Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (16 page)

W
ATCHING
O
BI-WAN DRAG HIMSELF
back to awareness, Anakin felt a rising fear. Only trained healers were supposed to work on injuries like Arrad’s, and they were meant to use special crystals so they could safely contain and focus their energy. Two experienced healers on the war’s front line had crippled themselves doing what his mentor was trying to do now.

What were you thinking, Obi-Wan? This isn’t your job
.

Beside him, Teeb Rikkard hugged his ribs in silent distress. On his other side Teeba Jaklin rocked on her heels.

At long last, Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

“My son,” said Rikkard, pushing forward. “How is my son? Will he live? Have you healed him?”

Obi-Wan dragged a shaking hand down his face and nodded. “Yes, Teeb. He’ll live. He’s not mended entirely—his broken bones are still knitting. But the wound in his head is dealt with, and the bleeding in his belly.” He took a deep breath and let it out hard. “He must stay quiet with Teeba Sufi awhile yet.”

The Teeba came forward with scissors and fresh bandages. “I’ll see he does—Teeb Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan stood, not quite steady. “Is there anyone else here you think is in danger?”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan raised a silencing hand. Teeba Sufi’s frowning gaze traveled over the other occupied cots.

“No,” she said. “There’s pain and little rest, but no death due the others. Not that I can see.” She looked Obi-Wan up and down. “You’ve done enough. It’s rest
you
need.”

“Soon,” said Obi-Wan. “Teeb Rikkard—”

Rikkard was hovering over Arrad. “What?”

“I must ask you to step outside for a moment, with myself and Anakin and Teeba Jaklin.”

“No. This is my boy,” Rikkard protested. In the sick house’s dull lighting his face was drawn so tight it looked close to tearing. All his knotted scars shone with oil and dirt and sweat. “I’ll not leave him.”

“I’m sorry, Teeb, you must,” said Obi-Wan. Even exhausted, his voice snapped with authority. “It’s village business and you’re the head miner.”

Sufi patted Rikkard’s bowed shoulder. “I’ll sit with him, Teeb. If he stirs I’ll call you.”

“Please, Rikkard,” Teeba Jaklin said. “I can’t decide for Torbel on my own. That’s not right.”

Resentful, Rikkard shrugged Sufi away. “Don’t keep me from him long, Teeb Yavid. Or whatever you call yourself.”

Anakin stared at him. “Teeb Rikkard, you could keep a civil tongue. Master Kenobi just saved your son’s life.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Don’t. His tone doesn’t matter.”

It did, but he could argue the point later. Leaving the sick to the care of Teeba Sufi and Teeba Brandeh, they withdrew to the street outside the sick house. Torbel had quieted a lot in the past hour. Flickering lights in the distance spoke of families sheltering in their homes. The mine was emptied. No one walked or drove through the village. The low-throated hum of the generators was the only constant sound. Beyond the plasma shield the theta storm continued to lash them, an odd light building behind its reddish orange glow. Dawn. The air trapped inside the shield was still tainted with smoke. Still poisoned. Coughing, Anakin tried not to think about that.

“What d’you want to say, Jedi?” Rikkard demanded. “Spit the words out and leave us be.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer him. “Anakin. The power plant? It’s stable? And the generators—you’re confident no more will blow?”

Confident?
Now, that was a bold word. He’d spent the last hour with Rikkard and Devi working like a crazy man to shore up every circuit, every relay, every diode interface and every plasma conduit and junction. Torbel’s power plant made Mos Espa’s look sophisticated. How these people managed to survive out here had become a constant source of amazement to him.

“Devi and Teeb Rikkard say the plant’s holding steady enough,” he said cautiously. “I agree. I don’t think we’ll have another power surge. And we couldn’t find another faulty shield generator. Provided the storm doesn’t last much longer—”

“There’s no knowing when it’ll stop,” said Jaklin. “It’ll pass when it passes. Could be hours. Could be days.”

Great
. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep the plant running somehow.”

“So,” said Rikkard, rubbing his eyes. “You’re Jedi. And what does that mean for Torbel? Can you save us from the government when it learns we can’t supply it with enough damotite?”

“No,” said Obi-Wan. “And we can’t be found here when the convoy comes. But before we leave, we need to send a message to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.”

Rikkard and Jaklin stared at them. “Our comm hub isn’t strong enough to punch a signal that far,” Jaklin said, hostile. “It’s not even strong enough to reach the nearest HoloNet relay.”

“That’s all right,” said Obi-Wan. “We have the means to boost the signal. But—we’ll probably blow your hub doing it.”

“Are you mad?” Rikkard demanded. “Cut us off from Lantibba? From help, if we need it?”

