'A small crew could police an entire system with one vessel,' Tarkin mused.
'Well, not so small a crew, but one vessel, certainly.' Sienar walked around the display and made large, vaguely designing sweeps of his hands. 'I'm considering removing the extraneous spheres, sticking with one large ball, ninety or a hundred kilometers in diameter. A more wieldy design for transport.'
Tarkin smiled proudly. 'I knew I picked the right man for this job, Raith.' He admired the design with brows tightly knit. 'What a sense of scale! What unutterable power!'
'I'm not sure I have any free time,' Sienar said with a frown. 'Despite my lack of connections, I still manage to keep very busy.'
Tarkin waved his hand dismissively. 'Forget these shadows of a past life and focus on the future. What a future it will be, Raith, if you satisfy the right people!'
Chapter 3
The Jedi Temple was a massive structure, centuries old, well and beautifully made, but like much on Coruscant, the exterior had of late suffered from neglect. Below the five spotless and gleaming minarets, at the level of the dormitories and the staff entrances, paint flaked and bronze gutters dripped long green streaks down broad curved roofs. Molded metal sheets had lost their buffers of insulation and were beginning to electrically corrode, creating fantastic rainbow patterns on their surfaces where they touched.
Within the Temple, the domain of the Jedi Knights and their Padawans, the chambers were cool, with lighting at a minimum, except in the private quarters, which were spare enough, but provided with glow lamps for reading the texts taken from the huge library. Each cubicle was also equipped with a computer and holoprojector for accessing the later works of science and history and philosophy.
The overall effect, to an outsider, might have been one of studious gloom, but to a Jedi, the Temple was a center of learning, chivalry, and tradition unparalleled in the known universe.
It was meant to be a place of peace and reflection, commingled with periods of rigorous training. Increasingly, however, the Jedi Council devoted its time to troublesome matters of politics and the large-scale repercussions of a decades-long economic collapse.
The Republic could not afford too much reflection, however, nor too much study. This was soon to be an age of action and counteraction, with many forces arrayed against freedom and the principles that had guided the Jedi in their zealous guardianship of the senate and the Republic.
That explained why so many of the Masters were away from the Temple, scattered around the crumbling fringes of the Republic.
It did not explain why Mace Windu maintained a bemused smile even as he presided over the distressing case of Anakin Skywalker.
In truth, Obi-Wan Kenobi had never quite gotten the range of Mace Windu. Many declared that Yoda was the most enig matic of the Jedi Knights, habitually teaching by trick rather than example, conundrum rather than pointed fact. Mace Windu, in Obi-Wan's experience, seemed to lead by rigorous example, using concrete guidelines and steady discipline rather than startled revelation. Yet of all the Jedi, he was quickest to appreciate a joke, and often to spring a devious philosophical trap during debates.
In physical training, he was among the toughest to best, because his moves could be so unexpected. Whatever he seemed to propose, or to oppose, might in fact be a ploy to encourage quite a different result.
There was a creative whimsy to the man that defied intellectual analysis. And that was one reason why Mace Windu was ranked a Jedi Master.
Decadent cynics in the Senate District who knew little about the Jedi regarded them as somber, stuffy preservers of a fusty old religion, like shreds of an aging fabric soon to give way to a gleaming new garment, an age of surgical precision and cold, hard facts. Mace Windu reminded all who came in contact with him that the Jedi Knights were a vibrant, living order, rich in contradictions, possessing a vitality very difficult-some said impossible- to extinguish.
Obi-Wan and Anakin, as soon as they had scrubbed and showered away the silicone and stench, climbed the steps and took an ancient but beautifully maintained turbolift to the heights of the gleaming Council Tower. Late-afternoon sun poured through the broad windows in the Council chamber. The circular room was suffused by an antique golden glow, but this glow did not fall upon Anakin, whose slight form was obscured by the shadow of a tall and vacant chair.
The Padawan looked more than a little bewildered.
Obi-Wan stood beside him, as a Master must when his apprentice is in peril of dismissal.
Four Masters were present. The other chairs were empty. Mace Windu presided. Obi-Wan remembered several disciplinary hearings for his own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, yet none had been held in such a charged atmosphere as this, no matter Mace Windu's amused expression.
'Anakin Skywalker has been with us three years now, and has shown himself a capable student,' Mace began. 'More than capable. Brilliant, with abilities and strengths we have all hoped to see developed and controlled.'
Mace rose and walked around the pair, his robes swishing faintly with the movement of his long legs. 'Strength of character is a challenge to be overcome by a Padawan, for it may be a mask for careless will lacking center and purpose. What seems bright in youth tarnishes in maturity, and crumbles in age. A Jedi is allowed no such weakness.' He stopped in front of the boy. 'Anakin Skywalker, what is your error?'
Obi-Wan stepped forward to speak, but Mace's hand shot up, and his eyes sparked with warning. Though a Master must defend his Padawan, it was clear the Council was beyond that here.
Obi-Wan suspected the worst: that a judgment had already been rendered, and that Anakin was to be released from the Temple.
Anakin watched Mace with large eyes, uncharacteristically subdued.
Mace was unrelenting. 'I ask again, what was your error?'
