A/N: Don't get used to these fast updates; the Beginning Of Summer Break high is sure to wear out.


Anakin Skywalker was four years old, and he fancied himself a storyteller. He squirmed in Ben's lap, whole body moving in order to capture the essence of his tall tale.

"And then, and then, and then," dramatic pause; exploding arm motions. "It blewed up,"

"Really?" Ben gasped, putting on his most surprised face. He hoped it would be enough to quell his smile. "That is fascinating. Then what happened?"

"It, it, it, and then, and then," Anakin continued on with his retelling of the Second Battle of Althir, "it flew back to the, the hyperspace, and did a… a jump, vrrroooommmmmmmmmpCCOOOHHWWFFFF," Anakin dodged to the side, miming a pretend spaceship.

Ben chuckled. "Your enthusiasm does you credit, young one. But why on earth has Master Zyrha let you study such atrocities?"

"Trocites?"

Ben smiled. "Who told you this story, Anakin?"

"Madster Doolu," he explained.

"That would be Dooku, my young friend, as I've reminded you many times before." Yan Dooku's bass voice said from the door. Ben looked up, surprise now entirely genuine. Anakin waved. Dooku gave Ben a tiny smile. "I'm afraid I've never had a taste for bedtime stories."

"Boooom," Anakin percussed to some unheard narrative, falling backward off of Ben's lap so that the older Jedi had to catch him. Dooku chuckled.

"Master Dooku," Ben said, hoisting Anakin upright so they could both stand. "I was unaware you occupied your spare time in the crèche."

Dooku cocked an aristocratic eyebrow. "I might say the same of you, Master Kenobi. I was under the impression that the only juvenile company you kept was that of your nephew."

Ben crossed his arms. "I might say the same about you, Master."

They exchanged humorless smiles.

Anakin, ignorant of grown-up nuance and politic, spread his arms like a starcruiser and vroomed his way past Ben, tripped on a meditation cushion, and kept going. Dooku watched him and shook his head disapprovingly.

"The Second Battle of Althir is a perfectly relevant topic for any Jedi."

"Of a certain age," Ben allowed, watching as Anakin ran into Master Zyrha and let her stoop to wipe spittle from his lip. "I'm not sure young Skywalker is ready for such matters."

"You harbor a soft spot for him," Dooku surmised, watching the gentle way Ben looked the boy. "Attachment."

Ben turned away from the youngling to peer at Dooku. "I find that it depends greatly on one's point of view, Master." He tipped his chin to look Dooku in the eye; no small feet, as the elder man had nearly twenty centimeters on him. "From where I stand, I do not appear alone in my fixation. Although," Ben cast a look behind him, where Anakin was now regaling his clanmates with Dooku's stories, war stories that he would not learn in classes until he was a junior padawan at least. Ben cast an accusatory eye on his grandmaster. "I do not make a habit of corrupting the younger generation."

"From a certain point of view," said Dooku, tone clipped with a duelist's sense of respect. He conceded defeat to open a new match. "I admit, I have missed the company of my grandpadawan these past weeks. I am glad to see the wit of one Kenobi does not fall far from its family tree." He swept his cloak aside to resume his walk down the creche's halls. "Though I daresay it grows more palatable with age. Perhaps you would like to join me for lunch, Master Kenobi?"

Ben enacted a smile of Dooku's own ilk; polite, aristocratic, nanometers wider than genuine feeling would allow. "I would be honored, master."

"Good," replied the elder, bass voice resonate with sincere pleasure. "I know just the place."


Ben had never been in the habit of leaving the Temple district on social calls. On those very rare occasions, he'd usually found himself amok in the redlight district, consuming carcinogens and synthetic grease from a heaping plate whilst listening to Dexter Jettster's invaluable galactic gossip.

Ben wondered absently if Yan Dooku had ever met Qui-Gon's old friend Dex. It was unlikely; the two gravitated toward completely opposite sectors of Coruscant's diverse community. Even so, he could not dispel the amusing image of Dex greeting Dooku with a besalisk's four-armed hug. Ben sniffed in order to keep himself from smiling. Smiling flippantly would hardly do in such a pristine environment as this.

"I've never been to this establishment," he said, glancing around himself at the finely appointed restaurant. The room was replete in fine materials, from the silverware to the tablecloths, the glass bar and plush carpeting. They loomed hundreds of floors into the Coruscanti atmosphere, surrounded by glass windows and a million-credit view. The dining hall was busy, but not noisy. Most of the patrons wore their wealth as extravagantly as they ate it.

Ben was used to servers and clientele staring at him in public; Jedi robes and lightsabers were always a point of conversation. But the waitstaff and patronage around them either did not care about their occupation or were too engrossed in themselves to notice. Such was the upper class.

