaking his head. "Far too trusting if you ask me."
"Come now, Alpha," Obi-Wan said with a grim look on his face. "When have I ever let you down?"
~~~~~~~~
"I commed Cantham House. They said you hadn't been there."
Bail nodded at the small form of Breha projected on his desk. "No, darling, I've been staying at the old apartment in Republica."
"Republica?"
"I'll stop by before I come back to Alderaan to see how the decorating is going, but you know how I feel about that kind of thing. Besides, no one was staying at the apartment. Why deal with all the mess and bother?"
Breha didn't seem persuaded. "Bail, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?"
"It's nothing. Really." Bail sighed and reached toward the blue hologram as if to touch it. "I'm just upset about the passage of this bill."
"And?"
"And some other things."
"What other things?"
Bail couldn't share his suspicions with his wife. Even on a secure line, telling her might put her in danger. Still, he didn't like keeping things from Breha. He had done too much of it during their courtship and their marriage had borne the brunt of the strain for years. He didn't want to repeat old mistakes. There had to be a way to tell her at least part of the truth. She deserved that from him. "Has the explosion of Star of Iskin made the news back home?"
"Yes. Such a horrible act of terrorism."
"They haven't released it to the press yet, but Finis Valorum was on the ship."
Even with her face such a small projection, the sadness and shock were clear to see. "Oh, Bail! No wonder you're so upset! I know how much you admired him and how close you both were."
"We were close once, anyway," Bail sighed.
"Come home, Bail. I'm so worried. They attacked your transport; now Finis has been killed."
"I'll come home soon, but I have a few things I must do before I can leave." Bail smiled at his wife and tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, darling, I won't be more than a week. And I've contacted Raymus. He's going to bring the Tantive to Coruscant. No more Republic transports for me."
"All right. Just promise me you'll be careful. I don't know what I would do without you."
"I love you, Breha."
"I love you too, Bail."
The hologram shimmered and disappeared. Bail leaned back into his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. He felt as if he had lived a year in the past four days. All he wanted was to sleep -- to truly rest -- but he wondered if he would ever be able to find solace in such things again. She couldn't know it, but Breha was right to be worried. Bail understood now exactly how risky being on Palpatine's radar could be.
What he needed was a plan; one to keep Palpatine looking in another direction while he built the coalition needed to oust him. Mon Mothma's list, though small, was a good start. He had spent most of the night getting to know the details of the security dossiers of each of the Senators so he could destroy the flimsi and, thereby, any evidence of conspiracy. Some were young, energetic idealists. Some were older, more experienced statesmen. A few were considered radicals. All were strong choices from every corner of the Republic. After careful consideration, he had Sateen contact four of the Senators from Mon Mothma's list and two of his own choosing for a friendly evening of drinks and discussion at Cantham House.
His biggest fear, however, wasn't Palpatine. It was civil war.
Bail wanted to be sure it was made clear to everyone that he was not, and never would be, a Separatist. This movement was not about fracturing the Republic, bringing more death and chaos. What Bail wanted was to lift the veil of secrecy -- to expose the truth -- and to find a way to legally oust Palpatine from his position. Part of that would have to be done politically by scaling back the powers given to the executive. Another part would be finding a way to either end the war or drive the Separatists to the negotiation table. Bail was not prepared to be some kind of revolutionary figure. It was the last thing on his mind.
"Senator, I have the menus for tomorrow's event at Cantham House."
"Of course, Sheltay." Bail got up from his chair and headed toward the small seating area where they could spread things out on the table.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Chapter 3
As he strode across the landing bay to his starfighter, Anakin couldn't shake the certain knowledge that this was not where he should be. It made no sense to him that the Masters and the Council told him to trust his feelings yet they also told him certain feelings weren't allowed, or dismissed his visions as misleading. Visions are not always literal, they said. Not all dreams are visions, they said. This feeling or that feeling leads to the dark side, they said.
How was he to know, then, which feelings were right and which were wrong? How could he trust himself or, for that matter, anyone else?
You are still a Padawan, young Skywalker," Ki-Adi-Mundi had said when Anakin had given his questions voice. "What seems clouded now will become clearer later. That is why you still need a Master -- to help guide you and your understanding."
Some help he was.
"Artoo, run a diagnostic on the thrusters. I did some upgrades overnight."
Artoo let out a long low whistle before complying.
"Hey! I heard that!" Anakin sprang to the opposite wing and into the cockpit. With a flip of a switch the canopy swung closed and Anakin began his preflight routine. When he had completed the usual checks, Artoo hooted and beeped before displaying information across the screen. "Only ten percent? I was hoping for fifteen."
Another long whistle followed by a beep.
"Maybe Obi-Wan was right and you do have a loose wire," Anakin taunted.
The sound of Artoo's indignant bleeps were drowned out by the whine of engines cycling up. Anakin adjusted his harness straps and tuned his headset to tactical net.
"Standard formation. Master Gallia on point. Master Koon and I will flank. Young Skywalker will cover."
Anakin frowned. "Master, I'm by far the best pilot. I don't understand why?"
"Anakin." Ki-Adi-Mundi cut off the argument before it began. The other ships engaged their repulsors and rotated toward the hangar bay opening. "You have your orders."
You have your orders, Anakin mouthed silently before switching off his comm. He lifted off the deck and fell in with the others as they exited the ship. "We'll see about that."
The four shot off into space toward Varonat. As they rounded the far side of the second moon, the tactical display lit up with multiple contacts. "Let's hope ten percent is enough, Artoo. Get ready."
Anakin turned the comm back on.
"? is Ki-Adi-Mundi of the Jedi Council. We have your position ringed with our fighters. There is no escape. I order you to stand down your fighters and surrender -- or be destroyed."
Anakin shook his head and thumbed his weapons controls hot even before the pirates responded.
"Jedi scum! We surrender, we all die anyways! We hear about new law. Come, kill all of us if you can! Kill some of you, too, you betcha!"
A hail of laser cannon fire erupted from the pirates. The Jedi split, jinking to avoid fire and to pursue nearby fighters.
"We warned the Senate the new Security Act would just make things more difficult," Ki-Adi-Mundi growled into the tactical comm.
"We deal with what is given, Master," was Adi's even response.
Artoo squealed as Anakin jerked the controls and dove away from the wing of Plo Koon. Pirates were fantastic at attacking sitting ducks but defending their own was another matter, particularly against Jedi. Anakin's maneuver dropped him below the fray and right into a gap in the defenses of the frigate that served as the command ship.
"Anakin?" Plo Koon's voice rang out over the comm. "What are you doing?"
"I have a vector on the mothership, Master! I'm taking it!"
"Anakin! Pull back!"
"I have a shot, Master Ki! I feel it!"
Anakin barreled straight toward the nose of the ship in front of him. A pair of well placed torpedoes would end this confrontation and, with any luck, return them to Coruscant. He reached outward into the currents of the Force, letting them guide his actions.
What happened next was not what he expected.
Anakin!
"Master? Obi-Wan?"
The mothership and fighters vanished. Anakin could see a ship entering the atmosphere of an unknown planet at an angle and rate of descent that should never be attempted; in fact wouldn't be attempted by anyone who valued their own skin. Heat blistered the hull of the small craft and he watched as the vessel impacted the ground, its fantail twisting and crumpling like a piece of discarded flimsiplast.
Anakin!
"Obi-Wan!"
"Anakin! Snap out of it!" Ki-Adi-Mundi's voice finally broke through. "Are you planning to ram the pirates?"
Anakin's return to the here and now was abrupt and jarring. He was, indeed, about to plow directly into the forward compartment of the mothership.
"Poodoo!"
Anakin loosed his torpedoes and pulled hard on the control yoke, Artoo howling all the while. The torpedoes hit their intended targets -- the fuel cells on either side of the mothership's command deck -- and set off a chain reaction. White-knuckled, Anakin spun his craft up in a dizzying trajectory that turned him 180 degrees before corkscrewing away from the now doomed ship.
"Masters, the pirate craft is going to blow! Get to a safe dist . . ."
There wasn't even enough time to finish the sentence. Anakin rode the crest of the shockwave. He was so elated he couldn't contain himself. "EEEEEYAH!"
Ki-Adi-Mundi's voice crackled over the tactical net. "Anakin! That was extremely reckless! And a Jedi does not exult at the death of so many . . ."
"It's not that, Master! Obi-Wan is alive! But he's in trouble and he needs our help! You must have felt it!"
Master Ki's starfighter darted toward Anakin's as he avoided fire from the remaining pirates. "Anakin, I sensed nothing of Obi-Wan. Your own desires to have him live mislead you!"
"Master, I felt him! I can sense where! But he's in trouble and I must go to him!"
"Master Plo Koon, did you or Adi Gallia sense anything?"
"No," responded Plo Koon, "but the bonds between Master and Padawan are very strong. It is possible."
Anakin wanted to scream, but this time it wasn't out of joy. Why did no one believe him? Why did the Jedi never listen to him? Why did they always have to waste time coming to consensus when there was work to be done?
As if in answer Anakin's frustration, Adi's voice came over the comm. "If Anakin is to trust his feelings, we must trust them as well. You must go with Skywalker, Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. Master Koon and I can handle things here."
Anakin shot off toward his hyperspace docking ring. Ki-Adi-Mundi followed close behind. "Thank you, Masters!"
"Anakin, how can you be certain of the direction or the planet?" Master Ki asked as they slowed and docked with the rings. "And why would you sense him now and not before?"
"He may have been too distant before, Master." Anakin rotated his docked starfighter while he searched star charts. "I sense him strongest in this direction. I had a vision of Master Obi-Wan crashing on a planet that has three suns. There can't be many systems like that --" Anakin abruptly stopped speaking. He found what he was looking for. "In fact, only one. Riflor. Artoo, plot the most direct course and then send the information to Master Ki."
"I would have felt Obi-Wan's death in the Force," he thought. "I should have realized that on Jabiim." Anakin shook his head. It was too late for self-castigation. Obi-Wan needed him and he had to focus. Just before his starfighter jumped to hyperspace, Anakin sent out a response to his Master through the Force.
I'm coming now, Master. Stay alive!
