A/N: I forget to say this every chapter, but as always, a huge thank you to my beta, BS monitor, partner-in-plotting, and chief of soundboarding, en-shaedn.

The next several days were a test of endurance. Though they'd contained one gundark nest, there were plenty more for the Wookiees to take care of once the Jedi left. Ben and Qui-Gon spent a little over a week lingering on Alaris Prime, helping Attichitcuk and his retinue develop a field guide to the gundarks, their known locations, tracking methods, and proven ways of dealing with them once their nests were discovered.

«We do not wish to eradicate them entirely,» the Wookiee leader assured the Jedi when they'd reviewed the plans together, «But there is always a certain level of pest control needed in these situations.»

Ben found a smirk pulling at his lips. "Perhaps this would've been a good mission for Aola," He told Qui-Gon in an aside. "I'm sure she would see a slavering, vicious, hungry monster as a mere 'pest' as well."

Qui-Gon wasn't convinced. "Don't you mean 'pet'?" They laughed together.

It was just a few days later that the Wookiees bid the Jedi goodbye. «I am sad to see you go, Masters Jedi,» Said Attichitcuk as they put together a small party of speederbikes to ferry the Jedi back to the Temple. «I cannot express my gratitude. We were on our last leg, and you have given us hope.»

Ben smiled at the Wookiee, genuinely glad to have aided his endeavours. The value of hope was a treasure near and dear to his own heart. "We come to serve, Attichitcuk." He bowed. The Wookiee chuckled at the Jedi's formality.

«You Jedi monks and your bowing. You deserve a proper farewell!» With that, the massive, furry Attichitcuk stepped forward and wrapped Ben in an enormous hug. The other Wookiees warbled their thanks and Qui-Gon laughed. Discreetly spitting fur out of his mouth, Ben smiled as Attichitcuk moved on and gave Qui-Gon a similar goodbye embrace. Thanks to his height and forewarning, he was able to take the gesture with a bit more grace.

"It has been an honor, sir," Qui-Gon smiled at the Wookiee.

«So it has with both of you. Starspeed!»

And off they went. Attichitcuk's son, Chewbacca, was the one to lead them back to the temple. Ben knew that the Wookiee was younger than when he'd met him a lifetime ago on Tatooine, but he looked virtually the same. After they'd arrived at the Jedi temple, the Wookiee had stood to attention and given them a friendly salute before riding away. Watching him go, Ben could not help but wonder if he would ever see the tall, shaggy pilot again. He hoped, for the sake of everyone, that it was not aboard the Death Star. Although… he would not entirely mind seeing the Millennium Falcon again.

Shaking off nostalgia, he followed Qui-Gon onto their ship and headed straight for the bunks. "Wake me when it's my turn on the con," he called ahead to the older man, and fell into bed.

"Ben." someone shook his shoulder. "Time to get up."

Reluctantly, he rolled over, flimsiplast mattress cover crinkling beneath him. "Right," He blinked, and Qui-Gon's indistinct figure came into clearer focus. "What's our ETA?"

Qui-Gon chuckled, deep voice rumbling through Ben's drowsy daze. "We've already landed."

"What?"

Qui-Gon pulled him up by his arm. "Come on, time to go."

Ben was too tired to think for himself. He allowed Qui-Gon to walk ahead and followed him wordlessly, not noticing, much less questioning their destination. When he finally realized where they were headed, it was too late.

"Master Kenobi," grinned Vokara Che, a glowing tablet propped on her hip, "You've trimmed your beard!"

As a matter of fact, he hadn't so much as touched a trimmer for weeks, but he did not try to correct her. "Hello, Master Che." He let her lead him away to an examination room, where she sat him down and took a blood sample. Qui-Gon was chatting with her idly, though Ben did not have the awareness to discern what they were saying. When the chatter paused, he asked politely, "Vokara, this is going to sound odd, but… what time is it?"

"Oh dear," She laughed, now using a fine-toothed comb to go through his hair. "No wonder you're being so compliant. It's not quite 14:00."

"Oh." He peered up at her work. "If you're looking for lice, I can assure you there are none."

Vokara continued her combing. "As soon as you mentioned it in your report, you resigned yourself to this fate." Comb, comb. It was quite lulling, actually. "If so much as one of those beasts makes in to the residential wing, it'll be weeks of work to be rid of them." Comb, comb, pick. "Besides, I need to make sure they didn't give you any nefarious diseases."

"What a pleasant thought," said Ben. Qui-Gon was watching him from the doorway with muffled amusement. The sight of him, hair puffed and various sections pulled straight by Vokara's comb must've been entertaining. Eventually, the man pushed off the wall with a laugh.

"I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh no you don't," Vokara pointed an accusatory comb at him as he fled. "Get back in here, Master Long-Hair, I'm not done with you yet. Wait your turn."

"Master Che, I was unaffected."

"So you say - but Force only knows what could be hiding in that mane of yours. How you humans put up with it is beyond the likes of me. Sit down."

"But-"

"Sit down, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon sat down. From beneath Vokara's deft and careful hands, Ben squinted at him. "If he does have lice," he mused aloud to the healer, "will you make him shave?"

