by Watson, Jude
“I tangled with Jenna Zan Arbor before, when I was your age,” Obi-Wan told Ferus. “She is a great enemy of the Jedi. She imprisoned Qui-Gon and drained his life in order to study the Force. She almost killed him. She has killed others. She is capable of anything. With the Zone of Self-Containment she could subdue an entire population. We must use any means to stop her.”
“Any means?” Ferus asked.
There was a silence. Anakin saw Obi-Wan exchange a quick glance with Siri. Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing. Means equal ends. It was one of the core beliefs of the Jedi. In order to do good, one must act rightly at every step. If the means used were wrong, then the outcome was wrong, too.
“I did not choose my words carefully,” Obi-Wan said. “My meaning is this—if we must use a little deception to catch her, then we will. In this case, our only hope is to beat Zan Arbor at her own game. She could consolidate her power on Romin. She could use the planet as a base for operations, thinking she cannot be touched there. She could do vast amounts of damage. Lives are at stake. Perhaps millions of lives.” Obi-Wan’s keen stare fixed on Ferus. “Don’t you think that is worth forsaking your dignity and taking another’s identity for a few days?”
Ferus’s cheeks colored. Anakin realized that Obi-Wan had put a sure finger on the spot that was most tender in Ferus. His dignity. Obi-Wan had done it kindly, but Ferus had felt a sting.
Ferus nodded. “I will, of course, do as you say.”
“But you must believe it, too,” Siri said.
After a short pause, Ferus said, “I do. I trust that those with more wisdom know the way.”
Ferus seemed to be sincere. He was incapable of lying. Yet it was clear that Siri and Obi-Wan had not done away with all of his uneasiness.
Obi-Wan turned back to Siri and Anakin. “If all goes well, we can brief Master Windu and leave tonight,” he said.
Anakin nodded. He bent his head closer to Siri and Obi-Wan as they discussed their next step. Ferus was silent throughout their entire discussion. For once, Ferus was the outsider. For once, it wasn’t him.
Chapter Three
Tyro did not tell Obi-Wan the details of the favors he had called in and the promises he had made. He just gave him the results that he’d wanted. It was not the first time that Tyro had proved an invaluable friend.
“I’m still negotiating with the Central Posting Service about the Stop Comm order,” Tyro said as Obi-Wan and Anakin greeted him in one of the Temple’s small meeting rooms. “The good news is that the order has gone through. The bad news is that I don’t know how long I can suppress the announcement of the arrest. But you might as well proceed to the Confiscation Station at the prison. You have a release for Slam’s vehicle. It’s an Ubrikkian star yacht.”
Anakin whistled. “Sweet.”
“All the data records, ID text docs, and wardrobes are onboard,” Tyro said. A small smile brightened his furry face. “I understand that Slam is a bit of a dandy.”
Obi-Wan was more concerned with other matters. “Give us as much time as you can. It will take us a standard day to travel to Romin from the prison.”
“You know I will do my best for you, my good friend,” Tyro said. “You go into danger, and I wish you safety and success. The Svivreni do not say good-bye. We consider it bad luck. We say, the journey begins, so go.”
Tyro raised his hand, fingers spread, in the Svivreni gesture of good-bye. Obi-Wan did the same. Tyro then pressed his palm against Obi-Wan’s. It was a gesture used by the Svivreni to those closest to them.
“So go,” Tyro said softly, and left.
Mace’s good-bye was not quite as fond as Tyro’s. He agreed to the necessity of the plan, but he didn’t approve of the rule bending.
“Just try not to alienate the entire Senate,” he said. “In other words, succeed.” He drew his robes together in dismissal. “May the Force be with you, and may I not hear from you until it’s safely over.”
The four Jedi had packed their gear and were streaking across the galaxy within hours.
At the Greylands Security Complex, they had no trouble with the papers Tyro had supplied them with. They were given access to the Slams’ ship.
