DEAD ONN

by ardavenport

- - - Part 1

The skies of Coruscant were clear and sunny.

On purpose.

On a planet with every bit of surface area covered with truly galactic-scale urbanization, weather was no accident. It was outlined, evaluated, planned and focus-grouped by several fractious committees before making it's debut in the planetary atmosphere.

As a result Coruscant residents had nothing to make neutral small talk with. While the inhabitants of other lesser Republic worlds could always count on breaking their long silences with a cheery, "Ooooh, it's cold outside, isn't it?" or a marginally sincere, "Beautiful day, isn't it?" the Courscanti had to settle for topics that could be blamed on someone else, like the food or lack of brain cells on the hemispheric weather committee.

So, the various dignitaries on the Senate VIP landing platform only mumbled about business or the traffic or their last meals. Except for the six brown-robed figures standing silently among them.

They said nothing. They were Jedi, and Jedi were just like that. Mysterious and stoic. Quite a lot of citizens regarded them with awe and respect. Others just thought they were pretentious, especially since their Temple occupied some of the most valuable real estate on Coruscant. It was a huge, ugly gray bunker with five tall spires rising up over the whole structure like candles on a giant, pyramidal cake. But no matter how much a blight on the skyline it was, or how many building codes it violated or how desirable the location, no city bureaucrat or real estate mogul could do a thing about it since it had been there before the city.

A ponderous, fat transport rumbled toward them, finally coming to a stop at their platform. Smartly dressed crew and polished droids formed a line to usher the dignitaries aboard, the Jedi among them.

One happy crew member with a plastoid smile on his face ushered the Jedi through the impracticably grand passageways of the VIP hyperspace transport. Only after the door slid closed on their suite did one of the robed Jedi push the hood back off his head. The others immediately did the same.

"Hmm," Master Qui-Gon Jinn commented about their stately accommodations, his bearded, Human expression thoughtful. They had a plushly furnished main room with two smaller attached parlors, a service alcove and droid. However since suites of this size had been assigned to each of the other dignitaries, relatively speaking, the six Jedi were traveling economy class.

Master Zamtoe crossed to the wide view ports. His enormous, hulking Padawan dutifully followed. The ship began to rise up into the atmosphere. Zamtoe watched the sky change from perfect, pre-planned blue to violet and then star-flecked black. Master Zamtoe had not been off-world in years, so he thoroughly enjoyed re-acquainting himself with space travel.

Zamtoe, blue and bald and cheerfully middle-aged (for his species; he was nearly 100 standard years), turned around and almost collided into his Padawan's stomach. Enling had been watching space go by over his head. Zamtoe gulped, as he often did, at their size differential. Enling had been much smaller when he had adopted the youngling as his apprentice less than two years ago. But Zamtoe's choice had been guided by the will of the Force, with no consideration for the expected height potential of an adult Basalog, and Enling had recently hit a growth spurt. Zamtoe supposed that it could not be any worse for him than for any of the other smaller Jedi Masters. He had already received much sage wisdom from Master Yoda about how not to be sat or stepped on.

The other Jedi in their group had settled in on the bulging sofas in the sitting area. Designed to accommodate multiple species, the furnishings were mostly colorful, cushioned blobs that could form themselves to nearly any body type and number of appendages. Zamtoe and Enling joined them.

Feeling conspicuous, Enling gingerly took his place next to Master Zamtoe and folded his two upper pairs of arms before him and let his two lower pair of arms rest on his legs. He was the youngest member of the group by many years. The only other apprentice on this trip, Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was an adult over twenty standard years. Both Jinn and Kenobi were experienced Jedi with many years of important missions to their credit.

The others were senior Masters, including his own. Among them was Master Minee who was an instructor in Force studies for younger Initiates. Though it had been years since Enling had attended her classes, he still felt uncomfortable, traveling on a mission with her. This was Enling's first real mission, simple as it was.

They were going to attend a funeral.

"I have not been to Molek Minor since our mission there," Master Boraku, the eldest of the group, said and nodded to Master Zamtoe and Master Minee.