Qui-Gon raised a threatening eyebrow.

"No, we have medication for that," Vokara said matter-of-factly. Ben scowled, crestfallen.

"Damn."

Once they were declared lice-less and their blood panels given a clean bill of health, they were allowed to return to their quarters. Or rather, to Feemor Gard's quarters, where their welcoming party was gathered and waiting.

"Ah, there you are!" Feemor beamed when he answered the door. "Obi said he thought you were back on planet. Uncanny senses, that lad. Welcome home - Ben! You've cut your beard!"

"From a certain point of view," Ben laughed, welcoming Feemor's embrace with friendly smile.

"It suits you - you don't look quite as much like a shaggy terrier, now."

"What?" Ben sputtered. Feemor chuckled and brushed past him to greet his old master.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon smiled widely when Obi-Wan came around the corner. He was up and moving, back straight, eyes bright, and smiling as well. They hugged, and Qui-Gon took the young man by his shoulders appraisingly. "Force, you've lost weight. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, nearly back to normal," replied the apprentice, somewhat quieter than was his norm. "And I'm gaining weight back, I'll have you know."

Feemor reappeared. "I've been running him through his drills, and he's done marvellously." Obi-Wan accepted the open praise with a gracious smile. "For a man stuck in bed for three weeks, I'd say he's broken records. But I'll let you be the judge of that, in the dojo."

Obi-Wan's eyes lit up at the prospect. Qui-Gon laughed at his youthful vigor. "After dinner and rest," he amended. He gave Obi-Wan's shoulder another affectionate squeeze, fondness trickling over their bond. "It's good to have you back."

"You as well, Master," Obi-Wan said. "And you too, Ben. How was Alaris Prime? As horrible as I've been trying to imagine it?"

Ben laughed. "Oh, there were good and bad bits. We'll talk about it later." His smile faded. After he'd spoken with Mace. After he'd meditated - a lot. He cleared his throat. "And where is Aola?"

"Away with classmates, cramming for finals - exams are next week," Feemor replied.

"Force, is it that time already?" Qui-Gon exclaimed. Feemor nodded with an understanding expression.

"Aye, it is. Hard to believe. These will be her last courses as an apprentice," he explained in a soft, sentimental tone.

"She excited?" Ben asked. Obi-Wan snorted.

"You have no idea."

Feemor chuckled. "Aye, poor Obi's been stuck here suffering her study hours for weeks. I'm sure he'll be glad for a little peace and quiet."

"And I will be more than happy to oblige," Qui-Gon sighed, finally feeling their days in the jungle catch up with him. In years past, a jaunt through forest with a couple of unwieldy beasts would have been an invigorating vacation. Now, however… he really could do with a bath and a nice, long sleep. In the back of his mind, where he could hear the creaking of his own joints, he wondered if he was getting too old for this sort of thing. Obi-Wan seemed to pick up on his melancholy and shot him a concerned glance. He smiled. "It's good to be back," he said. His apprentice smiled back at him, face shining in complete agreement.

After a short while, while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan caught up and Feemor made tea for all of them, Ben retreated to his own quarters.

"Do you not want tea, Ben?" Feemor had asked, unused to the picture of the elder Kenobi retreating as soon as the kettle was on.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have to wrap up a few things with the Council."

"Oh," Feemor's face fell into somber understanding. "Of course. Give Master Windu my best, then."

Ben forced a tiny smile at the man's perception before leaving the apartment.

He decided to bathe before anything. He hadn't seen a proper shower or sonic since before they'd landed on Alaris Prime, and despite every camp trick he knew, the sweat and grime had begun grating on his last nerve. He had half a mind to toss his robes down to the incinerator rather than the laundry, but diverted to the latter chute at the last minute because, as repulsed as he was, Ben knew it would be incredibly wasteful.

He reveled in the feel of warm water, taking his time to wash off the last traces of the Alaris moon. He closed his eyes and allowed warm water wash over him longer than frugality would allow. In his mind's eye, he could see the battle droids again. This time, he could see clones bursting onto the scene to fight them. Would it end like this, again? In a war? General Kenobi, a voice echoed in his head. It was a title he never wanted to hear again.

He emerged from the 'fresher, half-dressed and toweling his wet hair, to find Mace Windu sitting in one of his chairs and sipping tea. The Councilor glanced up at him.

"Your hair's longer and your beard's shorter. That's odd." The Korun sipped serenely at his tea again.

Ben went into his room, tossed his towel away, and put on a shirt. He returned to the main room with as much dignity as he could manage. Mace seemed not to care either way.

"I take it you got my report, then," Ben said.

"You should've sent it to the whole council," Mace reprimanded. "It's going to be a lot of paperwork."

"You know why I didn't, though."

Mace sighed. "Yes." He poured Ben a cup of tea. It smelled like a brew that Master Yoda favored - some things always stayed in the family. "Tell me about it."

Ben did. He told Mace about the battle droids, and the Wookiees, and the Jedi Temple, and the fact that both the Jedi and the Wookies suspected something, but could not determine what. "The Federation is keeping to their own neck of the woods. They don't want trouble with Attichitcuk or the Order."

"And no wonder," Mace tsked, "they're harboring an army."

