False Peace (9781484719817)

by Watson, Jude

  “I’m merely holding out a friendly hand to an exiled ruler of a democratic government that was overthrown by Jedi aggression,” Sauro answered.

  “That’s right,” Roy Teda said, anxious to demonstrate his importance in the discussion.

  “Also, how odd that you chose to meet so far away from the hearing chamber, in a deserted part of the Senate,” Obi-Wan remarked.

  “I like peace and quiet,” Sauro said. “Obviously, I am not finding it at the moment.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Teda repeated, nodding. He looked desperately eager to please Sano Sauro.

  Sauro didn’t pay attention to Teda. He kept his cool gaze on Obi-Wan. “So you see, Kenobi, I have no hand in the utter demoralization of the Jedi. I am merely a witness to it.”

  Obi-Wan leaned over the table on his fists. He locked eyes with Sauro. “I’ll leave you to your thieves and murderers, Sauro. I realize they’ve gotten you far, but one day the company you keep will ensure your downfall.”

  “Who are you calling a murderer?” Teda sputtered. “Or wait, am I the thief?”

  Obi-Wan turned on his heel and left. He walked quickly through the halls and jumped into a turbolift. He didn’t want to waste any more time. He needed to talk to the one being he knew had the most knowledge of Senate intrigue, the best political mind he knew—his friend Tyro Caladian.

  He took the lift down to the lowest level, then followed a twisting corridor that narrowed as it descended. After a short ramp, it turned and Obi-Wan found himself in a dim hallway. Bins and durasteel boxes were stacked outside a door. He smiled. Tyro hadn’t changed a bit. He could always count on his industry.

  The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open and peered in. “Tyro, I need you once again.”

  A voice came from behind a stack of procedural manuals. “My ears are happy! It is the voice of my friend Obi-Wan!”

  A Svivreni poked his head over the manuals. His small face twitched and his bright eyes were alight with pleasure. He scurried out from behind the desk that took up almost the entire room. He stopped directly in front of Obi-Wan, opened his hand, and closed it. He placed it against his heart, and then Obi-Wan’s.

  Obi-Wan followed the same gestures. Svivreni had different codes of greeting and good-bye, and Obi-Wan had advanced to the most affectionate with Tyro. “It’s been too long.”

  “Yes, indeed. Oh, let me find you a chair.” Tyro broke away and began to sweep books off a chair. “You Jedi, never sitting, always moving.”

  Obi-Wan sat. Tyro leaned against the desk to face him. Now, they were eye to eye.

  “I do not have to ask why you have come,” Tyro said, his dark eyes full of worry. “I was at the hearing.”

  Obi-Wan grimaced. “I did badly.”

  “You did well, my friend. As did Senator Organa. But the anti-Jedi faction had packed the house with supporters. And Divinian’s questioning!” Tyro threw up his hands. “An outrage. It was obvious he wasn’t looking for truth. In another time, too obvious. Steps would be taken to have him removed from a position of authority. But these days…” Tyro shrugged and fiddled with the metal clasp that kept back his waist-length dark hair. It was a gesture he used when nervous, and Tyro was often anxious about the state of the Senate.

  “Yes, things continue to decline, no matter how the Chancellor tries,” Obi-Wan remarked.

  “He does his best. But this uproar against the Jedi—I’ve never seen anything like it. Even for the Senate, it’s ridiculous. And frustrating. It’s just a distraction from the real work they should be doing.”

  Distraction. The word clanged like a bell inside his mind, but Obi-Wan didn’t know why. Another word had hit him earlier, just a tiny ping, what was it…

  Demoralized. Sauro had said that the Jedi were demoralized.

  Disruption + Demoralization + Distraction = Devastation.

  Xanatos! Granta Omega’s father had devised that formula for orchestrating evil to take root. He had done it at the Jedi Temple itself, hoping to destroy it forever. Could it be that his son was using the same formula to destroy the Senate? Was that his real goal?

  If Omega was behind this Senatorial effort, he had already succeeded in disrupting the Senate, demoralizing the Jedi, and distracting everyone. But if that was truly the case, what was the coming devastation he was planning?

  Obi-Wan didn’t know. But suddenly he knew in his bones that his earlier instinct was dead-on. Omega was behind this.

