They should reach the transport without incident.
'And the Haariden patrol?' Anakin asked.
'They've gone back to join the war,' Obi-Wan said. 'They won't bother us.' He would tell Anakin about Granta Omega back at the Temple. Now they needed to focus on getting off-planet.
Soara and Obi-Wan fashioned a body sling and tied Darra gently against Obi-Wan's chest. They hiked to the transport, making good time now. The sky lightened and a pale sun rose as they reached the ship.
The scientists boarded with weary relief. Obi-Wan gently set Darra down on a sleep couch and covered her with a thermal blanket. Soara slid behind the controls. Obi-Wan contacted the Temple and said they were on their way.
They shot up into the upper atmosphere of Haariden. Obi-Wan looked down at the planet, glad to be leaving it. He wondered about the disturbance in the Force he had felt since he'd arrived. He had thought it was because of the dark side on this planet. There was so much death and bitterness. But what about his sense of foreboding? Could he have somehow picked up on the fact that Granta Omega was here as well?
The fact that Omega had failed in his attempt to kill the Jedi didn't matter. If Darra had not been ill, if he hadn't pledged to get the scientists to safety, he would have stayed with his Padawan and hunted down his attacker. Omega had tried to kill Jedi twice. He should be brought to justice.
But Obi-Wan had his duties, and he had to leave. He had made the same decision on Ragoon-6. Justice would have to be sought another time. Could it be that Omega only attacked when he knew the Jedi could not retaliate or pursue him? Did he count on a Jedi's sense of priorities to protect himself from reprisals?
Obi-Wan turned away from the planet and looked ahead at the galaxy.
The ship shot into hyperspace, and a rush of stars seemed to crowd the windscreen. This time, Obi-Wan vowed, he would get to the bottom of the mystery of Granta Omega.
Chapter Six
Obi-Wan accessed the door to the Jedi Temple Archive Library and stopped in the doorway. Usually it was a pristine space with not a holofile out of place. Busts of great Jedi Masters lined one wall, and the soft glow of computer panels created a hushed atmosphere. Today it was in chaos.
Holofiles hung in the air while datasheets littered the usually empty counters. Jedi archivist Madame Jocasta Nu stood in the center of the room, two laser pointers stuck haphazardly in her gray wispy bun. Her small, nimble fingers flicked through one holofile after another.
She looked up at him, irritated. 'In or out, young Jedi.'
It never failed. Madame Jocasta Nu could make him feel like a fifth- year student. She appeared frail but her authority was unquestionable.
She pulled out a laser pointer and frowned at it, then used it to make a correction in a file. 'Well?'
Obi-Wan stepped inside. 'Am I interrupting?'
'Of course you are. Cleaning day. I have to organize once a month.
Retire old files, organize, send others to deep storage. Not a good day. It always puts me in a bad mood.'
'Ah,' Obi-Wan said, 'well…'
'Which doesn't mean I'm not available,' she said crisply. 'Just that you won't get the benefit of my usual good humor.'
'Ah,' Obi-Wan said again. He had never enjoyed the benefit of Jocasta Nu's good humor. Perhaps he'd been at the other end of her private amusement at his failure to keep up with Senate subcommittee agendas. That was the only time he could remember her smiling at him. It hadn't been a very nice smile.
Jocasta Nu shook her head. 'Oh, for star's sake, Master Kenobi, stop repeating yourself. What do you need?'
'Some time ago I asked you to research someone called Granta Omega.
You assembled a file — ' 'I remember.'
'Which I need to review.'
She sighed. 'Today, I suppose?'
'I'm afraid so.'
Jocasta Nu crossed the room and began to access a holofile directory.
She hummed a tuneless melody while she tapped one finger on the counter.
'Here we go. I can do a fresh search as well, if you like.'
'That would be helpful.'
She flipped through the file. 'Though as I remember, this subject's problem was decentralization.'
'What do you mean?' Obi-Wan asked.
'Scattered.' Her slender fingers wiggled. 'Spread out. Diluted.'
'I understand what the word means, I just don't — '
'Sorry. One of my own classification terms. Some subjects are solid.