"I haven't been anywhere in years," Zamtoe slowly shook his blue head. "But I had to come to Salabatio's final rites. He was a great being in his time. And he loved life. His passing is a great loss to his world."

Hearing Zamtoe's sighing adulation, Obi-Wan Kenobi grimaced. Young and clean-shaven and dimple-chinned, his displeasure was obvious to anyone looking at him and his Master rewarded this lapse with a brief scowl. No one else among the other senior Masters noticed. Minee, Boraku and Zamtoe had all been younger Knights when Salabatio Onn had stopped a war single-handedly on Molek Minor and became the hero of his world.

The first time Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever encountered Salabatio Onn, less than two years ago, he was vomiting in a public gutter at Qui-Gon Jinn's feet. That mission had gone downhill from there.

Back then, while Obi-Wan had tried to gently disengage them from the scrawny vagabond in ragged scholar's robes, Qui-Gon, always a soft touch for homeless oddities, had been benevolent to 'Salabatio', who introduced himself with a flourish and a waft of body odor. After that they could not get rid of him. Qui-Gon hardly tried. But he had salved his Padawan's outrage a bit by allowing Obi-Wan to forcibly wash off the worst grime and excrement from their new companion in a public fountain. Salabatio had alternately cursed and broken out into song between dunkings.

It had been true that they benefitted from having a native guide to scout out a defensible location for their negotiations amidst the hostile territory of the worst, most unpleasant parts of the primary city on Molek Minor. But Onn came with his own assortment of vices and unsavory habits. The very first time they sat down to eat together, Onn had shocked even Qui-Gon by swiftly consuming more poisonous intoxicants than even a Jedi could metabolize.

"Just a little pick-me-up to help the digestion," he had explained of the illegal substances concealed in his dingy orange robes. Then he had ordered strong drink to go with the meal that Qui-Gon was paying for.

Now, less than two standard years later, Obi-Wan was accompanying his Master to Salabatio Onn's funeral rites. The only surprise for young Obi-Wan was that Salabatio had not been murdered by his own sorely abused and polluted internal organs. Salabatio had instead managed to get himself killed in a street argument punctuated with blaster fire. Supposedly he had been in the midst of some heroic act, but Obi-Wan did not think that the holo-net obits that failed to mention Salabatio's various addictions, public outbursts and random vandalisms could be trusted to be accurate about the cause of death.

On the other sofa, Enling listened with rapt attention to Master Minee's account of Salabatio Onn, unarmed, climbing atop an armed battle pod and jamming a metal rod into it's droid brain. And then he delivered an impassioned sermon to the combatants around him that completely disarmed the fight, on the field of battle and in orbit around the planet.

Obi-Wan knew that this story was true. It just wasn't complete as far as Salabatio Onn's whole life was concerned. Onn's devotion to non-violence was total. He would never raise a hand to another being, not even to defend himself. But this devotion curiously did not exclude insulting people and starting fights, especially in bars. More than once, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had come to Onn's defense, only to be soundly rebuked by him. Onn disdained all weapons. Blasters, shivs, heavy implements, attack droids and lightsabers were all the same to him, no matter what their use.

More than once on that mission, Obi-Wan had questioned his Master about the value of Onn's *guidance when compared to the trouble he caused. But Qui-Gon had stubbornly clung to his conviction that he 'sensed' that Onn had a role to play. Obi-Wan suspected that his Master's conviction had more to do with not wanting to admit that his instincts could be wrong.

At the climax of their mission, Salabatio Onn had escaped Qui-Gon's frantic grab and leaped into the midst of a combustible mix of enemy diplomats with a loud string of invectives and insults. Obi-Wan had been shocked when everyone at the negotiating table had cringed back as if their childhood nannies had emerged from their pasts to scold them for not putting their toys away. Salabatio Onn, his past revealed, had known them all down to their embarrassing personal habits. A settlement had been reached quickly, with Molek Minor's fallen and now risen planetary hero presiding. Qui-Gon Jinn had been smug about the outcome for quite some time afterwards.

"Do we participate in the ceremony?" Enling asked his Master. Enling, who was much taller than everyone else, including Master Qui-Gon, had a shockingly young and immature voice.

