Quinlan sighed. He could feel the stress and tension that had fueled his vigilance slowly ebb away.
It was peaceful here.
The apartment wasn't spacious, but it was well organized and laid out so that one could move around easily, while having well-defined living spaces. The furniture was sparse, but comfortable. Quinlan had turned on the window, but with the filter that dimmed the luminosity to keep the apartment bathed in soft light.
Kenobi had put his touch in his living quarter. The apartment didn't feel like he could be vacated without prior notice, and felt, on the contrary, invested. Quinlan was used in frequently living in temporary accommodations, for the needs of an investigation or an undercover mission. Those accommodations always had the same feel: utilitarian, but not invested like a real home could be.
Kenobi's quarters felt emotionally alive. Each object adorning the displaying surfaces had been carefully chosen, with taste. There were trinkets of various origins, not all of which Quinlan had identified, with pleasing aesthetics and harmonious feel.
Quinlan, because of his gifts, had a particular sensitivity towards things. He was, by necessity, a materialist. It was not, of course, the financial worth that concerned him, but the historical and emotional value that could surround an object that had been fabricated by a sentient being and had passed through the ages.
Kenobi had a very interesting collection. An ancient Alderaanian crystal vase displaying huge, naturalized Dantooinian dandelions. A little case in genuine, actual copper and glass, containing shards of Kyber crystal, shimmering lightly in the Force. A smooth, anthracite river stone, set aside an empty lightsaber display stand. An old galactic map tapestry, woven with soft, satiny fiber, adorning an empty wall.
It wasn't that much surprising, given the fact that Kenobi posed as an archeologist. Quinlan reckoned that Kenobi's job wasn't all a lie, if the man had had the time in his life to gather this collection.
Quinlan, while waiting for Bant to come and assist him, had gone around looking closely at the items, without going so far as to examine them with his sixth sense. He might do it another time, but strangely enough, he didn't want to do it without his new charge knowing.
Surely Kenobi would have some interesting stories to share about them.
The archivist had passed out again after an episode of semi-consciousness in which he had expressed confusion and incoherency in his responses. That was almost two hours ago.
Interestingly, Quinlan had learned that Bant knew Kenobi well, and had been his personal physician since they were both teenagers. Bant and Kenobi were also from the same Crèche Clan, and Bant had given Quinlan some critical insights into Kenobi's personal history.
The more Quinlan knew, the clearer things became, but also the darker. Like trying to distinguish the bottom of a very profound well of crystal clear water. He sensed that behind the pieces of the puzzle he was currently holding, there was a reality so enormous that it might be capable of shattering his worldview.
Still, he wasn't sure of much, except that Kenobi had gone to great lengths not to hurt the people who mattered to Quinlan, while eliminating a Sith Lord powerful enough to have fooled the entirety of the Jedi Order for over a decade.
Quinlan wasn't sure of Kenobi's motives, but power didn't seem to be the driving force behind his actions. Quinlan's gift allowed him to see things, including the truth behind the facades people wore. Kenobi had impressive shields, but that wasn't enough to hide the fact that he was most certainly a true Jedi, and one who was firmly rooted in the light.
Quinlan could work from there. So far, what he had managed to puzzled out of what he perceived and the actions he had witnessed, he believed Kenobi did not pose an immediate danger. He would, however, have to clear up a lot of critical points.
Fine by him.
Quinlan was a patient man. That was the first of the qualities required in his profession.
First, he would have to maneuver so as not to frighten Kenobi. The man looked skittish as a wild lothcat, which would require some work to gain some form of trust.
By mobilizing his network, Quinlan had gathered enough relatively superficial information to understand that Kenobi had kept to himself by not forming many real relationships. His colleagues in the science and archeology department knew him, but only superficially, the man having managed to firmly keep those relationships within acceptable closeness to work comfortably. He was generally well-liked, and was known to be reliable, poised, and always even-tempered.
Quinlan would need to do some digging to retrace Kenobi's movements, and about what he had been up to all these years out of the Temple. Quinlan was certain those research hours would be worth his time.
Quinlan was indeed persistent, and he was equally curious. Kenobi's secrets would not stay secret for long.
Second, he would have to decide what he would choose to reveal to the other Jedi, and on what basis. Quinlan had decided to make a gamble: choose to trust Kenobi and not corner him any more than Quinlan already had.
