Chapter Fourteen

Anakin felt the presence of someone else in the woods, but he didn't think anything about it, except that it would necessitate running without much assistance from the Force. Siri, running a few paces behind him, seemed to sense the same thing and come to the same conclusion. Their feet seemed to fall heavily on the forest floor.

It was difficult running like this, and although he was in good physical shape, Anakin found himself starting to break a sweat, and -- worse -- to feel the strain in his lungs. There was a maddening sense of abrasion in the passageways beneath his breastbone, and it distracted him more and more with every step. He felt as though he were breathing spun glass.

He supposed that he'd sensed that he was getting closer to the other person, but he didn't really notice -- pay attention to it -- until he was grabbed roughly by the upper arms and swept up off the ground.

His first response was simple surprise, which was lucky for his assailant. He had time to think What happened?, then he was looking down into a reddened human face, green eyes lit by mad rage, gray and black hair hanging in untidy clumps on the cheeks. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, revealing yellowing teeth.

"Put him down!" he heard Siri yell, then he was being shaken like a pod with its engine leads cut.

The instinct that rose up in the wake of surprise didn't come from the Jedi Temple and its pristine training rooms. It came from years of streetfighting in Mos Espa. He arched his back sharply and pistoned his legs forward, catching the man's breastbone and shoving him away. It broke his hold and Anakin fell a meter to the ground, landing hard on his backside and jarring his teeth. His left hand twisted, hurting the wrist, and his right landed in a puddle of cold and muddy water.

What happened next couldn't have taken more than a second, and probably took less, but Anakin felt it as a series of slow and discrete events. The forest became preternaturally silent and its colors surreal, then he felt himself folding inward, like a scarf forced down into a magician's fist, his power and his very identity seeming to become concentrated on a single point.

Then the fist he had tucked himself into tightened and rose up.

He pushed with the Force -- but he didn't feel like he was pushing, more like something else was pushing through him -- and the man flew backward toward a tree.

Time resumed its normal speed and Anakin saw that the man was almost literally flying, that he would certainly hit the tree hard, that it would… "Stop!" he yelled foolishly.

Then Siri was between the man and the tree, breaking his flight and veering them both away.

Anakin got up and scrambled over to them. "I'm sorry," he said, bending over the man, who was now prone on the ground, to check for injuries. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, you startled me jumping out like that, I -- "

He stopped. The man was looking up at him not with anger, hate, or even embarrassment, but with something approaching wordless awe. "Zio said you were powerful, but I didn't know what he meant."

"Obviously," Siri said. "Who are you?"

"Pojul Shapoi." He glanced at Siri, then his eyes came back to Anakin in a way that was both uncomfortable and shamefully gratifying. "Zio said he had to sneak up on you earlier -- hide himself -- because he sensed that you were so strong. He was right, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Anakin said sharply, not liking how arrogant it sounded, but at the same time not able to say anything else without its being a lie. "He was right. But he could have tried talking to me instead of hitting me."

Pojul Shapoi said nothing.

"Anakin," Siri said in a low, warning voice. "This is not the time to argue with Zio's father."

Shame covered Anakin like a sudden sandstorm. Shapoi might not even know his son was dead yet, and now he'd have to hear it from someone who'd just bragged and yelled at him.

Whether or not Pojul had any sensitivity to the Force, Anakin didn't know. He had not been trained to seek other sensitives yet. But he had obviously caught the tone of Siri's voice, and the change in Anakin's demeanor. His arms dropped to his sides, and his verging-on-elderly face became that of a child lost in the woods. "What happened in town?" he asked, but his voice said that he already knew, that a part of him had known since his son had been taken away.

But Anakin was spared from saying it by the sound of approaching footsteps. Anakin reached into the Force, sensed Obi-Wan, and sighed with relief.

You'll have to tell him what you did. If you don't, Siri or Shapoi's father will.

"Kit!" he called from the top of the hill. "Are you and Siri all right?"

"We're fine!" Siri called back.

A woman appeared at the top of the ridge behind Obi-Wan, about Pojul's age, and Anakin guessed that she was Shapoi's mother. As she came down the hill, breathing hard from overexertion, he could see the careworn lines of her face, and the stoop of her shoulders, as though she'd walked under a heavy burden.

He liked her right away -- she reminded him of Mom, and he didn't pretend to himself that it was anything else -- and went up the slope to help her down.

She drew her arm away when he reached for it, turning her shoulder up against him like a wall.

