Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

And no matter which way the rendezvous had gone, the whole thing might simply be a bit of Barlok’s normal criminal activity. It might have nothing to do with Passel Argente and Riske’s paranoia.

But Riske had been looking for trouble out this way.

Obi-Wan had found some. It was definitely worth checking out.

And here he was, stuck on a rooftop a block away.

“Then I guess we’ll have to follow both of them,” he decided, looking around the nearby rooftops. If he could leap to the next one over, then the one next to that, then find a stairway or turbolift to get back to street level…

But no. In broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded city, there was an even chance someone would spot his acrobatics and recognize him for what he was. The minute any potential attackers realized there was a Jedi on their trail, they would go to ground so fast and so deep that even a professional like Riske would have trouble rooting them out.

“I agree,” Lorana said. “I’ll take the adult.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. Lorana was the older of the two Padawans, and thus theoretically the more capable. But he knew Anakin’s capabilities and experience, and knew the boy could deal with any trouble he might run into.

Still, if there was one thing Lorana lacked in abundance, it was confidence. It wouldn’t help to send her after a teenager, especially not with Anakin listening.

And after all, she would only be following the Brolf, not confronting or fighting him. That should be safe enough.

“Fine,” he told her. “Take Anakin’s comlink—it’s linked directly to mine—and give him yours. What’s your frequency?”

She gave him the number. “We’re splitting up,” she added. “I’ll contact you when the adult comes to roost.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said. “Tell Anakin I’ll catch up with him as soon as I can.”

Switching off the comlink, Obi-Wan pushed himself back to his feet. He took one final look over the edge of the roof, then turned and hurried toward the stairs. Yes, his Padawan could deal with any trouble he might run into.

Probably.

For a wonder, Anakin didn’t get himself into any mischief in the time it took Obi-Wan to reach the street and catch up with him. The young Brolf, for his part, continued on his way, apparently oblivious to the fact he was being followed.

Obi-Wan had noted earlier that Patameene District included rich neighborhoods as well as poorer, working-class ones. The teen led them into one of the latter, finally entering one of the units in a slightly dilapidated house ring.

The house ring was a standard Brolfi urban structure, consisting of a circle of houses or apartment buildings built around a central courtyard. The courtyard was designed to be a common recreation area for the ring, but through a gap where one of the houses had collapsed Obi-Wan saw that this particular courtyard had been turned into something that more closely resembled a junkyard.

“Looks like Watto’s back area,” Anakin murmured, ducking his head to peer inside. “They’ve got at least three projects going on in there.”

“Any of them look like something that would use burn thrusters?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Hard to tell,” Anakin said. “The one on the left—”

“Hold that thought,” Obi-Wan cut him off quietly.

There had been a flicker in the Force…

“Can we help you?” a suspicious voice asked from behind them.

Keeping his hands visible, Obi-Wan turned around.

There were three adult Brolfi coming toward them, their simple tunics worn but neat and clean. “No thank you,” he said politely.

“We were just noticing all the construction work in there and wondering what they were building.”

“Why would you care?” the spokesman asked.

“My young friend here used to build Podracers,”

Obi-Wan explained. “He’s always been fascinated with that sort of thing.”

“Really,” one of the other Brolfi said, looking Anakin up and down. “You know anything about split-X air intakes?”

“Never used them myself,” Anakin said. “But I can install them or fix them if there’s a problem.”

“Really.” The Brolf filled his lungs. “Duefgrin!”

There was a slight pause; then the teen they’d been following appeared at the gap in the ring. “Yes, Uncle?” he called.

“Couple of humans here who say they know split-X

systems,” the Brolf said. “You still having trouble with yours?”

“I don’t know,” the teen said, eyeing Obi-Wan and Anakin doubtfully. “I just picked up a new compression controller. Maybe that’ll help.”

Obi-Wan suppressed a grimace. So that was what he and the adult had been doing back in the marketplace. The boy had handed over the stolen burst thrusters and gotten the controller in exchange.

Either that, or he’d stolen the controller earlier in the day. In that case, he might still have the thrusters.

“Only if the split-X doesn’t have a back stability problem,” Anakin said. “What kind of coupling you have on it?

Binary or tertiary?”

“Binary,” Duefgrin said. “I couldn’t afford a tertiary.”

“Let me take a look,” Anakin offered, starting toward him. “If that’s okay?” he added, looking at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked questioningly at the three Brolf adults. “Sure, go ahead,” Duefgrin’s uncle said, waving a hand.

“The sooner he gets that junk heap working and out of the yard,the sooner the neighbors will quit complaining about it.”

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan said, mentally crossing the three adults off his suspects’ list. If they were willing to let strangers wander freely through the area, they probably weren’t hiding any plots. “Okay, Anakin, but make it quick.”

“Sure,” Anakin called back over his shoulder. Already, Obi-Wan noted, he and Duefgrin were deep into technical talk.

“I’ll be ready to leave when you are.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Obi-Wan said under his breath as he followed them into the courtyard. Still, Duefgrin himself could be involved with a group of plotters without his uncle’s knowledge. It wouldn’t hurt for Obi-Wan to take a leisurely turn or two around the house ring while the teenagers worked, stretching out with the Force for any signs of violent intent.

And after that, he would pry Anakin away from whatever it was Duefgrin was building and they would see what kind of luck Lorana was having.

The young Brolf thief, Lorana had noticed, had left the rendezvous at a casual walk, without any indication that he suspected he might be followed or, indeed, any indication that he even cared whether he was or not.

The adult Brolf was another kettle of Giju entirely. He was about as blatantly nervous and suspicious as it was possible to be without actually carrying a sign to that effect. Every dozen steps he threw a quick look over his shoulder, and he crossed and recrossed the street at least once a block. Every block or two he changed directions, sometimes pausing at one of the open-air shops lining the street and pretending to examine the merchandise while actually studying the pedestrians behind him.

It was so ludicrous that it was almost funny. But Lorana felt no urge to laugh. Riske was a professional, with a professional’s bearing and subtlety. This Brolf was just the opposite: an amateur conspirator, with an amateur’s lack of finesse or ability. And it was the amateur-uncalculating,unthinking, unpredictable—who was often the more dangerous opponent.

Fortunately, it was also the amateur who was the easier to deceive. Lorana had picked up a few tricks about tailing people during her years of Jedi training, and over the next hour she ended up using every one of them. She varied her distance from the Brolf, ducked through alleys and side streets to get ahead of him, and periodically altered her appearance by putting her robe’s hood up or down or using a cord to tie her hair back instead of letting it hang free.