DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
N.B. Thoughts indicated by // and Italics
Obi-Wan grew more and more restless as the ship neared the Callodas System. He tried to calm himself through meditation, but every time he reached out to the Force he saw again visions of fear and suffering. He paced around the halls of the ship like a caged beast, nonchalantly checking the medical supplies and escape pods. They were, however, all in good condition and moderate abundance. Obi-Wan began to feel silly. Surely there was no reason for him to be unnerved; the Government had agreed to let them land unchallenged, and besides, they were Jedi. One was a Master. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had escaped unharmed from situations far more dangerous than this one, sometimes without even activating a lightsaber. A Jedi’s calm reasonable diplomacy was his most powerful and effective tool, his ability to see all sides of the argument and seek a peaceful solution. But it could also be a danger to him, thought Obi-Wan. People feared and sometimes even hated the Jedi simply because of that seemingly unbreachable fortitude, their calm patience. But everyone also knew of the Jedi as powerful warriors. Someone would have to be either incredibly well-trained or very desperate to attack a Jedi--not to mention two. But desperate was just what the Callodians were....
Obi-Wan’s contemplations were interrupted by the clanking of the ship’s engines as they left hyperspace. He marched reluctantly back to the bridge and buckled himself into the co-pilot’s seat beside Qui-Gon. Neither of them said a word, but each could feel the other’s unease as Callodas Three, a bright amber jewel, filled the viewscreen. Soon the ship was speeding down through the planet’s thick, cloudy outer atmosphere, heading towards the coordinates on Master Windu’s data pad.
Obi-Wan watched grimly as layer upon layer of dense cloud rolled over the front and sides of the ship, creating swirls and eddies that took on monstrous form in the Padawan’s imagination. Then, out of the dense orange fog emerged the planet’s surface, spattered with sparse vegetation that was being beaten back by the edges of large sprawling cities. Towards one of the larger cities the shuttle flew, and was immediately hailed. A fuzzy image of a tall Callodian woman in a simple burgundy ambassador’s robe filled the viewscreen. Her abnormally large eyes, trademark of the Callodians, blinked skeptically at the Jedi.
“So,” her voice crackled through the ship’s rather inadequate speakers, “you are the Jedi.”
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bowed respectfully. “We are honored by your invitation, my lady, and request permission to come aboard at once,” said Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan was sure his master was the only being in the world who could sound so sincere when he said he was honored to be invited to a planet engulfed in a bloody civil war--it was because he really was, Obi-Wan thought with awe and respect. //One would think I would eventually stop being surprised by him,// Obi-Wan told himself. //One would be wrong.//
There was a pause, just long enough to be unnerving, then the woman smiled mechanically. “Very well,” she said dryly. “Welcome to Callodas Three.” Then her image blurred and disappeared from the viewscreen and a shabby landing platform in the middle of an even shabbier city took its place. Master and Padawan exchanged glances.
Qui-Gon skillfully set the ship down in the center of the platform. The two Jedi walked in silence to the boarding ramp, centering themselves and straightening their robes, pulling the hoods up over their heads as was both expected and proper; it projected a more pacific and monastic image than the high boots and warrior’s robes undereath. Obi-Wan drew a deep breath as the ship’s doors opened and the ramp extended. For once he felt his calm was only a facade, that it did not reach into the center of his being as it used to. Worst of all, he felt the same from Qui-Gon. Something was very wrong.
As they walked down the ramp the woman who had hailed them strode up from the far side of the platform accompanied by two lines of armed men and women--an honor guard, Obi-Wan hoped. She met the Jedi at the bottom of the ramp and all three bowed.
“You must be Qui-Gon Jinn,” she said. “Welcome. I am Yemil Ch’Andri, Ambassador of the Callodas Central Government. I apologize for my entourage,” she added, gesturing with her chin at the guards behind her, “but at times like this, one cannot be too careful.”
“No,” replied Qui-Gon, “one cannot. Allow me to introduce my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Yemil Ch’Andri glanced at the Padawan and nodded curtly. As Obi-Wan reflexively bowed he noted with unease that she had failed to meet his glance. Nor, thinking back on it, had she made eye contact with his Master. Obi-Wan felt his unease growing within him.
“...and we have been forced by these acts of terrorism to cut off the rebels’ supplies,” Ch’Andri was telling Qui-Gon as they strolled across the platform. “However, the attacks have not ceased, and we believe they are receiving supplies from some other source. That is why we called you here. We wish for you to destroy the rebel contacts and cut off their supplies completely so they will be forced to surrender.”
“Ambassador,” answered Qui-Gon evenly, “we are Jedi. Our mission is to help the people of Callodas Three reach a mutual agreement with as little bloodshed as possible. We cannot move aggressively unless it is our only choice, and in this case, I must at least hear the other side of the argument before I can make any judgment.”
“But you are warriors!” cried the ambassador, peeved.
“Yes, but only when we must be,” replied the Jedi calmly. “I understand the rebel captain has agreed to speak with us?”
“He has.” Ch’Andri’s voice radiated annoyance and disgust.
Although Obi-Wan had been looking attentively at Ch’Andri and Qui-Gon, he had felt the ambassador’s bodyguards silently flanking and surrounding them. Inside his robe his hands were shaking. He reached out psychically for his Master, who responded with a wave of caution; he wanted Obi-Wan to be careful still and try not to betray his unease.
Suddenly Ch’Andri stopped and whirled to face the Jedi, staring Qui-Gon straight in the face for the first time. She radiated hostility. “Master Jedi,” she snarled, “I will give you one last chance. Cooperate with us in destroying these rebels or my men will kill both you and your boy where you stand.” There was a clatter as the guards raised their blasters and pointed them unwaveringly at the two brown-robed men in the center of their circle. Ch’Andri moved out of the ring with the smug fluidity of a predator who is about to enjoy playing with her food.
Qui-Gon slowly reached up to unfasten his cloak and pull back the hood. Obi-Wan mirrored his Master’s movements, then both turned towards the ambassador. She sized them up, their warrior’s gear, their grim, composed faces, their hands hovering dangerously near the lightsabers clipped to their belts. It was clear they would not yield.
“Kill them,” she said, then turned and strode away as a battalion of trained soldiers fired as one behind her.