An hour later, Obi-Wan was still in his study.
Part of him was well aware that he wasn't helping his case by staying hidden like this—avoidance very rarely solved difficulties. And, hidden was a relative term, when those you were trying to avoid actually knew where you were.
Obi-Wan just needed solitude.
He knew he had come to the end of something. That the life he had chosen for himself so far could no longer follow the same logic he had followed all these years.
Obi-Wan would soon have to answer for his actions, one way or another, and the choices he had resigned himself to making would probably soon be scrutinized, and he really didn't look forward to that.
Reason dictated that he should leave and cut his ties with the Order. Obi-Wan could manage on his own, as he always had, and possess a freedom of movement he wasn't inclined to sacrifice.
But this idea didn't sit well with him, and he felt a part of him, the part that didn't want to let go of anything, give up anything, show its fangs when he tried to consider escape as a serious option.
As Obi-Wan had said to himself earlier, he was certainly a danger to the others. But at least, if he was present, he could act directly to defend them. His natural protectiveness was resurfacing, after so many long years without being able to cultivate this facet of himself that had once been so very fundamental to his identity. And Obi-Wan couldn't imagine being able to forgive himself if something happened and he was too far away to act.
He sighed.
Obi-Wan lifted the shard he was polishing to examine its transparency, and blew on it. His breath raised a small cloud of glittering powder that he had created while polishing the crystal. The dust added to the layer that had already settled on his workbench, covering it in a fine, spangled shroud.
While in need of meditation but unable to settle sufficiently, Obi-Wan had found solace in the tedious, repetitive work of shaping his Kyber shards.
Earlier in the day, he had used one of his shards to breach the wall of the barracks infirmary, when he had thought he might escape from Quinlan.
These shards were part of his basic arsenal, along with his lightsaber. Obi-Wan never felt at ease when he was missing elements from his weapons array. Even in the relative safety of the Temple, Obi-Wan felt naked when he was missing a weapon. It was therefore necessary to replace the missing shard.
Obi-Wan had toiled too long on his own to allow himself to be negligent in this respect.
Even without a lightsaber, Obi-Wan had a completely invisible arsenal at his disposal at all times. He wore a bracelet on his wrist, usually concealed by the ample sleeves of his tunic and robe. The stones adorning it were, in fact, faceted Kyber shards.
His Soul-Kyber was nestled around his neck, hidden from view. Until last night, he had kept company with his most powerful shard, which he had used against Sidious. He had cultivated it tirelessly for decades, and it had come to contain the concentrated power of a high-energy plasma beam. The move had probably paved the way to victory.
Obi-Wan had removed his bracelet to work on it. The shards were set in a metal armature, allowing him, with a precise mental impulse, to disengage them when he needed to. One in five was missing.
Unfortunately, the quantity Obi-Wan could carry was limited, as Kyber shards sometimes entered a sympathetic state under certain circumstances. The result was resonances that affected the Soul-Kyber, which was particularly uncomfortable for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan had gathered in several places what he needed to maintain his arsenal in optimal condition. His study in the Archives was particularly well-equipped for this purpose. He could spend long hours handling obscure artifacts without raising an eyebrow.
In the course of his travels, he harvested every bit of Kyber he could, and stored them in various places. When he needed to replace one, he began again the long shaping process necessary to create a usable shard.
This involved first preparing the material itself: like a gemstone, Obi-Wan balanced the facets with the help of a lapidary. Just as this helped the light to penetrate and reflect; the Force, in its Cosmic dimension, preferred to anchor itself in a regular, mathematically defined structure.
Then, to charge a shard required multiple meditation sessions stretching over several days, even weeks. These meditations were devoted to cycling and shaping the Force to persuade it to take up residence in the crystal, and remain in an extradimensional pocket outside time and space.
The Force Infusion enabled him to store and have at his disposal a number of Force spells, waiting only for a small thought to trigger them. The advantage was that he could spend time and energy accumulating power in the shards, maintaining the spell in a kind of stasis state, kept out of time, in order to deploy power that he didn't have access to with his natural talent.
