Shattered Mission, Chapter 9
Anakin contacted the IBC and received permission to land on its private landing pad. Once the ship was secured, Oren spoke up. "Master Skywalker?" Anakin turned to him. "Aren't we going to look for Master Kenobi?"
"Yes, Oren, we will. The Council have given us only three days to find him before we must concentrate on arresting Shu Mai, and Poggle the Lesser, if he is with her. I intend to find them quickly, before their trail goes cold." He lowered the exit ramp and continued speaking as they descended to the tarmac. "I'm hoping one or both of them knows something about his whereabouts. At any rate, once we have them in custody, we can concentrate fully on finding Obi-Wan."
They were greeted by a uniformed Muun, who halted before them and bowed. "Welcome to the corporate headquarters of the Intergalactic Banking Clan, Master Jedi Skywalker. I am Sergeant Camin," he said, as he escorted them through the small flight control area and into the main building of the IBC.
"Aren't you wearing the uniform of the Muunilinst Planetary Guard?" Anakin asked.
"Yes," Camin replied. "Even though this is a private landing pad, ever since the war and the business with the previous Chairman and the Separatists, the Guard staffs and maintains it. This way, the government at least knows who is coming and going." They entered an empty turbo lift. "Which department do you wish to visit?"
Anakin thought for a minute, and then said, "We want the employee records, wherever they would be." The lift deposited them at the records department and the sergeant bade them goodbye. Anakin looked around before approaching a counter off to his right. Oren and Sikka followed a few steps behind. A female Gossam asked he she could help.
"I am Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker," he replied, smiling at her. "In your employee records, is there any mention of employee's family members or other contacts?"
"Why, yes, there is. But that information cannot be distributed. Only company officers and the employees themselves may see it."
"Yes, I expected as much," he said, still smiling. "Would Chairman San Hill's family data be in your files, as well?"
"Yes, that would be in our historical employee database. But I cannot give you that information, either." She began to turn away. Anakin straightened and said, "Excuse me." When she turned back, he looked her in the eye and said, "You will find Chairman San Hill's personal data in the historical employee database." She stared back at him, and replied, "I will find Chairman San Hill's personal data in the historical employee database." Sikka and Oren shared a look. As the clerk ran her fingers over her computer's keyboard, Anakin continued. "You will copy that information to a standard datapad and give it to me." She responded, "I will copy that information and give it to you." In no time, she was handing him a datapad. "You do your work very well," Anakin complimented her. "I do my work very well." She looked very content as they left her.
Anakin was scanning the data in the pad even as they rode the lift back to the landing area. He nodded at Sergeant Camin, who saluted as they passed. Once aboard the ship, Anakin programmed another datapad and handed it to his padawan. "Sikka, I want you and Oren to take this back to Sergeant Camin." She noted that the small display showed a picture and physical details of Master Kenobi. She nodded as he spoke, signaling her understanding of his instructions. "Explain to him that we must find Obi-Wan as soon as possible. If he cannot help us, find out who can."
"Yes, Master," she replied, and she and Oren exited the ship, closing the ramp behind them.
Anakin took a deep breath, blew it out, and moved to the rear compartment to meditate. So much had happened in the last few days, he was glad for some quiet time to himself. He knelt on the floor and centered himself in the Force, breathing easily. The time he spent within the Force was both peaceful and exhilarating, bringing him contentment, refreshing him, and allowing him to explore its great depths that were still new to him. He wondered if he would ever experience all there was to the Force, and he cherished his time within it. He had tried to share it with Obi-Wan, but his old master had glimpsed only a small part of what it was to Anakin. Anakin was saddened by this, but Obi-Wan was satisfied and suggested that perhaps this was only for the Chosen One.
Reaching out with his inner 'vision' (this was the only way he could describe it), the whole galaxy was before him, every star, every planet, every being. He had learned to just let it exist, and not to overwhelm him as his first inkling of it had done that night in the Council chamber, when he had finally accepted and embraced his destiny. How is it I can see all of this, yet I cannot see Obi-Wan? I know he is alive; I can feel his presence, if just barely, but I cannot feel where he is. He accepted this and waited; perhaps the Force would reveal Obi-Wan's whereabouts in time. (A tiny part of him noted when Oren and Sikka entered the ship.) He moved the rest of the galaxy out of focus and concentrated on Naboo, and on his home. It was night there; Padme was on her side asleep in their bed, hugging his pillow. He touched her lightly, and she smiled and breathed his name. He watched her for awhile, remembering the touch of her hands and her lips, the feel of her hair on his skin. Before he withdrew, he checked on the twins without letting them know he was there. He didn't want to awaken them; Padme needed as much continuous sleep as she could get. Gradually, he let his deep connection with the Force slip away; as he rose to his feet, he could hear the padawans conversing in the cockpit. They looked up as he approached them. He motioned for them to stay seated.
