Hidden Knowledge

The Temple archives at midnight felt like another world entirely. Ancient texts and holocrons cast faint glows across darkened aisles, their light reflecting off polished floors that hadn't felt a footstep in hours. Obi-Wan moved silently through the stacks, his enhanced Force sensitivity guiding him past security measures that had protected forbidden knowledge for centuries.

Master Nu's access codes proved invaluable, though he suspected she'd provided them with full awareness of his intentions. The deeper archive sections lay beneath the main library, accessible only through a turbolift that required both physical keys and Force manipulation to operate.

The vault door opened with a whisper of ancient mechanics. Inside, row upon row of sealed containers held knowledge deemed too dangerous for general access. Obi-Wan passed the first several sections – Sith artifacts, dark side manifestations, forbidden combat techniques. His target lay further back, in a dusty corner that even most Masters had forgotten.

There – a collection of holocrons predating the Ruusan Reformation. Their crystalline matrices glowed with a pale blue light, waiting to share secrets lost to time. Obi-Wan selected one carefully, its surface cool against his palm. The Force responded instantly, recognizing his touch.

A figure materialized above the device – a Jedi Master from the Old Republic era, her robes and manner marking her as a teacher of ancient wisdom. "Who seeks knowledge of the Living Force's deeper mysteries?"

"One who has seen the future," Obi-Wan replied, using phrases gleaned from his studies, "and seeks to change its course."

The hologram studied him intently. "Your Force signature speaks of wisdom beyond your years. Very well. What would you learn of the ancient ways?"

For the next hour, Obi-Wan absorbed techniques that had been lost for centuries – methods of Force healing, battle meditation, energy manipulation that the modern Order had forgotten. Each lesson felt familiar yet new, expanding on knowledge he'd gained during his exile.

His datapad recorded everything, encrypted behind layers of security. Future generations would need this knowledge, but for now, it had to remain hidden. The wrong information in the wrong hands could devastate his carefully laid plans.

A subtle shift in the Force warned him of approaching footsteps – the night archivists beginning their rounds. Obi-Wan sealed the holocron, returning it to its place with practiced care. But he'd learned what he needed. The ancient techniques would prove crucial in the months ahead.

....

.....

...

Morning brought a different kind of infiltration. The lower levels of Coruscant teemed with information brokers, smugglers, and displaced beings – perfect resources for building a network of informants. Obi-Wan moved through the crowds in plain clothes, his Force presence carefully masked.

The Outlander Club's morning crowd consisted mainly of night shift workers drowning their sorrows. In a shadowed booth, a Bothan information broker nursed a Corellian ale. Obi-Wan slid into the seat across from him, placing a credit chip on the table.

"Rather early for a Jedi to be slumming," the Bothan murmured, fur rippling with curiosity.

"Who said I was a Jedi?" Obi-Wan kept his voice low, letting a touch of Outer Rim accent color his words. "Just someone interested in certain... information flows. Particularly those concerning the Banking Clan."

"Dangerous waters." The Bothan's eyes narrowed. "Though for the right price..."

"Double your usual rate, plus bonuses for verified intelligence." Obi-Wan pushed the credit chip forward. "And complete anonymity."

"Interesting proposition." The broker's fur rippled again – a sign of acceptance. "Though I'll need guarantees."

"Check your datapad."

The Bothan did, eyes widening at the transfer notification. "Most interesting indeed. And my contact method?"

Obi-Wan placed a small device on the table. "Encrypted comm unit. Untraceable, single-use frequencies. Your reports go only to me."

Similar scenes played out across the district – a Twi'lek dockworker with access to shipping manifests, a maintenance droid reprogrammed to monitor Senate communications, a Clone Wars refugee with connections to Separatist worlds. Each carefully selected, each given means to report without compromising themselves or their handler.

By midday, the first pieces of his intelligence network were in place. Dead drops established in forgotten maintenance tunnels, safe houses secured through proxy purchases, communication protocols tested and verified.

....

The Senate building's service corridors buzzed with maintenance activity even at this late hour. Obi-Wan moved purposefully through the shadows, his plain technician's uniform and carefully forged credentials deflecting casual attention. The real challenge lay ahead – Section 7-G, Palpatine's private route between his offices.

