Pre-dawn light filtered through the Temple spires, casting long shadows across Obi-Wan's temporary quarters. He sat cross-legged on the meditation mat, eyes closed, awareness expanded to encompass every molecule of air around him. The Force flowed through him with unprecedented intensity, each breath drawing in power that would have overwhelmed him in his previous life at this age.
Time to test the limits.
He reached out, letting his consciousness expand beyond the room's confines. The Temple's familiar presence surrounded him – thousands of Force signatures, each unique as a fingerprint. But now he perceived more: the subtle currents of the Living Force weaving between them, the echoes of ancient power in the Temple's foundations, even the faint resonance of kyber crystals in distant lightsabers.
Maintaining perfect stillness, Obi-Wan lifted his datapad from the desk. It hovered steadily, joined moments later by his lightsaber, then the chair, meditation mat, and finally his own body. The objects orbited him in perfect harmony, each requiring only a fraction of his concentration. In his previous timeline, such a display would have demanded his full attention.
A droplet of sweat traced down his temple – not from exertion, but from the precision required to keep his Force presence contained. Like trying to mask a sun behind a paper screen. He'd need better control before venturing into more populated areas of the Temple.
The first rays of sunrise touched the spires. Obi-Wan gently lowered everything back to its proper place, then retrieved the datapad. Time to begin the real work.
His fingers flew across the screen, transcribing crucial information into encrypted files. Dates, names, coordinates – everything he could remember about the coming months. He coded it all using a cipher based on ancient Jedha texts, ones that wouldn't be discovered for decades. Basic information went into files that could withstand scrutiny. The truly dangerous knowledge – Sidious's identity, Order 66, the future deaths of countless Jedi – he encrypted separately, hidden behind layered security that would appear to contain meditation notes.
A soft chime indicated an incoming message. The Council requested his presence – standard debriefing after yesterday's medical release. But first, Anakin.
Obi-Wan stood, stretching muscles that still felt simultaneously familiar and foreign. His former padawan's presence blazed in the Force like a small sun, turbulent with pain and confusion. Drawing his robe around himself, Obi-Wan headed for the medical wing.
The halls were quieter than usual, the absence of fallen Jedi palpable in the Force. Those he passed watched him with a mixture of respect and curiosity – word of his duel with Dooku had spread quickly. He acknowledged their greetings with gentle nods, maintaining careful control of his Force presence.
Outside Anakin's room, he paused. Decades of memory crashed over him: the boy he'd trained, the man who'd fallen, the machine he'd become. But now... now there was another chance. This time, he'd do better.
Obi-Wan knocked softly before entering. Anakin sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the bandaged stump of his right arm. The dark circles under his eyes suggested another sleepless night.
"Master." Anakin's voice carried an edge of bitterness. "Come to check on your damaged padawan?"
"I've come to see how my friend is healing," Obi-Wan replied mildly. He moved to the window, giving Anakin space while studying his reflection in the glass. "The prosthetics specialist will arrive this afternoon. Master Che speaks highly of her work."
"It won't be the same."
"No," Obi-Wan agreed. "But different doesn't mean lesser. The prosthetic will have capabilities your natural hand didn't. With proper training, you may find it offers certain advantages."
Anakin's head snapped up. "Advantages? I lost my arm!"
"And gained an opportunity to become stronger." Obi-Wan turned, meeting Anakin's glare with steady calm. "The greatest warriors adapt, learn, grow from their setbacks. This is a chance to develop new techniques, ones uniquely suited to your abilities."
The anger in Anakin's Force signature flickered, tempered by intrigue. "What kind of techniques?"
"With proper training, you could channel the Force through the prosthetic's neural interfaces," Obi-Wan explained, settling into the chair beside Anakin's bed. "The synthetic nerves might even enhance your connection to certain aspects of the Force."
A glimmer of hope flickered through Anakin's turbulent emotions. "You've heard of this working before?"
"I've... studied similar cases." Obi-Wan stroked his beard, a gesture that felt both familiar and strange on his younger face. "The key will be accepting the prosthetic as truly part of yourself, not viewing it as a replacement or limitation."
Anakin's flesh hand clenched the bedsheet. "Dooku will pay for this."
"Revenge is not the Jedi way." The words emerged automatically, but Obi-Wan caught himself. The old platitudes hadn't worked before. He needed a different approach. "Tell me, what troubles you more – the loss of your arm, or that Dooku bested you?"