~~~~~~~~
Bail shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair before sinking onto a couch. All six of the Senators invited for the evening had shown. The pretext for the intimate gathering had been the acquisition of some artwork to be included in a public gallery on the ground level of Cantham House. Mon Mothma and Bail had gently, but quite easily, turned the initial conversation to a lament that diplomatic efforts to resolve the differences between the Republic and the Separatists had been entirely abandoned. It was a safe way to begin sounding out the guests since all of them had supported diplomatic efforts in the past.
Senator Danu had, as expected, shifted the conversation to corruption in the Senate. Danu had been in the forefront of the Loyalist movement and often worked with Bail in his efforts to pass Senate reforms. He was direct, but an eloquent speaker, and known to be a tough negotiator and strategic thinker.
Bana Breemu, on the other hand, was cautious and tight-lipped. A consummate diplomat known for bringing people to consensus, she was discouraged by the escalation of the war. Drawing her out had proven as difficult as Bail suspected it would be, but by the third round of drinks Breemu's normal tendency for discretion fell away. Knowing she was in a room of like-minded beings, she engaged Danu on strategies for bringing the war to a close.
It was old Fang Zar, however, who really got things moving. Zar was a close friend of Garm Bel Iblis and an idealist who had been in the Senate for many years. He was one of the two Bail had added to the list both for his years of service and for his many contacts. The fine line Bail and Mon Mothma walked fell away when Zar jumped into the middle of Breemu and Danu's argument and said, "Just make a petition! Get enough of the Senate to sign a document saying that we want diplomatic relations reopened with the Separatists and it will be impossible for Palpatine to ignore it. I know dozens who would be happy to add their names to such a document."
Mal‚-Dee was quick to jump on the idea once offered. A soft-spoken man, he shaved his head in a symbolic protest of the war. "True enough, Senator. I too know many who would sign such a document. Already the costs of this war are too high. Destroyed worlds. Destroyed lives. Refugees flee to the Core in droves, running from the destruction that follows the Grand Army of the Republic and the Separatist Fleet. The principles of the Republic are slowly being lost to this conflict."
When Terr Taneel began to speak, Bail allowed himself a quick glance at Mon Mothma. What was happening was beyond his wildest hopes for the evening. Taneel was also a staunch loyalist and, like Bail, had been considered to be a close confidant of Palpatine before the outbreak of the war. To hear her so quickly support the idea of a petition gave him a thrill of hope.
"For seventeen months there has been little real progress. We gain one planet only to lose another. Many who say they support the Supreme Chancellor's decisions when in public whisper behind closed doors that they are dissatisfied. They thought the war would be over by now."
"Yes, I see the restlessness in our fellow Senators as they walk the halls." Nee Alavar's people were experts in reading the subtleties of body language. Bail wanted her for just that reason. He needed someone who could ignore Palpatine's words and see to the heart of him. "Many thought the Separatists would be brought back into the fold quickly. But I think our Supreme Chancellor was not one of those. He conceals something."
"Then we must go slowly to discover his secret," said Mon Mothma. "We would not want to attract undue attention before the petition is ready."
As usual, Mon Mothma's sense of timing had been perfect. Bail shifted the conversation away from politics toward more lighthearted topics. As the gathering broke up Bail received assurances from all the Senators that they would quietly sound out others and remain in touch.
"A productive evening."
"Yes." Bail sank back into the cushions and motioned for Mon Mothma to join him. "But I think we will need more than a petition. I have thought about this carefully. The Jedi say, 'Those with power fear to lose it.' A stirring in the Senate must be our first step, but not our last. If Finis was right, Palpatine will never let go of the power we have given him. We must be prepared for any eventuality."
Mon Mothma remained standing, regarding Bail carefully. "Such as?"
"Certain Senators, like Giddean, should be drawn close in case the worst should happen. While we pursue the petition, I will attempt to make contact with Separatists through a neutral party."
"Neutral party? No one is neutral in this war, Bail."
"One is. Corellia."
"But they closed the borders of their space, and refuse all contact from either side."
"Garm will speak to me," Bail said with certainty. "We've been friends for a long time, and he has never liked Palpatine. If I can open communication lines for a return to the negotiation table, our petition will hold much more weight. A cease-fire is all we need to revoke the Emergency Powers and call for a new election."
"A dual approach? A groundswell of public outcry for peace combined with an ouster?"
Bail nodded. "The first will act as a smoke screen for the other."
"And if both fail?"
"Then may the Force help us all."
~~~~~~~~
Alpha shouldered his weapon and kept moving. He had scavenged what he could as he crawled out of the wreckage and away to safety. The landing had been far from textbook but they were in one piece, more or less. Both he and Obi-Wan were willing to take what they could get.
"General, are you all right?"
Obi-Wan grunted and kept moving. He had killed the last of the grubs in his system, but he was far from all right. In fact, if forced to admit it, he might even say he was in quite bad shape. He followed close behind Alpha, moving toward the cover of some nearby rocks and doing his best to hold what little strength he had in reserve for when it would be needed.
And Obi-Wan had no doubt it would be needed.
Riflor was a wasteland to all but the native Advozsec. The pull of the three Riflorii suns, in conjunction with the pull of three lunar bodies, kept the planet geologically unstable. Constant volcanic activity from huge geothermal rifts launched tons of ash into the air on a constant basis making for poor visibility and even worse air conditions for non-native species.
In spite of this fact, all kinds of beings used Riflor as a safe haven. Pirates used it as a temporary stopping point. Illegals on the run found its mining colonies convenient places to disappear. The off-worlders who braved the harsh conditions kept to themselves and the Advozsec did the same. Still, there were enough small communities on the planet with communication equipment that Obi-Wan felt they had a fighting chance.
That is, if they managed to avoid the bounty hunters.
Obi-Wan had no illusions. Vulture droids were the least of the resources Ventress would use to hunt him down. After sending her own troops, Ventress would, no doubt, put a price on his head as insurance.
"The settlement should be about three clicks west. If we're lucky they'll have a communications array."
"There is no such thing as luck, Alpha."
Obi-Wan clipped his lightsaber to his belt and looked down at the other in his hand. In a way he was hardly surprised to find that Ventress' first master had been a Jedi. She worshiped the memory of him, the shrine they had found in her fortress made that abundantly clear. It was that love, that bond, which had drawn her to the dark. An orphan. A child of war found by random chance by a Jedi whose name was not lost to time. How similar her story was to Anakin's. If they had not landed on Tatooine and found the boy, what would he be now? Would he be like Ventress? Could Ventress still be saved?
The pair made their next open crossing, careful to disguise their tracks. Pursuers would check the wreckage and when they found no bodies the hunt would be on. Every second would count. Obi-Wan hadn't told Alpha, but he could sense Anakin now, and if he could sense Anakin, then Anakin could sense him. Communications array or no, help would come. They just had to stay alive long enough for Anakin to find them.
"General," Alpha swung his weapon down from his shoulder and pointed to their left. "I think we're about to have company."
"Too bad we aren't dressed for the occasion." Obi-Wan gave Alpha a grim smile and tapped one of the many thermal grenades in his bandoleer. "Perhaps we can still find a way to entertain them if we get to that outcropping?"
Alpha smiled back. "And here I thought the kid was the one who instigated all the mayhem."
"I taught him everything he knows."
~~~~~~~~
"Thank you for coming."
Raymus stood at attention in the dining room of Cantham House. He had taken an air taxi over as soon as the Tantive IV docked at the Senate Annex.
"I'm happy to do it, Viceroy. The Queen has been quite worried and, to be frank, so have I. I hope you calling for the Tantive means you'll be taking my advice and using private transport from now on."
Bail sighed and nodded. "Go ahead, Raymus. Say, 'I told you so.'"
"Why do it now when I can rub it in later, cousin?" Raymus cracked with a grin.
Bail gestured to the chair next to him. "I should be done in a few minutes. If you're hungry I'm sure the kitchen can whip something up."
Raymus shook his head but took the offered seat. "I'm fine."
The pair remained silent for a while as Bail finished off his plate. A servant came to clear away the dishes. When the woman disappeared through the service doorway, Bail said, "I'm afraid we'll be taking the long way home. Org Banelli has a private message to send."
Org Banelli was a rather unimaginative alias that Bail had used, years ago, to register his XJ-2 airspeeder with a public hangar on Coruscant. As far as Raymus knew, he was one of only two alive who knew the real holder of the name. Over the years, Bail had built a small identity for Org, including credit chips, bank accounts, and dead end background information. There was even a set of fake identification cards issued from Corellia. If Bail was using Org to contact someone -- and had to do it away from Coruscant -- it had to be Garm Bel Iblis.
Raymus nodded sharply and stood up from his chair. "Well, Bail, in that case, it seems I have a little work to do before you board. See you on the ship."
~~~~~~~~
"All due respect, General, but do you have any idea where we're going?"
Obi-Wan could hear a tightness in Alpha's voice that betrayed concern. Bounty hunters had been on their heels, or worse, for hours now. Alpha had already saved Obi-Wan's life at least twice. The grenades were gone and they'd been forced to take weapons from downed pursuers. Currently, the pair were running hard and dodging a barrage of blaster fire through an area that looked more like a junkyard than a settlement.
"Actually, I do," Obi-Wan replied as he deflected two shots from hitting Alpha in the legs. "Into a trap."
Alpha took one look at the wall of debris that blocked their path, came to a halt, and scowled. "If this is a trap, then why are you smiling?"
As one the pair turned around to face the bounty hunters who were quickly taking advantage of what they perceived to be an optimal situation. "Because," Obi-Wan said, "the trap is for them. Watch."
Alpha's eyes darted from Obi-Wan to the wreckage around them and then to the bounty hunters as they fanned out to block the only exit. As far as he could tell, they were sitting ducks. That was when the kid came out of nowhere.
"Master!"
Alpha didn't wait. He opened fire and hoped for the best. The best showed up rather quickly in the form of Jedi Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. "How many a these durned Jedi is there?" Alpha heard one of the bounty hunters exclaim right before Obi-Wan dropped from a girder and sliced the man in half.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan shouted over the blaster fire, "please tell me this isn't another of your patented rescues where we'll require the whole Republic Army to get safely away?"
"No, Master."
"Come on, General. Three Jedi and an ARC trooper against a band of bounty hunters," Arc said with a grin. "This is overkill as it is."
A few more seconds and it was over. Only four bodies remained standing. Anakin thumbed off his lightsaber and launched himself at Obi-Wan, drawing him into a tight embrace. "I knew you were alive, Master! I knew it!"
