"Precisely why we shouldn't bother him. I'll speak to the Council after the mission is over. Don't worry, Obi-Wan. The Council doesn't have to know every move we make, nor do they want to. You worry too much."
"You don't know what I'm thinking all the time," Obi-Wan growled.
"Not all the time," Qui-Gon said "But at this moment I do."
"What am I thinking, then?"
"You are thinking about that turnover at the cantina and wishing you'd had time to finish it."
Obi-Wan groaned and turned his face into his sleep-roll. "I'm too hungry to argue. I'm going to sleep."
Qui-Gon smiled into the darkness. Obi-Wan's breathing grew steady, and soon he had dropped off into sleep.
Qui-Gon rolled himself tighter in his blanket and stared at the ceiling. Flakes of paint had peeled off the surface, revealing a dark undercoat somewhere between brown and green. He had forged his own path apart from Dooku, but there were some lessons he had kept. A certain independence from the Council made things easier on a mission.
Afterward was another story. Obi-Wan was right. The Council would not be happy they had joined Cilia's raid.
Qui-Gon was impressed by the organization of the resistance. Cilia had arranged transport for the team and had even obtained worker identification tags from the Defense and Offense Ministry of Delaluna.
"You must have been planning this for some time," Qui-Gon said.
Cilia nodded as she climbed into the transport. "I planned it from prison. I was tired of peaceful protest. We need to strike one blow — and win."
"How did you communicate with your group?" Qui-Gon asked. "Your husband said you had no visitors in prison."
"The resistance has many friends," Cilia said, setting the coordinates. "There was a guard at the Guardian prison who smuggled in messages. He had joined the Guardians and became disillusioned. He said there were others like him. That's why I have hope."
The transport lifted off and streaked toward the moon of Delaluna. The journey wasn't long, and soon they had exited the craft at the landing platform outside the capital city of Levan.
Cilia had kept the group small. In addition to the Jedi, there was a security expert named Stephin and a weapons specialist named Aeran.
Their passes worked, which eliminated one of Qui-Gon's worries. The ministry was a bustling workplace, and they didn't attract any attention as they walked through the halls.
Cilia had memorized the layout. She led them onto a turbolift and down a long hallway into a separate wing of the building.
"I got the layout from a friend," she told Qui-Gon. "There are also those on Delaluna who don't like this situation. She passed along the blueprints to Stephin."
They reached the Weapons Development wing. Cilia stopped. She swiped her identification card, but the doors did not open.
"Stephin?"
"It's supposed to be card entry only," Stephin said, stepping forward.
Qui-Gon had taken in the situation in a glance. "It's now retinal and daily code."
"Daily code?" Stephin shook his head. "We're sunk. I can crack it but it would take hours. Plus I don't have a mainframe on me."
Qui-Gon admired Cilia's coolness. She did not show her exasperation.
Her skin seemed to tighten over the sharp cheekbones. "We're here,"
she said. "I'm not leaving without those plans. We have to find another way."
"We don't necessarily have to get into the secure wing ourselves,"
Qui-Gon said. "Not if we can get in through a computer."
Cilia looked at him, interested. "How?"
"We need to go to the only one who has access to all files and documents in the system," Qui-Gon answered.
"The director," Cilia supplied. "Of course. I don't know what kind of security he has, though."
"Let's find out." Qui-Gon indicated that Cilia lead the way.
They returned to the main wing of the Ministry. The director's office was behind a frosted panel. An assistant sat behind a desk. Beyond him was another door.
"No doubt the assistant has a panic button if we try to force our way in," Stephin said. "And we have no way of knowing if the director is in his office or not."
They walked on, anxious to avoid attention. At the end of the hallway, Cilia frowned. "We have to get both of them out of that office. We need a diversion."
"I think we can supply that," Qui-Gon said, beckoning to Obi-Wan.
They turned off from the others. Ahead, down a side hallway, Qui-Gon had already seen what he was looking for — the office for Internal Security.
"What are we doing?" Obi-Wan murmured.
"You are a new employee," Qui-Gon told him. "Just be as confusing as possible and leave the rest to me."
What Qui-Gon had found was that security officers in corporations or government offices were all basically the same in one respect. They were all afraid of being dismissed.
He strode in and scanned the room. Security screens lined two walls, and the tech equipment panel was as big as the room. Just as he'd hoped, there was only one technician there. A burly man rose from where he was idly playing a one-handed game of sabaac.
"Thought I'd walk him over," Qui-Gon said, indicating Obi-Wan. "Your new employee. Clearance from the top."
"Whoa, hang on, slick," the burly man said. "Just who do you think you are?"
"Security consultant from Constant Industries," Qui-Gon said. "I guess the director didn't tell you I was hired."
The burly man looked a little uncertain. "Credentials?"
Qui-Gon flashed his identification badge. "Look it up on the computer.
Or call the director's office."
"I'm a secured weapons surveillance expert," Obi-Wan explained.
"Trained at the tech institute? I'm supposed to monitor the in-house systems and coordinate the armed-response team."
"Wait a second. I'm the head of in-house systems," the burly man said.
Obi-Wan shrugged and looked at Qui-Gon.
"Not anymore, I guess," Qui-Gon said. "Let's take a look at what you've got here."