Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [13]
Shu Mai’s expression widened. “You know about that? For one with access to such restricted information, I would think the elimination of a couple of Jedi—and their Padawans—would be a simple matter.”
“It would,” Soergg agreed, “if I could get proper help. Can you not send me suitable individuals?”
Shu Mai shook her head. “I am under strict instructions to avoid any action that might draw additional attention from the Jedi Council. Sending in offworld professionals is precisely the kind of action that would do so. Our friend would be hard-pressed to explain away such an action. You will have to make do with what you can hire locally. I was assured that you could. That is why you were engaged.”
“This is not an easy business,” Soergg complained bitterly.
The president of the Commerce Guild leaned close to her holo pickup, so that her face filled the imager. “I will make you a deal, Hutt. Trade positions with me. I will take care of these meddlesome Jedi, and you come here and deal with the one to whom I must report.”
Soergg thought about it—but not for very long. The Hutts had not achieved all that they had by being fools. Besides, there was always the possibility that if Shu Mai became too intemperate, too insistent, she could be bypassed. One could go over her head.
Did Soergg want to do that? He was not at all certain he really wished to know who was backing the impatient Commerce Guild. Not on a personal level, anyway.
“I sense agitation, anxiety, and outright hostility,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin trailing dutifully behind him, Obi-Wan led the way toward the municipal hall of the city of Cuipernam, where they were to meet formally for the first time with deputies of the Unity of Community—the loosely bound political entity that represented the scattered city-states of Ansion and was the closest thing the world they were visiting had to a recognizable planetary government. The same ersatz planetary government, he reminded himself, that was threatening to secede from the Republic—and as a consequence, possibly take dozens of other systems with it.
Luminara nodded. “In other words, a bunch of nervous politicians.” She glanced over at Barriss. “There are certain constants that remain the same throughout the galaxy, my dear. The speed of light, the motion of muons, and the unwillingness of politicians to commit to anything that requires a leap of personal responsibility.”
As always, the Padawan listened thoughtfully before responding. “Then how do we persuade them of the rightness of the galactic government’s ways, and that it’s in their best interests to remain a part of the Republic?”
“Sometimes it seems as if money works best.” Obi-Wan’s tone was quietly sardonic. “But regardless of what goes on in the Senate these days, that is not the way of the Jedi. Unlike politicians, we cannot offer to buy the loyalty of these people with promises of financial aid and elaborate development projects. Instead, we are restricted to the use of reason and common sense. If all goes well, they will respond to these as enthusiastically as they do to ready cash.”
There was no need for guards or clerks to announce the visitors to the assembled representatives; they were expected. The municipal hall itself was impressive by Cuipernam standards: long and high, the upper reaches of the second story lined with scenes of Ansionian life rendered effectively in stained quartz. No doubt it served to impress petitioning citizens. On Coruscant, Obi-Wan reflected, it would not have drawn a curious yawn from a bored passing traveler. The difference in scale and aesthetics did not make him feel bigger or more important than the locals. Very early in his training, he had come to realize the insignificance and unimportance of mere physical achievements. Anyone could buy expensive attire and fancy accoutrements, live in a big house, command legions of servants both organic and mechanical. Wisdom was much harder to come by.
Nevertheless, the four visitors dutifully