Silence fell for a few seconds, until Madam Nu elbowed Quilan's side. He said: "We need your help investigating Chancellor Palpatine's murder."
Obi-Wan blinked. "What?"
"The Chancellor was assassinated in the evening, and it seems that it was the work of an unknown Force user, maybe a darksider. We have little time to gather as much data as possible before the track gets cold," said Quinlan, his voice cutting through the tense silence that hung in the air like a heavy cloak.
Obi-Wan shut his eyes. He couldn't believe it was happening to him. Unfortunately, though, he hadn't quite anticipated making his move tonight. Sidious' paranoia had made the situation go bad very quickly. Obi-Wan had planned to use one of his personas to plant a surveillance system in an antique. He had carefully constructed an identity that had regularly supplied Palpatine with ancient relics over long years. The Chancellor was a widely known amateur in history and showed his appreciation for rare artifacts and precious testimonies of a bygone era.
Obi-Wan's alias was known to deal specifically in Force-related artifacts, and had been quite conveniently supplied by his Jedi position in ExplorCorps, Archeology section. He wasn't sure what had tipped off Sidious, but during their discussion of the price for his latest acquisition, Sidious had suddenly attacked. Obi-Wan made it a point of honor to always engage with Sidious fully prepared for the worst.
And it had happened tonight. And Obi-Wan still lived when Sidious was not.
Now, the Jedi wanted him to participate in his own hunt. Obi-Wan was sure that the universe was laughing at him.
Though badly hurt, Obi-Wan couldn't decline that direct request without drawing attention. He also feared that exposing himself to these investigators' scrutiny could potentially put him in a difficult situation. He was sadly in a tight spot, and berated himself silently for his lack of forethought.
If only he could convey to the universe, fate, or whatever force controlled his life that all he desired, for now, was a chance for uninterrupted slumber.
"Just give me a minute," he muttered before slamming the door shut in their faces. He had no qualms about keeping them waiting outside in the dark.
He reached for the emergency safe under his bed, pulling out bacta patches and bandages to redress his wounds. The clone had done an excellent job, but changing the bacta regularly would speed his recovery. After securing the patches, he hastily wrapped a bandage around his injured shoulder and changed into a fresh tunic. Putting on the sleeves made him clench his teeth in pain, as he had to twist his arm to fit it in. He considered using a splint to immobilize the shoulder for a second, but he refrained from doing so as it would be too conspicuous and risked drawing unwanted attention.
Obi-Wan quickly washed his face at the sink to clear his thoughts, and considered the usefulness of throwing the usual glamor on his appearance. He quickly gave up: he couldn't maintain a misdirection spell for more than a few minutes with the state of his Force control, especially in the presence of Jedi with a keen enough sense of observation to justify their title of investigators.
He finally opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Madame Nu raised an eyebrow. Leant against one of the hallway's pillars, Quinlan huffed impatiently. "Let's go. No more time to waste."
"Where are we going?"
"Senate Building, Chancellor's office."
]o[
They had set the crisis center in the waiting room across the hall. Walls of monitors displaying recordings illuminated the darkened space. They had begun to inventory the numerous objects found in the Chancellor's office, to classify and examine meticulously. Jedi Master Sinube was assisting them. The Jedi had approached Fox's team respectfully, carefully maintaining a collaborative stance without exercising authority. Master Sinube integrated himself like another cog in the well-oiled partnership characterizing clones' work.
Fox was proud of his brothers. They would carry out their duty with skill and expertise, even if no one quite liked their posting in the senate. Fox's brothers had been vocal on numerous occasions that they would rather be on the frontline to fight a real war with the other clones. The dull monotony of guarding the Senate was wearing on them, and the vode yearned for the thrill of battle.
Fox's emotions were in turmoil after the recent events. On one hand, he felt a deep sense of shame that someone under his protection had been so easily assassinated. It was a blow to his pride as a protector, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for the failure. Yet, on the other hand, an odd sense of relief pervaded his mind.
The Supreme Chancellor had a particular way of interacting with the clones. Without stating the fact out loud, Fox knew Palpatine belonged to the faction that considered Clones like less than humans, without the right to claim freedom and citizenship. Like mere cannon fodder.