Obi-Wan grimaced in pain but returned Anakin's hug for a brief moment. "I am indeed, Anakin. Thank you for believing."
Anakin pulled back and took a good look at his Master. "You look terrible."
"How kind of you to say so." Obi-Wan's usual teasing tone didn't last. After everything he'd been through, he simply didn't have the energy to keep up appearances. "Truth is, I feel mildly terrible. I've not had a pleasant time."
Ki-Adi-Mundi moved to Obi-Wan's side, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It is good to see you, Obi-Wan, and I gladly return your Padawan to you. Perhaps he will obey you."
Obi-Wan was glad for the steadying hand. He was starting to feel a bit light-headed. "What, Anakin not obeying? I can't believe it!"
It was Alpha who saved Obi-Wan from a rather embarrassing moment. He rested his rifle on one shoulder and muscled his way to Obi-Wan's side. "Nice reunion," he said curtly before wrapping his other arm around Obi-Wan's waist to hold him upright. "Can we go now?"
"Yes, I think that sounds like a good idea, Alpha." Obi-Wan gratefully rested his weight against the ARC trooper. He and Alpha moved together through the wreckage and dead bodies as Ki-Adi-Mundi used his comm to contact the ship in orbit. "And Master Ki, if I might send a few messages before we jump to hyperspace."
"Of course, Obi-Wan. I'm sure the Council will want to hear from us immediately."
~~~~~~~~
"Viceroy, we should be ready for transmission in under an hour."
Bail gave a sharp nod to Petty Officer Metonae before she left the diplomatic salon. As soon as they dropped out of hyperspace, the Tantive IV took up orbit near Telti, a moon and mining facility in a dead area of space in the colonies that separated the Core worlds from the Outer Rim. Bail sent Raymus to the largest of the mining facilities to request opening trade negotiations with Alderaan as a cover for their presence in the area. The tactic would give them several hours to slice into the nearby holonet satellite. It would be a tricky business, but not excessively so since the transmission would be data-only.
Until then, there was little to do but wait.
Bail looked over the message to Garm one more time. In order to move forward, a face-to-face meeting would have to take place, and accomplishing that would be no mean feat. Corellia had, just before the beginning of the war, turned inward on itself in what was termed a Contemplanys Hermi, or meditative solitude. Garm had stressed Corellia was not seceding from the Republic or siding with the Separatists but, instead, becoming a neutral entity that would abstain from all conflict. The problem was that when Corellia closed its borders to the Republic, it stopped all traffic into and out of the Corellian system to aligned systems. In order to meet Garm, Bail had to do so on third-party ground: third-party ground that was safe enough, private enough, and remote enough to remain undetected by Palpatine.
Old friend,
It has been a long time and for that I must apologize. My interests in the Core continue to keep me occupied, and the war goes on and on.
Do you remember our last conversation? I have come to realize you were right. To view the entire board in dejarik one must look beyond the single game piece and into the mind of your opponent.
I long to see you. Should you have time, I will attend the dueling contests next month on Baltimn. I will bring my dejarik board and hope for a match.
Org
Bail sighed. That last conversation had been heated at best. Garm had never liked Palpatine and opposed allowing his term to be extended. Bail, still under Palpatine's influence and hoping for a diplomatic solution to the Separatist crisis, said some things he now regretted. It had been Garm who used the dejarik analogy during their final argument, calling Bail a shortsighted player who sacrificed pieces playing a defensive strategy when a more skillful player would go on the offensive. Bail was offended and told Garm he was a man without trust in his friends or the Republic.
A week later, Garm had announced Corellia's withdrawal on the Senate floor. Garm left Coruscant and the pair had not spoken since. Still, Bail knew Garm would not ignore the message. He also knew that if Garm were interested in talking, he would come to Baltimn.
The incoming message light on Bail's comlink began to blink, shaking him from his thoughts. He activated it. "That was fast. Remind me to give the communications officer a raise."
"Bail?"
The voice belonged to a ghost; to a man killed on a far away planet for a cause Bail now believed was little more than one man's pursuit of dictatorial power. It was a voice he never thought he would hear again.
"Obi-Wan?"
"They told me your ship had been attacked." Static in the connection filled the gaps between Obi-Wan's words with the sharp crackle of white noise. "Are you all right?"
"Am I all right?" Bail stared at the comlink in shock. "Force, Obi-Wan! Everyone thinks you're dead! Where in the name of the nine planets are you?"
"I?" Bail heard a muffled voice in the background as though someone had unexpectedly interrupted Obi-Wan and he had simply covered his comlink instead of muting or severing the connection. When Obi-Wan returned, his voice was clipped. "I'm sorry, Bail, I don't have much time."
"Does the Council know you're alive? Should I contact someone? I'm on the Tantive IV and can send help if you need it."
"I'm safe. Were you injured?"
"One of my guards was killed, but I'm fine." Bail stared at the comlink as if the blinking light might ground him; help him make some sense out of the surreal situation in which he now found himself.
"I was worried."
Bail shook his head. Part of him wanted to reach through the connection and throttle Obi-Wan. The other part was so overwhelmed with relief that he could barely hold back tears. "What happened?"
"I've been thinking. I?" Again Bail heard the muffled voice. He couldn't make out the words but the tone seemed brusque. "Bail, I have to go now."
"Obi-Wan!" Bail shouted at the comlink.
"I'm here."
"Be careful."
"I can't promise the lightsaber will be clipped to my belt, but I can guarantee no damsels in distress." There was a long static-filled pause and Bail wondered if the signal had washed before Obi-Wan said, "Bail, when I get back to Coruscant, will you see me? Will you meet me at our usual place?"
Bail and Obi-Wan had hardly exchanged more than a few sentences since the day of his wedding. He was never sure how Obi-Wan really felt, but it was always painful for Bail to even be in the same room with his former lover. Now Obi-Wan had come back from the dead and wanted to see him. Bail didn't have to think twice about his answer.
"Yes."
The light on Bail's comlink winked out. He punched the intercom and sent out a ship-wide notice. "Change in plans. As soon as we're done here we have to return to Coruscant."
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Chapter 4
Dooku roused himself from meditation and strode to the communications console. He moved to the center of the holoprojection unit and assumed a subservient position to await the connection he knew would come. He had sensed his Master's displeasure as he drifted through the eddies of the Force.
A huge holographic head shimmered to life moments later.
"What is your wish, my Master?"
"My wish was the removal of Obi-Wan Kenobi from the side of Skywalker," the figure spat. "It seems that you are unable to accomplish the task."
Dooku did not try to make excuses. They were pointless. He was responsible for the actions of his disciples in the eyes of his Master, as well he should be. Ventress, while skilled with a blade, was crippled by love and loyalty. She vied for favor, and hoped to be made a true Sith, but the woman could never be anything but a blunt instrument. He had been wrong to leave Kenobi unattended with her for so long.
"Then Kenobi has returned to Coruscant?"
"Not yet, but he is reunited with Skywalker." Dooku could sense the wrath of his Master behind the words he spoke. "Kenobi is too firmly in the light. You, of all people, should know this, Darth Tyranus."
He did know it, but it would not keep him from trying. Alone he could not hope to supplant Sidious, but with a real apprentice of his own -- an apprentice with the skill and talent of Kenobi -- it might be done. None of the former Jedi or bounty hunters he had recruited to his cause had the potential of Kenobi to master the nuances and subtleties of the dark side. However, to turn Kenobi was a matter of some delicacy. Geonosis had shown him that brute force and logic would not be enough. Kenobi must come to question the Council and the traditions of the Jedi, and learn to place his trust in another. Coming to his rescue after torture had been Dooku's most recent plan. A weakened Obi-Wan might be grateful to the man who saved him, who had once been teacher to his beloved Master, and take seriously the charge of a powerful Sith Lord in the Senate.
"My failure is unacceptable, Master. If you wish it?"
"Do not make offers to me you have no intention of fulfilling," Sidious growled.
"Of course, Master."
Dooku had no doubt that Sidious suffered his machinations as a matter of course for any dark apprentice. As long as such efforts did not go too far, or conflict with other plans, Sidious seemed to have little concern for anything Dooku chose to do. In the end it was all a part of the grand design: the creation of distrust, chaos, and terror.
"The Jedi have the scent of the Sith within the Senate. We will give them one to throw them off the trail. Senator Viento has become a liability. Have him targeted."
"If it is your wish, it shall be done."
"And the bounty Ventress placed on Kenobi may also be exploited. See that it is changed. The lightsaber of a dead Jedi, any Jedi, will bring reward."
"As you command, my Master."
"Do not fail me again, Tyranus."
~~~~~~~~
"Anakin!" Chancellor Palpatine rose from his chair and spread his arms in greeting. "It's so good to see you!"
Anakin dipped his head in a combination of deference and embarrassment. "Chancellor."
"Come, come, you must sit." A friendly hand placed on Anakin's shoulder guided him to the nearest chair. "I understand you found and rescued Master Kenobi! I can't tell you how pleased I am to know he's safe. But, my boy, I must say I am completely bewildered. The Council seemed certain he was dead. However did you find him?"
"I just had this feeling." Anakin frowned; clearly frustrated. "I never really thought he was dead, you know, but they wouldn't listen to me. They never listen to me."
"Frustrating, to be sure." Palpatine returned to his chair. "Tell me, this feeling, was it something concrete? A vision? A dream? Like your mother?"
"Not at first." Anakin shifted, almost squirming in the chair.
"But later?"
"It was different. At first there was nothing -- just a sense I wasn't where I should be -- then it came to me in a rush. It was like being there, with Obi-Wan, as his ship was shot down. I could see the planet; the stars; the suns. And I knew it was real, that it was happening, and I had to help him." Anakin's gloved hands clenched into fists. "And they just wouldn't believe me. They weren't going to let me go! They would have let Obi-Wan die!"
"Anakin, we've discussed this before. You are not like other Jedi. Your life before you came to Coruscant was different, and they simply have no understanding of this." Palpatine leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk and hands steepled together. "The emotions we feel, the loyalty understood by most beings in the galaxy, are something they do not comprehend. It's their dogmatic and rigid approach, you see. How can someone possibly understand such things when they are not allowed to love?"
The door opened and Sly Moore stepped inside. "Chancellor."
Palpatine's eyes narrowed. "I told you I was not to be disturbed."
"I am sorry, Chancellor, but the Senators from. . ."
