Chapter 115

The silence after Yoda's words was like a vast, terrible, yawning void.

I then realized that it was my own stomach feeling this way, combined with every nerve ending in my back wondering if gravity had suddenly gone away. For the briefest of moments my mind was sent reeling, gibbering at the impossibility.

What had I done?

What had I not done?

Was this a butterfly effect?

How?

Why?

Impossible.

No.

I wrenched my mind, thoughts and emotions back into some form of order. Think Ahsoka, think. Nothing I had foreseen showed Obi-wan dying at this point. The kaleidoscope of the future was always twisting and writhing with probability and possibility. He was a Jedi General in a galactic war, nothing was truly certain.

"H- how did it happen?"

Anakin's voice was studiously neutral to most, but I could hear the heart wrenching pain within it.

"Investigating a kidnapping plot, Master Kenobi, was, against the chancellor. Master Koon, there as support. From extreme long range, a sniper attacked."

"And they couldn't sense the danger?"

"In the lower levels of Coruscant, did this occur. Distracted both were by a nearby bomb blast. Aiding the victims they were."

My fingers swiped on the controls, bringing up Anakin's side of the link. His face was carved out of duracrete, but in his eyes I saw a burning sorrow. He closed his eyes and visibly swallowed his emotions, clearly trying to find equilibrium and only partially succeeding.

"When did this happen?"

"The tragedy, occurred it has eight hours ago."

My brain finally put itself into some sort of gear, as I brought up the metadata of the comlink record. The call to the Omen from Yoda had occurred two days ago.

Two days for Anakin to be stuck on the ship, with an unconscious padawan to care for, with Obi-wan's death weighing on his mind. The only small mercy was that Padme was also here to comfort him.

"I see, master. Thank you for calling me so promptly. His body, it's-"

"All has been taken care of, Knight Skywalker. Funeral ceremony, take place it will, once you arrive."

That was quite considerate of the Council, since it was still six days until the Omen reached Coruscant. The funeral of a Jedi Master, especially one sitting on the Council itself, was something that would gather Jedi from far and wide to attend. As a general rule, six days of time was allowed for Jedi to travel to the temple for a funeral rite. By waiting for Anakin, it would mean an extra three to four days tacked on. It was an almost unprecedented exception for the hidebound traditionalists and I had no doubt they were pursing their lips in disapproval.

Waiting extra time for a young lowly knight to attend the solemn funeral of a Master? Tut, tut.

The exception wasn't lost on Anakin, who bowed. "Thank you, Master Yoda."

"Thanks, not needed. You and your padawan's actions on Mokivj, saved an entire planet it did. Greater ramifications for the war as well, prevented. Least I could do."

"What- what can you tell me about the kidnapping plot and the sniper?"

"Security required, too high to risk speaking more on this channel. In person, this must be."

Anakin looked off to the side, "I understand, master. I'll make best speed home."

"Mourn we all, for Master Kenobi's passing. Understand, that your feelings now, no matter how strong, transitory it is. As night falls, so too will the sun eventually rise. Meditate you should, explore the feelings, don't let them dominate."

"I understand. I will, Master Yoda."

"Good, Force be with you."

"And you."

The screen went blank as the call had ended.

My mind was wrestling to chart a proper course on the waters of prescience. My current condition was not helping at all. The mention of a sniper had finally let me find some purchase on the situation. The problem was certainty.

Palpatine had many plots against his life thus far and would receive more in the future. There was only one plot according to the original timeline which had involved Obi-Wan investigating it and a sniper 'killing' him.

The fact that Master Koon was with him and the bombing as a distraction, was throwing me off kilter. That was out of left field. Was it simply a case of butterflies putting us out of the sequence of probability?

"Are you all right, Ahsoka?" Chewie asked worriedly.

"No, I most certainly am not." This was when prescience became a curse. At best, I'd regain my full strength as we neared Coruscant, only to then plunge into that accursed Shroud.

In this situation, the only option was to go with the flow. Act as if the death of Obi-Wan was always meant to happen. Then be my usual industrious self in trying to bring his murderer to justice and work on this new plot against the chancellor.

I brought up the com system, and considered who to contact. A quick reference of time told me it was currently late afternoon at the Jedi Temple and so I put through a call.

For a long 34 seconds I just stared at the bristling tunnel of hyperspace projected into the Omen's cockpit around me. My montrals hyperfocusing on the steady chirp from the computer as it waited for a handshake from the comlink.