As soon as the Clones were deployed out of Kamino, the Chancellor had replaced all his security details by the Coruscant Gard. It could have been a mark of trust and respect, but Fox knew better. During the few months of his posting, Fox had honed his political reading, and he had clearly seen the underhanded moves Palpatine had made to keep the pro-clones faction fragile and without much support.
Fox firmly believed that to attain such immense political power on a galactic level, one had to possess a deeply ruthless nature.
Occasionally, Fox couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine whenever he caught a glimpse of the rare, cruel smiles that would slip onto the man's lips when he thought no one was watching. Palpatine treated Fox and his brothers like they were little more than furniture or convenient accommodations, quickly forgotten when not in use. And to be honest, Fox preferred it that way.
Despite his mixed feelings about the recent events, Fox found some satisfaction in seeing the slimy man taken down this spectacularly. As a member of the Coruscant Guard, Fox took his duty seriously and was committed to upholding their honor. He and his brothers would not allow themselves to be associated with incompetence and would do whatever it took to fulfill their responsibilities in conducting the investigation.
Fox had claimed the desk situated in the corner overviewing all the room's activity. He was compiling and organizing datapads in neat rows and piles, while mentally preparing a synthesis of the report he would soon present to Master Windu, who had stayed at the crime scene. The head of the Jedi Order had de facto replaced the Chancellor in representing authority in Fox's mind. Master Sinube was with Rewind and Colorblind, and they were meticulously reviewing security footage.
The Chancellor's office was not equipped with recording devices, but they had access to what had been recorded outside the room. They had images of Palpatine's assassin before they had accessed the office, and precisely fourteen minutes had passed before the guards had successfully breached the door with powerful explosives.
Fox was rather put out that his team had been so useless against the being, but they were dealing with a force user, a highly skilled and dangerous opponent beyond the abilities of ordinary civilians or combat droids. In training, they had been coached extensively about the skills and battle capacities of the Jedi, the very Order that had commissioned their creation.
However, every force user was not a Jedi, and those who were not affiliated with the order tended to be of the violent and dangerous kind.
Palpatine's assassin was clearly one of them, but they had been oddly mindful of not hurting the brothers sent in pursuit. Squads hadn't reported a single death in the deployed units. There were still many details for them to review, but Fox had observed multiple instances where the assassin could have easily caused harm but didn't, even when it would have made their escape easier.
Rows of long tables had been set up for indexing purposes by Fox's team. As they carefully cataloged each object and piece of furniture, Fox couldn't help but notice the numerous odd artifacts with unknown uses among them. It wasn't until they reviewed the recording of the being who had accessed the Chancellor's office that they had a potential lead. The being, dressed in rich embroidered robes and wearing a hood and mask, had carried a mysterious case. The individual had transported something, which could be one of the retrieved objects. A long and fastidious work of cross-referencing awaited them. Fine by him. Fox was a firm believer in method and systematicity, and even though he didn't have all the answers, he knew it was his duty to formulate precise questions to understand the situation at hand better.
]o[
Mace greeted the newcomers, about an hour after sending Vos to fetch them. He raised an eyebrow when he saw that Madam Nu was not alone. She was accompanied by one of her aides, an archivist Mace remembered seeing mainly in between the library shelves. He did not remember his name, the man being rather discreet and avoidant, not socially engaging. Oddly enough, even though sickly pale and looking like he was in serious need of sleep, the man facing him tonight seemed to have much more presence than he remembered. Mace frowned as he shifted his gaze to Madame Nu, who answered the silent question: "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my top specialist. He knows much more about Sith artifacts than I do. He spent fifteen years in Explorcorp as an Archaeologist."
"I thought I made it clear that the containment on the case should be as strict as possible, Vos."
Vos simply shrugged. "I'd rather face your wrath than Master Nu's."
Mace glowered. Vos returned the look evenly, seemingly unfazed by his disapproval. Vos had a reputation for being reckless and impulsive, but Mace knew the man was fiercely loyal and dedicated to his work.
