by Watson, Jude
He leaped to avoid a sudden stab with a stun baton. His assailant disappeared into the smoke as quickly as he had appeared.
Obi-Wan decided to find Decca. If he followed her, he might discover her exit strategy and her backup plans. Perhaps she would lead him to another hideout. He reached the end of the substation at last. He could just glimpse Decca lowering her bulk into a specially designed speeder, wider and larger than normal. The pilot jammed its throttle forward, and it sped down the back tunnel.
He had missed the chance to follow her by seconds. There was no other speeder in the tunnel to take.
Obi-Wan turned. The smoke was clearing. He saw the gang members lying on the floor, or sitting, their heads in their hands. Some who could still run had taken off after the retreating members of Striker’s gang.
Swanny was holding out a hand, helping Rorq to rise. They had taken cover behind a garbage bin.
Obi-Wan scanned the crowd. Where was Anakin?
He hurried over to Swanny and Rorq. “Did Anakin follow the others?”
Swanny shook his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t see. He pushed us back here just before something very big exploded.”
The thermal detonator. What if Anakin had been close to it?
Something lay on the floor nearby. Obi-Wan felt a terrible dread steal over him. Slowly, he walked forward and crouched down by the object.
He picked it up and ran his fingers over it. The hilt was caked with dust and one deep scar now marred the finish.
It was Anakin’s lightsaber.
Chapter Seven
At least I’m alive, Anakin thought. I may be stupid, but I’m alive.
It was a very un-Jedi thought. Jedi did not berate themselves. Anakin didn’t care. He felt stupid and careless. He tried to rearrange himself within the garbage container he found himself in, but there was no room, and whenever he moved, his shoulder sent out a scream of protest. He wasn’t hurt badly. He had landed on his shoulder when the thermal detonator hit. He had seen it but not soon enough. It had exploded, and he’d been hit.
And dropped his lightsaber. Something a Jedi was never, ever supposed to do.
Now he was being brought somewhere. He had been dazed from the thermal detonator, picked up like a sack of onions, and dropped into a container on top of a pile of greasy bones from the feast. His assailant had ripped his utility belt off his tunic, so he’d lost his comlink, too. He had been banged down the tunnel, been thrown into a vehicle, and now was careening…somewhere.
He couldn’t wait to hear what his Master would say about this one.
Things were bad enough with Obi-Wan. What would happen when he found out that Anakin had lost his lightsaber and been captured?
Anakin pictured the exchange.
I saw the thermal detonator too late, Master. It was a surprise.
There are no surprises when the Force is with you, my young Padawan.
Anakin grimaced. He couldn’t wait for that one. If he ever got out of here.
He moved his fingers along the container. It was a standard-issue garbage bin. The lid was hinged and had a simple lock. If he could manage to get on his back, he might be able to kick the lid with enough power to shatter the lock.
He could try it. He was on fire to get out of this stinking prison. But thanks to Obi-Wan, he had learned how to wait.
He was almost certain that he’d been captured by Striker’s gang. Without his lightsaber, he might not be taken for a Jedi. Perhaps he was one of many prisoners. He guessed that he would be taken to Striker’s hideout. He could bide his time and observe. They were here to gather information, after all. Maybe he could discover something valuable about Striker, something they could use.
So maybe the best thing he could do was lie here and wait to be released.
As he had that thought, Anakin felt the speeder slow. It stopped, and the container was grabbed roughly, then dropped. Anakin had braced himself, but he banged his head on the side. Patience was hard to find now, with a smarting head, but he reached for it, calming himself for whatever lay ahead.
The container lid was yanked open. Rough hands reached in. Anakin let his body go slack. He was grabbed and slung over someone’s shoulder, then dumped on the ground.
Anakin looked up into cruel yellow eyes.
“There’s your welcome, slug.” A giant Imbat smiled down at him with mossy teeth. Then he reached for his utility belt, where a pair of stun cuffs dangled. They looked like delicate bracelets in his huge hand. He slapped them on to Anakin. Then with a grunt, he simply turned and walked off.
Anakin rose unsteadily to his feet. His shoulder still ached, and he could feel a lump rising on the side of his forehead near his left eye.
Around him, activity swirled, but no one paid him any attention. He was free to wander, but the stun cuffs guaranteed he would not be able to wander far. From what he could tell, he was the only prisoner.
Anakin did what he knew Obi-Wan would want him to do. He observed.
The substation was even larger than the one Decca had used. Banks of monitoring equipment, now unused, ran along one wall. Benches and chairs had been ripped from their floor supports and were piled in a corner. A weapons rack held an impressive array of small arms.
The gang members were busy and didn’t even glance at him. Some were checking and cleaning weapons. Others sat at improvised computer stations, entering information. Others manned comm units. Everyone seemed to have a job. Compared to the slipshod air of Feeana’s operation and the chaos and suppressed violence of Decca’s, this seemed like a professional operation.
Which told him that of all three criminals, Striker was the one to worry about.
Anakin had no idea where he was. How would Obi-Wan ever be able to find him?
But he didn’t want Obi-Wan to find him. Not until he had a chance to learn something. It would redeem him in his Master’s eyes. Maybe he could discover something important and then escape.
