by Джуд Уотсон
Obi-Wan grinned. "We can do it."
Keeping to the shadow of the malab hill and ducking out of sight when surveillance teams marched into view, Obi-Wan and Andra made their way to where they had glimpsed tech domes in the distance. Obi-Wan focused his macrobinoculars on each dome until he found Tech Dome D. He focused on its bay doors. Workers busily walked in and out, some piloting gravsleds, some carrying durasteel bins.
When you want to leave someplace unobserved, pick the busiest spot.
"That's where we'll find transport," he told Andra.
"But the place is crawling with workers. And surveillance has been stepped up," Andra murmured. "The droids are everywhere."
"They're looking for intruders," Obi-Wan said. "Not workers."
Obi-Wan pointed to a worker exiting a small shed near them. He was fastening up his gray unisuit.
"Wait here," Obi-Wan instructed Andra.
He hugged the side of the hill of malab stone. There were only a few meters between him and the shed. He would have to chance it.
Quickly, he began to walk across the space. He gained the shelter of the door and slipped inside. A weary worker sat on a bench in front of a row of lockers. He looked up, surprised.
Obi-Wan nodded a hello. "I came for my unisuit. I'm new. Late for my shift," he added, trying to forestall any conversation.
The worker looked at him suspiciously. "The shift doesn't start for ten minutes. And you look awfully young."
Obi-Wan summoned up the Force. He directed his glance at the worker.
"But you wouldn't mind getting me a couple of suits," he said.
"Why don't I get you a couple of suits?" the worker said.
Obi-Wan took two suits from the pile the worker offered and held them up. The smaller one would fit Andra.
"See you around," he said.
"See you," the worker repeated.
Obi-Wan quickly donned the suit before exiting. He tucked the other under his arm and walked back to where Andra stood in the shadows. He handed her the unisuit and she slipped into it.
They headed for Tech Dome D. Once they got closer, Obi-Wan saw that it was three times the size of the other domes, extending back for hundreds of meters. He and Andra headed for the big double doors and strolled inside. They walked purposefully down a long aisle stacked with supply bins.
"Here, pick this up," he directed to Andra, pointing at a durasteel bin.
"Now what?" she muttered.
"Look busy." Obi-Wan scanned the area. There were several skyhoppers parked near the spaceport door. The hangar itself was big enough to park a good-sized hauler. Offworld had to be involved here.
Obi-Wan scanned the supply bins. Apparently they stored the explosive devices here. He saw a case of thermal detonators.
"Wait a second." Obi-Wan bent down to read the side of the box. Burned into the durasteel case was a broken circle.
"Offworld," he said. "We've got them!"
Andra watched for trouble while he turned the recording rod toward the cases.
They heard a noise overhead, and the roof began to retract. For a moment, the sun blazed down, then was blocked out as a huge maintenance hauler appeared. The massive ship maneuvered through the open roof and slowly lowered onto the landing bay. A moment later, a ramp slid down and workers hurriedly began unloading mole miners.
"I think we just got all the evidence we need," Obi-Wan murmured to Andra.
"Why?" she asked.
He pointed to the side of the ship. Written in laser-pulse letters along the side was OFFWORLD.
Obi-Wan panned the letters and widened his shot to take in the unloading of the mole miners. The ramps retracted. The maintenance hauler had never cut its engines. Now it fired its repulsors and began to lift off again.
"You there! Can you give us a hand?"
Two workers were busily loading supplies onto a gravsled. One of them waved a hand at Obi-Wan and Andra.
"Time to head for those skyhoppers," Obi-Wan murmured.
Obi-Wan waved back, as if he couldn't hear over the noise of the maintenance hauler's departure. Then he and Andra headed off in the other direction.
"Don't hurry," he told Andra, whose pace kept quickening, showing her anxiety.
They strolled to the skyhoppers. They had just reached them when the alarm sounded.
"Intruders," a voice intoned. "Intruders."
"Okay, now hurry," Obi-Wan said.
He leaped inside and Andra followed. He settled himself behind the controls as the roof began to close overhead. Obi-Wan fired up the engines. The craft rose in the air. The doors above continued to close, the opening narrowing. Obi-Wan pushed the engines to full power.
"We can't make it!" Andra screamed.
Obi-Wan yanked the controls so that the sky-hopper flew sideways. He aimed for the small opening and cleared it by a centimeter on either side.
"Are we through?" Andra asked, her eyes closed. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her hands clutched the seat.
"We're through," Obi-Wan answered. He wiped the sweat off his own forehead with his sleeve. "Next stop, Thani."
Chapter 14
Qui-Gon paced impatiently near the central ring of the dome. He was careful to keep his hood forward to conceal his face. The mid-game break was taking place, and much of the crowd had headed for the food stalls, but he couldn't take a chance of being spotted. His picture was on every information kiosk in Thani.
