The Approaching Storm

by Alan Dean Foster

  The Dbarian executed its kind’s equivalent of a frown. “You mean, honored guests, that you have not yet informed the delegation of this important achievement?”

  Tired but happy, Luminara shook her head by way of response. “Our comlinks were lost during our sojourn on the plains, and neither the Borokii nor the Januul employ them.” She smiled. “Tradition.”

  “But …” The Dbarian’s chromophores were flashing different shades of maroon, indicating bewilderment. “The Unity delegation is voting on the matter of secession from the Republic today.”

  “Today?” Anakin pushed right up among the manager’s serpentine limbs. “But we haven’t made our report to them yet. Surely they wouldn’t vote on so important a matter without waiting to hear from us?”

  Behind him, Obi-Wan was thinking fast and hard. “The sentiment for secession is strong among certain Ansionian factions, and we know they are being encouraged by offworld elements. Enemies of the Republic could very well have used our recent lack of communication to press for a vote.” He eyed the manager intently. “You said that the voting session is to be held today. What time today?”

  “That I do not know, honored guest. It is not something an innkeeper needs to keep track of. But the whole city knows about the vote. It was publicly announced, and is no secret. I believe—I believe it was scheduled for later this afternoon. Yes,” he declared with growing confidence. “Just before sunset.”

  The Jedi relaxed. “Then we have time.” He indicated the instrumentation arrayed behind the manager. “I’ll need to borrow a comlink until we can replace our own.”

  “Certainly, honored guest.” Making sure it was fully charged, the manager passed one over. Reciting the relevant activation code, Obi-Wan immediately requested a connection to Unity delegate Ranjiyn.

  There was no response. He tried again, and a third time.

  Luminara looked questioningly at her colleague. “What’s wrong, Obi-Wan?”

  “I tried delegate Ranjiyn’s personal contact sequence. Then Tolut’s, and finally the venerable Fargane’s. I received an automated message that was the same for each. ‘United Ouruvot Communications regrets that all city transmission frequencies are temporarily off-line due to an equipment failure.’ ” He turned sharply to examine the entrance to the inn. “I fear that those who would keep us from delivering our report to the Unity delegation know we are here. I can feel it.”

  His companions were instantly on alert. Kyakhta and Bulgan saw to their own weapons while Tooqui found himself watching anything that moved. Behind them, the manager had been trying the inn’s own facilities. Every attempt to communicate outside the building itself produced the same apologetic automated response.

  “Are you saying, honored guests, that someone has ordered the shutdown of all city communications in Cuipernam just to keep you from speaking to the Unity delegation?” Its chromophores flared an intense pink.

  “Until the vote is taken, anyway.” Obi-Wan had already started for the doorway. “Don’t concern yourself about it, innkeeper. I have a feeling that by nightfall your communications will be back on-line.” His expression was grim as he glanced over at Luminara, who was matching him stride for stride. “We still have time, but we need to move quickly.” With their anxious, alert Padawans behind them and their Alwari guides bringing up the rear, the two Jedi exited the inn and turned sharply up the main boulevard.

  Exactly three minutes after their departure, the communications problems at the inn where they had planned to stay were rendered moot by a terrific explosion that caused the sturdy structure to completely implode.

  As luck would have it, there wasn’t a vehicle to be seen out on the street. Pleading vital Republic need, Luminara and Obi-Wan would have had no qualms about commandeering a passing landspeeder or even a hover truck—had there been one to be had. But all they encountered were simple, traditional means of local transport, designed for carrying small quantities of goods through Cuipernam’s maze of winding, narrow streets. Given the hectic mix of bulky commercial transports, Ansionians, visiting and resident aliens, and domesticated animals that crowded the city streets, a low-flying landspeeder might have been slower than walking, anyway. Cuipernam was an old city, with a commercial center that had never been designed with modern vehicular traffic in mind. That was one of its attractions to visitors, but it also meant that its transportation facilities were a throwback to a much earlier era.