The Ubrikkian star yacht was a light cruiser, built for quick getaways. Equipped with a hyperdrive, it carried no weapons except for two hidden proton torpedo shafts. It had also been modified to contain more secret compartments than Anakin had ever seen. Every time he thought he had found them all, he discovered another hidden within the various deck platings of the ship. The ship had been scanned by the authorities, in hopes of discovering the cache of crystalline vertex the gang had heisted on the Vuma job. No contraband had been found, and the rest of the gang’s possessions had been searched and then left intact.
Ferus went through the computer files. The gang kept meticulous records and multiple ID docs for false identities. Siri found a device to override iris scans and, rolled into a tiny hidden compartment under the cockpit dash, a detailed analysis of the accounting practices of the Senate Relief Fund.
Ferus whistled under his breath. “I could be wrong, but I think they were planning to rob the Senate depository.”
“That’s a big job, even for the Slams,” Obi-Wan said. “Good thing they landed in prison.”
Anakin flipped further through the file. “This is just speculation. They didn’t have a concrete plan.”
“We’ll go over the files in depth later,” Siri said, her head in the Slams’ personal wardrobe closet. “We’ll have to be up on the latest criminal tech scams. There’s a criminal gossip network. Our reputation will precede us. We have to be the Slams. Speaking of which…”
Siri pulled out a purple cloak made of veda cloth. It was embroidered around the collar with thick braiding in a bright shade of green. “For you, Slam,” she said, handing it to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan eyed the garment. “Questionable taste, to say the least.”
Siri winked at Anakin, but the face she turned to Obi-Wan was serious. “Tyro said that Slam is well known as a dandy. You have to wear it.”
Obi-Wan’s face was a study in distaste as he slipped on the ornate robe. Siri adjusted the elaborate collar so it framed his face. Anakin bit his lip. It was hard to keep his laughter inside.
Siri nodded thoughtfully. “Now you need some boots to match.” She leaned over and pulled out a pair in red polished leather. “Here.”
Obi-Wan took a step backward. “No…”
“Oh, for galaxy’s sake, don’t be such a stick-in-the-swamp.” Siri tossed the boots at him. “You’re impersonating a criminal. You have to dress like him. Don’t you want to catch Zan Arbor?”
Siri turned her head slightly and winked at Anakin again. He turned away to hide his smile. Even Ferus looked as though he was suppressing a laugh.
Obi-Wan kicked off his travel boots and slipped on the soft leather boots. He turned to the large mirror on the inside of the closet door. “I really hate this,” he groaned. “I look like a full-feathered idiot.”
“I think you look…incredible,” Siri said. But her mouth was twitching, as she couldn’t keep it in any longer. She burst out into a peal of laughter.
It was impossible for Anakin and Ferus not to join in.
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at them. “So glad to amuse.”
Then he reached into another closet. They heard the soft sound of rustling septsilk. Obi-Wan tossed a garment at Siri. It was made of a soft blue clinging material, and there wasn’t much of it. “There you go, Valadon.”
Siri looked at the piece of clothing. “Where’s the rest of it?”
Obi-Wan grinned. “I’m afraid that’s it.”
“I’m not going to wear this.” Holding it between her thumb and forefinger, Siri tossed the tiny garment away with distaste.
Obi-Wan’s expression was bland as he retrieved it. “Don’t be such a stick-in-the-swamp. Don’t you want to catch Zan Arbor?”
Grimly, Siri pulled the robe over her tunic and
leather leggings. Obi-Wan burst out laughing at the sight of the feminine, flowing garment haphazardly flung over Siri’s rough clothes. “I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to wear it.”
Siri gritted her teeth. “We’re not on Romin yet.”
Still chuckling, Obi-Wan reached into the closet and tossed out more conventional garments for Anakin and Ferus, dark tunics and trousers.
“Anakin, you’ll be Waldo, and Ferus will be Ukiah,” Obi-Wan said. “You fit the descriptions, roughly. Waldo is the security expert, and Ukiah is weapons and defense. Anakin, you’ll need a headgear disguise, since you’ve seen Zan Arbor recently. I think that should be enough.”
Obi-Wan pulled a half mask from his knapsack. “I got this from the med clinic at the Temple. It’s used to knit synth-flesh together after an injury. We can tell people you were wounded in the escape, if they ask. Try it.”
