“We must take care that we aren’t followed,” Qui-Gon said as they took the tube down from the spaceport to the business level. “The bounty hunters will no doubt expect the Senate to send some sort of security to pick up Talesan. They’ll be watching, hoping we lead them to the Frys.”
“I don’t pick up anything,” Adi Gallia said. “Siri?”
Obi-Wan hadn’t seen Siri Tachi with her Master in years. He noted a new sense of respect when Adi turned to her Padawan. For the first time since they’d boarded the ship together at the Temple, Obi-Wan really looked at his friend. Siri was taller, certainly, but she also carried herself differently. There was less aggression in her stance. She had grown comfortable with herself. Her own beauty had once thoroughly annoyed Siri, but now Obi-Wan saw that she was more comfortable with it. She did not try as hard to hide it; she simply didn’t care.
Siri hesitated before answering, as if she wanted to be sure. “Nothing.”
“Good. Siri has an extraordinary sensitivity to Force warnings,” Adi told Qui-Gon. “She’s gotten us out of quite a few tight spots.”
“Well, I might sense the danger, but Adi gets us out of it,” Siri amended, flashing her Master a grin.
“Just to be sure, let’s walk a bit before we head for the Frys,” Qui-Gon said.
Taly and his parents had kept moving since their home had been destroyed. They had chosen to hide in the densely populated city, moving from hotel to hotel, from hired room to hired room, not wanting to put friends in danger. The Jedi had received the coordinates of their current hideout just as they landed. The Frys were expecting them.
They had taken refuge in an inn that catered to short-term residents, beings who traveled to Cirrus frequently on business. The inn did not advertise and was known only among the network of business travelers. It had no sign outside, just an anonymous door. Taly’s father had known about it through his contacts.
The Jedi waited in an alley a few steps away, just to make certain they were not followed. When they were sure, they went to the door and pressed the button alongside a security monitor.
“Key in your code number,” a voice from the monitor requested.
“We don’t have one,” Qui-Gon said. “We’re looking - “
“Full up.” The monitor blinked off.
Qui-Gon pressed the button again. “We are expected by one of your guests,” he said quickly, trying not to sound annoyed.
“Name?”
“Yanto.” It was the name the Fry family was hiding under.
“One moment.”
It was more than a moment, but the door slid open. The Jedi slipped inside. A heavy gray curtain was immediately in front of them. They pushed it aside and found themselves in a small circular hall. A round desk sat in the center of the space. The young man sitting behind it wore an expression of great boredom. He had long fair hair that he wore loose over his shoulders.
“They aren’t in,” he said. “I checked.”
“We’d like to wait in their room,” Qui-Gon said. The young man shrugged.
Adi spoke crisply. “They left word that we could enter, didn’t they?”
The clerk looked down at his datascreen. “I guess so.”
“Then let us up.” Adi’s voice rang with authority. The young man pushed a key card across the table.
“Suite 2344. Have a ball.”
The Jedi stepped into the turbolift. It rose swiftly to the top floor. They found the room. Qui-Gon knocked, and when there was no answer, he inserted the key card. A series of numbers flashed, and the door slid open.
The room was modest. Two sleep couches were in an alcove, and a desk stood against a wall. Vidscreens and datascreens were recessed in the wall. One window overlooked the street but was covered by a gray curtain.
Siri checked out the travel bags near the sleep couches. “Looks like it could be them,” she said. “Basic necessities are still here.”
“So we wait,” Adi said.
Qui-Gon went to the window and slid the curtain back a slight bit. He looked out onto the street. Obi-Wan watched his face.
“He let us up too easily,” Qui-Gon said.
“We were expected,” Adi said.
“He didn’t ask our names.”
“He didn’t seem to care much about security,” Obi-Wan said.
“Yes, he seemed to advertise his indifference,” Qui-Gon murmured, his eyes darting around the room.
Siri bent over to examine the items more closely. She fingered a few items thrown on the end of the sleep couch. Suddenly, she straightened.
“Something’s wrong,” she said.
Qui-Gon turned, his gaze sharp. “Tell us.”