Finally. Finally he was going to be given a mission. The army of the Republic was already beginning to deploy in preparation for battle with the separatists. Plans were being made. War was brewing. And he had spent the three days since his conversation with Eliel in a curious state between bursting with anticipation and dropping from exhaustion. Even though the Jedi had yet to be dispatched into the Clone War, as it was being called, Obi-Wan Kenobi lacked the luxury of relaxation.

First, there had been a mad scramble to find Anakin and...discuss the news Eliel had shared about the Padawan's love for the Senator from Naboo. He'd failed, though. Without so much as a by-your-leave, Anakin had taken it upon himself to escort Padme Amidala back to her homeworld. Their ship had been departing even as Eliel was dressing him down for his loyalty to the Republic.

Then, there was a series of attempts to reconcile with his old friend. All were rebuked by Master Ando, who also took the opportunity--every time--to reprimand him sternly for the state Eliel was in on her return from their conversation.

Between his visits to the Healer Hall, Obi-Wan had been sent on no less than a hundred errands for Master Yoda and Master Windu; running messages between the Jedi temple and the Republic Executive Offices in a manner that was, he thought, more suited to a lesser trained Jedi. Or, better yet, to one of the apprentices currently slotted for just such duties. Anakin would have run the messages gladly, he thought. The boy had a rapport with Chancellor Palpatine and probably would have enjoyed the chance to deliver correspondence about what would surely go down in history as a major event in the galaxy.

But Anakin was on Naboo. Playing footsie with the Senator in some peaceful meadow, no doubt.

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and gathered himself, easing calm through his body as the blood flowed through his veins. There would be time to deal with Anakin later. Right now, he was about to get his orders. He'd been summoned to Yoda's chambers at first light, before he'd even had time to grab a bite to eat. This must be important.

Master Yoda was deep in concentration when Obi-Wan was escorted into the room and he took a moment to simply study the venerable Jedi. Few of the Order had been lucky enough to witness what Obi-Wan had on Geonosis--it was rare that Yoda took up his lightsaber in battle. Rare and... stunning. To look at him, one might be hard pressed to guess that the small creature--barely two feet tall--was a mighty warrior. But mighty he was.

"A visit I have had," Yoda said, suddenly, his large eyes turning to Obi-Wan.

"Master?"

"A visit," Yoda repeated, pursing his lips together for a moment, "from your old friend Jensei. Discuss your Padawan, we did."

Obi-Wan's heart plummeted into his stomach, taking the opportunity to do a neat flip-flop in his chest along the way. This wasn't an assignment for the war. It was to be another reprimand; probably a sterner one than Ando could ever hope to deliver.

"Worried, she is," Yoda continued. "Something in the boy, she senses. Spoken with you of this, she has."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master Yoda. Eliel believes..." he trailed off, searching for a way to phrase what his friend had shared. In the days since their conversation, he'd spent a considerable amount of time trying to discern just what she had been asking of him. Certainly, she'd made it clear that she wished to help Anakin deal with his emotions. But, beyond that, he wasn't sure what it was she had in mind.

"Believes young Skywalker is in danger, she does. Correct, she is."

He lowered his eyes. "Yes, Master Yoda."

Yoda sighed and moved toward Obi-Wan, his cane clacking softly on the marble floor. "Difficult it is to see the boy's future. Clouded the Force is around him. An excellent job you have done with him, Obi-Wan. An easy student, he is not."

That, Obi-Wan smiled, was an understatement. "Thank you, Master Yoda. I do try."

Yoda nodded and continued to pace toward him. "Requested your help, Bail Organa has. Jensei's, too. Wants you on Alderaan during this war, he does."

"It would be my pleasure to assist the Viceroy of Alderaan any way that I can," he answered. "And I know that Eliel will be more than happy to return there."

In fact, Obi-Wan knew that Eliel considered the pastoral planet as close to home as a Jedi could, having been stationed there during her training with Master Jorus C'baoth while he was assigned to arbitrate Organa's rise to the throne.

"Gone to Tatooine, she has." Yoda stopped pacing suddenly and turned to look out one of the windows.

"Tatooine, Master?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"Believes, she does, that there is more to the story of Shmi Skywalker's death. Crucial, I think, is her mission."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to work through the information Yoda was supplying. What could possibly be crucial about the death of Shmi Skywalker, tragic as it was? "I believe," he said finally, "that Anakin's mother was simply a victim of chance. Of bad luck."