"It just… it wasn't like this," Ben lamented, stroking his beard, which was rougher than he was used to, "There weren't armies before. There weren't even that many droids - it was just a bunch of warehouses."

"Need I remind you, you weren't here before," Mace told him. "Things change."

Ben did not actually need reminding. "And yet I have no idea how much I have actually changed. For every thing I can name, there are probably five or ten others." He sighed. "But if the Trade Federation has that many droids stationed on Alaris Prime, it means they've already made enough to store elsewhere. We need to know if the Geonosians are manufacturing them."

"Even if they are, we can't stop them. The Federation is a private institution, and the Geonosians have sovereignty. They can manufacture what they like."

"Be that as it may, they have to put the things somewhere - illegally, as it turns out, in places like Alaris Prime. Surely you can whip up enough red tape to keep them occupied while we sniff out the rest?"

The Councilor sat back with a diplomatic sense of satisfaction. "It should take minimal effort. Your report warrants a full inquiry, other suspicions aside. I plan on forwarding the report onto Chancellor Valorum as soon as the rest of the Council has seen it. If precedent is anything to go by, his office will make sure the Nemoidians are taped up to their necks."

"Good."

There was a lull in their conversation as they both mentally traced the threads of thought that connected the grand conspiracy together. They arrived at the same junction at the same time, but Mace put a voice to it first.

"And Palpatine?"

Ben pursed his lips. He tried to recall the tones of Qui-Gon's assurance, his confidence in Ben's sight, his strategy. He still felt like a youngling grasping at straws. Even so, parts of the chessboard were clear. "He's growing desperate. He's moving his plans up. Without the buffer of Maul to stand in between him and the galaxy, he is trying to cinch his victory before anyone can even think to be suspicious." He thought of what Palpatine said at Bail's wedding, about how easily a Sith might find a new apprentice. He thought of Dooku.

"You're saying he is the one behind the droids?"

"Yes. And if he's pushed for the creation of one army, the other is not far behind."

Mace nodded slowly. "The clones."

"Yes."

It was a serious prospect. Unlike droids, which ran on synthetic brains and the orders of sentients, the clones were people; real people. They were, in many ways, the first victims of Palpatine's war. Ben wondered how many had been created by now.

"We will have to look into it," Mace voice what both of them were thinking. "But how will we do it, without revealing what we know?"

"The key is Dyas," Ben said, running a pensive finger along the rim of his teacup. "We need to find Sifo Dyas and uncover what he knows."

"But we already know what he knows," Mace pointed out.

"Not all of it, and not publicly," Ben reminded. "Just because I have knowledge of the past doesn't mean I don't have to live it all over again. I couldn't just show up at Kamino in the name of the Jedi Order with no official business, and you can't give me official business until there is some business to be given."

Mace nodded slowly. Ben could practically see the wheels turning in his head, minute strategies appearing and disintegrating under his mental scrutiny by the dozens. "Is Sifo Dyas the only avenue?"

Ben shrugged. "That I know of, aside from the Sith. He acted independently of the Order when he ordered the creation of the clone army."

Mace seemed annoyed by this. "We may have our work cut out for us, then. Sifo Dyas hasn't been on the active roster for nearly five years - and he hasn't submitted an official report of any kind for longer than that."

Ben frowned. "What?"

Mace let out a breath, and it sounded as if it had been cooped up in his lungs for too long. Rogue Jedi were not a phenomenon widely broadcasted to the masses - within the Order or without. "Sifo Dyas was on the council for several years, as I believe you know," the man explained with an exasperated air, "and he did not part with us on good terms. After he came back as a knight on active duty, we began sending him on simple, easy missions. It was meant as a mercy, trying to ease him back into things."

"I take it this did not go as planned," Ben surmised. Mace cast him a look.

"Trouble started with the first mission he took after leaving the Council. It went well. Almost perfectly. He sent in his final report, but never actually made it back to Coruscant." He paused. "We don't know where he went or where he is."

"Has he communicated with no Jedi at all?" Ben found it hard to believe.

"None that we know of."

"Does he have any friends he might have contacted? An apprentice, former apprentice or master?"

Mace shook his head. "His master's been dead for years. He never had an apprentice. And as far as I know, he's not in the habit of keeping friends - not of the sort you're talking about, anyway." It was a sad thought. "Sifo Dyas is… a very preoccupied person. Of all the grey Jedi I've known, he's the most unpredictable, and unstable."

"I take it he was not popular on the Council," Ben guessed.

"He did not hold popular views," Mace admitted.

"Neither did I half of the time, but I got on well enough," Ben pointed out.

"That is because you have a sense of tact, Ben. Sifo does not. He is paranoid, and driven by fear."

"Fear of what?"

Mace's brow furrowed, and he looked ever so slightly guilty. "Years ago, I wouldn't have been able to say. Since meeting you, hearing about everything… I wonder if he was right in all that he said, all the wild claims he made about darkness in our future, return of enemies." He paused, frowning deeply. "Unfortunately, none of us gave him any credence, and it drove him to act on his fear. But if he's acted earlier than you remember, like Palpatine has, then we need to find out when and why as soon as possible."

