Reposted 12-19-05: Thank you so much, alchemy dream, for finding that spelling mistake and telling me about it. I really appreciate it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.
Writer's Block: Grey by treneka. This is a Hikaru no Go fic that's rated K+. Treneka does an amazing job of giving her character's real-life personalities. The story has a nice, slow feel to it, and it's more about developing the characters and looking into their minds than anything else. She says that each chapter deals with a cliché, but I can't find all of them (it's because her writing's so good that it's very hard to find anything cliché-like about it). But it is fun to try to find them.
I'm glad you guys liked the change of pace in the last chapter. Of course, I couldn't help but add a little gloom at the end, but that's just me. It was fun to write something a little lighter. I like humor, but sometimes I'm not so sure that I'm good at writing it, since it really is a hit or miss sort of thing.
Thank you for the reviews. A couple of you have asked about why Anakin hasn't questioned Obi-Wan about Skraith and Tarren having lightsabers, and all I can say is that I did this on purpose. But please, if you find anything else that appears to be a plot hole, tell me! Sometimes I do this on purpose, and the reason will come later, but sometimes it's just a bit of thoughtlessness on my part. So don't hesitate to critique me harshly if you see something wrong. I love compliments, but sternness has its merits also.
Page Amount: 5Word Count: 4,291
Started 8-7-05 and finished 8-8-05
Listening to: Perfect Circle "Judith"
Written by Ice Dragon3
Jedi Genocide
Chapter Eighteen: Mutually Beneficial Acquaintanceship
A standard month had come and gone.
Obi-Wan flipped to the next page of a rather large Imperial Senate document. It was all on the requirements necessary in a spacecraft to make it safe for hyperspace travel. Ships had to be of a certain standard before hyperspace engines could be installed into them. After all, the fuel of a hyperengine had some radioactive isotopes in it, and a breaking down of those unstable molecules was the last thing anyone wanted. This was an annual revision of the hyperspace laws to make sure that they kept up with the new technology and times. He put a side note on the page in red ink: Demanding that all ships should have a second hyperspace engine in the emergency of the first breaking down is impractical and dangerous. Should just have the tools necessary to fix first, standard communications system to call for assistance, and emergency jettison pods with distress signals.
The glories of being 'main advisor.' His only real power was that of advising—which was, when further inspected, not a true power at all. He could persuade, but never act on his own. He felt frustrated at this, as he wanted to change so much in the Empire yet was unable to. Instead, he was stuck with writing side-notes on menial matters of the Senate.
He sensed that Anakin had done this on purpose.
It was like trying to hold onto kernels of sand or playing chess with a supercomputer, this trying to one-up Anakin. The Sith was showing much more insightfulness than Obi-Wan was used to from him…Anakin used to be such a blunt but honest person…
Obi-Wan sighed; a standard month had come and gone, and he was no closer to obtaining his goal. He found himself being stretched thinner and thinner, being tugged in so many directions that sometimes he wondered if he would become completely insubstantial one day. The holy trinity of his life: Temple, Empire, Family.
He snorted, viciously correcting some senator's silly, senseless remark with such force that his pen stabbed through the paper when he dotted his 'i's and crossed his 't's. Siths were fond of triangles and pyramids, of the number 3 (which itself had three points). Their preferred symbols were all unbalanced things, sharp and power-hungry. The Jedi preferred the cube and square due to the shape's equaled and balanced nature. Unlike the pyramid, it had no high point and all sides were equivalent.
Fine, then he'd make the fourth corner of his life this: Mission. Which was true, even though he wasn't making any headway on it.
He threw the finished report in his out box and picked up a new one. This one was about the maintenance and care of endangered species that were kept as pets by registered individuals.
Running a hand through his hair before starting on this report, he wondered if his brain was becoming frazzled. If he was starting to think of his life as a square or triangle, maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep.
'No time for sleep,' he thought groggily. He glanced out the window to see the nightlights glaring liked multicolored, flashy stars. Their artificial brilliance blotted out the true sources of light. He guessed that night had fallen about three hours before; it was surely getting late. 'I have to finish these reports and then see if I can find anything to further my investigation.'
