DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.
"Are you sure?"
"Are you sure, little one?"
The dreams had been irregular, but a bit disturbing. They were seldom really visual, but only various voices. Always, the voices, familiar and unfamiliar, said the same thing – however, even if it spoke the same words, it was never the same question twice. It would be related to the dream I was having, perhaps – was I sure that I wanted to be a Healer, or was I sure I wanted to be around a man who may even now become a Sith Lord? Sometimes I couldn't even tell what the question meant. If I knew, I would answer the question, having figured out awhile back that I wouldn't be able to keep sleeping unless I did. After that, I'd be quickly returned to the regularly scheduled dream… it was odd. This time, I awoke in a cold sweat, with a dark foreboding in my heart. I had the feeling that I'd be tested in my resolve in some way. I just hoped I would pass.
It was a grey, rainy day on Coruscant. I'd always thought the weather was controlled too well for that kind of thing, but it was cold and dreary, and the days grew shorter toward midwinter. No snow, just rain and a lot of sleet. As usual around this time of year, I was a bit depressed. It was eight months after I'd begun my apprenticeship, and I was shortly due on-shift in the intake section of the Infirmary. I had graduated from carrying bedpans and mopping up messes to taking vital signs, basic triage exams, and helping with pain relief during Healing treatments. It came of having had such awful pain during the attack on me and my recovery, according to Master Bodreau. I evidently had acquired a knack for knowing how to relieve pain in others. It was wonderful beyond belief, and I was glad to be able to do it. However, it was through the bond that had supposedly been broken that I felt the pain that would test the ability more than anyone else could.
Qui-Gon was deep in trance, in medical stasis as his ship approached, and I was shocked when felt the ghost of the pain even before the ship approached orbit. I centered myself and took the message that he was coming, answering the comm the instant it rang and summoning Master Bodreau. He looked at me in concern as he came to check the readouts.
"Are you all right, Belinda? You may leave if you wish; this may be – difficult for you." He patted my shoulder as I made notes on the datapadd.
"I'd hardly be much of a friend if I ran off when things got tough," I said. "I'll be fine, Master. He doesn't seem to be that badly wounded, by the account, but it's potentially quite painful if his ribs are involved."
"Indeed," he replied. "We will see when he arrives. Be mindful of your feelings and thoughts."
I nodded. "I will do my best, Master." I was quite sure that Master Bodreau was aware of my feelings for Qui-Gon, but this was the first time he'd even intimated them. At the beginning of my apprenticeship, he told me that he was well aware that my history, training and attitudes were substantially different than most of the Healer Padawans that were there, even those taken into the Order later in life, and that he would be glad to guide me in the study of the Jedi Code and the Healers' rules as well. But, he added, I had wisdom of my own, and I'd have to use my judgment. He also said that my moral center was strong and sure. I told him that was my parents' doing, and he chuckled.
"Your family may have started you off correctly," he said, "but you have a strong conscience and have demonstrated strength of character even when right action is difficult."
"That's as much stubbornness as anything else, I'd say," I said, "but I have a more sure guide now. It was harder to hear, before. Now, with what I've been taught – I am truly grateful."
He had smiled in reply.
I went to the transparisteel windows and looked up toward the sky through the endless layers of swoop bike and aircar traffic, willing the shuttle to get there faster so I could see him, help him, see how he was, if he'd be all right soon. When I realized that my hands clenched the rail so hard that they cramped, I knew that I was not going to help at all in that condition. I began to consciously calm myself, to go through every one of the cleansing and meditation exercises I knew so I would not harm him by my own anxiety. He was unconscious, hiding deep within his mind in a safe place. He knew I was there; I tried not to intrude, but I was worried. He'd never hidden so before, and I knew that this was an extreme strategy even from my limited training.
It was an hour before he came in, looking pretty ragged. He'd cracked a few ribs and was only indifferently cleaned up at best, his face looking rough, smeared with blood and who knew what, his clothing in tatters and his hair matted and tangled. Master Bodreau came to him right after I got there. I had already begun to help reduce his pain and let him rest. Even in trance, the lines of pain made his face look thinner. The lines didn't smooth out as I reached to make the rest of the connections, as they would have under most normal circumstances. Rather, I was horrified to find that his muscles were twitching in tiny seizures, from the mere warmth of my hand on his skin, from the touch of the disinfectant solution on his wounds. I could hardly catch my breath just from the echoes of the pain he had.
"Stop, please, Master," I gasped, looking up into his eyes. "He is in so much pain. Give me a few moments to find out what I'm doing wrong."
