When he visited them, the Clones never took their eyes off him.

Obi-Wan could read the accusation in their dead eyes. He had fled rapidly to the safer place of Bant's office, but he still had wanted to show up and apologize to them. He would do it again when those men were really free of their psychic collar and fully cognizant.

He knew, on an intellectual level, that they recognized him as the one who had activated the control chip and that they were attentive to any order he might give. It was surely the reason why their gaze followed his every movement.

Still, it was unnerving, making him deeply uncomfortable. In a dark corner of his mind, Obi-Wan often wondered what he could really do—and to what extent he would consider it right to use certain means—to achieve his ends.

When you decide to fight a monstrosity, you risk ending up like one yourself.

The Clone question had kept him awake countless nights, where he had been unable to reach a perfectly satisfactory solution. Obi-Wan had long wondered whether he shouldn't simply sabotage their creation, and prevent the Clones from being born for good. But he had never been able to resign himself to this possibility.

It was too much like killing. And, as Obi-Wan insisted on repeating to himself, Clones, even if they had been designed, created and produced as such, were not tools that could be set aside and forgotten. They were people, and they had a place to fill.

For Obi-Wan, the Clones had existed in his past, and would exist in his future, for it would not be he who decided to deprive the galaxy of their presence, and of the cultural wealth they had managed to create in so few years.

Old Ben had always warned Obi-Wan against the temptation of becoming a demiurge, that his knowledge and skills would predispose him to formidable, and probably unrivaled, power.

And, when power burned your fingers, you were tempted to use everything around you as a tool, things and people alike. And that was the path to the Dark Side.

When Obi-Wan had finally decided not to intervene in the Clones' birth, he still had to find a way to influence the control chip, while keeping his intervention secret. If he left too visible a mark, he risked jeopardizing everything, including the very lives of the Clones concerned.

Obi-Wan had thus chosen to implant an additional command, and thus become somehow complicit in the way of absolute servitude the Clones could potentially find themselves in.

With Sidious out of the way, Obi-Wan deeply hoped that the majority of the Clones would not have to suffer this ultimate indignity.

It was still very early in the day, but, as promised, Obi-Wan and Quinlan had joined Bant in her office to discuss the case of the Clones. Those that had the chip still activated hadn't been able to really sleep since the fateful order. They were apparently stuck in a perpetual state of waiting, and it was becoming urgent to do something for them. Bant had chosen to print the documentation Obi-Wan had managed to retrieve on the precise design and scientific background of the control chips.

It was a big bundle of flimsi, which Bant seemed intent on using to whack him on the head or something.

She was livid. Absolutely livid.

And Obi-Wan, with all the justification he could invoke to explain his decision, had his cheeks burning with shame.

Obi-Wan was aware that he would have to answer for unforgivable acts, but he wasn't sure he was ready to do so. He hadn't envisioned he could get this far, really, with Sidious out of the way and the Jedi Order untroubled in any way. At most, he had vaguely imagined that his struggle would necessarily result in significant collateral damage, and that his actions would be lost somehow in the chaos.

But now Obi-Wan was in a position where the Jedi Order had the means and the time to take a very close interest in him. If they didn't end up choosing to lock him up, Obi-Wan would be the first to be surprised. Not that he would let them, but, damn. He really didn't want it to come to deal with this kind of fallout.

Obi-Wan had already a taste of it with Bant's scandalized face, and the reproving eye of Quinlan who, of course, hadn't left his side. Quinlan had heard everything and put two and two together, but had chosen wisely not to comment.

And that was only the beginning. There was Vokara Che, who was quietly working in the office next door and would probably be informed of the whole deal very soon. Bant would involve her and the rest of the healers in setting up the necessary procedures for treating the Clones.

And since Jedi were the worst kind of gossips, Obi-Wan had no doubt that any relevant information about him would be disseminated at the speed of light.