"Yes, yes." Palpatine sighed and waived a hand. "I'll be there in a moment."
Moore exited the room, and Palpatine rose from his chair. "I'm sorry our time together must be so short, Anakin. Just as you must go where the Council sends you, I must answer to the Senate. It seems they are incapable of making decisions without me these days."
Anakin rose as well. "Of course, Chancellor."
"Anakin, I want you to know how much I appreciate all that you do; the sacrifices you make on behalf of the Republic." The pair walked toward the door, side by side. Palpatine placed a fatherly hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I admire the strong, skillful Jedi you've become."
"Thank you, Chancellor."
"And you must promise to see me whenever circumstances allow you to return to Coruscant. I am never too busy to listen to your concerns."
~~~~~~~~
"Master Windu said I would find you here."
Yoda turned away from the Republic Corvette that would soon bear him to Thustra and smiled. "Obi-Wan! Glad in my heart, I was, to hear you survived your ordeal on Jabiim."
Obi-Wan bent to take Yoda's offered hand in his own. "No more so than I, Master."
"Doubt your own abilities you should not," Yoda replied, his ears twitching with mild amusement. "A fine Jedi you have become. Used you many times, I have, as an example for the young ones."
"I wish I could see myself as you do, Master." Obi-Wan's smile faded, a crease forming on his brow. He sighed, his gaze lifting toward the spires of the Temple. "This war, the task of mentoring Anakin, sometimes I wonder if I'm doing what's best for him. He's not a boy anymore. His power has grown, and our forced separation has given him a taste of independence."
"A special case is your Padawan. Powerful in the Force, and headstrong, but know, I do, that no other Jedi could have done a better job of instructing him." Yoda leaned against his gimer stick, his expression as thoughtful as Obi-Wan's. "Remained true you have, through everything, to Jedi ideals and to yourself. A great swordsman there was, long ago, in a time before the Jedi. Much experience and many victories in war, he had. Said he, 'The best blades are kept in their sheaths.'"
Obi-Wan tugged absently at his beard as he considered the words. "So a weapon need not be utilized for its power to be exercised. Possessing the strength and will to wield a sword is often enough to preclude the necessity of doing so."
Yoda nodded. "Yes, but pay heed. One other meaning it also has. A sword that remains in its sheath never nicks, never dulls, does not rust. Never does it kill, or maim, or dishonor its owner through misuse. Battered and worn by passing years the sheath may become, but the blade remains sharp and untarnished." Obi-Wan settled to one knee, listening to his teacher. "Though much use has your 'blade' seen, Obi-Wan, you have not dulled. Hope you give me for the future of the Jedi. For in this war, unsheathed must all of the Jedi's blades be, their power wielded. Survive constant use, even the best blades cannot. To say nothing of the damage done to those against whom they are drawn."
"So what can we do, Master?"
"Strive, as we have always done, to do what is right. Follow the Force, we will," Yoda replied. "But another matter, I think, you wish to discuss."
Obi-Wan nodded. "I had many hours during my captivity to consider past actions -- past relationships -- and I found myself dwelling on a specific period of my life. I feel I was unfair to someone and I have brought that past wrong action with me; compounding my mistake."
"Hmm. Of Bail Organa you speak." Yoda turned toward the ship. Fuel and supply teams were clearing the platform. He motioned to Obi-Wan and the pair began walking. "A good man the Senator is, a friend to the Jedi. Cultivate that friendship Mace and I have in the years since his marriage."
Obi-Wan frowned, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't understand, Master. Why would you do that?"
"Concerned, I was, by the report you sent from Halbara years ago. Shared the information with Mace, I did." Yoda's ears lowered and twitched. "Many hours we have spent together in meditation regarding the Senator. The ways of the Force, mysterious can they be. The laws of nature and physics are not. For each action taken, there is an opposite. Push and pull. Light and dark. A vergence in the Force your Master, Qui-Gon, called Skywalker. An emergence we believe Senator Organa to be."
"An emergence?"
"One an element of order; the other an element of chaos."
"Do you think Bail Organa is dangerous?"
Yoda stopped a few feet from the transport's loading ramp. "Dangerous? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But exists for a reason does this Senator from Alderaan. Checked the archives, I did, for Master C'baoth's mission records. Discovered within them the Senator's midi-chlorian count from his youth. Midi-chlorians he once did have."
Obi-Wan frowned at the revelation. "Does Mace see a shatterpoint?"
"A blank he is to us, as he was to you, Obi-Wan. But no accident it is that both Organa and your Padawan have come into your life." Yoda extended a gnarled claw in Obi-Wan's direction. "Dark these times have become; clouded the Force and its intent. Repair your friendship with the Senator you should. Close to the Order we must keep him, for some part in events he must play."
Obi-Wan bowed to Yoda in respect and acknowledgment. "Thank you, Master. And may the Force be with you on your journey."
~~~~~~~~
"Want another?"
Bail looked at the empty cup next to his datapad and pondered the droid's question. Unable to sleep, and restless with anticipation, he had left an hour early for the diner. Another cup of caf would make four in his system. Having that much stimulant when he was already nervous and agitated was probably unwise.
"Yes, please."
So much for wise.
Bail was about to go back to his reading when he noticed the citibike pull in. The hood of the rider's dark brown cloak was up, but there was no doubt in his mind it was Kenobi at the helm. For a moment he was twenty-five again, standing next to Doman Beruss in a Senate conference room as Qui-Gon Jinn introduced his Padawan; heart racing, adrenaline rushing through his veins, and trying to remember to breathe.
Obi-Wan wasn't even through the door before Dexter left the kitchen. The Besalisk scooped the Jedi up into his four huge arms and the hood fell back. Bail nearly gasped in shock. Obi-Wan was a changed man. He had aged at least fifteen years since the last time he gave a report to the Senate. The hair he had grown out off and on for years since Qui-Gon's death was cropped close and highlighted at the temples with streaks of grey. His skin seemed pale -- stretched over his face as if he had gone far too long without a good meal -- and it made the lines around his eyes and mouth all the more visible. Dexter hugged Obi-Wan and Bail saw the Jedi flinch. Whatever had happened after Jabiim, it had done far more damage than what could be seen on the surface.
The service droid rolled around the pair, Bail's cup of caf on her tray. He slipped the datapad into his breast pocket and thanked Flo for the refill. Then he exhaled and placed his palms flat on the tabletop to stop them from shaking.
"This seat taken?"
Bail looked up and forced himself to seem casual. "Actually, I was waiting for a friend."
Obi-Wan nodded, the old mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to find another place to sit."
Flo buzzed back. "Want a Jawa juice?"
The pair stared at each other. Everything seemed suspended. Finally, Bail nodded and said, "Put it on my tab."
Obi-Wan slipped into the other side of the booth and the droid rolled off to fill the order. Bail, uncertain, grabbed the caf and took a drink. For years he had dreamed of a moment like this, of the things he might say, but now that the moment had arrived he found that words failed him. It wasn't that the past didn't matter, because it did. It wasn't that he didn't have questions, because he had plenty. It was, quite simply, that his throat had closed up and he wasn't sure he could even manage a croak.
A glass of Jawa juice appeared and Obi-Wan took a drink. He seemed as nervous as Bail felt. When he put the glass down, he shook his head and chuckled.
"Aren't we a fine pair?"
Bail dropped his eyes to the table and rubbed his caf cup back and forth between his hands.
"I . . ." Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed a hand over his beard. "This is even harder than I thought it would be. I think the hardest part is not knowing. Any other being in the galaxy I could sense their intent, their emotions, but not you."
Bail said nothing.
Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed the cup, stopping its dance across the table. "Bail, please, look at me."
The nails of Obi-Wan's hands were neat and manicured, but the knuckles showed hints of green and yellow. Old bruises. Old bruises on a Jedi. Bail finally lifted his eyes to Obi-Wan's. "What happened to you?"
"First rule in battle -- after survival, of course --" Obi-Wan replied, a wry smile on his lips " -- interrogate prisoners for information." The Jedi pulled back his hand and slipped it out of sight under the table. "I must give Ventress credit where it is due. She is quite inventive in her application of torture techniques. Unscrupulous, and ultimately ineffective, but still highly inventive."
Bail thought he might be sick.
"I had a lot of time to think during my captivity." Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to look at the table top. "The things I said to you, Bail, they were hurtful and unfair. You didn't deserve that from me. I knew Master C'baoth. I knew your status as scion of House Organa. If I chose to ignore those facts, to delude myself, it was not your fault. If my pride was wounded, or my feelings hurt, you were not to blame." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and met Bail's eyes. "I am ashamed by my behavior. I was angry and jealous and arrogant, everything a Jedi should never be, and I am sorry."
Overwhelmed, Bail turned his head to look out the window. Had someone asked him what he saw, he couldn't have described a thing. It didn't matter, it was all a blur anyway; a blur of unshed tears.
"Bail?"
"Don't try to rewrite history, Obi-Wan. What you said hurt because it was true." He blinked a few times to try and clear his vision. "I should never have slept with you but, gods help me, I loved you." A tear rolled down Bail's cheek and he wiped it away in an angry swipe. He set his shoulders and forced himself to look Obi-Wan in the face. "There was always some convenient excuse not to talk. Qui-Gon died and you were so heartbroken. There were the pressures and responsibilities with your Padawan; the Council constantly looking over your shoulder. Then the missions started. You would go away -- for days, weeks, months at a time -- with no contact at all. It was so easy to not to say anything when I knew saying something would only mean the end of what we had. So don't go wearing a mantle of guilt like a martyr. We were young and foolish and we made mistakes. Both of us. There's plenty of blame to go around."
They sat there, for a while, not speaking. Bail felt raw around the edges; as if so much as a word might spark almost any kind of response. He wondered if Obi-Wan felt the same or if the cloak of Jedi detachment gave the man some form of protection. He was angry, and yet felt vindicated. He was so miserable that it was a physical ache but, looking across the table, he felt so much love. He wanted to hit Obi-Wan, to kiss him, to shout at him, and to take him in his arms and tell him he would always love him. Instead he said, "So, what's the point?"
A crease formed on Obi-Wan's brow and his lips pursed together. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a married man, and you might as well be, so what is the point of this? Are you just unburdening yourself for personal benefit?"
"I . . ." Obi-Wan's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise. He hesitated for a moment, then looked away. "It sounds so selfish when you put it like that."
