Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (4 page)

Despite the late hour and his continuing obligations, Bail didn’t leave the Temple for the Senate straightaway. Instead he made the long and convoluted journey from its lowest levels up to the giddy heights of the Jedi Council Chamber, where Yoda had arranged to meet with him.

“I take it there’s still no word, Master?”

Standing before the panoramic window, watching a distant, impressive Republic Cruiser heading for the GAR docks, Yoda shook his head. “Correct you are, Senator.”

“And what does that mean?”

Yoda glanced over his shoulder. “Delayed they have been. Dead they are not.”

Not dead… not dead…
Bail swallowed. “You’re sure?”

“Clouded is the Force with dark side menace, but know that much I do. Obi-Wan and Anakin live.”

It was odd, how relief could be as sickening as fear. “And when you say delayed?”

Supported by his spindly gimer stick, Yoda turned from the window and began an aimless wandering of his Council aerie. “The answers that you seek, Senator, give you I cannot.” The gimer stick rapped the Chamber’s beautifully parqueted floor once, with sharp emphasis. “Against Obi-Wan and Anakin going to Lanteeb I was. Spies and agents the Jedi are not. A task for your people this mission was.”

He was being rebuked—and didn’t much care for it. “Then why did you approve their involvement?”

“Know why you do,” said Yoda, ears low, eyes hooded.

Because I asked a friend for help. And that friend asked you to let him help me
.

But he wasn’t about to let guilt cripple him. There was way too much at stake for that. “We can point fingers later, Master Yoda. Right now we’ve got another crisis to avert. If Obi-Wan and Anakin are in trouble—”

“Hmmph,” said Yoda, and kept on pacing. “
If?
A Jedi you need not be, Senator, to know that trouble Obi-Wan Kenobi and young Skywalker have likely found.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Bail braced his shoulders. “In that case, Master Yoda, what do you intend to do about it?”

Yoda stopped his slow pacing. Planting his gimer stick before him, both hands braced, he pulled his chin to his chest. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Even though he’d been half expecting the answer, still it shocked him. “Master Yoda, we can’t abandon them. Forget the fact that we have a personal stake in what happens—for all we know Obi-Wan and Anakin hold the key to defeating Durd and his bioweapon. We
can’t—
”

Another emphatic rap of the gimer stick. “We can and we must, Senator. No clue is there to what is happening on Lanteeb. Rush to help them we could, yes, and make things worse. Patient we must be. Trust in Obi-Wan and his former Padawan we must have.”

Trust wasn’t the issue. This was a matter of honor and obligation.
I got them mixed up in this. I can’t leave them twisting alone
. “But—Master Yoda—”

“Senator Organa—” Abruptly, Yoda’s severe expression eased. “For your friend fearful you are. Understand that I do. But a survivor Obi-Wan Kenobi is. Know that better than anyone
you
do. The Force is with him. Your own battles now you should fight. Enemies our Republic has both inside and out. The Senate your arena is. The Jedi you must leave to me.”

He could argue, of course, but there’d be little point. In this place Yoda was the supreme authority. And to rail at him for being a Jedi would only threaten their new and in many ways tentative partnership.

“Of course, Master Yoda,” he said, bowing. “But if the time comes when I can be of assistance—”

“Call upon you I shall, Senator Organa,” said Yoda. “Doubt that do not. A loyal friend to the Jedi you are.”

And as a friend he had to admit his own part in their current dilemma. “I’m very sorry, Master Yoda, that my actions have once again put Obi-Wan in harm’s way. And that this time Anakin’s at risk, too.”

Sighing, his gaze downcast, Yoda traced a small circle on the floor with the tip of his gimer stick. “No. Done that the war has, Senator. If not trouble on Lanteeb then trouble elsewhere would they have found. In these dark times finding trouble every Jedi is.” He looked up. “Your scientist friend. Doctor Netzl. Progress has he made in defeating Lok Durd’s weapon?”

Bail hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet. But he’s committed to finding an answer.”

“And believe, does he, that an answer can be found?”

I really don’t want to answer that
. But he had to. “Master Yoda, he’s hopeful.”

“Hmmm.” Turning, Yoda again stared out across never-sleeping Coruscant. “Hope we must all have. But win a war hope will not. Save lives hope will not. Defeat the Sith hope will not.”

