by Jude Watson
“I’m tired of working here every day,” Hue said. “But I work where the pay is. Know what I mean?”
“Very wise. I so admire a practical male,” Siri cooed.
The slab of meat and muscle that was the Phlog looked suddenly as though his bones were made of crankcase oil. His hungry eyes followed Siri’s every move as she enticed him farther out of the room and down the hallway.
“Could you take just the teeniest moment and let me peek into the gallery?” she asked him. “I’d love to see more of the house.”
The Phlog followed Siri in her drifting shimmersilk as though he were attached by a string. Obi-Wan put down his teacup. The Phlog seemed smitten, but Obi-Wan doubted he had more than a minute.
He had been busy while chatting with Zan Arbor. He had practiced seeing without looking. He knew that the intricate and beautiful cabinetry concealed something. The joinery at the hinges and openings told him that.
He ran his fingers over the cabinet, calling on the Force to help his instinct, his vision, the very cells on his fingertips. He wished Anakin were here. Anakin’s Force connection never failed to astonish him, even in his ease with inanimate objects. Once Anakin had told him that Soara Antana, the great Jedi fighter, had taught him how to let walls speak to him. Since then, Anakin had seemed to be able to judge the space between molecules as well as the objects the molecules made up.
Obi-Wan knew that somewhere in this house was evidence that Zan Arbor was planning something. It was an instinct, based on knowledge of her. Greed drove her, of course, but also her ego. She was not the type to retire.
And when she had said, There is what I can imagine, and what actually lies ahead, what had she meant? At first he’d thought that she was referring to the fact that he could have been overstating the rewards of his plan. But now he didn’t think so. She was making a private reference to her own plans. Plans that would make his seem puny. That was the reason she had dismissed them.
Ah…there. Obi-Wan found the invisible seam. Another half second later, he found the catch. The cabinet opened silently, revealing a datapad, holofiles, comlinks—a concealed office.
He quickly pressed keys on the datapad. To his relief, not all the files were coded. He had so little time. He would have to start with the last file Zan Arbor had consulted. He keyed in the necessary steps. He, as well as Anakin, regularly kept up with the latest techniques from the tech expert at the Temple, Jedi Master Toma Hi’Ilani.
The holofile appeared in front of him. Communications from someone or some organization, merely identified with a random series of numbers that changed with every communication. A standard device for concealment.
He scanned it quickly. He could hear Siri’s voice now, heading back toward the reception room, pitched just a bit louder to warn him. He read quickly.
Safe houses arranged…
Officials to bribe have been contacted…
A start date must be decided on with care…
Everything depends upon…
Obi-Wan whipped out his datapad and slipped in a miniature disk. It would take only a few seconds to copy the file.
“Oh, can’t I just peek into the kitchen? You can’t imagine how much I love to cook…no?” He could hear the playful petulance in Siri’s voice, almost see her mouth pursing in a pout.
Ten seconds to go…
“Now, where did Slam go? I thought he was right behind us. He’s probably still eating those sweets.…”
Five seconds…
“Oops, I dropped my scarf…”
Done.
Obi-Wan closed the holofile, slid the office shelf back into the cabinet, closed the false front, adjusted an urn, closed the cabinet, threw himself into a chair, and swept the sweets off the tray. He stuffed some down his tunic and two in his mouth just as they walked in the doors.
“Mmmfffphhh,” he said to Siri.
She sighed. “I knew it! You ate them all! So rude, I have to apologize for him. We’ll be going now.”
Giving Hue a last flirtatious smile, Siri beckoned to Obi-Wan. Followed by the heavy tread of the Phlog, they accessed the front door and escaped into the sunlight.
“That had better be worth it,” Siri said.
“It was,” Obi-Wan said. “Zan Arbor is planning something. I made a copy of a work disk. Some of the files are coded. I can try to crack them back at the villa.”
Siri shuddered. “I think that Phlog left fingerprints on my arm.”
“Oooh,” Obi-Wan teased.
