Chapter Text
Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face, grimacing when he realized he had yet to clean the oil from his hand, which meant the oil was now probably smeared all over his face and was now congealing in his beard.
This whole mission—and could he even call this a mission anymore, if he was no longer a Jedi?—had been a steady spiral downhill.
Everything was a mess. And he didn't mean literally—though that was also the case. The oil R2 had spilled to try and distract and delay Boba had spread everywhere. The floor was a deathtrap, the walls had gotten a decent splatter, R2 had a nice layer of oil all over him, Boba was drenched in it, and Obi-Wan had been pretty well covered in the mess during Boba's rather energetic and enthusiastic attempts to murder him.
Hopefully Boba was off getting cleaned up, though Obi-Wan quietly doubted it. No, Boba was probably off planning more murder.
But still, if the mess had simply been literal, then Obi-Wan might have actually been pleased. But no. No, things were a mess because the Galaxy was on the brink of war and Obi-Wan had to find a way to stop it; because there may or may not be a Sith in the Senate, one that none of the Jedi seemed to know about; because Obi-Wan had left the Jedi Order, had left his home and his family, to try and buy the Jedi and the Republic as much time as he could by becoming a criminal; and to top it all off, because he'd accidentally kidnapped a child, not just any child, he'd kidnapped a bounty hunter's son.
And he could not emphasize this enough: Accidentally.
Being killed by a bounty hunter for accidentally kidnapping said bounty hunter's son, would make it very difficult to deal with everything else that needed dealing with. Which meant he'd have to do something to convince Fett that murder was not the right option, or at least that murdering Obi-Wan could wait a short while until Obi-Wan had gotten everything done.
Fett could murder him after he'd dealt with everything else. After all, it'd been an accident? Couldn't that get Obi-Wan at least a little bit of leeway? That was reasonable, right?
Though for some reason he doubted that Fett would care in the slightest that the kidnapping had genuinely been an accident.
Especially given that the only reason it had happened at all was because Obi-Wan had been stealing the man's ship at the time. That really didn’t help his case.
Force, Obi-Wan had kidnapped a child.
He was pretty sure there was something ironic about that, Jedi were often called baby-stealers by the uninformed and the conspiracy theorists, and only now when he wasn’t a Jedi anymore, had he actually participated in a kidnapping.
Reassuring himself that this was all forgivable because it had been an accident and he was going to rectify it as soon as he could wasn’t working; which only solidified his certainty that the reasoning wouldn’t work on Fett, either.
Obi-Wan had never wanted to become a criminal, but he was fairly certain that if he had ever given any thought to the matter this was not how it would have gone.
This was a terrible start to his criminal career.
Though, he really did need to commend Fett. He'd taught his son well. The moment Boba had seen him, Boba had attacked. Ignoring the way he'd slipped haphazardly in the oil, Boba had lunged forward and pulled out a dagger the boy had been carrying on his belt.
And really, what kind of ten year old carried around a dagger?
From a skill perspective, Obi-Wan could appreciate the speed at which Boba had moved, could appreciate the way that Boba had managed a decent stab despite slipping through the oil, could appreciate that the draw from his belt had been practiced and quick.
The boy was obviously very talented.
Still, it hadn't been difficult to disarm the boy and stop him from stabbing Obi-Wan through the heart.
Boba had been uninterested in listening to Obi-Wan's attempts to explain and had only tried to kill him again, not that Obi-Wan could particularly blame him for that. At Boba's age, Obi-Wan was pretty sure he wouldn't have been all that interested in listening to someone who'd kidnapped him either.
It had been four or five minutes of constant attacks that Obi-Wan carefully evaded, careful to not hurt the boy before Boba had stormed away and into one of the rooms on the ship.
Obi-Wan had let him go, silently impressed with the boy's skill and persistence. It had been a while since he had seen someone try to use a datapad as a deadly weapon, but Boba had put in a remarkably good effort.
Fett had obviously taught him often and well.