Anakin didn't know what to say -- of course, she must think what her husband thought -- so he just stood beside her on the slope, blinking stupidly.

She looked at him with bright, steady eyes, which suddenly softened. She reached out her hand and touched his face so gently that Anakin thought he might simply fall into her arms right now. "I am sorry," she said. "It has been difficult. But you did not deserve that, and I am sorry."

"'s okay," Anakin managed. "Are you all right, Madam Shapoi?"

"No. Not all right." She looked down the slope at her husband and held out her hand to him. He came to her. "Zio is dead," she said. "He didn't fight, and they killed him."

Pojul's face twisted and he muttered, "I told him he should fight. I told him, didn't I Daha?"

"Yes. But you know he couldn't have."

Pojul fought it very obviously, but nodded.

Daha Shapoi led them to the stream, and checked up the hill quickly. "We are too near them here. We should move to the shed. Come." She stepped into the cold water, seeming to find rocks that were close to the surface without needing to look. Pojul followed her, then Siri, then Obi-Wan. Anakin went last, and looked down. The stepping stones had been placed deliberately. He could see them from here in the middle of the stream, but would not have been visible to anyone passing by casually.

The Shapois led them further down a path that, like the stones, was only evident while it was being followed. It twisted twice, leading downstream and north, then a small clearing opened out. A wooden shed was built under the shelter of a rock wall. Daha and Pojul led them into it.

It was dimly lit and starkly furnished, but the scent of the wood changed and deepened with age after it was cut. For a moment, Anakin set aside all his other questions to wonder why all the buildings on Malkiri weren't made of this.

"It's not fire safe," Daha explained, as though she heard him. "We must be careful."

"Oh."

She smiled wearily. "Zio asked when he came here. Apparently, Coruscant lacks pleasant smells."

Pojul was pulling out crates to sit on, setting them around a large box in the center of the shed. He gestured toward them. "Please sit," he said. "We have much to discuss."

"What's really going on?" Siri asked, not taking her seat. To another observer, she would have looked cold and aloof. To Obi-Wan, she looked furious. Anakin reached up and touched her wrist in a gesture that seemed too tentative to actually come from Anakin Skywalker. Siri's fingertips patted Anakin's hand absently, and Obi-Wan watched her go through a relaxing routine, beginning in her shoulders.

Marvelous. Siri is taking lessons in control from Anakin. What has gone wrong here?

Daha and Pojul Shapoi simply watched her, wide-eyed.

"Your son made it clear that he didn't want this investigated too closely," Siri said. "I want to know why. We can bring justice for Zio, but not unless we know what really happened."

Pojul and Daha glanced at one another nervously. They obviously shared something they had kept quiet for some time. "Pojul," Daha said, "it's too late. Zio was wrong. He couldn't stop it."

Pojul frowned deeply and covered his eyes, then nodded. He put his hands back on the table and looked at Siri. "Please sit down," he said. "We will have to begin at the beginning, and it is a long story with a terrible ending. You should at least be comfortable for it."

Siri sat down, still looking as though she had misgivings, between Anakin and Daha.

Another look passed between Daha and Pojul, then Pojul spoke. "We were born here, both of us," he said. "We were raised with all the -- "

"Lies," Daha interrupted. "All the lies. We once believed them."

"I suppose 'lies' is as good a word as any. Though not all of them are precisely lies, are they?"

"Just points of view," Anakin whispered, and Obi-Wan felt a chill for no reason he could name.

Pojul nodded. "Exactly. And we both had many negative… points of view."

Daha picked up the thread. "Shortly before we were married, there had been talk of beginning a new colony, on some world further out in the Rim. We were young then. Adventurous." She smiled fondly. "We snuck away from our parents, married early, and set out on the ship. There were people from several worlds there."

"I bet Malkiri just loved that," Siri muttered.

Daha just shrugged. "Well, we don't travel much, I suppose."

"At any rate," Pojul said, "we never made it to the colony. We were attacked by a crew of pirates."

"My mom got taken into slavery by pirates," Anakin piped in, to Obi-Wan's surprise. "I hate them."

Obi-Wan started to say, You need to overcome your hatred, Anakin, but decided not to correct the boy in front of strangers.

"We're not fond of them ourselves," Daha said. "And they seemed to have the same intention for us that your mother's pirates had for her. Did you say you know your mother?"

Anakin nodded. "I… Yes. I knew her."

