Star Wars: The Approaching Storm

by Alan Dean Foster

  Nevertheless, the four visitors dutifully admired their surroundings, complimenting the female who came forward to extend them formal greetings. Seated at a long table cut from a single piece of purplish xellwood, seven delegates awaited them. Two were human, four indigenous Ansionian, and one Armalat.

  Luminara studied the Ansionians carefully. Slightly shorter on average than humans, the dominant native species of Ansion was much slimmer, wiry and lean, with skin a pale yellow that was almost golden. Both genders were hairless except for a single startlingly dense brush of fur about fifteen centimeters wide and seven or eight high that ran from the top of their foreheads all the way down their backs to terminate in a fifteen-centimeter-long tail. Beneath their warm, well-made clothing the sweep of hair, which varied in color across the entire visible spectrum, was usually kept neatly trimmed. The large eyes with their small black pupils were usually red, sometimes shading to lighter tones of yellow or, in rarer instances, mauve. Though omnivorous, the Ansionians ate proportionately more meat than humans.

  Particularly, she reminded herself, the Alwari.

  There was no one in the chamber to represent the interests of the nomads, of course. They shunned the cities and towns, preferring their life out on the immense prairies that dominated much of Ansionian topography. After millennia of constant conflict between nomads and city folk, a tenuous peace had finally been established two hundred local years ago. Now the exigencies of interstellar politics threatened to tear that fragile concord to shreds and drag Ansion out of the Republic entirely.

  The nomads wished to remain under the Republic’s protection. Chafing against the weight of regulations and petty rules that seemed to pour forth from Coruscant in a never-ending stream, the urbanites were considering joining the nascent secessionist movement. The result was fresh estrangement between nomads and city dwellers. If they could reconcile these opposing views, Luminara knew, Ansion would probably stay within the Republic. As was ever the case throughout history, local conflicts threatened to expand beyond their boundaries. It was likely that neither side in this internal dispute truly grasped the far larger issues that were at stake. The intensifying argument between city dwellers and nomads had galactic ramifications.

  Not only those who were bound to it through formal pact and treaty, but others, too, were watching to see what happened on Ansion. Due to its strategic location and entanglement of alliances, it was a key world in this part of the Republic. Remove a small plug from a dam holding back agitated waters, she knew, and an unexpectedly great flood can result.

  The Ansionian who rose from behind the table gestured a formal local greeting. The other delegates, Luminara noted, did not rise.

  “I am Ranjiyn. Like my colleagues, a representative of the Unity, of Ansion’s city and town dwellers.” Most Ansionians used only one name, she knew. His mane was dyed in alternating black and white stripes. He proceeded to introduce his fellow delegates. One did not have to be a master of the Force to note their wariness. When he had finished the introductions, he concluded, “We of the towns and cities welcome you, the representatives of the Jedi Council, to Ansion and extend to you all the hospitality and cooperation of which we are capable.”

  Fine words, Anakin thought. Master Obi-Wan had spent much time trying to satisfy his Padawan's curiosity about politics. One of the first things a student of that odious subject learned was that words were among the cheaper currencies employed by politicians, and therefore one they felt free to spend lavishly.

  Meanwhile, Luminara was replying. She certainly was unusual for a Jedi, he thought. In her own way, she could be as intimidating as Obi-Wan. At least she was openly friendly and understanding, which was more than could be said for her by-the-book Padawan Barriss.

  “On behalf of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan Kenobi and I, Luminara Unduli, thank you for ourselves and our Padawans, Anakin Skywalker and Barriss Offee.” She and her companions took seats on the other side of the beautiful table, opposite their hosts. “As you know, we are here to try to mediate this dispute between the urban inhabitants of your world and the Alwari nomads.”

  “Please.” A tall, dignified older man waved one hand diffidently. “None of your Jedi subterfuges. We all know you are here to do anything and everything in your power to keep Ansion from voting to join the secessionist movement. Local quarrels of the kind to which you allude are not the purview of the Jedi Council.” He smiled confidently. “In any event, they would not send four representatives to deal with what is essentially a minor internal problem.”