"You mean every soldier in the Grand Army has that chip in the middle of his brain? How is it possible that we haven't been made aware of it? And why is this chip so resistant to attempted scans?"

"It's implanted at an early stage, and the neural tissue grows around it. This means that the procedure is part of the Clones' cultivation. None of them are spared. Kaminoans say the chip regulates mood and behavior. That it blurs the most neurotic personality traits that the original individual is said to possess. But it does much more than that."

"Much more? I can see that, and I read a good deal of the document, Obi-Wan. It's not a regulation chip. It's a control chip, and it's turning these individuals into something worse than machines. Obi-Wan, this is an abomination. What, for the love of the Force, have you been involved in?"

"I wish I could promise you I had nothing to do with it, but that would be lying to you. I can only tell you that I was aware of what was going to happen, and that I could only intervene in a very tenuous aspect of the process. Installing an overdrive, to regain control in case... things went wrong."

"Went wrong?" Bant raised her hands to her head. "Obi-Wan, I really don't like what I begin to understand about this. The Chancellor was a Sith Lord. He had at his disposal an army several million strong, which he could apparently turn into mindless killing machines with only a word. Oh, by the Force." Bant had tears in her eyes. She had always been too empathetic for her own good. "We can't leave them like this."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm with you, Bant. Believe me. I just don't know how to proceed exactly. The medical part isn't my forte, and I'm glad you're here to enlighten me."

Bant's expressive mouth turned into a determined line. "I don't think we'll have any choice but to resort to surgery."

"That's going to be a lot of surgery to consider."

"Yes, but I think we can make arrangements with Haven-class medical stations that serve as war medcenter," said Bant. "There's one situated in each Sector, and they can treat a lot of men if we train the medical staff posted on station."

That could work, but it remained the main obstacle to tackle.

"The difficulty will be convincing the politicians to devote time, resources and men to this task, while we're still at war," warned Obi-Wan.

Bant's eyes hardened, making them gleam with a metallic, unyielding glint. "I no longer believe in politics, Obi-Wan. I won't be an accomplice to a criminal state."

Quinlan, who had been following the exchange with interest without feeling the need to intervene, laughed outright at this outburst. "Oooh, Bant, so sweet, so wise, and now she feels like rebelling." He lowered his head suddenly to dodge the datapad Bant threw at him. "Oh hey, I totally agree with what you just said! I think the Jedi are going to seriously think about disassociating themselves from the Republic!"

"What? What kind of radical idea is that? Beware, it would take a lot less for the Senate to accuse the Jedi of sedition."

Unfortunately, Bant was probably right. The Jedi were not generally well regarded by the Republic and its citizens. They were perceived as an elite out of touch with reality, close to the seat of power and the interests of the privileged. The disinformation campaign orchestrated over the years by the Sith had borne fruit, and the Jedi had few sincere allies within the Republic, except among the most cultured and literate, unfortunately reinforcing their reputation of being there only to defend the wealthy.

"Now, now, we're not here to determine the trajectory of the Jedi Order as a whole," said Obi-Wan. "We're here to discuss plainly what we can do for the Clones. Bant, with the documentation, do you think you can come up with an extraction method that can be taught to the medical teams in each battalion?"

Bant nodded. "I think it's indeed possible. We'll have to deal with the medical staff first: dechipping them, then train them to do the same on their brothers. Starting with the Marshall Commanders and the rest of the chain of command."

"We'll have to refer this to the Jedi Council," said Obi-Wan, even if he didn't look forward to it, "and see how we can act with maybe bypassing entirely the Senate. If we wait for a vote in our favor, we risk having to go through a political battle that could last several months."

Quinlan nodded, obviously perfectly okay with this stance. He didn't seem particularly fond of the Senate.

"For now, I'll study the matter with Vokara," said Bant, "and we'll probably test and refine the method on our four friends here. I can't imagine what it must be like, to be imprisoned in your own head." Bant visibly shuddered, and Obi-Wan felt his shame rekindle.

