Chapter 13. Explorations

Having not set foot on Naboo for more than ten years Obi-Wan found the section of Theed near the spaceport to be nearly unrecognizable. It wasn't that the city itself had changed so much. The ancient walls were still there, as were the curving streets and spacious plazas that characterized the Nubians' gracious lifestyle. A few new buildings in the Gungan style of glittering crystalline spheres dotted the skyline here and there, and quite a few Gungans appeared among the Nubians on the streets, but those were the normal signs of change in a progressive society.

No, the real change was that little more than two days after the Republic's standoff with the D'laians the ancient city streets were teeming with soldiers and military vehicles. The stark white of their armor and the sharp angles of their vehicles contrasted harshly with the ancient golden stones and soft lines of Naboo's old capitol city. The increased noise level was also startling. Obi-Wan remembered Theed, when not under siege, as a peaceful and quiet place punctuated more by the sound of running water, music and conversation than by marching boots and the roar of vehicles.

Tec Andros had been right. This so-called protective force was looking more and more like an occupation army.

It was also interesting to mull over why Tec had been assigned to the fleet in the Naboo Sector two days before the Yacht's distress call.

Obi-Wan had resolved to walk for a while, to re-acquaint himself with the City and the uniquely local ways the Force had shaped it and given it its character before tackling his immediate problem. Since at the moment he had not decided how best to proceed, his walk became longer and longer and after a while he realized that he had been circling through the city in a kind of elliptical orbit around one place.

The main hangar.

Once he became aware of the tilt in his personal center of gravity he recognized that it had been pulling him there all along. Perhaps if he was to have a chance at succeeding with the difficult task before him, there was something he had to do first.

This won't help, Obi-Wan argued with himself, at a standstill in front of the massive building. It wouldn't help any more than the nights he had lain awake replaying the fateful battle with the Sith over and over again in his mind. Or countless times he had imagined different choices; different moves… moves that would have allowed him to arrive at his Master's side more quickly, or to confront his enemy more wisely. He tried to convince himself that revisiting that place would be a self-indulgent and useless detour. He had more important things to do. He needed to remain steadfastly in the here and now.

Destiny, he told himself firmly, is not played out in places but between people. It belongs in the realm of forward action, not remembrance.

His feet kept moving toward the building anyway. Some inner impulse was shoving him, hard, in that direction.

I don't want to, he thought ineffectually as he entered through the main doors after all.

The hangar was profoundly changed as well, and like the spaceport it was a hive of activity. It appeared that new equipment was arriving continually. Fighters were being moved around and teams of people, both Galactic troopers and Naboo, clustered around them. With the help of some light Force cloaking Obi-Wan made his way around the busy docking bay unnoticed and confronted the massive doors to the power station.

The image of a grinning, taunting Sith standing inside that same doorway was burned into his memory. He could almost see him in the flesh. He certainly remembered the bitter tang of his hatred. And his power.

I've seen enough. I'm leaving now, he thought, as he walked unwillingly through the door and toward the power station. That part of the hangar had not changed. The huge room was as noisy and steamy as ever. The catwalks bridged the spaces above the generators exactly as he remembered, and far ahead of him was the service corridor with the laser doors where he had failed his Master.

There. I failed to save my Master. May I go now?

Apparently not. He still kept walking.

What do you want from me?

He negotiated the service corridor with hardly a pause. Ten years of counting the number of steps along the catwalks in his dreams, ten years of counting the number of seconds the doors were open and the distances between them had etched that singular path in his memory.

A bit late now, isn't it? What is the point of all this?

By the time Obi-Wan arrived at the melting pit he was seething with frustration.

I have already dealt with all this. I have already done my grieving. Why am I here?

There was the pit into which his enemy disappeared.

What am I to see here?

Right in front of him was the place on the metal catwalk where his Master had fallen and begged him with his dying breath to train Anakin.

A breeze ruffled Obi-Wan's hair in a room that had no draughts.

Anakin. What about Anakin?

Qui-Gon. The Sith. Anakin. They formed a connection of sorts. But what was its significance?

