The moral reality of war is divided into two parts. War is always judged twice, first with reference to the reasons states have for fighting, secondly with reference to the means they adopt. . .
—Michael Walzer
Chapter Five
The trip to the Anoat sector had only taken a few hours, giving neither man a chance to talk to the other. Preparations and tactical meetings for their respective upcoming missions occupied their time, and they too quickly found themselves saying goodbye.
Before Anakin's departure, Obi-Wan made his way down to the hangar. The young Jedi was already in his cockpit as Artoo ran the preflight check. Obi-Wan did not know why, but there was something about this mission . . . he could not shake an unexpected feeling of foreboding. Suddenly, he wished his friend was not leaving.
Anakin looked up at his former master's approach and said something to Artoo before leaping out of the cockpit.
"Obi-Wan," he said guardedly, slipping his hands into his sleeves in an unconscious imitation of his former master.
"I've come to wish you goodbye, Anakin," Obi-Wan informed him. Tell him all is forgiven! The unbidden thought floated urgently through his mind. He opened his mouth to obey, but clamped it shut as Anakin started talking.
"I see," Anakin replied. He looked for a moment as if he was going to say something else, and then stopped, looking at Obi-Wan from under drawn eyebrows.
Obi-Wan nodded. Now was not the time. Later, after, sometime else when this war was not weighing on their minds, they could talk as friends. Now however, their duties called. "May the Force be with you, Anakin."
Anakin's lips twisted. "You too, Master." He glanced away, and then looked back. "Take care of yourself, okay? I wouldn't want to make our running tally eight to zero now."
Shaking his head, Obi-Wan allowed himself a small smile. "Oh I plan to. And the tally would be only seven, thank you very much."
Both men bowed formally to each other, leaving the words they truly wanted to say to each other unsaid.
While the words and hurt between them were not forgiven they could be forgotten, for now.
From afar, Bespin was beautiful. Swirling hues of pink and yellow gas eddied and churned in the atmosphere. The deceptively delicate-looking spires and platforms of Cloud City rose from the swirling morass, appearing to float atop a sea of beautiful color.
Its moon Nuojauta, however, was a different story. Years of strip mining for thorilide had left it broken and barren. Black shards of rocks jutted like thorns into the thin, polluted air. Deep crevasses ran along the surface, appearing as if a giant nexu had reached down to claw away at the ground.
Thorilide was a crystalline substance, used in the manufacturing of starships as a shock absorber for turbolaser cannons. During the Stark Hyperspace war thorilide's importance greatly increased, leading to feverish strip mining of the moon. However, after those few frantic years, the shallow lode ran out. Now, stripped of its precious mineral years ago, Nuojauta stood as an ugly reminder of greed and death in the skies of its neighboring planet.
Obi-Wan slowly piloted his freighter above the destroyed terrain. Even from here he could see towering scaffolding over the mining shafts that plunged miles down toward the heart of the planet. He was grateful for the ruins, however. The fact that they were still standing boded well for establishing a Republic base undetected among the skeletons of previous lifetimes. He wondered if those beings ever regretted their choices that lead to the destruction of a once beautiful moon.
Speaking of regrets . . . he shook his head as he thought about his argument with Anakin. It had been petty on both sides. He would admit he felt an infinitesimal flair of possessiveness when the Chancellor requested Anakin to return to Coruscant. Oh, not about the fact that it was the Chancellor, but rather that he occupied a place in Anakin's heart that Obi-Wan could never fill. Obi-Wan was the taskmaster, the teacher and instructor. He taught, and that sometimes meant he disciplined and corrected.
Both things which Anakin detested.
But in the Chancellor's eyes, Anakin could do no wrong. He could see how Anakin basked in the praise he received from Palpatine. It worried him. Something always felt . . . off . . . about that man, ever sense he had first met him over ten years ago. Even then the man had taken an immediate fancy to Anakin, much to Obi-Wan's own disgruntlement. He did not trust politicians in general and Palpatine, well, he lived and breathed politics.
