Stealth

by Karen Miller

  Obi-Wan straightened so fast he whacked his head on the underside of the desk. “What?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said hastily. “Bad joke. Sorry.”

  “Very bad joke,” Obi-Wan muttered. “D’you know, there are times when you and Bail Organa are uncannily alike.”

  Anakin kept a straight face, just. “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment,” growled Obi-Wan, then rolled out from under the desk and unfolded to his feet. “How soon before we can risk contacting the Temple?”

  Anakin checked the comm hub signal monitor. “Not yet. Relax, Obi-Wan. As soon as the right kind of signal comes along I’ll be all over it. This is what I do, remember? I fiddle with things and make them better.”

  “What you do,” retorted Obi-Wan, “is drive me to distraction.”

  “Well, you know,” he said, this time letting his amusement show, “everyone needs a hobby.”

  “I thought you already had a hobby.”

  “What—I can’t have more than one?”

  “No,” said Obi-Wan.

  Anakin grinned again, and got back to his reading.

  Yoda was teaching when he got word that Obi-Wan and Anakin were seeking to speak with him, urgently. Because these students were not younglings, but almost Padawans, he left Ruchikila to lead the blindfolded seeking exercises and hurried to the Temple comm center as requested.

  “Master Yoda,” said Master Ban-yaro, greeting him. “This way. The comm signal’s very weak. Voice only, no holoimaging. I don’t know how long we’ll hold on to it. It’s being pinged back and forth over half the Outer and Mid Rim relay network. And they’ve asked us to mirror their signal pattern when responding, which isn’t helping matters. Also, their security scrambling’s patchy. Sounds to me like they’re calling home with a tin can and some string.”

  Yoda guided his float chair beside the Temple’s energetic communications chief as they hurried through the center’s main comm area to the pass-coded high-security section. “In immediate danger of discovery are they?”

  Ban-yaro flipped his long red hair out of his face. “They haven’t said as much but—it seems likely.” He was on the brink of breaking into a jog. “We’ve got them routed through the superconductor. That’s the best signal boost and protection we can offer. We’ll just have to hope it’s enough.”

  Yoda looked at him sideways. “Worked out, have you, where their location is?”

  “Yes,” said Ban-yaro. “I’m assuming you need me to forget that little bit of information?”

  They’d reached a security-coded door. As Ban-yaro supplied the requisite clearance data, Yoda nodded. “Assume correctly you do.”

  Ban-yaro flashed his rare, crooked smile. “Done. After you, Master Yoda.”

  The Temple’s most secure, most powerful comm station was empty. As Ban-yaro excused himself to monitor the signal strength, Yoda maneuvered his float chair so he could easily access the comm panel.

  “Obi-Wan. Hear me, can you?”

  “Master Yoda! Good. Please listen carefully—I don’t know how long we can sustain this uplink. We’ve already transmitted some important data to you. Has it been received yet?”

  He looked at Ban-yaro, who checked his monitors then raised an acknowledging hand. “Received it is, Obi-Wan.”

  “Excellent. Master, we were right. The Seps are manufacturing a bioweapon. The formula’s included in the data we sent.”

  “Good work this is, Master Kenobi.”

  “Lok Durd’s behind this. Yoda, did you know he’d—”

  “Know that I did, Master Kenobi. Matter now it does not. More of this bioweapon tell me.”

  “Durd’s in charge of the project, answering to Dooku, but the scientist who actually invented the stuff says it’s possible to create an antidote and a vaccine. We’ve sent you the names of four scientists who could do it.”

  “Helping you Durd’s scientist is?” Surprised, he stared at the comm panel. Even for Obi-Wan, this was impressive. “Manage that how, did you?”

  “Doctor Fhernan is not a willing participant in this business, Master. Durd’s holding her family and friends hostage to ensure her compliance.”

  Fear and intimidation: a typical Sith tactic. As for Lok Durd… Cross paths with him again, I knew we would. “Obi-Wan, a way to stop production of this weapon have you found?”

