A/N Thanks for all your reviews so far!! Please continue to tell me what you think, I'm still new to this universe. ;-)
There was pandemonium in the town hall.
The boy could hear it as he hurried through the cold street, his robe pulled tightly around him, gasping a little, since the smell of dust and fumes still lingered in the night air.
So cold...Anakin hated the cold. He had never really got used to it and doubted he ever would, but he had learned, at least, to suppress his discomfort; Obi-Wan frowned upon complaints of any kind. Anakin wondered whether his master would be at the meeting; technically, Obi-Wan was supposed to be recuperating in hospital, but the Jedi Master had insisted that he would attend at the town hall with the others, and, as Anakin was repeatedly informed, master always knew best. Then again, from the snatches of conversation the boy had eavesdropped upon between Master Yoda and Master Windu, Obi-Wan had known best even as an apprentice.
Anakin rounded the corner, his thoughts interrupted by fresh indignant roars from the town hall, where the Lesser Ministers, all that remained of Kreanon's government, were assembled, along with the Jedi investigators, ostensibly to 'discuss' the tragic events of yesterday. From the sound of it there was far too much shouting and yelling going on for anything to be actually achieved.
A large crowd of people blocked Anakin's way, some arguing and shouting themselves, others huddled together in anxious silence trying to hear what was being said inside the building. The Jedi apprentice pushed his way as quickly as he could through the chaotic group, ignoring the tugs on his robe from numerous angry Kreanons, and was finally able to shove open the heavy wooden door of the town hall and slip inside. He slammed the door firmly behind him, almost bisecting a large Kreanon male who struggled to get through it in his wake.
Shivering, Anakin followed the yelling to an enormous pair of double-doors, thick and ornately carved. He frowned. If the noise was getting so clearly through such thick wood, what would it sound like inside? Doubting the usefulness of knocking, the young man simply pushed open one of the doors and poked his head around it.
The room was huge, grandly decorated, with a high, curtained stage at the front, and many rows of old and beautiful wooden chairs bolted to the sloping floor. Currently most of the chairs were empty; ten or so Ministers sat in the front row, looking unhappy, while another dozen were standing, shouting and shaking their fists furiously at one another. The stage was empty, and at first Anakin could see no sign of the other Jedi, though he was quite sure they were there somewhere...entering the room fully, careful to keep back and quiet, he scanned the scene carefully, and finally spotted an oversize alcove off to the left. It was mostly hidden behind a sweeping purple curtain, but Anakin could just make out what looked like Master Sendar's arm peeking out. The boy suppressed a giggle at the thought of two venerable Jedi Masters and a senior Padawan hiding behind a curtain, but he could hardly blame them for not wanting to get involved with the Ministers' bickering.
Said bickering had its advantages - it allowed Anakin to sneak unnoticed across the room and slip behind the purple curtain. To his surprise, what he had taken for an alcove was actually a small sitting room - there was a coffee table and two comfortable-looking chairs, set in front of a large bay window, complete with window-seat. Anakin paid little attention to the décor, however; his gaze fell at once upon his master. Obi-Wan was sitting in one of the chairs, looking rather pale and ragged, but maintaining his usual cool dignity nonetheless. Sendar Varen stood behind Obi-Wan's chair with a hand resting on the back of it, in a rather protective manner. Arik was perched on the window-seat, looking perfectly calm and at ease despite the roaring going on only a few metres away. Surprisingly, Rayoo was also present, sitting in the other armchair, his small, pale face sullen, and his eyes very red...Anakin felt a touch of pity for this poor kid, who had lost his master so early in his training, almost before it had begun, really. Sendar kept throwing little glances at Rayoo, as though to gauge how he was holding up, but the boy's expression was hard to read.
Anakin bowed politely to Master Varen, nodded to Arik and smiled awkwardly at Rayoo, who failed to even acknowledge it, before setting himself down on the arm of Obi-Wan's chair.
"Hi, Master."
"Padawan." Replied the other, evenly. Obi-Wan looked unusually stressed, as well as tired; he closed his eyes and winced every so often, obviously suffering from a nasty headache.
"I could hear them yelling down the street." Remarked Anakin, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the politicians, having to speak loudly himself to be heard over the continuing din of the Ministers' arguments.
"That doesn't surprise me in the least." Obi-Wan sighed. He rubbed his forehead wearily. "So could we, when we arrived an hour ago. They have been here since this morning, roaring at one another, and appear to have reached precisely no consensus whatsoever. They failed to notice us when we entered, and we've been sitting here listening to their caterwauling ever since. Did you find the data?"