Yet Anakin still had much to learn. He craved attention, as well as acceptance, and Palpatine granted him both. Thus when Obi-Wan denied him the latter, hurt and bitterness rose like vicious bile within him.
Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan let the soothing sense of the Force flow through him, cleansing his mind and thoughts of hurt and suspicion. There is no emotion, there is peace. The Jedi Code had always been his lifeline, the code by which he lived. Anakin might buck at the restraint it commanded, the wholehearted devotion required to live it; yet for Obi-Wan, it gave him peace. It offered him a place in the galaxy, a sense of purpose. To him it wasn't restrictive—it was belonging, tranquility, and very much his life.
There is no emotion, there is peace. He chuckled softly. How many times had he recited that to himself throughout the years of training Anakin? Countless times, and he knew there would be countless more.
Later, Obi-Wan promised himself, when this mission is over and Anakin is back from helping the Chancellor we will sit down and talk.
With that in mind, Obi-Wan turned his thoughts away from his former apprentice and back to the task at hand. As he had explained to Anakin before, the task was simple enough. Because of increased Separatist activity in the area, the Republic wanted to observe—or spy, depending on who was asked—the surrounding system. They hoped to set up a small command post on the moon. From this post they could detect the comings and goings of the various ships and hopefully inform the Republic in time if the Separatists were planning a full on invasion of Bespin.
Obi-Wan's role was relatively simple. Go in, survey the area, and help set up the command post. He knew the mission depend on absolute secrecy. If the Bespin government found out that a Republic command post was tracking all the comings and goings of ships in the area, the repercussions would be catastrophic. He had misgivings himself about spying on a system that declared themselves to be neutral.
This war had caused so many changes, so many problems tangibly, as well as morally and ethically. The Jedi, one moment peacekeepers, had found themselves thrust into a galactic conflict the next. Many—Obi-Wan included—struggled to comprehend the purpose of the war, to understand if it was even necessary in the first place. The moral and ethical implications abounded. Did the ends truly justify the means? Perhaps they had already answered that question by fighting the war in the first place.
For the ends to justify the means, a goal needed to be morally important enough that any method of achieving it was acceptable. But who could decide such a thing? To one person, a goal may be morally important enough to commit a horrible act that another being would never deem close to honorable.
No, he would never believe that any ends justified the means. In his world there was right and wrong, good and bad, light and dark. To begin to believe truth was relative would be the first step to becoming what they were fighting.
Yet he knew that in times of war, the laws and morals are often forgotten. There were lines he would never cross. In spite of that, Obi-Wan was a Jedi, first and foremost. Others may believe to spy on a neutral system simply counted as good war strategy, yet for him it was not so simple. This war had changed the entire Order into something almost unrecognizable. Some of the decisions could never be truly quantified. He knew of Anakin's call on Jabiim, to leave behind the remaining men of the resistance to save his own troops. Could there have been another option? Did the needs of the many outweigh those of the few?
He shook his head. All the choices they made—for good or for ill—they were all something they would have to answer for personally after the war. Whether or not they would be held accountable by law, he knew personally he would struggle within. He recalled his words earlier to Anakin. We all must choose what to do with the time that is given to us. Closing his eyes briefly, he couldn't help but wonder if the choices he was making would ever stop haunting him.
Pulling in his doubts and worries, he acknowledged them and released them into the Force.
Now, he had a duty to fulfill.
Skimming low to the ground, the ship's sensors picked up a landing bay in a structurally sound structure. The grey permacrete building looked as if it had been one of the main hubs for the underground mines; its sprawling tunnels ran like arms out into the plains before the shafts plunged down into the ground.
The landing bay was open sided, he noted, which would have allowed for the speed in takeoff and landing of transports—and would assist with their landing craft as well. The roof appeared steady, as did the floor. Obi-Wan gently landed the frigate and opened the hatch to the outside. Dank, thin air reached his nostrils and he winced.
