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Chapter 24
"I'm sorry the accommodations aren't what you hoped. We'll try to reserve something better the next time you go into scandal-driven exile."
Obi-Wan's dry sense of humor was the last thing Anakin wanted that evening. But, true to their nightly communication schedule, they'd made contact on secure comlinks, and he was at the elder Jedi's mercy for at least five minutes. Padmé, napping before dinner, got to avoid the exchange.
"Also sorry to see your sense of humor didn't survive the trip," Obi-Wan smirked. "I hope Padmé is in better spirits. Is she at least comfortable?"
Anakin shrugged. "She hasn't complained."
"That's good," he hesitated. "The clones… did they tell you about their..."
"Emergency medical techniques?" Anakin finished, huffing. "Yes, they told us. Gave me nightmares last night."
"It's a viable safeguard, Anakin. Would you rather have no backup whatsoever?"
"I'd rather have a definite timeline of when we'll be out of here! Then I'd know whether our children are likely to be born Naboo or Coruscant citizens!"
"Padmé's due date isn't for several more weeks, correct?"
"Technically yes, but she says twins come early, sometimes a full month," anxiety chipped at his words. "Just last night, she had a 'practice' contraction. That can't be a good sign."
This was clearly news to Obi-Wan, who blinked in surprise. "Oh. My knowledge of pregnancy and childbirth is less thorough than I thought it was," he frowned slightly. "That is pertinent information… I thought we'd have more time…"
"So what will it be? One week here? Two?" Anakin demanded.
"I… I wish I could say, honestly I do. But it's not my decision to make, and not one to decide in haste. It all depends on the media's pulse," Obi-Wan kept his voice level. "I understand your concerns and I don't mean to belittle them, but the worst case scenario is using a local clinic. If that happens, I'm sure the Chancellor will send security reinforcements."
"It's not clinic security that worries me. It's being released to come home to this decrepit shack!"
Obi-Wan cringed at the tension and fear evident in Anakin's voice. "There's no need to shout. If you're concerned about not having enough baby items, I can easily ship you some."
That, at least, curbed some of Anakin's worry, yet a trace remained. By the time he finished giving Obi-Wan a list of supplies, he'd reverted to the same flatness as last night.
"I'll get right on this," Obi-Wan assured. "Er, one last thing – I'll be out of contact the next few days. I'll leave a spare comlink with Yoda and Mace. Continue to check in as usual with them."
"Where are you going?"
"It's a confidential mission," Obi-Wan hedged. "I'm afraid I can't discuss it. Nothing to be concerned about… I'll be back before you know it. And I'll pass along what you told me to Yoda and Mace. They may not decide anything until I return, but at least they'll have time to think it over."
Realizing this was the best – and only – available option, Anakin nodded. "Good luck then. I'll see you later."
No sooner had Obi-Wan switched off the comlink when he sensed a presence behind him. Pausing before turning around, he identified the signature. There was only one being who matched it.
"Chancellor, good evening," he faced him with a disarming smile. "What brings you to the Temple tonight?"
Not missing a beat, Palpatine returned the smile. "Just happened to be in the area after the grand convention finale. Did you watch the aerial display an hour ago?"
"Sadly, no. I haven't time for many diversions these days," Obi-Wan replied honestly. "I was doing the work of ten men before this week, and now… well, you can imagine!"
"Indeed," Palpatine's smile softened with empathy. "So I'll keep this brief. I simply wanted to check on Anakin and Padmé's status. Are they both well?"
"For the most part. Anakin fears they're underprepared for Padmé to give birth there."
"Can I be of assistance? Do they need anything?"
Out of habit, Obi-Wan was about to decline the Chancellor's offer, but he paused halfway through a tired breath. Having someone fulfill this errand was tempting, especially when he was running short on time to pack & prepare for Tatooine.
"Actually yes, I was about to send some supplies – diapers, blankets, compact bassinets. If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all!" Palpatine assured, placing a hand on his heart. "It would give me no greater joy! Just give me the list and I'll have everything packaged by noon tomorrow."
"Wonderful. Forward the goods to the intergalactic processing center in the Brak Sector. I'll tell CT-53 to collect the shipment there," Obi-Wan explained as he transferred the list to Palapatine's datapad. "And thank you. This saves me considerable time before leaving."
"Off again already? Why, you hardly take a breath of Coruscant air before flying to another adventure!" Palpatine exclaimed. "The grand life of a Jedi."
"Oh, it's nothing if not grand," Obi-Wan pressed his lips, bowing before the two parted ways – he to his private quarters to pack, while the elder gentleman slunk down the halls with the same chilling smile he was wont to indulge in when alone.
