“Actually?” Obi-Wan straightened out of his self-effacing slump.
Smiled, like a Jedi. “No. I don’t think so. You don’t need to search us
for weapons.”
A dreamy look crept over the Sep officer’s broad, badly shaven
face. “I don’t need to search you for weapons.”
“My cousin and I are completely harmless.”
The officer nodded vaguely. “Yes. You and your cousin are completely
harmless. Hold out your wrists, please.”
“Why?” said Obi-Wan.
“All security-cleared citizens must be microchipped. Standard
procedure. Only hurts for a minute.”
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan. But his former Master nodded, so
he held out his wrist. The officer unclipped a different scanner from
his belt and injected him. The man was right. It did sting.
“Thank you,” said Obi-Wan, once his own chip was implanted.
“Now run along. And after you’ve logged us into your security system
as cleared, and granted us a full month’s docking permit, be so kind
as to forget everything about us.”
“I certainly will,” said the officer, his eyes glazed. “You gentlemen
have a good stay. Pay close attention to all posted regulations and
don’t ignore the curfew. Anyone found on the streets after sunset is
shot on sight.”
Anakin watched as the Sep walked out without the slightest
protest. Then he shook his head, and looked at Obi-Wan.
“Master Kenobi, you are disturbingly good at that.”