“Forgive me, Master!” Obi-Wan had to raise his voice to be heard. “But I don’t think we’re permitted to land here!”
“What?” Sifo-Dyas yelled back over the sound of his doing just that, the T-6’s stabilizers thundering on the rocks and throwing up a plume of dust.
“I think–” Obi-Wan pointed out the cockpit viewport to the tiny spaceport with its clearly-designated areas for ships, as opposed to the flat plain of rock directly beside it where Sifo-Dyas was setting the ship down. “We’re supposed to land there, see, in the hanger field–”
“It’s fine!” Sifo-Dyas gave him a thumbs up in case that point didn’t get through all the racket. “There aren’t any signs!”
Obi-Wan took another look out of the viewport. There were certainly signs. He could not quite read the Aurebesh from this distance, but they also featured depictions of landed ships surrounded by various disapproving iconography, all in alarming, warning colors. Perhaps Sifo-Dyas meant ‘signs’ as in ‘signs and portents.’
He looked back at the ship’s other occupants for help. Master Dooku was gazing out the portal into the middle distance, deep in thought, idly running his thumb along the scab that bisected his bottom lip. Master Lene Kostana was consulting a list on her datapad. Feeling Obi-Wan’s gaze, she glanced up to see what was happening. She seemed to mistake his unspoken do something for an expression of incredulous wonder at Sifo-Dyas’s piloting prowess and nodded her own tacit approval. “Nice flying, Sifo.”
Obi-Wan wondered again exactly what he was doing here.
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