Jaklin was shaking her head. “You can’t expect us to say yes to that.”

“It’s said the Jedi are arrogant,” Rikkard growled. “Seems to me that’s a reputation well deserved.”

“Excuse us a moment, would you?” said Anakin, and tugged Obi-Wan aside.

“Anakin—”

He lowered his voice. “We have to tell them about the damotite. About what it’s being used for.”

“No,” said Obi-Wan. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Obi-Wan, we
have
to. It’s the only way to get them on our side.” He glanced at Rikkard and Jaklin. She had her hand on his arm, close to shaking him, and his worry for Arrad shouted in the Force. “Do you think we can’t trust them?”

“I think they don’t need to know,” said Obi-Wan. “They have burdens enough.”

“Maybe, but we don’t have the luxury of sparing them,” he retorted. “Chances are our only hope of stopping Durd is with an all-out assault on this planet before the barve can ship his bioweapon offworld. Are you really going to put these people’s feelings ahead of that?”

Gray-faced with fatigue, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Then he sighed, and turned back to Rikkard and Jaklin. “Your damotite’s being used to manufacture a bioweapon. A toxic gas so lethal it will wipe out entire cities within minutes. Anakin and I tried to stop its production in Lantibba and failed. Now we need to use—most likely destroy—your communications hub if we’re to save many thousands of lives.”

“That’s the truth?” Rikkard whispered. “No lie? That’s why the government wants our damotite good as raw?”

“That’s why,” said Anakin. “Will you help us, Rikkard?”

“Why ask?” Jaklin said roughly. “Why not bend our minds? That’s what Jedi do, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “If we have to. But we’d rather not. Jaklin, please. We aren’t your enemy. Anakin could have died tonight, holding back the storm. Is that the act of a monster?”

Arms folded, Jaklin stared at the ground. Anger and fear muddied her presence in the Force. Anakin turned to Rikkard. “Teeb—Obi-Wan healed your son. He risked his life
twice
, first in the power plant and again when he got everyone out of the refinery. He’s no more a threat to you than I am.”

“I don’t—” Rikkard rubbed his scarred scalp. “I don’t know.”

“Rikkard, we
have
to trust each other,” Anakin said, stepping closer. “Together we can stop the Separatists from committing an act of mass slaughter. And afterward we’ll make sure Lanteeb’s freed from their tyranny and that all of you are—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “Don’t make promises that aren’t yours to keep.”

“This
will
be mine to keep,” he insisted. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make sure Lanteeb’s looked after. And if the Senate won’t act, I’ll appeal to the Supreme Chancellor directly.”

Jaklin’s eyes widened. “You know the leader of the Republic?”

“Since I was a boy, Teeba,” he said. “Trust me—if I ask him to help you, he will help you.”

Jaklin and Rikkard looked at each other, their faces in the sputtering plasma light etched with indecision. Then Rikkard nodded.

“All right. Use the hub. We can always tell the government it blew out because of the storm.”

Obi-Wan offered him a shallow, unsteady bow. “Thank you, Teeb. We’re very grateful.”

“No. Thank you.” Rikkard swallowed, hard. “You saved my boy.”

“You should return to him, Rikkard,” Obi-Wan said gently. “He’ll want to know you’re close by. And if we can ask you for one last favor?”

“Keep our mouths shut?” said Jaklin, snorting. “Think we came down with the last spatter of rain, do you?”

And on that trenchant note she and Rikkard walked back into the sick house.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. “I can do this. You should—”

“I’m fine,” said Obi-Wan, and headed for the charter house.

Stang
. Frustrated, Anakin stared after him.
Fine? You stubborn barve, you’re almost out on your feet. How crazy are you, healing people who are three-quarters dead? That’s something I’d do. You’re supposed to be the sensible one, remember?

With a resigned shake of his head, he jogged to catch up.

“I suspect we’ll need to dismantle both our lightsabers for this to work,” said Obi-Wan as they entered the empty building. “There’s a chance the theta storm will interfere with all outgoing comm signals.”

“A chance?” he scoffed. “The way our luck’s running you can bet on it, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan smiled briefly. “Yes. Well. Under the circumstances I think I’d rather save my credits.”

But their luck wasn’t all bad—the difficulties with the power grid hadn’t affected the lights or the hub. After checking that the equipment was still operational they got to work, stripping the diatium cells from their lightsabers, then wiring them up to the hub’s existing, inadequate power supply. With that done, and facing no immediate circuitry meltdown, Anakin connected the scrambler chip and Obi-Wan kicked the hub into life.

“Well,” he said after a tense moment. “It didn’t explode. So far so good.”

Anakin grinned. “Hold that thought. How’s the signal strength looking?”

