The Clone Wars: Wild Space

by Karen Miller

  Outwardly Obi-Wan seemed to do nothing, but his terrible aspect eased. Her skin stopped prickling. “And do you trust him?” he asked, mildly enough.

  “I do. He’s a good man, Obi-Wan. He loves the Republic. He works as hard as any Jedi to see it kept safe.”

  There was the faintest derision in Obi-Wan’s clear blue eyes. “He’s a politician, Padmé.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “So am I. Isn’t that your biggest problem with me?”

  My biggest problem? No. The answer flashed across his face, as easy to read as any holo-billboard, but he didn’t say the words out loud. “You’re a lot more than a mere politician,” he said instead, and now his eyes warmed with a faint, reluctant smile. “As we both know.”

  “A compliment?” she said, pretending shock. “You should warn me next time, Obi-Wan. Give me a chance to sit down first.”

  He didn’t rise to the bait. “It’s odd, but now that I think of it, Padmé, you’ve encountered the Sith as often as I have,” he murmured, frowning. “Almost as if they’re as interested in you as they are in us.”

  She shivered. Oh please, let him be wrong. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “This threat,” he continued, his eyes hinting at apology. “Do you find it plausible?”

  “I don’t know the details,” she said, wrenching her thoughts from that dark place. “I don’t know Bail’s contact. But for what little it’s worth, Obi-Wan… I do know him well enough to promise he doesn’t scare easily. And he’s not a gullible fool, either, to fall for any old story.”

  “I see,” said Obi-Wan, and sighed. “Very well, then, Padmé. Let us hear what Senator Organa has to say.”

  “They call themselves the Friends of the Republic,” said the Senator from Alderaan. “They first contacted me a little over four years ago. At the time, the Alderaan government was in negotiations with Chandrila for a joint mining venture on Aridus. My wife’s family has connections to the Corporate Sector, and some of those connections were involved with the project. The information provided by this group helped avert a diplomatic and humanitarian disaster that would have engulfed not only Alderaan and Chandrila, but several other key Republic systems as well.”

  Obi-Wan considered him, frowning. “And they did so because they are friends of the Republic?”

  A flicker in Organa’s eyes showed he heard the skepticism, but he didn’t respond to it. “And because they would have been directly impacted by the resulting scandal if the mining venture had been allowed to continue as planned.”

  Ah. Of course. “In other words they were motivated by personal gain.”

  “I don’t deny enlightened self-interest was a factor,” Organa said, mildly enough. “But it’s also true that many lives and livelihoods were saved by their intervention.” He shrugged. “After all, self-preservation isn’t a crime.”

  Perhaps not, but as a motive it did tarnish the altruistic halo. “And they assumed you would also act out of enlightened self-interest?”

  “They gambled that even if I wasn’t motivated by doing the right thing, I’d use all my political power to avoid a scandal that would damage my House. But I can assure you, Master Kenobi, that if doing the right thing had meant exposing my family and connections to censure, then I would not have hesitated. There were many lives on the line.”

  An interesting admission. Is this man a typical politician, or isn’t he? The Jedi Council thinks of him as a friend, but these are proving to be deceptive times. Trust is a more expensive commodity now. “I don’t recall hearing anything of this narrowly averted mining disaster.”

  Organa’s brief smile was grim. “It was handled at the highest diplomatic levels, with the utmost discretion. If the details had leaked, we’d still be mopping up the political fallout today.”

  Really? Well, that certainly confirmed what the Jedi knew of Organa’s credentials and influence. “So, Senator, you handled a difficult situation neatly. Congratulations. But forgive me if I point out that one mynock does not an infestation make.”

  Organa leaned forward, fingers fisted so tight his knuckles whitened. “Master Kenobi, please. Give me some credit. These Friends of the Republic proved themselves five more times after our initial encounter. They were… matters of internal Alderaan security. I don’t propose to divulge the details, but I can assure you they have done me and my House great service. By extension, they have served the Republic. And for all I know, I’m not the only one they’ve helped. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific about them, but what I’ve told you is the truth. Are you prepared to take my word on that?”