Obi-Wan and Andra should have been back by now. What if something had happened to Obi-Wan? This was the second time the boy had been in great danger. Again, Qui-Gon had allowed it to happen.
"Settle down, Qui-Gon," Den said. "You're making me nervous." But Qui-Gon noted that Den's face was taut with nerves, and he continually scanned the aisles around them.
"You're worried about Andra, too," Qui-Gon said.
"Who, me?" Den said, turning away. "I don't worry about other people. Only myself. I'm the one who's about to bet his life savings."
Once Den had rigged the results so that he could win the lottery, he had to come up with the resources to make a credible bet. Den had added all the credits he had to one of the many easy loans available on Telos. If he lost, he would be liable for a heavy debt.
"Are you certain you interpreted the game correctly?" Qui-Gon asked. "You're sure you know who will win?"
"I'll get my legs broken if I'm wrong," Den said. "It's Kama Elias. Relax."
"Remember, after you win, I'll be right here," Qui-Gon advised him. "Don't even entertain the possibility of taking off with that prize. That money is going straight back into the treasury of Telos."
"Of course it is," Den said. "Kill me now if you think I'd double-cross my friends."
"Don't tempt me," Qui-Gon said dryly.
The dais in the central ring began to rise, signaling the start of the next round of games. Qui-Gon and Den took their seats. Qui-Gon kept an eye out for Obi-Wan. After the lottery winners bet on the final contest, Xanatos would present the prize. Then scenes of what Katharsis funded would flash on the giant screens. Instead of images of pristine beauty, the crowd would see scenes of devastation. But only if Obi-Wan returned in time.
The second round of games began. The battered contestants now played a round of shock ball. Roars from the crowd encouraged the most savage play.
Qui-Gon's worry intensified. Where was Obi-Wan?
He remembered the circumstances of their leaving the Temple. They had stood together on the landing platform, ready to take a shuttle to the spaceliner port. They had already said good-bye to their friends, to Tahl and Bant and Garen. They had said good-bye to a disapproving Yoda.
"It is not too late, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon had said. "There will be no shame if you remain here. It will not interfere with what happens with us later. I promise you that. It is better for you if you stay."
He remembered the clear resolution in Obi-Wan's gaze. "I can't say that you need me, Qui-Gon. I know you can do this on your own. But I will help."
But was that true? Was his own quiet gratitude what had been most important at that moment? Again, it was his own emotion that had swayed him. Should he have taken a firm stance and insisted Obi-Wan remain? Had he been selfish?
Qui-Gon nearly groaned aloud. Obi-Wan was not officially his Padawan again, yet he kept coming up against the many ways he could fail him. He had been reluctant to shoulder the responsibility of a new Padawan in the first place. Then he had come to accept it. Soon he had taken pleasure from that responsibility. And now he was at sea with it. Adrift with his feelings, wanting to do the right thing and not quite sure how. All too aware of his own failings, all too aware of what could go wrong.
Yet Obi-Wan was so sure. The boy still had things to teach him about certainty. About trust.
If only he would show up.
Qui-Gon caught a glimpse of a familiar form moving quickly through the crowd. Obi-Wan! Andra hurried by his side, taking quick steps to keep up with Obi-Wan's stride. He knew with a glance at Obi-Wan's face that his mission had been successful.
Obi-Wan and Andra slipped past a row of protesting onlookers to reach Den and Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan handed the recording rod to Qui-Gon.
"We got it all," he said.
Qui-Gon immediately rose and hurried off. He had already discovered the booth where the technician who transmitted the visual images to the crowd during the breaks was located.
The technician sat at a console, eating a greasy meat pie. Around him were tiny screens that showed what was currently playing to the crowd. One camera was on each contestant, one took in a full view, several took partial views, and the rest scanned the faces in the crowd. During the break, all of these would be replaced with the global park images.
The technician looked up. "Who're you?"
Qui-Gon placed the recording rod on the console. "These images are to be shown after Xanatos' speech. Governor's orders."
The technician licked a drop of sauce off his thumb. "I didn't hear anything about this."
Qui-Gon directed his gaze at the man, who continued to eat. "You should show the images after the speech."
"I'll show them after the speech," the technician said, his mouth full.
Qui-Gon eyed his greasy fingers. "And you'll clean your hands first."
"I'll clean my hands first," the technician said, as if he'd just thought of it.
Qui-Gon waited until the technician tossed his food away and carefully wiped his fingers. Then he watched him load the new visuals. When he was sure the man would follow through on the plan, he left.
The last game had ended. Only four contestants remained.
The governor announced the names of the lottery winners. A mixture of groans and cheers erupted from the crowd. When he announced Den's name, Den shot to his feet, yodeling wildly.
