Archive: Yes to Master/Apprentice, Nesting Place and SWAL; all
others please ask
Warnings: Pre-TPM. No spoilers. Smut.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lucas and gang. Though I'm
sadly afraid they don't deserve them.
Summary: Our heroes' search for a missing Jedi leads them to a
dangerous new planet and a new step in their relationship.
(hmm, haven't heard that one before, have ya?)
Author's notes: I suspect that I'm in the miniscule minority of
one around here as being utterly and totally disappointed with
TPM. I pretty much loathed it for nearly every reason
that you can loathe a movie. (Though if I had to pick just one,
I'd say it was the writing.)
That said, as a rabid SW fan of long standing, I dropped
headlong in love with the two Jedi, the only decent part
of the movie. Hence, fanfic followed. Thousands of cheers to
Liam and Ewan for making me love them even with that cornball
dialogue!
PROLOGUE
When you talk about power, it is always about who holds it.
Always. When you have power, you have control. Control over
your environment, your destiny, and those around you.
My Grandpap was alive before we found the Silitini Ore. Before
our world changed to one of lies and deceit and evil. He spoke
of simple times. Times when the people lived in and with the
Swamp. We fished, we harvested, and we were happy. There is
happiness in simplicity, he would say.
I wish that I had been older when he talked, so little of his
wisdom was retained by my young mind...but there was enough.
Enough to know that when things changed, it was for the worse.
We divorced ourselves from the Swamp and it became only about
the Fields. The Ore Fields. By then it was my Father who
talked.
But my father was not the man my Grandpap was, and he was
easily controlled by the greed of the Clan. We all had a piece
of it then. That was long ago.
Now it is me. And I watch as our Clan is reduced to a worker
class. The traditions and the pride we once held so dear are
torn from us bit by bit. Our Clan is a shadow of what we were
in the past. Now we are simply a workforce. Slaves to the K'rup
and the H'rok.
How did such a thing happen?
We gave them our lives. It was as simple as that. We can't
claim ignorance, though many do. We can't claim we were
tricked, though many do. We can only blame ourselves for being
weak.
It was the power. We believed that we wanted it. It seduced us,
led us from our place in the Swamp. Ruined us all.
The H'rok and the K'rup just don't know it yet. They sit in
their towers. Towers built on the bones of our traditions, and
they count their offworlder money, and they laugh at their own
false ingenuity.
I can see the future though. I saw it the day that the exotic,
blue-skinned offworlder came to the Swamp with her ideals and
her unshakable ethos. She wore calm over her like a cloak and
she bore a shining weapon that she would not use to threaten or
bully us with.
She changed everything.
And I watched it all.
Funny how so many of the worlds he managed to find himself on
were swamp worlds. The ratio of, say, tropical paradise worlds
to swamp, desert, or rock worlds was considerably out of
balance in his book. Either that or the tropical beach planets
never had the kind of trouble that called for the Jedi. He
sighed. It looked like a fun few days of wading through foul
water and trying to be one with clouds of stinging, thirsty
gnats.
Again.
Obi Wan pulled his cloak closer around him against the fetid
chill. It was blowing off the damp bog that surrounded the
lo-tech, primitive port town of Pako on all sides. At least it
wasn't hot, he thought, trying hard not to be grumpy. His
Master had spoken to him again and again about his lack of
patience. He had silently determined this would be the mission
that he proved to Qui-Gon that he was capable of being just as
good a brick wall as his Master. Especially since the matter
behind their presence in the swamp was a serious one. Linia
Kwan, one of their own, had disappeared in this remote
quadrant. They had tracked her here.
He gathered the currents of Force in the air and gently herded
the thirsty gnats away from his head for the fifth time,
watching from a distance with as much aplomb as he could manage
while his Master spoke gently with the small, squat, frog-like
DockMaster. They had learned from the last port on Lopan that
Kwan had come here, though it seemed that no one in the town
had seen her. It was suspicious, but they had been unable to
detect any falsehood from those they questioned.
Irregardless of that, they knew that she had been here. Both of
them could feel the vague currents in the Force that told them
that a Jedi had passed by, like eddies on a river. Recently.
Heading east.
But no one had seen the elegant, blue-skinned Noolan?
Very suspicious indeed.
His Master was worried. It was subtle, but he'd learned to read
the signs through the calm exterior. Linia had been a long-time
friend of Qui-Gon's, one of the few he allowed close to him.
They had come up through the Academy together and they still
took the time to get together and talk when they were both on
Coruscant at the same time. He didn't know the complete history
behind the two, but he personally thought they had been lovers
at some point.
It was a baseless notion, but one he liked to torment himself
with periodically whenever he found himself indulging in
pointless, selfish fantasies about his Master.
The object of his thoughts was gesturing at a small boat and
the Yaqui was nodding vigorously, stroking the local currency
that the Jedi had given him. The DockMaster had the same small
orange capelet on that every other Yaqui in the port wore, a
strangely shaped gold icon displayed on the fold that settled
across the lumpy back.
He didn't know which Clan that indicated. He and his Master had
only gathered the smallest amount of information on Yaquin.
There was not much to find. They knew that two major Clans
competed for influence, the H'rok and the K'rup. It was a
primitive world without spaceflight. The people were
close-mouthed, suspicious and amphibious. Now that he was here
he could add the footnote that they looked like giant toads.
They knew little more than that.
A dirty world. He could add that to the description too. Swamp
worlds always stank. It was the moist, growing odor of life,
Qui-Gon would tell him were he to complain of it. He managed to
quell the snort of laughter. Of course, Master. But still, even
he, at his most recalcitrant, could not deny that planets like
these had an enormous Force-Energy. It was one of the reasons
why so many Jedi had come from these green, damp, slime-covered
mud-balls. Master Yoda himself included.
Whatever you might have to say about swamp worlds in general,
Obi Wan knew that he did not like this one. It seemed that a
faint echo of corruption seemed to lie like a haze over the
trees. He heaved another sigh, this one a bit quieter. Of late
he'd become more and more jumpy, he couldn't let himself get
paranoid.
Obi Wan's blue eyes drifted skyward while he waited for his
Master to finish dealing for the boat. Several large avians
hovered on updrafts high over the massive, moss-covered
trees...dipping and tipping in the powerful currents of air. A
smile came to his lips unbidden then, part of his mood
dissipating at the sight of the avians' simple joy. It would be
very nice, he thought, very nice indeed to have so little care
in the world.
He sighed again, deeply, knowing that his Master was too far
away to notice. Perhaps he wouldn't be in these straits if he
hadn't fought for Qui-Gon to take him as Padawan all those
years ago.
Of course, he couldn't imagine himself with anyone else. Even
as a child he had felt that way.
Everything happens for a reason, he reminded himself dutifully.
Of all the Jedi, Qui-Gon was the one he would have chosen of
his own volition to train him. And he had, going after the
Master with a single-minded intensity that surprised him now
when he thought back on it.
He hadn't known what he was getting into then. Would he have
changed things if he had?
Throughout his pre-Padawan training he had seen the tall man
only at a distance, always alone, always in quiet contention
with the Jedi Masters at the Temple...always so filled with a
quiet sense of dignity and control. His fascination with the
Jedi Master had started simply by watching him whenever he was
near the Temple environs and had ended with his insistence that
Qui-Gon take him for his Padawan.
Six years later and Obi Wan was more sure than ever that his
Master was the perfect teacher, even with the personal
complications that had arisen. Far from the Codes of the
council when they were in the field, Qui-Gon had shown him the
power of independent thought...the power of coloring outside
the lines. The Force, he always said, should be your guide, not
your dictator.
He straightened unthinkingly as his Master suddenly turned from
his transaction and walked towards him, moving in that silky
ramble that always made it seem as if the tall man was walking
on water.
"I've secured us a transport." He said, his fluid voice echoing
slightly off the algae-frosted waters of the swamp. "We should
be able to make it to an eastern settlement by nightfall if the
DockMaster has the right of it. It's the only thing in the
direction I think she went."
"And do you sense any duplicity, Master?" Obi Wan asked almost
automatically, falling easily alongside the bigger man as they
strode towards the docks, his hands tucked into his wide
sleeves. The Yaqui were a primitive, warlike people, constantly
at odds with each other and outsiders alike. They had not
received a friendly welcome from most, and no welcome at all
from others.
"The Yaqui are very hard to read, but I sensed nothing beyond
the need to make a quick profit off us offworlders." Qui-Gon
smiled down at him briefly. "Did you get all the supplies I
asked for?"
"I did." Obi Wan jiggled the strap of the bag he'd slung over
his shoulder. "Everything except the light source. Apparently
they don't sell such things out here. The moons shed enough
light, according to the shopkeeper." The grayish-green Yaqui
had croaked his assurances that the double moons were at their
full cycle and there would be no need for any light-source.
"Then we should be fine," the older man said distantly. His
Master's quiet answer only notched up that faint unease he had
been feeling since they'd landed in their hired freighter. That
whiff of corruption.
A bad feeling. But again, he kept it to himself, knowing that
Qui-Gon was already starting to think of him as an alarmist. It
was true that he lived too often in the cloudy misgivings of an
uncertain future. He'd been told again and again to curb his
imagination.
He'd actually opened his mouth to mention his unease and then
stopped, remembering his vow to make this mission an exercise
in 'The Perfect Padawan'. He shut his jaw firmly.
They stopped in front of a specific dock and his Master
gestured for him to jump down into the boat first. He did so, a
brief flicker of the Force...hardly even conscious...steadying
the conveyance in the water under his feet. He could sense the
warmth of his Master's unthinking approval as he settled their
things under a seat and took the controls of the tiny craft.
Yup, he was off to great start. If they gave away plaques for
perfect apprentices, he was going to get one on this trip. He
smiled faintly at the ridiculous notion of the Jedi Council,
all decked in solemnity, handing him something as silly as a
plaque. He ducked his head down to look at the controls of the
boat, hiding his foolish grin.
"Follow the main watercourse." Qui-Gon said, consulting a tiny
holomap as Obi Wan steered the boat away from the dock. The
younger man guided the little lo-tech boat expertly out into
the flat, marshy waterways, carefully sensing both currents and
hidden snags as he did so. There was a small clot of squat,
lumpy onlookers watching them leave, the usual crowd that they
drew simply with their presence. It took him a moment to
remember that the locals hadn't even known what a Jedi was.
Likely they were just clustered to see the outlanders.
Within a matter of moments they were out of sight of the dock
and surrounded by the odd, smooth-trunked water-trees that grew
straight from the swamp. Local fauna croaked, screeched and
grunted from the foliage as they quietly steered down the
waterway.
"Why do you think Linia came out here, Master?" Obi Wan
finally asked after they had been out of sight of the
settlement for some small while. He turned slightly to see
Qui-Gon frowning faintly. It made him want to lean over and
smooth the lines out of his forehead.
With his mouth.
None of that. Perfect Padawan, remember?
"I don't know. She was tracking the source of a seriously
illegal Silitini smuggling operation. Why she came here, I have
no idea. This is a lo-tech, fairly primitive planet. Perhaps
she was chasing someone and ran into trouble."
"I don't think I've ever even heard of Silitini." Obi Wan
muttered, almost to himself.
"A fairly recent, dangerous mind-drug. Gives people small
mental powers for a brief time. Wild, uncontrollable telepathy.
Apparently it's quite an astounding experience, but the
consequences are terrible. Instantly addictive, it erodes the
mind quickly with continued use."
"Wonderful. Why on earth would anyone take it in the first
place?"
"There are always those that want to escape. " Qui-Gon was
still frowning as he stared out across the swamp. "I want to
know why Linia came out to the Swamp once she was here. What
does Yaquin have to do with Silitini? These people have no hard
technology. They couldn't process the drug even if they had the
rare ore that it's mined from. "
"Maybe the smugglers are using this planet to hide out
on...base their operations on. It's so far out of the way from
anywhere..." Obi Wan mused.
Qui-Gon nodded.
"Possibly. We won't know until we find her and ask her. Its
clear that the locals are of no help."
Obi Wan grinned mischievously at the older man, trying to
lighten the mood.
"Maybe she's taking a vacation on the sly." He said archly, his
brows rising. "What better place than this?" He gestured around
the moss-choked swamp, alive with insect life. He was rewarded
with a rare chuckle.
He was scoring points left and right.
"Indeed." His Master's voice hinted at more than just a little
amusement.
Obi Wan was still chortling softly at the thought of coming
here for fun as he glanced up at the reddening sky.
"Looks like the sun is going down. How much farther, do you
think?"
Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment, his brow suddenly
furrowed.
"I can't sense anyone out here with us at all. Perhaps the
DockMaster gave us faulty directions." Obi Wan frowned as well,
all trace of humor fleeing his mobile features. Blue eyes cast
around the darkening swamp, bringing to mind the fact that they
had no light source. "You think he might have misled us on
purpose?"
"Perhaps. As I mentioned before, the locals are strangely hard
to read. I may have just been getting nothing and only
assuming that he was not being duplicitous."
"What should we do? Go back?"
Qui-Gon's features were getting harder to make out in the
dimming light, but he could see the older man's handsome face
smooth into an expression he'd labeled as his Master's
concentration face.
"No. I think I can sense a settlement further to the
East. Much farther than the DockMaster said, but still possibly
where Linia was going. We can cut off the main waterway through
the swamp. It might be a little shorter."
Obi Wan pushed his own senses out carefully, searching for the
same signs his Master had obviously felt. Distantly, faintly,
he felt ...something. It was far. And there was
that...something else. Tickling at his prescience, triggering
his sense of the future. It was unpleasant. And then it was
gone. Biting his lip, once more, he decided to keep it to
himself. Once more, he thought, one more time and I will
mention it.
"We'll be going through the night it seems." He murmured,
already forgetting that he was supposed to cut back on the
cynicism, but doing as he was told and turning off the track
into the trees. It was getting much darker and he was noticing
that there was indeed no moon to light their way as the
shopkeeper had falsely claimed. Another deception. He had
sensed nothing from the creature. What was going on here?
Qui-Gon seemed to read his thought...or parallel it.
"Patience Padawan. Things do not always follow an itinerary."
Obi Wan nodded, forcibly pushing down the anger at being duped
and letting Qui-Gon's control fill him. It was easy enough, his
Master had a masterfully calming influence. He lidded his eyes
and let both the powerful presence of the man beside him and
the Force of the swamp guide his hands and movements as he
steered through the darkening trees. It was hypnotizing,
all-encompassing, his body filling with the vivid electric
energies of the life all around him, his Master a flame of
power at his side...almost erotic.
There were moments he was thankful that the Force did not allow
people to read specific thoughts.
And that was another thing that he had hoped he might be
able to control this time around.
It had happened slowly at first. His image of his mentor had
started to morph from an authority, an amorphous father-figure
into a living, breathing man. A man with uncounted facets to a
fascinating personality. After almost four years of tutelage
under his Master, he had taken notice of Qui Gon's unassuming
sexuality, his magnetic draw, his cool-burning charisma.
Puberty...that could be the easy explanation, but two years
after he'd become sexually active, the attraction was still
there. He himself had carefully discounted it as infatuation,
though that may have been how it started. It had been two years
after he'd come to that conclusion that it had started
to escalate from simple adoration to something more.