"I..." Anakin faltered, surprise rippling through his Force signature. "Both. Neither." He exhaled sharply. "I failed. I wasn't strong enough to protect you, to stop him. And now..."
"Now you have an opportunity to learn from that experience," Obi-Wan interrupted gently. "Not through anger or revenge, but through understanding. What could you have done differently? How can you adapt? Grow?"
The turbulence in Anakin's Force signature began to settle. "You're different, Master. Since Geonosis. Your presence in the Force, the way you speak..."
Dangerous territory. Obi-Wan chose his next words carefully. "Perhaps facing a Sith Lord changes one's perspective. Makes one reconsider traditional approaches." He paused, then added, "Speaking of different approaches – I sense you've made some... personal changes as well."
Anakin stiffened. "Master?"
"Your Force signature carries traces of deep emotional attachment." Obi-Wan kept his tone neutral, watching Anakin's reaction. "To Senator Amidala, perhaps?"
Fear spiked through the Force. "I... we..."
"The heart follows its own path, Anakin." The words felt strange on his tongue – so different from what he'd said the first time. "While the Code speaks against attachment, it does not deny the reality of love. The key is understanding the difference between the two."
Confusion replaced fear in Anakin's signature. "You're... not angry?"
"I'm concerned about your happiness and growth as both a Jedi and a person." Obi-Wan leaned forward. "The path you've chosen won't be easy. But perhaps together we can find a way to balance duty with... personal connections."
Tears welled in Anakin's eyes. "I don't understand. Yesterday you were... and now..."
"Yesterday we both nearly died," Obi-Wan replied softly. "Such experiences tend to clarify one's priorities." He stood, straightening his robes. "Rest now. When you're stronger, we'll begin adapting your training to work with the prosthetic. And Anakin?" He paused at the door. "Your personal life is your own, but should you need guidance... my door is always open."
The wave of gratitude and relief that followed him into the corridor nearly overwhelmed his emotional shields. One small change, but perhaps a crucial one. Now for an even greater challenge – the Council debriefing.
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The Council chamber's circular expanse stretched before him, morning light streaming through the high windows. Obi-Wan centered himself as he entered, each step measured. The assembled Masters watched him with varying degrees of interest – Yoda's penetrating gaze, Mace Windu's calculating assessment, Ki-Adi-Mundi's scholarly attention.
"Master Kenobi." Mace leaned forward slightly in his seat. "Your encounter with Count Dooku has raised... questions."
"Indeed." Obi-Wan moved to the center of the chamber. "Though I suspect the greater question is how a former Jedi Master came to wield the dark side with such precision."
"Trained in the Sith arts, he has been," Yoda observed, ears drooping slightly. "Yet sense something more, you do?"
Obi-Wan paused, appearing to gather his thoughts. "There was... conflict in him. Beneath the dark side's corruption, I sensed genuine belief. He truly thinks the Republic is failing, that the Jedi have become complicit in its decay." A calculated risk, but one worth taking. "Perhaps understanding his fall might help us prevent others."
"Careful, Obi-Wan." Mace's tone carried a warning. "Sympathy for the dark side—"
"Not sympathy, Master Windu. Understanding. We face a war unlike any in recent memory. The more we comprehend our adversaries' motivations, the better equipped we'll be to counter them."
Ki-Adi-Mundi stirred. "You speak with unusual wisdom for one your age."
"Combat with a Sith Lord provides unique perspective." Obi-Wan allowed a touch of his enhanced Force presence to show. "The experience has... expanded my understanding of many things."
"Your connection to the Force has grown stronger," Plo Koon observed. "Most unusual after such a confrontation."
"The Force works in mysterious ways," Obi-Wan replied. "Though speaking of unusual circumstances – have we learned more about the clone army's origins? The timing of their appearance seems... convenient."
A ripple of unease passed through the Council. Mace exchanged glances with Yoda before responding. "Master Sifo-Dyas's involvement raises many questions. Questions that must wait while we deal with more immediate concerns."
"Of course." Obi-Wan bowed slightly. "Though perhaps as we deploy these troops, we might learn more about their creation. Their training. Their... ultimate purpose."
"Something specific, have you sensed?" Yoda's ears perked forward.
"Nothing specific, Master. Merely... possibilities. Concerns." Obi-Wan chose his next words carefully. "An army created in secret, delivered at precisely the right moment. One might wonder what other secrets were programmed into them during their development."
Silence fell over the chamber as the Council absorbed his words. Finally, Mace spoke. "We will take your concerns under advisement. For now, focus on recovery. Both you and your padawan will be needed in the coming conflict."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bowed. "Though I request permission to begin modifying Anakin's training immediately. His injury requires a new approach, and I believe I've developed some techniques that might prove beneficial."
