The Approaching Storm

by Alan Dean Foster

  “I see now.” There was much more at stake here, Barriss found herself thinking, than a disagreement between city folk and nomads. Had Luminara been instructed to conceal the real reason for their journey from her Padawan until now, or had Barriss simply been too preoccupied with her own training to see the larger issues? Like it or not, it appeared that she was going to have to pay more attention to galactic politics.

  For example, why would forces beyond Ansion want to see it secede from the Republic badly enough to interfere in the planet’s internal affairs? What could such unknown entities possibly have to gain by its withdrawal? There were thousands upon thousands of civilized worlds in the Republic. The departure of one, or even several, would mean little in the overall scheme of galactic governance. Or would it?

  She felt sure she was missing some vital point, and the fact that she knew she was doing so was exceedingly frustrating. But she couldn’t question Luminara further about it, because Obi-Wan was speaking.

  “Someone or several someones beyond Ansion doesn’t want these negotiations to succeed. They want Ansion to secede from the Republic, with all the problematic consequences that would ensue.” Obi-Wan squinted at the sky, which had begun to threaten rain. “It would be useful to know who. We should have detained one of your attackers.”

  “They could have been common bandits,” Anakin pointed out.

  Luminara considered. “It’s possible. Anyway, if Obi-Wan is right and that rabble was hired to prevent us from continuing with our mission, their employer would have kept those who attacked us in the dark as to his or her identity and purpose. Even if we had been successful in capturing one of them, an interrogation might well have been useless.”

  “Yes, that’s so,” the Padawan had to admit.

  “So you were on Naboo, too?” Feeling left out of the conversation between the two older Jedi, Barriss turned curiously to her counterpart.

  “I was.” The pride in the younger man’s voice was unapologetic. He’s a strange one, she mused. Strange, but not unlikable. As stuffed full of internal conflicts as a momus bush was with seeds. But there was no denying that the Force was strong within him.

  “How long have you been Master Luminara’s Padawan?” he asked.

  “Long enough to know that those who have their mouths open all the time generally have their ears shut.”

  “Oh great,” Anakin muttered. “You’re not going to spend all our time together speaking in aphorisms, are you?”

  “At least I can talk about something besides myself,” she shot back. “Somehow I don’t think you scored well in modesty.”

  To her surprise, he was immediately contrite. “Was I just talking about myself? I’m sorry.” He indicated the two figures preceding them up the busy street. “Master Obi-Wan says that I suffer from a surfeit of impatience. I want to know, to do, everything right now. Yesterday. And I’m not very good at disguising the fact that I’d rather be elsewhere. This isn’t a very exciting assignment.”

  She gestured back in the direction of the side street they had left piled high with bodies. “You’re here less than a day and already you’ve been forced into life-or-death hand-to-hand combat. Your definition of excitement must be particularly eclectic.”

  He almost laughed. “And you have a really dry sense of humor. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

  Reaching the commercial district on the other side of the square and plunging back into the surging crowds of humans and aliens, Barriss wasn’t so certain. He was very sure of himself, this tall, blue-eyed Padawan. Maybe it was true what he said about wanting to know everything. His attitude was that he already did. Or was she mistaking confidence for arrogance?

  Abruptly, he broke away from her. She watched as he stopped before a stall selling dried fruits and vegetables from the Kander region to the north of Cuipernam. When he returned without buying anything, she eyed him uncertainly.

  “What was that all about? Did you see something that looked tasty but on closer inspection turned out not to be?”

  “What?” He seemed suddenly preoccupied. “No. No, it wasn’t the food at all.” He glanced back at the simple food stand as they hurried to catch up with their teachers. “Didn’t you see? That boy over there, the one in the vest and long pants, was arguing with his mother. Yelling at her.” He shook his head dolefully. “Someday when he’s older he’ll regret having done that. I didn’t tell him so directly, but I think I got the point across.” He sank into deep contemplation. “People are so busy getting on with their lives they frequently forget what’s really important.”