"Anakin is an unusual case," Obi-Wan said. "He only came to us a few years ago."

"Packs quite a punch," Pojul said with a half-hearted grin.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, who was looking steadily at the table and refusing to raise his eyes. "Yes," he said. "He has a great deal of power. What happened when the pirates came?"

"A team of Jedi rescued us. I don't remember their names. There was only one human in the group, a woman. The point was, they treated us kindly and respectfully, and brought us back to our homes. For their troubles, they were given the sort of hospitality you have seen already on Malkiri."

"Why is it like that?" Anakin asked.

"It has always been. Malkiri was founded by people fleeing the great war between the Jedi and the fallen Jedi. Sith, Zio called them. There was acrimony from the beginning." Pojul took Daha's hand and went on. "When Zio was born, we weren't thinking of the Jedi, only about our beautiful son. But there was an oddness to him. One day, Daha found him in his crib, holding one of his toys in the air far above his hands. We didn't know what to do. We called the Jedi to Malkiri. They came. They took Zio. And ever since, Daha and I have been highly suspect."

"I would imagine," Obi-Wan said. "What does this have to do with what happened when Zio came back?"

Another guarded look. Daha bit her lip. "This is… difficult."

Siri nodded. "We understand. But you must understand that the man who died today was not just your son, he was also a Jedi knight, and we also have an interest in bringing justice to him."

"Go on, Daha," Pojul said. "I can't."

She nodded. "We had become increasingly dissatisfied. We had spoken out against the monarchy. When they brought the Trade Federation here, we protested."

"It isn't that we have… opinions… about Neimoidians," Pojul cut in. "Since the business with the Jedi, we have been careful not to make such snap judgments --"

"And we are not judging you," Siri said, impatience starting to creep into her voice.

"Of course. I… Daha, let me tell it. I have to. This is on my head, in the end. Zio knew it. You should know it. And these Jedi should know it, especially the boy who I unfairly attacked. All of this is on my head."

"Pojul -- "

"I will tell it." Obstinately, Pojul fell silent for a moment, his eyes fluttering up and down the wooden wall, as though watching something that had been projected on it. He sighed. "It began with simply speaking out. Not against the Neimoidians, but against the Federation, and against the king for inviting them. I made enemies. But to my surprise, the mayor was not among them. I was invited to his home. He was gracious."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Daha asked, but her eyes were moving rapidly and her fingers were clenched tightly on the table. "The mayor only asked you to stop speaking."

Pojul covered his face with his hands, then looked up again. "That is where it started. But I refused. We began to talk. He seemed a reasonable enough man, though I disagreed with him. He invited me back again to continue the argument, or so he said. When I went back again, we ate together and spoke of other things. I told him about Zio." He made a deep keening sound in the back of his throat, an uncontrollable expression of grief that Obi-Wan wasn't even sure he was aware of. When it subsided, he spoke again. "I thought of him so often, thought of him, and how I hated this world that would never have accepted him. And how I missed him and wanted him with me! My son!" He squeezed his eyes shut, and Obi-Wan could feel him willing his grief under control.

Would I be able to do that, if I lost Anakin? Or he, if he lost his mother? What power and danger is in this bond!

"The mayor -- I suppose I should use his name, shouldn't I? After all of this, I can at least call him by his name. Fual Harkae. But his name doesn't matter, and he was not my friend."

"What happened, Sir?" Anakin asked with an unusual degree of respect, considering that the man had apparently attacked him when his back was turned.

"The strange thing is, I can't tell you. Not because I don't wish to, but because I don't remember. Harkae said that he knew people on Coruscant to whom I could speak about a hateful government. Calls were made. I remember… a shadow. A shadow only. I don't know how long I listened each time, or even how many times there were. But my anger kept growing. It was the fault of the king and all the Malkir line. I kept thinking that. They carried the poison here in the first place, and it was their fault. Harkae agreed with me."

Anakin's eyes widened. "You killed the king?"

Pojul covered his face again, and nodded miserably.

Daha stood, shoving herself away from the table. "And you let Zio go to prison for it?"

"No! I -- "

"He sat in that prison for weeks! He died keeping your secret! And you never told!"

"I didn't know!"

There was complete silence.

Siri broke it. "What do you mean, you didn't know?"

"I knew where his lightsaber was, and I knew that it had lost a charge. I knew that I had been out that morning, but… Oh, Maker, this sounds terrible."

"You killed a man and his children," Daha said. "Of course it sounds terrible."

