Stealth

by Karen Miller

  “Make and model?”

  “Hey,” said Anakin, scowling. “This isn’t my first nerf muster either, Agent. I grew up around tramp transports and shady operators, which means I know a thing or two about flying under the sensors.”

  “Of course,” said Agent Varrak, her lips thinning into an ungenerous smile. “You grew up on Tatooine. The perfect preparation for a life of skulduggery.”

  Anakin smiled back, just as unamused. “Yeah. It was. Y’know, I’m surprised I never saw you there.”

  Instead of biting back, Agent Varrak nodded at Anakin’s lightsaber, ostentatious in the office’s shabby surrounds. “You know you can’t take that thing with you.”

  “Excuse me?” Anakin flexed his fingers, and the lightsaber leapt to his loving hand. “That’s not your decision.”

  Something close to contempt flitted over the woman’s harsh face. “Don’t be a fool. If you get caught with a Jedi weapon, you’ll be shot dead on the spot. You’ll have blown any chance of your mission succeeding or of anyone else following you to finish what you started.”

  This time Anakin’s smile was dangerous. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I won’t get caught, isn’t it?”

  “So I think that’s all we need from you, Agent Varrak,” said Bail, standing. “The Supreme Chancellor appreciates your assistance, as do I. And please remember this is a coded operation. Compartmentalize as per protocols and discuss it with me, and me alone.”

  “Of course, Senator,” said Agent Varrak, her expression smoothing to a cool, dispassionate competence. “Happy to be of service, as always.”

  After she was gone Bail dropped back into his chair. Ran a hand over his face then leaned his elbows on the conference table, letting his polished politician’s mask slip to reveal the man who lived behind it.

  “Don’t say it, Obi-Wan. Just—don’t.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” he retorted. “As you so rightly pointed out, it’s done. And given our distressing lack of options there’s no way to undo it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Although I seem to recall you saying, only a few hours ago, that if I had any second thoughts—”

  “I know what I said!” said Bail, glowering. “But it’s not the mission you doubt, is it? Only my ability to protect those Lanteebans from Varrak’s overenthusiasm.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  Anakin cleared his throat. “Ah—hey—”

  “Are you saying that you trust her to take no for an answer?” Obi-Wan retorted. “Bail, I’ve only just met the woman and I can tell that she—”

  “Will not be a problem!” Bail insisted, his voice rising. “Because I will not permit her to be a problem. Even though all she wanted to do was take the Lanteebans into protective custody for the duration of this mission.”

  “Protective custody?” he scoffed. “Bail—”

  “Yes,” said Bail, shoving his chair back in frustration. “Obi-Wan, our government isn’t the enemy. I’m not the enemy. And neither is Agent Varrak. We haven’t turned into the Separatists while you weren’t looking! Agent Varrak’s security concerns are legitimate. I happen to share them. But I also happen to think she’s erring too far on the side of caution, so I overruled her. End of story. But if you want to sit there and accuse me of—”

  “Hey!” said Anakin, and slapped the table between them. “Is this helping? I don’t think it is.”

  Shocked, they stared at him.

  “Don’t worry, Senator,” he said. “We know you’re not the bad guy here. We know the Lanteebans who’ve helped us will be safe—not only from overzealous operatives like Agent Varrak, but from any Sep spies who might be lurking around.”

  Nodding, Bail tugged his chair close again and leaned forward, intensely earnest. “They will be, Obi-Wan. I’ve tasked my own people with keeping them under surveillance. From now on they’re protected by House Organa. Nobody will approach them again without my express permission. Nobody.”

  “We had to use them, Obi-Wan,” Anakin added. “You know we did. When it comes to defeating Dooku, we can’t afford to be squeamish. War doesn’t allow for a tender conscience. I mean, look at the choices we’ve made already. Some of them have been brutal. If we turn back now, all of that was for nothing. Our only hope is to keep going, believing that every hard choice we make is for the ultimate good of the Republic.”

