Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth

by Karen Miller

  “Chancellor…” He had to wait a moment before he could trust his voice. “Please, don’t ever doubt my regard for you. It’s too deep for words.”

  Eyes moistening, Palpatine smoothed the nap of his rich blue velvet trousers. “I know it makes you uncomfortable when I praise you in public, Anakin. Particularly to Master Yoda or Master Kenobi.” He looked up. “But I’m not about to apologize for that. Perhaps you’re too close to things. Perhaps you’ve grown accustomed to being… treated in a certain way. But when I see how blithely they take you for granted, when I see how reluctant they are to acknowledge your extraordinary efforts in this awful war—well. It makes me see red.”

  Now it was Anakin’s turn to look down. “Adulation is not the Jedi way,” he murmured. “The knowledge that we’ve done our duty is sufficient for us.”

  “Yes, well, it’s not sufficient for me,” Palpatine retorted. “So I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to me telling you how splendid you are.”

  Anakin laughed. “Far be it from me to argue with the Republic’s Supreme Chancellor.”

  “Anakin…” Smile fading, Palpatine regarded him intently. “How are you, really? The truth. Please.”

  “I’m… tired,” he admitted, after a long pause. “I’m angry. I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “That we’ll lose this war. That I’ll lose more friends. That even if we do defeat Dooku and Grievous, what we’re left with—our Republic—will be so damaged I won’t recognize it.” He shivered. “I’ve seen so much suffering, Chancellor. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning in it. Like no matter what I do it’s not enough.”

  Palpatine nodded. “I understand. I often feel the same way. And loneliness makes it even harder to bear, doesn’t it?”

  “Loneliness?” He stared at Palpatine, abruptly uneasy. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t—”

  “Senator Amidala. Padmé.” Palpatine’s smile was gentle and full of affection. “You miss her, Anakin. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it. Your pain.”

  Shocked icy cold, he struggled to remain calm. How can he know? I’ve been so careful. “I’m sorry, Chancellor, but I think you’re—”

  “Anakin, Anakin…” Palpatine rested a hand on his shoulder. “You mustn’t fret. I won’t tell.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, Supreme Chancellor.” He felt sick. “Padmé—the Senator—I don’t—”

  “Anakin.” Now Palpatine’s hooded eyes were fierce. “You can hide from the Jedi—but you can’t hide from me. I know your heart. And my heart breaks that you must endure such sorrow. I wish there was something I could do, my boy. I wish I could snap my fingers and change their foolish rules. But I can’t. All I can do is promise you—on my life—that I will never betray your confidence. I hope you know that. I hope you trust me.”

  “Yes,” Anakin whispered. “Yes, of course I trust you.”

  Palpatine’s relief hummed in the Force. “Thank you,” he said. “That means a great deal. Anakin—my dear young friend—you’re not alone. And if ever the need to unburden yourself becomes too great to bear, if there’s no one else you can turn to, turn to me. I am here for you, always. There is nothing you could tell me that would change my feelings for you.”

  Padmé had said that: on Tatooine, after he’d confessed to her his slaughter of the Sand People who’d murdered his mother. A slaughter that still haunted his dreams. To hear Palpatine make the same promise…

  “Thank you, Supreme Chancellor. I don’t—I can’t—” He breathed out hard. “Thank you.” Then he stood. “But I should go now. I’ve duties in the Temple—and wounded to ask after.”

  “Of course,” said Palpatine, rising. “We are both busy men. But if you can, come to see me again before you’re flung back into the war. I enjoy your company.”

  “And I enjoy yours, Chancellor,” Anakin said, with a bow. “If I can return, I will. I promise.”

  And feeling much better than he had upon waking, he made his way back to the Jedi Temple.

  Chapter Seven

  “He doesn’t encourage it, you know,” said Obi-Wan, threading the speeder through the slowly building morning traffic, taking the most direct route back to the Temple. “Friendly as he is with the Supreme Chancellor, Anakin doesn’t ask to be singled out in that fashion.”

  In the passenger seat beside him, chin sunk to his chest, Yoda grunted. He was frowning.