"For weeks before Zio came to us, I had been having… blank spots. Confusion. I was losing things, and forgetting my way to places I had been many times."

Obi-Wan thought of the guard at the prison, after he and Zio had fed him too many conflicting mental suggestions. The human brain could only take so much pushing. And someone had been pushing Pojul Shapoi very hard. "Madam Shapoi," he asked, "it never occurred to me to ask at the Temple. How did Zio happen to find you? Surely you must know that it is not a regular practice for us to return to our birth parents."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably.

"I… he said as much. He said it was accidental." Daha crossed her arms and shivered, trying to process everything that was going on. Strangely, a smile flitted across her face. "He said, 'It was an accident, but let's say an accident I was trying to have. I knew I had come from Malkiri. I was researching the world, and someone contacted me upon seeing my name in a list of database visitors.' It seems someone asked him if happened to be the son of Pojul and Daha Shapoi, lovely people." She pressed her fingers to the space between her eyebrows. "He was curious. That's all."

"Did he say who the message was from?"

Daha shook her head. "He mentioned a name, but it was a common one. I'd heard it before, but never known anyone who bore it. I don't remember it, but I'd guess a search would turn up thousands, if not millions, anyway."

"So," Siri said to Pojul, "someone was fuelling your anger, and someone else drew Zio here to be framed. And what happened on the day the king died?"

"I still don't know. Zio and Daha went out to walk, as they did every day. I started thinking about politics, as I once did. Then there is a long blank. I didn't even realize it was blank. I assumed I'd been puttering about in my garden, or maybe taken a walk. But after Zio escaped -- "

"You found this out after he escaped?"

"Yes, Daha. You know I wouldn't have let him stay in jail if I had known the truth!"

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do."

She appeared to think about it, then she sank down listlessly into her chair. "Yes, I do."

Pojul went on. "Zio had been giving the matter a great deal of thought. He liked the coincidences less and less. And he had noticed something about my behavior that seemed strange. He… I can't explain what he did, but he asked me questions, one thing leading to another, until I was in the middle of the blank spot and remembering everything."

"It is a method known to Jedi healers," Obi-Wan said gently. "Zio must have been trained in it."

"Well, it worked. And I told him everything. And he wanted to go to the mayor's residence, and find out who we had talked to. I knew that the conversations at least took place once every month. Tonight would be one. Zio wanted to put listening devices on that comm array. But when he got there, he saw your boy, and had to get him out of harm's way."

"And make sure he could plausibly deny knowing about unauthorized espionage," Siri muttered. "Of course."

Pojul nodded. "He had stolen his lightsaber from the courthouse when he escaped -- they never released that information; it would have caused a panic on Malkiri to know there was an armed Jedi free."

"There were four," Anakin said.

"He told me he turned down the setting. He didn't want to hurt you, and I hope… "

"I've had worse."

"He brought you here. I built this place when I was just a boy, as an escape from the drudgery of town life. Daha and I came here when we were first courting, to get a feel for living rough."

"For the colony," Daha said.

"Yes." Pojul tried to put his arm around her, but she wouldn't allow it. "He left you in a clearing a few meters west of here. You could see it from the door, I'm sure. Somewhere you couldn't see the mayor's house, and no one there could see you."

"Okay."

It clearly wasn't okay, but Anakin was controlling himself. In fact, he seemed to be exerting far more control than Obi-Wan thought was warranted by the situation. Was he that angry?

"Once you were safe," Daha went on, "Zio came back here. He was determined to go on. Pojul said that the mayor's people would be back by then. Zio said it was now or wait until next month, and he thought that things were deteriorating too rapidly to wait. We argued. Pojul told him to fight if he had to; Zio said that fighting would only make things worse before he had any evidence. He went off."

"And got captured," Anakin almost whispered. "Because he was late."

Both of the Shapois were too busy telling the story to themselves to hear Anakin, but Obi-Wan heard. He put a hand on his padawan's arm and felt the boy relax, just a little.

"We couldn't stand waiting, so we followed," Daha said. "We saw the capture. I followed him into town. I told Pojul to wait here in the woods, in case he escaped."

"And that's how you found us," Pojul said. "That's all there is to it. I killed the king, and now I've got my son killed for it."

The story ended without fanfare, and the five of them sat in uncomfortable silence. Again, Siri broke it, her voice cool and practical: "You need to get to Coruscant. You'll stand trial, I'm sure, but there are matters in your testimony that the Jedi Council needs to hear firsthand."