  What a strange Padawan, she mused, and what an even stranger young man. They were more or less the same age, yet in some ways he struck her as childlike, while in others he seemed much older than her. She wondered if she would have time enough to get to know him better. She wondered if anyone would have time enough to get to know him. She certainly hadn’t, during their brief encounters at the Jedi Temple. Just then thunder boomed overhead, and for some reason she could not quite put a finger on she was afraid it signified the approach of more than just rain.

  Ogomoor was not happy. Walking as slowly as was acceptable down the high hallway of the bossban’s quarters, he tried his best to ignore the sideways glances of busy servants, clerks, and workers scurrying to and fro. Though as the bossban’s majordomo he outranked them all, the lowliest among them exhibited more confidence and contentment than he. Even the blue-green Smotl known as Ib-Dunn, arms overflowing with hard communications larger than himself, bestowed a pitying look on the majordomo as Ogomoor stepped over him without, characteristically, disturbing so much as a single piece of the far smaller worker’s burden.

  They had reason to pity him today, he knew, and he had reason to be pitied. Be they good or bad, it was his job to report in person all major developments to Bossban Soergg the Hutt. Present news to be delivered being exceedingly unpleasant, Ogomoor had spent much of the morning devoutly praying for the intercession of some fever-inducing, preferably highly contagious disease. Regrettably, both he and the bossban remained in perfect health.

  Whether that would allow him to weather the forthcoming meeting with Soergg remained open to much speculation—and some spirited informal wagering—among his coworkers. Not one among them failed to favor him with less than a genuinely sorrowful look. Amazing how quickly word of bad news spread among the lower ranks, he mused in one of the few moments when he was not drowning in self-pity.

  Turning a corner, he found himself standing before the entrance to the bossban’s office and inner sanctum. A pair of heavily armed Yuzzem flanked the doorway. They regarded him disdainfully, as though he were already flayed and dead. With a shrug, he announced himself via the comm unit. Might as well get it over with, he decided.

  Bossban Soergg the Hutt was a grayish, heaving, flaccid lump of flesh and muscle only another Hutt could possibly find attractive. He had his back to the door and his hands folded in front of him, staring out the wide polarized window that gave a sweeping view of Lower Cuipernam. Off to one side, three of his concubines were playing bako. They were presently unchained. One was human, one Brogune, the other representative of a species Ogomoor to this day did not recognize. What Soergg did with them the majordomo could barely imagine. When the Brogune looked up and eyed him sadly, with all four eyes, no less, Ogomoor knew he was in deep mopak.

  Soergg heaved himself around, turning away from the window. The tiny automated custodial droid scurried to keep up with the movement, efficient if not enthusiastic at its assigned task of doing nothing but cleaning up after the Hutt’s trail of slime and tailings. Hands clasped over his prodigious gut, the Hutt glowered down at Ogomoor out of bulging, slitted eyes.

  “So. You failed.”

  “Not I, Omnipotent One.” Ogomoor bowed as low as was feasible, given the proximity of Hutt slime. “I hired only the best, those who were recommended to me. The failure was theirs, and that of those who recommended them. These unworthies I have already
reprimanded. As for myself I was, as always, nothing more than your humble facilitator.”

  “Hurrp!” Caught directly in the line of fire, with no tactful means of dodging, Ogomoor was compelled to suffer the full force of the bossban’s belch. The fetid emission staggered him, but he held his ground bravely. Fortunately, the consequent contortions of his digestive system were not readily visible. “Perhaps it was no one’s fault.”

  So stunning, so atypical was this straightforwardly bland admission from Soergg that Ogomoor immediately suspected a trap. Warily, he tried to divine the bossban’s true intent. “If there was failure, how can it be no one’s fault, O Great One?”