Yoda turned to him, his small face grave. "There is no luck. There is only the will of the Force and the will of those who try to manipulate it."

He dropped his eyes once more. "But how, Master, has the Force been used against Shmi Skywalker? She was attacked by Tusken Raiders."

Yoda pursed his lips again and closed his eyes in concentration. After a moment, he thumped his cane against the marble and looked up at Obi-Wan. "A weak minded and brutal race. Easily manipulated. Easily pushed toward the Dark Side, they are."

Suddenly, pieces began to fall into place for him. "Eliel thinks that someone made the Tuskens kidnap Shmi? To get to Anakin? Who?"

"If we knew that," Yoda's expression turned to something resembling a smile, "going to Tatooine after her you would not be."

"You want me to go to Tatooine, Master?"

Yoda nodded. "Weak, she is, from her wounds. From her loss. Your help she will need, if she is to return to us...if we are to know more about Skywalker and his path. Attend to her you must, Obi-Wan. Duties there are for you and Eliel to fulfill. Here this war will be, upon your return."

He nodded, folding his hands against his waist and bowing slightly. "Yes, Master Yoda."

****

As a Jedi, Eliel Jensei was trained to be impartial. She spent many long hours learning to weigh each and every situation with parity in mind. Every one and every thing was to be examined from both sides if a clear, fair opinion was to be formed. It was their ability to be objective that allowed the Jedi to arbitrate disputes. It was their lack of personal attachment to a particular person, place, or ideal that made the Order what it was, that leant them credibility in the eyes of the Republic and gave them their status.

These lessons were drummed into her at both the Academy on Coruscant and by her own Master, Jorus C'baoth, while they were stationed on Alderaan during Bail Organa's tumultuous ascent to leadership. Jorus was known throughout the Republic as a great arbitrator of races and he took the time to instill his beliefs in Eliel as best he could. She, too, was skilled at diplomacy when the situation warranted. Moreover, she held tight to the tenet that the many races of the Republic were equal and deserved equal attention and representation. In theory, this is what the Galactic Senate was for. In practice, things often fell short.

With her lessons in mind, Eliel gave the desert planet of Tatooine every chance she could before coming to the irrevocable conclusion that she hated it passionately. Sand. Everywhere. Sand in her clothes, her eyes, her nose, and her food. Sand underfoot both outside and in. And not a lick of shade to be found anywhere on the entire blessed planet.

She began to sweat the moment her ship touched down at the Mos Eisley space port and continued to shed precious hydration all throughout the day while she searched for someone who could point her in the right direction. Finding the coordinates of the Lars moisture farm was easy enough; the family was well known, especially in the wake of their recent tragedy. But, before she set out across the endless stretches of dunes, Eliel wanted more information about the Tuskens. Someone must know more than what the Jedi holocrystals had stored in the great library. Someone on the miserable planet must have learned more practical things about the race. Someone, she reasoned, had to have a better answer than "stay away from those animals" when questioned about the Tuskens.

They lived in family oriented groups. They had domesticated animals and, according to the holocrystals, a rich oral tradition. The Tuskens had culture. They were no more animals than the Wookies. And odds were good that they smelled better. They almost had to.

But no one in Mos Eisley seemed to agree.

She should, she supposed, be back on Coruscant under the ministrations of Master Ando while she awaited her assignment for the early days of the war. Obi-Wan, dear, dutiful Obi-Wan, was probably already on his first mission; eager to right wrongs and preserve the Republic.

He'd been reckless, once; when they were younger and flushed with the excitement of mastering the use of the Force. She'd sensed a kindred spirit in him the moment they met in the cafeteria assigned to young Jedi apprentices. Quick to question, quicker to over estimate their own burgeoning abilities, they'd become fast friends. He'd even helped her break one of the cardinal rules in the Order, once.

But time had changed them both. Time, trainingexperiences that could not be shared from opposite ends of the Republic. It was not coincidence, she supposed, that she was taken in by a Master who preferred words to action when it came to solving problems while Obi-Wan was given Qui-Gon Jinn--a man noted for his own rebellions against the established way of doing things.

She loved her Master, admired him, and was loyal to what he'd instilled in her. Obi-Wan, she knew, held his fallen teacher just as dear. But the plan--for she was convinced that their separation and assignments were just that--had backfired somewhat. Admire Jorus C'baoth as she might and dutiful as she had struggled to become, her time spent assisting in arbitration on Alderaan had only served to cement Bel Eliel Jensei's sense of resistance to the status quo.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had taken the freedom he was given by Qui-Gon and used it to mold himself a neat little path. Someday, she had no doubt, he would sit on the Council of Twelve.