"A pity," Dooku rumbled, swirling his stemmed glass of wine with an aficionado's grace. "The head chef is one of the best in the galaxy; trained on Orto. His broiled quekka has my particular commendations."

Ben raised his eyebrows slightly, and he took a sip of wine to avoid commenting. Dooku caught the unspoken opinion anyway.

"Moderation is the heart of virtue, or so we are told." He sighed. "And yet many Jedi would recommend abstinence instead." He eyed Ben keenly over his wine. "Fine things, in moderation, can make a fine Jedi."

"In moderation, of course," said Ben.

"Of course. And besides, it never hurts to brush shoulders with the rich and powerful; Force only knows what you may learn."

They took simultaneous sips of their wine. A waiter came to their table and took their orders; Ben's choice was, predictably, more humble than his companion's.

"At a state dinner, culinary taste is its own form of diplomacy," the elder advised. "If you wish to impress your committee next week, I would recommend a more adventurous palate."

Ben was surprised by the unsolicited advice and the knowledge it entailed; he felt more disappointed in himself for not having seen it coming. "You keep a close ear to the ground, Master Dooku."

"I have acquaintances in the Senate. The cabinet of Serenno and I are… close."

"Ah yes," Ben nodded. "Your second cousin, isn't it? I've met her." It was Dooku's turn to hide his surprise. "I admit I was thinking of your former colleagues on the High Council." He sipped at his wine. "Master Yoda must pass along some gossip to his former apprentice, must he?"

Dooku smiled. "You've done your homework, Master Kenobi. I'm flattered."

"I have my own acquaintances, as you know."

"Yes. Senator Organa has become something of an upstart, thanks to you." He peered at Ben askance; Ben gazed out of the tall, frameless windows to the Corsucanti skyline below. "I am surprised I'd never heard tell of your political graces before. You are quite adept for a novice."

Backhanded compliments felt much like a makashi parry - scathing, inviting a better offense. "I've been away a long time; my foray into politics is a new venture."

"It only begs the question, then," Dooku turned his full attention to Ben and waited for the younger man to reciprocate. "Why?"

Ben held Dooku's gaze while he formulated an answer. "I act as the Force guides me, Master," he said, smile deliberate and contrite

Dooku scoffed politely. "As do we all, Master Kenobi."

Their food arrived. They ate in silence, but not without conversation. Every tilt of their forks, every angle of their arms and turn of their heads spoke volumes. It was a duel of propriety and nuance. Dooku took a long sip of his wine; Ben partook half as much. Dooku finished his plate; Ben left a last portion untouched

"You are wary of me, Master Kenobi," Yan determined at their meal's close.

"I am wary of many people."

"Then you may have found your niche in politics," Dooku chuckled and wiped his mouth.

"And you?" Ben stepped into a careful fleche, "is your niche in politics, the council, or the crèche?"

Dooku nodded, conceding a hit well placed. "I have been a sentinel for the past many years,"

"A shadow, I thought."

That hit touched too far below belt. Dooku fixed Ben with a stern glare. "I have returned to Coruscant by whim of the Force itself. What do next will be a new venture, as you say."

"Teaching the padawan of your padawan? Hmm," Ben sipped at his wine, well aware that he was pressing his luck. "Yes, that's very novel."

Dooku ignored the barb and turned to gaze out the window, squinting down his nose at the thousands of bustling lives tracing their intricate webs on the horizon. "Obi-Wan is a good student. It would be remiss of me to ignore his potential. I do not mean to undermine Qui-Gon's efforts, only… supplement them. I've found other motivations for staying at Temple."

Ben wanted to frown; he restrained himself. "Anakin," he guessed.

Dooku finished off his second glass of wine pensively, without the slightest cloud of intoxication in his eyes. If anything, he looked more alert than ever. "He is powerful," he said. "Extremely so. I could sense it when I brought him here, and it grows every time I see him. You've noticed it too," Dooku pointed out. Ben made no comment. "I intend to take him on as my apprentice."

Ben was not surprised, but it not stop his blood pressure from rising. "He's little more than an infant," he reminded with sharp intent.

"He won't be forever," said Dooku. "I am growing old, Ben. It's about time I invested my hard-earned wisdom in the younger generation. It would be an honor to invest in such a gifted pupil as Skywalker."

"Honor," Ben smiled, every crease in his face leaking with unspoken bile. "Some would say that it is dangerously close to ambition."

Dooku smiled back at him. "Everything in moderation, Master Kenobi," he finished off his wine and left the remainder of the bottle untouched. "Everything in moderation."


Ben tried to shake the feeling of Dooku's threats as he went about his business over the next several days.