  A hand gestured diffidently. “Those fools who failed were told they would be dealing with one Jedi and her Padawan. Not two. Jedi strength multiplies exponentially. Fighting one is like fighting two. Dealing with two more akin to trying to handle eight. Fighting eight …” A quiver sludged in visible ripples the length of the Hutt’s flesh. Ogomoor was duly impressed. Though he had never set eyes on one of the legendary Jedi in person, anything that could give Bossban Soergg the shudders was something to be avoided.

  “The second pair was not supposed to arrive for another two days yet.” Soergg was muttering to himself now, the words rumbling up from that vast abyss of a belly like methane gas bubbling to the surface of a decomposing pond. “One would almost think they had sensed the confrontation to come and accelerated their arrival. This timing change is suspicious, and must be brought to the attention of others.”

  “What others?” Ogomoor inquired, and was immediately sorry he had done so.

  Soergg glared down at him. “Why do you want to know, underling?”

  “I don’t—not really.” Ogomoor tried to shrink down into his boots.

  “Better for you, believe me. You would quake at the very mention of certain names, certain organizations. Be content in your ignorance and your minor status.”

  “Oh, I am, Your Corpulence, I am!” Privately, he wished he knew who or what the bossban was talking about. The expectation of possible riches far outweighed any fear he might have felt.

  “The situation was made worse,” the Hutt was saying, “because trained Jedi can oft times sense threatening disturbances in their vicinity. Because of this ability, they are infernally difficult to ambush. Certain individuals will not be pleased by this turn of events. There will be additional expense.”

  This time Ogomoor kept quiet.

  Hutt movements are slow, but their minds are not. “Though your mouth is closed, I see your brain working. The details of this business are for me to know and you to forget.” Noting his bossban’s irritation, Ogomoor forbore from inquiring how he was supposed to forget something he had never been told.

  “It may not matter. The representatives of the Unity grow more displeased by the day with the continuing indecision of Republic officials regarding the land claims of the nomads. I am informed that as with many current issues, Senate opinion is divided on the issue.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Soergg grunted impressively. “It seems that the galaxy is now governed by confusion instead of consensus.” A monstrous frown split his leathery face. “Bad for business, chaos is. That is why the Hutts have allied themselves, albeit quietly, with those forces that are working for change. For stability, the capitalist’s friend.” He wagged a finger at his assistant. “With luck, these Jedi will need time to accomplish anything. It will take more debate before this quarrel between the city folk and the Alwari can be settled. That gives us time, and opportunity, in which to still conclude this business in a satisfactory manner. It must be concluded in a satisfactory manner. The Jedi cannot be allowed to sway the opinion of the Unity representatives. The vote to pull Ansion out of the Republic must proceed!” Slobber trickled down the absent chin as a huge tongue licked thick lips. The custodial droid scuttled swiftly to catch the noxious drool before it could stain the floor.

  “You cannot imagine,” the Hutt added in dangerously low tones, “the extent of the repercussions if we fail to successfully carry out this contract. Those who have engaged us to carry out their wishes in this matter have a reputation for treating failure harshly, in ways that can only be imagined.”

  Ogomoor had all too vivid an imagination. “I will do my best, as always, Bossban. Still, four Jedi—”

  “Two Jedi and two Padawans,” Soergg corrected him. He looked suddenly wistful. Or at least as wistful as a Hutt could look. “Those pathetic malingerers you were forced to hire are all too typical of the quality available on outlying worlds such as Ansion. What is needed for this kind of work is a real, experienced professional. Someone whose work and experience falls outside the boundaries of Republic legalese. A proper bounty hunter, for example. Unfortunately, none such is to be found on Ansion.” He sat brooding for a long moment.

  “Slatt!” he finally exclaimed. “There is one good thing to come out of this fiasco, anyway. Thanks to the efforts of the Jedi, there are few survivors to claim their pay.”