  “No conflict is minor to the Council,” Obi-Wan responded. “We hope to see all citizens of the Republic living together in peace and contentment, wherever they may be, whatever species they may represent, whatever their local customs and lifestyles.”

  “Contentment!” Reaching under the table, one of the other Ansionians, a female with long vertical lines in her face and one clouded brown eye, pulled out a stack of data disks the size of a building stone and dropped them onto the highly polished surface. They landed with a dull boom. “Lifestyles! Do you know what this is, Jedi?” Before either Luminara or Obi-Wan could reply, she told them. “It’s the latest bimonthly policy update from the Republic Senate. The latest only!” She gestured at the enormous stack as if it were some obscene sea creature that had suddenly expired on her desk and already begun to rot. “The yearly indices alone carry more data than the city library. Compliance, adherence, obedience: those are what the Senate is interested in these days. That, and preferential treatment for themselves and those they represent in matters of trade and commerce. The once-great galactic Republic has fallen under the sway of petty bureaucrats and self-seeking button pushers who seek only personal aggrandizement and advancement, not justice and fair dealing.”

  “The Senate’s clear bias toward the Alwari proves this,” declared the female Ansionian next to her. “Senator Mousul has kept us well informed.”

  “The Senate favors no social or ethnic group above another,” Luminara countered. “That basic principle is enshrined in the founding law of the Republic and has not changed.”

  “I happen to agree with the delegate,” Obi-Wan declared quietly.

  Surprised and even a little startled, the room’s occupants shifted their attention to the other Jedi. Even Luminara was taken aback.

  “Pardon my eyes,” Ranjiyn murmured, “but did you say you agreed with Kandah?”

  Obi-Wan nodded. “To deny that there are problems within the Senate and the bureaucracy would be to deny the existence of pulsating stars. Certainly there is confusion and disagreement. Certainly there is bureaucratic infighting and conflict.” His voice rose slightly, though not in the general manner of other people. It was full of controlled energy. “But the law of the Republic stands, pure and inviolate. So long as all participating sentients adhere to that, all will be well within the galaxy.” His gaze fixed on Kandah. “And on Ansion.”

  Seated at the end of the table because his massive legs would not comfortably fit under it, Tolut the Armalat finally rose to point one of his three thick fingers at Obi-Wan.

  “Jedi obfuscation!” He glared out of small red eyes at his fellow delegates. “See not where this is leading or what is being attempted? They try to fool us with clever words. Think all Ansionians are backworld dust riders, I wager!” Leaning forward over the table, he rested the knuckles of his powerful hands on the smooth purplish wood. Though strong and well made, the table creaked under the weight of his several hundred kilos.

  “Masters of the Force, are you? Masters of scheming and sneaky phrases, say I. Jedi mischief!”

  “Please, Tolut.” Ranjiyn tried to calm his far larger, highly agitated colleague. “Show some respect for the Force, if not for our visitors. Though we may disagree, we still—“

  “Pagh! ‘The Force.’ You all bemused and intimidated by this Force nonsense.” Green fingers stabbed at the silent visitors. “These are humanoids, like yourself. Sentients, like me. They bleed and di
e like any creatures of flesh and blood. Why should we continue to suffer beneath their burdensome rules? Their officials are corrupt, or ignorant of the needs of different species, or both. When a government becomes like an old sea creature, it should be treated like one.” Thick, chisel-like teeth flashed. “Taken out and buried.” Reaching across the table, he picked up in one hand the massive stack Kandah had brought forth and threw it across the room, where it slammed against a wall, disks scattering everywhere.

  “Regulations! Restrictions! What can be done by peoples and what cannot. All words—words we of Ansion not write. This movement to leave the Republic we should join, say I and those who think like me. Free Ansion! And if the Alwari will not join us in this, we should deal with them as we have in the past.”

