Tangle 17/? PG13 Anakin, Obi-Wan, Others
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Serel’s analysis proved unilluminating: the toxins used were not deadly except in very concentrated doses, they were widely available through commercial sources, especially in the Mid-Rim, and none of the modded droids was sufficiently intact to render much information.
“We’ll know more after the lab results come in,” he told Ryn and Obi-Wan, seated on the couch in the Kenobi-Skywalker quarters. “Some commercial manufacturers use a molecular code to identify their materials; we might be able to trace the gas-bombs back to their source.”
“Doesn’t mean much,” Ryn said. “The bombs could have been stolen, or sold on the black-market.”
“At least it’s a start,” Obi-Wan told her, and Ryn shrugged. It wasn’t like she was in a position to be picky.
“Okay, what’s next?” she asked, but it turned out that nothing was next, until the lab results came in or Ban-Yaro, down in the communications center, made contact with Lorethan Command, which so far had been proving difficult. Communications with Ryn’s home planet were always an iffy proposition from the Core; interstellar static combined with the special disturbances that haunted the Unknown Regions to make a stable connection through hyperwave difficult, and the signal had to be bounced so many times along its trail that it was prone to degrading, or to arriving hours later than intended. But Loreth’s system of outlying comm-sat ships generally made communication possible, even if it wasn’t efficient. This morning, Ban-Yaro hadn’t been able to raise any kind of response at all; he wasn’t even sure he was focusing the hyperwave correctly, because he couldn’t get any kind of acknowledging signal.
One more problem.
Ryn was about to take her leave of Master Kenobi and his Padawan - and seek a few stolen minutes of rest, since there didn’t appear to be anything more useful she could do at the moment - when her comlink chirped and she pulled it from her belt with the curious mix of eagerness and dread that comes from expecting a call that might be good news or bad. “Orun here.”
But it wasn’t Ban-Yaro at all. “Oh, good,” said a voice she’d never heard before. “This is Padawan Tru Veld. I’m on guest escort duty today, and it appears that you have some ... well ... guests. They insist they’re here to see you, not the Temple.” He sounded worried. “They didn’t give me any names.”
“That’s all right,” Ryn said automatically. Wait... “Did you say Tru Veld?”
“Uh,” said the Padawan. “Yes. Sorry, do we know each other?”
Ryn grinned. “No,” she said cheerfully. “But I think we might have a mutual friend. Anakin Skywalker?”
“Oh, Anakin!” Veld said, as buoyant as his fellow Padawan had described him. “How is he? Have you seen him?”
That seemed a backward order of questioning to Ryn, but she said, “He’s all right, and I just had breakfast with him. If Master Kenobi can spare him for a while, I’ll bring him downstairs with me.”
“Great!” Tru enthused. “Um ... what do you want me to tell your visitors?”
Oh. That. “Tell them I will be there shortly,” Ryn said. “And thanks.”
She clipped her comlink back to her utility belt and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “So? Can I take Anakin with me?”
~*~*~*~
Ryn descended the stairs at a decidedly slow pace, despite Anakin’s obvious impatience to see his friend. He kept giving her exasperated looks without saying anything, as though asking might be construed as a weakness, until finally Ryn said, “I’m making them wait. It’s a power play.”
Beside her on the step, Anakin frowned. “That sounds ... petty.”
“It is,” Ryn said. “It is also efficient. Demonstrates without words that I don’t have to leap when they call. If I’m lucky, it might even make them nervous.” She wasn’t counting on that part. Their leader, at least, hadn’t looked like the jumpy type.
Anakin glanced sidelong at her. “You’re wishing Evinne was here, aren’t you?”
Ouch. But she never lied to Anakin, so she said, “Yeah.”
Anakin said, “I don’t get it. I don’t understand your relationship with her. I mean, when she first showed up, I thought you hated each other. Then it seemed like she was maybe kind of an ally. Now it almost sounds like you trust her, but that’s her brother who just tried to have you killed. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Oh, I’m fairly certain I don’t,” Ryn said.