“Still weak,” said Obi-Wan, slipping the hub back to standby mode and reading off the gauge. “The storm and the shield really aren’t helping.” He pinched the bridge of his nose hard, eyes screwed shut. “I don’t know, Anakin. This is a very long shot.”

Was that Obi-Wan sounding defeated? He
never
sounded defeated. He never gave up. No matter how bad things got he stuck by his golden rule:
A solution to the problem will always present itself
.

Anakin shrugged. “Better than no shot at all,” he said, deliberately indifferent.
Come on, Obi-Wan. Snap out of it
. “Master Ban-yaro will have the Temple listening for us. If anyone can pick up a signal, he can.”

“True.” Cross-legged on the floor, Obi-Wan shook himself. “All right then. Here goes nothing. May the Force be with us.”

He switched the hub from standby to active. It buzzed loudly, vibrations thrumming it as the power boost from the diatium cells surged through its rejiggered circuitry. Something sizzled, and the air turned briefly acrid. One by one, reluctantly, the comm signal board lit green.

“
Now
, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “I don’t know how much longer this is going to hold.”

Obi-Wan keyed in the coded Temple frequency, waited for the scrambler chip to come online, then toggled the transmit switch and waited again for the hub to confirm connection to the HoloNet comm relay network.

Nothing.

Anakin felt the first beads of sweat start to trickle down his spine. Stang, the hub unit was so
slow
. Must be twenty years out of date, at least.

Come on, come on, come on, come on…

The last indicator light turned green. They heard a buzzing hum and a crackle of static. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. And then he leaned close to the hub mike, his expression intent and urgent.

“This is Obi-Wan Kenobi for Master Yoda. Repeat, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi for Master Yoda. Priority Alpha. Can you respond?”

T
HE SECURITY COMM’S BEEPING
dragged Bail Organa out of his shallow, toss-and-turn sleep. Barely rested, his head still aching despite the blocker he’d taken before falling into bed what felt like only five minutes ago, he opened his eyes.

“Lights.”

Slowly the chamber lifted out of shadow. The security comm beeped steadily, its red warning light flashing on the nightstand beside him.

Stang. This had better be good
.

“Organa.”

“
This is Master Ban-yaro at the Jedi Temple, Senator. Master Yoda requests your immediate presence in the communications center.
”

Bail sat up, his heart racing. “I’m on my way.”

Some thirty standard minutes later he was crowded into a secure comms booth with Yoda and the Temple’s impressive communications chief, listening to an almost inaudible message from Obi-Wan.

“I didn’t catch all of that,” he said, once the recording had run its course. “Can I hear it again?”

Yoda nodded at Ban-yaro, the Jedi tapped a switch on the comm deck, and a moment later the faint, static-scratched message replayed.

“
—both still alive. We’re trapped by a theta storm in an outlying village. Master Yoda, we were unable to extract Doctor Fhernan. Production of the weapon continues on a major scale. Recommend you launch an immediate assault to take the planet. When the storm breaks, we’ll return to the city and make another attempt to stop Durd. If we can, we’ll—
”

And there the message ended, swallowed by static. Bail sat back in his chair. “Thank you.” Looking at Yoda, he wondered if the ancient Jedi felt as sick with relief as he did himself. “So what now?”

“We wait,” said Yoda, standing, supported by his gimer stick.

“For how long?” he demanded. “I think it’s fair to say the Republic’s in graver danger now than it was the day Obi-Wan and Anakin left for Lanteeb. We have to rethink our strategy, Master Yoda. Obi-Wan’s right—we need to get control of that planet.”

Yoda’s ears flattened. “Still working to create an antidote your scientist friend is, Senator,” he pointed out. “Until a countermeasure against this bioweapon we have, public knowledge of the Separatists’ plans we must avoid. Panic will that cause. Great devastation.”

“I agree,” he said. “The public can’t know. But since when do we brief the public on our fleet deployments? Nobody needs to know where the battle group’s going.”

Yoda just looked at him. “A secret you think this business will remain, once GAR Fleet Command is told?”

With Separatist spies still in their midst?
No. He’s right. But
—“Then we have to take this to Palpatine. If Durd really is stockpiling the bioweapon, it seems likely an attack on the Republic is imminent. As head of the Security Committee I can no longer support keeping the Supreme Chancellor in the dark.”

“Hmmph.” Yoda’s ears flattened further. “Agree with you I do, Senator. Reluctantly. To Palpatine we will go.”

“You mean now?”

“Yes, now,” said Yoda. “Master Ban-yaro, every Temple resource you will direct to listening for Master Kenobi’s next message.”

“Yes, Master,” said the communications chief, bowing.

