Euraana Fall entered, her face pale with fatigue and worry. “Feeana Tala is close to deserting the city and pulling her patrols. She doesn’t think we can hold the city against an attack by Omega.”
“That means the city will be left without security,” Anakin said.
“Which means everyone will retreat belowground again, and we’ll be back where we started,” Euraana said, lowering herself into a chair. She bent forward to lean her forehead against her clasped hands. She closed her eyes. “I’m hoarse from talking and reasoning. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve been in communication with the Senate representative. He refuses to reconsider the decision to pull back the Senate security force.”
“I will speak with him,” Obi-Wan said. “And I’ll handle Feeana as well. Let’s go, Anakin.” It seemed a great effort to haul himself out of his chair. Obi-Wan felt the fatigue deep in his bones. “We’ll grab some food on the way,” he said to Anakin, and saw the boy’s face brighten slightly.
They headed to the cafŠ on the second level. Once it had served the many Mawans who had flocked to the hall for music and lectures, and its extensive stoves and cooling units spoke of the array of foods that had once been offered. Now the shelves were bare. At least there was hot tea and a tray of muja muffins.
Anakin picked one up. “Stale,” he said, disappointed. “Why do the bad guys get all the good food?”
Obi-Wan held up his tea. “That’s what dunking is for. Another Jedi lesson for you.”
Anakin tried to smile. It was the first light moment they had exchanged since Yaddle’s death. But a moment later, Anakin’s face darkened again.
Something is very wrong, Obi-Wan thought. It wasn’t just the aftermath of Yaddle’s death. Why was it that whenever he needed to talk to his Padawan, circumstances got in the way? There was always a mission to complete, and then, these days, as soon as they were done, there was somewhere else important to go, another crucial battle to fight.
Across the empty tables Obi-Wan spied Feeana Tala, slumped over a mug of tea. This was a bit of luck. He could approach her informally. Sometimes that was better when you were trying to hold on to a deal. It would be easier to ensure the Senate’s support if he could be sure Feeana would not fold.
Feeana looked as tired as Euraana had. She waved Obi-Wan off as he approached. “Go away.”
Obi-Wan sat down, summoning up a cheerful smile. He motioned Anakin to do the same. He dunked a piece of muffin into his tea. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Don’t bother with the pleasantries,” Feeana said. “I know why you’re here. You’re going to tell me that my cooperation is essential in holding the city. You’re going to say that as a Mawan I owe it to my home planet. You’re going to say that if I take my gang and retreat belowground that eventually I’ll be imprisoned.” She stirred her tea moodily. “I know all those things. But I’ve got my soldiers out on the streets, and there’s not enough of them to hold the city against Striker - or Omega, as I hear his name is. What am I supposed to do? Send them to their deaths?”
“I would not ask you to continue patrolling the city if I thought that,” Obi-Wan said. “I am not willing to sacrifice so many lives to get what we need.”
“But Decca and Omega - “
“We can handle Decca and Omega.”
She placed her spoon down carefully. “So you say. And yet a Jedi Master evaporated into dust particles just a few hours ago.”
“Yaddle died in order to protect your soldiers and the people of Mawan,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “That should tell you how far the Jedi are willing to go.”
There was a short silence. Feeana sipped her tea and made a face. “It’s cold,” she said. Then slowly, she nodded. “All right,” she continued quietly. “I’ll remain.”
With Feeana’s cooperation and the promise of Yoda’s arrival, Obi-Wan was able to convince the Senate to aid Mawan. He found it difficult to keep his temper cool and speak reasonably. He wanted to shout at everyone that Yaddle had sacrificed herself for their peace and security, so the least they could do was follow through. He knew that grief was making him short-tempered. His heart was heavy, and he was angry, too, angry that Yaddle had to die.
These were emotions he could not carry with him, for they would drag him down. He had to absorb them and let them go. Yet he felt as though he was struggling against a rising tide.
Anakin said so little. He could not get up the energy to address his Padawan’s need, either. And somewhere below, Granta Omega was biding his time, concocting his plan for revenge, and he would surely try to exploit Anakin’s sadness for his own ends. Omega had already killed a member of the Jedi Council. That had been his great goal, and he had achieved it.