"I couldn't agree more," Ben said.

Of course, this conclusion begged the rather obvious and incredibly vexing problem of how.

"I will look into it myself," Mace said in that particular tone of his, the one that he didn't know Ben recognized. It was the tone of Mace Windu assuming a task which he was not entirely sure he could accomplish, but was unwilling to trust to anyone else. Mace was, after all, the most dependable person that either of them knew. Ben nodded, but inside his gut twisted anxiously. There had to be another solution. There was one, of course. It was staring him in the face. But it was vastly uncomfortable and entailed a whole number of risks that were not only his to take. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his sofa.

"That list you sent me," Ben breached their confidential project, "you've seen my additions?"

"Yes."

"And… what do you think we could do about that at the moment?"

For a split second, Mace's face was entirely blank as he dug his way up through the layers of convoluted strategy they'd built in conversation. "What?" He asked.

"The grey Jedi. We can't ignore them."

"No," Mace said, shortly, thinking quickly. "No, but… I'm not sure what we can do, at least right now. I've been keeping tabs on them, I've mentioned them as off-handedly to other Councilors as I can, trying to build a network, get others to see…" He trailed off. "We need to deal with the Federation, with the clones first. Before the threat grows any larger. The grey Jedi are a potential threat - the droids and the clones are one that is already here."

Mace did not see the connection, then. Ben decided not to press it. Besides, he wasn't entirely confident that it was a viable option. "Of course," he smiled, unease quietly pooling in his gut. It would wait for another time, when he was more sure of himself.

They finished their tea, but not their conversation. There was too much to consider. They both resolved to meditate on the matter.

No matter how he meditated, Ben's mind always managed to undo the Force's patient whispers and work itself into fitful knots over and over again. The memories of Alaris Prime, the unanswered questions from his meeting with Mace ran circles around the inside of his skull, weighed down by memories of a world past, strings of thought tangling into a tighter and tighter ball that made him almost constantly susceptible to a headache.

He sought solace, as he often did, in occupation. Just two days after he returned to Coruscant, Ben took up his neglected post as teacher. He'd already seen Aola and her class graduate out of the junior padawan dojo, and now was occupied with another generation of learners - and this time, they gathered round with holobooks in hand, not sabers, and their topics did not stray toward that ever-looming fact of the Sith. Instead, they spoke of tranquility, and honesty, and stories of great Jedi gone by. They studied and meditated on the good things in the galaxy - even Jedi knew that childhood was innocent, and to understand the light, children must be allowed to grow up in it, untainted.

"Master Ben! Master Ben!" The Wolf Clan chorused when he arrived at the door. When Ben smiled, he could feel every wrinkle in his face, but his heart felt younger than it had in ages. He'd only been away from their clan for a few months, but he could see evidence of growth spurts from almost all of its members. Children grew up so fast.

Elbowing his way to the front of the throng behind the half-door of the creche classroom was Anakin, who was beaming wide, one front tooth missing, blonde hair a horrible mess. "Master Ben! I knew you'd be back today!"

"You are very perceptive, my young friend," he gave a mock-bow. "Perhaps it is you who should be giving the lesson today, Master Skywalker." The other younglings giggled at the joke. Anakin flushed. He shrugged and said with careful nonchalance,

"Naw. I'm no good at talking."

Mira, the small Pantoran girl who was often hanging by Anakin's side, looked over at him with an incredulous look far too perceptive for a five year old. "You sure do it an awful lot, Ani."

Master Zyrha appeared from her separate office, comfortingly unchanged next to her ever-morphing charges. "Master Kenobi," She grinned, thin, pointed teeth gleaming in a friendly way, "It is so good to see you, please come in."

As soon as he was through the door, a half-pint moshpit of admirers followed Ben through his every step.

"Master Ben, are you back for good?"

"Master Ben can you tell us a story?"

"Master Ben tell us about your mission!"

"Master Ben look at my loose tooth!"

"Master Ben, can we do sabers today?"

Ben chuckled at the younglings and patted one or two on the head as he tried to clear a spot amid the flock to sit down. Anakin claimed the spot nearest to him, and Mira took up the spot next to Anakin. "Yes, I'm back for your lessons. I trust you've all been very good for my replacement?"

"Yes, Master Ben," said the younglings obediently. At the last moment, Sarsan added,

"Mostly."

Ben laughed. "Thank you for being honest, Sarsan." He tried to sound serious, though the smile was threatening to break through. "Now. Would you please bring me the lesson book?"

The Zygerrian obediently rose and went to the shelf of oversized picture-holobooks in one corner and took down a thick history book. Well, 'history' would be a stretch. It was a story book, about real Jedi who lived real lives, who did real things in the real world, but the interpretation of the stories - whether they were fact or legend - was left to the listener.

Ben enjoyed the stories as much as the younglings. In the Jedi path, it was a quiet secret, not knowable until a master made it to very old age, that the lessons they learned as children were the same lessons they longed for as adults. Familiar tales, challenging or comforting as they were, were their own form of meditation. These children did not know it yet, but the truths they learned in the creche were the most fundamental and important truths of life.