Master Plo Koon's holographic head appeared in front of me.

"Ahsoka, it's a relief to see you on your feet."

"Thank you, master," I said with visible sadness, projecting it outward. I had to assume Palpatine would be watching the fallout of his latest machination with close scrutiny. If he was using Dooku's latest plot against him in this manner, by allowing it to come to the Jedi Council's attention, then he would be closely looking at everything, including Anakin's reaction and my own. "How are things in the Temple?"

"We have lost Jedi in this war, Ahsoka. We will lose more before it is over. Master Kenobi's passing is a shock and we mourn, but cannot let it consume us. I doubt Obi-Wan would want his death to put us all into a constant state of melancholy."

I nodded, sniffing and wiping away a tear, "It's just not something I really enjoyed waking up to… just under an hour ago I was still unconscious, before that I had celebrated Life Day and sorted out Mokivj's problem. It's like… I did good and paid the price, I accept that, but suddenly I've lost someone I regarded as… a grandfather."

"And now you have lost him, you've been trained on what to do when someone who is close to you has passed into the Force."

I shook my head, "It's so easy to learn and say that, but doing is another matter."

"That it is. Now I know you haven't called just to hear my advice, so what can I do for you? Though I can guess you want something to keep your mind busy on your long journey, yet you want it to be as productive as possible. So… you want the crime scene data."

"Am I that predictable, Master Koon?" I chuckled ruefully.

"Hardly, I just know you too well. Give me a moment." He looked off to the side, working on a nearby terminal, probably in his apartment or 'office' in the Temple. "Sending you an encrypted data packet on a subchannel."

The Omen's computer chirped in an alert. "I'm receiving it. Thank you, Master."

I doubt I'd be able to bring anything new or earth shattering to the situation, but it'd at least help settle my mind somewhat.

"You're welcome, little 'Soka."

"I'll see you within the week then."

"Force be with you and don't strain your recovery."

"I won't, master."

The holo vanished and I set about decrypting and sending the data to a temporary folder. The first file was the official report from the Coruscant Security Force, including visual data from the enforcement droids that had first responded. It happened on Subfloor 422, inside one of the subsurface cityscapes that technically had the surface city as a 'sky'. It wasn't the best place on the city planet, but it still had nominal levels of police patrol presence.

The sniper had taken the shot from over 2.3 km away from one of the ceiling structures of the cityscape.

Even with all the assistance technologies you could put on a sniper rifle, that was a very difficult shot. It was also a rare rifle that could maintain its bolt cohesion for that distance. That alone meant we were dealing with a professional who had either custom built the weapon or had managed to pay the exorbitant price for it on the black market.

Obi-Wan was pronounced dead on the scene by Master Koon and even the enforcement droid's scans had confirmed it. The body was taken by a Jedi transport and removed from the scene after enough forensic scans had occurred.

Something nagged at me at reading that and with a few swipes of my hand I brought up the sector map of where the crime had taken place. A quick zoom out and I had the relative distance to the Jedi Temple complex.

The handy thing when it came to using mostly droids as law enforcement, you had time events down the millisecond if you wanted it. You even had a time of death because they could scan the current temperature of the body constantly as it cooled, then you compare it to the healthy temperature of a living human. I knew the max speed of the specific Jedi transport used, what the air traffic conditions were, even for a transport given critical priority. A few calculations and I had a timeline for the Jedi transport.

Unless we Jedi secretly had tiny hyperdrives that could operate deep within a mass shadow, the arrival of the transport meant that it had to have been within forty-five kilometers of the crime scene to arrive when it did. Another calculation let me draw a radius around the sector, to see if there was any law enforcement building within that area. Maybe the transport had been incidentally at a CSF outpost.

Naturally, there were several such outposts, but only one which was large enough to feature any place for the transport to land.

It wasn't definitive, but it was highly coincidental that the transport would be there, just in time to zoom towards the crime scene to pick up Obi-Wan's body.

Speaking of, the still images selected of the body itself were not easy viewing.

Obi-Wan had not even been wearing his clone war armor and he had been shot in the back, the scorch mark carbonizing a substantial portion of the upper left back. The police report referenced the likely cause of death being damaged left lung and scorching of the heart, but it was only a supposition. Enforcement droids were not walking medical scanners.

None of the images were from angles that showed detail of the wound, telling me these were all ripped from the memories of enforcement droids. There were a few images of the Jedi team sent to retrieve the body; five of them, including one who I could see had the subtle robes unique to someone who worked in the Halls of Healing.

