And we shall stand eternal

-2-

"But Master Sul," Fak protested as the airspeeder bobbed to a halt alongside the landing platform, "Master Bonilan would object – I'm not ready to be out alone."

"Master Bonilan might be afraid that I am going to lose his Padawan," she said, turning to regard the Zabrak apprentice with an expression that he found unreadable. He might have been mistaken, but her assertion seemed to carry more meaning than the words implied. He opened his mouth the protest further but Master Sul continued. "Trust in your abilities, Oon. Return to the Tourmalent Arcade and try to apply what I have been teaching you these last weeks. I don't expect you to find anything but it is not beyond hope that there may be some trace. Even if there is nothing, the exercise will be a useful one."

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Oon, I have analysed the pattern of these appearances and they seem to emanate from a central point somewhere in the Hariolus Freight Dock. We cannot push forward our search until we have completely covered the last sighting, but we cannot delay moving on. Now that a pattern has emerged, there is a very strong chance that he might change his strategy or disappear entirely. We have no option but to divide our efforts. That is why I want you to complete our search, Oon. If you should find anything, contact me and if not, then join me here once you are finished."

"Yes, Master Sul," he said, resigned to his task. He watched as the Jedi hopped out onto the landing platform. Then he twisted the throttle and pulled away.

His feeling of unease did not lessen as Oon stood at the spot where their search had ended late the previous night. Then it had been a vast and empty silver walled cave, but now the shutters were all raised and the walkways filled with a swarm of beings who seemed, as far as Oon could tell, to have no greater purpose than to part with as many credits as possible in the shortest conceivable period of time.

This is a futile exercise, he thought, pacing through the crowds. If I must do this then I might as well have something nice to look at, he reasoned selecting a target, not at random as instructed, but because it belonged to a slim tangerine complexioned Twi'lek. Her presence in the Force was minimal, a ripple of orange almost the same shade as her skin. He waited for her to move on and concentrated on fixing the imprint of that ripple on his mind. As he walked, he played, letting her move further and further away before he caught up. Once he even arrived there ahead of her so that she passed him by.

As he watched her lekku curl back over her shoulders it occurred to Oon that this entire exercise was of questionable morality.

Not all Force users are Jedi, Sul had said.

And not all would be bothered by this, he added, understanding one of the lessons that Sul had been trying to teach him.

Assume that your target can see you in the Force, had been the second instruction.

Even though he thought this to be a particular waste of time, he did as Master Sul had suggested. Perhaps her story about extending the search was untrue, perhaps she was there in the crowd, monitoring him – as soon as that thought occurred he doubled his effort to hide, if she was out there, he wanted her to know that he was taking his responsibility and his lessons seriously.

As the grey clad Twi'lek meandered toward the parking area Oon let go of his trace and returned himself fully to the real world.

He found that his palms rested on the polished surface of a shop counter.

So that is that, he thought. She wasn't watching. The Twi'lek had no idea that she had been followed and he had wasted a lot of effort hiding for no reason. A store clerk turned toward him with a smile that withered as she saw that he was connected to the Jedi and thus unlikely to join in the spree. She raised a brow to question his continued presence. Oon ignored the question.

He reviewed his morning's work: he had revisited the location of their previous search; identified where he thought the preacher had stood; successfully tracked a stranger; hidden in the Force and developed a sore which he thought might turn into a blister on the heel of his right foot.

A very productive morning, he mused as the clerk resorted to aggressively folding fabric right in front of him. With a sigh he moved on

If I was with Master Bonilan or even with Master Sul, I could suggest that it was time we left. He grumbled to himself, craving the camaraderie that came with being on a mission with other Jedi. Wryly, he began to see just how subtle Master Sul was being. It occurred to him for the first time that unlike boots, Jedi didn't always come in pairs. And that like boots, some Jedi would expose your weaknesses whereas others would not.

You're drifting, he warned himself. Focus on what you are supposed to be doing.