Bail immediately felt like an ass. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand. After all these years. I mean, what is it you want from me?"
"I just -- I miss you." Obi-Wan shook his head. "I treasured our friendship and I guess I hoped that . . ."
Bail stopped him. "I don't know if I can do that."
Obi-Wan slumped in his seat, shoulders sagging. "Of course. I understand."
"No, I don't think you do." Bail reached across the table, palm up in a silent plea. "The past is the past, Obi-Wan, we can't change it, but the results of our decisions constrain our future. I have to think of my wife."
"I didn't mean to imply . . ."
"What you meant isn't at issue. Obi-Wan, you may not know, but Breha and I have tried for years to have children. She takes terrible risks with her health because she feels she fails me and her duty to our people. The worst of it is that I'm the one to blame. I don't understand all of it, but the reason it is so hard for us to conceive, and why she has yet to carry to term, has something to do with an illness I had as a child." Bail sighed. "I insist that it doesn't matter to me. I tell her we can adopt. But she feels insecure; inadequate. There is a part of her that believes the only reason I married her was to produce an heir."
Obi-Wan slipped a hand into Bail's and gave a squeeze. "Bail, I am so sorry."
He shrugged. "What is it Yoda says? We must deal with what is given?"
They let go of one another. Bail stared at the now cold cup of caf on the table. Life, he thought, was so strange. How often had he wished for a thing and received it only to find that, in the end, it filled him with regret.
"So . . ." Obi-Wan said softly.
"So . . ."
There was a low boom and the diner began to shudder. Obi-Wan leapt out of the booth, lightsaber in hand but not engaged, as his glass of Jawa juice shivered its way across the table and crashed to the floor. Customers, who initially cried out, went silent as everyone waited to see what would happen next. A few moments later another boom sounded and a comlink chimed. Obi-Wan frowned and went to pull his from his belt when Bail's went off as well. They froze, looking at each other with identical expressions of dread. Bail activated his first.
"Organa."
"Thank the nine planets! Viceroy, where are you? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Sateen. I'm in CoCo Town having a meeting. What's happened?"
"Bombs, Sir. The Senate overflow offices and the Central Courts."
Bail shot out of his seat. He punched the autostart for his speeder and both he and Obi-Wan headed for the door. "Were any of our people in there?"
"No one was scheduled, but two of the staff are currently unaccounted for."
Obi-Wan threw a credit chip at Dexter and in seconds the pair were in the air. "I want staff operations moved to Cantham House until further notice. Contact the Chandrillian delegation to confirm their status and offer to house their staff as well. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"But, Your Grace, they've shut down traffic lanes . . ."
"It's all right, Sateen, I'm under the protection of the Jedi."
~~~~~~~~
"Anakin!"
Padme ran across the office and into the solace of her husband's arms as soon as her aide closed the door. Though she had been safe and secure at 500 Republica when the bombs went off, a tour of the wreckage in the company of the Chancellor and Senator Organa left the cloying odor of burned flesh and duracrete clinging to her Senate robes. The terrorists had not limited themselves to the Senate overflow offices; they struck the heart of the judicial system as well. The Central Court and Court of Appeals were in ruins. Thousands of beings were dead and thousands more injured thanks to the timing of the explosions -- just past the start of morning court sessions and well into meeting times for Senate committees.
"Are you all right?" Anakin clutched her to him. "Were you hurt?"
"I'm fine." Padme sighed and rested her head against his chest. "Why, Anakin? Why? It all seems so senseless."
"That's why. Because it's senseless and it makes everyone afraid."
Anakin closed his eyes and reached toward his wife with the Force. He felt her sadness; her outrage; her compassion. He also felt her strength. There was no fear in Padme. She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. "Not everyone."
He loved her so much.
"I can't stay long." Anakin slipped his gloved hands down her arms, aching to feel her skin. "The Council has received intelligence that the Separatists are building a manufacturing facility in the Outer Rim. With clone casualties so high, we can't afford to let them step up droid production. Obi-Wan and I are to accompany Master Tohno to the planet with the objective of destroying the facility."
Padme squeezed Anakin's hands. "Of course."
"I don't want to leave you."
"I know, and I don't want you to go, but we have our duty."
He pulled her to him. Every time he kissed her felt like the first; the same thrill in his veins, the same overwhelming sense of rightness. Keeping their love a secret, their marriage a secret, was a terrible burden, but one he was willing to shoulder because he knew what they had could not be denied. He belonged to her and she to him. It would always be that way. Forever. He would make sure of it.
"Be careful," Padme whispered against his lips. "I would die if I lost you."
"Never. You will never lose me. I promise."
~~~~~~~~
"Set lights to twenty percent."
Bail dropped onto the bench at the foot of his bed with a sigh of relief. He had been awake for almost three days, running off little more than stimulants and adrenaline. Cantham House was full to bursting. Aides, interns, security personnel, administration staff; they had taken over every room in the huge building. All non-essentials were to board the Tantive IV in two hours and return to Alderaan until further notice as a precautionary measure.
He bent to pull off his boots and blood rushed to his head, making it throb. A glass of brandy was in order. Alcohol might not remove the memories of twisted metal, sheared duracrete, shattered plex, and dead bodies; but it would dim them enough for him to manage a few hours of rest.
The plush carpet felt soft against his feet as he made his way to a credenza and the Quarren crystal decanter set. He poured a full glass and took a long pull, the sweet liquid burning the back of his throat and warming the rest of him on the way down. The tailored, stiff-collar jacket of his outfit was peeled away and tossed over the back of a chair before he took his second drink. Behind closed eyes he could still see the twisted limbs; the green, yellow, blue, and red splatters of body fluids. Bail removed the rest of his clothing and let it fall on the floor next to the bed. He should probably have called for a body servant or activated a household droid to hang them up but he was too tired to care. He took another drink of brandy and put the glass on the nightstand next to the bed. It was over half gone.
"Lights off. Set automatic wake function and reroute all calls to security."
Bail polished off the last of the brandy, slipped between the sheets, and settled back in the dark. He took long, even breaths and tried to empty his mind of the horror, anger, and dread. Though he had said nothing to Mon Mothma when they met earlier in the day, he couldn't help the insane suspicion that Palpatine was somehow connected to the bombings. It was crazy, he knew, but when the Supreme Chancellor implied that there might be Separatist sympathizers within the government -- that there should be quiet, secret investigations of Senators themselves -- a part of him could hear Finis' warning voice. Of course there was no way to disagree to such invasions of privacy without drawing suspicion. Somehow security protocols and procedures had been bypassed. Betrayal was a logical conclusion. Logical, and so convenient. He could hear Padme's indignant voice in his head, protesting such measures, saying they were the antithesis of democracy.
How did that slick son-of-a-nerf-herder do it? How did he manage to make a police state seem reasonable? He swooped a speeder over the carnage, invoked the memories of the dead, called for justice, and made you feel like a traitor to the Republic if you refused his request, that's how.
Bail rolled, turning on his side toward the empty space where Breha should have been. How long had it been since he held her? Weeks now. There had been a time, early in their marriage, when she came with him to Coruscant. Now, with the war and all the pressures of ruling Alderaan squarely on their shoulders, to have them both away would have been madness. His hand stretched outward, drifting over the cold sheets. He felt so alone. Had Breha been with him, he doubted she could have kept the feeling at bay. The loneliness that had taken hold of his heart was of his own making. His idealism and stubborn pride had pushed away friends and comrades. Other allies were dead or in exile. As for Breha, Bail would not share his suspicions with his wife. The less she knew, the better.
How he longed for the days when things seemed simple and the biggest secret he kept was a Jedi lover in his bed.
An image of Obi-Wan Kenobi flashed behind closed eyes. It was a strange amalgam of his Padawan friend, the Knight who became his lover, and the wounded General who came to Dex's Diner: eyes sparkling and a ready smile on a careworn face with hair going gray before its time. How easy it had been, falling into step beside Kenobi at the first sign of trouble. How easy it had been to trust, really trust, the man at his side.
Bail rolled onto his back. He felt warm and slightly fuzzy around the edges, a promising sign. Drifting on the cusp of unconsciousness, he called up images of Alderaan: the mountain cabin where his family spent so many peaceful days, the graceful grasslands and their living paintings, the clear water of the lake country, the mysterious mounds of the Killik in Castle Lands. Happy memories flitted through his mind at random. His first solo thranta ride, air whipping his hair and the ground rushing past in a blur; building forts from snow with his sisters; Breha by the lakeside, still in wedding white, as the sun set over Aldera.
Obi-Wan, framed by the Killik mounds, watching the sunrise on a chill, fall morning.
The memory stirred others. Sailing on Lake Lir, Obi-Wan learning to tack and jib. Long days of hiking, Obi-Wan at his side. Nights at camp twined together for warmth.
Bail's eyes flashed open. The erection was sudden, jutting up hard and almost flat to his stomach. Part of him ached to close his eyes, wrap his hand around it, and finish the memories that brought it on. The other part felt a helpless, sick vertigo. Was this how it would be now? Reconciled to Obi-Wan, would he spend his nights longing for something he should never have?
And what about Breha? For kriff's sake, he was married. He was married to a wonderful woman who was devoted to him and to their life together. Yes, they had rough patches. Yes, sometimes intimacy between them was forced or intermittent thanks to the fertility treatments and miscarriages. Yes, they were often apart for extended periods. Every relationship was full of such mundane moments and unexpected challenges, but he loved her. He loved her very much. And when he chose her as his bride, Bail had pledged Breha his fidelity.
Bail Organa was nothing if not a man of his word.
The sheets rubbed against Bail's erection as he got out of bed, eliciting a groan. He was not going to give into this. The thought of a cold shower was immediately discarded when his traitorous mind gave him the memory of Obi-Wan on his knees in the shower stall at 500 Republica. Bail went to the closet, jerked on a training outfit, and stormed for the hidden turbolift that would take him to the subbasement. If he couldn't control himself, by the nine planets he'd thrash himself against a training droid until he could.
And in the morning, he would make arrangements to fly home to Alderaan and his wife.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Chapter 5
Yoda's sparse living quarters were shrouded in darkness, an echo of the shadowy currents in which he and Mace Windu swam. The Force, once bright and clear, was now brackish and murky; full of dangerous undertows and eddies. Once, all Jedi had been able to sense the future. Now, few had the skill. And, of those who had the gift, even fewer were able to discern the true meaning behind the images they saw.