They had simply been sparring together as they did nearly every
day when they were not on a mission. And he remembered suddenly
being entirely taken with the physicality of the older man, the
flow of the lean body. Not just any lean body, but his Master's
lean body. The flex and pull of muscles, the sheen of sweat on
the strong planes of his face and throat, the musky, somehow
enticing odor his mentor. Why it had been then and not some
other time, he didn't know. But after that, the dreams had
started.
He kept them to himself as he had kept his feelings to that
point, knowing that his Master would not appreciate them.
Knowing they were inappropriate. But still not caring. He would
indulge himself late at night, feverishly imagining Qui-Gon's
hands on him, the feel and taste of his Master's skin under his
lips. His hand would reach for his own hardening penis and
stroke himself to completion, picturing his mouth on the older
man's body, on his mouth, his flesh...his cock. He'd lie in his
darkened room, shaken and sheened with sweat afterwards,
feeling slightly sick with himself and angry over his lack of
self-discipline.
It had begun with respect and admiration so deep he couldn't
even put it to words and it had turned into something else.
Something that he kept so far down in his heart he could barely
see it.
The pain of not revealing what he knew was love, that need, to
his mentor was painful, but he managed it. He would do
nothing to compromise their relationship. To interfere
with his education and especially Qui-Gon's peace of mind.
His lips curved softly in sad irony that in this, the matter of
his heart, he must remain closed off from the man he shared all
else with. But it was hard. And it seemed to be getting harder
with each new day that passed. At this rate he would be a
frazzled, nervous wreck by the time he made it to Knighthood.
Knighthood. What then? Perhaps then he would be free to pursue
his aloof Master in the manner he wished to. As equals. Qui-Gon
would be no match for him in that respect, of that he was sure.
It was enough to carve a small smile on his thin, sculpted
lips. There were many things he knew he could teach his
teacher.
He was so wrapped in his thoughts that he noticed too late, the
tiny surge in the Force that broadcast danger.
"Obi Wan!" his Master's voice was sharp with warning and shock.
He surged to alertness, but it was too late.
Odd blurry bolts of green energy were sizzling through the air,
impacting on the trees around them and sending splinters flying
like missiles. His lightsaber was in his hand, he was pressing
the hair-trigger switch to activate it...when a green bolt
slammed into his shoulder, spinning him around and slamming him
into his Master. They both went down in a flurry of robes and
limbs, the boat rocking violently beneath them.
A stray bolt of energy drove into the side of the boat,
ricocheting off into the swamp, but upending the Floater and
sending both men straight off the side with a splash. Water
closed over his head, dark and cold and choked with sediment
and algae...filling his eyes, ears, and mouth...gagging
him...drowning him. His body was slipping into shock, unable to
respond to his commands.
He caught a glimpse of his Master, reaching into his robes for
something...and behind him...in the murk of the water, a dim
form. Cast in shadows, only yellow eyes visible, it drew closer
and closer up behind Qui-Gon.
Obi Wan was helpless to speak, to move. He seemed to be gently
sucked downwards, his limbs heavy and unresponsive, unable to
warn his Master.
And then the thing was upon them, and the lack of oxygen was
too much. Obi Wan knew no more.
I was the one who met her first. Perhaps that would mean
nothing in the times to come, but to me, it was something.
She came through the swamp alone in a little boat she must have
rented in Pako. She guided it like she'd been in the Swamp her
whole life, avoiding snags and shoals and the sucking waters
easily.
I watched her for a time, curious about her. We had very, very
few outsiders on our world, but since the Ore had been
discovered, there had been a few more. She was tall, slim and
elegant, her skin a color of blue that I had never seen. She
had thick, black hair streaked with gray that she wore pulled
back from her face in a series of braids and loops. My people
do not have 'hair', it was intriguing.
I watched her from the safety of the water, only my eyes
visible above the surface. I should have been practically
invisible, but she looked right at me, and smiled.
My people do not smile either, though a few ape the expression
to try and appear more in line with the aliens they meet. Her
smile was more than just a facial movement, it was a projection
of calm and reassuring peace.
It was enough to get me to approach her. Talk with her. She was
looking for Silitini Smugglers. I knew, of course, the answers
to all her questions, but I told her I did not. I was still
loyal to my people. Loyal to our lies. And she was, after all,
a stranger.
It did not take much for me to realize that she had a strange
version of her own telepathic talent...different than
ours...less passive. It made her powerful in a way that I
didn't comprehend at first, but later realized would give her
the power to change everything.
I took her to our village. I shouldn't have done that. The
D'lonk, my Clan, is not a powerful presence. In the past
century we've been reduced to mere slaves to the H'rok and the
K'rup. I should have realized...I should have known.
Everything that happened next was my fault.
Qui-Gon Jinn had been a Jedi forever it seemed. There was not a
time he could remember that he had not been either a learner, a
teacher or a Master. In the 39 years since he himself had
stepped from Knight to Master, he had taken a total of 3
Padawan learners under his wing. He loved teaching. Loved
guiding young minds and seeing the wonders of the Force through
their new eyes.
But he hated losing control. That hatred was his weakness. He
had lost an apprentice to that weakness. He had not thought to
take another after that.
And then there was Obi Wan Kenobi.
Obi Wan had been different somehow. He had never been quite so
taken with anyone in all his years as a teacher. He had first
seen the headstrong, self-confident boy at the training Temple
on Coruscant, only 12 years old. So much fire in him, so much
spirit. It had seemed that the life of the world could have
been contained in those blue, blue eyes.
The boy had been one among 5 others on a green sward of grass,
meditating. It had been his powerful aura that had drawn
Qui-Gon's attention at first, his striking unconscious beauty
and charm that had held it and, much later, his soul that had
kept it. After that distant encounter, he had watched Obi Wan's
progress from afar. It was at a time when he was being
pressured to join the council. Much as the idea did not appeal
to him. But he was a Master, they said, and if he did not
teach, he needed to guide.
It was a choice that he did not like. He'd felt forced into it.
And entering his mid-forties, he was beginning to feel the bite
of loneliness in his bones. He had thought perhaps to ...he
hadn't really known what he had thought. Just that he needed
something. Someone, perhaps. But not the Council.
He'd continued to watch Obi Wan even after he'd taken him as
apprentice, aware that the boy was watching him back with an
almost predatory interest. There was a taste of the hunter in
the youth, the look and feel of a falcon or some other sleek
bird of prey. It burned in the older man, that sense of the
boy. The sense that he was watched even as he did the watching.
The young man fairly blazed with sexuality, it matched his
headstrong spirit.
It was hard to look at him and not see the graceful young
animal that he was.
Qui-Gon could not forget the tryst he had witnessed between Obi
Wan and another young man while they had been stuck on one of
the outer rim worlds once...waiting for their transport to be
repaired. It had been pure happenstance. Not even seeking him
out, he had been walking in the low forested hills that
surrounded the town and had come across the pair in a warm,
shallow lake.
He hadn't meant to spy, and in truth, he did not intrude
long...but what he had seen had burned itself on his memory.
Two young, hard, sleek bodies...waist deep in the crystal clear
lake, late afternoon sun glittering in their wet hair, on the
water ..the sound of their growling moans and labored
breathing. Fascinated, he had watched as mouths had suckled,
kissed...hands had stroked and gripped and clawed. To this day,
he could not remember the other boy. All he remembered was the
sheer beauty of his apprentice, the astounding passion of youth
and hunger that shone from him.
He had retreated, leaving them their privacy, but the image had
never left him. Even now, when he looked at his young
apprentice, sometimes he would see that scene in his head...and
he would wonder what it would be like to be a part of a passion
like that. He had lived an isolated lifestyle, never letting
anyone too close to him, focusing instead on his own control of
the Force. His own control of himself.
Now, years of self-discipline later he knew that he had
succeeded. With no sense of arrogance he knew he was perhaps
the greatest warrior the Jedi had in their ranks.
But had it been worth it? What had he gained with the sacrifice
of his heart's desires?
He had taken the young man for his apprentice, and he had
found, over the next six years, that Obi Wan was as much and
more of what he had first seen in him on that grassy sward when
he was 12.
He had loved all his apprentices, but he was in love
with Obi Wan Kenobi. A part of him felt that his search for a
companion was over. A romantic notion that he would roll his
eyes at when it occurred to him.
Foolish.
He would never jeopardize their relationship by admitting such
a thing to his Padawan. It would be the worst kind of breach of
trust between teacher and student. He had an obligation to his
apprentice as a Master. He would not fail the boy. He could
not.
And now, as Obi Wan suddenly relaxed into the cloudy grip of
the water, all of that surged up in him...and it was almost
impossible to avert the wave of fear that consumed him. Fear,
the worst enemy of the Jedi. He had found his breathing tube
within moments, and, with a powerful kick, he shot downwards,
gathering up the limp form of his apprentice into his arms and
fumbling through the boy's robe for the breathing tube he knew
was there.
In spite of the situation, he was calm, he was in control. But
he was not finding the tube, and that calm was fast eroding.
The boy would not last another second under the water
unconscious as he was and there was still danger on the
surface.
And then a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, even as he
'felt' the presence behind him that he had been too focused to
note before. It was a friendly presence. But Qui Gon did not
forget that the other Yaqui they had encountered to date had
seemed friendly too.
This one was pulling them upwards, hopefully not into the
weapons' fire that he could sense still rained over the water.
Not to the surfa ce after all, he broke into the pocket of air
that the capsized boat had left them, hauling his apprentice up
out of the water enough that his mouth was open to oxygen.
Another ungraceful shove with the force and Qui-Gon forced the
inhaled water up and out of the boy's lungs. A sense of mixed
relief and worry filled him as he took note that Obi Wan was
breathing... but shallowly. Dark blood seeped out of the wound
on his shoulder, staining the surrounding water black.
There was nothing more he could do for the youth in the
less-than-ideal circumstances and there was still the matter of
the Yaqui who appeared to have helped them.
He turned his head towards the frog-like creature, staring into
the bulbous yellow eyes, using the force to keep him and his
apprentice afloat with minimal movement. The Yaqui did not wear
the Clan-identifying capelet, he wore his simple skin and that
was all.
He did not speak until the sound of laserfire died down and
finally stopped.
"Will they check the water?" he asked, his voice so low it was
below a whisper.
"No." The being croaked. "They are cowardly D'Lonk. They fire
from a distance only. They are afraid of you. They want you to
die, but they will not risk themselves."
Another long moment of silence, the water lapping loudly inside
the dark dome of captured air.
"Thank you for helping us. Do you know why they were firing at
us?"
The Yaqui blinked, the wide mouth stretching in its version of
a smile.
"You are outlanders. It is enough."
"What is your clan?"
The giant eyes blinked once.
"I am H'rok Clan. My name is B'dir."
"H'rok?" One of the two major clans. "Can you take us to the
nearest settlement? We can pay you."
A noise that might have been a laugh whuffed from the
creature's nose.
"I will not take your money. I will take you to the H'rok
Capital without a bribe." The big head twitched to one side in
what Qui-Gon assumed was a gesture of dismissal. Obi Wan was
heavy and unmoving in his arms and his concern was growing
every moment they remained in the water.
"I meant no disrespect." He pulled Obi Wan a little closer.
"Are they gone? Can we get out of the water now?" He was proud
how unruffled his voice sounded.
"They are likely gone. If your boat is not too damaged, we can
refloat it. Then I will check around for more of the D'lonk
before we go on."
The Yaqui dipped its head under the water and vanished into the
murk. Qui-Gon very nearly followed when suddenly the boat
simply lifted off his head and righted itself with a twist of
the alien's arms. It splashed upright with a crash of sound
that made the Jedi wince. The Yaqui were deceptively strong. He
would remember that.
He pulled himself and Obi Wan into the boat, slightly surprised
when their new friend did exactly as he had said. He had
vanished as quickly as he had appeared. A quick scan of the
surroundings showed that the alien was already far away,
swimming fast.
He felt under the seat, smiling slightly when he felt the
drenched sack of supplies that Obi Wan had brought. The youth
had tied them securely under the seat, his foresight having
kept the goods from floating to the bottom of the swamp when
the boat overturned.
It was quite dark, but he wasn't sure he wanted to use his
lightsaber as a light. It might bring back their attackers and
he wasn't sure he could deal with them properly and protect his
student at the same time. He wondered if Linia Kwan had
suffered a similar attack.
Hands that shook with more than just the chill of the night
pushed back the tunic from Obi Wan's muscular shoulder and he
thinned his lips at the sight of the wound. Not as terrible as
his imagination had made it out to be. He would be able to heal
it partially, but not entirely... and if he was not mistaken,
the green bolts of energy that had been fired at them were
viral-weapons. He would be able to heal the skin, but likely
the boy would be fighting off a viral fever for the rest of the
night.
A night, he knew, that would last a very long time. Yaquin had
a very slow rotation. The night was easily twice as long as
most standard planets'. Wasting no further time, he pulled Obi
Wan's head into his lap and sank into an immediate healing
trance.
Flesh and muscle ebbed and flowed under his fingers, knitting,
healing. He could feel the poison of the viral weapon eating at
the youth's shoulder, tainting his blood with its mindless
hunger.
Viral weapons were rare. How had the Yaqui gotten them? It
increased his mistrust of the planet. He could already sense a
faint corruption here. He was becoming more and more certain
that Linia had fallen prey to that taint. He knew that Obi Wan
was feeling the same unease he was. Likely the boy was keeping
it to himself after his last lecture on living too much in his
powerful future-sense. It was true that his apprentice had a
much stronger feel for those hazy, indistinct visions...but
irregardless of that talent, the youth let himself make too
much of them.
It was one of Obi Wan's few weaknesses.
The boat rocked gently on its bad stabilizers in the still
water, insects buzzed against the faintly luminous bug-shield
that shrouded the canopy, and night creatures squawked and
flapped noisily overhead in the moonless sky.
Was it hours? All night? Perhaps just minutes? He had finally
repaired the damage to the ravaged muscle of the shoulder. He
could do nothing about the virus...having expended all his
effort on making sure Obi Wan would retain full use of his arm.
Good enough that the boy would live. It would be a tricky
couple of hours, he would be sick and feverish, but he would
live.
The relief was almost overwhelming.
Unwilling to let his apprentice go, the Jedi managed to shrug
out of his wet robes, wring them out as best he could and tuck
them around the unconscious youth in his lap. Even wet, the
sophisticated fabric still retained body heat. They had some
food and enough water for the night. He managed to prop his
back up against one of the sides, pulling Obi Wan along with
him and stroking the short, wet hair back from his face in a
gesture that was more of a comfort to him than it was to the
sleeping young man.
It was going to be a long night.
None of us even thought of the H'rok and K'rup spies that we
knew watched our villages. We took the stranger in,
housed her for the night, fed her and spoke to her.
It was only a matter of time before she ferreted out the
corruption in our situation. She knew about the Silitini, and
she could sense that we had limited telepathic abilities. She
could see that our Kilgrass fields were overgrown and useless
now. She could see that we were fed by a large transport that
came into the village piloted by the H'rok. She could see that
many of us would leave during the days in similar transports,
taken out to the ore Fields to work. She saw all this and she
knew that we were the answers to the questions she sought.
She was only with us a short time, but she talked. She talked
of her Republic and all the worlds that were a part of it,
governed and protected as a whole. We listened, fascinated. She
told us of the other worlds, of her people, the
J'di...protectors, knights of justice and peace. She was quiet,
and calm and wise, and we listened.
And then, when she had learned enough, she left.
And I followed.