"I'm glad you're on the case. I know that thanks to you, things will get better for them."

"Hmm, I'm still angry with you, Obi-Wan. I hope you're not hiding anything else as awful from me."

"Don't worry, Bant," Quinlan interjected, "Now that we're on Obi-Wan's case, he'll have no choice but to tell us what he knows, sooner or later. Right, Obi-Wan?" He pronounced his name in a sweet tone that annoyed Obi-Wan.

"You will know what you need to know, nothing more, nothing less." Obi-Wan straightened up, and almost unconsciously adopted the posture he had been familiar with when leading a whole Sector Army. It was what came most naturally to him, and he no longer saw the point in pretending. "Quinlan, I've got some calls to make. Do I have the right to do so?"

Quinlan shrugged, still looking at him with interest. "Master Windu didn't say anything about it, but I think it's okay. He didn't confiscate your comm, after all. But I hope you'll say nothing too compromising, because I fully intend to hear everything, and it's going to end up in your file."

"What file?"

"You know, the one that says you're not really an Archivist."

]o[

"What do you mean, the Order is under official investigation?"

Mace was facing the acting Chancellor, Mas Amedda. They were both seated in a pleasant enough room designed to entertain officials, not very far from the now devastated Palpatine's office. Mace had come to keep him up to date regarding the investigation. He had thought—or rather, hoped—it would not take a lot of time. Mace had tried to convince the Vice-Chancellor to give him his report via HoloCall, but the Chandrian had insisted that they meet in person. Amedda had explained it would be safer in terms of information security that way. Mace wasn't sure he agreed, given the current state of this part of the Senate.

"You can't claim that the Jedi had nothing to do with this. This video is compromising enough. It's very clear that some kind of Jedi is the perpetrator."

Mace closed his eyes for a second.

An hour. It had been an hour since he had tried to make this individual understand the difference between a Force User and a Jedi—not to mention, of course, the fact that the late Chancellor was obviously a Sith.

"Vice-Chancellor. I implore you to listen to me. You can't take away all our authority over the investigation overnight. We have promising leads." Mace wouldn't say anything about Kenobi, obviously. He only hoped that things would remain contained within the Temple walls, and that no one would do anything stupid. He really didn't need things getting any more complicated.

Mas Amedda was the Chandrian who had held the Vice-Chancellorship since the days of Chancellor Valorum. Mace had sadly underestimated the fact that this individual had apparently been a fervent supporter of Palpatine, and that the last unsavory information about the late man wasn't enough to disavow that loyalty. Indeed, Mas Amedda seemed determined to greatly complicate Mace's existence, and the existence of the Jedi Order in general.

The individual was pretty closed off in the Force, and possessed an impressive mental discipline that left little to perceive through it. However, Mace could still sense a vague feeling of hostility.

Not an ally, the Force whispered.

Obviously.

Apparently, Mace was going to have to sail against the tide, and against a head of state who made no secret of his anti-Jedi stance.

Did this individual know about Palpatine's darker side? Mace couldn't rule out the possibility, and he would probably have to act on the assumption that it was the case, and, as such, a clear enemy of the Jedi.

"It seems to me there's a very clear conflict of interest here, Master Jedi. You can't lead the investigation if one of your own is involved." Mas Amedda's tone was dismissive. He stated those rather heavy-implications facts like he was discussing Coruscant's non-existence weather.

"Everything Force-related falls under our administration, Vice-Chancellor, that has always been the case since the Order allied itself with the fate of the Republic. You can't deny that fact." Mace tried very hard to control his voice. It would not support his case if he were visibly less than respectful of the Vice-Chancellor.

"I will raise this point with the Senate at this afternoon's session. We'll see what we can do with your jurisdiction. After all, this is first and foremost a privilege that the Republic grants you, and it's absolutely not a due." Amedda nodded as if they had reached a consensus, and that was absolutely not the case, but Mace didn't have the courage to continue arguing in a vacuum. The Chandrian resumed: "On the military side, we'll continue as before regarding your involvement at the head of the army, and, after consultation with the government, we must discuss the strategy to be followed. Withdrawing our troops from the front may not be the wisest course. The Separatists will certainly take advantage of this to gain precious ground."

