Chapter Eleven
The lower levels of Galactic City were no place for someone to walk alone, least of all a lady. Obi-Wan worried not only for Padmé's arrival to the Senate and what would happen when she confronted Vader, but he worried about her perilous journey there as well.
In his days at the Temple, the thousandth block was swarming with pleasure workers and citizens wandering in and out of countless clubs and antigrav bars -- all looking for a good time. Coruscant security had a helluva time keeping the peace down here back then. But now, it seemed to Obi-Wan things were much worse.
He could see no public officials anywhere.
Drunken orgies and brawls were occurring right out on the street. Obi-Wan stepped over an unconscious being lying in a pool of his own vomit, a testament to how deplorable Coruscant society had become.
Hands that clawed at him as he passed were effortlessly shoved away with a slight use of the Force, although the Jedi Master maintained his concentration on following the distinctive signature of the young senator he was trailing.
Which was why he didn't sense the blaster bolt that struck his shoulder from behind until it was too late.
The intoxicated crowd immediately panicked as Obi-Wan stumbled into the nearest bar, hissing in pain as he dove into his pack to retrieve his lightsaber. However, as his hand gripped the hilt, he changed his mind. He couldn't go swinging his 'saber around. It would be obvious he was a Jedi, and not for the first time in his life, would that be a bad thing.
If that happened, instead of one predator aiming at him, it could literally be hundreds -- regular Coruscant citizens trying their best to collect on a bounty which would guarantee a better life, or at least a steady high for a few tens.
Which was what his attacker was obviously trying to do. Or maybe Obi-Wan was a victim of mistaken identity, possibly having been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
To test his theory, the Jedi poked his head around the corner of the bar's entrance where he had taken shelter, barely missing a second bolt that screamed past his head, scarring the neon-lit doorframe on the opposite side.
Nope. He was definitely the target.
As a result of the attack, beings scattered to the rear of the club and Obi-Wan quickly made his way through them, shoving past their sweating bodies, not paying any attention to their complaints, their curses, or their threats. He emerged from the rear entrance and into the alley and switched clothes with a man who was passed out near a disposal bin. The stench of his new attire was overwhelming and reeked of bodily fluids, but it included a cloak, the tattered hood, which Obi-Wan pulled up over his head in order to conceal his appearance.
Whoever was firing at him knew who he was, or at least knew he was a Jedi.
Carefully, Obi-Wan made his way down the damp, dirty alleyway and peered out into the street. Countless beings still flowed away from the source of chaos, a single individual hovering several feet above street level, the jetpack strapped to his battle armored torso providing the ability to defy gravity.
In the attacker's hands was an EE-3 blaster rifle complete with flamethrower. But what Obi-Wan was more concerned with was what he held in the other. A thermal detonator was flung through the doorway where Obi-Wan had disappeared and all hell broke loose.
He took advantage of the panicked crowd to maneuver his way away from the club, ticking off the seconds in his mind. He blended in as best he could, keeping his face hidden beneath the shroud until the blast from the grenade blew fire and debris out into the street, and the press of flung bodies struck him from behind, knocking him to the ground, the hood of his disguise falling away from his face. On impact with the street, the backpack fell open and his lightsaber came tumbling through the opening, clattering against the pavement in full view of those sprawled about him.
Slowly, the uninjured rose to their feet, staring through the dust and smoke at the rare and shining weapon.
"Jedi!" He heard someone scream and then groaned as another blaster bolt struck near his body.
Rolling and grabbing his lightsaber at the same time, Obi-Wan sloughed off the robe and ignited the laser sword, deflecting the next two bolts aimed at him from the bounty hunter who flew his direction.
By then, Obi-Wan saw the hungry gaze of the crowd gathered about him, and noticed how they had begun to press forward obviously to get a better look at him. Obi-Wan felt like a piece of meat flung before a starving tusk-cat and backed away a step at a time until he came in contact with the cold, unyielding wall of a building.
He couldn't harm the citizens of Coruscant, no matter how badly they wished for his death. They were innocent, forced into their despicable predicaments by a bloodthirsty and tyrannical ruler. He wouldn't harm an innocent.
"He's mine." A gruff voice spoke from behind the crowd, which hesitantly parted to allow passage of the armored man who had initiated the attack. Obi-Wan recognized the armor as Mandalorian and had a sinking feeling that this was a Fett - an heir to one of the most ruthless bounty hunters in the Galaxy. "Stand back!" The command was authoritative, but the crowd was slow to disperse, each being obviously regretting the loss of their chance for a better life.
Obi-Wan weighed his options, which were decreasing by the second, sensing the follow-up attack a few milliseconds before it occurred. Only, this time, the shots being fired were aimed at the bounty hunter, and were a direct hit.
The armor clanked with a sickening thud as Fett's body hit the ground and slumped at the feet of the onlookers.
To Obi-Wan's surprise, Morah Vrax, leader of The Erased stepped forward from the shadows of the nearby building, her own EE-3 blaster held ready. She carefully stole up to his side, keeping her focus upon the uneasy beings once more gathering their courage.
"You take the right, I'll take the left."
"We can't attack innocent civilians!" Obi-Wan hissed back, although he held his lightsaber in a protective manner.
"Oh yeah, that's right. Jedi don't attack people trying to kill them. I forgot."
Her cynicism was laced with humor, and Obi-Wan smirked a half smile despite the gravity of their situation. Morah was indeed an interesting woman. He would've liked to have gotten to know her better.
"Then go. I'll cover you as long as I can."
"But…." Obi-Wan began to argue. She was outnumbered at least two-hundred to one.
"Run!" Her yelled command was punctuated by the firing of her weapon as two observers drew vibroshivs and rushed forward.
To Obi-Wan's dismay, he had no choice but to leave. Aided by the Force, he ran behind the building he had been leaning against and then leapt up onto the top of a tall wall. A glance behind him revealed the brave leader's struggle to keep the mob at bay, but her valiant efforts were soon in vain as she was overtaken by sheer number.
With a cringe of regret, Obi-Wan breathed a quick prayer to the Force to aid in her passing, and then allowed himself to drop off the wall to the relative safety on the other side.