Rating: PG-13 - R (Adult Language, Adult Situations between
males, Mild Violence)
Warnings: Not part of my Adventures With Mace & Jame
Warning #2: Is it just me, or does Greg Bear not have a clue?
Spoilers: pre-TPM in a very AU sort of way
Copyright: Most of the characters, some of the worlds, the
histories and anything else recognizable belong to Lucas or
other authors I admire. Most of the other stuff is mine.
Disclaimers: No true cliffhangers here but, yes, more to come
Summary: Jedi, trouble, runaways, trouble, bad-guys, trouble
and ouchies
Feedback: Off list, please.
Kudos and kisses again go to Master Elayna, and to Myth Lu for
their invaluable assistance and patience. Any problems left
herein are solely mine; I still can't stop myself from
tinkering.
Qui-Gon Jinn, diplomat, warrior, and Jedi Master, feared few
things. So it was with self-disgust that he marshaled the
thrill of adrenaline that coursed though his lanky frame upon
opening the door to his empty quarters in seeing the flashing
light on his communications unit. He was on an enforced
vacation, one he had eagerly looked forward to and enjoyed for
all of one day. It had now been four days. And although friends
might have heard he was no longer vacationing with a companion,
few still would be loathed to interrupt.
Already sure the message would not be from the one he might
wish, was probably just from the management of the hospice he
had recently visited and felt compelled to offer assistance to,
Qui-Gon still paused, then castigated himself over his
reluctance to further enter the sparsely furnished room.
Did he fear the disappointment in being right, or because he
might be wrong?
Oh, how he wanted to be wrong! To find out the anger and
harshly exchanged words had all been a mistake, the result of a
misunderstanding, or fear in the other. Or from a misplaced
sense of impropriety despite the sought after changes in their
relationship. But if he was wrong, if the message was from his
beloved, wouldn't that still lead to new anger and hurts? For
now there would be a lie between them, either a lie of the
first reaction, or of this change of heart. And no matter how
much he loved, Qui-Gon could not live with dishonesty or
mistrust. There were just some things that once said or done,
could not be forgotten or ignored.
Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to
suffering. One of the very tenets of the Jedi Code, taught
to initiates almost before they could speak those words
themselves. Without trust, there would always be doubts. And
Qui-Gon could think of no suffering that would be worse than
doubting the truths of your beloved.
Of course, the message could be from one of his friends. Which
would be almost worse. One more call to congratulate him, and
offer up heartfelt or lewd advice. He had been getting those
kind of calls for almost six months from other Jedi as they
finally heard about his return when they, too, came back to the
Jedi Temple on Coruscant after the completion of their own
missions.
Invariably the conversations would turn toward questions about
Qui-Gon's former Padawan apprentice and now newly acknowledged
Knight. Most of Qui-Gon's friends had grown aware of his
feelings for the one he had trained for fifteen years even
before Qui-Gon had. And since Qui-Gon had never been able to
lie outright to strangers or friends alike, especially about
his feelings, they must need learn of the split. Then would
come the expressions of sorrow, of compassion. Or pity.
The pity would be hard to take. Harder still would be an offer
of companionship; which he knew to expect from at least three
of his closest friends, since the offers had always been
implied since the times of their own Knighthood. As if Qui-Gon
could turn to another - no matter how well meaning or once
loved - when his heart had been so thoroughly broken. As if
someone else's company could replace the hole he feared could
never be filled.
But it was a Jedi's duty to face his feelings of anger and
frustration. His fears. As well as to respectfully answer
whomever had sent the call, for whatever reason.
Realizing that the shower he suddenly desired was merely an
exercise to delay facing the message -- after all, there was no
one here to object to the odors of sweat and despair his long
workout after working at the Hospice had only helped engender -
Qui-Gon instead grabbed the towel from around his neck and
tossed it onto the nearby sofa, then moved to the comm unit.
After another pause, another minute, but this time spent in
controlling the fears and doubts, Qui-Gon engaged the playback
and downloaded the stored transmission.
And could not help but let his mouth drop open in surprise.
The visage that filled the viewing screen, while not exactly a
friend was one in which he was well familiar and comfortable
with, despite the non-human features. With his down twisted
horns augmenting a forbidding countenance of cinnamon colored
and weathered, hairless skin, Jedi Council member and member of
the warrior caste of the alien Ikototchi, Saesee Tiin stood
straight before the camera, his face the image of a very angry
or unhappy devil straight out of humankind's old myths and
legends.
Qui-Gon had never found Master Tiin quite so menacing or stern
as he appeared, and the other Master Jedi was one of the few
members of the Council who regularly seemed to side with
Qui-Gon when his more maverick interpretation of the tenets and
code put him at odds with many of the twelve. Saesee Tiin was
also one of the least sympathetic when Qui-Gon's disregard of
the advice or dictates of others caused uncomfortable
consequences if not outright trouble, so he doubted the other
was calling to offer sympathy, even if the Council had heard
about his Padawan's rejection of a proposed life-bonding.
His former Padawan.
The Council Seal was partially hidden by Tiin's unyielding
visage; the call had originated in chambers. Definitely not
social then. A call regarding Council business, despite
assurances that Qui-Gon and his former apprentice had a month
of downtime. They were to have been contacted for nothing short
of a Republic-wide disaster, which Qui-Gon knew by his rapport
with the Force that surrounded and connected all living things,
was not happening.
Again Qui-Gon was left to choose between fear and anger. His
former Padawan could have contacted the Council on his own,
could have sought reassignment or official sanction for the
transport he had … liberated to flee from Qui-Gon after
their falling out. Even a former Master could be chastised in
allowing such a breach of regulations by a newly acknowledged
Knight. After all, if Qui-Gon's teachings had been true, if he
hadn't allowed emotion to overcome serenity, his Padawan could
have handled Qui-Gon's declarations better than stealing a ship
and running away.
No. What had happened between the two of them was private.
Their breaking of the partnership would mean little in the
overall scheme of Jedi duties or the Force. Padawan apprentices
often struck out on their own upon passing their trials to
become a Knight. There was little the Council could - or should
- say at such a split, even if the parting had been
acrimonious. Yes it would be difficult for the two to be
assigned duties by the Council together, but the Republic was
vast and its Jedi guardians few. There would be plenty of tasks
that could keep them apart.
Had something happened to his Padawan then?
Qui-Gon doubted the Council would have assigned the new Knight
another mission when downtime had been scheduled, even if such
had been requested by him. Certainly not after the length and
unforeseen consequences of their last mission. Had his Padawan
been in an accident or gotten into some kind of real trouble,
Masters Yoda or Windu would have commed him instead of Master
Tiin.
Letting out a sigh, Qui-Gon chastised himself again for turning
away from the moment. All he had to do was listen instead of
speculate to discover what he needed to know. Nor did he have
any business mooning over someone who had made it clear that he
wanted no such attention, even if the two of them had spent the
last fifteen years of their life together.
He hit the playback.
"Apologies and regrets, Master Jinn. The Council is aware that
you are on scheduled downtime, but an unexpected emergency has
arisen and your assistance is necessary. You are the only Jedi
in your sector who is not already on assignment. We have
actually already dispatched a Padawan who is closer, but he was
diverted from returning to Coruscant with his severely injured
Master at the end of a disastrous mission of their own. We need
you to relieve him as quickly as you can so that he might
return to deal with his own lesser injuries. Please contact the
Council upon immediate receipt of this message so that further
instructions, funds and ship arrangements can be passed on."
As the screen blanked to the neutral colors Qui-Gon so often
used as a focus for meditation, the Jedi Master found himself
groping for a seat. That certainly was unexpected. For the
Council to so breech protocol and Healer regulations both in
the case of himself and this other Padawan, the mission must be
important indeed, even if it was just short of a galactic war
or something similar. The Republic was vast, with thousands of
member worlds and countless more planets of known contact vying
for a Jedi's service, yet rarely was something so time
sensitive that the reason a Jedi got chosen for the mission was
solely based on proximity. Not only was that the case in his
orders, but also in that of the first Jedi scheduled to arrive
on the scene. A lone Padawan, coming off of a failed mission
with an injured Master requiring specialized treatment on
Coruscant.
Not Galactic war, but obviously of Galactic importance. And
Qui-Gon had to admit he was intrigued. Nor was it as if he
actually wanted to stay on vacation any longer, since he wasn't
able to spend it with the one he had planned.
Giving a thought to the sensibilities of those he would be
reaching, and because even he felt compelled to honor the
Council with simple courtesy and respect despite how often they
came into conflict, Qui-Gon grabbed up his outer tunic to cover
the inner one still plastered to his chest from the workout. He
could do little about his sweat-matted hair other than push
back the strands that had come loose from the braid that hung
down to his waist. If Saesee Tiin requested an immediate
response, that didn't mean after taking time to drink down a
glass of electrolytes. Nor after indulging in the water shower
he had promised himself.
It also meant the Council expected to be in session for hours,
since they had no way of knowing for sure what part of the day
Qui-Gon would be receiving this message.
The Docent connected him immediately. Before the holographic
view was shunted to Saesee's personal transceiver, Qui-Gon was
able to note that two members of the Council were absent from
the chambers whose tower overlooked much of Coruscant. He had
also been able to see a look of worry -- rarely so visibly
expressed - marring more than one expression. He wondered about
Master Yoda's absence more than Master Dillaba's, and had a
moment's flicker of fear. But he could feel no hint of a threat
entwined around his former Master's life-force, so the reason
for the Senior member's absence was at least nothing personally
dire.
"How may I serve the Council?" Qui-Gon offered Master Tiin with
no preliminaries. And expecting none in return.
What might almost pass as a smile on Saesee's cadaverous face
twitched at his lips briefly, then the creased planes fell back
into the Ikototchi's normal lack of expression. "At your
convenience, a ship is ready at Cinesc's northern spaceport,
berthing bay twenty-four," he began in his gruff voice. "You
may draw on credits from the field emergency fund even unto a
bribe to entice the pilot to depart as soon as you arrive. Once
in route, contact us again and we will download the particulars
of the mission."
Full secrecy then, and a pressing need for speed.
But there were a few particulars he would need before departure
regardless of this being an open transmission. "Are there
special requirements for clothing or equipment that I will
need, Master Tiin? Is this a full undercover mission, or is a
Jedi presence expected?"
The early indication had been that he was the second closest
available Jedi to the action, which meant the mission could
only be within one of three nearby planetary systems. Four
worlds -- three planets and one moon -- hosted thriving
populations comprised of the standard mix of human and other
non-native sentients so common to the Mid Rim sectors, and it
was to one of these Qui-Gon was expecting to be sent. But there
were two additional worlds with civilizations Qui-Gon frankly
had no desire to visit, caring neither for planet-wide swamps
nor ocean-based societies; unmodified humans simply were not at
their best in those environments, no matter how well or
liberally trained. There were likely other, even more hostile
planets or moons also fitting within the distance parameter,
but as he had not expected to be called to service from here on
Krystal, the Jedi Master had made no further study of the
inhabitable worlds nearby.
"You are going to Haven. Your robes -" Saesee paused, and
looked off-screen, obviously conferring with at least one of
the other Council members. A few long moments passed were
Qui-Gon found himself regretting not getting at least a glass
of water before making this call. Finally the Master's
attention returned his direction.
"It is likely a Jedi presence is expected, but do not advertise
yourself; it might be best to forgo your robes and best that
your lightsaber stay concealed unless needed.. The pilot knows
you are Jedi, the local authorities do not. The Padawan you are
replacing has had even less time to prepare and may already
have been identified, but that shouldn't necessarily create
difficulties for you."
