WARNINGS: Slight spoilers for JA book 1 and 2, I suppose...
ALL ANACHRONISMS CHEERFULLY ADMITTED TO AND DELIBERATELY PLACED
WHERE YOU FIND "EM....
SUMMARY: Too much watching different versions of Dickens' A
Christmas Carol led to the spawning of the tiny tale of young
13 1/2 year old Obi-Wan and his Scrooge-like Master.
Appearances by familiar apparitions.
NOTES: Thanks to Annie for beta-ing and putting up with those
4:30 a.m. discussions; thanks to The Emu for leading me to see
The Light w/regard to Padawan Bruck Chun; to the long-deceased
Mr. Charles Dickens for writing the original story.
DISCLAIMERS: None. I was a Paralegal too long to believe in the
efficacy of any disclaimer!
A JEDI MID-WINTER NON-DENOMINATIONAL, NONRELIGIOUS FESTIVAL
WHICH HAPPENS WHEN IT IS COLD OUT, THEORETICALLY, DEPENDING ON
WHAT PLANET YOU ARE ON AT THE TIME, AND ALLOWING FOR DEVIATIONS
IN CALCULATION TO STANDARD MONTHS, AND WHICH IS A LOT OF FUN
FOR KIDS AND ALSO INCLUDING PRESENTS AND OVEREATING, CAROL
(WHEW....HOPE EVERYONE IS NOW SATISFIED THAT THIS DOES NOT
CROSS THE xmas LINE)
With sincerest apologies to: Charles Dickens, Anyone who likes
Charles Dickens, Anyone remotely related in any degree to
Charles Dickens, George Lucas, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the
Council et al.
YODA WAS ANNOYING AND INTERFERING.
Let there be absolutely no doubt whatsoever about that. Yoda
was an annoying old troll. This fact was known and attested to,
in writing, by eight centuries of former Padawans., including
Qui-Gon Jinn. And Master Qui-Gon Jinn's name was good upon
anything he chose to put his hand to. Yes, Master Yoda was
unchallenged as the most annoying and interfering old troll in
the Galaxy. If anyone doubts this fact, the whole rest of this
story will be futile.
Therefore, let it be said and understood that Yoda was the most
annoying, irritating, interfering old troll that ever graced
the Jedi Council.
And what was more, all of that incredible talent for annoyance
and interference was focused directly on Qui-Gon Jinn.
Now, it should also be understood, that this had not always
been the case. It had not needed to be. Once, Yoda would have
been the first Jedi to say that Qui-Gon could certainly handle
his own life without help from anyone else. Once.
However, of more recent years, this was not the case.
Oh, he had become cold, had Qui-Gon.
Which brings us to our present story.
JEDI TEMPLE/CORUSCANT/First Afternoon of Sacaea Week Holiday
"Bah, Humbug!" doesn't translate into Standard or Basic, or
most of the 25 or so languages spoken on Coruscant.
BUT, if it did, those are the precise words that would have
been on the lips of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. The subject
eliciting this sentiment was Sacaea, a mid-winter fire festival
of antique origins. It was much beloved and celebrated by all
the Jedi who either lived or had trained at the main Temple on
Coruscant, and over the centuries it had expanded to also
include welcoming the start of the Republic Standard Year.
It was much loved, that is, and celebrated by Jedi with the
possible lone exception of Qui-Gon Jinn.
What he actually said on the subject was: "Mindless drivel,
left over from a time so long ago Coruscant had trees. I cannot
imagine why everyone loses their mind over it."
Now, this had not always been the case. There had been a time,
which few current Jedi recalled, when Qui-Gon Jinn had been the
very life and soul of the Sacaea celebration.
That, however, was before Xanatos, the Padawan who - as Qui-Gon
always thought of it - was his greatest failure.
What he actually did with regard to the subject, after Xanatos,
was attempt to be away from Coruscant on a mission when that
time of year rolled around. Preferably on a remote and hostile
world that had never heard of winter, let alone fire festivals.
He had, in point of fact, managed to avoid Sacaea for almost 10
years.
This blissful decade-long run of good fortune came to an end,
however, when Qui-Gon's former Master, and senior Jedi Council
Member, Yoda, had outmaneuvered his former Padawan into taking
another apprentice of his own. Oh, Qui-Gon had refused Obi-Wan
Kenobi, the would-be apprentice in question, had refused him
several times, in fact. The Force and Yoda had other ideas. And
when the Force and Yoda have an idea about how something is
supposed to be, it usually was just wiser to get out of the way
and go along with them.
Yoda also had very strict ideas that all Masters with Padawans,
if possible, should be on Coruscant for Sacaea. Barring the
mediation of interplanetary war, being held for ransom by
pirates, profound religious objections, or death, there were no
acceptable excuses for a Master/Padawan team's absence.
The only religion that Qui-Gon knew of which actually refused
its adherents the right to participate in the Sacaea
celebrations, were the Basheri, a small sect who worshipped
medicine and technology, with only one known Jedi member.
As Qui-Gon strode along the highly decorated Temple corridors,
dodging what seemed to be several million lit candles and at
least 10 times that many giggling, happy, bright-faced
initiates and Padawans, with his own newly minted Padawan
practically running to keep up, he reflected that only the fact
that the Basheri did not accept converts, kept him from
joining.
Obi-Wan Kenobi loved Sacaea. When he was an initiate, he loved
the week it took to decorate the Temple. He loved helping out
in the kitchen, making all the extra and exotic foods that went
along with the festival. He even loved looking after the
youngest of the initiates, who were apt to eat too much candy
and throw up at inconvenient times and places. Most of all, he
loved the feeling of being one large family; even the Council
Members became approachable, enjoying the break just as much,
or maybe more than, the younger Jedi.