Even though Anakin's visits to the Temple had gradually dwindled to nearly nothing, like a puddle slowly drying up on a summer day, Obi-Wan was adamant about going there every day except Sunday. Because of this, he started his workday at the Imperial Senate building much later than most. Thus, he finished well past the normal work hours. While others were already home and tucked into their beds, he was going over mind-numbing report after mind-numbing report. And once he was finished with those he always wandered the halls for a while, hoping to get a lucky break and find some information on the underhanded dealings of the Empire. Maybe an opened door that was normally locked, a quiet conversation in a nearly empty hall, a dropped datapad. Anything.
All these attempts were done in vain, but he couldn't stop trying. He was determined to finish this mission; he would not be deterred by lack of success or sleep-deprivation. As the mission dragged on and time passed, his need to complete it increased. The more he was pressed mentally, the more he pushed back. Since it was he himself doing the pressing, he was also the one pushing himself more and more.
There were other reasons why he kept such late hours and early mornings. He found that since marrying Anakin, he was expected and required to sleep in the same bed. There wasn't even a pretense of separation now: he went straight to Anakin's room at night. Leia and Luke knew that they now shared a room, even if they didn't get the meaning behind it. But Obi-Wan kept such late hours that normally Anakin was already sleeping when he came home. He'd try to sneak into bed unnoticed, but somehow Anakin always knew he was there and woke up. Fortunately, most of the time he only draped an arm over Obi-Wan and mumbled a sleepy 'goodnight' as he snuggled in closer. Obi-Wan tried to wake up earlier than Anakin in the mornings also: sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. More often than not, though, he ate a quick bowl of cereal alone before rushing over to the Temple. No more home-cooked, warm breakfasts for him, or saying goodbye to the twins before leaving.
He could live without that. He'd found out that small comforts like that were expendable. All he had to do was focus on the goal.
The Temple was in a sad state. Everyone was still feeling the effects of Tarren and Skraith's deaths. Carra was looking worse and worse; everyday she seemed thinner, more sunken in, more hollow. She looked as terrible as he felt inside.
Anakin slipped into his office, effectively drawing him out of his reverie when he said softly, "I'm going home now, Obi. Make sure that you don't work yourself to exhaustion, and don't stay too late." He kissed Obi-Wan on the forehead then left. Obi-Wan nodded at Anakin, scratching another bland sentence onto another bland report. It was all just a jumble of white and black and sparse, vibrant patches of scrawled red ink. The letters hardly meant anything. With Anakin gone, his mind instantly sunk inward once again as his body functioned monotonously, finishing the pile of paperwork.
Carra's problems didn't end with physical issues. Her connection to the Force was becoming erratic also; one time in the middle of class she had blurted out, tears in the corner of her eyes, "I can't meditate today! I can't feel it—it's just not there!" She had quickly exited the room. Ki'lya had followed swiftly, and Obi-Wan could only hope that the Twi'lek had been able to sooth Carra from her irrational state of mind. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for a Jedi to temporary lose their connection to the Force during times of depression. He supposed it was better for Carra to be disconnected from the Force than to use those dark feelings in the name of the Dark Side (and perhaps that was an inbuilt defense mechanism of the Jedi, to disassociate themselves from the Force when they felt that they might be tempted to use their powers for evil), but he would still be happy when she found her center of balance again. This behavior was unhealthy.
The whole Temple had taken on an air of gloom. Ki'lya worried about Carra constantly, and her bottom lip was starting to show wear because of it. Darrien was silent as ever, and no comfort could be found in his bizarre temperament. The younger Padawan Learners were also more subdued; they missed Anakin and the twin's animated presence, and they feared what would happen to them in the future—worried that their beloved teacher might never come back. Lilitaa was now well past the age where toddlers learned to speak at least a few words, and still she remained mute. The children lived in a world not of laughter, but of fears.
The only light in this cave of depression was Jarg. Obi-Wan was grateful that Jarg could still remain upbeat after all that had happened. The Gungan was himself in almost all aspects. Perhaps a little more reserved at times, yes, but his optimistic nature could not be dampened. Obi-Wan had once asked Jarg just how he stayed so happy, and Jarg had stared at him in surprise, saying, "Why, messa jus' following yousa advice, Massa Obi-Wan! Messa let go of messa feelings to da Force! Everything will be okasie, yousa see." Jarg then smiled and bumbled away, tripping twice on his own feet and once on poor little Huo.
