Hello there! I'm back with more of my little story for you. Sorry for the delay; I promise it won't be another 6 months before the next chapter this time!

Oh, and I'd like to recommend the fantastic new Clone Wars novel, Gambit: Stealth, by Karen Miller. Her writing style is awesome; characterizations perfect. And with its computer viruses and bioweapons Chloe would fit right in!

Quick recap: Obi-Wan, Chloe and Anakin are heading to the Outer Rim to follow up some leads on Separatist development of the deadly bioweapon known as the Z-toxin. Obi-Wan's mission will be to locate the development lab on the world of Nelvaan and attempt to collect a sample of the toxin so an antidote can be engineered. Anakin is to meet a contact on Tatooine who has information about a rumoured test of the toxin. Chloe's father may or may not be have been involved in the toxin's development - which also means he may not have died 10 years before, as Chloe has always thought. Chloe is finding it difficult to cope with the intensity of her feelings for Obi-Wan, and, to make matter worse, they must hide their relationship for the duration of the mission.

Chapter Sixteen: Protocol

Terminus. Over a century old, the space station looked every bit its age. Once a hub for illegal trade in spice, weapons and even slaves, the ugly tangle of durasteel floated at the eastern corner of the Arkanis sector, and to the casual deep-space traveller appeared to be nothing more than a huge piece of space junk: derelict, abandoned and uninteresting.

And that was exactly what the Republic Intelligence Corps liked everyone to believe.

In truth, the very latest surveillance technology had been fitted within the old shell, turning something that had been at the heart of many of the Republic's greatest troubles into one of its most valuable assets.

"And that concludes the tour," said Station Commander Darius Drake, as he and Chloe reached the bank of terminals where she had previously been working. "Any questions?"

But Chloe wasn't listening.

"Miss O'Brian? Is there a problem?" he said in a loud voice, finally drawing her attention away from the screen.

"What?"

Drake sighed. "I had hoped you could find your way around the system without help. I was assured your ability made up for your lack of experience."

"Oh yes, sorry," Chloe said, "I mean, yes, there is a problem. I'm afraid a critical percentage of the core scripts need to be rewritten. They're riddled with security issues. Leave them like this and we risk a hostile attack making it through to Coruscant the moment we go online." She frowned. Nothing was more irritating than badly-written code. "Who wrote these anyway? They clearly had no idea what they were doing."

Drake stared at her for a moment. His jaw clenched once, and then twice. "I did."

"Ah. I see..."

While Chloe was still trying to work out if, and how, she should apologise, Drake changed the subject. "I assume you have your basic combat credentials up to date? Fitness? Weapons?"

This time it was Chloe's turn to stare. "Err…"

"Or has the Academy severed all links with the reality of warfare?"

Then she remembered. Those courses she did a couple of years ago. The ones she hated, and neglected to attend again when her certification expired…

"Yes," she said. "Of course."

"Good." Drake stepped up to one of the terminals. "I'll have to verify them, of course."

"Erm…"

"That won't be necessary, Commander," a familiar voice interrupted from behind them. "Miss O'Brian's credentials were checked back at the Temple."

"General Kenobi." Drake turned, a smug smile on his face. "Station protocol-"

"-is irrelevant," Obi-Wan interrupted. "Miss O'Brian has been appointed by the Jedi Council. She falls under their jurisdiction, not that of your superiors at the Intel Corps. I understand that this level of collaboration between military personel, Jedi, and intelligence operatives such as yourself is unprecedented, so we need to be quite clear of the chain of command. And in this case, if you have any complaints about Miss O'Brian's suitability you may direct them to me."

"I… err, well… no."

Chloe smiled her thanks to Obi-Wan.

Oh, I love you.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Drake raise an eyebrow.

No, she definitely hadn't said that out loud. Chloe bit her lip. Surely she wasn't so obvious? Was she?

Obi-Wan's expression was impassive.

Drake glanced to Obi-Wan, and then back to her.

Someone's com unit beeped.

Drake's. He flipped it open and read the message. "Ah, the rest of the team have just arrived."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I hope I've made it clear that I'm not happy about this arrangement."

"Quite clear," said Drake. Stepping past Chloe, he crossed the polished black floor to the turbolift. "And on that particular matter we are in agreement. Now, perhaps you would be so good as to ensure Miss O'Brian attends the briefing. I would hate to offend the Jedi Council by asking her myself."

In the station's primary hangar, Drake introduced the team of agents sent by the Intelligence Corps: two medical doctors, four biological weapons experts and three geolocation specialists. All of them but one would travel to Nelvaan with the clone trooper platoon.

Obi-Wan had told Chloe of his plan to go in ahead of the clones to carry out reconnaissance. It now transpired that Agent Edren Stikes – Intel Corps' "top man", according to Drake – intended to accompany him. Obi-Wan shook the male Torguta's hand stiffly, only the barest hint of a smile on his lips. It was quite clear to Chloe that Obi-Wan had expected, and would vastly prefer, to be going in alone.

Drake delivered the final briefing to the assembled team of intelligence specialists and clones, handing over to Obi-Wan to give an overview of the planned ground operation. In a calm but serious manner, Obi-Wan outlined potential landing sites and the most likely locations of the Z-toxin lab before turning to fix his gaze on Chloe.