Why? Why did I follow her? I wish I could say, but I think it
was because of my Grandpap. She had that same quiet peace about
her that he'd had. She made me feel warm and good and simple
again.
So I followed. I don't think she knew I was there. I cloaked my
thoughts as best I could and I swam quietly after her. We had
told her, reluctantly, where the H'rok capital was. We would
not tell her of the K'rup, for they were so much worse. So much
worse. And that was where she was going. Unafraid. Though we
had warned her.
I don't think she understood the levels to which my people had
sunk. The corruption that the H'rok and the K'rup were seeped
in.
Or maybe she did. And maybe that was why she went.
My people, the D'lonk, we still live in the Swamp. Though we
have been outside the Circle for almost 100 years now, we still
know how to move quietly. The H'rok Scouts did not see me,
though they saw her. I was able to follow, to watch as they
took her to their Capital.
I was not able to save her.
The sound of rain on the insect-shields pulled Qui-Gon up out
of the light doze he had fallen into and he looked around to
take note of the fact that it was still night with no sign of
either dawn or their strange ally yet. There was a thick mist
roiling on the water as the rain pattered unevenly in the swamp
and though there was indeed, no moonlight, the starlight now
gave a bit of light to see by through the spotty cloud cover.
Sighing, he looked down into his lap, adjusting the wadded up
robe under his apprentice's head and touching the young man's
forehead. Flushed hot with fever now, his fingers came back
from the brief contact damp with sweat. As if the touch was his
cue, Obi-Wan moaned ever so softly, his head tossing to one
side.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and tried to calm the youth, drawing
strength from the life of the Swamp around them. Amphibians, it
seemed like thousands of them, had set up their nightly
serenade and the darkness fairly teemed with the
cacophony...nightbirds screeched and howled at each other...and
somewhere not too close, a deep guttural rumbling was heard.
Plenty of life, overflowing with energy. He tapped into it and
laid a soothing blanket of peace over his apprentice's mind,
stilling the tossing and turning.
Obi Wan settled again and he smiled faintly to himself, wishing
that the young man could be as biddable when he was awake. His
head tipped back against the side of the boat again and he set
himself to stay awake till morning. He was no longer worried,
the strength of the Force was all around him, telling him that
Obi Wan would come through the fever by morning.
The Force was a great succor to him, but it was no companion.
It did not roll its eyes at him, nor did it argue with him, nor
did it make sharp biting little comments, nor did it laugh at
his small humors, nor did it love him. It was not capable of
any of those things. And so it was not enough. It was never
meant to be.
He looked back down at the beautifully still features of his
apprentice, admiring the unlined young skin, the slightly
arrogant tilt of sandy brows, the thin, perfectly sculpted
mouth. Almost against his will, his fingertips trailed down the
smooth cheek, lightly tracing the thick smudge of eyelashes,
the tender curve of young lips...dipping into the indent in the
proud chin. Obi Wan stirred slightly, turning his head and
burying his forehead into the soft fabric of his Master's
tunic. Qui-Gon's hand had frozen at the movement and he slowly
resettled his hand on the sleeper's forehead. A safe place to
rest it.
The stunningly erotic image of young Obi Wan and his lover in
the afternoon light of the lake came back to him suddenly and
he had to close his eyes against the sharp blade of need that
plunged into his groin. A few deep breaths and he had his body
under his control once more. Obi Wan was in too vulnerable a
position in his lap, his need would be too apparent...he had to
remain under control.
Control.
His eyes closed a little sadly. The ironies of life. He had
turned aside lovely Linia so many years ago, preferring, he
thought, to take up a life completely dedicated to the Force.
He wanted to be the perfect Jedi. He wanted...he sighed.
He had turned her away. There were many who thought that there
was only one perfect match that one could make in a lifetime.
You would get one chance and if you missed it, you missed it.
He had never been sure he believed such a hard, unforgiving
thing of the Universe, but he had been growing less sure with
each year that he passed alone. Linia had loved him and he had
loved her, he knew, but not, apparently, enough to take a
chance on lessening his control. The Force had seemed the path
to Mastering that control.
It had been. But somehow his control seemed a little less
important now.
He loved Obi Wan.
He could say it only in the confines of his own mind. He knew
that what he felt was real, but it was not appropriate. It was
not mete. For he found it unlikely that his apprentice shared
that devotion. Not, he thought wryly, that his apprentice did
not care for him. Not that he did not respect and admire him.
Not even, he mused, that Obi Wan hadn't been a little
infatuated with him when he'd hit puberty. But he was fairly
sure that this young, vibrant falcon would never look at his
Master, a lumbering bear twice his age with anything more than
warm affection.
And he couldn't blame him. Obi Wan deserved someone as sharp
and eager and alive as he was. Someone like that lovely boy in
the lake, or any one of the beautiful girls that followed him
around every time he re-visited the Temple on Coruscant. It was
fairly common knowledge that the young man had sampled more
than a few of his admirers' charms.
Besides, the point was moot anyway. He was the boy's Master.
They had an arrangement of great import, a bargain. The Master
taught and the Apprentice learned. A deeper relationship would
rend that agreement asunder.
Wouldn't it?
Another movement, Obi Wan pressed closer, his body
unconsciously seeking comfort on the hard surface of the bottom
of the boat. Qui-Gon stilled as his apprentice's face nestled
into his hip, one arm flopping around his waist. The Jedi
Master's hand on the young man's forehead told him that the
fever was going down just a little. Truly, it had not been as
terrible as he had feared. Obi Wan was strong and resilient. He
allowed himself an inner sigh of relief. Much as he had
surmised the boy was going to be alright, it still set his mind
at ease to know it for a fact.
He shifted slightly under his Padawan's weight, still
uncomfortably aware of the youth's head nestled against his
hip. The sexual energy that he always felt around Obi Wan
seemed to be ...somehow growing. He frowned slightly, reaching
out with his senses...only to withdraw them almost sharply when
they touched a sudden heatsink of erotic need.
Focused on the young man in his lap.
"Mstter..." the voice was a sleepy mumble from the folds of the
tunic at his hip. Qui-Gon could tell Obi Wan was still asleep.
"Master..." the voice was a little more clear as the boy's head
tossed slightly. It was a throaty whisper that the older man
had never heard used in tandem with his title and it sent a
sleek shiver down his spine.
Obi Wan shifted again, his arm snaking more tightly around his
Master's waist and his lithe body twisted slightly in the
confines of Qui-Gon's concealing robe. He tightened his grip on
the boy, lest he shift his way right off his lap onto the damp
floor of the boat. The robe that had covered the young man
slipped off his sleeping form and he bit back a breath to see
the telltale swelling of an impressive erection in the
illuminating starlight.
He swallowed with an audible click, his tongue moistening his
lips as he realized that Obi Wan was having an erotic dream.
And he had been whispering his title. The older Jedi dared not
leap to any conclusions on that count. All he could do was pull
the robe back over his apprentice's body and tightly close his
eyes.
Control.
For the second time that interminable night, he forced his body
to respond to his will.
"Qui-Gon...ahhh" It was impossible to mistake that. Nor the
fact that it issued from Obi Wan's mouth accompanied by a low
moan.
He wasn't going to be able to take much more of this. He closed
his eyes more tightly and pressed his suddenly warm cheek
against the cool side of the boat. Perhaps his apprentice's
infatuation had not dissipated as he had thought it had.
Because that was all this could be, he told himself firmly. A
wet dream doesn't mean much of anything.
The youth was shifting his lean hips back and forth beneath the
cloak, his mouth half open, his hands tensing and closing on
the fabric of Qui-Gon's tunic almost rhythmically.
By all that was sacred. Control.
In all his years as a Jedi, he had never been tried this way.
His fought-for control was stretched thin. The object of every
one of his most recent erotic thoughts was writhing and
twisting on his lap, moaning his name. And he would be damned
to the Dark Side before he shamed himself by either waking his
sick, feverish apprentice simply to end his own torture, or
worse, letting him wake to the sensation of his Masters arousal
pressing into his ribs.
Deep breaths. Calm. One with the Force. Let the energy bleed
out of yourself.
It was working.
"Master?"
I only spoke to her once more.
I'd taken a ClanColor from one of the lowlevel guards and I'd
managed to get stationed outside her room. They had led her
inside with promises and charm and lies, and she had not known
them for deceivers. They had known, of course, from their spies
in our village, of her powers.
I had not thought. It had not occurred to me...the prize the
big Clans would see her as. She had persuasive powers, she had
abilities that they would see as very useful. They would want
to use her.
After all, they were in a constant struggle with each other for
control. They Negotiated weekly in an attempt to trick or
influence the other Clan to give up more land, more equipment,
more power. This J'di could tip one side or the other.
That was what they thought. They were shortsighted in so many
ways. I could have told them that she would never be used in
that manner. They did not understand.
But they tried.
They drugged her, they goaded her, they hurt her and they
bullied her, but she would not agree to help them.
It did not occur to me until later that I might have helped her
escape. I was far from my home in an evil place, and I only
knew that I had to know. Somehow I had to know if she would
agree to help them.
She knew me. I was told to bring her water, just once, and she
knew me. She handed me a small silver ring, pressing it into my
palm. She said that I would know what to do with it when the
time came.
They took her to the MeetRock for the Negotiations the next
day. And she did not come back with them.
I knew they had killed her.
And I knew that she had known.
I had the answers that I had come for.
The dream was nothing new. Like a familiar old friend, it would
come often, bringing his fantasy to life. Like most dreams were
to Jedi, they were more intense the older he got, the more
powerful he became. This one was perhaps the best yet. The
dreamlike sensation of unreality was almost absent, the bed,
his lover's skin and muscle and bone, it seemed almost solid.
Qui-Gon stood before him, half dressed, his well-muscled form
lit in planes of light and shadow from an indefinable light
source. He recognized the room as Plyynia's quarters on
Coruscant...the sultry dancer whom he had taken so much
pleasure from. It was not Plyynia who was with him now. As it
never was in his dreams. Always Qui-Gon.
Never defined, the touch of hands on his body. Never certain
whose lips were where. Like the dream it was, he was only aware
of the pleasure, the textures, the tastes...the heat and
hardness inherent in his Master's muscular body. Stroking,
sucking, licking, teasing...mouth on mouth on nipple on hip on
chest on flank. The burning blade of his own penis, the heavy
weight of Qui-Gon's. He was drowning in sensation, in
mind-numbing pleasure. His Master smelled of rich sandalwood
and sharp sweat, he tasted of salt and musk. He could feel
those hands, those hands he loved, stroking his face, curling
around his rear, burning a trail up his ribs.
He was aching with need, his release so close he could feel it
in his fingernails...
...and he woke up.
It was dark. Very dark. The light patter of rain was audible as
it hit the low level shield of the boat. A hazy canopy of stars
was becoming visible through the sheltering roof of the swamp
trees that surrounded them. All around he could hear the
keening harmony of the night creatures as they sang and chirped
and wheedled.
And his clothes were wet, clinging damply to his cold skin.
He could see his Master's face above him, the pale column of
his throat working, his head tilted back against the side of
the boat he leaned on. The older man's chest was lifting in
deep, heavy breaths and Obi Wan could feel the strands of the
Force twining and twisting in Qui-Gon's expert mental fingers.
What was he doing?
He didn't even think to wonder what they were still doing in
the boat, why it was stopped, why he was lying damp and
feverish in his Master's lap with a raging hard-on, or what
might have happened to put them in such circumstances. He did
not, as yet, even remember the ambush.
This was definitely not going to be the mission where he
got his Plaque.
"Master?" his voice was full of concern as he struggled dizzily
to sit up, glad for the heavy cloak that hid his needy body. It
occurred to him that he might have been having that very
personal dream right there in his Master's lap...and the
thought made him very glad for the darkness that hid his
suddenly hot, hungry face.
"Obi Wan..." his Master's voice was a little harsh as he opened
his eyes and regarded his apprentice with some semblance of
calm. It didn't take a great deal of insight to see that
something was wrong with Qui-Gon. The man was normally an
exercise in control. "H...how do you feel?"
He frowned slightly.
"Feel?" Horny, my Master. "I feel fine. Why?" Actually he
didn't. He felt hot and achy and ill, but he wasn't going to
admit that.
He was sitting cross-legged next to Qui-Gon now, the robe still
bunched in his lap as he tried to quell his erection. His
Master reached forward and brushed his damp braid aside,
fingers touching the skin of his shoulder gently. The simple
contact sent a shiver through his body. It didn't help him rein
in the wildfire in his loins, but the soreness that woke there
did make him remember.
"The ambush." He frowned. "What happened?" He reached his own
hand up, his fingers brushing Qui-Gon's in passing as he felt
the swollen welt that spoke of a recently healed wound.
"We were attacked by an unfriendly group of locals. The Yaqui
who helped us called them the D'lonk. I was unable to determine
why they might have thought us a threat." Qui-Gon's voice
trembled so faintly that Obi Wan was certain that he was the
only one who would have noticed it. His throbbing need and the
older Jedi's discomfiture were unbalancing him.
His blue eyes sought his Master's in the dark. "You healed me?"
Qui-Gon nodded, folding his own hands demurely back into his
wide sleeves. His face had returned to a cool study in calm.
Whatever it had been, the man had it under control again. Obi
Wan had his suspicions, but he could easily be mistaken. It
would not be the first time he misread his inscrutable teacher.
Sometimes the man could be infuriating with all that damned
calm. He wanted to see his face open with abandon, alive with
passion. He wanted that strong face to echo that of the Qui-Gon
of his dreams.
"Thank you Master." He said softly, looking at the older man
with hooded eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to break
that placid control. The fire in his blood lent him towards
recklessness, and there, out of nowhere in that dank swampland
he leaned forward and pressed his mouth gently, chastely,
against Qui-Gon's. "Thank you." He repeated as he drew back,
his voice a bare whisper.
In Obi Wan's mind it had been meant as something of a tease. A
ploy to crack his Master's inscrutable shell. What it turned
out to be, as simple and light as it had been, was an ignition
switch to his already unstable and combustible state of
arousal. Shivering slightly now in a way that had nothing to do
with the cold or the fever that still clung to him, he grabbed
the moment by the tail and leaned in again with deeper
intentions.
This time, though, he never made it as far as the softness of
his Master's lips. Qui-Gon's hands came up out of nowhere to
grab the sides of his face, holding him there.
"Obi Wan..." the voice was a low growl, a sound he had never
heard from the older man. It was half a threat, half a plea. It
was also a cold bucket of water. He froze there, mortified by
what he had just done, part of his mind scurrying for
excuses...explanations, something to say. The fever was
clouding his reflexes and his mind was not as quick as it
normally was. He could not see the battling hunger in his
mentor's eyes in the dark.
Uh, sorry Master. I slipped. I was reaching for the salt. I
thought you were someone else. I've gone temporarily insane,
but I'm better now...he faltered to a mental halt. He couldn't
think of anything plausible.
"Master, I..." he sucked his lower lip between his teeth,
worrying at it...his hands were twisting in his lap as he
continued to search futilely for something to say. "I...I'm
sorry. I overstepped my bounds...I just...I just wanted..." he
could feel himself digging himself deeper with each new word.
Best to stop now while he was only partway to the planet's
core.
"You wanted what?" the voice was still harsh, a raw almost
animal need in it. A quality that Obi Wan had not thought his
Master capable of. His face was still cupped between the large
hands that factored so heavily in each of his dreams. But he
did not look up.