  Throughout the tirade, the visitors had sat silently. Now Anakin's hand strayed in the direction of his lightsaber. A hint of a smile from his Master was all that was necessary to still the movement. Not that Anakin cared particularly whether Ansion stayed in the Republic or not. The convoluted machinations of galactic politics were still a mystery to him. It was the insult to his Master that caused the anger to rise within him. Now he forced himself to remain calm—because his Master wised that he be so.

  Obi-Wan Kenobi, he knew, was quite capable of taking care of himself.

  The Jedi Knight started to rise, but somewhat to Anakin’s surprise deferred to the woman seated next to him. “The Force is nothing to be so casually disparaged, my large friend,” Luminara informed the Armalat. “Especially by one who has no understanding of it.”

  Once again showing his huge, flat white teeth in a broad grin, Tolut started around the table. Barriss and Anakin both tensed, but Obi-Wan sat quietly, indifferent to the approach of the massive, powerful Armalat. A small smile played across his face. Luminara rose and stepped away from her chair.

  “Think you only Jedi know the Force?” Tolut snorted at his fellow delegates. “Anyone can know it. It only takes practice.” Extending a huge hand, he gestured at the table. One of the several crystal carafes of water that had been placed there to slake the thirst of the participants trembled slightly, then rose half a meter off the surface. Sweat starting to seep from his cheeks in large, glossy beads, Tolut smiled triumphantly at his friends.

  “See! With exercise and will, anyone can do what Jedi can do. Hardly reason for awe!”

  “On the contrary,” Luminara told him, “knowledge is always reason for awe.” She did not raise her hand. She did not have to.

  The carafe stopped trembling, steadied. As Luminara focused on it, it rose slowly until it reached the ceiling. Fascinated, the delegates could not take their eyes off it. Living as they did in a border world, none of them had previously had the opportunity to observe Jedi manipulation of the Force.

  Like a bulbous crystal bird, the carafe drifted along the ceiling until it was poised directly above the Armalat. Grim-faced, he began to make ponderous, then frantic gestures in the hovering container’s direction. These had absolutely no effect on the floating object. He might as well have been gesticulating in front of a mirror.

  As smoothly as if manipulated by an experienced waiter, the carafe abruptly turned upside down and dumped its ice-cold contents on the increasingly frustrated alien. Glaring, he wiped water from his eyes and took a step toward the serene Jedi. Barriss reached for lightsaber, only to be stilled by her Master, much as Obi-Wan had earlier restrained his own Padawan.

  One by one, the remaining carafes leapt off the table to dash their contents in Tolut’s face. Laughter began to rise from the remaining seated, and still dry, delegates, the humans chortling softly, the Ansionians emitting boisterous bellows that belied their wiry frames. The tension that had enveloped the summit like a smothering spiderweb promptly vanished.

  “I hope,” Luminara murmured as she turned away and resumed her seat, “that no one is particularly thirsty.”

  Sputtering and soaked, the big alien growled dangerously—and then a change washed over him. Dripping water from face, teeth, and now glistening leather attire, he stomped back to his chair and sat down in a somewhat soggy frump. Folding arms the size of a human’s torso across his massive chest, he nodded slowly in the direction of the woman responsible for his aqueous humiliation.

  “Tolut is big among his people. Don’t always speak so good. But big doesn’t always mean stupid. Tolut knows when he wrong. I defer to greater power. Was wrong about Jedi abilities.”

  Luminara favored him with a kindly smile. “There is no shame in admitting one does not know everything. It shows wisdom. That is a much more valued talent than physical strength—or even the ability to influence the Force. You are to be commended, not condemned.” She bowed her head slightly. “I congratulate you on the acuteness of your perception.”

  Tolut hesitated, at first uncertain if the Jedi was making fun of him. When he realized that the compliment was meant honestly, and came from the heart, his glower softened and his demeanor changed.

  “Perhaps we of the Unity can work with you.” A hint of his earlier belligerence threatened a return despite the lesson that had just been imparted. “But working with the Alwari something else.”

  Leaning toward Anakin, Obi-Wan whispered softly. “And that, my young Padawan, was a demonstration of what is known as dynamic diplomacy.”