  “Besides. Palpatine wasn’t wrong,” he added. “The spynet facility most likely would have fallen if not for him.”

  “An accomplished Jedi has young Skywalker become, Obi-Wan,” Yoda conceded. “But your own part in the saving of Kothlis did you play. Forget that I do not.”

  Warmed by the unexpected praise, he took advantage of their status, slipped their speeder into an adjacent lane, and kicked it along a bit faster.

  “Still, I’m lucky Ahsoka was there,” he said. “She’s shaping up to be a fine Jedi, Master Yoda.”

  “Pleased I am with her progress,” Yoda conceded.

  “Although—” He had to smile. “I believe she’s teaching Anakin at least as much as he’s teaching her. You were right. Training her will be the making of him. Just as training him was the making of me.”

  “Hmm,” said Yoda.

  They weren’t far from the Temple now. Changing lanes again so he could bypass the main transport complex and instead dock the speeder at Yoda’s private landing platform, he glanced sideways at his mentor.

  I’ve never asked. And if I don’t ask now, there’s a chance I never shall.

  “Master… do you regret giving me permission to train Anakin? Even though our path wasn’t always smooth, did we not manage to overcome your reservations?”

  Yoda sighed. “Your best you did, Obi-Wan. Doubt that I do not.”

  Well. Talk about damning with faint praise. “That’s not the same as saying I didn’t fail.”

  “Obi-Wan…” Another sigh. “A difficult child he was. A difficult man he has become.”

  “Difficult? Master—”

  “Brilliance is difficult, Obi-Wan,” Yoda said sharply. “Know that better than anyone you should. Understand him better than anyone you do. A fine line always does your former apprentice walk. Taught him well, you have. But learned well, has he? Only time will tell.”

  It would be foolish—and arrogant—to argue. He was a Jedi Knight who’d trained a single Padawan. And in his long life Yoda had trained hundreds…

  Still. I think he’s wrong. Anakin may have his faults, we all have our faults, but he’s surpassed every goal set for him. He’s made mistakes but he’s never let me down.

  Swinging the speeder out of their public airlane and into the nearest Temple airlane, he decided to change the subject.

  “Admiral Yularen feared Indomitable would be weeks in spacedock. Do you know if that’s true?”

  “True it is, Obi-Wan,” Yoda said heavily. “Although—”

  “So long as she’s in spacedock she can’t be diverted to Kothlis,” he murmured. “Which is reassuring. I understand the planet must be protected, but…” He glanced sideways. “Master Yoda, like Palpatine, you’ve got the best view of the big picture right now. I know I’m not on the Council but—can you tell me? Are things going as badly for us as I suspect?”

  “What do your feelings tell you, Obi-Wan?”

  The Temple was looming. Their journey was almost over, and with it this surprisingly forthright conversation. Best make the most of it while I can. “That we are a long, long way from victory, Master.”

  Yoda sighed. “Enslaved to the dark side the Separatists are. Strong this makes them. Very strong.”

  It was chilling to hear Yoda confirm his worst misgivings. “And the Force? What does it show you?”

  “Not enough.”

  Obi-Wan felt a gibber of fear. Ruthlessly he quashed it. “We will win this war, Master. We have to. The alternative—”

  “Must be faced, Obi-Wan,” said Yoda. He sounded so gri
m. “Clouded is the Republic’s future. Obscured by the dark side. Hope we must have, but not blind hope.”

  And what did that mean? Was Yoda coming to believe that defeat was possible? Probable? Even… inevitable?

  I refuse to accept that. Too many have died defending the Republic for me to accept that.

  With another sideways swoop he guided the speeder toward the Temple sector containing Yoda’s apartment. “Master, perhaps Anakin and I should reconsider our furlough. Five days is a long time. Perhaps—”

  Yoda’s ears lowered. “No. Correct Palpatine was when he said rely on you too much we should not.”

  Though he was worried, he had to smile. “Actually, he said you weren’t to rely on Anakin too much. Our Supreme Chancellor appears not to care for me particularly.”