He turned back to them, his eyes alight.
"Ready?"
Andra's gaze was steady. "Do not fail us, Den."
Den leaned over. "You've got to trust somebody sometime, Captain Integrity," he said softly.
"I know," Andra said. "But why does it have to be you?"
Then she smiled at him, a smile filled with trust. She briefly touched his cheek.
A slow, delighted smile spread over Den's boyish features. Still grinning, he strode off to join the other lottery winners onstage. Andra clasped her hands together.
"I trust him, too," Qui-Gon told her.
Obi-Wan shot him a look that asked, How can you be sure?
Qui-Gon wanted to tell him that sometimes he found it easier to read strangers than those close to him. When his heart wasn't involved, his instincts told him who could fail him, who would be true. He hoped that after this mission, he and Obi-Wan would have time to talk.
Obi-Wan leaned closer to him. "Are you certain about this?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes, I am. But I also have swoops ready in case he takes off. Over the years, I've learned to back up my instincts."
The lottery contestants stood at small consoles. They wagered enormous sums on the final outcome. Den made a show of indecisive agony before placing his bet. Andra sighed.
"He can't resist a chance to show off," she said, her hands twisting nervously.
The final round began. It was a short replay of each of the games that had been played throughout the contest. By now the contestants were covered with sweat, grime, and blood. Each of the lottery winners sat on a dais, watching the action, knowing that their life savings depended on the outcome. This was the time that the crowd kept up one continuous roar.
The game of shock ball ended the match. Kama Elias suddenly zoomed past his opponent, who turned too sharply and spiraled out of control, taking a bad fall. Kama scored. The buzzer sounded. The games were over.
Den leaped off the dais and did a frenzied dance in the middle of the arena. The crowd loved it, screaming his name. The screens flashed DEN DEN DEN!!!!
Then the platform slowly rose from the center ring, and Xanatos stood, a commanding figure in black. He raised his arms to the crowd and the chant changed to his name. Thousands of feet pounded against the floor until the entire dome shuddered. XAN-A-TOS! XAN-A-TOS! XAN-A-TOS!
He raised a hand for quiet. Slowly, the cheers subsided. Then, his hypnotic voice boomed over the dome.
"Katharsis saves us!"
"YES!" the crowd responded.
"Katharsis enriches us!"
"YES!"
"Katharsis protects our sacred spaces!"
"YES!"
Qui-Gon looked up at the screens. Do it now, he urged the technician.
The scenes of the frenzied crowd disappeared. An image of the Sacred Pools took its place. But instead of the glittering crystal water, a foamy black pool appeared. Steam rose from the surface.
At first, the crowd didn't notice. Then another image flashed, and another. The hill of malab slabs. Mole miners. The scan grid lying near shattered stone. Giant machines sucking golden sand. Gravsleds parked on a once-pristine landscape.
Murmurs began. Xanatos did not notice them. His eyes were on the crowd, not the giant screens.
"Thanks to Katharsis, our beloved Telos is now ensured protection for generations," he said. "The people have spoken. They have safeguarded their legacy."
An image of the Offworld logo filled the screen. It was burned into a case of thermal detonators.
The murmurs of the restless crowd turned to a buzz of conversation that filled the dome like a room full of tech equipment gone haywire.
The next image was of mole miners being unloaded from the maintenance hauler. An image filled the screen: OFFWORLD.
The buzz turned into a roar of disbelief and anger.
Xanatos looked up at the screens at last. Qui-Gon watched him. Anyone else would have shown his surprise and anger. Xanatos just went still.
Shouting erupted around the dome. Many rose to their feet. The shouts rose in intensity. People began to stand on their chairs and raise their fists. A rhythmic pounding began, a demand more potent than a shouted question.
Xanatos raised his hands, motioning for silence. It took several moments for the crowd to quiet down.
"Why do you believe what you see?" he asked in a quiet, commanding tone. "Believe what I tell you. Someone is trying to inflame you. Someone is trying to trick you."
A lone voice arose from the crowd. "Is it you?"
The crowd took up the question. "IS IT YOU? IS IT YOU?"
"We demand an answer!" someone else shouted.
"I am answering your doubts!" Xanatos thundered. "I am telling you that there is trickery afoot here! And I invite anyone in the crowd to come with me to the Sacred Pools and examine what is there. I trust my government. I trust the UniFy corporation. Governor, will you allow the Sacred Pools to be opened to the publi
c to see for themselves?"
A silver-haired man rose from the front row of the dome. "I will."
Xanatos spread his hands. "You see? There is no deviousness here. There is only openness. We will prevail if we do not fall for tricks."
The crowd began to quiet. Trust was winning out over anger.
"Now let me bring those who have lied to our beloved world to justice!" Xanatos shouted, and the crowd roared its approval.
