Some Other Future's Past
Chapter 13
~
Anakin sprawled on the bed in his room at the embassy. It was midmorning on this side of the city-world of Coruscant and he was the happy recipient of his first full night of sleep in a week. Padmé and Mace Windu had come to look in on him at one point. The Jedi master had advised her to just let him sleep, saying that some took a long time to adjust to Coruscant's artificially maintained atmosphere.
His deceit caused him some guilt, but he knew that he had to go this alone. If it failed, he would be the one on the hook for it, and that was fine with him. His family would not be touched by any of it.
As it was, Padmé was always in a tearing hurry lately. A dinner here, a tea there – the last time she and Anakin actually managed a meal together she had nearly fallen asleep in her soup. He missed her terribly, but understood that she was doing her job – some of what she told him made him wonder if the job was worth it.
If you wanted to be around liars, murderers, thieves, and scumbags why not just go back to Tattooine? All this back stabbing and glad-handing was just not for him – Anakin wondered how she managed to get through the day without shooting anybody. Maybe Master Windu had something to do with that, he seemed to be filling in for Obi-Wan while he was recovering.
Obi-Wan was actually able to have visitors now, and Anakin made it a point to go see his master at least twice per day. They could talk until Obi-Wan went pale and shaky, and then either Rabé or one of the visiting Jedi would come to shoo him away.
Come to think of it, if he succeeded in his plan to free Qui-Gon, he'd be in for the hiding of a lifetime from both his Angel as well as from Obi-Wan – assuming the former could stay awake and the latter could get out of bed.
Rabé might be right behind them, though.
Eritaé would probably have something to say, as well.
Captain Panaka would certainly have a few choice words, as might Madam Meron, Justice Aspa, and
Anakin blinked. He might actually be in more trouble if he managed to pull this off than if he failed dismally.
It was not the racing that had kept him out last night - the four he had been entered in were early-prime time by virtue of his performance this week.
Barruda had taken him to meet his thorp.
One place that Anakin would never be comfortable was in a room full of beings that looked like Sebulba. It was, however, heartening to know that even Sebulba's own mother thought that her son was pit slime.
The Dugs seemed all for helping Anakin, though. He felt sympathy for them, after all, they were natives of Malastare and the Gran were the interlopers. Even if the Dugs had attacked first, that did not excuse what the Gran, and in turn the Republic, had done to them afterward.
Here on Coruscant, the Dugs had found employment suited to their unique builds and abilities. They drove air taxis and courier skimmers through Coruscant's man-made canyons, sometimes at speeds that would sicken their passengers. They worked high-rise construction, leaping from beam to beam of skeletal buildings as they once had traveled the rain-forest canopy on Malastare. They worked in ventilation trades or deep underground in the tunnels that held vital utilities such as communication and data transfer.
And many of them had plenty of ideas on how to get him into the temple, and back out again.
The first priority was to find out just how badly Master Jinn had been hurt. Anakin had the feeling that if Obi-Wan – who had been in perfect health before – was unable to walk across a room without aid then Qui-Gon might be in very bad shape indeed.
Luuabu – one of Barruda's cousins – was a courier for one of the firms that imported rare botanicals and was occasionally assigned to take packages to the healers or the research wings of the temple. A small incentive slipped to her dispatcher would secure the assignment for her when the next batch came in.
A very old Dug, the thorp's matriarch, worked in the Permits and Permissions at the Department of Buildings and Safety. She would copy the most recent specifications of the temple for him, down to the ductwork.
If there was no other way to get in, a team of Dugs who worked in the deepest part of Coruscant's underground could run him in through the sewers.
Anakin sighed. He did not have a plan yet, but with any luck at all he would have one by the time the Convocation opened three days from now.
With any luck at all?
May the Force be with him, he'd need all the luck that he could get!
Especially since the embassy now held more Jedi than he had ever seen in one place. The guest wing – all five floors of it – was beginning to fill. If sneaking past the vigilant Diplomatic Corps guards was hard, sneaking past a few dozen Jedi was even harder. Anakin had attained new heights of stealth in his excursions.
The healer who came to see Obi-Wan, a Wookiee lady called Chaawushro, made him especially nervous. Anakin's understanding of Wookiee-speak was very good, and the way she looked at him made him think that maybe she knew what he was up to.
