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The data-disc twirled through his fingers as he surveyed the deserted command center with satisfaction. A few scattered papers, a broken monitor, an overturned chair - it had the look of a place abandoned in haste. A cold smile touched his lips.
"My lord?"
A robotic voice interrupted his inspection. He arched one dark brow and waited for the droid to continue.
"Your shuttle is ready for take-off, Count Dooku."
"Thank you. Wait for me there. I shall join you directly."
As it was programmed to do, the droid sketched a bow before retreating. Yan Dooku inclined his head, though the droid did not see. He demanded courtly manners from all his minions, be they automated or sentient beings. It amused him - and was no less than his rightful due.
Taking one more turn around the facility, he paused and casually pressed his thumb onto a dusty surface. Cloak swirling, he strode toward the exit with a martial posture. As he passed the last counter, he flicked the data-disc, then paused to watch it tumble to the floor, land on its edge and roll to a stop, partially under a chair leg.
He smiled again and headed for his waiting shuttle.
Spine stiff, Anakin walked behind his master and Padmé toward the waiting ship. A Naboo yacht. Obi-Wan had thought it better if they didn't use an official Republic transport. Padmé had agreed.
Obi-Wan had thought a great many things - and he had voiced every one of them. In the process he had either ignored whatever Anakin had suggested, or he had outright rejected the ideas. He always sounded so blasted reasonable, that Padmé usually took his side before it could even become an argument. Anakin's resentment simmered below the surface, waiting for an excuse to boil over.
And now, Anakin could tell by his purposeful stride that Obi-Wan considered himself in charge of this mission, despite his continued attempts to talk them out of going.
Obi-Wan jogged up the landing ramp and swung left, heading toward the cockpit. Anakin paused at the base of the ramp. This ship was slightly longer than a royal cruiser, with a narrower wing span, but of similar design. Silver instead of gold, as sleek as its more opulent counterpart. Anakin imagined Obi-Wan slipping into the pilot's chair. His jaw clenched. He wondered if he could come up with a reason for Obi-Wan to leave the ship, if only for a moment. That's all he needed to get the ship airborne; it was already prepped, its engines running.
Padmé paused at the head of the ramp and peered down at Anakin. "Are you coming? If you've changed your mind, it's not too late to tell Obi-Wan and go home."
To face the Jedi Council for daring to enter the forbidden state of marriage. At least Obi-Wan had agreed to a truce on that issue until this was over. If nothing else, the hunt for Dooku gave Anakin time to mentally prepare for when he would stand before the Council. He would show them no fear. And he would not back down.
"Ani?"
In a simple blue flightsuit trimmed with silver, her hair pulled back in a braided bun, Padmé looked so tentative, so ... vulnerable, that Anakin had to smile. "Hang on. You know I haven't changed my mind." He strode up the ramp and framed her face with his hands. "I was right all those years ago on Tatooine, you know. You are an angel. My beautiful angel." As she started to smile, he kissed her, reinforcing his words with a lingering touch.
Anakin lifted his head to see Obi-Wan leaning against the open bridge hatch, arms crossed, watching them like a Hutt eyeing a pile of credits. He remained unmoving as Anakin and Padmé paced up the aisle and brushed past him to enter the cockpit.
Obi-Wan stepped onto the spacious bridge behind Anakin. He paused by the astromech droid in the center of the flight deck and patted its silver dome. "Hello, Artoo." The droid whistled and tooted in reply.
The smile Obi-Wan gave the droid irritated Anakin. He crossed his arms, not bothering to keep the challenge from his voice. "So, Master. Who's the pilot? I'm sure you've already decided."
The smile fell away. Obi-Wan considered his padawan for a moment. Anakin sensed Padmé's narrowed regard, but kept his gaze on Obi-Wan. He knew he should be treating his master with the respect demanded of a Jedi, but Obi-Wan's scorn, his condemnation of the previous night, still tainted Anakin's feelings, painting them dark and defensive. His disappointment. No, not that. Padmé was wrong. Obi-Wan wasn't distressed; he was his usual faultfinding self.
The older Jedi said, "I expected you to pilot the ship, Padawan. After all, you are the best pilot here, if a trifle suicidal."
Surprise blanked Anakin's thoughts for a nanosecond. He bit back a smile as he slid into the pilot's seat. "All right." He gripped the yoke. "It's nice to see you finally confirming my superior skill. Next you'll be admitting I'm better with a lightsaber." He toggled a switch, retracting the landing ramp and closing the outer hatch.