This year was especially special. Not only was this the start
of what would be his first full year as a Padawan, but it was
his and Qui-Gon's first time back on Coruscant since Obi-Wan
had been chosen a Padawan six standard months earlier.
Accordingly, this was his first Sacaea festival where the
gnawing anxiety of whether or not he would be chosen by a
Master or end up in AgriCorps was not hanging over him, marring
his joy in the holiday.
He hurried along, keeping pace with his Master's long strides,
managing to enjoy the holiday ambiance of the Temple all the
same. For one full standard week, candles and lanterns of all
shapes, sizes and colors took the place of artificial lighting;
they hung from special Force enhanced niches on the walls and
glistened, spat in tall, antique candle stands along corridors
and lit in all the chambers of the temple. Sweet smelling
greenery festooned archways and trailed around windows, doors
and candlestands. The pungent scents of various spices wafted
through corridors from the kitchens, reaching even the Council
Chamber.
If only his Master wasn't so...Obi-Wan, loyal as he was,
hesitated to use a derogatory term towards his Master, but
there was no getting around the fact that Qui-Gon was downright
grouchy and unapproachable when it came to Sacaea. They had
reached his Master's - Obi-Wan stopped himself and realized
they were now their quarters. Qui-Gon paused to key in his
access code and then snarled when a trailing branch of Sesheri
greenery drifted across the keypad. Obi-Wan's eyes widened as
he accurately translated a particularly descriptive Huttese
term that the inoffensive greenery hardly merited.
Qui-Gon noted his apprentice's wide eyes, reminded himself he
now had an example to set, and removed the Sesheri branch with
exaggerated care and keyed in an access code, muttering
something about "damned nuisance holidays" while doing so. When
he finished he gestured to Obi-Wan, saying "I've updated it to
accept your own personal access code - from now on, you should
be able to palm the door."
"Thank you, Master." Not much, but it seemed the safest comment
under the circumstances.
Obi-Wan followed his Master into the apartment, eyes now wide
with curiosity. What he found surprised him, although upon
reflection he realized it probably shouldn't have.
There was a large, wide couch - almost a daybed really -
against one stone wall. A low serving table of some dark, rich
wood, which derived its beauty from the material, sat before
the couch. The only items on the table were a message pad, two
data readers and a com pad. There were no pictures on the
walls; the only other furnishings were smaller versions of the
serving table, set at intervals along the walls. The entire
wall opposite the couch was comprised of shelving. These were
filled with books - real, paper, touchable, turn the pages
books. The kind that Obi-Wan, for the most part, had only seen
in holos and at a great distance in the section of the Temple
Library strictly reserved for the use of Senior Padawans,
Knights and Masters.
That was it. No personal holos, no knicknacks, nothing that
would give the casual observer any clue to the personality of
the room's owner. This common area formed the central portion
of their quarters. Behind the large couch was a low partition,
beyond that was an eating area that contained exactly one table
and two chairs. Further inspection revealed that there was a
kitchen area beyond that - compact, uncluttered and sterile in
its cleanliness. Qui-Gon said little beyond gesturing to what
were obviously the cold storage unit and the cooker with the
terse comment "Help yourself to whatever you like, Padawan."
Obi-Wan couldn't help thinking he certainly hoped his Master
had more food in storage than he had personal items in the
common room.
Back in the common area, Qui-Gon pointed to a hallway that led
off the bare wall that was graced by two of the small tables.
"Bedrooms and fresher. Come," He strode into the short hallway
and passed the first door with a brusque "My room," indicated
the second door "fresher," and stopped at the third door, which
was across the narrow hall from the fresher. "Your room." He
gestured to the palm pad beside the door and, feeling slightly
foolish, Obi-Wan pressed his hand to it. The door shushed open
revealing one bed, one dresser, one night table with reading
lamp and, on the wall next to the door, a set of shelves.
"Thank you, Master."
"I'm going to unpack and you should do the same, Padawan.
Arrange this room as you like. I doubt it will happen until
after all this foolish celebrating is over and done, but I'll
put in a request for any items you have in storage to be sent
up here as soon as possible."
Qui-Gon concluded this rather harsh pronouncement by exiting in
a swirl of chocolate brown cloak. Obi-Wan was left staring at
the door as it shushed closed, his "Thank you," dying on his
lips; Qui-Gon was already gone. He stood for a moment, feeling
strangely blank and empty. Then, with a shrug, he began to
unpack, falling back on obedience as a method of coping with
the oddities of the day.
"Hey! Kenobi! Over here!"
Obi-Wan looked over the sea of heads in the room and saw Bant
waving at him. Grinning, he wriggled over to her. "Hi."
"And how is Padawan Kenobi?" Bant asked, and went on without
waiting for him to answer,"Have some spice bread."
She handed him a large hunk of the hot, fragrant stuff and
Obi-Wan accepted it happily. "..Mm fine. We just got here this
afternoon. Padawan Bant."
Bant nodded, the title still strange music to her ears as well.
She had been chosen by her Master not long after Obi-Wan left
the Temple thinking he was going permanently to AgriCorps.
Now she said happily, "Master a'Teale and I arrived back this
morning. She and I spent all day decorating our quarters. She
has a working fireplace, would you believe it Obi? How about
you?"
A real fireplace. That was something. Obi-Wan sighed. "Well,
Master Jinn isn't really that big on decorating."