Assuming, of course, that he was not completely defeated by the fact that his Padawan was likely to cause more trouble than the two of them put together at Anakin's age. Obi-Wan took his duties--his promise to Qui-Gon--far too seriously, placed entirely too much of his own self-worth on the boy and the outcome of his training. Chosen One or not, Anakin Skywalker walked a path that was for his feet alone. Any failures would be his own, not his Master's.

Unlike Nerilu, who had died because of Eliel's own inability to protect the girl. Failure at its most precise and painful. Failure: irrevocable and complete.

Eliel checked her thoughts with a physical gesture, slicing the air in front of her chest in a downward motion. This was not about Nerilu Hic. It was about Anakin Skywalker and, unless she got moving, the light of another bright Padawan would likely go dark.

Her comlink chirped suddenly and Eliel cocked her head to look at the small screen. She blinked at it twice, startled by the signature of the signal and tapped the unit gently to make certain it was functioning.

Obi-Wan? On Tatooine?

A smile came to her lips, as it always did when he made unexpected contact, but Eliel twisted it into a scowl with deliberate measure. She punched three keys in rapid sequence, dismissing his call in overt retaliation for his rejection of her concern for Anakin. He'd find her, eventually. And it might do him some good to take a long and sweaty trek through the dunes to do so.

It was doubtful that Obi-Wan was on Tatooine of his own volition. Master Yoda sent him, for certain; though the question of why still lingered. She was off duty--as much as a Jedi could ever be so--for several weeks in the wake of her injuries and loss. This trip was entirely on her own time and, despite the fact that she'd asked permission to go, entirely outside of the Council's jurisdiction. Unless he was there to recall her to Coruscant, then, Obi-Wan's presence suggested that Yoda found some merit in her theory regarding Shmi Skywalker's death. Enough merit, in fact, to make it worth sending two Jedi to a backwater planet during the early days of galactic war.

Take that, Kenobi.

****

The Lars' moisture farm was surrounded by an endless sea of dunes and sky. A small cluster of buildings that rose out of the sand and stood exposed to all that the elements of Tatooine had to offer, it was the very definition of remote.

Eliel scanned the place as her speeder slowed, wondering how anyone could choose to live their lives in such a wasteland. How could they stand to exist bereft of water and beaten upon by the twin suns? She could cope with heat, so long as there was humidity as well, but this place lacked even the barest hint of moisture. Her own homeworld, Cuan, was a watery, misty place and it must have left an indelible mark upon her at a very early age, for she'd always been more comfortable when water was present.

By the time the speeder came to a stop, a young man was waiting to greet her on the perimeter of the living area. He was stout, somewhat scruffy, and seemed both suspicious and annoyed by her interruption of his day.

"Are you Owen Lars?"

He nodded once. "Yes. Who wants to know?"

Eliel climbed out of the speeder and straightened her sweat-soaked robes. "I am Bel Eliel Jensei," she answered. "I've come to speak with your father, if I might."

"A Jedi," he said. His tone was dour and edged with suspicion.

Eliel nodded.

"All my life I've gone without so much as seeing one of your kind and now, suddenly, you're coming to my door in droves."

His feelings were clear enough, even without the benefit of examining his thoughts, but Eliel lowered her gaze and took a moment to skim the surface of the young man's mind. Images of Anakin Skywalker sprang forth, bringing ripples of resentment and anger along with them.

She shook them off with a shrug and looked at him once again. "I know that you are busy men. I will only take a few moments of your time, if your father will speak with me."

He eyed her warily, squinting against the brightness of the day, and, for a moment, Eliel thought that the boy was about to turn her away entirely. A call came from the house, breaking the tension neatly.

"Owen? Owen, who are you talking to?"

Eliel turned to the domed structure to her left. A young woman, clad in hues that matched the desert sand, stood in the doorway, shading her eyes with a hand. Eliel felt Owen's wall of hostility slip for a moment, allowing a small cascade of affection to shine through, and deduced that the girl must be his wife--or betrothed, at the very least.

"A Jedi," he answered. "Come to speak to Father."

"Well, don't leave her standing there to melt in the sun, Owen," she scolded. "Show her in. Perhaps she would like to join us for lunch."