He was trapped. He could not lie to his Master. Being caught in
a falsehood would be worse than any embarrassing wet dream. By
all that was sacred, how was it that he could proposition a
complete stranger, but not the man he loved?
"Master..." he wet his lips, unable to look the older man in
the eye...focusing on the hollow of his throat instead. "Master
I want...you."
He closed his eyes and waited for the disgust, the horror, the
disappointment. Certainly not everyone was as open-minded about
the pleasures of the body as he was, and older Jedi were a
notoriously conservative bunch.
There was no hint of his reaction, his walls were shut tight.
There was no movement but for the slight, ever so small caress
of Qui-Gon's thumb stroking his temple... no sound but for
their combined breath. He dared to slit open his eyes,
terrified of what he might see.
It was worse than he'd imagined.
Qui-Gon was looking at him with a sad, indulgent smile on his
face.
It was too much and he flung his Master's hands off his cheeks
as if they burned, humiliation and despair consuming him. The
man thought him amusing. A funny little crush that the poor
apprentice had on his Master. It happens all the time, he could
just hear him saying. But it's nothing. Infatuation. It will
pass.
Qui-Gon seemed surprised at his reaction, the blue eyes
widening slightly. At least the humoring smile had vanished.
He was feeling dizzy, flushed...slightly disoriented. Unable to
look his Master in the face any longer, he cranked his chin to
one side, gazing off into the darkness of the swamp. He could
have taken disgust easier than pity.
Qui-Gon's hands had fallen into his lap where they lay, pale
and limp on the tops of his thighs. He had no idea what the
older man was thinking, nor, at that moment, did he want to
know. The silence was a living thing between them, growing and
twisting into something ugly.
His blue eyes narrowed suddenly as the water next to the boat
burbled and two luminous yellow orbs popped through the surface
of the slime. He jerked back slightly in shock, his hand
already on the cool metal of his lightsaber. The lack of alarm
in his Master's stance and aura held his reaction back,
however. Caught up in the instinct of the moment, he glanced
back askance at the older man and saw only interest in his
eyes.
His hand fell away from his weapon.
"This way." The deep, raspy voice seemed to croak up out of the
dark.
"You can guide us?" Qui-Gon's voice floated over his shoulder,
echoing delicately off the flat, dark water.
"Yes. To the ...H'rok Capital. I will take you around the
foolish D'lonk. Follow." The creature started to move away, its
wake rocking the boat gently.
"Wait..." Qui-Gon's voice was not lifted, but the command in it
was strong. The alien paused, the large unblinking eyes
returning to stare at them. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn and this is Obi
Wan Kenobi. We are searching for someone. A Noolan woman named
Linia Kwan. She would have been dressed like us."
"I have not seen anyone who is not Yaqui in the swamp." The
Yaqui said after a long moment. "Those are difficult names. I
shall call you J'di. Now follow."
That seemed to be the end of the brief conversation. Obi Wan
made as if to take the controls of the boat, but his Master
quelled him with a gesture.
"Sit, young Padawan. You are still feverish...your capacities
are not what they should be. Drink some of the water."
Obi Wan had not forgotten what had passed between them only
moments before...though he could see that the older man
intended to pretend it hadn't happened. He did as he was told
without argument, not sure he trusted his voice and unwilling
to test his bravado just then.
The water felt cool in his throat as he huddled against a seat
and tipped back the container. His clothes were still cold and
wet from what he could only assume had been the overturn of the
boat during the ambush and he was beginning to notice that his
body was quaking slightly with cold and emotion. His skin still
felt hot and clammy at the same time and his bones were aching
in a way that disallowed comfort.
What he wanted was dry clothing, a warm bed and a willing body
next to him. He refused to indulge in the fantasy, knowing
without trying that the body would end up being his Master's no
matter how hard he tried to make it someone else. Instead he
tucked his icy hands into the cold, wet sleeves of his robe and
scrunched down on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest.
The gentle rocking of the boat as it glided through the swamp
was somehow comforting, the constant chorus of singing
nightlife in the damp darkness becoming a hypnotic buzz.
Shivering, feverish and aching in mind and body, he slipped
into an uneasy sleep. But not before it occurred to him to
wonder how their Yaqui guide had known that they were Jedi when
all the other Yaqui had never heard of such a thing.
My people can be very foolish when they are afraid.
I returned with my tale, expecting them to have the same
revelation that I did. The same swell of respect for the
sacrifice the stranger had made for her own honor. Her own
code.
We'd had a code of our own long ago, I'd said. Had we
forgotten?
The D'lonk Elders seemed not to hear the spirit of my story,
only the words.
Fear guided their dictates. They recognized that the stranger
was powerful. They realized that both the K'rup and the H'rok
would only grow in power with such a resource as the powers she
had commanded. They were all in agreement that it was best if
she were dead. Safer for our Clan. Safer for everyone.
The K'rup and the H'rok, they said solemnly, represented two
fighting giants. Those of us beneath them were fine while they
battled each other, but if one were to triumph, that victor
might turn its attention to us.
How could they be so deaf? Did they not understand that the
H'rok and the K'rup had not conquered the woman? That she had
given us an example to go by with her acceptance to die for
what she believed in?
They did not understand. And it hurt that they did not.
I wondered if we would ever be free. I wondered if we deserved
to be. My people had embraced the very lies that enslaved us.
A cycle passed and the stranger's lesson was not only ignored,
but it was soon forgotten. We worked the Ore Fields, we ate
what we were allowed. We did as we were told. I silently
apologized daily to the stranger for the blindness of my
people. We had not been worthy of her example.
And then two more J'di arrived in Pako.
I knew what my Clan would do.
And I knew what I would do.
He knew that he had made a terrible mistake.
The controls of the boat moved easily under his calm fingers,
propelling the Floater onwards, keeping the slightly glinting
wake of their guide within his view. He could have operated the
boat with his eyes closed, simply using the Force to both
follow B'dir and steer the boat through the shallow,
treacherous water. Instead he kept his eyes open until they
burned, always looking forward, refusing to glance behind him
at his sleeping Apprentice.
He had thought that a gentle reaction would be best. No. He
hadn't thought at all. He had simply panicked. The kiss, that
light, airy thing had shocked him all the way down to his core.
The hunger, the blatant youthful power of need that had been in
Obi Wan's eyes was overwhelming once exposed to the light. He
hadn't known how to react. He had thought the boy might be
slightly infatuated...that was normal in the Master-Apprentice
relationship...but the strength of his emotions was far beyond
what he had expected. So much so that he had fumbled, staggered
and dropped the gift the boy had handed him.
He could only pray he hadn't shattered it beyond repair.
His hands tightened on the controls, fingers whitening with
pressure. It was the only sign of his turmoil. He could not
crack now. Not in the middle of a hostile planet, his
Apprentice injured and ill, no sign of safe haven in sight. He
had to be strong.
No matter that a part of him sat hunched in a dark, locked room
within his heart, bent over and shaking with the inadvertent
pain he'd caused the soul he loved.
He knew he had to re-examine his feelings. His Padawan's
feelings. Their feelings for each other. Obi Wan was very young
yet, and there was no question that he felt everything very
strongly. Perhaps too strongly. It was a dangerous trait for a
Jedi to have. One must be able to distance oneself from
emotion. From such powerful feelings. Anger and fear had a
strong foothold within such a person.
He closed his eyes so briefly it could have been construed as a
blink. The pain of losing his second Padawan had never left
him. There was no avoiding the fact that he, as the guiding
hand, should have done more. Should have been more vigilant.
Should have instilled a better sense of control within him.
Xanatos had slipped to the dark side as surely and as
completely as if Qui-Gon had pushed him over himself.
Obi Wan was approaching the age and power where he would be the
most vulnerable to the pull of his own power...
He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt behind his eyes. It would
not happen. He would not let it happen. He would teach the boy
to control his emotions.
No matter how much he might want to drown in the feverish power
of his apprentice's passions.
But he would still have to mend the damage he had done. How he
was going to accomplish that, he didn't know. It was not
something that his decades of accomplishment as a Jedi could
help him with.
B'dir's hand rose from the water, long webbed fingers
glistening in the faint light of the stars. It had long since
stopped drizzling and suddenly he was aware of the utter
silence of the swamp around him. A frission of disquiet passed
through him and almost impatiently he shook off the distracting
emotions that had been clouding his thoughts. He could feel the
caution that emanated from the creature and he took heed,
extending his senses outward to catch any trace of threat or
menace.
His enhanced senses took in the sight of two dim hulks in the
branches of an overhanging tree, unmoving and showing no sign
of life. It didn't take the Force to know that both Yaqui were
dead. He knew that their guide had killed them, he had no
doubt. But he would not raise complaint of B'dir's murderous
actions simply because of the youth who lay feverish and
sleeping behind him. These creatures had fired at them, could
have killed his apprentice... were obviously intent on stopping
them from reaching the Capital. He did not like it, but he did
not question his guide's decision.
He wanted to check on Obi Wan, needed to... but he stood fast.
He was too weak to fight his impulses right now. He would run a
hand down the softly stubbled cheek, he would press his lips to
that hot forehead, he would beg for forgiveness...
He simply couldn't turn around.
And he didn't. Not for another hour's travel through the swamp,
no sign of the endless night ending, no sign of the H'rok
Capital. He drew the boat to a sudden halt when he saw B'dir
had turned back towards him, and it settled into stillness,
rocking back and forth on the water.
The yellow orbs of the alien pierced the gloom of the night,
closer and closer until the Yaqui was directly before the boat.
"Where is the other one?" He croaked. Was that anger in the
raspy voice?
Qui-Gon blinked at the alien, his brow furrowing.
"What do you mean?"
The alien gestured sharply behind him and he cranked his neck
to look. He'd been expecting to see something in the swamp,
something to explain the cryptic remark, but all he saw was an
empty boat.
Empty. Boat.
Obi Wan was gone.
The ambush was a failure.
My people are not fighters. We can barely use the strange
technology that we've hoarded over the past decade from the
offworlders. I knew the plan would fail.
I argued against it, but no one listened. The decision had been
made a moon ago when the Elders had determined that the J'di
were too dangerous to ever be allowed to tip the balance
between the H'rok and the K'rup.
Our people in Pako misled the new strangers and they walked
into our 'trap'. Even now I roll my eyes and shake my head. Two
of our Clan were killed by the K'rup Warrior that had been sent
to make sure the J'di came to the K'rup instead of the H'rok.
I was not a part of the attack, but I watched it all. I also
watched after my people had given up the attack and
left...watched as the H'rok Warriors stole the smaller of the
two J'di out from the very nose of the K'rup.
It would almost be funny, if it weren't so terrible.
I could see the future. I knew what my Clan did not. The J'di
posed no threat to the 'balance' between the two Powers. They
would never compromise their integrity. I think now that my
Clan was simply incapable of understanding the meaning of
integrity after so many turns of the season protecting the lies
of others.
I knew that both the J'di would die.
But this time, I planned on doing something about it.
His fever dream was odd. Movement, water, hands gripping his
arms so hard it hurt.. moist coolness on his face, soft
fingertips. Qui-Gon was there, of course, through it all. His
dark blue eyes staring at his apprentice with that same sad,
amused look on his face. As if he were mocking his feelings. As
if he pitied Obi Wan for having feelings at all. After all, he
was Qui-Gon. The man whom many at the Jedi Training Temple had
called the Wall. Unreadable, unflappable, untouchable. How
could he have expected anything more from him? How could he
have made himself so vulnerable?
'That is the conundrum, young Obi Wan,' his Master's voice
echoed in his head. 'You must learn control of strong emotion
so that it does not affect your judgement, your actions.'
'That's shit,' he moaned, his own voice sounding strangely off
in his own ears, 'you only say that because you've never felt
love before. You don't even know what strong emotion
is!'
The older man just shook his head. 'You don't understand, But
you will.'
And he turned and walked away.
Leaving Obi Wan to lurch into wakefulness.
A small, organically shaped room unfolded before him, tiny
round windows set here and there, staggered unevenly in the
walls. It was still night outside, but there was a set
of small green glow-lamps in the alcove of the door.
He licked his dry lips, glancing down to see that he had been
stripped to the waist, clad only in his breeches and bare feet.
He was on a low pallet, a soft blanket that looked to be made
of moss lying crumpled around his legs.
There was no sign of his Master, no sign of his weapon, no sign
of anything that he recognized. He closed his eyes and tried to
settle his mind, still skittish from the odd dream.
And he found himself cut off from his control.
It was there, The Force was. All around him. He could sense it,
feel it...but he could not grasp it. He bit down on his lower
lip, trying harder to concentrate.
Nothing. It was almost as if he were trying to grab onto a
handle, but his fingers were too weak to close on it...turning
to water as he did.
He took a deep breath, stilling his fear. It would do him no
good to panic. The edges of his vision seemed fuzzy,
indistinct. In the Academy they gave the students many
different kinds of mind-altering drugs...just to give them an
idea of how they disrupted the discipline of the mind. That was
it, of course.
He'd been drugged. It was not the same as anything else that he
had ever experienced, but he knew with certainty that that was
what it was. It was almost a relief to know that there was
reason behind it.
And a cause.
That left him frowning as he realized that someone had given
him a drug, likely deliberately. Hoping to divorce him from The
Force. He pushed himself up off the bed and made his way to the
little door, noting that his fever was gone and his reflexes
seemed normal.
The door was, of course, locked. And without his control, he
would not be able to manipulate the lock with his mind.
With grim purpose, he went over the tiny room, peering into
each crack and crevice, even lifting up the pallet and scouring
the rock floor under it. He could see very little out the
miniscule windows, mainly because it was still dark out, but he
could tell that he was up in the air quite a ways. Starlight
glinted off the swamp water almost 200 feet below.
Returning to the pallet, he settled cross-legged on it and
tried to relax. The room looked new. At least newish. The stone
walls and windows seemed fresh cut of a synthetic stone. Very
high-tech, he thought with some surprise. Perhaps he had not
been taken by the Yaqui at all. Perhaps he had been taken by
the theoretical smugglers Linia had been looking for. If that
was so, the mind-drug he'd been given would make
sense...considering that Silitini was the mind-drug Linia had
been tracking as well.
A sound at the door had him tensed for action, his whipcord
muscles tightening imperceptibly under his skin while his
outward appearance remained relaxed.
A Yaqui, smaller than any he had seen so far and with paler
skin, entered the room almost hesitantly, blinking large yellow
eyes at him. It was wearing a blue capelet.
Yaqui? So much for the offworld Smuggling operation theory.
It stayed by the door, shutting it softly behind it. Obi Wan
could hear the sound of the bolts sliding, locking it in with
him. She swallowed nervously. He just looked at her, keeping
his wall of controlled calm around him.
"I...I am L'ria" it said in light voice. A female, he guessed.
He could not read her at all. Of course, so far he and his
Master had had terrible luck reading the Yaqui in the first
place, so he wouldn't have given himself good odds on it even
if he hadn't been drugged. "How do you feel?"
He didn't move, his face expressionless, waiting.
"Uh, I wanted to check on your shoulder..." She took one
hesitant step forward.
He raised his sharp brows. He'd forgotten that he was wounded.
He finally tore his eyes off the Yaqui and glanced down at his
shoulder, surprised to see a strange green patch covering the
wound.
Long, webbed fingers came into his peripheral and he jerked
back slightly as she worried at the edge of the patch. He
braced himself as she tore it off in one smooth movement, but
there was no pain. Looking down, he saw the pink new flesh of a
fully healed injury. He looked back up at the alien and she
smiled a little hesitantly.