Quinlan knew that the secret would not hold much longer anyway. Quinlan had already solved part of the case, either by luck or because the Force had guided him to that resolution. Quinlan thought it was smarter to keep Kenobi from running away and to keep him in sight until he could reveal what he knew and what to do with it.
Quinlan could easily accommodate unorthodox approaches and methods, and he understood the need to adapt his methods to exceptional circumstances. And the fact that the Supreme Chancellor turned out to be a Sith Lord leading the Republic with a good deal of power was an exceptional circumstance.
He knew that not all Jedi would agree with his analysis. Many were very attached to the principles that rigidly guided the creed of their Order. To veer from them was to risk a fall to the dark side, and each Jedi had his own definition of what it meant to deviate from the Order tenets. Quinlan tended to situate himself on the more flexible aspects, to focus on the spirit rather than the letter.
At the moment, Kenobi did not look well. He was lying on his couch, in the same position he had been in since Quinlan had put him there. Dark circles surrounded his closed eyes, and his naturally fair complexion was pale. Kenobi hid his natural youthfulness behind a short, carefully trimmed beard. When he was awake, there was an intensity about him that made him appear much older than he really was. In unconsciousness, with his features completely relaxed, Kenobi looked very young, even though he was almost the same age as Quinlan, if Bant and Kenobi's personal file weren't wrong.
Kenobi's medium-length hair, light brown with red highlights, was held back by his headband. Quinlan had wondered about this device, which was apparently a medical tool designed to keep neural seizures at bay. Small lights, located on the right temporal area, were flashing, and indicated, according to Bant, that the device was functioning, in actively working to treat the seizure.
Bant had told him about Kenobi's neurological condition, which had been quite debilitating in his younger years. Quinlan wrinkled his brow. How could a man with a disability severe enough to prevent him from following the Knight track have developed such impressive skills?
Somehow, Quinlan knew that all of this man's strange features were necessarily connected, and that all he needed was the right map to decipher much of the mystery that was Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Quinlan would wait. And he would observe; he was good at that. And for that, Kenobi would have to suffer his presence for as long as it took.
Quinlan's thoughts continued to spiral lazily about the subject for a time, when Kenobi stirred minutely, just before groaning. He opened his eyes, and his gaze was already much clearer than it had been during the previous episode of consciousness.
His eyes fell on Quinlan, and his expression instantly morphed into an open but neutral one, meant to convey an appearance of innocence that Quinlan had quickly learned to associate with the mask Kenobi wore at all times. At the same time, iron-hard shield slammed abruptly, instantly suppressing any sense of Kenobi's emotions and thoughts that might have radiated through the Force.
Well, the confusion seemed to have dissipated.
Good.
They could finally have the serious conversation Quinlan had been waiting for.
]o[
"What do you mean, he escaped?" Mace asked. He was currently communicating with Fox while walking toward his apartments, after an exhausting session in the Senate. The Vice Chancellor's candidacy had been ratified, to hold temporarily the Chancellery. At this time of war, the exceptional procedures regarding the concentration of power were still in effect, and were very concerning in the light of the latter events.
"We don't have any details yet, but apparently he escaped Master Vos."
Mace wrinkled his brow. "And Master Vos, where is he now?"
"He said he had to return to the Temple for an urgent meeting."
"But what was that man doing with your soldiers?"
"Your Healer repatriated the men assigned to the Temple. Healer Eerin said their condition could be Force-induced, and we should learn more with her research."
"Okay, let me do a recap'. The same man who eliminated the Chancellor stormed into your barrack to do Force know what to your men. How many casualties?"
"...none, sir."
"None?"
"Except for one of my soldiers having a concussion when he fell because of a water puddle. None."
"I'm not sure what that means, Commander. But apparently, this individual deployed impressive resources to avoid harming anyone. With his skill level, he could have made it easier on himself if he didn't have to worry about potential casualties."
"I'm not sure I can express an opinion on this matter, I'm waiting to hear more about the fate of my men who are currently in your hands, Master Jedi. Also, we have a sizable portion of our housing currently unusable. I can assure you that my soldiers are rather... resentful."
"Of course Commander, I didn't mean to sound dismissive," said Mace, apologetically. "How far along are your men in the main investigation?"
"We've pretty much finished compiling and retrieving all the sensitive data, we now need to move on to processing, and I think we're going to need to get close to your Intelligence department to make sense of it. The Chancellor was a Sith Lord, whatever that really means. Many of his actions can only make sense with the proper context."