He’d never imagined he’d hear Yoda sounding discouraged. “The Jedi defeated the Sith once. You can do it again.”

“But defeat them we did not, Senator,” Yoda retorted. “Only into hiding did we drive them.”

“And you’ll drive them out again. Out of hiding and to their destruction. They can’t prevail, Master Yoda. Two Sith against so many Jedi? It’s just not possible.”

“Yes. Yes,” said Yoda. He sounded so weary. “Hope that we must.”

Tendrils of fog were creeping through the city’s forest of buildings. Illuminated holo-billboards and beacons and the headlights of passing speeders and other vehicles glowed luminous and strange, rainbow colors muting and smearing. Fog turned Coruscant from brash and beautiful to mysterious.

It’s a wonder it doesn’t collapse under the weight of all the secrets it’s hiding
.

He should be getting back to the Senate. He’d arranged to meet Padmé there before the evening’s scheduled preliminary vote regarding a trade dispute between Devaron and Kelada. The rival planets’ spat was threatening to disrupt the Corellian Trade Spine, and the Corellians were in turn threatening punitive action.

Because of course what the Republic really needs right now is more fighting
.

He and Padmé had agreed to share their research on the situation. She’d be waiting for him by now. Only…

“If a question you have, Senator, then ask it you should,” said Yoda. Now he sounded faintly amused. “And answer it I will, if able I am.”

Once, in idle conversation, Obi-Wan had called this ancient Jedi
the most intimidating person I’ve ever known
. He wasn’t wrong. And it wasn’t even deliberate. Yoda simply exuded the kind of innate authority that turned everyone around him into a subordinate. Partly it was the weight of his long life, but mostly it was because he’d accrued not just centuries, but centuries of wisdom. The Jedi Master hadn’t let a minute of his nine-hundred-odd years go to waste.

And though I’m little more than a child compared to him, he seeks out my opinion and sometimes follows my advice
.

Every so often, remembering that, Bail found it hard to breathe.

“Yes, Master, I do have a question,” he said. “When do you intend to tell the Supreme Chancellor about the bioweapon and the mission to Lanteeb? When are you going to tell him that Obi-Wan and Anakin are in trouble?”

Slowly, Yoda turned. “Your investigation into leaked classified information, Senator. Concluded, is it?”

The Jedi Master knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. So far every discreetly pursued avenue of inquiry had run into a dead end. Weeks after beginning the investigation they were no closer to learning who was behind the worrying security breaches in divisions up to and including the Republic’s executive branch.

It was but one of the things that kept him from sleeping well at night.

“I appreciate the sensitivity of the situation, Master Yoda, but we can’t leave Palpatine in the dark much longer,” Bail said. “For one thing I’m answerable to him—and if he learns from another source what’s going on he’s going to want to know why I didn’t brief him.”

“If told he is that I requested your silence, no action against you will the Supreme Chancellor take,” Yoda said firmly. “Understand he does that precedence the Jedi have in matters like this.”

“Your support is always welcome, Master Yoda, I hope you know that—but in this case I’m not certain it would help. Palpatine has to believe he can trust me. The moment I lose his trust I’ll lose my position, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I think it’s vital that I stay where I am, doing my job.”

“Arrogant you are not, Senator,” said Yoda, with another rap of his gimer stick on the parquetry floor. “Without doubt you are needed.” Sighing heavily, he rubbed his chin. “When heard from Obi-Wan we have—and when told us Doctor Netzl has whether or not an antidote for Durd’s bioweapon he can create—then to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine we will go.”

“And when he demands an explanation for why we didn’t tell him any of this sooner?”

“Remind him we will that closely is he watched by our Republic’s enemies,” said Yoda, his eyes narrowed. “Sense hidden truths, they can, therefore silent we remained on this new threat.”

As explanations went, it sounded plausible. Now if only he thought Palpatine would buy it.

“Even if he does accept our reasoning, he’ll be furious. You do know that?”

Yoda shrugged, supremely indifferent. “Care for his anger, should I, when countless lives we seek to save?”

“No, Master. Of course not.”

“Then care will I not, Senator.” The merest glimmer of a smile. “And neither should you.”

Mostly reassured, Bail took his leave of Yoda and returned to the Senate. Three floors of the enormous complex were given over to courtesy offices for visiting government officials. That was where he found Padmé, and joined her to compare facts and figures for the pre-vote debate.