"That would be lovely," Eliel admitted. It had been a long trek from Mos Eisley and she'd been hungrier than usual lately; a side effect, no doubt, of healing from her injuries.

Owen scowled and his emotions shifted rapidly back toward mistrust, even as he gestured to the house. "My father is already inside. Beru will take you to him. Beru," he added, loudly, "I'm going to go up to the eastern perimeter and see if I can't get those vaporators going again. I'll be home by dark."

With that, Owen Lars spun on a heel and strode off, heading for what looked to be the machinery shed.

"Please, Master Jedi, come inside," Beru called, waving her in toward the door. "You'll have to forgive Owen," she added, once Eliel had joined her, "he's already a good way down the road to becoming a curmudgeon."

It was cool in the house and the relief from the blistering heat of the day lightened Eliel's mood instantly. "He doesn't seem to like Jedi, that's for sure."

Beru frowned a moment, as if lost in an unpleasant memory, then looked up at Eliel, craning her neck back slightly. "He is very...our last encounter with a Jedi was during a difficult time. Owen is a good man, he's just a little..."

"Burdened?"

Beru nodded. "Yes."

"Well, I don't wish to take up very much of your time at all. I'd just like to have a quick word with Cliegg, if I might."

"And you are?" The question came in a deep, male voice and both women turned toward the sound.

The first thing Eliel noticed about Cliegg Lars was the echo of his missing leg. It extended almost visibly from the place in his thigh where flesh and bone should have been and hung from the edge of his hoverchair, shadowy and ghost-like. Odds were high, she thought, that he was still feeling pain from the phantom limb. A Jedi Healer could fix that by smoothing out the Force as it flowed around him. It would take several sessions to accomplish the goal but, in the end, his life aura would be complete once again. As it stood now, stuck as he was light years from the Healer Hall on Coruscant, the man would probably spend the rest of his life out of synch with himself and suffering the after-effects of such an interruption in his own energies.

"Bel Eliel Jensei," she said, bowing slightly at the waist. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Lars."

"Well, Master Jensei, was it?" He looked up at her, obviously appraising. "You have the time it takes me to eat my lunch. Then, unless you know how to fix heavy machinery, I'm afraid you'll have to leave me to my work."

"Fair enough," she smiled.

Beru lead them to a small, but cozy kitchen and saw Cliegg comfortably ensconced in a chair before turning back to Eliel and indicating that she should sit as well. "I'm afraid it's not a very fancy meal," she said, flushing slightly. "We haven't been for supplies in quite a while and the vegetable garden isn't ready to harvest just yet,"

"I'm sure that whatever you serve will be wonderful, Beru. And I'm very grateful for the hospitality," Eliel smiled at her openly, sensing the girl's unease with her relatively new role as woman of the house.

Shmi Skywalker's presence still lingered, clinging to the house and its inhabitants in almost gossamer like clumps. It was especially strong in the kitchen and that made a certain degree of sense to Eliel, as the woman no doubt spent quite a lot of time there preparing meals for her family. Sadness tarried as well, especially around Cliegg Lars. It was no wonder, Eliel thought, that Anakin had been so fixated on his mother. Even in death her nearness was soothing and light--almost tinkling like small bells in the arid breeze.

"I have a hunch," Cliegg said from across the table, "that the Jedi Council is not in need of moisture from my farm."

She shook her head. "No, sir."

"Then what brings you here, Master Jensei?"

She thought a moment, using the time it took Beru to place a plate in front of her to come up with an appropriate way of phrasing her question. "I'm wondering if you can tell me anything about the Tuskens," she said, finally.

"Animals," he growled. "Brutes. Not worth your time, unless you're planning on wiping them from the face of this planet."

"I'm not," she answered. "Jedi do not kill indiscriminately."

He set down his sandwich and gave her another appraising gaze. "Too bad," he said after a long moment. "One of those lightsabers of yours could probably do a lot of damage."

Eliel fingered the hilt of her weapon, unfamiliar as it was to her left hand. Indeed, it could do quite a bit of damage. More than Cliegg Lars could imagine. "I have reason to believe," she said carefully, leveling her voice with a very slight edge of the Force, "that your wife's abduction might not have been random. I was hoping that you might be able to give me some information about the Tuskens; to help determine if my theory is right or wrong."

Across the table, Beru fumbled her mug, clanking it loudly against her plate in unabashed shock. "What are you saying?" She asked, eyes wide.

