Spoilers/Timeline: Post - TPM. Takes place a couple of months
after the movie's end. Big spoilers for film.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of George Lucas
and IL&M. No copyright infringement is intended and no
money will ever exchange hands from this story's distribution.
So please don't sue my ass off. ;-)
Archive: Master/Apprentice okay ... others with permission.
(Only so I know where to visit! :-)
Feedback: Is greeted with happy hand claps of child-like glee.
:-) (dbkate2@aol.com)
Thanks: A HUGE "thank-you" to my beta reader, partner in the
Dark Side and all around pal Darth Zoot! <bowing low>
=========
Chapter One -- "Maya"
=========
The Hall of Ravae stunk of sorcery, death and the Dark Side of
the Force.
I was forced into the huge room headfirst, my hands bound and
my lightsaber taken from my belt. I stumbled, but didn't fall
before Ravae's throne as she no doubt wanted.
A guard's huge hand clasped my shoulder and attempted to force
me to my knees, but a quiet surge of the Force around his
windpipe quickly discouraged that idea. He coughed loudly,
clutched at his throat and I let him go, but with a clear look
of warning.
They may have brought me there, but it was by my will and my
will alone I remained.
Which was something Ravae understood very well. "Enough," she
ordered quietly. "Leave us be."
The guards left, peering at me warily as Ravae greeted me with
a cordiality that would have been comical under most
circumstances. "Welcome, Obi-Wan," she said gaily. "We are
pleased you decided to join us."
However, this time, I wasn't laughing.
I'd no idea how powerful she'd become until I looked into her
eyes. They were ... empty. Devoid of all things that
distinguish the living from the dead.
It was as Qui-Gon had always told me what the Dark Side does to
a living being. It kills them, but not in the usual way. No,
they breathe, they speak, but they are no longer truly alive.
They are walking wraiths; at one with death and suffering.
Paying an awful price for their power, they spend what is left
of their rotted life cycle making sure that they do not suffer
alone.
The bindings around my wrists were just for show; I could have
broken free of them without much effort. But I submitted to
them calmly, focusing on the present and biding my time as I'd
been taught.
Ravae was well aware of all this, of course. She was merely
putting on a display for Anakin who stood next to her throne,
his expression unsure.
Her goal wasn't to destroy me, but to corrupt the boy at her
side. To offer him a choice between the Living Force and the
Dark Side ... to force him to make a decision between life or
the living death.
A decision that was his alone to make.
He was far too young for a trial such as this, I thought
unhappily. It was my fault of course; I should have kept a much
closer eye on him. He was a rambunctious boy, headstrong and
curious ... too long a slave not to want to explore every facet
of freedom.
How he'd ended up with Ravae that afternoon is anyone's guess,
but I could imagine. She was adept with mind tricks and her
powers of persuasion were strong. She'd no doubt been hunting
for him, possibly since the very day we left the sanctuary of
Naboo and headed out to the quiet forests of Ekomes to begin
the training.
That thought alone bothered me greatly. If he were anywhere
near as powerful as Qui-Gon insisted, Dark Ones would be soon
crawling out of every corner of the galaxy to try to snatch him
away. Making his training twice as difficult, if not
impossible.
Ravae was obviously going to be the first taker in this game of
chance, and I had no intention of letting her win.
She, on the other hand, had her own ideas about that.
"Behold, young one," she said, holding up my confiscated saber.
Her voice was terrifyingly sweet; a smooth confection of poison
and darkness. "Behold the lightsaber of Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi
Knight. The man who was to be your Master. The man who
should have been your Master."
She continued, carefully examining Anakin's pale face. "As you
may know, clever boy that you are, most deceased Jedi are burnt
with their sabers. Yet this one was found in the possession of
the man before you, your Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now you may
well ask, how in the Force's name did -he- get a hold of it?
Would you like me to answer that question, child?"
Anakin stared at the saber and nodded, his expression confused.
Her eyes turned cat-like, narrow and sharp. "Very well, I shall
tell you. You yourself witnessed the beginning of Qui-Gon's
final confrontation in the great palace of Naboo but never saw
its conclusion. Is this true?"
Another nod ... one that was shaky and slow.
"Then I will tell you plainly that Qui-Gon fought bravely, but
since he was alone in that battle he was no match for the Sith
lord with whom he dueled."
