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Rating: G

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Summary: An early skirmish over Qui-Gon's deep compliance issues

Disclaimers: All recognizable characters property of Lucasfilm, LTD. No profit was made from this story

Thanks to the cherished betas, Marie and Diane

"Assuming we do get out of here, Master, what are we going to do?"

Qui-Gon kept his eyes on the horizon. The early sun was dancing on a stand of trees some distance from the ship, and far beyond the trees, a line of snowy peaks rose from a golden haze. If one had to be marooned, one could do far worse than this, he reflected.

"Master," prompted Obi-Wan.

"As soon as we can get out of here, Padawan, we're going to find reliable transport and continue on to Malastare."

"I thought we were ordered home," said Obi-Wan carefully.

Qui-Gon glanced back at the ship's crew as they struggled to open an access panel on the battered old craft. Even that was proving a challenge--it was quite possibly the most miserable pretext for a ship Qui-Gon had ever seen. The crew members were stressed and irritable, and he could hear them beginning to argue as they fought with the frozen port.

"I'm afraid the Council doesn't grasp the situation fully. Padawan, I feel strongly that I must remain true to the original mission: to find Ferro Crayn and persuade him to change his mind."

"But you found him, Master, and he didn't."

"That simply means I have more persuading to do," replied Qui-Gon easily, returning his attention to the landscape.

Obi-Wan heaved a short sigh.

Qui-Gon turned. When the boy refused to meet his eyes, he asked quietly, "Do you have something to say?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"I think you do," observed Qui-Gon neutrally.

"No, Master. I--" Obi-Wan stopped and bit his lip. He flushed. "I have nothing to say," he mumbled.

"Out with it," ordered Qui-Gon curtly.

Obi-Wan stiffened. He took a breath and faced his Master. "I don't understand this. It keeps happening. The Council just gave you another order-I heard it, last night. I thought Jedi are in the field are bound to obey the last order received. The last order received--that's what I was taught, Master." The boy looked up at Qui-Gon, and plunged on just as his Master was about to reply.

"I don't understand how you make these decisions. And I thought knights--or masters-- weren't supposed to make individual judgments. Isn't that what the Council is for? And I thought humility and obedience were a Jedi's first duty. " The boy looked down at the ground. "That's what I was taught."

"Well." Qui-Gon smiled, ever so slightly. "You might do well to remember that I am your teacher now, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment. Then he asked softly, "What are you teaching me?"

Qui-Gon waited until he was certain he could respond calmly. Then he said: "We'll continue this conversation inside, Padawan."

The two Jedi entered the tiny cabin and shut the clanking panel door almost by force. They faced each other, and Qui-Gon folded his arms. "Now. Tell me what's bothering you, Obi-Wan."

The boy lifted his chin. "I don't know what to think, Master. I made a solemn pledge to obey you--but you made a solemn pledge to obey the Council, didn't you?"

"Not when they're dead wrong," replied Qui-Gon, a bit too lightly. Obi-Wan frowned.

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do, Master."

"Try listening to your feelings," suggested Qui-Gon briskly.

Two red spots appeared on Obi-Wan's cheeks, and his voice grew tight. "My feelings don't enter into it, Master. Most of the time I don't really understand what's going on between you and the Council--though I think there's more to it than what you tell me." The boy shot a bold glance at Qui-Gon to gauge his reaction to this impertinent statement, and when Qui-Gon said nothing, he continued. "I just want to do my duty and learn. What if someday the Council told me outright to do something that you refused to do?"

"That's highly unlikely."

"Master, with respect, it is getting more likely all the time. What would I do then?" The boy looked at Qui-Gon almost pleadingly. "Please, it is a simple question. Tell me what to do."

"Obi-Wan, if your own conscience tells you nothing, what can I tell you?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer, but his eyes went stony and his mouth became a thin, hard line.

"Upsets you, does it?" There was just a faint suggestion of reproach at the notion of a Jedi being upset.

"Yes, my Master," replied Obi-Wan, with icy 14-year-old dignity. "It upsets me."

Qui-Gon sighed relentingly. "Very well, Padawan, listen: if I should ever tell you to do one thing, and the Council commands you to do another, I order you to obey the Council. Obey the Council, and be at peace. Is that clear?"

Obi-Wan's jaw dropped. "You don't mean that, Master."

"I do. And that's an end of it."

Obi-Wan began to shake his head, slowly at first and with increasing vehemence.

"No," he said softly. "No, no, no."