"Well? What did Sergeant Camin have to say? Can he help us?" Anakin asked.
"Yes, Master," his padawan replied. "He said the Planetary Guard would work with the city police to look for Master Kenobi. They will contact your ship if they find him, or get any word of him. He also said that we could base the ship here, on the authority of the Planetary Guard."
"Good. We'll do our own searching, as well." He sat in one of the seats directly behind the pilot and co-pilot seats. Oren and Sikka swiveled around to face him. "From the IBC databank I've found the residences of several of San Hill's relatives. All of them live either in the city or out on the plains."
"How many are there, Master Skywalker?" Oren inquired.
"Five, Oren," Anakin replied. "We'll start with the two outside the city. It's more likely Shu Mai and Poggle are hidden there, where there would be less chance of them being seen." He stood and announced, "We all need to rest now; it's been a hectic day, and we will need to be alert tomorrow. They can't escape the planet, so we can afford to take the time to sleep now." He turned to Sikka. "Padawan, I want you to spend some time in meditation before you turn in." She bowed, went aft and selected the control to bring a bed out from the wall. There she would meditate and sleep.
"Oren, I want you to stay with me," Anakin said, indicating the seat next to him. "Sit here." Oren dutifully obeyed, wondering what Master Skywalker wanted. Anakin closed his eyes and was silent for a few moments, taking stock of the young man, sensing his emotions.
"I sense you are troubled, Padawan Kendrel," Anakin stated. "You feel guilt over Master Kenobi's disappearance." He opened his eyes and looked at Oren, who returned his look with surprise and a nod. "Describe to me what happened," Anakin said. Oren related the battle between Obi-Wan and himself and San Hill's forces. When he had been overwhelmed by the squat natives, he had seen his master fall. After that, he couldn't sense him within the Force and had feared him dead.
"I was trying to get to Master Kenobi, but it all happened so fast," he said softly, staring at the floor. He looked up at Anakin defiantly. "He was distracted calling to me. If I had been with him, we could have held them off."
Anakin gazed calmly back at him without speaking. Then: "Do you really think so?" Oren dropped his gaze and replied, "I... I don't know." Anakin touched his shoulder. "Master Kenobi did what he had to do, Oren. From what you have told me there were far too many of them. Obi-Wan and I could not have held them off, and he and I have fought many battles together." He paused, waiting for Oren to look at him. "What's done is done, Padawan. We cannot change the past, we can only accept it. The present is where we are now. And while sometimes we can see the future, we cannot know if what we are seeing is what will happen. If the Force wills it, it will be..."
Oren watched as Anakin turned his gaze forward, through the cockpit window; he seemed to be far away. He waited until the Jedi Master closed his eyes, sighed, and turned back to him. "Take what I am saying to heart, Oren. I, myself, came to understand what it really means to accept the will of the Force only recently."
"Master Kenobi has tried to teach me this."
Nodding knowingly, Anakin replied, "Yes, as he did me, too. Many times." He smiled. "I was pretty stubborn, though, and I think I didn't really understand what he meant."
Oren's brows came together and he asked, "So what are we supposed to do? Nothing?"
"No, we must always do what we believe is right, Oren. Sometimes that means doing big things like fighting injustice wherever we find it, or small things like providing counsel or helping one person. And, yes, sometimes it does mean doing nothing."
"But Master, how do you know when to do something and when not to do?" the young man asked, obviously confused.
"Your Jedi training will help you decide, Oren. And when you are unsure, reach out to the Force, search your feelings, and you will know what to do." He waited to see if more questions were forthcoming. Oren gazed down at the floor in thought. Finally, he raised his eyes and said, "Master, I think I'm beginning to understand. I'd like to go aft and meditate now."
Anakin smiled and replied, "Good, Oren. I think you should, and think on what we've discussed."
Oren rose and bowed. "I will, Master. Thank you." Anakin watched him leave for the aft compartment; then he went to the console and secured the ship for the night, before entering his own meditation.
...
"Shhhh, Janney. We don't want to wake him. He needs his rest." Willem chided Janelle for dropping a pot on the floor of the kitchen.
"I know, Papa," she whispered back. "But he sleeps pretty soundly. I went into his room last night to check on him and he never moved. He must have—"
"Good morning." They whirled around, mouths open and eyes staring. There, just inside the kitchen entrance, stood their patient, leaning on the back of a chair for support. "Oh, I'm sorry if I surprised you."
When she could speak, Janelle asked, "Cohl, what are you doing up? I said I would check your wounds today and then we would see if you could try to stand." She hurried over to him and lifted the right side of his shirt. "I hope you haven't worsened this blaster wound."