After several decades of careful and cautious study, experimentation and failure, Old Ben had perfected this method into a series of functional uses, even if the technique was costly and cumbersome.
Unfortunately, he hadn't managed to store effects that had a direct influence on his body and physical abilities. Thus, he didn't have at his disposal any miraculous healing spells that could have really saved his ass more than once. Instead, his shards enabled him to trigger directed explosions or Force pushes of impressive range. Which already gave him a definite advantage.
His chrono beeped.
It was time to get out of there and face Quinlan, who he sensed was still out there, patient as a tooka in ambush. They both needed to be on their way to the meeting Mace had called. Obi-Wan really didn't want to, but had a feeling he'd be picked up by force if necessary. He might as well not complicate an already difficult situation any further.
]o[
Whatever he would have liked to have happened, this Force-forsaken-day, which was never ending, had decided to upset him literally every step of the way.
"Obi-Wan, you need to explain to me what's going on. Now," whispered Bant urgently. She had grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him under the cover of one of the massive columns that regularly punctuated the long corridor leading to Master Windu's office. Quinlan had politely positioned himself a little further back, pretending not to eavesdrop. Obi-Wan had glared in his direction—which Quinlan had answered with his annoying eyebrow-raising—before turning to Bant, who seemed genuinely upset.
"What changed? You didn't seem in such a hurry to pressure me earlier," asked Obi-Wan rhetorically. He already knew what she was so concerned about.
"What I found out about the Clones worries me greatly, and I need you to tell me about it, before I refer it to the Council. What do you have to tell me?"
Obi-Wan sighed. He knew he would have to give an account sooner or later, but he would have preferred it to be under different circumstances, and especially at a time when he would have been less exhausted.
But fate had decided that he would never be at peace again, apparently. That, or he was paying the addition of his very amateurish planning.
Surely a mixture of both.
The Clone issue had to be resolved anyway. With Sidious gone, the failsafe that was the overdrive was obsolete now, and he couldn't decently leave those millions of men with that horrible thing planted in the middle of their skulls.
He might as well make things as easy as possible for the soldiers of the Grande Armée. And probably nudge the Jedi Order to bypass a government decision.
"I can't tell you everything, at least not about the aspects that made me come to possess a certain type of information. I can only give you the means to help these men best." Obi-Wan raised his hand when Bant sought to interrupt. "Bant, please."
Bant fell silent, her large eyes blinking rapidly, translating her emotional turmoil. She was clearly upset by her findings. Obi-Wan's heart sank. He didn't want those around him to suffer, and now, by his fault, the people he loved were unwillingly involved in his problems.
"I hope to tell you everything one day, but it won't be now. I promise you, however, that I have no nefarious purpose. I swear it on the Force."
He let his sincerity shone through his shield, hoping Bant would give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Obi-Wan. I know you're a good person. I can't see you any other way. I know something bad is going on, and I know you're in it up to your neck. I don't want you to have to face this alone."
Obi-Wan shook his head, and said, "Believe me, it's best you stay out of it. Or at least no more than you already are."
"I'd hit you on the head if I thought it would fix your stubbornness. But you're too fragile for that. Once again, you owe me an explanation if you want me to cover for you."
"Let's let the meeting pass, and discuss it after if you like. With what I have to tell you, you can then decide whether you wish or not to reveal what you know to Master Windu."
"Why don't you tell him everything now?"
"I—" He closed his mouth again. The fact that the Jedi would eventually discover the truth no longer seemed so catastrophic to him. He could no longer find the thoughts process that had argued toward the necessity of absolute secrecy. "Give me some time, let me think, at least tonight, okay?"
Bant nodded. "I trust you, Obi-Wan, I know you think you're doing good. On the other hand, I'm absolutely not okay with the way you treat your own needs."
"I'm fine, don't worry."
"I'll worry if I want to, and I very much want to."
]o[
Mace slumped almost inelegantly into his office chair. Tired, but some of his nervousness had burned off thanks to the intense sports session he'd treated himself to with Anakin. He had really needed to exert himself, despite his fatigue.