Mace surfaced first. "I sense the time has come to draw Bail Organa closer to the Jedi."
Ears twitching, Yoda let out a low hum. "Difficult the situation is to determine. Invisible he remains; masked those near him become."
"That is the reason we must have him firmly with us. If the Sith do manipulate the Senate at the highest levels, it is important to protect Organa from their machinations. The attack on the Senator's transport seemed conveniently timed. Now, with the death of Finis Valorum and the assassination of Senator Viento, I believe him to be in great danger."
Yoda nodded. "I agree."
"Should I speak to Kenobi?"
"Unnecessary." Yoda called his gimer stick to hand and rose from his pod chair. "Spoke to Obi-Wan before my mission to Thursta, I did."
Mace's eyebrows went up in surprise.
"Advice he wanted," said the Grand Master as he gathered items for tea. "Strong is the Force in young Kenobi. Time he had on Rattatak to consider his life; his destiny. Guided him, the Force did, toward Organa as it did with Skywalker."
"What of their past? Organa's reaction to Obi-Wan's disappearance was clear. He still harbors deep feelings. If those feelings are returned . . ."
Yoda waggled the gimer stick in his fellow Master's direction. "Trust, you must, in Obi-Wan and in the Force."
"But to place them both in such a precarious position! Master Yoda, I have come to know Organa. He is a man of deep convictions and personal honor. To compromise him might mean a loss the Order cannot bear."
"Another path you see?"
Mace sighed. "No."
"Difficult choices we all must make in these times. A risk it was to accept Skywalker, to entrust his training to young Kenobi, but the path of prophesy we must walk if the Jedi are to survive. A risk also is Organa. Pulled toward Kenobi he is. Our actions facilitate only what the Force decrees."
"And if it means we lose Kenobi?"
Yoda's eyes narrowed and his voice was grave. "Then lost, perhaps, are we all."
~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan studied the cube cradled in the palm of his hand. The complex crystal matrix shimmered green with hints of blue and silver. Runes had been etched into each layer of crystal as well as the metallic banding on the cube's exterior. It was a thing of rare beauty. It was also a precious container of knowledge.
Holocrons were used to archive information: personal journals, training programs, and all other manner of data. The one in Obi-Wan's hand held the personal observations and memories of twenty Jedi Masters and could hold at least that many more. To be allowed to take a holocron from the Temple Archives was rare, and Master Jocasta Nu would, no doubt, have protested had she known the holocron was in Obi-Wan's possession. However, it had been given to him by Master Yoda and there were few, if any, in the Temple who would dare to question the judgment of the Grand Master.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and focused his perceptions on the cube, probing it with his mind. He felt the object grow warm in response. Allowing the Force to guide him, he let the fingers of his free hand dance over the surface, coming to rest on three small nicks in the metal banding. A hum emitted from the cube and a small blue holographic figure of a long-haired, bearded human male sprang up.
Master Jorus C'baoth.
"Master, I wish to discuss details regarding your role as Watchman of Alderaan, the Alderaan Ascendancy Contention, and Bail Organa."
"What is it you want to know?"
Obi-Wan picked at his beard. "I am aware you were part of the delegation to mediate the Ascendancy Contention and that House Organa was favored. However, I am curious as to how the decision was made."
"Lineages of all claimant houses were studied in-depth. It was determined that House Organa had a nominally stronger claim through previous intermarriages and births."
"Yet, at the time of the dispute, the head of House Organa was not named Viceroy. Instead, you gave the title to Bail Organa, scion of House Organa, while his father, Prestor, was charged to hold the office of Regent until his coming of age."
"The Lady Mazicia Organa was of House Omas prior to her marriage and had historical ties to House Merian. These houses also held nominal claim to the title. The selection of Prince Bail not only represented House Organa, but also House Omas and House Merian. Had Prestor Organa assumed the title of Viceroy instead of acting as Regent, House Antilles would have balked and, thus, civil war would not have been averted. In addition, I directed Prince Bail's parents to encourage a match between their son and a member of House Antilles. Such a marriage would seal the rift, bonding both families into a single lineage, and avert any future crisis."
Obi-Wan frowned. "Did Bail Organa's midi-chlorian count have any bearing on your decision?"
"It did not."
"Why, then, did you test him?"
"The young Prince requested the test. I sensed potential in him and did so."
The response was surprising. Bail had never mentioned this. "And what was that count?"
"7100."
Obi-Wan did not try to hide his shock. Children with a count over 7000 were considered to be Force-sensitive and potential Jedi. Not only had Bail once had a midi-chlorian count, but he should have been a Jedi candidate. "Was it not your responsibility as Watchman of Alderaan to remove Bail Organa from contention and encourage his parents to enter him into training?"
The hologram was unperturbed; almost imperious. "My position as Watchman also required I take into consideration the threat of civil war. No other candidate had clear claim to the throne. Had I removed Bail Organa, Alderaan would surely have suffered years of strife. In addition, during the discovery phase the child took ill and nearly died. After this event, I spent many hours in meditation. I felt the Force had other plans for Prince Bail and the delegation elevated his House."
Obi-Wan let out a breath and stared blankly at the bulkhead. What Jorus said was perfectly logical. Many youths washed out as Jedi. Never selected as Padawans they, more often than not, ended up in AgriCorps. For a time it seemed that such would be his own fate, and his midi-chlorian count was more than 6000 points higher than Bail's. Still, how did Bail go from over 7000 to nothing?
"Master C'baoth, you mentioned Bail took ill during the discovery phase. Can you share any details regarding the illness?"
"Due to the tense situation between the Houses, I felt it best to safeguard the child until such time as the mediation concluded. At my suggestion, Prestor Organa removed his family from Aldera to a remote retreat in the mountains. I am unsure how it happened, but Prince Bail contracted Cearialis' Bane during that period. I was contacted by the mother and notified of the Prince's condition when she and the three other Organa children returned to Aldera and were placed in quarantine at the university medical center. The situation was closely monitored as Prince Bail's death could mean a shift in the political situation. It was during that time the Jedi team began exploring the possibility of a forced marriage between Houses to resolve the problem."
Again, logical and reasonable conclusions, but there was something missing. "What, exactly, is Cearialis' Bane? How does the illness present? What is its cause and cure?"
"Cearialis' Bane was named for Viceroy Cearialis, the two hundred and thirty-sixth hereditary ruler of Alderaan. During his reign, plague swept through the population infecting over one third, and killing more than one quarter, before treatment was found. It is caused by the introduction of bacterial spores to the bloodstream. The spores are present in the soil of the planet Alderaan and are found on no other world known to the Republic. The illness presents as a rash made up predominantly of small red spots, accompanied by a high fever. Immunological response is comprised of the release of a toxin into the bloodstream which results in hallucinations, cell decay, hemorrhage, and death. There is no cure for Cearialis' Bane, only a combination of chemical treatments delivered intravenously which act to suppress symptoms and assist the body in the elimination of the toxin. Once the cause of the illness was isolated, Viceroy Cearialis instituted a soil sterilization program meant to eradicate the spores from the planet and, thus, prevent a recurrence of the plague."
"What about Force healing?"
"All recorded efforts to use Force healing on individuals with Cearialis' Bane resulted in death."
"Why?"
"For unknown reasons, Force healing accelerates the release of toxins created by the body's immune system response. It, in short, poisons the patient."
Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his face. There was something here, something in this that was the key. "Why is the source of this effect unknown? Have Jedi healers not studied this?"
"Occurrences of Cearialis' Bane were suppressed within thirty years after the first outbreak of the plague. Bail Organa's contraction of the illness was the first reported case in five hundred years. As a result, to my knowledge, little in the way of research exists with regard to Jedi healing and Cearialis' Bane. Should you have additional questions of this nature, I would suggest consultation with a specialist as it is not my area of expertise."
A cold feeling washed over Obi-Wan and he shuddered. "How long does incubation take?"
"From one day to two weeks."
"What was the progression of the disease in Bail Organa?"
"I do not have that information."
"How long was he sick?"
"His family was under quarantine until his recovery. The quarantine lasted three weeks."
"Did you retest Bail's midi-chlorian level after his illness?"
"No. There was no need."
"Thank you, Master C'baoth."
Obi-Wan placed his fingers against the notches and the hologram shut down. Distracted, he wrapped the precious holocron in a piece of protective cloth and returned it to its small carrying case. It occurred to him that, if he was right, Cearialis' Bane could be developed into a weapon against the Jedi. It also occurred to him that he might have made this discovery eight years earlier had he not been so consumed with jealousy.
The ship's comm activated. "Deceleration and reversion to real space in two minutes. Launch of troops to Zaadja to commence immediately."
Obi-Wan placed the holocron in his pack and headed for the cargo bay.
~~~~~~~~
Harsh artificial light flooded the underground hangar bay where the Tantive IV, prepped for departure, awaited its final passenger. Normally the ship would launch from the open-air dock attached to the palace, but the secrecy surrounding the nature of Bail's trip required privacy from prying eyes and holonet cams.
"I won't be more than three days." Bail, dressed in the ill-fitting and ostentatious robes of a Corellian merchant, kissed Breha on the top of her head. "I'll try to send a quick note every night on the private channel."
"I still don't understand the cloak-and-dagger. Did you really have to do all this?" Breha ran a hand through Bail's hair extensions. "Long and gray doesn't suit you."
"I thought it looked distinguished!"
"Your facial hair looked distinguished. This makes you look old."
"Well then, now you know what you have to look forward to."
Breha patted her husband's heavily padded midriff. "And you know what you have to look forward to if you don't stop eating all that dark bread and B'jorring stew."
"Ha! Mother was right!" Bail crowed. "You only married me for my looks!"
"And the sex," she replied, "don't forget the sex."
Bail leered, grabbed Breha's waist, and pulled her flush. "Yes, let's not forget that."
They both laughed, and Breha slipped her arms around Bail's neck. "Be careful, darling."
"You know me," he said with a wink.
"Yes, I do," Breha chided. "That's why I'm telling you to be careful."
Raymus came down the ramp of the Tantive. Instead of his usual uniform, he wore the garb of a Corellian military pilot. "Hey you two!" he hollered across the bay. "Should I call off the launch so you can . . ."