There were three knights and a master, all wearing the usual attire, including traditional outer robes with the hoods up to obscure identity. It would've been nice to have full holos but it wasn't included in the report, which was an odd oversight and smacked of being deliberate.

In fact, I took a big step back in my perspective, cast off every natural perception filter I could in my mind and looked at the folder of the data packet, seeing what it contained and more importantly, didn't contain.

"Frak," I muttered, my hands grabbing the various holos and chucking it back into the folder.

"What is it? Did you find anything?" Chewie asked.

"Yes, I did and it's all deception," I stood carefully, finding that I was much more stable on my feet and could walk properly.

I left the cockpit and slowly climbed down the ladder into the troop deck.

Anakin and Padme sitting across from each other in meditation, knees barely touching, was a very appealing sight. I wished I had a pict recorder or even a holo imager. Both were wearing workout clothes that showed a lot of skin and judging by the lingering sweaty aroma in the air, they had both been doing calisthenics.

My feet carried me to the side, so I could use each troop armor station for balance support as I walked forward. I was still a little wobbly it seemed.

I fell into the closest seat and waited.

"Snips," he greeted me, keeping his eyes closed.

"Skyguy."

"You know."

"Yes. Tell me, can you sense Obi-Wan?"

He snorted in dark amusement. "Of course I can. He wasn't about to dissolve our renewed Bond in Mortis for the Council's crazy scheme."

"Which is?" I asked for clarity's sake.

He opened his eyes, emerging completely from the meditation. "They want to infiltrate Obi-Wan into Judiciary Central Detention. There he will pose as the man who had just 'killed' him, Rako Hardeen." I groaned to the ceiling and scratched my forehead in irritation. "You've foreseen this probability?"

"Yes, but do go on. I can't exactly foresee anything actively at the moment, so can only use deduction and inference. I assume this is all in reference to the kidnapping plot against Palpatine?"

"Yes. Dooku has hired Moralo Eval to engineer a plan to abduct Palpatine."

"That frakker," I scowled. Eval was the criminal underworlds' worst combined into a single package. He was a phindian technologist and serial killer, known for using tech, gadgets and all manner of elaborate plans and mechanisms to achieve his kills. He was infamous for using what I'd call Rube Goldberg style plots to achieve his aims and had an intelligence that matched his oversized head holding his oversized brain. He was so famous that he got a full chapter as a case study in criminology at the Jedi Academy. Even the criminal underworld as a whole was wary of him and there were numerous bounties on the phindian's head from the hutts and quite a few syndicates.

Eval was still alive only because he had a long list of dead bounty hunters as part of his overall kill list. No sane bounty hunter who didn't have a death wish tried to collect.

"Yes. So the Council is going to transform Obi-Wan using surgical nanodroids to perfectly match Rako Hardeen's appearance, even scans wouldn't be able to tell the difference and they'll also be using Hardeen's cells to fool any potential bioscans done on extracted samples. The plan is then for Obi-Wan to facilitate an escape for Eval from prison, which the Council will subtly help with, thereby gaining trust."

"Enough for Eval to consider hiring Hardeen for the kidnapping plot," I nodded.

"Which Obi-Wan will encourage."

"Eval isn't the kind of sentient who trusts anyone, only himself."

"Correct, which will mean Obi-Wan has to go to great lengths to prove himself, not only to Eval, but also to Dooku."

I laughed at that sheer audacity, "Obi-Wan will also have to thoroughly disguise his own presence in the Force then, from someone as skilled as Dooku. Is he sure he can do it?"

"He is," Anakin nodded.

"Master, all of this is frakking window dressing to the real issue. The true targets of this entire plot."

"Yes, which is why both you and I have to cultivate a suitable emotional signature by the time we reach Coruscant."

"It's not going to be easy."

"No, it won't be. Now, I want you to relax and recover for the next two days at least. Think nothing of this, lose yourself in a book, anything. After that, you'll join me in meditation so we can suitably build our emotional masks and discuss contingency planning."

"Our enemy will be watching closely."

"Which is why I'm thankful for once that hyperdrives aren't as quick as we wish them to be. It's giving us time to prepare and be ready. No off you go. Relax, that's an order."

"Yes, master."

I stood at the far end of Omen's troop deck, six days later, physically feeling somewhat smothered.

I was wearing beskar'gam, but had adjusted my formal Jedi robes to be worn in conjunction with it. The result had me looking like something that was straight out of the Old Republic, yet given a modern twist.

