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Chapter 34

Let Us Be Silent

Coda found the dig site in Logan's memories. It would be a long journey, taking them through the Badlands. That included the Dark Zone, where electronics didn't work. When Mareth's government destroyed the infected cities, it used EMP bombs.

With the region still affected, their only option was horses. Few still lived, owned by billionaire Davit Vorka. Even before the Red Death, Vorka pervaded every aspect of Marethean life. He could coerce government with the gentlest nudge.

It so happened Vorka was hosting a party that evening. This would be their best chance.

Coda stood at the sink. Her hair was uncoiled in haphazard strands. Her makeup was ruined, revealing freckles underneath. Runny mascara framed her sad eyes. This was reality. This was Coda.

Were her two million years marked by other atrocities? Had she done worse in her past than kill 600 million?

A shadow came over her, before Obi-Wan's face appeared in the mirror. She met his stare in the glass, as haunted as hers.

Coda swallowed, braced her hands on the sink, and said in a low rasping voice: "I wonder, if we're to be held to account, what we'll tell our creator on the day of our judgment."

Obi-Wan's brows tightened then relaxed. His jaw worked at responding for seemingly minutes.

"Let us be silent," Obi-Wan said.

"It doesn't get much quieter," said Commander Avery.

"Lucky me," replied Julian. "I was a little worried: catching a ride on a warship."

The dark-skinned Avery flashed his teeth. "We'll get you to Coruscant in one piece. Or, at least, one piece of you will get there."

"Make sure it's my hands. I'm giving Senator Organa a new spleen tomorrow."

Avery guided his guest through the Endurance corridors. The ship had long been the pride of the first battalion, which Mace Windu oversaw. Avery had held this post for thirteen years. He should've been an admiral, but he refused to be promoted.

"Have you ever thought about serving?" asked Avery. "As an officer, I mean."

"All the time," said Julian.

""What's stopping you?"

It wasn't a good memory. Julian could still feel the letter in his hands. "I failed my medical exam. They said I had Markon Syndrome."

"But you don't?"

"No, I'm the picture of health," Julian boasted. "An error, perhaps. Or Senator Organa thought he was protecting me. Whatever the case, it wasn't in the cards."

"Too bad," grinned Avery. "Our doctor's a bit... rough."

"Then you shouldn't aggravate him."

"My existence aggravates him."

Julian said, "Maybe if you died he'd be gentler."

Avery laughed. "I'll keep that in mind, Doctor."

The ship rocked violently, throwing them to the wall. Klaxons blared in the corridor. A computerized voice declared: "Red alert... Red alert..."

Avery staggered to a com-panel. "Bridge, report!"

"Sith interceptors!" came a voice. "Attacking from starboard! Imperial star destroyers at 200,000 meters!"

"Evasive maneuvers!" ordered Avery. "Scramble the A-Wings!" He killed the channel, jogging to the elevator. "Doctor, we could certainly use you—"

"— in the medbay. I'll prep for casualties."

"Good. You're in charge. Don't bother with pleasantries."

"Why doesn't this bother you?" Julian demanded.

"Do not be a child," Quinn said. "People must die for a greater good. Master Kenobi did what was needed."

"Are your scruples so fluid?"

"Doctor, your naivety is grating. You luxuriate in morals while we pay the cost."

Julian sniggered, "Is that the Jedi talking? Or the Trandoshan?"

"You understand neither," Quinn fired back. "One prefers peace. Both go to war. Both sacrifice the few for the good of the many."

"One day you will be the few, Quinn. And you'll be glad I'm not a Jedi."

The doctor turned, banging the door when it opened too slowly. He stomped into the corridor.

Julian wasn't ignorant of the horrors of war. For much of his life, he'd dreamt of serving. But this wasn't war. They'd killed millions of civilians. It wasn't collateral damage but precision targeting.

He wished his friend were here. Miler was the conscience of the Tangent's crew, balancing moral surety with war's cold truths. He was bred to win wars without losing who he was. Julian feared in his absence all of them were lost.