"It takes more than physical skill to be a good Jedi, my padawan."
"So you admit I'm better than you."
"Only in your mind, young one. Tactics are half the battle. You have to out-think your opponent."
Tension gripping his shoulders, Anakin lifted off. He eased the ship into traffic and vectored toward the outbound spacing lanes. Obi-Wan always found a way to turn compliments into criticism. Nothing he ever did pleased his master. Sometimes he wondered why he kept trying.
"I'm not needed here. I'll retire to my cabin," Obi-Wan said. "Do either of you have a preference in quarters? Since there are three cabins available, I'll take whatever is left over."
Anakin steered around a lumbering freighter and increased forward speed. "Padmé and I are going to share the forward cabin."
"You most certainly are not." Irritation flared, but before Anakin could retort, Obi-Wan continued, "I tolerated last night because we were in the senator's home and the choice was hers. But here, we're essentially on assignment. I'll have nothing taking away from your focus, Padawan. That includes your lovely ... wife."
"We're the only ones onboard. Who's here to see, or care?"
"I care."
"You have no right." Jaw clenched, Anakin kept his eyes on the control panel as he jabbed at the number pad with a golden finger, entering the hyperspace co-ordinates. "Artoo, confirm co-ordinates." The droid beeped twice.
"I have every right. I'm still your master. And before you think to circumvent my orders, think again. I will enforce them. Count on it." Obi-Wan paused. "In fact, I think you've just made my choice for me. I'll be taking the middle cabin.
Anakin gritted his teeth as air hissed between them. Padmé reached over from the co-pilot's chair and laid her hand on Anakin's arm, her touch bringing with it a measure of calm. "Please, Anakin, Obi-Wan, this isn't worth bickering over. Obi-Wan is your master, Anakin, and I think we should respect his wishes."
"Wishes? Orders, you mean. Watto was less demanding when I was a slave."
Anakin could feel Obi-Wan's stern gaze. He reinforced the shields in his mind as he activated the hyperspace engines. He leaned back as stars elongated into iridescent streaks, unsure whether that was a quiet sigh he had heard.
"Very well, then," Obi-Wan said. "I'm sure you two would rather be alone." In the reflection of the viewscreen, Anakin saw Obi-Wan incline his head. "Anakin. Senator."
"My wife has a name."
A pause. "Of course she does." Obi-Wan's reflection gave a short bow. "Amidala."
The cockpit door hissed open. The Jedi's steps rang down the metal aisle. The door closed, cutting off the sharp sound.
As he turned aside, Anakin's smile was cut short by Padme's perturbed expression. "Ani, you were baiting him. You shouldn't do that. Was he angry? Is that why he suddenly became so formal?"
Anakin shrugged. "He sometimes gets like that when he's feeling ..." His brow furrowed. "... uncomfortable." He returned his gaze to the hypnotic whirl of hyperspace.
Uncomfortable. That was ridiculous. Obi-Wan had the most amazing, irritating ability to adapt to any situation. Ever calm. Anakin's frown deepened. But he hadn't been calm last night. Anakin hadn't thought anything could jolt Obi-Wan Kenobi out of that famous Jedi reserve. His brow cleared. It almost made his master more likable.
"Ani?"
Anakin looked over, then leaned over. He gave Padmé a smile and a kiss. The shadow in her brown eyes lifted. Anakin grinned. With Padmé at his side, he was ready for anything. He had a good feeling about this mission.
There is no emotion; there is peace. No comfort pervaded those words today. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on his bunk, palms lightly cupping his knees. There was no solace to be found anywhere on this ship, not even in the knowledge that he was missing days of Military Council meetings, nor had there been for the previous three days. The whole situation was exceedingly awkward. Obi-Wan released a measured breath and inhaled the same way.
Anakin had challenged him each day, acting like he expected Obi-Wan to condone his and Padmé's union. That's what letting them share quarters would amount to - acceptance. Absolution. Some days, the boy didn't have a radiation particle of sense. Or remorse.
Not a boy. A man. A married man. Oh, Force.
A hitch entered Obi-Wan's breathing; he stretched outward, drawing the Light to himself, wrapping it around him like a favorite old cloak. Serenity returned.