"All transports off the planet are monitored by the Trade Federation," Pojul said dully. "I don't know how we'll get away."

Anakin frowned deeply, obviously thinking closely about something. "Madam Shapoi?"

"What is it?"

"Will you do something that might not sound like it makes sense?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "What is this, Anakin?"

"I don't know yet." He bit his lip. "Do you know where Daj Orti's shop is? Orti's Off-time?"

"The toy store?"

"Yes. I think… Well, would Daj know you right away if you walked in?"

"I doubt it. It's a children's store."

"Good." He stood up and walked a few paces, his hands clasped absently behind his back. He turned back to them. "Go there. Wait until it's empty, then tell Daj that Anakin Skywalker sent you."

"Ani!" Siri cut in. "Have you -- "

"No. But I think he knows. He's said some stuff. I think he knows who we are, or at least who I am, and he's been keeping it secret."

"What shall we say you sent us for?" Pojul asked.

"Nothing right away. If he doesn't look like he knows the name, just say it was a mistake and leave and come back here as fast as you can. If he does look like he knows it… tell him we need an 'alternate method of transportation.' He'll know. And he's right in with the Trade Federation. He can get us past their inspection."

The Shapois looked to Obi-Wan for confirmation; they had apparently learned enough about masters and padawans to know they should do so. He nodded. "I will defer to Anakin on this. But if you find yourselves having to return here because Orti doesn't recognize you… do so carefully."

They nodded. Pojul again tried to put an arm around his wife, but she refused to allow it.

They left the shed and headed for town.

"Are you sure about this?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I trust Daj."

"And I trust you."

Anakin looked up at him, wide-eyed with surprise, which hurt. "Master… "

"This was not your fault, Anakin. Not in any way."

"May I have moment before we go to the mayor's, Master? I just need to… meditate. And maybe I ought to do it alone."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"All right. Stay close, and don't be long. I think we may need to leave this place very suddenly."

Don't scream.

Anakin clenched his jaw tightly and crossed his arms tightly over his stomach, gripping the sides of his silk tunic so hard he was sure they would tear. The long dark gray coat he'd put on this morning -- this morning, when a Jedi knight named Zio Shapoi had still been breathing and thinking and talking to his parents -- snagged on the branches of bush. He yanked it away fiercely and lost his balance, and went sprawling into the clearing where he'd awakened only two hours ago to find himself lost and disoriented.

He pulled himself to his knees and vomited into the underbrush.

When the wave passed, he felt woozy and empty. He leaned backward against a nearby tree to steady himself. The energy burn on the back of his neck throbbed dully.

He had killed twice before. The first had been a blood carver intent on killing him. He still didn't know what he'd done, exactly -- something horrible, he thought, because the blood carver's face had almost melted into itself. But the point was, the blood carver had been an assassin, and had pushed him and threatened him until there was no other choice. His second kill had been the pirate Krayn, in the course of a fair duel

(there was a blaster in his hand, he wasn't unarmed)

and anyway, no one would miss that slaving waste-of-oxygen.

He had come to terms with killing as part of his life, though he didn't enjoy it. He'd read about people who got some kind of thrill out of it, a power rush, but Anakin didn't find it thrilling and he thought that the power factor was pretty low compared to other ways he felt the Force. It made him sad to realize he was never going to be innocent of it again, but he didn't think he would do anything differently with Krayn at all, and with the blood carver, if it had gotten as far as it had, he didn't think there was anything else to do, short of dying himself. However far he had been pushed, the ultimate decisions had been at least kind of in his control.

But Shapoi…

Today, someone was dead because of him -- a Jedi was dead -- and he'd had no control over it, and he would do anything, anything at all, to turn the clock back three hours and decide to go to Madam Kam's art class and do a new painting rather than follow Tomik Cral into the woods.

He tried to summon Obi-Wan's voice: It is not your fault. Shapoi made his own choices. You could not have known.

He knew that if he went back to the shed, Obi-Wan would say that and try to make him believe it, but even Obi-Wan couldn't make the other voice go, the one that said, You're supposed to be stronger than that. You're supposed to be the Chosen One. You should have foreseen it. You should have felt Shapoi long before you did. You should have, you could have…

He couldn't shake that other voice because it was right. He hadn't been using his mind, or his Force-sensitivity, to their highest potential. He hadn't been fully paying attention. He had been careless and stupid, and now Zio Shapoi was dead.