By the end of the lesson, the harshest edge of Ben's headache was gone. Beside him, Anakin pulled Mira's thumb from her mouth from where she'd been sucking on it. As he did, the boy glanced up to the door, saw something, and smiled.

"Master Dooku!"

Ben did not look up, but he could almost visualize his fleeing headache stop, turn around, and begin to trudge back toward him. The other younglings did not seem so enthused by Master Dooku's arrival, but Anakin was at the door as if it were Ben himself. Setting the holobook aside, Ben rose with creaking knees, listening as Anakin excitedly told Dooku about their lesson of the day. The silver-haired master listened politely.

"Ah, Master Pallatac and the Flying Boma. It's been years since I've heard that tale - did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah!" Anakin said, standing on tip-toes to prop his folded arms up on top of the half-door. "Especially the part where he used the Force to fly that dead starship!"

Dooku chuckled. "Quite." He looked up to see the only other figure in the room whose head reached above waist height. "Master Kenobi," he smiled, resonate bass sounding genuinely pleased. "Back from your little adventure with the Wookiees, I see."

"Yes. How did you know?" Ben picked his way toward the door. The younger children, seeing that the grownups were talking (likely about boring things, as grownups usually did) slowly drifted off to their other activities and projects. Some of the elder ones remained interested, and were listening attentively to what the masters said. Ben glanced askance at them.

"Qui-Gon told me," Yan replied, choosing to ignore their eavesdroppers. "Did you two not just return a few days ago?"

"We did."

Dooku scoffed. "And already back into teaching. Your work ethic is admirable, Ben."

He smiled. "Thank you."

"Admirable, if not a bit absurd." Dooku glanced back down at Anakin, who still hung at the door. At least the other children had the sense to spectate from a distance. "It was good to see you, young Skywalker," Master Dooku said in a deliberate tone. "Do you not have a project you are working on?"

Even this heavy-handed hint was too much for Anakin. "Well yeah," the boy said enthusiastically, "but I'm not allowed to work on it in the creche halls because Master Zyrha said it could combabust."

"Combust," Dooku corrected. "I see."

"Yeah, but it's so cool, it's this modifier I'm working on for RB-1, it's got this laser sight outfit that will let him see in the dark, and a new jet servo so that he can turn on a dime, even better than dumb remotes, and…" Dooku blinked slowly while Anakin droned on. Ben fought back a smile.

After watching his grandmaster suffer for several satisfying moments, Ben cleared his throat and said gently, "Ani, I think Mira was looking for you."

"Oh?" this immediately drew the youngling's attention. He spotted the Pantoran across the room, happily playing with blocks with two of the older girls. "Umm… okay. Sorry, Master Dooku, I need to go."

"Of course, young one. Run along," the elderly man sighed in relief. Half a dozen younglings were still watching. Yan glared at them until they desisted to find other hobbies. Ben stepped closer to his grandmaster.

"You just have to find the right buttons to push," he advised in a sage voice. "And never, ever ask about Anakin's projects unless your entire evening is free."

Dooku smiled in chagin. "Duly noted, Master Kenobi. As a matter of fact, my evening is free - though I'd just as soon not spend it hearing about mechanics." He stepped aside so that Ben could walk out of the room to join him in the hall. The older master began walking away from the dormitory. He waited for Ben to join him and said, "I've recently acquired a fine vintage of wine from an old friend in the corporate district," he said. Ben was not surprised in the slightest. "Unfortunately, I feel it would be an over-indulgence to drink it by myself, but an insult if I do not drink it at all."

"Quite a predicament," Ben said mildly. "They are both daunting grievances. However, between you and I, I think there may a ready compromise." He accepted the invitation.

"Good," Dooku smiled, easing their trajectory toward the residential wing. "I would love to hear about this mission of yours."

The wine was an incredible vintage. Ben did not consider himself a connoisseur, but even his rustic palate could tell that this drink, served elsewhere, would've been incredibly expensive.

The company was of a fine stock, as well. While the tight knots of suspicion continued to roll about in Ben's mind, Dooku was if nothing else a gentleman of poise. He was polite, and witty, and precise, and perhaps the only person in the temple who made a cape look not only dignified, but regal as well.

"Alaris Prime?" Dooku repeated as Ben began regaling him with his mission details, "You were not actually on Kashyyyk?"

"No, the Wookiees have been setting up a colony on the moon of Alaris. It's quite the undertaking."

"I'd say. Who is at the helm, if I may ask?"

"Attichitcuk."

"Really?" Dooku's eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. "I haven't heard that name in years. He is still leader of his clan, I take it?"

"Yes, and gaining power for his new leadership role on Alaris Prime," Ben told him.

Dooku took a drink. "I'm glad to hear it." He paused in thought, and pulled out a dusty memory, smiling vaguely. "I've actually worked with him, once before."

"Really?" This took Ben by surprise. He still had trouble remembering that Dooku was not only a Jedi, but had been an active Jedi for years. Ben wondered, idly, how many of his stories he'd never heard.

"Yes, though it was probably far before your time. I was still a padawan, then. Master Yoda and I were deployed to Kashyyyk as attachés to Attichitcuk for a diplomatic excursion. It went… poorly." He chuckled, dark humor pricked. "Have you ever heard of the tarentatek, Master Kenobi?"