Qui-Gon hooked his thumbs into his belt, a rare, irritated gesture. "Padawan. What do you want?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head, and then his body, and then he was on his knees.

"Obi-Wan. Come now," said Qui-Gon impatiently.

The boy continued to lower his head until his brow was resting on the floor.

Then he said firmly, "Forgive me, my Master, but that is impossible. Impossible. Please rescind that order."

"No," replied Qui-Gon, beginning to get annoyed. "Get up."

"When you rescind that order, Master, and not before."

"Then you'll be down there a long time, my Padawan." Qui-Gon waited, but the boy didn't move. Silently, Qui-Gon edged around him and left the cabin.

Night was falling. The crew had built a large fire near the belly of the ship, and were openly passing a jug. It was clearly the majority opinion that nobody was going anywhere soon.

Qui-Gon paused in the hatchway, watching. Flocks of white birds swept past toward the treeline, colored flame by the setting suns, wheeling and quarreling and returning to roost. Qui-Gon took a slow, cleansing breath.

The cabin's door jolted in its tracks and slid aside, revealing Obi-Wan with his forehead resting on the deck. Qui-Gon knew he hadn't stirred in hours. He entered, stepping over the boy with difficulty. He lowered himself onto a bunk and addressed the back of Obi-Wan's head.

"Enough is enough, Padawan. Stop this."

"It's a petition, Master."

"I know what it is. Your petition is refused."

"Then I must humbly petition you to reconsider."

Qui-Gon took another slow breath. "Padawan. Get up--now."

"Master, I don't understand." Obi-Wan's voice was resolute, if a bit muffled by the deck. "You want me to obey and learn by your example-but you are often disobedient. Now you want me to heed the Council, even if it means defying you? You want me to obey you in everything, except when you don't? What do you want, Master?"

Above all, a teacher is calm, Qui-Gon told himself. A teacher is patient. A teacher does not respond to provocation.

He began again, in reasonable tones. "Obi-Wan, if you want to debate me, sit up so I can see your face."

"Do you rescind your order, Master?"

"No," grated Qui-Gon.

"Then I must humbly petition--"

Qui-Gon stood up. "I'm going to speak with the captain. If you're hungry, the crew has a pot of something below." He maneuvered past his apprentice and out of the cabin. The door shuddered shut with a series of clanks.

Qui-Gon conversed at length with the Rhodian captain about the ship and their prospects, but at last the poor fellow was stifling yawns and Qui-Gon bade him a reluctant goodnight. He walked aft through the cramped passageways and paused before palming the cabin door. Then Qui-Gon squared his shoulders and entered.

He stepped over the boy and went about his preparations to retire in silence. Just as he was heading for the bunk there was a diffident tapping at the door.

"Yes?"

Abruptly the panel lurched aside and the captain hovered on the threshold, taken by surprise, one paw up. The Rhodian's eyes traveled from Qui-Gon, to the small figure prostrate on the deck, and back to Qui-Gon again.

"Oh, s-sorry! I didn't mean to open it!" he stammered, obviously embarrassed. "I'll--I'll have someone look at the lock immediately." The Rhodian's eyes strayed back to Obi-Wan's huddled form.

"Oh, don't worry about him," said Qui-Gon casually. "He likes it down there. Can I help you?"

"We have a weak signal--we can't tell if it's a response or not. We'll be watching it all night, though. As soon as we know anything--" the captain was backing out into the hall as he spoke, clearly discomposed.

"Thank you," nodded Qui-Gon, even as the door wheezed shut. He eased his large frame in to the bunk. "More glory for the Order," he muttered. "Well done, Padawan."

After several minutes, Qui-Gon found an almost tolerable position for rest, and reached up to tap out the lights.

"Good night, Obi-Wan," he said at last.

"Good night, Master," came the muffled reply.

Sometime during the second watch the lights went back on. Qui-Gon sat up and swung his feet onto the floor.

"Obi-Wan," he said wearily. "Get into bed. Get--into--bed."

"Master," responded the boy, his voice strained, "It is my right to petition you to withdraw an order I can't, in conscience, obey."

"Padawan, do you really want to quote Code at me right now?" asked Qui-Gon levelly.

"No, Master," admitted Obi-Wan.

"Get some sleep. We'll discuss it tomorrow".

The boy seemed to hesitate. Then he took a deep breath. "Master, do you rescind your order?" There was a faint hopefulness behind the question that nearly shook Qui-Gon's resolve. He took hold of himself sternly.