"Raymus!" Bail cut him off, disgusted. "Can't I kiss my wife goodbye without you nagging?"
"Not when you're burning my fuel, Viceroy."
"Oh, be quiet, cousin," Breha called to Raymus. "You have him more than I do these days. You've no call to be jealous."
Bail bent and swept Breha into a passionate kiss. For a moment he considered not going, but it really wasn't an option. He had received a communication from Ephaan Kenzon, founder of the School of Hidden Wisdom. Garm was coming to the dueling contests and would arrive tomorrow. Once aboard the Tantive IV, and two jumps from the planet, he and Raymus would board the small D-class Starfarer stowed in the shuttle deck and proceed to Baltimn incognito. Two days later, they would rendezvous with the Tantive at Caamas where he would sign an updated trade agreement, thereby accounting for his absence from Alderaan and arousing, Bail hoped, no suspicion.
It all seemed so ridiculous -- what Breha called the cloak-and-dagger routine -- but Bail knew it was necessary. His wife thought he was just taking additional precautions thanks to recent pirate attacks and assassinations. Raymus, however, had been taken into Bail's limited confidence and knew the critical importance of their mission. Somehow, he had to regain Garm's trust. It was the only way to contact the Separatists and get them back to the negotiation table.
"I love you so much," Breha whispered between kisses. "I'll miss you every moment."
"I love you too, darling."
Bail tore himself away from his wife and hurried up the ramp without looking back.
~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan tossed his utility belt on his bunk and pulled off his tunic, turning it in his hands. The pale beige cloth was covered in singe marks from blaster fire. He poked a finger through a huge rip in the left sleeve created by flying shrapnel. There were bright green and red splatters; the blood of dead troops. A look down at his leggings showed ground-in dirt and blood that would probably never come out.
"There goes another set of clothes," he said aloud. "At least the boots are still useable."
He pushed a button and the under-bunk storage opened revealing two similarly abused tunics and one pair of marginally clean leggings. The mission would only last a few days, the Council said. Just break the blockade, they said. You'll meet Anakin after, they said.
They lied.
To be fair, neither his lack of clean clothing nor the seemingly unending mission extensions were things the Council could have foreseen. While the blockade of Tarsis had been broken in a matter of days, the Separatists had seemed incensed and returned with fresh ships to retake the planet. When the battle concluded, an emergency situation on Wayland had Obi-Wan leading a rescue and extraction mission. Now they were on their way to Arkania where he was to meet Anakin, make contact with Serifa Altunen, and attempt to negotiate the placement of a strategic command base.
It would be good to be reunited with his Padawan. For weeks Anakin had been shifted from the hands of one Jedi Master to another. It was almost as if the Council was keeping them apart. When Obi-Wan considered the situation, perhaps they were. After more than eleven years of training, Anakin had become one of the most powerful Jedi in modern history. The boy's natural instincts and Force-given ability placed him years ahead of his age mates in spite of the late start to his training. Many Masters years older could not match Anakin's speed, agility, or skills as a pilot and fighter. The death of so many Jedi on Geonosis, and the need for experienced commanders, meant Padawans were being rushed to Knighthood. While Anakin lacked certain social graces -- his immaturity often made him arrogant, impulsive, and downright reckless -- his achievements could not be denied. It was possible that the Council was considering Anakin's elevation, and these separations were tests of both Master and Padawan in lieu of the Trials.
Obi-Wan returned his thoughts to the meager threads in his possession. The only place for them now was a garbage chute.
"Time to improvise."
Closing the storage drawer, Obi-Wan picked up his belt, left his berth, and moved into the ship. At the first opportunity he hailed a clone.
"Trooper, where is the closest spare armor cache on this boat?"
"General, sir!" The clone snapped to attention. "Reserve stores next to the hangar command post!"
"Thank you. Carry on."
The clone saluted. "Sir, yes sir!"
Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head as he took his leave. The clones were, to a man, rigidly married to command structure. It was a fault, but one that had been bred into them through genetic modification. Still, despite everything, they were strangely individual. Alpha, Cody, Oddball, Bly, Rex: each was his own man with his own experiences; the influence of the Jedi under whom they served rubbing off in ways large and small. Though, like many Jedi, Obi-Wan was concerned by the strange chain of events that had precipitated the development and adoption of the clone army, now that they were here he felt it his responsibility to impart as many lessons in empathy and loyalty as possible. He absently rubbed at his beard. When he considered the situation, wearing clone armor would have several advantages. Not only would it afford him some extra protection during battle, and possibly help camouflage his Jedi identity, but it could also emphasize unit cohesion and help him bond with assigned troops.
He rounded the corner next to the hangar command post. Clones in the hallway stopped and snapped to attention.
"Reserve stores?"
Cody stepped forward from a group near the entrance of the command post. "Can I help you find something, General?"
Obi-Wan grinned and held up his belt and ruined tunic. "Hello, Commander! Seems I've made quite a mess of my clothing. Since the Republic might frown on my conducting negotiations in the nude, I thought I might try something a little more -- white."
Several of the clones laughed, including Cody. "No problem, sir. We'll fix you right up, won't we, boys!"
The response echoed down the hall. "Sir, yes sir!"
~~~~~~~~
In a normal year, the dueling contest of Baltimn drew at least two hundred entrants from planets across the galaxy. Thousands came to witness the feats of skill and prowess displayed by the fighters. To be victor at Baltimn meant not only the prestige of the win but the mystique of thousands of years of tradition. Though Ephaan Kenzon's School of Hidden Wisdom was relatively modern, the history of such academies dated back to before the creation of the Republic. And, of the academies still in existence, only Kenzon's maintained the exclusivity and chivalric ideals for which the earliest of these had been known.
This year, less than forty entrants had gathered on Baltimn, and Bail was one of only a few hundred in attendance. His arrival was bittersweet. Here at this academy, Bail had put aside the literal pacifism of his youth and embraced a pragmatic view. Though he still felt the resolution of differences by violence was morally wrong, and held to the Alderaanian principles of intellectual engagement, political negotiation, and universal education; the events of Rhen Var drove home to him a truth: it was one matter to call oneself a pacifist when weak and incapable of defense, and another to withhold retribution or to choose the path of nonviolence when capable of doing harm.
Bail had spent almost a year, less a few short trips to Alderaan and Coruscant for Senate business, in residence at the academy. Though he didn't know it at the time, enrolment meant more than learning to defend himself, it also meant committing himself to the principles of the Jedi. Few knew that Kenzon had once been a Knight of the Republic -- that differences had forced him to leave the Order and found the school. Arc, an initiate never taken as a Padawan, had later been sent by the Council to Kenzon for a different type of apprenticeship. Over the months of Bail's training, the pair strove to drive home the discipline and physical skills necessary for combat. Between lessons in sword craft, hand-to-hand defense, and blaster maintenance came meditation, self-exploration, and philosophy that neatly dovetailed lessons already instilled by Bail's parents and the culture of his homeworld. When he was deemed competent, Kenzon released Bail from his training and encouraged Arc to enter the young Senator's service as head of security.
Over the years, Arc became more than a retainer; he was a true friend. The debt Bail owed Ephaan Kenzon, both for his tutelage and for the wise selection of Arc as his instructor, was incalculable. Stepping into the school for the first time in years, the memories of those days and his dead friend threatened to overwhelm him.
Kenzon's sharp eyes saw through Bail's disguise immediately, embracing him as a father would a wayward son. "You have long been away from our school," he said.
"I am sorry, Master Kenzon." Bail returned the embrace. "I should have come sooner."
The pair separated and Bail motioned to Raymus. He brought forward a small object wrapped in shimmersilk.
"I found this in Arc's quarters." Bail had to force the words past the sudden lump in his throat. "After much thought, I believe it belongs with you."
Kenzon pulled aside the wrapping and gasped. The crystalline cube floated up and into his hand; a blue hologram of a human male in a plain military jacket and pants flaring to life. With a wave, the former Jedi banished the image.
"I had thought this lost forever. Thank you." He motioned toward the turbolift. "The duels will not begin until morning. I have prepared some small hospitality. I am sure it will be nothing compared to your normal fare in the Core, but I hope you will overlook our lack of finery here in the Outer Rim and appreciate the intent."
"Of course, Master Kenzon. It has not been so long since my time here that I do not recall my lessons, or my meals. And your company will always be more than enough."
"I see you have lost none of your old skill in politics." The trio moved to the lift. "I hope you will not mind, but I invited other guests. Garm Bel Iblis and Rahm Kota."
Bail arched an eyebrow. Garm he had expected but Kota was another matter. What he hoped to begin at this meeting could be construed as treason. As a General and Jedi Master in the service of the Republic, Kota would be bound to report anything he heard to the Council.
The doors of the lift opened and they stepped inside. Kenzon spoke without turning. "I have prepared your old room for your use should you wish it."
"Thank you." Bail chose his next words carefully. "I appreciate your acting as a go-between in this matter given the risks."
Kenzon laughed. "We all play the parts the Force assign us, Bail Organa." The turbolift stopped. Kenzon stepped out and gestured toward his quarters. "You will find your companions inside. Your man and I will leave you to your discussions and join you shortly."
Bail hesitated. "Master Kenzon, forgive me but . . ."
"I understand your trepidation, but I have known Master Kota for many years. He is brash and belligerent, but also a man of great integrity and circumspection. I believe you will find him to have a sympathetic ear." Kenzon put a hand to Bail's shoulder. "Trust in your friends and the Force, Bail Organa, and their strengths become yours."
Bail nodded, took a deep breath, and went inside.
~~~~~~~~
New reports regarding the war came to Palpatine's office every day. Every day, another system invaded, ransacked, and ravaged. Every day, more chaos.
Every day, more dead Jedi.
In the Senate, the supermajority was easily led. Though the pace was slower, each week saw new strides in the breakdown of the constitution. More and more power was given to the executive with little or no dissent. When there was opposition, convenient terrorist activities instilled new fear in the population and created a groundswell of support for intrusive restrictions on liberty. The simpering idiots were more than happy to allow martial law, secret police, and clampdowns on non-humans when one of their own was killed.
As for the Separatists, Dooku continued to play on their greed and avarice. Though he was too old to be a proper apprentice, the former Jedi Master was an expert at manipulation. Those who could not be controlled through their egos were controlled by fear. One of the great benefits of allowing tools like Durge, Ventress, and Grievous free reign to terrorize systems and slaughter civilians was the element of uncertainty it created. Members of the Confederacy would never leave for fear of ruthless reprisal.