Anakin had been late for the meeting - which was a blessing from the boy's point of view - because, under Varen's direction, he had spent the afternoon downloading information about Kreanon political protocols, in order to help the Jedi employ proper procedure in assisting with the investigation; that was, if they ever got a word in edgewise.
"There's quite a lot of stuff, master - it's all very complicated." He handed over the half-a-dozen datapads on which the details were stored. Obi-Wan looked at them sadly for a moment, then passed them to Sendar, who glanced briefly at the first few pages, then handed the lot promptly to Arik.
"Researching the appropriate protocols will be your responsibility, Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Replied the young man, seemingly unperturbed. He put the data down next to him, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Anakin realised with disbelief that he was meditating. How was that *possible*? His estimation of Arik rose a little, despite the senior Padwan's surprising lack of skill - and apparent lack of interest - in sparring.
"Is there anything in the information you found that'll tell us how to get them to stop?" Varen asked Anakin, leaning over to speak directly into the boy's ear. Master Sendar hated shouting.
"I don't know, Master...it was all a bit confusing." The boy grinned wryly. "I guess if you activated your lightsabre it might get their attention."
Obi-Wan frowned disapprovingly, but Sendar merely grinned.
"I dare say it would." The Grandmaster murmured. "However, I think we'll keep that as a last resort, eh? Arik - start reading."
Face expressionless, Arik opened his eyes, scooped up the first of the pads and began to quickly run through the information, balancing the datapad elegantly on his knee. An especially loud roar erupted suddenly from one of the Ministers, and Arik glanced up, looking mildly exasperated for the first time, his furry ears flattening against his skull. Anakin could have sworn he heard the senior apprentice mutter,
"Cretin."
Before he went back to his reading. The young man hid a smile; even Arik's legendary self-possession could be tested by the spectacle of fretful politicians doing their usual trick of furious procrastination in the face of disaster. He was not the only one - Obi-Wan was staring fixedly over Arik's shoulder out of the window, his eyes glazed. Kenobi disliked and distrusted politicians at the best of times, and the Kreanon ministers were a prime example of the reason for that.
Arik was zipping through the information in the datapads with alarming efficiency. Along with meditation, research was the senior Padawan's chief skill - he assisted in the teaching of several data-collection classes in the Temple, and worked in the Archives in his own time, not that there was a great deal of that available. Anakin could not understand why someone would want to specialise in meditation and information gathering when they could be learning katas or how to fly a speeder. Arik wasn't good at either - he was good enough, but far from superlative. Ani was quite sure he could best the much older youth easily in both disciplines...he smiled to himself at the thought of Obi-Wan's reaction if he knew that his padawan thought of flying as a 'discipline'; to the master, it was a necessary evil.
It was with surprise that Anakin noticed he had all but tuned out the ministers' shouting; then he realised that the reason he could no longer hear it was because it had stopped. The most senior of the Lesser Ministers, Morviannus, Chief of Security, was the only one still standing - had he killed the others or something? No - they were all sitting down, amazingly, in complete silence. They, like Morviannus, were glaring expectantly at the group of puzzled Jedi.
"Well?" Demanded the security minister.
"I beg your pardon, Minister?" Sendar asked politely.
"I invited your leader to come before us and explain the complete failure of your group to prevent yesterday's disaster!"
Anakin bristled - Lanna had been *killed*, Obi-Wan had been badly hurt, Rayoo was bereaved, and the Kreanon ministers were accusing the Jedi of dereliction of duty? Sendar, as a grandmaster, was spokesperson for the group, and replied calmly to Morviannus,
"I would be glad to speak before you. Please give us a short recess in which to prepare ourselves. Arik," he hissed, as Morviannus sat down heavily in a chair, muttering to himself, "get me something I can use!"
The senior padawan serenely selected one of the collection of datapads, scrolled to a certain page and handed the pad to his master.
"The next twelve pages or so give some useful advice on protocols for addressing political gatherings, master. And starting on the five hundred and seventeenth page of *this* pad, I believe," he held out another, "is information on how to...ah, wriggle out of awkward situations without overstepping the boundaries of Kreanon speechmaking procedures."
"Arik, we do not need to 'wriggle out' of this situation. We have done everything we can..."
