Chapter 2 – A Quiet Path
The constant hum of the ship's engines had almost faded into the background rhythms of his mind during the last hours. There was an occasional groan of steel and plasteel which had worried Obi-Wan at first but did not seem to trouble his master, who had taken to a deep meditation a few minutes after they had jumped to hyperspeed, sitting across from him on the other side of the narrow walkway between stacked crates, legs folded, eyes closed. Obi-Wan shifted to alleviate a growing stiffness in his back, but the crate felt just as uncomfortable against his body as it had increasingly done the last hour or so. He stretched his legs and moved his toes. The crate he was leaning against was marked with a label that it contained "precious glassware," though the smell suggested something closer to fertiliser.
The datapad in Obi-Wan's hands glowed in a pale, almost sterile blue that had begun to tire his eyes, a stark contrast against the twilight of the freighter's cargo hold. Line after line of political alliances, family names and a painstaking amount of events detailing territorial disputes. He had spent the last two hours trying to get an overview over the intricacies of Mandalore's political landscape and societal schism – a task that he had deemed considerably less complicated. But now he felt his head buzzing with information.
Satine Kryze. House Kryze. The New Mandalorians. It was complex. More messy than he had anticipated. A powerful House set against enemies that were following the old ways and that seemed as scattered and hard to control as womp rats. Exiles on the moon of Concordia. A group calling itself The True Sons of Mandalore. Overt, rumoured financers, supporting their cause from the shadows. The Jedi Archives from which he sifted this information seemed incomplete on some accounts, slightly contradictive on others. In short: it sounded very little like what he felt a Jedi should be involved with.
When he was halfway through an account of Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandalorian to ever be accepted into the Jedi Order, and was trying to figure out how the man's lineage fit into the current conflict, he could feel his master's eyes on him. He didn't look up, but his eyes halted on the line he was currently reading. A stubborn thought in his mind: At least one of us is preparing for this mission.
"You've been awfully quiet."
If his master caught the slight disdain in the Padawan's voice, he did not comment on it. "You've been awfully absorbed."
He did give him a glance now. "I'm trying to understand the situation, Master. It seems House Kryze has been in trouble for quite some time."
"That is true for most things worth protecting," Qui-Gon said mildly.
He couldn't tell why exactly, but the calm tone annoyed him somewhat. Obi-Wan tapped the edge of his datapad. "There are half a dozen factions still contesting the Duchess' rule. We are not walking into unrest – we are walking into a political web, Master. We should extract her and leave. Just as the Council ordered."
His master had not claimed otherwise – yet. But after six years together Obi-Wan knew when his master left things unsaid while his presence spoke volumes. He made a point now of meeting the older man's eyes and Qui-Gon responded: "She is not the mission. She is the reason we were sent. There is a difference here, Padawan."
Obi-Wan felt himself frowning. "That sounds like a distinction without meaning."
A soft chuckle. "Only if you believe the Council always knows why the Force sends us where it does." There it was again, Obi-Wan thought with an inward sigh. The subtle divergence, the ever so slight mockery in his master's well-chosen words. The moments that left him adrift where he would have wished for a clearer guidance. It didn't make things any clearer and that was a concerning thought seeing where they were headed.
"So what happens if she asks for more than protection?" His voice turned out a bit sharper than intended. "What happens if she asks us to interfere? We need to be careful, Master. Mandalore is..."
"We will know the answer when the time comes." The interruption barely noticed as one. It was that calm.
Now he did sigh. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one the Force is offering at this point, Obi-Wan."
"Do you not think that it would be wise to consider all that there seems to be, to understand her place in this more fully so we can anticipate the dangers ahead?"
There was a moment of silence before Qui-Gon spoke again, but it was not, Obi-Wan felt, a pause used for thinking. Rather one to solidify one's own thoughts.
"There is more to this, Obi-Wan. More to her. She is a symbol. She has a role to play in this that makes her more than just a political figure. Trust your instincts here, trust the Living Force."
For some reason he could not pinpoint this made Obi-Wan... uneasy? Not quite, but his master's words carried a strange foreboding that he felt difficult to unravel. He shifted again as if trying to sit more comfortably. "She is a politician, Master."
A slight smirk. "And you are a Jedi. But is that all that you are?"
"Shouldn't it be?"
Something crossed his master's features. Again, another elusive thing. A thought he was not privy to. "At any rate," Qui-Gon said, the words an odd mismatch to what Obi-Wan had just sensed. "At least this will not be a boring mission."
This time Obi-Wan could not completely hide the smile that threatened to tug at the edge of his lips. "I wish for once it was, Master."
It took the freighter a little more than two standard days. Mandalore was located in the Outer Rim but moderately well connected via the Hydian Way, which Obi-Wan knew to be one of the major hyperspace routes. But as their mission was supposed to go unnoticed and unregistered, the freighter only took them as far as Kalevala, a peaceful, neutral world in the Mandalorian sector, where the small crew—consisting of the Twi'lek captain, a Rodian, and two humans—spent some hours unloading most of the crates, including the one with the ominous glassware that had served as Obi-Wan's back rest. The Jedi remained inside, and therefore no questions were asked about their presence before the freighter took off again, believed to be on its way back to the Core, but instead diverting onto lesser-traveled routes deeper into the sector. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure about the credentials of their captain and had made it a point to inquire about it, but his master's reaction to a question of the sort—an exaggeratedly innocent raise of the eyebrows—had made him decide it was better not to delve deeper. "He will get us where we need to be," the older man had just stated. "No other judgment needs to be made at this point."
