of Jedi, or even former Jedi, in times such as these can be disastrous.'
'Deny Dooku's involvement in the separatist movement, we cannot,' Yoda reminded him.
'Nor can we deny that he began in that movement because of ideals,' Mace argued. 'He was once our friend-that we must not forget-and to hear him slandered and named as an assassin-'
'Not named,' Yoda said. 'But darkness there is, about us all, and in that darkness, nothing is what it seems.'
'But it makes little sense to me that Count Dooku would make an attempt on the life of Senator Amidala, when she is the one most adamantly opposed to the creation of an army. Would the separatists not wish Amidala well in her endeavors? Would they not believe that she is, however unintentionally, an ally to their cause? Or are we really to believe that they want war with the Republic?'
Yoda leaned heavily on his cane, seeming very weary, and his huge eyes slowly closed. 'More is here than we can know,' he said very quietly.
'Clouded is the Force. Troubling it is.'
Mace dismissed his forthcoming reflexive response, a further defense of his old friend Dooku. Count Dooku had been among the most accomplished of the Jedi Masters, respected among the Council, a student of the older and, some would say, more profound Jedi philosophies and styles, including an arcane lightsaber fighting style that was more front and back, thrust and riposte, than the typical circular movements currently employed by most of the Jedi. What a blow it had been to the Jedi Order, and to Mace Windu, when Dooku had walked away from them, and for many of the same reasons the separatists were now trying to walk away: the perception that the Republic had grown too ponderous and unresponsive to the needs of the individual, even of individual systems.
It was no less troubling to Mace Windu concerning Dooku, as it was, no doubt, to Amidala and Palpatine concerning the separatists, that some of the arguments against the Republic were not without merit.
Chapter Six
As the lights of Coruscant dimmed, gradually replaced by the natural lights of the few twinkling stars that could get through the nearly continual glare, the great and towering city took on a vastly different appearance. Under the dark evening sky, the skyscrapers seemed to become gigantic natural monoliths, and all the supersized structures that so dominated the city, that so marked Coruscant as a monument to the ingenuity of the reasoning species, seemed somehow the mark of folly, of futile pride striving against the vastness and majesty beyond the grasp of any mortal.
Even the wind at the higher levels of the structures sounded mournful, almost as a herald to what would eventually, inevitably, become of the great city and the great civilization.
As Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker stood in the turbolift of the Senate apartment complex, the Jedi Master was indeed pondering such profound universal truths as the subtle change of day to night. Beside him, though, his young Padawan certainly was not. Anakin was about to see Padme again, the woman who had captured his heart and soul when he was but ten years old and had never let it go.
'You seem a little on edge, Anakin,' Obi-Wan noted as the lift continued its climb.
'Not at all,' came the unconvincing reply.
'I haven't seen you this nervous since we fell into that nest of gundarks.'
'You fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you. Remember?'
Obi-Wan's little distraction seemed to have the desired effect, and the pair shared a much-needed laugh. Coming out of it, though, Anakin remained obviously on edge.
'You're sweating,' Obi-Wan noted. 'Take a deep breath. Relax.'
'I haven't seen her in ten years.'
'Anakin, relax,' Obi-Wan reiterated. 'She's not the Queen anymore.' The lift door slid open and Obi-Wan started away, while Anakin, behind him, muttered under his breath, 'That's not why I'm nervous.'
As the pair stepped into the corridor, a door across the way slid open and a well-dressed Gungan, wearing fine red and black robes, stepped into the corridor opposite them. The three regarded each other for just a moment, and then the Gungan diplomat, losing all sense of reserve and propriety, began hopping around like a child.
'Obi! Obi! Obi!' Jar Jar Binks cried, tongue and ears flapping. 'Mesa so smilen to see'en yousa! Wahoooo!'
Obi-Wan smiled politely, though his glance at Anakin did show that he was a bit embarrassed, and he patted his hands gently in the air, trying to calm the excitable fellow. 'It's good to see you, too, Jar Jar.'
Jar Jar continued to hop about for just a moment, then suddenly, and with obvious great effort, calmed down. 'And this, mesa guessen, issen yousa apprentice,' he went on, and the Gungan seemed to have much more control of himself. For a moment, at least, until he took a good look at the young Padawan, and all pretense melted away. 'Noooooooo!' he shrieked, clapping his hands together. 'Annie? Noooooooo! Little bitty Annie? ' Jar Jar grabbed the Padawan and pulled him forcefully to arm's length, studying him head to toe. 'Noooooooo! Yousa so biggen! Yiyiyiyi! Annie! Mesa no believen!'
Now it was Anakin's turn to wear the embarrassed smile. Politely, he offered no resistance as the overexcited Gungan slammed him into a crushing hug, childish hops shaking him violently.
'Hi, Jar Jar,' Anakin managed to say, and Jar Jar just continued on, hopping and crying out his name, and issuing a series of strange yiyi sounds. It seemed as if it would go on forever, but then Obi-Wan gently but firmly grabbed Jar Jar by the arm. 'We have come to speak with Senator Amidala. Could you show us to her?'
Jar Jar stopped bouncing and looked at Obi-Wan intently, his duck-billed face taking on a more serious expression. 'Shesa expecting yousa. Annie! Mesa no believen!' His head bobbed a bit more, then he grabbed Anakin by the hand and pulled him along.