Anakin drifted closer to the computer banks. He focused his attention on the fingers of a man entering information. He tapped into the Force to help him. He felt time slow down, and he tried to put words together from the letters the man was entering.
B I O…he missed several letters, someone walking by…P O N
T O X
Frustrated, Anakin leaned forward to see. A huge hand suddenly landed on his sore shoulder, sending a fresh jolt of pain through his body. “The boss wants to see you.”
Without checking to make sure that he was following, the Imbat loped across the space. He accessed a durasteel door that led to a room off the main substation. He waited for it to open, then shoved Anakin inside. The door slid shut behind him.
The room was almost empty except for a bare table and one chair. The man standing in front of him was smiling and holding out his hands. “Forgive my manner of bringing you, my friend. I was impatient to see you.”
Anakin felt shock ripple through him.
It was their greatest enemy, Granta Omega.
Chapter Eight
“You want us to bring you to Striker’s hideout?” Swanny asked. “But no one knows where that is.”
“You said you knew where everyone was, and everything that went on,” Obi-Wan said.
“A slight exaggeration can often seal a deal,” Swanny said. “Note the word ‘hideout,’ however. That implies that something is hidden, doesn’t it?”
“Then we’re just going to have to find it,” Obi-Wan said.
“We?” Rorq asked. “What do we have to do with it?”
“Anakin came close to that thermal detonator because of the two of you,” Obi-Wan said. “He saved your lives.”
“And we’re sure he wouldn’t want us to lose them, after all the trouble he went to,” Rorq said earnestly.
“Look, Master Obi,” Swanny said. “The reason Striker is so effective is because nobody knows anything about him. They don’t know where he came from. They don’t know his name. They don’t know where he lives. T
hey don’t know when he’ll strike again. There are kilometers and kilometers of tunnels, some of them half finished, and empty substations on the perimeters. He could be anywhere. And it’s not like we ever wanted to look very hard.”
“Then we’ll smoke him out,” Obi-Wan said.
“I think I’ve had enough smoke for one night,” Swanny said, rubbing his fingers along his smoke-blackened face.
“Not real smoke,” Obi-Wan said. “I mean provoke him so that he’ll come out into the open.”
“Provoke him?” Rorq moaned. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Obi-Wan was feeling on the edge of his patience. He should have stayed with Anakin when they were under attack. Now he did not know if Anakin was badly wounded or worse.
He remembered feeling so angry on Andara. I thought you’d be proud of me, Anakin had said. And he had wanted to reply that he was proud, that Anakin’s progress astonished him, that there was so much about Anakin that he admired. Instead he had held his tongue, thinking there would be a better time. He did not want to praise Anakin when his apprentice had made such an error.
But maybe he should have. That better time had not arrived.
“Where is Striker most vulnerable?” he asked Swanny.
“I have no idea,” Swanny said. “Nowhere, if I had to guess. He’s got personal guards that surround him at all times. Plus surveillance, weapons, assassins, a huge army…can I stop now?”
Obi-Wan’s comlink signaled. He snatched it up eagerly.
“Speak with you, I must,” Yaddle said. “At the airlift, meet we will.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan said. “But I was just about to contact you. Anakin is missing. I think Striker has taken him.”
Yaddle hesitated for only a beat. He could feel her concern. Then she said slowly, “Your problem, my problem—fix each other, they might.”
Swanny and Rorq seemed relieved at the diversion. They were happy to lead him to the airlift.
Yaddle stepped off the airlift with the graceful, gliding step that never seemed to abandon her, even when she was tired or impatient.
“In addition to the mainframe substation of the power grid, taken over another crucial station, Striker has,” she said. “Substation 32, a central relay station. Crucial it is as a network point for restarting the grid.”
Swanny nodded. “That’s right. He can override the power surge you need for start-up from that substation.”
“Retake it, we must,” Yaddle confirmed.
“I was looking for a way to provoke Striker,” Obi-Wan said.
“That will do it,” Swanny muttered. “He just got that substation back from Decca tonight. I imagine he feels pretty good about it.”
“If we attack the substation, he’ll have to send reinforcements,” Obi-Wan said to Yaddle. “We can tail them back to the hideout.”
“Can I say something here?” Swanny asked. “Taking the substation is impossible. Just wanted to mention that.”
“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked.
“He has his best men protecting the power grid,” Swanny said. “His most explosive weapons. I’ve seen the Jedi in action and it’s a sweet sight, don’t get me wrong. But can two Jedi go up against grenade launchers and missile tubes?”
Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Yaddle.
“There’s only one entrance to substation 32,” Swanny went on. “It’s the only way in. And you won’t go more than two meters before you’re blasted to pieces.”
“I guess that’s that, then,” Rorq said. “There’s no other way.”
Yaddle smiled. Obi-Wan turned to Swanny and Rorq.
“For the Jedi, there is always another way,” he said.
Chapter Nine
Don’t let him see your surprise. Don’t give him even a flicker of satisfaction.
