Star Wars: The Approaching Storm

by Alan Dean Foster

  It was the formerly bellicose Tolut who rose to the visitor’s defense. “For those who can make it rain indoors, even such a thing as rational dialogue with the Alwari may be possible.”

  Luminara smiled at the burly alien. Confrontational he might be, but at least he was flexible enough to change his position when the facts warranted his doing so. That was more than could be said, so far, for his human and Ansionian colleagues—though they were weakening. One could feel the subtle change in the mental atmosphere in the chamber. It was as if, though fed up with the convoluted workings and the oppressive bureaucracy of the Republic, they wanted to believe in it. It was up to her and Obi-Wan, together with their respective Padawans, to bring the members of the delegation around.

  Everything now hinged on gaining the full cooperation of these Alwari nomads. Somehow she felt that was going to entail more than sitting in a comfortable room performing tricks with jugs of water.

  “How do we find the Alwari?” Anakin queried, showing impatience.

  Luminara’s gaze narrowed as she regarded the Padawan. One could sense the strength of the Force within him, as well as other potentialities. Though she knew little about him, she knew that Obi-Wan would not take on a Padawan who did not show considerable promise. He was just the Jedi to rein in such a headstrong youth, to take the sharp edges off the rough diamond and polish him into a true Jedi. There was nothing wrong with the Padawan’s words, or with him speaking out. It was only that there was a fine line between confident and headstrong, between bold and arrogant. Glancing slightly to her right, she saw that Barriss visibly disapproved of her male counterpart. Well, the young woman would keep her doubts to herself—unless Skywalker provoked her. Barriss was reserved by nature, but she was not easily intimidated. Especially by another Padawan.

  Ranjiyn did not hesitate. “Go east. Or west, or any other direction. Or away from civilization. Leave the cities behind.” He ventured the thin Ansionian version of a smile. “You will find the Alwari. Or they will find you. I wish I could be there to watch you try to talk sense into them. That would be something to see.”

  “Something to see,” Tolut grunted in agreement.

  Luminara and Obi-Wan rose simultaneously. The conference was at an end. “You know our reputation,” Obi-Wan said. “We have put it behind our words thousands of times before. This will be no different. Dealing with your Alwari can’t be any more frustrating than trying to negotiate the traffic patterns on Coruscant.” His expression twisted at the memory of his last visit. He didn’t much care for intracity travel.

  The mention of urban confusion further solidified the growing, if wary, rapport that had developed during the conference between visitors and delegates—which was of course precisely why he had alluded to it. Official business concluded, visitors and delegates alike chatted amiably for another hour, both sides grateful for the chance to learn something more of one another off the record and on a personal level. In particular, the now nearly dried-out Tolut had taken a special shine to Luminara. She tolerated the hulking delegate’s proximity without concern. In the course of her career she had been required to make friends with far more obnoxious sentients.

  While engaged in her own conversations, she noted with admiration how Obi-Wan Kenobi put others at ease. For all his vaunted skills and experience, his was a personality others found non-threatening. His tone was understated, while his words fell on the ears of others as gently as a therapeutic massage. If he had not become a Jedi, she mused, he would have been a great credit to the diplomatic service.

  But that would have meant a career in the very bureaucracy that they both decried, the consequences of whose blundering and stumbling they were both here to try to smooth over.

  Barriss was doing her best to charm both Ranjiyn and the elder human representative, while Anakin was spouting a streak of self-assurance at the other human. The woman listened intently to everything he said, more engrossed in his words than Luminara would have expected. She would have listened in, but she had Tolut and the still-suspicious Kandah to try to win over. Anyway, if Anakin needed monitoring, that was Obi-Wan’s job, not hers.

  If only, she reflected, succeeding in their mission here could be reduced to a matter of choosing the right phrases. Unfortunately, she had been involved in too many disputes on too many unruly worlds to believe that the quandry of Ansion would be solved by shrewd words alone.

