| abstract
| - With a blindfold covering her eyes, Martreyea willingly allowed herself to be led by her husband to she knew not where. Shinai had merely come back that afternoon after being absent all morning and said he had a surprise for her. When the family has disembarked the speeder bus, Shinai had covered his wife’s eyes, held his son Arrin by the hand and gave no clues away as to where they were going. “Will I like where we’re going, Dad?” Arrin asked as they stepped into a turbolift, he seemed to have repulsors in his heels from the way he moved. “You better,” Shinai told his son, sending a smile down to him. “I don’t think they’ll let us take it back.” They left the turbolift and were walking down the corridor. At a door they stopped and Shinai keyed in a code. “One-one-three-eight,” he said as he pressed the keys, “remember that.” “Why?” Martreyea asked, her eyes were still blindfolded. “You’ll see,” Shinai promised, gently pushing her in the door after is slid open. He then untied the blindfold. “Wow!” Arrin asked, staring around him with wide eyes. “Is this all ours?” “Yes,” Shinai said as she keyed the door closed, “it is.” He turned to Martreyea, she hadn’t spoken yet. “Is there anything wrong?” His wife smiled uneasily, her eyes filled with tears. They were standing in the antechamber of a modest but spacious apartment with large windows that took up an entire wall. It was furnished tastefully, with one open doorway leading off to the kitchen and living area and another to the bedrooms. Shinai caught her in his arms. “Well?” Martreyea’s lip quivered, yet she said nothing. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it.” “It’s…wonderful,” she murmured, smiling as she was taking it all in. “Is it ours?” “Every bit,” he told her. She blanched. “But how…?” Shinai placed a finger on her lips and her questions subsided, Martreyea knew better than to doubt how he could provide for her and their son. “Mom! Dad!” Arrin came bouncing into the room, grinning widely. “This is great! Which room’s mine?” Shinai looked from his wife to his son and then back at his son. It was moments like this that made what he did all the more worthwhile. Obi-Wan was still thinking his exchange with Sona over when he saw Anakin sometime later. For a moment he considered questioning his former apprentice on the matter, then decided against it given what Anakin’s reaction would be. So instead he asked how the investigation with Shinai was going on. “I’m still following up the Avingnon leads,” Anakin told him, relating his conversation with Papanoida. “There's more information, he says, but I don’t have it yet.” “Have you considered he could be lying?” Obi-Wan asked him, he still remembered the intelligence Papanoida had given the Council during the war that there was no Separatist presence on Utapau. Information that Obi-Wan later found out to be false when Grievous was hiding there. “Yes, I have,” he confessed, “but I was hoping to find him myself before that, I have his comlink code and…a few ideas.” Obi-Wan gave him a side-ways glance, seeing what Anakin was getting to. “Are you sure this will work?” Anakin shrugged. “No, I’m not,” he admitted, “and I might need a little help too.” “I see.” Obi-Wan offered no more questions. “There’s something else you should know, Gunray’s trial.” At these words Anakin’s expression hardened. “What about it?” “The date’s been set,” Obi-Wan told him. “I've heard,” Anakin said, avoiding Obi-Wan’s gaze. “I was just with Cel-Dral.” Obi-Wan examined Anakin’s expression. “You don’t like him.” Anakin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “He asked me a bunch of questions and he’s going to do more of that at the trial. It’s nothing.” Obi-Wan wasn’t convinced. Not for the first time, Sarn Retray wondered how he had gotten stuck with Gunray’s case. It was perhaps one of the most unenviable positions that he could possibly be in. Gunray was bankrupt, or so he had said, shouted and screamed during the time of his imprisonment and blamed everyone from Count Dooku, to Grievous to Palpatine himself. Consequentially Sarn had been ‘appointed’ as Gunray’s defence attorney, and while he wanted to see the Neimoidian pay for his crimes as much as the next sentient, he knew that if he hadn’t agreed to take the case then someone else would have had to. He had spent hours with the Viceroy, probing him, proposing angles and strategies and even shouting at the Neimoidian until he was hoarse. Retray knew he had to find a plausible defence otherwise there would be grounds for appeal which would only further exacerbate the situation he was in. But his search had not been fruitless, he had, he believed, found an angle that he could work with. Retray only knew of the Force by reputation, and had as much of an idea of what a Sith Lord was as a granite slug knew the interior of Chancellor Amedda’s private apartments. But he knew the name Darth Sidious would be brought up at least more than once during the trial by his opponent, Taur Cel-Dral. Retray intended to use that for all it was worth by painting Gunray in a light that he was well used to, that of the victim. And this was something that the Neimoidian didn’t object to as Retray explained it to him. At first he had been apprehensive of this fair-haired human who said he would be representing him, but even Gunray knew that protesting would only get him a new lawyer, and perhaps a worse one than Retray. “Cel-Dral’s going to have a very convincing case and he has public opinion on his side,” Retray told him. “We need to show that his argument is flawed, he’s going to try and show you as a callous, pitiless despot with little regard for the lives of others and we have to show him he’s wrong.” “He is!” Gunray bleated, slamming his fist on the table between them. “It was Sidious! I didn’t know that Dooku was working for him and by the time I found out it was too late!” “I also found something quite interesting,” Retray said, ignoring the outburst and stroking his thin moustache. “Apparently Sidious thought of you were dispensable and he had plans to do away with you.” “I’m not surprised,” Gunray murmured, “he had that witch Maxah onto us in case we did something wrong and—” With his hand Retray made a slicing motion. “We can’t bring Naboo into this much,” he reminded the Neimoidian, “and even if we do we’re going to have to be very careful as anything here can be easily struck as inadmissible.” The petulant Viceroy stared at him. “But that’s ridiculous!” he spat. Retray gave a thin smile. “Ridiculous or not, the last thing we want to do is load Cel-Dral’s blaster for him.” He returned to his notes, showing the Viceroy various parts yet keeping some to himself. Retray had no illusions about an acquittal, what he was hoping for was a lighter sentence that wouldn’t be seen as too light. He didn’t want to be in the same room with Gunray any longer than necessary. From Star Wars Fanon, a Wikia wiki.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)