As she was inspecting it, he said, "I don't think so. I was very careful getting out of bed, and I wasn't dizzy at all." He looked over to Willem. "Is that breakfast I smell? Perhaps, if it isn't too much trouble, I could—"
"Of course!" Willem exclaimed, coming around the table. "Come here and sit. We were just about to serve it up, and Janelle was going to come in to see how you were." He led Cohl to a chair and helped him ease himself into it. Janelle crossed to the stove and brought some bowls to the table. "We've got qualerwheat biscuits and gravy, and eggs and some good bacon from the butcher in town," Janelle said as she and her father took their places. "Help yourself, but please eat slowly. You haven't had anything solid for a few days and I don't want any of this coming back up." He smiled and nodded at her and ladled some of the hot and steaming fare onto his plate.
As she ate, Janelle observed, "Cohl, I'm very surprised that you're healing so quickly. You must have a very strong immune system."
After he swallowed a mouthful of biscuit, Cohl answered, "I don't know, Janelle, I suppose I must. This blaster wound does still hurt, though."
"Does it hurt all the time?" Willem asked.
Cohl thought for a moment and then replied, "Yes, I think it does. More, though, when I move. When I'm lying in bed, it burns a little."
"Well, after breakfast, I'll change the dressing," Janelle said. "We'll get some new bacta in there and that'll keep the healing going. I'll check all your other cuts, too."
He put his fork down and looked at both of them. "You're taking such good care of me, I don't know what to say, except... thank you."
"Well, we'd hardly be good neighbors if we'd just walked away, now would we?" Willem said. "You needed help, and we were there." He pushed his plate away and stood. "If you'll clean up, Janney, I'll be in the barn, polishing the tack."
"Sure, Pop." Warmly, she looked after him as he left the house. Then she noticed Cohl watching her. As if in explanation, she said, "He can't do much more than that, now. He's getting on and can't do the heavy work anymore. But he likes to keep busy."
"How old is he?" Cohl asked.
Searching the ceiling for the answer, she replied, "Seventy-two. That's not really very old, but this is a pretty hard life here. And my parents never held much with modern conveniences. Pop's family always liked to do it themselves. He can trace his ancestors back to the first human immigrants here." She got up and began cleaning off the table. "Course, we do have a few conveniences in the house. I finally got him to agree to that a few years ago." She laughed, remembering, and then she turned to him and said, "You go on in your room and I'll come in and change that dressing. I want to check your head wound, too."
He dutifully hobbled back to the guest room and sat on the bed, waiting for her. As he listened to the sounds of her "cleaning up", he wondered if there were more family members around. He hadn't heard or seen anyone else.
"All right," she said, upon entering the room, "you sit on the chair, please." He stood gingerly and moved as she instructed. She unwrapped his head bandage and lifted the bacta pad. "Hmmm, this looks very good. The wound is closed and there's no sign of infection. I think I'll just cover it with a simple adhesive pad and it should be fine." As she did that, he asked, "I hope I'm not prying, but is it just you and your father here? No other family members?"
"Nope, no one else here. Mom passed away six years ago. Pop took it pretty hard; after all, they'd been together for many years." She stepped back and asked him to remove his shirt. As she knelt beside him and worked on the blaster wound, she continued, "It's a good thing Whit and I were living here, so Pop wasn't alone." She paused long enough to look up at him and say, "Whit was my husband. After we married, we stayed here and helped with the business." Then she returned to the wound.
"Your husband? Where is he?" He stopped, appalled at what he'd just asked. "Oh, I'm sorry; I have no business asking that."
She looked up and smiled. "It's all right, Cohl, I don't mind at all. Whit was killed not long after Mom died. He was kind of wild and liked to play hard, and one night he lost control of his speeder and crashed."
"I'm very sorry, Janelle. That must have been terrible for you and your father, losing two loved ones so close together."
"Thank you, Cohl. It was a bad time for us for sure. But we came through, and I think it brought the two of us even closer than we were before." Finished with re-bandaging the wound, she inspected it and then stood, saying, "There, that's better. It's good and clean now. You can put your shirt back on."
"Thank you, Janelle. You're a wonderful doctor," he said as he slowly pulled the shirt over his head.
"So is my father," she replied. "You learn how to do this sort of thing taking care of livestock. Would you like to go outside and get some fresh air? You could sit on the front porch, if you like."
"I'd love that. Thank you." She walked slightly behind him as he made his way slowly to the front door and opened it. The porch spanned the length of the house, and there were several wicker chairs and a small table on it. He eased himself into one of the chairs. "Here you go," she said, handing him a blanket. "In case you get cold." He nodded his thanks and placed it on the table next to him. "Call out if you need anything, and help yourself to something to drink out of the coldbox," she said. "I've got work to do." He raised his hand as she stepped down to the ground and headed for the barn. Watching her disappear into the building, he marveled at the goodness of these people and how fortunate he was to have been saved by them. He wondered how he could repay them.
As the day wore on, he dozed off and on, breathing in the clean country air.