Obi-Wan Kenobi was dreaming.

It was a peculiar thing indeed, for one to realize they were in a dream. With the awareness that he was experiencing a reality that existed in his mind alone came the inevitable first attempt at probing his surroundings using the Force as he had been trained to do since he was small, which failed with equal inevitability. It was as if a ragged veil, worn down in places, had been thrown over his senses – while conscious of everything, he could absorb and interpret only selective bits of information. He could decode what the dream wanted to tell him and nothing more.

He wondered if this was how it was for someone who could not feel the Force as a Jedi could. To him, it seemed like it would be a life without color, but being a Force user, he knew his opinions on such things were biased. People made their way in the galaxy just fine and even prospered without it.

In the dream, he was standing in a vast, open prairie. A foreign sun – this one far yellower and warmer than the one over Coruscant – shone down on his face through his closed eyelids, and when he opened them, the heat of high noon made the horizon shimmer.

The grasses that came to about waist height were in every color Obi-Wan knew by name: greens and reds and oranges and purples. As a cool, clean breeze blew in from the north, they came alive like the waves on an ocean planet, curling around him and whispering amongst themselves in the secret language of the natural world.

It was a beautiful place, wherever it was, but Obi-Wan sensed there was far more to it than met the eye. While the breeze kept things moving, the air around it had a thickness to it like it did before a rainfall, even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was heavy with apprehension rather than moisture; apprehension for something that had not yet come to pass.

Through his limited perception of what was going on around him, he heard a faint clashing, zipping noise. A few moments later, the cool breeze brought with it the sharp stench of burnt ozone, and, moving as though being controlled by some sort of invisible puppeteer, he turned around in hopes of finding the source.

He couldn't make much out due to the distance and the distortion from the sun, but he could clearly see the flash of a red lightsaber against green.

Suddenly, the ground lurched beneath him, and Obi-Wan was unable to keep his footing. As he stumbled and fell, he had the reasonable expectation that the ground would catch him, but he was surprised to realize it wasn't stopping him – he was sinking right through it into the darkness below.

The sunlight disappeared through the rippling multicolored grasses, which fused together into a grey mass Obi-Wan soon realized was a metal ceiling. But it was growing further and further away, and soon, Obi-Wan finally hit the ground.

Well, a ground.

He had landed on a walkway adorned with tiny lights and let out a grunt of pain, but he wasn't able to stop himself from rolling off. His lightsaber skittered out of his grasp across the floor. He didn't even remember having taken it off his belt.

He could hear the sounds of a confrontation with lightsabers high above him, and while he wanted to believe it was only two Jedi training, it sounded... vicious. His ears told him that one fighter was showing restraint, while the other wasn't holding back in the slightest.

And the Dark Side of the Force was so heavy in the air around him that he almost found it hard to breathe.

Obi-Wan pulled himself to his feet and gazed upward, blinking in the bright light of the enormous power conduits just behind him that stretched down towards the generator far below. He immediately spotted the same two figures from before locked in an epic duel, and while he could see them more clearly now, he still couldn't make out their faces.

Who are you?

Suddenly, the image in the corners of his vision fractured, and pieces of his surroundings began to fall away from him like malfunctioning holograms, replaced by darkness so utter and so complete even just seeing it made him afraid. Longer cracks began to form, and before long, as if it were a glass window that had suffered a blow with the Force, it caved outward.

The last thing he saw was a pair of startlingly blue eyes before everything faded away into nothingness.

Wakefulness came slowly, and it was only with great reluctance that Obi-Wan finally opened his eyes.

He found himself in the quarters that had been assigned to him aboard the Radiant VII, and realized after a moment he had never left. Although bits of the dream still clung to him, reality and almost-reality were becoming easier and easier to separate by the minute.

There were many things about the dream Obi-Wan had found perplexing, but a feeling of apprehension, or maybe even fear, overshadowed them all.

Something was coming. Something big. But not something related to the negotiations for the disbandment of the blockade over Onderon he and his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had been assigned to mediate on behalf of the Republic.

It bothered him was how close he felt to being able to put a finger on the source of the feeling when he just couldn't.

Putting the thought out of his mind, Obi-Wan glanced over at his bedside chrono. Seven hundred fifty hours, it read. The ship was due to come out of hyperspace at eight hundred hours. He had to get ready.

He pulled himself to his feet and padded into the refresher, pausing for a moment as he passed the small mirror at eyelevel. His face was still that of a man of twenty-five standard years – save a few extra lines on his forehead – but for a moment, his eyes looked like they belonged in the face of someone twice his age, while still being unquestionably his. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much of the galaxy, and spoke of incredible loss, the likes of which Obi-Wan had never seen before.

Then, he blinked, and his eyes were the same way they had always been.

Obi-Wan shook his head, chuckling to himself. But try as he did to brush it off, he just couldn't shake the sense of uneasiness that had wound itself around his mind like a snake encircling its prey.

Sooner or later, the feeling would manifest into something terrible. And Obi-Wan knew he could do nothing but wait for it to come.

The subtle but strange stretching sensation of pulling out of hyperspace roused Obi-Wan from his brief lapse into mediation, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the blue whorls and starlines of hyperspace fade back into the blackness of space, broken here or there by the white pinpoints of stars.

The Radiant VII jolted for a moment as its engines reset to realspace and time. Then the thrusters kicked in, and they started off into the Onderon system.

As they drew closer to its titular planet, Obi-Wan's eyes widened. Stars, they really aren't taking any chances, are they? There must be two dozen starships guarding this stretch of the equator alone!