Ben's brow furrowed. "I can't say that I have," He admitted from behind his wine glass.

"It is an enormous, formidable creature. Master Yoda and I, along with Attichitcuk and a few others, had to fight one on our way to a summit. It was a very treacherous mission, but I remember Attichitcuk in particular was a fine warrior."

"He still is," Ben nodded. "We were up against an infestation of gundarks on Alaris Prime. He's set a fine example on how best to install pest control in new colonies." A pause for effect. "As it turns out, bowcasters and very large rocks are the system of choice."

Both of them laughed at the joke, polite even in their mirth. After the humor had faded, they took long sips of their wine, each smiling softly. "Pest control," Dooku parroted in a quiet chuckle. "Good for him." He swirled his glass. "Gundarks, colonies… any more excitement on your mission?" He asked.

Ben's smiled faded from sincerity to that careful, fake expression he'd learned from a life lived among politicians. He thought inexorably of the datapad hidden in his quarters, the one with Dooku's name on it. He thought of what Palpatine had said at Bail's wedding. He took a sip of his wine and kept smiling.

"Not really," he said, and used wit to cover his anxiety, "just the murderous, ravenous beasts and the clanful of angry Wookiees."

Dooku chuckled. "A fair point," He tipped his glass. Ben mirrored the gesture. He drank again, but did not enjoy the taste as much as before.

The following week, while Aola and her classmates slaved over exams on very little sleep, Ben rose early, dressed in clean, pressed robes, and took a private shuttle to the Republic Senate.

Bail Organa, as he often had in the past, met him on the landing dock.

"Master Kenobi," he greeted, smile a bit tired, "It's such a relief to see you."

"A relief, Bail?" Ben was surprised to see the senator looking so anxious.

"Yes. Things have been…" He glanced around, as if there would be staff to eavesdrop even in the landing dock. "...tense. With this whole Alaris Prime business blowing up…"

"Blowing up?" Ben cut in as they walked toward the administrative block of the building, "the report isn't even public yet - I spoke to Master Windu about it days ago, not even the council has seen it yet."

"That very well may be the case, Ben, but you'd be shocked at how much senators can learn about your Order's movements. Several people know that Jedi went to Alaris Prime, but no one took any notice about it until the report was delayed for a week - and counting."

"Delayed? A week?" Ben frowned as they strode into the plush senate offices. A protocol droid attempted to give Ben directions, and he waved it off. "You act like Jedi mission reports are in the daily news columns."

Bail sighed. However gifted Ben was in politics, there were some things that he would never understand unless he actually lived as a politician. Seeing as that was impossible - thank the stars and suns above, Bail thought - he did not mind explaining: "They might as well be. Whenever a Jedi has business in a Republic system, rest assured the mission report is sitting on the desk of that system's senator as soon as the Council archives it - assuming there are no security blocks put on it,"

"Which is rare," Ben said, though he immediately thought of his years-past jaunt to Herdessa and Tatooine. It had been tightly wrapped under security clearances, Ben recalled. How much of that mission had been released to the Senate's prying eyes?

"Yes," Bail continued, not missing a beat, "most of the time, the missions are fairly forgettable. The reports come in like everything else, to stack up on desks, like everything else, and are only ever read by underpaid interns. But once in a while, you people like to prod the rancor, and we sit up and listen."

Ben considered this with a deliberative frown. "I thought Alaris Prime was a forgettable mission. It was just gundarks." Which was mostly true.

"Gundarks are forgettable," Bail said, walking fast. Ben was having to jog slightly to catch up. "But there are a lot of senators watching every move of the Alaris Prime affair. The Coalition has vested interest in the success of the colony, the Federation is seeking to make a land grab if Attichitcuk should fail," the fact that they had already done so illegally went unsaid between them, "and there are half a dozen other interested parties who are looking for an opportunity to take their slice of the pie. Untouched, fertile moons are a rare commodity, Ben. It may be just jungle and gundarks to you, but here, it represents a lot more."

"I see," he muttered.

Bail went on, "They were happy waiting for a report, but then the Neimoidian offices went into an uproa - apparently about Alaris Prime, if the interns are to be believed - rumors have been spreading, speculations galore, and still no report. The scandal hasn't even blown yet, and everyone is bracing for impact."

"I see," Ben said again, brow set in grim understanding. A sinking feeling appeared in his gut, and he wondered if it had been a good idea, after all, to forward his report to Mace alone. A lot of paperwork, the man had said. He hadn't known paperwork meant turmoil in the Senate. "Did you get what I sent you?" he asked. Bail shot him a short, sharp glance.

"Yes."

"And you read it all?"

The man sighed, a breath packed with anxiety and frustration. "Yes. That's why I called you here. We need to talk."

They were walking quickly toward Bail's office, as if speed would help them elude the taut webs of intrigue in the common halls. "Do you still have it?" Ben muttered the question.

"No," Bail said, much to Ben's relief. "I destroyed it after I read it, per your request."

"Good."

Their speedwalking was now a mutually understood dash to privacy, where they could speak of controversial matters without interruption. They almost made it to Bail's office unaccosted. Almost.