  “Master Yoda, this is Anakin. There’s no easy answer to that. Damotite’s the key here. It’s the weapon’s main component. Eliminate the mineral and we’ll halt production in its tracks. Problem is, according to Bant’ena’s research, Lanteeb’s subject to random theta storms, and damotite’s the main component in their storm shields. Sure, a Republic assault could take out the mines but—knock down those shields and we’d be condemning the people of Lanteeb to slow, excruciating extinction. At least, any of them who survived the bombardment and the toxic fallout that would follow it. And under the circumstances a planetary evacuation isn’t an option.”

  Sighing, Yoda closed his eyes. “No alternative to damotite for these shields is there?”

  “No, Master. Not in the short term.”

  “Good news this is not.”

  “Master, we could attempt to wrest Lanteeb back from the Separatists,” said Obi-Wan. “But given its value to them I can promise you they’ll not give it up without a fight. I suspect we’d be looking at a prolonged military engagement with a high proportion of civilian casualties.”

  No easy answer indeed. Another prolonged military engagement with high civilian casualties was the last thing the Republic needed right now.

  “Master, there is a third alternative,” said Obi-Wan. “Not ideal, by any means, but quite possibly our only viable course of action.”

  “Explain.”

  “Master Yoda, we need to rescue the twelve hostages.” And instead of Obi-Wan that was Anakin, sounding anxious. “Once Bant’ena knows they’re safe, she’ll help us destroy everything connected with the bioweapon. And then we can get her off Lanteeb so Durd can’t use her again. It’ll be tricky, but I think we can do it.”

  Hmm. “Agree with Anakin do you, Master Kenobi?”

  There was a significant pause before Obi-Wan answered him. “As I said, Master, it’s a risky plan. The hostages don’t realize their endangered status. We would need to mount a number of separate rescue missions, any one of which could fail and alert Durd.”

  “Help us without their rescue this scientist will not?”

  “They’re her family, Master,” said Anakin. “Her friends. She doesn’t want to be responsible for their deaths. We can’t ask her to be responsible for their deaths.”

  Yoda sighed. “Possible is it, Obi-Wan, for you and Anakin to destroy this scientist’s facility and research?”

  “Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said, after another long pause. “But that would guarantee her death, as well as the deaths of her family and friends. We’d be responsible for thirteen murders.”

  Ah. Yes. Everywhere they turned, it seemed, the blood of innocents waited to be spilled. “If young Skywalker’s plan we follow, Obi-Wan, some time on Lanteeb you would be forced to remain. Dangerous, that is.”

  “Believe me, Master, I’m well aware of that.”

  “This scientist, Obi-Wan. Trust her, do you?”

  “Yes, we do,” said Anakin.

  “Obi-Wan?”

  “Master, given the circumstances I don’t feel we have another choice,” said Obi-Wan. He sounded worryingly reserved. “Do you?”

  Closing his eyes he sought clarity from the Force, sought to find a path through the clouding dark side—but the future eluded him. Any sense of how this situation might play out shifted and taunted, dancing just out of reach. He felt a dangerous shiver of fear. Never, never, not in nine hundred years, had his abilities been so compromised. The dark side had rendered him virtually deaf, blind, and voiceless.

  “No, Obi-Wan,” he said at last. “I do not.”

  “And we have one thing in our favor
, at least,” Obi-Wan added. “The successful formula has only just been finalized. The weapon is not yet in full-scale production.”

  But it would be, and soon. There was no time to discuss this with anyone else on the Council—or with Palpatine. He would have to make the decision, and bear its consequences alone.

  “Master Yoda, please, let us do this,” said Anakin. “We have to stop Durd—without hurting anyone else.”

  Yes, they did. And while the thought of risking these particular Jedi filled him with dread, this was war. And in war one could not play favorites—no matter how overwhelming the temptation. “Very well,” he said. “Identify these hostages for me, can you?”

  “We can, Master,” said Obi-Wan. “Stand by for data transmission.”

  Yoda turned to Ban-yaro and waited long moments for his acknowledgment. At last Ban-yaro nodded. “Received the data is, Obi-Wan. Into protective custody will I see these people taken. But some time to accomplish this task could require.”

  “We understand that, Master. Don’t worry. We’ll manage well enough where we are for a few days, I think. Now I don’t dare keep this uplink active any longer. We’ll contact you again as soon as possible. Kenobi out.”