  Obi-Wan frowned at the table. He’s right. I know he’s right. And yet… “We’ve placed those men at risk,” he said quietly. “We gave them no choice in this. And if something goes wrong—”

  “I know,” said Bail. He sounded abruptly exhausted. And beneath the exhaustion there was a kind of despairing anger. “You’re right. There should be another way. But I can’t see one. Not under the circumstances. Can you?”

  “No,” he said, slumping. “It’s only—this shouldn’t be easy. If we’re going to do things like this it should be difficult. It should hurt.”

  Bail looked at him, not even trying to hide his wounded astonishment. “You think this is easy for me? Turning two simple, innocent men’s lives upside down? Scaring the wits out of them in the middle of the night? You think I can do that and not hurt?”

  “This isn’t on you, Senator,” said Anakin quickly. “Or you, Obi-Wan. Or me. This is on Dooku, and whoever he serves. Let’s not lose sight of that.”

  In other words, don’t waste time fighting each other. It was sound advice.

  “Agreed.” Searching for a safer subject Obi-Wan added, “You called this a coded operation, Bail. What does that mean, exactly?”

  “That means it’s eyes-only,” said Bail, his mask back in place, bruised feelings thrust safely out of sight. “Specifically mine and Senator Amidala’s. No data trail. No agent other than Varrak involved, on my side. I know you’ve told Yoda—but I’d prefer that what we’re doing goes no farther than him.”

  Obi-Wan hadn’t been expecting that. “You want Master Yoda to keep this from the rest of the Jedi Council? Surely you’re not suggesting there’s a question of—”

  “Of course I’m not, Obi-Wan,” Bail said. “Restricted mission access is standard for any coded operation. The fewer people who know its details, the better.”

  Anakin’s uneasiness was stirring again. “That’s understandable. But you’ve told the Chancellor, haven’t you? He knows?”

  Bail hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

  “Senator Organa—” Anakin leaned across the table. He took any slight to the Chancellor so deeply to heart. “Supreme Chancellor Palpatine is the ultimate authority in the Republic. You can’t set up a mission like this without informing him!”

  “I can’t?” Bail sat back, his casual tone masking a keen wariness. “So does that mean you Jedi tell him everything you’re doing?”

  “That’s different,” Anakin snapped. “There’s precedent. The Jedi and the civilian government are separate entities. But you’re part of the government. You owe Palpatine your allegiance.”

  “My allegiance is owed to the Republic,” said Bail. “Chancellors come and Chancellors go, Master Skywalker, but the Republic endures.”

  Obi-Wan touched Anakin’s wrist in warning, before something else unfortunate was said. “Why, Bail? Why keep Palpatine out of the loop?”

  Bail’s small smile was derisive. “You know why.”

  He did. He was one of the few who knew the truth. So was Anakin. Yoda had trusted them with it several months before. He’d been touched by the show of confidence—and sickened by the implications of what Yoda had shared.

  “There’s no proof the leaks are coming from his office or its adjuncts.”

  “There’s no proof they’re not,” Bail retorted. “But what we are sure of is that the Seps have their own intelligence agency and they’ve got spies in our ranks just as we’ve got spies in theirs. And given the import of what we think is happening on Lanteeb I’m not prepared to take the chance. Not after what’s happened in the shipyards. Are you?”

/>   Sighing, he shook his head. “No. You’re right. The risk’s not worth it.” He glanced at Anakin. “You know it’s not.”

  Anakin scowled, unconvinced.

  “It’s simple,” Bail added, ignoring that. “The fewer people who know about this mission the safer you’ll both be. I’ll tell Palpatine what’s going on when I’m sure nothing can get in the way of your success.”

  “Your blind confidence is comforting, Senator.”

  This time Bail’s smile was warm. “It’s not misplaced, either.”

  “Bail—speaking of the shipyards—”

  His friend raised a hand, fending off the question. “No developments yet. I’m sorry.”

  In other words the Republic’s war fleet remained vulnerable. Every Jedi on the front lines continued to face greater risk.

  And there are too few of us as it is.

  But that wasn’t Bail’s fault. He nodded. “I know you are.”