She had asked to examine him, and at Padmé's insistence, Anakin had agreed.
It was unlike any other examination that Anakin had ever had. He had replayed every minute of his life, everything he had ever done, and it had actually been rather interesting. She had been especially interested in the night that Obi-Wan broke the Sith linkage - even if the memory was enough to make him wince with pain Anakin had been fascinated. He remembered very little, just that the whoever on the other end of the link had harmed his Padmé.
When Chaawushro had sat back, her face had been solemn. Padmé's face was tight, her hands hidden in the bell-sleeves of her dress. Mace Windu was as stone-faced as ever as they waited for the healer to speak.
"I think, young one, that you will have a very interesting life in addition to the events you have in your memory. I see the strength of the Force within you as I have not seen in a century and a half of living." The Wookiee's voice was low enough to vibrate his ribcage. "Choose your steps carefully, lest they take you down a path you never intended. Trust in those whose love you know as true, and all will be well."
Anakin had been bewildered. Why would he not trust those he loved? And what if he was so busy watching his feet that he ran into something?
The Jedi needed to get better at straight talking – actually, most of Coruscant did as nobody here really seemed to say what they meant.
Whoever Anakin was or was going to be, as far as Anakin was concerned, he would find out when he found out. Until then, there was plenty to keep him occupied.
~
"I'm quite pleased that you could come at all, your Highness." Mero Palpatine poured Amidala a cup of her favorite sweetbark tea. "I know that matters have been quite pressing back home."
The girl queen smiled and tucked her head in polite thanks as she took the cup, her hand as delicate as a porcelain doll's in the sleeve of the rose-embroidered, pale blue silk overdress. "Thank you, Chancellor, for your support. You have no idea how much it means to me, or to our world."
His visit to the embassy was supposed to look spontaneous. After all, he had been one of Amidala's most vocal supporters when she was running against Veruna. With an air of 'more in sorrow than in anger' Palpatine had turned upon the man whose political career he had carefully guided into a morass of corruption and vaulted a young and idealistic girl onto the throne.
"It is a credit to your abilities, not my support, my Queen. If only we had you here on Coruscant, we might actually get something accomplished."
The reception room was one of the smaller ones. Paneled in a rose marble shot through with veins of pure white and gold, it was used for when people of importance needed to talk away from bent ears. Palpatine allowed himself to visibly relax into the comfortable chair and a thoughtful expression to cross his features.
Young Amidala, diplomat to the core, sipped her tea and waited for him to speak.
"Yet, I worry. It seems that with every fire I extinguish, five more spring from its scattered embers. Even the Jedi are becoming overwhelmed, with the Senate so mired in corruption and their own disagreements sometimes those brave souls are the only tool I can wield to any effect." His fingers massaged his temples as he regarded the young woman from behind slitted eyes. "The strain even seems to have caught up with the young knight, Kenobi."
He could plainly see the padawan braid in Amidala's hair, and did not dare attempt to attach any links to her, especially not in a building that was rapidly and inexplicably filling with Jedi. Searches for the boy were fruitless – from time to time, a glimmer of Anakin Skywalker's presence would register before dropping out of perception once more. This was not the obscuring of one's power in the Force, something Palpatine did as easily as he breathed, but the complete camouflage of an entire being.
Amidala took deep interest in the contents of her cup. "Knight Kenobi has been subject to extraordinary stresses. I am sure that the parties involved intended no harm."
"Surely his former master would be able to help? Master Jinn?" The older Jedi had been injured, but there had been time for him to heal enough to take low-stress missions. Instead, the roster of on-planet Jedi listed him as unavailable and inquiries sent to his comcode went unanswered.
Amidala's expression stiffened slightly. There was a time when she would have confided in him, but the Jedi had robbed him yet again of something that should have been his. In time, Amidala would have realized her potential in the Force and under his prompting, come to resent the Jedi who denied her the use of it. She would have been his puppet to play on the stage of galactic politics – now she was only of minimal use. Perhaps it was time to arrange for her removal.
"Master Jinn is involved in an internal policy matter. We have been unable to contact him for some time." The very blandness of her voice raised his interest. There was an internal dispute among the Jedi? This merited further investigation. Perhaps Amidala would be of further use after all.
