Day at the bottom levels of Coruscant was much brighter than night. Sunbeams, being reflected off the walls of houses countless number of times, made an impression of openness. But behind this deceptive luminosity danger lurked no less terrible than night predators – the sentient beings turned into a certain semblance of animals some in a pursuit of their passions and some in simple attempts to survive. Coruscant did not spare anybody.
That was day. But it was night now and it was filled with its own creatures.
Obi-Wan did not like to go down here, perhaps because the very air here was penetrated with rage and torments, or maybe because he felt awkward at the idea that he lived in a contentment somewhere up there far from this place when there are beings compelled to live down here.
With an effort of will the knight drove away the gloomy thoughts. There was nothing he could do to change lives of these beings, like he could not very well go and save all slaves on Tatooine. Though there were times when he read such a desire in his Padawan's eyes, in thoughts, less controlled than usual, and there were times when he himself wished to do just that. Just go and save everybody. But the rational side always took over, and he stayed where he was, displeased with himself and everything around him.
But the here and now demanded his attention. There was no sense to lose himself in useless reflections. They were good in serene meditation halls of the Temple, not here in deceptive calm of street when danger loitered behind each corner.
The sharp eye of the Jedi snatched out details which would seem completely harmless to a less skilled person. There a Twi'lek with one lekku, half torn off, cast a sidelong evaluating look at a speeder Obi-Wan had just left. Never mind, no need to worry about the speeder. It was unlikely anyone could break it open, Obi-Wan smiled, there were such locks on it – Anakin's invention, by the way. It took Obi-Wan himself about half an hour to force those locks, and he had not only proper equipment but the Force on his side.
The guy and the girl in a corner – sloppy, with improbable hair-dresses made of greasy hair – looked sideways at him with interest, but turned away disappointedly almost right away. Maybe they had realized he was a Jedi – this cloak was too easily recognizable, after all – or maybe hadn't found anything worth their attention.
Obi-Wan approached a dirty tarnished door and opened it. The door moved easily much to his surprise, not filling the neighborhood with a shrill crunch he had expected. That's for the better. Giving another look over and wrapping himself up in the cloak tighter, the Jedi dived into the icy darkness of the doorway.
The lifeless light of a pale-green lamp was hardly suffice to not stumble. The suffocating stench drifting from somewhere above, forced the breaths become superficial, skin-deep. It seemed, even the Force had curled itself up into a ball, moaning slightly. Darkness, chilling the heart, compelled the Jedi to hurry up. He kept his feelings on the alert, but slightly muffled, otherwise it was entirely possible to overload them.
Some more hasty steps, and Obi-Wan found himself on a quite decently lit resting-place. Switching off the lamp, he paused for a second as though plucking up his spirits, then slowly pushed the door he needed.
Special cleaner-droids had already had time to visit the apartment, having taken away the corpse. The sensation of emptiness hung in the shadowy dwelling. Obi-Wan strolled around the rooms, trying not to touch anything. Force flowered through him as his feelings tried to discover traces of Sith. He suddenly came to a standstill. This was it. Another's presence poured over him leaving an unpleasant metal after-taste in his mouth.
Yes, the Sith had been here. But something was not right. Obi-Wan strained his feelings, biting deeper into the fleeting ethereal presence, prodding it, sampling.
Everything was wrong.
Yes, it was a strong presence in the Force. Yes, it spread darkness in the air. But it was not that sinister presence he had felt there on Naboo which had seemed to watch him while he had fought Maul. No, it was not Sidious. The Sith sojourn had been brief but fruitful. The presence, though attenuated with another Jedi's aura – Balan-Tar, if he remembered correctly – and the foul sense of murder, was still powerful. But it was not the presence he sought.
Obi-Wan drew his comlink, punched in Windu's code.
"Windu here," the comlink echoed.
"Master, it is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am at the indicated apartment. Knight Balan-Tar is not here."
"He is not supposed to be. He was ordered to return to the Temple at once. What about the darksider, can you sense anything?"
"Yes, I sense the dark presence here, though it's already somewhat muted. But it's not Si-… the one I sensed on Naboo. It's not him. Should I follow his tracks?"
"Yes, follow him and gather as much information as possible. Windu out."
Obi-Wan turned off the comlink with a sigh. And he had promised Anakin a breakfast together. So much for promises…
A warning from the Force washed over him, and all thoughts of breakfast flew out of his mind. The danger was real and imminent, formidable, though not meant for him.
"Why do I get a feeling Balan-Tar has gotten himself into deep poodoo?" Obi-Wan muttered.
He cast his shields aside, opening himself to the brilliance of Force almost completely. He had no time to slowly trace the Sith and, most likely, the knight who was overly eager for his own good. Somehow Obi-Wan had no doubt they were at the same place. Before he could think another word Obi-Wan found himself running down the stairs, drawn by the Force.
~Just don't be late!~ the thought beat in his mind.
*********** **********
"Another Sith did he say?" Yoda's usually sleepy eyes were now troubled, assuming the deeper shade of green.
"Yes, he said this was not the one he had sensed on Naboo. He sounded assured."
Mace Windu rubbed his temples. The statement was inconceivable, wild. How many Sith could there be, after all? How could that Sith – whether a Master or an Apprentice – had trained another in such a short period as one year?
"A restored link in broken pair this might be," Yoda said after a short pause as though echoing the other's thoughts. But to Mace his voice didn't sound convincing. Suddenly an idea dawned on him.