Anakin exhibited an appalling lack of control. That was the problem - teaching control to one who had no desire for it. To one who reveled in the thrill of the moment. Anakin spun glorious auras in the Force when he was on the edge, racing at breakneck speeds, pushing speeders through vertical dives almost impossible to pull out of, free-falling, anything where life was at risk. He seemed to equate control with ... slavery.
And Anakin Skywalker was, above all, a free spirit. One who apparently refused to be tamed.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and scowled at the bulkhead. Had Anakin married simply because it was forbidden? A different form of risk, one that placed his future in peril instead of his physical being? No. Not consciously, at any rate. The affection he had observed between Anakin and Padmé was genuine.
What I could have with Luminara.
Never. To succumb to his passions would be to repudiate who he was, what he would always be. A Jedi.
With Jedi power came the responsibility to wield it wisely, for the benefit of the galaxy. That only happened when you were aware every moment, in control at all times. If he could not impart the importance of control to Anakin, his failure would be complete, for without control, Anakin could never achieve knighthood.
I promised you, Master. I promised to train the boy.
Obi-Wan released an agonized breath. His master, with his affinity for the Living Force, would have been a better teacher for Anakin. The Force had chosen Qui-Gon for the task; Obi-Wan had received the assignment by default.
Because I let him die.
Some days, the task of training Anakin felt like a punishment for that failure. No! Obi-Wan slammed the side of his fist against the bulkhead, immediately regretting the action when pain spiked up his arm. He flexed his fist.
No. He refused to yield to his negative thoughts. He would follow his master's lead - focus on the moment - and leave the rest where it belonged, in the Force. Obi-Wan massaged his hand. Isn't that what Mace had told him? That if Anakin were the Chosen One, the prophecy would be fulfilled?
No matter what.
That put matters out of Obi-Wan's control. And he freely admitted that he very much liked being in control. Acknowledging that weakness was much easier than letting it go.
A rap on the door shifted Obi-Wan's focus outward. "Enter."
The hatch swished into the wall and Padmé greeted him from the corridor. "We'll be coming out of hyperspace in a few moments." She peered at him. "Did you injure your hand?"
Obi-Wan halted his massaging. "It's nothing."
She gripped the metal door frame. "Obi-Wan ... I want to apologize for -"
He held up his aching hand. "No. We need to focus on what's waiting for us, not on what cannot be settled today. This is not the time to discuss your ... union."
"But Anakin -"
"Or Anakin's behavior. Focus on the moment. On the mission. Dooku is a dangerous opponent. We cannot afford to underestimate him; nor can we let anything distract us."
Padmé sighed. "I admire your dedication, Obi-Wan. I realize you don't want to be here, that you're only here because Master Yoda ordered you to protect me."
Obi-Wan gave her a slight smile. "What makes you think I don't want to be here? I want to see Dooku brought to justice as much as any Jedi. What I don't want, is for you to be involved. It's much too dangerous."
She pursed her lips. "Are you treating me like glasswork again? Implying I'm much too delicate to fight?"
An argument from their days spent together on the streets of Coruscant, one that coaxed another, broader, smile from Obi-Wan. "I'm not foolish enough to lay such a charge before you, Senator. But do you realize your skills as a Force-blind warrior are no match for Dooku?"
She sniffed. "That ... is why I included two Jedi in my entourage."
"Very wise of you, Senator." Was it? Dooku had defeated them once.
"Padmé. My friends call me Padmé. We were friends not so many days ago. I would still be your friend, if you would let me, Obi-Wan. Anakin and I both need your friendship."
"Friendship implies trust. Not just giving, but receiving."
Padmé bit her lip. Obi-Wan could sense her distress radiating outwards. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I would give anything to erase those months of silence."
Obi-Wan felt a tinge of remorse. He wanted to overcome the worry, the ... distress he had been battling since the moment he had witnessed that telling embrace. He wanted to accept Padmé's apology. It was ... impossible. No, not impossible - just painful, and so very hard.
Instead, he chose to take his own advice. "Focus on the moment, Senator. On the mission. Our survival may depend on it."
Padmé glanced over her shoulder as Obi-Wan entered the cockpit and took the navigator's seat behind Anakin. Artoo was their navigator, but the seat offered an excellent view of the planet growing ever larger in the viewscreen. Mottled browns with a smattering of pale green, very little blue.
Obi-Wan had waited several moments before following Padmé. Perhaps he had needed the time to regain his composure. Perhaps she had upset him again when she had only meant to make things right. How do you repair a friendship fractured by distrust?
