Obi-Wan Kenobi watched Anakin Skywalker go through the level two kata of Padawan training. It really was miraculous that he had gotten this far so quickly. The small boy had mastered the kata level 1 in less than an hour, and Obi-Wan found it necessary to accelerate the training or risk losing the boy's concentration due to boredom. He found Anakin's progress vaguely disturbing in some way he couldn't define. Perhaps it was just being in the presence of someone who was, without doubt, going to be the greatest Jedi ever seen. Perhaps it was having to teach this individual, picking and choosing techniques, taking the traditional steps out of order to try to keep up with the absorption rate of young Skywalker's mind. Obi-wan shuddered as he watched Anakin perform a complicated series of motions on one foot - a balancing feat that had taken Obi-Wan himself a week to learn. He knew he should be pleased, thrilled to have such a student, but. . . If it were possible to learn too fast, to learn at an unhealthy rate, then perhaps that was what Anakin was doing. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan did not know of a way to slow it down.

Anakin Skywalker stepped and rolled, dropping, standing, kneeling, his palms facing one another, right hand slightly higher than left, and tried to do what Master Kenobi had instructed. Kata level 2 still had no really difficult moves in it; there were no jumps, no big steps. Balance and control, grace within power, were the emphasis. And also the meditation. That was really the hard part. To try to concentrate all at once on all that Master Kenobi had said - clearing his mind, allowing himself to come into full contact with the Unifying Force, even as he tried to remember where to turn and how to place his feet as he stepped - was truly a tiring experience. Small chin set in concentration, Anakin slowly lay on his back and raised his legs to meet his arms in the hanging position, taking advantage of the chance to breathe before continuing.

He hoped he could get it all down by the end of the week.

***

Ki-Adi-Mundi walked along the streets of Coruscant, marveling afresh at the complexities of the world. So many people... so many thoughts... so many feelings...

The Jedi knight often liked to walk along the streets like this, ignoring the rare stare his tall, domed head and white beard occasioned. He was the only member of the Jedi council to be a Knight and not a Master; his binary brain allowed him special insight into the Force, and so he was honored with the position even though he had never officially received the rank of Jedi Master.

One of his many gifts was people. He loved people; loved them for their complexities, their uniqueness, even for their weaknesses - and except for Yaddle, the council member known best for her compassion, perhaps understood people better than any member of the Jedi Council. He alone had stood with Yoda against Anakin's training. He alone had agreed with Yoda that Kenobi was not ready for the rank of Knight.

Now, he walked the streets of Coruscant as he loved to do, catching momentary glimpses into the lives of the people he passed. He paused to admire a large, beautiful sculpture of a couple embracing. It was so refreshing here, like walking in a garden; whether fertilizer or flower, the scents invigorated. Like Qui-Gon had been, Ki-Adi-Mundi was much more in tune with the Living Force rather than the Unifying Force. The former encompassed the living, the here and now, while the latter... well, everything else. Especially the future.

Perhaps that was why the explosion took him completely by surprise.

***

The Thirsty Traveler cantina was definitely not the worst place in the galaxy one could be stuck on a cool afternoon; in fact, as cantinas went, it really wasn't bad at all. Quiet, amply but tastefully lighted, relatively well-cooked food, and (as an extra bonus) located on Coruscant, capital of the Republic.. . yes, one could definitely say there were worse places.

Not that that meant it was safe.

Praxus sat with his back to the wall and possessively surveyed the room. As befitted a cosmopolitan world, aliens of all descriptions sat, stood, piled, hung, levitated, and stacked themselves around the room in various stages of inebriation, comfortable in the warm sound of multi-lingual conversation. But no matter how strong or weak, aware or intoxicated these various beings were, they all instinctively avoided the tall, greenish humanoid seated at the far end of the bar. Praxus was a Falleen, commonly regarded as the most beautiful and (due to an overabundance of pheromones) the most desirable of the humanoid races. Praxus was no exception to these rules; he just ignored them. The malice dripping from his pores was just as palpable as his pheromones.

Were any of the Jedi to know that Praxus, known to them as the terrorist leader of a group called "Crimson War," was sitting in a sleazy bar not two miles from the Jedi Temple, they would have descended on the tiny place like Jawas on a junkyard. But they didn't know. Pity.

The Jedi, those damned Jedi, had intercepted his last mission to kill Chancellor Valorum and throw the Senate into chaos. Praxus had lost more than half his men in that battle - would have lost his own life if he had not run, for that matter - and to top it off cost him the 2,000,000 credits the job would have earned him from one of Valorum's competitors in the Senate.

Someone would have to pay for that.

Now Praxus sat, wasting his time, waiting for the Senate member to contact him at this, the appointed meeting place. The Senate member, from Naboo, he thought, was late. Typical.

As he drained his glass, Praxus wondered in an amused sort of way why it was that the Jedi were so adept at spotting trouble in galaxies far, far away but so blind to it when it sat on their own doorstep.

***

Morru S'mec walked into The Thirsty Traveler and slumped into the nearest seat. Not bothering to remove her brown travel hood and cloak, she leaned wearily on the bar and asked the Rodian bartender for 7 credits worth of food - whatever it would get her. "Problem?" she said in Rodian in response to the bartender's distasteful stare. True, 7 credits didn't amount to much in this part of the galaxy, but when it was all one had, one made do. The Rodian backed away, then turned to get this strange woman some food. There was something about the steady stare of her sparkling eyes from under that hood that he didn't like.

Morru sighed the sigh of the battle-weary, turned to face the room, and removed her hood. She either didn't notice or ignored Praxus' interested glance as she took in her surroundings. He moved closer.

"Hello there," he said in Basic in what he clearly thought to be a winning, flirty voice.

She glanced at him, then looked away, disinterested. "Hi," she replied.