Images of the afternoon came unbidden to his mind. His careless decision to follow Tomik… flying above the trees… helping Brinje (and revealing himself in the process -- stupid!)… deciding to go on down the path… sensing a presence a moment too late… awakening… Shapoi kneeling beside the guard… the blaster being fired… Shapoi falling… and falling… and falling…

The images circled in his vision, faster and faster, until they became an undifferentiated blur.

Help me! Please!

He tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn't. The world around him had turned dark, the sky lit with alien fire. He couldn't find the source of the voice that had called to him in agony.

Is anyone there?

His thought echoed over the landscape as though he'd shouted. Shadows trembled; fires erupted from cracks in the rocky plain. The ground in front of him began to bubble and boil, and he jumped backward away from it. Something huge and dark emerged from the new chasm.

Anakin raised his lightsaber and swung at it; the weapon passed through it like smoke, and the figure split into two, each advancing on him.

Stop it! Who are you?

The figures lunged again. Anakin knew better than to swing at them, he knew what would happen if he did, but he couldn't stop. It was instinct. The blade cut across both shapes in a diagonal, and then there were four.

The world began to shake and spit fire from all its broken edges. More shadows came up from beneath, surrounding Anakin on the top of a rapidly shrinking precipice.

Obi-Wan! Help me! Get me out of here!

His voice seemed small and far away, as though drowned by the shadows around him. They came closer, taking some shape that he knew he didn't want to see, couldn't see.

And they were becoming solid.

(you can fight them now; death is part of life)

Anakin felt himself trembling inside, more even than the ground he was standing on, but he fought for control.

This was a vision. However strange and powerful it was, it was only a vision. He had to take action in it. He had to defeat these shadows and come out on the other side of them.

He got to his feet, his lightsaber raised, and lunged at the first form advancing on him. It stopped in shock as the blade hit home, this time doing what it was meant to do.

The figure clutched at its wound and stepped backwards. The shadows slipped away like a cloak and Anakin saw, to his horror, that it was Siri Tachi.

(No!)

The figure behind her leaped forward and over her, raising a lightsaber at Anakin. He blocked it by instinct, and the shadows departed to reveal Adi Gallia.

Stop it! What are you doing?

Mace Windu, Ki-Adi Mundi, beautiful Depa Billaba, sweet old Bant…

Please, make it stop!

The last figure came at him. He couldn't control his reaction at all, and the shadows fell before he even struck, but not soon enough to stop his lunge.

Obi-Wan!

"Do you think he's all right?" Siri asked, standing on a chair to look out the high window after Anakin. "He looks off-balance."

Obi-Wan stood in the doorway and watched his padawan crash through the underbrush and out of sight, not at all his usual, graceful style. "No. He's not all right. But I think he wishes to be left alone for the moment. Not a very long moment, but perhaps we could use it to talk."

Siri nodded and climbed down from the chair. "I almost attacked in the square today. Anakin stopped me."

"What did he do to Pojul Shapoi?"

"He just gave him a bit of a shove. I think it scared Anakin more than it scared Pojul, to tell the truth."

"Anakin has good reason to be frightened of his temper," Obi-Wan said. "I'm actually rather glad you distracted him in the square."

"Well, there you have it. It was my brilliant plan all along."

Obi-Wan crossed the room to her, and sat down on the chair beside where she was standing. "Siri, I don't think you would have attacked. I know you believe you would have, but I don't."

Siri considered this for a long time, her hand massaging a spot at the back of her neck. After awhile, she sighed and pulled out another chair, to sit across from Obi-Wan. Their knees were touching lightly. She looked down at her feet, then finally looked across at him. "I'm not sure," she said. "I just don't know anymore."

"You always had impulses, Siri. They are not new since you returned from Krayn. You were always able to control them."

"But for two years, I barely tried. It's so easy…" She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "All the discipline I used to take for granted, even love, I find so difficult now. So constricting."

"It's not meant to be easy, Siri. We've chosen a hard life."

"Chosen? When did we choose it?"

"I chose it after Melida/Daan, when I left the order and came back. Now you've left and come back. As knights, we choose every day. Leaving is easy. Staying is difficult."

"Is it still difficult for you, Obi-Wan? Do you… do you ever think about things that you might have had outside? A spouse? Children? A house like that horrid one we're living in?" She tried to smile and failed.

"Love?"

"Yes. I suppose that's what I mean, ultimately."