“Except I’ll be voting by proxy,” she said, passing him her preliminary assessment and taking his to read in return. “Queen Jamillia’s asked me to mediate a dispute between Naboo’s Artisans’ Guild and the Bonadan Silver Sand Consortium. They’ve raised their prices again, and the glassblowers are about ready to declare war.”

Tapping his fingers on her datapad, Bail frowned. “You know, I’m starting to think belligerence is contagious.”

Padmé gave him a brief, halfhearted smile. “And I’m starting to agree with you.”

She was looking tired. The severity of her midnight-blue gown and sleeked-back hair only accentuated her pallor. Shadows darkened the delicate skin beneath her eyes and the hollows of her cheeks. She was fretting herself to an unhealthy slenderness, and there was nothing he could do to help.

Moments after starting to scroll through his datapad of notes she hesitated, then hit the ’pad’s pause function. “There’s no news?”

“No. I’d have told you if there was.”

“Of course you would,” she said, recoiling. “I’m sorry.”

Instantly contrite, Bail touched his fingers to her arm. “No,
I’m
sorry.”

“They’ll be fine,” she said, all her vulnerability ruthlessly repressed. “They’re gifted, experienced Jedi. They’ll be fine.”

Oh, Padmé. From your lips to the ears of any god or goddess who might be listening. From your lips to their mysterious Force…

Not long after that she left her proxy vote with him and went to wrestle with the artisans and the Silver Sand Consortium. With his own mind made up, Bail snatched a hasty meal in the busy Senatorial dining room—where he was joined by Mon Mothma, the quietly elegant co-representative for the Bormea sector. Beneath her habitual cool poise she seemed almost agitated.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Bail. Do you have a moment?”

He didn’t know her well, but what he did know he liked very much. “Of course, Mon. Please, sit.”

She slid into the other chair at his table and folded her slender hands before her. “Umgul,” she said, keeping her voice low. “A whisper’s just reached me that its ruling council is being wooed by Count Dooku. Now, I realize that strategically the planet has little value, but—”

But as a morale booster for the war-weary? And a potential lightning rod for the increasing unrest over Palpatine’s recent tax hikes? Umgul was way more valuable than he wanted to think about right now.

He pushed his plate aside. “How reliable is your whisper?”

“Reliable enough,” Mon Mothma said somberly. “Look. I don’t mean to tell you your business, Bail. You’re the security expert, not me. Only I’m thinking—”

“What I’m thinking,” he said. “But I can’t see the Chancellor repealing the new taxes. War is expensive, and we need the money. To be honest, I don’t—” A gentle chiming sounded through the dining room: the first of three warnings that the next Senate session was due to begin. “Look—perhaps we can talk about this later? After the vote?”

“I think we should,” Mon Mothma said as she slid out of her chair. “I think if we don’t find a way to keep Umgul from joining the Separatists we’re going to see some very ugly bloodletting.”

Pushing back his own chair, Bail stood. “I agree.”

He and Mon Mothma joined the trickle of colleagues leaving the dining room. “And I’ve got some ideas,” Mon Mothma replied, almost smiling. “But in the meantime, about this ridiculous brawl we’re about to vote on…”

Tired of moping around the Temple getting nowhere trying to read the Force, and even more tired of thinking up believable answers to questions she couldn’t answer truthfully, Ahsoka registered an absence with the central database and took herself off to the GAR clone barracks where she was shocked and delighted to find Captain Rex and Sergeant Coric, returned only an hour before from the Kaliida Shoals Medcenter.

“Nobody told me you’d been discharged,” she said, beaming. “Why didn’t anyone tell me you were being discharged?”

Sprawled in Torrent Company’s homebase barracks rec room, wearing black fatigues and a satisfied smile, Rex shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t look at me, little’un. I just go where they point me and start shooting when I see the glow of their photo-receptors.”

On the long low couch beside him, Sergeant Coric snickered. “You got that right.”

The rec room buzzed with a score of comfortable conversations. Over in one corner the 501st’s newest recruit Checkers played turbo-darts with Fireball and Zap from Gold Squadron. Laughter sounded as Checkers overshot the dartboard and buried his turbo-dart up to its fins in the wall.

Rex shook his head. “You know they’ll dock you for the repairs?” he said, lifting his voice above the raucous amusement. “Better give up while you’re ahead.”