Well, the Ikototchi didn't say until needed for his lightsaber.
But he had said the Padawan might have been identified, as if
that might be undesirable. Identified by whom? Did the
authorities resent or fear Jedi? Worship them? Qui-Gon had
worked situations were all three feelings were prevalent, and
had been successful, but such was not an easy thing to do.
"Is the pilot one of our standard contracts?"
Tiin shook his head. "That is why I expect you will need more
money to convince him of the urgency of your departure. We used
an information broker to make the connection, but this one does
come highly praised, and is a member of the Free Traders Guild.
If things become awkward, do … whatever is necessary to
insure cooperation."
Tacit approval from the Council to use mind manipulation if
credits did not work? Something dire was indeed afoot.
Qui-Gon could tell that the Ikototchian Councilor was impatient
to finish this call. But there was still one more question
Qui-Gon did not want to delay asking until off planet. "Saesee,
is Master Yoda -"
"He is fine, Qui-Gon," the other responded with an obvious
softening of his expression. "Your Master is just needed
elsewhere at the moment."
Qui-Gon gave a formal nod in acknowledgment and thanks. "Then I
will depart, Master Tiin. And await further illumination while
en route."
"May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon."
Why did that sound more like a warning than a blessing?
The ship had been a surprise, as had the pilot; it was new and
he was young. Also eager to serve a Jedi, though the pilot
exhibited the usual non-aligned spacers disdain for titles,
reputations or affiliations. Qui-Gon had needed to spend very
little extra of the Council's money for passage, which gave him
a large reserve on hand just in case.
Before departure, Qui-Gon had gathered up all of his
possessions that could be stored safely and turned the boxes
over to the local version of the Temple from which he had
borrowed some of the supplies in the first place. While he did
not yet know how long a mission he was being sent on, Force
backed intuition was telling him it would be only for a few
days. And that it would be better not to be bogged down with
many possessions. He carried only a travel case, one large
enough to store several sets of Jedi tunics, robes - just in
case -- and a few other essentials, including the two sets of
civilian clothing he had brought along to Krystal that would
have to suffice for now. Anything else needed he would pick up
on Haven, well, except for the one immediately necessary
purchase.
A Jedi's robe hid and held any number of supplies and
necessities, but was fairly recognizable even when not worn
with the tunics and leggings that were the standard Jedi
uniform. The second-hand leather jacket Qui-Gon had just picked
out would need to fulfill many of the same functions, not the
least of which was to keep him warm in Haven's significantly
colder climate. He had debated also picking up a more visible
weapon before departure; with his size, bearing and fitness, no
amount of dissembling could hide that he had been martial
trained. He would be expected to be armed, though not with a
lightsaber if he wanted to keep his identity as a Jedi
undisclosed.
In the end Qui-Gon chose only to pick up and carry a walking
staff. Certainly long ago Master Yoda had proved to his young
Padawan that in the right hands, a stick could be almost as
formidable as a blaster or blade. His former Master had also
shown that by using one as an aid in walking, a stranger's mind
often shied away from seeing it or its wielder as a potential
threat.
Which might prove … useful.
Certainly the pilot had been fooled and quite solicitous in
helping Qui-Gon aboard once he saw the burled and polished
wooden staff. He showed Qui-Gon the various interesting ship
sections as he led the Jedi toward a cabin and its sleeping
berth. They were the only two aboard.
While Qui-Gon waited for the data reader to chime with
receiving the last of the down-loaded information, he chose to
head into the nearby galley to refresh his cup of tea. This
time his avoidance in using the communications unit was not so
much procrastination as prudence. Something which took nearly
an hour to download would likely take at least a couple of
hours to read. And knowing his own habits, this would be the
only break he would be taking until he finished the full
reading.
Before heading back, Qui-Gon also stopped by the cockpit
carrying a mug full of kaffe for the pilot. The Jedi Master had
agreed to see to their meals, and to relieve the pilot for his
breaks. Not that Qui-Gon was much of a pilot. With the planet
less than a day away and most of that in hyperspace, the demand
should not be too onerous. And he could certainly watch the
board for alarms.
Finally making himself as comfortable as he could on a spacer's
rack geared to someone five or six inches shorter, Qui-Gon
settled back and began reading. Instead of Master Tiin's terse
style, the report was almost chatty. And personal, as it had
been written by Mace Windu, another member of the Council and,
at one time, one of Qui-Gon's closest friends.
Until a certain Padawan had come between them -
No, that was unfair. Qui-Gon had let his feelings for his
Padawan come between them. The distancing had never been Mace's
fault.
The first part of the download was in response to Mace having
heard about Qui-Gon's dissolved partnership. The Master Jedi
offered his sympathies for Qui-Gon's situation but without the
near condescending tones that had been expected. And Mace was
reminding Qui-Gon that he still had friends. Touched by the
other's unexpected depth and offer of conciliation, Qui-Gon
almost missed the first information about the actual mission
when Mace began the briefing with little transition. He had to
restart that portion.
"… somehow the Chancellor's sister's offspring managed
to elude their escort during a school retreat, and stowed away
on a courier ship bound for Haven. When they got caught, they
used their uncle's name to guarantee payment for the passage,
and to bribe the pilot into not turning them over to the port
authorities. Well, the pilot agreed to not turn back to Onyx,
but did contact the authorities on both planets, not to mention
Chancellor Valorum. And Valorum, in turn contacted us when the
kids also slipped away from the local constabulary while
allegedly awaiting the arrival of a return flight. His concern,
and ours, is that any number of people are now aware that the
children are currently without supervision and seemed
determined to stay that way.
"While Valorum is not saying they've been kidnapped - in fact
he is quite clear the kids instigated this completely on their
own - nor that he has any known enemies out in that sector, we
all realize there are any number of opportunists who might find
such a windfall appealing to exploit. Which is why the Jedi
have been asked to handle it since the locals have proven ill
equipped, and it would take too many days for any of the Senate
guard to arrive. And before you call back to protest, the
children's personal escort was taken ill on Onyx, which is how
they slipped away in the first place, and their teacher has
twelve other children to still look after.
"It is the Council's expectation that Padawan Kenobi will have
found the children by the time of your arrival, and that you
two only need escort them back to Onyx. You can then use the
chartered ship to return you to Krystal, and Kenobi will stay
on it back to Coruscant. Attachments follow about the children,
Kenobi and Haven."
Kenobi. So the Padawan's name was Kenobi.
The name was familiar, but Qui-Gon couldn't place a face to it
and, therefore, had probably never met the youth. Not too
surprising, given how Qui-Gon had only been on Coruscant in the
last six months of the last nine years. The Padawan would have
been too young to have been chosen when Qui-Gon and Xanatos had
left for Telos, had obviously been picked by someone in the
intervening time. At most the youth would be twenty or
twenty-one. Qui-Gon had to wonder if this Padawan would be
capable of handing what was likely a tricky if not dangerous
job, especially if the youth's Master's had recently been
gravely injured -
Wait a minute. Padawan Kenobi. That Kenobi. The
Council's pet Padawan.
Even on Telos he had heard the story. And yes, he would have to
surmise the boy was able to function without his Master.
Remarkably, that had already been proven.
From what Qui-Gon remembered of it, Kenobi's original Master
had been the Trandoshan, Sardenk a'Thuul. But a'Thuul had died
five years ago on a mission for the Bothan government. Instead
of being assigned to another Master to finish his training --
as had been the first apprentice Qui-Gon trained -- the Council
had chosen a different path for now masterless young human.
Instead of one Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi suddenly had several.
Twelve, in fact. Twelve who also happened to be members of the
Jedi Council. Each taking turns accompanying the boy on
different missions, the choice of which was solely dependent on
the needs of those they served.
An unheard of solution for the all too common occurrence given
the dangerous situations Jedi often found themselves involved
in. Completely unorthodox, and a horrible precedent to be
setting. This solution was also something Qui-Gon had secretly
applauded when he had first heard about it while still on
Telos. Not because he knew Kenobi, or thought the attention
would necessarily help the boy, but because it was such a
radical undertaking by a Council all too frequently hidebound.
Qui-Gon had often despaired that the Council was too steeped in
tradition and mired in the need to follow rules or tradition
even when something else was called for.
Kenobi was major evidence to the contrary. As, perhaps was this
mission, since sending in a lone Padawan, and calling upon a
Master on mandatory leave violated both rules and tradition.
Only two Masters had not been present in the Council chambers,
Yoda and Depa Billaba. Qui-Gon was still certain that his
former Master was not injured, so that meant Kenobi must have
been traveling with the gentle, brown skinned adept who was now
on her way back to Coruscant. What Mace had not said was
whether Kenobi had been injured himself - but no, Saesee had
said something. The other Jedi needed to be relieved from this
duty in order to deal with his own injuries. But they couldn't
be that bad or another would have been sent - Qui-Gon alone, if
necessary, and only a day later.
There was obviously something more here at stake to the
Council. Politics?
While they might have felt a Master's presence in this matter
would be prudent and soothe uneasy politicians, Qui-Gon knew
that wasn't the whole of it, in part because he knew Chancellor
Finis Valorum. Yes, although Jedi strove to be above politics,
they did serve the Republic and its ruling body, the Galactic
Senate which, in turn, was overseen by Valorum. And yes, that
occasionally meant doing what might be construed as a personal
favor for a politician. Which also might translate into the
more senior the senator who requested Jedi aid, the more senior
the Jedi that got sent. But still, Valorum understood better
than most the work Jedi did, and the occasional consequences
which kept them on leave.
There was only one Master on the Council that Qui-Gon felt
would have so flagrantly disregarded the rules to involve
Qui-Gon and Kenobi. Yoda. His former Master, the oldest known
Jedi Master and, upon occasion, a master of manipulation.
Another nearby Jedi could have been reassigned from a current
mission if the timing and political appearance was so
important. This one was likely to take two days at the most
with Onyx only five hours flight time from Haven, and few
missions could not survive a temporary delay. Obviously the
reason for his own involvement was to allow the mission to
serve as a distraction from Xanatos' sudden departure. So why
Kenobi?
Well, since the Council was the Padawan's Master, a different
Master wouldn't be involved and subject to objecting to being
so summarily replaced.
He could only shake his head in fond amusement and begin going
through the data. While he might resent Master Yoda's
occasional meddling, still it gave him as much a sense of
comfort as Mace's opening words to the download had. Qui-Gon
might have been forgotten by Xanatos in his former Padawan's
zeal to make up for the time lost spent as regent for his
brother during their exile on Telos, but Qui-Gon would never be
forgotten by his own Master.
He scrolled through the information on the planet and the
children first. Now that he could place Kenobi, he felt less of
a pressing need to review the additional attachments that
undoubtedly included the boy's evaluation and fitness files.
They would actually only be working together for a few hours,
traveling together for only a few hours more.
On the other hand, Qui-Gon had to admit he was curious to see
if he could sense in a bare recitation of statistics and
reports what it was that might have piqued the Council's
interest in caring so personally for this displaced Padawan.
And he did have the time to kill.
Qui-Gon's expression and mood of fond amusement and idle
curiosity quickly began to fade as he opened and started on
Kenobi's file.
The boy had been chosen Padawan at eleven by a'Thuul. By
thirteen, the boy had been undergone dangers enough to have
scared off many would be Jedi; a planet-wide epidemic,
overseeing evacuations of peoples resentful about losing their
homes, three different pirate attacks, two crashed space-ship,
fighting draigons. Not to mention the boy getting caught and
placed under the yoke of a slave collar while trying to deal
with a trade dispute between the Hutts and a small mining
concern that had ultimately turned a poor planet named
Bandomeer into little more than a wasteland of stripped
resources and broken ruins left in a barren testament to
universal greed.