"Not Master Qui-Gon. He says its drivel." Obi-Wan uttered the
last words in a whisper.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. You mean he's not here then?" Bant glanced
around them, trying to keep her dismay from showing. Although
it certainly wasn't written into the Code, over the centuries
Tradition had come to hold that Masters would accompany their
Padawans to this informal gathering. It was the kick-off,
really, of the weeklong celebrations. The communal dining hall
was entirely lit by candles and crystal lanterns. They hung
from the ceiling, stood in braziers by the walls and sat in
mounds on tables. Everywhere there were silvery decorations
reflecting the candlelight, greenery, and the sweet and spicy
scents of food and flowers. Over it all was the gentle hum of
the Force and of people genuinely enjoying themselves and each
other.
"No, he isn't here. He's reading a philosophical treatise by
Master M'Pel." Obi-Wan conveyed this with just the slightest
tinge of total disbelief. There was no dryer, no more
inaccessible, no more boring Jedi philosopher in the history of
the entire order than the 700 years dead M'Pel. How anyone
could voluntarily read him, let alone choose to do so on the
first night of Sacaea, was beyond Obi-Wan. It was Obi-Wan's
private opinion that Master M'Pel probably expired due to
eading his own work.
This odd behavior of Qui-Gon's was obviously beyond Bant as
well. She was staring at him, mouth open.
"You're not joking are you?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Where's your Master?"
Bant took the hint and pointed. Master a'Teale was barely
taller than Yoda. She had hair the color of the silver in the
decorations gracing every surface and as Bant pointed she
looked up from a conversation with Master Windu and grinned at
her Padawan. Bant smiled back, and Obi-Wan fought down a pang
of pure envy at the closeness the simple exchange represented.
The only expressions he could recall seeing on Qui-Gon's face
so far were austere serenity, which meant Obi-Wan hadn't done
anything awful, and frowning displeasure, which meant that
Obi-Wan had fallen below the standards his Master set for him.
He bit into his spice bread and swallowed, finding it sat
rather rocklike in his stomach. Surreptitiously, he set tossed
it in one of the trash containers set plentifully about and
told Bant "Go on and join your Master. I really just stopped in
to say hello."
Bant seemed about to say something, then just as obviously
decided against it. "Meet me tomorrow in the Padawans' Common
Room. We'll catch up on news then and I've a gift for you."
Obi-Wan smiled. "Great. I got you something as well."
He watched her join her Master, then sighing he turned to make
his way from the dining hall, intending on returning to his
Master's...Obi-Wan corrected himself, his quarters.
Half way across the room his path was blocked by a small,
green, very familiar figure. "Master Yoda, Happy Sacaea."
"And to you also, young Obi-Wan." Master Yoda smiled, then made
a point of looking around and behind Obi-Wan, as though
searching for someone. "And your Master?"
Obi-Wan flushed. "He is in his...our quarters, Master Yoda."
Yoda's ears twitched in a manner his former Padawan would have
found decidedly unsettling. Obi-Wan, having a less intimate
knowledge of the diminutive Jedi Master, merely waited
politely. "And what is keeping him from the first night of
Sacaea?"
Unable to be anything but honest, Obi-Wan replied, "He's
reading Master M'Pel's treatise on Jedi Ethics and Intervention
in Planetary Politics, Master Yoda."
Yoda's ears stood straight up. Obi-Wan was fascinated - he'd
never seen Yoda's ears do that before.
"M'Pel? Most boring, stupid Jedi ever to be wasting time
writing nonsense." Yoda pronounced. "Only forced are Senior
Padawans to read him because all else looks good after him."
"Er, yes, Master Yoda."
"Decorated your rooms, have you, Padawan?" Yoda change the
subject, inquiring with a deceptive mildness.
Obi-Wan felt a full-scale blush turning his face red; he hoped
Master Yoda would attribute this to all the candlelight. "No,
Master."
"No time to do so yet, Obi-Wan?"
"Er, well..."
"Well, what?" Yoda prompted.
"Master Jinn...I asked him about decorating and he said "no."'
Obi-Wan was temporizing, but it wasn't really a lie. However,
he felt it would be disloyal to quote Qui-Gon accurately, even
to his Master's own former Master.
What Qui-Gon had actually said, in response to Obi-Wan's
tentative inquiry about decorating the common room was "If you
bring any of those damned candles, that stupid greenery or
those absurd looking glittery things into these quarters,
Obi-Wan, I will pack you off back to AgriCorps myself. Do I
make myself clear?"
Scarlet faced, Obi-Wan had nodded acquiescence, too miserable
to trust himself to speak and too frightened that if he did,
his Master would follow through on his AgriCorps threat anyway.
"Knows you are here, though, he does?"
Relieved to be able to answer wholeheartedly, Obi-Wan rushed to
assure Yoda "Oh, Yes, Master Yoda. He suggested it."
"Suggested it, did he?" Yoda bit back the rather rude comment
he was thinking about his former Padawan. "Bantha's Ass" did
translate into at least 15 of the 25 or so languages spoken on
Coruscant, and Yoda thought this descriptive term of his former
Padawan in at least a dozen of those 15.
Obi-Wan wondered if he would be left with a permanently red
face after this. "Yes, Master Yoda."
What Qui-Gon had actually said was: "If you want all that
holiday nonsense, take yourself off to the dining hall and
visit with your friends."
"I don't have to, Master, I could..."
Long suffering did not even begin to describe Qui-Gon's tone.
"Go, Padawan. Enjoy the nonsense. But be back here by 10th hour
and be prepared to work at least part of the day tomorrow. Just
because everyone else is out of their minds, does not mean I
am."
Foolish courage was an attribute Obi-Wan had in good supply.
Just now it rose up and prompted him to say: "But, Master, its
only once a year - surely that isn't so bad."
"Bad enough, Padawan. Oh, go on. But mind you be back early and
ready to work tomorrow."
Obi-Wan had fled to the dining hall and counted himself to have
got off lightly.