  For a long time Yoda sat unmoving in his float chair. Given this new information, secrecy was now even more important, trust in ever-decreasing supply. He had Jedi available to send after the hostages—but what of the antidote and vaccine for the bioweapon? Production of both needed to get under way in case Obi-Wan and Anakin did not succeed.

  “Master Yoda?” Ban-yaro said quietly, joining him. “Here’s the downloaded information.”

  He took the two data crystals. “My thanks. Leave me now. Myself I can see out when finished I am.”

  Ban-yaro bowed. “Of course, Master Yoda. If you require me again, you know where I’ll be.”

  As soon as he was alone, Yoda swiftly reviewed the data Obi-Wan and Anakin had sent. Found the names of the four scientists who could perhaps perform a miracle—and smiled.

  Even in these dark times the Force could find a way.

  He opened a new comm channel. But instead of reaching the person he wanted, the signal was diverted.

  “Senator Organa’s offices,” said a warm, pleasant voice. Organa’s personal assistant. What was her name? Ah, yes. Minala Lodilyn. Discreet and efficient, he sensed no duplicity in her. “How may I help you?”

  “Master Yoda this is. With Senator Organa I need to speak.”

  The briefest hesitation. “Yes, sir. Senator Organa is meeting with the Supreme Chancellor. I can reach him if you need me to, Master Yoda.”

  But if she did that, Palpatine would know that he had business with Alderaan’s busy, important representative. He preferred to be discreet. Doubtless he’d bring Palpatine into this mission at some point. But not yet. The Supreme Chancellor was a busy man. Best to keep his desk uncluttered.

  “Necessary that is not,” he said. “Speak with him, will you, when released from his meeting with the Supreme Chancellor he is?”

  “Yes,” said Organa’s assistant. “Shall I tell him you wish to see him?”

  “Thank you. Appreciate that I would.”

  “Sooner rather than later? And discreetly?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I understand, Master Yoda. I don’t imagine he’ll be much longer than a couple of hours.”

  Which would give him just enough time to deal with the less straightforward of Obi-Wan’s requests. Tucking the data crystals into his float chair’s pocket, he left the communications center and returned to his own domain.

  Just over a day returned to the Temple, kicked out of Kaliida Shoals for being underfoot, and already Ahsoka felt like climbing the walls. She wanted to be back out there, fighting, but with Skyguy mysteriously somewhere else, here she was stuck in a stupid dojo with only four remote training droids for company.

  That was until Master Taria Damsin came to visit.

  Ahsoka deactivated her lightsaber and stared at the older Jedi in surprise. “Me? Master Yoda wants to see me?”

  “Us,” said Master Damsin. “And no, Padawan, I don’t know why.”

  “Oh,” she said, and wrinkled her nose. “Does he want us right now? Only I’ve been practicing for a while and—well—I think I need to clean up.”

  Master Damsin grinned. “I think you do, too, Padawan. But when Master Yoda says At once come and see me, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean, After your shower come and see me.”

  “No,” Ahsoka said faintly. “No, I don’t suppose he does.”

  Anakin. Had something happened to Anakin? She hadn’t felt anything. There’d been no disturbance in the Force. And when she was by herself in the dojo, practicing, focusing on her lightsaber forms, that was when she usually tapped into it the best.

  “I’m sure your Master and Obi-Wan are fine, Ahsoka,” said Master Damsin. In many ways she was a disconcerting woman. “I’ve known Obi-Wan a long time. I can usually tell when he’s landed himself in hot water and I’m not feeling that right now.”

  “You’re not?” she said, relieved. So it isn’t me making stuff up because I want to feel it? “You aren’t just saying that?”

  “I never just say anything, Padawan,” said Master Damsin, loftily. “Now come on. No smart Jedi keeps Master Yoda waiting.”

  “Master Damsin, Padawan,” said Yoda as they entered his private chamber. “A mission I have for you.”

  Ahsoka barely managed to keep her mouth from falling open. A mission? Well, that was wonderful. While Anakin and Master Kenobi were off doing whatever they were doing—not getting themselves into hot water—a mission was exactly what she needed.