As Oon pulled out his commlink to make contact with Sul, an audible rumble came from his stomach. As there was no-one around to suggest to him that he ought to control his hunger and his weariness, Oon decided to take advantage of the fact that for the time being at least, he was his own master. You're the one who decides when you're done, Oon told himself, and you have just decided that you will not have fully completed your search until just after you finish a spot of lunch.

His morning had taken him past any number of eateries; among them the fabled Zaphrra, with it's five stars and five figure bills, and the Trandoshan Barbecue that boasted a branch on every Republic system. But whilst he knew that the Temple would not begrudge him a meal, he did not think he would be too popular if he had to explain exactly why he had treated himself to a full blown gourmet banquet.

Nestled between a beauty salon and the offices of the Novidia Broadcasting Corporation was an understated cantina. The door slid open at his approach sending Oon a greeting waft of warm spiced air.

A HoloNet show flickered along one wall of the narrow room and looking round he thought that this place was used by the people who worked in the Arcade rather than by those who typically shopped in it. That suited him just fine.

Oon slipped onto a stool at the counter and as he glanced at the menu laid his commlink beside it.

---

"Where have you been?" Chet Ama questioned as Palpatine returned to the Pit, "Clish has been raging through here like a Reek on heat."

"I'm sorry I missed that," Palpatine replied sitting at the desk opposite. His gaze was drawn immediately to the pile of datapads that spilled across the surface between them. He reached for the nearest one, skimming its contents as Ama spoke.

"It was a sight to behold," she continued, "Honestly, that man could do with a few manners."

"If he offends you, Ama, you can always request a transfer," Palpatine suggested in a most helpful tone.

"I'm only saying," she snapped, "If you would spend less time talking with that shaak eyed bimbo upstairs perhaps you'd be here and he could have a go at you instead. I'm fed up with having to parry criticism about your mistakes."

Go on, he thought, not looking up, elaborate on that!

"Just listen to this dross," she complained, "We must dig in firm on the subject of the mining operations on our moons. Rich they might be but one must have a heart of stone not to see that stripping the natural resources undermines the very bedrock of our society."

Palpatine leaned back in his chair. "Another draft speech from our esteemed leader?" he asked.

She nodded. "He stretches and mangles the metaphor beyond recognition."

"And it bothers you because that is your field of expertise?"

"If that boy is considered wise," she said tightly, "I can only conclude that our entire electorate has been replaced by Gungans."

A casual toss sent the datapad skittering across the pitted surface of Palpatine's desk, "Weren't you passed over for entrance into the legislative youth programme in favour of his elder brother, Ama?" he smiled thinly over steepled fingers.

"What has that got to do with it?"

"Nothing, I'm sure," his tone dismissive. "What did Clish want to know about..."

"Oh, hello, Callentis," Palpatine said, swivelling round in his chair, "half days now is it?"

Praela Callentis glanced at the chrono, "It seems to be for you," she replied, "Andras is in with Clish. The morning session is over, and there's something brewing." As she spoke crossed the room and clicked a datachip into the holoprojector.

"There's always something brewing – any specifics?"
"Not yet. Was that you I saw going into Pinnacle the other night?" she asked as oversized holographic figures filled the space between them. "I meant to ask, but as I've been stuck minuting the Cestus committee I've hardly been here."

"You went to Pinnacle?" Ama snorted.

Palpatine nodded eyeing the projection.

"I though they had a restrictive door policy."

"It helps to know the right people," he murmured.

"Doormen?"

"I suspect that someone is annoyed that her application was rejected," Callentis observed, "Frankly, I'd befriend an army of doormen to get into some of those places. Didn't think it was your scene, somehow."

"A friend insisted."

"The good looking one?"

"Don't even think about it, Ama," Palpatine said, "Do we know what's happening with the E.D.A.?"

Ama jabbed a finger at the datapads, "Help yourself. If you start now you might get all the statistics referenced in time for the vote," she smiled apparently enjoying her very small victory, "I'd offer to help but I'm up to my nose in spice mines."

