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981 ARR -  Void

Obi-Wan felt he had made great progress in his efforts to bring his inner turmoil under control so that he could move forward out of the past, but now he was somewhat stuck again.  He had more or less flown through remembering his time as a newly minted senior padawan following the mission to Mandalore, but now he had come up against more internal strife that was apparently holding him back.

He recalled several meetings with the Council to discuss the Dark Sider they had encountered on Mandalore.  Predictably, not everyone on the Council was as convinced as he and Master Jinn that it had been a Sith.  Trying to explain that the enemy they had faced on Mandalore had displayed the ability to completely mask their presence in the Force did catch the attention of a few Masters though, as it suggested that the Sith could hide in plain sight.  Master Jinn had requested he be allowed to investigate further and call upon the Shadows if needed should he produce any actionable results. Such permission was granted, but Obi-Wan could tell that only a handful of the Councilors had taken the matter seriously.  No doubt such a willful blindness to evidence and a deep seated desire to cling to safety and tradition would one day come back to bite the Jedi in the rear, but there was little Obi-Wan could do as a Padawan that didn’t involve going rogue.  Again.

Somehow, the Obi-Wan that was bogged down in the netherworld of the Force didn’t think that his mid-ager worries over the resurgence of the Sith was what was creating a barrier to his moving on.

Further examination of his past revealed numerous memories of Obi-Wan cornering Master Windu, or Master Koon, or even Masters Nu and Mundi, to discuss his thoughts and tentative proposal to let the Order have more freedom to choose assignments.  There were also plenty of missions, some very similar in all times and some very different, as had been the case with his younger Padawan years.

None of those things seemed to be the problem either.

If anything, his efforts with the Masters had shown positive effects.  Obi-Wan thought fondly of the "trouble he sought out," as they put it, but was in actuality him seeking out reports and rumors of distress and advocating for Jedi response or at least offers of Jedi help, not necessarily Republic help, before the issues either became big enough that they gained galactic notice or ended brutally on their own.  Wandering Jedi were already accepted members of the Order and unlike most Knights and Masters they didn't call Coruscant home, not really.  They traveled the galaxy, answering the call of the Force to be where they were needed most.  If it hadn't been for interference from the Republic's governing body Obi-Wan was convinced that this is how most Jedi would fill their time.  He just had to figure out how to, more or less, trick more people into doing that.

The rest of this time in his increasingly jumbled memories was occupied by classes he attended at the Temple and even a few he helped to teach such as introductory combat classes and a couple history modules.  Teaching was something  all other Senior Padawans did as well since it was well known that you never really knew something until you could successfully teach it.  Yet the rest of his time, when he wasn't actively on a mission, was spent debating with the various Councils and Masters about any number of situations that Obi-Wan thought merited Jedi attention.  He also tried to catalog which missions seemed like Senate propaganda more than anything truly important so that he could add it to his body of evidence of how the Senate was using the Order inappropriately.  At one point Master Windu joked that he had intentionally started clearing the two hours directly following Centaxday mid-meals for regular discussions with Obi-Wan and whichever Knight or Master the Senior Padawan had convinced to assist him that day.

Even though there was never a grand pivot in how Jedi approached their mission assignments from an official standpoint, Obi-Wan could see from his current vantage that there had still been small but important changes.  When looked at side by side, or overlapping as it were, the Temple culture and general atmosphere was very different from one cluster of memories to the other.  

When he had been apprenticed to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had admittedly not spent all that much time in the Temple between missions, but when he had been there, everything was tranquil in the sort of way that accompanied deep philosophical discourse.  It wasn’t bad, but it was insular.  As an unattached Padawan with an Agenda aimed at making the Order more outward looking, there seemed to be many more robust debates among Knights and Masters about where they thought they should be stationed to do the most good for the people of the galaxy, not just the leaders with the loudest voices.  The Initiate classes were taken out of the Temple more to learn about and help with the different branches of the Service Corps or even to help get new, or very very old, outposts up and running again.  There was a bustle about the Jedi Temple that was wholly different from the bustle of the Clone Wars and so much more inviting.  

Obi-Wan knew that Masters such as Windu, Mundi, and Piell still had trouble saying ‘No’ to the Senate about certain things, but some of the younger Councilors such as Mace’s own former Padawan, Depa Billaba, and Adi Gallia spent time convincing them that if they couldn’t deny certain missions, they could at least negotiate for concessions that kept the Jedi safe from censure by the Senate if the Jedi in the field saw fit to either pull out of the mission or call for some form of additional aid.  This didn’t mean the Jedi were exempt from following laws or doing their duty, just that they now had the prerogative to choose the best way to resolve a situation based on evidence in situ regardless of what the Senate thought ought to be done.  A civilian governmental body wouldn't dictate exact tactics and outcomes in military matters, why should they in Jedi matters?  It wasn't every mission, but it did allow the Jedi to start going on record when they thought the Senate had chosen to use the Jedi in a way that contravened the Order's mandate and would ultimately contribute to the distress in the galaxy rather than alleviate it.

Jango had once accused the Jedi of being the Republic’s attack dogs, and Obi-Wan wanted to make sure he and his family, the Jedi Order as a whole, would one day be able to look back on their actions and see that they had been tools of peace and justice in the galaxy, rather than tools of corrupt power.

From where Obi-Wan sat in the void of the Force he could see that the jury was still out on how history would remember the Jedi of the late Republic Age.  The future was too much in motion, which he realized was absurd to say as someone who was studying his own past twice over.

And in studying that past, his past with the Jedi, with Jango, and with Qui-Gon, he realized he now had to also consider his past with Dooku.

Here Obi-Wan was, in his mid-thirties, and surprised to learn that he did, in fact, have a past with Master Yan Dooku that started long before the First Battle of Geonosis.

He couldn't say exactly when he found out that Dooku had been Qui-Gon's Master, it was just something he eventually knew in one life and wasn't really relevant in another so the fact just hovered, unmoored, in his memory.  Yet sometime after he had returned from Mandalore and both he and Master Jinn had answered what seemed like a never ending list of questions from both the Council and the Jedi Oversight Committee about their conduct and contributions to the end of the Mandalorian Civil War— sometimes questions about the New Mandalorians and sometimes about the "traditionalists" as the committee had taken to calling the Haat'ade (True Mandalorians), it all blended together one way or another— he received a personal message from one Yan Dooku.

Obi-Wan could recall now how the prose had been surprisingly tentative for one so confident of themself and their choices, but perhaps the Master recalled the incident of their first introduction in the salles when Obi-Wan was just thirteen. The message was equal parts curiosity about Obi-Wan and his relations with the Mando'ade ( Mandalorians) and praise for seeing beyond the narrow selfish views and wishes of the Republic to what was best for the system he had been operating in.  Dooku was proud that his former Padawan and a young man who should have been part of his lineage had worked together and used their combined propensities for causing Master Windu headaches to challenge the role Jedi played in the universe beyond the Temple. 

Coming from someone he had never talked to, Obi-Wan found it to have been an awful lot of praise, but it seemed sincere.  By all accounts Master Dooku was not one to give credit where none was due.  Obi-Wan wrote back accepting the praise with grace and since Dooku seemed of a mind to inspire change within the Order, he also wrote of the thoughts and ideas he had started developing when he was in recovery from Force exhaustion on Kalevala.  From there the message exchange continued.  Ideas flowed between them and those ideas often made it into Obi-Wan's Centaxday discussions with Master Windu who would squint his eyes and pinch his brow when Obi-Wan made a particularly good point backed up by evidence or experience provided by Master Dooku.

Some two years after their regular correspondence began, Master Dooku mentioned that both he and Obi-Wan would be at home in the Temple at the same time and it seemed as good a time as any to actually meet in person and discuss Obi-Wan's latest essay that asked why Jedi were still being used as set dressing for some of the wealthier member worlds’ ceremonies when there was a noted shortage of capable Jedi who could be sent on actual missions.  When Obi-Wan arrived at the designated area of the refectory at the appointed time he found that not only was Master Dooku waiting for him, but so was Qui-Gon and a large blonde haired human male who introduced himself as Watchman Feemor.

“I’m something like a Padawan brother, twice removed,” Feemor had said.  Between Qui-Gon’s repudiation of Feemor and Obi-Wan’s extremely short apprenticeship with Qui-Gon, he figured “twice removed” was a fitting descriptor.  It had been the first of many fruitful conversations between the four of them.  Feemor spent time in a part of the galaxy that rarely saw Jedi and had come to understand the attitudes those people had toward the Order.  Qui-Gon had been questioning the wisdom of the Council for years, but now it was a more focused sort of rebellion after the years he had spent reflecting on his own struggles as a mentor and an agent of the Republic.  Obi-Wan looked for loopholes in the current Jedi regulations sent down by the Senate and Dooku would challenge all of their findings by playing devil’s advocate and forcing them to refine their arguments. Everything was in balance between them. 

As that first meeting had also been, loosely speaking, a lineage affair, Master Yoda was eventually invited to join them for tea near the end of their discussion.  It brought the Grandmaster great joy to see so much of his family getting along, but he did not join in the exchange of ideas about change.  Obi-Wan now understood that it was not so easy for Yoda to gauge the speed of change around him due to his extended age, but he did listen and ponder, which was better than nothing in Obi-Wan’s view.

When Master Windu caught them all at it a few times he had been sure to let them know that they were making and changing shatterpoints all over the place and he didn’t appreciate the headache.  In fact, he went so far as to demand the three of them (Feemor usually joined via holo since he had returned to his Watchman post not long after the first fateful meeting) put some of their ideas to the test and leave the Temple because all he wanted was a few days of peaceful rest.  Obi-Wan obliged by spending an cumulative twelve hours researching current events in the galaxy and meditating on where they ought to go.

The Force directed him toward the planets of Kalee and Huk out in Wild Space to see what was actually going on between the two warring species.  One side had managed to contact the Republic and ask for assistance in rebuffing the other’s advances, but that contact had come through the Trade Federation.  In the years after his mission to Mandalore the trade Federation had been consolidating power and driving up prices for major resources once they had cornered the market on their distribution.  That was to say, Obi-Wan didn’t like nor trust the Federation and he was wary of anyone that called it a friend.  He, Master Dooku, and Master Jinn went to both worlds without letting the brief from the Senate influence their actions and instead relied on the evidence before their eyes.

It was a good thing they did because Kalee was a shambles of a world and the Kaleesh had only just managed to push back against the Yam’rii.  They had admittedly gone a little far in their reconquest, but they were not the only aggressors as the Republic had assumed based on the single plea for help the Senate had received.  It took quite a bit of delicate diplomacy, but the three Jedi had managed to bring about a satisfactory resolution to the conflict that left everyone just a little upset, as any real compromise did.  Still, their actions had earned the Jedi the gratitude of the Kaleesh Warlord Qymaen jai Sheelal who now knew that the Jedi were skilled warriors themselves with both blades and words.

Upon returning to the Temple they were met in the hangar by Master Windu’s baleful glare and the question, “What have you done?”  Apparently, several shatterpoints had snapped and others had disappeared altogether and neither he nor Master Sifo-Dyas, who had also experienced an entirely new set of strong visions of the future, knew why.

“It was the will of the Force,” Master Jinn had explained simply and Obi-Wan had had to turn away to hide his grin.

It was nearly impossible to reconcile the Master Dooku whom Obi-Wan had known for years and the Count Dooku whom he had met in battle several times in the Clone Wars.  If he had to choose he would pick the Jedi Master— learned, somewhat elitist, but also caring and driven— every time.

It made Obi-Wan want to smile to think about him.  He also couldn't believe that without going out of his way, Obi-Wan had managed to remove two of Sidious' pawns from play.  At least that's how it looked at the moment.

So it was obviously not Dooku that was causing him to hang around in this formless void.

That really only left Anakin.  Because it always came back to Anakin at the end.  Obi-Wan should have known that.

After all, it was not long after he had returned from negotiations between the Kaleesh and the Yam’rii that he had been selected along with his Master—

No that wasn’t right, he had been selected along with two other Senior Padawans to investigate an incident between a small, out of the way Mid Rim world and the Trade Federation.  Obi-Wan was going because he had been keeping a close eye on the dealings of both the Trade Federation and the Intergalactic Banking Clan ever since he had returned from Mandalore.  He also happened to know a bit about the Mid-Rim world in question: Naboo.

And it was the crisis on Naboo that led to Obi-Wan meeting Anakin.  No matter if that crisis happened early or late, for Amidala or Veruna, Naboo would always lead to Anakin.

966 ARR - Spacelanes over Naboo, Chommell Sector

Obi-Wan could not believe this was happening. The mission had been a bit dubious to begin with, but now things had gone from questionable to outright kriffed.

He, Siri Tachi, and Darsha Assant, all of them Senior Padawans, with Darsha being the most senior among them, had been tasked with assessing the situation on Naboo after an unusual skirmish was reported to the Republic Judicial Forces about a standard month ago.  The assignment was somewhat unofficial as Chancellor Valorum hadn’t wanted to invite close criticism by making something that might just be posturing into an intergalactic incident, so he requested that a few Jedi be sent, but that they be as incognito as possible.  The Council solved the problem by making the inquiry into a diplomatic training exercise and sending three senior level Padawans instead of a traditional Master-Padawan pair or even a couple of Knights.

When the three of them had arrived on Naboo the previous week they had found a verdant, peaceful, and altogether beautiful planet absolutely brimming with life and Light that masked a fraught and complicated local political scene.  After just a single day of interviewing various advisors, ambassadors, members of the legislative youth program, and the heads of the Royal Houses, even Siri — who, despite Master Adi Gallia’s best efforts, had never really gotten the knack for dissecting political nuance— could tell that things on Naboo were either going to collapse in on themselves or explode violently outward at the next provocation.

It was into this delicate situation that the Trade Federation and their veritable armada of ships had appeared a few days ago.  Like the good Jedi they were, the three Padawans had suggested that King Veruna request a meeting to negotiate terms of a new contract as both parties appeared to have grievances.  Unfortunately the Federation had different ideas and the situation had devolved quickly.

“We’re losing droids fast,” the pilot of the Royal Naboo Cruiser announced.

A fact that was not only obvious, but allegedly impossible.  The Trade Federation had used their Lucrehulk cargo ships to blockade the small Mid Rim world of Naboo after King Veruna had ordered his custom built and staffed squadron of fighter craft to drive the Federation ships from the system last month in a show of force meant to intimidate the Federation into entering into a more even handed deal with the Naboo government for the extraction and sale of Naboo’s plasma reserves.  Just days ago, the Lucrehulks had returned in force and surrounded the planet and opened fire when the starfighters tried to run them off again once negotiation had failed.  The impossible part was that the Federation, as a commercial conglomerate, was not legally allowed to arm their trade ships, and yet they had definitely shot several ships out of the spacelanes then proceeded to bully any incoming or outgoing ships into returning to their points of departure.

The ship Obi-Wan was currently on was coming uncomfortably close to joining that unlikely statistic of destroyed ships.

“This will certainly stir things up in the Senate,” Darsha muttered into Obi-Wan’s ear almost as if she could sense the direction of his thoughts.

“The trade routes to the outlying systems have been subjected to so much piracy lately that the Federation was already lobbying the Senate to grant them permission to not only arm their ships, but to create a defensive force of battle droids,” Obi-Wan whispered back as the ship rocked beneath their feet from another direct hit.  “But the bill hasn’t been put to a vote yet on the Senate floor which means they definitely shouldn’t be shooting at us!”

“To be fair, Veruna shouldn’t have fired the first shots last month either, but here we are,” Darsha added.

“Here we are,” Obi-Wan agreed.

It was an odd play for the Federation, too aggressive.  They might have won the argument for arms and armament had they gone directly to the Republic to ask for support in light of one of their clients turning hostile, but instead they had chosen to take offensive action which was almost guaranteed to lose them favor.  Obi-Wan couldn't imagine the optics of the whole situation would be good for anyone which just begged the question of what was really going on here?

Even to Obi-Wan, who had been keeping a rather closer eye on the news on and about Naboo thanks to a tip from the Mandalorian slicer Arla Laad several years ago, the events, relationships, and alliances leading up to this day were remarkably convoluted.

"That one little droid did it!" The pilot exclaimed, breaking into Obi-Wan's thoughts, "We're past the blockade!"

"No sign of pursuit," the crew person at the sensor console called out just as another indicator light started flashing on the board.

"The hyperdrive is leaking.  We don't have enough power to get us to Coruscant," relayed the pilot.

Of course they didn't.  It couldn't possibly be that easy.  "Do we have enough to make a short jump out of the system to somewhere we can refuel and repair?"

"Yes, emphasis on the short," the copilot replied.

"So what's close and not within the Trade Federation's sphere of influence?" Darsha asked.

That was a good question.  As they were in the Mid Rim most of the planets in the sector and the adjacent sectors were members of the Republic and consequently probably had dealings with the Federation.

Obi-Wan sat down at an empty computer terminal and pulled up the ship’s navigational charts.  There was nothing in the immediate area, at least nothing that wasn’t obvious and easy to track them to.  He flicked through the options quickly, assessing and dismissing various planets or ports based on affiliation, distance, or gut feeling.

“Wait, go back,” Darsha said, leaning over his shoulder to see the screen.  Obi-Wan keyed back one entry and made a face at the brief description of the listed world.  Outer Rim.  Desert.  Poor.  Smuggler’s haven.

What a dream.

“Tatooine?” He asked, the disgust obvious in his voice.

“Yes, I have a good feeling about it.”

“Do you?” Because Obi-Wan sure didn’t.  His feelings when he contemplated what the Force had to say about Tatooine were best described as… complicated.  Perhaps dubious.  It wasn’t the type of bad feeling he usually got when something unpleasant was on the horizon, but there was definitely something to be found on Tatooine that would present him with a challenge.

But if Darsha thought it would be okay, then Obi-Wan would just have to deal with whatever personal troubles awaited him.

“Fine,” he conceded, and transferred the coordinates to the navicomputer at the pilot’s station.  “I guess it’s a good thing that Bant couldn’t come on this little trip, she would hate a single biome desert planet.”

“Not to mention the Hutts,” Darsha said far too brightly for the situation.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Right, who can forget the generous hospitality of the Hutt cartels.”

“This won’t get us any closer to Coruscant,” the pilot pointed out even as he readied the ship for the jump.

“No, but anything more Coreward on our route carries the risk of running afoul of the Trade Federation,” Obi-Wan agreed.  “Tatooine won’t be pleasant, but the Hutts aren’t after us, which should give us an advantage.”

The co-pilot snorted even as the stars out the viewport stretched into lines and settled into the swirling blue of hyperspace.  “Good luck trying to explain that to the King,” he murmured just loud enough for both Padawans to hear.

Obi-Wan held in a groan at the prospect.  Darsha just patted him on the shoulder and said, “I’ll do the talking then, shall I?  You make sure Siri hasn’t done something rash in the meantime.”

The news about their side trip to Tatooine went over surprisingly well despite the flight crew’s misgivings. 

“Tatooine?” Veruna asked with a glance to one of his advisors who raised an eyebrow and nodded in return.  “Unexpected, but certainly workable.  How long until we land?”

“About fourteen hours, Your Highness,” Darsha replied, her eyes narrowing just a fraction at the King’s easy acceptance.

“Perfect.  More than enough time for a drink and a rest, I’ve earned it after the last few days.  There must be something onboard, right?  Blossom wine, at least? Someone find me a bottle and bring it to me in my stateroom,” Veruna commanded, then swept out of the communal area dragging most of his retinue in his wake.  The three Jedi were left standing, bemused, on one side of the room and the mid-age Governor of Theed— whose technical title might have been Princess of Theed though Obi-Wan had heard them used interchangeably— one Padmé Naberrie, remained scowling with arms crossed on the other.

“That,” Siri began, “cannot be a good sign.”

“It is certainly troubling,” Darsha agreed.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore what his instincts were telling him, but there was something about the non-verbal exchange between Veruna and his advisors that seemed to indicate a more than passing familiarity with their new destination and its Hutt overseers and none of them liked it.

“Maybe, but maybe we’re just reading too much into things.  There doesn’t have to be anything underhanded going on,” Obi-Wan said hesitantly, but without actually believing his own words.  

A scoff from across the room drew all three pairs of eyes to the young Governor.

“You’re deceiving yourself if you believe that,” Padmé bit out, “I’ve seen that look and heard that tone before.  Veruna is planning something and whatever it is, it won’t be as beneficial for Naboo as it is for his own pockets.”

“Sounds like you know far more about what’s really going on here than we do,” Obi-Wan observed.  “Would you be willing to share with us?”

Padmé eyed the three Padawans, taking their measure.  “Can you really get us help from the Republic? Proper help? Not the sort Veruna is likely to find on some Outer Rim world?”

“Some Outer Rim worlds are very nice places,” Obi-Wan returned, frowning slightly.

“You know what I mean.  Given the sudden escalation of this conflict we need legal intervention or Naboo will end up in the hands of the Trade Federation or whatever mercenary factions Veruna convinces to ‘come to our aid’.”

Obi-Wan smiled.  This curly haired and lavishly dressed mid-ager may look like a child, but she had clearly earned her position as the popular Governor of Theed.  Naboo took both education and public service very seriously and if people like Padmé Naberrie were the future of Naboo’s government, then the system evidently worked.

"Then yes, my Lady, we will do all in our power to make sure Naboo gets the help it needs," Obi-Wan promised and grinned even larger when Padmé seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief.

All it took was one look at the near endless landscape of sandy brown and dreary desolation for Obi-Wan to decide that he wanted to stay on the ship once they landed on the outskirts of a small settlement in the planet’s first quadrant. Much to his chagrin he was outvoted.  Apparently his clothing and the various layers that made up his typical Jedi ensemble had enough versatility that he could blend in with the local color after a few adjustments.  He tried desperately to argue that Darsha could do the same with her robes, but she loftily informed him that as the most senior of the Jedi Padawans present she would be staying behind to keep an eye on the Naboo Royals.  So it was that Obi-Wan was chosen to inspect the town's junk dealers and salvage shops for the parts the ship needed to make it all the way into the Core. 

Besides, Obi-Wan had to admit to himself as he quickly removed and folded up his cloak and tabards, he sensed something on the planet, something familiar at one moment and utterly disturbing the next.  The fact that he couldn't convincingly make out what the Force was warning him of made him want to go find the source of the disturbance.