  “And concern you, does that?”

  “Not in the least, Master,” he said. “Generally speaking, anyone a politician praises to the sky is someone I’d think twice about trusting.”

  That made Yoda laugh. “Young to be so cynical you are, Obi-Wan.”

  “Believe me, Master, the war is aging me fast.”

  “Aging us all it is.” Yoda sighed. “Five days your furlough will remain. This short respite you have earned, Obi-Wan. Take it. No telling there is when rest again you will have.”

  “Well…” Obi-Wan frowned slightly, uncomfortably aware that everyone who’d nagged him about being tired was right. “I won’t say it’s not welcome.”

  Although who knows if I’ll get to enjoy it? There’s dinner with Bail tonight. That might change everything.

  Yoda was staring. He could feel that bright, wickedly sharp intelligence assessing him. “Something else bothering you there is, Obi-Wan. Confide in me, can you?”

  Blast. He should know better than to indulge in doubts around Yoda. Directly ahead lay the Jedi Master’s private landing platform. Slowing the speeder he glided them in, the machine shuddering gently as the automatically triggered cushion-shield absorbed their momentum. He used the maneuver as a distraction, searching for the best response.

  But really, telling the truth was his only option.

  “There is a situation brewing, possibly,” he admitted, “but I need to know more before I speak of it. When I do—if I need to—I will. You have my word.”

  “Your judgment I respect, Obi-Wan,” said Yoda. “Come to me at any time you know you can.”

  Yes, he knew it. But it helped to hear Yoda say so, to know he had the ancient Jedi to lean on. There were days of late when he’d felt very alone.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  He watched Yoda make his way into the Temple, then returned the speeder to the transport pool. After that, with Anakin occupied and nothing else to claim his attention, he headed for the Jedi Archives. With luck he’d find something of value there about Lanteeb. After all, it would be impolite to turn up at Bail’s empty-handed.

  But nearly two hours later it appeared he’d have no choice but to be bad-mannered. Beyond bare bones cartographic information, a passing mention of its colonization date and a brief note about mineral exports, with every last obscure primary, sub-, and super-sub-directory data file rigorously examined, it seemed the Jedi had no interest whatsoever in Lanteeb. Indeed, from what he could tell no Jedi had ever once set foot on Lanteeban soil. As he sat in the private cubicle he’d commandeered, pondering that inconvenient conclusion and feeling mildly peeved, Anakin found him.

  “There you are. What are you doing hidden away in here?”

  He glanced around. “Lanteeb.”

  Anakin blinked, then perched on the edge of the desk. “All right. I’ll bite. Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

  “Planet.”

  “And it’s important because…?”

  He sighed. You and your blasted instincts, Bail… “I have no idea.”

  “And yet we’re discussing it.”

  “Apparently, yes.”

  “Obi-Wan.” Anakin folded his arms, alight with baffled amusement. “Are you feeling all right? We have some time off. There has to be somewhere else you’d rather be.”

  “I could say the same thing to you.”

  Anakin’s smile faded. “Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “I’m still waiting to hear from Ahsoka. Or Rex. I’ll even settle for a Kaminoan. I swear, if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on in the medcenter, and soon…”

  Obi-Wan sat back in his chair. “Stop worrying. Ahsoka and the injured clones are in the best possible hands. If something had gone wrong, you’d have heard by now. Bad news travels reliably fast.”

  “I suppose,” Anakin muttered. “But—I don’t know—maybe I’ll—”

  Obi-Wan slapped him lightly on the arm. “Don’t even think it. The last thing they need is you under their feet, Anakin. Besides, how will it look to Ahsoka if you go running out to Kaliida Shoals? She’ll think you don’t trust her.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with trust,” Anakin protested. “Those are my men, Obi-Wan.”

  “And your apprentice is there for them,” he pointed out. “They need to know that, Anakin. They need to know that you trust her to lead them when you can’t. This is a vital part of her journey from Padawan to Jedi Knight. Don’t deprive her of it because you can’t control your feelings.”