  At least, Luminara reflected gratefully, it was not far to the municipal complex, the weather was good, and it was something of a relief to be walking again instead of fighting for balance on the back of a lofty, galloping suubatar. She glanced sunward. They still had plenty of time to reach the municipal hall before the Unity delegates assembled to cast their critically important votes.

  They were halfway there when Luminara felt the disturbance. Peering in its direction, it took her only a moment to detect the suggestive movement out of the corner of one eye. Extending a casual hand to her companion, she touched Obi-Wan’s arm in a certain way, then Barriss’s, while her fellow Jedi alerted Anakin. Kyakhta and Bulgan had moved out in front while the endlessly curious Tooqui darted inquisitively from stall to shop. None of the nomads noticed the subtle change that had come over their human companions.

  Edging closer to Luminara, giving no sign that anything was amiss, Obi-Wan whispered a single world. “Where?”

  She told him with her eyes, glancing upward and to their left.

  Responding with a barely perceptible nod, he passed the information along to Anakin and their Alwari guides while she informed Barriss. It was decided not to tell Tooqui. He was unlikely to be a primary target, he would find out soon enough what was going on, and the last thing they needed was a hissing, panicky Gwurran running amok on the crowded streets.

  When the snipers on the roofs that paralleled the avenue below opened fire, it was only to see their shots deflected by waiting, activated lightsabers. Not one of the shots that rained down from the surrounding rooftops came close to striking its mark. Emitting a collective cry of alarm in no less than two dozen distinct languages, shoppers and travelers, merchants and pedestrians proceeded to scatter in all directions. Jedi and companions ducked into the large trading establishment that dominated the far side of the street.

  Mouth agape, Ogomoor stared down at the panic that had infected the street below. A moment earlier, the Jedi and their associates had been strolling along, to all outward appearances content and unconcerned, wholly innocent of the fate that was about to befall them. The next, they had not only repelled his carefully choreographed ambush but had taken refuge in the building opposite, out of sight of his chartered assassins. They were the best he had been able to find and hire subsequent to his bossban’s incensed orders, but good as some of them were, they couldn’t hit what they couldn’t see.

  Fear fighting frustration inside him, he pulled out his special closed-frequency comlink and ordered his ground troops to rush the trading compound where the quarry had sought shelter. If the Jedi could be driven back out onto the street, then his rooftop executioners could pick them off. Even Jedi would be hard-pressed to deal simultaneously with more than one axis of battle.

  “This way!” Luminara led her friends toward the back of the establishment as customers and sales personnel alike dove for cover. It was good that they did. While the Jedi were concerned for the safety of innocent bystanders, the several dozen professional killers who came barreling in through the rear entrance labored under no such ethical compunctions.

  Fire erupted within the compound as rifles and blasters blazed away. Inside the establishment’s armored office, two managers and one of the owners bemoaned the destruction of store and stock as the two sets of combatants flailed away at one another. The authorities had already been alerted, but by the time they decided to put in an appearance the interior of the neatly laid-out commercial complex might well lie in ruins.

  These were not the same garden-variety assassins
and murderers she and Barriss had been forced to confront soon after their arrival on Ansion, Luminara decided. They advanced with much more assurance, took aim with far greater accuracy. Only Jedi skills enabled her and her companions to hold them off. Someone, she mused, had gone to considerable trouble and expense to engage this bunch.

  Dealing with two assailants at once, she did not see the small shape of the diminutive but well-armed Vrot rising slowly on her left from behind a pair of terrified customers. Knowing he would probably get only one shot at the elusive and difficult-to-target Jedi, the Vrot took careful aim. As he was about to pull the trigger of his weapon, something that was all bulging eyes, flailing arms, and kicking feet landed on his head and shoulders. Startled, the murderous Vrot went down beneath a volley of uniquely inventive invective.

  “Tooqui kill! Bad bad foreigner! Tooqui choke with own entrails! Tooqui—whup!”