"We need all the expertise we can get on this," Mace said finally, sighing. He turned his attention back to Kenobi. "Welcome, Archivist Kenobi. I hope Madam Nu's trust in you isn't misplaced."
Kenobi nodded, his eyes flickering briefly with a spark of irritation. "I'll not disappoint, Master Windu. I will do everything in my power to help."
Mace nodded. He hoped the aide would be up to the job and would not waste their precious time. "Good. Now let's get to work. First, we must assess the possible threats the safe poses and open it as soon as possible." He turned toward Vos. "I believe Master Sinube has some items that could use a psychometry read; he's waiting in the operational room across the hall." Vos nodded and vacated the office.
Mace motioned for the archivists to come over, next to the safe door sunk into the wall. "It's covered with inscriptions characteristic of the Sith language, but that's all the extent of my knowledge."
Kenobi's voice, soft and unobtrusive, interjected. "Madame Nu?"
"Go ahead, young man." Madame Nu replied, her eyes fixed on the safe.
With a sure gesture, Kenobi placed a briefcase on the floor and opened it with one hand. He pulled out a long object that resembled a brush. Mace walked over to watch him work, intrigued.
As Kenobi passed the brush over one side of the safe's door, multiple sparks seemed to ignite from its contact. Although Mace couldn't see them with his eyes, he could sense them in the Force, and they appeared distinctly dark.
"Hm, this container is definitely booby-trapped. It's going to take me some time to defuse the whole thing. Do you think this will help you catch the killer?" Kenobi asked, his tone absent-minded.
"At this point, we cannot overlook any leads. Do what you have to do," Mace replied, his attention still fixed on Kenobi's work.
Kenobi rummaged through his gear and took out a pair of thick gloves, which he put on carefully. "It seems there is a multiple-layered trap. It could take a bit of time," he said, donning a pair of magnifying optics that made him look slightly crazy. While kept back by a headband, his longish red hair was disheveled, contributing to the impression of nerdiness. As he worked, his forehead glistened with sweat, and his jaw was clenched in concentration. Madam Nu assisted with handling tools and occasional suggestions.
Mace's attention shifted from the archivists' work when Commander Fox came to update him on the latest progress in the investigation. They moved by a few paces from Kenobi and Madam Nu to let them work in peace.
"Sir, we have taken several blood samples on the trail of the terrorist. They were obviously injured when they ran, and I reckon they got hurt during whatever struggle happened with the Chancellor: we combed through all the recordings provided by the soldiers' helmets, and not a single blaster's shot had connected." Mace nodded, wondering how someone of this caliber could have been injured in a fight with the Chancellor. "How long for a DNA analysis?" he asked.
"I have already sent the samples to the laboratory. It should not take more than an hour. To have a conclusive result, that person has to be a citizen of the Republic to have an identity in the databases," replied Fox. "And databases can be tempered with, of course. But whether we have a lead or not will be telling in itself."
Mace knew already that the investigation ahead would be challenging, and was glad he hadn't hair remaining on his head to tear out. So, he would probably gnaw his nails instead.
Fox continued to update him on their progress, "We've tracked the individual's movements by gathering eyewitness accounts and reports. Unfortunately, we lost sight of them near a nightclub, where they blended in with the crowd to evade capture. We have nothing since then."
"Thank you for the update, Commander." Mace recognized the need to proceed with care and method. "We need to transport some key items into the temple, and given the heavy implication of Force matters, a more thorough examination of the Chancellor's body within our facilities is necessary," Mace paused, as he considered the implications of their actions. "Do you see a legal difficulty there?"
"I think the Coruscant Judicial should be informed, but it seems there are texts that guarantee you precedence when the Force is so visibly involved in the matter. I will seek legal service with the proper department, if you'll allow me."
"Good, do it as soon as possible. I'll see what I can do with the council. Once we have the agreement, we will transfer the body."