Everything that Mace had painstakingly taken the time to explain hadn't, apparently, been listened to or understood. Or was purposefully ignored.

"I've already told you, there's a good chance that Chancellor Palpatine has played both sides of this conflict. It's even highly likely that he designed this war. The wisest course of action is to gather the troops and position them in defense until we can see more clearly."

Amedda didn't bother to hide his doubtful and vaguely condescending expression. "If you say so, if you say so. But again, this kind of decision has to be taken collectively, through the Senate. The question of your independence will be assessed as well. There is no reason why an entity such as yours should have such independence of organization and movement. The citizens of the Republic want to be safe, and the fact that individuals as dangerous as the Jedi should have so much autonomy is concerning."

Mace gritted his teeth. Mas Amedda was obviously missing the point here on purpose. He managed to present things as if the risk presented by the Jedi was far greater than a Sith Lord at the head of the Republic government.

Things weren't looking good for the Jedi. Palpatine had had time to do some serious damage to their reputation, apparently.

The Order was going to have to rethink its stance within the Republic.

Urgently.

]o[

Back in his apartment, Obi-Wan had taken the time to review the situation with the various informants he had managed to contact. He had read and compiled the latest reports, and particularly on the movements of the persons of interest he kept tabs on. His information networks stretched far and wide across the galaxy, enabling him to keep an eye on the alliances and whereabouts of people who could easily have a major influence.

His prescience enabled him to know who, and when, would have a role to play in the unfolding of certain events. However, Obi-Wan had influenced history enough, since he had started acting in the shadows, that events as he had known them and lived through them as Old Ben were no longer relevant. Obi-Wan did, however, keep an eye on a large list of persons with a potential. They were beings that had the capability to become influential, through their personality and their history. Of course, circumstance and luck played an important part too, but Obi-Wan had discovered that some people had a significant impact on those around them, no matter what choices they made.

Jango Fett was one of them. By ensuring that the battle of Geonosis didn't take place, Obi-Wan had effectively prevented the untimely death of the bounty hunter, who was probably still on Dooku's payroll.

Apparently, Fett had been spotted the day before on Coruscant, but the informant wasn't fully certain of it. The fact that Fett had been the template for the Clone Army made him particularly difficult to spot wherever the army needed to be stationed, and the man used this advantage shamelessly.

Obi-Wan didn't like knowing he was so close. And he sensed that his presence on Coruscant had to be related to Obi-Wan's actions. This meant that Fett was probably on a reconnaissance mission, to learn more about Sidious demise. Either Fett was doing the mission for himself, or he was doing it on behalf of someone else, and that someone was probably Dooku. With the money Fett had made by accepting the cloning mission, only some employers had the financial means to pay the wages he demanded nowadays.

Because Fett was apparently a doting father, and felt concerned about the fate of his child, he didn't really take any more risks unless the pay was worth it. Or if refusing could get him into trouble, which was typically the case when dealing with a Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan would need to inform the Council, probably today. He sighed. Later.

In any case, he had many reports he needed to read and summarize before that.

He had settled down at his dining table, and set up a holo to broadcast an image of the galaxy, with the latest known movements of the persons of interest. Interestingly, many of them had moved as soon as they'd learned that the Chancellor who'd just been killed was in fact a Sith Lord, as attested by the highly incriminating video now circulating widely on the HoloNet.

This recording business hadn't been Obi-Wan's best move. It would have been better if he hadn't tried to install the recording device under Sidious's nose. Ultimately, the event had unfolded in his favor, but it could have ended badly. Very badly.