From the corner of her eye, Padmé watched as Obi-Wan fixed his regard on the planet. His sharp gaze reminded her of ... a shadow slayer. His features hardened, almost imperceptibly.
He knew this place.
"Anakin?" Padmé shifted in her seat. "What's the name of this planet again?"
Without turning, Anakin replied, "Melida/Daan."
A glance at Obi-Wan revealed him to be unmoving. Maybe he wasn't even listening. She said, "Were you ever sent here on a mission?"
"No."
The ship quivered as atmosphere wrapped around it. Padmé frowned. "Didn't the computer files mention something about it being torn apart by civil war?"
"That was well before my time," Anakin replied as he banked the yacht left, heading for the northern hemisphere. "It said there hadn't been any open conflict here in over seventeen years. Why?"
Seventeen years. Obi-Wan would have been a padawan then, a few years younger than Anakin was now. Padmé peered at the landscape as it became more defined. Vast tracts of rocky hills.
"Padmé?" Anakin said.
"Hm? No reason. I was just wondering why Dooku would have chosen such a peaceful place, so far from current hostilities, for his command center."
Glancing askance, Padmé saw Obi-Wan's eyes narrow. He sat up straighter. Over Artoo's sudden beeping, he said, "We have company."
"I see it," Anakin said.
Padmé peered at the forward sensor and the twin blips arrowing toward them. "Friendlies?" As she spoke, the blips separated.
"I don't think so," Anakin replied. "Shields to max."
Taking a breath, Padmé settled at her controls and re-routed all available power to shielding, suddenly ruing that they were flying weaponless. She stole a glimpse at Obi-Wan. Except for the fact that his restraint belts were in place, he now appeared ... relaxed. Anakin, on the other hand, looked flushed, intense. A smile played with the corner of his mouth. Padmé strapped in, yanking the belt as tight as it would go.
Two starfighters flashed by, one on either side. Rear sensors showed the ships circling around to approach from behind. Padmé adjusted the shields, double aft.
The first hit jolted the ship left. As Anakin leveled it out, Obi-Wan said in a mild tone, "I think they mean business."
"They haven't even tried to communicate," Padmé said, glancing at the dark comm panel.
"You know what Jar-Jar would say." Anakin winked at her. "How rude."
Another laser found its mark, making the yacht shudder.
"Pay attention to your piloting, Padawan."
Anakin grinned. "Yes, Master." He pulled the yoke and dove for the surface.
The fighters followed. Padmé gripped the chair's armrests as Anakin worked to evade the attack, juking the controls about in a random pattern. Red beams streaked by the ship. Two more found their mark.
Padmé said, "Shields are down forty-five percent."
Anakin jerked the ship right. "Re-route all extra power." And up.
"Already done."
"Okay." Anakin's voice went suddenly calm. "Then hang on."
Padmé's eyes grew wide as Anakin veered right and down, straight toward a cliff face. A cleft appeared. Anakin stood the ship on its wing and shot into the narrow chasm. One of the blips disappeared. The gap widened and Anakin leveled out. Rock flashed by, impossibly close. The ship dipped under a natural stone arch. Banked left, then right. A pillar loomed ahead. Anakin laughed as he steered around it going - Padmé glanced at the power levels - almost full throttle.
"Just like the canyons on Coruscant," Anakin said.
"Without the power couplings," Obi-Wan commented.
The blip on the rear sensor remained. Several more hairpin turns and the canyon opened to a broad valley. A double salvo rocked the ship. Anakin's knuckles turned white on the yoke, his countenance now grim.
"The starboard shield is down," Padmé said, worry creeping into her voice.
Another hit. The yacht shook and began pulling right.
"I don't think I can hold it." Anakin spoke through gritted teeth.
"You are not allowed to crash, Padawan."
"Yes ... Master."
Padmé bit back a cry as the ground rushed up to meet them.
Obi-Wan bit back a groan and opened his eyes. His head pulsed in time to the emergency lighting blinking overhead. He squinted past the pain and peered at the viewscreen, covered by a spray of dirt and uprooted shrubbery.
He shifted his attention to his padawan, slumped over the controls. Anakin's Force signature was vibrant, as always. When Obi-Wan nudged him through the Force, Anakin stirred and whispered, "Padmé?" Again, louder. Padmé moaned. Her eyes fluttered open. The young couple reached across the console toward each other. Their fingers intertwined. Only then did Anakin turn.
"Master? Are you all right?"
