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Chapter 5
Below
The warehouse wasn't far, but their true destination was several stories below ground. He led them into an old mine shaft, where the last ore had been plundered centuries back.
They crawled one after another through a man-shaped opening to the mine's lowest depths. The Man's flashlight made visible the metal shell that outlined the tunnel. He walked to the rock-face, flipping a switch. Long rows of light bulbs struggled awake throughout the mine.
Miler dusted his pants. "Any reason we had t'journey to the center of the planet?"
"Because Rondo would never look here," The Man said. "Most people don't know it exists." He nodded left, leading them down the tunnel.
Mind wandering, Obi-Wan considered his request to be recused from the mission, along with Yoda's reaction. The grand master often preached about the dangers of attachment. Younglings were drilled until total submission. His indifference with Obi-Wan was completely confounding.
Qui-Gon had often said Obi-Wan was a son. He balked at his pupil's warnings that attachments were dangerous. While Obi-Wan said the right things, and completed his duties, he couldn't help wondering if Qui-Gon's teachings corrupted him. He was too warm, sentimental for a Jedi councilman. Obi-Wan was mystified Yoda didn't see it.
"You have a name?" Miler asked.
"Yeah. Do you?"
"Aye."
"Let me guess: Accent McKid?"
"I've known people like you," Miler said. "They weren't as clever as they believed."
"Kid, I will bash—"
Obi-Wan interjected, "Gentlemen, let's maintain some pretense of civility, shall we?"
"Whatever you say, boss," The Man replied. He stopped at a metal cabinet, pulling the handle. Inside were two man-sized kolto tanks. The translucent solution bubbled in places but was otherwise calm. "This good enough?"
"Oh, I think it should suffice."
The Man shut the cabinet, turning to lean on it. "All right then. Let's talk about your end."
"I'm listening," said Obi-Wan.
"Only one ticket outta town: a Sith ship with the right code."
"Why do you need a Sith ship? Won't the code be enough?"
"They've been burned too often. Civilian ships are boarded and inspected. But if you have a Sith ship, it's clear sailing. No questions asked."
"Okay," said Obi-Wan. "You need a Sith ship. How do you plan to get it?"
"I've got a way into the military compound."
"Do tell."
"We're right beneath it," The Man said. "There's an old service shaft leading to the main computer room."
"So what's the problem?"
"The top of the service shaft is solid ferrocrete."
Miler rolled his eyes. "This sounds brilliant so far."
"Put a leash on the gizka," The Man warned Obi-Wan. "Look, the point is: I can get through with an IED. But they tend to notice explosions."
Obi-Wan said, "You want a distraction."
"That'd have t'be some distraction," Miler mused.
The Man chose his words carefully: "It just so happens I… acquired an airspeeder."
"'Acquired,'" Miler said. "Is that what they call it?"
"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I'm sure I'm insulted by it."
Obi-Wan interjected, "This speeder: what use is it?"
"You rig it up with some explosives," The Man said, "and put it on auto-pilot. It collides with the compound, and bang! You've got yourself an entrance."
"That's a bit blunt," Obi-Wan remarked.
"Yeah, well, it'll get the job done. You guys run in, keep security busy, and I infiltrate from here. The main hanger isn't far from the mainframe, so if you do your job, I should be able to make it."
Miler chortled. "That's your plan? 'Hey, mates, take on an army. I'll slip out.'"
"I must concur," said Obi-Wan. "We're not lambs for a slaughter."
The Man gasped in mock-offense. "Lambs? Who's askin' for lambs? You're two virile fellas in the prime of your life! Are you sayin' you can't handle a few clumsy guards?"
"It's unacceptable that we assume all the risk."
"Fine. You have a better idea?"
"Given time, most certainly," Obi-Wan said.
"Then put your credits where your mouth is, jack. You show me something better and that's how we'll roll."
Obi-Wan noted Miler's head-shake. It was rightful skepticism. But one thing was clear: the Man was motivated to leave Sarna. And in their present predicament, that had to suffice.
"All right," said Obi-Wan "Give me two vials of kolto and we'll take you to our safe house."
The Man asked innocently, "You got any girls there?"