Just a ripple, a slight premonition in the Force . . . He did not know why but there was just something about it; perhaps the way the sun barely reached the surface, or the strange tang in the air but he did not like this planet. It set Obi-Wan's nerves on edge and his senses singing. Breathing deep, he straightened his shoulders and stepped outside onto Bespin's moon.
The power generators on the station had stopped working long ago, leaving the only light source to come from the dim light filtering through the dirty and infrequent windows. Dust particles floated through the faint beams of light, stirred up by the Jedi's soft steps. Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan made his way toward where he assumed the comm station would be, using the Force to guide him. He smiled slightly to himself as he thought back to his and Anakin's banter earlier that day over that very word. Well, Anakin was not there, and what he did not know would not hurt him.
He roamed deeper into the maze of hallways. Wide tunnels that led to the mineshafts themselves shot off every now and then into the dark. For some reason, the desolate terrain destroyed by greed brought to mind that long ago mission to Telos. Strange. He had not thought of that mission for years. As he walked, he recalled Xanatos' dark eyes as he threw himself into the pool of acid rather than reconcile with Qui-Gon, his former master. Even now he shuddered to think of it. To ever be that dark and devoid of the light . . . he could not fathom the thought. His eyebrows drew together as he thought of his own former apprentice. Anakin sometimes walked that line, and Obi-Wan did not know what he would do if Anakin ever crossed it.
Lost in thought, the first shot took him by surprise. Not in the same way as a normal human, of course. To be normal would have been dead, for even though he was surprised, Obi-Wan's lightsaber was in his hand and deflecting the blaster bolt that would have killed any other being.
Stupid, Kenobi! He chided himself. You know better than that!
He barely had time to think before barrage of blaster bolts flew toward him. Steadily and precisely deflecting each bolt, he whirled around to find the source of the shots. Six seeker droids floated in the surrounding hallways. He was in the center of an intersection; two hallways leading north and south, and two mining tunnels leading east and west. From their positions in three of the tunnels, the droids continued their barrage.
Even a being without the Force could comprehend that something was off. Obi-Wan knew seeker droids were used primarily by bounty hunters, and had not been invented before the demise of the mining facility. He knew the droids could not be acting on their own. As he kept up his defense, reluctantly backing down the only hallway available to him, he searched the surrounding area with the Force.
There. Behind the droids, he sensed a flicker of life. It was tainted with the dark side, reeking of malice and hatred. Whoever he was, he had planned his attack well. Six droids were in no way capable of defeating a Jedi, yet they would wear him down. Obi-Wan also knew he was being driven exactly where the bounty hunter desired. The placement of the droids were in no way random, and Obi-Wan's mind raced as he continued to make his way down the darkening and downward sloping tunnel, skillfully defending himself from the pursuing droids.
A moment later, he realized the purpose of herding him down the tunnel.
The wide tunnel ended in an enormous, circular shaft. A grated catwalk wound its way around the edge of the shaft. Rusted beams and cables where lifts had once dragged up the precious crystals dangled over and down into the inky blackness of the mine.
He was trapped.
Throughout his flight, he had managed to take out two of the droids with deflected blaster bolts. Realizing there was nowhere to run he turned to stand his ground against the four remaining droids at the entrance of the tunnel. By stepping several feet beyond the opening, he had more room to maneuver his blade while the droids found their spacing limited.
Obi-Wan descended deep into the Force, wielding his lightsaber with infinite precision. Every shot was accounted for, each footstep placed precisely where was best. He was a master in Soresu, the lightsaber form it was said could render an expert wielder nearly invincible against any attack. Renowned throughout the Temple, even Master Windu sought him out as a sparring partner when both masters had the time. The running total was seven to four in Windu's favor, but to be fair, he was one of the highest ranking Jedi in the Order.