R2 beeped at him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
R2 pushed the datapad that Boba had used earlier to try to kill him closer to where Obi-Wan was sitting, a thin film of oil on it. Obi-Wan tried to wipe it off with his robe so he could better see the data screen but was only partially successful, leaving a smear behind. "Did you download the information you gathered from the Command Center onto it?"
R2 gave a pleased whistle and Obi-Wan nodded. "Thank you, R2." R2 beeped and then connected himself to the data system, whistling again to get Obi-Wan's attention.
Obi-Wan glanced at the translation screen to see R2's question. He sighed. "Well, I don't think it a good idea to remain on this stolen ship, that is doubly true now that we've managed to kidnap Fett's son. We're headed to a relatively close planet. We're going to need a new ship."
R2 whistled again. Obi-Wan frowned at the question. "Ryloth." He had considered going to Tatooine, that was where Anakin had last been according to R4, and while hopefully Anakin and Padme had left for Coruscant, Obi-Wan didn't want to risk going there if they hadn't yet. Obi-Wan didn't want to risk his padawan trying to throw away his future to follow Obi-Wan on a reckless, foolish endeavor with little chance of success.
R2 gave an acknowledgment and Obi-Wan nodded. "As soon as I get all of this cleaned up I'm going to start going through the data. If you don't mind, I would appreciate your help in doing so as well."
R2 beeped cheerfully, and Obi-Wan took that as an agreement.
Obi-Wan looked up when he heard the sound of footsteps. It was Boba again and the boy was wearing a scowl on his face. Boba had changed out of his oily clothes and had apparently tried to wash off the rest of the oil, although he'd missed a bit of oil on his cheek and in his hair.
But he was cleaner than Obi-Wan was, in any case.
"Where are you taking me?"
Obi-Wan tilted his head. "We're headed to Ryloth, it's only a single hyperspace jump away, less than half a day's journey. I'm sure your Father is already in the process of tracking us, I imagine he'll be less than a few hours behind, you'll be more than safe in the ship when he gets to you."
"He's going to kill you." Boba sounded incredibly satisfied by that fact.
Obi-Wan didn't doubt that Fett was going to try. "I'll keep that in mind." He kept his voice blasé, turning back to look at the mess so he could figure out how to best get it cleaned.
Bad enough to steal a ship and a son, it would be rather rude to leave it such a mess.
"He is." Boba said again, this time sounding frustrated, likely at the way Obi-Wan had brushed the threat off. "He's going to kill you."
Obi-Wan met the boy's eyes. "I believe you."
Boba nodded, once again satisfied, and stormed off again.
Obi-Wan felt a hint of amusement before moving himself to start going through the ship. In normal situations he would try to stay out of Fett's things as much as he could—well, in normal situations he wouldn't have stolen a ship, much less Fett's ship, to start with—but he needed to find something to soak up the oil before he tried to clean the remnants of it. Being Anakin's master had meant that he'd gotten quite used to finding oil and grease everywhere from different projects Anakin had decided needed to be done in the common room of their shared living space, and had gotten equally as used to having to clean up after said messes.
Though he didn't think Anakin had ever made quite this much of a mess.
He went through a couple of storage containers. Weapons, weapons, more weapons. A few things that weren't weapons but also weren't helpful.
He moved on.
He found a small kitchenette and started opening cupboards.
He was a little surprised to find that it was actually well stocked. For some reason he never would have thought of Fett as someone who cooked. He narrowed his eyes and shifted a container of seasonings to the left. There was a small vibroblade hidden behind the seasonings. He laughed a little to himself, for no other reason than it was ridiculous but also completely in line with what he would have expected of a bounty hunter.
He moved to the small sink and sonic combo.
Boba found him as Obi-Wan was grabbing what looked like cleaning detergent, he really should have checked under the sink first. It was where he kept the cleaning supplies in his room back at the Temple.
"What are you doing?" Boba demanded, practically bristling.