Master Bodreau nodded, and Qui-Gon acknowledged my presence and helped me as much as he could. I cast about and finally got a Force "fingernail" under the mechanism that made even the motion of air across his face screamingly painful, and began to counter it as well as I could. I had to make it up as I went along – luckily, improvisation was one of my stronger skills. At first, I had to feel some of the pain to understand the process and release it, taking it directly. It was no joke; it took all my concentration, strength, and clarity to keep from collapsing myself, and I was neither wounded nor exhausted. For a few moments, it felt like my whole body was on fire, crushed, then I was able to reach out and within, and finally found the trick of releasing the agony directly while dissipating the wild firing of his sensory and motor neurons, and we both breathed deeply for a few moments as the pain-storm subsided.
(You have learned much,) came the thought, as I soothed the pain from his other injuries, which were much more severe than we had been lead to believe. (You have done well.)
Call it enlightened self-interest, I replied gently.
As we got him cleaned up, I saw that the pattern of the burns suggested some kind of electrical device, even one designed to inflict pain on a humanoid. We found that a drug or poison had also been administered to lower his nerves' firing threshold. For anyone but a Jedi, it would have been fatal. Qui-Gon had taken the only solution he could; he shut his metabolism down as much as possible and just hid from the horrible agony. I could sense Master Bodreau's distress easily, and it echoed my own. So far I had been too busy to waste energy on temper, and now I still had much to do. I laid my hand on Qui-Gon's cheek gently to aid in establishing better contact as we began the work in earnest.
I'm glad. It's a joy to ease suffering. Now relax, love, let's calm your nerves down. We have to clear a toxin now, let us help. Give yourself into our hands and use your energy to heal.
(I shall,) came the reply, and he formally released control to us. As the pain subsided, he began to go deeper into trance, and Master Bodreau was able to establish the bond and diagnose the problems to begin treatment. I stayed with him, maintaining the pain control and providing an anchor. I continued to concentrate on staying clear, staying centered, giving the pain to the Force and allowing healing to flow through me as Master Bodreau directed the beginning of the treatment, clearing the toxin from his system and preparing him for a brief time in Bacta to help regenerate nerve damage that otherwise might prove troublesome and perhaps progressive. It was at the edge of my ability, a stretch, more power than anything I'd dared before. The alternative was unacceptable, though, so I did it. Master Bodreau left for a few moments to arrange the bacta tank and treatments, and I felt Qui-Gon slip from the deep hiding place he'd originally found to keep himself from madness into the more peaceful state of a normal healing trance. I caressed his face gently now that it was not a storm of agony to do so, and I could see the trace of a smile as he finally felt the comfort I had so wanted to give to him. As I came back to myself, I was not surprised to feel tears running down my face. It wasn't the first time.
(Do not weep, little one,) came the thought, (I chose this path. It is the job I do.)
I know that, Qui-Gon. I admire you for it, but I don't have to like this. I don't ever have to approve of torture and cruelty, even less when it's someone I love.
Oops. Couldn't take that one back. He had to have figured it out by now, maybe even Master Yoda or Master Dooku had told him. But he surprised me. Instead of admonishing me to be mindful of my feelings and thoughts, instead of reminding me he was a Jedi and that it would be very difficult to maintain a relationship between us, there was a sudden thread of joy, glad sweetness that entered my mind, my heart, seeming to come both directly from him and from my connection to the Force as well. I gasped to feel it, like a golden ray of summer sunshine filling our hearts, warming us from inside. Then he went back to his quiet safe place and lapsed finally into a true healing trance, leaving me dizzy and shaking for half a moment with the rush of emotion that his gentle warmth had released.
"Is Master Jinn in trance now?" Master Bodreau asked when he returned a few moments later. I swallowed and gathered myself, using a few more centering exercises and breathing deeply so I could speak.
"Yes, my Master," I said.
"You must be more mindful of your thoughts and feelings," he replied, kindly. I wiped my eyes and he put a hand on my shoulder.
"I am quite aware of my feelings, Master," I replied. "I am close to Master Jinn, and I consider him a friend. I don't take very kindly to my friends being tortured." I turned to face him directly. "I would not be who I am if I didn't have feelings, Master. The best I can do is not let them get in the way of my work. Did I do that?"
"You did well after you remembered that. Master Jinn's pain was very severe, and you not only maintained without flinching but found the problem and began to solve it by the time I began to treat his injuries."
"Thank you. I'm glad I could do that; it's really such a joy. I – need to take a walk, Master, to get a breath of air. May I do so?"
"It is well past time for you to leave. Do not forget your meditation this evening."
"I will not, Master. Good night."