“Oh, come on, Anakin,” Granta Omega said. “You’re surprised. Admit it. And maybe just a little bit pleased?” Omega smiled at him. Anakin was always mystified by his charm. He had liked him, once. Before he’d tried to kill Obi-Wan. Before it was clear that the dark side dominated his acts.
Granta Omega was out to lure a Sith into the open. He was not Force-sensitive, but he wanted to be close to the Force. He wanted to understand the source of such power. He would do anything to attract the one Sith he knew was at large in the galaxy. He was enormously wealthy, and would use anyone or anything to get what he wanted. Even the Jedi.
“I wouldn’t say pleased,” Anakin replied. “And I wouldn’t say surprised. I’d say very unhappy.”
Omega cocked his head and regarded Anakin. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I know that soon you’ll understand why we keep running into each other. You are strong in the Force. Stronger than any Jedi. Stronger than your Master—and he knows it. I’m still interested in the Sith, but I’m becoming even more interested in you.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual.”
Omega strolled around the empty room. He was what was known as a “void,” a being who could neutralize his appearance and aura so completely that those who met him could not recall what he looked like. To Anakin, he’d seemed different each time they’d met. The first time he’d seen him, he’d appeared to be a weary bounty hunter. Anakin had also spent time with him when Omega was posing as a scientist named Tic Verdun. He’d had a haphazard, nervous manner then, and friendly brown eyes.
Now Anakin had the feeling he was seeing the real Granta Omega. His hair was dark and flowed to his shoulders. His eyes were a dark, deep blue, not brown as they’d appeared before. His body was slim but strong. And he looked younger, too, perhaps even younger than Obi-Wan.
“At least be impressed at how I’ve forgiven you,” Omega said. “You notice I don’t hold a grudge. You and your Master killed a good deal for me last time we met. I was close to cornering the market on bacta. I would have made a fortune. Instead I almost drowned in a tidal wave. Then I was forced to erase all my secret financial records. No hard feelings, though.”
“On your side, maybe,” Anakin said.
“As I was saying, that little adventure cost me. I had to make it up somehow. Planets like Mawan are made for beings like me. We can set up operations without too much interference. There’s no one to bribe, no one to fight. We just grab our piece. I already had some business interests here, so it was just a matter of coming myself and devoting all my effort to it. I’ve made up what I lost in just a few months.”
“Am I supposed to say congratulations now?” Anakin asked.
Omega sighed. “Still a Jedi,” he said. “Moons and stars, you can be boring. Your Master’s influence, no doubt.” He leaned against the table. “Can’t you relax? Not all Jedi are as rigid as your Master.”
“How would you know?”
“Some are interested in investigating deep in the archives and finding that the Jedi know more about the dark side than they care to reveal. They don’t waste their time meditating on favorite rocks in the Room of the Thousand Fountains or sneaking into the Council Receiving Room to watch the Senatorial starships dock in the restricted space lane.”
“How do you know those things?” Anakin asked, startled. Only Jedi knew those things. They weren’t important, but they were things that Padawans did.
“Maybe I know more about the Jedi than you,” Omega said in a teasing tone. “Jealous?”
He laughed at the expression on Anakin’s face. “You look worried. And angry. Didn’t I suggest that you relax? You’d think you’d just gotten a reprimand from Rei Soffran.”
Rei Soffran was a revered Jedi Master and a teacher of the intermediate students. He was legendary at the Temple for his tough lectures. When you were called to Rei Soffran’s chamber, you knew your faults would be dissected and you’d be carved up like a roasted doisey bird.
But how did Omega know that?
Omega swung himself up on the table. He sat on the edge and faced Anakin, swinging his legs like a young boy. “Oh, come on, Anakin. You don’t need Obi-Wan. You don’t need the Coun
cil. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Anakin thought of his last mission on Andara. He had infiltrated a group of students who acted as a secret squad, hiring themselves out on missions throughout the galaxy. They chose what they wanted to do. They answered to no one but themselves. Before it all fell apart, he had admired them and maybe envied them. It had felt like freedom. It had made him think what he would be like without having a Master or the Council to tell him what to do. He had shoved those thoughts deep into his mind, like a dirty tunic in his utility bag.
Something must have changed in his face, for Omega’s eyes gleamed, becoming a sharp, clear blue. “You have figured that out.” He continued to study him. “But you can’t face it.”
Anakin shook his head. “That’s not true.”
Omega laughed. “I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to lie. You’ve got one foot on the dark path, Anakin. Are you sure you are meant to be a Jedi?”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Anakin said. The words came out without him wanting them to. They were in his head, as they always were.
“Yes, you were a special case,” Omega said. “I’ve heard the story. Chosen as a young boy. You were a slave, so of course you dreamed of a better life, a life you thought of as free. Welcome to reality, Anakin. Are you free?” Omega snorted. “If I held on to my dreams as a young boy, I’d be repairing starships for a living. I used to think that was exciting. How can you be so sure that your dream was the right one?”
“The dream is real because I am living it,” Anakin said.
“The dream,” Omega said softly, “was for opportunity and freedom and adventure. That is not the same thing. You began as a slave. Of course you dreamed of freedom. But you are not a boy now. You must know that the only thing that buys freedom in this life is wealth. I have it. I can give you more freedom than the Jedi can.”