"I'm trying to find what I need to clean the oil mess." Obi-Wan answered, watching Boba from the corner of his eye as he found a towel and a sponge. "I don't suppose you and your Father ever owned a Tooka? Tooka litter can be effective at soaking up excess oil."
Boba blinked at him several times, looking faintly bewildered. "No. We've never had a Tooka."
"A shame." Obi-Wan muttered.
"I brought you food." Obi-Wan looked up as Boba threw a ration bar at him.
Obi-Wan caught it and stared down at it for a moment, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Boba. But I'm afraid poison works far better when the person you are attempting to poison doesn't know that you want them dead."
Boba pouted.
"You did an excellent job of injecting the poison without obvious tampering, though." Obi-Wan encouraged him.
Boba stormed away again, passing R2 as he went. Obi-Wan chuckled quietly under his breath. Oh, Boba really was quite young, wasn't he? The poisoning attempt was almost adorable.
R2 beeped something that sounded inquisitive. Obi-Wan held up the cleaning supplies in question and R2's dome went back and forth in an approximation of a head shake. He held up the ration bar next, and R2 gave what Obi-Wan had decided was an affirmative.
"Oh, I'm fairly certain that Boba is going to try and kill me as many chances he gets until we split ways. There was almost zero chance that Boba would give me food out of the goodness of his heart." He considered it for another moment. "Well, he might now, if only to try and lure me into a false sense of security. Fortunately our journey is short enough that I'll have no need of either sleep or food." Although the Geonosians hadn't fed him during his stay with them, and captivity hadn't been the most optimal place for getting sleep, so he really would, at some point, need to get some sleep and food, but it wasn't a priority right now. "You have to admire the boy's determination."
Obi-Wan had never seen an astromech manage to portray skepticism quite so well—at least, he thought that was what R2 was trying to convey.
Moving on. "Do you have any ideas for what I can use to soak up the oil?"
R2 gave a confused sounding whistle and Obi-Wan went back through looking through the cabinets. Flour. Not the best thing for soaking up oil. But it could work.
He stared at the flour for a second longer, his mind a little caught up on the fact that Fett had flour in the kitchen on his ship. Flour, seasonings, and was that a mixer back there? Did Fett know how to cook? Did he bake?
He shook his head, that really wasn't important right now.
Maybe he was a little more exhausted than he had thought.
He moved back into the main room, and grimaced as he saw the mess again.
Carefully he started spreading the flour on the ship floor. He was fairly certain you were supposed to leave it overnight to soak in the oil, but he didn't exactly have that sort of time, so he'd see what they could do with a few hours.
He finished spreading the flour quickly, then mixed the soap he'd found in the small kitchenette with water into a paste, carefully applying it to the where the oil had splashed on the walls. It was a good enough test sample to see if this mix would work once he got around to sweeping up the oily flour and needed to clean the floor.
A bit of scrubbing—and it was not a good sign how exhausted it left him— and the walls were looking less of a disaster. It should work well enough on the floor as well.
He looked around. Well, it was still a mess, in fact it was honestly more of a mess right now, but at least it was a mess that was in the process of being cleaned.
He reached for the datapad R2 had pushed towards him earlier, trying to once again wipe the oil stain off of it from where Boba had grabbed it during his murder attempt.
There was no point in putting off the research any longer, even if there was a part of him that was—rightly so—terrified of just what he might find.
There were dozens upon dozens of files that R2 had downloaded for him, and they didn't appear to be organized in any sort of rational way. So he started with the first file on the list, keeping a spare file open so he could make notes of anything that might be even the slightest bit useful. There were coordinates for what appeared to be more droid foundry locations; weapon plans, some of which sounded rather ingenious—an extremely overpowered ion cannon did not sound like something Obi-Wan would want to meet in space—and all of them terrifyingly deadly; mentions of different leaders, most of whom Obi-Wan had never heard of; and other small tidbits.
R2 had managed to gather quite a bit of information in their brief foray into slicing, far more than Obi-Wan had expected. When this was all over, if they survived, Obi-Wan really needed to do something nice for the astromech.