Anakin looked up. Startled. "But ... Qui-Gon wasn't alone. My
Master was with him."
Ravae bestowed a sweet smile upon him. Ran her claw like
fingers through his hair. "Yes, your Master, as you call him,
was there." She sighed sadly. "But I fear it would have been
much better for poor Qui-Gon if he hadn't been."
I felt my throat tighten with fury, but willed it away as
quickly as it came on.
Anger was the way of the Dark Ones, and it was the first step
down the path I'd long ago refused to take. I wasn't about to
start walking down that road and dishonor Qui-Gon's training
and memory.
Not then ... not ever.
"For Obi-Wan did nothing to help his Master that day. In fact,
Qui-Gon lived but long enough to see his one chance at
defending himself taken away by his own cowardly Padawan. A
Padawan who hid himself behind a force field until he was no
longer able to, clumsily dropping his own weapon in his fright
and then snatching this very saber out of his own Master's
noble, but failing hand."
Her death head eyes met mine. "In order to save his own
wretched skin."
I heard her words but mentally tore them into meaningless
syllables, letting them buzz in and out of my consciousness
without creating the slightest emotional impression.
//...like silence upon cool air, Padawan...//
"And the malicious creature wasn't yet done, child. Why, not
only did he boast of his shameful conduct to the Council, the
ambitious beast insisted that he be the one to train you. You,
the child whom Qui-Gon loved and rescued from slavery."
I could see Anakin's face and it had turned salt white, the
color of paper. My heart broke at the sight, and it took nearly
all my strength not to free myself and plunge the blade into
the dark witch's heart.
But still, I held back. Remembering my Master's words. Letting
them calm and soothe me as they'd done countless times before.
//... as water flows beneath the waves, Padawan...//
"Qui-Gon died betrayed, child" she cooed. "Betrayed by the man
that you now call Master." She leaned in toward him. "Ask him,
child," she whispered. "Ask Obi-Wan if what I tell you are
lies. Go to him and ask him to defend his actions. You are wise
beyond your years and you'll discover that he cannot. And you
will realize that I, Ravae Demona, am your true friend, ally
and Mistress. Go on, my dearest. Ask him."
Anakin's face was ashen when he complied. I could see the dark
fear, the doubt, claw for pieces of his mind ... and his soul.
I knelt. Took the child's face between my bound hands as best I
could and looked straight into his eyes. Blue eyes, always
trusting before, now huge with doubt and fear.
"Is it true what she says, Master?" he whispered.
I brushed a lock of hair from his brow, the sadness nearly
overwhelming me. He -was- far too young for a trial like this.
"What do you feel in your heart, Padawan?"
He shook his head, as if trying to dispel some dark shadow that
was interfering with his thoughts. "What she says is somewhat
true, but it is a clouded truth. I do not know what to think."
"Shall I tell you what I know to be true, Padawan?" I asked
gently.
He nodded.
"I cannot dispute what she says, for indeed there is much truth
in it. But I will tell you this," I said, unable to relax the
tightness in my throat, or hide the catch in my voice. "No one
loved Qui-Gon more than I. If fate and the Force would have had
it, I would have died a thousand times before seeing him
harmed. But that was not to be."
I brushed Anakin's cheek with my fingertips. "I often wish I'd
died that day, Padawan, and if not for you, I don't think I
would still be among the living."
His young eyes immediately widened with understanding. He
turned back to face Ravae with a calm strength that was as
gratifying as it was courageous. "You are a liar," he stated
plainly. "Nothing more. And you will never be an ally, friend
or Mistress of mine."
Ravae's eyes narrowed dangerously. All the sweetness
disappeared from her features and I could see her fingers
twitch toward her own saber which began to shiver under the
influence of the Force.
"Run Anakin," I yelled to the boy. "Run and don't look back."
Thank the Force, he obeyed.
It was but a second later that I willed the bindings to drop
and the saber back into my hands.
The battle lasted only moments; Ravae's talent was in her lying
tongue, not her fighting. I held the saber to her throat,
desperately wanting to kill her and yet knowing that was not
what I should do.
"It is too bad, Obi-Wan," she lisped through a mouthful of
blood. "It is truly too bad that you are still so blind. Why,
you actually think that the Sith apprentice you fought in the
Great Hall of Naboo is defeated and you are still the victor."
