Senate aide Tyro Caladian winced at the look of frustration on the face of his friend Obi-Wan Kenobi. "I'm sorry," he said for the third time.

"There is nothing I can do."

Obi-Wan wanted to groan. He wanted to kick a hole through the rare laroon wood paneling of Meeting Room A3000291 in the Senate. He wanted to react like a privileged, arrogant Senator used to getting his way. He wanted to lash out.

But he was a Jedi. Jedi did not do such things. They accepted even the most nerve-torturing frustrations with calm focus and unswerving direction.

He must look for the flaw in the logic, discover the opening in the locked gate. Find the way. Petty emotions would only divert him. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and searched for his calm center.

He looked over at his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker. If Obi-Wan merely felt like kicking a wall, it appeared that Anakin would do so at any moment. His gaze was turbulent, boiling. Then, as Obi-Wan watched, a mask slid over Anakin's frustration. He looked composed now, perfectly in control.

An impressive achievement. Obi-Wan had noted Anakin's growth over the past six months while they had been tracking the evil scientist Jenna Zan Arbor from her last known stop in the Vanqor system. Anakin was seventeen now. He was becoming a man as well as a Jedi.

Together they had followed Zan Arbor's trail, tracing rumors and finding clues. They knew the scientist did not have access to her large fortune, which the Senate had confiscated and then dispersed among the many planets she had wronged. They knew what the Vanqors had paid her would soon be depleted. But they also knew that she had a taste for extravagance. She liked to live well. Perhaps she would leave a trail that way.