Numerous other missions had also followed; in Qui-Gon's
opinion, far too many in far too short a time. Kenobi and
a'Thuul had taken little opportunity to return home to
Coruscant during those first two years for lectures and
studies, much less recovery or reflection. By fourteen, the boy
and his Master had thwarted an undeclared coup on Phinder,
mediated the civil wars on Gala, Melinda/Daan and Eridani Five
and acted as bodyguards for three heads of state and two
multi-system corporate heads. In those first four years of his
Padawan training, Kenobi had spent no more than days equaling
maybe five months on Coruscant. And almost one hundred of those
days had been spent under a Healer's care!
Qui-Gon couldn't understand how these horrific circumstances
had not been curtailed. Surely someone should have noticed? The
Healers certainly. At the very least, they or the Council
should have insisted on time spent in the Temple during the
first couple of those years to give Kenobi the time to spend
with his peers and agemates in a few of the more (or less)
spiritual pursuits of a Jedi, instead of just being with his
Master. Of course, by the end of third year, Qui-Gon would have
insisted splitting the two of them and reassigning the Padawan
to a new Master, if not formally disciplining a'Thuul for
Padawan abuse.
Instead, the two had continued on missions suited for an older
Master and Padawan pairing, if not for Knights and Masters
alone. Though scanty on the circumstances, Qui-Gon read that
three of the last four months that had ended the boy's
sixteenth year of life and his fifth year with a'Thuul had been
spent in bacta tanks and physical therapy after a run in with
slavers. Was it the Trandoshan/Human pairing? Trandoshan were
acknowledged as fierce and fearless warriors, and were
certainly more adaptable to harsher environments and conditions
than humans. Had a'Thuul somehow not noticed what his demands
on his Padawan were exacting?
Was the boy so cowed - or even worse - prideful that he
couldn't/didn't protest?
True, Qui-Gon also noted, that by sixteen Kenobi had the
piloting, combat and tactical skills of a Jedi Master. But the
Masters performing some of the evaluations had also written
that the boy had little or no skill with interacting with
people. Not just failings in diplomacy or tact - Kenobi
exhibited few of the normal social skills usually found in even
younger humans. The records showed that Kenobi had tendencies
of anger, recalcitrance, stubbornness and a streak of
independence that bordered on arrogance or disrespect.
Well, what did they expect with such an upbringing and example?
As he had been given no time to maintain existing friendships
from his youth, nor develop new ones, and almost all of his
contact with others had them either as aggressors or victims it
was likely that Kenobi didn't know how to interact with people
under social conditions. He certainly would have had little
skill in making friends, or understanding that he could go to
them for help.
Although no official notice or censure had been given, Qui-Gon
saw the pattern of missteps a'Thuul had taken, and the cause.
The Trandoshan had only been able to see the youth's remarkable
physical talents. He had kept them on mission after brutal yet
successful mission, never once realizing the necessity of
down-time for the boy to spend with others of a like age or
stage of training, never taking the time to nurture the boy
instead of the warrior. And never recognizing that the boy
might have talents in other areas that might have been better
to have encouraged outside of fighting.
Somehow the boy had still managed to pass his annual age
testings, and to be regarded as affable if blunt. How might
that have changed had not the Force taken its own steps to save
the boy? Would Kenobi even be a Jedi now at twenty had not
a'Thuul been killed by a bomb meant to topple a government?
That Kenobi had been able to successfully conclude the mission
that had killed his Master wasn't really surprising, given what
Qui-Gon had read, though he did have to wonder about the
mission previous to the last. Between the lines of the stated
facts, Kenobi had been working more as a partner than a student
that last year before a'Thuul's death. Qui-Gon had to wonder
who had been more surprised and had had the harder time
adjusting to the new circumstances, those first few Councilors
who had then taken over Kenobi's training, or Kenobi himself?
In Qui-Gon's mind, the boy had been betrayed in the worst way.
By not being paired with a Master who could work with what he
had been blessed to train instead of molding the boy into what
a'Thuul decided would be better. The betrayal was all the more
tragic because Qui-Gon doubted it had been done for any reasons
other than a series of terrible mistakes. Master a'Thuul had
been just as much a victim of the Council's blindness as the
boy had been a'Thuul's. Master a'Thuul had been the wrong
Master for this particular Padawan, a mistake the Council
finally seemed to recognize too late to save the Master, but
apparently not too late to save the Padawan.
They could hope. And making personal amends was the least they
could do.
Still, not to have the typical closeness between one Master and
one Padawan was to lose something quite precious. No matter how
talented the boy, and how wise or well intended the Councilors
might be, it was still likely that Kenobi spent more time alone
than with another when on Coruscant. The members of the Council
had many other duties to deal with than training a Padawan, and
there would also be the inevitable jealousies or concerns of
his fellow agemates in having to deal with someone so close to
the Council who had the ultimate responsibility over the
behavior of every Jedi. Although the psych evaluations did show
an improvement in his social skills, most of those improvements
were noted for controlled or group situations. Kenobi no longer
gave voice to his anger or showed much evidence of defiance,
but a childhood tendency toward moodiness was also noted to
appear more frequently, and often lasted longer.
All in all, not necessarily the best candidate the Jedi could
offer in bringing to heel three recalcitrant children.
If Qui-Gon didn't know any better, he would have thought that
the Council's insistence that Qui-Gon take this particular
mission was simply a way to get him and Kenobi together, and
not for implied reasons of political prudence or even Xanatos.
Yet not even Master Yoda would go so far as to endanger others
for the sake of what the ancient Jedi might deem a necessary
intervention. And it was just as ridiculous to think that a
Padawan, having gone from one Master to twelve, would be
willing to work with just one again without seeing it as an
insult or punishment. Even if said Master was interested in
taking up another Padawan.
Which he most certainly was not!
Especially one so set in his ways, even if he was close to
taking his Trials.
Qui-Gon had shepherded his first Padawan into Knighthood under
somewhat similar circumstance, and had sworn never to consider
such duty again, despite how well things had turned out. It was
much harder to maintain a proper teacher/student relationship
when the differences in their experience and levels of skill
weren't that far apart. To be the firm hand or voice as
sometimes necessitated, when the other's ideas were just as
sound. When he wasn't really needed.
Fortunately with Xanatos, his wisdom and experience had been
needed. And Qui-Gon had well learned the joy in watching a
youth become an adult in part because of his own influence,
despite how troubled their relationship had now become with
both of them being adults. No, when he chose a new Padawan - if
he ever chose a new Padawan - it would again be one he could
devote his life to. Not just offering his presence as a
moderating influence, not just a voice of experience or reason.
But as Qui-Gon Jinn, a man with flaws as well as skills, with
hopes, and dreams. And love.
Xanatos had always despaired of his Master's tendency to find
hard-luck cases, to champion the underdogs and to offer solace
to those who needed, even when doing so might set back their
mission or duty. He had resented that Qui-Gon's heart could
embrace any - every -- 'pathetic life form' in need, for each
new wayward soul took that extra bit of time or love that
should have been given to Xanatos. Until, of course, Qui-Gon
had offered Xanatos exactly that. All of his time. Every single
iota of his love.
The Jedi Master ruthlessly quashed that line of thinking and
turned back to the reader.
Nothing else adorned Kenobi's file but a series of photoscans,
and a couple of personal notes from the various Masters,
Trainers and Teachers who had become more involved in the boy's
evaluations over the last five years. The pictures showed a boy
- no, a young man -- human, comely, light and lithe and small
where Xan was comely, dark and lithe and tall. A sand lion to a
panther, both beautiful, both deadly.
Both desirable.
Even more ruthlessly ending that thought than the earlier one,
Qui-Gon slammed his hand down hard enough to upset his cup of
tea. He stood and twisted away from the liquid, his body
instantly flooding with adrenaline and the need to move as he
sought to control and channel a surge of suppressed lust.
Unfortunately there was no place to move to. He was on board a
small courier ship at least fifteen hours away from planetfall,
and any hold large enough for him to manage to conduct a
training workout in would be full of cargo.
Consideration of the other obvious option left him feeling even
more depressed and disgusted. He was lonely, yes, maybe even
feeling a bit sorry for himself. But he was also a Jedi Master,
and not one previously given to great bouts of introspection or
second-guessing, much less yearning for someone (two someones?)
he would never have.
Qui-Gon had fully understood how his former Padawan had felt
cheated by destiny to have his path delayed for so long on
Telos, and had accepted Xan's decision to maintain a distance
apart for a time upon their return to Coruscant. Although the
Council had conferred upon his Padawan the mantle of Knighthood
almost four years before their final departure from Telos, Xan
had not been able to take on the role and responsibilities
similar to those being performed by his agemates and other
Knights for those four years. It had come as a surprise to no
one that he had accepted his first solo mission as far away
from Coruscant and any of the core worlds - away from Qui-Gon -
as he could. He and Qui-Gon had, after all, spent not more than
a day or two away from each other at a time for all those nine
years Xan had been needed as regent for his brother.
But the distancing had hurt, especially to see it so eagerly
embraced. Finally Xan had come home, with time off scheduled
similar to Qui-Gon's, and they had agreed to spend that time
together. Which had lasted a total of day and a half and had
ended amidst painful shouts and hurtful silences when Qui-Gon
finally admitted his love for the other. And had found out Xan
did not remotely feel the same way.
Which made Qui-Gon's sudden fixation on someone he hadn't even
met rather pathetic if not predictable. Feeling too old to
start in a relationship all over again, yet just as much
fearing to be alone as he grew even older, Qui-Gon obviously
had taken what Mace and Master Yoda had no doubt intended to be
a pleasant diversion and possible boon for a young Padawan, and
had worried the mission into something having much more meaning
than a simple retrieval and return.
Be mindful of the here and now, Qui-Gon Jinn. If trouble you
will look for, trouble you will find.
What he needed was to meditate. And to clean up the spilt tea.
Commending the pilot on the smooth transition through the
atmosphere and on the landing, Qui-Gon left behind his travel
bag and started down the ramp. Now that he had arrived on
Haven, he wished he had thought to ask Mace or Master Yoda what
specific instructions had been passed onto Padawan Kenobi. He
knew his pilot had set him down within the same spaceport the
children's transport had arrived at, but that had happened
almost two days ago now. Padawan Kenobi should have arrived
within half a day of that set down, but even in twelve hours,
children with an unlimited credit stick could get almost
anywhere on the planet. And possibly back off planet.
Perhaps it would have been better to keep on his Jedi tunics
and robe despite Master Tiin's vague warning. At least Qui-Gon
had been given pictures of Kenobi. And had looked through
enough holos of the children to be able to spot them, too.
Qui-Gon had no reason to believe the young Jedi would have been
aware of who would be coming to assist him, however. Or when.
Which meant it would be up to the Master to find the Padawan.
And the children, if Kenobi had not yet done so.
Because he was still standing on the tarmac, deciding how best
to begin his mission, Qui-Gon was able to trail after the pilot
once the other had finished his shut down procedures and set
the security fields. Since the ship was under contract to the
Jedi for a couple of weeks, and because Qui-Gon did not expect
to take more than perhaps a day before wanting to depart, the
other undoubtedly would be looking for quick opportunities of
companionship or relaxation before being called upon again to
duty. And while the pilot was temporarily flush with funds, it
had been obvious from the beginning that any extra money went
into outfitting the ship and not so much its pilot. He would
likely be heading into a cheaper area of this city known as
Pariet therefore, which would suit Qui-Gon quite well.