The hilts of my three lightsabers orbited around my casually outstretched right hand as I did a TK exercise to pass the time.

Chewie and R2 were handling the final approach through Coruscant's atmosphere and to the Jedi Temple itself.

Emotionally, my feelings had never been more complicated. An outward layer of rigid control, with the occasional leakage of sorrow. Below that, a determination to find Obi-Wan's killer, entwined with a volatile anger at Rako Hardeen.

That was just the first overall layer, below that was yet more enticements, weaknesses and deceptions, all geared towards the enemy. Letting him see exactly what he would like to see his efforts were creating.

Anakin and Padme joined me at that point. He was wearing his formal Jedi robes in brown, without any of the typical black that he favored, his hood completely obscuring his face. She was wearing a formal dress with her typical elegance, but it was clearly the Naboo style of mourning dress, a flowing dark blue and black number. It had a light over robe that hung off the shoulders and created a haunting ethereal quality. That she even had the thing packed was so typical of her. Her training and time as a queen shining through.

It had been a worry working with her to get the right emotional state and to maintain it enough to a level that Palpatine would accept. Thankfully, we managed, especially because the Naboo hailed Obi-Wan as a hero for his actions during the original Naboo Crisis.

We stood in silence waiting for the ship to complete its descent. Anakin dearly wanted to use these last moments to hold hands with Padme, but here in the lair of the beast, he couldn't dare. As much as Palpatine surely knew how close these two were, they had to maintain the facade of trying to hide it as much as possible.

The Omen began its final approach, slowing down towards the primary Temple hangar on the eastern side of the massive ziggurat.

In the Force, I could feel the oppressive solemnity that hung over the entire structure. Every Jedi except the high council had been unwittingly roped into the deception, being fed the lie of Obi-Wan's death.

A shudder ran through the ship as it touched down at last.

I guided my lightsabers to their proper places on my belt, before reaching out and triggering the personnel lift. The one problem with the Kom'rk class was they weren't built for leisurely exiting from them.

Waiting for us was Master Koon, it was so strange to see him in flowing Jedi robes that didn't have some form of armoring.

Anakin and I bowed, whilst Padme only nodded at the Jedi Master.

"Welcome back to you both, greetings Senator Amidala," Koon said solemnly, though I could detect the slight hint of anger and discontent. It was also something that Master Plo was intentionally leaking to us both. He couldn't know that we actually knew about the grander deception, therefore he was just sharing his feelings to show that we were not alone in them.

This circus of deception was going to give me a migraine, I just knew it.

We waited at this point for Chewie and R2 to join us. My wookiee companion donned his traditional wroshyr armor set for the occasion, giving it a formal flair with flowing brown additions that made it a half-robe.

With our arrival certain, word went out as we left the hangar bays.

Walking the vast halls of the Jedi Temple now felt somehow completely different. Jedi who spotted us became silent or paused in whatever they were doing. My outward emotions and masks kept me resolute and Anakin was a walking statue of self-control, only allowing the occasional emotion to leak outward.

At that moment, I could only imagine the memo that the Council would have to send out to the entire Temple contingent of Jedi, explaining that Obi-Wan's death was entirely staged for an operation.

I had to tip my proverbial hat to Palpatine. This wasn't just hitting two birds with one stone, it was an asteroid smacking the entire flock. He was undermining the image and reputation of the Council in the eyes of every Jedi.

Our walk into Temple's upper levels wasn't hurried, but not casual either. It felt like more of a procession and every Jedi we passed in the more narrow confines of the upper corridors, stopped what they were doing to bow to Anakin.

When we arrived at the funeral chamber, a place that had seen more use in the last year than in the preceding century, all the funeral attendees had arrived from their guest accommodation. Most Jedi funerals, by nature, were simple and quick affairs, offering no pageantry and little ritual. The only slight exception to this was when it was a council member or a prominent Jedi that had massive influence on the galaxy or many worlds.

Obi-Wan was both of the latter.

Padme was here for the Naboo, but Queen Neyutnee was here in person along with a full coterie of handmaidens and Governor Sio Bibble. They were also here to collect the body of Duja, which Padme had made a slight detour to retrieve whilst I had been unconscious.