  “Of course he is, Bail,” said Padmé, breaking her silence at last. Her pleasant tone was deceptive: beneath its sweetness a sharp blade lurked. “Obi-Wan knows the Jedi have no better friend than you. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten how you defended the Order in the Senate against the Quarren’s unjust accusations of child-theft.”

  No, he had not, but that incident had no bearing on the current situation. He shot her a quelling look. Do not push me, Padmé. Then he nodded at Organa.

  “Your support of the Jedi is well-known in the Order, Senator,” he said, at his most reserved. “Please do not misinterpret my concerns as suspicion.”

  “I don’t,” said Organa. “It’s in all our best interests to be cautious these days, Master Kenobi.”

  “Obi-Wan,” said Padmé. Her tone was softer, more cajoling than commanding. “These are dark times, it’s true, but some friends remain friends until the end. I believe Bail is one of them.”

  So she understood, did she, the wariness that now pervaded the Jedi Council? Interesting…

  He turned again to Organa. “Senator, I accept your assertion that these people—whoever they are—have proven themselves to be friends of Alderaan, and their information in that regard is reliable. But what makes you believe they’re reliable beyond that?”

  Organa flicked an apologetic glance at Padmé. Then he braced his shoulders. “You’re not going to like this, either of you.”

  Obi-Wan swallowed a sigh. Probably not, no. I already don’t like it and I hardly know anything yet. “Let me be the judge of that, Senator.”

  Slowly, choosing his words with care, Organa detailed the other information that had been passed to him by his mysterious contact. Information concerning certain wartime engagements that was rigorously restricted, such as the fact that the clone army had been ordered by an unknown Jedi, and that Anakin Skywalker had nearly been killed by the fallen Jedi Count Dooku. That a traitor in the Bakuran government was responsible for Grievous’s annihilation of the entire Ruling Synod, and that during the Christophsis mission Dooku’s pet assassin Asajj Ventress had only just failed to murder two Jedi Knights.

  Padmé was staring at Organa. “But Bail—why did you never mention this? Surely the Security Committee should know—Chancellor Palpatine should know—that there’s been a breach of—”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone. I’m sorry, Padmé,” said Organa. He sounded defensive. “I gave these people my word years ago that I would never reveal their existence. How could I repay all the good they’ve done with treachery? They told me these things as a show of good faith, as a way to demonstrate that their wartime intelligence network is extensive and accurate. That if they give me information about the Separatists, I can trust it’s correct.”

  “Yes, well, that sounds good in theory,” she retorted. “But Bail—”

  “Have they told anyone else? Have they undermined the war effort by making any of the information public?” Organa demanded. “No. They haven’t. Instead they’re trying to help me. Help us. Again. And we have to let them. Because if they’re right—and they’ve never been wrong—the stakes are higher than ever before.”

  And that was true, if the Sith were involved. Obi-Wan frowned at his interlaced fingers, inwardly shaken. Then he looked up. “How does your arrangement with these people work, Senator? Do you meet with them?”

  Organa shook his head. “No
. I’ve never seen or even spoken with them. Their communications are text-based and encrypted. Coded messages sent in shortburst over a secure link they gave me at the time of the Aridus situation. And I can’t contact them. They don’t work for me, Master Kenobi. If they learn something they think I should know, they tell me. That’s it.”

  Extraordinary. “You are taking an amazing leap of faith, Senator. And now you’re asking me to leap with you.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Organa demanded. “But given what they know, what they’ve managed to learn, is it any wonder they guard their identities so jealously? Is it fair to blame them for protecting themselves the only way they know how?”

  No, it wasn’t fair. And there was nothing but truth in Bail Organa’s passionate defense of them. Alderaan’s Senator believed every word he said. But was that enough? Profoundly unsettled, Obi-Wan let his gaze shift from Organa to Padmé.