He had told them that he would meet them before they left, but Feemor and Aola still seemed surprised to find Ben waiting for them at the loading dock.

"Master Kenobi," Aola saw him first. Ben smiled at her.

"Where're they sending you off to now?" He asked the pair. Feemor answered for both of them.

"Corellia. Some infighting has arisen in the Selonian mine guilds. Apparently it's threatening some of the subterranean settlements there. CorSec has asked for our assistance."

Ben nodded. "I see. A diplomatic squabble, then?"

"Aye. If all goes well. If not," Feemor shrugged and patted his saber. Ben nodded his understanding.

"I think you'll like Corellia," he smiled at Aola, who was more subdued than normal. She mustered a grin.

"I've heard it's very nice," there was something irrepressibly noble about her mustering enthusiasm despite herself. "Even underground."

"It is. Attend to your Master, I have no doubt you'll learn much on this assignment. May the Force be with you, padawan." Ben bowed lightly to her. Sensing the dismissal, Aola bowed to him more deeply and scurried onto their ship.

Away form his apprentice, Feemor let out a massive sigh. "I'm surprised they're sending us back out on the field so soon," he confessed.

Ben nodded, recalling the lessons he'd learned after years on the council. "Busy teams learn to trust each other more easily. It's standard practice for young apprentices. Nothing too trying, of course." Ben watched his friend's conflicted expression with sympathy. "Did you tell the council about her visions?"

"I told Master Yoda. That she'd had visions, anyway. He said the specifics were for her alone to tell."

"They are. And what did he say?"

A sigh. "Much the same as you." He smiled, and shook his head. "So I suppose nothing has changed. I don't know if I'll be able to do right by her."

"You will," Ben put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Feemor was not quite as tall as Qui-Gon; it was easier to look him in the eye. "You know… assuming this Selonian business wraps up neatly enough, I think you might consider staying on Corellia for a while after."

"Oh?"

Ben's smile was impish. "It is a stunning environment, full of all sorts of nasty creatures. A romp with a sand panther or two ought to cheer Aola up immensely."

"I-I'm sorry, sand panther? What in the hels is a sand panther?"

"I'm sure your apprentice will be able to point them out to you on sight." Ben smiled, and openly laughed upon seeing Feemor's alarmed expression. "Safe travels, Master Gard. May the Force be with you."

Feemor sighed and turned to his ship. "And also with you, Kenobi." He jogged up the ramp. "Enabling bastard."

Ben laughed out loud, and watched until the ship was out of the atmosphere.


Later in the week, Ben washed and combed his hair, brought out fresh robes, and made himself as presentable as a Jedi can hope to be for an appointment in the legislative district.

"Ah, Ben, good, you're here," Bail Organa was the first to spot him. He went over to shake the Jedi's hand in a businesslike gesture. Two other senators and their attendants stood nearby, and now turned from their conversations to the newcomer.

"Master Kenobi," Bail led Ben over to the group, "I'd like you to meet Garm Bel Iblis, Senator of Corellia, and Mon Mothma, Senator of Chandrila."

"Senator Iblis," Ben bowed and shook hands to be polite. "Senator Mothma. A pleasure."

"I am glad the Jedi could send a representative, Master Kenobi," Mon Mothma said with an even, serene smile. "What an exciting prospect this must be for your people."

Ben graced her with a smile. "Indeed, Senator. I look forward to hearing more detailed reports concerning the ruins."

"You aren't here to support the coalition, then?" Asked senator Iblis, more to the point.

"I am here at Senator Organa's invitation, in place of my august superiors. But necessarily, I am duty bound to remain a neutral party. So no, I'm afraid not."

"No matter, lad," smiled Garm, who was by far the eldest in the group. "If nothing else, your presence will incentivize those neimoidian businessmen to play nice."

Ben frowned deeply. "Neimoidians?" He looked to Bail for explanation. The Alderaanian senator nodded.

"This dinner was arranged as a bipartisan negotiation; our Sentient Rights Coalition, representing the interests of Attichitcuk and the Wookies of Kashyyk, and the Neimoidian representatives, along with their allies, lobbying for the interests of the Trade Federation. Vice Chair Mas Amedda has graciously agreed to moderate."

"I see," Ben said, expression grave. Because he was a last minute addition to the party, he had not been thoroughly briefed on the dinner's agenda. Beyond Bail's cursory remarks and the report given to the High Council - which had been primarily concerned with the Jedi ruins – he hadn't known what to expect when he stepped in the door. Hearing the words 'Trade Federation' was not a possibility that had crossed his mind. Even so, he knew he would have to seize opportunity.

"Are you alright, Master Kenobi?"