"With respect, my master, the Lesser Ministers will not see it that way. When I spoke to them yesterday, considerable hostility was expressed towards us, especially on the part of Morviannus and Jevisannia, the Minister for Public Relations. The prevailing opinion is that we are to blame for the death of the First Minister."
"And you couldn't have told me this yesterday?" Sendar demanded, more wearily than with annoyance, as he scrolled glumly through the datapads.
"You had other things to consider yesterday, master." Arik replied smoothly. Varen sighed, shrugged, handed one of the datapads to Obi-Wan.
"This calls for teamwork, I think."
"If you're suggesting some kind of good-cop-bad-cop scenario..."
"I know, it sounds utterly foolish, forget I even thought of it."
"I was only going to say - can I be the bad cop?"
Sendar chuckled.
"By all means. Now, let's..."
"Actually, masters, if I may interrupt..." Arik interposed fluidly. Sendar nodded, and Anakin felt a touch of jealousy - if he had interrupted a grandmaster like that, even Master Sendar, he would have been put in his place immediately.
"The approach you suggest, while simple and usually inadvisable in delicate political situations, is not an unreasonable one here. Kreanon politics is rather more...vigorous...and open than in most cultures."
"They don't stab you in the back, they hit you over the head with a brick." Obi-Wan agreed.
"Precisely. Thus a blunt technique would not be a bad one in this case, in my opinion."
"Thank you, Arik." Sendar smiled warmly at his padawan. So did Obi-Wan - or at least as warmly as he ever did these days - and Anakin felt a little put out again. It seemed sometimes that Obi-Wan was friendly and uncritical when it came to everyone except his own padawan.
"Is there anything else I can do, Master?" Anakin asked hopefully, making one last attempt at being appreciated.
"No, I don't think so. Simply watch and learn." Came Obi-Wan's brisk reply. Anakin was momentarily disappointed - but then he noticed that the Lesser Ministers were still sitting in the front row, glaring at the Jedi, and that some of them had their arms folded; the boy decided being a spectator was probably the safest position.
"Good luck." He whispered, as Master Sendar and Obi-Wan headed for the stage. Obi-Wan gave him a wry look before pasting on an expression of respectful placidity that rather resembled Arik's.
The glares of the ministers followed the two Jedi as they slipped past the glowering Morviannus and mounted the stage. Sendar cleared his throat, tucked his large hands inside his cloak, and began his hastily-prepared address, with Obi-Wan standing by, his expression already changing from serene to sardonic.
"Noble protectors of the people of Kreanon," Varen began, feigning impressive familiarity with the protocols his padawan had directed him to only a few minutes before - whoever said guile was not in the repertoire of a Jedi? "We, guests of Kreanon, pledge ourselves to your honour."
Anakin grinned at that, mostly because he could almost hear his master thinking, what in Sith's hells does *that* mean?
"We stand before you, offering our condolences in the face of the tragedy Kreanon has suffered, prepared to support you in any way we can."
"I think," growled a large woman sitting next to Morviannus - Anakin suspected she was Jevisannia - "that the Jedi have provided sufficient *support* already. *Support*, gentlemen, which has deprived us of our First Minister."
"With all respect, Madame Minister..." began Sendar, but Obi-Wan, slipping easily into his pre-prepared role, interrupted him.
"I object most strongly to that accusation! We have suffered our own losses, and may I remind you that those losses resulted from our attempts to rescue survivors - including some of you -" several heads lowered as Kenobi's green eyes coldly swept the room, "for which I would *think* you might extend some gratitude."
"May I remind *you*, master Jedi," Javisannia sneered, "that your so *terribly* helpful rescue attempts would not have been necessary had you successfully completed the job you came here to do! You were brought in to protect Kohhlius and prevent the second assassination attempt we were expecting. You were also mandated to contact the terrorist group our security forces identified as the culprits in the first attempt," Morviannus was nodding vigorously, "and mediate talks between that group and the government. You have done neither of these things, and now the First Minister is dead as a result of the incompetence of the Jedi."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, but it was clear that the man Anakin had once only half-humorously suggested should be nominated for a 'Special Award for Most Sarcastic Jedi Master', had met his match in Javisannia, who possessed the remarkable ability to talk for many minutes not only without stopping, but apparently, without breathing. She went on, leaving Obi-Wan looking like a bewildered beached fish, with his mouth open and a slightly glassy look in his eyes.