The room was darkened, not bathed in light as it might have been in the middle of the day. The window, which went down to the floor of the room, was decorated with colored stained glass, and let in the ambient light of Coruscant by night. Mace had installed a meditation cushion just against the window, which always gave him the dizzying impression of floating in the Coruscant sky when he sat there. It helped him connect with the Force and its cosmic dimension.
Mace loved this room. A big desk, on which he could spread out a lot of folders and datapads and flimsi when he was working. The rest of the time, he liked to keep them in neat, organized piles.
As the Master of the Jedi Order, he was entitled to privileges well worth the constant headache the role entailed. Hours upon hours of flimsiwork, dealing with politic, war, but also with the internal and external affairs of the Order. Most recently, he had learned that critical elements of the investigation had been broadcast on the HoloNet, and Mace would very much like to know how, and by whom. So much for wanting to contain sensitive information to avoid political and social uproar. But the damage was done anyway.
He also had a Holocall scheduled with Depa for later that evening. She had important information to report, and they needed to coordinate to organize the Army's retreat to Coruscant.
Keeping track of everything was a true ordeal, and Mace could fortunately count on his helpers. Tera was part of his inner circle, and was usually responsible for synthesizing and reporting back to him any noteworthy business that might concern the Jedi on events within Coruscant.
This obviously involved the more shady side of things, and it was always useful to keep an eye on the aspects of criminal life that were unfolding beneath their feet.
He had arranged to meet Tera a little early, enabling the Cosian Jedi the time to debrief his findings. Mace also appreciated the calming presence of the old Jedi. Tera had seen a lot in his long life, and liked to share his opinions and his vision of things through always impactful and well-chosen anedotes, in the manner of parables.
"So, I followed the trail—which was no picnic I assure you—, the individual covered his tracks well, but... I'm not sure he was prepared to resist inquiries from me and my extensive experience. Most of the failsafe I've been able to spot were mainly designed to hide his activity from the Judicial and the Senate." Tera was enjoying a hot cup of caff that Mace had prepared for him.
"So the endgame was probably the Chancellor all along?"
"Very likely," confirmed Tera. "This Scholar made clever use of the Chancellor's apparent taste for antique and often Force-related objects."
"Hmm, that's intriguing." The man they were chasing knew a lot about Palpatine. It would be interesting to know how this individual had come to know all this information.
"And it turned out to be a perfect gateway back up the trail. It wasn't easy, but I asked Commander Fox if there was a manifest of the Chancellor's expenses somewhere, and I was able to get my hands on a long list of objects and artifacts. Some were referenced during the search of his office. By cross-checking with the Temple archives, I've been able to ascertain that some of these objects were discovered by the Jedi." Tera paused to take a sip of his drink, sparing his effect. "By ExplorCorps, more specifically."
"What? What do you mean?"
"So, obviously, I had to do a bit more digging, as most of the records have been scrapped to hide this fact, but I have my means of verification, that the person responsible for all this apparently doesn't know about," Tera said, looking particularly pleased.
Mace poured himself a cup of caff too. Maybe it would help him stay collected.
"So the man we're looking for has something to do with the Order?"
"I think so, and, furthermore, that this connection is probably close."
"That's... disturbing, Tera. The more I learn, the more I want to go sleep and forget everything."
"Hehe, I, on the other hand, the more I learn the more I want to dig further."
Clearly, Tera was having a blast, and was very much enjoying his life at the moment. Mace wanted to huff, but his position demanded that he remain composed and dignified. Even if he was with a friend.
Sometimes, Mace hated his life.
"Do you think we have to worry?"
"Honestly, I don't think so. The more I put things together, the clearer the big picture becomes. The Chancellor was a Sith, probably the Master, and someone with ties to the Jedi Order knew this a long time ago, and did what it took to deal with him."
Mace slowly nodded. He agreed with this analysis, and the Force told him they were on the right track.
"The real question is: why hasn't this individual informed us?" Tera paused. "But also, who is he? With this level of skill, it would be surprising if it wasn't one of the most prominent members of the Order, but I really can't see who."
Mace added the after-thought that was becoming more and more insistent in his mind: "Or else, someone who has known perfectly well how to conceal his skills, and played the innocent until now."