Now, he brought himself back to the moment and found that Yoda
was waiting patiently for him to wake up. "Sorry, Master Yoda.
I was thinking."
"Indeed. Well, keep you I will not. Come to see me tomorrow,
you will. Tell your Master, I will, that you are to do so.
Interesting things I think we will have to talk about, young
one. Yes, interesting."
Truth be told, Qui-Gon was not quite as harsh as he'd sounded,
but his mood was pretty sour. Wading through M'Pel was tough
going, though at least he was spending his time profitably.
Still he was pleased when he looked up as Obi-Wan came into
their quarters, quiet as a Ra-mouse, well before the stipulated
time of return. "9th Hour Padawan. I commend you."
"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan replied obediently.
"Since you've been so obedient, Obi-Wan, we will reduce
tomorrow's work to half a day. The other half you may spend
catching up with your friends. Bant is in residence?"
"Yes, I saw her tonight. With her Master." Obi-Wan couldn't
help appending, foolish courage rearing its Ugly Head once
again.
Qui-Gon frowned. But his apprentice's tone was courteous, his
expression innocent and the observation was innocuous. "Of
course. Well, to bed with you, Padawan."
"Yes, Master."
"Bantha's Ass, he is. Shamed I am to say this of my own
Padawan, but it is the truth." Yoda fumed as he paced back and
forth.
"He wasn't always a Bantha's Ass," Mace Windu pointed out,
"it's just since Xanatos." Mace sighed, "When we were Padawans,
he was behind every holiday event in the Temple. I hardly
recognize him these days."
"Indeed. And it is poor Obi-Wan who suffers for this. Sorry, I
begin to be, that I ever brought them together. Heard what he
said to Obi-Wan I did, though the boy did not realize he was
broadcasting his thoughts." Yoda brought his cane down on the
serving table hard enough to rattle cups and dishes and Mace
jumped. "Threatened, my former Bantha's Ass of a Padawan did,
to send Obi-Wan to AgriCorps - for wanting to decorate their
rooms!"
Mace rescued his rather nice china tea pot from the range of
Yoda's displeasure and said soothingly, "Stupid, I agree, but
maybe next year, when he's had Obi-Wan around for a while,
things will improve."
"Next year is too late. No, change he must and change he must
now."
Mace knew that look and THAT tone of voice. "What are you
planning?"
Yoda told him.
Then Mace wished he hadn't asked. "Oh dear," he said.
Qui-Gon took the M'Pel tome, a cup of hot tea (editorial note:
plain, no sugar, no honey, no spices, well really, he might
just as well have added vegetable dye to hot water) and his
grouchy holiday ill-humor to bed. He continued to read for a
while, sipping his rapidly cooling hot water occasionally.
Gradually, though inordinately long after most humans would
have been snoring, M'Pel put him to sleep.
He was brought straight up in bed sometime later by a hard,
painful, swat across his shins. "UP, Padawan. Time for
sleeping, later."
"Master Yoda?" For the life of him Qui-Gon could not fathom why
his own Master was beating him across the shins with his gimmer
stick at...12th hour. It was most unusual behavior, even for
Yoda.
"Look like him I do, but no, esteemed Venerable Jedi Master I
am not."
Fine. He was still dreaming. That's what going to bed on
nothing more than hot tea did to one. He settled back down,
closed his eyes and... "OUCH...STOP THAT!" He sat up, rubbing
his abused shins and glaring at the little gimmer stick
wielding troll.
"Pay attention you shall, or hurt you I will."
"If you aren't Master Yoda, who are you?" Qui-Gon demanded.
"Call me the Master of Holidays Past."
"Well, whatever you are, get out." Qui-Gon flung himself out of
bed as the gimmer stick began to hurtle down toward his shins
yet again. "Er, all right. Master of Holidays Past, then."
"That is better." Though truth to tell, the MoHP looked
disappointed at not getting in some more whacks.
"I still say..."
"Quiet you will be and listen you will."
Qui-Gon opened his mouth, looked at the stick and thought
better of it. Dream or not, he didn't fancy pain. He opted for
bowing his head in as dignified a manner as he could manage.
"Follow me." MoHP glided towards the wall opposite the bed and
began to dissolve through it. "Oh, almost forgot did I. Take my
hand." A three-fingered claw was held out to him imperiously.
"I will not go..."
"Do it or I will hurt you AND enjoy it."
Fine, Qui-Gon reasoned. The sooner he did this the sooner this
ridiculous dream would be over. He took the proffered claw. His
dream self easily passed through the solid stone wall and he
found, to his amazement, that he was in the richly decorated
communal dining hall. Candles blazed and people laughed,
chatting and making great inroads on the huge mounds of food
spread out on tables around the room. "How did we get here?"
MoHP looked smug. "Trick of the trade, Padawan. Pick up a few
you might, if you ever stop being right about all things and
listened to others. Watch and learn."
Slowly Qui-Gon began to realize that the room's occupants were
familiar - but they were not the Jedi who populated the Temple
today, in fact.... "But, there's Master Tresli! She's been dead
since before I was knighted! How did you?"
MoHP looked even smugger. "Learned it from very tall man with a
long scarf. And do not ask me any more questions. Now, what
else and who else do you see?"
Qui-Gon obeyed, observing the room with his usual attention to
detail. "Why...that's ... me...myself" he stammered to a halt.
Closed his eyes, opened them again and still, it was him. Or
rather, the young Padawan he once was.
This much younger Qui-Gon was just as tall as the grown man,
but very gangly. He was at the stage where a youth is all legs
and arms and none coordinated in moving together. Padawan Jinn
was laughing at something an equally young and impossibly hairy
Mace Windu was saying. He cuddled two small initiates snugly in
his arms, they were eating cookies, getting a great many crumbs
all over Padawan Jinn and were also laughing happily.