It was the little things Jarg did and said that made Obi-Wan believe that he would become the best Jedi. He didn't excel in any field, and certainly lacked in quite a few, but his positive nature and good heart made him strong—stronger, perhaps. He had a thoughtless way of putting others before himself, sometimes without even realizing it. When the other younglings laughed at Jarg's funny speech or fighting style, Jarg laughed with them. The others might think he was the least adequate one of them to be a Jedi, but the exact opposite was true; Jarg had a humility and love in his soul that could not be learned from one of life's many lessons.
Obi-Wan finished one report and went onto another. More trivial matters with little to no meaning.
He had learned long ago, when Anakin was his Padawan, that the Master did not stop learning because he was instructing another. Age did not bring knowledge in itself—instructing another did not make oneself immune to mistakes. Anakin, as his Padawan, had taught him that lesson among many others. Now Jarg was re-teaching him old lessons that he had forgotten; when he became frustrated, he tried to reflect Jarg's absolute faith in the Force.
While the Temple atmosphere was dank, he'd take it any day over the Imperial Senate building. It was not just about the mound of paperwork he had to do, but the people who inhabited these walls. One or two he liked; a few had good intentions. But not most. Most sickened him with their overindulgence in the extravagant, with their corrupt nature. But it was not the majority of the senators, with their pompous and greedy nature, that made the hair on his neck stand on end at times. Those people were frivolous and irrelevant, more like dead clogs in the mechanics of the Empire which refused to work with the machine as a whole—rolling whichever way they wanted at whatever time—than destructive forces. They, in their masses of stupidity, had brought down the Republic. And they, in turn, were the ones to slow down the Empire with the same traits of selfishness that had been the downfall of the Republic, which served none but themselves and in the end would abandon them also.
No, they were not the source of discomfort in him. A few of the people who walked the halls radiated pure hate and evil, the darkness rolling off them in oily waves that were thick and suffocating to Obi-Wan. It was as if they had alienated life itself, taking all its wonder and love and joy and twisting it into something foul and bitter, a concoction they forced themselves to drink. These were men and women who killed others coldly or sadistically, who viewed sentient beings not as people but as numbers and statistics. These people had an incurable disease festering underneath their skin.
Yet others didn't seem to feel this, or to even realize that something was wrong with these individuals. They were treated like normal people—even respected! And all the while those sick fiends played mind games with the unsuspecting, toying with them, pretending to be as normal as they were assumed to be.
Obi-Wan knew this was all a deception, a beautiful porcelain mask carefully worn over the ugliness breathing inside.
There was always some major component missing in them that made their acting flawed—their eyes a little too harsh, their smile too stiff, a stance too aggressive, a voice too quietly venomous.
Setting down his pen, he gave a relieved smile and allowed a small amount of satisfaction to course through him. He was finally finished with all the documents Anakin had sent him. Even though there would be another mound waiting for him the next day, he could never help feeling accomplished seeing the job done, temporary as it was. He picked up the large stack of papers, intending to carry them over to Anakin's office. He normally left the papers there for Anakin to pick up in the morning. It also gave him a chance to try to open the door, though it was always locked. But the way he saw it, if he kept trying, one day he was bound to get lucky and Anakin would forget to lock up before going home. Nobody was infallible.
Walking down the empty hallway, a voice behind him said cheerfully, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, fancy meeting you here at this time of night!"
Obi-Wan turned around and said stiffly to the smiling, lax man, "Granta Omega." He was one of the people who had evil crawling underneath his skin like millions of tiny parasitical bugs, who breathed through layers of lies. The mask Omega adopted was a cheerful, laidback one, but Obi-Wan was not fooled. He had seen the face it covered, and it was that of a cold-blooded murderer with a mind as keen as a knife.
"Come now, Obi-Wan—or should I be calling you Obi? A new nickname you've picked up, if the quotations from the articles are true." He raised an eyebrow, smiling lazily at Obi-Wan's dark look. "Ahhh…I see; an exclusive name. I suppose Obi-Wan will do, then."
"What do you want?" Obi-Wan demanded bluntly. He did not want to converse with a being like Omega.
"Why the rushed attitude, Obi-Wan?" Omega drawled out, smiling charmingly as he brushed away a strand of raven black hair from his face. "What I want is simply a pleasant conversation. How has the political life been treating you?"
"I have somewhere to be, so if you'll excuse me…" Obi-Wan said, trying to smile. It came out as more of a grimace.
"Yes, of course…very diligent about doing your duties as main advisor, aren't you? But what most people don't know is that you're also very eager to get into Vader's office, always trying that locked door… Perhaps you're not so much the perfect worker everyone thinks you are. From your actions, I know what I think." Omega paused, smiling as he tapped a finger on the side of his head. "Have you found some time in your schedule to talk to me now?"
