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| - “A tie?” Bail Organa’s incredulous voice was not the only one raised at the gathering of senators at his apartment later that night. He looked Sheltray with some puzzlement. “Surely…there has been some mistake?” She shook her head. “Stranger things have happened, Senator.” Bel Iblis shook his head in frustration. “Dash it all,” he muttered as Sheltray left the room. “Surely there will be a recount?” “I don’t think so,” Bail said, sinking into a chair. “The vote took this long because it was anonymous, and Stokra’s not going to let this go a second time.” “I can just see him smiling,” Mon Mothma murmured, her slender, smooth hand clenching into a fist. “If I hadn't been in politics this long, I would say the thing whole thing was rigged,” Bel Iblis said, taking a drink from the table and downing it in a long quaff. “What makes yousa say thesa not so?” Danta inquired. Bail smiled bitterly. “Well, while I would say that those that work the mechanisms of voting in the Senate are not entirely beyond reproach…” He paused here, folding his hands in his lap. “Common sense says that if Stokra was going to rig this, he would do it in his favour.” “And he would either have the result by a large majority or a very small margin,” Bel Iblis continued. “So Stokra’s hands are unblemished and we are now in the very same situation we were in before this election.” He glared up at Bail. “I still say it was a bad idea.” “Well even you agreed we could not sit on our hands!” Organa argued. “I told you we had nothing to gain and everything to lose!” Bel Iblis rebuked. Bail started to rise to his feet. “Why you—” “Gentlemen, please!” Mon Mothma brought her hands up, eying Organa and Bel Iblis alternately. “Have any of you considered why the result was allowed to remain as it was? For clearly if Stokra wanted to win he could have.” No one had considered this, Mothma continued. “We may still be in a deadlock against Stokra’s Variceans, but we do have some valuable information from this experience.” “Speak true do yousa, Senator,” Danta agreed. “Wesa knows that half theysa Senate votes for us cause and notsa for Stokra.” “You’re right,” Organa averred. “But even that doesn’t help us out of the situation we’re in.” “What I suggest,” mused Bel Iblis, “is that we allow him to make the next move. If we give the impression that we are divided amongst ourselves over this vote then his overconfidence could be his undoing.” “And I know the perfect way to do this,” added Mothma with a sly grin. Walking through the Temple, Obi-Wan and Yoda discussed the result of the vote. “Interesting this result is,” Yoda mused, thrumming his fingers against the metal of the hovering chair he rode in. Obi-Wan found his choice of words rather surprising and said this. Yoda grinned. “So sure were you on how respond I would?” He waved an accusatory figure. “How many times tell you did I? Assume nothing, you must, clear your mind must be if you are to see.” For a few moments Obi-Wan considered this, but Yoda did not allow him long before he spoke again. “Words, you had, with Skywalker?” When Obi-Wan didn’t respond he rapped the Jedi on the elbow with his cane. “Hmm?” “Yes, we had an argument,” Obi-Wan answered, letting out a sigh. “He’s having…dreams again.” “Mmmm, knew of this I did,” Yoda murmured. Obi-Wan stared at him. “You did? Why didn’t you say so?” Yoda gave him an arch look. “Have me betray confidence would you?” he accused. “Very troubled Skywalker was when told me this he did, give him more pain I would not.” They stopped walking, Anakin was in view now talking to R2-D2. “Dealing with this in his own way, he is.” Obi-Wan snorted. “If you mean not dealing with it, I could say you are right.” This remark cost Obi-Wan a nasty knock on the shoulder. “Hear you nothing that I say?” Yoda rebuked. “Trial this is not only for young Skywalker, but you also Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan stared at him, wondering Yoda had at last gone delusional. Then suddenly he started to understand, started to see what really was going on. Anakin was dealing with this in his own way and even if avoiding it was part of it, he was constantly being reminded of it through the dreams. Yoda smiled as he watched the change on Obi-Wan’s face. “When stop training young Skywalker, will you?” he asked, directing his chair away chuckling as he went. Probably never, Obi-Wan reflected, still watching Anakin as he turned from the astromech droid to talk to a dark haired girl standing nearby. “I thought droids normally got their memory wiped,” Sona said dubiously. At this R2-D2 chattered, making high pitched beeps and squeals. Anakin laughed, he didn’t need a translation to know what Artoo said. “If Artoo had a memory wipe he probably wouldn’t be as resourceful as he’s proven to be,” Anakin told her, touching the droid’s dome almost affectionately. “He’s saved my life more than once.” Sona looked interested at this. “He has?” Anakin nodded. “And he’s not a bad pilot either,” Anakin added. “Well, better than most.” Artoo objected to this, making a rude noise that made Sona giggle. “There’s something I wanted to ask you, Jedi Skywalker,” Sona said, her voice slightly nervous. To his surprise, Anakin found he didn’t mind talking to her. At least she didn’t reproach him on things he didn’t want to talk about like Obi-Wan had. “Go ahead,” he told her. “Before…Master Kenobi came back,” she began, trying to choose her words carefully. “You said you’d show us how to do that spinning trick that you do with your lightsaber.” “I never said I’d show you how,” Anakin corrected gently, “I only said I’d demonstrate, it would quite difficult for someone of your level.” Somehow, this was the wrong thing so say as the hopeful smile fell from Sona’s face and she looked down at the tops of her boots. “Oh well,” she murmured, her voice flat and emotionless, “I just thought I would…ask, that’s all.” She moved to go. “Wait.” Anakin