]o[
After their short session, in which Anakin's boundless energy enabled him to hold his own against a fatigued Mace, Master and Padawan had separated, Mace going to his office while Anakin returned to their apartment.
Anakin had shown the holovid to his Master, whose frown had deepened to the point of digging deep pits between his eyebrows. Anakin knew these pits well, and they usually appeared when Anakin had made a big mistake, like the time Mace had realized that Anakin had organized and managed an illegal betting office on pod races. Anakin had defended himself by saying that he didn't take any commission and that it was all non-profit, but Mace had punished him and forced him to dissolve his organization immediately.
Anakin still held a grudge. Anyhow.
Apparently, the investigation into the Chancellor's death had been leaked, and this was worrying. His Master had wanted to wait a while to organize the Jedi's political response in order to keep a united front in the face of the political and popular repercussions of what the recording would entail.
Anakin was well placed to know that in people's minds, Jedi and Sith were equated with the same entity—trained Force Users. The average person didn't know that the Jedi adhered to a very strict moral code, and that they had made service for the common good their philosophy of life. The power granted by the Force could only be used to serve others and the stability of a system that protected individuality and the expression of differences.
But most people, when they saw a lightsaber, even a red one, immediately thought of the Jedi, without considering that there could be malevolent Force Users who used the Force for their own gain, and used it to oppress the weak.
It didn't help that the Sith had been officially defeated for millennia.
The collective memory had forgotten them, except in a few myths and legends, and in certain parts of the galaxy. Only literate people and historians knew really the difference.
The problem was lack of education, internet trolls, and people nature in general.
But Anakin hadn't said his last word. He would make the difference known, and he would start today. He wouldn't let the reputation of the Jedi suffer for the actions of a snake like the Chancellor had obviously been.
For Palpatine was obviously a Sith!
Anakin had always felt that this man was a weirdo. Now he understood why, and felt disgust overcome him when he thought back to all those occasions when the Chancellor had tried to make contact with him.
Anakin frowned. He understood why Mace had always sought to protect him from the outside world, because, obviously, the course of events had proved his instincts right, given Anakin's manifest power in the Force, and the fact that it attracted some unsavory attention.
But, as the circumstances proved, one could never foresee from which side danger would come.
He also thought about the conversations he'd had with Obi-Wan, and the subtle warnings the archivist had given against the Chancellor.
Clearly, Obi-Wan had been able to perceive things, and had perhaps been the person to influence events to keep Anakin safe.
Anakin had always felt at ease with Obi-Wan, though he couldn't quite explain why. He'd known quite early on that it was one of ExplorCorp's missions—at the time deployed in the Tatooine sector—that had been at the origin of Anakin's Finding. Obi-Wan had only been a young apprentice at the time, but his participation had apparently been decisive.
Obi-Wan had spared him a life of slavery, and offered him a comfortable, love-filled life instead.
Mace had repeatedly worked with Anakin on his tendency towards attachment. Anakin was aware that this was one of his weaknesses, which went hand in hand with his impulsiveness. He needed to anchor himself in things and people. Anakin was not a leaf that could follow the flow of air currents. He couldn't let himself be carried along. His nature demanded that he root himself firmly in the soil, and reinforce this anchorage with a culture of bonding and sharing.
Mace had analyzed and perored about his temperament at length, trying to introduce some flexibility into it, as his Master sensed a form of rigidity and inflexibility that worried him in his Padawan.
Anakin thought that if his attachment was anchored to the Jedi Order, then that solved the problem. His loyalty, once acquired, could no longer be shaken off. Mace had agreed, uneasily, but he persisted in bugging him about it. His Master was just as stubborn as he was, which had led to spectacular outbursts of opposition during Anakin's adolescence, when it had taken Depa's intervention several times to calm things down.
Anakin could refuse Depa nothing. He adored his big sister.
Relations between him and Mace had calmed down over time, because Anakin had grown up, and was an adult now, and acted accordingly.
Most of the time.
Anakin was glad that Chancellor Palpatine had never succeeded in digging his claws into him, because it was entirely possible that he could have fallen into the trap. But Obi-Wan had stopped him.