"Interesting choice of words," Callentis remarked, "The financials are all yours, Palpatine – I'm tied to this blasted committee."

"I'll live," though his tone suggested otherwise. "What about Andras?"

Ama snorted, "Prince Smarming doesn't associate with the likes of us these days. I get a strange feeling that he'll be the next one out of here."

"Where to?"

"There's said to be an opening in Dima's department – it's a step up."

"Is there another direction?"

"Your confidence will be your downfall, Palpatine," Callentis said leaning against the edge of the desk, "Some people find that unsettling, you know – a little bit of self depreciation can be disarming. That said, Andras is the perfect example of taking that particular trait too far - I'll not be sorry to see him out of here."

"What about his replacement?" Ama asked.

"That remains to be seen, don't count your gundark's before they've hatched. We might be stuck with him for longer than you imagine."

"Fifteen standard months and already he's surpassed us all. I'm starting to feel like the maiden aunt of this room, she who is wheeled out on special occasions."

"Our Grande Dame. Quite the fixture." It was true, Callentis had been here when he arrived and Palpatine had quickly concluded that Clish found her much too valuable to allow her to be poached or promoted. In contrast with the recently arrived Ama who he considered a opportunistic fool, Palpatine had a lot of time for Callentis; she had an exceptional mind and viewed the challenges of life and politics with callous objectivity. Not long after they met it became apparent to Palpatine that his own not inconsiderable intellect was a shadow next to hers; he had assumed therefore that they would become rivals. Unlike he, Callentis saw allies in those she considered to be her intellectual peers, and consequently he had found himself in the position to learn a great deal from her frequent and dispassionate dissections of the human condition. "You have yourself said that he has a well developed gift for flattery. Saying the right things to the right people is one way to get on in the world. Another reason, so I hear, is that his uncle is an old school friend of the Reek."

"How do you know that?" Callentis asked.

"Common knowledge," was his less than truthful reply, "You know I'll be glad when this E.D.A. is dead."

"Really? You think it won't be passed?"

"Have you not noticed, Ama, how everyone who supports it in committee, where they are personally accountable seems to lose enthusiasm once it reaches session?"

"It might not be a bad thing if the senate were a little more open about their funding."

"Ama, you're a closet idealist!" Callentis laughed, "Well I never! Maybe we should broadcast this to Naboo – then if the king drops down dead they can make you queen."

"Just because you have no soul doesn't mean I have none."

"Someone stepped out of the wrong side of the speeder this morning," Palpatine muttered, "Don't worry, Ama. Give it a few more months and you'll be knee deep in cynicism and loving it, just like the rest of us."

"Quite," Callentis concurred. "The homeworld government can uphold any ideals it wishes. As far as I'm concerned they can go on denying the fact that an elected monarchy is no more democratic than an hereditary one. They can go on believing that the Republic shares their ideals, that all the thousands of worlds within the Republic are equally committed to those principals of peace and equality. But I know what I see pass through this room. I can accept the facts. I open my eyes enough to see what this republic is about."

"That wasn't my point, Callentis," Ama protested, "It would do no harm if we knew more about who was working for whom, or at least who was being kept by whom."

"Even who was keeping us?"

"I think you're pushing it there, Palpatine," Callentis countered, "Clish might be a boor, our senate representation might be a group of ineffectual appointees chosen by an elected autocrat who has fewer braincells than cousins, but I don't think corruption would occur to any of them."

Palpatine exhaled, "I'm sure it wouldn't …"

"Then how come they can overlook our existence?" Ama asked.
"What is there to overlook?" Palpatine asked, "We do not exist – take a look at your official designation and your official clearances, all else is off the record. We might be the only useful department in the entire planetary civil service but we do not exist. It has been this way for a long time – I don't expect it to change any time soon. The people are happy, the senate is happy and the head of state remains in blissful ignorance."

"And so it will continue," Callentis concluded, "to preserve those ideals of yours, Ama."