It took great effort, but I willed calm into my voice. "The
Sith apprentice as you call him, is dead. By my own hand."
But she wasn't paying attention to me. She continued to laugh
as the blood dripped down her chin and onto her robes. "And the
best ... no the most wonderful joke of all..." She kept
laughing, madly, spraying life from her lips onto the marble
floors. "Is that you think that your Master, Qui Gon Jinn, is
dead as well."
I felt my hands tighten around the saber handle, the knuckles
whitening brutally.
She continued to laugh; short wet barks of bloody mirth. "Oh,
you poor fool. I must say that's positively the funniest thing
I've heard in a Druugun's age."
The saber trembled within my fingers and I began to pray for
strength.
Her laughter abruptly ceased. "Hear me, Obi-Wan Kenobi,
so-called Jedi Knight," she gasped, a triangle of madness
knotting between her brows. "Your trials have just begun. For
not only does the Sith Maul live, but your Master, Qui-Gon
Jinn, lives as well. Beyond the far end of all civilized
systems you shall find them both. Yes, both of them."
With great effort, I switched off the blade and turned to
leave. "Take care, Ravae," I said quietly, without turning
around. "For our next meeting will be our last."
I walked away, down the black halls, willing myself to
concentrate solely on the sound of my footsteps.
But I could not.
Heard her voice snarl out after me. "Threaten me all you wish
Obi-Wan, but if you go to the third moon of Kalhau, you'll see
that Ravae does not always lie. You will see that the Dark Side
has more power than you and that council of fools has even
-dared- to dream. Go on, Obi Wan! Go on! For how would I know
the story of the battle unless I were told by one who was
there?
//...as silence upon cool air, Padawan...//
"Think Obi-Wan! How could that be?"
//...as water flows beneath the waves...//
"Think, you damned fool! Think!"
The walk to freedom seemed to take forever, but at last, the
great doors finally shut behind me and I found I could almost
breathe again.
It took less than a fortnight for me to realize that Ravae's
poisonous seed had taken root.
It was true. She shouldn't have known the details of the battle
unless told by a participant or by Master Yoda himself who'd
served as my only confidant after my Master's funeral.
And I highly doubted that he was sitting about gossiping with
the likes of Ravae Demona.
In the days following our confrontation, I relegated her goads
to a part of my consciousness I used to store all useless
information. Ravae was nothing but a lying, sniveling witch, a
weak tool of the Dark Side and a con artist of the cheapest,
most common sort, I found myself repeating daily.
But each time, her words again began their mocking, endless
echo.
//How would I know the story of the battle unless I were told
by one who was there?//
Yes. How indeed?
//Think, Obi-Wan ... think.//
Soon, the possibilities were keeping me awake night after
cursed night.
If, by some miracle, Qui-Gon's killer, a suspected Sith, had
survived and was now boasting of the battle ... the need to
find and capture him was imperative. Not only for the future of
the Jedi, but for my sanity as well. If possible, I would
attempt to capture him alive, but if not...
I'd meditate upon my actions later.
But, oh ... the possibility of Qui-Gon being alive was one I
couldn't begin to let myself contemplate.
Alive. Too vivid in my memories, his eyes still full of life
and the bright side of the Force. His lips once again warm
against mine, his arms encircling my waist as they had those
few times we'd dared to throw caution to the winds.
The nights we'd spent making love until the sun rose and then
fell again.
The mornings I had awakened beside him, skin to skin, heard the
soothing sound of his heartbeat in my ear. I had told myself
every morning that no song could ever be as beautiful as that
quiet rhythm beating within him and every night had been
convinced anew that I was right.
In the days that had followed Qui-Gon's passing, I'd gone
through more states of emotional upheaval than I had in all my
time of training. Shock, anger ... a dull numbness that invaded
every corner of my soul. The days were busy at first, but the
nights, oh, the nights were endless. A lonely pallet, a space
next to me that was colder and emptier than any frozen trial
I'd ever endured.
There was no blanket that could warm me, no heartbeat to soothe
me, nothing but freezing darkness and a silence that was
deafening me unto madness.
It had been my job to gather his possessions and dispose of
them. His clothing, his books, the odd items collected during a
lifetime of study and work. I wanted to keep them all, then
wanted to burn them all, but I forced myself to take my time
and examine each belonging carefully in turn before deciding
its fate ... the dusty cupboard or the fire.