Anakin winced. “Right. Sorry. Forget I asked.”
“It’s okay,” Ryn said.
Anakin shot her a concerned look. “You could have died today.”
Ryn started to point out - again - that this was always true. Remembering in time that Anakin wasn’t likely to take much comfort from the knowledge, she changed tactics and said instead, “I didn’t.”
“No thanks to me,” Anakin muttered.
Ryn lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so I imagined your courageous defense? Good to know.”
Anakin scowled at her. “I let myself get distracted.”
“It looked like you were paying attention to me,” Ryn said. “I’m just sorry I ... spooked you.”
“What? No, Ryn, you didn’t ...”
“Sure, I did,” Ryn said. “I didn’t mean to, but I did.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though Anakin could read her like a book. “Cultural differences, I guess.”
“Ryn, no, it’s not ... look, it’s complicated.”
“Yeah, I got that part.”
“Right. Look,” he said again. “I know you’re ... confused, and I know you must be angry with me, but -”
“No,” Ryn said. Anakin just stared at her, so she said, “No, I’m not angry with you. The confused part was right.”
“Oh,” Anakin said. He looked more baffled than relieved. “Okay. I just ... okay.” He stopped, one hand on nervously caressing the railing. “What I’m trying to say is: I know I messed up, and I know we need to talk about this, but just not ...”
He trailed off, searching, and Ryn finished the sentence for him: “Right now?”
Anakin nodded, and Ryn said, “Okay. When you’re ready.” She jerked her head toward the foot of the stairs. “In the meantime ... let’s go.”
~*~*~*~
Anakin wasn’t sure what he had expected from the meeting, other than an opportunity to see Tru again. A Jedi’s time was not his own, so the chance to spend even a few minutes with a friend was always precious, a gift from the Force not taken lightly. In that respect, at least, being a Jedi wasn’t that different from being a slave. Except, of course, that slaves were allowed to resent such treatment, even if there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Jedi were expected to accept it as the natural order of things.
Anakin sighed inwardly. Shmi had never resented anything except the chance to do better for her only son. Resentment had never been her way, any more than it was the Jedi’s. But Anakin had never been able to keep himself from feeling anger at the injustice in the galaxy, and he didn’t know how to stop. The best he could manage to do was to keep pushing his anger down, where it couldn’t hurt anyone.
Some days it almost choked him.
Forget it, he told himself as he and Ryn cleared the stairs. This is a happy moment, so focus on the moment and be happy.
“You’ll like Tru,” he told Ryn, trying to take his own advice.
“He certainly sounded pleasant,” Ryn agreed. “But I doubt I’ll have much time to socialize, at least until I can get rid of these visitors.” She yawned behind her hand. “And then I’m going to bed. Really.”
Anakin laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you admit you needed rest before.”
Ryn yawned again. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
They turned down the concourse. “You’re exhausted.”
“Yes.”
“You’re too tired to deal with all of this -”
“It has to be dealt with,” Ryn said. “And there is no one else.”
She sounded so lonely. Anakin wished he could hold her and make it better, but that was attachment, and it was against the rules. Besides, holding her hadn’t gone all that well earlier. That sort of thing evidently got out of hand fast.
He said, “I wish I could help.”
Ryn gave him that full-body nudge, leaning into him and then away, that was growing as familiar as her smile. “I know.”
They would still have to talk, eventually, about what happened that morning. But they were still friends, and they were on their way to see Tru, and for the moment that was enough.
~*~*~*~
The Lorethan delegation was waiting in the visitor’s lobby, not taking the usual tour, but standing in a clump beside an anxiously cheerful Padawan Ryn could only assume to be Tru Veld.
“It can wait,” the Padawan said as they came within voice range, and Ryn blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Getting to know each other,” the Padawan said, flexing one long arm in ways that had Ryn fighting to control her wince. “I’m Tru.”
“Ah,” Ryn said. “I am Are -” she stopped, because this was Anakin’s friend, and dropped the formal address. “I’m Ryn.”