Obi-Wan was inclined to tell her a lie to comfort her, to say that of course he agonized over these things, but he and Siri had a mental bond that stretched over more than a decade. She would know he didn't. "Siri, the Order is my family. Qui-Gon was my father and Anakin is my son. I never wished for a wife. But I will tell you, when the three of us have been together in that house, I've felt at peace. It is my hope that we will be able to work closely together again."

She sniffed. "That's not exactly what I meant."

"I know. Siri, what do you actually want? I believe you to be a strong and good Jedi knight, but if you're unhappy… "

"I'm unhappy. But I'd be miserable anywhere else."

"You could marry, have a family, do those things you mentioned… "

"Ah, but to marry, I would have to leave behind those I love. The Order is my family, too." She winked at him shakily. "And at any rate, how could any real husband compete with our idyllic marriage?"

"I believe our idyllic marriage may be missing some key elements."

"That's easier to fix than you seem to think."

"Siri --"

"Oh, I know. I know. I don't want that, really."

Obi-Wan searched her feelings, decided that she was mostly telling the truth, and let it go. "Siri, you need to make a decision."

"I'm aware of that." She stood up and pushed her hair up into a soft bun, holding it there loosely while she looked out the western window. The sun painted her in an orange glow. "If I take a padawan, that's the decision, isn't it? I can't just start raising a child and then decide I chose wrong."

"Padawans have been given to new masters in the past," Obi-Wan said, "but it is traumatic, and I know you wouldn't deliberately wish it on a child."

"Exactly, so -- "

Obi-Wan! Help me! Get me out of here!

Obi-Wan jumped to his feet. Anakin's voice was loud and insistent in his mind. Even Siri had heard it. She was already reaching for her lightsaber.

Obi-Wan led the way out the door, following Anakin's path into the clearing, not knowing what he expected to see.

Anakin was at the far edge of the clearing, his lightsaber drawn, clearly unaware of his surroundings. He had somehow achieved a deep level of meditation -- Obi-Wan could feel the alteration of the Force around him -- but his fears about that level were coming true. He lunged at nothing.

Siri was partly into the clearing when he ran at her. She ducked away in time, and they both heard Anakin's inchoate mental scream.

"Anakin! Anakin you need to come up now!"

Obi-Wan!

Anakin rushed at him, saber raised, a look of misery on his face.

Obi-Wan didn't step aside. He drew his lightsaber and met the blow as lightly as he could, locking the blades to create the loudest buzz he could. He looked at Anakin across the x-form between them. "Anakin, wake up."

"Obi-Wan?" he whispered vaguely.

"Open your eyes."

The eyelids trembled, then lifted to reveal Anakin's cloudy, intense blue eyes.

Obi-Wan let up the pressure on his lightsaber. Anakin took the hint and deactivated his own. He barely waited for Obi-Wan to get the blade out from between them before he threw his arms around Obi-Wan's shoulders in a way he hadn't done for two years. "You're okay. I didn't kill you. You're okay."

Obi-Wan folded him into an embrace and kissed the top of his head, though a deep chill was making its way through his bones. I didn't kill you. "Yes, Ani. I'm okay."

Siri made her way over and sat on Anakin's other side. "What was that about?"

He turned her, surprised. "You're okay, too, then?" She smiled. "Ani, I hate to break it to you, but a fourteen-year-old with his eyes closed isn't that formidable an opponent."

"I saw myself killing Jedi," Anakin whispered.

"It's what the Shapois said," Siri told him, mussing his long hair. "They were wrong."

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, his face grave and pale. "I couldn't stop."

"It was a vision, Anakin. You know that visions are often symbolic and sometimes quite unclear."

"You stopped me. Thank you."

"You're welcome, padawan. But you need to learn to control your visions, and you need to learn to separate them from reality. What you saw…" Obi-Wan decided not to finish the sentence. He would hear more of Anakin's vision later. "It's over, Anakin. And I will help you if need to meditate to that level again."

He nodded.

Siri stood up and dusted herself off. "Well, if we're done with this, gentlemen, I think we need to pay a visit to the Mayor."

Anakin ran easily between Obi-Wan and Siri, the horrible vision starting to seep into memory, its intensity more embarrassing than frightening. But still, he wanted Obi-Wan in his sight, close enough to see him breathing. It was stupid -- just a vision, and, like Siri said, a fourteen-year-old with his eyes closed wasn't much of a threat -- but it was weirdly pervasive. Siri's footsteps behind him were light and quick, and reassured him in a less all-consuming way.