"Hmm?" Ben looked up from his thoughts to find Bail looking at him with concern. "Yes, of course. My apologies. I have had limited dealings with Neimoidian cartels in the past, I was trying to recall their habits."

Garm snorted derisively. "Habits, if you can call them that. Vices, more like. Any insight you can give us would be appreciated, Master Jedi – all in neutrality, of course."

Bail chuckled. "I'm sure Ben could talk them into buying mud huts, if he had to."

Ben spared him a doubtful look. "You flatter my abilities, Senator."

"Senator Organa speaks very highly of you, Master Kenobi," Mon Mothma shared a look with Bail, and Ben wondered if he'd become something of an inside joke in the Senate. Regardless, both Bail and Mon remained smiling about it. "I'm sure we all look forward to seeing you in action."

Ben chuckled and put his hands out humbly. "As I said, senators, I'm here as an accessory, if anything. I am neutral in this debate." At least, on paper. But… Trade Federation. Attichitcuk. Alaris Prime. This was all beginning to seem very, very familiar. He'd read this before. He was sure of it. He'd read a report on it – no, a dossier.

"Senators, the Lord Speaker has arrived. We'd best get started," said an attendant. They began escorting the party in to the dining room.

It had been a dossier. An assignment? Yes, a mission, he remembered. A mission to Alaris Prime, after the Wookies had begun colonizing it. He and Qui-Gon had been meant to go, but he'd had to stay home after coming down with a nasty virus. Qui-Gon had gone solo and returned with the most fascinating report of something having to do with the Trade Federation.

"Senators, Master Jedi," the Chagrian Vice Chair greeted the party. Ben allowed himself to be led to his seat, mind occupied with the task of excavating antiqued memories.

Of course it had all been so many years ago, years before Ben would've remembered to listen for that name, years before Naboo, and Qui-Gon's death. He hadn't been there, he'd only heard Qui-Gon's report, but he hadn't been listening, because he'd been jealous of Qui-Gon's health and ability to work, and he'd been too tired from the virus to focus on what his master had said, and the words Trade Federation would've put him to sleep anyway. Ben hated getting old, his memory would've been much better at Obi-Wan's age about now, but Force damnit, he surely had to have remembered something that would inform his tactics in the here and now, something to go off of-

"Excuse me," Said a polite voice from across the table, very distinctly not Neimoidian. "Master Jedi, I don't believe we've met."

Ben shook himself from his reverie to look up at the speaker. He froze.

"Ah," Bail intervened as Ben's closest acquaintance. "Master Kenobi, may I introduce Senator Sheev Palpatine of Naboo."

Numb from shock, Ben shook hands with the enemy; words failing, blood freezing.

"How do you do," Palpatine smiled at him. Ben stared.

"I'm well, Senator," Ben choked out eventually. Palpatine smiled at him, surprisingly genuine for a politician.

"Marvelous. We are privileged by your company, Master Kenobi. I heard about the ruins – how fascinating!"

Ben forced a smile. It was impossible to think that a Sith Lord could mask himself so expertly so that even a Jedi would see only his better graces; but here they were, seated across from each other, drinking the same wine, flanked on either side by the imminent founders of the Rebel Alliance, the Separatists, and the Empire itself. They were all smiling. All unsuspecting – except for Ben. And Palpatine? It was impossible to say.

Ben's shields had slammed into place at the first provocation of Palpatine's presence, but he now refortified them with adamantine buttresses, his entire mind screaming in pure shock. He took as many calming breaths as he had to in order to quiet the pounding of his own heart. With herculean effort, he redirected his attentions from his mortal enemy to the dainty Coruscanti appetizers being dished out by the waitstaff. It was by the Force and the Force alone that his hands did not shake as he took a bite.

"I appreciate the committee's willingness to meet this evening," said Mas Amedda from the head of the table "Chancellor Valorum tells me that this matter has encountered not a few delays. He will be gratified to hear of its resolution, as I'm sure we all will." The seven senators present nodded at each other, eyes shifting with passive aggression. "And we are honored by a representative of the Jedi Order," Mas nodded at Ben, sitting across from Palpatine, beside Gram Iblis. Ben bowed from his seat. "As moderator, I must ask, Master Kenobi, if the Order bears any sympathies for either half of this committee?"

All eyes on him. Ben set aside his flatware with practiced gentility. "The Jedi Order sympathizes with keeping the peace, Lord Speaker," which in this case meant locking out Palpatine and his cronies from whatever business they thought they had – not that he could say that. "I am here primarily to discuss reports of temple ruins. I may offer a weighted opinion if it upholds the peace, but not before."