  “…and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Tyro was saying, “but it was inevitable given the circumstances, I suppose.”

  Obi-Wan wrenched his attention back to his friend. “What is it?”

  “Bog Divinian’s committee has taken an unusual step. Instead of a recommendation, it has just entered an official petition to ban the Jedi Order from any Senate action. This was clever…but not clever enough. Senator Organa found a clause that allowed him to appeal directly to the Chancellor in a separate closed-door session. Palpatine is scheduled to decide on the matter later this afternoon in a meeting with both Senators.”

  “This has all just happened since the hearing? I thought the Senate was supposed to be slow.”

  “Only when real things are getting done,” Tyro said drily. “When it comes to political maneuvering, you have to move fast.” Tyro gave him a keen look. “What is it, my friend? The Jedi Order is in trouble, but we will find a way to fight, I promise you. You have more friends than enemies. You just have to remind your friends that they are your friends. It’s the Senate way.”

  “The Senate way,” Obi-Wan pronounced in disgust. “And what is that? Talk. Deals. Bribes. Corruption.”

  “Obi-Wan.” Tyro silenced him gently. “I agree with you. All this is true. But I still believe in the Senate. It is the living symbol of the Republic. Until it was formed, the galaxy boiled with chaos. It is our only chance to bring peace to the thousands of worlds that cannot manage alone. There are good beings in the Senate, like Senator Organa. Many of them. They will win in the end.”

  Obi-Wan had never heard Tyro defend the Senate so passionately before. Usually, he railed against it. But of course that was why he continued to toil down in his little office, searching for ways to make it better. “What amazes me is that you keep your faith in the Senate, no matter how many times your heart is broken.”

  “Oh, my heart may break from time to time, but never my will,” Tyro said lightly. “In that way we are alike. Now, tell me what worries you.”

  “It’s not so much the petition, but what the petition might conceal,” Obi-Wan explained.

  Tyro shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “What if this action to discredit the Jedi is just a diversion so that something worse could occur?” Obi-Wan said.

  What he liked about Tyro was that his friend did not waste time. His small, furred face grew intent. “Ah. Of course. Continue.”

  “I have been tracking Granta Omega and Jenna Zan Arbor, both of whom are familiar to you,” Obi-Wan said to Tyro’s nod. “What if they were behind this latest scheme? What if it is merely a smokescreen for their real plan?”

  The possibilities clicked through Tyro’s brain. “Of course if it is true that they’re involved, this would be more than possible—it would be likely,” he said rapidly. “It fits with the way Omega operates. And it makes sense, since Sano Sauro is involved.” Tyro’s face contracted into an expression of distaste. Sauro was his enemy, too. “That would explain why he has remained in the background. He doesn’t want us to connect him to this campaign, because he knows we will immediately make the connection to Omega.”

  “There is something we’re not seeing here,” Obi-Wan said.

  “The Chancellor is, of course, a big supporter of the Jedi,” Tyro said, thinking. “It’s unlikely that he will approve the petition. Bog and Sauro could then manipulate this defeat into a call for a no-confidence vote. That would allow them to propose Sauro as Chancellor. I know that is his ultimate amb
ition.”

  “Then Omega would control the Senate,” Obi-Wan said slowly.

  Tyro tapped his tapered fingers on the manuals. “But Palpatine is too powerful and too skilled to be outmaneuvered. And I doubt even Sauro could muster enough support for a vote of no confidence. Let’s see, he controls the Viga alliance, and the planets in the Commerce Guild, and…yes, he could get several systems in the Mid-Rim. But in the Core? No. He’s powerful, but he’s actively disliked, and there is a strong opposition faction headed by Bail Organa that can’t be discounted.”

  Tyro ended his speculation, realizing that Obi-Wan had grown impatient with the details of Senate politics.