Quinlan had also settled down at the table, and was following the displayed information with interest. Obi-Wan wasn't even trying to hide anything. He left it to Quinlan to make the necessary deductions, however, as he didn't feel like bothering to explain anything to him. This seemed to suit the Kiffar perfectly, whose keen eyes never lost a crumb of what Obi-Wan was doing.

Obi-Wan was a master at organizing, compiling and synthesizing information. This knowledge, the beginnings of which had already been developed in the youth of his first life when he had studied diplomacy, had been reinforced by years of leading an army to war.

Battles were essentially won through information, preparation, and flexibility of movement. Good strategy was not based on predicting enemy movements, but on the ability to prepare one's army for the unexpected. For the unexpected was at the heart of battle, and arose from the very first minute of contact with the enemy.

Thus, well-prepared soldiers were expecting the unexpected, and that the challenge was to maintain the coherence and cohesion that would enable them to execute a decision taken under enemy fire effectively.

Over time, Obi-Wan had developed a pretty unique attunement to the Force in his role as High General. It was almost like the Force technic called Battle Meditation. At least, from what he'd read about it, he thought what he'd developed came pretty close.

His power over the Force had never been exceptional, not in the way Anakin had been. Obi-Wan had built his power on the subtle use of the influence he could exert. In war, this influence was wielded through his ability to unite. With time, Obi-Wan had become aware of the loyalty he could arouse in others, almost naturally and effortlessly. It had baffled him, because he didn't understand half the time what these people found in him.

Still, he had used it to fight the enemy effectively: his soldiers had trusted him, and had never questioned his sincerity.

Battle Meditation acted as a consciousness overlay, synchronizing what the soldiers tended to notice, inducting the combatants into an entity that shared a kind of augmented awareness. Each individual contributed to the influx of information and suggested decisions; this could easily have become overwhelming if an essential component of the process didn't include the harmonization of the feed done constantly by Obi-Wan's mind.

Maintaining this state over long periods of time could be trying for Obi-Wan, and was all the more costly the more people the overlay included, but he soon realized that he much preferred the headaches it induced to the distress of having seen too many of his soldiers fall in battle.

Intelligence flimsiwork tended to put him in the same kind of mindset he had used when running wars. Looking at the numbers, synthesizing, and brainstorming solutions: beyond the tactical aspects, a well-run war was above all about managing logistics, and these aspects held no secrets for Obi-Wan. It may have seemed arid to many, but it tended to soothe his anxiety. When his mind was overrun by ruminations, he liked to focus his brain on this kind of work.

Between the dullness of fastidious work taken quietly at night and the absolute horror of a battlefield and its aftermaths, Obi-Wan had set his preference long ago.

The synthesis that emerged this morning was interesting.

There were a number of noteworthy movements, notably concerning the armies involved in the conflict between the Republic and the Separatists.

The Chancellor's death had shaken up the tactical map, and Obi-Wan could clearly see that each faction had begun to withdraw and regroup its forces. Minor skirmishes had been broken off, abandoning some significant tactical points.

This was interesting, but also worrying. For, if forces were being withdrawn, they were destined to be situated and employed elsewhere. And Obi-Wan still didn't have enough information to predict their likely deployment. With Sidious out, he suspected that Dooku had probably kept the lead he already had over the Separatist faction, while being freed from his Master's influence, which had kept him on a tight leash until now.

Obi-Wan knew little of Dooku. He'd had little opportunity to interact with him in his past life. He knew that he had been Qui-Gon's Master, and Yoda's Padawan, and therefore part of the same Lineage. Probably some of the values that were important to Obi-Wan had been passed on by this man, whom the Dark Side had led astray.

Qui-Gon had never spoken extensively of his Master, preferring to quote Yoda and his shenanigans to illustrate a point. Qui-Gon was apparently too stubborn, too independent, to interact in a relaxed manner with a Master apparently so attached to decorum and tradition.