Immediately she felt an absence of the warmth with which he usually regarded her. Of course, she understood that he could not betray a single flicker of emotion, here, in front of everyone, but still, it wasn't pleasant. He was far too convincing.

"From the briefing notes," Obi-Wan said, "you should all be aware of Miss O'Brian's relationship to the suspected head scientist. In addition to managing the link to the intel systems back on Coruscant, she is here to aid negotiations if the suspect does turn out to be her father."

Obi-Wan reached to his utility belt and pulled out a slim gold-coloured device about the length of a finger. "I will be carrying a genotype scanner to confirm his true identity." Obi-Wan twisted the scanner between his finger and thumb for a few seconds before tucking it back into his belt. "Our primary objective is to retrieve samples of the toxin or any antidote that may exist, and do so as quickly as possible. The role of Professor O'Brian in our success may be critical. It's highly likely that the lab will have been installed with a self-destruct mechanism in case of discovery."

"And if her father refuses to negotiate?" interrupted Drake.

"He won't refuse," muttered Chloe.

"Then we will follow standard military protocol," Obi-Wan said, fixing Drake with a determined look. After a pause, Drake nodded, apparently satisfied.

Protocol? thought Chloe, as the meeting broke up, and the troops and agents continued loading equipment and making final preparations for departure. What did Obi-Wan mean, exactly, by that? Perhaps another course she had missed. She resolved to look it up as soon as Obi-Wan left.

"Any other questions?" Obi-Wan asked, crossing to where she and Drake were still standing.

"Not a question," said Drake. "But some information. You are aware I.C. require risk assessment statistics to be calculated before each mission."

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, irritation flashing across his face. "I am well aware of your procedures."

"Then you may be interested in the casualty projections for the forward team."

"By the forward team I take it you mean myself and Agent Stikes," Obi-Wan said. "I'm not sure percentages are particularly helpful for a field team of two."

"Then perhaps you can pass on the figures to Agent Stikes," Drake said, pausing for Obi-Wan to say something. When he did not, Drake continued: "casualty and fatality rates came back equal at seventy-five percent. The odds are against you, General."

Chloe stared at Drake, shocked by the figures. Only a one in four chance that Obi-Wan would come out of this alive? That seemed pitifully low. She was anxious to gauge Obi-Wan's reaction.

He smiled. "Only if you believe in such things, Commander."

"Then may your Force be with you," said Drake, without a great degree of sincerity.

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "And with you Commander." He nodded to Chloe, and there was no sparkle in his eye for her, no secret smile. "And you, Miss O'Brian."

One in four, thought Chloe, over and over, as Obi-Wan went to speak to Anakin. Only a one in four chance that she would see him again, that she would have the opportunity to tell him how she really felt. Could she live with that? What if he were badly injured, and she could only speak to him over the communications system, with everyone listening? What would she say then? Could she stand it?

No. She couldn't.

She had to tell him before he left.

"General Kenobi," she said, hurrying over just as he turned away from Anakin. "Can I just check something on your ship? I want to make sure the onboard systems are compatible with my software."

Obi-Wan looked puzzled. "I thought you and Anakin had already gone over that."

"I can access it from the external data port," Chloe said, "but I'll need your password. Can you come and log me in?"

His eyes scanned her face. "Of course." They walked around to the far side of the ship, out of sight. Obi-Wan put one hand on the body of the craft and looked down at her. "What's the matter?"

"There's something I need to tell you. Before you leave."

"Yes?"

"Um…" Chloe began, but then stopped. What should she say? She couldn't just come out with it, could she? She wanted to explain that she didn't expect anything in return, and that she didn't want to distract him from the task in hand, but she couldn't let him face such terrible danger without knowing the depth and sincerity of her feeling, and that she couldn't let him go knowing that she had deceived him, because, face it, she was terrible at acting, at least where he was concerned, she'd tried for all of two minutes to distance herself and, frankly, she couldn't do it, and, and…

…and all she had actually said was "um," and Obi-Wan was waiting, impatiently, for her to say something more.

"Is this really important?" he said. "The crew are waiting."

"It's difficult to say," was all she could manage.

"Then I suggest you think about it while I'm gone and tell me later."

"Wait. Just give me a minute to explain."

"I haven't got a minute Chloe," he said.

"Okay, it's just I… well, seventy-five percent is much higher than I thought."

"It's also meaningless."

"But if you… if you don't succeed-" her voice had started to grow louder.

Obi-Wan raised a finger to her lips, as if he were silencing a child. She was shocked to realise his eyes were dancing with something close to anger.

"I warned you before," he said. "Make a scene and we are both in deep trouble. Drake already suspects something is going on between us. Do you want this mission to be put at risk?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then you'll just have to trust me to succeed - against the odds if you like the think of it that way. Better still, don't think about it at all."

"That's not so easy..."

"Yes it is. Just go to the bridge and get on with your job, and leave me to do mine."

"I…" she stammered, looking into his eyes, scanning his face, hoping to find something that would give her the courage to just say it.