Obi-Wan sank down into a seated posture with enormous reluctance. This was a miserable place to meditate, but there was nothing else he could do. He needed answers.

* * * * *

The D'laian warrior looked greedily at the small pile of Aurodium ingots on the desk.

"Jedi are hard to kill," he said.

"Nonsense. You just have to know how. I can help you with that."

"Just the one?  There won't be any others?" The warrior finally tore his eyes away from the small fortune and looked at the man who was offering it to him.

"Just the one. The same one, by the way, who killed your D'ai Wolan."

The warrior pursed his lips.

"Why are you offering the job to us?  We can't move freely on Naboo. There's a big garrison there. It makes things more complicated." He looked longingly at the ingots, but persisted. "Why not hire a bounty hunter?"

"Well," the man on the other side of the table said, shrugging, "I can do that of course. I just thought you might enjoy the opportunity after he made fools of all of you." He sighed and reached for the gleaming pile. "Thank you for your time. I'll find someone who does not fear the Jedi."

"Wait."

Count Dooku looked up, with a bored expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"You say you can teach us how to kill Jedi?"

"Of course." The Count released the pile and folded his hands in front of him on the table. "There is nothing to it."

The warrior spat into his hand and slapped it down on the table.

"Done."

* * * * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi had the distinction of being the first Jedi Knight in almost a millennium to have killed a Sith. After an extended and difficult meditation in the most unlikely of places he was well on his way to figuring out how to track the workings of the Dark Side in the Force. He just didn't realize it yet.

Master Yoda had always insisted that the truth has to be simple.

Obi-Wan arose from his difficult inner work with a number of clear pictures in his mind.

He was certain now that the dark dread that had entered his awareness when Anakin left the Temple was related to the Sith. It was more than a feeling or a worry. It was an imprint left by something. Obi-Wan struggled to clarify the picture and finally decided that it was analogous less to a footprint in the snow than to a leftover gravity silhouette. The stark absence of something, recent experience with locating the planet Kamino had taught him, was as telling as its presence.

He was also certain that whatever was leaving the Sith-impression was after his Padawan. The thing that had entered his awareness in Coruscant, and to which he gave the name "dread", seemed to move as Anakin moved. Obi-Wan made no assumptions about the connection. He merely observed it.

Finally, he had experienced a powerful image of his old Master Qui-Gon Jinn standing with his arms outstretched, balancing the Sith on one side and Anakin on the other. This image puzzled Obi-Wan more than the others. His Master had been on his mind ever since his arrival on Naboo, but Obi-Wan had thought it was because of his personal memories. Now he wasn't so sure.

If Anakin is in fact the Chosen One, he thought, shouldn't he be at the center?  Shouldn't he provide the balance?

But there was no more to be learned at the moment, and Obi-Wan gratefully returned to his conscious mind, stretched his stiff limbs and left the hissing power plant without a backward glance.

The golden light and long shadows outside called attention to the fact that it was already late afternoon. He had been on Naboo for the better part of a day and not yet decided on the best way to approach Anakin.

I shouldn't have to be doing this, part of his mind insisted. My Padawan should do what he is told, when he is told.

The Knight's heart was wiser than his mind and let the thought go.

With a steadiness of purpose he headed back to the spaceport district and secured lodgings in a small, anonymous guesthouse. Next, he laid aside his Jedi robes and put on clothing that would allow him to blend into the surroundings – in this case, the shabby jumpsuit typical of freighter crews. A long padded jacket hid his light saber effectively enough.

He spent the evening scouting the district around the Palace and striking up conversations with Palace staff. Remarkably, few of the people he spoke with at length remembered him or their conversation after he left.

A few more stops in the wilder taverns around the spaceport also proved fruitful. There he managed to remain almost as anonymous, although an unavoidable scuffle with a drunken port security guard came close to bringing him some unwanted attention. Still, by the end of the evening no one remembered the bearded cargo jockey at all.

After the taverns closed he snuck back into his ship and sent a brief but urgent message to Coruscant. Tomorrow he would confront Anakin.