“I know,” Tru said, nodding. “I heard you were really pretty.”
Ryn could feel a blush heating her face. “Tru!” Anakin said reprovingly.
“Sorry,” Tru said, but he didn’t sound all that repentant. “These visitors are for you, by the way.”
Ryn repressed a sigh. “I know,” she said heavily.
The delegation was watching her, and there really wasn’t any point in putting it off, so Ryn stepped forward and said, “So whose idea were the bounty hunters?”
Deafening silence. Their leader evidently felt she could end the conversation right there by glaring down her nose at Ryn, but it would take more than her pale fish eyes to intimidate someone who had just butted heads with Mace Windu. Ryn clasped her hands behind her back and took up a balanced stance, prepared to wait her out.
Finally the older woman said, “Perhaps you would care to explain what you mean.”
But Ryn could sense the wariness in her now, and that was all the confirmation she needed.
She flashed white teeth, not a smile. “Or perhaps I won’t. But I will advise you to get the hell off Coruscant before the Jedi decide you present an intolerable risk.”
“You have no authority -”
“No, but I do,” said a voice off to Ryn’s left, and when she turned to look, Evinne shrugged. “Sorry. I never could resist a good entrance.” She sauntered closer, surveying the delegates with a jaundiced eye. “These are the visitors who were waiting for you yesterday?”
Ryn nodded.
“Huh. Well, you can set your mind at ease about where they came from. I know two of the three.” She paused to run a hand up Anakin’s arm and purr appreciatively. “Skywalker, I swear, you look amazing. Jedi training must be better than I thought.” She turned back to Ryn, who was too mesmerized by the performance to be incensed, and tossed her a glossy shopping bag, which she caught reflexively. “Shorty, try some real clothes for a change. And for stars’ sake, do something about your hair.”
Without missing a beat, she shifted her attention to the delegation from Loreth. “And you. I assume you have some lofty excuse for harassing a noblewoman and taking out a hit on the Jedi Temple?” She leaned back and breathed out fragrant herbal smoke from her self-rolled, the epitome of tough chic, and Ryn remembered why she had taken the Podracing circuit by storm.
“We have done nothing of the kind,” their leader blustered, evidently laboring under the delusion that she could bluff Evinne Ardel. “We are legitimate -”
“Oh, I didn’t know your mothers, but I doubt it,” Evinne said genially. “Or, actually ...” She turned to the youngest of the three. “I might have known yours. Mielku was your mam?”
The young woman had to be older than Evinne, but she answered meekly, “Yes, milady.”
“So chances are good we’re half-sisters,” Evinne concluded. “But not legitimate. Small galaxy. And I can only suppose that my brother roped you into this travesty by preying upon some misguided sense of family feeling.” She blew smoke thoughtfully. “I have to tell you, he’s quiet immune.”
“I don’t -” their leader began, and stopped under the combined glares of two unimpressed young noblewomen and one overprotective Jedi Padawan. Tru was wisely minding his own business.
“You’ve failed,” Evinne said succinctly. “You thought blocking communications with Loreth would be enough. You thought you’d find Orun alone and vulnerable and an easy target. She’s not alone, she’s tough as hell, and right now, you’re in my line of fire. So I suggest you run back to Stevan and tell him to clean his house or I will clean it for him.” She took a single, swaggering step back, and stood glowing in the refracted sunbeams from the Temple’s faceted skylights, like the golden goddess of some forgotten myth. “Our grandfather lost Clan Ardel’s good name. I’m taking it back.” She bared her teeth in a feral smile. “It starts today.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. The three women bowed and left, defeated by their lord’s sister and implacable resolve.
Ryn ignored them; she was focused on Evinne. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“The right thing,” Evinne said, and grimaced. “Somebody had to.” She flicked her self-rolled into the nearest trash receptacle, ignoring Tru’s wince, and met Ryn’s eyes. “It’s bad back home, Shorty. We need to find your brother.”
“Not exactly,” Ryn said. “We need to find Omega.”