Siri raised an eyebrow at him as they walked. “If you want to stay alive,” she warned, “don’t ever make that sound again.”
Chapter Six
They had seen the rich part of the city, so Anakin and Ferus searched out the scruffier streets, the places where commerce took place. Here there were small shops and businesses and warehouses, the engine that made the city run. It didn’t take them long to realize how great the poverty of the workers was in contrast to the grand palaces in Teda’s section of the city, and they weren’t even outside the city walls yet.
Anakin’s heart swelled with disgust. He had to concentrate to keep his breathing even. He had grown up with injustice. He had tasted it in his mouth like the sand that filled the air of Tatooine. The hatred he felt was bred in his bones.
“I hope one day Teda will pay for his crimes,” Ferus said quietly. “He is robbing his citizens.”
“He is killing them,” Anakin said fiercely. “You don’t know what it’s like to be them. I do.”
He had spoken angrily, dismissively. But Ferus didn’t take offense. He merely nodded.
“Yes, you do,” he agreed. “That is your great strength, Anakin.”
His strength? Anakin had always thought of it as his weakness.
They were close to the wall now. They didn’t want to get too close, for fear of alerting the security droids to their presence. Still, they wanted to observe the checkpoints. If access to their ship was suddenly cut off, would they be able to slip out of the city and disappear?
A shadow seemed to pass over him, although the bright sun was overhead. Anakin felt a Force surge, a warning. “Someone is tailing us,” he told Ferus.
Ferus didn’t turn. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“I feel it.”
After a moment, Ferus spoke. “I feel it, too.”
“Let’s lead whoever it is on and then double back and see who it is,” Anakin suggested.
They picked up their pace slightly, weaving in and out of alleys and staying in the shadows of the buildings. This close to the security wall, the section was run-down. Water ran down the gutters and pooled in the cracking pavement. Warehouses looked old and badly in need of repair. Occasionally they heard the scuttling of rodent creatures.
They turned a corner to a short block. Ahead, three dark alleys radiated out and were swallowed up in darkness. Perfect.
They didn’t have to talk. They both began to run. They darted into the middle alley. Using cable launchers, they climbed to the top of the warehouse. From this vantage point they would see whoever was tailing them.
Below they saw a Romin cautiously move forward, gazing around with every step. He looked familiar.
“It’s Hansel,” Anakin said. “Come on.”
He jumped to an overhang below, then down to the street directly in front of Hansel. Ferus followed a split second later.
Hansel gave a small yelp and jumped backward in fright.
“Looking for us?” Anakin asked.
Hansel tried to disguise his involuntary start of fear. He coughed and straightened his robes. “Ah, as a matter of fact, yes.” He looked at them, his golden eyes speculative. “I did not expect to have to follow you here.”
“Just doing a little sight-seeing,” Ferus said.
“Let me assure both of you,” Hansel said, “there are better sights to be seen. A curious choice, on your part.”
“We got lost. What can we do for you?” Anakin asked.
“
I am to deliver an invitation,” Hansel said. “To Slam and Valadon. And the two of you, of course. Great Leader Teda is having a reception tomorrow evening and wishes you all to attend. Everyone will be there. You will meet many like yourselves.”
“We accept, with pleasure,” Ferus said.
“Be sure to give the message to Valadon,” Hansel said. “Teda especially wishes her to be there.”
“She wouldn’t miss it,” Anakin said.
“I will inform Great Leader Teda,” Hansel said. “Now, no doubt you would like to continue your…sight-seeing.”
He bowed and walked off, moving quickly.
“An invitation could’ve been sent to our villa. He suspects us of something,” Ferus said.
“He just doesn’t know what,” Anakin said. “But we’ll be gone before he figures it out. Well, I guess we should head back.”
“I guess,” Ferus said. “It’s hard to know when we’re done, isn’t it? We had no clear objective. I like a clear objective. Otherwise I feel like I’m getting it wrong.”