  Anakin opened his mouth to argue, then reconsidered. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think—” Anakin kicked his heel against the polished marble floor. “I think I hate it when I can’t stop my men from getting hurt. From dying. I think—”

  “What?” he prompted, when Anakin didn’t continue.

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters, Anakin,” he said gently. “What you think matters.”

  Anakin flicked him a look. “You’ll just lecture me about attachment. Again.”

  Careful, careful. He’s not your Padawan anymore. “It’s true,” he said, after a moment, “that I sometimes wish you were more… moderate… in your feelings. But it’s also true that your men follow you with such enthusiasm and loyalty because they know how deeply you care.”

  “So—that’s it?” said Anakin. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “Anakin…” He shook his head, recalling Yoda’s somber words. Taught him well, you have. But learned well, has he? “Only you can decide what works best for you. How strongly you feel things—what you choose to care about—I can’t make those decisions for you. I can tell you what I think. I can give you the benefit of my experience. But I can’t live your life for you.”

  Anakin ducked his head. “I already know what you think, Obi-Wan. You think I’m hotheaded. I’m impulsive. That I let myself feel too much.”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Sometimes I do. And sometimes I can’t imagine who I’d be today if not for you. Though you frequently drive me to distraction, Anakin, I cannot deny this: knowing you has made me a better Jedi.”

  Silence. In Anakin’s wide eyes, astonishment. A shy, uncertain pleasure. He felt himself pricked with unexpected guilt.

  I should have told him that long ago. I shouldn’t have let him doubt himself. Lectures are all well and good, but there’s a place for praise. I too easily forget that.

  He cleared his throat and tried to lighten the mood. “By the way, do you have plans for this evening?”

  A disgruntled look skimmed Anakin’s face. “No.”

  “Good. Bail Organa has invited us to dinner. I’d like you to accept.”

  “Us?” said Anakin. “Why us? I mean, you I can understand, but he barely knows me. Unless—” He slid off the desk. “No. He’s stumbled into trouble? Again? Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  Anakin stared at the datareader’s screen, still showing the last unsuccessful query. “And it has something to do with Lanteeb? Don’t tell me it’s a secret Sith base, too.”

  The private cubicle’s door was still open. He waved it closed. “Keep your voice
down. And no. At least, Bail says not.”

  “Then what is this about?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t know, precisely. Hence the dinner invitation, so we can talk about it without fear of interruptions.”

  “Talk about what?” said Anakin, bemused. “What’s so special about Lanteeb? I’ve never even heard of the place.”

  Obi-Wan turned off the datareader. “I hadn’t, either, until he mentioned it. But Bail’s concerned about recent events there… and that’s enough for me to at least hear him out.”

  “And if it’s enough for you, then it should be enough for me?” Anakin perched on the desk again. “What do the Archives say?”

  “About Lanteeb? Very little.”

  “And Dex?”

  Vexed, he frowned. “Dex says nothing at all. He’s offworld visiting family, and out of comm reach.”

  “Oh. Well, don’t you have anyone else you can ask? What about that Arkanian smuggler we ran into last year, what was her name? Targio? Talin? Ta-something-or-other.”

  “No, Anakin. Bail’s asked me to keep this confidential, and I am.”

  Anakin raised an amused, skeptical eyebrow. “Apart from trying to ask Dex, you mean.”

  “Dex doesn’t count. Be patient. We’ll find out more tonight—that is, if you’re coming.”

  “I might as well,” said Anakin, shrugging. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

  Excellent. “Chances are it’s a false alarm, you know,” he added. “But the food and wine will make up for that.”

  “And if it’s not a false alarm?” said Anakin, no longer amused. “What then?”

  Then we’ll have one more problem to deal with, won’t we? “I’d prefer not to speculate ahead of the facts.”

  Anakin frowned at him, his regard almost as intense as Yoda’s. “You don’t think it’s a false alarm. Politician or not, you trust Organa.”

  “I have good reason to, Anakin.”

  “Never said you don’t,” said Anakin. “And Palpatine wouldn’t rely on him so heavily if his judgment wasn’t sound.”