"Feel ok now?" she asked. He frowned at her.
"Where am I? Who are you? Where's my companion?" His questions
were firm, his voice hard.
She backed away a few steps, as if afraid that he was going to
lunge at her.
"I told you. I'm L'ria. This is the H'rok Capital."
Obi Wan narrowed his eyes.
"We were heading towards the H'rok, both of us. Where is he?"
"There is only you here." she said softly. "We rescued you from
certain death. We could not save both of you."
His heart seized. It was only with a monumental effort that he
remained outwardly unaffected. It would not do to show any
emotion, any weakness that might be used against him.
He didn't believe it. He felt sure that he would have known.
"He is not dead." He said out loud. He suddenly felt certain of
it. As if the act of speaking the words made them real.
She licked her wide lips with a rope-like tongue.
"Maybe not yet, but when we found you in the swamp, you were
being led by a K'rup Warrior in the direction of their Capital.
We could only take you. We could not risk confronting the
Warrior. Warriors are very dangerous." Her hands opened and
closed nervously. "But we saved you. I healed your wound the
rest of the way." She wheedled the rest like she expected him
to be grateful.
"K'rup? He said he was H'rok." Obi Wan gritted, deliberately
not thanking her for the healing. Not trusting her.
"They lie like they breathe. The K'rup are nothing but
deceivers."
"But why would they lie?" He ground out, becoming more
annoyed by the minute. "And what would they want with us?"
"Who knows why the K'rup do what they do?" She shrugged. "As
for why they want you, I do not know that either."
"Why would you rescue us...me?" There was definitely something
fishy here. He didn't need the Force to tell him that.
"Because the K'rup would have killed you." She said, clearly
not understanding why he was not grateful. "They killed the
last stranger that came here."
"Linia?!" Obi Wan gasped. She was dead? He felt his heart tear
for his Master. Qui-Gon had been very close to the woman.
Somehow it made sense now, how B'dir had known they were Jedi.
"Why?" His blue gaze nailed the Yaqui. "Why would that K'rup
warrior save us in the swamp if all he wanted was to kill us?"
The Yaqui shook her head.
"Perhaps...perhaps they meant to use you for something?" she
suggested. "We have some very important negotiations tomorrow
morning. Maybe they wanted to use you to gain the upper hand?"
"They must not have learned very much from Linia." Obi Wan
growled at her. "Jedi are not used."
She seemed very apologetic, even upset, as she spread her hands
out helplessly. He shook his head.
"Well, I'm going to get him back." he grumbled.
Something flashed in the creatures eyes...too fast to catch. He
frowned slightly.
"If he is still alive, we will do what we can. We have those
negotiations tomorrow morning. If he is still alive, they will
bring him."
"How do you know?"
"Because if they don't kill him, they certainly plan to use him
in the negotiations."
"For what?"
"You J'di have many powers. We saw that when the woman came.
That would be very weighty in negotiations."
Obi Wan shook his head almost sadly, smiling slightly at the
Yaqui.
"He will never submit to being used. No Jedi would."
"Then they will kill him."
"And what of me?" He asked, suddenly tilting his head. "Are you
going to ask me to do the same for the H'rok? Is that why you
lock the door on me? Is that why you give me drugs?"
She was shaking her head.
"No! We lock the door for your safety. And the only drugs we
gave you were for healing. They will wear off."
Obi Wan was silent then, thinking, weighing. If there was any
truth to anything that was coming from this sly but
unsophisticated creature's mouth, it was that Qui-Gon was very
likely in grave danger.
"There is a way to get your friend back." She said finally, as
if reading his mind.
He frowned again. Maybe she was. Reading his mind.
"How?"
"If you could...you could make the K'rup give up your
friend." She was nodding as if trying to get him to agree with
her ahead of time. "You would have to get them to Put It To
Paper."
"What do you mean by that? Paper?"
"Yes, my people place great import in the written word. Once
laid down, it is law. We cannot break it. Get them to write
your J'di friend as belonging to the H'rok."
He narrowed his eyes at her again, nodding softly.
"I'll do whatever I need to do get him back." He said it
softly, watching the alien face carefully as he did so.
The triumphant glitter in her eyes told him all he needed to
know.
It was an odd decision. Which one to follow. I can't say what
told me to follow the bigger J'di.
I think it was not bravery. Though I knew that I was taking the
more dangerous of the two paths. The K'rup were far more
unpleasant than their counterpart. The H'rok chose manipulation
and lies over the untempered violence of the K'rup.
I think, really, it was the ring that the stranger had given
me. It was telling me to go the way I went.
I did not tell anyone, nor did I ask permission. I knew what
the answer would have been, and I was tired of hiding.
"What are you saying?" the Jedi refrained only barely from
snapping at B'dir, his patience fraying like a worn rope. "You
have no idea what happened to him? Was it some local plant life
that happens to have a taste for humans? Was it some other
faction running around out here I should know about? Was it the
K'rup?"
B'dir was silent and Qui-Gon realized that the creature was as
surprised as he was, even angry, to find the young man gone. It
didn't stop him from kicking himself repeatedly. If he hadn't
been so damned determined to keep his precious control, he
might have glanced back to check on Obi Wan once or twice. He
might have been able to focus on something besides his own
tortured thoughts.
He'd stretched his awareness out as far as he could and there
had been no trace of his apprentice. The worry and fear in his
stomach were on verge of distracting. It was one of the reasons
why he hadn't wanted to get into this position in the first
place. If he hadn't been mooning for his own damned apprentice,
this would have never happened.
"We must go on to the Capital." B'dir said finally. "Perhaps we
can launch a search from there."
Qui-Gon stared at the alien for a long, hard moment...weighing
what he had just heard with what he wanted to do. Which was
scour the swamp himself.
But the swamp was still swallowed by its infernally long night,
and he would have to rely entirely on his Jedi senses. There
were hostile Yaqui out there who had proved themselves willing
to attack. B'dir's suggestion, much as it rankled, made sense.
"How far are we?"
"Not far. Another hour."
"Fine. Lets get moving," he snapped, jerking the controls of
the boat into motion.
If anything happened to Obi Wan... he shied away from the
thought. It was an impossibility. He would not lose another
apprentice. Not like this. Not this one.
He took a deep breath and settled his cloak of calm over his
shoulders again, shivering only slightly in the night chill. He
had covered Obi Wan with his robe, and now it was gone with his
apprentice. Distress would not help. He had to be clear. Only
then could the Force fill him. Help him. Guide him.
B'dir was true to his word and within an hour, the Jedi spied
green glowing lights through the trees that became low squat
buildings that spawned larger structures that finally gave way
to a huge inner city structure that rose up out of the swamp in
stunning, massive cylinders of sheer rock.
He had not expected the city. He had expected something similar
to the squatters' sheds and the low, long buildings that he had
seen in the port. This was most impressive.
And it made him instantly wary and very suspicious.
How was it that this was listed as a lo-tech world? There was
something wrong here. He stretched his senses out, still
disturbed by the fact that he could barely read the Yaqui. He
got hardly anything from them at all, but the sense of
corruption was strong here. He had felt it back in Pako, and
now he suspected this was the source. Or perhaps not the
source. But definitely a source. The Dark Side seemed to
have an almost palpable presence.
He set his worry for his Padawan aside gently, like a fragile
vase, and concentrated on remaining alert. Even though he could
not sense these aliens, he could sense their influence. This
was not a safe place. He started to get a very bad feeling
about what might have happened to Linia.
They docked the boat at the foot of one of the massive
cylinders of stone and B'Dir led him silently up a beautiful
curving stair that curled around the circumference of the
tower. The stone at his left was polished smooth, and new. He
looked at it more carefully and raised mental eyebrows at the
fact that it was not true stone at all, but a sophisticated
synthetic stone. Definitely not lo-tech.
They passed under several delicate arches dripping with
curtains of moss, walked through long corridors lit by green
globes of energy. The Yaqui appeared not only to be a great
deal more hi-tech than they pretended to be, but they also
appeared to be very wealthy.
Very.
And they also seemed to be hiding.
As they passed under a slender archway his Force-sense suddenly
flared in alarm and his hand flew to his belt a moment too
late. A glowing green net of energy obscured his vision,
contracting around his limbs, flattening his arms to his body.
He caught a glimpse of the color and iconology on the maroon
capelets that his ambushers wore and understanding came a
second before he saw the stunstick descend.
And then it was his turn to slip into unconsciousness.
The waters around the K'rup fortress were littered with trash
and bones. It seemed appropriate. It went with the palpable
reek of corruption that hovered over the massive structure.
No Yaqui had ever made such a thing, a monstrosity such as the
Capitals that the K'rup and the H'rok had had constructed for
themselves. Sweeping up into the darkness, the massive towers
were lit here and there with globs of green light that only
lent to the image of sickness and decay that emanated from the
walls.
Greed. Greed and exploitation were the building blocks of this
place. It was everything that my people were not. We had jumped
from simple foragers to this. And it was wrong.
How could any of my people not see how wrong it was?
I shut myself off from the foulness that it seemed only I could
sense, and I approached with caution. This was not the H'rok
Capital which I had breached so easily when I followed the J'di
woman. These were the K'rup, and they were far more ruthless. I
would not be able to pull the same trick.
I'd watched as the Warrior had led the J'di inside the fortress
and I had waited. I could feel the swamp around me, alive and
vibrant still, even with its people so cut off from it. It
thrived even though this alien edifice rose out of its waters
like a splinter on a smooth oar. The swamp would still be here
when the Yaqui were reduced to rotting loam and the fortress
dust. Somehow, it was a comforting thought. The intransience of
the thing.
It wasn't too long. I could almost taste the J'di's surprise
when they took him. A little longer and I saw movement along an
upper level. Guards being posted.
I knew now where they were keeping him.
As I began to scale the slick, unnatural wall of the tower, I
still didn't know what I was going to do. The ring was in a
tiny pouch at my wrist and I thought perhaps that I would just
give it to him. Relieve myself of the burden that the stranger
had given me. Not because I declined it, but because I knew
instinctively that I was not the one it was meant for.
Not far. Not hard to avoid the eyes of the guards. They would
never suspect someone would climb their vaunted alien walls.
Tiny windows lent me a keyhole view into a small chamber barely
big enough to house the large frame of the outlander.
He was already hurt, I could see. The K'rup did not have the
devious finesse of the H'rok. They would have simply beaten the
J'di into a state where they felt safe from him. It would not
be like the Silitini derivative drug the H'rok had given the
female J'di to hamper her powers.
I settled as comfortably as I could against the smooth wall to
wait for him to wake.
They had taken his boots, he thought idly through the pain. And
his weapon of course. His white Jedi tunic was mostly torn and
he was more than certain that his left arm was broken.
He'd been unable to Heal himself, though not for lack of
trying. It was the fever. They had stunned him with one of
their viral weapons and now his body was busy trying to expel
the invaders. Too hard to clear your mind when you were running
a high fever.
Small room. Too small to stand up in. He knew, of course, why
they had bothered with hurting him like they had. They were
scared of him. They had wanted to see to it that he was too
incapacitated to escape.
Something that would have been ridiculously easy if he'd had
his senses about him. As brutal and canny as these Yaqui were,
they were astonishingly unsophisticated. They were like
children dressed in the garb of adults.
Children who had managed to kidnap his apprentice and
incapacitate him, he reminded himself wryly.
He rolled onto his back with a moan. Every muscle in his body
was screaming in agony with the fever and he was soaked with
sweat. His hair had come loose of its binding at some point in
the past hours and now it stuck uncomfortably to his face and
neck. Just another small discomfort in a litany of others.
Oddly enough, he felt at peace. He felt at ease. That he had
been duped and that he'd been following the K'rup all night
long to the K'rup Capital was a minor irritation to his pride
in the face of the fact that, if he was with the K'rup.. Obi
Wan was very likely with the H'rok, and probably alive as he
was.
If only these Yaqui hadn't been so damned hard to read. He
would have known from the beginning that they were being lied
to. Of course, the amphibious race was clever enough to let
just enough emotion through so as to not arouse suspicion. He
would have to add an important sidebar into the Jedi Temple
World Database on the Yaqui. Certainly if he had known the
bastards were both telepathic and technologically advanced, he
would have approached this place with a tad more
caution.
Careful Qui-Gon, you're starting to sound like your apprentice.
Not that that's a bad thing. He grinned wryly to himself in the
dark room and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling through
heat-puffed eyes. Obi Wan liked to say whatever sprang to his
lips, though often it was inappropriate and it was spoken at
inappropriate times. Secretly, Obi Wan found it endearing. The
boy had guts. Not that he could ever tell him that. Wisecracks
were not what people needed to hear Jedi saying. So he must
outwardly disapprove.
As with so much.
His smile faded. Sometimes he thought that his apprentice
should not have been a Jedi...so many rules and strictures for
someone so full of life. And then he would instantly realize
that the boy could be nothing else. He was what he was.
And by all that was sacred, he loved him for it.
A sigh echoed in the tiny hole and he licked his lips, suddenly
transported back to that moment in the boat what seemed like
years ago when his apprentice had kissed him. As often as he
had imagined the sensation over the past two years, it was
nothing to the real thing...and that had only been a peck. A
brush. What would have happened if he had let Obi Wan come back
in for that second taste?
His body shot through with little electrical storms as he
thought of it, as he remembered the sensual intent in those
blue eyes. Why had he stopped him? His feverish brain was
having a hard time remembering why he'd prevented Obi Wan from
making his Master's fantasies come true. Why?
Oh, right.
It was wrong.
Wrong?
How in the Galaxy could it have been wrong? It felt so
incredible to touch Obi Wan in such an intimate way. Like
brushing souls.
It wasn't right. It broke that Jedi Code that he ..uh.. only
loosely followed at the best of times. It what? Exposed his
feelings? Made him feel alive and loved and not alone?
How could any of that be wrong?
He could still see his apprentice's expression when he'd
stopped him from kissing him a second time. He'd been too
scared to see what was in front of him...but Obi Wan hadn't
understood what was going through his mentor's head, he'd been
crushed by his Master's attempt to brush off what had happened.
If anything was wrong, that was wrong.
A silent, single, salty tear streaked down the side of his
dirty, feverish cheek...trickling into his hairline. By all
that was sacred, how could he have done that?
And how could he continue to justify keeping the truth of his
feelings from Obi Wan? It was hypocritical. He would take the
risk, he would fling himself from the precipice and hope that
the youth would be there to catch him.
If it wasn't too late.
If they survived this.
A noise at the wall behind him had him whipping his head around
so quickly it made his vision spin. Even in his feverish state,
he was still alert, still in touch with the Force although he
could not manipulate it very well.
Yellow, bulbous eyes were peering in at him from the darkness
outside.
"Who are you?" he asked, frowning. He did not get up, unsure if
he was even capable. Instead he remained lying on the floor,
peering at the strange Yaqui from between thicken, puffy
eyelids through a tangle of matted, sweaty hair.
"I am P'ri of the D'lonk." The voice rasped quietly from the
dark.
Qui Gon blinked slowly. The D'lonk? They were the ones who had
ambushed them. Who had injured Obi Wan.
He did not fling accusations. Instead he waited, sensing that
there was more. Sensing that the alien on the other side of the
wall had strong currents of the Force running though her.
"I have something for you. From the one who came before. The
one like you."