Leona glared at Miler. Her normally high voice was full of gravel. "Just what do you think you're doing? You come back here after five hours! And you bring the cantina riffraff!"
"Leona—"
"Don't say anything, Miler. You'll only make it worse." She sighed harshly, looking bone-tired and drawn. "Miler, I'm more than happy to aid you. And to help General Kenobi. But I've got my own life to—"
The Man gasped. "Woh, woh, woh! Hold on a second. You're Kenobi? I'm working with a damn Jedi? Were you gonna share that or wait 'til the second date?"
"Does it change your need?" Obi-Wan asked.
The Man glowered. He worked his jaw before grunting. "Whatever, boss. You just better hold up your end."
Still wilting from Leona's gaze, Miler stepped between them. "Let's… get this kolto t'your friend, yeah?"
Obi-Wan felt culpable for Leona's anger. But friendships are resilient; hers and Miler's would endure.
Miler led them to the bedroom. To their collective surprise, Padme was seated on the edge of the bed. She appeared tired and confused. The cut on her head looked harsher in the light. With great effort, she focused on the three men. One was unmistakable.
Padme shot to her feet, taking a wobbly step before Obi-Wan caught her. He only meant to help her balance, but Padme melted into him, wrapping him loosely in her arms.
"What's happening? Where are we?" she mumbled against his shirt.
The heavy warmth of her head unwound a rogue feeling that he'd tried to keep spooled. He allowed one long breath before pulling back to arm's length. He was heartened that her eyes were beginning to clear.
Padme took in his clothes, comically unsuitable. "Where did you go?"
The Man interceded with a predatory grin: "Darlin', he needed a suave man of action to come to your rescue."
"But instead we found him," Miler said.
Padme looked between them, before frowning at Obi-Wan.
He said, "It's quite a long story." A stern look at Miler and The Man purged them from the room. Theirs and Leona's voices faded then vanished.
Padme demanded, "What's happened, Obi-Wan?"
His eyes flashed to her head. He took her arm and led her to the bed. "Here, sit down."
Padme complied, watching him closely. She tracked his eyes to her forehead, reaching her hand. Obi-Wan caught her wrist, tugging it away.
"What is it?" she asked. "What's—"
"You were hurt in the crash. Just try to relax. I'm going to take care of you." He pulled a vial from his belt, applying kolto to his fingertips. He grazed it over the gash, taking care not to hurt her.
Padme pictured the wound and wondered if it would scar. She imagined herself applying makeup to hide it every morning.
Obi-Wan watched her out of the corner of his eye. "I was worried about infection, but this will stop it," he said quietly. "Your pupils look good. I don't believe you've been concussed." Her distant look registered. "I doubt it will leave a scar."
It was at once embarrassing and comforting that he knew what she was thinking. There was no teasing in his voice. It was a hallmark of their friendship that he knew what to say and when.
He placed the bandage on the gash, softly apologizing when she winced. Pressing down on the edges, he secured the adhesive.
Padme looked up, surprised to find their faces so close. They stared in each other's eyes: searching, feeling, fearing. The long-hardened barrier between friendship and other, duty and not-duty, felt momentarily malleable. Possibilities existed that they knew should never be. Their gravity was strong. It would be so easy.
Obi-Wan snapped his eyes down. He pulled back and cleared his throat.
"Thank you," she said, though it sounded like an afterthought. She began to piece together their situation. "That man: you made a deal for the medicine."
"He wants off the planet, same as us. We've agreed to work together."
Padme looked at him chidingly. "Great. So what is he: a drug dealer, a slave trader, or a murderer?"
"They aren't mutually exclusive," Obi-Wan deadpanned.
Padme fixed him with a glare, but it only made him smile.
The door opened to R2 beeping grievances.
"What? I wasn't gone that long," Obi-Wan said. R2 disagreed. "Yes, I know your circuits keep a perfect account of time. I'm just saying that—" The droid whined persnicketyly.
Obi-Wan asked Padme, "Do you hear the way he talks to me?"
"You'll live. And anyway, I suspect he has a point. What did you get yourself into? What happens now?"
He marveled at her faith that he had the faintest clue.