"Captain," came his Master's voice. They stood behind the pilot and copilot's seats, and the tall form of Qui-Gon Jinn rose like a tree trunk beside Obi-Wan, his feet rooted firmly into the metal floor and arms crossed beneath his brown cloak.

The young woman in the pilot's seat turned to face him. "Yes, sir?"

Although he met her gaze, Qui-Gon's face remained utterly unreadable. "Tell them we wish to board at once."

Obi-Wan wondered for a moment why he didn't just ask to open a comm channel and tell the Trade Federation leaders that himself. He knew his Master never did anything without a reason, but he still found it odd.

The captain turned hit a button on the console between her and her copilot, and a screen above them switched from displaying navigational data to an image of a Neimoidian male. This could be none other than Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation. "With all due respect, the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor wish to board immediately," the captain said.

"Yes, of course," the Viceroy acquiesced in his odd, lilting accent, as if Basic was a language that did not sit entirely well with him. "As you know, our blockade is perfectly legal, and we'd be happy to receive the ambassadors."

"Thank you. Republic cruiser Radiant VII out."

From this distance, the Neimoidian on the screen most likely hadn't been able to see much more than two cloaked shapes in the background – enough to assure the presence of the ambassadors, but not enough to give away their identities. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Obi-Wan asked, "Master, why didn't you address them yourself?"

As the ship surged forward again, Qui-Gon turned his head fractionally towards him. "As a precaution, Obi-Wan. The Trade Federation does not know what kind of ambassadors they are receiving; only that they have been sent by the Senate to rectify any issues they want to discuss. They most likely think they'll be getting delegates from one of the Core Worlds. In this instance I believe it's wise not to give them a reason to think otherwise."

"Is that necessary, Master?" Obi-Wan inquired. "These are just negotiations, not a mission into enemy territory – do we really need the element of surprise?"

"If anything, it will show them the Republic Senate means business in this matter." A faint smile appeared on Qui-Gon's lips then. "The reputation of the Jedi Order often precedes us. Using that standing with the right timing could give us an advantage on the negotiating table – shake them up, if you will."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "You sound almost like a politician, Master."

Qui-Gon nodded and turned back to watch the two officers maneuver the ship into one of the hangar bays on the lead battlecruiser. But Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if his Master's strange outlook meant that the line between Jedi affairs and the politics of the Senate, which had once been so clear, now had to be redrawn.

Leaving the captain and copilot behind to tend to their ship, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon disembarked and padded across the hangar bay. Obi-Wan studied his surroundings the way his Jedi instructors had taught him, taking in every detail.

He was overwhelmed by the sheer greyness of everything. Although Coruscant was hardly the place to find greenery and wildlife, at least the Force flowed easily from the living beings that had made the ecumenopolis their home. Here, the Force felt almost... stunted. While it was still everywhere around him, there was very little for it to use as a conduit through which to thrive.

This was a place of metal and machines and overly thorough sprays of microbial disinfectant.

Equipment for refueling the vulture droids milling around hung over them from rigs on the ceiling. Many of the droids themselves were observing them with their red, angular photoreceptors, and hobbled closer to them on the tips of their wings. Obi-Wan thought for a moment that they were trying to get a better look at their faces, and instinctively dipped his head lower to hide beneath his hood.

It unnerved him that he couldn't sense them. He could sense the things they displaced, and feel the air moving around them, but not the droids themselves. Their circuits weren't directly of the natural world, and in being so were totally closed to the energy of the Force that bound the living.

As they passed through a door and out into the main hallway, a silver protocol droid tottered over to meet them. Obi-Wan found that its shiny face with its brow arched high over glowing photoreceptors gave it the look of a permanently startled animal. "I am TC-14, at your service," it said, and gestured stiffly down the corridor. "This way, please."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon followed the droid down the hallway, and eventually came to a small conference room. But, much to Obi-Wan's disconcertment, every step he took made him feel almost like he was marching forward into some unidentifiable doom from which there was no escape. His dream came back to him then, specifically the duel against the shadowy wielder of the red lightsaber and the striking blue eyes.

The droid's soft, artificial voice drew Obi-Wan back to the present as it showed them inside. "We are greatly honored by your visit, ambassadors. Make yourselves comfortable. My master will be with you shortly."

Then protocol droid left the room with the whirr of well-oiled leg joints, and Master and apprentice removed their hoods. As Obi-Wan looked down at the planet below, his strange feeling of anticipation suddenly worsened. "I have a bad feeling about this," he murmured.

Qui-Gon shrugged beneath his robes. "I don't sense anything."

"It's not about the mission, Master," Obi-Wan clarified. "It's something... elsewhere. Elusive."

"Don't center on your anxieties, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon cautioned him gently but firmly, and set a slow pace over to the window with a view of the Onderon and two of its moons. "Keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up, and he turned to look at his Master. "But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future!"

"But not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the Living Force, young Padawan."

"Yes, Master." As they reached the window, Obi-Wan found his attention drawn to the multitude of battleships he could see and those he knew lay just beyond the bend and curve of the planet. "How do you think this Trade Viceroy will deal with the Chancellor's demands?" he asked.

"These Federation types are cowards. The negotiations will be short."

Nodding thoughtfully, Obi-Wan looked back outside. He could sense the unrest and fear of the millions of souls below. Despite the fact that Onderon had only a handful of large cities and villages breaking up its mostly untamed wilderness, its importance in commerce could not be overlooked. It had an abundance of natural resources of its own to offer, and prospered off of its proximity to a multitude of well-traveled trade routes. Its smaller population made for more to go around... but also weakened its defenses against a well-placed show of force.

The Trade Federation, Obi-Wan realized, could not have chosen a better target.