  Throwing the lightweight obstruction off his shoulders, the infuriated Vrot whirled and brought his weapon to bear on the meddlesome Gwurran. As he did, he was struck again, this time by two much bigger and stronger bodies. Luminara saw that she was once more free to deal with her original assailants. Between the three of them, Kyakhta, Bulgan, and the effervescent Tooqui were cheerfully beating the living daylights out of the unfortunate Vrot.

  But there were too many skilled attackers. To ensure the safety of innocent bystanders, of shoppers and sales personnel, Luminara and Obi-Wan decided that a retreat was in order. It would be more dangerous to continue the fight out in the street, where they would again likely come under close-in fire from surrounding rooftops, but that was better than seeing dozens of inoffensive citizens cut down by the callous gang of professional killers.

  Ogomoor got the word from one of his hirelings inside the compound and hurried to alert his frustrated snipers. “Be ready!” he instructed them via voice and comlink. “The Jedi are retreating! Let them all back out onto the street before you resume fire.” Returning his attention to the boulevard below, he added more softly but no less emphatically, “We don’t want even one of them to get away.”

  Kneeling behind his sniper’s rifle on the parapet of the building on which they waited, one of the assassins inquired casually, “What about the Alwari who are with them? The two big ones and the little one?”

  “Don’t worry about them. Our people on the ground will take care of them. Get the Jedi first, then their Padawans.” Eagerly, Ogomoor leaned forward to enjoy the forthcoming slaughter while exposing as little of his own precious self as possible.

  Below, a recognizable garment appeared, vanished back under cover, appeared again. Come out, noble Jedi. Show yourselves. Step out in the street, into the clear, bright sunshine of Ansion. Step out where I can see you. I, and my very high-priced servants.

  There, he shouted silently. He could see both Jedi, fighting side by side, emerging with obvious reluctance but emerging nonetheless from within the cover of the trading compound. He could see the two kneeling assassins on his left tensing as they prepared to fire. With luck and good fortune, it would all finally be over in less than a minute or two.

  Unfortunately, the blessings of Jiaguin, the god of guile, were not with him that morning. The Alwari who descended upon the pair of snipers might as well have dropped out of the sky for all the intimation they gave of their presence. Knives and other traditional weapons flashed repeatedly in that same clear, bright sunshine of Ansion that Ogomoor had been counting on to facilitate the work of his hired assassins. As he whirled and raced for the exit that led down and away from the rooftop, he caught a passing glimpse of the bold motifs on the intruders’ garments. His eyes grew even wider than usual.

  Situng Borokii—and Hovsgol Januul. Warriors of the two most important overclans. Ferocious fighters with reputations that extended the length and breadth of both hemispheres.

  What were they doing here, in Cuipernam, interfering in a city brawl? He did not know and could not imagine. He knew only that the sunny rooftop was no longer a safe place to linger.

  As he fled, he saw that similar scuffles were taking place on the roofs opposite, where other outriding Alwari were overpowering his remaining snipers. Without shooters on the rooftops to worry about, he feared the Jedi and their Padawans would make short work of his surviving workforce. Then there would be nothing standing between them, the city of Cuipernam’s municipal complex, and the Unity delegation. Unexpectedly, he found himself faced with the prospect of having to report yet another failure to his master. An especially expensive failure. Soergg would be less than pleased and more than furious. He would …

  Cuipernam was not the only city on Ansion, and Soergg the Hutt not the only bossban worthy of the majordomo’s inimitable talents. Weary of having to report one failure after another, the redoubtable Ogomoor wondered as he descended the stairs three at a time if today might not be the right day for someone of his ability to think seriously about seeking employment elsewhere.

  No, he told himself as he fumbled for the closed-frequency comlink. He might yet make his knowledge and experience pay. There was still one card left to play.

  Neither Luminara nor Obi-Wan quite understood what had happened to the potentially lethal shooters on the surrounding rooftops until a familiar face appeared in the midst of the body-strewn street. As soon as they recognized it, they and their Padawans were in equal measure surprised and relieved.