Qui-Gon's smile was warm, remembering it all vividly. "That was
the year Mace and I put the furry WereFrog in your...in Master
Yoda's bed."
"Yes. Amused he was not, eh?"
"No, oh no - he laughed harder than anyone else. He always
loved a good practical joke. Some of the ones he played on me
were..." Qui-Gon couldn't help laughing. "And see, there,"
Qui-Gon pointed to where a cheerful looking Yoda and a slightly
less happy looking WereFrog were chatting - well, Yoda was
doing the chatting, the WereFrog looked as though it was
plotting its imminent escape - with Kai-Al-Mundi. "He didn't
mind about finding the WereFrog in his bed - he even brought
Stanley to the party."
MoHP eyebrows rose. "Stanley?"
Qui-Gon felt himself blushing. "We, er, that is I, named it
..."
MoHP began laughing in a wheezing sort of way that was
annoying.
Stung, Qui-Gon snapped, "Well, it seemed as good a name as
any!"
"Stanley the WereFrog? Not very dignified behavior for a Senior
Padawan, I think. Punish young Obi-Wan would you, if similar
trick he pulled?"
"Of course, but that's different."
"Oh? How so?"
Qui-Gon was certain there was an appropriate Master-ly answer
to that one, but couldn't think of it at that moment. "It just
is."
"Hmm...had Stanley a long time, you did."
"What? Oh, yes, they live quite long you know. I had him right
up until Xanatos..." Qui-Gon stopped and brought his lips
together in a hard line. No, not even if the little troll beat
his shins black and blue, was he going to his own very private
corner of hell.
Wise eyes, lids half down, yet they seemed to look straight
into him. Softly, MoHP remarked, "Right up until Xanatos turned
had you Stanley the Pet WereFrog, yes. Died just before you
left for Talos, Stanley did. Loved him much, did you."
He didn't bother to make it clear whether, with this last
comment, he was referring to Dear Departed Stanley or to
Xanatos and Qui-Gon didn't care to find out.
"Did you bring me here to discuss dead pets? Because, if so..."
"Hmph...Bantha's Ass Yoda said you were, and Bantha's Ass you
are, size extra large."
"Yoda said I was what?"
"Bantha's Ass. And frown not like that or freeze your face
will, Padawan. Ah - don't like my tone, do you, large one? Will
you send me to AgriCorps for displeasing you?"
Qui-Gon glared down at his feet. With ill-grace he mumbled, "I
would never have done that, but Obi-Wan wanted to decorate..."
"Yes, great crime that is. Decorating for holiday on holiday.
See I can, why you would want to frighten an innocent boy out
of his wits for such a grave transgression."
Put like that, he did sound like a well, like a Bantha's Ass.
Not that Qui-Gon was going to admit that aloud. He looked up
and realized the old troll knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Fine. You've made your point. I'll be nicer. Now may I go back
to bed?"
"Just getting started, we are. Come along, Padawan Bantha's
Ass." The MoHP held out his claw again and once more, resigned,
Qui-Gon grasped it. There was a rushing feel as though he were
suspended in the crosswinds above one of the landing pads that
dotted Coruscant like the trees it no longer possessed, then he
was back in his own quarters. But very different quarters they
were.
Shelving still held his precious paper bound books, but it also
held small clay pots and whimsical figurines from a dozen
missions on as many worlds; pretty stones that had caught his
eyes on visits to another dozen or so planets. There were small
carved boxes and holos of friends dotted here and there. People
were sitting in the overstuffed chairs which matched the couch,
and every flat surface sparked with candles, glittery
decorations and food. Indeed, his common room was filled with
people, Yoda, Mace, a dozen other knights and masters he
counted among his close friends and...Xanatos. His former
Padawan looked to be in his early 20's. Qui-Gon grew still and
cold as his quick eye registered the silver chain, slender,
unobtrusive and unmistakably a commitment necklace, that lay
against Xan's throat. So, this was the last Sacaea celebration
before that awful trip to Telos.
Qui-Gon fought down a gasp as he saw himself come forward,
laughing. No longer Padawan Jinn, of course, this was Master
Jinn, but a younger version of himself as he now was; body as
it was today; but his hair was a rich brown, no grey silvering
it yet. It was longer then, and on this evening unbound. He
remembered Xan using particularly interesting methods to coax
him into leaving it loose over his shoulders. And, finally, he
winced as he saw, glimmering around his own throat, a
commitment necklace identical to Xan's. "I've seen enough." Was
that hoarse whisper really him?
"No, have not seen enough. Watch."
With the kind of horrified fascination usually given by
passersby to speeder accidents on the Coruscant skyways,
Qui-Gon watched his younger self walk up to Xanatos, throw an
affectionate arm around Xan's shoulders and then positively
light up as Xan used the moment to lean in and deeply kiss
Qui-Gon.
"Happy, then, I think you were, yes, very happy? Loved him
dearly, did you."
Harshly, Qui-Gon turned away. His brogue was very pronounced.
"Fool's paradise. I'm wiser now. If you don't love, you don't
get hurt."
"Wiser? Not to love? Ha! Not so, I think." But the MoHP let it
go at that and to Qui-Gon's relief the scene faded away. Or
perhaps it was simply that he closed his eyes tightly.
In any event, when the disorientation faded and he could focus
properly again, he was back in his own bedroom.
"Is that it?" Qui-Gon demanded, his voice shakier than he could
have wished.
"No. But it is all you will see with me. Another of my
colleagues will be here at the first hour. Attend to him you
WILL. Or come back I will, and personally hurt you some more."