Anakin pulled on the mask. It fit over his forehead and covered half his face, leaving his mouth and chin uncovered. There were holes cut for his eyes, with tinted lenses. It was made of a slippery fiber, and it felt cool against his skin.
He was glad to have something to hide behind. He remembered Zan Arbor’s penetrating gaze, the sense that she wanted to explore his mind, figure out the essence of him. He didn’t want Zan Arbor to know who he was. He didn’t want to get close to the person who could create the Zone of Self-Containment. He still wasn’t positive how the Zone was transmitted. He suspected it had been through water. That was something that Zan Arbor had perfected. Anakin never wanted to be under its influence again.
Was he wrong to think there had been some sort of connection between him and Zan Arbor? He hadn’t told Obi-Wan about that. She had sensed there was something different about him. He had intrigued her. Even though he’d been in the Zone, he had sensed that this woman had made an impression on him he wouldn’t forget. And he had made an impression on her. What if she recognized him again?
Obi-Wan was speaking, and Anakin wrenched his attention back to his Master. “I met Zan Arbor very briefly almost eighteen years ago. She won’t recognize me.”
Siri wrapped her utility belt around the soft blue robe. “Question. What if we meet someone on Romin who’s met the Slams before?”
“Not probable,” Obi-Wan said. “The Slams operated in a different corner of the galaxy. Their reputation is big, but they didn’t travel very far. It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
Obi-Wan’s comlink signaled. It was Tyro, and Obi-Wan put him in holomode so the rest could view the communication.
Tyro flickered before them in miniature form. “I’ve received my answer from the authorities,” he said. “I did my best, Obi-Wan. But I could persuade them to agree to keep the Slams’ arrest secret for only three standard days. After that it will be posted on the HoloNet news. I’m sorry. You’ll have to complete your mission in that time.” Tyro looked worried. “Is three days enough?”
“Most likely not,” Obi-Wan said. “But it will have to do.”
Chapter Four
The Teda Landing Platform on Romin was high in the clouds above the capital city of Eliior. It was the only arrival station for the area. Nevertheless, it wasn’t crowded. Anakin guided the ship down to the nearly empty platform.
“Not much business or tourism going on here,” Obi-Wan observed. “The planet’s economy runs on bribes paid to Teda.”
“That means that the only one getting rich is Teda,” Siri said.
Anakin released the ramp control. Siri strode down in front of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was amused by the contrast between Siri’s purposeful, athletic stride and the lilac shimmersilk robe she now wore. It was tied with a rose-colored sash embroidered in delicate gold thread, but over the sash Siri had insisted on wearing her battered utility belt. Siri would do her best, she’d promised, but Obi-Wan had his doubts that she would be able to summon up Valadon’s trademark flirtatiousness. It was good that this mission would be short.
“Look, that must be Zan Arbor’s ship,” Anakin murmured to Obi-Wan. Anakin and Ferus were wearing their minimal disguises, while Obi-Wan was nearly unrecognizable in his finery. All had managed to conceal their lightsabers except Siri, whose outfit was simply too revealing to cover much of anything. So Obi-Wan carried hers.
A sleek white ship was parked in a hangar nearby. Obi-Wan recognized the Luxe Flightwing. The nose of the cruiser was curved, the wings folded back like a bird’s in flight. The ship’s exterior was made out of a rare gleaming white ore.
A security officer met them at the bottom of the ramp. He was dressed in an ornate uniform with silver cords looping over his shoulders. The Romins were a species with golden skin and eyes. Their noses were flat, barely raised on their faces, and their mouths were wide and expressive.
“Welcome to Romin. Docs, if you please.”
Obi-Wan handed over the ID docs. The officer perused them carefully.
“You have come to Romin for what purpose?”
“We would like to relocate here,” Obi-Wan said.
The officer looked up. “There are procedures and waivers. We do not allow just anyone to be a citizen of Romin.”
“We will be happy to follow all procedures,” Obi-Wan said. “In the meantime, we would like to enter your beautiful city.” He passed over a bundle of credits.