  “In conclusion,” he said, sighing, “I have no conclusion. I can’t see them trying such a thing. You don’t try something like that unless you’re sure you can succeed. Palpatine is tremendously popular, especially at the moment. Tomorrow there will be a ceremony for the opening of the All Planets Relief Fund. A huge group of supporters will be attending—including many Jedi. This is Palpatine’s pet project, and it’s a good one. He’s worked his way through the tangled bureaucracy to get it off the ground. Now any world in peril can petition the Senate directly for funds through one central account. Palpatine claims this will stop the bureaucratic slowdown for relief to troubled worlds. You see, before this, a world would have to petition the committee for Relief, which would then turn the matter over to a specially appointed investigatory committee, which would then—”

  Obi-Wan’s comlink signaled, and he held up a hand to interrupt Tyro. He had to admit he was relieved not to get a crash course in the now outdated procedural details of Senate relief efforts.

  Siri’s crisp voice came through the comlink. “We found something. Possibly Omega and Zan Arbor’s hideout. We need backup. They could be inside.”

  She gave him the coordinates. Obi-Wan stood as he flipped his comlink closed and put it back in his belt—at last, action and not meetings. “I have to go.”

  “And you will take care, I hope. I think you are right. Our enemies are hidden, and that makes them more dangerous.” Tyro held his hand out, fingers spread. Obi-Wan pressed his own spread-fingered palm against it. It was the gesture of good-bye that the Svivreni made to only those closest to them.

  The Svivreni did not say good-bye. They considered it bad luck.

  “So go,” Tyro said in the Svivreni farewell.

  Chapter Ten

  Obi-Wan was well acquainted with the many exit doors of the Senate complex, and he hit the streets of Coruscant in minutes. He took a vertical monorail down a hundred stories to the business district where Siri and Ferus were located, near the bank of Aargau. On the way, he contacted Anakin.

  As he rounded the last corner he saw his apprentice streaking down through the air. Looking up, Obi-Wan could see that Anakin had made the jump from a platform twenty stories up.

  “I’m sure there was a lift tube,” Obi-Wan said as Anakin ran up. “Or even stairs.”

  Anakin grinned. “Too slow.”

  Together, they ran up to Siri and Ferus, who had taken up a position behind a jumble of airspeeders parked in front of an interior mall of popular shops and restaurants.

  “We got a tip from an informer,” Siri said. She pointed to a small white building across the way. A blinking sign said VIRTUAL HAPPINESS. Another sign, smaller and clumsily handwritten said: OUT OF BUSINESS.

  “It was one of those sim-voyage places,” Siri said. “You know, where you can go and have a simulated vacation experience to the luxury worlds of the Core. But our source says a couple moved in a few days ago. They said they were starting a business, but nothing has been done, and they only exit the building at night.”

  “It could be anyone,” Obi-Wan said.

  “Ferus did a quick check of the airspeeders parked here,” Siri said, with a look that told Obi-Wan he should wait for her to finish. “Nothing unusual came up. Then he did a check with Coruscant security and went through the tickets for illegally parked airspeeders, cross-checking with known IDs used by the Slams. A standard Ralion B-14 that was recently bought at a speeder lot twenty levels down matched one of the false ID docs the Slams had on their master ship.”

  “Good work,” Obi-Wan said to Ferus. “I say we go in. We don’t have time to waste.”

  They strode to the door. As soon as they did, a buzzer sounded, and a light flashed. An automated female voice said in a pleasant tone, “Welcome. We’re not home. If you wish to leave a text message, use the keypad.”

  “I have a message, all right,” Obi-Wan said, drawing his lightsaber. “We’re coming in.”

  He plunged his lightsaber through the door. It disintegrated from the center out.

  The house was dark inside. Obi-Wan stepped in.

  Immediately, lights blazed. Sound blared. He heard the sound of rockets, and he fell to the ground and rolled, lightsaber ready to deflect. Behind him, the Jedi moved in to flank him.

  The walls flickered and pulsed with sound and light. It took a few seconds for Obi-Wan to make sense of it, then he realized every wall held a moving image, a holoprojection of a separate scene. One was a field with exploding novas in the sky—the famous shooting stars of Nantama. Another was of the mountains of Belazura. Another showed fireworks exploding over the translucent seas of Dremulae. All were popular vacationing spots.

  The noise was at full volume—surf, fireworks, wind. So loud that at first he didn’t hear the whirr of the seeker droids.