His mind drifted to Aayla, sequestered in her quarters. As far as he knew, she hadn't eaten. He went to the mess hall to prepare her a meal. Then keying in the lock code, he entered her quarters.

She was sitting cross-legged, reading a book. He squinted at the title: Only Embers Remain.

"Is it good?" asked Julian. "I never read it."

Aayla didn't look up. "Is that meal an apology?"

"It's just food."

"He called you his best friend, you know."

Julian cringed. "He was mine, too."

"No," Aayla sneered. "Because if he was, I wouldn't be here. Locked up like an animal."

"An animal? They have more self-control."

"Miler would be ashamed of you."

"Ow. Blasters to kill," Julian snarked. "Shall I return fire? Or will your lightsaber block it?"

Aayla menaced at his smugness. "Tell Obi-Wan to fight his own battles." She watched him half-turn, put down the food tray. "Did I strike a nerve? What's he done now?"

The doctor pulled his back straight, remaining in profile. "He's done enough. You both have."

Obi-Wan selected Padme, Coda, Landon, and R2 to join him at Vorka's party. It was a formal affair, requiring a tie. He placed one on his neck, letting it dangle unknotted. He stared in the mirror.

It was hard to accept a doppelganger: an older him sharing the galaxy. Now he grappled with his alternate's evil.

Was it evil, though? If it prevented the Sith's victory, was it not, in fact, moral? Mace would say it was. But it was easy to think that in the Jedi Temple, where systems were reduced to war front maps. Fixed values were assigned to sentient life.

Perhaps not moral. But didn't evil require cruel motivations? Without them, was not an act simply wrong? Wrong he could live with. Wrong is a mistake. Evil would destroy him.

Obi-Wan blinked, and an angel appeared.

Everything faded. There was only her beauty. Not since she was queen had he seen her like this. A long white gown, made of soft silk and tafetta, with a u-shaped cutout just above her breasts, was punctuated by an intricate ribbon. Over the dress was a petaled cape. And fixed behind her head was an organza fan, capped with jeweled finials glimmering in the light. Padme's hair was drawn up into a star-shaped bun, with a delicate diadem resting on her forehead. Her face was painted white, with pink dots on each cheek and dark-red gloss wetting her lips.

This vision of Padme threatened his control. She never looked more beautiful than in this garb. "Padme..."

She avoided his eyes, while her dainty fingers worked at his tie. She made a perfect knot, before leaving one palm flat on his chest. "I've decided it wasn't you. That's the only way I can live with it."

Obi-Wan felt an ache in his chest. He'd never understood Padme's faith. Where he saw flaws, she saw character; where he saw guilt, she saw honor. Did she finally understand how rotten he was?

"I'm not innocent," Padme said. "You made them sick, and I sentenced them to die by voting for the quarantine."

"For God's sake, Padme, it's not the same thing!"

"Don't tell me that," Padme pleaded. "There's a chance I'll believe you."

"The truth must prevail."

"Maybe the truth's just a lie we all agree to leave alone. So I think I'll pick the best lie. The one that lets me revere you." She lifted her eyes. This time it was Obi-Wan avoiding her gaze. "You can save our galaxy. That might be enough."

"It's not enough, Doctor!"

"It'll have to be!" Julian shouted back.

The heart monitor exploded. Nurse Vaka was on the ground. One eye was run through with a stalactite of glass. The other stared pleading at an absentee god.

She'd fallen on a patient. Julian nudged her with his boot to get underneath. He took the Rodian by the wrist. He yanked him to his feet. Then he handed him off to the last living nurse.

"Get him to the escape pod!" Julian demanded.

"What about you?" cried the nurse.

The star destroyer's barrage shook the medbay again. One of the beds unloosed. It tumbled through the room—instantly killing the nurse and the Rodian.

Julian didn't mourn. He had one more patient. He staggered to her bed. Her ventilator had lost power. She was clinging to life.

His comm-link cried: "Doctor!"