Siri came with him at the last minute because she was starting to go stir crazy with all the politicians on board and Darsha thought it would be safer for everyone if Siri had the chance to stretch her legs for a bit and find a focus for her annoyance that wasn't the person they were supposed to be helping.

The air outside the ship was blisteringly hot and bone dry.  The binary suns overhead had no mercy for anyone and both Obi-Wan and Siri were of the type of light human skin that burned quickly.  They both immediately regretted not being able to bring their cloaks with their protective hoods for the long trek into the small city that shimmered in the distance, but they were too recognizably Jedi.  Siri grumbled about their current circumstances and the “insufferable, incompetent politicians” while Obi-Wan half listened and reached out with his sense of the Force trying to get a better read on what was making him feel wary and on alert.

He was more than a little surprised to come across something that felt far too familiar for this part of the galaxy. Or rather, someone.  Curiosity prompted Obi-Wan to mentally tap on the resonating Force bond that was becoming more and more apparent with each step.

“Quinlan?”  He asked both out loud and in his mind, cutting across Siri’s litany of complaints.

Obes? The reply came over the bond.

“What?” Siri turned to him in confusion.

“Quinlan’s here, on Tatooine!”  He explained while he smiled at the rush of feelings from Quin that ranged from confusion to delight to worry and back again.

“This was his big mystery assignment?” Siri asked, incredulity filling her expression as she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright glare off the sand.  “The wonders never cease.  At least that means he can help us.  The Force will provide, indeed.”

She had a good point.  The party from Naboo, let alone the three Jedi Padawans, didn’t exactly have large reserves of funds available for the purchase of the parts they needed to repair the hyperdrive.  If they had been in Republic space they could probably use Veruna’s status to negotiate for what they needed, but then if they were in Republic space they would have a host of other problems.  As it was, Obi-Wan had no idea what sort of currency was accepted in this part of the Outer Rim.  If Quinlan had been on-planet since he had left the Jedi Temple on assignment a little less than a month previously— after teasing their group of friends about his top secret solo mission, weren’t they all jealous— then he should have some basic information about the town and how things usually ran.  Somehow, finding out Quinlan was around had just become the first stroke of good luck since the start of their time amongst the Naboo.

“He’ll have his own mission objectives though,” Obi-Wan said out loud even as he thought it.  “He may not be able to help us if it puts him or his assignment at risk.”  

“What’s he even doing here, do you suppose?” Siri wondered, still trekking ever closer to civilization.

Obi-Wan shrugged.  “I have no idea.  Probably something to do with the Hutts.  Hopefully we’ll get a chance to ask him about it.”

Shei grunted in reply and they both went quiet for most of the remaining walk, only making occasional comments about the general situation.  Obi-Wan tried to query Quin through their bond about where he was and if he was available to meet up with them, but the response was less than direct.  Quin seemed reluctant to actually give shape to his thoughts, instead giving more of an impression of potential danger and a need to stay hidden.  The only solid communication he got was I’ll find you when I can, before Quin deliberately shielded their Force connection.  

“Hmph,” Obi-Wan said when they passed the first of the outermost buildings of the settlement, “It would seem we’ll be left to our own devices for the time being.”

Siri eyed a monospeeder that blew past them far too fast, kicking up a cloud of sand in its wake, and huffed. “Of course he can’t be bothered to help, what with his secret mission and all.”

“That is unfair, Siri,” Obi-Wan sighed then continued in a lower voice, “Quin is a Jedi too.  Our duty must come first.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the lecture,” She waved a hand dismissively at him, “I don’t need the added dose of guilt that comes with hearing it from the paragon of sacrifice in the name of duty.”

Obi-Wan tripped to a halt in surprise and shot a hand out to grab the back of Siri’s shirt, which was of a finely woven muted blue fabric and purloined from one of the hapless royal advisors back on the ship, before she could get too far out of hearing range.

“What did you just call me?” he choked out.

Siri rolled her eyes.  “Oh please,” she began, tugging herself free of his grasp, “Everyone knows you left your fiancé behind on Mandalore all those years ago.  For the Jedi, for the Republic.”

“What?!”  Obi-Wan was absolutely shocked to hear there was such a rumor going around the Temple.  Sure, he had told a few of his closer friends, like Quin, Bant, and Garen that he missed Mandalore and its people perhaps more than was proper, but he never said anything about getting engaged!  “What in all the Sith Hells makes you think I have a fiancé?”

Siri looked at him like he was stupid then gently kicked his right boot where Obi-Wan kept the vibroblade Jango had gifted him five years ago.  “I have eyes and ears.  Have you ever seen or heard yourself when you talk about your Mando?  It’s practically right out of a romance holodrama.”

“That is absurd!  I do not do anything of the sort!” Obi-Wan protested vehemently.

“You just keep telling yourself that,” Siri replied with a condescending pat to his shoulder.  “Now, I’m thinking we should split up and cover more ground that way.  Do you have a list of the parts we need?"

Obi-Wan was still too shocked to reply with words so he just pulled a small datapad out of a pouch on his belt and handed it to her more or less on autopilot.  Siri quickly transferred a copy of the list he had been given by the R2 unit that had helped run a full diagnostic of the ship to her own device then shoved him off in the opposite direction to the one she took off in.

“At least keep in touch!” Obi-Wan yelled at her before she disappeared into a passing group of harried looking citizens.  “And stay out of trouble! And we should both check in before buying anything!”

Siri turned around to walk backwards for the few steps it took for her to pointedly roll her eyes and say, “I’m not an idiot, Obi-Wan.”  Then a large bantha lumbered across his view and his fellow Padawan was lost from sight.  Obi-Wan let out a breath and tried to release his anxiety about the situation at the same time. Siri had mellowed out a bit in the last few years.  She was less likely to start a fight with everyone who breathed in her direction, but she was already on edge from their flight from Naboo.  Much like Obi-Wan himself, if he was honest.

Obi-Wan shook his head at himself.  Standing there worrying wasn’t going to help and it would only increase the odds that he would end up with a sunburn and heat exhaustion as the only acquisitions from his jaunt into the city rather than the parts they needed.

Much to his surprise, Tatooine, and Mos Espa specifically, had a significant number of salvage shops, junk traders, and small time mechanics and repair bays where one might find anything from a dubiously sourced, top of the line navigation suite to a hydrospanner specifically sized for parts only made in the Hapan Consortium.  All of that was to say that actually finding what you needed seemed to come down to luck more than anything else.

About one hour and three shops into his explorations Obi-Wan noticed that the vague feeling of being watched he had had since entering the town proper had intensified into something targeted, if not exactly malevolent.  The feeling was troubling enough that he decided it would be better to draw out his watcher rather than wait to be ambushed.  As such, he altered his path toward a less crowded street and tried to use the Force to get a fix on whoever had noticed him.

He rounded one more corner, managed to isolate the signature that was standing out to him mostly because it was so faint and muffled, then spun tightly on the spot at a twinge from the Force.  Obi-Wan caught the arm that was headed right for him and twisted around one more time until he was behind his prospective assailant with their wrist firmly caught in an immobilizing grip.  

That was when he registered not only what the muted Force signature meant, but that he recognized the red and black armor of the person he was holding.

“Vhonte?” he asked, incredulously, “What are you doing here?”

Because of course that’s why the feeling of being watched wasn’t pinging his danger sense and the watcher’s Force presence was muffled.  He had gotten out of the practice of reaching for the Force in such a way that he could feel around the slippery, muffling effects of beskar (Mandalorian iron).  He also hadn’t been expecting to run into any Mandalorians he might know this far from Mandalorian Space.

“Well that depends,” Vhonte’s vocoder modified voice said, “Are you going to let me go, Jet'ika? (Little Jedi?) Or are we going to create a scene in the streets?”

“Oh, right,” Obi-Wan said and hastily dropped his hold on Vhonte and took a step back.

She turned and held out an arm in greeting.  “Su'cuy gar, (Hello,) Obi-Wan.  I'm glad to see your skills haven't lapsed even if you are clearly missing some important pieces of kit."

He tried not to wince guiltily at her words.  After all, her accusation of a lack of armor was only half in jest if the smile in her voice was to be trusted.  Still, the beskar'gam (armor) he had earned on Mandalore would have been extremely useful right now and probably helped with his overall disguise.

Obi-Wan clasped Vhonte's forearm and explained. "It's good to see you too. And this was supposed to be a diplomatic fact-finding mission.  Something calm and relatively easy so I didn't think I'd need the extra protection.  A Jedi in armor tends to make people nervous."

"Which could be useful," she commented.  Obi-Wan was about to respond when Vhonte waved the thought aside and then gestured back toward the more populated streets of Mos Espa instead. "I take it Tatooine was not a part of your original plans then?" 

"Is a planet like this ever in anyone’s plans?" he asked with a bleak look around at the harsh landscape and sun weathered beings.

"Usually no, which is why a Mandalorian wears their armor anytime that they leave the yaim! (home)  You can’t know what’s going to actually happen on any given mission or job, or hell, even vacations go wrong, so you have to be prepared at all times!  You should know that!" Every sentence of the reprimand was emphasized by an accusing finger to his chest.

"But there wasn't supposed to be any action!" Obi-Wan tried to point out, to no avail.

"Jet'ika, (Little Jedi) ‘Bajur bal beskar'gam (Education and armor).’" Vhonte quoted then crossed her arms over her chest.  Obi-Wan could imagine her expectant expression just fine despite the buy'ce (helmet) covering her face, so he gave up the battle with a huff and she shook her head.  "Just accept the lesson and wear your armor in the future,” Vhonte chided, “I don't need Alor (our Ruler) coming after me for your bad habits. Better yet, if you actually came to Manda'yaim (Mandalore) for a visit there would be no reason for me to act as messenger between you and your ven'riduur (future spouse)."

"My what?!" Obi-Wan squawked, but Vhonte wasn't waiting for him to keep up.  "Whoa, hey! I am not—! I have no such agreement with anyone!"

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, Jet’ika,” Vhonte said.  “You talk to each other nearly every week.  You send him gifts.  He sighs over you.  Seems like a betrothal to me.”

Now Obi-wan knew she was teasing him, but he scowled anyway and crossed his arms to mimic her stance.

“Jango Fett would not sigh like a lovelorn mid-ager.  And yes, we’re good friends which is why we comm each other so often, but the items I sent him weren’t so much gifts as they were historical artifacts that were overdue for repatriation.”

Vhonte tilted her head in such a way that Obi-Wan could read her heavy skepticism despite the lack of facial expression from the unyielding T-visor. “That argument really isn’t helping your case any, Jet’ika.”

Obi-Wan had forgotten how stubborn all Mando'ade (Mandalorians) could be and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose while he gathered his wits about him.

“Trust me Vhonte, there is nothing happening between me and Jango,” Obi-Wan admitted, and the undertone of defeat in his voice was just a tad too noticeable for his liking.  “If there were, then the last time I ran into him we would have—” he broke off from his confession when he felt something slide through his awareness.  He immediately loosened his stance and started looking for whoever was trying to sneak up on them. “How many people do you have with you?” He hissed to Vhonte as he tried to reach that calm focus that allowed him to hear the Force song of beskar.

Naturally the Mandalorian was unconcerned. “No, no, finish what you were going to say.  I have a feeling it’s going to explain a lot.”

“Seriously?” Obi-Wan spared her an incredulous look and started inching toward a more defensible corner building just in case.  “Now is not the time and even if it was, my relationships are none of your business!”

“They are my business when your partner is my Mand'alor (Sole Ruler) and you are both being giant di'kute (idiots)!” Vhonte said in a rush without bothering to lower her voice, which, of course, attracted attention.  Obi-Wan felt the presence behind the slippery muted feeling of the beskar bloom and grow curious.  He had just enough time to confirm the location of the source before he stepped around the corner and caught the arm holding a blaster pointed at him, gave it a harsh twist, and slammed his would-be attacker against the wall.

The person, clad in dark armor, grunted and started to struggle, but Vhonte just sighed. "Obi-Wan, he's part of my squad. Brali, stand down."

It took Obi-Wan a few seconds to calm himself enough to step away.  He straightened his clothes and silently thanked the Force that Mandalorians tended not to be offended by rather aggressive first introductions the way most of the people he usually dealt with would.

“You were right, Tervho, he packs quite a punch for someone so scrawny,” the newcomer said flippantly while Obi-Wan scowled as fiercely as his admittedly still young looking face would allow.  “Still not sure why the Mand’alor makes such a fuss about him though.”

“Give him time and our Jet’ika will surprise you,” Vhonte added, and Obi-Wan was not entirely sure it was a compliment.

“Excuse me, do we know each other?” Obi-Wan asked a bit defensively as he studied the mostly black armor that was carefully highlighted here and there with a dusty brown that would have blended right in with the sands of Tatooine.

“Nope.  But we’ve met.”

That was apparently all the explanation he was going to get since Vhonte seemed to be distracted by something that was coming in over her internal comm channel.  He thought back on the time he had spent with the Haat'ade (True Mandalorians) and tried to recall the names of everyone he had met.  “I see.  Brali, was it? And your clan name?”  Obi-Wan couldn’t see a specific aliik (clan sigil) that he recognized, just the kyr'bes (mythosaur skull) of the Haat Mando'ade (True Mandalorians), which now represented all of Mandalore.

“Skirata.  Brali Skirata.”

“Oh!  Well,” he started to grin and offer congratulations, but then stopped himself because he did remember this Mando'ad (Mandalorian).  He had just been an abused kid at the time of their meeting and hadn’t known if his family was still alive or not.  Seeing as someone from Clan Skirata had taken him in— and Obi-Wan would bet his boots it had been Kal— it was likely his blood family had perished at the hands of Kyr'tsad (Death Watch).  “I’m glad to see you’ve landed on your feet despite the initial biting remarks between you and your buir (parent).”

Vhonte snickered.  Brali groaned.  “Is no one ever going to let that go?  I was brainwashed!  Biting my attacker was the only recourse I had left at the time and Kal’buir forgave me ages ago!”

Obi-Wan lifted a serene eyebrow and felt rather proud of himself for such a diplomatic return of insults.  Let no one say that his consular training had gone to waste!

The comm on Obi-Wan’s belt chose that moment to chime.  Still grinning, he answered, “Kenobi.”

“Hi, Obi-Wan.  I seem to have met a friend of yours.  You mind telling them to lay off?” Siri said, sounding extremely cross.

Obi-Wan barely had time to process Siri’s request before another voice he recognized came over the line.

"Jetii. (Jedi.)  You can manage to find time to come all the way out to Tatooine, but you can’t make it to Manda'yaim (Mandalore) for a visit?”

“That’s what I said!” Vhonte exclaimed as Obi-Wan asked, “Bo-Katan?” into the comm.  He couldn’t tell if his overall situation was getting better with every familiar face he encountered on-planet or not.  “You didn’t tell me you were working with Vhonte now.”  And they had talked via holocomm barely two weeks ago!  Aside from Jango, Bo-Katan was the person on Mandalore that he kept in touch with the most.  He talked sporadically with Satine and exchanged occasional messages with Vhonte, Mav, and the Mando’ad from Taris who was still wary of granting Obi-Wan knowledge of their name, but he and Bo-Katan talked multiple times a month and covered a wide range of topics as the young woman began to discover more of the galaxy with each new job she went on.

“And you didn’t tell me you Jetiise were coming to this dust ball.”

“I didn’t know,” he replied simply.

“Your Republic didn’t send you to interfere?” she demanded.  A question that had clearly piqued the interest of both of the Mandalorians standing right next to him.

“No!” Obi-Wan said, shocked.  “Is that what you’re worried about?  No!  We got caught up in a planetary conflict in the Mid Rim and had to flee with some high value diplomatic targets.  Our ship was damaged and we had to stop for repairs.”

He did, in fact, know exactly why Vhonte and her squad were here, even if they hadn’t said anything outright.  It wasn’t even all that hard to figure out if one followed the trend of galactic events to which Mandalorians had been party in the recent past.  The emancipation operation that Obi-Wan assumed Vhonte was leading, at least in part, had actually started years ago in Mandalorian Space and the sectors immediately surrounding it before branching out to planets and waystations that charted a meandering path between Mandalore and Hutt Space.  Tatooine was in a whole different part of the galaxy from the Hutt homeworlds, but it was a known bastion of Hutt dominance.  If the Mandalorian verde (warriors) had set their sights on liberating the enslaved on Tatooine and robbing the Hutt Empire of a significant outpost as a first strike against the greater target then neither he, nor any Jedi, was going to stop them.

It would be incredibly hypocritical of the Senate and the Republic if they had ordered something of the like.  Perhaps more importantly, it would give the Jedi Order firm ground upon which they could finally base their argument for separation from the ruling governmental body.

“In that case,” Vhonte interrupted, “we have some people who can take a look at your ship and we won’t charge you a small fortune for it.”

“Thanks, but we need the parts first.  That’s why Siri and I came into town.”

“We can call Alor Fett.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind making a trip out to rescue his ven'riduur." (future spouse)

Obi-Wan groaned.  “Bo-Katan, not you too!  This is ridiculous!”

“I literally watched him offer you Din'haa'miit (a ritual courting gift) Obi-Wan.  It’s not like it’s a secret,” Bo-Katan said, much to the apparent amusement of both Vhonte and Brali.

“And you should know by now that nothing is a done deal until the gesture is returned,” Obi-Wan insisted.

“Exactly.  It just so happens I’ve also seen the blade Alor carries that has a certain blue crystal in the hilt.  He helped train me, you might recall.”

“Hey, I’ve seen that blade too,” Brali added, sounding far too pleased at the way Obi-Wan was radiating embarrassment.

“That was a Jedi thing,” Obi-Wan mumbled through gritted teeth, “It wasn’t exactly a return–”

“Holy Kriff! A crystal?  Like a kyber crystal?  Wait!” Siri’s voice demanded over the line.  “What does it mean?  Ven’riduur, what does it mean?”

“Something like almost-spouse,” Bo-Katan explained.  “People who have promised to say the riduurok (marriage vows).”

Obi-Wan could feel Siri’s spike of vicious glee from half a city away and he wanted to run back to the ship immediately and make Darsha deal with this nonsense instead.

“Oh, so you would say they’re engaged to be married.  In other words, Obi-Wan does, in fact, have a fiancé he left behind on Mandalore five years ago?”

“Pretty much,” Vhonte answered.

“Alright, no.  This has to stop,” Obi-Wan said with a firm gesture and refused to acknowledge the burning heat in his cheeks.  “There isn’t time for gossip.  Siri and I are actually on a time sensitive mission and we don’t have time to wait for Jango to get here.  We need parts and we need to get back to Coruscant.  I’m sure Vhonte and the rest of you have your own reasons to be moving along.”

“Yes, reasons that should not be discussed out in the open like this,” Vhonte acknowledged.

“That’s all well and good, but we still don’t have any money that these junk merchants will accept,” Siri added, “I checked.”

“That we can definitely help with,” Vhonte said firmly.  “We’re not going to-”

The rest of her words were lost to Obi-Wan when a different voice interrupted his thoughts.

Hey Obes, I see you’ve found some Mandalorians, as per usual, and I hear you’re short on funds.  Given why you’re here and why I’m here, I think we can help each other.  Mind telling the Mandos not to shoot me, please?

“Kriff!” He said to no one in particular before trying to hide behind his hands.  “Why does the Force hate me today?”  There was no answer so he raised his voice, “It seems that my friend—”

He didn’t get the rest of the sentence out because suddenly two beskar clad bodies had closed ranks in front of him and drawn four blasters between them to point them in the face of—

“Obes, I thought you were gonna tell them not to blast me?” Quin said with far too much good humor for someone who was currently holding up their hands in the universal gesture of surrender and only alive due to a rare show of Mandalorian self restraint.

“As I was saying, my friend Quinlan will be joining us,” Obi-Wan finished, waving a helpless hand in the air.

“You!” Vhonte said with no small amount of suspicion.

“Me,” Quin agreed with a nod that Obi-Wan didn’t understand.

“When you say ‘friend’...” Brali inquired and left the rest of the question hanging.

Obi-Wan sighed.  “We grew up together.”

“Kriff! Another Jetii? (Jedi)” Brali spat, but he lowered his weapons and stepped out of the way.  “How many Jetiise (Jedi) are on this Manda forsaken planet?”

“Far fewer than there are Mandos,” Quin answered, but all of his attention remained on staring down Vhonte, which Obi-Wan was watching with some confusion.  “I’m reasonably certain you have people in every major settlement across the planet while there’s only us three Jedi here in Mos Espa.”

“Way to give up valuable intel, Quin,” Siri said over the comm that Obi-Wan had somehow forgotten he was holding.

“Nice to hear from you too, Siri,” he quipped back.

“Do you two know each other?” Obi-Wan finally asked, gesturing to the stare down between Vhonte and Quin in an effort to interrupt it.

“We’ve met,” Vhonte said in clipped tones.

Quin rolled his eyes, but didn’t drop his hands.  “I wasn’t lying before.  I am literally here to help.  My mission brief was to ‘provide aid in whatever ways necessary, within means and safety protocols, to the Mandalorian emancipation efforts should they arrive on Tatooine within the year.’”

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, fighting a smile.  He knew the Jedi would take notice of what Jango’s people were doing and want to help, no matter what the Senate’s official stance was.

“Really.  A year long undercover mission, unless recalled before that if intel suggested a different strike point was more likely,” Quin clarified.

“Fine,” Vhonte snapped, but she also holstered her blasters.  “But if the Jedi want to work with us in the future you should take it up with the Mand’alor.   We prefer straight action to all your sneaking around.”

“Noted.  Both Obi-Wan and I will let the Council know.  In the interest of full disclosure, no one knew if the time was right to approach the Mand’alor, and Master Tholme put up a stink about asking Obi-Wan to use his friendship with Fett to do all the work that we as an Order need to do to be on better terms with Mandalore.  Any future efforts to assist with your liberation campaigns will be discussed first through official channels.”

Obi-Wan blinked.  He didn’t think he’d ever heard Quinlan be so diplomatic.  Sure he had much of the same training and classes that Obi-Wan had, but Quin didn’t exactly excel at negotiation and conflict resolution.

“Wow, Quin, that was quite a speech.  I kinda wish Darsha had heard it if only to be a reputable witness,” Siri said while Bo-Katan scoffed in the background.