Anakin had a reputation for being oblivious to details. This may have been true in some dimensions, but he actually had a highly developed sense of observation. He didn't necessarily share his conclusions and intuitions with those around him, but that didn't mean he didn't have them. In fact, he liked to get others wrong about him, but his friends, who knew him well, understood the formidable intelligence that lay behind his impulsiveness.
It wasn't an intelligence of planning, certainly. But it was an intelligence that expressed itself best in the heat of the moment, in the cockpit of a starfighter, or during a combat. Anakin was so in tune with the Force that he often had trouble distinguishing the Force's influence from his own instincts. The two impulses just blended together most of the time, and Anakin didn't always have the energy to distinguish between the two. Mace had told him several times that Anakin's will was not necessarily the Force's will.
That would have been convenient, but Anakin was willing to agree.
In any case, Anakin, thinking about what he'd just seen, couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting to Obi-Wan. He had the strong impression that the Archivist had played a decisive role in protecting him. He'd tell Mace about it during their morning meditation session tomorrow. If Mace had the time, of course, as it had been difficult to find a moment to share time today.
With the upheavals shaking the Republic, Anakin sensed that his Master would have his work cut out for him, so he'd better not rely on him to look after him in the days ahead.
Anakin was not a solitary boy, and he preferred company.
At dinner, he had sensed, like everyone else at their table, that Obi-Wan was not well. Anakin had never sensed such distress in this man, who always seemed collected, even-tempered—kind if a bit cold.
Earlier, he had seemed very much destabilized. Anakin wondered. And when he had an idea in mind, Anakin found it hard to put it anywhere else.
He'd go to bed, but with his datapad, because he had battles to fight on the social networks. And tomorrow, he'd go and get Obi-Wan, to stop him brooding. The man needed to take his mind off things, and even if he had work to do, Anakin would make sure to help him clear his head.
Obi-Wan was obviously in need of some friends. And Anakin could be a good—a great—friend.
]o[
Mace had thanked Tera for his unfailing involvement. He agreed with the old investigator. The picture was becoming clearer, and, since the Sith Lord had been slain, the Force felt clearer and lighter than it had in years. Mace felt more deeply connected to the indications the Force could give, and, curiously, the Force had its own opinion to give on the whole thing.
The person who had eliminated Palpatine was not an enemy, and would probably need the protection of the Jedi.
Right now, they were reunited for the debriefing. Mace would then prepare a summary to present to the Council later that evening.
He sighed.
He knew that the time to go to bed was a long way off, and he could feel the fatigue penetrating deep into his bones. His old bones, Anakin would have added, and sometimes Mace couldn't help but agree.
Sometimes he found himself dreaming of a retirement where he could quietly pursue his favorite activities: reading, meditating, going off for long hours walking in nature, and connecting with the Force through what wildlife had to offer.
But his duty demanded that he stay on Coruscant, and do all he could to keep the Jedi Order alive in an increasingly hostile galaxy.
He wasn't oblivious to what was going on at the moment, and the knowledge that the Sith had in fact infiltrated the very heart of the Republic shed a welcome light on what had been going on for some years. It was more than likely that the Jedi were undergoing a systematically orchestrated and organized slandering campaign, backed up by substantial financial resources.
No wonder it had been so politically complicated in recent years.
The game had been played against opponents unknown from the outset, waging an undermining campaign against which the Jedi could not fight from their position.
Mace could now see the extent to which they had been caught in a trap, built up over probably decades, with the frightening patience that the Sith were apparently capable of deploying.
But, suddenly, a major player had been removed from the question.
Fortunately, because Mace couldn't see how it could have ended well. The power of the shatterpoint that had almost knocked him unconscious yesterday had borne witness to this.
Vos, Kenobi, Eerin and Madam Nu had gathered in his office. Commander Fox had excused himself, busy reorganizing his men and preparing the move of their crisis center.
They had already spent a good hour reviewing the situation, and all were expressing considerable fatigue. Bant had reported the results of her research, which was still in progress. She said she would have more to share with them in the morning.
However, Mace perceived a particular dynamic between Vos, Kenobi and Eerin.