The next prominent attendee was Duchess Satine and I did not want to be in Obi-Wan's shoes when this whole charade was blown open. She was the picture of royal nobility and you could've painted her portrait, so perfectly was her face set into a neutral expression. To every Jedi, her attendance was because Obi-Wan had saved her life and thereby altered the very course of Mandalore's destiny. I could sense that her heart and soul was weighed down by sadness, regret and a deep loss. She wanted nothing more than to break down into tears as she stared into the center of the funeral chamber.

Flanking her were two Mandalorian Blades and two of her traditional royal guards. The Blades immediately saluted me by making a fist and silently thumping their armored chests.

I bowed quickly to my adopted monarch as I walked past her, whilst only then returning the Blades' salute.

Satine for her part, managed to climb out of her misery to acknowledge my bow with a regal nod.

The rest of the Jedi council who were on Coruscant were there; Yoda, Windu, Tiin, Gallia, Shaak Ti and Mundi. Attending a funeral via hologram was considered bad form, so those who were out and about in the galactic war and couldn't return were excused.

Senators Bail Organa from Alderaan and Mon Mothma from Chandrila were here as Senate representatives.

And of course, Palpatine himself was there. Naturally to scrutinize both Anakin and myself in person for the effect his machinations were having on us.

He stood with folded hands in front of him, looking for all the world and even in the Force, like a solemn grandfather, sad to see another life cut brutally short by an uncaring, brutal galaxy at war.

Rounding out the funeral attendees was a randomized selection of knights and padawans filling all the seating levels of the chamber.

Anakin took his place, standing at the head of the plinth carrying Obi-Wan's shrouded body. This was for the last padawan of the deceased Jedi.

My seat was at the lowest level, near the foot of the plinth, with Padme to my right, Master Koon to the left and Chewie in the seat behind me.

Absolute silence was maintained, with no dirge or song. Technically, as a general in the GAR, there did on paper exist a military funeral that could be held with traditions imported from old Mandalorian customs, due to the training the clone army had received from the contracted Mandolorians.

Jedi tradition superseded that and for a full minute, Anakin stood vigil in silence over his old master.

Satine's control broke first and tears began streaming down her face.

Mace Windu stepped forward and began to speak.

"We're gathered here to mark the passing of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi into the Force. His impact on your lives and the many beyond these walls are known to you and requires no repetition. He would want no glorification of his deeds, for they were all done in service to life and the people of the Republic. His presence touched all of us and that will continue as long as we remember him."

Windu reached out a hand and the Force flexed as he reached into the mechanisms below the floor.

"My fellow Jedi, from this moment I step into my next. From this place, I step into my next. From this life I step into my next. For I am one with the Force, forever and forever," Windu repeated the prayer.

The floor rumbled and the plinth began sinking into a specially designed entombment casket that was ready below.

Stone grinding against stone, heralded the plinth vanishing into the floor and the doors closing above it.

A single jewel set into the doors lit with light, projecting a beam of light that speared into a mirror set in the ceiling. That light would be bounced through many floors of the Temple, before it would be projected into the sky above. A symbolic ascension of the Jedi becoming one with the Force.

A Jedi funeral pyre hadn't been done for centuries in the Coruscant temple at this point. Most Jedi when they became padawan, had to record their wills and what type of ceremony they preferred. A pyre was generally discouraged by the majority of masters, but the tradition and option had to remain available. Rather conveniently, Obi-Wan's desire for his body after death was for entombment.

Now however, the true battle being fought here, under the very noses of every Jedi Master, was occurring between Anakin, Palpatine and myself.

Our layers of emotional masking, our very presence in the Force, was being closely scrutinized by the enemy and being picked apart.

Anakin had closed his eyes the moment the beam of light had pierced the low light of the chamber, his face outwardly showing pain, his mouth twisted in a suppressed anger.

My face might've been hidden by a helmet, but the physical shield was nothing against Sidious.

I folded my hands, my right forming a fist underneath my left hand. My outward mask staring into the light beam with hints of sorrow that leaked out of my 'attempt' at a neutral face.

Both Anakin and I could feel Sidious poking and prodding, peeling away the layers.

The only reason we were even aware of it was because of our training under Bendu. This was a level of perception in the Force that was normally only attainable through the Dark Side. It was a technique parallel to Dun Möch, called Exte Ocu. It wasn't something as blunt as an outright Mind Probe, which would be sensed by every Jedi in the room immediately. This was akin to using the Force as a medium to send out your very essence to invade and feel the emotions of your target. Sensing or even shielding from it was something that had been long lost to the modern Jedi Order even before the Ruusan Reformation. It was also something that was only really useful if your target was a Force Sensitive. The stronger you were in the Force, the more susceptible you were.