Evinne looked exasperated, but she said, “It’s a start. Does this idea come with any kind of a plan?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Serel’s analysis proved unilluminating: the toxins used were not deadly except in very concentrated doses, they were widely available through commercial sources, especially in the Mid-Rim, and none of the modded droids was sufficiently intact to render much information.
“We’ll know more after the lab results come in,” he told Ryn and Obi-Wan, seated on the couch in the Kenobi-Skywalker quarters. “Some commercial manufacturers use a molecular code to identify their materials; we might be able to trace the gas-bombs back to their source.”
“Doesn’t mean much,” Ryn said. “The bombs could have been stolen, or sold on the black-market.”
“At least it’s a start,” Obi-Wan told her, and Ryn shrugged. It wasn’t like she was in a position to be picky.
“Okay, what’s next?” she asked, but it turned out that nothing was next, until the lab results came in or Ban-Yaro, down in the communications center, made contact with Lorethan Command, which so far had been proving difficult. Communications with Ryn’s home planet were always an iffy proposition from the Core; interstellar static combined with the special disturbances that haunted the Unknown Regions to make a stable connection through hyperwave difficult, and the signal had to be bounced so many times along its trail that it was prone to degrading, or to arriving hours later than intended. But Loreth’s system of outlying comm-sat ships generally made communication possible, even if it wasn’t efficient. This morning, Ban-Yaro hadn’t been able to raise any kind of response at all; he wasn’t even sure he was focusing the hyperwave correctly, because he couldn’t get any kind of acknowledging signal.
One more problem.
Ryn was about to take her leave of Master Kenobi and his Padawan - and seek a few stolen minutes of rest, since there didn’t appear to be anything more useful she could do at the moment - when her comlink chirped and she pulled it from her belt with the curious mix of eagerness and dread that comes from expecting a call that might be good news or bad. “Orun here.”
But it wasn’t Ban-Yaro at all. “Oh, good,” said a voice she’d never heard before. “This is Padawan Tru Veld. I’m on guest escort duty today, and it appears that you have some ... well ... guests. They insist they’re here to see you, not the Temple.” He sounded worried. “They didn’t give me any names.”
“That’s all right,” Ryn said automatically. Wait... “Did you say Tru Veld?”
“Uh,” said the Padawan. “Yes. Sorry, do we know each other?”
Ryn grinned. “No,” she said cheerfully. “But I think we might have a mutual friend. Anakin Skywalker?”
“Oh, Anakin!” Veld said, as buoyant as his fellow Padawan had described him. “How is he? Have you seen him?”
That seemed a backward order of questioning to Ryn, but she said, “He’s all right, and I just had breakfast with him. If Master Kenobi can spare him for a while, I’ll bring him downstairs with me.”
“Great!” Tru enthused. “Um ... what do you want me to tell your visitors?”
Oh. That. “Tell them I will be there shortly,” Ryn said. “And thanks.”
She clipped her comlink back to her utility belt and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “So? Can I take Anakin with me?”
~*~*~*~
Ryn descended the stairs at a decidedly slow pace, despite Anakin’s obvious impatience to see his friend. He kept giving her exasperated looks without saying anything, as though asking might be construed as a weakness, until finally Ryn said, “I’m making them wait. It’s a power play.”
Beside her on the step, Anakin frowned. “That sounds ... petty.”
“It is,” Ryn said. “It is also efficient. Demonstrates without words that I don’t have to leap when they call. If I’m lucky, it might even make them nervous.” She wasn’t counting on that part. Their leader, at least, hadn’t looked like the jumpy type.
Anakin glanced sidelong at her. “You’re wishing Evinne was here, aren’t you?”
Ouch. But she never lied to Anakin, so she said, “Yeah.”
Anakin said, “I don’t get it. I don’t understand your relationship with her. I mean, when she first showed up, I thought you hated each other. Then it seemed like she was maybe kind of an ally. Now it almost sounds like you trust her, but that’s her brother who just tried to have you killed. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Oh, I’m fairly certain I don’t,” Ryn said.
Anakin winced. “Right. Sorry. Forget I asked.”