"Very well, Master." The senators gave him approving nods – Bail even flashed a smile. The senator from Neimoidia – Lott Dod, Ben recalled, looked annoyed. Mas shuffled through his notes and took a drink. Silverware and porcelain clinked sociably as appetizers and small talk passed around the table. This culinary buffer allowed the senators to silently establish their insecurities and gambits. Palpatine consumed his entire helping. Ben, not wanting to bare himself to the Emperor as he had to Dooku, cleared his plate in an assured fashion. It did not escape his notice that Dod hardly touched his plate.

After the waiters reappeared to collect the first course dishes, Mas Amedda raised his tall head and cleared his throat. "We shall start the discussion beginning chronologically. Since the petition from Kashyyk predates this committee, I shall ask Senator Mothma, as the leader of the Sentient Rights Coalition, to remind us of the motion put forward by Attichitcuk on behalf of his people to colonize the moon, Alaris Prime."

Mon took a calm sip from her glass and sat up straight, shoulders low and steady. "Thank you, Lord Speaker. Three years ago, the Wookies of Kashyyk, led by Chieftain Attichitcuk and his son, Chewbacca, petitioned the Galactic Senate for colonization rights on the moon of Alaris Prime. Currently uninhabited by sentient life, this moon was recently rediscovered by chance by a party from Kashyyk. The environment of Alaris Prime is exceptionally similar to that of Kashyyk, particularly in its vegetation. The Wookies, pressed for viable farmlands on their homeworld, wish to Colonize this nearby moon as an agricultural venture. Without it, their civilization may be crippled by a nonnegotiable ecology within the next century.

"Alaris Prime is in many ways a godsend to the Wookies, who have long been seeking out new farmland near Kashyyk. Because this moon has not been claimed as sovereign territory by any Republic world, and is currently uninhabited by sentient life, the Sentient Rights Coalition puts forward a motion to grant Attichitcuk's petition and allow the Wookies full colonization rights effective immediately."

Bail and Garm nodded their agreement. Their opponents sipped their drinks quietly. Mas Amedda nodded. "Thank you, Senator Mothma. Senator Dod, if you would enlighten us on the bid of the Trade Federation?"

"Of course, Lord Speaker," the Neimoidian said in halted basic. He stood to his feet at the table; a tactless move that made even Palpatine raise his eyebrows. The reptilian continued anyway:

"The Trade Federation contests the Wookie's claim to the moon called Alaris Prime on the grounds of Republic interest. In addition to the flora that Senator Mothma pointed out, this moon is home to an infestation of Gundarks. It is not fit for sentient life. If the Wookies attempt to colonize this moon, they will call on the Senate to grant them resources and assistance to overcome the fauna. This will be an expensive venture for all Republic worlds; why punish the taxpaying citizens of the Republic for sake of the Wookie's farms?

"The Trade Federation offers an alternative to this committee. The Federation has grown a great deal over the past century. We have expanded our services across the galaxy, and provide reliable commerce to more than a thousand systems. Unlike the Wookies, our interests on Alaris Prime do not necessitate outside resources. We seek room for warehouses, not farms. Our goods and our droids are more suited to the inhospitable environment of the jungle and its gundarks. It will cost the Senate less and will benefit the whole Republic, not just one system."

"Thank you, Senator Dod," the Vice Chair nodded. The two senators on either side of Dod – Ben did not know their names, though he did recognize them as representatives from Caarimon and Filordis, two major players in the Federation Directive, if he recalled – seemed satisfied by their colleague's pitch. Palpatine reserved any outward judgment beyond a politic smile.

"And finally, if you would, Master Kenobi, remind us of the Jedi's interest in Alaris Prime."

"Of course, Lord speaker." He smiled up at the committee. "It is quite simple, I will not beleaguer the point. Although Alaris Prime was recently re-discovered, initial geographic scans indicate that it was once home to a Jedi temple. Our archaeologists and archivist-counselors have interests in examining these ruins, in order to collect data and, should the Council deem it amenable, establish an outpost there. I should emphasize that the Order's stake in this motion is independent of Attichitcuk's petition," though Ben's stake was hardly that, "but the High Jedi Council asks both parties to consider our presence in their plans moving forward. I believe – and correct me if I am wrong, Lord Speaker – Chancellor Valorum has already approved a tentative schedule for excavation for the ruins in question."

Mas nodded. "Indeed he has, Master. Is that all?"

Ben bowed. "It is, sir."

"Thank you," the Vice Chair nodded. A door opened, and the second course parade filed into the room. The Chagrian smiled at his table. "Senators, discuss at your leisure."