That was perhaps the worst day of all.
It was six months before I'd convinced myself I had no time for
grief; because I had made a promise.
A sacred promise I could never break.
One night it hit me that my Master made me take that oath
knowing that without it, I would most likely either die of the
sorrow or worse, be tempted to the Dark side myself.
Even while he lay dying ... I was still his first concern.
In the later months, during Anakin's early training, I tried to
will the memories away, but they flared daily, leaving me
breathless with grief.
//... beyond the far end of all civilized systems...//
Those words of Ravae's were too much as I tossed and turned on
my pallet, often until dawn.
//...your Master, Qui-Gon lives ...//
The thought of hearing the song of his heartbeat again was
driving me mad.
// ... he lives ... he lives ... he lives...//
It was a grey dawn in winter when I called Anakin to my side.
"Pack your things, Padawan. We're going on a journey."
"Yes, Master," he replied immediately. He ran off and returned
fully packed in minutes. The boy was quick to travel ...
adventure was in his blood.
I'd have to correct that, but first, I had to correct myself.
"Where are we going, Master?" he asked eagerly, trotting beside
me as we headed for our ship.
I hoisted him onto the high plank. "The third moon of Kalhau,
Padawan."
He regarded me curiously. "What awaits us there, Master?"
I looked into his eyes, cupped the round, child's cheek. "I
hope nothing, Padawan." Somberly.
He didn't understand, but he trotted obediently up the ramp
nonetheless, leaving me to take one last look at what had been,
however temporarily, our home.
I wasn't at all certain we would see it again.
=========
Chapter Two -- "Dream"
=========
The third moon of Kalhau hung upon the fringe of the galaxy
like the last remaining trinket in what was once a thriving
bazaar.
The only bodies more remote were the huge, steamy moons of
Yavin and the odd lifeless planet or two, lying lonely and
uncharted before the waste edge of the vortex.
Checking the ship's computer, I scanned K3 for concentrated
signs of life... cities, settlements; anything. Found nothing
but scattered fragments of movement flickering across the
screen in no distinguishable pattern.
Flicked off the terminal with a sigh and cleared my mind. The
Force was a far more powerful tracker of living beings than any
computer and I let it take control of the helm as we made our
final orbit before landing.
We set down in a large, quiet clearing without incident and I
shut down the engines before giving one last cursory check to
our communications devices.
Sent out a test message and heard nothing but a short, crunchy
burst of static in reply. Winced when I realized that we were
far out of the range of most intergalactic bandwidth and that
if any assistance were needed it would be far off in coming.
It was not the most intelligent move I had made in this game, I
groaned inwardly. If any emergencies were to crop up, I'd have
to handle them myself. Alone.
Without Qui-Gon.
For a brief moment, a wave of real fear and loneliness washed
over me. I'd been on assignments far more dangerous than a mere
landing on a desolate planet, but Qui-Gon had always been by my
side as my infallible insurance against disaster. I'd never
truly imagined myself without him there, his imposing presence
giving me enough confidence to be the smart assed Padawan I'd
been for most of my life.
Realized how much time I'd spent taking him for granted and a
flash of sorrow burned afresh.
But there was a small Padawan counting on me.
I quickly shook it off. You spent nearly half your life
training for this eventuality, Obi-Wan, I chided myself
roughly. Don't make things worse than they already are.
They were quite bad enough.
Anakin peered at me expectantly, trusting in his master
completely. I felt a wave of despair, of conviction that he was
trusting the wrong person, but my oath bound me. And I had no
idea what reason to give the boy for our landing there
"What now, Master?" Bright eyes met mine.
I swallowed hard. "Now, Padawan, we wait."
Grey.
The land lay perfectly flat and everything was in various
shades of grey.
Grey grasses and soil growing beneath a cloudless grey sky, the
nearest sun barely near enough to cast a shadow. No trees.
Nothing, just an ceaseless wind that stirred the endless plain
of greyness.
A greyness that matched my spirits.
Because I fancied that the Force had guided me?
The Force didn't make mistakes. I, on the other hand, was not
so infallible. And my master had said, before our fateful
return to Naboo, that I had much to learn about the living
Force.
I hoped I was learning quickly enough.
Anakin felt it as well. "I don't have a good feeling about this
place, Master," he whispered, even though there was no one but
myself to hear.