“It’s okay,” Ryn said.
Anakin shot her a concerned look. “You could have died today.”
Ryn started to point out - again - that this was always true. Remembering in time that Anakin wasn’t likely to take much comfort from the knowledge, she changed tactics and said instead, “I didn’t.”
“No thanks to me,” Anakin muttered.
Ryn lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so I imagined your courageous defense? Good to know.”
Anakin scowled at her. “I let myself get distracted.”
“It looked like you were paying attention to me,” Ryn said. “I’m just sorry I ... spooked you.”
“What? No, Ryn, you didn’t ...”
“Sure, I did,” Ryn said. “I didn’t mean to, but I did.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though Anakin could read her like a book. “Cultural differences, I guess.”
“Ryn, no, it’s not ... look, it’s complicated.”
“Yeah, I got that part.”
“Right. Look,” he said again. “I know you’re ... confused, and I know you must be angry with me, but -”
“No,” Ryn said. Anakin just stared at her, so she said, “No, I’m not angry with you. The confused part was right.”
“Oh,” Anakin said. He looked more baffled than relieved. “Okay. I just ... okay.” He stopped, one hand on nervously caressing the railing. “What I’m trying to say is: I know I messed up, and I know we need to talk about this, but just not ...”
He trailed off, searching, and Ryn finished the sentence for him: “Right now?”
Anakin nodded, and Ryn said, “Okay. When you’re ready.” She jerked her head toward the foot of the stairs. “In the meantime ... let’s go.”
~*~*~*~
Anakin wasn’t sure what he had expected from the meeting, other than an opportunity to see Tru again. A Jedi’s time was not his own, so the chance to spend even a few minutes with a friend was always precious, a gift from the Force not taken lightly. In that respect, at least, being a Jedi wasn’t that different from being a slave. Except, of course, that slaves were allowed to resent such treatment, even if there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Jedi were expected to accept it as the natural order of things.
Anakin sighed inwardly. Shmi had never resented anything except the chance to do better for her only son. Resentment had never been her way, any more than it was the Jedi’s. But Anakin had never been able to keep himself from feeling anger at the injustice in the galaxy, and he didn’t know how to stop. The best he could manage to do was to keep pushing his anger down, where it couldn’t hurt anyone.
Some days it almost choked him.
Forget it, he told himself as he and Ryn cleared the stairs. This is a happy moment, so focus on the moment and be happy.
“You’ll like Tru,” he told Ryn, trying to take his own advice.
“He certainly sounded pleasant,” Ryn agreed. “But I doubt I’ll have much time to socialize, at least until I can get rid of these visitors.” She yawned behind her hand. “And then I’m going to bed. Really.”
Anakin laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you admit you needed rest before.”
Ryn yawned again. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
They turned down the concourse. “You’re exhausted.”
“Yes.”
“You’re too tired to deal with all of this -”
“It has to be dealt with,” Ryn said. “And there is no one else.”
She sounded so lonely. Anakin wished he could hold her and make it better, but that was attachment, and it was against the rules. Besides, holding her hadn’t gone all that well earlier. That sort of thing evidently got out of hand fast.
He said, “I wish I could help.”
Ryn gave him that full-body nudge, leaning into him and then away, that was growing as familiar as her smile. “I know.”
They would still have to talk, eventually, about what happened that morning. But they were still friends, and they were on their way to see Tru, and for the moment that was enough.
~*~*~*~
The Lorethan delegation was waiting in the visitor’s lobby, not taking the usual tour, but standing in a clump beside an anxiously cheerful Padawan Ryn could only assume to be Tru Veld.
“It can wait,” the Padawan said as they came within voice range, and Ryn blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Getting to know each other,” the Padawan said, flexing one long arm in ways that had Ryn fighting to control her wince. “I’m Tru.”
“Ah,” Ryn said. “I am Are -” she stopped, because this was Anakin’s friend, and dropped the formal address. “I’m Ryn.”
“I know,” Tru said, nodding. “I heard you were really pretty.”