"I'm not sure. It wasn't clear to me from the invitation." Zamtoe looked to the others, but no one really knew anything other than the time and place where they were supposed to show up. After some speculation about the general nature of Moleki funeral rites the Jedi decided that it was unlikely that their participation would be required, but they would be mindful of the possibility. They then settled into their individual silences.

They each had their own style of silence. Qui-Gon went for the standard majestic Jedi Master in repose. Obi-Wan just copied what Qui-Gon did, which was merely a tenor version of 'not nearly so majestic as the guy sitting next to me.'

Boraku, whose robe and tunic were only half as wrinkled as her gray, hairless skin, sat unnaturally still and looked a bit like something that might be found decaying in a museum. She had been mistaken for a statue on a few occasions in the Temple gardens.

Minee was all business with a touch of un-Jedi-like tension about the lips. One could see just by looking at her that whatever she meditated on was important and was not to be interrupted unless your business was Really Important.

The ever helpful Zamtoe, a fixture for years in Temple Operations, meditated with a pleasant inviting smile, an expression the exact opposite of Minee's. Just in case someone needed to come to him about a problem with the plumbing or a malfunctioning holo-projector in a conference room he did not want anyone to be afraid of disturbing him. His comlink was always on.

Poor Enling was too young to have a style yet. Like Obi-Wan, he tried to imitate his own Master, but he had outgrown that. His attempt at a pleasant expression caused other people to move away in worry. Fortunately, the other members of the group had their eyes closed.

A long silence that would have unnerved any sociable creature within a few minutes commenced. It ponderously continued . . . . and continued . . . . and continued . . . . and continued . . . . and continued . . . . until the bump of the artificial gravity faintly jolted the room as the ship exited hyperspace into Molek Minor's space. Qui-Gon and Boraku immediately rose and helped themselves to the suite's two refreshers. The others waited for their turn.

By the time they were all finished, the Republic dignitaries were filing out of the ship and the six robed and hooded Jedi rejoined them. The Molek Minor officials greeted them at the landing ramp, a formal greeting for the various Senators, retired politicians and judges. The Jedi silently mixed in with them, with the huge bulk of Enling at the rear of the group.

Luxurious transports flew them all over a flat, planar city toward reddish brown hills in the distance and the Citadel of Pourish-Tow where the funeral rites were to be held. Their transports flew into an open hangar carved into one flat vertical cliff. Other transports arrived as well.

The Coruscant dignitaries disembarked and their group reformed with the Jedi somewhere in the middle. Because they were from the capital planet of the Republic they were met by high ranking Learned Ones. And a band. It wasn't a very good band. A droid with recorded music would have looked and sounded better. The Learned Ones of Pourish-Tow worshiped knowledge, so they were blessed with the certainty that they could do anything well. Many practitioners of the arts had hard evidence that this was not true.

The politicians smiled through the bad music and a few tone-deaf ones even feigned enjoyment. They were all battle-scarred politicos from years of rallies, bad food, bad speeches, bad music, demanding supporters, sector fairs and loony constituents who commed them about everything from the slow space lanes to why their darling pets were being discriminated against because they weren't allowed on the upper walkways of the cities (an ordnance demanded by the residence of the lower walkways who complained about the sometimes unusual and unpleasant precipitation from above). the Learned Ones' poor presentation hardly registered to most of them.

After the formalities, the group moved on through ancient columned hallways. The Jedi formed their own brown clump in the middle.

Being his first mission and also being able to see over the heads of everyone around him, Enling looked about curiously under the enormous hood of his robe. The Citadel of Pourish-Tow was similar to the Jedi Temple and Enling felt a bit disappointed that they had come all this way to end up in a place that looked so much like where they had left. But the vastness of the hallways was still reassuring since they made him feel less huge.

There was music ahead. Decent music, not the kind produced by persons with only a theoretical knowledge of sound in general.

The group emerged from the hallway into a cavernous room, ceiling high above and crowded floor down below. A colorful and well dressed rabble milled about over most of the patterned floor and in the middle of room, a raised platform behind it, rose a many tiered bier on top of which the body of Salabatio Onn lay in state.

- - - End Part 1