caught her arm. “How old are you?” “Twelve,” Sona replied promptly. “And Exhibition Day’s in two days.” Anakin remembered only two well the significance of that day and her age from his time as a Padawan learner. Fortunately they had not meant anything to him as he had already been chosen as Obi-Wan’s Padawan when he was nine. “And if you’re not chosen?” Anakin asked, he had heard Obi-Wan saying something about how the rules had been changed but he had forgotten. “I’ll go into an advanced class,” she said. “It’s not being sent away from the Temple, but…” She looked up and Anakin could see her dark eyes were rimmed with tears. I understand, he wanted to say, it’s not the same as being someone’s Padawan, but the words froze in his mouth. The chrono down the hall struck the hour. “I have to go,” she said making a small bow, “thank you for your time, Jedi Skywalker.” She started to walk off. Anakin called after her. “Sona.” She turned as he said her name. “May the Force be with you.” She smiled. “May the Force be with you, Jedi Skywalker,” she returned, and then she was gone. Anakin wasn't sure how long he was standing there before he felt Obi-Wan’s hand on his arm. He jumped several paces back. “Relax, it’s me not Shinai,” Obi-Wan reassured. “I figured the best thing I could do was back off.” Anakin stared at him. “What?” “The dreams?” Obi-Wan reminded him. “What? Oh…that.” Anakin’s thoughts had been whirling ever since Sona had left, the heated exchange with Obi-Wan had been the last thing on his mind. For a moment Obi-Wan wanted to question why Anakin had been preoccupied for he had seen enough between his former apprentice and one of his initiates to put concrete evidence to a theory that had been floating around in his mind ever since he had got back from Naboo. But he knew if he did Anakin would immediately stop what he was doing and perhaps ruin everything. It is better, Obi-Wan concluded decidedly, if he mentions this first. “What made you decide that?” Anakin asked, now in possession of his faculties he looked questioningly at Obi-Wan. “Someone told me it was better to see what was right in front of my eyes,” Obi-Wan replied. “Speaking of Shinai, have you managed to find him?” “Yes,” Anakin said, ignoring the surprised reaction on Obi-Wan’s face. “What? When was this?” Obi-Wan asked. “Last night,” Anakin told him. “We had…words.” “And?” Obi-Wan prompted. “And that was it,” Anakin finished. “He’s changed his comlink, and I’m not surprised. Miarka said that she know anyone with the new one.” “That can’t be true,” Obi-Wan said. “I know, she just doesn’t want to compromise herself,” Anakin said. “But she did say she’d let me know if Papanoida contacted her again.” Obi-Wan sighed, as much as he wanted to help his former apprentice he knew that he had to let Anakin do this himself. “So what have you got left then?” “Less than nothing,” Anakin admitted. “But if he was meeting someone—and I think he was—then it won’t be long until we hear about him again.” Of all places, Shinai was out with his son in Coruscant Park the next morning when he came across the Zabrak. For a moment he paled, feeling through the Force for any threat. “Relax, I've come alone,” the Zabrak said, coming to stand beside the former Jedi. “I couldn’t get you on the usual channels.” “I had to change my ‘link,” Shinai told him. “Someone was tracing me, I let all the right people know so it’s no issue.” “It is to my employer,” the Zabrak reminded him. “Look, I know that I said I wouldn’t be seeing you again but this is the only way I could be sure of contacting you.” “Why so cautious?” Shinai asked. “New threats,” the Zabrak replied. “Jedi sniffing around where they shouldn’t be, you know what it’s like.” “Tell me about it,” Shinai agreed. “So what’s the update on this?” “The assignment’s tonight,” the Zabrak said. “Tonight?” Shinai asked incredulously. “But surely isn’t this a bit soon? I've been watching the Net—” “So has my employer,” the Zabrak interrupted. “He has decided that there is no more time to waste. I assume,” he added nonchalantly, “that you are still up for it?” “Did I say I wasn’t?” Shinai asked. “And this is the last one, you hear? I'm not at anyone’s beck and call.” “Let me assure you that after tonight my employer will no longer require your services,” the Zabrak intoned, leaving just as quickly as he came. “Dad, who was that that you were talking to in the park?” Arrin asked after as they ascended the apartment building in the turbolift. “No one you need to worry about,” his father reassured. “Does Mom know him?” Arrin asked, jumping on the spot. “No, and don’t tell her,” Shinai said shortly. Even four-year-old Arrin knew better than to question this. A soft chime sounded and the doors opened. Shinai took his son by the hand and they went back to the apartment together, Martreyea opened the door with a smile on her face. “I've been watching the Net,” she said, kissing both of them, her red hair wild about her face. “They just showed a picture of Skywalker going in…” “Don’t talk about him!” Shinai barked. Both wife and son gaped at this outburst. “Arrin, you go and play in your room and close the door,” Martreyea said, nudging him. “Go on.” “But—” “Go!” The command was firm yet gentle, when she heard the door shut in the distance she examined her husband critically. “What is this all about?” she asked him. “Ever since you’ve come back here you’ve been like this, so…angry and always snapping at him. Is it work?” “No…and yes,” Shinai admitted reluctantly, pacing the room. Martreyea caught him by the shoulder. “You can tell me,” she whispered. “No, I can’t.” He wound his arm around her waste. “I don’t want you and Arrin in any danger,” he said. “They’re not going to take you away from me.” “Who?” ”Don’t you worry,” he reassured, putting a finger gently on her nose. “I have everything under control.” “I never worry,” she whispered. “You do enough of that for both of us.”
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