"Do you remember Raingers*?"
"Yes, yes, hmm. Jedi they are yet live with other Jedi refuse. What make of them do you want, Master Mace?"
"I'm sure they monitor the situation in the galaxy just as we do. And they have a different perspective. Perhaps they know more than we do. I'll talk to them."
"Be absent for long you should not. But talk to them you must."
"I won't be long." Windu stood up. "What I can't understand is why don't they acquire a comm. unit."
With those words he went out the door, leaving Yoda staring thoughtfully at the floor.
*********** ***********
Meanwhile Brimar found himself before a building that housed a dirty inn, a seedy bar and Sith knew what else. The 'glowing dolls' turned out to be a bunch of rather scruffy-looking mannequins, representing a group of dancing Twi'leks, wrapped up in garlands of small strobing bulbs. Dolls she had said? Well, he definitely wouldn't call [i]these[/i] 'dolls'. Though in her innocence the poor girl most likely didn't know the word best describing the women whom she had qualified as glowing dolls.
The girl had said Niamo lived here. Brimar shivered slightly, remembering her unsettling eyes. But where exactly did that blasted Niamo live? Gray splinted eyes – now dull from weariness having lost their usual glint after the whole day and half the night racing about the city – caught sight of a small annex to the right from the main building. It didn't look like any kind of dwelling house – shabby, hiding its slits in shadows. But Brimar's expert eyes noted a few signs of life being led there. Having reached a conclusion he directed his steps to what looked most like a door.
The inside was just as hideous as the outside. Never-ceasing darkness occupied every corner, staring at the bold human with cold unblinking eyes, baring its teeth. Some spaces were faintly illuminated by the light, coming in through filthy windows from upper levels and variegated signs on the nearby structures.
On an impulse Brimar knocked on the nearest door. A woman, who opened the door and eyed him guardedly from the small crack, might be called anything but young and beautiful. Her wide face and broad frame bore all the marks of poverty.
"Wha'da ya want?" she barked, squinting suspiciously at the late night visitor.
"Niamo?" Brimar said in a faintly uncertain tone of voice. He knew the more vague his question sounded the more information he might get. His expectations proved to be correct.
"That good-for-nothing loafer?! He's at the bar, drinkin' those stinkin' slops of his. He's always there at nights. And at days too."
"Thanks."
Before the vexed woman could utter another word or blink her eyes Brimar was gone. On his way out he thought that if she were his wife perhaps he would spend his days and nights at a bar too.
Finding the door to the bar among a number of other doors, Brimar entered a garishly lit room. His eyes swept the interior swiftly. The bar was empty save for who Brimar assumed to be the barman and a group of four men at one of the tables. Niamo had to be there.
Brimar started to wind his way to the little company around the tables that littered the bar's floor in total disorder. He was half way there when a dark figure stepped into the room, appearing, it seemed, out of nowhere. Brimar stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized the newcomer. Whoever it was this was the one who had some interest in Holocron. The Sith.
Soundlessly the figure moved to the four men who stared at it, speechless. It crept like shadows that steal light as not a single sound broke the shocked silence. It advanced like death itself… Brimar watched it move, spellbound.
The black figure approached the table. The four drunk men – though they already started to give signs of growing sober – shifted uncomfortably, trying to get away from this vision of doom.
"Niamo?" the cloaked figure hissed loud enough for Brimar to hear.
Three men looked at their companion, who swallowed hard.
"What ya want?!" he suddenly yelled, clenching the edge of the table.
"Holocron." The hissed reply sent the man into shivers.
"I don't know 'bout no Holocron! Get off!"
He balled his fists as though ready to attack but, Brimar noted, apparently not sober enough to stand straight yet. The hooded figure raised its hand. Niamo jumped to his feet as if jerked up and froze.
"Give it to me NOW!"
His whole body shaking the man reached into his pocket and produced a gleaming in the bar's light crystal. The glowed hand took it from him and turned around in examination.
"Good," the hissing voice sounded much calmer now.
Brimar started to wonder if the Sith would simply leave now that he had the Holocron, and it seemed the cloaked person was inclined to do just that when a new visitor showed up in the scene. A beige clad Ishi Tib barged into the bar through the door and beheld the "friendly" assemblage.
"There you are, Sith!" the undoubtedly Jedi yelled and ignited a yellow lightsaber.
The Sith flashed his eyes at him from under the black hood and ignited the red lightsaber, tucking the Holocron into a pocket somewhere beneath the cloak. Brimar looked around, searching for a way to stay out of fight that was surely coming this way.
Niamo suddenly made as if to attack the Sith, apparently trying to get the Holocron back. With one sure smooth swing the red beam cleaved his head from his neck, leaving him standing for a moment. With a loud thud he then collapsed to the floor, the head a few inches away from him.
With an ululating cry the Jedi charged, trying to catch the Sith off-guard. Parrying the first strike the Sith turned sharply, and the hood flew down, letting loose a mass of pale blond hair. A delicate beautiful face was now open for the view. A woman!
~Women can be even more merciless than men,~ Brimar thought out of place.
And this woman was enraged. Deep-blue eyes shone with fury. The cloak flew around her like wings of raven as she fought viciously.
"What in the name of Heylli have I gotten myself into?!" Brimar muttered, turning over the nearest table and diving behind it. "No Holocron is worth losing my head!"
*********** **********
* The Raingers belong to Justice Skywalker and are used with her permission.