However, despite the strengths of any form, weaknesses manifested as well. While Obi-Wan could defend himself indefinitely, the droids possessed infinite energy. And Obi-Wan, well, he might not like to admit it, but even a Jedi had limits.
Time for a change in tactics.
Years ago, as a padawan, he had been drawn to the aerial techniques and athletic skills of Ataru. But after Naboo tragically revealed its shortcomings, Obi-Wan found himself drawn to the defensive style of Soresu. That did not mean, however, that he had abandoned his study altogether, or that Obi-Wan could only defend. Switching into the low side opening stance of Ataru, a confident smile tugged at his face.
Quite the contrary.
Flipping high into the air, Obi-Wan's booted feet crashed down onto one of the four remaining droids. Balancing precariously on its metallic carapace, he continued to defend until another droid inched out of the tunnel. With a wide sweep, he cut through the top of his temporary foothold and, summersaulting into the air again, Force pushed the pieces into the oncoming droid, sending them both skittering off the catwalk into empty air.
The remaining two droids scuttled out of the tunnel, blasters still firing. Obi-Wan backed up, deflecting as he went. The catwalk creaked ominously, the rusted girders in the wall shifting at the added weight. The droids had been programed well, and they split up, one heading to Obi-Wan's left and the other to the right. It looked as though they had caught him between them. No Jedi, not even a Master, could deflect blaster bolts from two opposite directions.
But Obi-Wan was no normal Jedi Master, and neither was he stupid.
Wait . . . wait . . . now! At the Force's prompting, he leapt through the air, diving for the catwalk across from him. Both droids shot, and by the merest of millimeters, both droids missed their intended target. But not Obi-Wan's. With matching shrieks and the whine of melting metal and servos, both droids collapsed as their counterpart's bolt hit their metallic bodies.
Obi-Wan landed lightly on the catwalk, a third of the way around the pit from the tunnel entrance. The smoldering heaps of droid parts lay scattered around, sending sparks and smoke into the already dank air. "So uncivilized," he muttered.
Centered deep into the Force, Obi-Wan took a calming breath as he probed the surrounding area. Even though the droids lay in pieces around him, but he knew the fight wasn't over. He could still sense whoever it was lurking in the tunnel from where he had emerged.
Obi-Wan glanced in front of him, down into the inky depths of the mining shaft disappearing into the ground. The only exit was either down the shaft—no, thanks, I rather like staying alive—or through the tunnel ahead of him on the other side of the mine—not the most promising prospect either.
Planting his feet and sweeping his lightsaber above him in the classic opening stance of Soresu, he grinned cockily into the dark mouth of the tunnel. "I seemed to have destroyed your welcoming committee," he declared, gesturing dismissively at the pieces scattered around the rusting catwalk. "Perhaps I could apologize in person? Or maybe you like hiding in the dark; only a coward would send droids to kill a Jedi."
Even though it was faint, Obi-Wan could sense the dark side emanating from the being still masked in the shadows. It was nothing like the Zabrak on Naboo, or Dooku, or even Ventress, but the raw hatred within the being's Force signature sent a shiver down Obi-Wan's spine.
Finally, the being stepped forward enough to be visible in the flickering light from the sapphire blade. He was a human, average height, and clearly a bounty hunter from the various pieces equipment he carried on his person. A Wookee bandoleer ran across his chest, explosives of every type strapped to it. A large blaster rifle was attached to his back, while a holster for a blaster pistol was snuggly strapped to his left hip. His shaved head reflected the light of the blade, but that was nothing compared to the glittering anger in his eyes.
"I'm not a coward," his voice grated in Obi-Wan's ears. "I'm just a man with a plan."
Obi-Wan snorted to himself. Delightful. A million bounty hunters in the galaxy, and I get the one who fancies himself a poet. He squinted at the man across the pit from him. "Do I know you?" he asked, his mind working as he took in the bounty hunter's appearance, sizing him up as he stalled to regain some of his strength.