She found nothing.

"Fine." She took a step back.

Obi-Wan had already turned away. Chloe watched, as, with a graceful leap, he mounted the wing of the small ship and climbed into the cockpit. Edren was helmeted and ready in the rear seat.

Obi-Wan pressed buttons on the console, and lowered the canopy without looking at her.

A lump of mixed emotions – fear, exasperation, rejection - clogging her throat, Chloe tore her eyes away and forced herself to turn around, breathing carefully as she walked back to the elevator that led to the station's command centre.

This was proving to be much harder than she had ever imagined.

Within an hour of Obi-Wan's departure, Chloe had been over the briefing notes and intel reports countless times, and reconfigured Terminus's tech systems to perfect invulnerability and efficiency. If only she could do the same to herself.

Drake had come to check up on her, and seemed rather annoyed when he couldn't find fault with what she had done. "It would be a good idea for you to get some rest before the team reaches Nelvaan," he said. "You look terrible."

Chloe smiled through gritted teeth. "No, thanks. I'm fine."

"Your choice," Drake said, as he walked away, "just don't complain to me later when you're exhausted."

Letting out a tired sigh, Chloe turned back to her terminal. At the opposite side of the room, Drake began reprimanding one of the clone commanders, something about weapons being unloaded in the wrong docking bay. The soldier responded politely, glancing around for an excuse to escape.

"Poor man," A voice said, "he's doing his best."

Chloe looked up to see Anakin by her shoulder. "You think so?"

He nodded, and then grinned. Right now he's desperate for me to go and rescue him."

"When do you leave for Coruscant?" Chloe hoped that it would not be for a couple of hours.

"Twenty minutes," Anakin said.

"Oh. Right. You don't need an intel support officer do you?"

"If you like."

She looked at him. "I was joking."

Anakin shrugged. "I know. But it's not such a stupid idea, if you want a distraction. It'll be a routine job. Meet Roden, get the location of the Z-toxin test, pay him and leave. I fly fast, so we'll be there and back in less than three hours. More like two, if Roden is as keen to be paid as he usually is."

"I… I don't know…"

"Tatooine's not exactly a tourist destination, but..."

Chloe shook her head. "No no, it's not that, it's just, I'm supposed to stay here."

"I'm pretty sure Obi-Wan wouldn't approve," Anakin said. "But if we're quick enough, he won't even find out."

"But he's sure to call in and check up on us, isn't he?" In fact, she was already half sold on the idea. But she couldn't, could she? It wasn't the sensible thing to do. Obi-Wan would be furious. Not that she should care what he thought…

Anakin sat on the desk next to her. "Not if he behaves the same way as on every other mission I've seen him pilot. Obi-Wan hates flying. He'll spend the first thirty minutes double-checking the navi-comp and worrying about all the instruments lying to him. Then, once he's set the course for Nelvaan and confident that the ship is heading in the right direction, he'll meditate for the rest of the journey, until it's time to make decisions about approach or landing. That gives us a good six hours, and like I say, we can be back here in two."

Chloe thought for a while, but then shook her head. "Nahh… I can't. Thanks though."

"No problem." Anakin said, getting up. "See you later."

Chloe turned back to her work, and tried to shut out Drake's voice. She screwed her eyes shut and put her head in her hands. Then, with a sigh, she pushed back her chair and stood up. Drake looked pleased when she told him he'd been right all along; she was exhausted.

The walk to her room to helped clear her head. But she knew as soon as she tried to sleep her brain would helpfully replay how badly she'd handled the conversation with Obi-Wan, and then go on to work out how many ways this whole mission could end badly…

Ten minutes later she was in the hangar. Anakin didn't even look surprised.

Given his comments about flying fast, Chloe was surprised that Anakin had chosen the Star Eagle for the journey to Tatooine. But as they flew in low over the landing strips of Mos Eisley, she realised why he'd selected the crummy old ship that had been their transport from Coruscant. The place was a dump. The ship fitted right in.

Once they had landed, Anakin slung an old brown robe over his black Jedi tunics, and handed her a similar one made from rough gray cloth. They descended the ramp of the ship into the sunken, concrete-clad launch docking bay. Two other battered and ugly old ships were occupying the same bay, but there was no sign of life. Anakin indicated double doors at the far side of the room.

"That way. We'll take the underground route to the centre, it's quicker and less conspicuous."

Chloe nodded. "What about ID? What do we stay if anyone stops us?"

"Best leave the talking to me," Anakin replied. "It's a lawless place. No-one cares who we are, or what our business is. The less is said the better. Once we're inside the cantina, try not to make eye contact with anyone. Roden's a slippery character but I've known him for years, so let me do the talking. If we get separated, com me, and failing that meet me back here."

This didn't sound quite as safe as she'd been led to believe. Chloe glanced back and read the large black numbers painted on the doors as they closed. Sector Two. Hangar 93.

Ahead, the corridor stretched onwards in a straight line as far as she could see: footpath at one side and shuttle track at the other, the single polished rail gleaming in the bright lighting. She followed Anakin onto a waiting transport shuttle, and minutes later, it set off, silently, for Mos Eisley.