Linia?
"What is it?" he whispered in his raw voice, his vision
blurred. A long-fingered, webbed hand came through the small
opening and dropped something with a clinking metallic sound.
A small silver ring rolled across the floor and settled to rest
a few feet from his head. He knew it.
Taking a shuddering breath, he reached out and picked up the
bit of jewelry with fingers that shook.
He remembered the ring. He had given it to Linia so long ago..
so long ago. It had been the day he'd become a Knight, the day
he had decided that he was going to dedicate his life to the
perfect discipline of a Jedi lifestyle. It had always been a
symbol of his control to him. The gift had been an apology to
the woman he'd once thought he would spend his life with. She
had seen it as more than that, and said so, but he still didn't
know what she meant.
Staring at it now, he could sense the psychic imprint on it
that told him without a doubt that Linia had given this token
to a stranger in the hopes that it would reach him. And it was
that very imprint that told him she was dead.
He closed the item tightly in his fist, squeezing it so tightly
it cut into his flesh. He had no tears, only a deep regret.
Regret that he had been too late, that he could never apologize
to her now, that she was trying to teach him even in her death.
A tiny sad smile curled at the side of his mouth. She had
wanted him to take back the thing that he'd given away in order
to push away everything that interfered with his control.
He looked back up at the two eyes, noting that the sky beyond
was lightening ever so faintly, creating a silhouette behind
the Yaqui.
"She is dead." The Yaqui croaked, telling him what he already
knew. "I'm sorry. My people were not always so corrupt."
"Do you know what happened to my apprentice?" he wrenched
himself up onto his good elbow with an effort that left him
shaking with weariness. The fever was making his head spin.
"The H'rok have him. He is likely in better straits than you."
"Do you know what they plan for us?"
"They are going to try to force you to use your powers for
them. As the H'rok are trying to do with your friend."
Qui Gon almost laughed.
"That's not going to happen." He said softly, almost
sorrowfully.
"I know." P'ri said sagely. "So they will kill you as they did
the woman. They believe that if you will not be an asset to
them, there is always the risk you will be one for their
enemy."
The Jedi Master nodded slowly.
"When?"
"I think they will take you to the MeetRock, as they did with
her. They will threaten your life. Your friend might have a
harder time. The H'rok are much more cunning than the K'rup.
They will try to trick him into using his powers for them."
"This MeetRock. What happens there?"
"Negotiations. Both of the main Clans meet there once every ten
days to trade and trick. They always hope to gain something
over the other. They hope to tip the balance between them so
that one might take over the entirety of the Silitini
Operations. Greed has ruled them since we found the Fields."
"The Silitini. It is why Linia came out here."
P'ri nodded, silent.
"Can you help us?" Qui Gon asked finally, falling back to the
stone floor and closing his eyes wearily.
"I do not know if I can do anything. They will take you to the
MeetRock. It is hundreds of feet tall. You can only access it
by air and I will not be able to stow away on the shuttle. The
ships are too small."
"Can you... can you help my apprentice?" he asked.
"The H'rok Capital is too far. The Negotiations will begin
after the sun rises."
There was a faint red light streaking in behind P'ri and he
stared at it for a long time before he recognized it for what
it was.
The dawn.
"Can you do anything?"
There was a long silence out the window as the light slowly
turned blood red.
"I came to try, J'di."
The long night was finally over.
The top of the main tower of the H'rok fortress stood hundreds
of feet over the Swamp. Far to the south, a hazy column in the
distance, he could make out another freestanding structure. Obi
Wan couldn't make it out exactly, but he suspected it was the
Meetrock. His dirty, stained tunic alternately flattened and
billowed out from his body as he stood on the edge of the roof
and watched the sun rise.
He stood alone, though there were a total of four of the bulky
Warriors lurking near the stairwell that accessed the roof.
They might think him ready to sacrifice his ethics in order to
save Qui Gon, but they weren't going to take any chances.
They thought they had tricked him. They had so thoroughly
underestimated him that it was surprising. Children, he
thought. They were like Children playing at the games of
adults. The Yaqui showed all the signs of a primitive culture
thrust too quickly into technology.
He could touch the Force again, faintly, but he still couldn't
read the Yaqui. It didn't matter much anymore. He could read
their actions. Their clumsy attempts at subterfuge. He could
certainly feel the Dark Side's influence. Strong. Very strong.
As telepaths, the Yaqui had been susceptible to that
corruption.
He ran a tired hand through the short silk of his hair,
scratching absently at the back of his head. His prescience,
usually so active, was not telling him anything. He didn't know
if it was because of the drug that was still interfering with
his Force perceptions, or if it was because nothing bad was
going to happen.
He decided it was better to be paranoid. Kept him on edge.
The massive red star was fully over the horizon now, painting
the vast swamp a bloody crimson. After sunrise, L'ria had said.
And the Elders had assured him that the K'rup would bring
Qui-Gon and expect to use him as a bargaining chip. They
reiterated that the K'rup would kill him. That it would be up
to him, Obi Wan, to save his friend.
It certainly was.
A noise alerted him and he saw the full H'rok Elder council
walking towards him across the roof, the healer L'ria trailing
them with two elegantly dressed Yaqui... those flanked by his
four big, mean looking escorts. The oddity of the fully robed
Yaqui was less of a focus than the healer herself. Her presence
worried him. It told him that the H'rok were afraid that
Qui-Gon was injured. He accepted the idea into his thoughts,
not wanting it to distract him later.
"Are you ready to leave for the MeetRock, J'di?" The ClanMaster
asked, bowing his head slightly at Obi Wan and blinking the
large bulbous eyes at him slowly. The young man nodded, but did
not bow back.
He was. He was ready.
"I present our Scribes, P'la and J'rom." The ClanMaster waved
his hand respectfully at the two Yaqui, expressing a strange
amount of deference for what, he assumed, were basically
secretaries. Secretaries. Ah, he reminded himself, L'ria had
told him of the sacredness of the written word last night.
These two were essentially prophets then. Whatever.
The shuttle ride was brief, and he ran through every calming
technique that he had ever been taught. He wasn't entirely sure
what he was going to do yet, but he had a bare sketch of an
idea. He'd always been good thinking on his feet.
He sat a few seats back from the front and he could see out the
wide front screen. Along the flat, hazy horizon, a gargantuan
stone plinth rose from the swamps around it like a sentinel. A
flash of reflected light in the East told him that another
shuttle was approaching from the opposite direction. Both of
the craft swooped up from their respective sides, landing
lightly on separate halves of the huge flat-topped rock pillar.
Obi Wan forced himself to walk slowly and with dignity down the
ramp and accompany the Elders across the rock surface. He could
already see the other group of Yaqui approaching.
And two of them were dragging the tall form of his Master
between them.
Qui-Gon was pasty white, haggard and clearly sick. One arm bent
at an odd angle and his clothes hung torn and filthy from his
frame. His long hair had come loose from the small tail he wore
it in and it curtained his face in long, sweat-soaked strands.
Obi Wan kept a rein on his anger only through long years of
training to do just that. He accepted it and let it flow
through him with ease. He could feel L'ria's eyes on
him...expectant. He knew what she was hoping he'd do. He would
not oblige her.
The two K'rup, one of which was B'dir, the Yaqui who he'd seen
only briefly in the swamp, dropped his Master unceremoniously
onto the ground and then all of them, H'rok included, moved
forward to arrange themselves cross-legged on the stone behind
their ClanMasters. There were two similarly bedecked Yaqui on
the K'rup side who stepped forward to a long raised bench. The
scribes from both Clans knelt on each side and began to gently
pull sheets of fine paper from their robes. Ink and brush
followed in an intricate ceremony of some sort and then the
Scribes settled into stillness.
Apparently the negotiations had begun.
As if he cared.
Qui-Gon was dimly aware of his Padawan's presence. The youth
was like a flame in his mind. His spirit burned so brightly
that there were times he compared it to looking into the sun.
Obi Wan had his anger, his fear, his uncertainty all well under
control. He could feel his student's need to come to him, to
help him, but the youth was controlling himself aptly. He could
sense that the boy had a plan.
He could feel Linia too, though his hazy mind. She was here,
talking to him.. a whisper in his ear. He still clasped her
ring tightly in his left hand. He wanted to tell her to talk
louder, but she didn't. She kept on whispering in that light,
cultured tone of hers. She had such a beautiful voice. He still
couldn't remember why he had not married her.
-Because you didn't love me, silly man-
He didn't? He'd thought he had. How did she know, when he
didn't?
-You were looking for someone else, my love-
Why hadn't she told him then? Saved him years of regret over
his decision?
-I didn't know then either. I only learned just now...-
He could hear the smile in her lovely voice. He answered with a
smile of his own. He'd only learned just now himself.
Suddenly it hit him with its reality. Her voice was not backed
with the warmth and grounded reason it always was. He could
sense the freedom, the airy light and power in her words.
She was truly dead. It hurt to think it.
-Don't grieve, old friend. I am part of the Force now-
The voice was sad.
-I didn't get to do as much as I'd hoped...I never got to tell
you...-
She'd wanted to save the galaxy. She always had. What had she
never told him? There had never been any secrets between them.
He could almost feel her smile, the light touch of her hand on
his face.
-I know its hard for you to trust anyone so completely, Qui Gon
Jinn. To lose any part of your control, but you must do it
anyway. Because I asked you to.-
Linia?
There was nothing more. Once more he could feel the stinging
wetness of his own tears hot and wet on his cheeks.
He could still feel the warmth and fire of Obi Wan's passion
blazing nearby. But he did nothing.
He could trust. He did trust.
Obi Wan.
I climb.
The rock is rough and tearing on my fingers.
Far and far and far up I climb. I dare not look down. No Yaqui
was meant for such a climb. My arms are aching and shrieking
with the pain of strained muscles.
I do not know how far or how near I am to the top.
I let the morning sun succor me, fill me with its energy even
as it dries out my skin.
I climb on.
He could feel her.
As soon as he'd stepped off the shuttle, he'd felt her.
She had died here. Painfully. He could almost feel her
plummeting off the side, smashing against the shallow waters
below. The currents of the Force were strong up here, agitated
and frenetic with the violence that had been done, the lie that
had been woven. There was far more than just a touch of Dark
Energies on this Plinth, brought to life by the duplicity and
the greed of the Yaqui and their Negotiations.
He had shaken it off and concentrated on his Master instead. He
knew what he needed to do now.
The only way out of this ridiculous nightmare. It was up to
him.
Control.
He had learned it from the best.
Linia had not come back. She was gone, but he didn't doubt that
she'd been there, that he hadn't imagined it. He would grieve
for her properly later.
He could feel the rough texture of the stone under his cheek,
the sharp pain in his arm. The fever was finally absent,
however, his bones no longer ached so fiercely, his skin no
longer cooked. He was in pain, but his head was clear. He did
not move from his position, his senses telling him that there
was a Yaqui standing over him. B'dir. He could hear the
murmuring croaks of the aliens' language being bandied back and
forth a little ways away. He could feel the strong, cold wind
that occurred only in very high places whipping around his
body, lifting and flattening his clothes against his body and
stirring his long hair. And he could sense his apprentice, not
too far away.
He began to channel strength into his limbs, carefully knitting
the cracked Ulna in his arm. But still he did not open his
eyes. Not yet.
The Yaqui were too difficult to read, but he could tell from
the cadence of the voices that they seemed to be deep in
negotiations of some kind. He knew what had happened to Linia
now.
She had died here. Pushed off the side.
He wanted to tell his apprentice.
These aliens were terribly cunning even in their clumsy,
unsophisticated fashion. Dangerous with the power of the Dark
Side.
A few more minutes and he would show them what cunning got
them.
Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. It was Obi Wan, he
recognized the slightly impatient, slightly arrogant stride. He
slit one eye open, thankful that his head happened to be facing
the proceedings. Two groups of Yaqui sat on opposites sides of
a raised portion of stone, four robed aliens kneeling at that
'bench', carefully using brush and ink on large thick sheets of
paper.
He saw the booted heels of his apprentice stride into view and
walk straight for the Scribes. He didn't know what the boy had
in mind, but he readied himself to spring into action at the
first sign of trouble. He could read the young man's body
language easily and he recognized the signs of an Original Obi
Wan Idea in the 'feet spread and planted' stance.
"Excuse me, " He said politely, "you mind if I borrow this for
a moment?"
And before anyone could stop him, he pulled a brush out of one
of the Yaqui Scribes' stunned fingers, dipped it in ink, yanked
a fresh piece of paper out from another's hand, and began to
write.
It only took another second for distress to start rippling
through the Yaqui...strong enough to actually read, and he
tensed, ready to take control of the situation.
-trust him-
He did. He would. He subsided.
He could hear footsteps thudding from all sides as Warriors
from both Clans converged on his apprentice with knives drawn.
Qui Gon felt a strong shove of the Force and two of them were
flying backwards, another two had their feet swept out from
under them as they skidded backwards. He could see Obi Wan
still doing whatever he was doing, leaping up onto the raised
stone bench and nimbly avoiding the clumsy attempts of both
Elder and Scribe to stop him.
"This will be brief. Sorry to interrupt." Obi Wan mumbled over
the panicked sounds of the leaders of both clans. Whatever his
apprentice was doing, it was causing a huge stir. The usually
unreadable Yaqui were sending off waves of consternation and
fear.
Qui-Gon could hear the irreverent sense of humor that never
seemed to leave his student's voice. "In case you're interested
in what I'm writing here, this is a description of how you are
going to put us on one of those shuttles and take us to our
ship..."
He didn't understand, but he didn't have time to contemplate
what Obi Wan was doing, a knife blade was suddenly laid, cold
and menacing, against the back of his neck. B'dir. The toad
meant to take him hostage to control Obi Wan.
An invisible hand suddenly hit B'Dir in the chest and
catapulted him backwards, sending him skidding across the
Plinth on his back like the others, the knife skittering out of
his hand and off the side.
Qui Gon's eyes flickered to his student to find him still
quickly writing, his attention focused on both what he was
doing and avoiding the panicked grabs of the Yaqui. There was
no way that his Padawan had that much control.
The Warriors were not attacking again, though several had
picked themselves up off the stone surface. The rest lay,
gasping for breath, on the stone. Those that had managed to
regain their feet hovered in a peripheral circle around the
central group. He could sense a great deal of fear leaking past
their normally tight telepathic control.
"...where we will fly away from this thrice-bedamned world."
Qui-Gon couldn't tell what the boy was doing, but now all the
Clan leaders were silent on both sides. Whatever he had done,
it had shocked them all into stillness. "Don't get me wrong,"
Obi Wan said, a grin evident in his voice, "its not that I
don't like swamp worlds, and 37 hour nights and getting
feverish and all that...but I think I've had more than enough
for now." His voice got suddenly harder. "We both have. And if
you want to make it easier on yourself when the Republic comes
here to investigate your illegal smuggling operation, you'll do
as this says."
The cream colored parchment fluttered to Obi Wan's feet as he
flipped it from contemptuous fingers.
Nice sense of drama the young man had. He wanted to applaud.
Shaking his head, he finally pulled himself slowly up to his
feet, still confused about more than a few things, but knowing
without doubt that his apprentice had managed to blackmail the
Clan Leaders of both sides.
Somehow.
It didn't matter. It was clear that the Yaqui were cowed. They
were going to take them back to their ship, he could see it in
their expressions. He smiled, feeling an inordinate amount of
pride swelling up in his chest. He had said it many times to
himself and to others, but it was Obi Wan's very exuberance and
irreverence that would make him a great Jedi Knight someday.