Security cameras tracked regular patterns, their blind spots mapped during weeks of careful observation. Obi-Wan timed his movements precisely, using minimal Force manipulation to avoid detection. Even the slightest ripple might alert the Sith Lord to his presence.

The access panel yielded to specialized tools – no Force use here, just careful mechanical work. Inside the wall cavity, power conduits and communication lines ran like veins through the building's structure. Obi-Wan attached his monitoring devices with practiced efficiency, each one disguised as standard power regulators.

A slight disturbance in the Force – guards approaching on their routine patrol. He sealed the panel and stepped into an alcove, becoming still as stone. The guards passed within inches, their conversation focused on shift changes and weekend plans.

The next section proved trickier. Security increased near the Chancellor's offices, with motion sensors and force fields supplementing regular patrols. Obi-Wan pulled a small device from his toolkit – a scanner that would be invented decades in the future. It revealed the patterns of electronic surveillance, showing gaps no one in this era would think to look for.

He was placing the final monitoring device when voices approached – not guards this time, but senatorial aides. No convenient alcove presented itself. The voices grew closer, echoing off polished walls.

Obi-Wan glimpsed familiar faces rounding the corner – members of Palpatine's inner circle. His heart pounded as he pressed himself against the ceiling, using the barest touch of Force power to hold position. The aides passed below, discussing upcoming votes and committee assignments. Their conversation found its way into his recording devices, another piece of intelligence gathered.

Only when their footsteps faded did he lower himself silently to the floor. The operation was complete, but he wasn't safe yet.

Back in his secured chamber beneath the Temple, Obi-Wan spread the gathered intelligence across multiple displays. Data flowed in real-time from his newly planted devices – senate communications, shipping manifests, financial transactions, all feeding into encryption algorithms designed to identify patterns.

His fingers flew across the terminal, programming search parameters based on future knowledge. Banking Clan transfers that would fund Separatist manufacturing. Trade Federation shipping routes disguising droid army movements. Committee appointments positioning key players for future betrayals.

The patterns emerged slowly but unmistakably. Here, a series of seemingly routine financial transfers that would eventually fund the Separatist army. There, diplomatic missions laying groundwork for systems to leave the Republic. Each piece insignificant alone, but together they painted a picture of meticulous manipulation spanning decades.

"Found you," Obi-Wan murmured, isolating a particular data stream. Transactions authorized by Palpatine's office, cleverly hidden behind layers of bureaucracy. Credits flowing to secret accounts, ultimately funding projects that wouldn't be discovered for years.

He created a prediction matrix, correlating current events with his memories of the future. Some patterns held true key figures making the same moves, crucial votes following familiar patterns. But others showed subtle variations. His presence was already changing things, ripples spreading outward from each small alteration.

A notification flashed – movement in the Chancellor's private corridor. Palpatine himself, walking his usual route. The monitoring devices tracked his progress, recording conversations with advisors. Nothing incriminating yet, but patterns would emerge. Weaknesses would show themselves.

Obi-Wan leaned back, rubbing tired eyes. The scale of Palpatine's manipulation became clearer with each analysis. The Sith Lord had spent decades weaving this web, placing pieces with infinite patience. But now, armed with future knowledge and enhanced abilities, Obi-Wan could begin unpicking those careful plans.

He initiated his secure deletion protocols, wiping all trace of his analysis from Temple systems. The real records, encrypted and hidden, would guide his next moves. The galaxy's future hung on these patterns, these careful calculations.

The first rays of dawn crept through the ventilation shaft, signalling another night of work complete. Obi-Wan initiated the final encryption sequence, securing his findings behind layers of protection that wouldn't be broken for decades. His network was established, intelligence flowing in, patterns emerging from the chaos.

A message flashed across his secure channel – the Bothan broker's first report. Banking Clan vessels spotted in supposedly empty sectors, matching paths he remembered from the future. Another piece of the puzzle, another thread to unravel.

He gathered his equipment, erasing all evidence of his presence in the chamber. The day ahead would require his public face – Council meetings, training sessions, the careful dance of appearing normal while orchestrating revolution. But now he had what he needed: information, networks, ancient knowledge waiting to be deployed.

The future was changing, one carefully documented data point at a time. In his secured files lay the seeds of the Republic's salvation – if he could maintain the delicate balance between action and exposure, between change and catastrophe.

Obi-Wan sealed the chamber, making his way back to the Temple proper.