The Compromise
Anakin ducked under the swipe of a blue saber and raised his own to slice upwards, his stance a classic Ataru evasion-attack. He enjoyed the weightlessness of the Ataru, the acrobatics that allowed gravity to be suspended and the absolute power he felt, the sheer velocity he could reach when he did aerial attacks. It was his favored form, one that Obi-Wan often indulged in considering it had been his first form as well. As a common padawan trait, many would change their first chosen form of fighting to find one that suited them more.
Ferus Olin, the padawan who faced Anakin was a childhood rival that neither of the young men ever seemed to grow out of. Obi-Wan watched their fight progress, slash, slash cut block push yank – Anakin performed a butterfly spin to cut across to Ferus' weak point but was met with an abrupt obstacle, the downward block of Ferus' saber. Despite Anakin's likeness to the Ataru style, and how well it suited him, Obi-Wan hoped in a small corner of his mind that he would change it eventually. He never told Anakin that one of the most formidable masters of the Ataru had been Darth Maul.
Obi-Wan looked over at Siri, who had asked for the sparring match of his padawan versus her own, and wondered. She had yet to speak to him.
She caught his eye and looked back at the fight pointedly. Obi-Wan held back a sigh at her abrupt manner, a constant from her, but allowed her to dismiss him easily. He would not pick a fight with her. She knew he believed what Master Adi Gallia had said and would likely confront him about it.
He wasn't looking forward to it – it would turn from a disagreement with the Council into a debate about morals. Obi-Wan couldn't let go of the feeling of wrongness that emanated from the Act. Perhaps not such a bad idea entirely, Obi-Wan could see the advantages of watching over the Senate where the Force was clouded and hazy. It would probably mean sniffing out those aligned with the Separists, perhaps even finding out what it was that clouded the Force. It would mean finding out who had deceit hidden like a dagger in a cloak beneath the thin vinyl of republic talk. It could mean less death. It could end a war, and prevent any more.
Obi-Wan could see the good in it, but he could not condone what it would mean and what would have to happen for it to take place. It would mean peering into the lives of Senators, telling them that they were around for their protection when it really wasn't the case. It was the Council interposing themselves in a way that was not docilely neutral – it would be biased, and quite aggressively so.
Anakin spun then flipped from Olin, catching him off guard when he went low, swiped upwards and used his elbow to jab him sharply in the ribs then Olin's shoulder. The quickness and the force behind the jabs sent Olin backwards and landing on the floor with a rough thump. His light saber rolled from him and Anakin's foot came down on the disengaged weapon. He grinned down at Olin.
Obi-Wan felt some mild pride followed by irritation while Anakin continued to gloat, and then felt another's irritation. It was Siri, looking from her padawan to Anakin with a fierce twist of her lips. Anakin could be overbearing with his gloating, the swell of victory had yet to be reigned in when he cleared his throat and declared Anakin the winner.
Olin rolled to his feet and scowled at Anakin, who scooped the light saber up with the toe of his boot and tossed it back at Olin. He grinned and Olin ignited his saber once more. Siri's came out clipped and commanding, "On my word." Anakin slid into an offensive position and Olin did the same. Obi-Wan watched with some amount of resignation. Anakin never went into evasion or defense, always offense. "Begin!" she barked out.
The sabers hissed, clashing, lights sparking the dimming room of the sparring area. Obi-Wan looked to Siri once more, noting her stiffening posture. "After our padawans have sufficiently tired themselves out," she began when Olin shouted – Anakin had gotten low to the floor and struck at his shin with a heavy leg sweep – "I would like you to join me in the Dining Hall." Obi-Wan tilted his head, acquiescing to her, but not looking forward to the inevitable conflict. Her righteousness, attractive in its own right, also had the ability to weary his very bones.
Olin sliced at Anakin's torso, but was rewarded with an elaborate flip and Anakin kneeing Olin in the shoulder as he did it.
Anakin grinned widely after he landed and Obi-Wan felt annoyance nibble at him. His padawan could do with a few pegs knocked completely off, on that, Siri and he could agree.
Siri always made for pleasant conversation, but she was also always confrontational. Rather than beating around a bush politely as Obi-Wan might have started off such a conversation, Siri charged in through the thick of it like a horned bovine, stamping and prepared for a fight. It was likely a trait she had garnered from her former Master.
Within the pleasant air of the Dining Hall where there was talking, there was discussion and peace, Siri placed a tray of bread and fruit down. Obi-Wan himself had chosen a poultry entrée with lentils and vegetables.