Hs apprentice slowly turned, knowing that his Master was up and
standing simply through their connection.
"Well done, my Padawan." He said with a smile. "You have more
control than I thought to take care of so many threats at once.
Truly, you have come far."
Obi Wan lifted his eyebrows, not meeting his Master's eyes and
instead scanning the Warriors that still stood and lay some
distance away, eyeing them with suspicion.
"What do you mean, Master? Wasn't that you who took care of
them?"
Qui Gon blinked. Then, slowly, he turned to scan the edges of
the Plinth. He was somehow not surprised to see a lone Yaqui
approaching from behind one of the Shuttles.
"P'ri" he said. "I am impressed."
She stopped before them and Qui Gon took note of the fact that
her hands were raw and dripping with yellow blood. She shook
her head, clearly astonished. But she did not speak. Instead
she gestured at a shuttle.
"I think now is the time for you to leave." She said softly.
Qui Gon nodded and put a hand on his apprentice's shoulder,
guiding him towards one of the small craft. He glanced down at
his Padawan and looked into the tense, handsome face.
The youth smiled faintly at him and suddenly the entire
situation faded into unimportance.
Obi Wan was afraid of him.
His mouth seemed dry as he retrieved his weapon and watched
B'dir reluctantly return his Master his and guide both of them
to one of the shuttles. The stranger, P'ri, joined them as they
settled into the seats of the shuttle, leaving the others
standing confused on the Plinth. The Scribes were carefully
handling the paper that he'd written on, talking to each other
frantically as if trying to find a loophole.
The hatch shut on the tableau and the ship lifted into the air.
By the time they acted, he and his master would already be back
on their own freighter. It was not something that he could have
done in any other situation. It helped greatly that the Yaqui
were still primitive enough to adhere to strict traditions and
cultural rules. A true technologically mature species would
never have allowed something so simple to foil them.
Still, he had figured it out. And it had worked. Of course, the
help from the enigmatic Yaqui his master seemed to know had
been the clincher. He hadn't been sure what he was going to do
when those Warriors had moved...he'd been playing it by ear.
His master would not be pleased to hear that.
His master. He'd been able to put aside thoughts of
humiliation, frustration and embarrassment, but now that
Qui-Gon was standing at his side again, he found that all else
had faded into a dim haze of apprehension.
What would his Master say about the liberty that he had taken
on that swamp boat? Would he discard him as Padawan? He had the
right. It was obvious that he didn't feel the same way and the
Code made it fairly clear that such relations were not
tolerated within the Master/Padawan unit. His master had never
adhered very closely to that code, and that fact only seemed to
underline Qui Gon's lack of deeper feelings for him. That sad,
amused expression his Master had shown him last night was
burned into his memory. It made him feel pathetic.
The strange Yaqui still did not speak on the shuttle either,
and they all rode in silence. He sat next to his Master, not
touching, not speaking. He wanted to run his hands over the
injuries that were so plain to the naked eye, to add to Qui
Gon's strength and help his wounds heal. He wanted to take the
long hair up in his hands and gently replace the thong that
held it back from the strong face. But he did none of those
things. He was terrified to even brush up against the older
man.
Qui-Gon sat calmly, though it was clear he was weary. But the
older Jedi would not meet his apprentice's eyes, a fact which
only scared Obi Wan more and more the longer he did it.
His Master was waiting, he told himself. Waiting until they
were back in the privacy of the freighter they had hired to
bring them here. He could feel Qui Gon's curiosity at how he
had extricated them from the situation, could even feel his
pride over his student's success. But nothing else. He didn't
know which would be worse. If Qui-Gon decided to pretend it had
never happened or if he confronted him with a gentle, pitying
speech about having strong feelings for your teacher.
He didn't think he wanted either one.
He turned his gaze out the window and watched the treetops skim
by, water glittering beneath the foliage. Miserable, he saw the
port town they had left only 40 hours before below them...the
freighter they'd arrived on squatting in the field beyond. He
kept his hands loosely clasped in his lap, trying to ape his
Master's control, trying to pretend his heart wasn't thudding
painfully in his chest.
Consequences. Master Yoda always said there were always
consequences for every action. He'd kissed Qui-Gon Jinn. He
said that he wanted him ...out loud. The repercussions were
going to come no matter what he did. He would face up to them.
As long as his Master did not discard him, he could deal with
it.
The odd silence continued, the Yaqui who had piloted them
landed the ship smartly and opened the hatch. Still with no
comment. Like robots. B'dir looked like he'd had his own
execution ordered. Perhaps he had, but, he thought a little
fiercely, he'd brought it on himself.
The moist, fetid air of the outside was blowing in the open
hatch and he and his Master wasted no more time. Along with
P'ri, they simply exited the ship and did not look back as it
took off.
It seemed almost eerily easy.
His master turned to P'ri, bowing deeply and then sinking to
one knee to look the Yaqui in the eyes.
"You are strong with the Force." He said softly, looking down
at the short alien. She looked back up at him, unblinking.
"I don't know what that means." She said, folding her injured
hands in front of her. Qui Gon reached out and took the hands
in his own. Obi Wan could tell that he was healing the torn
fingers with the tatters of his exhausted strength. He could
see the slight trembling of his master's form. "I have always
had a sense of the Swamp. My whole family has. Especially my
Grandpap." Her voice was light with wonder as she looked down
at what Qui Gon was doing to her wounds.
"This is a powerful world." His master said, releasing her now
healed hands. She lifted them up to wondering eyes, returning
her gaze to his after a moment. "The Force is strong here. It
is, I think, part of the reason why your people have corrupted
themselves. It can be a powerful ally, but greed, fear and
ambition can warp it."
P'ri nodded, understanding shining in her eyes.
"You are too old to begin training as a Jedi, P'ri, but we can
teach you to use the powers you have."
She shook her head, the Yaqui equivalent of a smile on her
face.
"I won't leave Yaquin." She said, almost apologetically. "My
people are not evil, they are simply confused. Besides, I think
I am not mistaken when I say that your 'Republic' is likely to
put a stop to the Silitini harvests. Without the Silitini, the
wealth will stop. The K'rup and the H'rok will have to return
to the Swamp when the offworlders stop coming with their
technology."
"You are very wise, P'ri." My master grinned at her, moving to
straighten his legs. "Will you go back to the D'lonk now?"
She nodded, still flexing her newly healed hands.
"I will tell them what has happened. I suspect they will be
very confused when we have to re-learn how to live on our own
world." She nodded gently. "I still remember. My Grandpap
taught me."
She glanced once at Obi Wan and he bowed slightly, still
surprised beyond words that it had been this creature that had
thrown those Yaqui Warriors off their feet with the strength of
her mind. It had taken him years to use his talent in that
fashion. He blinked again, and she had vanished into the trees.
He bit his lip. The hardest part was still to come.
Then they were now alone in the field next to the freighter.
Obi Wan's throat was dry, his eyes felt hot. He would not look
at his Master.
A hand touched his shoulder and he bowed his head slightly in
response.
"Obi Wan..." the voice was gentle and so weary. It was to be
the speech then.
"Yes, Master?" He was proud that his words did not crack.
"Are you going to tell me what happened back there now?"
Ahh. He bit back a bark of hysterical laughter. They were going
to put it off a bit longer. He could do that.
"It was the city, Master. I don't know if you saw where you
were held captive, but these cities are massive. I'm sure the
K'rup Capital was much the same. Thousands of Yaqui lived in
those towers. A gargantuan project just to build it. And most
of it was new. Within the past 100 years or so I would guess.
Why were they hidden? Why did the Yaqui let the rest of the
Galaxy think that the highest accomplishment of their
civilization were those squat, primitive Port towns?" The words
were flat, without inflection. He felt as though he were
reciting poetry before his own hanging.
"They were hiding their cities," the Jedi agreed, "or maybe not
the cities specifically...but what they said about their
activities. Yes, I noted that also."
"Smuggling. It was only a guess, Master. I bluffed. But it made
sense since Linia had come here for smugglers. The Yaqui are
not sentimental nor overly religious. They wouldn't have sacred
reasons for hiding these structures with their modern
accessories. And the H'rok city was easily capable of handling
space-going ships. Expensive."
"Smuggling. Right." Qui-Gon nodded, a small smile on his mouth.
"Very good, young Padawan. And the writing?" He could tell that
his master had already figured out much of what he had just
said. It was the writing that perplexed him.
"That was easier. One of the Yaqui told me inadvertently that
her people held very tightly to the written word. Once laid on
paper, it became honor. You saw how they revered their Scribes,
how important it seemed that the words of the Negotiation were
exactly as both parties wished it. It occurred to me to simply
write ourselves out of a corner." The youth shrugged blandly,
without feeling. "It worked."
"Yes it did. I'm very impressed Obi Wan. You handled yourself
very well indeed. You managed to get us out of a sticky
situation without the use of violence, and you learned several
very valuable things about the Yaqui. I think the Senate will
be very interested in learning who their contacts are... and
now that we know where that Silitini is coming from, we can
stop the shipments."
He bowed his head slightly at the praise, saddened that he
couldn't take proper joy from it. He was too frightened.
"Master..." he knew he had to bring it up, "Linia..."
"Yes, Obi Wan," his Master's voice was sad and regretful, "I
know."
"I'm sorry...I know that she meant a lot to you." He tried to
quell the tiny, terrible, inappropriate flare of jealousy.
"She did." His voice was quiet and thoughtful.
There was silence between them for a moment longer and then Obi
Wan turned towards the ship on his own, unable to meet his
Master's eyes. For a second time, the older man's hand on his
shoulder stopped him.
"Let's get onboard, Padawan. These bugs are eating us alive."
The voice was soft and low. He could hear how tired his master
was.
Bleakly, Obi Wan nodded. He was going to pretend it hadn't
happened. Fine. It was better than discarding him. Anything was
better than that. Right? His tightening heart was telling him
otherwise.
The ship was silent. The captain and his single crew-member
were in Pako, waiting for word from the Jedi. It was unspoken
between them that they would eat and rest before summoning the
Captain from town.
He was so weary. So tired. His heart ached and his head hurt.
Making sure to wall up his feelings very carefully, he took his
turn under the sonic shower, letting the grit, grime and sweat
fall from his body. He was numb. Here he had been given the
unspoken chance to continue as Qui-Gon's apprentice and now he
wasn't sure he could do it anymore. Before, it had been hard.
Now, now that he had let his feelings out into the open, he
didn't think he could lock them back inside again.
Like a dead man, he pulled on a single light shirt and clean
breeches, foregoing all else. He knew that his Master would
expect him to eat with him, like he always did, and for the
first time in his life he felt reluctant to be in his teacher's
presence.
Bare feet padded along the cold floor of the ship, carrying him
into the tiny galley where Qui-Gon already waited. His Master
was cleaned up as well, but wearing a full tunic and shoes.
He settled onto the floor cross-legged and suffered Qui-Gon's
perusal of his healed wound in silence. The brief touch of his
Master's fingers was like fire on his skin and he tried not to
react too obviously to the contact.
He was starting to think that he couldn't do it.
He was going to have to say something.
And then Qui-Gon spoke.
"I owe you an apology, Obi Wan." His Master said quietly. He
was vividly aware of the hand still on his shoulder and he
almost jumped when Qui-Gon's thumb suddenly started lightly
stroking the side of his neck.
"F-for what, Master?" He was horrified to hear his voice
squeak. He hadn't been this nervous around someone since he'd
lost his virginity at 14. He felt a slight trembling start up
in his stomach.
"I treated you with less respect than you deserved. In the boat
last night..." His Master faltered a little and Obi Wan was
momentarily stunned by the slight crack in the older man's
facade. "...I made an error in judgement. Perhaps you felt that
I did not take your feelings seriously. Or perhaps you were
just feverish and overwrought..."
Obi Wan had to stop that track right then.
"No. I may have been feverish Master, but I knew what I was
doing." He said it firmly, so there would be no doubt. It could
have been an easy out, and he knew that that was what Qui-Gon
was offering him, but he couldn't do it. He had to have it out
in the open. All those years of protecting their relationship
from that level of intimacy...it had been right to do so...but
all that had been broken with that kiss. He couldn't go back,
neither of them could. Pretending it hadn't happened wouldn't
work.
At least not for him. Not now. There was a bloom of light, a
growing spark of heat in his chest. Something he hadn't dared
hope for.
The tall Jedi took a deep breath and nodded, accepting. The
callused thumb was still stroking the sensitive skin beneath
his ear and it was making it hard to concentrate. But he
waited. The tiny caress was making him bolder, reinstilling his
normal confidence. The fear was melting like ice in the desert.
The ship sat in silence all around them, encasing them in a
vacuum of quiet metallic echoes. He could hear Qui-Gon's
breath, he could hear his own pulse beating under the stroking
fingers of his Master. Finally the taller man spoke.
"I've been controlling my emotions my whole life, Obi Wan. You
have to understand that that is as much a part of me as
anything else. I'm not used to losing that control...and you.."
he stopped, swallowed, went on, "you tend to crack that control
more often than not. After six years I still don't know how to
handle it."
It was hard, he knew. Hard for his Master to admit these things
to him. He was opening up in a way that he never had before. At
least not to him.
"Don't" Obi Wan said softly, his eyes not leaving his Master's.
The word was almost lost in the sigh it was expelled with.
"Don't?" his thumb abruptly stopped its maddening caress. Obi
Wan slipped his own hand up and clasped it tightly against the
skin of his neck, shaking his head slightly at the
misunderstanding. His breath was quickening slightly.
"Don't handle it. Just don't. Feel it. Isn't that what
you're always telling me?" He smiled at Qui-Gon with an elegant
raised brow.
And then suddenly his world slanted, the strong hand cupping
his neck was joined by another on the other side and the Jedi's
mouth captured his.
This was everything that teasing, chaste thing the night before
had not been. His own hands came up to tangle in the long,
light brown hair...trapping the other man as if he might
suddenly disappear in a puff of fantasy smoke. No fantasy this.
The sensation of falling into someone else, this had never been
part of his fantasies, he could have never imagined this.
He felt Qui-Gon's strong tongue thrusting against his, running
hungrily along the insides of his lips, stroking the roof of
his mouth, devouring him. He surged up over the crate
separating them, shoving it aside, wildfire sweeping up and
down his body in alternating waves of hot and cold. So much
better.. he couldn't even complete the thought. He wrenched his
mouth away from his Master's, sucking that delicious lower lip
between his teeth and biting down almost roughly. Qui-Gon's
arms snaked around his lower back, one hand slipping down to
curl around the curve of his rear, crushing his hips against
the younger man.
It was hard to catch his breath. He was drowning. His tongue
was tasting the sweat on his Master's neck, sucking at the
flesh in the hollow of his throat...hands pushing aside the
soft, clean tunic eagerly.
Thought was gone. Passion ruled his actions. He could feel the
rock-hard proof of his teacher's desire digging into the flesh
of his stomach and he rubbed himself eagerly against it as his
hands trailed down the opened tunic and dipped into the front
of the straining breeches.
A ragged gasp and the firm grip of hands on his wrists stopped
him. Panting with exertion, his face flushed, he looked up into
his Master's eyes.
"Obi Wan... not here." The voice was strained, shaking with the
tattered remains of his control.