~
The volume was deafening.
And to think that I thought that she was the quiet one!
Obi-Wan blinked at the sudden silence and returned his gaze to Rabé. Her arms were crossed over her chest, the index finger of her right hand tapping at her left bicep.
"I don't think that you understand, Rabé." His voice was calm, soothing. "I must attend the Convocation. I am in no danger from other Jedi." Obi-Wan had never expected her to become this exercised. All he had done was to say that he would attend the opening of the Convocation that would begin at sundown three days from now.
Rabé was having none of it and her response would have made Anakin blink.
The Jedi convocation was begun on Long Night, Coruscant's winter solstice and the beginning of the new calendar year. Meant to symbolize the Jedi's watch against the powers of the Dark, it had become a weeklong planet-wide holiday whether during a Convocation year or not. Fantastic lighted displays were designed for every building and every flat had at least one lumastrand hung in the window. Beings partied all of Long Night, strolling charlatans performed magic, and musicians played on every surface that would hold them.
In the temple, Long Night was a day of solemnity and fasting. All lights were extinguished but for those in the healer's wing and the crèches, and only the illumination that could be made with the Force was permitted be used. At the first sign of dawn, all of the Jedi would assemble in the hall of the Convocation and join their light until the illumination inside made the entire hall glow.
Obi-Wan intended to be there.
Rabé – who had obviously been appointed his keeper – disagreed.
Vehemently.
And loudly, too.
"Blast it to bloody blue hell! They nearly killed you, you thick twit! Do you understand that for a period of time you were not breathing, your heart did not beat! How can you sit there and say that you're in no danger?" She stalked right up to him and waggled her finger under his nose. "Padmé and Anakin were nearly out of their minds at what they were feeling from you! Even Chaawushro said that it harmed them as well! I can understand putting your butt on the line, but you're dragging theirs right up there with yours!"
Of course, she's worried for her friends!
Now that he knew what was unsettling her so, he could find a way to put her concerns to rest.
"Rabé, Anakin and Padmé are in no danger from the Jedi. I'd wager that nobody knew that this kind of damage might occur, and from what master Windu told me, the Council was horrified at the aftereffect." Rabé flipped her braids, growling about near-death experiences being a stang of an aftereffect, and Obi-Wan hastened his words before she could work up another head of steam. "Master Jinn is in the hands of one of the best healers in the galaxy, safe from all harm. All the same, if I put a question to the Council in the Open Forum, that question must be allowed and answered. I intend to ask the question to none other than Qui-Gon."
The Open Forum was a place for the settling of disputes that could not be resolved in any other way. By Jedi tradition, indeed by the laws of the Order, if Obi-Wan demanded to ask a question of Qui-Gon Jinn, then the Council would be required to produce the Jedi and being his master into the Forum.
"But this Sifodious"
"Sifo-Dyas is a Jedi of many decades standing and experience, Rabé," Obi-Wan interuppted. "I doubt that he knew this would cause so much harm. He is dogmatic, an ideologue, a traditionalist, and a purist, but he is not – could not be an intentionally cruel man, even if his methods might seems so."
The young woman looked very unconvinced and chewed for a second at her lower lip. "But"
"Mace Windu will be with me, and all of the others who seem to be encamped in the guest wing." Persuasive reason would have to be his tool of choice. Lately, though he was perfectly lucid, Chaawushro and Rabé had taken to talking right over his head as if he were not even there. "Anakin and Padmé could not be safer in their mother's arms, as well. What Darksider would be mad enough to come anywhere near them?"
~
Luuabu lounged in the rope hammock tied high in the rafters of Specialty Imports couriers' hangar, reading the latest issue of Underground and waiting for her comunit to chime.
Teela's had in some new eardangles and flexilettes, maybe when she got her paychit this period, she'd buy a matched set of the red gingli stone and gold. Mother would scold, but there was that nice taxi driver from Uluuma's thorp
Luuabu knew her finely toned arms and delicately flanged ears here her best features. A fem had to do what a fem had to do, but for a male with moustaches like that it was well worth it.