  Delegate Kandah, of the Unity of Community that represented the urban citizens of Ansion, waited uneasily in the dark passageway. Beyond, the lights of Songoquin Street, with its chanting vendors and night-strolling patrons, beckoned. Like all her big-eyed kind, she was comfortable moving about even on moonless nights. But in such a restricted defile, with only one way in and out, even a night-sighted Ansionian might be forgiven for wishing for a little more illumination.

  “What have you for me?” Though she recognized the voice immediately, the abruptness of its snapping announce out of the darkness startled her. “What of the meeting between the visitors and the representatives of the Unity?”

  “It went all to well.” She did not know the identity of the contact with whom she was speaking, much less his name. She could not even be sure it was a he. None of that mattered. What was important was that he paid handsomely, without delay, and in untraceable credits. “The delegation was mistrustful and skeptical at first. I did my personal best to sow confusion and dissent. But the Jedi are as clever with words as they are with the Force. I’m certain they have convinced that stupid Armalat to vote on their behalf. The others continue to vacillate.” She proceeded to describe in detail the rest of the meeting.

  “So the Jedi intend to try to persuade the Alwari to allow exploration and development on up to half the traditional nomad prairie lands?” Incredulous laughter echoed from the shadows. “That would be something! They have no chance of doing so, of course.”

  “I would have thought so, too,” she whispered into the gloom, “until I met them for myself and saw how they operate. They are subtle, as well as shrewd.”

  The voice hesitated before responding. “You don’t mean to say you believe they might actually secure such an agreement with the Alwari?”

  “I mean to say that these are true Jedi, and I am not qualified to predict what they might or might not accomplish. I can say that I would not bet against them—in anything.”

  “Jedi are famed as fighters, not talkers,” the voice muttered uneasily.

  “Is that so?” Kandah recalled more details of the conference. “These Knights and their Padawans are suavity made solid. As for what you say, how many Jedi have you seen in action? Of any kind?”

  “Never mind what I have seen or not seen.” The voice’s owner was clearly irritated, though not with his supplier of information. “I must convey this information to my patron. He will know what to do.”

  Will he indeed? thought Kandah. Better him than me. All she had to do was deliver a report. She was glad her attempt to frustrate the Jedi’s mission did not require that she go any farther.

  “Your payment will be deposited in the usual manner.” The voice spoke offhandedly, clearly preoccupied with all that the Unity delegate had told him. “As always, your good work is appreciated. When Ansion at last stands outside the Republic and free of its interference, you will receive your just reward. Your unfairly appropriated family estates in Korumdah will be restored to you.”

  “I am your humble servant,” Kandah replied politely. Turning to leave, she hesitated. “What do you think your patron will do to try to stop these Jedi from succeeding in their task, now that the attempt at direct assassination has failed so ignobly?”

  No reply was forthcoming from the darkness. Having swirled his dustcape securely around him, Ogomoor had already vanished into the night.

  “So the Jedi intend to keep the Unity within the Republic by settling their differences with the Alwari. A bold plan.”

  “Also a stupid one, Your Greatness.”

  “
Is it?” Soergg glanced over from the lounge on which he was relaxing. Outside, one of Ansion’s small moons waxed ivory.

  “It hasn’t a chance of succeeding.”

  “Hasn’t it?”

  Sensing that he was rapidly losing argumentative ground, Ogomoor decided to change tactics. “What would you have me do?” He considered. “I could try to bribe one or more of them.”

  Huge, slitted eyes rolled ceilingward. “Bribe a Jedi! You really are ignorant, aren’t you, Ogomoor?”

  Swallowing both his suggestion and his pride, the majordomo replied deferentially, “Yes. I would be grateful if you would enlighten your humble servant.”