"I believe that I was among the chief objectors to involving off-worlders, especially a group of obsolete meddlers like the Jedi, in Kreanon affairs. Because of the supposed need for neutral mediators in our pointless negotiations with the terrorists, I was cried down. Now, given that my misgivings have been thoroughly confirmed, I recommend the removal of the Jedi from Kreanon. We will settle this affair ourselves!"
A second eruption of shouting and fist-waving met this bold speech, as half the Lesser Ministers leapt to their feet again for another round of roaring. Sendar Varen and Obi-Wan Kenobi stood helplessly on the stage, staring at one another, as the meeting dissolved once more into chaos around them. There seemed no alternative but to sit down and wait until someone won the argument, or the ministers simply exhausted themselves. The Jedi made their way back to the padawans, carefully skirting the gaggle of howling politicians.
"I think I'm going to go mad." Obi-Wan told Anakin, in a worryingly cheerful voice.
"It'll be okay, master - they have to stop soon." The boy soothed.
"I suppose they'll die eventually." Agreed Obi-Wan, acidly, and dropped ill-humouredly into an armchair. Sendar perched on the window-seat next to Arik, who appeared to have gone to sleep. Rayoo, who had neither moved nor spoken since Anakin entered the room, continued to brood in the depths of his chair, occasionally flicking a look of angry disgust towards the bickering ministers.
Minutes passed slowly - but just as Anakin was about to suggest they give up and leave, the double-doors at the end of the hall swung open - and a tall but stooped figure appeared, a Kreanon male leaning heavily on a cane, his yellow eyes full of grief and weariness, but also a deeply affecting determination. The First Minister's son, Kohhlianus. He spied the group of Jedi as he entered, and nodded crisply to them before heading directly for the stage. The Lesser Ministers failed to notice him at first; however, it was likely that the whole city heard when Kohhlianus picked up a voice amplifier and roared,
"SILENCE!"
And silence there was - immediate, unbroken, dead silence. Morviannus and Javisannia, who had been doing most of the shouting, dropped into their seats like stones; those shyer ministers who were already sitting cowered.
"You will all listen to me." Kohhlianus went on, much more quietly. "My father is dead; my mother and brothers are dead. I am the only surviving member of the First Family. In crisis situations, the First Minister is guaranteed emergency powers. This is no time for political wrangles and re-elections. Hence, I am assuming the position of First Minister and all powers accorded to that post."
This remarkable statement was met only with more silence, broken only - and very slightly - by Obi-Wan, who shook his head in disbelief and could be heard to mutter, is a disgusted undertone,
"Politicians!"
Kohhlianus did not hear him, and likely would not have cared if he had. The tall Kreanon allowed a few moments for his logical staccatos to sink in, then asked calmly,
"Any objections?"
Some small mutterings among the ministers, but not one of them said a word.
"This is not an autocratic society and I have no intention of making it so." Kohhlianus went on, with the air of a man who knows he is going to get whatever he wants, "hence, I will put my proposition formally to the vote. All those in favour, say aye."
Only the briefest of pauses before nearly every voice in the room called,
"Aye!"
Kohhlianus smiled tightly. "All those against, say nay."
There was silence for a long moment. Kohhlianus opened his mouth to speak again, but, as he did so, a single voice from the front row said clearly,
"Nay."
It was Morviannus, Chief of Security. And next to him, Javisannia muttered,
"I abstain."
A pause, brief but pregnant, in which Kohhlianus eyed the pair.
"Very well. The motion is carried - not anonymously, but by a majority vote. I declare myself First Minister of Kreanon Prime, and pledge myself to the cause of the people."
A burst of applause from the Lesser Ministers, with the exceptions of Morviannus and Javisannia, who exchanged meaningful looks. When the applause had died down, the new First Minister turned his attention to the Jedi, who were looking on with no little amazement.
"As First Minister, I wish to officially thank the Jedi for their assistance to date, and beg them to renew their offer of aid in the face of this tragedy - if accepted, their new mandate would be to seek out the killers of my father, bring them to justice, and negotiate a peaceful settlement with the terrorist group for which the assassins doubtless worked."
In the shocked silence that followed, Sendar Varen rose to his feet.
"We would be glad to offer whatever assistance we can, First Minister." He declared. Kohhlianus bowed formally.
"I thank you."
"Yes, thank you so much." Muttered Obi-Wan to Sendar, who merely grinned at him. The crowd of Lesser Ministers dispersed at a command from Kohhlianus, who descended the stage and approached the Jedi.
"Your assistance means a great deal to the Kreanon people." He lied.