Anakin looked at him curiously as they began to walk. “I didn’t think you ever thought you were wrong.”
“I know that’s what other Padawans think. It’s because I try not to let it show. Don’t you?”
Anakin snapped his mouth shut. Just when he thought he’d have a normal conversation with Ferus, he got caught up short again. Ferus was trying to trap him. He wanted him to admit weakness so he’d have something on him.
“This whole mission is unclear,” Ferus went on, not realizing that Anakin had stiffened beside him. “I’ll be happy when—”
The Force surged again. But this time it was too late. Caught up in their conversation and the relief of finding that it was only Hansel who had tailed them, they had let down their guard.
Their attackers came from behind on airspeeders. They used cables to knock Anakin and Ferus off their feet. Black hoods were thrown over their heads and tied shut.
Anakin rolled away from their attackers and rose to his feet in one fluid motion, ready to fight but not revealing his lightsaber. The hood was fastened in a way he couldn’t figure out. That wasn’t a problem. He had learned to fight in darkness; it was part of his Jedi training. But on Romin they were under strict orders not to use their lightsabers unless they absolutely had to. They had to retain their cover as part of the Slam gang.
Which meant they might learn more if they allowed themselves to be kidnapped. He could resist later. Anakin hoped that Ferus had come to the same conclusion.
He felt himself being shoved into a vehicle. Ferus hit the seat next to him.
“Any ideas?” Ferus grunted in a whisper.
“We might as well see who kidnapped us, and why,” Anakin whispered back. “I think you just got your clear objective, Ferus.”
A snort came from under Ferus’s hood. “I would have preferred a different method. But thanks.”
Chapter Seven
The hood was suddenly wrenched off Anakin’s head. He took a deep breath of fresh air.
Only the air wasn’t fresh. It was dank and murky, not much better than the hot, close air under the hood.
“That’s right,” a masculine voice said in a tone edged with sarcasm. “Take a deep breath of the wholesome country air of Teda Estates.”
Anakin couldn’t see who spoke. A bright light was in his eyes, and the rest of the room was in deep shadow. Ferus was next to him, his chin up as he tried to blink against the light. Anakin tensed, as if for a blow. He was ready to fight at any moment.
“Relax. We don’t want to hurt you. We want to hire you. For stang’s sake, B, turn off that light.”
The light went out. Now the only light came from small windows cut in some sort of wooden structure. Water pooled on the hard-packed dirt floor. Anakin could hear the steady drip, drip of bad plumbing.
A Romin male emerged from the shadows. He was tall and slender. Energy seemed to be collected in his muscles and radiated out from his gestures and his pale eyes of light gold. The rest of the group stayed in the shadows.
“Sorry for the method,” the tall Romin said. He pointed to Anakin’s mask. “At least you are used to masks.”
“Not really,” Anakin said.
“We can’t exactly issue nice personal invitations the way our Great Leader can. We needed to talk to you, and we needed to do it without any prying eyes or ears. We have a proposition.”
“Who are you?” Ferus asked.
“My name is Joylin,” the Romin answered. He brought a chair over by hooking his foot over the rail and dragging it. He sat astride, facing them. “I am the leader of the resistance on this planet. My face and name are well known to Teda. There’s no need for concealment. My compatriots, however, are less well known and will remain hidden from you. The only thing you need to know is that there are many of us, and we do not all reside beyond the wall.”
Which, Anakin reasoned, meant there were resistance members, or spies, in the city itself.
“What do you want with us?” Anakin asked. “We only just arrived on Romin.”
“Exactly,” Joylin said. “You do not yet have ties here. You have no friends, no loyalties. So you don’t need to betray anyone to help us. Instead, you will do a straight trade. We will pay you, and you will help us. We are in need of your special skills.”
“Why should we help you?” Ferus asked.
“Because you are thieves, and we will pay you,” Joylin said impatiently. “And if you wish to remain on Romin, it would be a good idea to be on the winning side.”