Polite smiles were the currency of the moment as plates went about the room. Ben watched as a spectator, letting his Force signature blend with the background. Bail and Mon Mothma sat in a harmony of gold, determined and confident. Garm was wrapped in a pensive, edgy green as he eyed the Neimoidian senator, whose uncertain purple told Ben that the a Jedi's presence was having the desired effect on the sniveling trader. His associates on either side glanced hither and thither with suspicious shades of blue. On the end of the table was Mas himself, a neutral sort of brown. Ripples of muddy emotion and unspoken vice floated about the room in currents that only politicians could stir. It was a cacophony to watch in the plane of the Force, and it was only through years of experience that Ben could decipher the chaos.

Even so, Ben's sharp eye very nearly missed the most important piece of the puzzle. Across Ben was Palpatine, sitting quietly, unobtrusive and utterly colorless in the Force. He was a vacuum of feeling, an absence of sentiment. He was the exact opposite of what a Sith ought to look like in the Force. He was a non-entity - a lacuna so thick, so opaque that Ben could've easily missed it, had he not known to look for what wasn't there.

It was no wonder he'd won last time, Ben thought. The Jedi stewed, nervous and angry and unable to say anything about either.

"Are you quite alright, Master Jedi?" Palpatine asked kindly, eyeing Ben when his brows drew too close together. Ben jolted up form his musings, and made himself smile. "Yes of course, Senator," He said reactionarily, which at least made Palpatine smile and look away. Ben turned his focus to the lively discussion over dinner.

"The Wookies are hardier than you give them credit for, Senator Dod," Garm was saying. "I realize that Neimoidians may balk at an infestation of gundarks, but having met with Attichitcuk and his clan, I daresay they will see as a challenge."

"A challenge that will invite undue causalities," said the Filordian senator called Tasso. "If your coalition is truly invested in the rights of sentients, how do you conscience the inevitable slaughter of Wookies that awaits them on Alaris Prime?"

"Until you are able to calculate a arguable disadvantage between a clan of heavily armed and experienced Wookies against a hoard of gundarks, I do not believe the Trade Federation's argument holds merit," Bail cut in. "A chip of doubt in a plan of steel does not place droids and warehouses pre-eminent over sentient populations."

"Here here," Garm raised his glass.

The representative of Caarimon spoke up. "The Federation would clear the land more quickly for higher efficiency. The Wookies are hardly a sociable people; would you allow the Senate to sink their money into a venture doomed to benefit only one system?"

"What you suggest is discrimination, Senator Daklan," Garm reminded. "One might argue that the Federations' interests are hardly more diversified than the Wookies."

Uproar. Garm was the spearhead of the coalition, though Bail had been swept into the fray as much. All three Federation senators spoke over one another, trying to swipe a rebuttal across the table. Jedi and Sith quietly watched from the end of the table.

The lone female in the room, Mon Mothma sighed and sank back into her seat, eyeing the landscape over the rim of her wine glass. She shared a look with Mas Amedda, who nodded at her. She took up a fork and tapped it on her glass for attention. "Gentlemen," she announced, slowly bringing the uproar to a stall. "Our tempers get the better of us. Perhaps a constitutional before third course would do us well." She eyed Garm in particular, who shrunk back into his seat with pointed dignity.

"Well said, Senator," Ben put in helpfully. The table reluctantly agreed.

In the hall, Ben sidled up to Bail without prompting.

"What stake does Naboo have in this Federation scheme?" He demanded, perhaps too harsh on the senator, who had no gift of foreknowledge.

"I admit my confusion over that as well," Bail admitted in an aside. "I inquired at their offices earlier this week; apparently the southern hemisphere of Naboo shares a ecology similar to that of Alaris Prime; trade and agricultural interests, you see. They see a future of trade and exchange with the Federation, not the Wookies." Bail allowed himself a snort of humor. "I can't say I blame them in that respect. Wookies can be difficult if you don't know them well already."

Ben stuck to business; Palpatine. "Naboo's southern hemisphere is ruled by the Gunguns, I thought," he said, crossing his arms. "Why not let them handle their own agricultural affairs? Why does Theed need to be involved?"

"The Gunguns don't have a seat on the Senate," Bail told him, as if this should've been common knowledge. "Theed speaks for the entire globe."

Ben sighed heavily through his nose. "Convenient for him."

"For who?"

"For them, I mean."

Bail watched the Jedi chew on his lip and frown for a moment longer. Glancing around them to see that no one was watching he asked, "What is it, Ben?"

Ben was not sure how much he could tell Bail. He was not sure how much he should tell Bail. He was especially not sure of what Bail would believe even if he were told. "Something is off about Senator Palpatine," he warned, shaking his head. "It can't be that simple. Naboo is on the opposite side of the Core from Alaris Prime. If they're interested in trade… why now? Why here? Their sector neighbors are a better bet, in biology as well as proximity and cost." Ben frowned and shook his head. "There's more to it. There has to be." He pursed his lips. "I don't trust him."