  “Obi-Wan…” Bail shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. “I’ve been thinking. It seems to me we’ve run into a lot of—well, since you don’t believe in coincidence, let’s call it convenient happenstance, shall we? Anakin’s Padawan coming across that Kaminoan invoice—these useful Lanteeban cousins—even Agent Varrak’s availability. Everything seems so neat. Should I be worried? I think I’m worried. Things are falling into place too easily.”

  Poor Bail. For him the ways of the Force must forever remain a mystery. “Don’t worry. The fact that pieces of this puzzle have fallen into place to our advantage is a positive thing, Bail. It suggests we’re on the right path.”

  “Yes?” Bail frowned, unconvinced. “Well. I’ll have to take your word on that, Master Jedi. Now—when do you think you’ll leave for Lanteeb?”

  Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, who shrugged. “First thing tomorrow unless something untoward happens between now and then.”

  “Tomorrow?” Bail nodded at the information packets. “That doesn’t leave you much time for homework.”

  “It leaves enough,” he said. “Trust me, we’ll be letter-perfect on the fictions your Agent Varrak has invented for us.”

  “Ha,” said Bail, pushing his chair back. “She’s not my Agent Varrak. She’s just the best at what she does.” He stood. “I need to go. I’ve got meetings until midnight and I don’t want to get people spreading rumors about why I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

  “Yes, well,” he said, and got to his feet. “You will be a politician, Bail.”

  “Every day,” Bail retorted. “Because you’ve got your arena, Obi-Wan, and I’ve got mine.”

  Which was true. And a better warrior for peace and justice than Bail Organa the Senate would never see. The last traces of his disappointment and frustration fading, Obi-Wan nodded.

  “Indeed.”

  “Do me a favor,” said Bail. “Give me a decent head start before you two leave. I’ve no reason to think any of us was followed, or that we’re being watched, but…” He shook his head. “Spend enough time with Republic intelligence agents and the next thing you know every shadow looks sinister.”

  He smiled. “Of course. But if it’s any consolation, Bail, I don’t sense danger.”

  “That’s a lot better than consolation,” said Bail, and held out his hand. His eyes were warm with rueful affection. “May the Force be with you, Teeb Yavid.”

  Obi-Wan clasped his friend’s wrist tightly. “And with you in the Senate.”

  “Thanks,” said Bail drily. “When it comes to the Senate, I need all the help I can get.” He nodded at Anakin. “Happy hunting, Teeb Markl. And please—come home safe. Both of you.”

  “That’s the plan,” said Anakin, belligerent. “And I stick to my plans.”

  Bail considered him. “Yes,” he murmured. “I’ll bet you do.”

  Once they were alone Anakin leapt to his feet and with a swipe of his hand sent one of the office’s chairs flying across the room.

  Obi-Wan stared. “Anakin!”

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” said Anakin, scowling. “I could do a lot worse, believe me.”

  And this was the story of Anakin Skywalker. Three steps forward and one step back, over and over and over again. “What I believe, Anakin, or at least what I hope, is that you’ll remember your training,” he said tightly. “Displays like that are unbecoming. How can you possibly hope to guide Ahsoka to Jedi Knighthood when you are yet so undisciplined yourself?”

  Prowling, Anakin whipped around. “I’m not undisciplined, I’m angry.”

  “Yes, I can see that! It’s your anger, Anakin, that is the problem!” It always has been. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to convince you to set it aside. “Anger is one of the swiftest paths to the dark side.”

  “Maybe,” said Anakin, the office’s dusty air alive with his turbulent emotions. “Sometimes. But sometimes anger is justified, Obi-Wan. Like now. Because your friend the Senator is asking us—me—to lie to Chancellor Palpatine!”

  “He’s doing no such thing. He’s following security procedures to safeguard the integrity of our mission.”

  “He practically accused the Supreme Chancellor of being a traitor!”

  “Oh, Anakin.” He sighed. “This is why Jedi teachings forbid attachment. It clouds your judgment. Nobody, least of all Bail Organa, is calling Palpatine a traitor.”

  “You’re only defending him because he’s your friend,” Anakin retorted. “So whose judgment is clouded now, Master Kenobi?”