Eliel glanced at her, then returned her gaze to Cliegg. "Every Jedi comes to a point in their training where they are at their most vulnerable. Anakin Skywalker...Anakin has been walking a very fine line, I think. And the death of his mother might be enough to push him in one direction or another."

"You think that..." Beru trailed off.

"She thinks," Cliegg interrupted, "that someone was trying to get to Anakin through Shmi."

Eliel nodded. "Perhaps, yes. It might be that her death was simply tragic, without manipulation or purpose. Anakin is a very powerful young man, though, and if someone is trying to push him in the wrong direction, we need to know about it while there is still time to prevent another tragedy."

Cliegg Lars spent a long time studying his plate, contemplating her words and trying to seal the wounds of grief that she had managed to reopen. When he had successfully stuffed his emotions back into the dark, neat corner where he'd been keeping them since his wife's death, he looked up at her, shaking his head. "I can't help you," he said. "I've told you everything I know about the Tuskens. I don't think they're smart enough to get involved in some kind of scheme with someone who wants Anakin. They'd rather kill a stranger than give him the chance to say hello."

"But they kept your wife alive," she said, regretting the words almost immediately. The man was still grieving--this was not the time to examine half-cocked theories based on images that had leaked from Anakin Skywalker's mind into her own.

Cliegg Lars rose unsteadily, leaning heavily on the table with his left hand as he motioned to Beru with his right. Immediately, the girl got to her feet and maneuvered his hoverchair for him, angling it so that he could sit down. "I've told you all I can, Jedi," he said. "I have a harvester to fix."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lars," she answered, lowering her head in genuine remorse. "I did not mean to upset you."

His response came with gruff conviction. "Anakin Skywalker belongs to the Jedi and has for ten years. He is not my concern. Beru will show you out."

"Thank you for your time," Eliel got to her feet, painfully aware of how she towered over the man. Before he'd lost the leg, he'd probably been at least as tall as she was.

He spun the chair deftly in the small space and disappeared through a side door, allowing it to bang loudly in his wake.

Eliel sighed audibly. Perhaps Obi-Wan had been correct. Maybe she should be concentrating her energies on the war at hand and on preserving the Republic in the face of insurrection. Tatooine appeared to be a dead end street. And Anakin Skywalker was not her Padawan.

"I know someone," Beru said.

"Pardon?"

"Someone who can tell you about the Tuskens," she added. "If...if anyone can help you, she can. You'll have to go to Anchorhead, though. And you'd better leave now. You don't want to be out there after dark."

Eliel offered her a smile of genuine gratitude, falling into step behind her as she lead the way to the front of the house. "Thank you, Beru."

Beru stopped, her fingers on the handle of the door. "Owen and Cliegg are very...wounded. We all feel the loss of her," she said. "If what you say is true, if someone hurt Shmi to get to her son, I can only hope that you will find them and..."

"If I find that someone is behind this," Eliel said, laying a gentle hand on her arm, "the Jedi Council will deal with them appropriately."

To her surprise, Beru bent over her hand, examining the scarred flesh of her forearm in the dim light of the hall. "You're hurt," she said.

Eliel nodded. "It's nothing."

"It's not healed yet. You should be careful."

"Thank you," she gave the girl's arm a soft squeeze. "I will."

"The woman you're looking for is called Tillea. Ask for her in Anchorhead and someone will be able to help you find her. Try the market. She's been known to trade with the Tuskens. She's the only one who ever comes back from such attempts."

Eliel squeezed her arm once more, then extricated herself from Beru's grip. "Shmi lingers here," she said. "I can feel her. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Beru offered a small shrug in return, then pulled the heavy door open, flooding the hall with a blinding light and sending the Jedi out into the searing heat of the day once more.

Eliel crossed the compound slowly, but with a small spring in her step. At last, she was getting somewhere. Anchorhead was a good distance from the Lars homestead, but every sweaty minute of the trip would be worth it if this Tillea could provide helpful information.

She had one foot in the speeder when the comm beeped insistently. Eliel glanced down at it as she settled into the seat and frowned at the orange light blinking next to the signature of the call. Obi-Wan again. And he was getting impatient.

Her fingers went to the keypad out of habit, preparing to answer his call. But Eliel checked herself and spent a long moment staring at the small screen. It beeped again, offering two shrill demands for her attention and sending a spasm of duty through her index finger. In reply, she jerked her thumb against the power button, turning the unit off entirely. Duty did not always come at the beck and call of the Jedi Order.

[End Part 2]

Elismor
July 2002