actions and the loss of his weapon. Obi-Wan had to disguise a chuckle as a cough. After all, hadn't he been the one who had leapt out through a window a hundred stories above the streets of Coruscant?
The Jedi Knight led the way into the gambling club. Humans and nonhumans mingled about in the smoky air, sipping drinks of every color and puffing on exotic pipes full of exotic plants. Many robes showed bulges reminiscent of weapons, and in looking around, both Jedi understood that everyone was a potential threat.
'Why do I think that you're going to be the death of me?' Obi-Wan commented above the clamor.
'Don't say that, Master,' Anakin replied seriously, and the intensity of his tone surprised Obi-Wan. 'You're the closest thing I have to a father. I love you, and I don't want to cause you pain.'
'Then why don't you listen to me?'
'I will,' Anakin said eagerly. 'I'll do better. I promise.'
Obi-Wan nodded and glanced all around. 'Do you see him?'
'I think he's a she.'
'Then be extra careful,' Obi-Wan said, and he gave a snort.
'And I think she's a changeling,' Anakin added.
Obi-Wan nodded to the crowd ahead of them. 'Go and find her.' He started the opposite way.
'Where are you going, Master?'
'To get a drink,' came the short response.
Anakin blinked in surprise to see his Master heading for the bar. He almost started after, to inquire further, but he recalled the scolding he had just received and his promise to do better, to obey his Master. He turned and started away, milling through the crowd, trying to hold his calm against the wave of faces staring at him, most with obvious suspicion, some even openly hostile.
Over at the bar, Obi-Wan watched him for a bit, out of the corner of his eye. He signaled to the bartender, then watched as a glass was placed in front of him and amber liquid poured in.
'Wanna buy some death sticks?' came a guttural voice from the side. Obi-Wan didn't even turn to fully regard the speaker, who wore a wild mane of dark hair, with two antennae twirled up from his hair like curly horns.
'Nobody's got better death sticks than Elan Sleazebaggano,' the ruffian added with a perfectly evil smile.
'You don't want to sell me death sticks,' the Jedi coolly said, waggling his fingers slightly, bringing the weight of the Force into his voice.
'I don't want to sell you death sticks,' Elan Sleazebaggano obediently repeated.
Again the Jedi waggled his fingers. 'You want to go home and rethink your life.'
'I want to go home and rethink my life,' Elan readily agreed, and he turned and walked away.
Obi-Wan tossed back his drink and motioned for the bartender to fill it up. A short distance away, walking among the crowd, Anakin continued his scan. Something didn't seem quite right to him- but of course, how could he expect it to be in this seedy place? Still, some sensation nagged at him, some mounting evil that seemed above the level expected even in here. He didn't actually see the blaster pistol coming out of the holster, didn't see it rising up toward the apparently unsuspecting Obi-Wan's back.
But he felt…
Anakin spun as Obi-Wan spun, to see his Master coming around, lightsaber igniting, in a beautiful and graceful turn with perfect balance. It seemed almost as if in slow motion to Anakin, though of course Obi-Wan was moving with deadly speed and precision, as his blade, blue like Anakin's, cut a short vertical loop and then a second, reaching farther out toward his foe. The would-be assassin-and he could see clearly now that it was a woman, since she had taken off her helmet-shrieked in agony as her arm, still clutching the blaster, fell free to the floor, sheared off above the elbow. The room exploded into motion, with Anakin rushing to Obi-Wan's side, club patrons leaping up all about them, bristling with nervous energy.
'Easy!' Anakin said loudly, patting his hands in the air, imbuing his voice with the strength of the Force. 'Official business. Go back to your drinks.'
Gradually, very gradually, the club resumed its previous atmosphere, with conversations beginning again. Seeming hardly concerned, Obi-Wan motioned for Anakin to help him, and together they helped the assassin out to the street.
They lowered her gently to the ground, and she started awake as soon as Obi- Wan began to attend her wounded arm.
She growled ferally and winced in agony, all the while staring up hatefully at the two Jedi.
'Do you know who it was you were trying to kill?' Obi-Wan asked her.
'The Senator from Naboo,' Zam Wesell said matter-of-factly, as if it hardly mattered.
'Who hired you?'
Her answer was a glare. 'It was just a job.'
'Tell us!' Anakin demanded, coming forward threateningly.
The tough bounty hunter didn't even flinch. 'The Senator's going to die soon anyway,' she said. 'It won't end with me. For the price they're offering, there'll be bounty hunters lining up to take the hit. And the next one won't make the same mistake I did.'
Tough as she was, she ended with a grunt and a groan.
'This wound's going to need more treatment than I can give it here,' an obviously concerned Obi-Wan