“Hey, I’m reputable!” Obi-Wan protested at the same time that Quin asked, “Is Padawan Assant here too?”

A brief, tense silence fell over the group and Obi-Wan once again despaired.

“Only three Jetiise, huh?” Brali asked with a hand resting on the butt of his blaster.

Obi-Wan sighed and ran a hand down his face.  “We are all terrible at operational security.  They’re gonna make us take another seminar, I hope you’re all proud.”

“In my defense, I thought there were only three of us!” Quinlan argued.

Vhonte snorted her disbelief.

“Look, we genuinely don’t have the time.  Darsha is back on our ship, our damaged ship attending to her own duties.  We really need to get back to ours,” Obi-Wan stressed.

“Right, that’s why I came over here,” Quin hurried to say.  “I think we can kill two birds with one stone: get your parts and get you a much needed inside source,” he said pointing to Obi-Wan and Vhonte respectively.  “If Siri and whatever Mando is with her can come meet us, there are some people you should all meet.”

Quin brought the whole group to one of the smaller junk dealers further into the city that neither Obi-Wan nor Siri had gotten too.  The interior was a jumble of droid and ship parts with coils of wire hanging from the ceiling and a long curving counter which was the cleanest surface to be found inside. There was a dark haired human working on some delicate wiring on the countertop, small curls of smoke rising from between her hands.

The Jedi and Mandalorians all knew better than to interrupt such work so they spread out through the shop looking at the wares, noting corners, entrances, and exits.  Both Vhonte and Obi-Wan, however, stayed near the counter and observed the woman.  She was neither old nor young, but it was clear that the harsh climate of Tatooine had taken its toll on her body.

In a few more moments she had finished her soldering and set aside her tools. “Thank you for waiting, what can I help you find today?” She asked, her voice soft and curling around her words with an accent that Obi-Wan didn’t recognize.

Obi-Wan brought out his datapad with his list of parts and handed it to her.  “We’re looking for parts for a Nubian J-type luxury cruiser,” he said.  “I’m sure many of these should be fine with whatever standard manufactured parts we can find.”

She studied the list in silence for a moment before looking back up. “We should have most of what you need and I can start gathering some options for you to look at, but the bigger pieces like the hyperdrive motivator are in the back,” the woman told them, then she looked down at something by her feet behind the counter.  “Ani, will you go find Master Watto and let him know we have some guests who need to look through the stock in the yard?”

Obi-Wan felt himself stiffen at the title of ‘Master’ that slipped out of the woman’s mouth and beside him Vhonte went still. From across the room Quinlan gave them both a look and a nod.

“Aw, Mom, I’m not done yet!” A high, child’s voice complained and Obi-Wan was shocked once again, because he hadn’t even felt a second person in the shop.

“Your project will still be here when you come back. The faster you go the sooner you return,” the mother instructed.

There was some grumbling from the child before just the top of a dirty blonde head could be seen moving quickly in the direction of a small set of stairs off to one side behind the counter that must have led to an upper level.

“I’ll get started on collecting this right away. Watto will be along shortly,” the woman explained.

“Thank you, Lady…?” Obi-Wan asked, hoping to get the woman’s name and make sure she knew he thought of her as a person first and not a slave.

“Shmi, sir,” came the simple answer as Shmi grabbed a large wire hand basket from behind her and stepped around the counter into the main shop.

“Thank you, Lady Shmi,” Obi-Wan repeated.

“I can help carry that basket as you go through the shop,” Vhonte offered, immediately moving toward Shmi and taking the basket without giving the woman the chance to decline. “With all the parts we need I’m sure it will get heavy quickly.”

And it would give Vhonte a chance to establish a rapport with someone who could give her insight into the Hutt slave ring here on Tatooine.  He watched them start in the far corner, Shmi referencing the datapad and searching through the seemingly unorganized piles of parts.  A significant part of Obi-Wan wanted to trail after them to hear what they were discussing and find out more about Vhonte’s operation here, but he had his own mission and figuring out the complex web of political relationships and underhanded maneuvering surrounding Naboo and the Trade Federation was going to be challenging enough without also getting embroiled in a slave rebellion no matter which direction his own wishes might prefer to lead him.

Quinlan walked up to Obi-Wan while he waited near the counter for the young Ani to reappear with Watto, whom Obi-Wan was predisposed to dislike for the simple fact that they kept enslaved beings.

“You need to keep your cool, Kenobi,” Quin muttered to him, probably in response to the simmering anger that being around slavers always brought out in him.  He may not have been enslaved long either of the times he found himself in chains, but the experiences had been enough to leave scars both physical and mental. “Your Mandalorian friends and I won’t let things stand for too much longer, but aside from that he’ll be able to feel it and that will make everything more difficult.”

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, momentarily confused.  “‘He’ who?”

“The kid.”  

“Ani? How would he pick up on my emotions?  I didn’t even feel him when we first walked in.”

“Exactly.” Obi-Wan just stared at his friend in continued confusion until Quin explained.  “The first time I came in here he was sitting right on top of the counter laughing with Shmi and shining like a beacon in the Force.  In fact, his Force signature was why I even came in here in the first place.  I could feel him from several streets away.”

“But—?” Obi-Wan didn’t even know what to say.  He hadn’t felt anything like that from the boy.  He had felt nothing, which now that Quin had pointed it out was impressive in a completely different way.

“I’m guessing something happened earlier that made him scared or upset and now he’s hiding, whether he knows what he’s doing or not.  A sort of defense mechanism,” Quin said in a low voice.

Before Obi-Wan could formulate a response, the sound of quick, light footsteps could be heard approaching accompanied by the buzz of constantly fluttering wings.  He turned toward the sound and saw a blue toydarian crossing the room at eye level while the boy scampered to his previous spot on the floor which may well have been under the counter to begin with.

“Gooddé da lodia! (Good day to you!) Hi chuba da naga? (What do you want?)” Watto greeted them with an expansive gesture.

Obi-Wan knew a fair amount of Huttese, but he had to admit that his fluency in the language ranked far below his Mando’a and even his Ryl, so he answered in Basic.

“Hello there.  Lady Shmi has already started gathering the majority of the parts we need, but I’m told a T-14 hyperdrive motivator can only be found in the back,” Obi-Wan said, his voice coming out unusually cold and clinical.

“A T-14 hyperdrive motivator! You’re in luck! I just came by one a week ago and the cleaning work on it finished up just yesterday!  Come,” the toydarian said with a wave of one hand, “let me take you out back and I’ll show you what I have.”

“Actually,” Obi-Wan called in a tone of voice that forced Watto to turn back around to face him, “my colleagues will accompany you and make any final decisions, I have something to attend to here.”  Siri and Brali obligingly stepped forward despite the flare of confusion and exasperation Obi-Wan could feel from Siri at this sudden turn in events, but neither of them complained.  Bo-Katan merely melted further back into the shadows as if hoping everyone would forget she was there watching.

Watto, however, narrowed his eyes and drew his mouth up to one side of his long snout.  “Part of that business had better be producing money for my goods or you won’t be seeing so much as a coil of wire, Outlander.”

Obi-Wan smiled without mirth.  “You needn’t worry about that.  Our funds are well in hand for a reasonable exchange.”

Watto studied him for a moment then grunted and turned back toward the deeper reaches of the shop.  Siri and Brali both followed in the toydarian’s wake, Siri wearing a humorless expression and Brali with one hand settled on the butt of his holstered blaster.  Neither of them were going to let Watto get away with anything while Obi-Wan wasn’t around.

“He’s going to upcharge you if you keep carrying on like that,” a soft voice said next to him.

Obi-Wan shifted to watch as Shmi carefully emptied her basket onto the counter.  She produced multiples of the several pieces in varying levels of griminess and functionality and grouped them together for inspection.  Vhonte stood a few paces away examining two different capacitor arrays in a patch of sunlight from a high window giving Obi-Wan and Shmi a moment of privacy.

He breathed out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face, feeling the accumulated grit from just the few hours he had been on the planet.  He couldn’t imagine actually living here amongst all the sand and the scorching suns.

“I know,” he finally relented, “I have a tendency to react poorly to the presence of slavers.  Brings up bad memories,” he explained, unconsciously rubbing at the now faint scarring around his neck from his time in the ionite mines on Bandomeer.

Shmi studied him for a few moments and Obi-Wan got the feeling he was being evaluated.  He could only hope he would not be found wanting.

“I hope I haven’t made things harder for you.  It is not my intention to bring you harm," he said into the quiet space between them.

“I know,” Shmi said, still quiet.  “It helps that you have come with Mandalorians, if the whispers are true about their own activities, but the stories about Jedi are usually ones of hope for us, not pain.”

“What makes you think I am a Jedi?” Obi-Wan asked, momentarily alarmed that his cover had been blown already.

Shmi flashed him a there-and-gone smile.  “Just a feeling.”

What was that supposed to mean?  Quin had mentioned the boy as being strong in the Force, but perhaps the mother had a gift of her own, though her slightly dampened and almost muddy Force signature appeared the opposite.  Then again, maybe the boy had learned from his mother how to hide himself rather than simply acting on instinct.  In a way, making one’s Force signature appear to be something other than what it truly was took far more skill and control than simply hiding it altogether.

Either way, both mother and son were meant for so much more than a life of forced servitude.

“Would you mind if I talked with your son?” He inquired of Shmi.  “He seems quite intelligent for his age if he is already undertaking mechanical projects.”

This time Shmi did smile and pride shone from her eyes as she gazed at where little Ani had deigned to leave his hiding spot after some cajoling from Quin, who was attempting to prove how strong he was judging by the way Ani was hanging in mid-air from Quin’s forearm, giggling non-stop.

“I haven’t seen him smile like that in three days, not since—” she cut herself off and looked down at her hands where they lay flat and trembling on the countertop.  Obi-Wan wanted to help, but knew there was very little he could do at present, so instead he watched as she closed her eyes for a moment and breathed.  When she opened them again her expression was polite, but just a little distant.  “When he wants something he usually finds a way to make it happen,” she told him, returning to their previous conversation. Then she hefted her basket once more before saying, “I have no problem with you talking with him, as long as he wants to talk to you.”

“Fair enough, thank you.” Obi-Wan smiled and let Shmi drift away towards an overcrowded shelf.  

The boy scrambled up onto the countertop so he could be eye level with Quin who whispered something to the boy that made him look right at Obi-Wan and cock his head to the side, considering.  Obi-Wan took that as his cue and made his way over to the mischievous pair.

“Well you two look thick as thieves, should I be worried that you are going to lead your young friend astray, Quin?”

Ani tried to stifle a giggle behind his hand, but his whole attitude could not be more different from when they had first entered the junk shop.

“Don’t worry, your friend’s in good hands with me!” Ani declared in a high, bright voice as he gave Quin a surprisingly grave pat on the shoulder.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the scene.  This boy’s life was undoubtedly hard, brutal, and often painful, yet he could still find things to laugh and smile about.  It was a huge credit to both Shmi and his own resilience.

“And who is it that I am entrusting my friend’s livelihood to?” he asked.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

“Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan repeated slowly and it was as if a key had turned in his mind and a door opened.  From one breath to the next, the world seemed to shift.

“Anakin Skywalker meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“You’re a Jedi too?  Pleased to meet you!”

Obi-Wan blinked and tried to focus on the words still coming out of the boy’s mouth, but the sound wasn’t registering.

“Knight Kenobi! Ah, and Padawan Skywalker.  I see that someone has been overextending themselves in the salles again…”

“Anakin! Stop and think for a moment.  A great leap forward often requires first taking two steps back.”

There was a sort of roaring in Obi-Wan’s ears and his head felt like it was absolutely going to crack open right down the center.

“—But one day I’m going to be Captain Skywalker and I’m going to have my own ship and I’ll fly away from this place!” a child’s voice said on the edge of his hearing, but the floodgates of memory had opened and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop the images of another life that poured into his head.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?”

“Don’t say that, Master.  You’re the closest thing I have to a father.”

“Obes?”  That was a different voice.  A voice that didn’t hurt.  “What’s going on?  Obi-Wan?”

He tried to hold onto that voice, but it too slipped away.

“General Skywalker will lead Torrent Company along the north ridge here to engage the bulk of the enemy.  Meanwhile General Kenobi and Commander Cody will lead their strike teams through the tunnels from both the east and west to reach the target.”

“Kriff! He hasn’t done this in years!” The not-painful voice said, and if Obi-Wan had been able to think past the splitting pain and the flashing images he might have said that there was an edge of panic to the voice.

“What’s happening?  Is he alright?” a small high voice asked.

“Get him out of here!” Someone new said.  “We have a medbay on our ship.  Docking Bay thirty-two.  Kyrze will clear the way.  Go!”

Then the world tilted again.  Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t been standing up anymore.  All he could see was the picture in his mind's eye of white armor and a lightsaber that slashed again and again until he was sick with it.

“I hate you!”

“You were my brother, Anakin.  I loved you!”

Come on Obes, just breathe and focus on the here and now, find your anchor.  Find the Force.

That wasn’t a memory.  It was a voice in his head.  A voice he knew and trusted.  But how was he supposed to find the Force when he wasn’t really sure who he actually was?

Obi-Wan didn’t startle into consciousness, rather he slowly became aware of the scratch of the sheets beneath his fingertips, the scent of blaster oil and ozone that just eclipsed an antiseptic smell, the rustle of someone nearby moving around.  Several little things that made themselves apparent, but he couldn’t quite put them together into one cohesive picture. He quested outward with the Force trying to get a read on whether or not he was in any danger and encountered a few familiar presences in his immediate vicinity and the buzz of hundreds of beings further afield.  

"Somebody has been neglecting their grounding exercises," a low, well known voice said from a few feet away, "and it shows."

Obi-Wan slowly lifted his eyelids to take in the low lighting and the upright figure of Quinlan Vos sitting in a classic meditation pose on the bed adjacent to Obi-Wan's.  A quick glance around showed that he was in a small room with the kind of space saving cabinetry and panel lighting that only existed aboard ship or in mid and lower level housing on Coruscant and other large metropolises.  The fact that the Force signature of the planet around him didn't feel anything like what he was used to when he was home at the Temple hinted that Obi-Wan was on a ship somewhere instead.

He took a deep breath and studied Quin for a few moments, noticing his friend’s determined calm and lack of urgency and decided he wasn't in any immediate danger.  He had certainly woken up in worse ways even if he was still a bit unsure about the situation overall.

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan said, interrupting Obi-Wan’s musings, “Can you tell me where we are?”

Obi-Wan looked around them pointedly at the bare metal walls, worn edges, and basic cot that could have belonged to any ship in the galaxy, then leveled a flat stare at his friend.  “That does seem to be the question, doesn’t it?”

Quin snorted indelicately and relented.  “Alright, maybe that was unfair.  Can you at least remember where you were before you woke up here?”

That was a much easier question, at least it should have been.  Obi-Wan made an effort to sit up against the bulkhead behind him, but the movement made his head swim before he was even halfway up.  He pushed through the stab of pain and the slight nausea and got himself up enough that he could press one hand over his eyes to massage both his temples at once.  The action brought attention to a lingering layer of grit over his face and in his hair.  He blinked down at the offending granules on his fingers and knew they had come from the endless beige desert that promptly painted itself across his mind’s eye.  

“Yes,” he began slowly, dragging out the word.  The image of the desert soon led to a quick succession of memories that had the clarity of immediacy: A mirror-bright chrome starship, stark against the sandy landscape; black Mandalorian armor that stood out against the sand as much as the brown highlights blended in with the dry earth; a dimly lit shop with parts laying about and a sandy-haired youth bearing a familiar face. “We landed on Tatooine and you found Anakin.”  Obi-Wan looked up at his friend again, unsure how he felt about what he could remember of his future-past self’s interactions with some version of the boy he had met earlier.

“Well, you’re not freaking out, so that has to be a good sign,” Quin said as he unfolded his legs and stretched his limbs after being in a meditation pose for however long Obi-Wan had been there. “Your Mando friends will be pleased to hear you’re awake and in working order.” He paused briefly and ran a critical eye over Obi-Wan. “You are in working order, right?”

“I think so, mostly.” He didn’t seem to hurt anywhere aside from his head and the nausea would pass soon enough, he knew, but there was something about what he remembered that stood out as odd.  “Quin, I knew Anakin, or the General did, he was my—his Padawan. But there’s a block of some kind, a very obvious one, separating some of the memories.  That definitely wasn’t there before.”

“Ah, yeah. That was me,” Quin admitted, “You helped, of course, once you figured out what I was doing, but it was the only way I could help you find your way back to the present.  I had to shove the more powerful memories where they couldn’t be seen.  I’m no Healer Che and we didn’t have the most time, what with your ship full of political refugees and the Mandalorian emancipation operation taking shape.”

“A wall?” Obi-Wan asked, pushing at the barrier in his mind.

“More of a reinforced door,” Quin explained, “You can get through if you really want to, but I wouldn’t recommend it. The glimpses of what I saw in there was…” he trailed off and shook his head. “It’s bad, Obi-Wan, it’s really bad. I don't know how you're sane. I’m going to have to meditate for weeks to come to terms with it.”

Given his collapse it was no surprise to hear Quin’s assessment of what he had seen.  Obi-Wan also knew the general shape of the Clone Wars and how they had ended with the destruction of the Jedi. After all, it was why he met Jango, why he worked so hard for stability on Mandalore, why he did so many of the things that made up his day to day life.  He just hadn’t known the details would be so personally harrowing.

“I guess I’ll leave things be then,” he said quietly, “I can still recall a few flashes of what I saw. Some of it is so hopeful, but the rest is full of pain.  I probably shouldn’t be surprised given the future war and all, but,” he lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, “right now, Anakin is just a boy.”

“I know, a really bright and caring one at that.  He was extremely concerned for you by the time one of the Mandos and I managed to get you out of the junk shop.  It’s hard to believe he’s what set you off,” Quinlan said. “Not only that, but I’m a bit shocked you remember anything, to be honest.  When this happened after the spice ship you said you didn’t remember what you had seen. I wonder what’s different now?”

“I’m older now and have more training and discipline,” Obi-Wan speculated.

Quin snorted.  “More discipline.  Sure, Obes.  I wonder if Master Windu would agree with that statement if I told him about the time you—“

Obi-Wan was about to make an almighty effort to tackle Quin to stop him from mentioning the Incident he had sworn on the Force to never talk about ever again, but the loud clattering of heavy boots and the exasperated voice of Vhonte Tervho saved him instead.

“Wayii! (Good grief!) Gar mirsh solus! (Your braincell is lonely!)” Vhonte burst into the room, helmet off and handheld comm device with a miniature blue holo held out in front of her. “Obi-Wan, say something!” She commanded.

“Um, what?” He said in response.  He had no idea who she was talking to and she wouldn’t hold the comm still long enough for him to get a good look.

“See? He’s fine! Fighting fit!” She paused to actually take in Obi-Wan’s slightly pinched features from the headache and the way he still mostly slumped against the wall behind him.  “Alright, so perhaps no fighting for a few hours, but he’s definitely conscious so you can stop worrying, Alor.”

“Jango?” Obi-Wan asked in confusion, finally picking out the familiar outline of beskar'gam (armor) over the blue lit holo.  “You called the Mand’alor over this?”

“No. He called you,” She jiggled the device in her hand and Obi-Wan recognized the model and the particular scratch along one side where it had made a bid for freedom over a rocky waterfall installation in the Room of A Thousand Fountains.  “And he kept calling, incessantly, but you were… otherwise engaged so I picked up instead.  Here, make him see reason.” Vhonte shoved the comm into his hands and Obi-Wan found himself looking down at Jango’s scrutinizing face.

“Me'vaar ti gar, Getal'ika? (What's new with you, Little Red?)” Jango eventually asked.

“Naas (Nothing).”

Obi-Wan must have looked more pitiful than he felt because Jango just stared at him with a flat, disbelieving look.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, but it’s nothing a few painkillers won’t fix,” he relented when it was clear Jango wouldn’t stand for anything less than the truth.  “Did you need something?”

Jango sighed.  “No, Getal'ika (Little Red).  I just wanted to make sure you were alright.  Tervho answering your comm didn’t set a great tone and then she wouldn’t tell me why you were on Tatooine or why you couldn’t answer yourself.”

“You called to check on me?”  Obi-Wan asked, completely thrown.  It wasn’t as though the two of them weren’t still friendly and in regular contact, but the last time they had seen each other had been… awkward?  Disappointing?  Obi-Wan couldn’t really describe it to himself, but an opportunity had very clearly been sidestepped by Jango, and Obi-Wan was still coming to terms with the unspoken change in their dynamic.

“Vos, I do believe that’s our cue to leave,” Vhonte announced and grabbed Quin’s arm to drag him out of the medbay before he could even begin to protest.  “You’ve got three minutes, Alor, then I need your Jedi for a debrief,” she shouted over her shoulder just as the door swished shut.

Nothing like your friends setting you up, Obi-Wan thought and suppressed a groan.

“Obi-Wan,” Jango’s voice said in a careful tone that made Obi-Wan focus on the Mand’alor.  “I didn’t mean to overstep, and I wouldn’t have called otherwise, but something was wrong and I didn’t know what else to do.”

That got Obi-Wan’s attention.  Jango was less Force sensitive than some rocks Obi-Wan owned, and what he was describing sounded very much like he had sensed a disturbance in the Force.

“Wrong how?  Can you describe it?”

“I don’t know.  Just wrong,” Jango mumbled, but he crossed his arms over his chest and stared into the distance to gather his thoughts.  “It was pain and sadness and fear, but it wasn’t mine.  I’m out with Kal and a bunch of horticulture specialists on the Skirata lands talking through soil reclamation and crop growth and such things while some of my other projects are in the initial recon and planning stages.  There is absolutely nothing happening here that would inspire those kinds of feelings.”

“And what made you connect them with me?” Obi-Wan asked, genuinely curious.

One corner of Jango’s mouth lifted in a sort of rueful smile.  “It’s always you, ner Jet'ika (my Little Jedi).”

Obi-Wan did his best not to react to the nickname.  “Are you saying this has happened before?”

“Not exactly.  I sometimes get these feelings that seem out of place, but they’re usually positive.  And then the next time we talk you always have some sort of news that you’re proud of or extra pleased with.  I’m not saying there’s a direct correlation, but that’s how I’ve started thinking of it.”