Bail laughed. "He's a politician, Ben, what do you expect?"

Ben did not laugh with him. Bail's smile faded. "Well," he ventured, "if the coalition can secure a grant for Attichitcuk and Chewbacca, we won't have to worry about it at all."

"Not for a while, at least," Ben muttered under his breath. Bail heard him, but did not understand what he meant. The senator looked up when a protocol droid appeared to inform them that the dinner party was reassembling. "I realize the Jedi Order must remain impartial, Ben," Bail said as he turned back toward the dining hall. "But I wouldn't complain if you… bent the rules a bit."

Ben raised one eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised at you, Bail." Bail smiled mischievously.

"You forget how me met, Master Kenobi. I waited for nine months to hear back from a knight under censure. Do you really think I'm above all of your tricks?"

Ben smiled despite himself. "You're a shrewd wit, Organa."

"I used to be honorable, before I met you."

"Incorrigible," Ben accused, as they reached the dining room. "I act as the Force guides me, Senator, I can do no other."

"That sounds like a cop-out to me."

As they shuffled to their seats, Ben leaned over and whispered, "Just drink your wine and look diplomatic, or isn't that what you do all day?"

Bail smiled and said nothing. He did, however, take a very deliberate drink just as his eyes passed over Ben. The Jedi refused to roll his eyes.

Mas Amedda called the table to order. The third course filed in, and the politicians went to work.


Ben waited until the opportune moment to cast his gambit. It was a not a Jedi's gambit. It was a negotiator's gambit. Happily, Ben knew how to bear that mantle better than anyone.

Discussion had worn past dessert, and things were at a standstill. So dire was the stalemate that Mas Amedda himself had resorted to casting his opinion, shaded slightly in favor of the Wookies – balanced on the technicalities of precedence and due process, of course. It was at this slight advantage that Ben cast his pebble of influence. Any graduate of Master Yoda's absurd balance exercises could've told you that a single gram could upset the balance of a mountain.

"Senators, Lord Speaker," Ben glanced about the table, even to Senator Palpatine, who had been unexpectedly quiet this whole time, "If I may. At the outset of this dinner – which has been most enjoyable, by the way – I reserved the right to assist in negotiations if necessary. With leave of the Speaker, I will do just that."

Mas nodded his assent; all seven senators eyed him, some more confidently than others. They were not in a position to refuse his advice.

"On the letter of the law, I must agree with Lord Amedda, the Wookies have a legal right to Alaris Prime that precedes that of the Federation. Furthermore, the ruling members of the Jedi Order have a longstanding relationship with Attichitcuk and his clan on Kashyyk. Should the need arise, the Jedi could easily assist the Wookies in their colonization efforts, minimizing the damage dealt to Senatorial funds." Bail and the coalition members seemed pleased to hear this. The Federation representatives were shifting angrily in their seats. Even Palpatine clenched his jaw. Ben waited until they were stewing so his synthesis would have the desired effect.

"That being so, I believe we can all agree that the Federation has a solid claim to this moon despite the Wookies' petition. I would argue that it is in the Federation's best interests to allow the Wookies opportunity to clear the land first." He addressed Dod and his assembly directly "If the Federation wishes to negotiate cohabitation of the moon with the Wookies at a later date, that is their business. Any arrangements made form such negotiations would be far more streamlined that the rough exploratory sketches made here." He let that sink in, and sat back in his seat.

"I cannot direct the verdict of this committee, senators. I merely suggest diplomacy and civility."

"Well said, Master Jedi," said Palpatine. His genuinely penitent tone made Ben turn and stare. He wished, he ached for the man to show his true colors. But such was the guise of a monster; invisible, even to those who knew him for what he was.

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," Mas Amedda nodded. "With those wise words, I think we may conclude our evening. Senators – Master." The Vice Chair rose, and his company rose with him. "Stay and discuss if you like, but the record on this evening is closed. A good evening to you all."

They bowed as one.

Ben dismissed himself straightaway after a brief word with Bail. However, Plapatine managed to catch him before he was entirely gone.

"It was good to meet you, Master Jedi."

The effort that Ben put behind his smile was worthy of knighthood. "As with you, Senator. Good evening to you." He bowed and made his escape.

The others hung back for the ulterior conversations of career politicians.

At length, Sheev Palpatine approached his Alderaanian colleague. "Senator Organa," His smile was warm and soft, typical of a good-hearted old man. "Am I to understand that you found this Jedi for our negotiations?"