As she sat across him, peeling her fruit and sectioning it out, Obi-Wan picked at his poultry – he had taken several breast slices, swollen with stuffing and golden, though the entire body of the roasted creature had been on display and it seemed to have had three sets of wings. He had no idea what sort of bird had three sets of wings. It caused him to pause and consider his chosen dish.
"Do you remember the philosophy class we took together? Do you remember the guest speaker that Master Tu'we brought from Alderaan?" she asked suddenly, ripping her bread with her fingers. Obi-Wan stopped his scrutiny of his lunch.
"Not…quite," he admitted. The philosophy class always had something to be taken from it, all sorts of knowledge and different perspectives it allowed. It had been a favorite of his.
"The guest speaker's name had been Yoru Felhades and he had served two terms as a Senator, and once as a Governor. I remembered him because of the way he had explained politics. It wasn't like a Jedi fight – no cheating and complete honesty. It was trickery and bribery. He himself admitted that he had had to make several underhanded deals in his time. He said that politicians were like the difference between a coral snake and a milk snake – one color apart. Do you remember that?" Siri pressed. Obi-Wan felt her stare burn into his head. He had yet to look up.
"A little I suppose. I thought he had sounded too cocksure myself, so I don't recall paying special attention." Obi-Wan knew without looking up that Siri's lips were twisted with displeasure at his consensus.
"The Act is the right path. The Council knows this. Every other Knight and Master except for you and Adi Gallia know this. Why?" Siri had apparently decided to forego any other attempts at circling the point.
Obi-Wan noticed the lack of the term 'Master' before her former mentor's name. He chose not to comment before he, as gently as he possibly could, gave her his point of view on the whole mess. "The Act has good intentions," he began slowly, taking a bite of his lunch, "But it lacks some amount of…propriety to it."
Siri frowned, chewing on a small cluster of bread. "This is war. Propriety has been shoved out the window Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan held himself back from sighing and hanging his head. It would only provoke her. "The Act wishes to ensure the future safety of the galaxy and its people by sniffing out fraudulence and spies within the Senate."
Siri nodded, "The Council believes that the darkness shrouding the Senate could be caused by a Sith, and that perhaps that is who the Separists allied themselves with."
"Exactly, but I believe that a more passive approach would have been best. Posting Jedi guards at every doorstep will not encourage our enemy into the light, but will probably drive them into hiding. Beyond that…it's wrong. All that must go with the Act goes against our code and our beliefs – we will be spies on the Senate for our Council. It's an invasion of privacy the Senators will never forgive or forget. We may lose the very people we seek protect in this process." Obi-Wan looked up from his lunch to see Siri staring at him, frowning with her eyes narrowed.
"Adi Gallia said the exact same thing. If these Senators do mean the best for the galaxy, a small sacrifice on their part won't do their hearts much damage. They would be saving lives – unless of course they have something to hide."
The tone was not acidic, but there was no disguising the tense atmosphere that followed its wake.
Obi-Wan bravely broke it after several uncomfortable moments. "Have you told your padawan?"
Siri nodded, "I informed him after the meeting." The mood was superficial lifted, bitter undercurrents lingered.
"Is it necessary that they be made aware of it?" he prayed not. Good Jedi padawan or not, Anakin would be bristling with rage if he heard that someone was going to spy on Amidala. He would rather not be the one to break the news to him.
"It's only right that the Knights being sent off to watch over the Senate take their padawans." Siri said simply, biting into a particularly sour, bright fruit. Its small black and orange seeds bulged out from its thin white skin. "There's too many padawans to simply leave in the temple while their Masters are away."
Obi-Wan looked contemplatively down at his roasted bird breast slices. It was a very serious expression to give a plate of food. He could feel the headache behind his eyes begin. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
As he continued with his lunch and his and Siri's conversation moved to less hostile territory, Obi-Wan thought of the best way to break the news to his padawan – and face the consequences of a probable temper tantrum.
Mace Windu pursed his lips at the message. It was from Chancellor Palpatine. He had requested that the Jedi Council meeting with the Senate be moved up. Though perhaps 'requested' was generous.
"He sounds displeased," Shaak Ti commented softly on his left. Mace breathed out from his nose slowly.
"Indeed."
"Incensed even," Shaak Ti came closer.
"Yes," he agreed.
"Somehow, someway, he knows something is happening," she concluded.
"I don't see how he would know, we haven't informed him of our decision yet," Kit Fisto commented.
"He will fight us on this," Plo Koon remarked, bothered by the message.