"I don't think so; I don't make it a habit to know Jedi." The man spit out the word as if it was a curse.
Interesting. "And yet I think I've seen your face . . . ahh, I know! Perhaps on a wanted poster on the holonet for some petty crime." While he often scolded Anakin for his talent in irritating their opponents, he did realize the logic in the fact that making a person angry—well, it often led to mistakes on the opponent's part.
Yet the bounty hunter brushed it off. A grin seemed to turn the man's face into a leering skull in the flickering light. "If killing Jedi is a petty crime, then perhaps that's true."
Killing Jedi? This hunter had a high opinion of himself, but Obi-Wan could tell he carried himself with confidence. He reminded him of the bounty hunter he had met years ago on Kamino before the whole war had started.
He bowed mockingly at him, flourishing his lightsaber. "Well, if I am about to die, could I at least have the pleasure of knowing by whom I am killed?"
The leering skull simply blinked. "You only need to know this, Jedi. I am the last person you will ever see."
Even as the last word was leaving his lips, the bounty hunter's blaster was in his hand and the first shots flew toward Obi-Wan.
As he defended, irritation flashed briefly through Obi-Wan. He didn't have time to waste time with this bounty hunter. Ordinarily he would be flattered—having someone place a bounty on you meant you were kicking over some right rocks—but right now he was just tired and slightly baffled. Employing bounty hunters was not beneath the Separatists, but even they had to realize the futility of trying to kill him. There were thousands of Jedi in the galaxy, why would they signal him out? If he was killed, another Jedi would take his place, he was not that important in the grand scheme of the war.
His thoughts caused him to become distracted, and a blaster bolt grazed his leg. Stupid, Kenobi! he chided himself for a second time that day. Focus on the here and now!
Killing was not the Jedi way, and Obi-Wan wanted answers. Time to disarm . . . literally. Summoning the Force, he surged over the pit beneath him in a mighty leap, landing directly next to the bounty hunter. But as his 'saber came down in a finishing blow to the man's forearm, there was a flash and sizzle—and nothing happened. Obi-Wan drew back, momentarily shocked as he stared at his unexpectedly useless lightsaber.
"Beskar gauntlets. . ." Obi-Wan breathed. Extremely rare, beskar ore could withstand a lightsaber's blade, the contact between the two shorting out the blade for several minutes.
He was suddenly aware of an overwhelmingly very bad feeling about this . . .
Once again he was greeted by that skull-like grin, the bounty hunter's eyes glittering in gloating triumph.
Everything slowed. In the space between one heartbeat and the next Obi-Wan could see and feel everything. He could see the hunter's finger on the trigger. He could feel his gloating rage seer hot and heavy through the Force. He could feel his own exhaustion and the heavy weight of his useless lightsaber hilt in his hand. He could see he was not going to make it to the tunnel before death in the form of a blaster bolt reached him. Obi-Wan was not scared of death—there is no death, there is only the Force—but he was not going to sit back and welcome it.
He took the only option left to him.
Time sped back to reality, the flickering light, the gasping breaths, the dank ventilation. Twisting in the air, Obi-Wan dove forward into the inky blackness, reaching out with the Force even as he dodged the first blast from the bounty hunter's pistol. The explosives on the bandoleer floated into the air, buoyed by the Force's light caress.
"What the . . .!" Rage flickered across the bounty hunter's face a realization came crashing down on him. Twisting desperately, the hunter attempted to run to the tunnel. A violent explosion rocked the room, propelling both men away; the hunter back into the wall and Obi-Wan into the mineshaft below.
Sith. He might have over done it. He was falling faster than he had planned. Gathering the Force around him, pulling it to him like a warm blanket, a light embrace, he simply hoped it would be enough to save him from the landing below.
I'm beginning to hate this planet . . . was his last thought before he hit the ground.