"There's nothing to fear here, Padawan" I reassured him and
took Anakin's hand. "Come, Padawan, the moon's night will soon
be here and we are not certain what the day will bring."
He looked up at me. "Time for bed." Resigned.
I reached out to touch his hair, swallowed hard, remembering a
time, even when I had been half-grown, that Qui-Gon had touched
me like this, taking the sting out of reprimands. "I'm afraid
for both of us."
He studied me for a moment longer, nodded. And went obedient to
bed.
But it look a long time before I stopped tossing and slept.
I was once again in Qui-Gon's arms, feeling his welcome weight
bearing down on me, fevered with desire and slick with
perspiration.
Twined my fingers through his long hair, crushing his mouth to
mine. Kissed him hungrily ... mindlessly, and all my sorrow,
all of my uncertainty became a distant memory. Nothing more
than a shadow of grief remained ... a nightmare, replaced by
joy.
The scent of him, the unforgettable taste. I traced his scars
first with my fingers, then with my lips. I knew each one
intimately Couldn't stifle a moan when his warm shaft lightly
touched mine, such velvet steel.
He entered me smoothly, painlessly and I moved with him, my
hips arching up, matching his brutal rhythm, letting him take
me without thought.
Wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him on wantonly,
murmuring how I needed him, how much I'd missed him and begging
him to please, please, please never leave me again. Whispering
how I would certainly die without him, feeling confident that
he wouldn't deny me my life, my love, again.
So joyful, so relieved.
Until I looked into his eyes.
They were ... empty. Devoid of the all the things that
distinguish the living from the dead. They were the eyes of a
Dark One, one who lived only to make others join in their
suffering.
I couldn't help the terror, the scream that ripped from my
throat.
Cried when I heard a whisper in my ear. "Beware, beloved.
Beware."
Just another nightmare. How many had I had?
Too many.
How many nights had I spent pounding my fists against a
shimmering red force field, feeling its painful static bursts
numb my fingers and hands? How many times did I see over and
over again my Master impaled, then fall to his knees, his saber
dropping from his hand as I stood by, mere meters away, but it
may as well been light years for all I could do to prevent it.
Haunted visions of him berating me for my uselessness, then
begging me for assistance, describing to me in detail his pain
and finally cursing me for every shuddering bloody breath he
was forced to take until, at last, he died.
Nightmares that at once kept me up all night ... and kept me
down all day.
If I had been just seconds faster, if I had been....if I had
been a better apprentice, he would still live.
//...if only ... if only ... if only ...//
When the system's sun rose the next morning, I headed outside
the ship to meditate, feeling shaken and depressed,.
The grey grasses swayed in the stale breeze and I fell to my
knees. Cleared my mind and began the chants that Qui-Gon taught
me so many years before. Let that fade into silence and allowed
the void to enter. Soon, with a bit more practice, I wouldn't
need the chants at all, but they were soothing in their own way
... a lullaby from a happier time.
Soon, I was floating, one with the Force and its healing power.
Tried to direct it inwardly, at once commanding, then begging
it to assist me. Tempering my innate powers with humility. That
was the true way of the Jedi, living with a lifelong quest for
knowledge, without hunger for power or gain.
I came out of my meditations refreshed, but not completely at
peace. There was still something ... something that wasn't
right. It was in the air surrounding me, the stale choking
dampness that I couldn't define. A strange smell perhaps, or a
bit of premonition that I was ignoring.
Something ... no, something was still not quite right.
Sighing, I rose, replaced my hood and began the short trek back
to the ship. Examined the soil as I walked, unwilling to lose
myself in the endless and depressing greyness that surrounded
me. Walked slowly, unerringly, until something on the ground
caught my eye.
A bright red string of meditation beads.
I knelt and picked them up. At once, my heart caught within my
throat, threatening to choke me where I stood.
I'd seen those beads, many ... many times before.
They were the beads of my Master, Qui-Gon. Ones I'd given to
him years before, as a gift and that I myself had wrapped
around his wrist before setting the blaze of his funeral pyre.
Five crimson agapates of various sizes, surrounded by a string
of ejuns.
With one word inscribed on the back of the largest stone.
"Beloved."
Trembling, I held them up to the cold sun and suddenly, the
greyness of the entire moon disappeared, replaced by the
blinding crimson shine of a string of five ordinary stones.