----

"… supposedly being so. In consequence, as the vote to ratify the controversial Earnings Declaration Annex approaches, discomfort in the Senate has grown," the flickering HoloNet Anchorbeing said in measured tones as a stock image of the exterior of the Senate Chambers mushroomed behind her. "Though earlier this week, Hartal Inlia was named as an alleged supporter of the faction opposing the bill, the notoriously reclusive representative of Alderaan has remained unavailable for comment. Mindel, the Senator responsible for originating the E.D.A. was reported as saying …"

Oon turned back to the counter just as the server-droid server brought him his order; a thick fish stew. Perfect.. He had no mind for politics at the best of times and right now his stomach was too much of a distraction for him to even pretend an interest. The morning's activities had added an edge to his hunger and it certainly made a change from the food served at the temple. It was not that there was anything wrong with the temple food, just that any kitchen providing enough food for so many mouths tended to lose imagination rather quickly. Having finished his first mouthful he savoured the flavours and was looking forward to the second when;

"What the…" from near the door.

Enduring the heat, Oon was on his feet and moving even as the debris from the blast clattered against, then shattered the window. Through the Force he was aware that the proprietor's hand was moving, slamming against the panel that would bring down the security shutters.

Oon's Lightsaber was in his hand as those shutters slammed down behind him, offering some protection to those who had remained inside.

Opposite, the tall silvered doors of Octroi stood open, twisted like some bizarre sculpture, exhibited, with artistic caprice, in a hall filled with thick grey smoke.

Oon ran toward the jewellers, fighting his way through the current of beings that moved against him. Clear of the wave, he ignited his blade just as the first masked figure emerged through the smoke.

"Jedi!" the man yelled. At the same time he aimed his Blaster and fired.

Oon's blade turned a swift blue arc, angled to deflect the bolt with ease, but even as it sheared to the left, Oon leapt back to escape the shower of shards that rained from a shattered shop front. Twisting a full and clumsy circle, Oon regained his feet. As his fingers felt the absence at his belt, he remembered that his commlink was safe behind the security shutters not far from his barely tasted lunch.

He was on his own.

Unfortunately, his masked friend was not.

The Zabrak assessed his situation;

There were five of them and from their stance, Oon suspected that they wore battle armour beneath their soft, dark outer clothing.

One. Male. Human. Blaster drawn. Accurate shot.

Two. Female. Possibly human. Drawn vibroblade. Blaster.

Three and four. Hands encumbered, large bags. Build too massive to be human. Blasters.

Five. Species and gender, undetermined. Blaster drawn.

Oon drew his breath, his reconnaissance having taken a fractional-second.

He tightened his grip on his Lightsaber, and moved forward, welcoming the calm as the Force settled upon him.

Five, then One opened fire.

Oon swung his blade sending Blaster fire ricocheting across the arcade.

Two, Three and Four moved rapidly toward the edge of the arcade, away from the parking area. Oon considered this as he parried and then understood how they planned to make their escape. Dodging and repelling Blaster fire he moved toward the trio, hampered by the bypassers who were either too shocked or too foolish to understand their danger.

"Move away from here!" he ordered, voice amplified by the Force. "Get them away!" he yelled to the security guards who were emerging from the lower levels in response to the attack. "Now! They're going to…"

Two, armed and tossed a stun grenade, even as Oon's words were drowned by the gathering sigh of a structural breach. The grenade hit, leaving Oon, under the protection of the Force, the only one standing, the only one who heard the breach crack into silence.

And then, the sky fell in.

Guided by the Force, Oon's blade twisted to transform an expanse of transparisteel ceiling into abrasive dust, just as the modified air taxi plunged through the opening that it's front mounted Blaster cannon had created.

Authors Note:

Thanks to UninvitedCat who kindly beta read this chapter for me, and for you guys who have reviewed so far.

Feedback, positive or negative, is encouraged and appreciated. The more constructive, the better.