Ryn could feel a blush heating her face. “Tru!” Anakin said reprovingly.
“Sorry,” Tru said, but he didn’t sound all that repentant. “These visitors are for you, by the way.”
Ryn repressed a sigh. “I know,” she said heavily.
The delegation was watching her, and there really wasn’t any point in putting it off, so Ryn stepped forward and said, “So whose idea were the bounty hunters?”
Deafening silence. Their leader evidently felt she could end the conversation right there by glaring down her nose at Ryn, but it would take more than her pale fish eyes to intimidate someone who had just butted heads with Mace Windu. Ryn clasped her hands behind her back and took up a balanced stance, prepared to wait her out.
Finally the older woman said, “Perhaps you would care to explain what you mean.”
But Ryn could sense the wariness in her now, and that was all the confirmation she needed.
She flashed white teeth, not a smile. “Or perhaps I won’t. But I will advise you to get the hell off Coruscant before the Jedi decide you present an intolerable risk.”
“You have no authority -”
“No, but I do,” said a voice off to Ryn’s left, and when she turned to look, Evinne shrugged. “Sorry. I never could resist a good entrance.” She sauntered closer, surveying the delegates with a jaundiced eye. “These are the visitors who were waiting for you yesterday?”
Ryn nodded.
“Huh. Well, you can set your mind at ease about where they came from. I know two of the three.” She paused to run a hand up Anakin’s arm and purr appreciatively. “Skywalker, I swear, you look amazing. Jedi training must be better than I thought.” She turned back to Ryn, who was too mesmerized by the performance to be incensed, and tossed her a glossy shopping bag, which she caught reflexively. “Shorty, try some real clothes for a change. And for stars’ sake, do something about your hair.”
Without missing a beat, she shifted her attention to the delegation from Loreth. “And you. I assume you have some lofty excuse for harassing a noblewoman and taking out a hit on the Jedi Temple?” She leaned back and breathed out fragrant herbal smoke from her self-rolled, the epitome of tough chic, and Ryn remembered why she had taken the Podracing circuit by storm.
“We have done nothing of the kind,” their leader blustered, evidently laboring under the delusion that she could bluff Evinne Ardel. “We are legitimate -”
“Oh, I didn’t know your mothers, but I doubt it,” Evinne said genially. “Or, actually ...” She turned to the youngest of the three. “I might have known yours. Mielku was your mam?”
The young woman had to be older than Evinne, but she answered meekly, “Yes, milady.”
“So chances are good we’re half-sisters,” Evinne concluded. “But not legitimate. Small galaxy. And I can only suppose that my brother roped you into this travesty by preying upon some misguided sense of family feeling.” She blew smoke thoughtfully. “I have to tell you, he’s quiet immune.”
“I don’t -” their leader began, and stopped under the combined glares of two unimpressed young noblewomen and one overprotective Jedi Padawan. Tru was wisely minding his own business.
“You’ve failed,” Evinne said succinctly. “You thought blocking communications with Loreth would be enough. You thought you’d find Orun alone and vulnerable and an easy target. She’s not alone, she’s tough as hell, and right now, you’re in my line of fire. So I suggest you run back to Stevan and tell him to clean his house or I will clean it for him.” She took a single, swaggering step back, and stood glowing in the refracted sunbeams from the Temple’s faceted skylights, like the golden goddess of some forgotten myth. “Our grandfather lost Clan Ardel’s good name. I’m taking it back.” She bared her teeth in a feral smile. “It starts today.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. The three women bowed and left, defeated by their lord’s sister and implacable resolve.
Ryn ignored them; she was focused on Evinne. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“The right thing,” Evinne said, and grimaced. “Somebody had to.” She flicked her self-rolled into the nearest trash receptacle, ignoring Tru’s wince, and met Ryn’s eyes. “It’s bad back home, Shorty. We need to find your brother.”
“Not exactly,” Ryn said. “We need to find Omega.”
Evinne looked exasperated, but she said, “It’s a start. Does this idea come with any kind of a plan?”