With that injunction, the MoHP faded away and Qui-Gon was left
with the conviction that he was either having a very bad
nightmare or he had gone out of his mind.
Hopefully, it was the former.
One woke up from nightmares.
Eventually.
Qui-Gon was dozing, just on the edge of sleep really, when the
second apparition made its entrance, just as promised. "Mace?"
"That's as good a name to use for me as any, though really I'm
the Master of Holidays Present. Are you ready?"
Qui-Gon almost smiled. That calm measured tone, so reasonable,
was a relief. And never mind that he wasn't whacking Qui-Gon
across the shins with any blunt instruments. The MoHP or not,
he looked like Mace, at any rate. "I suppose I'll call you
Mace, if you don't mind. Where are we going?"
"Take my hand, you know the drill, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon, now quite resigned to his bizarre nightmare, took the
offered hand and without a murmur of protest followed Mace
through the closed door of his bedroom. "We could have just
opened it."
Mace grinned. "Ruins the ambiance, Qui-Gon. Never ruin the
ambiance. Spoils the lesson. You should know that, an
experienced Jedi Master like you. Come on."
They passed through the door on the other side of the hall,
into Obi-Wan's room. "Seems someone isn't having a very good
Sacaea, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon looked where Mace was pointing. Obi-Wan lay on his back
soundly sleeping, covers pushed down to his hips, face turned
toward the doorway. Qui-Gon bit his lip as he recognized the
tell-tail signs of dried tears on his Padawan's cheeks. "What
of it? No good apprentice gets through his training without a
few tears. I didn't. Neither did you, I mean, neither did
Master Windu."
"Ah, but for what reason?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
Mace sighed. "Because you don't even have the bare bones of a
training bond left, do you? You stomped down the one that had
barely begun to form on Bandomeer, until it is nothing and
Obi-Wan flounders without guidance. That is not the mark of a
responsible Master." He stabbed a long finger into Qui-Gon's
chest. "How can the boy be in so much pain and his own Master -
you - not even know or care the reason? Would Yoda have treated
you so? Would Master Alex have treated Mace that way?"
Qui-Gon knew the answer to those questions. It was a resounding
"no." Stubbornly, he kept silent.
Shaking his head in disgust, Mace went on, "There is more and
my time grows short."
Again, that feeling of being caught in strong crosswinds, and
then they were back on familiar ground. The Padawan's Common
Room. Sunlight played through the large windows at one end.
About a dozen Padawans of differing ages and sizes congregated
in the room. At the center of the group was Obi-Wan.
A tall Belandrian leaned down, malicious glint in his eye and
said to Obi-Wan "Well, Kenobi, what did you get from your
Master?"
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan flush, obviously embarrassed. He seemed
not to know what to reply. Bant, who was sitting next to Obi,
leapt into the breach. "Master Jinn doesn't celebrate Sacaea.
That's not Obi's fault, Vril."
Vril, the Belandrian - oh yes, Qui-Gon placed the older Padawan
now. His master was Tienivar, a Jedi that Qui-Gon, personally,
had never liked much. Vril laughed, and it wasn't very
pleasant. "Sure. Let's face it Kenobi, you barely got out of
being a farmer by the skin of your teeth. Yoda forced Master
Jinn to take you on - I'm not surprised that he doesn't think
enough of you to even give you a gift to mark the season."
Another Padawan, and to Qui-Gon's enormous surprise, he
recognized Bruck Chun, stood up, coming almost toe to toe with
Vril. "Knock it off. Kenobi proved he's got what it takes and
if you spent more time minding your own business Vril, and less
being envious because his master is Qui-Gon Jinn, you'd be
better for it."
Qui-Gon wasn't the only one who was astonished. Obi-Wan was
staring at Bruck as though the other Padawan had sprouted
another head. "Thanks, Bruck."
Bruck looked embarrassed, but he didn't back down from his
aggressive stance with Vril. "Hey, least I could do after being
such a jerk before. I'm sorry Obi-Wan."
Clearly wanting a fight, but not willing to risk it with the
taller, heavier built Bruck, Vril stepped back, turning on is
heel, his going obviously not regretted by his fellow Padawans.
"Odd, isn't it," Mace said in Qui-Gon's ear, "how many friends
Obi-Wan has? When he isn't worthy."
Angry at that, Qui-Gon turned to Mace, and demanded, "What are
you talking about? There is no one more worthy than Obi-Wan."
Eyebrows arched. "Really? Worthy? A boy you won't even develop
the ordinary master/apprentice bond with? Obviously, there is
something deeply lacking in Obi-Wan. Perhaps Yoda did force you
to take him on, just as Vril said."
Not even bothering to hide behind a wall of Jedi-like serenity,
Qui-Gon ground out, "That is not Obi-Wan's fault. He is an
excellent apprentice and will be a fine Jedi Knight."
Shrugging, obviously unconvinced, Mace said, "Doesn't seem that
way to me. After all, you don't even like having the boy around
and when he suggested doing something for the season, you
threatened quite nastily to send him back to AgriCorps."
"I. Do. Like. Having. Him. Around."
"Sure, you do. So much that you couldn't even be bothered to
accompany him to the dining hall on his first Sacaea night as
Master and Padawan."
"I had reading I needed to do."
"M'Pel? Come on, Qui-Gon, that's what Yoda gives the Senior
Padawans to make the real reading look attractive."
"I..." What could he say? That Qui-Gon Jinn was too frightened
of a rather small, 13 year old boy to be able to deal with him?
"That, at least, would be a step towards the truth." Mace
answered his thoughts without difficulty.
"Are we through here?"
"My part is done. Come along."