  “Hello, Bayaar.” Placing one hand over her face and the other over her chest, Luminara greeted the Borokii warrior in the accepted Alwari fashion. Behind him, Borokii and Januul fighters were mopping up the last of the hired assassins. This wouldn’t take long, she saw, since the remainder of their attackers were now desperately scrambling to flee in any and every available direction. “Though I didn’t expect to see you again, I have to admit that your timing for a reunion is nothing short of admirable.”

  “What is this?” Obi-Wan gestured past him, in the direction of their other rescuers.

  Bayaar’s sharp teeth showed in a broad grin. “Your honor guard, noble Obi-Wan. Don’t you remember being promised a ‘present’ by the twinned Council of Alwari Elders? This is it. They didn’t want anything to happen to their new offworld friends.” Had he been physiologically capable of doing so, he would have winked. “Especially not before the formal treaty between the Alwari and the Unity is put in place. We’ve been shadowing you ever since you left our camp; guarding your rear, looking for trouble, watching out for you.” His tone and expression grew more serious. “We lingered almost too far behind you.”

  “We would have managed,” Anakin told him. At a stern look from his Master, he added quickly, “Though your help was certainly more than welcome.”

  Bayaar bowed slightly in the Padawan’s direction, and Anakin felt abashed. Would he ever learn to think before speaking? His training was making him more than overconfident: it was making him brash. Somehow, he was going to have to learn how to be as patient as Obi-Wan. Otherwise he would never stand a chance of equaling, much less surpassing, the skills of his instructor.

  “We’re no less anxious than your elders to conclude this matter.” Making sure her lightsaber was resecured at her waist, Luminara started back up the street. Obi-Wan joined her, with the rest of their party following behind.

  They were flanked on both sides, on both the ground and the surrounding rooftops, by warriors of the Situng Borokii and the Hovsgol Januul. Drawn from the best fighters of both clans, they presented an intimidating yet captivating spectacle as they escorted the offworlders through the city streets. Wide-eyed locals stopped in their tracks or emerged from shops to behold the procession, and visiting aliens from even sophisticated worlds were suitably impressed. The Jedi were not challenged again.

  When they finally arrived, the municipal hall of the city of Cuipernam was as they remembered it. While Bayaar and his warriors stood guard outside, the visitors were announced and admitted. The makeup of the Unity’s delegation was somewhat different than it had
been before. Delegate Ranjiyn was there, of course, and Tolut, and five others Luminara recognized, but for purposes of the vote the delegation had been expanded to twelve members. In consideration, no doubt, of the importance of the decision they were to render. Of the twelve, eight were natives of Ansion and the others resident aliens like the humans Volune and Dameerd and the Armalat Tolut.

  Though they watched and listened attentively, neither Anakin nor Barriss paid any particular attention to the welcoming formalities. Kyakhta and Bulgan sat proudly behind the visiting humans, while a bored Tooqui spent his time searching the floor for valuables that might have been dropped by the esteemed participants. So long as he stayed in the background and did not intrude on the proceedings, everyone ignored him.

  Shocked apologies and genuine sympathy flowed from the delegates when they heard how unknown forces had tried to have the city’s guests executed in the streets. In return, concern was voiced by Obi-Wan and Luminara for the health and resolution of the delegates. As some of them were new to the Jedi, and vice versa, introductions were deemed in order.

  Before they could begin, a panting, wild-eyed figure burst into the chamber. “Honored representatives of the Ansionian Unity of cities and towns! I beg you to grant me a moment of your time. I have information that will be of great use to you in the rendering of your decision.” The figure reached for a pocket. “I know whereof the—”

  A burst of energy illuminated from the front of the chamber. Lightsabers were drawn but not activated. The individual who had fired at the intruder had not panicked, but had taken careful aim. His weapon was efficient. The intruder had died instantly.

  Warily approaching the smoking corpse, Anakin bent over the shattered figure of the uninvited Ansionian. Extending a hand toward the pocket the lifeless visitor had been reaching for, the Padawan removed the single device that had reposed within. A quick glance revealed its function. He held it up for the others to see.

  “A recorder.” He gave the device a cursory inspection. “It’s fried.”