  “I will.” Generating a disgusting squinching sound, the Hutt rolled onto his right side, the better to regard his employee. “Know this: Jedi cannot be bribed, connived, broken, or swayed from what they believe to be the right and true course of the way. At least, such has been my experience.” He spat to one side, and the custodial droid rushed from its resting place to clean up the repulsive gob. “This is a shame, but many truths often are. Therefore, we must deal with them elsewise. Come close, and I will tell you how.”

  Must I? Ogomoor thought. But there was no more escaping the Hutt’s breath than there was his orders.

  I am not, Ogomoor reflected as he stood bravely absorbing the full force of that noxious miasma, being paid enough for this.

  Chapter Four

  One of the advantages of living and working on Coruscant was that there were innumerable places to meet, if one did not want to be located. So it was that the little group found themselves in a small drinking establishment of no special reputation in an unfashionable part of Quadrant H-46. In such places, there was less of an immediate need to preserve one’s anonymity. In any event, none of them was recognized by the other patrons as they wandered in.

  “This places stinks of the working classes,” Nemrileo, who hailed from the powerful world of Tanjay, sniffed. “It will hide the smell of treason.”

  Senator Mousul had to smile. “You talk of committing treason against the treasoners. Don’t get your loyalties confused, Nemrileo. Now is not the time.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about time.” The man hunched lower over the table. “But this Ansion business is beginning to worry me.”

  “It should not.” Mousul exuded assurance—an easy thing, his questioner mused, since the interests supporting them had promised to back Mousul for the governorship of his entire sector once Ansion and its allies had withdrawn from the Republic. “I am confident that everything is proceeding as planned, and that within a very short time the dominant political force on my world, the Unity of cites and towns, will vote for full withdrawal from the Republic, thus setting in motion all that we hope for.”

  “ ‘Everything’?” said an alien female politician whose explosion of straw-colored fur threatened to burst forth from within her tight-fitting camouflaging suit. “That’s not what I hear.”

  Mousul gestured indifferently. “A minor glitch. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  “I admire your assurance,” the alien female declared. “Not everyone would be so casual upon learning of the arrival on their homeworld of two Jedi, together with their Padawans, in the midst of the most delicate negotiations over secession.”

  “I told you.” Mousul’s tone turned darker. “It is being dealt with.”

  “It had better be,” Tam Uliss, a business associate from Ansion, declared. “My people are growing impatient. They are ready to move, have been for some time, and dislike having to wait upon the decision of a bunch of minor sentients from a decidedly minor world.”

  “The president of the Commerce Guild would not like to hear such talk.”

  “That’s why we called this meeting,” muttered the alien female politician. “So we could discuss possibilities without her.” Her yellow eyes burned into his. “And if you weren’t similarly interested, you wouldn’t be here now.”

  The Senator raised a cautioning hand. “I said I would come to listen, and to apprise you of our progress in the Ansion matter. I make no judgments. But if Shu Mai says we should restrain our interests until Ansion has declared for secession, then I believe we should listen to her.”

  “Should we?” Another of the group showed by his expression as much as by his words that he felt otherwise. “Can Shu Mai and the Commerce Guild truly be trusted?”

  “You haven’t met her,” Mousul replied. “Be assured that she can. She has all our best interests at heart.”

  “Does she really?” Nemrileo was not so sure. “From what I’ve heard, she doesn’t have a heart.”

  “I trust her,” announced the female politician seated next to the cynic. “I know her from her work in our quadrant. What I don’t trust are my own constituents.”

  There was laughter from around the private table. “Trust constituents…” “…How very droll!” As soon as the mirth had faded, Mousul spoke anew.

  “I have been in touch with my principal contact on Ansion. He assures me the Jedi will be dealt with. Shu Mai continues to show confidence in this individual as well. There are social and commercial bonds that affirm our mutual contract. I suggest you all return to your positions and be of good cheer. All our hopes will be realized soon enough.”

  “To be at last free of the corruption and vices of this bloated, inert, so-called Republic!” Tam Uliss exclaimed. “Truly a dream to be wished.”