"Ah, yes, Senator. Master Kenobi and I are old acquaintances."

"He's quite the negotiator. Wherever did you find him?"

"On Herdessa, actually, during the Rylothian refugee crises several years ago."

"Is that so?" Palpatine seemed impressed. "I remember there were several Jedi involved in that episode."

"Yes," Bail nodded. "None moreso than Master Kenobi. Were it not for him, I doubt that we would have ratified the bill at all. He did a great service for us that day – us and the refugees."

"Remarkable," Sheev chuckled appreciatively. "It is so rare to find a Jedi so gifted in the realms of politics," He shifted his gaze ever so slightly to look at the doorway through which Ben had left. Bail would've seen empty space; Palpatine saw planes of existence that normal men could not. He drew careful notes on the signatures he saw. "I appreciate his presence here," he said, quietly, still staring.

"As do I, senator. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course. Good night, Senator."

"Good night."

Palpatine remained staring out the doorway for moments more. "Kenobi," he repeated to himself. "Most interesting." He smiled to himself, a real smile, not warm or soft. He chuckled and turned back to his colleagues, mask falling back into place.


The following week, Bail called Ben to excitedly announce that the coalition's efforts had been rewarded; Palpatine had announced his party's agreement to the Coalition's terms. Attichitcuk and his son would be granted their petition within the twomonth.

"Agreement?" Ben had asked. "Palpatine? But surely he has the least stock in all of this. Why did he declare the motion?"

Bail had sighed. "I know you distrust him, Ben, but we must count this as a victory. I will keep an eye on him, I promise. But I will not complain when opponents see reason."

Reason was not what Ben would call it. He wondered what loophole Palpatine had sniffed out for himself, what rock he'd found to hide under. Was he abandoning Alaris Prime? Washing his hands of the Trade Federation's problems? Avoiding this mess landing on Valorum's desk? Despite these dark wonderings, Ben had saved face and congratulated his friend. There was nothing to do about it at present. He had to do what he had been doing for months; watch and wait.

He reoccupied himself with reviewing Senator Palpatine's career over the next several months. He learned little that he hadn't known before, but he kept at it anyway. There was an itch under his skin that he could not scratch; the need to finish things, the need to change things. Time did not move fast enough.

And yet, it moved anyway, slower than a drunken snail. Four months after the dinner and Ben's fateful meeting with Palpatine, Feemor and Aola returned to Coruscant.

"I cannot tell you how much I look forward to sleeping on my own bed," Feemor told his friend from where he was stuck in Coruscanti rush hour traffic.

Ben tsked at him, going to sit on his meditation cushion by the window. "A homebody. Frivolous comforts. You ought to be ashamed, Master Gard."

"Says the man schmoozing rich politicians every day. I've been roughing it in the mountains for the past four months, you can stuff your fancy cocktails where the stars don't shine." Ben laughed. "Anyway, I heard about your stint with the Alaris Prime negotiations – congrats on that."

Ben shrugged. "There's no need. We come to serve, after all."

"You Kenobis are so humble," Feemor scoffed. "Speaking of, where's Obi-Wan and his master these days? I've missed their incessant bickering."

Ben wasn't sure how to say it; of course he wasn't surprised, but… "They're still away," He said plainly. "Mandalore's crisis has been extended.

Silence. "…oh," said Feemor at last. His sigh was drawn out and adread. "Aola will be disappointed," he said quietly. Ben frowned.

"How is she?"

Feemor's voice suddenly sounded just as tired as he claimed to be. "She was doing well. Our mission, long as it was, went well, we had time to explore, meditate. She's grown a lot over the past months, physically and mentally. But…"

"But?"

"Our last night on Corellia, she had that dream again." Ben closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She was hoping to speak with Obi-Wan about it. Someone closer her age, you understand."

"Yes," said Ben, because he knew the feeling exactly. "I'm so sorry. Was it the same as before?"

"Not exactly," Feemor said, a tremor of real fear in his voice. "He no longer has a red lightsaber, it seems. He has two."

Ben's breath hitched in his throat, but he would not allow it stay. "I see," he said. Feemor did not reply. There was nothing more to say over a comm. "You both ought to come over for tea, when you're feeling up to it." He paused. "Well, caf for you. I've some jeru tea for Aola."

The slightest sound of relief. "I'm sure she'd like that. …I ought to go, Ben. We're finally moving."

"Very well. Force be with you both."

"And with you, little brother."

Ben put down his comm, knelt on his cushion, stared out the window, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

As the sun dipped down and the change he so longed for came at him one miniscule second at time, he sighed, ducked his head, and fell into meditation. He begged the Force to show him how to act. As it had for so many, many years, it asked him to wait.

He could do no other.