And one extraordinary word.
=========
Chapter Three -- "The Draw"
=========
It was on that fateful day on the third moon of Kalhua, when I
found my lack of faith disturbing.
Not faith in my knowledge. I knew the obscene amounts of Jedi
Code by heart as any Knight should. Could recite them forward
and backwards, sideways if necessary. Was able to argue the
Paradoxes until dawn, debate the Mysteries without losing so
much as a heartbeat between my words.
Nor was it faith in my powers.
Was certain I could wield a saber well enough to save a queen
from a coup, a planet from invasion ... perhaps even a galaxy
from itself. Could even levitate a starship or two, but
restrained myself nicely, as any good Jedi should.
But faith, faith in myself, in my decisions ... somehow that
was a different matter entirely.
Ah, decisions, decisions. Life with The Force as your ally was
nothing more than a series of monumental decisions. A
spin-go-round of deadly choices, the Wheel of Terac squared --
with great power comes great, and miserable, responsibility.
How apparent it became that Qui-Gon had left me too soon.
I'd readily admit to my personal greed. I wanted him for the
rest of my natural life as well as the eternity the teachings
promised us. As student and Master, as Knight companions, as
lovers and life mates, as old cranky men waving off youngsters
with scowls firmly in place, I wanted it all. Selfish creature
that I was, I even wanted to die first.
Which is a terrible thing to wish upon someone you love.
For the hundredth time that day, I pulled out the meditation
beads I'd found while on the barren fields of K3 and for the
hundredth time put them back into the sleeve of my cloak.
There was no doubt that they were Qui-Gon's; I could feel the
tremor of his aura still held captive within their atomic
structure. Jedi leave indelible imprints upon everything they
touch, unfortunately, I'd suppose, for them.
I wasn't naive enough not to suspect treachery from either the
fool Ravae or even from the Sith who'd fought Qui-Gon and
myself on Naboo. It could certainly be a trap to ensnare the
boy or some yet unknown plot, no doubt devious in its intent. I
was no stranger to lies and cunning; I'd utilized their limited
powers myself many times.
So called seekers of truth, we Jedi ourselves can be wholesale
dealers in deceit.
When it suits us.
I flew low and allowed the Force to guide our destination. Paid
no attention to the obstacles that swerved past our windows nor
the readings of the hand-held navicomputer which a fearful
Anakin had turned on, presumably behind my back.
He was losing faith in me as well, hour by hour, but I'd
convinced myself that the practicality and fear of an untrained
child wasn't an immediate concern. All would be corrected later
on, as long as I could unravel this one mystery that eluded me.
This small matter of unfinished business that was making me
take leave of my well-educated senses, little by little, bit by
bit.
As we passed over the moon's southern pole the ship slowly lost
altitude, then plummeted suddenly.
Anakin yelped, then was silent when the hidden navi-guide fell
out from the fold of his cloak and clattered at my feet.
I ignored it and set to work preparing us for the inevitable
crash landing. Ordered Anakin to strap himself in and took over
the helm's controls.
I felt no fear as we hurtled toward the ice cap, not even a
twinge of regret as huge glacial chasms sped past us with
alarming narrowness, daring us to find our way out of their
frozen mazes. We spun wildly through the ice crevices, as the
ship's shields and engines loudly protested each hairpin turn,
each scrape. I struggled for control, and it was close, but we
survived. Barely. The ship came to a shuddering, skidding halt
across the ice fields and as it did, I found myself thinking of
only one thing.
//Qui-Gon, you left me too soon.//
Anakin was shivering when I returned from my cursory
examination of our surroundings.
A slave boy raised on a desert planet, his tolerance of the
cold was extremely low. Mentally made a note to someday create
a trial around this fact before heading to the lockers and
gathering some frost gear.
Put it on haphazardly, not bothering with the oxygen mask;
pointedly refusing my Padawan's assistance. This was my folly,
not his, and I refused to give him any reason to grieve me when
I failed.
I wanted none of the doubts that were left to me, left to him.
He immediately looked abashed. Wounded. "Master? Do you have
anything for me to do?" His voice was small, like the arack's
first hesitant warble.
"Only one thing, Padawan," I replied hastily. "If I do not
return after two full rotations, you will take this ship and
flee to Tamfort Six, which is only one system over. I've
already set the computer on an automatic course there, so it
shouldn't be difficult. Do you understand?"