Nevertheless, he was now Obi-Wan's opponent, and Obi-Wan wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating him this far down the line. In his first life, Dooku had left the tactical part and the management of the droid army to General Grievous, but Obi-Wan had no doubt that the man probably had a formidable intelligence. What he had read about him spoke of a man exceptional in many ways: outstanding duelist, wealthy planetary lord, and leader inspiring great loyalty, not to mention the fact that he had probably perceived the Sith problem within Coruscant itself before anyone else.

Obi-Wan sighed. So much work to do, and so little time. He stretched gingerly his left shoulder, testing his healing and still sore muscles. He would need to do some light physical exercises soon, to help the wound heal better.

Quinlan was consulting a stack of documents, brow furrowed in concentration. Obi-Wan had decided that it would be pointless and probably counterproductive to prevent him from accessing the information he had gathered.

The Jedi, Quinlan and Mace in particular, had made the choice to believe in him, and to trust him for now. When he dwelt on the idea, Obi-Wan felt torn between bafflement and quiet warmth suffusing in his heart, and the feeling was so foreign he felt there wasn't enough room inside him to contain it.

In any case, they had chosen to let him go about his business without getting in his way—at least reasonably—so he felt he could return the favor. He was now compiling a summary which he would no doubt have the opportunity to present later in the day.

"This list of people... did you compile all this information yourself?" asked Quinlan, looking absent-minded as he kept his eyes fixed on a list. Obi-Wan leaned forward to get a better look at the document he was consulting. Ah. The persons with a potential list.

"With my network of informants, yes," Obi-Wan answered, prudently.

"Mmmh, I was aware of the existence of some of these people. For those that the Jedi have spotted, these individuals possess influence and have importance in their milieu. That's interesting."

Obi-Wan felt compelled to agree, he'd been keeping an eye on these people for a reason.

"What I'm wondering about, right now—because I really do have lots of other questions, is why are some of these people apparently still children?"

Kark.

Obi-Wan had forgotten to consider this detail.

Oh, hell. He would let Quinlan come to his own conclusions. He was just doing fine on his own. Obi-Wan just looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Obi-Wan knew that with that expression, he could make anyone feel uncomfortable. Cody had told him once that he really didn't have to try very hard to make someone feel stupid. Just raise that damned eyebrow and let the other person marinate in their own sweat.

Obi-Wan liked to be unhelpful sometimes. He had used and abused it with Anakin, but hey, it had been fair play.

Quinlan returned his expression, undeterred. They remained like that for a minute, left eyebrow raised in an attempt to stare each other down.

The humor of the situation was not lost on Obi-Wan, and, unable to stand it any longer, he grinned and leaned back against the back of his chair. "Don't worry, they have nothing to fear from me. Despite their age, they're important, and I want to keep an eye on their whereabouts."

Quinlan's expression morphed into something considering. "Are you a Seer? Because it would explain a lot of things."

Obi-Wan felt as if a bucket full of ice had been poured down his back. His smile disappeared instantly. This was far too close to the truth, and Obi-Wan wasn't okay with it. And at the same time, maybe he could pass on some of his knowledge on this excuse, which could, as Quinlan said, be pretty convenient.

Quinlan raised soothing hands. "Maybe I should say that I don't mean to pry, but that would be totally untrue. I'm very very curious, I won't lie." And his face was indeed pretty open, and was like an invitation for Obi-Wan to say more, to confide.

And it was really tempting. But not very wise. Maybe later.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't feel like saying any more right now." He made a gesture that encompassed all the documents, before adding: "and I think you already have access to a lot of information, so I think you've already got quite a lot to get your teeth into, mmmh?"

Obi-Wan stretched, tired of sitting still for too long. He consulted his chrono. "I'm going to have to go back to the Archives, and resume my post there. I don't think Madam Nu will let me neglect my duties much longer."

Quinlan snorted. "I'm not sure there's anyone who can force you to do anything out there, but maybe it is the fearsome Madam Nu. She's more terrifying than a Sith Lord."