Of course the Jedi didn't expect to find any relation to the
Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic spending time in
the poorer sections of Pariet, even if Padawan Kenobi had
managed to find them. And had somehow managed to impress upon
them the need to keep a low profile. Had there been a Jedi
enclave anywhere on the planet, Qui-Gon would have expected the
other to at least be in contact, if not actually staying there,
but the one on Krystal served as this sector's Jedi presence,
and somehow Qui-Gon doubted even a Padawan with as many talents
as Kenobi had shown, but without a source of funds on his own,
would have managed to charter his own ship and smuggle the twin
girls and a young boy off to Krystal even if he hadn't known
relief was on its way.
The credit stick the kids were using. That would be Qui-Gon's
first avenue of exploration. Although Xan's talent as a
computer hacker rivaled a droid's interface connector, Qui-Gon
had some skill of his own, too. All he needed to find was an
out of the way public terminal, and be given twenty or so
minutes of uninterrupted access. Fortunately Mace had foreseen
the need to cut off the credit the young runaways were using if
they stayed hidden for too long and had forwarded the codes as
a means to track them. Running a check of when and where it had
been last used would be easy enough. Then he could plot a map
overlay, which would at least give him a place to start
looking.
A few hours later Qui-Gon was no closer to finding the children
or Kenobi. His check of the public newsnets and the private
credit records had yielding nothing. Which led him to believe
that the children were with Kenobi, since if they were still on
their own there would have been a series of charges over the
last twenty hours as there had been the first six. It could
also mean that the children had been found by somebody else,
but a kidnapper would have undoubtedly taken use of the stick
as part of the ransom. And if the children had been killed
outright, or taken by political adversaries to the Chancellor,
the stick would have been disposed of within minutes through
back alley channels available throughout the Republic, wiped
and rewired for someone else's use instead of showing as open,
if inactive.
Qui-Gon had only to consult with the Force to know that the
mission still had more potentials for success than to have
already been concluded in failure. While he was not at all
skilled in foretelling, nor even had half the rapport with the
Force's unifying field as he did its living aspect, he was
skilled enough to interpret auguries. Although shadows of
threat hung over the mission, Qui-Gon had no sense of immediate
danger or previous distress which would have left a noticeable
trace within the Force because of another Jedi's involvement.
If only he had met Kenobi, even once. Although not all Jedi
enjoyed the same level of mind talents, most were at least
empathic, were able to sense another's presence if only from
the greater intensity a Jedi's life-force cast within the
Force. Once two Jedi had met, had spoken to one another
verbally, that unique pattern could be sought. Identified. Of
course there shouldn't be any Jedi present on Haven except for
the two of them, so it wasn't as if he would identify the wrong
one if he went looking -
No, he didn't know Kenobi, but Master Yoda did. And if the
Padawan had spent any length of time in training with Yoda,
there would be a potential for some sort of link, possibly
similar to the one Qui-Gon shared with his former Master and,
therefore, recognizable. But no, there could not be a true
Master and Padawan link.
A training link could be established hundreds of times over;
Teachers and Instructors did so regularly. But the link between
a Master and Padawan was more intimate than a mere training
link. There was a bond beyond the mental connection, a loyalty
and devotion between the two that precluded any other form of
similar linkage while it was active. Undoubtedly Kenobi once
had such a link with a'Thuul.
There were good reasons Masters never took on more than one
Padawan at a time, and why no Padawan ever had more than one
Master at a time.
A trauma such as the link being severed by an unforeseen death
could make it difficult to embrace any bond with another again.
And if the boy had been able to bond with Master Yoda - with
any of the Council members - he would no longer have twelve
different Masters.
Still, Qui-Gon had to try, if for no other reason than he would
never live down the disappointment Master Yoda would convey for
thinking of, then disregarding an idea that would hurt no one
if unsuccessful and might, instead, help. Not to mention Mace's
laughter of how Qui-Gon always had to do things the hard way if
he located the others only through physical observation. Or
sheer luck.
Waiting until he was sure the one who had shown him to the
rented room had departed, Qui-Gon locked the door with a twist
of the Force that no key could overcome. He then set the
walking staff aside and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Immediately the mattress sagged deeply enough under him that he
knew he wouldn't be meditating - or sleeping - on it.
Instead, Qui-Gon pulled off the top cover and one of the
pillows. He would use the bed for something to lean against.
Not that he couldn't have just sat down in the middle of the
floor with no comforts to ease his body, of course. He had done
so quite often, especially when he had traveled with the much,
much shorter Master Yoda. But Qui-Gon really had no idea how
long he might be questing for Kenobi's Force trace, and, at his
age, the Jedi Master had nothing more to prove even to himself
with how long he could endure physical discomfort. There was no
shame in using the opportunities and items presented, and every
reason not to tax his body before time and circumstance made it
necessary.
Just as he needed no soft cushions underneath or against his
back, Qui-Gon only used the screen of a communications unit as
a focus for meditation when it was readily available. The route
to deeper levels within his mind needed no visual focus, for he
had been taking such paths for more than forty years. It was
just often quicker with the focal point. Without, he simply
spent the first few minutes breathing and not seeing, then
finally moved to blanking his mind of outside stimuli or
stress, of which there were many, as the room's walls were
about as useful as the bed's mattress. Once that was
successful, Qui-Gon stripped away all other sensations. No
images, no memories, no thoughts save for one.
Kenobi.
The young man's face came to Qui-Gon's inner eye quickly and
easily, filled out to three dimensions without ever having seen
anything other than the flat pics. It was also easy to imagine
a connection between that youthful image and his former Master.
Despite the hardships and mismanaged beginnings of his Padawan
training, many of the pictures of Kenobi had shown a glint of
humor that life had not managed to destroy. Eyes and lips often
seemed to hold a glimmer much reminiscent of that which had
kept Master Yoda alive for almost eight hundred years. No doubt
this streak had to have attracted the elder Councilor just as
it had Qui-Gon.
Of course, even that conjecture of mischievousness was not
enough to build a proper mental image. If he relied solely on
that, he would be searching for more than one lifetime through
the millions of inhabitants of Pariet, not to mention the
millions of millions had the young Jedi taken the children
elsewhere on the planet. Not even Master Yoda had the ability
to find one unknown pattern out of million.
Because Kenobi was Jedi, it wouldn't quite be like finding the
proverbial black hole in space with the naked eye. Qui-Gon had
only to start with the closest mental pattern he could find -
the day manager or housekeeper, perhaps. And lightly study the
patterns that linked that first mind to the others that person
had come into contact with over the last day. On so on, from
connection to connection. Someone would have come in contact
with the young Jedi, someone who would have recognized a
Padawan's braid, or at least sensed something a little
different, and little special about the other, even if
possessing no Force sensitivity themselves.
Time passed; minutes, then hours. Qui-Gon followed pattern
after pattern, often being led to the mind of a remarkable
being, but so far, not the one he sought. He did not notice the
sun passing down below the horizon of the cityscape, nor the
protests of muscles and limbs held within a single position for
too long. Hunger, thirst, other bodily needs were
subconsciously recognized and subsumed into the Force. Another
hour passed, then two. Four.
And Qui-Gon found his quarry.
In almost the farthest point of the city from where he now
rested, Qui-Gon had sensed a spark of someone not just Force
sensitive (as he had numerous times already), but someone
capable of achieving full rapport with another like mind. A
trained Jedi. Qui-Gon had gathered only a moment's impression
before shields had been actively raised against him, but that
only confirmed he had found the right person. And the reaction
of immediate and hardened shields had not been surprising,
since a'Thuul did not seem a Master who had relied much on the
esoteric mental abilities he had been trained in himself, such
as in mental communication.
Certainly not to the point of explaining the opportunities of
use to a mere Padawan who would be years away from study of
them, much less using them. It was quite possible Kenobi had
very rarely felt another's mind on his own, and then only from
those he knew well, whose so few numbers might include a
favorite instructor, or a handful of Healers. And Master Yoda.
Maybe even Mace. To be so touched by a stranger would raise
questions, if not suspicions or fears.
But even in his momentary glimpse, the Jedi Master had found a
mind of quicksilver intelligence, of joyous light and hidden
depths. In many ways it did remind Qui-Gon of Master Yoda's,
but without the centuries of wisdom and experience his former
Master had lived through. It was certainly the pattern of
someone he wanted to get to know better.
And now could.
Qui-Gon gradually brought himself up out of the trance and
could only laugh at how cramped his body felt. This had been a
trick he had not tried for quite a few years, and even then it
had taken its toll. Of course, he had been twenty-eight or
thirty then, and the physical demands had been easier to meet
with his younger, much more flexible body. It had been the
mental demands that had nearly exceeded ability back then,
whereas today - tonight - the opposite had occurred. Only the
barest of headaches greeted his return to full consciousness
this time instead of a migraine that had lasted days. But he
needed to spend nearly half an hour to work out the kinks and
spasms of his back, legs and shoulders, whereas previously he
had been able to rise and move with no physical distress.
Night had fallen. He was hungry, yes, but much more eager to be
about - and end -- his task. He could hope that Kenobi would
realize that only another Force user could have so brushed his
mind in their tendril of contact, but could not be certain that
the Padawan would not have been spooked and sought to move his
charges anyway. Qui-Gon would simply grab some food and
something to drink as he caught a transport leading to the
other side of the city. If he had to pick up a new trail, this
one would be fresh.
A quick check over the map he had picked up as he had first
entered the hotel lobby, and Qui-Gon pinpointed the general
location of his quarry to be within the Theater district. Not
too bad a choice for someone off-world wanting to blend in with
three children. Within those streets Kenobi might have even
been able to find accommodations similar enough to those
present during the children's upbringing without having to
fight them. Or interact with the upper levels of this society
which would bring them into closer contact to those who might
seek to profit from favors owed by Valorum. There Kenobi might
also be able to pass off his somewhat distinctive appearance as
a Jedi Padawan as something else. Costumes and creatures
adorned the Theater districts of most cities, to the point
where little was noticed as being too distinctive or too much.
And even a Jedi Master would be able to blend in without having
to worry about much of a change of persona.
Earlier before finding a place to stay, Qui-Gon had taken the
time to purchase a more appropriate shirt and pants of native
design, along with second-hand boots both taller in height and
higher in heel than he usually wore. He now changed into them
and shrugged back on the waist-length jacket, making sure he
had easy access to his lightsaber where it lay hidden within an
inner pocket. For a moment he debated leaving his walking
staff, then decided that although he was not going into such an
area where it would likely be needed, he was departing from
such a location. And if he had been under observation upon his
arrival, its absence would be noted.
Of course, if Kenobi was such a hot-shot warrior Qui-Gon
wouldn't need to carry it much longer --
No, that was unfair.
Qui-Gon doubted it had been Kenobi's idea to spend so much time
in weapons training. No matter how skilled a fighter, various
mental accomplishments were needed to become a Jedi Knight, and
through all Kenobi had persevered and overcome, it was obvious
the boy wanted to become a Knight. Nor was it as if Qui-Gon
didn't take a modicum more than a Jedi's natural pride in
fighting abilities himself, to so think badly of such in
another. In fact, had there been opportunity or time in this
mission, Qui-Gon would dearly have loved to spar with Padawan
Kenobi because of the other's reputed skill.