  “Then if you are done with me, O Great One, I have much work to do.” Ogomoor started to back out of the room. “The shipment of tweare skins from Aviprine is due to arrive—”

  “Not so fast.” Reluctantly, the majordomo was obliged to pause in his retreat. “I expect you to keep on top of this, Ogomoor. It’s a wise merchant who misses no opportunity. Let’s see some of that deviousness your tribe is famed for possessing. This business of putting a stop to Jedi interference takes precedence over everything else, including the shipment of tweare skins. I will expect regular reports. Whatever you need, requisition it and I will provide the necessary authorization. These visitors must be stopped, or there will be consequences for all of us! Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  Ogomoor bowed low. “Completely.”

  The Hutt puffed up importantly, like a toad much afflicted with pride. “I always do.”

  “To the greater edification of those of us who serve you, O Most Great and Wise Patron.”

  Having finally made good his flight from the room with rank and all body parts intact, Ogomoor resolutely ignored the multispecies giggling that followed him as he headed for his own office. There was nothing to worry about, he told himself. It was no big deal. All he had to do to retain his employer’s trust and appreciation was oversee the demise of two Jedi Knights and their wily Padawans. Why, any country ignoramus could perform such a task using only half a brain.

  Because that was what an angry Jedi would leave to him, a distraught Ogomoor knew. Still, there might be a way. What was it that overstuffed bag of smarmy suet had said? Something about the difficulty of sneaking up on and surprising a Jedi? Might there not be a way to counteract such a remarkable talent?

  Or better yet, to outflank it?

  “It didn’t work.” Soergg slumped before the comm station. The Hutt had considerable respect for the small biped whose hologram he was addressing. Not because of her personality, but because of Shu Mai’s wide-ranging accomplishments in the field of commerce.

  “What happened?” the president of the Commerce Guild asked curtly.

  “The second Jedi and his Padawan arrived earlier than expected, and prevented the execution of the first.” Soergg leaned closer to the comm. “The information I was given was faulty. Many hirelings were lost.” He chuffed importantly. “I have incurred expenses.”

  Shu Mai was unforgiving. “Don’t blame me for your failure. You were provided with the most up-to-date information available. Do you think tracking the movements of individual Jedi is like following a courtesan around a dance floor? They don’t publicize their comings and goings, you know.” Her apprehension was clear. “Now I have to pass this disagreeable information along to another. What do you plan to do to rectify this miserable failure?”

  “The matter is being pursued. The Jedi will not be allowed to prevent Ansion’s secession.”

  “Ansion is your chosen homeworld,” Shu Mai reminded the Hutt. “Don’t you care if it stays in
the Republic or not?”

  Soergg made a rude noise. “A Hutt’s home is where his business interests lie.”

  The president of the Commerce Guild nodded. “Even the members of the Trade Federation are not so mercenary.”

  “Fine words, coming from the one whose organization covered up the niobarium pollution on Vorian Four.”

  Shu Mai’s expression widened. “You know about that? For one with access to such restricted information, I would think the elimination of a couple of Jedi—and their Padawans—would be a simple matter.”

  “It would,” Soergg agreed, “if I could get proper help. Can you not send me suitable individuals?”

  Shu Mai shook her head. “I am under strict instructions to avoid any action that might draw additional attention from the Jedi Council. Sending in offworld professionals is precisely the kind of action that would do so. Our friend would be hard-pressed to explain away such an action. You will have to make do with what you can hire locally. I was assured that you could. That is why you were engaged.”

  “This is not an easy business,” Soergg complained bitterly.

  The president of the Commerce Guild leaned close to her holo pickup, so that her face filled the imager. “I will make you a deal, Hutt. Trade positions with me. I will take care of these meddlesome Jedi, and you come here and deal with the one to whom I must report.”

  Soergg thought about it—but not for very long. The Hutts had not achieved all that they had by being fools. Besides, there was always the possibility that if Shu Mai became too intemperate, too insistent, she could be bypassed. One could go over her head.

  Did Soergg want to do that? He was not at all certain he really wished to know who was backing the impatient Commerce Guild. Not on a personal level, anyway.

  “I sense agitation, anxiety, and outright hostility,” Obi-Wan said.