“I never give up, sir,” Checkers retorted, turning. There was a new scar on his face, the pink line puckered across his chin, keeping company with the old wound under his eye; either Kaliida Shoal’s bacta didn’t take or he hadn’t been treated in time. His scalp gleamed intermittently bald under the rec room’s bright lights. Since Kothlis he’d shaved it in racing stripes and dyed what was left an eye-searing green. Seeing Ahsoka, he flicked his fingers to his forehead and grinned. “Ma’am.”

She grinned back. “Not ma’am. Ahsoka.”

“Right, right.” He dug in his fatigues’ pocket and pulled out another turbo-dart. “Fancy a round, Ahsoka?”

“In a minute,” she said. “Keep the darts warm for me.”

“So,” said Rex, his gaze lazily intent as she turned her attention back to him. “What’s our General up to?”

It was such a simple question, and yet she couldn’t answer it. Not only because of security, but because her throat was suddenly closed tight with fear.

Rex leaned forward. “Little’un?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, gulping. “I can’t tell you.”

He exchanged glances with Coric. “But he’s in trouble?”

Mute, she nodded, then realized her hands were clutched tight and sweaty in her lap. Any second now she was going to cry.
Stang
.

“He’s been in trouble before,” said Coric, trying to sound a lot more confident than he felt. “He’ll get out of it. He always does.”

“He always
has
,” she corrected him. “But this time…”

“You know where he is?” said Rex, fiercely frowning.

She nodded.

“And you—we—can’t go in after him?”

She shook her head.

“
Ever?
” said Coric, taken aback. “Or just not yet?”

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered. “Please, you can’t say anything to anyone. This has to stay between us.”

“Don’t worry,” said Rex, and dragged a hand down his face. “
Stang.
”

Torrent Company was so
cheerful
. It broke her heart to see them laughing, teasing, roughhousing, as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Because if they knew what she knew…

Rex sat back, pretending he wasn’t upset. “What have you seen, Ahsoka? What’s the Force shown you?”

She was under strict instructions never to discuss how the Force was getting harder and harder to read. She mustn’t mention it even to Rex and Coric, whom she trusted with her life. Of course, this once she didn’t have to lie. She hadn’t seen anything, though she’d nearly passed out trying.

“All I get is a feeling,” she said, keeping her voice low, though there was so much noise in the room. “Like I’m about to be sick, all the time.”

“I know that feeling,” said Coric, trying to joke. “D’you reckon I could be a Jedi, too?”

Rex stuck an elbow into his ribs. “Some Jedi you’d make. You’d give the other Padawans nightmares.”

“Now look what you’ve done, Captain,” said Coric, miming heartstruck sorrow. “You’ve gone and hurt my tender feelings.”

They were trying to cheer her up. Distract her. Distract themselves, too. For all they were hard men, seasoned soldiers, not given to softness or sentimentality of any kind, they adored their general.

Because she couldn’t tell them any more, and because she was so very tired of thinking about it, of worrying about Skyguy, Ahsoka changed the subject.

“So are you boys on furlough?”

Rex nodded. “Don’t know for how long. Nobody’s told us.” And they knew better than to ask. “We’ll take another day or two of R and R, then we’ll get back to training while we wait for the next deployment. But if General Skywalker’s not back by then…”

Ahsoka felt her guts tighten. “I don’t know. Nobody tells me anything, either.” She nearly added,
And it’s not fair
, but caught herself just in time. She had no business whining about
not fair
to these clones.

“Ah well, little’un,” said Rex, with his most sardonic grin. “This is the life, isn’t it? This is what we signed up for. Hurry up and wait. Long stretches of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.” Leaning forward again, he patted her on the knee. “So I say we play darts. What d’you reckon?”

And there was her heart, breaking all over again for love of him. Such a decent man, he was. She bounced to her feet, determined not to disappoint him.

“I reckon I can take you, Captain Rex.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Rex retorted, a twinkle in his eyes. And then it faded and he was the serious clone captain again. “But little’un—when the time comes? When you and the general need us?” He jerked his thumb at Coric, equally somber by his side. “Just say the word and we’ll be there.”

She had to wait a moment, swallowing hard. “I know you will. And so does he.” She leapt up. “Now come along and get thrashed at darts.”