Before Telos, Qui-Gon had been considered one of the order's
best fighters, just as Kenobi was now. And although it was only
ego that had Qui-Gon wanting to regain the acknowledgment of
others of that reputation, it was for his own and for the
safety of others that the Jedi Master knew he had to brush up
on his skills. Though he and Xan had found time for daily
sparring during their near exile against each other, and
against volunteers from the King's Guard, the Jedi Master had
known - had formed -- his former Padawan's style too well for
the other to offer enough of a challenge to keep in top form.
Neither could a Force-null soldier ever excel to such a level
that they could properly work with or challenge a Master,
except for the surprises that came because of another's lack of
skill.
The four months back on Coruscant had given Qui-Gon some
opportunity to rehone his skill, but since most combat savvy
Jedi stayed scattered to the far corners of the Republic in
field duty, he had yet to find someone to offer him a challenge
more than once for all of his own deteriorated skills.
Well, not so much deteriorated as out of date. Which had
bothered Qui-Gon more than he had expected. Or had admitted
even to himself, until now.
Spending most of the time traveling toward the theater district
in contemplation of his uncharacteristic feelings of
introspection, Qui-Gon also made sure he studied the city he
was passing through. Whispers from the Force still spoke of
trials yet to come before departing Haven, and if such were
related directly to this portion of the mission, a familiarity
of the city sectors between where he was heading and the
spaceport might be prudent.
After being used to the air transports common both on Krystal
and Coruscant, Qui-Gon found some small pleasure in the more
meandering speed and path of the public ground vehicles used on
Haven. It certainly gave him the opportunity to explore the
city's streets and buildings instead of just the patterns such
structures had been laid within. From the poorer quality of the
constant construction of recreation and sleeping stations just
outside the spaceport, he moved next into a commerce district,
still open and teeming with people despite the growing lateness
of the evening.
Next through the financial and governmental blocks, all
deserted almost completely as those who occupied the
multi-story facades had left hours ago for the comforts of home
and fellowship. Or other amusements. Then another commerce
district, this one decidedly more upscale yet still offering a
wealth of … interesting enticements. And finally the
theater district, as Haven was renown for its patronage of the
arts. It was here that one could find all elements of
entertainment - legal and illegal -- including a variety of
partners for an evening. Or longer. The prevalence of which
abruptly proved to make Qui-Gon's task more difficult than he
had expected.
Having disembarked onto streets abounding with people, he was
immediately surrounded by teems of humanity and aliens alike.
Impromptu street performers vied with those licensed and
touting specific forums for the attentions of the many
passersby. And as with many of the Mid Rim planets within the
Republic, here on Haven any manner of stimulants were legal,
controlled, and frequently indulged, as were prostitutes and
body servants. At least slavery was banned.
Before he had walked even the length of a full block, Qui-Gon
had been propositioned three times; twice by eager youngsters
flush with intoxicants and passion, and once by one who had
never found a need to use enhancements to excite or tempt
another to her beauty. A professional and, therefore, more
understanding when he gently turned her down too, although he
was momentarily warmed by the tiniest measure of regret in her
eyes that had greeted his soft no, a regret that had nothing to
do with potentially lost income since she would have no trouble
convincing another to retire with her.
Qui-Gon could only wonder how young Kenobi was handling such a
hedonistic environment. No doubt the boy would be able to
physically blend in with the hundreds of other comely youths
who either walked or visited these streets, yet this district
was certainly more open and more focused on the forms of adult
entertainment than Qui-Gon had expected; entertainments that
were generally outside of a Jedi's familiarity and experience.
And to have three small children with him -
He fended off yet another casual invitation in the form of a
caress that tried to become a grope and frowned. He might have
to work a little of the Force to making himself less noticeable
or someone would eventually end up hurt, quite possibly
physically. Qui-Gon could only imagine it was his height that
seemed to draw such attentions; Havenites were well within the
standards of human norms in appearance like his own form, if
averaging heights of no more than six feet, compared to his six
foot four inches.
It would be easy enough to project a little bit of the predator
to his demeanor, or a suggestion of weakness because of the
staff, but Qui-Gon quickly sensed that instead of putting off
his admirers, the added spice of subtle danger or vulnerability
would attract them all the more. And potentially encourage more
than just a question or soft touch.
His movements stymied for a moment by a sudden influx that
flowed out from one of the performance theaters as it disgorged
its patrons onto the street, Qui-Gon stiffened and had to bite
back a growl when deft hands from behind snaked around him, one
just below his belt and the other draping across his shoulder
to caress his neck.
He should have used the walking stick.
A warm, rich laugh met his angry surprise, followed by cultured
tones that would have sounded quite at home in the upper levels
of Coruscant society, yet were quite at odds with the broad
nasal accents of the Havenites. "That's not the sort of
thoughts your … friends would expect you to use, Sri
Jinn. And I am surprised you would think of it first; in this
situation it is certainly not your most formidable weapon."
Voice emphasis and hand movements left no secret of just what
this one suggestively meant, just as the barest lowering of
mental shields confirmed Qui-Gon's suspicions regarding his
surprisingly skillful tormentor. How someone nearly a head
shorter could drape himself so thoroughly over Qui-Gon's back
and shoulders, he didn't know, but had to appreciate the
technique. As he did the technique of the teasing fingers that
assessed every place he might have held a weapon beside the one
in which he did, while still giving the impression of
invitation. A rather blatant invitation. With a skill all its
own.
He had a wild moment's thought of such a skill being taught by
a'Thuul, or any of the members of the Council. And if so, why?
Kenobi was certainly a Master in this, regardless of who had
taught him.
"Don't you think statements like that only invite unwanted
trouble, boy?" He let a hint of the anger loose in a growl, but
kept it quiet, to be heard only by the bejeweled ear that lay
next to his own, as the other's cheek lay next to his own in an
intimate closeness that seemed too convincing even as Qui-Gon
knew it was but cover in case others were watching the two of
them. "What if I am not who you are expecting? I could simply
-" and instead of finishing the threat, he captured in a
crushing grip the hand moving lower than his waist and began to
pull the other around. "You put yourself in unnecessary
danger."
Again bright laughter greeted Qui-Gon's growing embarrassment
that he had not controlled his reaction to having such a warm,
muscular body nearly glued against his own. The anger was more
from being so taken by surprise by the other's presence and
was, perhaps, overstated. Although a'Thuul might not have
taught Kenobi his tricks, someone had, including impressive
techniques in hiding himself within a crowd both physically and
mentally.
"How could I not recognize the great Qui-Gon Jinn?" Even in
being forcibly pulled around, Kenobi had not relinquished his
closeness or the maddening touches. The feel of his breath
alternately heated and cooled the flesh of Qui-Gon's neck and
chin. And in a couple of other places not so directly exposed
to the near torture.
"Even before your elevation to icon for your unswerving
devotion to your Xanatos and your exile on Telos, we all knew
of you." He was still being careful with his words as if
concerned with being overheard.
"You two have been the source of great inspiration and romantic
fantasies."
Kenobi's hand had slipped out from Qui-Gon's slackening grip.
He spider-walked the hand upward, moving lightly over Qui-Gon's
silk-clad abdomen and across a nipple, the base of his throat.
Qui-Gon let out a strangled gasp as, almost before he could
even register the sensitivity that was being coaxed from his
body, that hand then reached upward and joined its partner
tangled within the Jedi Master's hair and already deftly
loosening the ties that held the mass in a braid.
Kenobi was now on his toes, and again Qui-Gon could feel the
smooth cheek against his, just as he could feel the length of
Kenobi's body against his own, now front to front. Whispered
words and gentle breaths rose the flesh of his neck and ear.
"You are being followed, by the way, Master Jinn. Behind me,
and to the right. The one in the knee length coat. Also behind
you, there are a pair, male and female. I cannot sense if it is
someone concerned with our business or just someone so taken
with your presence that they are unwilling to give up despite
my … proximity. If it is the latter that have them
interested, perhaps you might want to discourage them?" And
finally Kenobi pulled back enough so that Qui-Gon could begin
to get his first good look at his unexpected tormentor.
The youth's forwardness - and skilled touches -- had basically
rendered Qui-Gon speechless; actually seeing him was
damn near overwhelming. It wasn't as if Kenobi was dressed or
made up as a pleasure boy. Not exactly. He was dressed quite
similarly to Qui-Gon, though he wore a bolder colored silk
shirt and his well-worn leather jacket and pants were black
instead of Qui-Gon's brown . His leather pants were also much
tighter, however, almost painted on, and he wore a tighter
shirt underneath the loose flowing silk - no. What Qui-Gon
thought a high-collared undershirt was actually bandages,
artfully arranged to give the appearance of another shirt and
to hide a vulnerability.
Qui-Gon finally raised his eyes back to Kenobi's sparkling
green ones. Then the youth offered an all too-knowing smirk and
a half shrug at Qui-Gon's raised brow.
Unless one knew to look beyond the exquisite facade, they
wouldn't know. Kenobi had already shown he could certainly move
as if nothing was bothering him. And few would look far enough
into those kohl-accented, impossibly long-lashed and now
aquamarine eyes to see the tiredness hidden within, or past the
slightly parted, sweet lips above the cleft chin, accented by a
small white scar. Or beyond the lithe, yet well-defined chest
and impossibly slim waist and hips. Attention would also be
drawn to the spiked hair, most of it just long enough to tease
the palm of a hand, or the intricately filigree and crystal
stud which pierced the ear opposite a waist length and
finger-thin, red-gold braid wrapped in silver and beaded
ribbons. The beads matched the color of the stud's crystal.
A green the exact color of Qui-Gon's lightsaber.
Artful instead of cheap, highly erotic instead of blatantly
pornographic. No, not a pleasure boy or body slave, but the
illusion would take only a change in attitude. Just a hint of
fear, vulnerability or submission, then Kenobi would be eaten
alive by the predators seeking such a delectable morsel.
Of course, with just an added touch of arrogance, of
domination, anyone else would drop to their knees before this
Kenobi.
And from the moment their gazes met, Qui-Gon found himself
desperately wanting to do both.
This time it was Qui-Gon who drew their bodies closer, moving
not because of Kenobi's warning and suggestion, moving almost
against his will although the Force was singing to him as he
did so. The Jedi Master reached out to the braid with trembling
fingers, touching first a bead, but then exploring the silken
weave. Years ago, and much to Qui-Gon's regret, Xan had cut off
his Padawan braid, claiming it a symbol too difficult to
reconcile with his need to be perceived as regent. As if being
someone's Padawan had become demeaning.
"Do you think this will discourage him?" Qui-Gon whispered low
in his throat though not because he didn't want to be overheard
by the crowd milling around them. He closed any remaining
distance between them until they breathed the same air. Until
their clothing touched because their breaths deepened. Then he
cupped the back of Kenobi's head while bending his own lower.
Somehow he managed to offer instead of demanding, retaining
enough presence of mind and sense of decorum to leave the final
step to be taken by this beautiful and oh so dangerous
stranger.
If the skill of body and fingers was simply an appetizer
promising further delights, the kiss was wine and honey.
Electric. Soft lips yielded beneath Qui-Gon's, then opened in
seductive invitation even as Kenobi's body folded into
Qui-Gon's larger embrace, fitting perfectly, touching with
greater strength than before, and eager intent. There was
demand and hunger in both men, and Qui-Gon abruptly feared he
could ejaculate with no more inducement than this.
Again he had to wonder about Kenobi's skill, how the boy had
mastered the perfect firmness for biting another lips, of
tonguing a palate without tickling, of smelling and tasting so
good. This was not something he could ever imagine a'Thuul's
Padawan needing to learn as the Trandoshan's methods of
completing missions would never have utilized something as
subtle as seduction. Nor had there been the name of a lover,
not even discipline for indiscretions or even note of youthful
explorations while on missions. Kenobi's record, in fact,
mentioned only that the boy had very few friends at all, and
that any time back in Coruscant was spent making up classes or
accepting challenges with saber or in hand to hand. Studying
and fighting. And, of course healing.