Mace had sensed at dinner the distress that had affected, seemingly inexplicably, the archivist. This had prompted Mace to almost automatically test the waters and send a mental probe to assess things more finely, as he was often wont to do with his apprentices and younger members of the Order.
Kenobi had put up extreme mental defenses, demonstrating a formidable aptitude for the Mental Arts. Mace, while proficient himself in this particular field, had dogged the backfired probe which had been laced with an attack; and the maneuver had seemed to him very much automated.
Who on the Force was Obi-Wan Kenobi?
Mace had started to have heavy suspicions. At least on some part of the question.
He would avoid acting upon his conjectures too soon, because, clearly, Kenobi was like a disaster in waiting. And very much someone who wasn't what he was trying to appear.
And, rationally speaking, as long as he was in the Temple, he was where Mace wanted him to be. He would update the Temple guards on the matter as soon as he had the chance.
Mace would talk to Master Yoda about it later. He badly needed a perspective other than his own on the matter, before taking it to the Council.
Things were getting out of hand on the information control front anyway. The Order had to decide which position they would choose to take collegially, and internal dissension would have to wait for calmer waters to be formally addressed.
"So, let me recap: we have a Force User powerful enough to single-handedly eliminate a Sith Lord in single combat. This person, after managing to avoid capture last night, suddenly reappears today in the middle of the Army barracks to do something—only the Force knows what, but that has to do with the state of severe apathy in which several soldiers have found themselves. Vos, the first thing you did was to engage in combat, then you tried to negotiate a truce, which was apparently accepted, but which resulted in letting our man escape. Am I right?"
"In my defense, I really thought he was hostile at first. During our fight, I realized pretty quickly that the last thing he wanted was to fight, but that he was prepared to go all the way. An escalation could have ended very badly, given the circumstances."
"I'm not criticizing your strategic choices, just making an observation."
Master Vos smiled what Mace judged to be a tense smile, followed by a shrug. The Force was whispering to him that something obviously was at play here. Kenobi's and Eerin's faces were carefully blank, while Tera had pulled back his chair to get a view of the whole assembly, an interested glint in his eye.
Jocasta was oblivious, deeply immersed in her notes, obviously feeling little concern for what was going on.
"Jocasta, any update?" asked Mace.
The Head of the Archives raised her head, blinking her eyes owlishly. "Not really, since the morning. Sadly, my specialist decided to stand me up today. He promised he would be back after a short nap, but I haven't seen him all day." She cast an annoyed glance at Kenobi. Said man inclined his head, gracious, and seemingly genially chastised.
"My apologies, Madam Nu, I encountered rather... unforeseen circumstances." He glanced at Bant, who seemed to catch on immediately on whatever Kenobi tried to ask.
"Obi-Wan made a seizure today, and he needed to rest. But he's better now."
"Oh?" intervened Mace. "Was it after taking Anakin to eat downtown, Kenobi?" The hypothesis his mind had slowly generated since earlier was suddenly gaining strength. If it turned out to be correct, it would explain a lot. It would elegantly unify many of the elements of which they were aware. Whole chunks were still incomplete, but parts of the problem were becoming clearer.
"...yes?" answered Kenobi, warily.
"Hmm. I think your particular situation needs to be addressed."
Tera chuckled. Kenobi looked at the old Cosian with an almost scandalized air, unconsciously projecting a presence and charisma that had nothing to do with what Mace had saw of him until now. Kenobi seemed to have completely forgotten the appearance he had carefully and deliberately projected until now. Mace could see it clearly now. Kenobi had been toying with all their perceptions, and seemed wrong-footed enough today to have forgotten to keep his glamours in place.
"Don't worry, I'm well looked after by my personal physician," said Kenobi, frostily.
"Certainly," replied Mace, closing the folder in which he had accumulated the relevant pieces with a sharp snap, signaling the end of the meeting. "Fellow Jedi, thank you for your work. That's all for tonight. Go and get some rest, you all need it."
The meeting participants began to get up and leave the room, when Mace called: "Kenobi, you're Temple-bound until further notice. You're free to come and go within the Temple, but forbidden to leave, is that clear?"