"Fine. And you?"
"My ribs feel bruised."
The yoke. Obi-Wan nodded and studied the transparisteel for damage. "We were expected."
"I don't know what makes you think that." Anakin unstrapped and helped Padmé to her feet. "This seems to have become the standard greeting Jedi receive upon arrival on a new planet."
"Hardly, my young padawan." Obi-Wan released himself from his restraints and pushed to his feet. He rubbed his neck, trying to ease the knot of tension. "Get Artoo to run a full diagnostics report, structural and mechanical."
"I'm aware of what I need to do, Master."
Obi-Wan started to speak, then stopped. Anakin was a good pilot. He did know what to do. "Good. See to it. I'll check on the whereabouts of our escort and see what this crash looks like from the outside."
Sounding indignant, Anakin said, "I didn't crash, Master."
Obi-Wan gave his padawan a dubious look.
"It was an emergency landing, that's all."
Padmé hit Anakin on the arm. Obi-Wan snorted quietly and headed for the landing ramp. It protested as it opened, a shrill grinding sound that caused the pain in Obi-Wan's head to spike. He winced and switched the controls. The ramp hovered mid-air. He strode off the end and dropped the meter to the ground. Agony bolted through his skull, then subsided. He took a deep breath and scanned the area.
The ship had cut a deep furrow into the earth, and now lay with the front third buried by debris. Other than dents and scratches, Obi-Wan couldn't see any exposed damage. He climbed onto the ship's hull to get a better look around. His padawan had landed on a narrow strip of green bordered by fields of boulders. A good pilot, indeed.
Off to the left, black smoke spiraled up from behind a starfighter-sized slab of granite. Obi-Wan slid off the fuselage, pushed through thick undergrowth, then scrambled over rocks and between massive boulders. He paused when the wrecked fighter came into view, and glanced back at the yacht. The fighter must have been traveling too close. Debris from their impact must have blinded him.
Obi-Wan advanced toward the crumpled ship, suddenly reluctant. The canopy was torn away, and the pilot lay half out of the cockpit, arms dangling as if he were reaching for help. Obi-Wan felt for a pulse. Nothing. He stared at the back of the cracked helmet for a moment, then gingerly lifted the pilot's head and peered under the visor.
He didn't recognize the man. Relief whooshed out of him as he let go of a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He gently released the dead pilot and sat on the nearest boulder, willing the tremor in his hands to cease. Not Nield. Not anyone he knew from his time on Melida/Daan. He wiped his mouth and beard, and berated himself for reacting so foolishly. Insects buzzed as he centered himself in the Force.
When a tentative calm reasserted itself, Obi-Wan headed back to the ship. Anakin met him at the head of the landing ramp. "What took you so long, Master?"
"Our second escort crashed when we went down. I went to check on him." Obi-Wan peered at the horizon. "He didn't survive."
"Too bad. It would be nice to know if Count Dooku had sent him, or if he was local."
"Dooku, I think." The style of flightsuit didn't match his memories.
Anakin nodded. "Diagnostics indicate we should be able to fly. The underbelly collapsed a few millimeters, so the landing gear is useless, but there are no stress fractures. The right stabilizer is damaged. I was just going to see what I could do with it. Do you ... want to give me a hand?"
Obi-Wan blinked and focused on his padawan. He felt as if he were viewing him from a great distance - from twenty-two years ago. He needed some time alone. "I trust you to make the repairs, Anakin. I'll be in my cabin."
Surprise flickered across Anakin's features, quickly replaced by a smile. "I'll let you know as soon as we're good to go."
With a nod, Obi-Wan retreated to his cabin. Two hours later, a knock jolted him from his mostly painful recollections. Though he had felt compelled to face the memories, he was glad for the interruption. Anakin informed him they were going to try lifting off. Obi-Wan made his way forward and took his seat behind his padawan.
The engines whined, building to a crescendo before the ship shuddered and began to rise. Padmé clapped; Anakin gave her a grin.
Staring at the darkness beyond the viewscreen, Obi-Wan said, "How far are we from our target co-ordinates?"
"A little less than five thousand kilometers," Anakin replied.
"Stay low to the ground. Avoid population centers. And no running lights. Use the Force to navigate."
"Yes, Master."
Anakin smiled and edged the power upwards until it registered three-quarters. They hurtled through the night, flying blind. Exultation rolled off Anakin in waves. Padmé gave Obi-Wan a concerned look. He shrugged. If Anakin made a mistake, they wouldn't have to worry about picking up the pieces - there'd be too few to bother with.