He peered at me for a long moment before replying. "Yes,
Master, I understand." Interrupted me before I could praise. "I
understand your order, but I don't understand what you are
doing ... what *we* are doing here. Is this part of my
training?"
It was my turn to hesitate. "No, Padawan," I replied
truthfully. While deception had its places, this was not one of
them. "There is unfinished business here I must take care of."
I could tell he wanted to question further, but also wanted to
obey without thought. His survival instinct, finely honed and
tuned long before I'd met him, was at once warring with his
student vows.
Perhaps Yoda and Master Windu were right. Perhaps he was too
old, too set in his ways to follow as blindly as he must.
Or perhaps he was wiser than all of us, even Qui-Gon, had
imagined him to be.
Either way, that was secondary to my own healing. There was no
way I could train this boy, not with the dark wind that was
blowing past me. It -was- as necessary to him that all this be
put behind us. A hesitant Master would only create a dangerous
student, that much I knew.
And Anakin was far too powerful to be allowed to slip from the
True Side's grasp.
I knelt, touched my forehead to his before rising and braving
the bitter winds outside. For a brief second the cold air cut
like knives, but that was easily ignored. As a youth I'd
trained for weeks on Hoth, which made this pole appear a
tropical isle in comparison.
Wryly, I remembered my first night in the ice tent, with
Qui-Gon's arms wrapped around me and his warm voice making
jokes in my frost bitten ear. The laughter warmed us both at
first and he'd quickly taught me the slow breathing along with
the heat saving techniques that had been handed down from Jedi
long dead. Soon, our hearts were beating in slow tandem, less
than twenty dull pumps per minute and we'd slept quite
comfortably in cold that would have killed ordinary men within
minutes.
But, then again, we never were ordinary men, Qui-Gon and I.
Once again I allowed the Force to be my guide as I made my way
over the ice flows to the moon's magnetic pole. Cleared my
mind, allowing the blinding white landscape to help me in my
quest, creating a mental environment just as barren. The Force
flowed freely and I made good progress, even as the same dark
doubts from the grey plains struck at me.
There was something ... something not quite right here.
But, the stubborn fool I was, I kept trudging through the snow,
plodding to a dark destination unknown, convinced that my
abilities and my knowledge would make up for any lapses in my
faith.
As with each step, Qui-Gon's beads weighed heavily against my
heart.
I remembered the day I presented them to him, feeling at once
happy, excited and just the tiniest bit foolish. He'd admired
them briefly in a marketplace somewhere in the Oborous system,
giving me a rare indulgent lecture when I asked about them.
Took the time to explain to me the unique properties of the
stones, all of them gleaming in varying shades of crimson,
interpolated with zig-zagging lines of black. Told me about the
terrible forces it took to create such patterns within the
gems; the raw energy ... the impossible fires.
I don't remember the occasion I used as an excuse to give them
to him, but I remember the night that followed very well. As
raw, hot and filled with impossible fires as the stones
themselves.
Stopped in my tracks as I forced this distracting memory from
my mind. Closed my eyes again and cleared my thoughts, only to
discover the warning signals, the prickling sensation of
approaching danger was becoming more prevalent.
Opened my eyes to see a black dot on the horizon, growing
larger as it drew near.
Immediately, my saber was in my hand, not yet ignited, but at
the ready. Made quick note of my surroundings and footing,
taking care to make sure the ice I was standing on would be
thick enough to bear the heat generated by a lightsaber in
battle. Just in case.
The dot grew closer still, and I could make out the outlines of
a one man ice racer speeding toward me, at a clip rivaling a
small pod car.
There was nowhere to conceal myself, and while my frost gear
was camouflage ready, it wouldn't be enough on a flat, stark
plain of ice. I might be able to influence the vision of the
man or creature that approached, but as the figure grew yet
closer, that possibility soon evaporated.
The adrenaline was snaking through my veins, making me tremble
even before I saw the face of the approaching rider. A face
that bore an uncanny resemblance to the very stones that had
brought me to this frozen, desolate ice plain, the stones I'd
once given to my Master and life companion ... my lost beloved.
A face that haunted my nightmares, both waking and sleeping.
A face that was bright crimson interspersed with zig-zagging
lines of black.
Bearing eyes that were filled with all the impossible raging
fires of the Dark Side itself.
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