“Too busy, the Senate has been,” Yoda said. “But ignore Mawan, they can no longer. Ripples of evil, open worlds have. Affect the galaxy, they do. Asked the Senate has for a Jedi presence to help establish a provisional government committee. To have the trust of the Mawans, a diplomat we need.”
“A diplomat, yes, but also a warrior,” Obi-Wan remarked. “Someone who can convince the criminal gangs that it is in their best interest to leave the planet. I can see why you chose Yaddle.”
Yoda inclined his head. “Our most able diplomat, she is. Accomplished in the ways of the Force. But assistance she needs. Help her, you and your Padawan must, for important this mission is. As goes Mawan, so go other worlds. Growing in the galaxy, the dark side is.”
“We are ready, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin nodded. But he felt a dread he did not understand. Even hearing the name of the planet had created a sour feeling in his stomach. Usually a mission excited him, no matter how difficult or dangerous. Yet he knew that he did not want to go to Mawan.
CHAPTER TWO
The Republic cruiser flew low over Mawan’s capital city of Naatan. Obi-Wan leaned closer to look out the cockpit window. The power grid was being fought over by the crimelords, and had been repeatedly damaged in successive raids and takeovers. Tonight the grid was down and the city was black. It rose out of the night like a dark shadow.
He had flown into Naatan at night before. Years ago, before the war. The city had glowed from kilometers above in space. The Mawans were fond of soft colors, which they used to filter the harsh light of their world. They used delicate rose lights to illuminate their streets and plazas at night, and from the air the city had glowed like a rare pink jewel.
He had always enjoyed his visits to Naatan. The city had been a thriving cosmopolitan center. It had been an important stop on the primary Core trade route, and the wealth of the city had spread to its parks, libraries, and schools.
As they flew lower, dipping down into an unused space lane, he could see that those parks were now black holes in the landscape, as painful as wounds. The schools were now in ruins, the libraries leveled. Obi-Wan saw broken windows, twisted gates, half-demolished cafŠs. Abandoned speeders left on the street. Everywhere he looked, Obi-Wan saw desolation. It wasn’t just the property, it was what the property represented - the ruin of so many lives, busy lives that had been lived in pleasant surroundings. Now those lives had been driven underground, and evil had moved into the vacuum.
“Gone underground,” Euraana Fall said. “The only ones who remain are part of the criminal gangs.” A native of Naatan, Euraana had the delicate, pale skin and blue veins that were prized by the Mawan. Mawans had two hearts and their blue veins lay close to their skin, a mark of beauty on the planet. Euraana’s grief showed in her shimmering gray eyes, but her voice was steady. “Most of the citizens live in the infrastructure tunnels. Before the Great Purge - what Mawans call the civil war - all of our goods were transported below the city, in tunnels, and airlifted to the surface. Our computer centers and control links are there, too. It’s what made the city so pleasant. For a busy city, we had little traffic.”
“Yes, it was a wonderful city to stroll in,” Obi-Wan said as the craft neared landing. “Your cafŠs and restaurants were always full of talk and music.”
“And our parks held the laughter of our children,” Euraana agreed, her gaze quietly sweeping over the city. “All gone.” She pointed in the distance. “There is the quarter where the crimelord Striker rules. He is known by that name because of the projectile pistols his gang used for their first raid. Strikers are not sophisticated weapons, but they won the battle. Now they are better armed, of course. He is reputed to have the most extensive weapons cache of all the crimelords.”
Obi-Wan leaned over to look at the quarter of the city that Euraana had indicated. Garish blue and green glowlights were hung from poles to cast their eerie light on the streets. Half-destroyed buildings were rebuilt with inexpensive, brightly colored plastoid materials. The replacements were slapped onto old buildings built of polished stone, making a tawdry contrast. This quarter did have a few beings in its streets, with state-of-the-art speeders sporting shiny paint and flashing lights moving through the streets and cafŠs full of beings. It was obvious that there was trading going on. The progress of their transport was watched with calculating eyes.
“What are they buying and selling?” Anakin asked.
Euraana shrugged. “Weapons. Spice. Illegal medicines they will sell to the unfortunates in the galaxy. Fortunes are being made down there. And those fortunes are built on the ashes of our civilization.”