  He watched Anakin pace the musty office. Felt the roiling of the Force within his former Padawan. It was tempting to answer fire with fire but that would only leave both of them burned.

  “I understand your loyalty to Palpatine,” he said, deliberately calm. “I understand why you don’t want to feel as though you’re mistrusting him. But Anakin, like it or not Bail is right about one thing. The leaks are coming from somewhere. And given how sensitive some of that information has been—given the price our forces have paid, lately—it’s not unreasonable to look askance at the highest levels of government. Traitors come in many guises.”

  “That may be so,” said Anakin sullenly. “But asking me to believe Palpatine is even the smallest bit responsible for top-secret intel being fed to the Separatists is the same as asking me to believe you could be a traitor.”

  Despite his own unsettled feelings he had to smile. “Yes, well, let’s not get carried away.”

  “And that woman?” Anakin added, spinning around. Incredulous. “Agent Varrak? I don’t care how kriffing good she is. She despises us. You know she does, Obi-Wan. You could feel it like I did.”

  “And if she does?” he said, suddenly tired. “How is that important, Anakin? We’ve got a job to do and she’s helping us do it. That’s important. The rest is nothing. You care too much for what others think of you. Let it go. Our lives are bigger than that.”

  Anakin stopped, breathing hard. Fisted his hands on his hips and let his head drop. The effort it cost him to release his anger, to regain his emotional poise, was palpable. At length he looked up.

  “You’re right,” he said ruefully. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “I am?” Relieved, Obi-Wan tossed Anakin his information packet. “Then let me be right all the way back to the Temple. There’s a lot to accomplish before we leave.”

  Anakin hated to admit it, but Obi-Wan was right again. They had so much to accomplish and so little time to do it in that there was no chance of getting away for a last night with Padmé. All he managed was a snatched comlink conversation with her, just before she headed into another late session of the Senate. She worked so hard. Too hard. He’d given up begging her to slow down, to resign from at least one of the six committees she was on. Every time he raised the subject she gave him the same answer.

  “I can’t, Anakin. I have to keep myself busy or I’ll go mad worrying about you.”

  He couldn’t really argue with that.

  Safely alone in one of the Temple’s guest chambe
rs, having reinspected the ship he’d picked out, tuned up its hyperdrive and loaded its new ID specs, stocked it with provisions for the journey to Lanteeb, memorized his new identity, packed an old, battered travelcase with discreetly altered thirdhand non-Jedi clothes, contacted Ahsoka and let her know he’d be away and not contactable for a few days and no, he couldn’t say where, eaten dinner then soaked in the rare, always delightful luxury of a proper bath, he sprawled on his narrow, unremarkable bed and listened to the music of his beloved wife’s voice.

  “You will be careful, won’t you, Anakin?”

  “You know me.”

  “Yes I do, which is why I’m saying be careful!”

  He closed his eyes. Remembered her in his arms. How it felt to be lost in her. “You be careful, too. You’re as much a target as I am.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re the one with the great big SHOOT ME sign stuck on his chest.”

  The fear in her voice flayed him. She tried so hard to disguise it, struggled not to burden him with her nightmares. Just as he fought not to burden her with his.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Padmé. I’m coming back to you. I will always come back to you.”

  “I know, my love,” she whispered. “And if you can manage to bring Obi-Wan back with you? I’d like that. Good friends are too hard to find these days.”

  In the background noise surrounding her, a familiar, sonorous chime.

  “The session’s about to start. I have to go. Anakin—”

  There was no one to see his anguish, but he covered his face anyway. “I know, hatari. I know.”

  The silence afterward mocked him… and the release of sleep was a long time coming.

  “Come sit with me, Obi-Wan. Drink yarba tea we shall, and talk.”

  The invitation had stunned him. Not even Qui-Gon had been invited to take tea with Yoda. The honor was reserved for members of the Jedi Council, most often Mace Windu.

  Cross-legged on the floor of Yoda’s inner sanctum, tall candles flickering light and shadows on the richly tapestried walls, Obi-Wan watched the ancient Jedi Master fill a tiny porcelain cup with fragrant liquid then hold it out.