"Granted," Mace Windu said. "But proceed with caution. These are uncertain times."
Obi-Wan left the Council chamber, his mind already mapping out the next steps. The morning's achievements felt substantial – seeds planted about the clones, a new foundation laid with Anakin, his enhanced abilities explained away as combat evolution. Yet so much remained to be done.
The Temple corridors bustled with morning activity. Younglings hurried past on their way to lessons, their Force signatures bright with innocence. In his previous life, most of them had perished during Order 66. Their presence now strengthened his resolve.
A familiar presence approached – Master Jocasta Nu, datapad in hand. "Master Kenobi. I've prepared the archives access you requested. Though I must say, your interest in ancient combat techniques is quite... specific."
"Thank you, Master Nu." He accepted the datapad, noting the files on Force healing and prosthetic integration. "Recent events have highlighted gaps in our current training methods. Perhaps the past holds solutions for our present challenges."
She studied him with shrewd eyes. "The past often does, for those wise enough to learn from it. Do let me know if you require access to the restricted sections."
An opportunity he hadn't expected so soon. "Actually, Master Nu, I've been researching some obscure references to Force techniques used during the Old Republic era. Perhaps we could discuss them sometime?"
"My office hours are in the afternoon." A slight smile crossed her face. "I look forward to our discussion."
As she departed, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Another small step forward. The archives would prove crucial in the coming months – both for their knowledge and as cover for his "discoveries."
His comm unit chimed – the prosthetics specialist had arrived for Anakin. Time to begin the next phase. He headed toward the medical wing, already composing training modifications in his mind. This time, he would give Anakin the guidance he truly needed, help him understand the difference between attachment and love, show him how to channel his passions without being consumed by them.
He touched the lightsaber at his belt, feeling the kyber crystal resonate with his enhanced connection to the Force. So much power, so much responsibility. But he'd learned patience in his years of exile. Change would come slowly, deliberately, one step at a time.
The medical wing doors slid open. Time to take the next step.
Night descended over Coruscant, transforming the Temple's vast corridors into a maze of shadows and whispered echoes. Obi-Wan moved silently through the lower levels, his footsteps absorbed by ancient stone. The hour approached midnight – optimal timing, with most Jedi either asleep or deep in meditation.
The sublevel passages twisted deeper, air growing thick with the weight of centuries. His enhanced Force sensitivity detected the lingering imprints of countless Jedi who had walked these halls before, their presence worn into the very foundations. He passed sealed chambers and forgotten meditation rooms until reaching his destination: a small chamber tucked away in a corner even the Temple maintenance droids had forgotten.
Perfect.
The door's ancient locking mechanism yielded to a precise application of the Force. Inside, crystalline formations studded the walls, their structure ideal for amplifying Force energy while containing its signature. A hidden ventilation shaft would allow him to install monitoring equipment without detection. The chamber's location, directly above one of the Temple's main power conduits, would mask any electronic emissions.
Obi-Wan set his equipment bag down carefully, retrieving tools with practiced efficiency. First, the security measures – modified sensor scramblers placed at strategic points, their energy signature disguised as crystal resonance. Then the monitoring devices themselves, each no larger than his thumbnail, designed to patch into the Temple's communication network.
His fingers flew across the portable terminal's keyboard, programming surveillance algorithms he remembered from his time with Alliance Intelligence. The codes felt strange in this era, decades before their invention, yet they would serve his purposes well. Each keystroke brought another system under his observation – security feeds, communication channels, data archives.
A soft crystalline chime warned him of approaching footsteps. Obi-Wan stilled, stretching out with his senses. A Temple Guard, making their rounds. He waited, presence carefully masked, until the guard passed. Time to move to phase two.
The restricted archives section lay three levels up, its security supposedly impenetrable. But Obi-Wan had spent years studying the Temple's systems, both before and after its fall. He knew its weaknesses, its blind spots, the gaps between sensor coverage that even the Council had forgotten.
He moved through these shadows like a ghost, decades of survival instinct guiding each step. The archive's main entrance remained sealed, but a maintenance conduit granted access to the secondary storage area. A precise Force push disabled the sensor grid for exactly thirty seconds – enough time to slice into the secure terminal.
The holocron vault's contents spilled across his screen. Records of Sith artifacts, dark side manifestations, ancient conflicts... but those weren't his primary target. He dug deeper, accessing files on the Banking Clan's transactions, Trade Federation shipping routes, Republic military contracts. Information that would prove crucial in the coming months.