"We are honoured to provide it."
There was pandemonium in the town hall.
The boy could hear it as he hurried through the cold street, his robe pulled tightly around him, gasping a little, since the smell of dust and fumes still lingered in the night air.
So cold...Anakin hated the cold. He had never really got used to it and doubted he ever would, but he had learned, at least, to suppress his discomfort; Obi-Wan frowned upon complaints of any kind. Anakin wondered whether his master would be at the meeting; technically, Obi-Wan was supposed to be recuperating in hospital, but the Jedi Master had insisted that he would attend at the town hall with the others, and, as Anakin was repeatedly informed, master always knew best. Then again, from the snatches of conversation the boy had eavesdropped upon between Master Yoda and Master Windu, Obi-Wan had known best even as an apprentice.
Anakin rounded the corner, his thoughts interrupted by fresh indignant roars from the town hall, where the Lesser Ministers, all that remained of Kreanon's government, were assembled, along with the Jedi investigators, ostensibly to 'discuss' the tragic events of yesterday. From the sound of it there was far too much shouting and yelling going on for anything to be actually achieved.
A large crowd of people blocked Anakin's way, some arguing and shouting themselves, others huddled together in anxious silence trying to hear what was being said inside the building. The Jedi apprentice pushed his way as quickly as he could through the chaotic group, ignoring the tugs on his robe from numerous angry Kreanons, and was finally able to shove open the heavy wooden door of the town hall and slip inside. He slammed the door firmly behind him, almost bisecting a large Kreanon male who struggled to get through it in his wake.
Shivering, Anakin followed the yelling to an enormous pair of double-doors, thick and ornately carved. He frowned. If the noise was getting so clearly through such thick wood, what would it sound like inside? Doubting the usefulness of knocking, the young man simply pushed open one of the doors and poked his head around it.
The room was huge, grandly decorated, with a high, curtained stage at the front, and many rows of old and beautiful wooden chairs bolted to the sloping floor. Currently most of the chairs were empty; ten or so Ministers sat in the front row, looking unhappy, while another dozen were standing, shouting and shaking their fists furiously at one another. The stage was empty, and at first Anakin could see no sign of the other Jedi, though he was quite sure they were there somewhere...entering the room fully, careful to keep back and quiet, he scanned the scene carefully, and finally spotted an oversize alcove off to the left. It was mostly hidden behind a sweeping purple curtain, but Anakin could just make out what looked like Master Sendar's arm peeking out. The boy suppressed a giggle at the thought of two venerable Jedi Masters and a senior Padawan hiding behind a curtain, but he could hardly blame them for not wanting to get involved with the Ministers' bickering.
Said bickering had its advantages - it allowed Anakin to sneak unnoticed across the room and slip behind the purple curtain. To his surprise, what he had taken for an alcove was actually a small sitting room - there was a coffee table and two comfortable-looking chairs, set in front of a large bay window, complete with window-seat. Anakin paid little attention to the décor, however; his gaze fell at once upon his master. Obi-Wan was sitting in one of the chairs, looking rather pale and ragged, but maintaining his usual cool dignity nonetheless. Sendar Varen stood behind Obi-Wan's chair with a hand resting on the back of it, in a rather protective manner. Arik was perched on the window-seat, looking perfectly calm and at ease despite the roaring going on only a few metres away. Surprisingly, Rayoo was also present, sitting in the other armchair, his small, pale face sullen, and his eyes very red...Anakin felt a touch of pity for this poor kid, who had lost his master so early in his training, almost before it had begun, really. Sendar kept throwing little glances at Rayoo, as though to gauge how he was holding up, but the boy's expression was hard to read.
Anakin bowed politely to Master Varen, nodded to Arik and smiled awkwardly at Rayoo, who failed to even acknowledge it, before setting himself down on the arm of Obi-Wan's chair.
"Hi, Master."
"Padawan." Replied the other, evenly. Obi-Wan looked unusually stressed, as well as tired; he closed his eyes and winced every so often, obviously suffering from a nasty headache.
"I could hear them yelling down the street." Remarked Anakin, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the politicians, having to speak loudly himself to be heard over the continuing din of the Ministers' arguments.
"That doesn't surprise me in the least." Obi-Wan sighed. He rubbed his forehead wearily. "So could we, when we arrived an hour ago. They have been here since this morning, roaring at one another, and appear to have reached precisely no consensus whatsoever. They failed to notice us when we entered, and we've been sitting here listening to their caterwauling ever since. Did you find the data?"