Mace nodded. The request was logical and reasonable. "I could allocate you a secure space to proceed with the data processing, your crisis room was a good temporary solution, but I think it may be wise to secure the investigation, and the Senate doesn't strike me as the ideal place to guard against overly curious people. The political ramifications of this are going to be terrible, and I think the Jedi Order is going to have to assert its neutrality very quickly. Things aren't going to stay secret for very long."
Fox nodded. "Indeed, I don't know if we can trust our usual facilities. From what you said, the Chancellor was a snake in disguise, and I'd rather be anywhere else from what he had in mind for us."
"We can't be sure of anything, but the Temple seems to me to be the safest option at the moment. Still, we're going to have to do a deep sweep. If the Sith Lord was able to hide his real identity for so long despite being in regular and sometimes close contact with the Jedi, he must have had the means to mask his influence, and we have no idea how far it has spread."
"I'll leave that part to you to judge, Master Jedi. I would be grateful if you would indeed provide us with a neutral headquarters in the Temple." Mace could hear the relief in her voice.
Mace couldn't imagine how the degradation of the only place the Clones felt at home could affect them, but he understood the need to provide them with a safe space that would be dedicated to them and no one else.
He would leave a note for the Temple Quartermaster to make the necessary arrangements. The Jedi probably had a room or two that was not currently in use that would help out those in need.
]o[
"Vokara, I think you should come here to see this," Bant said.
"Hm?" The Head Healer was at her desk, immersed in reading a document, her brow furrowed. She had spent a good part of the day examining the Chancellor's body in the containment room. The corpse had come to them, under heavy guard, and with the necessary precautions applicable when they had to closely examine items tainted by the dark side.
Eyebrows had been raised in the team, and they would probably talk about it extensively among themselves when they had time to reflect and discuss the implications of what they were being asked to do. Currently, The Jedi Healer team maintained their professionalism, and did not allow wild guesses and assumptions to sabotage their work.
Vokara Che was an older Twi'lek with a strength of character that would intimidate even the most seasoned Jedi. It took a lot to force a bunch of hyperactive individuals to bedrest. Bant had been working with Vokara for nearly two decades now, and along with the other Healers, they worked in a close-knit partnership. Of course, there were the occasional conflicts and differences of opinion, but a great deal of solidarity cemented their working relationship.
To be devoted to healthcare was to be on the front line; constantly, without respite. A soldier was going to fight and could lose his life, but that was far from being the majority of their time. Long periods of waiting, interspersed with occasional short bouts of combat, made up the bulk of a warrior's existence, while a healer was constantly fighting against pain and death.
Sleep and respite were priorities that tended to fade away in favor of deeper demands—to wrest from the clutches of death those whose time had not yet come.
Healers were on constant watch, fighting against the inevitable advance of death. This fierce—and fatally losing—struggle welded strongly the healers together.
"I can't put my finger on it, but there seems to be a discrepancy between what I'm perceiving via the Force, and what the scanner is telling me." Bant had placed her hand on the forehead of the Clone, who was settled in a medbed. The soldier was as catatonic as when Bant had retrieved him: awake, but absent. In the Force, he seemed drained of all substance, without any lively spark.
The day started off strangely for Bant, with a string of bizarre events that left her feeling confused and without the necessary background to make sense of them. Bant felt like she had walked into the middle of a holo-drama without having seen the first fifteen or so seasons.
And, oddly enough, Obi-Wan seemed to have a starring role in this holo-drama.
Bant was far from stupid.
Quinlan claimed that the mysterious Force User had escaped, only to bring back a comatose Obi-Wan in the process.
She wasn't sure what to make of it, but she did know one thing: the wound she had treated on Obi-Wan shoulder hadn't been acquired while working in the Archives. On Coruscant, the chances of encountering a hostile Force User wielding a lightsaber were small. And, they happened to have a beheaded Chancellor cooling in the morgue, who was probably a Sith Lord. And all this without mentioning the Clones.
It had been years since Obi-Wan had suffered an epileptic seizure—as far as Bant knew. For things to happen in such a short period of time, she was probably witnessing ripples from a single event.
Bant had no doubt that Obi-Wan had the makings of a man who could have such impact, such influence around him. She knew that he managed to hide his natural charisma, and that he did his best all these years not to be noticed.