]o[

The path leading from the Corpsmen Quarter's to the Archives was relatively long, and involved passing through some fairly busy main corridors at this time of day. Busy was a strong word, given that the Temple was quite deserted due to the war, but some hallways were much busier than others.

The Temple was an impressive building. The fact that it was still overlooking the built-up surface of Coruscant was symbolic of its extraordinary history: although it was ancient, and thus had existed for much longer than many of the buildings that adorned the planet, it had not yet been overtaken by the unstoppable verticalizing urbanization that was the essence of Coruscant.

The Temple was ancient. Almost as old as the history of the Republic itself. Obi-Wan had complex feelings about it. It had been both the sanctuary where he had grown up and the scene of one of the greatest tragedies he had ever experienced. For the memory of the children's corpses, strewn across the large marbled flagstones, stained with blood and ashes, had left an indelible mark on his mind. This event, coupled with the realization that Anakin had been the perpetrator, had marked the true end of the Jedi Order in Obi-Wan's mind.

After that, he took Ben for his name.

For Obi-Wan had died that day, along with all the others.

The Temple, after the Purge and the rise of the Empire, had been Darth Sidious's seat of power. The millennia spent sheltering countless generations of Jedi had imbued its walls with potency, and the Force had an almost palpable quality within. Sidious had used this energy, which he had patiently misused and corrupted, to fuel his unquenchable quest for power.

Being away from the Temple for long missions in his second life had suited Obi-Wan just fine. He had preferred to put aside certain painful memories, for in these long corridors, the echoes of a bygone age—but also one with real potential—made him uneasy.

This morning, though, his mind was far from such considerations.

He had noticed a pattern.

When something odd happened, you could easily blame chance and circumstance. But when this thing happened repeatedly, without the same people being involved, it was because this little something was hiding a something definitely bigger.

Quinlan was flanking him, as he had warned he would, and Obi-Wan had resigned himself to putting up with his presence.

Admittedly, Master Vos was probably a well-known Jedi among the Temple population: he was charismatic and was reputed to be powerful. But he didn't think it was his presence that attracted attention.

Obi-Wan was sure of it: people were watching him.

And he didn't like it.

Jedi were a generally polite population, and didn't usually stare rudely at others, but Obi-Wan could feel their attention in the Force. It wasn't the majority of people they met, but it happened often enough to set Obi-Wan on edge. For example, he came across two young senior Padawans whispering excitedly to each other, one of whom, on spotting him, gave a startled squeal while elbowing his companion in the side to get her attention.

Obi-Wan stopped dead in his tracks and glowered in their direction. Rude. The two Padawas ducked, apparently cowed, and fled

"What was that?" No one was able to keep a damn secret here?

"Jedi like to gossip, you know. This couldn't stay a secret for long. Especially not something this big."

Other Jedi had stopped—conspicuous in their immobility where most individuals remained in motion—to openly gape at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wanted to disappear on the spot—and even maybe die a little, like, right now.

He pulled his hood firmly over his head, and grabbed hold of Quinlan's sleeve before moving again. Of course, Quinlan was sniggering, openly mocking him.

With his face thus concealed, the journey became less arduous, but Obi-Wan still felt a kind of eagerness in the Force. Apparently, enough people had connected the dots, and reached to certain conclusions.

Which ones, specifically, Obi-Wan had no idea, but he knew he had to be in the middle of conjectures. He had already experienced this effect, when enough Force-Sensitive people gathered in one place were concerned about the same thing. The phenomenom influenced the Force enough to make the attention perceptible in a large area.

The first time was when he had came back from Naboo, having slain Maul after the Sith had killed Qui-Gon. At the time, grieving and newly knighted, in charge of a Padawan almost too old to be learned, he had only moderately appreciated the attention.

Now, he loathed it.

Worst of all, glamour would probably have no effect; Obi-Wan couldn't fight a collective will intent to learn as much as possible about an interesting mystery.

And Obi-Wan had no desire to be an interesting mystery.