Yoda held out his hand. “A secure comlink, if you please.”

Ban-yaro handed him one and Yoda placed a comm to Palpatine’s private residence, arranging for an immediate meeting. Then he handed back the comlink and turned. “Senator?”

Standing, Bail offered the comm chief a nod. “My thanks, Master Ban-yaro. Without your expertise and diligence we might be in even worse straits.”

It wasn’t until he and Yoda were in his speeder, racing along a priority traffic lane with the Temple a distance behind them that the ancient Jedi Master spoke again.

“Ask you I must, Senator, to let me direct this conversation with the Supreme Chancellor.”

Bail gave Yoda a sidelong look. “Any particular reason why? Given I’m one of Palpatine’s most trusted security advisors he’s going to want to hear from me. And if I might be blunt, I can’t afford to have my priorities questioned. It might be convenient to some that I enjoy a good relationship with the Jedi, but I must be seen as a senator, serving the Republic first and foremost.”

“Know that I do,” said Yoda, slumped and brooding in the speeder’s front passenger seat. “Yet ask for your reticence I must. A delicate situation this is.”

“Please, Master Yoda, continue,” Bail said, as Yoda frowned at Coruscant’s scintillating nighttime light show. “Whatever you tell me won’t be repeated.”

Yoda’s lips twitched. “Not even to Obi-Wan?”

“Not if you tell me to forget what I hear.”

“Senator…” Yoda looked at him, his eyes grim. “Forget what you hear.”

Oh, mercy
. “Done.”

“A keen interest does Palpatine take in Jedi business, Senator,” Yoda said. “Deflect his questions I can. Reveal more than you intend or I might like, you could, if freely you speak with him.”

“I see,” he said slowly.

Obi-Wan’s never hidden his disdain for politics and politicians. But I never realized the attitude went so high in the Order. Or that they regarded Palpatine so warily
.

“Angry Palpatine will be when learn of the Lanteeb mission he does,” Yoda added. “Better it is that his anger toward me is directed. Impervious to it I am. Harmed by his temper I cannot be.”

“Whereas I serve at the Supreme Chancellor’s pleasure.”

“A good man you are, Bail Organa,” Yoda said quietly. “A great debt do we owe you. A poor friend would I be if damage to your career I allowed because of choices I made.”

Bail had to clear his throat. “Master Yoda—you owe me nothing.”

Sighing, Yoda shook his head. “Wrong about that you are, Senator. Obi-Wan’s life do I owe you.”

Obi-Wan.
My own life’s not so cluttered with friends that I can afford to lose one
. “Will he and Anakin be all right, Master? Will we get them back?”

“Know that I do not,” said Yoda, as though the words were deeply painful. “Pray for them you could, if prayer your custom is.”

Well, it was honored more in the breach than the practice, but… “I’ll say every prayer I know, Master. I’ll even make up a few if that’ll help.”

Yoda nodded. “It would.”

Bail shifted them out of their government priority traffic lane into the slipstream that would take them to the ultra-high-security residential sector housing Palpatine’s apartment. Then he considered Yoda again.

“You know what you’ll be risking, if you delay an assault on Lanteeb.”

Another nod. “Yes, Senator. I know.”

“And if the worst happens?”

Yoda didn’t answer—and Bail didn’t push.

Stang
.

They’d almost reached their destination. Even though he was Bail Organa, with Master Yoda as his passenger, even though his speeder was equipped with security clearance beacons, tags, markers and chips, still they were escorted the remainder of their journey by four heavily armed and armored Senate Personal Guard speeders. Once docked inside the fortified private residence’s secure lockup facility, they were ordered from their own speeder, triple-scanned, retina-checked, then taken by a team of Senate Commandos to a dedicated armored swift-tube that whisked them to the penthouse suite, where Palpatine was waiting.

Clad head to toe in plain, unrelieved black—odd to see after his ceremonial Senate garb—the Republic’s Supreme Chancellor dismissed their escort.

“Well,” he said, once they were alone. “Why do I have the feeling you’re not bringing me good news?”

Bail took a step forward. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, Supreme Chancellor. Unfortunately, it was necessary. There are developments of which you must be made aware, that couldn’t wait till morning.”

Palpatine’s hair glowed silver in his foyer’s warm and welcoming light. “Yes,” he drawled. “I’d gathered that much. Very well then, Senator. Master Yoda. If the galaxy as we know it is about to end, I fail to see why we can’t discuss the matter in comfort. Come this way.”

As Palpatine turned to lead them into his apartment proper, Bail glanced down at Yoda.
Over to you
. Yoda nodded, his eyes bleak, and together they followed in the Supreme Chancellor’s chilly wake.