But surely someone this talented was no virgin -
Oh, Force! That sparsely detailed mission just prior to
a'Thuul's death involving slavers. No mention had been made of
where this mission had taken place, what organization had been
involved, nor even how long it had lasted, much less what it
had entailed. But afterward, the then sixteen year old boy had
been in bacta -- and therapy -- for months.
I think we have managed to convince them, Qui-Gon
abruptly offered, afraid to further act because of his
conclusions. He pulled away gently and couldn't stop from
caressing Kenobi's cheek even while he didn't yet let go of the
braid. And he only realized he had spoken within the other's
mind when Kenobi's eyes widened and shifted to a blue that was
almost indigo, suddenly feeling the other's mental shock at the
intimate and unexpected - unprecedented -- contact.
"I'm sorry!" Mortified, Qui-Gon quickly let the braid slip
through his fingers and took a further step back.
I'm not, came Kenobi's mindspeech, at once shy and
fierce, and so full of a wonder and longing that Qui-Gon could
not resist even though he didn't know if the forgiveness came
for his intrusion, or for his conclusions. The distance again
disappeared between them in body and mind.
Qui-Gon wasn't sure which was more electrifying this time. The
feel of Kenobi's lips on his own, or the feel of the other's
mind actively reaching out for his. For a moment time stood
suspended. Then reality, in the form of embarrassed amusement
and remembered purpose intruded. This time both took a step
back at the same instant.
Their duty was not to be served by making out in the middle of
a public thoroughfare no matter how much it seemed right!
Reality then intruded even more aggressively as someone from
the crowd pushed his way between the two. Kenobi gave a near
silent hiss of pain, leaving Qui-Gon to guess that the stranger
had rudely brushed against one of the other Jedi's concealed
injuries. Qui-Gon moved forward to assist Kenobi as he
stumbled, but was stopped cold by the other's abrupt gesture
and alarm.
"Follow him!" the younger Jedi ordered hoarsely, concerned,
Qui-Gon could sense only with the knowledge he had somehow
gleaned in the physical contact and not from a potential
misstep in mission command protocols. "He knows about the
children --"
Although Qui-Gon could hear/sense that too much pain radiated
out from Kenobi for the altercation to have been just a casual
push, the demand in the Padawan's gray eyes left no room for
Qui-Gon to be so sidetracked no matter how well meaning his
concern might be. And Qui-Gon flushed to have to again remind
himself to keep his mind on the mission. He gave a short nod,
one last lingering look at the face rapidly losing color, then
took off through the milling press of bodies.
It didn't matter that Qui-Gon hadn't gotten any sort of look
except from the back at the one he followed. While he didn't
have as clear a grasp of the other's thoughts as Kenobi had,
Qui-Gon could sense that violence of some sort was on the
stranger's mind, and such dark thoughts stood out vividly
against the bright joy and pleasure of most of the others who
ranged the streets in search of entertainment. The Jedi Master
slid between the crowd, not consciously aware of using any
trick or mind manipulation, yet he must have, for in less than
a minute he was through without having been jostled, nor having
someone yelling at him for jostling them.
The hard-faced man who posed a threat to the children was now
no more than half a block away. He had stopped hurrying, didn't
seem to be aware that he was being followed. Which probably
meant he expected Qui-Gon to have stayed with Kenobi. And that
he didn't realize Kenobi was no longer alone in the actual
protecting of the children, instead of just having picked up
some companionship. Or that they were both Jedi and, therefore,
he wouldn't be hidden in the crowd.
Well, Qui-Gon was quite eager to point out the error in his
thinking.
He closed the remaining distance with silent steps that gave
nothing away. But whether from a sense of cunning or guilt, his
quarry turned suddenly and seemed to recognize his pursuer, or
at least that he was being pursued. Instantly the man hared
down a side street, then another and into a darkened alley.
Qui-Gon followed effortlessly, letting the other take him
farther away from witnesses although he could have caught him
long before turning into this final narrow and deserted
passage.
Aware before turning the corner that the other lay in wait with
some form of weapon in hand, Qui-Gon simply moved faster than
expected and pressed the man up against the wall of the nearest
building before the other even had a chance to thrust his
serrated-edged knife. Leaning an arm against the attacker's
throat Qui-Gon used his other to sweep the blade away from his
body. Then with detached interest, watched the weapon drop to
the ground as he brought down the staff to break the other's
hold. And wrist. Detached until the Jedi noted the other's
blade was already darkened with blood.
So easy to lean just a little harder and crush larynx and
windpipe. Or to close his fingers around the neck and just give
it a little shake. With the Force he could kill the other ten
times over without even touching him, but Qui-Gon found himself
wanting to make this personal -
He is just a distraction! came Kenobi's words to a place
in Qui-Gon's mind that only his Master and his two former
Padawan apprentices had ever touched. Not even Mace Windu, or
any of his other former lovers had been able to reach so deep.
With a start Qui-Gon dropped his hands away from the one now
nearly dead before him, horror and shock coursing through his
body for what he had so nearly - and easily -- done. But he had
no time to dwell on the nearness of the Darkside in his
thoughts, nor even on the one who had almost proved catalyst to
a Jedi Master's fall. His mind was suddenly swamped with images
and emotions that, although coming from someone he had only
just met, he could not ignore.
Tracking his quarry had taken him nearly a half mile away from
the rooms he now knew the children were hidden within, but
Force-enhanced running quickly enabled the Jedi Master to reach
the building only a couple of minutes or so after Kenobi's own
arrival. Qui-Gon was soon close enough to hear faint screams
and the sounds of blaster fire from within and above. A major
part of his mind wanted to do nothing more than charge up the
stairs, to bowl over those who threatened the one who suddenly
occupied his mind, but some small sanity or wisdom kept him
where he was for a few moments longer.
In answer to one of the theater patrons, a ground transport
slowly traveled down the street, being driven by a human
instead of a droid. Without stopping to contemplate the ethics
of what he was doing, Qui-Gon drew upon all of his formidable
powers and took control of the minds of the two patrons and
their driver. He compelled the couple to forgo their usual
means of travel, and the driver to leave the ground car to new
passengers, then released all three of them to find another
means of departure after Force locking the doors so that no one
else could steal it.
At this point he would much rather have to answer to the
Council for the gross manipulation of the will of others than
for the tragic death of the children. Or Kenobi -- Obi-Wan.
From the blaster fire, Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan to be actively
defending, although he no longer had the sense of exactly where
the other fought as he first had when being led to this
building. Now that he knew he would no longer be alone, Obi-Wan
had begun shielding, a common step between two who were bonded
so that if something happened to one, the other would not be
additionally affected. Of course, he and Obi-Wan were not -
should not - be bonded -
With effort Qui-Gon refrained from yet drawing his lightsaber,
and only judiciously used the Force in gentle pushes and balms
of comfort against the throng of panicked people he had to
fight his way through. Once he even stopped to assist a young
woman who had stumbled within the crush of the crowd, but a
wordless and undefined concern from Obi-Wan then overwhelmed
the Jedi Master's patience. His regard for the comfort of the
others instantly disappeared, though not enough to contribute
to their distress.
In three bounds Qui-Gon surged up the last twelve steps and
onto the landing from which he could hear the evidence of
battle more clearly. He crashed through the fire doors and
there found additional signs of what was happening. Long scorch
marks from deflected bolts, a fire beginning to catch hold of a
drapery hanging broken from a window, which he had to take the
time to put out lest it catch further. Qui-Gon also found a
body, unconscious - no, dead -- from blaster fire. The
attackers were playing for keeps then, trying to kill Obi-Wan
instead of rendering him stunned or unconscious. Which very
well might mean they were here to also kill the children
instead of taking them for some form of ransom.
Another body lay beyond the next corner, also dead, also
holding a smoking blaster. Obi-Wan, too, was fighting for real
then, turning the bolts back against his attackers instead of
deflecting them elsewhere. So either there were too many -
unlikely given that for even a Padawan it would take more than
ten to seriously threaten any Jedi - or that Obi-Wan no longer
felt himself able to stand and defend long enough for Qui-Gon
to arrive and take over.
An image of Obi-Wan's blood on the knife in the alleyway came
back to Qui-Gon, coating his vision as red as the blade had
been.
Once again Qui-Gon forced himself to stop, to take a moment to
breathe. To calm down. He didn't really have the time to be
angry, he knew, nor especially the time to figure out why he
was feeling so strongly about someone he had just met. He had
never succumbed to this much outrage for either of his previous
Padawans' or for even his own Master's danger in times past.
Qui-Gon had an instant to wonder if this uncharacteristic
intensity was somehow Obi-Wan's doing.
That thought checked Qui-Gon's rage better than anything else
he could call forth to center his emotions and regain his
control. He resented being manipulated, even when - as
purported by Master Yoda - it was for his own good. The thought
of it being done by a Padawan was almost enough to keep him
from moving forward.
Could a Padawan successfully manipulate him? Could this
Padawan successfully manipulate him?
Before Xanatos, Qui-Gon would have immediately said no, and not
with all that much arrogance behind the conviction. As a man of
his age and experience, because he was a fully trained Jedi
Master, there were few beings alive who had a better ability to
influence than he had in maintaining shields against such a
mental attack. Of course, he hadn't been holding his shields
tightly about his mind with Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon decided to hope any manipulation was only the result of
Obi-Wan's natural beauty and stunning presence, not in
something overt. Not in using the Force. An innocent
influencing of a Jedi Master. Just as had Xanatos.
Both beautiful and personable young men. A flaw, to be sure, in
Qui-Gon's armor.
The only way he could be certain that Obi-Wan - Kenobi - was
causing this rage and concurrent feelings of protectiveness
would be for Qui-Gon to reopen his shielding and activate the
link they seemed to have established. Then he could see if
Kenobi felt some of the same disorientation. But to do so would
be to open himself up to more manipulation if, indeed, that was
what was happening. And if it wasn't, well, no Jedi could wish
another to share in this spiraling along the edge of the Dark.
Or madness. Or even doubts in the midst of a battle.
Shields. Control. Jedi serenity and duty.
Think only about the children.
Turning the next and final corner Qui-Gon found that there were
more than ten attacking Kenobi. At least thirteen ranged down
the hallway before him, both as unmoving bodies and those that
still fired at the fleeting glimpse of a Jedi whose blade of
electric blue had so far managed to hold them off from farther
advancement. No willing martyrs then, since an all out rush
would have overcome the younger Jedi, but would also have
gotten several more of the attackers killed first.
Qui-Gon crept forward. He caught a glimpse of a younger face
peering out from further behind Kenobi and upon seeing the
Padawan twisting his body and blade to ensure the shots that
instantly raced down the corridor hit him instead of his
charge, Qui-Gon knew his doubts and paranoia had been
uncharitable. And oh so wrong.
Not manipulation. Need.
If there were any manipulation being done, it originated in the
Force, not Obi-Wan. Nor by his own attraction for the younger
man. Not even by Qui-Gon's disappointment in Xanatos, and his
loneliness.
Can you retreat to your room with the boy? Qui-Gon sent
after a quick blessing that Obi-Wan had managed to avoid or
deflect all of the recent exchange of shots. But he couldn't
expect it the younger Jedi to keep it up; with his enhanced
senses and remarkable connection, Qui-Gon could feel the
other's fatigue and pain, could feel even the flow of blood
against his side as if the injury was his own.