I had always wondered how Palpatine could be so on the button with regards to Anakin, always able to manipulate and say the right words. It was more than just foresight, which would've been a constant trial-and-error method to use and strain your prescient sight if you were constantly testing each phrase, emotion and word and seeing the result down the probability line. This intrusive empathy allowed a Sith to be constantly aware of what his opponent was feeling and react accordingly.

Thankfully, this wasn't a matter of outright strength in the Force.

Palpatine was, ironically, at his strongest within the Jedi Temple. Thanks to the ancient and hidden Sith shrine in the deepest bowels of the planet beneath this very spot.

I had prepared a full dozen masks of emotional misdirection and Sidious had slithered through two outer layers and right into my carefully prepared sea of raw emotion that would represent my true emotional self to him.

In the deepest, smallest recess of my mind, where my true self was hidden, I watched and waited.

Thankfully, Sidious couldn't afford to spend too long and my emotional sea seemed to satisfy his curiosity and his notes of satisfaction meant that he was happy with the results of his little scheme for me so far.

Anakin was his primary target and whether or not he was satisfied there, I couldn't tell as yet.

The Jedi Council stood and began filing out the room, marking the end of the ceremony.

I watched as Palpatine walked over to Anakin. The old man patted his protege on the shoulder and held his hand briefly, trading a few heartfelt words of sympathy for the loss.

Anakin nodded in thanks, perfectly playing his own role, even as he was presenting Palpatine with what the Sith wanted to see, yet also not completely.

Bendu had been very adamant that the key to fooling the enemy was not so simple as just showing everything going well, but also to show problems and failures. It would be too suspicious otherwise.

Finally, Palpatine nodded at whatever response Anakin whispered and left the chamber.

Most of the Jedi left now, as well as the varied VIPs from the Senate. Queen Neyutnee paused by Padme and exchanged a few words.

"I must go, be safe, Ahsoka," Padme whispered.

The Naboo left.

Satine was next and she paused next to where the plinth had been, her hand trailing through the beam of light as if hoping one last time to touch some essence of Obi-Wan.

She was disappointed though and left with her bodyguards in tow.

I stood and came to stand next to Anakin as he continued to stare at the tomb below.

"Master," I reminded him of his time and place.

He properly opened his eyes and nodded. "Let's go, Ahsoka. Obi-Wan would not want us to linger here."

"No, he wouldn't."

Obi-Wan had never truly understood the need for a secret adjunct to the Halls of Healing until Mace Windu approached him with this infiltration plan. It was a place entirely staffed by medical droids who worked on a hidden isolated network and was only known to the high council and the head of the Council of First Knowledge.

Yes, sometimes the fact that a council member was on death's door, injured or sick in the line of duty, couldn't be made public to the Jedi Temple as a whole. Not just for reasons of security, but also for morale.

He sat on the medical bed, dressed in a sterile gown only and tolerated the various medical droids as they hovered around him and scanned him to a downright intrusive degree.

A look at the chrono indicated that his 'funeral' had been over for more than an hour by now. It was very tempting to reach over to Anakin and query how it had been, but he resisted indulging in the dry humor across the Force Bond. It was difficult enough for Anakin to attain the right emotional signature for their purposes and humor was not conducive to that.

The medical grade isolation doors opened to reveal Mace and Yoda.

"So, how was my funeral?"

"Hmmm, better performance than you, your corpse gave."

"I was at least better than some of the actors we hired as 'victims' of the bomb blast. In any event, was Anakin at least convinced that it was me?"

"Yes," nodded Windu. "He bought it, but it'll only hold as long as you keep your obscurement active. I must admit Kenobi, I hadn't thought it possible we could achieve a similar feat as the Sith ability to hide so completely, without delving into the Dark Side. You're barely perceptible in the Force to me at the moment and I'm looking right at you… you're letting that through?"

In answer, Obi-Wan equalized and smoothed out the small effect he was having on the Force.

"Hmmm, much benefit your time in Mortis has brought," Yoda commented.

"All systems prepared," the medical droid announced.

"Time for a shave then," he said, feeling irritation at the hassle of regrowing it in the future. Another droid floated forward, its right arm, with a sonic hair remover whizzed to life as it started up the suction that latched onto the hair on his head. Immediately feeling his follicles being painlessly teased loose he asked a question to distract himself. "Any updates about my target?"