  She could feel the same kind of excitement in Master Damsin. And that was interesting. Since when did Jedi Masters get mission-giddy like a Padawan?

  “Is this an offworld assignment?” said Master Damsin.

  Yoda was looking at her with an unnerving intensity. And Master Damsin was looking at him the same way, as though they were having a different, private conversation.

  “It is,” said Yoda, after a moment. “And very important. To a woman in danger am I sending you and this Padawan, Master Damsin. Under enemy surveillance she is. Know that she is in danger she does not. Alarm her you must not. Bring her back to the Temple you must, without alerting those who would harm her. Upon your success do many lives depend.” He held out a data crystal. “Your instructions these are. Fail this mission you cannot.”

  As Master Damsin accepted the crystal from Yoda, Ahsoka took one very small step forward. “Master Yoda—does this have anything to do with Master Skywalker’s mission?”

  Yoda’s eyelids lowered, and he stared at her in silence. She swallowed.

  Oh no. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said anything. He’s going to change his mind now. He’s going to send me away. When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut? Skyguy keeps telling me, but I don’t seem to learn.

  “An interesting question,” Yoda said at last. “Why ask it, did you?”

  Why? Why? She didn’t know why. The thought popped into her head and out of her mouth before she could stop it. That was why. That was the story of her very short life.

  “Um—”

  “Fear not,” said Yoda, gently encouraging. “Tell me.”

  Beside her, Master Damsin was considering the data crystal with mild interest, as though she could read its contents without needing a machine.

  “I don’t exactly know, Master Yoda,” Ahsoka replied, almost whispering. “It’s a feeling. As soon as you mentioned this woman we need to fetch, I had this feeling. And I could kind of sense Master Skywalker. Worried. About her.”

  “Misled you, Padawan, your instincts have not,” said Yoda, opening his eyes wide again. “Tell you more than that I cannot.” His inscrutable gaze shifted. “Leave soon you must, Master Damsin. Return soon. Tell no one of your task.”

  Master Damsin bowed. “We’ll not fail you, Master Yoda.”

&
nbsp; “No, Master, we won’t,” Ahsoka added, because in this case failing Yoda would mean she’d failed Anakin—and right now she couldn’t say which would be worse.

  “Come on,” said Master Damsin, as they left Yoda’s chamber. “I’ve got a secured datareader in my quarters. We’ll see what this is about, and then we’ll get out of here. Sound like a plan?”

  She didn’t know Taria Damsin very well. She’d taken a few classes from her, but beyond that they hadn’t interacted much in the Temple. Still, she found herself smiling. Liking her, a lot. There was energy and humor here, and a refreshing carelessness toward protocol.

  “Yes, Master,” she said happily. “That sounds like a very good plan.”

  Hurrying to keep up—Taria Damsin had a long stride, almost as long as Anakin’s—she sent a thought winging through the Force to her absent Master.

  Don’t worry, Skyguy. Whoever this woman is, whatever she means to you, we’ll look after her. We won’t let you down.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There were two ways most visitors entered the Jedi Temple: on foot through the main public concourse, or by speeder into the enormous transport complex.

  Bail Organa entered by a lesser-known, third route, one used almost exclusively by the Jedi. It required a special security pass allowing him to fly his speeder into the vigilantly patrolled restricted traffic zone around the Temple and dock at one of the private landing platforms attached to its publicly inaccessible sectors.

  So far, since being gifted with that particular security pass, he’d only made use of it once. It wasn’t the kind of privilege he was keen to abuse. Generally speaking, it didn’t matter if people knew he’d visited the Temple. Usually he had nothing to hide.

  But this time was different.

  As his small, nondescript speeder nudged against the platform’s docking field, holding fast, he disengaged the privacy shield, pocketed that special security pass, then climbed out. He took one quick look around at Coruscant’s cityscape, gilded in the late-afternoon sun: lots of distant, streaming traffic, no one on his tail. Good.

  Once upon a time he’d have laughed at the thought of taking such precautions. This was Coruscant, the proudly beating heart of the Republic. And this was the Jedi Temple, a galaxywide symbol of peace and safety and elegant civilization.