  The Senator looked around the circle. “We are all of the same opinion. And we are fortunate to have someone who believes in our cause as strongly as Shu Mai does, to mediate for us with others who for now must remain nameless.” He passed a hand over the table’s response plate. “Now, let us all relax and have something to drink. It’s rare enough that we’re able to gather together like this.”

  Tension dissolved after the first few rounds of drinks. In the company of his fellow conspirators, Mousul was also able to relax. He would be more relaxed still after he reported to Shu Mai on the one member of their group whom he felt they could no longer trust. A lack of trust was a bad thing in a conspiracy. It poisoned the atmosphere of cooperation. It could prove fatal. Especially to the individual in question.

  Soergg was well pleased with the final plan that had been devised. It had been carefully thought out, honed and refined, until he could see nothing wrong with it. It possessed the twin virtues of simplicity and directness. He explained it assertively to Ogomoor. His majordomo listened carefully. Only when the Hutt had finished did the Ansionian timidly venture to comment.

  “It certainly sounds most promising.”

  “Promising?” the bossban rumbled. “It’s perfect!” He glowered down at the complaisant biped. “Isn’t it?”

  “Well, the only obstacle I see lies in this ability of the Jedi to intuit danger coming their way. To sense trouble as a disturbance in the Force.”

  Soergg nodded as much as one could who had no neck. “I am all too aware of the cursed Jedi abilities. So to carry out this plan I have engaged two who are immune to such Jedi perceptiveness. Two of your own kind who possess unique qualifications.”

  “Not to dispute your expertise, but how can any thinking, feeling sentients be impervious to Jedi acuity?”

  “Meet them, Ogomoor, and judge for yourself.” Looking off to one side, he clapped his large, flabby palms together and raised his voice. “Bulgan, Kyakhta—come and meet my majordomo!”

  Expectant and curious, Ogomoor turned toward the doorway that led from the bossban’s audience chamber to a side waiting room. The aspect of the two Ansionians who entered in response to Soergg’s call did not fill him with overwhelming confidence.

  Once had a ripped and ragged mane of splotchy auburn and a crudely fashioned artificial arm. The other was completely shorn from head to spine, bald and pallid of skin, with a patch over one eye and a back permanently bent from some incurable childhood disease. Neither was especially tall or strong. Together, Ogomoor decided, the pair would have been har
d-pressed to kidnap the offspring of an elderly water carrier.

  So astonished was he by the sight of the forlorn duo that for a moment he forgot his fear of his employer. “Bossban, you’re going to send these two to capture a Jedi?”

  “Not a Jedi, Ogomoor. One of their Padawans. With one of the two youths in our custody, the Jedi will be forced to parley.” He puffed himself up to his full, impressive—if loathsome—size. “We will demand they withdraw from all negotiations involving Ansion’s domestic and galactic disputations, and that no new Jedi come to take their place. Once they agree to that, they will be helpless to affect the outcome of the vote for secession. One Jedi’s word binds all Jedi.” He all but rubbed his hands together. “This is even better than killing them. They will be forced to leave in disgrace and failure, with their tails tucked between their legs. At the same time, the Jedi Council will not rise up in rage against the deaths of several of the Order. They will simply have been outmaneuvered, and out-thought. By me.” He puffed up so much that Ogomoor thought the Hutt might explode. Unfortunately, it remained nothing more than a wishful image. “Sometimes humiliation is more effective than death.”

  “I do not disagree, Bossban.” Recovering some fortitude, Ogomoor indicated the two proposed hostage takers. The one called Kyakhta was gaping openmouthed at the room’s luxurious furnishings, while his bent-backed companion Bulgan stood staring blankly at the floor, flagrantly picking his single nostril. “But seriously, you are sending these two to overpower a Jedi Padawan?”

  Instead of roaring, Soergg held his patience. “Look at them, Ogomoor. Take a good, close look. What do you see?” Clearly, the Hutt was enjoying his employee’s bewilderment.