"Ah, Master Kenobi," said a calm, gentle voice. Ice ran down Ben's spine, but he made himself turn politely and smile at the newcomer.

"Senator Palpatine," he greeted, mustache now fully regrown and hiding the fake corners of his smile. "How nice to see you again."

The Senator from Naboo smiled as well, but he had no mustache to cover the diplomatic veneer. "Yes, it's been so long, since Senator Organa's wedding, I believe." He nodded pleasantly at Bail. "How is Lady Organa, sir?"

"Very well," Bail smiled in the easy way of a man who was used to this dance, and, moreover, did not harbor Ben's sense of distrust. "She sends her regards, and thanks you for your gift of Nubian textiles. The seamstresses have made her some very fetching statewear with it."

"Good, I'm very glad," Palaptine seemed genuinely pleased with this. He looked back at Ben. "And what about you, Master Jedi? I trust you have been well."

"Yes, very well, senator. Business as usual."

"Of course, I'm sure." He smiled. There was something else in his eyes as he paused, and then said, "Any interesting work of late?" He asked. His eyes were hungry.

"Actually," Bail piped up conversationally, "Ben was one of the Jedi sent to Alaris Prime."

"Really?" Palpatine's smile flickered, and for a split second, his impenetrable shields faltered. In that that fleeting, so easily missed moment, Ben could sense the man's emotions.

Shock. Rage, directed at Ben. Almost involuntarily, Ben thought of Maul, of their fight on Kuat, and he knew, in that instant, exactly how enraged Sidious had been at that turn of events. It was a similar emotion now, except beneath the currents of red-hot anger, there was something else, something faster and unexpected. He deciphered it just as the Sith snapped his shields back up again.

Surprise. Palpatine was surprised.

He did not show it. "That was you?" The Nubian senator asked, calmly.

Ben felt as though he was being drawn out from his body. His consciousness hovered for a moment in timeless observation as he stood before Palpatine, the man's question still ringing in his ears. Seize your moments of action with clarity, the memory of Qui-Gon's advice echoed in his mind. The Force pulled at him; whispered, no, yelled at him. This was a choice, a vital choice. He'd been presented with a question, the answer presumed by the inquisitor. But something deep in his gut, the same sense that had taught him to see into the future, the same sense that had led him back through time, the same Force that had sustained him through it all was telling him that he could change the presumptions of this man, and in so doing, instigate a vital series of events.

Where the chain would lead, he did not know. For better or worse, he grabbed hold of the Force's voice, verified its deafening shout in his ear, and acted without hesitation.

"No, actually, it wasn't, I'm sorry Bail, you must be mistaken."

Palpatine raised his eyebrows. Bail shot his friend a confused look.

"But…" Bail said, thinking fast, eyes searching his friend's face desperately for a signal, a hint. "I… thought I heard your name mentioned. Granted, it's all hearsay, but I've been keeping tabs on the mission for the Coalition."

"Yes," Ben said slowly, as if trying to wrack his memory. "Whatever you heard must have been in reference my nephew, Obi-Wan."

Silence. Sheev Palpatine's brow furrowed slightly. "What?"

"My nephew, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is a Jedi as well. He and his master Qui-Gon Jinn were sent to Alaris Prime recently," Ben explained, watching Palpatine's blank expression.

After a pause, the senator said, "Oh. I had no idea you had a relative in the Order," his smile returned. Ben replied in kind.

"It's not unheard of. We brush shoulders occasionally, but usually it's just the name that causes confusion."

Both senators laughed politely at this. Bail was doing a good job of hiding his befuddlement.

Following along with whatever game Ben was playing, he said, "That's my mistake then. I suppose you can't trust anything until the official report comes out. Is that forthcoming, do you think?"

"Oh, I should think so. But you never can tell," Ben shrugged. "The Council often follows its own timetable."

"Indeed," Palpatine said. His smile was thin. "I shall have to read it carefully." His smile grew more predatory. "I shall bid you both good day - much to do!"

"Of course, Senator," Bail and Ben bowed as one. Once Palpatine was gone, the two turned and all but bolted for the safety of Bail's office.

"What was that?" The senator wanted to know as soon as the door closed.

"I…" Ben wasn't sure how to explain it. "I don't exactly know," he said, blinking, trying to comprehend his own actions. "He must not know." He decided at the same time he realized it. Images of battle droids appeared in his mind. "He must not know that it was me on that mission."

Bail frowned at him. "And why not?'

It was a good question, Ben thought. "I don't know," he said, "he just can't. It's important."

Bail had never been sure why Ben distrusted Palpatine so fervently, and no matter how he pried, Ben would not explain. However, forced to choose between them, Bail would always side with the Jedi. He trusted Sheev Palpatine to be a good senator, but he trusted Ben Kenobi with his life. "Alright," he said. "You'd better get that in the official report, then."

Later that evening, as soon as Ben had left the Senate, he called Mace Windu on his private line and asked him to replace his name on the report with that of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"What?" The Master of the Order asked in an annoyed tone. Ben had interrupted his dinner.

"I know, I know. Just… please."

"Why? Ben, what is going on?"