He ripped the tube from her throat and shouted back: "What is it, Commander?"

"You're not at your escape pod!"

Julian took her in his arms. "Working on it, sir!"

"You have three minutes! We won't last any longer!"

Julian stumbled, falling to a knee. He grunted with the effort of heaving her up. "Splendid. I don't suppose you have a jet pack? That would—"

He felt the explosion before he heard it. The wall pulled apart like so much paper. Steel beams snapped, crushing the patient beds. A curtain of flames blocked the path out. Smoke and steel bits filled Julian's lungs. He looked about, coughing. No other exits. No way out. The medbay would be his fiery tomb.

"You're not on the guest list," said the snooty doorman.

Obi-Wan waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, we are. You will let me in. And you will apologize for my inconvenience."

The doorman's lip quivered. "I'm—I'm sorry, sir. You're right here," he said, pointing at nothing. "I apologize for your inconvenience."

"He accepts," Padme said chidingly.

The barrier removed, they entered an opulent ballroom. Paneled walls of laroon wood were trimmed with iridescent gold that brilliantly shimmered. On the near wall was the art of Ebenn Baobab, known for nightmarish landscapes. Crystal chandeliers, bombastic relics of ancient Alderann, could've led you to believe this home was a royal court.

A gold droid waddled up, arms straight out. "Greetings. My name is C-P3O, human-cyborg relations."

His memory's been wiped, Obi-Wan realized. A chill ran down his spine being in the presence of something Vader created.

"Can I assist y—" R2 whined at him. "I was not addressing you, R2 unit. Learn some manners." R2 beeped rapidly. "My creator was a man. Otherwise, I would be very offended!"

"3PO," Obi-Wan interceded, "I need to speak with Mr. Vorka. Please arrange an audience."

"Very good, sir. I will seek out the master." His disposition darkened when a Young Woman walked by. "Excuse me! Why are you in the ballroom? Get out of sight, before master sees you!"

The Young Woman grimaced, sweating profusely. Her eyes were glassy and she looked very ill.

Landon took her arm. "Y'all right, darlin'?"

"I shouldn't be here," she mumbled.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a receptacle. It's not my place."

"Your place is wherever you want," Landon said.

She had a flicker of hope that quickly faded. She'd learned a long time ago that the world wasn't like that. "Please, sir. Master will see me."

Landon reluctantly pulled away. The Young Woman scuttered from the ballroom, leaving him stunned.

Coda asked, "Are you all right?"

Landon said, "I've seen a lotta shitty worlds. Yours takes the cake."

"I'm starting to see that."

He couldn't see anything. There was too much fire. Too much smoke. He placed his body on the woman's. Already she'd inhaled enough to be fatal.

As hopeless as it was, Julian had an oath. Not the Hippocratic oath, but one he'd never understood and which he thought he was born with.

He wished he could've seen his father one final time. But at least there was a letter (he wrote a new one whenever he traveled) to be delivered after death.

Julian felt a rush of air. He smelled a strange chemical. Suddenly by the door the fire was tamped down. Commander Avery wielded an extinguisher. He sprayed a straight line from the door to Julian.

The path, railed by twisted, melting metal, wouldn't last long. Avery dropped to his knees. He put a mask on the doctor. The sudden oxygen made Julian cough.

The ceiling collapsed on a cabinet. Smashed glass disjected. Vials clattered, rolled into fire.

"On your feet!" Avery shouted over klaxons. He pulled Julian from the floor. The woman was dead. "Move your ass! I've got four officers in that escape pod! None of them want to die!"

"Why did you come back?" Julian yelled weakly.

Avery slung the doctor's arm over his shoulder. "Because you needed me!"

"Violence isn't needed," Obi-Wan said. "We'll find a deal with Mister Vorka."

Padme hoped he was right. When she was trying to remake Mareth's economy, Vorka had been her strongest detractor. Money above all: it hadn't helped then, but it might help now.