Obi-Wan blinked.  “Jango, that’s… not normal.”  He was too surprised to be any less blunt.  Jango was very nearly suggesting the two of them had some kind of Force bond, which was incredibly unlikely.  For all the fondness between them, they hadn’t spent all that much time together in the years since Obi-Wan had left Mandalore after the end of the Civil War, and when they did run into each other on missions or jobs, Jango had kept up his mental shields the majority of the time.

Jango chuckled in response to Obi-Wan’s astonishment.  “I’m sure it’s not, but you’re a Jedi, so who knows what’s possible?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of anything to say.  A rare moment for him, but it wasn’t the first time Jango had completely upended his expectations.

“Obi-Wan,” Jango interrupted Obi-Wan’s spiraling thoughts with a return to his serious tone.  “You know you can talk to me, right? If you’re in trouble or having a hard time, you can ask me for anything.”  He paused and seemed to struggle with some sort of decision before continuing onward in halting, jumbled sentences that were extremely out of character for him.  “I know that when we saw each other on Florrum last month you didn’t want—  I mean, I thought you knew that I— Well, I wanted to respect your decision, but that doesn’t mean I won’t help if I can.”

If anything that left Obi-Wan more confused than before.  He searched his memories of the last time they had unexpectedly run into each other— thanks to some unlooked for help from an overly ambitious Weequay pirate named Hondo Ohnaka who was in the process of establishing a base deep within the canyons of Florrum— and couldn’t come up with any conversations that would hint at what “decision” Jango was referencing.

“Thank you for that, but I’m honestly not sure what you’re talking about. What decision?”

Jango looked pained at the thought of explaining. “Your demeanor during our…escape—” Obi-Wan snorted.  The word “escape” did not fully encapsulate the absolute chaos that had befallen them on Florrum. “—made it clear that you wanted space.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure how he could “want space” from someone he hardly ever saw, but at least he was starting to get an idea of why things had been so awkward between them lately.

“I’m not certain what I said that led to such an impression, but my demeanor during that debacle was dictated by you.  I was following your lead when you signaled that we shouldn’t let on that we knew each other or even liked one another lest Ohnaka separate us.  Once we were on our own I was…thrown when your goodbye was so formal and not, well, more friendly.”  The flush that suffused his face made Obi-Wan glad that his embarrassment wouldn’t read over holo.

“ I—what?” Jango was the one who looked confused now.  “I don’t remember it like that at all—”

Jango was cut off by a banging on the door and Vhonte shouting, “One minute warning!  You two better have your shit together!”

“That woman is a menace,” Jango grumbled.

Obi-Wan, however, smiled.  “She might be right though.  We do need to talk, but I don’t think now is the right time.  A few things have come up rather unexpectedly here and I need to focus on what’s in front of me.”

“And you really are fine?”

“I probably need to meditate for an hour or two in addition to taking some pain meds, but I’m not seriously injured.  In fact, I’m lucky Quin was here since, aside from a Jedi Healer, he’s probably the most qualified person to help me.”

“So this was one of your episodes then?  Where you see things from that other time?” Jango’s tone held skepticism and just a hint of anger. 

“More or less,” Obi-Wan answered, then to assuage more of Jango’s worries, “It means the feelings, the pain and fear, weren’t really mine either.  Physically I was in no danger.”

“Danger comes in many forms, but I suppose that’s good.  I don’t like that I can’t do much to help when your Force overwhelms you like that, but it’s better that you’re not hurt, mentally or physically.  Although you are still on Tatooine which comes with more than enough of its own troubles.”

It was clearly a leading statement.  Given the Mandalorian recon mission Vhonte was heading up, Obi-Wan knew Jango had to be concerned about why the Jedi were on the planet.  Republic interference had the potential to be an added hassle.

“As I told Vhonte, I’m here by accident,” he paused, considering, “Well perhaps I should say I’m here by a quirk of the Force given what happened to me, but I certainly won’t get in the way of your operations.”

“And what sort of quirky accident lands you in a Hutt owned smuggler’s haven?” Jango asked with a quizzical eyebrow raised.

Obi-Wan took a moment to decide whether he could speak openly about his mission.  Jango was a trusted ally, but he was the ruler of a non-Republic aligned sector.  The Senate got particularly prickly about who had what sorts of information and it wasn’t overly fond of Mandalore as a general rule.  Moreover, Obi-Wan’s comm line wasn’t the most secure.  Anyone could slice the frequency, figure out where Veruna was, and lead the Trade Federation to Tatooine.  On the other hand, Jango was technically a political leader and might have ideas about how to handle the blockade and invasion of Naboo that Obi-Wan, Darsha, and Siri hadn’t thought of yet.

As long as he was careful he would probably be fine.

“It’s a bit of a complicated story.  Have you been following developments concerning the Trade Federation and the outcry from the outer systems who are being taken advantage of, especially within the Free Trade Zones?”

“Actually, I have,” Jango said, much to Obi-Wan’s surprise.  “We don’t let them operate directly in Manda'lase (Mandalorian Space), but some of the smaller Federation subsidiaries have to pass through the sector on their way further out.  The attacks on Federation cargo ships by the Nebula Front organization has made several of us reconsider whether to continue to allow such passage.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan agreed.  “The Nebula Front claims to act on behalf of all the struggling worlds of the Outer Rim, but a few individual worlds have been taking shots at the Federation as well.  This has led to two things: first the Trade Federation Directorate has petitioned the Senate to approve the installation of military grade weapons and battle droids on Federation merchant ships; and second, the Federation has set up a blockade around one of those hostile worlds and staged an invasion.  Myself and a few of my colleagues happened to be on said planet on a fact finding mission when that happened and in order to avoid apprehension we escaped off-planet with the sovereign and a few of their advisors.”

“Interesting,” was all Jango said, but his hands were clearly doing something out of range of the holocam.  Obi-Wan guessed that he was combing through galactic news sites and some other intelligence networks to figure out the exact planet being discussed.  “And Tatooine?”

“Our ship got damaged,” Obi-Wan said simply.

“Which means you needed somewhere to do repairs where the long arm of the Federation couldn’t reach you.  They made a bold move with an invasion, a bit of a stupid one given I can’t find evidence of the Senate giving them approval for the weapons and droids and now they’re not likely to get it, but undeniably bold."

“Unless they can track down the planet’s ruler and force them to sign a treaty that would legalize their presence,” Obi-Wan explained.

“Huh,” Jango was still staring at something off camera.  “I might be able to…” He trailed off, deep in thought and Obi-Wan let him think.  “There may be something I can do, but that’s for later.  I’ll have to head back to Keldabe for a clan meeting first.  Is any of this related to your episode?”

“No.  Maybe.  I don’t really know,” Obi-Wan grimaced.  “The memories were triggered by a person I met here more than the overall situation, but the two are inextricably linked so I can’t be sure.”

“Is this a person I should do something about?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  “No, Jango.  Aside from the fact that I can fight my own battles, thank you very much, he’s a kid and a perfectly innocent one at that.”  Obi-Wan shook his head.  “I think I have a choice to make like the one I made about you.  I saw what you could have become and knew I had to do what I could to help you find a different path.  This time I think it’s not just the path of this one kid that matters, but that of the whole Jedi Order.  All of the little things I’ve been talking to the Council and the Masters about, topics like how, where, and why we operate in the galaxy.  Making sure that the Initiate clans get to spend time observing and helping each of the separate Service Corps branches so that they can know that being a Jedi doesn’t have to mean being a Knight.  Encouraging a change to the Padawan Policy.  All of it is because we have to adapt to the way the galaxy is now, rather than how it was back during the Ruusan Reformation, to better help those who need it, but also to make sure we survive as a people.  To make sure we can adequately care for someone like this boy.”

“Is he so special?  Changing the whole Order for one person seems…monumental.”

“The changes need to be made regardless, but he both is and isn’t quite that special,” Obi-Wan shrugged.  “He’s certainly powerful and apparently already capable of things Knights and Masters have struggled with, but it’s possible that the circumstances around him are what made him so significant in my future-past.  If he had been able to be just a Jedi without the war, who knows what could have happened?”

“Do you not think he deserves the chance to find out?” Jango asked.  

“He’s a kid living under miserable conditions who dreams of the stars.  Of course he deserves to get there.”

“Then give him a boost,” Jango said with easy confidence.  “I may be biased, but you have some of the best judgment of anyone I have ever met when it comes to people.  If you thought an angry, broken Mandalorian was worth helping, then I’m sure you can help guide a child down an acceptable path.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Obi-Wan whispered.  “He was my Padawan and it all went so wrong.  I failed him”

“No.” Jango’s voice was firm, almost vehement.  “You are not the same person as the man in your visions.  If that’s true for me, it has to be true for you too.  You told me once that there must be a reason you have these memories.  Maybe it’s so that they can be a warning or a lesson.  Accept what wisdom you can gain by witnessing another’s mistakes and let it guide you as you move forward.”

Obi-Wan took a moment to collect himself and heed his friend’s words.  “Yes, live in the moment, you’re right.  I’ll try to do that.  Thank you, Jango.”

The holo image of Jango smiled.  “Besides, if everything goes according to plan on Tatooine, going away with the Jedi may not be the kid’s only option soon enough.  Maybe he’ll decide he prefers blasters over light swords.”

A small laugh escaped Obi-Wan.  “Regardless of his weapons preferences or the timetable of your operations here on Tatooine, I’ll make sure both he and his mother have more options for the future than just the Jedi before I leave.”

“Oya (Let's Go!) to that Jet’ika!” Vhonte said as she unceremoniously entered the room and planted herself in view of the holoprojector.  “Alor, are you now satisfied with my claim that the Jet’ika is alive and well?”

“I suppose I have nothing to complain about, but you all need to watch each others’ backs out there,” Jango advised.

“Elek, Alor (Yes, Alor),” both Obi-Wan and Vhonte replied in unison.

“We’ve got things that need to be done, Alor.  You’ll get updates as originally scheduled,” Vhonte said.

“Jate. (Good.)  K'oyacyi. (Stay Alive)”

The small holo of Jango flickered out and the line went dead.  Obi-Wan looked up to see Quinlan smirking at him over Vhonte’s shoulder.  “What?” he demanded of his friend.

Quin shrugged.  “I just think it’s cute that apparently both of you are in denial about your relationship and literally everyone but you and Fett can see that you are functionally a couple.”

“You use the word ‘cute,’ but I think it’s starting to be more frustrating than anything,” Vhonte pointed out as she checked something on a pad she pulled out of who knew where.  “I mean this has been going on for at least five years now.”

Obi-Wan chose to groan into his hands rather than make a play for one of Vhonte’s blasters to stun everyone into unconsciousness so they would stop teasing him.

"Have you been dealing with the pining too?" Quin, the absolute traitor, asked.

"There hasn't been any pining!" Obi-Wan objected.

"Pining like you wouldn't believe," Vhonte said, rolling her eyes. "It's almost indecent from a person of Jango's station."

"I wish you two had never met," Obi-Wan grumbled.

Vhonte laughed then slapped him on the back. “Come on, Jet’ika, you can wallow over your life choices later. I really could use your help since you’re here, and frankly I trust you more than Vos.”

“Ouch,” Quinlan said mildly, but without any real feeling behind it.

“He’s perfectly trustworthy when it comes to important things,” Obi-Wan said in defense of his friend.

“Then he can take the opportunity to prove it if he has any desire to work with us in the future.”

“Fair enough,” Quin agreed easily, much to Obi-Wan’s surprise.

“Fine,” Obi-Wan also conceded, “But I need to figure out what’s going on with the ship first.  Getting the Naboo delegation to safety on Coruscant is my first priority.  I agree wholeheartedly with your mission here, Vhonte, but I have responsibilities that I can’t ignore.”

“I don’t want you to ignore them.  Just to widen your operational scope. Also,” she paused briefly to stow her datapad, “I sent your other Jedi friend and Brali with the parts I paid for back to your ship so that repairs could get underway.  She said she’d comm you if they needed something else.  Bo-Katan is taking care of her mission duties elsewhere, but she’s got her comm handy if we need her.  In the meantime, Lady Skywalker has graciously invited us to her quarters to meet with someone and chat.  The kid was rather insistent that you be there as well.”

The kid.  Anakin Skywalker.  

Obi-Wan searched his feelings and found nerves bubbling up, but not fear as he thought there might be.  There was some of that strange complicated feeling from the Force that he had sensed back on the Royal Cruiser before he had even laid eyes on the planet, but nothing nefarious.  

Jango had been right.  Obi-Wan could learn from past mistakes and make sure that he and the rest of the Jedi didn’t fall into the same traps as the General had, but he also couldn’t dwell on a past that wasn’t technically his own.  He and Quin had locked away some memories for Obi-Wan’s personal health and safety that maybe one day, with the right help, he would be able to unlock and examine, but he felt like he knew more than enough to get started.  At the very least he could help a boy and his mother find their way to Freedom.

“Find me something I can take for this headache and you can tell me about the situation on the way," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the cot, ready to get back to work.

The Slave Quarter of Mos Espa was not the cheeriest place Obi-Wan had ever been— to nobody’s surprise— but there was the smallest modicum of relief in the idea that these people weren’t trapped on a ship or under several kilometers of water.  The brown pourstone houses were simple in shape, mostly two levels with a small rooftop space and the occasional small window, and constructed in compact rows with no space between one building and the next.  They certainly wouldn’t be winning any architectural awards, but the walls looked thick and sturdy and probably provided some amount of insulation from the heat of the twin suns and held onto that heat during the cool of the night.  The few windows meant the structures were easy to lock down in a sandstorm.  From the outside Obi-Wan couldn’t tell how many people were expected to live in each house, but he supposed that depended on whomever actually owned the properties and wasn’t up to the people who were required to live there.

There were plenty of people out in the streets though.  Beings of all ages and species, all of them dressed in colorless, drab clothes of homespun cloth that covered as much of their bodies as was convenient.  A pack of young children ran by, trying to peek under the heavy black cloak and hood Vhonte wore to hide the distinctive nature of her armor, and scurried off whispering hotly among themselves.  The people selling small handmade goods under awnings or offering carefully tended produce from the shadows of buildings were equally as intrigued with the incognito Mandalorian in their midst once they got a glimpse under her hood.

And yet no one made a move to stop Vhonte and the two Jedi with her as they walked through the Quarter to the Skywalker residence, despite the blatant curiosity.

Obi-Wan had a strong suspicion that news or rumors of the Mandalorian emancipation efforts had reached these people even out here on Tatooine.  It was only natural that they would be curious or even excited about the appearance of someone in traditional Mandalorian armor, rather than scared if that was the case.

The door that Vhonte knocked at was opened not by Shmi or her son, but by an older human woman with deeply tanned, wrinkled skin and white hair that was carefully sectioned and twisted back into a surprisingly elaborate knot at the back of her head.  She looked over the three of them suspiciously for a moment with bright green eyes then stepped back and waved them over the threshold.

“They’re in the kitchen,” the woman said and led the way toward the back of the cramped space where Obi-Wan could just hear low voices talking.

The kitchenette was not unlike those found in the apartments of Jedi Knights and Masters back at the Temple on Coruscant.  There was minimal counter space, two induction burners, an oven or stove that likely doubled as a heating source, and a small conservator.  The biggest difference was a lack of a sink or fresh running water.  Given people on this planet actually farmed moisture, Obi-Wan knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow the lack of a sink made the whole kitchen seem strange.

“Quinlan! You came back!” Little Anakin nearly shouted when he spotted them in the doorway.

“Hey Ani,” Quin said with a lopsided grin, “I told you I’d be back.  And look, I brought Obi-Wan too.”

“Hello there, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, doing his best to keep any trepidation out of his voice.  “It’s nice to meet you properly.  I apologize for what happened when you introduced yourself earlier.  I was not at my best.”

The young boy looked swiftly at his mother who was giving Obi-Wan her own careful examination before answering in a solemn voice, “You went down pretty hard and your head looked like it was hurting you a lot.”

“Yes, but I’m all better now.  Quin here helped me.”

Anakin studied him with a furrow in his brow as though something wasn’t adding up.  “It was some sort of Jedi thing, wasn’t it?”

Obi-Wan blinked, astonished.  “What makes you think I’m a Jedi?”  He looked at Quin for a clue, but his friend just shrugged, mystified.

“I saw your laser sword when you fell.  And you…”  He trailed off and looked to his mother again.  This time he waited until he got a tiny nod from Shmi before he whispered, “You felt funny all of the sudden. Like you were cold and scared.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, once again off balance because of this boy.  “You are very perceptive, Anakin.” 

“A fact which stays under this roof,” the old woman interrupted sternly as she came to place a protective hand on the boy’s shoulder and glared menacingly at the two Jedi.

“As you wish,” Obi-Wan assured her quickly.

“Jira,” Shmi called softly, “He’s a Jedi.  He won’t bring harm to Anakin.”

“Hmph,” Jira grunted, but she took a seat at the table where she must have been helping to prepare a meal before Obi-Wan and his group arrived.

“None of us have any desire to hurt anyone here,” Vhonte finally spoke up as she removed her cloak.  “In fact, I’m here to figure out how we can help you.”

“So it’s true then?” Jira asked, “What they’re saying about the Mandalorian attacks on Boonta and one of the Zygerrian processing hubs in the Tion Cluster?”

“If the rumors are about slave revolts, then yes.”

“And now you’ve come to Tatooine,” Jira stated.

“Now we’ve come to Tatooine,” Vhonte agreed.  “The Hutts have a stranglehold on this planet, yet it’s far from their center of power.  It presents an ideal location to start undermining their empire.”

Jira chewed her cheeks in thought for a few moments.  “That makes sense.  What exactly do you expect us to do though?”

“I want you to help me understand how they keep you all contained so that I can come up with a way to break it.  In other places we’ve hit, the enslaved had cuffs or collars, sometimes cages and chains.  But here,” Vhonte shook her head in disgust.  “I can only imagine it must be something worse because barely anyone here is visibly shackled, yet you all remain.”

“You’re right,” Shmi answered.  “All slaves on Tatooine have a transmitter chip placed somewhere in their body.  Any attempt to escape—”

“And they blow you up! Boom!” Anakin finished with an explosive hand gesture that didn’t match the serious look on his face at all.  Obi-Wan suspected it was something he had learned at a very young age.

“Well kriff,” Quin muttered.  “They implant everyone with explosives?  That’s sick.”

“Everything about slavery is sick, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“Well of course, but this is a special level of evil.  And you can’t get them removed?”

Shmi shook her head and Jira barked a harsh laugh.

“Doctors are not a common sight on Tatooine, especially not for the likes of us.  The doctors that are here all work for the Masters or for more money than the whole Quarter would see in five years.”  Jira said it all matter of factly, without any hint of disgust or even resignation.  These were just the facts of life for her.

“The Singers we use don’t have the tools necessary for the type of surgery chip removal usually requires.  Sometimes they’re buried too deep for us to get at safely,” Shmi added.  “And that’s if you know where your transmitter is.”

“Singers?” Vhonte inquired.

“They’re the closest we have to medics.  They usually travel from settlement to settlement offering aid for barter.  There are some local plants and the like that can be made into a few healing salves, but if someone does need surgery or stitches or something like that there’s no numbing agents available to us aside from the occasional mouthful of spirits,” Shmi explained.  “Instead, the Singer will tell stories or sing as they perform their duties and the distraction is all the patient has to get them through.”

“I see.”  Vhonte was shocked even if her voice didn’t show it, Obi-Wan knew her well enough to tell despite the impassive T-visor.

“I’ve been looking for parts to build a scanner to locate my chip,” Anakin spoke up into the brief silence, “But bioscanning hardware is less common out here than droid or ship parts so it might take a while.”

“If you had a scanner and a med-droid to do the surgeries, would that help?” Vhonte asked.

“Of course it would help,” Jira cried.  “A few people at least, until the slavers noticed that their property was going missing one by one and then they’ll come down all the harder on the rest of us for the insolence.”

“But at least some of us would be free and that’s a good thing isn’t it, Grandmother?” Anakin asked and Obi-Wan startled at the mention of a familial relation.  His own experiences with slavery hadn’t included any family units that he knew of.  It was incredibly unsettling to come across on Tatooine.  The system of slavery was truly well ensconced if there were multiple generations all being held captive in the same settlement.  It made him all the more determined to see it end.

Jira sighed and bowed her head for just one moment, but she answered Anakin’s hopeful question softly nonetheless.  “Yes, Ani, that would be good, but it will ultimately make things worse for those left behind.  It is why we cannot rely on others to grant us our Freedom or the way to it.  We must take our Freedom for ourselves so that no one can take it away later.”

A memory from his time on the spice ship with Jango floated across Obi-Wan’s mind.  The elder Tenu had said the same thing when he told his stories of Ekkreth.

“Dukkra ba Dukkra,” Obi-Wan said quietly to himself, “Freedom or Death.”

The air in the small kitchen suddenly froze and Obi-Wan could have sworn everyone stopped breathing.

“What did you say?” Jira asked in a hush, the chopping knife in her hand held firmly in front of her, now a weapon and not just a tool.  Shmi and Anakin were also staring at him, Shmi with flinty eyes, and Anakin with something like wonder.  Quin was looking between everyone in puzzlement and Vhonte had subtly repositioned herself to have the open doorway at her back and a hand resting on the butt of one blaster.

“It was something I learned, a story I was gifted by a man I was trapped on a spice ship with when I was younger,” Obi-Wan explained, then he slowly and carefully lifted one hand first to his heart then to his lips and offered the hand outward toward Jira and Shmi.

Anakin gasped.  “You were a slave?” he asked in a stunned whisper.

“Yes, but it was only for a short time.  I cannot claim to truly know what your life is like, but I still bear the marks from it just the same.”  With only a moment’s hesitation Obi-Wan pushed aside the neck of his tunic to show what remained of the scarring from the electro-collar he had been forced to wear on Bandomeer.  Luckily, there were no scars on his wrists from the few days he had been cuffed on the spice freighter.

Anakin walked right up to Obi-Wan to stare in astonishment at the faint tracery of white lines while Jira and Shmi studied him with a new type of calculation filtering through their gazes.

“A collar?” Anakin asked, his voice still hushed and his hand not quite brushing along the delicate skin of Obi-Wan’s neck, “Not a chip?”