His terminal chirped softly – download complete. Now for the final phase.
The clone trooper database required different tactics. Obi-Wan accessed the military command network using credentials that technically didn't exist yet. CC-2224 – Cody's file appeared first, followed by CT-7567 – Rex. His chest tightened reading their service records, remembering their loyalty, their brotherhood... and how it had all been stripped away by control chips and programming.
The files revealed everything Kamino had documented about their creation – training regimens, behavioral conditioning, combat assessments. But between the lines of data lay hints of darker programming, seeds of Order 66 buried deep in their neural architecture.
Obi-Wan's fingers paused over the terminal. Already, variations appeared between these records and his memories. Small changes in unit assignments, different deployment schedules. His arrival had started ripples spreading through the timeline.
A notification flashed – Commander Cody's current status: awaiting assignment post-Geonosis. Perfect timing. Obi-Wan drafted the requisition order, carefully wording his request to emphasize the 212th Battalion's strategic importance. He included specific officers – men he remembered for their strength, their independence, their potential to resist programming.
Rex proved trickier. Officially, the 501st didn't exist yet. But a few careful adjustments to deployment algorithms, a strategic recommendation here, a personnel request there... the pieces would fall into place.
The terminal's chrono showed 0300 hours. Time for the final phase of tonight's work. Obi-Wan extracted a small holocron from his robes – empty, awaiting data. Into it, he poured carefully selected information: clone behavioral patterns, signs of hidden programming, methods for enhancing their independence. Knowledge that would seem natural for a Jedi to discover over time.
"Quite late for research, Master Kenobi."
The voice froze him mid-motion. Master Nu stood in the archive doorway, silhouetted against the dim corridor lights. Her expression remained neutral, but her Force presence radiated curiosity.
"Master Nu." Obi-Wan turned smoothly, letting his genuine respect for the archivist color his voice. "My apologies for the hour. Recent events have... prompted many questions."
She moved into the room, robes whispering against the floor. "Questions about our new army, it seems. And their rather mysterious origins."
"The Council has concerns." A partial truth, delivered with just the right touch of diplomatic restraint. "Understanding what we're dealing with seems prudent."
"Indeed." She studied him, years of scholarly insight focused like a laser. "Though your research patterns are... interesting. Almost as if you know exactly what to look for."
Dangerous ground. Obi-Wan kept his expression open, guileless. "The Force provides guidance, when we listen carefully enough."
"Hmm." She glanced at his terminal screen, then back to him. "The restricted archives contain many secrets, Master Kenobi. Some might prove... useful, in the right hands."
The offer hung in the air between them. Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly. "I've always valued your insight into the archives' deeper mysteries, Master Nu."
"Come see me tomorrow afternoon." She turned to leave, then paused. "And Obi-Wan? Next time, use the main entrance. These old maintenance passages aren't as secure as they used to be."
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After Master Nu's departure, Obi-Wan worked quickly to erase traces of his presence in the archives' systems. Her awareness of his activities complicated matters, yet might prove advantageous. The archivist's cooperation could grant him access to knowledge crucial for the coming conflicts.
Back in his secured chamber, Obi-Wan reviewed the night's acquisitions. The Banking Clan data revealed patterns – money flowing through shell corporations, weapons purchases disguised as agricultural equipment, troops being positioned under the guise of trade security. Pieces of Palpatine's grand design, laid bare before him.
His comm unit chimed – a confirmation from clone command. His request for specific officers had been approved. The 212th Battalion would begin forming within days, with Cody at its head. Another piece positioned on the dejarik board.
Dawn approached, its first hints tingeing the sky visible through the ventilation shaft. Obi-Wan settled into meditation position, letting the chamber's crystals amplify his connection to the Force. Through it, he sensed the Temple awakening – masters rising for early practice, younglings stirring in their dormitories, the eternal flame burning in the Hall of Remembrance.
So much to protect. So much to change. But the foundations were laid now – surveillance networks established, intelligence gathering begun, key personnel requisitioned. Small steps toward preventing a future only he remembered.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, watching light creep across the crystal-studded walls. Time to return to his quarters, maintain appearances. The true work would continue tonight, in shadows and silence, one careful move at a time.
He sealed the chamber, traces of his presence erased, security systems active. The mission had begun. The future was no longer written in stone. And in this small, forgotten room deep beneath the Temple, hope took root and began to grow.
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