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Duchess Satine Kryze, ruler of Mandalore and chair of the Council of Neutral Systems, was used to getting a lot of calls. It was sort of in the job description.
But very rarely did she get personal calls at four a.m., Mandalore time.
The incessant beeping and vibrating of her personal holoprojector on her nightstand woke her from her slumber. She groaned, rather unladylike, and noted the time on the chrono.
"Who would..." she mumbled to herself, before grabbing the small device and activating it. The caller ID flashed up in blue light, and her tired eyes snapped to alertness.
Ben Kenobi.
If Obi-Wan was calling her at such an ungodly hour, it must be a dire emergency. He was well aware of the time difference between Coruscant's Senate District (where Padmè had informed her Master Kenobi was stationed on leave from the front lines for a week or two) and Sundari, that if you gave him any hour on one, he could instantly name its corresponding time in the other. And he had learned his lesson many years ago that suddenly awakening Satine Kryze was not a good idea.
But worry overcame the Duchess, to the point where her annoyance was almost unnoticeable. A myriad of horrible scenarios flashed in her mind in the split second between her turning on the holoprojector and answering the call. Was he in a damaged spacecraft, hurtling straight towards the planet's surface with no hope of survival? Had he been ambushed in the streets of Coruscant's seedy underbelly and gravely wounded? Had he been struck by an assassin and was being rushed to the hospital, or the Jedi's healing halls? Or was he already dead, and Knight Skywalker or Padawan Tano using his comm to deliver the bad news?
Satine's heart rate had already rapidly increased by the time the connection went through, and she was holding a miniature, glowing blue Obi-Wan Kenobi in her hand. He didn't seem to be distressed.
"Su cuy'gar, Sat'ika," he said, his voice as calm and melodic as ever. "I am sorry if I woke you. I know it's early."
"It is," Satine said. "Are you alright?"
His hand came up to stroke his beard, a habit she'd often observed the last time she'd seen him in person. "Yes. I am safe."
"You had me worried," Satine said. "Why are you calling in the middle of the night?"
"N'eparavu takisit, cyar'ika. There is something that you must know."
Satine arched a thin, blonde eyebrow. "And that is?"
"The Council has assigned me on a mission. We have gotten threats against the Chancellor. My job is to infiltrate a group of bounty hunters and stop them from successfully carrying out their attack."
"I see..." Satine narrowed her eyes. "There will be violence, I presume. Why are you telling me? You know I disapprove of all this."
"Well, because..." he'd stopped stroking his beard and now appeared to be pacing about the space he was in. "The most surefire way I'd get into the bounty hunters' group is for me to impersonate another criminal. A criminal guilty of something big. Something that would earn him the highest level of respect in the crime world."
Satine would be lying if she said she wasn't getting a sinking feeling in her gut about all of this.
"Finish what you need to say, Obi.”
He took a deep, sharp breath. "They want me to fake my death. I will then assume the identity of the man who assassinated me."
Satine had been expecting something horrible, but not anything like this. Her stomach churned at the idea of Obi-Wan, her dear, brilliant Ben, dead, even if it wasn't for real.
"That is a horrid plan," Satine declared. "How could they even suggest such a thing?"
"I think it is the best way," Obi-Wan said. "I just wanted you to know... I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Even Anakin and Ahsoka are being kept in the dark about this. Only Master Yoda and Windu know. The rest of the Order, and the galaxy... I wanted to at least tell Anakin and Ahsoka... I was directly ordered not to. I wasn't even supposed to tell you. Of course, I never asked. But now I have, and I'm trusting you to keep this a secret, at least until the mission is over and has been declassified. I can trust you, can't I?"
"Of course you can," Satine said. "But really, Ben... you ought to tell Skywalker and Tano. They care about you, too."
"And that is exactly the problem," Obi-Wan shook his head. "If they know, they will not react strongly. Their reactions will be the key point in the story being believable."
"This is cruelty, Obi-Wan. Playing with their emotions, just to further your mission? I don't see a way in which this ends well between you and them."
"Please, Sat'ika, it's been hard enough keeping this a secret. I cannot think that way, not now. Not when everything is being set into motion."
Satine bit her lip. "You should not have told me, then."
"I know, my dear. But at least Anakin and Ahsoka are here, on the same planet with me. I can speak to them in person anytime. But you... I could not bear the idea of you grieving for me when I am not actually dead. I know that Padmè would have told you... and that you would have come for the funeral. Call it a weakness in me. I could not bear that thought."
"It is not weakness, Obi-Wan," Satine chided. "I will keep your secret, I swear. But what should I do if Padmè does call me and tell me that you're... dead."
"I know you, Sat'ika. You are an amazing actress when you need to be."
She had been dreading this answer. "You want me to lie?"
"You need not lie, my dear. Just... do not give me away, I'm begging you. Receive the news as you normally would. Try to comfort Padmè and Anakin and Ahsoka... without revealing anything, of course. I know you can do it."
Satine sighed. "Very well. I shall try."
"I'll call you when the mission is over," he said. "But no one ever has to know that you knew, yes? No one will ever think that I told you beforehand."
"I suppose not. But, Obi... I still strongly encourage you to tell at least Anakin. If I can pretend to mourn you, so can he."
"Anakin... I really would like to tell him," Obi-Wan said. "But Master Windu was right when he told me that Anakin is far too easy to read. If he is not totally convinced I am dead, he will not act like it. I will make it up to him afterwards, I swear.”
“And I suppose it is too late to cancel the mission? Or at least find another… less destructive way of going about it?”
“I’m afraid it is too late.”
Satine shook her head. “I’m still very much opposed to it. But if this is all I can do… I wish you luck, Ben. Do keep yourself safe, please.”
“I promise, cyar’ika. I’ll see you soon, when this is all over and the Chancellor is safe. I’ll make up an excuse and come to Mandalore.”
Satine didn’t pretend to care about Chancellor Palpatine in particular, but she was already looking forward to a visit from Obi-Wan. They said their goodbyes, and she turned off the holoprojector and tried to go back to sleep, which was quite difficult after such a call. She ended up tossing and turning until her alarm went off at six, and then, after breakfast, she received yet another call on her personal holoprojector, this time from Padmè. She had to lock herself in her suite, take a deep breath, and steel herself before answering it, seeing her friend with tears welling in her kind brown eyes, and Ahsoka next to her.
“Satine,” Padmè managed to choke out, but she was shaking from the physical effort of keeping her composure. “I have some news… about Obi-Wan…”