Anakin had been late for the meeting - which was a blessing from the boy's point of view - because, under Varen's direction, he had spent the afternoon downloading information about Kreanon political protocols, in order to help the Jedi employ proper procedure in assisting with the investigation; that was, if they ever got a word in edgewise.
"There's quite a lot of stuff, master - it's all very complicated." He handed over the half-a-dozen datapads on which the details were stored. Obi-Wan looked at them sadly for a moment, then passed them to Sendar, who glanced briefly at the first few pages, then handed the lot promptly to Arik.
"Researching the appropriate protocols will be your responsibility, Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Replied the young man, seemingly unperturbed. He put the data down next to him, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Anakin realised with disbelief that he was meditating. How was that *possible*? His estimation of Arik rose a little, despite the senior Padwan's surprising lack of skill - and apparent lack of interest - in sparring.
"Is there anything in the information you found that'll tell us how to get them to stop?" Varen asked Anakin, leaning over to speak directly into the boy's ear. Master Sendar hated shouting.
"I don't know, Master...it was all a bit confusing." The boy grinned wryly. "I guess if you activated your lightsabre it might get their attention."
Obi-Wan frowned disapprovingly, but Sendar merely grinned.
"I dare say it would." The Grandmaster murmured. "However, I think we'll keep that as a last resort, eh? Arik - start reading."
Face expressionless, Arik opened his eyes, scooped up the first of the pads and began to quickly run through the information, balancing the datapad elegantly on his knee. An especially loud roar erupted suddenly from one of the Ministers, and Arik glanced up, looking mildly exasperated for the first time, his furry ears flattening against his skull. Anakin could have sworn he heard the senior apprentice mutter,
"Cretin."
Before he went back to his reading. The young man hid a smile; even Arik's legendary self-possession could be tested by the spectacle of fretful politicians doing their usual trick of furious procrastination in the face of disaster. He was not the only one - Obi-Wan was staring fixedly over Arik's shoulder out of the window, his eyes glazed. Kenobi disliked and distrusted politicians at the best of times, and the Kreanon ministers were a prime example of the reason for that.
Arik was zipping through the information in the datapads with alarming efficiency. Along with meditation, research was the senior Padawan's chief skill - he assisted in the teaching of several data-collection classes in the Temple, and worked in the Archives in his own time, not that there was a great deal of that available. Anakin could not understand why someone would want to specialise in meditation and information gathering when they could be learning katas or how to fly a speeder. Arik wasn't good at either - he was good enough, but far from superlative. Ani was quite sure he could best the much older youth easily in both disciplines...he smiled to himself at the thought of Obi-Wan's reaction if he knew that his padawan thought of flying as a 'discipline'; to the master, it was a necessary evil.
It was with surprise that Anakin noticed he had all but tuned out the ministers' shouting; then he realised that the reason he could no longer hear it was because it had stopped. The most senior of the Lesser Ministers, Morviannus, Chief of Security, was the only one still standing - had he killed the others or something? No - they were all sitting down, amazingly, in complete silence. They, like Morviannus, were glaring expectantly at the group of puzzled Jedi.
"Well?" Demanded the security minister.
"I beg your pardon, Minister?" Sendar asked politely.
"I invited your leader to come before us and explain the complete failure of your group to prevent yesterday's disaster!"
Anakin bristled - Lanna had been *killed*, Obi-Wan had been badly hurt, Rayoo was bereaved, and the Kreanon ministers were accusing the Jedi of dereliction of duty? Sendar, as a grandmaster, was spokesperson for the group, and replied calmly to Morviannus,
"I would be glad to speak before you. Please give us a short recess in which to prepare ourselves. Arik," he hissed, as Morviannus sat down heavily in a chair, muttering to himself, "get me something I can use!"
The senior padawan serenely selected one of the collection of datapads, scrolled to a certain page and handed the pad to his master.
"The next twelve pages or so give some useful advice on protocols for addressing political gatherings, master. And starting on the five hundred and seventeenth page of *this* pad, I believe," he held out another, "is information on how to...ah, wriggle out of awkward situations without overstepping the boundaries of Kreanon speechmaking procedures."
"Arik, we do not need to 'wriggle out' of this situation. We have done everything we can..."