"No, I do not," he said. "And I do not, because there are other issues here, and we both know it. Stubbornness, for one. Willfulness, and even pride. Grave faults for a Jedi, My Padawan."

"I think so too," said Obi-Wan in a low voice.

Qui-Gon ignored his tone. "Are you going to get into that bunk?"

"No, Master, not until--"

"Then sleep well."

The lights went off again, and stayed off.

It was a long night. More than once Qui-Gon had to resist the impulse to rise and check the timer. It was tempting to think it might be defective, like everything else on the wretched vessel, but he held fast. He listened to the thin, broken snores drifting up from the floor and waited.

Finally the timer pinged and the lights flickered on. Qui-Gon got up immediately, drew on his boots and robe, and stumped out of the cabin.

It was mid morning by the time he made his way back. He entered and stepped over Obi-Wan, depositing a steaming bowl on a small utility shelf. Then he sat down heavily.

"Obi-Wan. Wake up."

"I'm awake, Master."

Qui-Gon paused and cleared his throat. One finger tapped lightly, twice, against his knee. "Padawan, I have decided to amend the last order I gave you."

Obi-Wan waited, hardly seeming to breathe.

"I am not withdrawing the order. I am amending it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan faintly.

"Very well. Listen, Padawan. In the unlikely event the Council should ever command you to do something I refuse to do, I order you to examine your feelings, and do what seems right."

"But Master, what if--"

"Padawan," said Qui-Gon warningly.

After a moment, Obi-Wan nodded his head slightly against the deck. "Yes, Master."

"Good. Now, do you feel this is an order you can, in conscience, obey?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then get up." Qui-Gon waited, but the boy didn't move. "Well?"

"I don't think I can," said Obi-Wan in a small voice.

Qui-Gon knelt beside the boy, his face carefully expressionless, and began to pull him upright.

"Oh. Ah. Ow! Master, wait--"

"Come on, you can do it. There." Qui-Gon patted his apprentice on the back, and Obi-Wan swayed a bit.

"I'm seeing spots," murmured Obi-Wan.

"Hm. I don't doubt it. Now, on your feet."

Qui-Gon hauled him upright and eased him over to the bunk. "I can't feel my legs," panted Obi-Wan.

"You will in a moment, believe me." Qui-Gon stood and went into the tiny fresher for a cup of water. He handed it to Obi-Wan, who mumbled "Thank you," and downed it in a gulp.

Qui-Gon folded his arms and watched the boy's face tighten as circulation began returning to his legs. "That won't last long," he offered blandly.

Obi-Wan's response was a pained hiss.

"I have some things to check on," continued Qui-Gon. "When I get back, perhaps we can do a little sparring."

Obi-Wan rolled anguished eyes at him, and Qui-Gon quickly controlled the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He reached down to ruffle the boy's spiky hair. "Well," he said, almost airily, "That'll teach you." He crossed to the door. "Eat something and clean up. I'll be back shortly."

Obi-Wan had just picked up the bowl and hobbled back to the bunk when the door began to shiver open again.

"Change of plans," announced Qui-Gon from the hallway. "Gather our things and meet me below." Then he was gone.

Obi-Wan shoveled down a few more bites as he threw their belongings together, and followed his master within moments.

Qui-Gon stood scanning the morning sky as Obi-Wan descended the ramp. Qui-Gon acknowledged him with a nod, and gestured to a faint star low on the south horizon. It was moving, and Obi-Wan realized it was a ship.

"We're on our way," said Qui-Gon.

Master Hakea Burjj was a large Correllian with fading red hair and an shaggy beard. He waved as he crossed the field, his brown cloak billowing.

"Master Jinn. Too long, too long." He reached for Qui-Gon's hand and pumped it heartily. Then he smiled at Obi-Wan. "Hello, there. What's your name, son?"

"This is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi," answered Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan bowed.

Master Burjj nodded kindly at the boy and took in the decrepit ship behind them. "Bit of a delay, I see," he observed genially. "It strikes me as very odd, Master Jinn, that you haven't been provided with the use of a reliable craft. With the number of missions you take! And with a padawan in tow. Very odd."

"I couldn't say," replied Qui-Gon serenely.

"I suppose we should go back and give the captain some assurances?" asked Master Burjj.

"That won't be necessary. He knows you've summoned other assistance."

"Ah. Well." Master Burjj hesitated. "We'll be going, then, shall we?"