Obi-Wan considered pointing that fact out to Anakin, then decided against it, too weary to face a clash with Anakin right now, and unwilling to mar his padawan's luminescent joy. Let this be a test of Force control - and let Anakin pass it with ease. He closed his eyes and plunged into his much-needed center of calm, immersing himself in the Light.
A shadow hovered on the horizons of his mind. He gathered strength, preparing for the moment it would reveal itself.
"Ani, please slow down," Padmé whispered.
With a grin, Anakin said, "Don't worry. We're almost there."
"How can Obi-Wan remain so calm when you're trying to kill us all?"
"Ever calm, that's my master." Calm on the outside, at least. Anakin shrugged. "He's hiding inside the Force, Padmé. Shielding himself from my ... recklessness."
"Well, it's very inconsiderate of him to do so when I can't do likewise."
Anakin chuckled. "Trust me, Padmé. I'd never let you get hurt."
"I do trust you, Ani." Padmé sighed. "I'd just trust you more if you were going a little slower."
"Okay, since you put it that way, I'll slow down." Anakin toggled the power levels to half impulse, then to a quarter.
"We're here, aren't we?"
Anakin quirked one eyebrow and glanced at Padmé, noting her flashing eyes. "Yes."
"You are such a tease."
"The quickest wit in the galaxy," came the comment from behind Anakin.
"Only in a dozen or so systems, Master. Jedi shouldn't exaggerate, you know."
At Padmé's unladylike snort, Anakin smiled again. He set the ship down behind a ridge. They had raced through the night to meet the rising sun. It broke over the rocky crest in a blaze of gold. Squinting against the glare, Anakin twisted a dial, darkening the transparisteel, then turned to face Obi-Wan. "Shall we head out now, or do you need to rest, Master?"
Obi-Wan's eyebrow twitched. "I'm not the one who spent the journey in focused concentration."
"The Force energized me. Padmé? What about you?"
"I'm tired, but I'd rather go. I'm too keyed up to sleep."
"Anakin's flying does that to a person."
"It wasn't Anakin's flying," retorted Padmé. "It was your orders. Fly low. No running lights." She shuddered.
Anakin smirked at Padmé's defense of him, pride infusing his thoughts.
"Yes, his skills are quite remarkable under such circumstances." Obi-Wan stood abruptly. "But I did not specify a speed, Senator." He paced from the cockpit.
Another rebuke wrapped in praise. Anakin hammered his armrest. He jerked to his feet. Padmé rose and blocked his path, both hands radiating warmth where they pressed against his chest. Anakin lost himself in her compassionate umber gaze, then gathered her into his embrace and inhaled her sweet scent. He whispered, "I'd go crazy without you."
"You're so much stronger than you think, Ani."
"No, I'm not. You are my strength. I love you so much, Padmé."
They shared a gentle kiss. Padmé broke it off, and pressed her cheek against Anakin's chest as she hugged him.
"I love you, too, Ani."
Anakin glanced over her head to the open hatch. "He's a fool."
"Obi-Wan? He's your master. Why would you say such a thing?"
"If what you said about him and Master Unduli is true, he could have what we have. But he's too ... blinded by the Code. Too rigid. It's a wonder he defied Master Yoda to take me as his padawan. But even that was only because he felt bound by his promise to Qui-Gon."
"He was motivated by love."
"Not love of me. Until Qui-Gon died, I was just a pathetic lifeform -"
"Ani! Obi-Wan would never call you that."
"He did. Just before Qui-Gon came and took me from my mother. Jar-Jar slipped and told me about it." Anakin pulled Padmé closer. "He had no idea ... about my life as a slave, about me, my dreams. I was just an inconvenience. He had it so easy, growing up as Qui-Gon's padawan. He never faced what I faced, never felt lost or alone ..."
"You can't know that."
"Please don't defend him." Anakin framed her face with his hands, one flesh, one metal. "I'm still an inconvenience to Obi-Wan. Especially when I don't do things his way." He glared at his robotic hand. "He wants a droid, not a padawan."
"Maybe we could give Threepio to him." Padmé's attempt to lighten his mood didn't even draw a twitch of a smile. She cupped her hand over Anakin's prosthetic. "You'll never be an inconvenience in my eyes."
"Just that little boy from Tatooine."