"We've confirmed that Eval's plot is indeed targeting Naboo's Festival of Light, as opposed to any of the other engagements that the chancellor has on his itinerary in the next month. We tried to make a deal with him for more information, but no amount of persuasion whether by the Force or otherwise will work on him. He fears Count Dooku too much and his phindian mind is too exotic for any of our available mindwalkers."

"Then I doubt I'd make any headway either. Have you learned anything that can make it easier to gain his trust?"

"He is such a sociopath, that he killed his own mother as a child, because he was utterly bored with her. She apparently failed to intellectually challenge him enough. Phindians are known for their high intelligence, but Eval tested in the upper fifth percentile for even his species."

The droid moved on to his beard and Obi-Wan slightly shuddered as he felt his own bald head. "Sociopath and high intelligence, not a good combination. I'll endeavour not to bore him in prison then."

Yoda didn't appreciate the dry wit. "Not a game this is, Obi-Wan. The risks, great they are."

"The potential rewards are equally great. Intel on Durge and even Dooku himself."

"It is time for sedation," the med droid droned.

Obi-Wan sighed and sat back before lying down on the bed. "Have we asked the chancellor at least if he would pull out of the festival, now that we have confirmation?"

"No, seen as a sign of weakness, it would."

"Now we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

He felt a slight tingling on his shoulder and felt the sedation begin to crawl across his arm and sneak across his chest.

"I'll see you on the other side," he nodded to Windu as it reached his heart and in an instant, Obi-Wan was swallowed by dreamless oblivion.

"A round of drinks for the house!"

Cheers filled Trueping's Bar as the various denizens celebrated the good fortune of one of their regular customers.

Rako Hardeen chucked the credit chits at the anacondan bartender, whose coils swiftly grabbed the currency and got to work distributing the drinks.

He could for once in his life afford to be generous and he was also building his rep even further. Gone were the days of eking out a living on Concord Dawn for scraps, looking over his shoulder for New Mandalorian security hounding an honest bounty hunter just doing his job. He'd left Mandalorian space for greener pastures in the Coruscant underworld and found his calling.

There was only the target and getting paid, that was the only morality and worry down in the Coruscant slums.

There was no worry about clan politics and while he was still identified by name of Hardeen, he'd firmly left those weaklings in his thruster exhaust.

He had felt tempted to return when word reached him of the clans going to war against the Separatists, but while there might be glory, there were little credits on offer for his bank accounts.

Now he had bagged his biggest target yet and the Marksman of Concord Dawn was on the lips of everyone!

It was now only a matter of time before the big players started knocking on his door and with them came even bigger credits.

"Rako Hardeen," said the nasal tinny voice of a small maintenance droid. The bar used them for every purpose; serving drinks, fixing the plumbing and to pass messages.

"Yes? Who wants to know?" he drawled lazily, feeling the slight buzz in his head from his fourth drink of the evening.

"Your employer has arrived and has your payment. Please follow me."

The droid wobbled away on its tiny legs.

He grabbed his custom Mandolorian helmet from the bar top and after a brief gaze across the room for threats, felt comfortable enough to turn his back to follow the droid through a door next to the bar.

It opened into the backrooms, places where clients could go to have discreet meetings and other liaisons with the local pleasure workers.

The droid led him to a room furthest down the dirty graffiti covered hallway.

"Inside if you please." It gestured and the locked door rose upward on aging motivators.

He entered a room that looked like it could actually be a functional apartment with decent amenities. It had a sitting room with an integrated kitchen and another open door that led to a room with a single bed.

A tall figure sat at the kitchen table with a very large briefcase on it that he could practically smell had the second half of his credits for the job. The client had carefully placed himself in the shadow cast by the dimmed overhead lighting. Rako inwardly smirked, a client who loved dramatics and had very large pockets.

The door to the apartment shut, plunging the room into even more shadow.

"Well done, Mr. Hardeen," said the shadowy figure in a perfectly neutral voice, his gloved hands folded on the table, the only part of him that was easily seen. "You did precisely the job we hired you for and we have your credits as you can see."

His client pushed the briefcase only marginally forward, but the invitation was clear.

Rako stepped closer.

"However," the client raised his hand. "We need one more thing from you."

"Oh and what's that?"

The client sat back and stood, then leaned forward into the light.

Rako's eyes widened as he saw that the client had his own face, even the red Hardeen clan tattoos over the left side. Was the client a shapeshifter? Was he toying with him?

"Your clothes and armor," smirked the shapeshifter with a wry smile.