They were on the cold, metal floor of the galley, kneeling in
front of each other. Swallowing, he licked lips that felt soft
and puffed from their kiss and returned his gaze to his Master
as if in askance. One slim eyebrow was raised up almost
rakishly.
"Why not?"
Qui-Gon laughed gently, raggedly, his hands coming up to cup
the youth's face again. He pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"You know I love you, don't you?"
Obi Wan grinned, staring at him almost irreverently.
"I didn't. But I do now. I've loved you since I first saw you.
It's wanting you that's changed just recently."
His Master's soft laugh turned into a chuckle.
"I'm twice your age, Obi Wan.." he said with a wry smile,
trying one last time to give him a way out.
The youth just shook his head with an answering grin.
"You know better than that." He chided gently.
His mentor nodded, his eyes soft. He did.
"Lets finish our meal, then I think we can take this talk to
more comfortable quarters." Qui-Gon's voice rumbled under his
hand. He licked his lips again and smiled slightly.
He held the upper hand now. A thrill ran down his spine as he
realized that small fact. His teacher, his friend, his
mentor...was nervous.
He grinned mischievously.
"Yes, my Master."
Wordless, they sat across from each other and quickly ate a
sparse meal of Gorudian Tubers and liquid protein beverage. It
was not ambrosia, but it tasted like it after over 40 hours
without food.
Not surprisingly, Linia was not on his mind. He had known her
for over 40 years, had loved her for many of those years, and
now she was gone. Perhaps if she had not touched him, spoken to
his fevered mind, he might not have the same closure.
But there it was, and somehow, he only had eyes for the youth
before him who was at the moment, licking his fingers clean
from the Tubers.
It was unspeakably erotic, the simple, efficient movement...
the long, slender fingers disappearing between those sensual,
shapely lips...just the hint of his sharp, pointed pink tongue
showing now and again. For the first time, he allowed himself
to unabashedly watch the young man, the elegant lines of his
face, the almost cat-like eyes, the slender upsweep of his
eyebrows, the soft pelt of his short sandy hair...touched with
just a hint of red-gold. He was so beautiful.
The blue gaze lifted up from his task of grooming himself and
caught in his Master's eyes like a moth in the light. He could
see the young man change under his open regard in a way he
never had when Qui-Gon had watched him surreptitiously. The
azure eyes were flaring with an inner fire that he'd become
acquainted with only in the last 40 hours.
"Do I have something on my face?" Obi Wan asked, grinning like
a predator with his sharp, white teeth.
He had to laugh, mostly with delight at how it felt to be able
to lose control.. over himself, mostly over his apprentice.
"Don't stop." The youth whispered suddenly, leaning across the
crate he'd righted from before, his face coming within inches
of his Master's. One hand touched Qui-Gon's cheek, feather
light, but the contact sent shivers down the older man's body.
He couldn't forget that his Padawan had more experience with
seduction in his last four years than Qui-Gon had had in a
lifetime.
"Don't stop what?" he murmured, the smile not leaving his lips.
"Laughing." Obi Wan was only inches from his face now, his
vision was filled with the startling blue of his apprentice's
eyes. "You don't laugh enough."
"Funny," Qui-Gon said wryly, "I always thought I'd never
laughed as much as I did when I was with you."
He recognized the look in his apprentice's eyes and he almost
reached out to push Obi Wan back into his seated position on
the other side of the crate, but stopped himself suddenly.
Control, this whole thing was about control. Even Linia had
said it at the end. With some effort, he let his hands relax at
his side.
He would trust Obi Wan. He did trust Obi Wan.
The youth could sense his acquiescence. He felt the surprise in
the younger man, the amazement... and then the greedy
acceptance. Qui-Gon knew pride in his apprentice. Obi Wan had
never been one to turn away from an opportunity to prove
himself.
Those thin, sculpted lips met his for the third time ever,
teasing his own apart. Gently at first, then more aggressively,
he felt that sharp tongue delve into the recesses of his
mouth.. tasting, probing and stroking. Shivers of delight were
streaking up and down his body as he let his hands come up to
gently stroke his Obi Wan's ribs.
His apprentice was wearing only a thin undertunic and loose
breeches, and he could feel the rangy muscles through the
material. Suddenly the youth kicked the crate out from between
them for the second time that morning, coming to kneel in front
of his Master without breaking the kiss. His hands were
stroking up and down the tops of Qui-Gon's thighs and the older
man could feel the surging blood pounding between his legs,
pressing eagerly against his own breeches. He kept his eyes
shut, knowing that if he dared to look at the wild abandon that
was his Padawan, he would lose the little self control he had
left himself.
Suddenly, the youth's hand scraped directly across the hard
swell of his erection and he shuddered violently in reaction,
his hips jerking out involuntarily towards the arousing
stimulus of strong fingers. He groaned into Obi Wan's mouth and
felt an answering moan. It sounded like a wild animal and his
own passion rose a few more notches in reaction.
Hands were pushing at him, sending him over onto his back, the
youth following to straddle him aggressively. He risked a look
up at his apprentice and moaned softly at the image. Obi Wan
hovered over him, his young face flushed and his eyes hot
limpid blue pools. The long Padawan braid hung down, tickling
Qui-Gon's ear and his loose, thin shirt was open halfway down
his chest exposing a scattering of golden hairs on a firm,
sculpted chest. Beautiful was not an adequate word.
Transcendent was more like it.
"Qui-Gon"
His name on Obi Wan's lips was the most astounding thing he had
ever heard. Swallowing, he reached up and touched the young
man's cheek.
"Obi Wan?"
"This is what you want? You haven't said, in all this, if you
want me. I don't want ..." his voice caught, "I don't
want you if this is just a pity fuck."
He was surprised, and then a little saddened. His rejection the
night before had done even more damage than he had thought. His
caress escalated from a simple touch of the cheek to his thumb
gently rubbing at Obi Wan's lovely lower lip.
"Of course I do. I have for a long time now. How could I not?"
Obi Wan stared at him for a moment longer and then opened his
mouth, pulling the thumb into the moist interior of his mouth.
The older man closed his eyes, his head falling back onto the
floor as a hot, wet tongue gently swirled around the callused
pad...lips suckling at it gently. He actually jumped a little
when the edges of Obi Wan's teeth grazed the tip. He could feel
the heat and pressure of his impossibly hard cock trapped
between their bodies where the younger man straddled him.
His thumb was released with a moist, popping sound and before
he could even open his eyes, Obi Wan's hot mouth was on his
chest...licking and sucking his way across the broad expanse.
Sharp teeth nipped and teased the soft skin of his collarbone,
moving downwards until they captured a nipple, rolling it
gently between tooth and tongue. He arched upwards, gasping
loudly at the sensation, his hands coming up to clutch at the
silken softness of his Padawan's hair.
His hips were pushing up into the weight of his student almost
mindlessly. It was not that it had been a long time, though it
had been. It was more that he had never felt the intensity
levels of sensation that he was feeling now. With every passing
moment that Obi Wan wielded his talented mouth on his torso, he
was surprised anew that he had not lost the last fragile strand
of his control.
And then, by all that was sacred, that mouth was moving
lower...and he felt the cool touch of air on his groin as his
breeches were yanked down. He wanted to stop. He wanted to pull
the boy upwards, roll him over and finish it now. He knew that
he would not last more than a few moments once those lips...
He felt as though he was seeing concentric circles behind his
eyes, much like those you used as a child in the Training
Temple to help you meditate. Obi Wan's mouth had created a
tight, hot suction around his cock...that agile tongue dancing
along his shaft, swirling around the head, suckling at the tip.
He was aware of a noise, a panting, gasping noise and it
occurred to him distantly that it was him. His fingers curled
into the smooth pelt of his student's hair, trying to still
him, trying to keep himself under control.
And then the mouth, the heat, the wet, was gone. He managed to
crack his eyes open and shakily crane his neck to look down at
Obi Wan. The youth was staring at him with an intensity that
burned.
"Let go." He whispered.
Qui-Gon licked his lips, remembering.
He was supposed to trust. He was supposed to love.
He did.
Obi Wan deep-throated him, taking him almost completely into
his mouth in one deep stroke. His back arched up from the
floor, his legs jerked. Another thrust of the youth's mouth,
and this time his Padawan 's long fingers were there,
circling around the base of his cock...squeezing just so,
slipping under his balls. He moaned deep in his own throat as
the agonizing pressure to explode suddenly lessened. The boy
had unerringly found a pressure point.
His trust was well founded. The pleasure was slower now, warm
and all consuming. The talented mouth was moving up and down in
a steady rhythm and he began to thrust gently up into the moist
heat, making deep, growling noises in the back of his throat.
Obi Wan's fingers were doing other things now, stroking and
squeezing his balls gently, one finger working its way
downwards. When the probing fingertip met the tight ring of
muscle there, he tensed involuntarily at the intrusion, but he
forced himself to relax. He didn't want to do a single thing
that would break his trust.
His lips parted in a deep gasp as the youth expertly slid the
long, slender finger all the way in one swift movement,
stretching the reluctant flesh. His mouth gently worked at his
penis, lapping at the tip and gently blowing on the wetness
there. His finger was still as he waited for Qui-Gon to relax.
He didn't have long to wait.
The boy had the most amazing mouth. He'd always known that, of
course. He'd watched it enough. But this. He bit onto the
inside of his cheek, hard, as suddenly a second finger joined
the first and he hissed a breath of air in through clenched
teeth. He didn't think he'd ever been so hard in his life. And
then Obi Wan curled his fingers, stroking just so
along his prostate.
The pleasure was so intense, he saw stars. He couldn't hold
back the cry as he came violently into Obi Wan's mouth,
shuddering and shaking like he'd just fought the battle of his
life.
His Padawan collapsed onto his chest, breathing just as hard.
It only took a moment for him to roll the youth onto his side,
cradling him so that they could look into each others eyes
there on the cold metal floor of the galley. His hand stroked
down the slender lines of his apprentice, curling around his
front to find the taut, heavy muscle pressing against the thin
breeches...still eager with need.
"I believe," he said quietly, kissing the young man's salty
open mouth gently, "that it is your turn." His body was still
singing from the mind-boggling orgasm as he slipped his hand
into the front of Obi Wan's breeches and curled long fingers
all the way around the hardness there, smoothing the velvet
skin sensually. Obi Wan's young face went slack, his eyes
closing as his head fell back. He smiled, taking the
opportunity to just stare at his apprentice, openly reveling in
the youth's beauty. And then he simply scooped the smaller man
up into his arms, lifted him and set his bare ass on the tiny
counter so they were face to face. Obi Wan's legs were spread
to either side of him, feet dangling, their torsos pressed
together as Qui-Gon's hands roamed his slender, muscled body.
Obi Wan's eyes were limpid pools of blue in the dim Galley
light, but they blazed with that same hunger he remembered from
the night before, the youths mouth hanging slightly open with
want. He leaned forward and licked a wet trail up the side of
the strong column of his student 's neck.
"Obi Wan?" he whispered, his mouth pausing only millimeters
from the young man's ear. "What were you dreaming about last
night? In the boat?"
His Padawan let out a long slow, shivery breath.
"You were in front of me, like this." He murmured back, his
blue eyes hooding. His hands stroked up his Master's arms to
settle on his shoulders, pushing him back slightly. "And you
had your mouth on me..." he exerted a tiny bit of pressure on
Qui-Gon's shoulders. The older man obliged with a grin,
dropping to his knees between Obi Wan's spread legs and tugging
the concealing breeches off.
"Here?" Qui-Gon settled his lips to the velvet skin just under
his navel, touching the warm flesh with the tip of his tongue.
"N...no" He gasped, his head falling back and exposing the
slender column of his throat. The loose shirt was hanging off
one sculpted shoulder now, damp with sweat.
"Here?" He kissed the inside of one thigh, open mouthed,
sucking at the skin...bringing the blood to the surface.
"Not there.." Obi Wan moaned breathlessly, squirming. Qui-Gon
could see a clear fluid leaking fairly steadily from the tip of
his apprentice's swollen cock.
"Here?" He ran the flat of his tongue along the crease of his
thigh, tasting the deliciously salty musk of Obi Wan's arousal.
"Please.." his voice quavered, his legs were widening
unconsciously, his hands tugging in his Master's long hair.
"please.."
Qui-Gon took pity on him and simply took him in.
It had been a long time since he'd held this much passion at
bay with the mere pressure of his tongue, but he remembered
what to do. Obi Wan quivered under him like an instrument, the
heat and hardness of him a deliciously sensual symphony. His
fingers dug into the youth's hips, holding him still while he
suckled gently on the tip, sliding his lips up and down the
thick shaft periodically. The boy was making tiny whimpering
noises that were driving him crazy, he could already feel his
own cock hardening again just from witnessing Obi Wan's
excitement.
Stroking upwards, harder and faster, he let his mouth fall
open, his tongue lapping at the crown. When Obi Wan came,
shouting, he pulled back and let the thick white seed fill his
hand. Shaking with need, he almost roughly smeared the slick,
slippery fluid over his own cock. Mouth half-open, eyes lidded
heavily, Obi Wan licked his lips in anticipation and lifted his
legs up over his Master's arms, leaning back on his hands as
Qui-Gon entered him.
He was tight and hot as a banked fire. Qui-Gon bit the already
ravaged inside of his cheek to keep from coming instantly. He
had a clear view of Obi Wan now, head thrown back in abandon,
tightly muscled chest and arms braced against the weight
between his legs. He lowered his head until his lips touched
his apprentice's sternum, licking at the sheen of sweat while
he slowly began to thrust.
The boy was panting softly, soft cries puffing from his throat
with each new thrust. It wasn't many. The sight of his
Padawan's abandon was too visually stimulating. He angled his
thrusts upwards, listening to the young man's moans increasing
as he stimulated the prostate, harder and harder...Obi Wan's
legs curling tightly around his hips now, urging him faster.
The youth's cock was already hard again, twitching against his
tight, flat stomach. Qui-Gon could barely notice, the pleasure
was building again, filling his head, erasing his thoughts, and
then Obi Wan was coming once more, his tight ass clenching
around him, squeezing him like a fist. It was all he needed to
join his apprentice in completion.
They stayed like that for some small time, Obi Wan perched on
the edge of the counter and his Master wrapped around his
torso. Finally, the youth slid down from the counter
reluctantly, straightening his shirt and tugging up his
breeches. Qui-Gon did the same, looking ruefully around the
galley at the mess they had made.
He finally found himself looking back at his apprentice with a
small, sad smile. Obi Wan was a few steps away, leaning against
the counter, his face still flushed with spent passion, his
chest still heaving slightly under his shirt.
"You aren't going to regret this, are you? You know that I
would never do anything to jeopardize your education...our
relationship as student and teacher."
Obi Wan nodded seriously enough, but the humor was still
lurking behind those blue eyes.
"I won't regret this Master. Not if you don't. I've been
thinking all this time that if I didn't let you know how I felt
soon, I was going to explode." His grin finally broke free.
"And that would be rather messy, I think."
Qui-Gon had to chuckle.
"I suppose it would be." He closed the small distance between
them and placed a soft kiss on the youth's forehead. "I
am twice your age, you know. I would think you would
want someone a little more spry."
That earned him a lift of Obi Wan's elegant eyebrows.
"More spry? Do you think I want to die young?" he
grinned, dismissing the subject as unworthy.
Perhaps it was. After all, he did trust his apprentice. That
meant he had to trust his feelings too.
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