"I can't even see him any more, Ani. I see the man he has become. A man I love terribly."
Anakin bent his head down so his breath whispered across her lips. "Actually ... I think you're very good at it."
He claimed her lips in a slow dance that pulled him into a vortex of passion, fed by her warm response. She stepped back, leaving him gasping for air. Cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming, Padmé shook her head when Anakin stepped toward her. "Obi-Wan's waiting."
"Space Obi-Wan."
"Anakin! So is Count Dooku, if we haven't delayed too long already." She retreated to the hatch, one hand resting on her blaster's holster, and cast Anakin a winsome smile. "Coming?"
Anakin rolled his eyes. "Artoo, lock down the ship. Don't let anyone onboard except the three of us." He reached for his cloak, then decided against wearing it, and headed after Padmé, his lightsaber thumping against his thigh. He caught up to her at the base of the ramp.
"Where is he?"
Padmé pointed at the ridge, where Obi-Wan crouched beside a rock the same size as he. Like Anakin, he had left his cloak on the ship. He didn't move as they approached and knelt beside him.
Anakin gave a cursory glance to the shattered city in the valley, then returned his regard to Obi-Wan. Subtle emotions flitted over his master's face, but never landed, signs of turmoil an untrained eye would never see. Ten years had taught Anakin what to look for. Even then, he was rarely certain of what lay beneath Obi-Wan's serene exterior. Except when he was being lectured.
At this moment, Obi-Wan's poise seemed as fragile as the broken city at which he stared. It puzzled Anakin, and, he realized, unsettled him.
"What is this place?"
Padmé's question drew Anakin's regard back to the ruins. Crumbling outer walls, barely a building intact. Walls and half walls jutting up like the decaying ribs of a kryat dragon's skeleton.
Anakin wrinkled his brow in thought. "I'm pretty sure the co-ordinates matched those of Melida/Daan's former capital."
"Zehava," Obi-Wan whispered. Even in the warm morning light, his face looked pale.
Anakin opened his mouth, snapping it shut when Padmé's fingers clamped on his arm. He scowled at her motion for silence, but held his tongue. They turned their attention to Obi-Wan.
When he finally continued speaking, it was in a soft, trance-like tone. "They fought over this city for centuries, the Melida and the Daan. Control alternated back and forth, wiping out entire generations, fueling the dispute with martyrs. Then the Young rose up. Youths from both sides who just wanted the killing to stop ..." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, whispered a barely audible, "Oh, Cerasi," then fell silent for several minutes. He opened his eyes and said, "The Young defeated both the Melida and the Daan. With the help of ... the Jedi ... they negotiated a lasting peace." Obi-Wan stood abruptly and crossed his arms. "Except it didn't last. Five years later - seventeen years ago - a short, vicious war reduced the city to rubble. All sides agreed to abandon Zehava and start afresh. The new capital lies 500 kilometers to the southwest."
Anakin rose and held out his hand to pull Padmé to her feet. He didn't release her hand, but caressed her thumb with his own. "How are we supposed to locate Dooku's lair in that wasteland?"
"It won't be hard," Obi-Wan replied. "I know exactly where it is."
Padmé tilted her head, not looking half as surprised as Anakin felt. He narrowed his gaze, his tone dubious." And where would that be?"
"Very near the city center. The Hall of Evidence on Glory Street."
Anakin heard the surety in Obi-Wan's voice. It was annoying. But it felt right, which was even more irritating. He cleared his brow and quashed his annoyance. Obviously, Obi-Wan had studied the available background information more thoroughly than he had, though he was certain he had perused everything the scant databanks on the ship had to offer.
There was something about Obi-Wan's reaction to this place that was vaguely disturbing. Anakin couldn't quite target what it was. "Master?" When Obi-Wan met Anakin's gaze, he asked, "Who was Cerasi? A Jedi that was killed here?"
Obi-Wan's grey-blue eyes clouded over. He turned away without answering.
The shadow haunted Obi-Wan's steps. He knew its name now, could taste its bitter gall. It was Betrayal and it cloaked this place in a suffocating shroud. I left this behind. I moved past it. The putrid stench of bitter memories rose up to clog Obi-Wan's senses and cloud his mind.
Obi-Wan stood atop a pile of stones that had once been part of Zehava's nearly impenetrable defenses. He studied the rubble-strewn street before him - and he knew. Dooku had chosen this site to taunt him with the memory of his betrayal.
