pronker

Part Forty

Anakin deferred to Obi-Wan when it came to receiving the Presidential embrace. He stepped back to his Padawan's place, one long step behind, one to the left, and allowed Strenghis to squeeze his Master until he heard a vertebra pop.

Obi-Wan returned the greeting briefly in the same vein. This time it did not turn into a show of strength. The two sat as old comrades of the loyal opposition might, side by side on a bench up against the wall, foregoing the usual desk-between-potentate-and-visitor dominance game. Anakin stood to one side in what a clone would call 'parade rest.' He held his peace as the parley began.

Strenghis' voice was an octave below Obi-Wan's. "Good idea to meet privately. I tire of a large audience myself, and for this complex issue especially." The Cabinet stood arranged to his left near the largest window in the modest chamber as he leaned in close to the Jedi, and Obi-Wan wondered if they doubled as bodyguards. They had no visible weapons. "No doubt you have more evidence against the Separatists, Master Jedi."

"Actually, Mr. President, I have evidence against you." Bold might work here.

Strenghis huffed. "You're serious." The Cabinet/bodyguard closed ranks. The woman with the flower-festooned raffia belt touched it as if to cinch it tighter around her lavalava. She looked particularly wary.

"I am, Mr. President. But I've mostly presented my side. I want to hear more about your cunning plan to defend your world. Sources say that you are drafting a planetary service corps. For what purpose, if not defense?"

Now that he could spend more time with the President, Obi-Wan saw the strain on the man's face, covered by a blunt professional manner. There was caring on that face, though, when he stated, "I love Trow, Master Jedi, as much as Murt, my predecessor, did. In today's galaxy, Trow needs to change, at least Nepsa does; a trained force in these troubled times is reasonable. Did your source say anything about the demonstrators who are pushing for the Republic taking over our defense?"

Obi-Wan was put in a delicate place. He wanted the Republic to be the victor in this battle of wills. "We saw them on our briefing vid, but haven't seen any demonstrations, no. We arrived just day before yesterday."

"I thought Jedi would give us the respect of spending some time here observing instead of hastily presenting their arguments. The demonstrators' last public gathering was only three days ago." Strenghis' voice remained level.

Obi-Wan hedged. "We had mechanical difficulties, crashed into Gitchy, survived long enough for an Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy search party to rescue us."

"What day was this?"

Obi-Wan hoped this news would reflect in their favor. "Festival of Plenitude."

Strenghis folded his hands. "Dear Qikal must have been hard put to be generous with his resources when you refused to join in. His faith is even stronger since he became crippled. It's made my old friend hard-headed." Now Strenghis resembled the face in the poster, powerful, no-nonsense, someone who would push to win at dejarik every time and who would go all out to do so. But honestly. It must be the high stakes in the current issue that led to the faintest tinge of deceit in his aura.

Obi-Wan met his gaze. Anakin found the view out the window fascinating. "We did not refuse." On the word 'not,' Obi-Wan's voice squeaked. He had neglected his vocal exercises in this morning's rush.

There was a world of doubt in the President's eyes. "You ... that's not what our sources say about the Jedi. They left this before being called three days ago to some rainy planet." Strenghis fished in the carrying fold of his monochrome lavalava's waistband and pulled out a flimsi covered in Trow's unreadable script. "'Ascetic ... removed from ordinary desires ... incomprehensibly humorless ... ' That is what my briefing said."

"Let me see that, please." Obi-Wan couldn't read the closely-spaced script, but he recognized the flimsi stock as of Sienar Intelligence Systems origin; their hardcopy communiqués contained water-proofing elements, anti-crumpling reinforcement, and should discovery be imminent were entirely edible. He returned it, deciding to reiterate the clones' fighting ability, but Strenghis would not let the subject lie.

"Master Jedi, may the Mother grant a plenitude of offspring from your joining in the Festival. Of course, you and your strapping apprentice may visit the young ones anytime." An actual smile graced the President, a small relief from a leader's burdens. He placed a fraternal hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Anakin made a choked sound, while Obi-Wan couldn't prevent a blush, Jedi techniques or no. "Mr. President, the speaking drums will give full details should you wish to contact Upper-Gitchy-on-Cremba, but let us move along to exactly where the base may be placed and how you will contact our combat-hardened troops for support." Get off this topic, please.

Change the subject, change the subject. Anakin perceived a bored frisson emanating from Strenghis in the Force and broke in on the conversation. "Master, before discussing those" --- nitpicky --- "details, shouldn't you inform Mr. President how and to whom he will surrender his planet's rule?" Anakin gave in to Obi-Wan's choice of attack, but wanted a toehold in the debate. A wave of disapproval washed over his head through their bond. The gritting of teeth would come next.

"Thank you, Padawan. Mr. President, you mentioned yesterday that Dooku is a fallen Jedi. This is true. He disgraced himself, not when he left our Order, for we do not demand slavery to us, but when he betrayed his former comrades by fashioning a trap on Geonosis to lure Jedi forces there for slaughter from overwhelming numbers, when he allowed a death-by-beast-rending to begin as entertainment, our deaths, Mr. President, mine and my Padawan's, and when he mutilated a boy. Anakin, remove your glove, please." Will this personalizing work? Can I change my negotiating style?

Well, he had wanted to be more involved than ever in negotiations, Anakin thought as he undid the clasps and pulled the glove off by its fingers. He stood stoically as Cabinetmembers and President alike hissed in sympathy. Anakin was closer to their likeness, not alien-appearing at all, and that fact made a difference in their ability to commiserate with his previous agony. He kept secret from them and from Obi-Wan, too, that he experienced phantom pain from the vanished limb inside his head at times. He had felt like a boy when Dooku had committed mayhem upon his body and so did not rankle at the term.

"Mr. President, Cabinetmembers, you will pledge allegiance to Count Dooku, a disgraced Jedi, a Sith Lord. It may not mean much to you. The Sith's evil resurfaced some years ago from a distant past. I have killed one Sith Lord. The way of the Sith is treachery. I submit that the Republic will suit you better as an ally." Forget the pikes, forget Murt's silencing. It hadn't been murder, after all.

The river compromised.

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