When he dared open his eyes once more, he was back in his
austerely familiar quarters and Qui-Gon sank down on his bed
with a sigh of relief. "Now what?"
Mace's expression was sad. "Your third and final visitor will
arrive at 2nd Hour. Farewell."
He didn't even bother trying to doze. Whatever this was, and
Qui-Gon was by no means certain what it was, this was no dream.
As his chronometer ticked over the seconds until 2nd Hour, the
Jedi Master waited quietly, almost meditatively. Indeed, he was
in something very like a meditative trance when he abruptly
became aware that he was being watched.
A glance at the chronometer told him it was now 2nd Hour.
The figure watching him so silently was tall, though not nearly
as tall as Qui-Gon. It was wrapped from head to foot in the
familiar brown of a Jedi cloak, the hood up and pulled well
forward, making its identity impossible to discern.
"Are you the third visitor I was told about?"
The figure nodded, then held out its hand. The fingers were
strong, slender and oddly familiar as though he knew the owner
well; it was a man's hand and Qui-Gon couldn't think of a name
to go with it. "Am I to follow you as with the others?"
Again, the hooded figure only nodded in the affirmative.
Feeling more apprehensive than he had with his two other
visitors, Qui-Gon reluctantly took the outstretched hand and
submitted to the disorientation of being in strong and
buffeting crosswinds. He closed his eyes and let the wind take
him where it would, very aware of the icy hand that held his in
a tight and unforgiving grip.
The flying sensation passed and Qui-Gon opened his eyes. He was
in a circular building, made out of weathered ancient stone.
Though it had a roof, its sides were open to the elements, and
warm breezes drifted about him. A large fire pit occupied the
entire center of the structure; a large blaze was burning.
Qui-Gon was shaken to see a body lying decorously in the midst
of the flames. Someone's cremation then. Why had the apparition
brought him here?
"Overconfidence, as usual." A voice right beside him, so close
Qui-Gon jumped. It belonged to Jedi Council member Adi Gallia.
"No, overconfidence it was not." That was Yoda. "Lack of
confidence it was. To the end, he refused to trust. Cost him
his life it did."
"But his own Padawan! I could understand if it had been an
idiot like Vril Dexant, but this....he's proved over and over
again how valuable he is. And yet..." Mace Windu shook his
head, his expression sad. "Will you let him train the boy?"
Yoda was nodding. "Enough he has had of being distrusted and by
his own Master. Train the boy he will, with my help. Always, a
good Master I have thought he would be."
Who, Qui-Gon wondered uneasily, would be idiotic enough to
train an apprentice and then after years at each other's sides,
refuse to trust the same apprentice?
The heavily cloaked apparition beside him shook, as with
laughter, and Qui-Gon turned to it, "What? What so amuses you?"
Silent, it pointed at the cremation fire and Qui-Gon studied,
really looked, for the first time at the figure that was
burning within.
"Force...no."
The figure beside him turned, and now it pushed its enveloping
cloak hood back. Cold, distant green eyes, without warmth or
humor gazed back at him, from a face that was all angles and
planes in the flickering fire light.
"Obi-Wan."
The man who was Obi-Wan smiled - a travesty of a smile. This
was so far from the firey, if occasionally over-exuberant boy
Qui-Gon knew, that he felt like weeping.
The man's voice was as cold as his eyes. "As you see. What you
made me."
And then there was the rushing feeling again, crosswinds
tearing and clawing at him, pictures of darkness, death, the
Temple in blackened ruins...
With a muffled shout Qui-Gon came straight up in bed, panting,
and found he had wrestled his bedspread to the death. He forced
his racing heart and shallow breaths to slow, to deepen.
Finally, with a hand that shook only slightly, he turned on the
bedside lamp. Looked at the chronometer and then looked at it
again.
Impossible.
Because, if it were true, he had truly awakened from his
nightmare and there was still time to make amends.
"Wha..." Obi-Wan swam up from the depths of sleep to find his
Master sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking him awake.
"What's wrong?"
"Obi-Wan, what time is it?"
Obi-Wan Kenobi decided it must be a test. OK. Fine. "Uh...12th
hour, Master."
"And what day is it?"
Definitely a test. "Um, it's the first full day of Sacaea,
Master."
"And the year? Standard Republic dating?"
Obi-Wan told him, still wondering what his Master was up to
now.
"Are you sure?" Qui-Gon asked him.
Uh oh. Maybe this was some kind of trick exam. "Er, yes,
Master. I mean - we could also check the central Temple data
system."
Oddly fervent, considering what they were talking about,
Qui-Gon assured him earnestly, "No, no, I trust you Obi-Wan, I
do."
Obi-Wan waited. Qui-Gon was obviously thinking. His next
question startled his Apprentice, however.
"Obi-Wan, how old are you?"
"How old am...I was 13 six months ago, Master. My next birthday
is in six more standard months."
He was unprepared for the way his Master's face lit up with
unqualified approval. "Wonderful! Absolutely marvelous,
Obi-Wan."
"Uh, yes, Master." Maybe this wasn't a test. Maybe his Master
had, well, snapped... "If that's all, may I go back to sleep?"
"Don't be absurd, Obi-Wan. We have work to do."
He was too tired not to groan.
"Work, Padawan." Qui-Gon was wearing his sternest Jedi Master's
face.
"Yes, sir." Obi-Wan started to get up.
"Do you think Master Yoda would loan us some of his
decorations, Padawan? He always has extras, or at least he did
when I was his Padawan."
"Decora..." Obi-Wan slid out of the other side of his bed, and
began to move, very slowly, toward his lightsabre.
Qui-Gon saw the direction his Padawan was taking and began to
laugh. "I'm sorry, Obi - I'm not crazy, I promise you."