  He was leaping before the others, cutting down two in a perfect swoop of the lightsaber. The droids peppered the walls with blaster fire. Smoke rose and the noise was deafening. The images flickered in beautiful colors of blue and rose and green while the shadows of the droids moved in menacing circles. The electric ping of the blaster fire crisscrossed the space, and each Jedi had to jump, whirl, and slash at the droids as they dived and circled.

  Within minutes, the dozen or so droids were reduced to smoking scrap on the floor. Obi-Wan strode over to a panel behind the door and shut down the holoprojection system.

  “Careful, that might be—” Siri started, as a secret blast door opened and three combat droids, the deadly droidekas, wheeled out and clattered to life. Blazing blasterfire raked the area where Obi-Wan had stood. Anyone but a Jedi would have been instantly annihilated.

  “Booby-trapped!” Siri yelled, as she dodged the blaster bolts.

  With deflector shields in place, droidekas were difficult to stop. While the rest of the Jedi took a step backward, Anakin moved forward. He had studied the droids ever since learning about them, and knew the precise spot where their generators lay. He rolled onto the floor, for only an upward stroke could disable them.

  The Force hummed in the room as Anakin deftly inserted his lightsaber once, twice, three times. The roar of blasters ended.

  Now the floor was littered with droids. Other than that, the house was empty.

  “Let’s search,” Obi-Wan said. “They might have left a clue.”

  Siri moved past a table. “The only thing they left was dirty dishes,” she said, disdainfully pointing to several greasy plates on the table.

  Other than the signs of a hastily abandoned meal, there wasn’t a trace of the occupants to be found.

  “We’ve come up empty again,” Siri said in disgust after a few minutes of searching.

  “It’s Omega’s style,” Anakin said. “He knows how to leave without a trace.”

  Ferus nudged a half-open closet door with his foot. “Nothing.”

  Obi-Wan drifted to the table. He bent over the dishes. There was a scrap of roll on one plate, and a puddle of sauce on the other. He bent closer and sniffed.

  “Gotcha,” he murmured.

  “What is it, Master?” Anakin asked, turning.

  Obi-Wan pointed to the plate. “That’s Dexter Jettster’s slider garnish. I’d know it anywhere.”

  Siri strode over and looked at the plate. “Congratulations. Our best clue is a garnish.”


  “It’s a place to start,” Obi-Wan said.

  Siri nodded. “Why don’t you and Anakin head over to Dexter’s Diner and ask some questions. I think Ferus and I should study the water delivery system here on Coruscant. We know they’re here. We’d better have a good idea of what damage they could do.”

  “Good idea. We’ll be in touch.”

  Obi-Wan signaled to Anakin, and they left the house. Dexter’s Diner wasn’t far, lying in nearby Coco Town. They hurried through the crowded pedestrian ramps. The monorails were packed, and it was faster to walk.

  They crossed through the plaza on the way to the diner. The buildings ringing the plaza were a mix of low-rent business and dilapidated industrial warehouses. Dexter’s Diner crouched between the bigger buildings, its bright sign casting a red glow through the gray day.

  Anakin started toward the door, but Obi-Wan stopped him. “Wait. Look who’s inside.”

  Anakin peered into the window. Sitting alone in a booth, both hands cupping a mug, was Astri.

  Chapter Eleven

  Astri looked up, surprised, when Obi-Wan and Anakin slid into her booth. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t seen them enter the diner.

  “It’s funny to see you here,” she said to Obi-Wan. “Like a dream. I was just thinking of the old days. Everything is so different now. Even here.” She looked around. “Dexter actually made it into a profitable enterprise.”

  “Well, he doesn’t give away meals and drinks the way Didi did,” Obi-Wan said.

  She smiled. “That’s true.” She held up her empty cup. “He doesn’t even give refills. But I like it here.”

  “Yes, those were good days,” Obi-Wan said. “Things are more complicated now. Like the fact that your husband is trying to destroy the Jedi Order.”

  Astri’s hands tightened on her cup. “I long ago made it a policy not to discuss Bog’s politics.”

  “So what do you think about, then?” Anakin asked. His question wasn’t confrontational. It was easy, interested. Obi-Wan was relieved that his Padawan had interfered so gracefully. He realized that he was deeply angry with Astri. He had expected better of her.