Obi-Wan smiled ruefully down at the boy and let his tunics fall back into place.  “The slaves in the deep sea mines weren’t expected to live long enough to warrant the expense of implanting them with transmitter chips.”

Anakin’s serious eyes and solemn nod said that he understood all too well and Obi-Wan had to clamp down on the rush of anger that came with knowing that this young boy already had such an understanding of the cruelty that could exist in the galaxy.

“Wait a minute,” Vhonte interrupted and even the modulated tones of her buy'ce (helmet) couldn’t hide the sharpness in her voice.  “The mines?  I thought you and Jango were forced to work on a spice freighter?”

“We were,” Obi-Wan confirmed.  “But several months before that I had been captured on Bandomeer and sent into the ionite mines under the ocean.  Fortunately, I was able to free myself and assist others to Freedom with a little help from those who had been captured with me.  Jedi Master Jinn also did their part to help.”

“And Alor knows this?” she demanded.

“Yes, of course.  I told him when we met.”

“Werda be haran! (Shadows of hell!)” Vhonte swore.  “That’s why he had us investigate Bandomeer first!  I never understood it!  We practically turned that planet inside out looking for proof of slaving before he let us move on.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan didn’t really know what to say to that.  He hadn’t known that the Mando'ade (Mandalorians) had started their emancipation campaign on Bandomeer, probably because they hadn’t had to carry out a full operation there.  After Xanatos and Offworld Mining Corporation had pulled out of the planet, the Arconans running the Arcona Mineral Harvest Corporation took over all of their holdings and overhauled mining practices planet-wide.  Slavery was strictly outlawed and the ban was zealously enforced.

“I’m sure it helped that Bandomeer is within spitting distance of Mandalore,” Quinlan added, looking far more amused than the situation called for, “But as a romantic gesture, that’s pretty hard to beat.”

“But you were a slave, like me!” Anakin burst forth, clearly excited and uncaring of Quin’s unsubtle innuendo at Obi-Wan’s expense.  “And now you’re a Jedi and you’ve come to Free us!”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said to buy himself time while he collected his thoughts.  He didn’t want to lie to Anakin or the rest of them, but the boy seemed to have the wrong impression about his primary goals on Tatooine.  “First, I want you to know that anyone can be a Jedi, no matter where they come from, as long as they can feel the Force, because first and foremost, you are a person, not a slave.  Second, the Mandalorians are the ones in charge of helping you grab hold of your Freedom.  Quin and I are working with them.”  That didn’t put the Jedi in the best light, but there wasn’t much Obi-Wan could do about that.

“And for the record,” Vhonte added, “Anyone can be a Mandalorian too, and without the Force sensitivity clause.  We just ask that newcomers respect our culture.”

“None of which will matter while we’re all still bound under the suns,” Jira spoke up.

“So we will help you to help us,” Shmi said, “Because those who walk the Path know that Freedom is not won only once, but fought for again and again each day.  And now a Jedi who carries with him the weight of Republic authority has come to fight with us and a Mandalorian with their invincible armies stand behind us.  We would be fools to pass up such an opportunity.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said simply, grateful for their trust when he knew how hard it must be for them to give it.

“What do you know about the transmitter system that monitors the chips?” Vhonte dove right into the heart of the matter.  “If we can knock that out then people can rise up without fear of immediate consequence.”

“That is the bulk of the challenge, true enough,” Jira began, “it’s a twofold system since it has to span the entire planet, including some of the more remote areas in the Dune Sea or the Wastes.”

“There are people who live that far away from the main settlements?” Quin asked in genuine surprise.

“There are some moisture farmers who exist on the outer fringes of Mos Espa or Mos Eisley and the like, but they’re only one, maybe two hours out by speeder.  What Jira is talking about are places much further afield.  Hours upon hours by speeder or days on foot across some of the harshest of Tatooine’s landscape,” Shmi explained.

“And there are people trapped out there,” Obi-Wan said, drawing the inevitable conclusion.  “People enslaved far from any support system or even any slim chance of escape.”

“There is always the desert.  You said it yourself, Jedi.  Dukkra ba dukkra, ” Jira stated in a grim voice.

“But even these beings are tied into the same monitoring system?” Vhonte asked, unwilling to be sidetracked.

“Yes. Whatever they are made to do in those distant locations is harsh enough that even—” a brief, deliberate pause while Jira narrowed her eyes at the offworlders again, “even the Masters know the slaves need a break or they will very quickly find themselves running an operation whose costs far outstrip its profit margins. And at the end of the day, that’s all any slaver cares about: money.  Because on Tatooine money buys power.”

“And on these ‘breaks’ the captives are brought closer to the population centers?” Vhonte queried, intent on getting as much information as she could.

“Exactly,” Jira confirmed.  “Hence the twofold system: a network of satellites that orbit the planet to cover the deep desert and at least three transmitter towers in each settlement.”

Vhonte nodded her understanding then started pacing a small circle while she thought.  Obi-Wan stayed silent since he still didn’t know the full extent of Vhonte’s forces.  She had mentioned having a sizable company waiting somewhere on the edge of the system where they couldn’t be detected by most ground based sensors, but she had been understandably cagey about their numbers and capabilities.

After a little more discussion Vhonte admitted that she wasn’t as concerned about the orbital satellites as the ground based part of the operation.  Having a portion of the system out in space created a redundancy that was unlikely to be taken out by those trapped dirtside since most didn’t have access to ships even if they did manage to nullify the transmitters in the cities.  Which is to say, security around the satellites would be relatively light.  Configuring a simultaneous disruption of the satellites using the ships and personnel lying in wait was practically child’s play for Vhonte. The real problem in her eyes was that any effective strike groundside would have to be coordinated across the planet and anything that widespread took time and resources.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Jira pointed out dryly, “You can take all the time you need as long as you’re careful about it.”

“It will take time for word to spread among us anyway.  The people need to know to be ready,” Shmi added.

“The more people who know, the more likely we are to be found out,” Vhonte said.

“You leave that to me.  I am a Grandmother of this Quarter for a reason.  I have worked with those on the Path for longer than you have been alive, Mandalorian” Jira said.  “There are ways to communicate with everyone, even with those deep in the desert, that only those of us who have managed to witness two alignments of Tatooine’s three moons know.  The Reckoning of the Masters is foretold and we will be ready for it.”

The woman’s voice was filled with assurance and determination, but it was the way the Force moved around her and through the other inhabitants of the tiny kitchen that caught Obi-Wan’s attention and he finally understood why Anakin called Jira Grandmother.  It had nothing to do with blood lineage.  It was a title born of experience and caring.  These people, from young Anakin who took in everything with a quiet interest and an understanding that far surpassed most younglings his age equivalent, to the time worn yet fierce Jira, represented a microcosm of a significant portion of the population of Tatooine.  They were the ones who survived.  They passed on wisdom and stories, hopes and dreams, and everything in between that helped them live in a world that treated them with hostility at every turn.  

If a Grandmother said to be ready for the Reckoning of the Masters, as Jira called it, then the people would listen and prepare.

It only took a single glance at Quinlan’s face for Obi-Wan to know that his friend felt it too.  The Force moved through these people for a reason.  This was the true mission that Obi-Wan was supposed to find from the moment he set out for Naboo the previous week.  He had never before heard the will of the Force quite so clearly and it was suddenly easy to understand how Master Jinn could disregard Council orders when the need struck.  If it weren’t for the fact that the people of Naboo were also suffering at the hands of the Trade Federation battle droids he would happily settle in to do whatever was necessary to see that Anakin, Shmi, Jira, and everyone like them were Free.  As it was, he would do what he could now, and come back after the situation on Naboo had been resolved to lend what aid was still needed.

“Then I’ll take your word that the people will be ready,” Vhonte said.  “What else do we need to know?”

The conversation and planning went on from there with Anakin helping his mother prepare a meal and Jira and Vhonte heading up most of the strategy with occasional interjections from Quinlan and Obi-Wan himself.

In the middle of a spirited discussion about ways to counter any reprisals from the slavers after the initial uprising, a soft chiming eventually caught Obi-Wan’s attention.  As no one else seemed to have noticed he looked to the comm on his own belt and checked the incoming signal.  The first set of numbers was one he recognized as belonging to the Jedi Temple so it had to be one of his mission partners still back on the Royal Naboo Cruiser.  He excused himself from the kitchen and wandered toward the front doorway before he answered.

"Kenobi." 

"Good evening, Padawan Kenobi, I trust things are running smoothly in the city?" Darsha's voice came through the speaker sounding perfectly calm and controlled, as Obi-Wan had come to expect from her.  He, however, had an instant negative reaction to the all too innocent question.  Darsha didn’t seem like the kind of person to trot out formality on a regular basis.  In fact, the times he had trained with her and her Master, Anoon Bondara, in the salles suggested she only did so when absolutely required.

Obi-Wan had a bad feeling. 

"What happened?" He asked, completely ignoring whatever she had actually said.

"What an interesting question.  How best to answer?" Darsha paused and Obi-Wan felt a headache begin to throb behind his eyes, "To start, Padawan Tachi has locked the King of Naboo and his retinue in their cabins, with the exception of the young Governor Princess Naberrie, and cut them off from all forms of communication, including their personal comms."

"Because the kid is the only one with any sense among the lot of them!" Siri's voice called in the background.

"Perhaps more alarmingly," Darsha continued at increased volume to drown out Siri, "King Veruna appears to have made contact, against all reason and our advice, with Gardulla the Hutt who, as I have been informed, controls a large portion of the money making concerns here on Tatooine."

That definitely made Obi-Wan pause in concern for several reasons, only one of which was that their ability to lay low until repairs were done just went up in smoke.  He breathed carefully and said, "But the Hutts are notorious gangsters.  They deal in gambling, black markets, the slave trade, and, you know, general crime.  Why would the ruler of a peaceful, Republic planet who is currently being hunted and would consequently fetch a handsome price if turned over to the right people, not only know how to get in contact with a Hutt cartel, but actively take the risk of doing so?"

"Again, what interesting questions you ask, Padawan Kenobi," his fellow Padawan commented, still too calm.

"Oh for kriff's sake, give me that," Siri's voice said again, then there was a brief scuffle before she came on the line for real.  "Obi-Wan, it's clear there's something unsavory going on with this king.  Padmé's been telling me all about his secret dealings, well, his alleged secret dealings. No one can prove it yet, but something definitely smells of bantha poodoo.  Seems like there have been rumors in certain circles of Veruna and his predecessor making under the table contracts with the Trade Federation, who are in direct competition with the Hutts for certain resources, but now he decides to call a Hutt for help? The math on this isn't looking good."

It most certainly did not look good, but most of the story was based on rumor and hearsay which wouldn't stand up under scrutiny.  Still, it was very clear to Obi-Wan that they had to get off this Force forsaken dirtball as soon as possible, regardless of the progression of the slave revolt.  Vhonte may want to tie the Jedi currently working on the Naboo Crisis into her schemes for eliminating the slave trade on Tatooine, but they couldn't afford to be on planet that long, especially not with the sovereign leader of a Republic world under their protection— even if said sovereign was making poor decisions.

“You may be right,” Obi-Wan said carefully, “but I’m not sure what we can do about any alleged corruption.  Technically we’re not supposed to interfere with the progression of local politics.”

Siri scoffed.  “Sure, because both the Senate and the Jedi have been so good about following that directive in the past.”

“Which is most likely a contributing factor to our negative reception in parts of the Mid and Outer Rims,” Darsha’s dry voice commented in the background.

Again, Obi-Wan had to concede the point.  “Regardless, our priority right now is making it to Coruscant in one piece, we can assess Naboo’s political trials once we’re safe.”

There was some grumbling from the other end of the comm, but eventually Siri said, “Fine.  But unless our luck suddenly turns, we’re going to have a Hutt to deal with sooner rather than later in addition to an idiot monarch who decided it was a good idea to go into business with a Hutt to begin with.”

And on top of all that Obi-Wan was still figuring out what to do about Anakin and Shmi and whether or not to offer to take them to Coruscant.  It was possible the changes made to their lives in the aftermath of a successful emancipation campaign would be enough to steer Anakin down a path that stayed far away from the twisting Darkness that Obi-Wan had felt in the General’s memories.  But was it fair of Obi-Wan to depend on an uncertain outcome of a planetwide battle?

Things had been complicated enough before Veruna had made things undeniably worse.  And those were just the problems on Tatooine.  If word got out that Naboo was in bed with a Hutt, then any sympathy they might have garnered in the Senate as a world just trying to better its lot by getting out from under the thumb of a galactic conglomerate would be lost.

“Siri is burying the lead,” Darsha continued over the comm, “A meet was apparently set up between Veruna and Gardulla’s people, and one of the Royal hangers-on had already left the ship on foot for said meeting by the time we found out and Siri locked the rest of them up.  So when she says ‘sooner rather than later’ she means it.”

“Kriff,” Obi-Wan mumbled.  There was no delaying the headache now.  This was why he had a hearty dislike of politicians.  They demanded protection and service and then turned around and made it as difficult as possible to keep them alive.

“Quite. The Mando went after him since they have the advantage of a jetpack, but I have no idea how that will turn out.”

Obi-Wan was pretty sure Brali would have no trouble wrangling a rogue politician back to the ship, but it was better to be safe than sorry.  “Fantastic.  I’ll see what I can do from here.  I don’t know how a hutt would react to someone not showing up for a requested audience, but it’s a good bet that our position has been compromised.”

“No kidding.  Repairs on the ship are going to take at least another two and a half days, maybe just most of two days if we work in shifts through the night cycle.  More than enough time for an angry hutt to make their displeasure known.”

“Right.” Obi-Wan grimaced to himself and tried to come up with a plan of action, but he didn’t have nearly enough information about the hutt situation to make any sort of decent effort.  He would have to take things one step at a time.  “In the meantime, don’t let anyone else off that ship and disable the comm suite to be safe.”

Darsha made an inelegant snorting sound.  “Way ahead of you, Kenobi.  Keep me updated,” she said before the line went dead.

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed at his temples where the headache was pounding.  Could nothing about this mission go right?  They were already half stranded on one of the least hospitable worlds Obi-Wan had ever been to, tangled up in an imminent slave rebellion, whose timing, no doubt, would leave the hutts suspicious of Veruna’s involvement (not an entirely unsound assumption given Obi-Wan’s personal desire to help), and he was remembering things that made him doubt every move he made.  Did they really need to be hunted down by a hutt cartel as well?

He turned and flinched in surprise when he found Shmi standing quietly behind him, watching.  He hadn’t even felt her approach.  Both mother and son were definitely gifted with the Force which was yet another thing to contend with.

“Gardulla does not take well to having her time wasted,” Shmi informed him.  “Even if she means to send one of her proxies to meet with your politician, she will take it as a personal offense if her representative is not accorded the same respect she feels she is due.”

“So we should definitely expect some form of retaliation,” Obi-Wan stated more than asked.

“Yes,” Shmi replied simply.

Great.  At least they had one answer even if it was one he didn’t like.

“I have to go see about this missing politician,” Obi-Wan said.  “Which means I might not be able to come back here without someone realizing that I am connected to Veruna, who will have just snubbed the local daimyo. It might prompt them to dig further into what I’ve been doing in Mos Espa.  I don’t want to be the reason the hutts decide to take too close a look at who I’ve been talking with and why.  I won’t endanger your chances that way.”

Shmi just ducked her head in a brief nod of acknowledgment, or maybe gratitude, then stared at him for a beat more before asking, “And what of Anakin?”

Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath at the direct question.  He dearly wished he had his cloak with him so that he could take comfort from its enveloping folds and concealing sleeves.

“How do you mean?” he asked instead.

“He is like you and Quinlan.  He has special abilities.  Will you not take him with you?”

“I would take the both of you and Jira too if that’s what you want,” Obi-Wan told her, “But you have more choices than that, or you will soon.  The Mandalorians will not leave until the slave trade is abolished on Tatooine and all who take issue with that are either driven off or dead.  You could stay here as Free people, or go with the Mandalorians to their home sector, or have them drop you anywhere else you may wish to settle.”

“And if he wishes to become a Jedi?” Shmi asked. “He has dreamed of it for many years.” 

Obi-Wan fought not to cross his arms over his chest and close off his body language despite how hemmed in he was feeling by memories of another life.

“Then I would hope that you could explain to him that the life of a Jedi is a difficult one,” he began, “and it is based around service to something larger than ourselves that is often nebulous and ungrateful.  It is a challenge one must commit to from a young age.  You would be allowed visits initially to help him adjust, but as he grows your presence in his life will necessarily become less frequent, especially if he embarks on a Padawanship. I can guarantee, however, that he would be well taken care of.  He would have the option to leave at any time, of course, but once someone leaves it is extremely rare for them to return to the Order.”  Obi-Wan himself being one of those few exceptions.

Shmi quirked her head and studied Obi-Wan curiously.  “You make it sound as though you do not think Anakin should accept such a challenge, even with his abilities.”

“I know Anakin would make an amazing Jedi,” Obi-Wan said with the full confidence of his memories behind him.  “I simply want both you and Anakin to know that you have options.  The life of a Jedi– that is, a life of service to the galaxy– is not his only escape from this place.  Or yours. He could choose to be a pilot if he wished. Or a droid designer.  Anything.  Please explain that to him as best you can.”

“I will.”

“You also don’t have to decide now.  I may need to leave soon to attend to my own mission, but Quinlan is staying to aid you and the Mandalorians.  He can also bring you and Anakin to Coruscant if that is what you decide.”

Shmi thought about that for a moment then nodded again.  “I will discuss the matter with my son.  Although, if you cannot take him with you now, I may wait until the fate of the Reckoning is decided. He harbors much hope for his future and I do not want him to know what it is like to have his dearest wish just within grasp before it is snatched away in the most brutal way possible.  He would not forgive me for that.”

“I understand.  You must do what you feel is right, of course.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi, for your honesty,” Shmi said.

Obi-Wan blushed.  “I’m just a Padawan Learner, Lady Skywalker,” he mumbled in embarrassment.  “Would you tell Vhonte and Quin that I’ll check in with them when I know more, please?”

“Vhonte?” Shmi asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“The Mandalorian in your kitchen,” Obi-Wan clarified.

“I see.  I will tell your friends.  But you must be more careful with names that are not yours to give, Jedi Kenobi,” she admonished him.  It was a fair critique.  Operational security was much better served when names weren’t being dropped for people to run through a holonet search.

Obi-Wan managed to escape back into the streets of Mos Espa where he could have a brief moment to himself to think.  He probably should have gotten Brali’s comm frequency from Vhonte so the two of them could coordinate, but he knew Darsha would let him know as soon as they had a line on their missing Naboo delegate, so he let the Force guide his footsteps instead.  He had a sense that something was going on just beyond his reach and he wanted to know what it was.  Sometimes the best way to learn something was to be where you were least expected.  Yes, he needed to know who was doing what with the knowledge of Veruna’s whereabouts, but more importantly, Obi-Wan wanted to gain a larger impression of whatever was going on in the galaxy from Naboo to Coruscant because the Force had gotten him firmly involved.

After all, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Naboo was suddenly a major player in current galactic politics.  Ever since the small Mid Rim planet had come up in Arla’s investigation into who was funding Death Watch during the Mandalorian Civil Wars, he had noticed the planet and its senator come up in political discussions more and more frequently. It all spoke of some sort of pattern or larger game, but he couldn’t make out the shape of it just yet.

Barely a few minutes had passed and Obi-Wan was just beyond the outer fringes of the Slave Quarter following an unspecified feeling when his comm chimed yet again.  

He almost didn’t pick it up, fearing further bad news, but he knew better.

“Kenobi,” he said once again down the open channel.

“There’s been a development,” Siri said tersely and suddenly Obi-Wan’s shoulders had tensed up next to his ears.  “Your Mando friends have been monitoring planetwide communications as part of their reconn and tipped us off that someone from within Gardulla’s palace has sent out a heavily encrypted hyperwave data package via a set of relays that ping through the Outer Rim all the way to the other side of the galaxy.”

“And this is somehow different from standard business communications from the Hutt’s cartel?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Very different,” Siri asserted.  “First off, the encryption is far superior to anything the Hutts regularly use.  The Mandos apparently have slicers who have been working on Hutt family communications for a while to try to gain insight into their operations.  They report that this data packet is nearly slice proof.”

That was generally troubling, but not necessarily related to Veruna and he said as much.

“Do you really want to chance it?  Tatooine to Hutt Space is practically a straight shot.  No need for the roundabout relay system.  My money is on someone inside Gardulla’s camp turning traitor at great profit to let either the Federation or someone worse know where we are.”

“But if they’re that far away we should be able to get off-planet before they can find us,” Obi-Wan argued.

“Maybe.  Or maybe the agent already on Tatooine just has to receive instructions before moving against us.”

There was that option too.

“Either way we need a plan. We can only push the repairs so much without sacrificing the integrity of the ship. We’ll need contingencies for our backup plans for when the situation inevitably devolves.”

“Always the optimist,” Siri commented dryly.  “Darsha and I will plan.  You find our missing lackey.”

“Any word from Brali yet?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Not yet.  I gave him your comm code and told him to call you if he needed back up in the city.”

“Thanks.  I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Obi-Wan wandered for a while longer, drawing ever closer to a proper market plaza that sprawled in the shadow of a large domed building that was richly adorned in precious metals and polished gems.  It seemed he had found the palace of Gardulla the Hutt.

While Obi-Wan walked slowly, scrutinizing the activity in the market and observing the comings and goings of various beings around the palace, someone else found him.  A hand grasped his arm and started tugging him backward without any sort of warning from the Force.

Obi-Wan twisted around, immediately on the defensive and for the second time that day came face to face with a Mandalorian in dark armor trimmed in light brown with just a hint of white detailing.

“Brali!” Obi-Wan exclaimed in surprise.

“This way.  I found your Naboo royal and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Brali hissed through his vocoder.

Brali led the way at a quick clip, taking Obi-Wan back the way he had come until they were standing just under the edge of a huge shade structure that sheltered several tables and chairs of all sizes where market goers could rest out of the suns or partake of any purchased meals.  Without receiving any further instructions, Obi-Wan did his best to follow the Mandalorian’s eye line until he found a familiar looking man dressed in richly colored fine silks and velvets looking extremely out of place next to a theelin with magenta hair, brown eyes, and red spots that were scattered artfully across her bare shoulders and arms.  The two were in deep conversation which didn’t bode well in Obi-Wan’s opinion.