His betrayal of the Jedi. His betrayal of Qui-Gon.
Needing air, Obi-Wan inhaled deeply. Ashes mixed with oxygen. He dropped his gaze to the charred rock at his feet and nudged it with one boot. Yes, he knew with absolute certainty that Dooku had chosen Melida/Daan because of him. What he didn't know was how Dooku had known he would join the hunt.
Anakin and Padmé pulled themselves up to stand beside Obi-Wan. Padmé wiped black hands on her blue flightsuit, leaving mournful streaks. Obi-Wan glanced up from them, arrested by her concerned expression.
"You were the Jedi who brokered that peace, weren't you?"
"No." Obi-Wan felt his face harden. He looked away, to the partially collapsed tower behind Padmé. "Qui-Gon did."
He leaped from the rock pile and strode down the street. He heard Padmé's running steps, followed by Anakin's heavier ones. They caught up to him, matched his pace and flanked him, like guards leading him to an interrogation.
"But you were Qui-Gon's padawan," Padmé said.
"That's right," Anakin added. "You told me that you became his padawan just after you turned thirteen. And all this happened seventeen years ago. So five years before that, when peace was first achieved, you were already-"
"I'm capable of doing the math, Padawan." Obi-Wan kept his gaze forward.
"But you had to have -"
Halting, Obi-Wan glared at Anakin. "Had to what? Had to have been at my master's side? Blindly-devoted, unquestioning, unthinking, unbending Jedi that I was and am? Where else could I have possibly been? Isn't that right, my padawan learner?" He folded his arms to stop them from shaking. "Let me tell you this, young one: honor is a choice. Obedience is a path we choose. And so is disobedience. Each path has its own price." He glanced at Padmé. "Possibly its own reward, but always its own burden."
Obi-Wan took three steps before Anakin grabbed his upper arm and swung him around. He shot an irritated glance at the offending hand; Anakin released his grip, looking suddenly contrite. A look that lasted only seconds. Belligerence entered the padawan's voice. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"None of us are free, Anakin. Our only freedom is in choosing our form of slavery. We can be slaves to our integrity and ideals, or we can be slaves to our baser natures, our passions. Once one is chosen, changing allegiance comes at a terrible price."
Obi-Wan marched away, looking neither right not left, aware of Zehava's corpse all around him, reminding him of his past choices. His wrong choices. He reached for the Force, but it grazed his senses and slipped away.
Anakin shouted, "The galaxy isn't black and white, Obi-Wan! It's full of shades of grey."
Without slowing or raising his voice, Obi-Wan said, "Look around you, Padawan. This is what darkness has wrought. Look upon this destruction and tell me there is no Dark Side. Tell me you would rather stumble around, lost in the grey shadowlands that give way to darkness, than to serve the Light. Grey is a terrible place to be, young one. It is a lonely, perilous precipice where a single misstep can plunge you to ruin."
Padmé half ran to keep up with Anakin's long strides. She grasped his hand and held tight, her eyes on Obi-Wan's rigid back.
"I never said there was no Dark Side. Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" Anakin whispered harshly.
"I'm not sure, but I think he's talking about himself." Except for that comment about rewards. That had been aimed at her. Obi-Wan had made it clear which path he thought Anakin trod upon when it came to her.
She caught Anakin's doubtful look and sighed. "Please leave it be, Ani. Give him some space and let him deal with his ghosts."
"Ghosts?"
She nodded. "He was here, all those years ago. Whatever happened hurt Obi-Wan very deeply. Can't you see it? In the way he's walking, the way he's talking. It's like the wound has re-opened and the ghosts hovering around him are prodding it."
"Are you sure you aren't Force sensitive?"
Padmé snorted. "Years of political wrangling teach you to read other beings - how successful you are in doing so determines how long you survive in the arena. Jedi are adept at hiding their feelings. That I can read Obi-Wan at all just confirms the depth of his pain."
"You must be very good at your job."
"I am."
Anakin chuckled and squeezed her hand. Padmé knew she should be irked that Anakin was ignoring the fact his master was troubled, but his obvious pleasure in her was ... a refreshing balm. She smiled up at him and was rewarded with dancing eyes. As they walked, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Ahead, Obi-Wan disappeared around a corner. Padmé glanced around. The hush of this ... graveyard ... became acute. Cold. Anakin's warmth radiated through their linked hands, repelling Padmé's sudden unease.
The silence was broken by the ricocheting whine of laser fire.