Yes.
The response was not quite as strong as Qui-Gon had expected
given that he and Obi-Wan were now in much closer proximity
that the last time he had heard the other's mental voice. Such
a lessening of the other's presence could only be due to the
strain of injury. Or in consciously turning away from an
unwanted link as if Obi-Wan has sensed Qui-Gon's earlier doubts
and suspicions. But Qui-Gon no longer cared why he was
connected to someone in a stronger link than he had ever before
experienced, just that the link would enable them to get away
more or less intact.
Just a bit of confusion to meditate on later.
I've got an empty ground car holding below. Once I get your
attackers to realize there is another to worry about, can you
get the children down to it?
It was reasonable to expect there was no other exit from the
direction behind Obi-Wan, otherwise a team out of such large
numbers opposing would even now be coming up or blocking that
route. Yet the Force showed that all threats were here in
front. While Qui-Gon wasn't sure if Obi-Wan would have chosen a
room with a window to the outside since such would offer a
target of opportunity to someone anxious to get in, he had few
doubts that the Padawan could easily make such an opening.
Whether through his own room, or by cutting or unlocking
another's, Obi-Wan could use his lightsaber if necessary. And
they were only on the third floor, so the drop wouldn't be too
bad.
Of course, Obi-Wan was injured, both in this evening and
previously. Nor did Qui-Gon really know the level of the
other's skill in levitation of self, much less other objects.
And would the children fight against the fall, potentially
disrupting a Padawan's concentration?
Just drawn their attention away! This time the contact
came with plenty of intent and not just a little amount of
exasperation. Obviously the link was more two-way than Qui-Gon
had realized; those last thoughts he had not intended to have
been overheard.
As you wish. Since he had not yet been noticed, Qui-Gon
simply stepped back around the corner and used the Force to
draw to himself a blasters from one of those who no longer had
a use for it. Then he set aside his staff and pulled out his
lightsaber.
While Jedi only fought to defend and protect, the lightsaber
was a perfect and elegant symbol, not to mention extremely
useful. They left weapons like blasters, rifles and projectile
throwers to those who attacked; the cowards who prey on people
from a distance. The Order was not so foolish, however, as to
not at least acquaint their followers with the potentiality of
another weapon. Nor were Jedi ones to look away from the gifts
that the Force might bring them.
Qui-Gon extended the green shaft of his saber. At first he kept
it low powered, activated to produce more light than heat, and
he held it against the blaster. This was still enough output to
weaken the metal of the gun's casing, and to start a reaction
of energy conversion within the gun's internal focusing lenses.
He then leaned back out around the corner and tossed the
blaster, not so much toward any individual, but still where
even the sight of it would cause a distraction. Once the
blaster landed, the weakened chamber collapsed, spilling energy
and shrapnel outward in a small radial field. All eyes turned
in its direction, then his, and their own weapons followed as
they then sighted the Jedi Master's saber. And the other
blaster now held in hand, ready to toss.
Obi-Wan needed no more time. Qui-Gon caught a glimpse of
Obi-Wan gesturing, then the young boy behind was collapsing
over the hand that held the blue saber. In the next instant
even Qui-Gon's eyes couldn't follow the speed in which the
young Jedi fled with the child. Before some of the attackers
could turn back and process within their brains that he had
even moved, Obi-Wan had eluded them.
The next blaster was flung down the full length of the
corridor, discouraging the attackers from thinking to pursue
Obi-Wan. As was his deliberate steps down the corridor. After
deflecting a few bolts against his blade, Qui-Gon then turned
and began his own run back down the stairway, making sure he
always stayed visible to those who moved to follow. Obi-Wan's
way to the street would be quicker and harder to follow. Likely
the Padawan would reach the groundcar before his own or
Qui-Gon's pursuers could reach him; he did not have the throng
of people still floundering about the stairwell and lobby to
pass through as Qui-Gon did. At least those same people also
slowed down the Jedi Master's pursuers and, surprisingly, kept
them from firing indiscriminately, though no doubt just until
reaching the street and a better field of fire.
Even though he had forgotten to mention to Obi-Wan about the
Force locks to keep others from taking the vehicle, such
impediment had not kept out the younger Jedi, and the
passenger-side front door of the idling transport swung open as
Qui-Gon stepped down the vestibule steps. He no longer ran, so
as not to invite comment or confrontation from the growing
number of well meaning bystanders who had gathered from hearing
the screams, or from the first of the city's security force who
had begun responding to the alarms and panic, but it was quick
enough to outdistance those who followed. He slid in with only
a quick glance to the back seats and the slack faces of two
young girls and a boy unnaturally asleep.
"Did they give you trouble?" he had to ask in false innocence,
relief and a little exhilaration encouraging a smile to
overtake his expression.
"Let's just say they have been woefully underwhelmed from the
first that it was a Jedi Padawan who was sent after them, and
have taken every opportunity to confound me, whether confronted
by danger, or not," Obi-Wan said dryly. He tilted his chin
toward the boy. "Even first hand witnessing of the firefight
didn't impress young Daed."
Instead of being flushed from the exertion, his face was pale
and held a light sheen of sweat that might not entirely be from
the fight. It was split, however, by a grin, making Obi-Wan
look ridiculously young and giving, perhaps, some credence to
the children's concern over their rescuer's experience. Or lack
thereof. Obi-Wan then flushed, as if responding directly to
Qui-Gon's latter thoughts.
Which, after what had already happened, might not be completely
out of the question.
Qui-Gon made sure to tighten his shielding. And curb a few
stray ideas and images that had nothing to do with their
mission.
"So where to, Master Jinn?" Obi-Wan engaged the vehicle's
propulsion and directed them down the street, needing none of
the time Qui-Gon might have to investigate the workings of the
transport.
So, experienced or knowledgeable about a wide variety of
vehicles not just a pilot as the Havenites were technologically
about fifty years behind most of the other Mid Rim worlds.
Active interest, or practical experience. Or simply an uncanny
grasp of the patterns that could be read in the Force's
unifying aspect?
"Aside from the uncanny adjective, you are right on all three
counts," came the response, this time obviously in answer to
Qui-Gon's unspoken - and not as well shielded as he had
supposed -- thoughts.
"And although I'd like to be able to, I can't draw or dance to
save my life. Nor am I a morning person,"
"After spending seven years in a rather sybaritic Court, I can
teach anyone to dance. And if you were with me, you wouldn't
have a problem in getting up in the morning," Qui-Gon retorted
without really thinking about what he was saying. What he might
be implying. Then the words came crashing back to him, along
with every one of his reactions to Obi-Wan since first looking
at a flat picture sent to him by Yoda. All through a link that
seemed to ignore any form of shielding.
They both blushed bright red. Traffic, both pedestrian and
vehicular kept Obi-Wan too busy to respond for a few long
minutes. Then they broke free into the nearly lifeless portion
of the business sector, and by then it was too late to comment
without it being even more awkward between them.
"Can you sense if we are being followed?" Choosing a safe
topic, Obi-Wan slowed their ground car and finally brought it
to a halt in a section of deep shadow cast by the towering
buildings to either side of the street.
Qui-Gon extended his mind into the Force, desperately trying to
ignore the warm glow of life next to him that he so wanted to
wrap around himself. "Not at the moment," he replied before
reopening his eyes. "But they are still out there, still
looking." He took a deep breath and re-centered himself to
their surroundings; that type of Force work was not one of his
strengths. "If they found you through following me, my rooms
are no safer to return to. Nor do I have anything there I need
return for."
Obi-Wan nodded. "The same for me. The kids will be disappointed
to lose their trophies from this excursion, but it's not like
they can't afford to replace them. Or that they should have
purchased them in the first place," he added a bit angrily.
The young Jedi had taken this as an opportunity to lean back
and to close his eyes himself, but Qui-Gon did not feel a sense
of reflected peace that should come from Obi-Wan immersing
himself within the Force or meditation. Unexpected sexual
tension still jangled through them both, which might make calm
hard to reach, yet this was something else, something
different. Painful.
Damn! Not something painful. Pain itself.
Although Qui-Gon had been quite ready to kill once he'd
discovered the cause of that pain, had been peripherally aware
of it in the hotel, it was only now that he had truly
acknowledged that Obi-Wan had been hurt in the attack. And had
needed to call upon reserves that were likely already
previously depleted to comply with Qui-Gon's directions.
"How badly are you hurt, Obi-Wan?"
A careful sigh that might have hinted of trying to marshal
resources, but Obi-Wan didn't do him the discourtesy of lying
about being injured, or even in downplaying this vulnerability
into something less. After all, it was not just Obi-Wan's life
potentially endangered if it proved debilitating.
"He managed to stick me pretty good with the blade," Obi-Wan
exhaled through pressed lips. "I've only just been able to stop
the bleeding in the last couple of minutes."
"And previous to tonight? How badly were you hurt in the
business with Master Billaba?"
This time Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned toward Qui-Gon,
though he didn't move his head away from resting against the
back of the seat. "Bad enough." He shrugged one shoulder.
"Force healing isn't one of my better talents. While it was
happening, then on that first ship back to Coruscant, any extra
energy I might have directed toward self-healing went instead
to keeping Master Billaba alive. Once I was diverted, I spent
my time in study of the kids for it was only a couple of hours,
then in tracking them once I planeted. It's pretty much taken
everything just to keep up with them, to keep them in line
since I found them."
"When did you last eat? Sleep?"
Another shrug.
"I've managed to eat. I didn't really sleep much yesterday,
though. After corralling the kids, the girls tried to sneak out
three times but I hadn't yet had enough to force them to sleep.
Then once I got the word I'd be meeting up with another Jedi -
you - today, I figured I could take tonight off. Wishful
thinking, I know," he said in self-deprecating tones. "And I do
know better." His smile was weary, but held no hint of
accusation, and nothing of that sort was coming through with
his emotions, either. Such was the occasional luck of a Jedi.
Qui-Gon couldn't help but feel partially responsible for the
other's distress anyway, and enough of that concern leaked
through that Obi-Wan's smile faltered.
"Neither lack of sleep nor injury will keep me from performing
my duty, Master Jinn, I just might not be as …
efficient."
"Call me Qui-Gon, please." And he tried to project all of the
warmth and comfort he felt to the other, but without any of the
misplaced desire. "And I am not in doubt of your abilities. But
--" Qui-Gon reached out his hand toward Obi-Wan's side. May
I?
This time Qui-Gon used mindspeech deliberately, for what he was
requesting was something intimate even when performed by a
Healer. When one was not fully trained in the Jedi healing
methods and techniques, it was even harder to separate oneself
from immersing minds, and harder for the one performing the
healing to keep from learning things often intended by the one
receiving the healing to be kept private. Although Obi-Wan had
lowered his outer shields for Qui-Gon previously, that didn't
mean he would be willing to do so his inner ones. Nor did the
Jedi Master think those first times had really been planned,
instead being simply an edge to counter the dangers inherent in
the events just passed and not a true sharing.
Instead of answering, Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan's outer shields
going down voluntarily again, then his inner ones, until the
Padawan held only his core of self separate. Concentrating only
on that which needed healing, Qui-Gon could now sense first the
fiery agony of the knife wound, then the more steady throbbing
of deep bruising and barely healed broken bones. Of too much
blood depletion, too long dehydration and deep-seated
exhaustion. The most recent injury physically hurt the most,
but those from a couple of days ago were actually worse. It had
been an explosion and a collapsed building that had caught
Obi-Wan and Master Billaba three days ago; the parting gift
from the losing side to a negotiation.