"I think I just did." Obi-Wan stopped trying to edge around Omega and stood still. From what Obi-Wan gathered…Omega knew what he was up to (or at least that he wanted to get into Anakin's office for some reason), but he had also hinted that other people didn't know this. If Obi-Wan complied and talked to Omega maybe that would remain true.
"Good." Omega stepped in closer and said confidentially, "I've been meaning to talk to you for quite a while. But you're a very hard man to get…a hold of."
"What do you want?" Obi-Wan asked tersely. "You don't do anything without an ulterior motive."
"I'll get to that," Omega said with an insolent smile. "I hope you don't mind me basking in this feeling for a little while longer, though. It's not often that I get the chance to hold something over a Jedi. Normally, they keep—or should I be speaking in past tense now? kept?—their hands too clean for this opportunity to come around. I see that you at least understand that sometimes you need to…dirty…your hands to get what you want." He winked, grinning charmingly; Omega was a very charismatic man when he wanted to be.
But Obi-Wan wasn't going to be drawn in by that charm; there was something Omega wanted, and he wasn't going to let his guard down. Besides, the way Omega said things…they sounded distorted, as if his warped mental process was mirrored in the way he spoke. "I don't understand what you're saying."
"Playing innocent, are we? Don't worry; I won't blow your cover."—that damn smile again, Obi-Wan thought as he gritted his teeth—"It's not in my best interest. I still hate you, you know," Omega said in that same lazy voice, although his blue eyes were sharper now. "You and that master of yours murdered my father."
Even though it was a lie (Xanatos had jumped into the toxic pool on Telos himself; Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon hadn't pushed him in as Omega believed), Obi-Wan didn't say anything in dispute. Nothing he could say would change Omega's carefully cultivated lie.
"But I don't think I want to kill you anymore," Omega continued on when Obi-Wan remained silent. "Pain, yes…humiliation, yes…but death? No." He shook his head. "As always, I keep my priorities straight: business over personal. I have found more important things to occupy my time." He smiled, showing teeth. "Depending on how warm your reception is, they could involve you."
"While I thank you for your generosity, I politely decline," Obi-Wan intoned.
Omega laughed. "Just like a Jedi. Don't you ever stray from that narrow path of yours? Too much discipline can be just as bad as none—with such a tightrope-like line to walk, you're sure to lose your balance and fall eventually. But I'm not here to talk about the fundamentally flawed philosophy of the Jedi. We have some mutual interests, and working together could be beneficial. In more than one way."
"Still trying to unlock the secrets of the Force?" Obi-Wan asked, although he already knew the answer; Omega was fascinated with the Force, especially the Dark Side. Xanatos had been disappointed when his son hadn't been Force-sensitive like he was, and that displeasure had eaten away at Omega. So he had become obsessed with the Force, trying to learn everything he could about the one thing he couldn't obtain. Even though his father was dead, Omega still couldn't shake off his need to prove himself to his father.
"Yes, that too." His eyes, the color of blue durasteel, flashed. The smile slinked into a smirk.
"I think I just ran out of time. Now if you'll excuse me…" Obi-Wan brushed past Omega.
"Of course," Omega said. "Can't waste your precious time. In fact… I think I'll give you a hand. There's no way you can turn down free help—but know that this is a once in a lifetime offer. I don't habitually do manual labor." Omega plucked the top half of documents from Obi-Wan's full arms, carrying them as he followed Obi-Wan.
"I don't want you to change your habits for me," Obi-Wan said brusquely. "Please, allow me to go on by myself. This is my job."
"And this is my pleasure," Omega countered smoothly. "I have no problem with carrying a stack of papers. Think of this as me trying to broaden my horizons."
"I thought you enjoyed the view from your suite. Why look any farther than that?" Obi-Wan's voice held the sneer if his face didn't.
"Didn't I already allude to this earlier?" Omega mused. "I cannot simply wash my hands clean. Power and corruption come hand in hand. I do not blind myself to the underside of life; I am always expanding my interests." He smiled. "That is how I got my suite in the first place."
"People like you sicken me." Obi-Wan marched ahead, trying to ignore his unwanted companion.
"Ditto." Omega smiled.