"Lu! Haya! Lu! Git down here!" The voice of the dispatcher echoed off the plascrete and durasteel of the hangar roof. "Got a deliv'ry for ya!"
Flinging herself out of her perch, Luuabu swung down the stanchions and conduits to the floor in front of the dispatcher's consoles.
The jaws and vocal boxes of Dugs could only handle a small amount of the movements demanded by Basic, so most Dugs spoke the trade-tongue. Composed of Basic, Huttese and a smattering of Bothan, it was the unofficial language of small traders in the Outer and Mid-Rim worlds. Her boss Puggi, a Hutt who was female this cycle, refused to speak anything else.
"Whatcha got for me?" Luuabu held out her foot for the memstick in her Hutt's hand.
"What you and I talked about." Puggi's tail flipped lazily as she reclined on her couch, blinking both sets of eyelids as Luuabu took the memstick from her hand. "They're loading your flitter now."
Nodding, the young Dug slipped the memstick into her datapad. The run was a delivery to the healer's section of the Jedi temple, a big one with lots of exotics that required special handling to unload. Puggi was gestating her little one and the cash that Luuabu paid her for this assignment had been cheerfully accepted.
Perfect.
As Luuabu pocketed her datapad, she inclined her head politely to her boss. "Thank you, Puggi, Can I get you anything while I'm out?"
"Now that you mention it, Lu, I could really go for a tub of Huadi swamp blugs and a Fizzi-Freezi"
~
"I wish you could go with me, Demon." Padmé said as she hoisted her layered skirts to her knees. The blue, green and gold dress she was wearing to the Chandrilan Consul's early evening reception and conference was so elaborate that this was the only way she could put on her shoes. Her brown hair was caught up in cage of pearls and emeralds on gold wire, and her dark eyes were even more prominent against the white of her traditional makeup.
"I have a lot of studying to do, Angel. I'll take a break later, maybe go to the arcade or the night market." Anakin turned his datapad face-down so Padmé would not be able to see exactly what he had been studying. "Besides, you know how rude I can get. If that ushni gimdac lip-mashes your knuckles one more time, I'm likely to do something that you might think was socially unacceptable."
The Eriadu had hosted a reception for the court of Naboo one evening and Anakin had not been able to beg off.
In retrospect, he thought that might be a good thing as a colonel from that world's planetary defense force had chased Padmé all over the ballroom. Anakin did not know the man, but he instinctively disliked him even though his overtures to both Anakin and Padmé had been friendly.
Padmé chided, "He was being polite."
"He was drooling." Anakin sniffed in response. Wilhuf Tarkin now seemed to be everywhere Padmé was, looking at Anakin's Angel as if all he wanted was a fork and some hot sauce. Anakin knew that he was not jealous, but the thought of Tarkin breathing vacuum was somehow satisfying.
Shoes on, Padmé fell back in the chair, grabbing a few moments of relaxation. Anakin was very glad that she was feeling better, and that somehow the Wookiee healer had been able to help her. Just as there were things that he had to do on his own, there were things that his friend had to do on her own.
They sat in silence, simply glad of the company, as the rest of the entourage getting into place. Rabé and Eritaé came gliding up in their deep rose dresses and cloaks.
"Time, my Queen." Eritaé murmured.
Managing her skirts deftly, Padmé rose from her chair and then bent over to give Anakin a kiss on the forehead. "Don't blow anything up while I'm gone?" She murmured, her lips curved in a slight smile against his skin.
"Go ahead, ruin all my fun!" Anakin mock-groused as he placed his own careful kiss on the soft wing of hair next to her temple. Saché would blister his ears if she had to redo Padmé's face or hair.
Anakin managed to keep his expression from shifting as his comlink chimed softly, lost in the bustle of departure. Surreptitiously hitting the callback button, he strolled out of Padmé's rooms and back to his own.
Once inside, he pulled the device out of his pocket and felt relief and apprehension wash through him in equal measure. Luuabu had her assignment.
Changing into casual clothing, Anakin commed Luuabu back, telling the Dug to meet him at the side entrance to the Fortune's Darling arcade, level one-twelve of the Siadi Corporation Recreation Multiplex.
The real race, the defining contest, was now on. Anakin just hoped to cross the finish line in one piece.
~