On the one hand they wouldn’t have to worry about retaliation from Gardulla for standing-up her representative, but on the other hand Veruna’s scheming and desperation could lead to something worse.

“Can you pick up what they’re saying?” Obi-Wan asked in a low whisper.

“They’re negotiating for Gardulla’s help in driving off the Trade Federation in exchange for a percentage of the profits from Naboo’s plasma trade,” Brali summarized.

“How does Gardulla plan to do that?  What kind of force does she have to do that with?”

“Apparently she’s been building relations with a group known as the Bando Gora who are establishing an operation here on Tatooine.”

“The who?” Whoever or whatever the Bando Gora was, Obi-Wan had never heard of them.

“They’re not exactly new on the scene, but they are swiftly gaining strength and influence on the Outer Rim.  They’ve been on our radar, but we aren’t in a position to do anything about them.  There’s something about the Bando Gora that Alor can’t get a handle on and according to Tervho it’s holding him back from going after them. Especially since they aren’t operating in Mandalorian space at the moment.”

Obi-Wan contemplated that information in silence for a few moments while they continued to watch the ill advised meeting in progress.

“They deal in spice then?” Obi-Wan asked, making an assumption based on Jango’s stated intentions of clearing as much of the galaxy as he could of the spice and slave trades.

“Of a sort,” Brali answered.  “There’s something else going on though.  All their adherents are almost mindless in their devotion.  We think it’s chemically induced somehow. So there is a kind of spice involved, but not like what the Pykes are doing.”

“Lovely,” Obi-Wan said, dryly.  “It doesn’t explain how kind-of-spice smuggling and distribution translates to shipping security.”

“That’s because the Bando Gora are actually known as skilled and ruthless assassins.  The mind-altering toxins seem to be how they accrue followers.”

Obi-Wan blinked then murmured, “Of course.  Who else would a hutt cartel leader look to for muscle?”

“Should we break up this little party or wait for it to come to a natural conclusion?” Brali asked.

“I think a gentle extraction by making our presence known would do,” he said and walked boldly toward the minister and his theelin companion with Brali acting as a menacing shadow. “Minister Coubern, I’m pleased to have found you,” Obi-Wan announced with a genial smile when he neared their table.  “You had us worried.”

The pale skinned Minister of Internal Affairs flinched as Obi-Wan placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in warning.

“There was no cause for alarm,” the minister said, but Obi-Wan could tell he was panicking slightly at having been unexpectedly found.

“And who are they, Coubern?” the theelin asked, her brow delicately arched in question.

“Colleagues of mine, of course,” the minister said with too much haste to be entirely believable. “They too represent Veruna’s interests.”

“Do they?” The theelin gave Obi-Wan and Brali a considering once over.  She didn’t seem impressed with Obi-Wan in his simple green tunic, sturdy trousers, and well worn boots, especially not when compared to the visible wealth displayed in Coubern’s clothes, but Brali seemed to pique her interest.

“A Mando, huh?  It’s getting surprisingly rare to encounter lone Mandalorians willing to take on work in this sector and those adjacent.  You got a name?”

“I do,” Brali said from his looming position behind Coubern, but he did not offer his name.

“Hmm,” the theelin hummed, but she didn’t seem disappointed or angry at Brali’s lack of response.  Quite the contrary.  “I could use someone like you, Mando, the pay would make it more than worth your while.”

“I’ll pass.  As you can see, I’m already employed,” he said with a gesture at Coubern.

“But Veruna’s business is soon to be Gardulla’s business, which means you would be free to take related contracts, would it not?  You would gain much by accepting.”

“No, thank you,” Brali said firmly and took a single step back.  He was still close enough to be effective if needed, but he had clearly pulled himself out of the conversational circle.

“Who exactly are you to Gardulla to be making such an offer to my companion?” Obi-Wan asked, angling for any information he could get.

“I am the Diva Funquita, majordomo to Gardulla Besadii the Elder, and for the purposes of this conversation, imbued with her authority,” Funquita the theelin introduced herself at last.

“And with that authority you and Coubern have reached an agreement, am I correct?” Obi-Wan said.  “Because I really must see Minister Coubern back to our lodgings.  His presence has been requested.”  Not a lie.  Darsha had requested that Obi-Wan bring the missing councilman back to the ship where he could be locked away with the others until they were all safely back in hyperspace.

“An initial agreement, yes,” Funquita conceded, “Enough that further negotiations can take place with the concerned parties.” 

“Excellent!” Obi-Wan said with a grin meant to hide his plummeting hopes that the entire situation wouldn’t get worse before they left the planet.  If this Bando Gora got involved, he had no doubt everything would get logarithmically more complicated.  “Minister Coubern, I believe we shall have to take our leave.”

“Yes, of course,” Coubern said, somehow making it sound like a simple agreement and not something he was being forced into.  “You can expect another call from me regarding Veruna’s terms in the next day or two.”

“On the contrary, Minister,” Funquita said, a steely note entering her voice for the first time.  “It is you and Veruna who will hear from Gardulla at her leisure.  Your prompt response would be wise.  This deal will not sit on the table for long.”

Coubern sputtered for a moment and went an angry red so fast Obi-Wan was briefly worried for the man’s blood pressure.  “If your Hutt may take as long as she likes then my King will as well!”

A cold smirk lifted one side of Funquita’s mouth.  “That is not how this works, Minister.  You have come to Gardulla for help.  You do not get to dictate the terms of that aid.  It is my Lady Gardulla who now decides whether this venture of yours lives or dies.  All I can say is, if you play by her rules, you will profit, but you and your King must show willing.”

Coubern opened his mouth again, no doubt to complain further, but Obi-Wan cut him off before a single word could escape.

“Your advice is much appreciated, Diva Funquita,” Obi-Wan offered.  “We will make sure King Veruna understands as well.  Good day.”  He gave a polite nod and not so subtly steered Coubern away from the table, Brali falling in behind.

They marched in silence for several minutes, Obi-Wan expertly weaving them through the loud crowds along the streets out toward the fringes of the city where the ship waited for them.  It wasn’t exactly an easy silence.  Coubern was obviously angry and flustered in equal measure, but Obi-Wan suspected the yelling he wanted to do wasn’t something he wanted heard by the general public, not even the type of “public” that constituted the majority of Tatooine’s population.

Not that it mattered.  Neither Obi-Wan nor Darsha had any intention of letting the King of the Naboo endanger the mission or the people of Naboo by treating with a Hutt.

They were barely a hundred meters from the outer bounds of the city proper when Coubern finally started.  “I can’t believe you sent a Mandalorian after me!  You Jedi pretend to be all high and mighty, but then here you are, slumming it with a bounty hunter like everyone else in the galaxy,” he said, sneering.

“If that’s the way you choose to look at it, so be it,” Obi-Wan said as calmly as he could.  Rising to the bait wouldn’t solve any of their immediate problems.

“Not ‘so be it,’” Brali protested, “Not all Mandalorians are bounty hunters.  Some of us serve a higher purpose.”

Coubern just snorted and made his disbelief apparent.  Obi-Wan didn’t even need to pay attention to the following rant about the hypocrisy of the Jedi, the ineffective Republic, and how species stereotypes always paint the Hutts as the criminals and so on and so forth.

Obi-Wan definitely understood now why Governor Padmé Naberrie had a dim view of Veruna and his clutch of Ministers and advisors.  They listened to themselves first and the person with the most credits to offer second.  The idea of spending more than another two days trapped with these people on this planet, on a Hutt’s radar no less, was untenable.  He would need to call in someone else to help work on the ship repairs, especially if at least one of the Jedi had to be on watch to keep an eye out for any interference from the local Hutt cartel.  Of course, any proper mechanic he could convince to make what was essentially a housecall would cost him far more than he— or Vhonte in actuality— could afford.  

But maybe there was someone else he could ask.  Someone who he had already seen making expert repairs to delicate machinery…

Of course that depended on if Watto would allow it and what price the toydarian might extract if he did.

He commed Vhonte as soon as he made it back to the Royal Naboo cruiser and had run his idea past Darsha and Siri.  Everyone seemed to agree that if Shmi was working out here they at least knew she and her son would be treated well for a day or two and they could slip her things that might ease her existence until Vhonte's operation could truly get underway.  Vhonte grumbled a bit about the potential expense, but ultimately her overall budget could handle it.  It had been gratifying to hear that Obi-Wan had been right all those years ago on Kalevala that the Mandalorian emancipation campaign would pay for itself without hurting the financial stability of the slowly recovering Mandalorian economy.

He wasn't privy to whatever conversation Vhonte had with Watto about securing Shmi's help for a couple days, but he was informed that Bo-Katan or Brali would be walking them out to the ship in the early morning hours when the air had not yet flattened out into a constant oppressive heat.  The agreement also came with a price for Obi-Wan in the form of agreeing to owe Vhonte a favor to be repaid at her convenience.  He only hesitated for a moment before accepting.  Vhonte was a good person and a loyal supporter of Jango.  He doubted she would abuse a favor from a Jedi.

It all worked rather better than Obi-Wan could have hoped.  The Naboo delegation was grumbly about being confined to quarters yet made no real effort to get out, while the few members of the ship's crew who had escaped from Naboo with them were surprisingly cheerful about the whole thing. Darsha had tasked a couple of them to keep an eye on local comm chatter in shifts in case there was any attempt at communication from the Hutt Cartel that Coubern had contacted.  Siri was confident she had thoroughly disabled the in-suite comm units in the rooms the King and Ministers were locked in, in addition to confiscating any personal comm devices they may have had, but there was always the possibility she had missed something.  None of the Padawans wanted to completely jam the comm frequencies since they were getting semi regular updates from Quin who was still with Vhonte and her squad in Mos Espa proper.

The addition of Shmi to their small work force repairing the ship was just as helpful as Obi-Wan had hoped.  She was extremely skilled with all manor of circuitry and was able to take over some of the smaller side repairs which allowed more people to focus on the hyperdrive.  The real boon to the situation, however, turned out to be little Anakin.  Though he was just six or seven years old (it was extremely unclear and Shmi was reluctant to give a solid answer for reasons Obi-Wan could only guess at), he was a fast and intuitive learner who already had a vast array of knowledge about all things mechanical and electrical.  It was clear that the engineers were humoring the boy at first, but when his work turned out to be correct and his suggestions for modification useful, they began to take him as seriously as any of their colleagues.  Through it all Anakin just became progressively more excited and never once did Obi-Wan see him preen under the attention as other children might.  It was also made clear to both Shmi and Anakin that if they wanted to take a break for any reason or wanted to eat a meal or have some water they were at their liberty to do so.  Shmi seemed skeptical about Obi-Wan's claim that breaks were allowed, perhaps thinking he was trying to trick her, but when she began to shift uncomfortably in her spot where she was awkwardly crammed half in a bulkhead with a small soldering iron and Obi-Wan reminded her she could take a step away at anytime to stretch, or maybe walk around, or check in with Anakin about a snack, she gratefully put down her tools.

The day was uneventful in the grand scheme, but productive.  Out of sheer curiosity, Padmé ended up going into the city for a little while with Bo-Katan, the two of them oddly amiable once Padmé proved she was unafraid to get her hands dirty, and returned full of a grim determination to wipe slavery and those who benefitted from it from the face of the galaxy.  Needless to say, she got on well with the Mandalorians.  Obi-Wan had visions of introducing the young Naberrie to Satine and standing back to watch as they spun nets out of words and legislation to entangle the corrupt officials who turned a blind eye to the realities of certain aspects of galactic trade.  Even Vhonte gave a vicious smile at the idea and admitted she would pay to watch the two young women wage such a war.

The only other relevant bit of news from the day was actually no news at all.  The encrypted channel that the Mandalorians had noticed before remained quiet.  Rather than be reassured by this, Obi-Wan was unsettled.  He couldn't explain why, even when both Darsha and Siri asked, but he had a feeling that something terrible was coming and he really wanted to be off Tatooine before it arrived.

He absolutely hated that the next day he was proven correct.

Everything was fine for most of the morning leading into the early afternoon.  Repairs were nearly done, the last few connections would be made in the next hour or so, then all that remained was to run a systems diagnostic to be certain everything was at full working capacity so that they didn’t blow themselves up the moment they threw the switch for hyperspace.

Obi-Wan was replacing a fuse when a shiver ran down his back for no apparent reason.  He stopped and looked around the small ship for the source of the disturbance, but found nothing aside from the fact that both Siri and Darsha had also paused.  Without speaking, the three of them hurried to the cockpit where both the forward viewport and the sensors would hopefully reveal whatever was now making the pressure grow at the back of Obi-Wan’s head.

“Out there, from the city,” Darsha pointed at what appeared to be a swirl of sand, probably kicked up by—

“A skimmer approaching,” Siri confirmed from the sensor station. “Unidentified class.  Scopes show it to be a decent size, probably big enough for ten, maybe fifteen people.”

“I don’t like this,” Obi-Wan mumbled as he stared, slightly unfocused, at the cloud of sand that got bigger as it got closer.  Something didn’t feel right.  Not just that they might be under attack soon, but something about the people on the skimmer felt…empty and dark.

“We have to get out of here.  There may not be time to run a full systems check before we have to clear atmo,” Darsha said.

“What about Shmi and Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Call Quin or the Mandos, someone will have to pick them up.  I have a feeling that the three of us will be needed here,” Darsha said as she began to lead the way toward the loading ramp.

“We’ll hold them off,” Siri stated.

“They might be here to talk,” Obi-Wan offered.  “It could be Gardulla’s people come to negotiate with Veruna.”

“Yes, it could be Gardulla’s people, but I don’t think they’re here to negotiate.  Can’t you feel their wrongness?” Siri asked and hit the hatch release.

“Pilot Olié!” Darsha called to one of the Naboo passing by.  “We are out of time.  Tell everyone to finish up as fast as they can.  We’ve worn out our welcome on Tatooine.”

The man blinked a few times then seemed to come to an understanding.  “Yes, Master Jedi, right away!”

“Oh!  I’m not—” Darsha began.

“Leave it!” Siri cut her off.  “There are more pressing matters.”

Right, Obi-Wan thought, like getting Shmi and Anakin back to relative safety .  He pulled out his comm and sent a quick message to Quin who responded with a simple affirmation of the request and then a separate line that he, “knew something was up. The palace has been buzzing.”

There was no mention of how long it would take though, and with the slave chips still embedded in Shmi and Anakin, they couldn’t risk simply bundling them onboard and whisking them off-planet.  The Nubian ship didn’t have more than a standard med kit onboard, and certainly nothing that would help find and remove their chips.  Obi-Wan wouldn’t even consider abandoning them in the middle of the desert with an unknown and potentially hostile force at their heels.

The three Padawans herded anyone still left outside back onboard the Cruiser then arrayed themselves in front of the ship, lightsabers drawn but unlit, to await their unwanted guests. 

It didn’t take long, the low hum of the skimmer rose in pitch until it was mere meters away where it suddenly disgorged its strangely empty troops.  The blaster fire didn’t start right away, rather the troops lined themselves up, almost as if they were on parade, and aimed their weapons at the three Jedi.

Then someone spoke.  A flat, inflectionless voice that Obi-Wan couldn’t get any real sense from.  “Give us the Naboo,” the voice said.  It was not evident who was actually speaking.  For a moment Obi-Wan was convinced that the voice was actually speaking directly in his mind.

“Why?” Darsha countered.

“Because they no longer wish to be detained, and we have business.”

How do these people know the King and his advisors have been confined to quarters? Obi-Wan thought to himself a bit frantically.

“The Naboo no longer have need of your services.  Return to your master and tell her the deal is off.” 

High, cold cackling greeted Darsha’s words. None of the troops had opened their mouths, instead there seemed to be someone at the back of the group who was making their way slowly forward, laughing hysterically the whole time. It went on for much too long, the sound of it growing more and more unbearable until Obi-Wan found himself twitching to keep his free hand from coming up to block his ears.

The laugh finally stopped when a tall person with pale skin, sharp angular features, white hair peeking out from under a dark hood, and not nearly enough clothing for being outdoors on a planet with two vicious suns came to a halt opposite the Jedi.

Despite the heat of the day, Obi-Wan shivered.  The person – female by conventional appearances, but Obi-Wan wasn’t about to make any assumptions – radiated a mix of hatred and darkness in tendrils that he could almost see curling out from her like a cold mist.  It reminded him of what he had felt of the Sith in Keldabe five years ago, but not quite as powerful.  That darkness had been like a blackhole, strong and pulling everything else into it leaving a miasma of pain and suffering in its wake.  This being was less controlled.  Their darkness lashed out wildly seeking purchase in the mind where it could root and grow.

It made him feel sick and off-balance.  Obi-Wan was so focused on breathing and letting his own fears and memories float back into the Force that he almost missed them speaking.

“Oh baby Jedi,” they said, “You really don’t get it.  Gardulla is not the Master here, I am.  And I want Veruna.  Only he can help me to reach greater heights.”  With that they pulled two curved lightsaber hilts from behind their back and ignited them.  Twin red blades sprang to life, the crystals inside screaming their agony into the Force.

Beside him, both Darsha and Siri responded in kind, yellow and purple blades adding their soothing hum to the slightly lower pitched growl of Obi-Wan’s dark blue saber.

“I always relish the chance to play with my old family,” The dark being sneered and leapt at them the exact moment the troops next to her started firing their blasters.

Barely three moves into their deadly dance, Obi-Wan confirmed beyond a doubt that this was a different dark side user than the one he had faced on Mandalore.  The dig about them once being family made Obi-Wan think that whoever this was they were once a Jedi.  Not everyone who started on the path to Knighthood succeeded, but very few of them turned to the dark side instead.  He didn't recognize this person, but that didn't mean much as they were probably older than him.  The real question was, did the Order know? Or was this someone who had been presumed dead on a long ago mission?

But those questions would have to wait.  The battle demanded his whole focus.  It was lucky that Obi-Wan knew Siri and her style well and had trained regularly with Darsha in the last year or so.  They were able to work together, the Force flowing through the three of them, to parry the dark being’s strikes while also alternating who twirled away to deflect blaster fire from getting through as needed.  Luckily, the eerily coordinated troops went down when hit, though not always for long.  Many of them got back up and came at the three Jedi with vibroknives or shockwhips which forced the Padawans to start slicing off hands or arms as the quickest means of non-lethal defense, and then using the Force to fling the injured as far away from the battle as possible.  They may be under attack, but they were still Jedi.  Besides, the sense of emptiness the troops gave off in the Force made Obi-Wan unsure if they were truly responsible for their actions or somehow being controlled by the Dark Side adept.  

It was that dark adept, to Obi-Wan’s amazement, who seemed not to care if they got hit by the odd stray blaster bolt.  They never slowed down, stepping and leaping in a frenzied rendition of Jar’kai.  For all their enemy’s wildness though, they were a duelist of the highest caliber.  Nothing they did was truly out of control, it was merely fast and ruthless.  Precision jabs to weak points, flawless footwork that kept them from being easily surrounded, and lightning quick reflexes.  While Darsha parried high on one side, keeping one red blade entangled, Obi-Wan was forced to jump over a low strike at his shins. Before his feet hit the ground again he twisted to deflect a barrage of blaster shots with his saber and at the same time used his other hand to direct the Force to parry away a second swing of a red blade toward his midsection.  He brought that same elbow around and slammed it into their attacker’s face.  A guttural shriek of rage rent the air and all three Jedi had to leap backwards to avoid several savage and utterly unrestrained swings of the enemy’s sabers.

This gave Obi-Wan hope.  The three Padawans could defeat this Dark Side adept if they continued to work together.  If they held out and made the adept angry they would get sloppy and that would give the Jedi the edge.  He breathed with the short respite and tried to recenter himself, reaching in the Force toward his companions to gauge their statuses.  He didn’t think any of them had sustained more than a glancing blaster burn or a shallow knick from a knife so far and Obi-Wan hoped to keep it that way.

Naturally it couldn’t be that easy.

“Find Veruna!” The Dark Side adept shouted at her remaining troops.  “Kill anyone who stands in your way!”

Obi-Wan tried to meet the next attack with the strength of his renewed confidence, but both he and Siri stumbled into the block.  The adept’s order had accompanied a wave of near overwhelming darkness that carried on it the power of suggestion.  Obi-Wan didn’t understand until he saw the eight remaining troops turn almost in unison and start making their way toward the still lowered gangway to the ship.

He watched the uncanny synchronicity and finally realized who these people were.  Brali had told him about the group of assassins that was comprised of mindless individuals made that way by mind-altering neurotoxins.  This was the Bando Gora and the leader used their Force abilities to inflict their own will on the empty drones.  Their lives were not their own to spend and the Dark Side adept clearly did not find their thralls to be a precious resource.

“NO!” Darsha’s shout brought Obi-Wan back to the moment, then she ordered, “Obi-Wan! Go!”

He disengaged immediately and turned to head off the new threat.  He was the right choice for the job no matter how much he hated leaving his two friends to face a dark sider without him.  Though his preferred style of lightsaber combat wasn’t strictly Soresu, it was heavily influenced by the third form, which was ideal for turning away several simultaneous attackers, especially ones with blasters.  He was forced to cut down a couple of the quickest of the drone-like troops so that they couldn’t get ahead of him, but he knew that he had to establish himself at the base of the ramp where they would be forced into a bottleneck in order to get around him.  Ideally he would get the hatch closed altogether but that would require him to get all the way up the ramp to hit the controls or divert some of his precious focus to locating the mechanism with the Force.  In the first case he didn’t want to give up that much ground, nor did he want to risk one of the ship’s crew getting hit by a stray bolt by shouting for one of them to do it, and in the second he was already splitting his focus to keep all of the remaining drones in view.  

And on top of all of that Obi-Wan was worried about the ship taking on blaster damage in its powered down, shieldless state. He hoped one of the pilots would see the danger and get the systems powered up soon.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan had barely planted one boot on the metallic surface of the ramp, the other still rooted in the sand, when he felt an uncoiling of darkness from behind him.

He had to execute a spin that allowed him to keep his saber in motion to hold off the drone-troops while also giving him a glimpse of what was coming from behind.  Thanking the Force that they hadn’t simply decided to rush him all at once, he would have been helpless to defend himself against so many in close quarters.  And that was before he saw the being melting out of the shadows beneath the ship.  