  Skywalker nodded briefly. “Example noted, Master.” He studied the tranquil, beautiful face of Luminara Unduli afresh. He did not notice the “I-told-you-so” look on Barriss’ face. Her expression strayed dangerously close to a smirk.

  Wiping a last tear of amusement from the corner of one eye, Ranjiyn strove to recapture the serious tone that had preceded the watery demonstration. “It doesn’t matter what you do. A thousand tapcaf tricks will not persuade the Alwari to allow us to jointly exploit the prairies. That is the only way we know of the Unity will agree to remain bound by Republic law; if we are treated as equals everywhere on the planet, and not like people who are hemmed in forever in our towns. As it stands, the Alwari dominate by far the great bulk of the land, while we control the cities. If they are going to run bleating to the Senate every time we try to expand, then we are better off outside the Republic and free of its endless, pestiferous rules and regulations.”

  “It seems to me that would mean interminable local war,” Anakin spoke out. At a look from Obi-Wan he thought further and added, “Or at least some form of continuous, running conflict between you and the Alwari.”

  “It would be debilitating for both of you,” Barriss added as Luminara looked on approvingly.

  From his seat, the tall, elder human male gestured resignedly. “Anything is better than being forced to bow beneath oppressive regulations that take a hundred years just to get out of committee. We have been assured by friends that if we were to announce our secession from the Republic, the kind of aid that we truly need—and that the Senate does not provide—would be readily forthcoming.”

  “What friends?” Obi-Wan inquired pleasantly. His tone made it sound as if the answer was of no particular consequence, but Anakin knew differently. He could see the slight tenseness in his Master’s posture.

  Whether the Ansionian representative detected it or not they never knew. In any event, he did not supply names.

  Luminara filled the pause that ensued. “Anything may be better—except peace.” She eyed each of the skeptical representatives in turn. “In our capacity as representatives of the Jedi Council, we have a proposition for you. If we can get the Alwari to agree to share dominion over half or more of the prairie lands they presently control, and to allow you to develop some of the resources that lie within those lands, will the people of the Unity agree to abide by the Republic law under which they have always lived, and to forget this dangerous talk of secession?”

  At this unexpected and extraordinary offer, the delegates fell to murmuring among themselves. Their tone, their expressions, and their repressed excitement showed that they had not considered so sweeping a propo
sal before.

  While they caucused, Obi-Wan leaned over to whisper to his colleague. “You promise much Luminara.”

  She adjusted the thrown-back hood of her robe. “I spent a lot of time prior to arriving on this world studying the history of Ansion’s peoples. Something extreme has to be done to break this local sociopolitical datajam. It’s the only way to get these people thinking about something besides leaving the Republic.” She smiled. “I thought laying out the possibility of a whole new, vast commercial opportunity before them would shake them up a little.”

  Obi-Wan studied the quietly deliberating delegates. The animation in their expressions and gestures was genuine, and not simply a display for the benefit of the four visitors.

  “Looks like you’ve certainly done that.” He added that small, sly smile with which she was rapidly becoming familiar. “Of course, if they accept, you’ve put us in the awkward position of having to deliver.”

  “Master Luminara always fulfills her promises.” There was just a touch of sharpness in Barriss’ voice.

  “I’ve no doubt she does.” Obi-Wan regarded the Padawan tolerantly. “It’s getting these innumerable, factious, quarrelsome nomads who call themselves the Alwari to abide by the proposed terms that concerns me.”

  Luminara interrupted the exchange with a slight nod. The delegates had concluded their vigorous conversation and once more sat facing the visitors.

  “No one doubts that obtaining the agreement of the Alwari to such an accord would radically change the social dynamic that exists here.” It was the third Ansionian representative, a female named Induran, who spoke. “And if such a treaty could be achieved, it would certainly tilt the opinion of many of those who are presently inclined to favor secession from the Republic because they believe remaining in it does nothing for them.” Her large, convex eyes gazed unflinchingly at the Jedi. “However, the likelihood of obtaining the hand of the Alwari to such an agreement the majority of us find doubtful in the extreme.”