Though the too-intelligent bitch of a wife and the annoying bastard Kenobi periodically threw a wrench in things, Skywalker was coming along. The constant battles slowly inured the boy to violence and dampened his natural capacity for compassion. New identical comrades sprang up whenever one fell, blinding him to pain and suffering. And his disgusting Jedi family was being whittled away by death on the battlefield and the moral morass in which they now found themselves. Since the passing of his mother, Anakin clutched, in vain, to anything he held dear; even the stupid little R2 unit he modified. Palpatine had to admit it had been a stroke of genius to set the Tusken Raiders on the Lars farm. Not only had Shmi's death awoken in Anakin the awareness of mortality, but it had unleashed the dragon of his hate. It curled in his heart now, next to the guilt and shame of the killing of an entire village, blackening his soul and driving a wedge between him and his current Master.
Things, in short, were going very well.
Still, there were a few items that could be improved. The taxing of systems and consolidation of arms needed to be accelerated. When the time was ripe, it was important that neither money nor weapons be readily available to any who might think of rebellion. After much consideration, he felt it was time to find a way to appropriate the individual militias and navies of the Core. Once this was accomplished, governors placed over each system to enforce taxation and manage these assets would, in effect, revoke any local elected or hereditary rule.
It was also time to flush out threats. His spies and the so-called security measures had gone a long way toward identifying potential problems in the Senate, but one individual proved especially difficult. Bail Organa and those close to him were masked to his visions. When he attempted to foresee certain paths and futures, his way was blocked as soon as Organa entered the scene. It had been this way for many years and, in spite of his best attempts, the man continued to escape death. Now, with his plans soon to come to fruition, it was more important than ever to keep Organa close or, if possible, eliminate him.
Kenobi was also difficult to kill and separating him from Anakin by other means was necessary. Promotion of the Jedi General to head a battle group, and the assignment of special missions, had kept Master and apprentice apart for a time, but more was needed. The Council had to be convinced that Anakin was ready to be elevated to Knighthood. The boy's performance leading starfighter groups had gone a long way toward proving his worth as a tactician, and he could press the Council on that basis, but the Jedi were a stubborn and arrogant bunch. Pushing too much from the body politic would only make them contrary. Perhaps a critical victory against overwhelming odds? The retaking of an important planet? And it must be done without Kenobi's help.
Palpatine smiled. He moved to his private communication station and drew on his robe.
"Darth Tyranus, I have tasks for you to perform."
The small hologram fell to one knee. "What is your bidding, my Master?"
"Republic forces recently retook the intergalactic communications center at Praesitlyn. Enact Operation Case White."
"Yes, my Master."
"And the little spy network run by Masters Tholme and Quinlan Vos?"
"Yes, Master."
"Use these assets to lure the Jedi to the Outer Rim. We must scatter them and make them vulnerable."
"As you wish."
"Finally, Senator Organa could become a problem. Do you still have a relationship with the sister?"
Dooku shrugged. "Not as such, Master, but our parting was amicable."
"Use whatever means you feel necessary to develop her as a source of information."
"It shall be done, Master."
~~~~~~~~
"Your move."
Bail studied the board with only half his attention. Here in Ephaan Kenzon's private quarters, away from prying eyes, the real game had nothing to do with dejarik.
"What do you know of how Palpatine came to the Senate?"
"Enough," Garm said through clenched teeth. "He was an obscure nothing in Naboo politics until his predecessor was murdered. Suddenly, he filled the void."
"And before that?"
Garm shrugged. "Very little. He was, in some way, tied to the scandal that ruined King Veruna but I've never been able to find anything substantial to imply wrongdoing on Palpatine's part."
"Finis Valorum seemed convinced that the source of the money that framed him was from the same source as that involved in King Veruna's downfall."
"Oh really?" Garm's eyebrow went up. "The ranting of a paranoid ex-Chancellor or something substantial there?"
Bail sighed. "We may never know now that Finis is dead. But it's exactly that fact that makes me wonder. I've done a little looking and people around Palpatine have a very curious habit of dying at just the right moment for his ambitions. If nothing else, it's very suspicious."
Rahm Kota stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. After Garm introduced him, the Jedi retreated into himself and said nothing. Bail found it a little disturbing.
"Master Kota, forgive me but I'd be interested in your view of the matter."
"What matter?"
"The strange coincidences that surround our current Chancellor."
"I have no view."
Bail clasped his hands together and leaned forward toward Garm, elbows resting on his knees. "Garm, why is this man here? Do you think I have some ulterior motive or that I intend you harm?"
"In times such as these, Bail, one cannot be too careful."
"Too careful of a friend? What am I to think of this? I've come here in good faith hoping to repair our relationship, and to ask for your assistance on a delicate matter, yet you bring a stranger -- a Jedi -- as if you have cause to fear me." Bail got out of his chair and headed for the door. "If that's the case then I am wasting my time and yours. It was good to see you again, Garm."
"Bail!"
He turned, arms crossed over his chest in a mirror of Kota's stance. "I mean it, Garm. You trust me or you don't. Either you explain why Kota is here, and he starts talking, or I walk out this door."
Kota and Garm looked at one another; Garm's face full of questions and Kota's inscrutable.
"Perhaps I can help you, Garm." Bail took a step forward and stared at Kota. "He can't read me, nor can he influence me. No Jedi can."
"Is this true?"
Kota ignored the question. "As a member of the Security Committee you are aware that I refuse to serve with clones?"
"Yes."
"I do not hold such a position out of prejudice, Senator." Kota gestured to the chair Bail had vacated. "I hold it because, like you, I find there to be many 'strange coincidences' involved in the creation of the army and the unlikely timing of its discovery."
Bail remained standing. "Are you here in an official capacity as a member of the Jedi Order?"
"I am here to view the fights and recruit for my militia."
"Then I want you to swear, as a Master of the Order and defender of the Republic, that what you hear in this room will never be shared with anyone for any reason, not even your Council."
Garm looked back and forth between the two men as they stared each other down. Finally, Kota relented.
"I swear."
Bail gave a curt nod and took his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself and his thoughts. When he opened his eyes, he addressed his old friend in a clipped and urgent tone. "Palpatine is a power-mad megalomaniac intent upon the destruction of the Republic and he must be stopped."
Garm's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. "Well, Bail, you certainly have changed."
"I have been forced to by events beyond my control." Bail frowned and shook his head. "I wish I could have remained ignorant and idealistic, Garm, but in these times, as you say, one cannot be too careful. I arrived wearing that ridiculous disguise because I believe the Chancellor is monitoring my movements and communications. I also have reason to believe that he was behind the attempt on my life a few months ago and, perhaps, on at least one previous attempt during the last four years."
"Do you have proof?"
"Of course not! Like Finis, I can find no solid evidence implicating Palpatine, yet it is inordinately odd that the only individual who might have benefited from my death, or the attempts on my life, is the Chancellor."
Garm frowned. "And why are you telling me this?"
"Though the Senate has given extraordinary powers to the executive, we still have legislative and legal recourse to remove Palpatine from office. The constitution is not so damaged that the Supreme Chancellor can override the limits of his term and run again in a new election. If the Separatists stop fighting -- call a cease-fire and come to the negotiation table -- then the Extraordinary Powers Act ceases to be in effect. We may make a motion and call for the election of a new Chancellor."
Kota grunted and raised an eyebrow. "And you believe this will work?"
"I believe that there are obstacles to overcome."
Garm laughed. "Bail, you are the master of understatement!"
"It is not as absurd as you might think, Garm." Bail leaned forward over the dejarik board, intent. "I have, over the last few months, been sounding out allies -- quietly building a coalition of like-minded Senators -- who can be counted upon to push for negotiations, call for new elections, and vote in block to strike down the measures set in place during the war. The problem is the Separatists. They must lay down arms for this plan to succeed. Palpatine refuses to send envoys or to consider negotiation. He states publicly that it would be an insult to those who have given their lives for the Republic to accept anything but unconditional surrender. This is why I have come to you. Corellia is neutral, as neutral as one can be in such a conflict, and you are respected as being above politics in this matter. I ask you to find a way to send secret envoys to sound out the Separatists and bring them to the table."
"Bail, do you know what you're asking?" Garm shook his head. "If I do this I am no longer impartial, Corellia is no longer impartial. Our planets, our shipyards, will come under attack!"
"And if you don't, the Republic will fall into the hands of a tyrant."
"You are so certain?"
Bail glanced at the dejarik board and back to Garm. "There can be no other explanation for the Chancellor's actions." He entered his two moves into the board. His Molator moved, attacked Garm's Savrip, and took the kill; his Savrip then shifted and killed Garm's K'lor'slug. It left Garm with only one piece on the board, a Houjix, and its only possible move was directly into Bail's Monnok.
Garm tilted his head in concession. "I see you've improved your strategy. I have no choices left."
"And there is one other thing. When the time comes, I intend to nominate you for the Chancellorship."
"What?"
"As a long-time Senator you have connections and you understand the murky waters you will be required to navigate. Your reputation, and the refusal of Corellia to participate in the conflict, makes you above reproach. Most of all, you can be trusted to do what is right and restore the rights of citizens and systems. No member of my coalition, with the exception of Fang Zar, is as qualified. But Zar is from the Colonies. While they still hold more weight than the Rim worlds, nominating someone from the Core will go a long way toward gathering swing votes in the supermajority."
"What about you?"
"I've thought about it, but I would prefer to stand on the sidelines. By continuing to serve as senior member of the Finance, Appropriations, and Security committees, I can steer bills though that might otherwise languish. You'll need that kind of support."
"And if Palpatine refuses to step down?"
"It is an eventuality we must be prepared for." Bail sighed and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I am not, and will never, be a Separatist. As you well know, I have no love of strife, but I will not let a thousand years of the Republic and its principles pass into history on my watch. If it comes to it, we must be ready to fight. That, however, is a topic for another day."
Garm turned to look at Kota. "Your thoughts?"
Kota closed his eyes and took even breaths. Silence reigned for several minutes as the Jedi communed with the Force. "The path is clouded," he finally said. "I can offer you no counsel. You must make the choice as best you can."
Garm studied the board then raised his eyes to Bail's. He extended a hand. "I'm in."
Part 2
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