For now, she would do her job and give him time, but she was determined to get the answers she felt she was entitled to. Why had Obi-Wan withdrawn from virtually every bond and friendship that had ever mattered to him?
Seeing him comatose and confused had gripped her heart.
Earlier, Bant had felt through Obi-Wan's shields, made porous by the confusion, a terrible sadness so intertwined with his Force signature that it had to be with him constantly.
Obi-Wan needed hugs. Lots of hugs. And Bant was tired of simply giving him space. She would finish her examination and quickly return to check on Obi-Wan, and force him to dine with her.
]o[
Dooku was now certain he had to act, as soon as he was able. Fett had given him an extremely disturbing recording. Sidious had been undoubtedly removed by a powerful unknown party, who would not be obviously easy to defeat, especially if that person got his hands on the object Dooku was after.
Dooku had to gather his forces without delay, and strike hard, if he wanted to finally take his rightful place.
He was confident. He had valuable assets that neither the Republic nor the Jedi were aware of. Dooku simply had to ensure that his dominance could be established without challenge. His rule would go unchallenged if he could secure the key. That was the top priority.
Dooku composed a message to all his lieutenants.
It was time to get down to business. The Republic was destabilized, facing a power vacuum that would not be easily resolved.
The Jedi Order, blinded by Sidious' machinations, would soon come to its senses, and Dooku would rather not have to face his enemies as they regained their means and ability to act.
With Sidious gone, Dooku had a free hand, and he had to be bold and fearless. He was now the most powerful Sith Lord, and by asserting his power now, no one would be able to challenge his absolute rule.
]o[
Seated at his mahogany table, a cup of caff in hand, Mace massaged the back of his neck. His muscles were tired, and his migraine still threatened to blind him occasionally with pain. Over the years, the Korun Master had grown accustomed to having to work and function despite his constant headaches, but, as he had come to accept, one never really got used to the pain.
Pain became more tolerable when you stopped fighting it, stopped trying to make it stop. Often, the cures were actually worse than the pain, and the time and energy one might spend seeking relief were bound to come at the expense of something else.
Mace knew that trying to make the suffering stop would distract him from what was really important.
So he always committed himself fully to his days, knowing perfectly well that the pain would be there to accompany him, but he refused to let it stand between him and his duty.
There were, however, situations that tended to aggravate his headaches, and dealing with his unruly Padawan when he was bored was one of them.
Mace loved Anakin deeply, ever since he had accepted the heavy burden of training such a powerful individual in the Force. He had taken him on as a Padawan as soon as Anakin turned nine. Young, for an initiate, but Mace wanted to encourage and guide his emotional growth. For Anakin, though powerful and intelligent, had the emotional intelligence of a week-old lamb.
Now, at twenty years old, this endeavor hadn't been very conclusive. Sure, Anakin had made good progress, but he was far from mastering his impulses. Mace hoped Anakin was getting there, though.
In the meantime, Mace still had to deal with him. Especially since Anakin tended to get bored very quickly, and was almost incapable of keeping himself busy unless he had something to tinker with.
One thing Anakin enjoyed above almost everything else was dueling. He had such a deep love of fighting that he never shied away from the long hours of training that a unified and balanced martial arts practice required.
Someday, Mace found himself having trouble keeping up the pace of his needy Padawan, and sometimes he felt guilty that he couldn't send him on more unsupervised missions on the wider Galaxy.
Anakin thought Mace didn't think he was ready.
Mace knew, deep down, that wasn't quite right. With the war on, and the presence of unknown Force Users roaming the galaxy, Mace was afraid for his protege.
With his power, Anakin was the epitome of a honeypot for any Darksider in need of an apprentice.
And Anakin was never, ever, to fall to the dark side. Mace wasn't sure the galaxy would recover if that happened.
So he would find any excuse to keep him on Coruscant. Anakin wasn't picky, as long as he was busy. He wasn't interested in the glamour of war, nor was he looking for glory. Anakin was, however, the type of adrenalin junkie that needed his thrill fix to be in a good mood.
"Master. I'm bored."
Mace sighed.
"What I've told you, countless times, about this subject, Padawan? It is not my responsibility, but yours."
"Still. I can't spar alone. Come with me? The exercise will do you good to trim the excess fat."
"What fat?" asked Mace, scandalized.