Silence ensued for a while, and all that could be heard was their pair of muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor. Lights set on low power to conserve electricity lit the hallway at intervals, making their shadows split into two or three moving beings at a time. They met no living being on their way, and only passed briefly by a dingy cleaning droid vacuuming the floor with decrepit movements.
Finally, Obi-Wan couldn't help but ask, "…People like you or like me?"
"Both," Omega answered, "I hate your people's pride and disdain for others. You think you're always right and they're always wrong. You stick your nose where it doesn't belong and act righteous as you do it. And as for the other part…I just hate competition." That charming smile temporarily flared to life again before returning to the grave, allowing the marble mask to settle in.
They came to Anakin's office. Obi-Wan set his stack of papers down, and Omega did the same. "Well, I'll be off now…thank you for the assistance," Obi-Wan said as politely as he could (which was more ungracious than gracious). He started to walk away, but Omega's words stopped him.
"What if I told you that I could open this door?" he asked as he rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood doorframe.
Obi-Wan turned around, scrutinizing Omega. "I'd tell you that it didn't concern me."
"Then why are you still here?" Omega pointed out with a smile. When Obi-Wan didn't move, he went on, "My argument holds. If you care to stick around, we may become companions in crime. I have the codes required to open his door. It's a very complex code, I must say…one that could take you years to figure out on your own. And if you mess up even once, then, well—you're as good as dead. Security droids will be infesting this hallway like a bunch of cockroaches before you can even say 'holy hell.' Safe to say, you can kiss the good life goodbye."
"You seem confident in your abilities. Why do you need me?" Obi-Wan crossed his hands over his chest.
"Insurance," Omega whispered. "You may think that I am a friend of the Emperor, but you'll soon learn that he has no friends. Except for you, it seems, Obi. He's very fond of you. If we get caught, and you're my accomplice, I'm much more likely to get a lighter punishment than otherwise. An infinite time in prison sounds much better than the chopping block, don't you agree?" He slit a finger across his throat in crude emphasis.
"I think I'm starting to see the picture," Obi-Wan said slowly, thinking as he talked, "A temporary alliance may be favorable for both of us."
"I knew you'd see the light," Omega said cheerfully, smile back in place.
"Just what is it that you're looking for, Omega?" Obi-Wan interrogated.
"The same thing you are, Obi-Wan. Information." A greedy gleam entered his eyes. "We might even be plotting to use it for the same purpose."
Obi-Wan snorted, unable to hold in his contempt. "I highly doubt that."
Omega arched an eyebrow. "Don't get too high-and-mighty on me now. You are no longer a Jedi; stop acting like one. Times change, people change. And keep this in mind before you ridicule me again; I'm the one holding the upper hand here. Codes, remember?" Obi-Wan glowered at him silently. Omega smiled, returning to his former train of thought, "Yes, I think we are planning the same thing."
"Oh, and what is that?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to hide the scorn and curiosity in his voice.
"The downfall of an empire." He winked. "As long as your plans don't conflict with mine, perhaps our partnership can be extended past this one night. Your influence with the Emperor and my wealth could go a long way. Together, we could unlock opportunities otherwise unavailable."
"One night is enough for me," Obi-Wan stated flatly.
"Really. Huh." Omega shrugged indifferently. "Do as you please, I guess. But if our plans do coincide, you might be seeing me in the near future. And if my plans are successful, you might want to reconsider my offer of friendship. Well, I wouldn't really call it friendship." Omega gave a smile that didn't reach his cold blue eyes. "More like a mutually beneficial acquaintanceship."
"I'll take my chances."
"Indeed, you will. You're taking them right now. I'm taking a bit of a gamble myself; I can't know if these codes will work until we try them out. And one try is all you get."
"So you mentioned before."
"So you have been listening!" Omega exclaimed happily. "Well, best try them and wish for good fortune. But just in case, say your prayers if you have any, or if you believe in any god." He flipped out a datapad and began to type the numbers and letters written on it into the small number pad by the door.
"I don't pray," Obi-Wan said.
"Me neither," Omega replied, still typing in a complex chain of digits into the security device.
Even though Obi-Wan gave his anxiety to the Force, he couldn't help feeling a bit of dread. He was prepared for the worse, but wished for the best. This could be his big break…the end could be near…
"Aha! Only a few more now…" Omega said. He typed in the last digits. "Done!" They waited tensely, straining their ears for either the screech of an alarm system or the quiet, beautiful sound of a lock unlocking.