He only had a brief second to take in the red and black geometric markings, the sharp horns, the flowing black robes, and the yellow eyes filled with hatred and malice, but it was enough to nearly freeze him in place.  It was a face he had both never seen before and knew with haunting precision.  

Obi-Wan sent two perfectly aimed blaster bolts into the gut and high thigh of the closest of his approaching enemies and used the Force to relieve them of their weapons once they were down.  He turned immediately back to the zabrak, ready to defend himself, only to find the Bando Gora drones that had been approaching from the other side were being lazily dispatched by yet another red bladed lightsaber.

He was baffled by this unexpected help for just a moment before the sickly yellow gaze turned its attention back to Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan—

His head throbbed and without thinking he let his instincts and training take over.  He reached for balance between past knowledge and present circumstances.  He accepted the flood of General Kenobi's memories that came along with seeing a face from his future-past, but he didn't let them overwhelm him.

“Maul,” he said as calmly as he could manage in the heat of battle.  The flicker of surprise at being recognized flashed through the zabrak’s slick and oppressively angry Force signature then disappeared.  Only malice and intense hatred remained.  “Of course you’re here.  I should have known,” he told the zabrak and leveled his saber at his new opponent.

Maul barred his pointed teeth in a snarl and raised his own blade to meet Obi-Wan’s.

Which meant that Obi-Wan could no longer afford to be distracted by the Bando Gora.  Without taking his eyes off Maul, he reached out with his left hand and grabbed hold of all their weapons in the Force.  With the squeeze of his fist he crushed them all into useless scrap and let them fall to the sand before sending a blast of Force energy at them to knock them off their feet entirely.  Then he let himself settle into the idea of combat and waited for Maul to make the first move.

He didn't have to wait long.  Maul lost patience and leapt high in the air to be able to come down on Obi-Wan with devastating speed and strength. Obi-Wan considered his options and took just one step to the side at precisely the correct moment to avoid the greatest impact and bring his lightsaber up into a block that he quickly followed with a riposte aimed at Maul's shoulder that he knew would do nothing more than turn the zabrak further away from the ship's ramp.  That was Obi-Wan's goal through the next flurry of attacks Maul threw at him, to keep the Sith from getting to the Naboo delegation or Anakin.  Although, some part of Obi-Wan knew that if Maul had wanted to get onboard while the three Padawans were distracted with battling the Bando Gora leader he easily could have.  For some reason, Maul had also made an effort to keep the Bando Gora drones out of the cruiser and Obi-Wan had no idea why.  What was Maul's purpose here?  Was it still tied to the business with the Trade Federation?  

The sudden convergence of dark Force users on the Naboo delegation was introducing far too many questions for Obi-Wan's liking and none of them could be addressed in the moment. Instead he waited and watched for his opening to turn his defensive stance into an offensive one, all the while listening to the crackle and buzz of Siri and Darsha's fight with their own enemy. The occasional flares of pain in the Force, along with the anger, frustration, and fear from his friends could have been distracting, but Obi-Wan remembered the ebb and flow of battle thanks to the General and let it wash over him and back into the Force. He spun away from a slashing overhead strike and kicked out toward Maul's unprotected knees.  The blow connected and Maul finally fumbled his footing on the ever shifting sand.  Obi-Wan pressed his advantage and moved in close where Maul's saber would be ineffective.  If there was one thing he knew from Jango it was that beating a Force wielder used to dueling with lightsabers meant not fighting like a saber wielding Force user himself.  He used the beskar end of his lightsaber hilt like a club to smash it across Maul's jaw.

The zabrack grunted in shock but managed to use the Force to fling a handful of sand toward Obi-Wan's face as he stepped back to put proper distance between the two of them again.  Obi-Wan couldn't let that happen. He tried to follow Maul and avoid the sand at the same time, but was only partially successful.  Coarse grit snuck under his eyelids and made it impossible to see and painful to blink.  Yet he had trained for this.  He left his eyes closed and listened to the Force.  

The Force twinged a warning and Obi-Wan half spun to put his back to Maul and threw his elbow up at a sharp angle to double down on the jaw injury.  It worked, but Maul managed to hook an ankle behind Obi-Wan's knee as he fell and pulled the blinded Jedi down with him. 

Obi-Wan let his momentum carry him into a backwards roll over his shoulder and came up on his feet to find himself immediately jumping into the air at the Force's prompting to avoid a low swipe of Maul's blade.  He landed with every intention of driving the attack while Maul was getting himself reset, but a shout of pure agony followed by a dark wave of malicious delight swamped Obi-Wan from the direction of Siri and Darsha's fight and he just managed to twist his saber in time to catch Maul's next thrust and lock their blades.

One of the girls was hurt and there was nothing he could do to help.  The three of them needed back up, desperately, preferably from someone qualified to handle beings who were clearly practiced in the dark aspects of the Jedi arts.  That pretty much left the Jedi and—

The Mandalorians, of whom there was an entire fighting force on Tatooine right now.

Quinlan! He called desperately to his friend over the bond they shared in the Force while still being careful not to break the hardwon bladelock he had entangled Maul in.  We need help! Now! Bring the Mando'ade.  Obi-Wan followed his plea with an image of his opponent and the cloying darkness that radiated out of both the Bando Gora leader and the zabrak.  

Kriff ! Was all Obi-Wan got clearly before Maul flicked the power switch on his saber to break the lock and landed a solid blow to Obi-Wan's sternum that sent him reeling back. Momentarily out of breath and still unable to see, Obi-Wan relied on muscle memory to make sure his own blade was still up in a guard position as he took a few extra steps back from Maul, which also put him further away from the Naboo cruiser.

Then Quin's voice filled his head again, On my way with Tervho, two of her squads, and a medic.

Obi-Wan slashed his saber across his body in a block that forced the red saber deep into the sand and jumped into an explosive kick that barely grazed the front of Maul's tunics as the zabrak had already flipped backwards out of range only to land right where Obi-Wan wanted him.  Without hesitation and with all the speed he could muster, Obi-Wan brought his thrumming blue lightsaber up at an angle and sliced through his enemy's saber hilt, right through the bleeding kyber heart of the blade.  In Maul's moment of surprise at the shower of sparks that flew at his face, Obi-Wan shoved with all of his might to send the zabrak sailing toward where Siri still seemed to be fighting off the dark adept of the Bando Gora.

—knew there would be trouble from how they felt, Quin was still relaying through the Force.  We'll try to catch up, but these Bando Gora goons— Tervho's words not mine— are just out of range and closing in on you fast.

Obi-Wan hadn't caught all of what his friend was trying to tell him, but the gist seemed to be he would be getting reinforcements, but so would the bad guys. 

Well one of the bad guys, he still wasn't entirely sure what Maul's game was.  Was he acting for himself or some greater Sith plan?  For Obi-Wan was certain about that much.  There could no longer be a question that the Sith were at play in the galaxy if this particular zabrak had made an appearance practicing the Dark Side.

Whatever the case, he, Darsha, and Siri would have to hold out for another few minutes at least.  He hurried toward the area of confrontation, carefully wiping at his eyes and blinking to try and get his vision back.  He thought about calling out to Siri or Darsha, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself or distract his fellow Padawans.  He settled for spreading his awareness through the battlefield to get a sense of where things stood.  Darsha was hurt but still fighting and drawing heavily on the Force to do so.  Siri, no slouch in lightsaber combat herself, was starting to flag and her frustration was growing at their enemy's stamina despite their numerous injuries.  Maul was mere meters away from Siri and recovering more quickly than Obi-Wan would have liked.  And just on the edge of his immediate awareness he could sense a number of beings coming toward them.  Some of them had that blank emptiness of the Bando Gora drones and others the slippery, muted sense of beskar.

Obi-Wan hurried to place himself between Siri and Maul who may have been down a lightsaber, but he certainly wasn't out of the fight, somehow he never was according to the General's experience.  It was rage that fueled the zabrak and Obi-Wan could feel how Maul gathered the darkness around him through his blinding hatred of the Jedi and of Obi-Wan in particular for destroying his weapon.

Except—

Obi-Wan watched in resignation as an unexpected red blade sprang to life from the undamaged end of Maul's lightsaber.  To be fair, he should have guessed this might happen.  In all the memories of fighting this particular enemy that flashed through Obi-Wan's mind, the Sith had always preferred a double ended lightstaff to a more traditional saber.

Obi-Wan met a pair of sickly yellow eyes that glittered with malice and no small amount of black amusement at Obi-Wan's weariness as he once again took up a defensive stance. Maul rushed at him, lightsaber a blur of motion that was nearly impossible to follow but Obi-Wan stepped forward to meet it.  He parried and pivoted then decided to challenge Maul’s expectations and go on the offensive.  Obi-Wan spun, striking high, stepped again to bring his blade around then brought up a knee in a vicious thrust to Maul’s center.  It wasn’t a very Jedi maneuver, but that’s why it worked.  Maul stumbled back a few steps with the blow and just at the same moment the Bando Gora leader went flying into the zabrak as a result of a combined effort from Darsha and Siri.

The two Dark Siders collided and ended up tangled on the ground.  Maul tried to use the Force to push the screaming adept off himself, but that just further enraged them and they turned both their sabers against the Sith.

Watching the two dark siders battle made both Obi-Wan’s head and soul begin to ache as currents of dark energy flowed out from where they clashed in the sand.  He could almost see the ferocious swirl of the Force around them in the drifts of sand that flew up in their wake. 

Obi-Wan took advantage of this new situation to catch his breath and make his way over to his friends, each of whom appeared to be in worse shape than him.  Or so he thought until Siri said, “Obi-Wan, your leg!” in between heavy breaths.  He looked down and found, to his amazement, that he had a significant lightsaber burn across the outside of his right thigh.  Of course, now that he knew about it, the injury screamed its painful presence at him and he had to spend a moment breathing through it and releasing the unhelpful distraction.

“We need to get out of here,” he said to the girls, as though they hadn’t already thought the same thing. 

“I’m not going to be moving very fast,” Darsha admitted in a stuttering voice. Her side was split open, the wound cauterized from the lightsaber that caused it, but she was severely wounded.

“They might get over their little tiff and come after us together if we try to leave and can’t outpace them.  That crazy woman is fast,” Siri said.  “But we should try anyway."

“Listen! Can you hear that?” Obi-Wan interrupted and they did.  Just over the crackle and hum of the ongoing lightsaber duel he could hear the high pitched whine of blaster fire and the low rumble of engines.  “Quin and a few squads of Mandalorians are nearly here.  They’ll help.”

Abruptly Obi-Wan’s ears popped as if there was a sudden change in air pressure and before he could figure out what had happened all three of them were blown back off their feet.

Obi-Wan landed hard on the sand and skidded for a few meters, leaving a trail of abrasions along his back and arms where the rough sand easily ripped through the single layer of clothing he wore.  He laid on his back for what seemed like an eternity, but must have only been seconds, and stared at the blue sky, trying to understand what had just happened.  The respite didn’t last though.  A blazing red lightsaber buzzing with barely restrained energy split his vision and Obi-Wan had just enough of his wits about him to reignite his own lightsaber and stop himself from being cut in two.  He rolled out of the way, flared his legs out in a wide arc, caught someone judging by the impact, and propelled himself to his feet to face his attacker.

But they seemed to have forgotten all about him.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, unsure if his eyes were still blurry from the grit or if whatever had landed him on his back had also messed with his head.  But no, there was indeed a dark clad figure with a bright, flaming orange kyr'bes (mythosaur skull) covering the whole of their torso rising in the air over his attacker’s— Maul, of course it was Maul, but at least he seemed to be missing an arm?— shoulder raining down a shower of blasterfire.  Obi-Wan startled back a step when a slightly different sound came at him from the side where another Mando'ad (Mandalorian), this one in grey and yellow, was advancing with a slugthrower.  Maul was enraged by the metal pellets that couldn’t be blocked by a saber.  A snarl overtook his features and his movements got sloppier by the second.  It was as good a time as any for Obi-Wan to move in and finish the fight, but he was stopped by a hand around his arm that dragged him away from the battle rather than toward it.

He twisted his arm in an attempt to break the hold but a familiar voice shouted in his ear, “Easy Jet'ika (Little Jedi), I’m here to help!”

“Vhonte!  I—”

Maniacal laughter, earsplitting in its pitch and dark in its intent, echoed through the air, drowning out every other sound of battle.

Obi-Wan winced.  He wasn’t the only one either, nearly everyone froze for just a moment, subsumed by the all encompassing dark madness that emanated from the Bando Gora leader. 

“Mandalorians!  My favorite!  I haven’t had the pleasure of killing your kind since Galidraan, but I’ve always savored the memory!”  Whatever else the adept may have said was lost as four Mando'ade (Mandalorians) and Quin moved in for a surprisingly coordinated attack against them.

That’s when the identity of the strange dark side adept finally became clear for Obi-Wan.  “Padawan Vosa.  That’s Komari Vosa!  She was Master Dooku’s apprentice!”

“Yes, we know,” Vhonte all but growled as she physically dragged him further away from the fight and shot a blank-eyed Bando Gora drone cleanly through the neck when they happened to cross her path.

“But she’s been listed as dead!”  Obi-Wan insisted, too shocked to try and make sense of how a Jedi Padawan could have become so twisted.

“And she will continue to be listed that way if my people and I have anything to say about it, but that will only happen if you get your friends and your politicians out of here!”

They were practically back at the ship now, the loading ramp still stupidly down and inviting all and sundry to make their way onboard.  There wasn’t even a security guard posted at the entry which Obi-Wan found to be uncharacteristically lax of the Naboo Guard.  He glanced over his shoulder to check if anyone among the new additions to the battle was intent on getting onboard and instead saw Darsha and Siri being supported by their own Mandalorian helpers and led toward the ship while the battle raged on all around them.

“Wait!” Obi-Wan cried, digging in his heels to halt their forward progress, “Shmi and Anakin!  I won’t drag them off the ship into the middle of this, but they can’t leave.  Not with those Force damned chips still in them!”

“I’ve already taken care of it,” Vhonte told him and tugged on his arm again.  “I sent a baar'ur (medic) onto your ship with the necessary equipment for the surgeries.  Given the state you Jetiise (Jedi) are in, the baar'ur (medic) can accompany you to Coruscant then make their way back to us.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan didn’t really know what to say.  He was tired and in pain and everything had gone extremely far downhill for a mission that was originally supposed to be no more than a fact finding operation.  He stumbled in Vhonte’s grip, his foot slipping over something half buried in the sand.  He looked down and saw something silver glinting in the sun.  It only took a moment before he could distinguish the cry of a bleeding kyber crystal amidst all the other noise in the Force produced by dark siders and beskar clad Mandalorians.  Obi-Wan called the shattered bits of lightsaber to him and turned again to Vhonte.  “Maul. He’s a Sith and that makes him my responsibility.  I can’t just get on that ship and leave a Sith for you to deal with.”

“Oh yes you sure as kriff can!” Vhonte countered with a shove to keep him moving.  “I’ve got a score to settle with those Sith and that one out there looks like he’s on his last legs. Also, Vos is a Jedi so I’m pretty sure you’re covered.”

Maul did appear to be at less than his best, if Obi-Wan was any judge, but that was still more than dangerous enough, even for Quin and a bunch of Mandalorians.

“That’s not how it—” Obi-Wan stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in reaction to something that he couldn’t even properly describe, all he knew was that something was terribly wrong.  “Anakin!” he shouted and tore out of Vhonte’s grasp to run for the ship.

Anakin was gone from the Force.  Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized the boy’s presence was something he was tracking at the back of his head, it was a feeling that seemed natural, especially to the General, but now it was inexplicably gone.

Had someone gotten onboard?  But what would they want with a young Tatooine slave boy?  Komari had wanted Veruna, but Maul had killed people trying to get onto the ship to carry out that order.

“Anakin?  Shmi?” Obi-Wan called as soon as he cleared the hatch.

"Over here," Shmi called in a tense voice.

“Obi-Wan!  Are you okay?”  The boy said at almost the same moment and Obi-Wan let out a relieved breath.  Anakin was in a far corner of the bay huddled with his mother and a Mando in teal and blue armor who was doing something with a laser scalpel over Shmi’s side.  Other than them, the compartment was conspicuously empty.  Hopefully that meant the others had barricaded themselves somewhere safe.

“What happened?  What’s wrong?”  Obi-Wan hurried toward them and squatted down to look them over for any injuries with his own eyes.

Anakin hesitated and seemed to shrink in on himself, but his eyes glanced at the short corridor that led to the sleeping cabins.  Shmi’s expression was flat, leaning toward worried as she watched the laser scalpel cut smoothly into her flesh. Her concerns were clearly occupied by her immediate predicament.

“Anakin, did someone get onboard?” Obi-Wan asked, desperately hoping the answer was no.

“I don’t know,” the boy whispered and hugged his legs close to himself despite the fresh bandage Obi-Wan could see wrapping around his right thigh.  “But something isn’t right.  It got really cold and then everything started dying.  Like…like all the life was being sucked out of everything.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know what that meant or how it was possible, but it was definitely a bad sign.  He got up to investigate, saber ready in his hand, but not yet lit.  He stopped at the head of the corridor and reached out with the Force.  It did indeed feel like someone was in the process of dying, a very slow and probably agonizing process, and there were the echoes of at least two quick deaths that Obi-Wan couldn’t properly address at the moment, but there was nothing plainly malevolent on the ship that he could sense.  Whatever had scared Anakin badly enough that he had felt the need to hide was gone. 

But then there was something, like a shiver in the air or a lingering impression on the back of your eyelids…  Obi-Wan opened his eyes and found himself staring back out the open hatch where there was a shadow.  Or perhaps it was a flicker of movement?  Obi-Wan chased after it, sure that he had just seen the edge of a cloak swish past or something of the sort.  Yet when he scanned the area around the ship he saw no one that could have possibly just come from within, there was only Vhonte and Bo-Katan helping carry Darsha across the sand and Siri with her arm around Brali just hitting the ramp.

“Did anyone just come out of the ship?” Obi-Wan demanded.

“What? No,” Siri answered, clearly tired and in pain herself.

Brali also shook his head.  “I didn’t see anything, but my HUD has infrared scans showing multiple beings having gone in and out in the last few minutes.”

That didn’t disprove anyone from having snuck onboard, but it didn’t provide positive proof either.  The infrared traces could well belong to Obi-Wan or the baar'ur (medic) helping Shmi and Anakin.

He didn’t think so though.  Someone or something had gotten onboard the Royal Naboo Cruiser and now someone in one of the cabins was dying a slow death and at least two others were dead.  Which, Obi-Wan realized, also explained Maul’s presence on Tatooine and why he killed Bando Gora trying to get on the ship.  He was the distraction.

And Obi-Wan had fallen for it.

“Jet’ika?  Jet’ika!”  Vhonte was right in front of him again, shaking his shoulder to get his attention.  His eyes refocused on her T-visor.  “Here, take this.”  She handed him a small remote with a switch and a single button.

“What’s this?”

“The beginning of the revolution,” She said and Obi-Wan could hear the grin in her voice.  “The charges on the satellite chain in orbit are armed and primed.  I’ve had people planting charges from their ships over the last few days as they were called in from out-system to get into position for the planetwide strike on the transmitters.   All you need to do is trigger the detonation as soon as you clear atmo and the whole thing starts off with a bang.”

It seemed the time for the enslaved of Tatooine to rise up had come.  It was earlier than he expected, if truth be told.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Vhonte said.  “My people are ready and Gardulla will be distracted by the Bando Gora’s efforts out here.  I’ll take any advantage I can get.”

Darsha had been settled with Siri on the floor next to Shmi and Anakin.  The Cruiser didn’t really have a medbay, just a medkit, so the floor of the main bay would have to do for now.  All his people were accounted for then.  It was time to go.

“Thank you, Vhonte, for everything,” he told her sincerely.

“Just doing my job, kid.  Now get going, and remember, you owe me one,” she said and held out her arm for a brief clasp before heading briskly out the door to support her troops.

“Jetii.” Bo-Katan said from behind him.  Obi-Wan turned and met her buy'ce's (helmet's) impassive gaze.  “You don’t look so good.  You have armor for a reason, you know.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help a short bark of laughter that he cut off as soon as he realized it hurt.  “Thanks Bo’ika, I think you’re probably right.”

She shook her head and held out her arm.  Obi-Wan gripped her forearm with as much fond brotherly affection as he could muster for the young woman to whom he had been both a friend and a mentor since they had met in Sundari and who was now going to face monsters straight out of a Jedi’s nightmares. “K'oyacyi, (Stay alive) Bo-Katan.  I'm counting on you to let me know how things turn out here."

“You’ll find out, one way or another,” she agreed.  “Ret'urcye mhi, Jetii (Maybe we'll meet again, Jedi).”  Then she too went out the hatch, powering up her jetpack to take her back toward the ground now that the ship had risen several meters into the air, leaving the battle far below in the capable hands of Quinlan Vos and Vhonte Tervho.

Getting off the planet once they were in the air proved blessedly simple.  No ships rose from the settlement's ports to chase after them and they had a clear shot into the black.  Obi-Wan made his way carefully to the cockpit where he could watch the vibrant blue of the Tatooine sky fade into the star studded black of open space and pressed the button Vhonte had given him as soon as he was sure they were clear of the signal blocking interference of the atmosphere.  It felt a little anticlimactic compared to the battle he had just left, but it was probably good that they didn't also have to dodge a sudden barrage of exploding satellites.  

Yet explode they did.

One of the Naboo pilots commented on the unexpected— to them at least— disturbances in the orbital satellite system around the planet, but it made no more impression than that.  Obi-Wan could only guess at the chaos he had unleashed below.  He fervently hoped the Mando'ade (Mandalorians) and those they were trying to help were prepared for several days worth of fighting, but there was little else he could do at this point.

He had plenty of other things to worry about, however.

Once they slid into hyperspace, thankfully without any problems, Obi-Wan shook off the solicitous baar'ur (medic) in favor of figuring out what exactly had happened while he and his fellow Padawans were busy with Vosa and Maul.  On his way through the loading bay he noticed Governor Naberrie and the King’s chief security officer helping Shmi and Anakin get warm and comfortable after their impromptu surgeries and escape into the colder temperatures of space.  Obi-Wan knew he needed to talk with both of them soon and assure them that they still had options for their futures even though he had inadvertently taken this first choice from them.  First though, he needed to know the full extent of the damage so he could begin to formulate a plan on how they were going to present the situation to the Council and the Senate.