"I'm not sure," Ben admitted. "I am following the Force's direction. Palpatine thinks it was me. We can't let him think that. He'll connect the dots somehow, I'm sure of it. He's watching this whole mission with the eye of a hawk, and you and I both know why. We have to let him think it was Obi-Wan - which, it was," Ben said, suddenly realizing the hidden truth behind the lie, "from a certain point of view."

Mace sighed heavily on the other end. "Ben, what difference does it make?"

Ben chewed on his lip. What did it matter? Why were there knots in his mind, a tugging his gut that demanded him to act? "It's a game of chess," he said, though he could not see the entire board. "I need to play my pieces right. I need him to think a queen is a pawn."

The line went silent. Ben could practically feel the skepticism broadcasted over the comm. "I'll change it," Mace said, not sounding very happy about it, "but you and I will have words about this."

"Of course. Thank you, Mace."

Master Windu sighed again, the weight of an entire Order - and it's most intractable members - weighing down on him. "May the Force be with you, Ben," he said, and hung up.

Left to the silence of his shuttle, Ben's mind began reviewing the day's events - and what a day. His thoughts kept turning and pointing and sticking to one moment, a single revelation whose significance he could not yet understand.

He'd been surprised.

By sundown, most everyone had left the Senate building. Attendant droids were dozing in their powerstations, interns were sleeping in their shoebox apartments, and senators had long since retired to mull over their paperwork and fine scotch in their homes. Even Chancellor Valorum, known for his workaholism, had retired for the day. The only people left in the building were night-shift security, custodial droids, and a single, lone senator.

In the confines of his own office, Sheev Palpatine was working late, mind preoccupied by a few innocent words spoken by a Jedi Master. The window shades were darkened, the lights set low to attract no attention. Slowly, he drew up his hood to obscure his face, as he always did for this sort of business.

The holotable in front of him flickered, and then clicked. The blue projection of a Neimoidian viceroy appeared.

"Have you recovered what I asked for?" Palpatine asked. The Neimoidian wrung his hands.

"Yes, my lord."

"All of it?"

"Yes, my lord. The data should be transmitting to you as we speak, sir."

"Good." Palpatine turned his head slowly, careful not to reveal his face, and checked the glowing data console on his desk. Two unread files waited in his inbox. He turned back to the Neimoidian, eyes no longer soft with expectation. "You do realize, now that the Jedi have seen your little… outpost, they will be hunting you down across the entire Republic."

The Neimoidian fidgeted uncomfortably. He had not wanted this job, but had been given little choice in the matter. "My lord," he said, trying to muster a smile. It came out as a nervous twitch instead. "Can you not… help us?"

"Not anymore," the Sith spat, "you should have chosen backwaters for all of them. If the Jedi had found you anywhere else, I might've been able to help you." He tipped his head up, every part of him dripping with contempt. "But Alaris Prime is under scrutiny by the entire Galactic Senate. As soon as the official reports come in, you will be beyond my help." He paused for effect, letting the fear sink in, the desperation. Just before the pathetic, shivering reptilian could burst, he said, very softly: "If you want me to help you, hide them. All of them. Now."

"Yes, my lord," the Neimoidian bowed hastily, ready to please and save his own neck, not stopping to consider if the request was reasonable, or feasible. "Of course, my lord. It will be done."

"Good. I will not have you fail me again, Viceroy. I have an… associate. She will oversee your efforts and report back to me. For your sake, do not displease her." With that, Palpatine cut the transmission. He turned to the console and opened the data files waiting there for him. The first was a video feed, taken off a surveillance droid from Alaris Prime. It was grainy, shaky, and only a few seconds long. It showed two Jedi fighting - no, slaughtering - a squad of the Federation's battle droids. One was tall, with long hair, and wielded a green lightsaber. The other was shorter, clean shaven, with a blue lightsaber. Palpatine watched the clip several times, and paused it when the two Jedi were in clearest view.

He pulled up the second file. They were the results of two DNA tests performed on the fibers and hair found at the scene. Both of the tests had turned up results from the Jedi Order's registry. Attached to the ID photos of both Jedi were their names and information.

Jinn, Qui-Gon
Human
Male
57 standard
Master, Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic

Kenobi, Obi-Wan
Human
Male
22 standard
Senior Padawan, Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic

Palpatine's eyes slid back over to the freeze-framed video and bore into the faces of the two Jedi. Their faces were indistinct, but there was no mistaking them. Master Jinn, though Palpatine had never seen him before in his life, cut a distinct figure: Long hair, beard, even the lightsaber color matched the profile. He looked down the frame at the one called Kenobi - clean shaven, shorter, younger. It was a formulaic combination for Jedi apprentices, but even so… He squinted at the video and let it play again.

Master and apprentice. Yet this apprentice was very nearly a knight. He fought just as well as his master - better, in fact. And he'd been instrumental in pulling the curtain on Palpatine's careful plans. He'd been the one to destroy the most droids.

The video cut off just as the droid fled from the scene. The last visible trace of the Jedi was of Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing over a decimated battle droid, stance reeking of power and control.

"Kenobi," Darth Sidious said to himself, very quietly. He steepled his fingers and watched the video run, again, and again, and again. "How interesting."