"Master Sinube will solicit his network," continued Fox, already moving on to the next step in the investigation. "He'll see if he can unearth a lead. He has contacts in seedy corners of Coruscant where official agents aren't—"
A sudden crack occurred, followed by a sharp snap. Mace turned in time to see Kenobi shake his right hand as if to take the pain out of it. The archivist stood up fluidly, but stumbled slightly before laying against the wall, clearly exhausted. He removed his goggles with a sigh.
"Okay, I think we can afford to open the safe, with all the necessary precautions. Madam Nu, your opinion?
"As I told you, I do not have your proficiency on these questions, even if I know a little about them. I trust you on this matter."
"Master Windu, do you want us to do this now, or is it necessary to wait?"
"Go ahead." Mace said, while turning toward Fox to thank him for his report.
Kenobi braced himself before seizing the handle. He twisted it, and the safe's door opened. In it, enshrouded by shadows, laid a small ornate coffer. Mace wasn't distinguishing the details, but Kenobi clearly was familiar with the kind of object it was. The archivist sighed. "Great, something to crack open, for a change. Those strongboxes are a pain, I'll need time to study the cipher, and it would be more convenient to do that with proper installation, in the Temple. We need a containment box for the transport, though."
"How much time do you need to open it?" asked Mace.
"Hard to tell. It could be hours, or it could be weeks."
"Weeks! We do not have weeks!"
Kenobi shrugged, then winced. "We'll work as fast as we can. Do you want to come with us?"
"I'll stay here and act as liaison with the Temple. I'll contact Madam Nu if we need your expertise on something else, but you must focus your resources on opening the coffer. I want you to start working on the matter immediately."
At these words, Kenobi grimaced. "Now? Could it wait until morning?" He sounded quite desperate. Perhaps the man imagined that he could go back to sleep when the Republic risked a collapse? Mace huffed, "We're all in the same boat. This case is a top priority, of galactic importance. You'll sleep later."
"We'll do what's necessary," replied Madame Nu. She put a hand on Kenobi's left shoulder, and squeezed. The man quietly groaned and visibly suppressed a grimace.
Mace had previously expressed doubt about the Corpsmen's priorities. He understood that the Knights were naturally inclined to prioritize defending others and actively intervening in political affairs, but not all Force-sensitive individuals shared this disposition. Other Jedi, who were not Knights, tended to focus on more passive concerns such as preservation, research, and development. While they may appear less concerned with the present turmoil, their contributions were still valuable.
"Let's go, Obi-Wan. We shouldn't waste any more time," said Madam Nu, motioning towards a service droid carrying a crate.
Kenobi muttered something indistinct, except a derogatory bit about "galactic importance". Using the Force, the archivist moved the coffer to nest it in the crate, without touching it directly. His control was clearly shaky. Mace tried actively not to feel disdain; he knew they all had their strengths and weaknesses, and an individual's worth went beyond their abilities in a particular area. He just wished that, in a situation like this, he would not have to worry about the competency of his teammates. He realized that he might hold certain undesirable preconceptions, and decided to meditate on them later.
]o[
Qui-Gon was having this dream again.
He had meditated at length about it. Its recurrence was concerning. He had never been very proficient in connecting with the Cosmic Force, his personnal tendency leaning frankly toward the Living Force. But recurring dreams were probably of significance.
The dream didn't always appear in the same form. Qui-Gon recognized it by its odd quality, like he was observing the reality behind a panel of glass or crystal.
There was always another person in the dream, and it was his almost-have-been padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi, that had eagerly accepted an apprenticeship after the unfortunate events of Bandomeer. Circumstances had entirely forced Qui-Gon hand's on this matter, but, after initial resistance, he had taken things in strides, listening to the will of the Force.
But the Force had other plans, and his not-quite padawan had encountered quite a predicament when he had acquired his first Kyber crystal on Ilum.
The boy had decompensated an unknown affliction in the form of severe epileptic seizures, rendering his apprenticeship in the way of the Knighthood impossible.
The boy had severed their fledgling bond, and wished Qui-Gon farewell.
Since then, Qui-Gon was having the dream.
Qui-Gon had occasionally asked how was faring Obi-Wan, without finding the courage to ask the question directly. He knew the young man had spent significant time mid-rim and outer-rim with the ExplorCorps. From what Qui-Gon had understood, he had specialized in archaeology and studied old artifacts. He found that it suited the young man. It would undoubtedly have tamed his most unruly tendency.