The final verdict on the consequences of their trip to Tatooine were not good.  There were four sleeping cabins on the ship, two on each side of the narrow corridor leading aft.  Three of them were small, consisting of a fold out cot on one side and a fold down desk on the other and a single small, but surprisingly comfortable, chair.  The last cabin was the King’s stateroom and the largest of them all, yet it was similarly kitted out, if a little more ornate.  The remainder of the ship’s crew was expected to bunk in the common areas of the ship where there were sleeping niches and blankets to accommodate them.  The three smaller rooms were still locked from Siri’s attempts to corral the scheming advisors and disgorged a surprising number of irate ministers and advisors who all wanted him to know that they would be talking to the Jedi Council and getting the three Padawans censured for their treatment of high ranking political officials of a sovereign system.

Obi-Wan ignored them and palmed open the door to Veruna’s stateroom, which was no longer locked.  That right there was damning enough evidence that he and his fellow apprentices had failed in their duty to protect the king, he didn’t also need the confirmation in the form of a pale and shivering Veruna sprawled inelegantly across his bed.  Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed, feeling the heavy, syrupy darkness in the Force that had seeped into the air and fixtures of the room.  When he was ready, he took a step forward and discovered one of the security officers and Kun Lago, Prime Councilor of the Naboo Royal Advisory Council, lay crumpled together in a heap on the floor to the side of Veruna’s bed.  Neither of them appeared to have a mark on them, but their necks were bent at unnatural angles and their eyes were fixed open in fear or shock.

It was clear that whoever or whatever had done this was far more lethal than a single volunteer security officer could handle.

Obi-Wan shook his head in dismay and moved to check on the king.  Veruna was the source of the sensation of slow death.  He was clammy to the touch and whimpered lightly when Obi-Wan placed a hand on his forehead.  The thing was, Anakin was right, it did feel as if the life was draining out of Veruna, but in a way that didn’t seem at all natural.  He focused his thoughts and his energies on trying to figure out where the disruption in the flow of the body's rhythms was centered, as he had been taught in his healing classes, but whatever was happening to the King was beyond Obi-Wan's scope of knowledge or skill.  Master Che might have been able to do something if the Twi'lek Healer had been there, but as it stood, King Ars Veruna of the Naboo would very likely be dead by the time they reached Coruscant.

Nevertheless, he tried to guide the Force into Veruna's dying body to give it some support and warmth.  Obi-Wan spent long minutes in meditation attempting to help, but he was unsure if he had actually accomplished anything.  His own body was battered and tired, and his spirit had taken a metaphysical beating from two powerful Dark Side users.  He had to admit that his best at the moment was not up to the usual standard.

Obi-Wan eventually left to inform the others of what had happened and to find someone to help with the bodies of the dead.  He didn't know Naboo’s customs surrounding death and wanted both the officer and the Prime Councilor to have the chance to be given their due.  It didn't surprise him when Padmé ended up taking the lead on organizing the Naboo despite her youth and  lower position of authority relative to the others.  She just had a firm way about her and the expectation that those in her vicinity would listen, until soon enough that expectation became reality.  Upon hearing of Veruna’s condition the Mando baar'ur (medic), whose name Obi-Wan still didn’t know, rushed into the royal stateroom to see if they could help.  Obi-Wan appreciated the gesture, but wasn’t sure it would do any good.

“This was the work of the Sith,” he told Siri when he sank down beside her, finally unable to ignore his injuries and exhaustion anymore and ready to submit to medical care which, to his surprise, Shmi immediately set to in the temporary absence of the baar'ur (medic). They were settled on a fold down sleep couch, Siri propped up carefully with her arm in a splint and bacta patches peeking out of rips in her stolen blue shirt.  She was barely holding onto consciousness if the unfocused nature of her gaze was any indication, and Darsha had fallen into a healing meditation before the baar'ur (medic) had even finished dressing the gouge in her side nearly an hour ago.

“Why?” Siri asked in a tired half whisper.  “Veruna wasn’t a great politician, but what did he do to draw the attention of the Sith?”

It was a question of singular importance as Obi-Wan felt it would go a long way to answering a lot of his questions about… well everything.  First, Sith interference on Galidraan, then Sith on Mandalore, now Sith getting involved with trade disputes on a mid-level Mid Rim planet.  It all had to connect somehow, but the pieces Obi-Wan could see didn’t add up to a picture that made any kind of sense.

And yet, there was something in his head, some feeling he had, that said the pattern would be obvious if he just looked at it from the right angle.  Namely, who benefitted from all of this?  What was gained by Veruna’s death?  He had never gotten a satisfactory answer to who benefitted from a weakened Mandalore either aside from the Republic and apparently the Sith. How would Veruna's death be useful to a Sith?

They spent nearly three days in hyperspace and once Obi-Wan had woken from a solid ten hours of sleep, he split that time between trying to shore up Veruna’s rapidly declining health— at least until the King slipped quietly over the bridge to death when they were just four hours from reaching Coruscant— puzzling over the Sith’s plans, and trying to get the members of the Naboo delegation to come to an agreement on next steps to help resolve the blockade and invasion of their planet.  They hoped to make contact with the Senator from Naboo who was currently on Coruscant and ask him to take their case before the Senate.  It was, after all, the Senate debate about the taxation of the free-trade zones in exchange for allowing the Trade Federation to arm their cargo haulers that had directly led to the current situation on Naboo.  One of Veruna’s cronies suggested that the King’s death at the hand of a Federation assassin was proof of how far the Federation Directorate was willing to go to keep their power over the galaxy and refused to acknowledge Obi-Wan’s well reasoned point that Veruna’s death was actually counterproductive for the Federation at this point since only the ruler of Naboo could legitimize any proposed treaty in the name of a cessation of hostilities.

Padmé alone seemed to fully realize what this meant for the people of Naboo.

“The order of succession means that until a new Monarch is elected, the Governor of Naboo, Sio Bibble, is effectively our Regent,” she said, thinking out loud. “He was captured early on in the invasion and taken to one of the camps.  If the Federation actually knew what kind of power they had over the Regent they could easily force him to sign the treaty.  If they killed him for resisting, the next in line would be someone on this ship and then they’re back at square one trying to get their invasion of our planet legalized.”

“You’re point, Naberrie?” Coubern asked snidely.

“My point, Minister Coubern, is that Jedi Kenobi is right.  It makes no sense for the Federation to have done this and if we try to blame it on them we’ll just look ignorant.”

“Which is why we’re going to ask Palpatine to bring the matter before the Galactic Senate.  This is a mess of their making after all,” Coubern said.  “Valorum can order out a Judicial cruiser with a few full grown Jedi and get the whole thing sorted.  And at the end of the day, the Federation will have shown their hand too early and lost their favor with the Senate.”

“And how will you explain that we were attacked by a cult of assassins who wanted our King for business reasons after he tried to make a deal with a Hutt?  That doesn’t exactly make us look like the innocents in this scenario,” Padmé pointed out with false sweetness.

“Obviously Palpatine doesn’t need to tell them everything,” Coubern said through gritted teeth.

And on and on it went in circles.  There was something about the whole thing that made Obi-Wan uneasy.  He knew now that Palpatine had been the Chancellor during the Clone Wars. All the new memories that had been stirred up by his recent brush with Anakin and Maul had brought that new piece of information to light.  What he didn’t know was when in that future-past timeline the Senator from Naboo had ascended to the Chancellorship.  Had he directly benefited from a similar planetary crisis or had he simply entered the public spotlight at that time and used the notoriety to his advantage to secure his future in the following years?  It seemed highly unlikely that one person could engineer a conflict on such a grand scale all for the purpose of placing themself at the center of power.  Yet on the other hand, it seemed equally unlikely that one person could so subtly manipulate the Jedi and the senate that something like the massacre of Galidraan was the result.  And the death of nearly three hundred Haat Mando'ade (True Mandalorians) on a snowy Outer Rim planet at the hands of misinformed Jedi was an incontrovertible fact.

Might then this Palpatine have the potential to be the Sith that they had been searching for for the last five years? One positioned at the center of a web and pulling strings from Coruscant?

Obi-Wan would have to think on it more and discuss it with someone who had a slightly better grasp of the state of galactic politics than he did.

Needless to say that by the time they came out of hyperspace on the outer edge of the Coruscant System, everyone on the Royal Naboo Cruiser was ready to be free of the cramped ship where the miasma of death hung over everything.  The three Jedi were recovering well from their injuries, but they would benefit from a Healer knowledgeable in the ways of the Force after their encounter with the Dark Side.  Mainly it was the incessant circular political talk that was starting to drive them all mad.  The bright spots in the whole ordeal had been Shmi and Anakin.  

Shmi was a smart woman, sharp eyed, and even sharper of hearing.  She spoke only with the Jedi, the baar'ur (medic), and Padmé, instinctively knowing to steer clear of the self-absorbed ministers in their finery.  Her conversation was curious and broached a great number of topics.  She did, however, eventually circle around to asking how she might find out what was happening on Tatooine.  She expressed no desire to return to the desert planet and its oppressive twin suns, but she did have friends and loved ones there and she had high hopes for the Mandalorian campaign.

Anakin, unlike nearly everyone else onboard, was a bundle of barely contained energy.  He found the droid storage and service compartment and immediately started tinkering while chattering away with an R2 unit that was at rest in its charging station.  When his mother coaxed him away from his project he was to be found in the cockpit interrogating the pilots or in one of the common areas sitting across from Padmé with his mother, both of them slowly learning their Aurek-Besh.  They both spoke Basic well enough, and the boy was clearly conversant if not fluent in Huttese, threw around a few phrases in Ryl, and occasionally whispered with his mother in a language that Obi-Wan couldn’t name and suspected was the same language that Tenu had also held close to his heart, but the boy didn’t do a lot of reading.  At least he was eager to learn, though his enthusiasm came only after he figured out it would help him better understand what all the controls on the pilot’s console did.  

When Anakin had too much energy to sit still for any amount of time and Shmi had banished him from either the droid bay or the cockpit for a few hours, Obi-Wan introduced him to some of the basic physical exercises that Jedi Younglings do to help them build strength and flexibility before they start training with lightsabers.  Both Darsha and Siri joined him at one time or another, testing their bodies carefully after their injuries.  The four of them got along well, especially after Siri said something that made Anakin laugh and he saw that it was okay that he wasn't serious with them all the time.  More to the point, Anakin caught on with startling swiftness to both the movements the Jedi were teaching him and the mental component which involved centering one's thoughts on their connection with both the Force and their body.

But even Anakin was ready to leave the confines of the ship after three days, for all that he had been excited about his first time in space.

Due to the heavy traffic around the city-planet, it was customary to exit hyperspace further out than was typical and make the final approach at sublight speeds.  This meant that even though they had arrived at Coruscant, they still had about two hours before they actually docked somewhere on the planet.  It was more than enough time for all the messages that couldn’t get through while they were in hyperspace to flood everyone’s re-enabled comm units.

And there was quite a bit of news.

The galaxy seemed to have caught fire in the last few days and everyone was reporting on it.  There was news about Tatooine which was either about an insurrection or a long awaited revolution depending on the source of the story.  Given how far out on the Rim it was and the less than savory characters who were known to inhabit such places, Obi-Wan was a bit surprised at the breadth of the coverage on the rebellion on Tatooine.  Then again, Mandalorians were involved and the Republic had a strange fascination with the bogey man of their distant past.  There was disappointingly scant coverage of the situation on Naboo, probably due to the influence of the Trade Federation, but the Nebula Front had launched another attack on a Lucrehulk that had been in transit just outside the Chommell Sector and couldn't have been going anywhere aside from Naboo given its trajectory.   That story at least had the effect of drawing curious eyes to relevant area of the galaxy.  Then there was the news from closer to home.

In fact, the news was from the Jedi Temple itself in the form of a broadcast to all Jedi frequencies to stay away from the Temple until further notice due to an incursion and an investigation that followed.  For the sake of safety, Jedi seeking shelter at the Coruscant Temple were encouraged to go instead to their sister Temple on Corellia or one of the outposts elsewhere in the galaxy now that they were fairly well staffed and provisioned.  There was no indication as to how long this had been going on, nor who the perpetrators were.

“An incursion?” Obi-Wan whispered, more terrified for his home than he should be given the number of highly trained Knights and Masters that were in the Temple at any given time and who were more than capable of protecting the initiates and younglings who also resided there.  Still, he had just fought a Sith on Tatooine and the timing of this attack on the heart of the Order was alarming.

“I’m checking the Senate’s private news channels,” Siri said in a tight voice. “Give me a second.”

Obi-Wan was grateful.  One of the advantages of Siri’s apprenticeship to Master Adi Gallia, the Councilor who spent the most time in and out of the Senate Rotunda on business, was that she had access to exclusive avenues of information and wasn’t afraid to use them to her benefit.

“We have to find a way to contact the Council,” Darsha said. “We have to let them know what happened on Tatooine in case it’s related.”

“We’ll find a way,” Obi-Wan assured her.  “You know as well as I do that there are unofficial entrances to the Temple that are only known to those that are granted such knowledge.”

“Or those that find them as mid-agers bent on sneaking out,” Siri mumbled, cutting an accusing glance at Obi-Wan in reference to some of his— and Garen’s, Siri’s, and Quinlan’s if blame was being passed around— antics as a younger Padawan. 

“We’ll find a way,” he repeated firmly, choosing to ignore Siri’s comments.

“Here it is,” Siri finally said after a few tense moments of silence. “Late yesterday, Coruscant standard time, warriors of the Yinchorri species surrounded the Jedi Temple and killed one Temple Guard before gaining entrance. Witnesses report that the Jedi’s weapon seemed to be useless against both the aggressor’s armor and weapons, and they were eventually overpowered.  There’s no information about what happened or is happening inside the Temple.  My guess is that Master Windu is keeping everything under wraps until they know the Temple is completely safe.”  

She went silent as her eyes continued to scan the pad looking for any other clues about the situation. Obi-Wan and Darsha waited with baited breath to hear more and even Shmi and Padmé came over to their little group to ask what had the Jedi so worried all of the sudden.

“Apparently this incursion is part of a larger Yinchorri Crisis— that’s what they’re calling it in the Senate, a crisis— that several Jedi, after much debate about proper courses of action, of course, had already been dispatched to investigate at the time of the attack on the Temple.”  Siri’s eyes narrowed as she continued to read.  “These Yinchorri have been making a bid for dominance in their sector and have already seized the Golden Nyss Shipyards and invaded a moon called Mayvitch 7.  The first Master-Padawan pair sent to investigate this aggressive expansion were killed and their bodies delivered to Chancellor Valorum here on Coruscant.  That’s when they sent the larger force consisting of twelve Jedi and three Judicial cruisers,” she finished in a hush.

“What the kriff is going on?” Darsha asked desperately, pressing both her hands over her face in distress.  “Two powerful Dark Siders on Tatooine and then the Temple is attacked? What are the odds?”

“It might be a coincidence,” Padmé offered, laying a comforting hand on Darsha’s arm.

Somehow Obi-Wan didn’t think so.

“Three,” he said in abrupt realization and got all eyes turned toward him for it.  “Three Dark Siders on Tatooine.  Maul was the distraction meant to keep us from stopping whoever came onboard to kill King Veruna, Prime Councilor Lago, and…” he trailed off, looking to Padmé to fill in the last name.

“Officer Bol Trino,” she supplied.

“Yes.  Three Dark Siders and a warmongering species armed and armored with cortosis all in the same week,” he continued, putting another piece of the puzzle together.  “The Jedi are definitely under attack, even if only part of the offensive is obvious.”

“Cortosis.  You really think so?” Siri asked.

“What else explains that witness statement?”

Siri hummed in response and got a faraway look in her eye that meant she was thinking.

“Please,” Shmi interjected softly, “What is cortosis? I am unfamiliar with the term.”

“It’s a rare and highly regulated metal that absorbs and disperses energy which makes the traditional Jedi weapon, the lightsaber, perfectly useless against it,” Darsha explained.

Padmé turned concerned eyes on the three of them, understanding the danger to the Temple in a new way.

“Sabers decohere on contact with it,” Obi-Wan elaborated absently while his mind drifted in thought.  “He warned me this could happen.  It was one of his signs that the Sith were pulling strings.”

“What?” Both Darsha and Siri asked sharply, shattering his hazy thoughts.

“Obi-Wan, did someone tell you they were planning this attack?” Darsha demanded in the most serious voice he had ever heard from her.

Obi-Wan blinked and frowned at her.  “Of course not.  Why would you think that?”

“Because you just said ‘he warned you this could happen’!”

“I… I did, didn’t I?” He tried to search his memory but all he came up with was a vague sense of foreboding.  He shook his head, “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what I meant by that.”

The conversation was put on hold when the pilot’s voice sounded over the shipwide comm.  “Excuse me Ministers and Jedi, we’ve been granted permission to dock at a Senate District landing platform, ETA thirty minutes. And,” the pilot paused, then continued in a more hesitant voice, “we’re being hailed by an unknown ship.”

They all looked at each other, then almost simultaneously the three Jedi and the Governor of Theed moved briskly toward the cockpit.

“Do you know which ship is the source of the hail?” Padmé asked, every centimeter the confident leader Obi-Wan knew she would be one day.

“Yes, my Lady,” the co-pilot at the sensor suite replied.  “It’s a ship a couple hundred meters behind us and off to our port side.”  He pressed a short sequence of buttons and a holoprojector over the forward console lit up with an image as it zoomed in on the ship in question.

Obi-Wan stared at the flat, angular lines of the wings that swept out and forward toward the nose of the sharply pointed and elongated fuselage of a Mandalorian Kom'rk (Gauntlet) class transport, and had the sudden urge to laugh or maybe wilt in relief.

Darsha stared at him for a moment, probably feeling his reaction to the sight of the ship in the Force before instructing the pilot to accept the hail.

The image of the Kom'rk (Gauntlet) was replaced with the welcome sight of familiar beskar'gam (armor) with an unforgettable paint job and a voice that Obi-Wan knew as well as his own.

“My Greetings to the King and Ministers of Naboo and to the Jedi among you.  I am Mand’alor Jango Fett of House Mereel, Sole Ruler of the Mandalore Sector.  I had planned on landing elsewhere on the planet and then contacting you about meeting to discuss the possibility of rendering aid to your people in light of Naboo’s current difficulties in exchange for a trade agreement which I believe would be mutually beneficial to both our systems.  Given recent developments, however, it seems expediency would be prudent.  I assure you that myself and my people mean you no harm, a fact that the Mandalorian medic currently on your ship can attest to.  If you could secure clearance for me to land at your final destination on-planet we can begin discussions without delay.”

Obi-Wan desperately wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t his decision.  This was a matter for the representatives of Naboo.  He and his fellow Padawans could advise, but they couldn’t interfere with this type of interplanetary politics.  He turned to watch Padmé, who was thinking hard, and the Minister for Architecture, who had joined them during Jango’s small speech.  The two looked at one another for several moments then Minister Eckener shrugged.  “I’m not really certain why the Mandalorians are so interested, but they’ve clearly got some reason to help us judging by their involvement so far.  It can’t hurt to hear this proposal.  After all, we don’t know how long it will take to get recognition from the Senate for a hearing.”

“Mand’alor Fett,” Padmé said turning back to the holo of Jango, “we are willing to hear your proposal, however, I admit that I’m not quite sure how to go about requesting clearance for a third party to dock in the Senate District.  I was under the impression those landing platforms were restricted to pre-approved persons and vessels.”

“I can help with that,” Obi-Wan spoke up and Siri nodded at his side.  “There are codes that I— that Jedi have.  We can transmit them to port authorities and they’ll send you coordinates for a platform designation.”

Jango inclined his head slightly in gratitude. “Thank you My Lady, I look forward to speaking with you.  My thanks to you too, Padawan Kenobi.  I hope you will be joining the delegation from Naboo for our discussions. A familiar face and practiced negotiator in the room would be a comfort.”

“I would be honored, Alor,” Obi-Wan agreed with a nod of his own.  If they were unable to get in contact with the Temple soon then there would be no one to tell him no in anycase.

“And Obi-wan,” Jango said, then took off his helmet so he could stare directly at Obi-Wan before he continued, “You and I are due to have a… talk of our own.  I very much hope you’ll grant me the time for that as well.  I know that you have much on your mind right now given the news and everything, but I think it’s important that we get a few things settled.”

Obi-Wan tried his best not to blush and knew that he had failed if the sudden heat in his cheeks was anything to go by.  He could not believe Jango would make such a personal request immediately on the heels of a diplomatic one and over a rather public comm!

“Of course, Jango, I’ll do my best to find the time, but you know that the mission—”

“The mission comes first. Yes, I understand, but if you find yourself with a spare few hours…” he trailed off, implication heavy in his voice.

“I’ll let you know,” Obi-Wan agreed amid wide eyed stares from the others in the cockpit.

“Jate (Good).  I look forward to seeing you when we land.”

The comm cut out and everyone turned to stare at Obi-Wan.  Their expressions ran from delighted smirks on the faces of the Naboo pilots that indicated they couldn’t wait to get off shift to share the gossip about one of their Jedi guests, to Darsha’s surprised confusion, to Siri’s tooka-who-trounced-the-tip-yip grin that spelled nothing but trouble.  It was, however, Padmé, whose eyes could not have gotten any bigger and whose eyebrows had disappeared into her curly hairline, who squeaked, “You’re on a first name basis with the ruler of all Mandalore?”

Obi-Wan stared at her, unsure how to explain.  

“Um, well,” he tried, but got no further.  Bright peals of laughter bounced through the overfull cockpit as Siri lost the fight to contain her laughter.  Obi-Wan attempted to scowl at her but there was a smile tugging at his own lips in response to her unbridled joy.  It was such a welcome sound in the face of everything that was so wrong in the galaxy at the moment.

“On a first name basis?  Oh Princess!” Siri exclaimed when she had caught her breath enough to speak.  “Is he ever!” Then the laughter started anew.

At this point Obi-Wan couldn’t even deny anything.  All he could do was sigh and hope that one day his friends would stop finding his personal life so amusing.