"We're in your debt."

"Oh, not at all. A mission's a mission, Master Jinn."

The three began to walk toward Master Burjj's ship.

"So, Malastare, eh?" asked Master Burjj conversationally.

Behind the two masters, Obi-Wan stumbled slightly.

"Malastare," replied Qui-Gon firmly.

Master Burjj eased himself into the pilot's seat and began preflight. Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, who stood ashen-faced and rigid in the cockpit doorway.

"Go strap in and try to get some rest," ordered Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan's gaze traveled to Master Burjj, busily flipping switches. "Master," he whispered desperately. "Master, he doesn't know--"

"Go strap in," repeated Qui-Gon tightly.

Obi-Wan stared at him, then closed his eyes and turned away.

Qui-Gon went forward and took the co-pilot's seat. Master Burjj glanced at him. "Your boy seems a little run down. Rough trip?"

"Hm."

"Looks like a fine lad, though."

Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "He's a treasure."

Master Burjj activated the sublights, and the ship began to rise. "Amazing that I'd be the one to catch that beacon."

"Amazing," agreed Qui-Gon, without great enthusiasm.

Master Burjj smiled. "Malastare's quite a jog, but we'll have plenty of time to catch up, at least. Eh?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and stared out the view port as the planet fell away.

Hyperspace was never a pleasant sight. As the sickening, irrational whorls of light opened and swallowed themselves beyond the viewport, Qui-Gon looked steadily at the console, or at his hands. He thought longingly of meditation, but his companion was clearly one of those solitary knights who delighted in the infrequent consolation of gab: Master Burjj could not be stilled on the subject of life in the Temple, of life in the field, mutual friends dead and living, and naturally, himself.

"It's ten years since my padawan passed her trials. Think of it! And now I'm too old."

Qui-Gon murmured politely, "No, surely not."

"I could never keep up now. It wouldn't be fair." Master Burjj smiled ruefully. "How I envy you! Just seeing that lad brings it all back. It's a different world when you see it through a youngster's eyes."

"True," sighed Qui-Gon.

"And it makes you a better creature, I think, the responsibility of having someone who looks up to you, who thinks the galaxy turns on you--"

"I don't--"

"--who models every act on yours, and thinks you can do no wrong." Master Burjj nodded contentedly. "That kind of faith is a precious, precious thing."

"It is an unrealistic thing. It is an illusion, and illusion is rarely harmless, Master Burjj." At the last moment, Qui-Gon realized he was speaking sharply, and tried to soften his tone. "I've had that difficulty with Obi-Wan, and, truly, I found it a strain I didn't need."

Master Burjj chuckled. "Oh, I bet it hasn't been all bad, having an admirer like that. And after all, living this kind of life they need it, poor children. Eh?"

Qui-Gon went back to watching hyperspace undulate, and didn't say anything for a long time. He realized he was pulling at his beard, and stilled his hand forcibly.

He waited for Master Burjj to reach a break in his remarks, and then asked him, quietly: "Do you have a holoprojector on this ship?"

The small figures on the projector pad shivered with static, fading away, and Qui-Gon allowed himself a sigh. That had been much easier than he expected.

Now, the hard part. How to tell the boy? Apprentices needed reliable guidance, a firm hand. They needed consistent masters who didn't back down. It was essential to show no disconcerting weakness when dealing with a student--everyone knew that. Qui-Gon stood lost in thought, puzzling out his next move.

Behind him, he heard Obi-Wans voice, soft and hesitant. "Master?"

Qui-Gon grimaced faintly. He should have expected this. He turned, and drew himself up imposingly. "Well, how much did you hear?"

"Only the end, Master." Obi-Wan was staring at the deck. "Are--did they give you permission, Master?"

"Yes, Padawan," replied Qui-Gon with tranquility. "They have sanctioned our return to Malastare."

And then he waited, alert for any hint of triumph or pride. He was unprepared for what he saw when Obi-Wan raised his face. The boy's eyes were bright, and there was nothing in them but artless gratitude and profound relief. Well ... and something else. Qui-Gon grappled with it for a moment, but it was only knightly to admit there was something else in Obi-Wan's expression, something he had been scarcely aware of until the instant it had vanished back in the cockpit doorway: admiration.

Qui-Gon's eyebrows arched warningly and silenced anything Obi-Wan might have been tempted to say. But when Qui-Gon brushed past him to return to the cockpit, muttering a clipped order to retire, Obi-Wan bowed, very low.

End