Praxus continued to look at her. He needed something to pass the time, and this lovely though undoubtedly cool young woman certainly promised to be a distraction.

"Beautiful evening out," he said, moving to the seat next to her.

"Uh huh," she said, not dignifying his come-on with so much as a glance.

Praxus narrowed his eyes. As a Falleen, he was used to getting his way - or at least a positive response - from humanoids of the opposite sex. This woman was not even looking at him. Perhaps on a normal day he would have taken the hint and moved on, but the mood he was in right now would brook no failure of any kind. He leaned closer.

"So, what brings you to Coruscant?" he purred confidentially.

Now she did turn to look at him. He fell in love with her eyes at once; violet, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. The look in her eyes, however, was less than promising.

"Excuse me," she said. "There appears to have been a miscommunication. I must have mistakenly given you the impression that I cared." Her eyes never left his, and Praxus began to feel an unfamiliar sensation: this girl made him uneasy. She spoke with authority. "Go away." And with that, she turned to the bar and began to eat whatever concoction the Rodian had just brought.

Praxus moved one seat away.

He had feelings about people; his mother had told him that he had missed the required amount of midichlorians to be a Jedi by a ridiculously small amount, and he had learned to use what small connection with the Force he had to read people.

This woman sitting beside him was powerful. He couldn't say exactly how; in fact, he had a feeling that she herself didn't know that she was powerful. He continued to observe her. Praxus took the time to notice that she was eating with what appeared to be perfect High Court manners - something not often seen from a travel-weary woman in a weather-stained cloak. The meeting with the Senate member forgotten, he leaned forward and was about to say something else when chaos erupted. Two men, large, husky, smelly things, suddenly muscled their way to the bar and sat, one on either side of him.

"This is what happens to people who fail the Sith," one growled in his ear, and before he could react, the other shoved a hypodermic under his ribs.

He howled like a banshee and threw them off, but it was too late. The deed was done.

Why these men had attacked him, he didn't know; he wasn't working for the Sith, whatever that was - just some disgruntled Senate member. As he dropped to his knees, however, Praxus had just enough muscle control left to put his contingency plan into action. He'd always known somebody would kill him, but he didn't mind so much as long as he knew his killers would die, too. That's why he was wired to the teeth wherever he went. He grinned a killer's grin and pressed the red button inset on his wrist.

***

Ki-Adi-Mundi was thrown off his feet as an explosion blew out one entire wall of the cantina in front of him. He landed hard on his back, old bones protesting the rough treatment. Mundi stood quickly to his feet, grateful for his Jedi training, and noticed too late the large sculpture beside him beginning to topple toward him. He had no time to react.

Suddenly a small, cloaked force rammed him in the side and knocked him out of the way. For the second time in as many minutes, he hit the ground hard. The sculpture slammed to the ground beside him with as much noise as the explosion and broke into pieces.

People around him stampeded into chaos, sirens sounded from near and far, and Mundi took the opportunity to see what - or who - had saved his life. The power emanating from this figure was intense, and he fully expected his savior to be a Jedi.

She was not.

She stood up, her long, dark hair coming loose from its braid and framing her face. She had one of the most unusual eye colors he had ever seen.

"Are you all right?" she asked. He stood smoothly.

"Thanks to you, young woman." He looked down at her, puzzled. Whatever power he'd felt from her was gone as though it had never been there. She smiled up at him, then turned to go. "Wait!" Mundi said, though he was not sure why. "How may I repay you?"

She thought a moment, then looked up at him with her too-piercing eyes. "I'll take a raincheck," she said seriously, and walked away.

Mundi stared after her. The depth of pain in this woman's heart was almost overpowering to him. Most puzzling, too, that such a powerful connection with the Force would flicker in and out like a poorly installed light bulb. A strange woman, altogether. He was surprised to find himself hoping that he would not see her again. Ki-Adi-Mundi walked back toward the Jedi temple, immersed in his own thoughts and not at all aware of his surroundings, debating whether or not to report this strange individual to the Jedi council. He wasn't sure at all what he would say.

Morru kept walking. Somehow she had know that the Falleen next to her was dangerous, was going to do something dangerous, so when he had jumped up, howling like the living dead, she had leaped behind the bar - which happened to be made of solid durasteel. And that had saved her life. She tried to re-weave her long hair as she continued to walk, not sure of her destination; at least she had gotten to eat most of the meal before the bomb had gone off.

Morru wasn't even sure why she had saved the old man's life; something inside her told her that she should, and she had, and whatever powerful instinct it was that had inspired her actions had gone back to wherever it had come from.

Morru S'mec had no idea that her life was changed forever.

***

Palpatine sat in his transport unit, hovering about 100 feet above what remained of The Thirsty Traveler. Of course, he had known that Praxus was wired; he also knew that his hired hands had not known that. No matter. Just two more loose ends he would not have to clean up later.

He had seen Ki-Adi-Mundi's close call with the afterlife, silently cursing when that lucky unknown had come flying out of nowhere to save him. Actually, thinking back, Palpatine realized she had come flying out of the bar. How she had survived that, he did not know, but it was ironic that her survival had ensured Mundi's. Very ironic. In fact, if he believed in coincidence at all, he would have had to say it was an amazing one indeed.

Palpatine did not believe in coincidence.

Mentally storing this information away for later use, Palpatine sighed and directed his droid driver away from the Jedi Temple and toward his private home. According to his information, what was left of Darth Maul would already be there waiting for him. Hm. How symbolic. Anakin Skywalker behind him, Darth Maul ahead of him - but mightn't it have been the other way around?

Damn. Things would have been so much less complicated if Maul had just died like a good boy and left the position open for improvement. Palpatine sighed. Things were going to be very difficult indeed.

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