The dream always put Obi-Wan in diverse outlandish scenes of battles and wars, and even desperate situations where everyone turned dead. In particular, the one where the Temple had been cold and dark like a mausoleum, corpses littering the hallways' floor, had awoken a sense of dread that had permeated many of his nights for months. At times, he could see himself in the fragments, but the scenes he had witnessed were too disconnected to make sense. Maybe those fragments were snippets of a reality where he would have been Obi-Wan's Master. If so, he was glad that didn't work out in the end. Qui-Gon would have hated knowing that anyone could have lived that hectic and distressing existence. He hoped that was very far from what the young man was actually experiencing in his research and study missions as a scholar.
What was the Force wanted to tell him? It puzzled Qui-Gon, and every time he had the dream, his meditations were quite haunted by the questions and absence of answers for weeks after.
In this particular dream, Obi-Wan was an old man. He wasn't sharing many recognizable traits with his young counterpart, but somehow, his Force signature remained the steady, warm glow firmly anchored in the Light that Qui-Gon had learned to associate with dream Obi-Wan. If Qui-Gon had been able to sense this aura in the young initiate that had attempted to make an impression with his martial prowess, he would not have hesitated to take him as his padawan learner. Fate had decided otherwise anyway.
Old Obi-Wan was hunched in front of a workbench, protective googles in place and tinkering with tools on what appeared to be shards of Kyber crystal. Then, something went suddenly off, and one of the shards shattered in an explosion, slightly burning Obi-Wan's beard. The man huffed with a sigh of exasperation, removed his goggles, and massaged his brow in a fatigued gesture, and the dream dissolved into pieces too disjointed to make sense.
Qui-Gon woke up with a start, an odd sense of restlessness remaining like an aftertaste. The dream always left strong emotional impressions that lingered for weeks afterward, and haunted his meditations, like he had to solve an important puzzle. The phenomenon had accompanied him for years and was today quite a permanent fixture in his life.
Maybe the Force was telling him to reconnect to Obi-Wan? If so, he had been a rather poor listener all these years. Maybe he would have to invite the man for tea one day. He had heard he was in Coruscant now, working in the Archives, and Qui-Gon happened to be planetside for once, not traipsing in galaxy-wide diplomatic missions.
Maybe he would invite young Obi-Wan soon, and they could share stories about their respective travels.
]o[
Tera Sinube had taken his airspeeder to Uscru District's lower levels. He had an information broker there he could solicit as a first line. Tera was old, and was a respectable Jedi Master. He also happened to be specialized in investigating. He loved solving puzzles and following trails, until he cracked the questions like nuts to reveal the truth. The chase and the hunt made his blood sing like he was still a juvenile. He was pleased the Council had assigned him to investigate the recent events surrounding Palpatine's demise. The affair would surely lead him to some savory and potentially world-shattering truths.
Indeed, there were many burning questions to answer about Palpatine's beheading.
Who was the assassin? Their affiliations and their motives?
Who was really Palpatine? His true affiliations and motives?
Tera felt that the last point would be pretty interesting to uncover. So, with the help of Commander Fox, they had set up a team to retrace precisely all movements, all correspondences, and all meetings conducted by the late Chancellor to determine odd patterns, and explore underneath the underneath.
For now, Tera would mobilize his network to explore what they have on the presumed assassin. They had a picture of a masked silhouette and a name on a register, probably a fake. Maybe that could lead somewhere. The first rule of being an investigator was to never disregard any question with presumptions, but to verify everything and systematically follow every lead to its end, even if it turned out to be a dead-end.
Anyway, the case appeared to be quite fertile in clues. They had artifacts that waited to be identified in Master Vos' care, and a safe whose content remained to be analyzed by Madame Nu's team: plenty of potential crumbs to follow in the proverbial forest. Tera cackled while rubbing his hands with glee. He was a persistent individual—persistent and rather stubborn, he was told. He would find a trail, and he would undoubtedly uncover exciting truths.