“The winning side? Are you going up against Teda and expecting to win?” Ferus looked around at the decaying structure. He was playing the game well, Anakin saw. A member of the Slams would naturally be incredulous and disdainful.
He decided to give Ferus the lead. In contrast, he would be the sympathetic one. They needed to find out as much as they could about this group.
“We will win because we have to win.” Joylin spoke without anger, without bravado. “What never fails to amuse me is when beings underestimate the power of desperation.”
Ferus said nothing. Anakin waited.
Joylin spread his arms. “This is how we live on the other side of the wall. This is a typical dwelling. The only difference is, two or three families are usually crowded within its walls. Disease is rampant. Many of our children die before their second birthday. The ones who survive have no hope of getting better than a menial position, of traveling to the city once a day to rake a lawn, clean a sewer, fix a dataport.”
“We have nothing to do with your troubles,” Ferus said.
“Ah, of course not. You just take advantage of them. You accept the offer of a tyrant for a hideout.”
Anakin broke in. “Are you going to insult us or offer us a job?”
A strained smile creased Joylin’s face. “Right. Okay, here is the offer. We’ll pay double your going rate for stealing a certain piece of information at Teda’s villa. We’ve been waiting for the right events to coincide, and at last they have. Teda is giving a big reception, and thieves with special skills have arrived on Romin.”
“You want us to steal from Teda?” Ferus blustered. “Forget it!”
“What do you want us to steal?” Anakin asked quickly.
“A small item from his private office,” Joylin said. “It contains information that will guarantee our success. Within a short time we will be able to take over the government. Which means you will be the only group of criminals allowed to stay on Romin. Each member of your gang will be given lifetime citizenship. As long as you don’t break Romin’s laws, you’ll be welcome here.”
“Keep talking,” Anakin said. “We need more to take back to our boss.”
“We happen to know that in Teda’s study there is a list of codes that control the security gates to all official government offices and residences, as well as the sheltered criminals.”
“Wait a minute.” Anakin pretended not to understand. “Are you tell
ing us that Teda has access to everyone’s personal security?”
Joylin nodded. “It’s not a secret. Most of them accept it as the price for staying on Romin. He says he needs to be able to lock down the palace neighborhood in case of unrest.”
“How do you know he has the codes in his residence?” Ferus asked.
“You will have to trust that our information is accurate,” Joylin said. “We have someone on the inside.”
“Can that someone help us get into the palace?” Anakin asked.
“No,” Joylin said. “We can’t compromise our agents. Besides, you don’t need help. You have an invitation to a reception, don’t you? That is the night we want you to steal the codes.”
“How do you know we’ve been invited?” Ferus challenged.
“We know,” Joylin said. “I told you, there are many of us. Enough to ensure success, if we strike quickly and decisively.”
Anakin looked at Ferus. It was strange. He didn’t even like Ferus, but now that they were together in this situation, he could read him without speaking. They were in tune. They needed to get more information. To do that, they had to draw Joylin out. They would do it in tandem.
Ferus shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we have to refuse.”
Joylin’s face tightened. “Can you tell me your objections?”
“Delighted,” Ferus said. “You’re asking us to stake our future on a bet. That normally wouldn’t be a problem. We risk our future all the time. But the reason we’re successful is that we’re careful. You’re asking us to make a powerful man our enemy, just when he’s offered us safe refuge.”
“This is not a safe refuge,” Joylin argued. “I assure you, your protection will disappear. Unless you throw your support to the ultimate winners.”
“But if we don’t steal the codes, you have no chance,” Ferus argued back.
“There will still be a revolt,” Joylin said. “It just won’t be bloodless. You will be in more danger the other way, because I won’t protect you.”
Ferus started to say something, but Anakin broke in. It was time to draw Joylin in. Sometimes Anakin wasn’t sure if it was the Force or his instincts, but he was getting better at seeing inside beings, sensing their fears and motivations. Joylin might be sitting casually, but Anakin could feel his urgency. And underneath the urgency, fear. The Slams could be his last chance.