  She trusts him. Just as she trusted Qui-Gon and Boss Nass. As she trusted herself when she felt Dooku was behind the Separatists, even when Mace and Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke against her. She wasn’t wrong then—I just have to trust she’s not wrong now.

  He looked back at Organa. “And now these unidentified, secretive friends of yours have warned you about an attack on the Jedi by the Sith. Yes, Senator,” he added, as Organa stared at Padmé. “Your colleague told me that much. She wanted to be certain you had my full attention. You do.”

  Organa stood and paced to the apartment’s panoramic window. Rigid with tension, he stared out across the city, toward the Jedi Temple. Then he turned, his face pinched. “So you’re telling me they exist, these Sith? They’re real?”

  Obi-Wan hesitated. If I tell him the truth… if I reveal to this man one of our greatest secrets and he proves false…

  The problem was, Organa already knew the truth. He’d learned the secret. Well. Part of the secret.

  And a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. If I try to put him off, dismiss what he’s been told as rumor or hearsay, will he believe me? I don’t think so. I think he’ll try to discover more on his own. And that would be far more dangerous, for all of us. I have no choice but to tell him the truth.

  He could only hope that Yoda and the Council agreed with him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Yes, Senator,” he said quietly. “The Sith are real.”

  Organa stared, almost as though he’d been expecting a denial. Then he nodded. “All right. So at least we know my contact’s not been misled about that. How many are there? Who are their leaders? I presume they have names.”

  Obi-Wan didn’t dare look at Padmé. “We don’t know their leaders’ true identities. We know only that they exist.”

  “And do they present a danger to the Jedi?”

  It was too late to turn back now. “They threaten not only the Jedi, but the entire galaxy. Every life now breathing, sentient and nonsentient, and every life that is yet to be born.”

  It was Organa’s turn to be shaken. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I am not at liberty to divulge more details,” Obi-Wan said, briefly enjoying the irony. “I simply ask you to accept my word on the matter.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on Organa, either. But his thin smile faded quickly. “If the Sith are such a threat, Master Kenobi, why have I never heard of them? I’m head of the Republic’s Security Committee. I should have heard of them.”

  Now there was an edge of temper in his mellow voice. A hint of an anger that masked a deeper fear. Accepting it, Obi-Wan maintained his own composure. “The Sith live in the shadows of the dark side, Senator. The Jedi believed they were long dead. Vanquished a thousand years ago.”

  “Really?” Organa snorted, derisive. “Then it would appear the Jedi were mistaken.”

  “Bail,” said Padmé. “That’s not fair.”

  “Not fair?” said Organa. His dark eyes were glinting. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Padmé. It’s not fair the Jedi know of a threat that make the Separatists look like playground bullies and they haven’t seen fit to inform the Senate! It’s high-handed, autocratic decisions like this that fuel mistrust and resentment of them in the Outer Rim! And sometimes even closer to home. It’s not good enough. We must work together, as equals, or we’ll fail.”

  Padmé slid out of her chair and took a step toward him. “Bail, please. Calm down and—”

  “Calm down?” he echoed. “No. I’m angry, Padmé. Why aren’t you? What else is going on that they haven’t told us? What do they know that you and I should know, as representatives of the people and members of the Security Committee? That Palpatine should know, as the Republic’s duly elected Supreme Chancellor? Don’t you see what’s happening here? As hard as it may be to believe, the Jedi have placed themselves above the rule of law.”

  “No, Bail, they haven’t,” Padmé said hotly. “They’re dying to uphold the rule of law.”

  “Well, at least they’re dying with their eyes open!” snapped Organa, unappeased. “How many innocents are going to die—are dying—in ignorance because the Jedi aren’t being open and honest?”

  Obi-Wan pushed to his feet. I’ve been a fool. Supportive or not, this man is a politician, an outsider, and he will never understand. I should heed my own advice: it’s never wise to trust them. “Senators, this matter cannot be resolved here and now. Therefore I shall return to the Temple and refer it to the Jedi Council. Until such time as a decision is made on how best to proceed, I’d ask that you both—”

  “No. Wait,” said Padmé, and caught hold of his arm. “Master Kenobi, please wait.” She turned. “Bail, I’m sorry. I do know about the Sith. I’ve known for ten years.”