According to R2, Vorka's decor had astronomical value. Some of these pieces were reported destroyed. This saved Vorka the annoyance of collectors' inquiries.

"He doesn't deserve all this," Padme said.

Obi-Wan agreed, but mused, "What is it we deserve?"

Minister Jupak Eem saw Coda across the room. Her attention was taken, and he used that fact to drink in her image. Coda's backless dress included a long trail that pooled behind her. The pink gown covered her breasts but left open her neck and stomach. Matching arm-length gloves and a shimmering pendant completed the ensemble.

"Minister Prosper," he approached her. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"But not displeased, I imagine," Coda said tightly.

Eem wrinkled his nose at Landon. "How refreshing to have a... common man among us."

"I even took a bath," Landon said.

The minister's eyes roamed Coda's flat stomach, her lightly freckled neck, and the bright green eyes that so abhorred him. "I heard Logan Brace is missing," he said with false concern.

Coda forced a neutral tone. "I'm sure he'll turn up. Logan likes his privacy."

"As do we all," a deep voice said.

Davit Vorka wore wealth as a child wears food. He couldn't help but get it all over him. His dinner coat alone cost twenty thousand credits. Underneath was a silk shirt, with cuff-links fashioned from the gold of a dead emperor's teeth.

"Minister," Vorka bowed, "this is a rare pleasure. So rare I am not bothered that you were not invited."

"I assumed my invitation was merely lost," Coda said.

"Perhaps it's providence. Because I recently acquired an incredible memory. One so fascinating I intend not to trade it." Vorka turned to the grand stairs, gesturing come-hither. The Young Woman obliged. "Prin: access the memory I stored this morning. Display it as a preview."

Landon thought she was paler than before. But she hid her tremor in Vorka's presence.

Prin tapped her cognator, and it projected a memory. Whose was unknown.

The Unknown Person was at a dig site. Coda was with him, studying gylphs on a wall. Behind her, in the middle-ground, an old man in Jedi robes peered into the distance. The breeze gently tousled his gray-white hair.

The preview ended. Coda's mouth opened then closed. She'd seen two ghosts: one of the past, and one the future.

"You never knew you met a Jedi," Vorka presumed. "How does it make you feel?"

"Overwhelmed."

Birth of the Universe was Vorka's crown jewel. It was the oldest known painting in galactic history, predating the Old Republic. Some believed it could be as old fifty-thousand years. The colors, while faded, were remarkably preserved. It depicted a human fetus, with celestial tendrils connecting it to a blue-red accretion disk that rimmed a large mass.

"Why is it human?" asked Padme.

"The Architects were human," Obi-Wan said. "Coda proves that."

"I guess you're right. Perhaps I'm too slow to believe in human exceptionalism."

Sidious came up beside them, hands clasped behind his back. "I wish Davit's parties were as captivating as his art."

Padme said cautiously, "It's not for me either."

"I would think, as a senator, you'd be well accustomed."

"It seems everyone on Mareth knows me on sight."

Sidious bowed contritely. "I shall place us on even ground. My name is Victor Howth. I'm an investor."

"What do you invest in?" Obi-Wan asked.

The dark lord's mischief might've given him away, if the vessel he occupied had facility with the Force. That he moved silently through it now unexpectedly aided him. "Mostly futures," Sidious said. "Senator, does your presence mean the quarantine's over?"

Padme responded, "It means only that I'm here."

Sidious smiled without teeth. She couldn't know his polite bow was abject mockery. "Well, I for one am happy to have you. Good evening, Senator."

"Good evening," she replied as he departed.

At the other end of the ballroom, Obi-Wan found Vorka with Coda and Landon. He sighed to himself. So much for C-3PO.

"Minister Eem," Coda said, "I don't wish to be rude, but we have something private to discuss with Davit."

Eem reddened with anger. But one look from Vorka and he slithered off.

"You have piqued my curiosity," Vorka said.

Obi-Wan appeared from behind him. "Allow me to pique it further."

"General Kenobi! What a welcome surprise."