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The Corellian Run was starting to feel like a second home to Obi-Wan, and not one to which he relished returning. All he could think of was how much time and fuel could have been spared if Yoda had communicated the Tatooine plans during his voyage to Naboo. 3,000 parsecs, that's all it would have been. But grumbling about it wouldn't alter space or physics. He had to do what had to be done, and not much else could be said.
At least the better part of the trip could proceed on autopilot. Locking the engines into a steady pace, he sought refuge in the austere confines of the passenger cabin, slate gray walls and all. Not cozy or comforting by any means, but quiet, solitary, and exactly what he needed to let his mind and body finally recover.
Sleep came the instant his head made contact with the slim foam pillow. At first it was blissful blackness, a depthless void into which he could jettison all the aches of the past week. Inky velvet folds beckoned him to release all his anger, tension, and pain into their furrows, promising to never haunt him again. His soul sighed mournfully, achingly. Relief was his at last.
Then the blackness seemed to shimmer, cloaking an undefined shape behind its veil. Slowly the perfect sphere of a planet revealed itself. Light tan and arid from pole to pole – Tatooine. Was he there already? Had time passed so quickly?
Without ship or engine, he drew closer to the desert world, eventually landing on the surface with a soft thud. Plumes of sand swirled up gently, scattering into a twilit sky above twin setting suns. On the far horizon could be seen an approaching sandstorm; its thick walls were hurtling forward at a startling rate.
The only shelter visible for miles was a tattered dome-tent several hundred meters off. Even at this distance from the storm, its flaps fluttered wildly in the breeze. Obi-Wan preferred to hedge his bets with something sturdier, but there didn't appear to be any alternatives. It was either that or certain death out in the open.
He reached the hut faster than expected, despite his boots treading sand. Wind howled in his ears as he ducked under the front flap. Inside was nearly pitch black – not a sliver of sunset rays leaked between the seams. The only sound was that of his own ragged breathing. The distant whirl of the sandstorm vanished the moment he slipped inside.
But he was not alone. Not five feet from him, something shifted in the darkness.
It coughed. He'd never heard a cough so parched in all his life. It sounded as though the throat would split apart.
Fumbling for the flashlight he remembered slipping into his pocket, Obi-Wan hastily clicked the device on. Its beam was dim, worthless at first, but after shaking it several times, it illuminated what needed to be seen.
It was a woman clothed in rags filthier than the ground itself. Debris-strewn hair hung over her face, which she hid from him in shame and terror. Both her wrists dangled from twine knots that dug mercilessly into her skin.
Yet even in this harsh, unrecognizable state, Obi-Wan knew who his cellmate was. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name.
"Shmi?" he said weakly, afraid to startle her. "Shmi Skywalker?"
Her neck quivered at the familiar voice. With painstaking effort, she tilted her face toward him, hair still slanted across her eyes. On impulse, he crawled over to brush her vision free. The moment they made eye contact was overwhelming.
"It is you!" Obi-Wan gasped, fighting to untie the knots. "What are you doing here? What happened?"
She wanted to answer, but Obi-Wan could see breathing was excruciating for her. While her eyes searched his wildly, her cracked lips moved without sound. But it didn't matter; he needed no explanation to free her now. To bring her back to Anakin, who would surely be overcome…
The knots defied his every attempt. Each time he pried one loop loose, another formed behind it. The twine seemed to thicken as time elapsed.
"Just hold on, I'll get you out of here," he increased his fervor.
"Not likely."
Obi-Wan pivoted to find Count Dooku lurking just beyond the flashlight's pool of light, his visage more angular and severe than ever.
"Count Dooku… you're dead!" he asserted, reclaiming a thin slice of reality.
"So is she. But you're scrambling to save her nonetheless," the dark lord retorted. "A pitiful waste of your time, I'm afraid. Why you even bother trying is beyond me."
"Mock me if you will, it won't stop me," snorting, Obi-Wan turned back to Shmi. The knots had multiplied since he last looked, but he was undeterred.
"Allow me to assist you, then."
Faster than Obi-Wan could blink, a red blade sliced the twine to shreds while avoiding his hands. And faster than he could process the Count's act of redemption, the same blade finished its arc by impaling the prisoner straight through her heart. Her body crumpled to the floor in numbingly silent tragedy.
No sooner did her spirit release when Obi-Wan felt the red blade's handle in his own palm. Dooku had vanished along with Shmi's soul, and in his place materialized… Anakin. Anakin, staring at his kneeling master with more horrified outrage than had ever contorted his face.
"How could you?" he screamed, drawing his own lightsaber in fury. "What have you done! Why would you do this to me?"
Obi-Wan stuttered. "Anakin, no… I didn't… it's not what it looks like…"
The rest of his explanation was literally cut short when Anakin's ice-hot blade met his throat.
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