"With respect, my master, the Lesser Ministers will not see it that way. When I spoke to them yesterday, considerable hostility was expressed towards us, especially on the part of Morviannus and Jevisannia, the Minister for Public Relations. The prevailing opinion is that we are to blame for the death of the First Minister."
"And you couldn't have told me this yesterday?" Sendar demanded, more wearily than with annoyance, as he scrolled glumly through the datapads.
"You had other things to consider yesterday, master." Arik replied smoothly. Varen sighed, shrugged, handed one of the datapads to Obi-Wan.
"This calls for teamwork, I think."
"If you're suggesting some kind of good-cop-bad-cop scenario..."
"I know, it sounds utterly foolish, forget I even thought of it."
"I was only going to say - can I be the bad cop?"
Sendar chuckled.
"By all means. Now, let's..."
"Actually, masters, if I may interrupt..." Arik interposed fluidly. Sendar nodded, and Anakin felt a touch of jealousy - if he had interrupted a grandmaster like that, even Master Sendar, he would have been put in his place immediately.
"The approach you suggest, while simple and usually inadvisable in delicate political situations, is not an unreasonable one here. Kreanon politics is rather more...vigorous...and open than in most cultures."
"They don't stab you in the back, they hit you over the head with a brick." Obi-Wan agreed.
"Precisely. Thus a blunt technique would not be a bad one in this case, in my opinion."
"Thank you, Arik." Sendar smiled warmly at his padawan. So did Obi-Wan - or at least as warmly as he ever did these days - and Anakin felt a little put out again. It seemed sometimes that Obi-Wan was friendly and uncritical when it came to everyone except his own padawan.
"Is there anything else I can do, Master?" Anakin asked hopefully, making one last attempt at being appreciated.
"No, I don't think so. Simply watch and learn." Came Obi-Wan's brisk reply. Anakin was momentarily disappointed - but then he noticed that the Lesser Ministers were still sitting in the front row, glaring at the Jedi, and that some of them had their arms folded; the boy decided being a spectator was probably the safest position.
"Good luck." He whispered, as Master Sendar and Obi-Wan headed for the stage. Obi-Wan gave him a wry look before pasting on an expression of respectful placidity that rather resembled Arik's.
The glares of the ministers followed the two Jedi as they slipped past the glowering Morviannus and mounted the stage. Sendar cleared his throat, tucked his large hands inside his cloak, and began his hastily-prepared address, with Obi-Wan standing by, his expression already changing from serene to sardonic.
"Noble protectors of the people of Kreanon," Varen began, feigning impressive familiarity with the protocols his padawan had directed him to only a few minutes before - whoever said guile was not in the repertoire of a Jedi? "We, guests of Kreanon, pledge ourselves to your honour."
Anakin grinned at that, mostly because he could almost hear his master thinking, what in Sith's hells does *that* mean?
"We stand before you, offering our condolences in the face of the tragedy Kreanon has suffered, prepared to support you in any way we can."
"I think," growled a large woman sitting next to Morviannus - Anakin suspected she was Jevisannia - "that the Jedi have provided sufficient *support* already. *Support*, gentlemen, which has deprived us of our First Minister."
"With all respect, Madame Minister..." began Sendar, but Obi-Wan, slipping easily into his pre-prepared role, interrupted him.
"I object most strongly to that accusation! We have suffered our own losses, and may I remind you that those losses resulted from our attempts to rescue survivors - including some of you -" several heads lowered as Kenobi's green eyes coldly swept the room, "for which I would *think* you might extend some gratitude."
"May I remind *you*, master Jedi," Javisannia sneered, "that your so *terribly* helpful rescue attempts would not have been necessary had you successfully completed the job you came here to do! You were brought in to protect Kohhlius and prevent the second assassination attempt we were expecting. You were also mandated to contact the terrorist group our security forces identified as the culprits in the first attempt," Morviannus was nodding vigorously, "and mediate talks between that group and the government. You have done neither of these things, and now the First Minister is dead as a result of the incompetence of the Jedi."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, but it was clear that the man Anakin had once only half-humorously suggested should be nominated for a 'Special Award for Most Sarcastic Jedi Master', had met his match in Javisannia, who possessed the remarkable ability to talk for many minutes not only without stopping, but apparently, without breathing. She went on, leaving Obi-Wan looking like a bewildered beached fish, with his mouth open and a slightly glassy look in his eyes.