"You know, age and sedentary lifestyle. No wonder your body's sagging. I read about it on the holonet."
Mace closed his eyes. He knew better than to let him get baited. He wouldn't stoop so low as to argue like a teenager.
But he really wanted to.
Mace was tired. He was barely recovering from last night's shatterpoint. Coordinating the investigation, continuing to lead the Order, dealing with the Clones, and getting involved in political maneuvering hadn't really allowed him to recharge his batteries. Mace needed a good night's sleep, a deep meditation session, and an invigorating meal. Not necessarily in that order.
"I think it has more to do with diet. You're the one who should be careful, with the way you eat. You should stick with the Temple Dining Halls."
"I eat very well, thank you very much. And I prefer to eat outside. Dex's the best. I was there today with Obi-Wan. You should have seen my plate, it was overflowing with food. Still, no sagging nor fat in sight."
"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan Kenobi? What was he doing there?"
"He said he had a mission to complete downtown. For you, by the way." Anakin eyed him suspiciously. "On a super secret mission for the Council. But I didn't get the details. No one ever tells me anything."
Mace frowned. "He has a mission, yes. A mission that specifically required him to decipher a Sith artifact as quickly as possible. At the Archives, not downtown."
"Hm. Sounds boring. I can see why he felt like taking a walk."
It seemed that Mace might need to assert his authority in order to emphasize the importance of setting priorities, but that could wait for later. However, Kenobi's actions bothered him, and he couldn't quite pinpoint the reason behind it. He massaged his right temple, his headache becoming more present. He'd deal with that later. Mace needed to eat, and he knew for a fact that the cooler unit was empty. Anakin never thought to do what was necessary to take care of housekeeping. He sighed.
"Come on, Padawan. Let's go to the Dining Halls. I need to get some sustenance. We'll stretch our legs with a good spar afterward."
Anakin whooped, ever enthusiastic for any kind of meal, and any kind of fight.
]o[
"I have nothing to say to you."
"On the contrary, I think you owe me an explanation. At least as a bargaining chip... I suppose you'd like to keep certain information from being disseminated within the Order?"
Kenobi did not answer. He slowly straightened, wincing. His face, for all the control he had over it, expressed obvious discomfort. He avoided meeting Quinlan's unwary gaze. With a slow but precise movement, Kenobi raised his hand to his temple and closed his eyes. He adjusted something on his headband, his brow wrinkled with concentration, and finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"I can't help it, Master Vos. I certainly don't have the power to shut you up."
"Oh? But you do have the power to permanently silence a Sith Lord?"
Kenobi's mouth turned into a hard line.
"Nor do I have the power to influence your beliefs and thinking."
Quinlan smiled. Kenobi was obviously used to hard conversations. One more element to slot into the mental picture Quinlan was forming of him.
"No beliefs. Facts." He pulled out his datapad and displayed on it the image of the sculpture in which he had found the recording. "We found a device in this object. Which contained some pretty interesting images. Do you want to continue to deny your direct involvement in this story?"
"I'm not denying anything, I just want to know the reason you're taking the time to question me like this. Why not turn me in directly to the Judicial? Why didn't you tell the Council?"
"I admit I'm curious. I wonder what you're going to do now. And for the time being, you haven't threatened anyone as far as I know. And I'd like to have a front-row seat to what happens next, my good, plain archivist."
"I'm not here to entertain you, Master Vos, you probably have better things to do than to be concerned about my actions. I don't plan to do much more anyway." Kenobi was almost pleading.
"Oh, maybe you haven't noticed, but I don't think fate intends to leave you alone just yet. Don't think that with what you just pulled out, things will nicely settle back down and you won't have to answer for your actions."
Kenobi didn't respond, a scowl marring his features instead.
"In the meantime, if you don't want to tell me more, so be it. Furthermore, it appears you have no intention of forcefully removing me from the question, and that's great. You have no choice but to put up with my constant presence for a while."
"You're not planning on sleeping here, are you?"
"Well, the couch does appear exceptionally cozy."
"I won't provide any meals for you."
"No worries. Your cooler is already empty, and truth be told, it seems like you could use a good meal yourself. Bant asked me to check your food intake. How about we head to the Dining Halls? Or we could continue to talk one-on-one if you wish?"
Kenobi let out a long-suffering sigh. "Let's go. Just give me a minute to gather my strength."