"Doubtlessly. He may even call a Senate meeting to discuss the matter before we have given our side," Mundi spoke.
"Ridiculous," returned Kit.
"But possible," Plo Koon murmured. "There are many things the Chancellor knows that he should not." A somber air blanketed the Council then.
"We should send word back to the Chancellor. In person. A simple holo will not appease his displeasure." Adi Gallia put in – she did not agree with the Act, but this was democracy and she was outnumbered.
"Agreed," Shaak Ti nodded. "A representative of the Council should go forth to relay our beliefs to the Chancellor as soon as possible."
"A representative? Only one?" Plo Koon asked, sounding chagrined.
"One," Shaak Ti pressed, looking to Mace and others. "If we send anymore, the Chancellor may feel outnumbered, or threatened."
"He will feel threatened once we tell him of our decision," Adi Gallia managed to not sound completely bitter.
"If we can glean anything off of him. The man is incredibly hard to read," Even Piell's comment was firm.
Shaak Ti turned to him. "That sounds something very close to distrust Master Piell." Her tone wasn't accusing, but questioning.
Piell shifted in his seat, "I don't make it a personal mission to trust all the politicians I come across, but the man strikes a disturbing chord in me. I am not sure what to make of him."
"May I propose a solution?" Mundi asked.
Mace, head still bowed forward in thought nodded, "You have the floor Master Mundi."
"Mayhap…we send a representative in the form of his new guards? Of his choosing? Someone he is comfortable dealing with." His words were slow, cautious and bordering on tentative.
Mace's brows lifted in understanding. "A friend?"
"Not necessarily. Someone who just doesn't raise his hackles." Mundi seemed to look pointedly at Mace.
Mace didn't bother denying what was true. "Who?"
"Perhaps we should ask the Chancellor ourselves first. We still need him to agree to this first and foremost. We don't want to barge in on him unexpectedly, this isn't a police state." Shaak Ti advised, looking to the holoprojector again.
Mace nodded his agreement. "Master Yoda?"
The small, diminutive green creature in Jedi robes had been silent through the whole procession. "Be done what must."
"All in favor?"
Agreements were heard, Adi Gallia's was the last. Surprisingly, Shaak Ti had hesitated as well. Her hesitation hadn't gone unseen, but wasn't commented on.
The meeting was adjourned.
Chancellor Palpatine sat back in his wide backed chair and tapped his fingers on his desk. Hacking into the Jedi Temple's secure lines and gaining what he could about their secret meeting hadn't been difficult. Tell anyone it was in the name of liberty and they would hand over their liver, raw and still warm. He stared down at the data chip that contained all of their trespasses against the Republic. Hypocrites, all of them. Saying absolute power was for the corrupt, that democracy had to be kept and now what were they doing? Laying in the tall grass, concealed like a coiled serpent – the Jedi, protectors of the galaxy and of peace, what a joke.
Palpatine hadn't anticipated that they would have gone so far in their pursuit for peace that they would turn so easily on the Senate. It was an obstacle he hadn't developed an avoidance or combatant for. He glared at the chip, wrath curling in his chest as if a small animal had made a nest where his heart might have gone.
A knock came at his door. Palpatine glared at the door, then sensed Murrandur – his secretary. "Come in," he called. The Felcatian sauntered in and probably could smell the displeasure in the room. She made no comment on it and offered no expression.
Her green eyes caught his and she gave a polite head tilt, "Chancellor the Jedi have made contact. They wish to speak to you." Tawny hair fell to frame her face.
Chancellor Palpatine could have snarled but he refrained from it. He looked over at Murrandur, "What have they to say?"
"They would not tell me, though I insisted I be made aware of it so that I may patch it to you should it have been an emergency." The way she rolled her 'r's gave away that she was irritated with their probably high handed manner. She'd tried, and Palpatine knew her too well to have given up without a fight. She was loyal and cunning. He held these things in high regard. She never questioned him, or dug too deep.
"I trust you told them that I may or may not answer," he replied.
"Of course. They have no control over the Chancellor's meetings, which reminds me that you have a meeting in half an hour with an ambassador that shouldn't be delayed."
He was silent for a brief second, "How did the Jedi sound Murrandur?"
"Anxious."
He smiled, "Patch them through for me please, and you are excused for the day."
She didn't question it, merely bowed her head again and strode away.
Palpatine wove his fingers together and looked up at the transmission that flickered on. Mace Windu's dark countenance looked at him. He smiled thinly, conveying the appropriate amount of annoyance and polite etiquette.
"Master Windu, what can I do for you?"