C-3PO waddled up. "Master, General Kenobi wishes to speak with you... Oh! Very good, sir."

After a withering glance, Obi-Wan told Vorka, "I'm rarely in the presence of such wealth."

"Does the Jedi Temple not qualify?" Vorka wondered. "Republic taxpayers have been very generous."

Obi-Wan found little difference between politicians and the wealthy. In their minds, their accumulated power benefits everyone. "I understand you have a rare privilege: permission to leave the city."

"The spoils of success."

"I would share in those spoils."

Vorka restrained a hearty laugh. "Would you? And what would I share in?"

There was only one thing he could offer: a piece of himself. A memory of such importance it might change who he was. From Padme's expression, she knew it, too. Obi-Wan asked, "Have you ever heard of the Battle of Reva IV?"

"One of the bloodiest of the war," Vorka said. "You lost, as I recall."

"Thoroughly. Ten million men died. I only survived because I was trapped in a cave in. For weeks, I subsisted on bugs, struggling in the darkness to find a way out. By the time I did, the Sith were gone. The planet was a wasteland. I was quite literally the only man alive."

Despite his palpable excitement, Vorka paused to simulate thinking. It allowed him to delight in Padme's grimness. "Prin!" he shouted.

His receptacle appeared, soaked in sweat. Prin's very pale cheeks were now green-blue. She swayed on her feet, barely standing.

"Prepare to receive," said Vorka.

"Hey—hold on!" Landon intervened. "Look at her. She's about to fall over."

"She's just a receptacle."

"She's a person."

"Do not be literal. It's childish."

"Listen here, you little—"

Coda pulled Landon's arm. "Let's take a walk."

He allowed her to lead him, but turned one shoulder to glower at Vorka. He wanted to beat his smug face in. "That girl—"

"I know!" Coda whispered. "He's despicable. But unfortunately, we need him."

Vorka told Obi-Wan, "He should learn his stratum."

"I think he knows it perfectly," Obi-Wan replied. He gently asked Prin, "Are you ready, ma'am?"

When she shakily nodded, Obi-Wan shut his eyes. Their cognators lit to signify transfer.

The world faded into mist. He was alone with his memory, and then it slipped away. No longer his. Then screaming. Screaming.

His eyes shot open. Prin was screaming. She leapt on Vorka. She pulled him to the ground. Scratching. Clawing. She ripped at his face. Screaming. Screaming. Vorka's blood. On her nails. On his suit. "No more!"

Vorka's security came running. "Don't kill her!" he yelled.

The guard tazed her in the neck. Prin convulsed, falling unconscious. Landon rushed at the guard, but Obi-Wan held him back.

"Get her to the memory chamber!" Vorka ordered. "Harvest everything. Kill her when it's done."

"You'll do no such thing," Obi-Wan growled.

Vorka said, "It is not your concern, General," wiping his blood with a handkerchief. "I suggest you tread carefully."

"I will tread where I must, as loudly as needed."

Vorka watched Prin being being pulled up the stairs. Everyone at the party was aghast at the spectacle. He didn't want any more embarrassment. "She will be treated," he acceded. "Remain here. I will return to hear your needs."

Landon looked at Obi-Wan gratefully. The Jedi touched his arm and went to find R2.

"Check your sleeve," Padme told Landon. "You left your heart there."

Sidious met Vorka halfway to the chamber, falling in stride with him.

Vorka asked, "Do you want me to kill Kenobi?"

"You may find it impossible," said Sidious. "But I encourage you to try."

"Once he's left the city. I don't wish to make a scene."

Sidious waved his hand. "It is a trivial matter. My concern is the artifact."

"My men are en route," Vorka assured him. "They'll find your artifact."

It took many lessons, but Sidious knew better than to underestimate Obi-Wan. What he lacked in power, he made up for in... something. But even if Kenobi beat them to the artifact, he couldn't thwart the emperor's plan. Soon Sidious would possess a more powerful body. And he'd return to his rightful throne.