In the next instant Qui-Gon's mind was experiencing the shock
wave, was trying to balance and advance on a pitching floor, to
avoid buckling walls and falling supports. He abruptly cried
out, aware as debris struck his Master, of her collapsing, then
the feeling of impacts against his own body, of being trapped
too far away to reach her. Unmindful of his own hurts, that his
life was bleeding away out of a cut too close to the carotid
artery, Qui-Gon was only able to brush against his Master's
mind in the shallowest of links and send out energy that was
mostly wasted, that did nothing to bring her around. That did
nothing save her.
Just like before. To lie weak and useless while his Master died
-
With that last thought Qui-Gon found himself dumped
unceremoniously out of Obi-Wan's mind. For an instant he
floundered in conflicting sensations, but then choked sounds
and fierce shaking pulled his attention to the body he was no
longer sharing. Completely unaware of doing so, at some point
in their deep meld Qui-Gon had tugged Obi-Wan out of the ground
car and had maneuvered them away. Now he noted they sat against
a fountain in the courtyard of the nearest building. He had
slid down to place the cold and damp stone to his own back, and
now held Obi-Wan tucked tightly against his chest. Qui-Gon
sighed and began to caress the sweat-soaked, spiky hair of
red-gold with one hand, burrowing under Obi-Wan's jacket with
the other. He began rubbing circles across Obi-Wan's back, ever
mindful of the hurts no longer hidden under silk or bandages.
The memories, of course, had not been Qui-Gon's despite how
real they had felt, despite wanting to check his own throat and
collar bone for the blood that should be staining his shirt.
His presence in Obi-Wan's mind had triggered them, causing both
Jedi to relive them until one, or both had recognized what was
happening and had managed to break the link.
"It was not your fault, Obi-Wan." Referring not to the link and
sharing, but to the death and near death the other blamed
himself for, Qui-Gon carefully continued to soothe with soft
words, gentle touches and healing tendrils of Force although he
was no better a Healer than Obi-Wan. He wasn't surprised to
feel areas of tension underneath his fingers that corresponded
to where the young Jedi had been struck in the explosion. Even
Qui-Gon's body ached in an echo of those memories. Had the link
lasted longer, he did not doubt he'd be feeling the aches in
his bones or see the blood his mind wanted to insist be there,
just as Obi-Wan would have been returned to the state of injury
from before any healing, so intense were those memories.
"It's over. Everything is going to be okay." Such words might
be little more than noise, but Qui-Gon did have something more
to offer than just his presence. "Obi-Wan, when I talked to
Master Windu yesterday, he told me you did save Depa. For which
you have his personal thanks as well as the Council's. And
their pride" Qui-Gon tried to smile. "The Healers are quite
certain she would have died before the rescuers found you two,
if you hadn't been there."
Qui-Gon dropped back into mindspeech, spending significant
effort not to enter into too deep a link this time. With their
thoughts and emotions laid bare to each other, there could be
only truth. And truth was something Obi-Wan obviously needed to
hear. You are not useless, my Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon began to
address the deepest of the insecurities he had sensed in the
other. Nor would I ever categorize you as weak. What you've
managed, what you've already overcome, is quite astounding, and
far beyond even many Masters I have known.
Obi-Wan made no form of answer yet, except for the slightest
lessening of the tightness in which he had clutched at Qui-Gon,
causing the Jedi Master to wonder just how much of this guilt
and sense of worthlessness had been carried around for years,
hidden from those who should have noticed or counseled Obi-Wan
before now.
I am humbled and proud to have met you, young Padawan. And I
look most forward to taking the opportunity to know you
better.
Some of this trauma had to be resurfacing due to the similarity
of circumstances in nearly losing both his Masters, yet how
much of Obi-Wan's collapse was due to the fact that someone had
finally shown a willingness to listen and understand? To take
care, if not responsibility.
Obviously Obi-Wan should never had been sent on this mission,
despite the danger to the children in having to be on their own
for another day. If Obi-Wan had continued on to Coruscant,
would he have found anyone there to listen or offer comfort?
The other members of the Council would have been involved with
pacifying the Chancellor, dealing with other Jedi business, or
worrying over Depa. And Obi-Wan would have just as likely
hidden his emotional pain while grudgingly letting the Healers
deal with his physical ones; this was not someone used to
having someone else be around to care.
Well, that was about to change. And the first thing he could do
would be not letting Obi-Wan pull away.
Qui-Gon also wondered about Obi-Wan's lack of links to other
Jedi before their meeting. It certainly wasn't as if the young
Jedi was incapable; the depth of the one the two of them had
just established fell well outside typical perimeters,
especially since it was only an hour or so old.
Only an hour? To Qui-Gon it felt as if he had known this other
forever, in soul if not personality and experience.
But Qui-Gon had not sensed even a patched or broken link from
a'Thuul in Obi-Wan's mind, and just a few remnants of broad
training links from previous instructors. A hint of something
familiar, but too thin, with Master Yoda. It was almost as if
there should have been another Master for Obi-Wan to form the
first real link, that even the Force had been waiting for
someone else before allowing -
"Fuck!"
For a moment Qui-Gon feared the response was to where his
thoughts had been going, while at the same time had the curse
been said in the cultured accent that so far had been the only
voice Qui-Gon had heard from Obi-Wan, the Jedi Master might
have laughed despite the surge of heavy emotions he could sense
behind that exclamation. Or at least he might have smiled. And
for just a moment he found himself distracted by these new
realizations instead of discovering what might have caused such
an incongruous utterance as he did realize it wasn't directed
toward him.
The accent sounded coarser and, while maybe not quite as
lyrical a brogue as the one Qui-Gon himself slipped into
occasionally under stress, was still similar. Which left
Qui-Gon to tangentially question if it had been Obi-Wan's own
idea to lose the accent which was most likely the young Jedi's
native one, or a'Thuul's. Despite a certain standardization of
inflections and accents prevalent amongst humans who traveled
extensively, the rich tones of Coruscant's high society that
had been Obi-Wan's previous voice, was not typically where a
Jedi's speech patterns found themselves.
Likely it had been a'Thuul, holding or demanding certain
aspirations for his Padawan, especially since his own accent
would have been guttural and displeasing to many of the humans
they would have interacted with. Having one of them sound like
high society had likely proved useful, especially when dealing
with the Senate. And how angry a'Thuul would have been, no
doubt, over a word that brought instead to Qui-Gon a certain
measure of comfort, as it showed him a glimpse of the real
person behind the words he had read. Qui-Gon suspected not even
many of the Jedi Council had been granted such a glimpse so
freely given to him.
"Nae, only you," came the answer, now less muffled as Obi-Wan
began pulling away, at once careful but with an undisguised
urgency. Qui-Gon had a moment's worry/doubt that the other was
so perfectly reading his mind, yet the absurdity of that worry
in the face of Obi-Wan's rising anxiety about something else
finally began to penetrate.
"What is it?"
"Can yew grab an' carry the twins?"
As Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan's distraction, he had a moment of awe
and horror. Obi-Wan was prescient, a talent Qui-Gon had none at
all.
"Yew hae got t' grab the twins!" Obi-Wan instructed, able to
reorient himself quickly to their surroundings despite having
been deep within the maelstrom of his memories and emotions.
And Qui-Gon's embrace.
Feeling suddenly bereft as if it had been he needing the
comfort instead of the other, Qui-Gon nevertheless nodded and
rose a pace behind Obi-Wan, using the Force to pull open locks
and doors of the car fifty or so feet ahead of them. He reached
the car first and reached in to gather up the first twin. The
instant he pulled back, Obi-Wan was throwing himself into the
back seat in a controlled tumble then out of the side opposite,
with the boy cradled against his own body as he came up out of
the tuck. By the time Qui-Gon reached in for the second girl
and was stepping back, he could hear a rumble the other had
somehow foreseen, and even he knew there was no more time. Time
only to drop and cover both small forms with his larger body,
and to hope that Obi-Wan had managed to roll far enough away
with his own child before the in-bound missile hit.
For an instant Qui-Gon was caught up again within memories of
explosions, not only Obi-Wan's, but from past memories of his
own. Then the flare of pain as heated shrapnel shredded jacket,
shirt and skin served to remind him that this was quite real.
Was happening now.
And not yet over.
Qui-Gon crouched and started to move, keeping his body between
the flames, shrapnel and the twins in his arms. Another
explosion as a second missile hit the transport's power source.
Metal more liquid than shrapnel spread out from the impact this
time and molten agony fell across the Jedi Master's leg,
searing down to the bone in a thin rivulet from knee to ankle.
For a moment's time he couldn't move or see, couldn't think or
even breathe.
Then a flow of warm energy poured past any shields Qui-Gon
might have tried to erect to spare the other Jedi in their
meld. The energy was enough to get Qui-Gon breathing again, yet
he doubted he could move.
Qui-Gon! Obi-Wan's thoughts came strongly from a point
beyond the flames and smoke that obscured the Jedi Master's
vision nearly as much as the pain did. Can you levitate? Can
yew a' least manage a controlled fall?
Qui-Gon could almost understand the words pounding into his
mind, even the frantic concern behind them. But little made
sense given that he was on the street with not even a step to
drop or roll down from. And to levitate up would only offer an
even better target. Assuming he could even pull it off.
Nae up, Master! Down! Tis underscored wit' maintenance
shafts for the sanitation an' repair droids. There should be a
hatchway within sight, an' yew should be able ...
Qui-Gon marveled at how Obi-Wan's emotions felt so very like
Xan during the time on one of the Outer Rim worlds, when the
slaver had shot Qui-Gon clean through his left lung then moved
on to track his former Padawan but without the intent to kill
the apprentice as he had the Master. Frantic. Fearful. In fact,
it had been Xanatos' fear that had given the impetus to drive
Qui-Gon on then despite his injury, Xan's fear that his Master
was dying, along with the fear of what would happen to Xan
afterward. Driven by love and his sense of responsibility.
To an outsider it almost always appeared that it was the
Padawan who served the Master, by fetching and waiting, by
seeing to the Master's needs before their own. And in many
material things and some domestic matters, that often was true.
For one of the hardest things to teach a young Jedi with such
power and potential from the Force in their hands was to be
humble, to put another's needs and desires before their own.
Xan never had quite gotten the hang of it, undoubtedly in part
because of having known what would have been due to him had he
stayed his father's heir. Despite a wish and long training
spent to the contrary, part of Xanatos' decision to stay a Jedi
had been weighted by an assumption that he would be due even
more as a Jedi than as a planetary leader.
Which was a decidedly unJedi-like assumption.
Why hadn't Qui-Gon seen this flaw in Xanatos before? If it was
a Padawan's duty to serve their Master, it was a Master's duty
to mold and care for that Padawan, to see the youth trained.
And see the youth loved. Safe. To provide succor when sick, or
drunk, or unable to function for whatever reason. To protect,
be it from outside danger or self directed.
And a Master's duty to die for the Padawan if necessary, yet
even more so to live, if only long enough to ensure that the
other did.
Obi-Wan was not his Padawan, not truly anyone's Padawan, save
maybe the Force's. Still Qui-Gon had a bond with him truer than
any the younger Jedi had formed with another, deeper even than
Qui-Gon's bond with Xanatos whom he had once thought to spend
his life with. And Qui-Gon could no more ignore the fear in
Obi-Wan's thoughts, the plea in the words, the love coming from
the other's soul, than he could deny the way each of those
things lit spaces Qui-Gon hadn't recognized before to be
shrouded in darkness.
Archive 