Part 7 (2/2)
”I'm hungry.”
Ken.o.bi smiled at his Padawan, and when he looked back at Lorana she could feel the tension between them fading away. ”Actually, that sounds good to me, too,” he agreed. ”Let's hunt down a diner.”
Seated on the balcony of his hotel room, Doriana watched as the three of them headed off toward one of the city's more mid-scale restaurant districts, scowling as he followed their leisurely progress through his macrobinoculars. So the Jedi Council had pulled a fast one on him, sending Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi and his upstart Padawan to keep an eye on C'baoth.
That hadn't been part of Sidious's plan.
But then, these two seemed to be making a career of that sort of thing.
He remembered vividly Sidious's anger after the Naboo incident and the unexpected defeat of his Trade Federation allies. Their army should have been able to occupy the planet for months or years, creating a turmoil and paralysis in the Senate that Sidious and Doriana could have used to devastating effect.
But all that had been lost, thanks to Skywalker and his dumb luck in taking out the Trade Federation's Droid Control s.h.i.+p. Darth Maul's death at the hands of Ken.o.bi and Qui-Gon Jinn had been equally devastating, short-circuiting a quiet reign of terror that would have distracted the Jedi even as it pruned the edges of their close-knit group.
And now here they were on Barlok, threatening to interfere with Sidious's plan to eliminate Jorus C'baoth.
He set his lips firmly together. No-not this time. Not if Kinman Doriana had anything to say about it.
Inside his pocket, his special comlink beeped. Still watching Ken.o.bi and his companions, he fished out the device and flicked it on. ”Yes?”
”Defender?” a hoa.r.s.e Brolf voice asked.
”Yes, it is I, Patriot,” Doriana said. ”I have returned as I promised to help you in your time of need.”
”You are late,” the other growled. ”The negotiations have already begun.”
”But nothing is yet decided,” Doriana said. ”There's still time to send a message that the Brolf people will not be cheated. Has everything been prepared according to my instructions?”
”Almost,” Patriot said. ”The final components should be on the way. The question is whether you've brought the contribution you promised.”
”I have it right here,” Doriana a.s.sured him.
”Then bring it,” Patriot said. ”Third North from Chessile and Scriv Streets. Two hours.”
”I'll be there.”
There was a ping as the connection was broken. Putting away his comlink, Doriana glanced at his chrono. Excellent. The address wasn't more than half an hour's walk away, which would give him time for a leisurely stroll and a careful survey of the neighborhood before he arrived.
But first, he would see what he could do to keep Ken.o.bi on the sidelines where he belonged.
Fortunately, that shouldn't be a problem. Whatever his purpose here, chances were he wouldn't make any serious moves without first consulting the Jedi Council. A little tweaking of the city's HoloNet computer access system, and there would be nothing coming into or going out of Barlok for the next day or two. Plenty of time for him and his Brolf allies to finish the job.
Stepping over to the desk, he opened his computer and set to work.
The cantina they found didn't have the most promising decor Obi-Wan had ever seen. But like Dex's Diner on Coruscant, appearances could be deceiving, particularly where food was involved. The hearty aroma of roast tarsh was definitely in the air, maxers were the headliners on the menu, and Lorana's guide card gave the place a triple-porken rating. All in all, it looked like a pretty good bet.
A WA-2 droid scuttled up as they chose a booth overlooking the street and sat down. ”Welcome to Panky's,” it said, its electronic voice somehow managing to convey both courtesy and the fact that it was being severely and unfairly overworked. ”What may I provide for you?”
”I want a tarsh maxer and bribb juice,” Anakin said eagerly.
Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. Anakin had discovered bribb juice on his first trip as a Padawan, and ever since then he'd ordered it every chance he got, whether it really went with the rest of the meal or not. ”Same maxer for me, but make my drink a Corellian noale,” he told the droid.
”I'll take the bribb juice, but with a prisht-fruit salad,” Lorana said.
She gave Obi-Wan a hesitant smile. ”After all, Barlok does produce the best specimens.”
”So I've heard,” Obi-Wan said, studying her. She was about medium height, with dark hair and striking gray eyes. She had an intelligent face, a nice smile, and that sense of global awareness that came from knowledge of the Force. To all appearances, she seemed well on her way to becoming a typical Jedi.
And yet, there was something about her that felt odd to him, something that didn't quite ring true. Her air of dignity and confidence felt strained, like an accessory she put on every morning instead of something that was truly a part of her innermost being. Her smile had a similarly tentative edge to it, as if she was afraid it would get her into trouble.
On the surface, she had everything down just right. Beneath it all, she was still a Padawan learner with a lot of work yet to do.
”I don't think I've ever met anyone before who was trained by Master C'baoth,” he commented as the droid bustled away. ”What's he like to study with?”
The corners of Lorana's mouth compressed, just noticeably. ”It's been a valuable learning experience,” she said diplomatically. ”Master C'baoth has a depth and strength in the Force that I can only hope I'll someday be able to approach.”
”Ah.” Obi-Wan nodded, his mind flicking back to his last conversation with Master Windu. She might be right, or it might also be that C'baoth wasn't nearly as deep into the Force as she thought. Possibly even not as deep as C'baoth himself thought.
But discussing a Jedi with his Padawan was considered poor form, particularly in front of another, younger Padawan like Anakin. ”I'm sure you'll make it,” he told her. ”In my experience, a Jedi can gain as much depth in the Force as he or she wants.”
”Within his or her limitations, of course,” Lorana said ruefully. ”I don't know yet where that line lies for me.”
”No one does until the line is reached and tested,” Obi-Wan pointed out.
”Personally, I don't believe there are any such limits.”
Another droid bustled up with their drinks balanced precariously on a tray. Obi-Wan leaned back, ready to reach out with the Force to rescue the gla.s.ses if it became necessary, but the droid set them down without spilling a drop and bustled away. Picking up his drink, Obi-Wan sent a slow look around the room.
Small, una.s.suming places like this, he knew, were usually pa.s.sed over by casual visitors looking for flash and sparkle. Sure enough, most of the patrons were locals: hornskinned Brolfi in varying shades of yellow and green, plus a counterpoint sprinkling of the more delicate arboreal Karfs from the vast tisvollt forests that edged the city on two sides.
But there were also a few other species represented, including three more humans. Perhaps the guide card recommendation was actually having some influence on the visitor trade. His leisurely gaze drifted to the genuine duskwood bar at the far end, where a skinny, mostly yellow-skinned Brolf was serving drinks.
He frowned. ”Lorana, that human over there-black vest, gray s.h.i.+rt, talking to the bartender. Have you ever seen him before?”
She turned to look. ”Yes, he was in the group waiting outside the negotiating chamber when the talks ended yesterday. I don't know his name.”
”You know him, Master?” Anakin asked.
”Unless I'm mistaken, that's Jery Riske,” Obi-Wan said. ”Former bounty hunter; currently top enforcer for the magistrate's office of the Corporate Alliance.”
”What does an enforcer do?” Anakin asked.
”Pretty much anything Pa.s.sel Argente tells him to,” Obi-Wan said.
”Bodyguard, investigator, and probably extra muscle if there are bad debts to be collected. I wonder which of those roles he's performing here.”
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