After the darkness of space, the brightness of Mandalore's surface almost hurt his eyes when the freighter finally approached planetfall. The Jedi had finally moved from the cargo hold, where they had spent most of their journey, to the relatively small bridge, which was why Obi-Wan was presented with the impressive, bright vista of the surface, almost entirely white or otherwise very bright. But whether it was stone or something artificial, he could not say. He had read up on it some, had learned that much of Mandalore's surface was too hostile for permanent settlements, that instead its population—at least in this part of the planet—had withdrawn into domed cities, of which Sundari was the biggest and most densely populated. He watched the lines that intersected the surface as they approached, almost symmetrical in places, strangely reminiscent of scars in others.
Sundari had appeared small at first, like a slightly darker single waterdrop set against the plain, but the closer they got, the more impressive its dimensions became. The dome was a massive metal shape, so towering over the surrounding landscapes that some of the upper parts of the dome were touched by whiffs of cloud. Where the resources for this gigantic structure had come from, Obi-Wan could only fathom. But one thing that did become clear the closer they got was this: this city was not like any he had seen before. It breathed unease.
The ship docked on what seemed to be an unexpectedly small spaceport that revealed itself when - approaching the dome's hull - a grand latch had opened, allowing the freighter to enter. The size of the spaceport made Obi-Wan guess it was not the main one. In other words, while the comm contact with their tower clearly indicated that their arrival was expected, whoever had initiated their visit was keen on keeping it a secret—or at least not turn it into an official state affair.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stepped off the freighter onto an aged ramp leading into a secured landing bay. It was positioned off to the side from the dome's apex, yet allowed a glance toward the city proper and everything that lay beneath. And yet even before he could do that, Obi-Wan noticed something else: The air inside the dome was unnervingly sterile, a carefully controlled breath of recycled atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the raw openness of space, the industrial stink of some of the levels of Coruscant, or the natural aromas of a living planet. It seemed an oddly artificial environment.
He had but made a few steps when he spotted the three men that were waiting for them at the ramp. Two of them were wearing uniform, though it seemed the kind that was less martial and more functional. Still, there was no doubt about what their task was, especially when they stepped forward. Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks, his master, two steps ahead of him, did the same, but less abruptly so. In that moment, the third man—a stern-looking officer in a crisply pressed light uniform—took a step toward them as well. There was a military air to him, a touch of traditions of warfare softened by more pacifist sentiment. He was around his fifties, his short hair specked with grey that made him look rather distinguished. His facial features were a little softened by middle age but still bore the strict lines of a soldier. He gave a curt nod, his hands remaining clasped behind his back.
"If you will, gentlemen. I am afraid this is standard procedure."
Qui-Gon gave him a slight glance over his shoulder, a barely noticeable nod that Obi-Wan more sensed than saw, before he slightly spread his arms. The gesture was clear. The two soldiers approached him, running a slim metal detector up and down his frame.
"If you carry any weapons..."
Qui-Gon moved his robes aside, revealing the lightsaber. Obi-Wan unclipped his own for inspection. The officer's eyes lingered on the weapons for a moment as if to clarify for himself who they were, what they were. Then he looked up to meet Qui-Gon's eyes as Obi-Wan stepped next to his master.
"I apologize for the inconveniences, Master Jedi," the officer began, "but the current situation demands tight security."
"No apologies needed," Qui-Gon replied. "I was not expecting any less. And it is good to see Sundari well protected."
A small sigh, barely audible. "If only it were." An inviting gesture as the officer stepped aside. "My name is Commander Pell Varrin. Commander of the Civic Guard and Special Attaché to Her Serenity, the Duchess of Mandalore. Your visit here was anticipated, though not without some … surprise."
Qui-Gon inclined his head in greeting, his eyes briefly flicking over the soldiers who, after inspections, handed the lightsabers back—to the commander.
"We come in peace," he said softly, the calm in his voice belying the underlying warnings in his mind. "Offering what aid we can to the Duchess Satine. We are aware of her situation."
Whether or not the words were intended as such, Commander Varrin reacted to them.
"I hope you understand that your lightsabers will have to remain in my custody on our journey through the city. We do not allow weapons to be carried, neither openly nor concealed, unless they are carried by the Civic Guard."
"I have seen otherwise." Qui-Gon's voice was still calm.
"An unfortunate event which makes us all the more … relieved that you are here." The commander replied. His words seemed genuine, Obi-Wan thought, though a bit stiff.
"The people here yearn for peace," Varrin said. "Mandalore is walking a thin line between anarchy and order, the latter of which must not come at the expense of the governed. Tread carefully, Master Jedi. You will find the city to be a tense place indeed."
He had stepped towards the edge of teh platform on which the bay was located and as he spoke, a slim hover speeder approachd the platform, its dome opened and the commander bade them step inside. The vehicle was operated by a droid.
Obi-Wan cast a look around the platform before he stepped inside the vehicle. "Master..." That one word was barely audible.
"I know Obi-Wan" his master replied. "I know, I can sense it, too."