  Obi-Wan stared at her, taken by surprise. Though really, after Geonosis, I shouldn’t be. But she had no business telling Organa anything. She’d given the Jedi her solemn word that her knowledge of the Sith would remain secret. “Padmé—”

  “It’s all right, Obi-Wan,” she said quickly. “I promise.”

  Which was easy for her to say, but from the look on Organa’s face things were far from all right.

  “Ten years?” the Senator said blankly. “How do you—”

  “They were behind the invasion of Naboo,” she said. “And they’re behind this war with the Separatists. Bail, you must listen to Obi-Wan. He knows what he’s talking about. He’s the only Jedi in a thousand years to have faced a Sith in mortal combat and lived.”

  “You know,” said Organa, still sounding dazed. “And you stayed silent? Padmé—”

  “Trust me, Bail,” she said, her voice unsteady. “There are worse things than silence.”

  “You mean like not bothering to mention an enemy like the Sith?”

  Her chin came up. “I see. So you’re turning hypocrite on me, is that it?”

  “I’m not a hypocrite!”

  “Oh? So you’re not withholding intelligence from the Security Committee? From the Senate? From Palpatine? I imagined what you just said you were told about Bakura and Christophsis and the clones?”

  Organa’s face tightened. “That’s different.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s what all the hypocrites say!” she retorted, close to snarling. “There’s always a reason why the rules don’t apply to them!”

  There was molten silence as they stared at each other, breathing hard, like two lightsaber opponents fought to a momentary standstill. Obi-Wan sighed. This really was a mistake. Yoda is going to peel my hide. “Senators—”

  Padmé stopped him with an imperious, upraised hand. “Bail,” she said, more calmly. “You have your reasons for not telling anyone about your Friends of the Republic. As far as you’re concerned they’re good reasons, and you expect me to respect them. So why can’t you respect the Jedi’s decision—my decision—not to reveal the existence of the Sith?”

  Scowling, Organa folded his arms. “You think I don’t see the parallels here? I do. But Padmé, there is the very real question of degree. We are talking about the safety of our entire galaxy, no
t just—”

  “I know that,” she said, and moved closer to rest a hesitant hand on his forearm. He was so tall, so imposing, and she was so small in contrast. But only physically. There was nothing small about her spirit. “It’s because the galaxy stands at risk from the Sith that I agree with how the Jedi are handling this. Bail, I’ve seen what they can do. Believe me, only the Jedi can handle this. Are you going to tell me you know how to defeat an enemy who lives and breathes the dark side of the Force? That Palpatine does?”

  “Of course not. But at the very least, Palpatine should be told that—”

  “He was told, Bail,” said Padmé, reluctantly. “When he came to Naboo for Qui-Gon’s funeral and the formal reconciliation and treaty between our people and the Gungans. And he agreed that the Sith should be kept a secret.”

  Organa’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered himself quickly. “That was then. But things are different now, Padmé. And if we’re at war with these Sith, then—”

  “Then how is our cause helped by spreading more fear, more confusion, when so far very little is known about them?” Padmé argued. “When we’re already struggling against the Separatists? Or are you saying this news wouldn’t provoke panic?”

  Organa hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “Well then?”

  He looked down at her, clearly torn between resentment and contrition. “How is it you contrive to put me in the wrong when I know I have a legitimate grievance?”

  She smiled at him, fleeting mischief banishing the last of her temper. “It’s a gift.”

  “Ha,” he said, his anger evaporating. “One woman’s gift is another man’s curse.” He shrugged. “What can I say, Padmé? I’m afraid.”

  “If it helps,” she said, her eyes full of sympathy, “you’re not the only one.”

  Obi-Wan looked at her. She’s afraid for Anakin. Because, like a fool, I allowed my concerns for him to loosen my tongue. I should peel my own hide. He cleared his throat. “Senators…”