“Of course!” Anakin enthused. “That’s the missing key.”
“I’ve been involved in some high-level meetings,” Siri told him. “The Colicoid representatives know me. If I can get to them, I can lay the whole thing out. I can make them suspicious of Krayn’s abilities. They’ll trust me, since I’m his advisor. I know Aga Culpa, the leader of Nar Shaddaa, too.”
“And I’ll talk to the slaves,” Anakin said.
Siri sighed. “There’s only one problem. We’re in a high-security cell. And both our lightsabers are in my quarters. We can’t break out.”
Anakin smiled.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you have a plan for that, too.”
“Of course,” Anakin said.
Siri shook her head. “You remind me of someone I knew well years ago. He never let up, either. Made me think fast to keep up with him.” She grinned. “Just don’t ever tell Obi-Wan I said so.”
“It’s funny,” Anakin said. “I thought you hated him.”
Siri stretched her muscles. “Of course I don’t hate him. He just gets on my nerves.” Her vivid blue eyes glinted. “But then again, most beings do.”
CHAPTER 18
Obi-Wan had tried everything he knew. He had reached out with the Force, trying to locate Siri or Anakin. His Padawan’s connection was so strong that he’d felt sure that once he was inside the factory he would be able to locate him. But all he felt was a void.
He had walked over much of the factory, and the day was waning. He had looked into the faces of hundreds of slaves. He had seen misery and sickness and exhaustion. He had not seen his Padawan.
He found a private place to contact the Temple. Adi Gallia answered his call.
“We have lost contact with Siri,” she said. “We cannot help you, Obi-Wan. You’re on your own.”
He acknowledged the transmission and quickly tucked the comlink in his tunic. Something indeed was very wrong. It was time to locate Krayn.
Obi-Wan took the lift tube to Krayn’s sprawling complex. As he walked toward Krayn’s private quarters, he felt a disturbance in the Force. He paused, but he couldn’t trace it. Still, it worried him.
Krayn’s receiving room surprised Obi-Wan. He had expected richness, a display of Krayn’s enormous wealth to show how important he was. But the room was almost bare. The floor was of plain rough stone. The only sign of Krayn’s ego was an enormous chair carved out of rare greel wood.
Krayn was standing as Obi-Wan arrived. “So,” he said in a jovial tone, “have you seen all that you have come to see?”
“No,” Obi-Wan reported shortly. “I have toured some of the factory on my own, but I request a guide. Someone who knows your operation well.”
“Hmmm,” Krayn said. “That would be Rashtah. Strange, however. No one has been able to find him today. You didn’t happen to run into him in your travels, did you? A large Wookiee with a bad temper?”
It was a test, of course. Krayn was playing with him. He knew very well that if Obi-Wan was now standing in front of him, the Wookiee had failed.
“No. Perhaps someone else can substitute.”
“I will find someone, of course. I’ll send them to you.”
“I’ll be on the factory floor - “
Krayn’s eyes glittered. “Don’t worry. I always know where to find you. “
Obi-Wan’s sense of unease was growing. Krayn felt too secure. Why? Did he know that Obi-Wan was a Jedi? Or was he confident because his deal with the Colicoids was close to being completed?
Obi-Wan paused at the same spot he had felt a disturbance in the Force earlier. He reached out, gathering the Force around him, pushing himself to reach deeper, farther, wider. He did not feel an answering call from Anakin. Yet he knew one thing: His greatest fear had not been realized. His Padawan was still alive.
But if he was alive, that meant he was thinking. Planning. Obi-Wan fervently hoped his impulsive Padawan would remember patience and caution. At least he could be with Siri…
Apprehension suddenly snaked through Obi-Wan. If Anakin and Siri were together, anything could happen.
Hours later, a tiny slit in the door opened and a tray was pushed through. On it was a protein wafer as hard as a rock, some water, and a moldy piece of bread.
“No, thank you,” Siri said.
Anakin approached the tray eagerly. He tore open the piece of bread. Inside was a message written on a scrap of durasheet.
WHAT CAN I DO? BERRI
Siri looked over his shoulder. “Who is that?”
“She’s my friend Mazie’s daughter. She works in the kitchens here.” Anakin was glad Mazie had thought of asking for Berri’s help. He had counted on it. “Where did you hide your lightsaber? And, while you’re at it, mine?”