"I believe that I was among the chief objectors to involving off-worlders, especially a group of obsolete meddlers like the Jedi, in Kreanon affairs. Because of the supposed need for neutral mediators in our pointless negotiations with the terrorists, I was cried down. Now, given that my misgivings have been thoroughly confirmed, I recommend the removal of the Jedi from Kreanon. We will settle this affair ourselves!"
A second eruption of shouting and fist-waving met this bold speech, as half the Lesser Ministers leapt to their feet again for another round of roaring. Sendar Varen and Obi-Wan Kenobi stood helplessly on the stage, staring at one another, as the meeting dissolved once more into chaos around them. There seemed no alternative but to sit down and wait until someone won the argument, or the ministers simply exhausted themselves. The Jedi made their way back to the padawans, carefully skirting the gaggle of howling politicians.
"I think I'm going to go mad." Obi-Wan told Anakin, in a worryingly cheerful voice.
"It'll be okay, master - they have to stop soon." The boy soothed.
"I suppose they'll die eventually." Agreed Obi-Wan, acidly, and dropped ill-humouredly into an armchair. Sendar perched on the window-seat next to Arik, who appeared to have gone to sleep. Rayoo, who had neither moved nor spoken since Anakin entered the room, continued to brood in the depths of his chair, occasionally flicking a look of angry disgust towards the bickering ministers.
Minutes passed slowly - but just as Anakin was about to suggest they give up and leave, the double-doors at the end of the hall swung open - and a tall but stooped figure appeared, a Kreanon male leaning heavily on a cane, his yellow eyes full of grief and weariness, but also a deeply affecting determination. The First Minister's son, Kohhlianus. He spied the group of Jedi as he entered, and nodded crisply to them before heading directly for the stage. The Lesser Ministers failed to notice him at first; however, it was likely that the whole city heard when Kohhlianus picked up a voice amplifier and roared,
"SILENCE!"
And silence there was - immediate, unbroken, dead silence. Morviannus and Javisannia, who had been doing most of the shouting, dropped into their seats like stones; those shyer ministers who were already sitting cowered.
"You will all listen to me." Kohhlianus went on, much more quietly. "My father is dead; my mother and brothers are dead. I am the only surviving member of the First Family. In crisis situations, the First Minister is guaranteed emergency powers. This is no time for political wrangles and re-elections. Hence, I am assuming the position of First Minister and all powers accorded to that post."
This remarkable statement was met only with more silence, broken only - and very slightly - by Obi-Wan, who shook his head in disbelief and could be heard to mutter, is a disgusted undertone,
"Politicians!"
Kohhlianus did not hear him, and likely would not have cared if he had. The tall Kreanon allowed a few moments for his logical staccatos to sink in, then asked calmly,
"Any objections?"
Some small mutterings among the ministers, but not one of them said a word.
"This is not an autocratic society and I have no intention of making it so." Kohhlianus went on, with the air of a man who knows he is going to get whatever he wants, "hence, I will put my proposition formally to the vote. All those in favour, say aye."
Only the briefest of pauses before nearly every voice in the room called,
"Aye!"
Kohhlianus smiled tightly. "All those against, say nay."
There was silence for a long moment. Kohhlianus opened his mouth to speak again, but, as he did so, a single voice from the front row said clearly,
"Nay."
It was Morviannus, Chief of Security. And next to him, Javisannia muttered,
"I abstain."
A pause, brief but pregnant, in which Kohhlianus eyed the pair.
"Very well. The motion is carried - not anonymously, but by a majority vote. I declare myself First Minister of Kreanon Prime, and pledge myself to the cause of the people."
A burst of applause from the Lesser Ministers, with the exceptions of Morviannus and Javisannia, who exchanged meaningful looks. When the applause had died down, the new First Minister turned his attention to the Jedi, who were looking on with no little amazement.
"As First Minister, I wish to officially thank the Jedi for their assistance to date, and beg them to renew their offer of aid in the face of this tragedy - if accepted, their new mandate would be to seek out the killers of my father, bring them to justice, and negotiate a peaceful settlement with the terrorist group for which the assassins doubtless worked."
In the shocked silence that followed, Sendar Varen rose to his feet.
"We would be glad to offer whatever assistance we can, First Minister." He declared. Kohhlianus bowed formally.
"I thank you."
"Yes, thank you so much." Muttered Obi-Wan to Sendar, who merely grinned at him. The crowd of Lesser Ministers dispersed at a command from Kohhlianus, who descended the stage and approached the Jedi.
"Your assistance means a great deal to the Kreanon people." He lied.
"We are honoured to provide it."