Rako's heart raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins in alarm. It dispelled the alcohol induced fuzziness from his mind rather quickly. His hand reached for the blaster in his holster only to find it flying out of reach.

He blinked and out of the shadows another figure emerged. They were so close that Rako couldn't imagine how he could've missed them. A dark skinned hand clamped down on his shoulder and the very familiar face of Jedi Master Mace Windu glared at him.

Rako did the only wise thing that anyone could in such a situation… he froze.

"Very wise, Rako," said his double, still talking in another man's voice. It was that fact that clued him in that he was not dealing with changeling, but rather someone who had merely gone through the trouble of being surgically altered into being his double. The presence of Mace Windu himself…

"You hired me? The Jedi hired me to kill one of their own?!"

"I'm afraid that clarification of our plans is something you're not entitled to, Mr. Hardeen," Windu said, then began pushing him with a firm hand towards the bedroom. "Now, we're still paying you, undress!"

If it had been anyone else, he'd have made an innuendo or joke about that order.

As it was, he kept his mouth shut and obeyed, reluctantly removing his chestplate, undershirt, utility belt, pants and combat boots.

Down to only his underwear, he was marched back into the living room, whilst his double began dressing in the discarded clothes.

"Have a seat," Windu ordered in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

Rako sat in an empty chair next to the kitchen table that still had the suitcase of credits on it. He could smell opportunity. Perhaps if he just endured a bit of this humiliation, he could still walk away with it.

His doppelganger emerged from the bedroom and put the Mandolorian helmet on the table. He pulled out another chair and sat down across from him.

"A final issue, Mr. Hardeen." A handheld, very advanced looking datapad was held between them. "I want you to begin speaking in extreme detail about your last day."

The issue was obvious, they needed his voice as well. Rako glanced at the implacable Windu who had expectantly folded his arms.

"All right, I woke up in the morning after a wonderful night in the arms of the best twi'lek pleasure worker in District G17. She was very good, I hadn't known that some of those positions even existed until she showed them to me…"

Rako went on in detail to describe his morning session of pleasure in lurid detail, figuring he could get a minor bit of revenge on these two. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts he couldn't make the doppelganger or Windu squirm or even grimace. It was their money he had used to get the best night of sex he'd had in his entire life after all.

Finally, he had to move on and described his breakfast, the biggest and best meal he'd had in the most expensive restaurant in the city sector.

He was just getting to the part about leaving the restaurant when the doppelganger raised a hand to stop him.

"Should have enough to try now, Mr. Hardeen." He tapped on the datapad and abruptly began coughing. "Testing… one, two, three… four, five six, seven, eight…" He coughed again and Rako could hear the dry tempered voice change timbre and tone.

"Nine, ten, eleven."

Rako was rather fascinated despite himself. Those three words now sounded exactly like his own voice, was it a cybernetic implant? No, those would obviously be detected in a scan. Cybernetics was not something he had ever really considered installing seriously, he never had the budget for it, even if he had the mind to try. If these Jedi wanted to impersonate him then, this was something else.

He shook off his thoughts, "Look, it's clear you need my identity for some reason and I don't want to know why. Just answer me one question."

"Go ahead," the doppleganger nodded with a smirk.

"It's clear I'm going to be the Jedi Order guest while this goes down. Am I still getting paid at the end of this?"

"That'll depend on too many factors to give you an honest answer, Mr. Hardeen. I can say from the Jedi's point of view, you've been a bounty hunter for three years now in the underworld and you've kept to the guild's code. We have no reason to detain you beyond this operation."

"I suppose that's the best I'll get. Just please don't kill the chancellor with my identity," Rako joked sarcastically .

Windu and the doppelganger looked at each other rather incredulously.

"Good night, Mr. Hardeen."

Windu gestured with his hand and Rako fell asleep.

"What will you do with him?"

"Protective custody in the Temple's detention facility."

"One of the luxury ones at least?" Obi-Wan asked. Rako Hardeen was a product of his environment and you didn't survive as a bounty hunter in the underworld by being a saint.

Windu frowned, "You think he can be recruited as an informant?"

"His reputation is going to take a hit when all is said and done, nevertheless he could be an asset with the right groundwork."

The Jedi Master slung Rako's body across his shoulders, easily lifting the weight. "I'll think it over and speak to Master Sinube. Skywalker and Tano should already be on the way here, I suggest drinking something and pretending to be drunk."

"Not to worry, Master Windu. I have just the approach for this."

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