He flipped to the next file, and began perusing it. Plans for a kyber based weapon, he didn't think he'd ever heard of kyber crystals used in weapons that weren't lightsabers. He frowned. Surely that wasn't right. He flicked back up to the beginning to re-read the information, trying to make sure that he wasn't misunderstanding the plans.
He had to read the information three more times before he was sure he wasn't misinterpreting the plans and the terrible truth of it sunk into his brain.
He dropped the datapad into his lap and buried his face in his hands.
Force. Force. They were researching how to create a planet killer.
This. This was—
Obi-Wan couldn't even contemplate this.
They weren't just preparing for war. This was somehow far, far worse than that.
There was a burst of excited glee and then the Force shrieked in warning. He jerked to the left, hand coming up and catching the hilt of the dagger that had been thrown at him. He looked between Boba and the dagger, and give an appreciative nod. "That was an excellent throw." A blade to the chest would have certainly been an uncomfortable way to die. "And you're quite light on your feet." He forced an encouraging smile despite the fact that most of his mind was still stuck on the information he'd read on the datapad that had fallen to the floor in front of him.
Boba was scowling. "I missed."
Obi-Wan shrugged a little. "You get too excited before you act, it radiates through the Force, anyone paying the slightest bit of attention will realize you're up to something."
Boba huffed a deep breath, storming away again. Obi-Wan wondered with faint curiosity what weapon he'd come back with next.
It showed remarkable restraint on Boba's part that so far he'd gone for less destructive weapons. But a blaster would leave marks on the ship, and the boy was probably trying to avoid that.
Obi-Wan waited until Boba was gone before picking the datapad back up.
"This is so much worse than anything I could have imagined, R2. I don't know if this is something we can stop."
R2 disconnected from where he was plugged into a computer port of the ship, before rolling over to Obi-Wan, moving around the flour still on the ground; Obi-Wan wondered faintly what he had been getting up to. R2 whistled curiously.
"They're creating a planet killer." He shook his head. "A weapon like that... they don't plan on trying to build something like that as a deterrent. No. This is something they're going to actively use." He felt faintly nauseous, which wasn't a good combination with the cracked ribs and lack of food the Geonosians had already caused. "A death star. They have plans to build something called a death star and it will have the ability to destroy entire planets if they can manage to get the research to work in practice."
R2 whistled sharply, rolling back in forth in what looked like agitation.
"It would take years." That was the only bit of mercy in the whole thing. "Decades if we've got any sort of luck. If we're really fortunate, they'll never be able to bring it past the theoretical conception into reality." He scoffed. "But we don't have that sort of luck." He took a deep breath, searching for the calm a Jedi Knight was supposed to have. Not that the rank still applied to him. "But this is still theoretical, for now at least, most of the weapon plans I've found are actual problems here and now."
R2 gave another worried little whistle. Or maybe Obi-Wan was just projecting his own worries onto the droid. He really needed to learn binary.
He sighed quietly, shoulders slumping. "I'm not sure what to do." Obi-Wan whispered. "Destroying droid foundries isn't enough. It's not a plan at all, not really."
He looked back at the plans for a station that would destroy planets.
"This isn't war." He shook his head. "This is more than that." His mind replayed Dooku's words about there being a Sith Lord in the Senate. This seemed exactly like the sort of thing a Sith would create. Except he'd found it in the Separatist's databases. But then hadn't he already wondered if Dooku was working with the Sith, rather than against them? What if Obi-Wan had been right about that? But for what purpose? Surely the Sith didn't want to destroy the galaxy just for the sake of destroying the galaxy? Surely no one was that pointlessly cruel. He was starting to feel like a conspiracy theorist. But if he was right? "We need to figure out who's behind this."
Now if only that could be easy.
He put down the datapad and went to see if he could find a broom or something similar. Maybe cleaning up the oil-soaked flour would help him clear his mind.