The officer slid them into his pocket in one practiced movement. “One moment.”
The officer left with their four ID docs. He took them to a console and began entering the information.
“He plugged in our names and discovered that we’re escaped criminals,” Siri murmured as the officer’s face changed. He looked up and gave them a quick glance. Then he spoke into his comlink.
They waited. The officer spoke, waited, spoke again. Then he put down the comlink but did not return to the visitors. The Jedi waited. They knew how to be patient. In a few moments, the officer’s comlink signaled and he spoke into it again.
“We have to hope that Roy Teda’s contacts are wide,” Obi-Wan murmured. “He will know that there is a fortune in crystalline vertex out there, and that we know where it is.”
When the officer returned to them, he was smiling broadly. “Forgive me if I failed to welcome you properly earlier. We are so busy here, you see.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, waving his hand extravagantly and ignoring the empty spaceport.
“Due to your status as important guests, Great Leader Teda would like to extend a personal welcome,” the officer said. “My name is Becka. With your kind permission, I am to escort you to his grand palace.”
Becka led them to a large turbolift, which quickly brought them down to the planet’s surface. A large, six-seat airspeeder was parked nearby. Becka indicated that they should board. He slid into the pilot seat. They glided out into moderate traffic on a wide boulevard.
“Eliior has no crime, as you will see,” Becka said. “We have peace and prosperity here. Citizens have plenty of work and plenty of leisure time. Our gardens are renowned and our goods are the finest in the galaxy. I will take you by our best shopping street on the way to the palace and you will see.”
“You are lucky to live on such a world,” Siri said.
“We are lucky to have a leader such as Roy Teda,” he replied. “He has created the great perfection around us.” Just as Becka finished this statement, they drove by a battered security wall, hundreds of meters high. Security droids buzzed overhead.
“What is that?” Obi-Wan asked. He knew the answer, he was just interested in the official explanation. In a dictatorship, it rarely matched reality.
He’d been thoroughly briefed by Tyro. The city of Eliior was populated by the wealthy. The workers lived outside the city walls in concentric rings of hovels that grew progressively worse as their distance from the city increased. The wall was manned by guard droids and surveillance devices. The workers had to obtain passes in order to enter the city, and they needed a work reason for coming. Those inside the city rarely ventured ou
tside its walls. If a trip was necessary, it was taken under heavy guard.
Becka made a quick turn down another wide boulevard lined with tall, leafy trees. “You mean the Cloudflower Wall. Some of our citizens prefer to live outside the city. There is beautiful countryside outside Eliior. The wall allows them to have the illusion that they live in wilderness. It is planted with cloudflower vines on the opposite side. Another great step of progression by Great Leader Teda! Truly, he is remarkable.”
Just then they passed a large laserboard. In pulsing light, the image of a noble-looking Romin appeared in profile. Words appeared in Basic:
WATCHING CARING PROTECTING
GREAT STEPS OF PROGRESSION
GREAT LEADER TEDA LOVES HIS PEOPLE
Becka beamed. “Now, here you will see examples of our excellent commerce and wonderful goods.”
They rode down a street full of the exclusive shops that Becka had promised. They caught glimpses of luxurious goods arrayed in bright window displays. Becka slowed down and gestured to the shops with pride. Yet the street was nearly empty. There were hardly any customers in the stores.
“There’s no one in the shops,” Siri said.
“Not a traditional shopping day,” Becka said. “Ah, now, here are our great residences.”
Past the shops, the palaces began, made of stone and durasteel and glimpsed behind fortified walls. One by one, the grand structures appeared, framed by lush gardens and sparkling fountains.
“Many of our most substantial citizens live here,” Becka explained. “One after the other, in luxurious and spacious villas. The boulevard ends at the grand palace complex of Great Leader Teda.”
Soon a pair of ornate gates appeared ahead. Becka stopped the airspeeder at the security checkpoint and was admitted. The massive security gates opened. Ahead was a huge palace that sprawled over a lush landscape of flowers, trees, and shrubs. Flowering vines snaked around the trees and the high walls surrounding the compound. Their scent was heavy in the warm, humid air.