The followed the stream to the hill, coming up beside the rock where they'd met so long ago that afternoon. The setting sun turned it orange, and some reflective particle tossed arcs of light into the deepening dark.

Obi-Wan stopped, and held up his hand for Siri and Anakin to do so as well. They gathered in the shadows of the last trees before the hill, and looked up at the too-even arrangement of the camouflaged comm-array.

"We need to make some decisions," he said. "Siri, do you think it is advantageous to continue our cover story?"

She looked him over carefully, then checked the welt on Anakin's neck and examined the scratches that were covering her arms from her fall in the clearing.

"He's not going to buy it. Maybe one of us -- you -- could go there and treat him as an interview, but all three of us? I don't think it's customary for a reporter to work with his family gathered, and Anakin and I don't look as though we've been prepared to impress a business contact."

"We could go back and change," Anakin offered. The comm-array was buzzing, and something about it made him feel dirty. "I can bandage up, and Siri can wear long sleeves."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "There's no time for that. Shapoi believed that whatever contact was meant to happen would happen tonight, and may well be happening now."

"Well, you could go in alone," Siri said doubtfully.

"No. I don't want us separated again on Malkiri."

"Why did you ask for my opinion if you didn't want it?"

"I do want it. What do you think will happen if we go in there without our cover story?"

Siri sat down on the rock and put her head in both her hands, thinking deeply. At last, she looked up. "I don't think we can afford it, Obi-Wan. If we go in there as Jedi after having been undercover… we already have reason to believe the mayor has orchestrated one anti-Jedi outpouring. That would give too much fuel for another, particularly this close to Shapoi's escape."

"Then what do you suggest? I will not go alone."

"All right, that makes sense. All I can think of is to say we've been out exploring and got lost. Just a family outing gone wrong. Anakin?"

He shrugged. He didn't much care. After today, he didn't care what Malkiri thought of the Jedi; he just wanted to teach this planet a lesson it wouldn't forget.

But that wasn't why they were there, and he had to defer to Obi-Wan and Siri.

"Very well," Obi-Wan said. "A family outing, then. Are we ready, family?"

Anakin nodded, and Obi-Wan put his hand on his shoulder, like a careful father. Siri came over to them and Obi-Wan put his other arm around her shoulders. Her own arm slipped easily around his waist, and she leaned into him with a weariness that Anakin didn't think she was faking. The portrait thus assembled, they started trudging their way up the hill, towards the path that led to the mayor's door.

The comm-array grew louder as they approached it; it was using a great deal of energy, more than was normal.

"Mas… Um, Baklee?"

"What is it, Kit?"

"I think there's something wrong with the machines up there."

Obi-Wan smiled down at him fondly. "I don't think you'll have time to repair them."

Anakin rolled his eyes, feeling more comfortable with each passing second. "Well, I bet I could. But that's not what I mean. They're powered up too high."

Obi-Wan stopped. "What do you mean?"

"It shouldn't be making that much noise. It's a secret thing, so I bet he keeps it in good shape. Why would there be that much feedback?"

Obi-Wan and Siri looked up the hill, then back at Anakin.

Before either of them spoke, a flurry of voices came from the hilltop. Several Neimoidians in flapping robes ran to the comm array, shouting back and forth at one another in Basic.

"No, no! Just pull the -- "

"By the gods! It's painful out here!"

"The array isn't responding -- "

"What's happening?"

"Just pull the plug! Shut it down!"

The buzz hit a higher pitch, became unbearable even here.

Anakin suddenly understood that the array wasn't just malfunctioning. It was a time bomb.

He turned and put one hand between Obi-Wan's shoulders and the other behind Siri's and pushed. "Get down!"

They fell forward into the grass just as the hill collapsed around them, and white fire licked up into the sky. The noise was unimpressive at first -- just a crash of glass and stone -- then the slow rumble as the supports of the house collapsed, one by one, beneath the ground.

Anakin scrambled to his feet -- Siri and Obi-Wan had already done so -- and jumped backward just as a piece of land fell down into the hole beneath it. Fire shot up, and Anakin could see down for a moment into a lavishly appointed room, wall to wall with flames.

"You there!"

Anakin looked up. A Neimoidian from the hilltop had spotted them, and was starting down.

"Run!" Obi-Wan yelled. "Into the shadows, now."

They ran.