Obi-Wan halted, looking as uncertain as he felt. "Master, just
a few hours ago you threatened to send me to AgriCorps if I so
much as mentioned the word decorate in your presence. Forgive
me if this seems a little...strange."
"I just had it rather forcibly pointed out to me that I've been
rather foolish, Padawan. And I've been particularly stupid and
insensitive to you. Will you forgive me?"
Blinking, Obi-Wan suddenly broke into a huge grin. "Sure - I
mean, of course I will. I do." He began pulling on his
leggings. "Do you think Master Yoda will mind us waking him
up?"
"I don't think so, Padawan," Qui-Gon returned the grin full
measure, "I really rather think he's expecting us."
//Where did he get the hat?// Qui-Gon wondered as he stared
down at his former Master's nightrobe and sleep cap clothed
self. //He looks like a green photon torpedo.//
"Took you long enough, it did. Extra decorations are in the
same place they have always been, Padawan." He stood back to
allow Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to enter his rooms.
"Good job you will both do on decorating. Inspection of your
rooms I will make later today. Also, good food I will expect."
"Yes, Master."
"And no skimping on candles, old I am and need much light to
see."
"Yes, Master."
"Bring Mace along, I will. Needs to get out more, Master Windu
does."
"Of course, Master." Qui-Gon answered all the injunctions
politely, all the while edging his way toward a door on the
opposite side of Yoda's common room.
Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon, keeping his eyes on his feet and
attempting, with some success, to hide his amusement at his own
Master's patient, dutiful tones.
Qui-Gon finally managed to palm the storage room door open and
get inside, accompanied by Obi-Wan.
Yoda did not deliver his parting shot until they were ready to
leave, laden with decorations and using a small hover skid to
carry the remaining items selected.
"Tea will you have, today, when I visit?"
"Yes, Master."
Yoda nodded. "That awful, disgusting stuff, like hot water with
vegetable dye in it, as is your usual, Padawan?"
"Er, I could get some spice tea for you, Master."
"Good. And Qui-Gon,"
Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan out the door into the hallway, intent on
escaping with his Padawan. "Yes?"
"Only Bantha's Asses read M'Pel, let alone do so in bed. Find
better something to do in bed you should." Wise old eyes, lids
half down, regarded first Qui-Gon, and then Obi-Wan,
thoughtfully. Very thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps wait a few
years that can."
The door shushed closed in the face of any reply Qui-Gon might
have made.
"What did he mean by that, Master?" Obi-Wan was clearly
puzzled.
Qui-Gon took refuge in master-ly pronouncement: "Mysterious are
the ways of the Force, Obi-Wan, and even more mysterious are
the workings of Master Yoda's mind. It is best not to question
his utterances too much." //For even more interfering than
ever, the old manipulative troll, is getting.// Qui-Gon
appended privately.
There were a variety of voices echoing out into the hallway
from the Padawan's Common Room. Qui-Gon, who had come in search
of his Padawan, paused just out of sight of the room's
occupants and listened. The first full day of Sacaea was full
of sunlight, which played through the large windows at one end
of the chamber. About a dozen Padawans of differing ages and
sizes congregated. At the center of the group was Obi-Wan.
A tall Belandrian leaned down, malicious glint in his eye and
said to Obi-Wan "Well, Kenobi, what did you get from your
Master?"
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan flush. Qui-Gon's fingered a small, hard
package hidden in an inner pocket of his cloak, and reflected
Obi-Wan's lack of a gift from his Master would soon be
remedied.
"Probably nothing, I hear he hates the holidays." Vril laughed,
and it wasn't very pleasant. "And, let's face it Kenobi, you
barely got out of being a farmer by the skin of your teeth.
Yoda forced Master Jinn to take you on - I'm not surprised that
he doesn't think enough of you to even give you a gift to mark
the season."
Another Padawan, who Qui-Gon immediately recognized as Bruck
Chun, stood up, coming almost toe to toe with Vril. "Knock it
off. Kenobi proved he's got what it takes and if you spent more
time minding your own business Vril, and less being envious
because his master is Qui-Gon Jinn, you'd be better for it."
Just as Qui-Gon remembered, Obi-Wan was staring at Bruck as
though the other Padawan had sprouted another head. "Thanks,
Bruck."
Bruck looked embarrassed, but he didn't back down from his
aggressive stance with Vril. "Hey, least I could do after being
such a jerk before. I'm sorry Obi-Wan."
Clearly wanting a fight, but not willing to risk it with the
taller, more heavily built Bruck, Vril stepped back, turning on
his heel, intent on going while the going was good.
"Odd, isn't it," Qui-Gon remarked, moving to stand where they
could all see him, "how Temple gossip is usually completely
wrong." He smiled a smile of extraordinary sweetness at them
all, then held out his hand to Obi-Wan. "Come, Padawan, we
don't want to be late for our own party. Master Yoda would
never let me live such a thing down."
Smiling, happy, Obi-Wan got to his feet. "Is it OK if my
friends come too?"
"Of course," Qui-Gon said, graciously. He bowed slightly
towards the group of awe-struck Padawans. "Any time after 5th
hour, and do ask your Masters to come along as well."
Obi-Wan attempted to look just as dignified as Qui-Gon did,
though it was difficult because Bant was poking him in the ribs
and Bruck was on the other side looking like he'd just been
handed a first in Astrophysics.
//Padawan? Tell Bant to stop poking you in the ribs, we've got
food to see to.//
Obi-Wan was actually following his Master back to their
quarters before he realized what was different. //Master?//
//Yes, Padawan?//
//Wow.//
Definitely amused and satisfied sounding was the reply. //Yes,
Padawan.//
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