I was tired, but I'd been telling the truth. I needed to get the anger out of my system, needed it badly. If I didn't, it would be a migraine when I awoke, and there would be no joy in Mudville. So I went and got Slan (who was quite happy in my quarters, playing around with the comm system and learning things), and went down to the machines that they called "stationary runners" here. I had a lot of things to release, and a lot to think about.
/Lyn's going nowhere fast? / Slan asked, giggling. The treadmills amused him.
"I need to stay in shape somehow, Slan," I replied. "And this keeps me from getting headaches when I get angry."
He patted my head and made a sympathetic sound. /No head hurt. /
"I'm with you, buddy, so come on. Hey," I said, as we got started, remembering the conversation I'd had with Master Dooku at lunch that afternoon, "would you like to be able to talk to anyone the way you speak to me and the Jedi?"
/Why talk to anyone else? /
"For whatever reason you want. Master Dooku said that he'd looked into it and other Peroota Cats like you have been able to use a voder to speak. Would you like to do that?"
He shrugged. It wasn't much of a problem here, admittedly. /Don't need to. /
"I suppose not. But will you think about it? You might like to be able to talk."
"'Kay!" he chirped.
"I'm sorry I didn't mention it before," I said. "I had no idea."
He patted my cheek again. He was a good guy; he'd forgive me.
"You're a good friend, Slan. Do you want to run with me or watch some holo? I was thinking of the news," I said, as we got ready to run.
/No news, yucky news. Want Tales of the Jedi! /
"Tales of the Jedi? Oh, dear. Well, I suppose I could use a laugh. All right."
Tales of the Jedi had become something of a guilty pleasure since I'd heard about it on the morning of my Apprenticeship ceremony eight months before. It was a serial in the old tradition, rather like a Western crossed with a space opera, where Brave Jedi Knights fought Evil Criminals and Corruption on the Wild Galactic Frontier, with much swashbuckling and derring-do. The current storyline involved Desperate Spice Pirates and Jedi Master Cor Valiant and his Brave Padawan Eesee Fait. She was, of course, in love with her Master, but since Jedi Cannot Know Love, it was hopeless. I figured that if it had been Star Trek, she would have been wearing a red shirt… I suspected Master Yoda to have had some kind of hand in the series' production, but not enough of one to make much difference in the production values – Qui-Gon had better lightsabre technique when he was twelve, I was sure. And the dialog – gods, it was as bad as Lucas'.
It was hilarious. Of course, Slan took it rather too seriously, but we talked about it and I explained about popular fiction and how silly it could be. He asked as many questions as a three-year-old child, and more than once made me closely examine many of my own opinions and assumptions. Great. Having one's moral compass adjusted by a house pet was a unique experience, but one used what one had to hand, I guessed. And truly, Slan was more than a pet. I wondered if eventually he'd want to live on his own, but I figured I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.
When I first saw it, I had had an epiphany about Tales of the Jedi – George Lucas had tuned in his television to the correct frequency one day in 1973 or so and had put his operatic tragedy into this absurd space-opera setting. There was even a really cheesy Jedi Neck Pinch that looked just like Mr. Spock's. That episode had me rolling off the sofa, but Slan didn't get it. I'd had to explain the whole thing, which had me in fits of giggles for a long time. But now, as I watched, I saw the grains of truth in the myth created for the unsuspecting public of Coruscant. I saw the noble and willing Jedi sacrifice herself for the greater good, to save her Master and defeat the Dark Side, and I found my eyes wet once more. Much truth is disguised in myth, and these storytellers knew more than they suspected.
A month before, a Jedi Knight had come home to die, and we had aided her in a kind, comfortable, and dignified passing after she'd given her life to a planet and culture that had never known of her existence. I had wept then, too, though I had only known her for a short time. She reminded of the Rangers who protected simple ignorant people from evils they could not imagine. It was much the same. Most of the people the Jedi served didn't understand them, nor the cost of the peace that they were sworn to preserve. Yet all of them that I had met did their jobs gladly, and considered their ability a gift and a blessing. I did as well.
/Lyn sad? / Slan asked. He patted my cheek, damp with tears as well as sweat from the five kilometers or so that I'd run. Not up to my usual, but I was tired, and someone had turned on the waterworks.
"No, I'm all right, Slan. Time to hit the showers or we'll miss dinner." He'd run a bit with me – he could cover quite a lot of ground at speed himself. He seemed to enjoy running.
We went to the showers, and I stretched under the warm water as Slan splashed in the small stall across from me. It felt good, even though I was sore and tired, to have forestalled a migraine. Even if I was still deeply saddened by the truly unspeakable treatment Qui-Gon had received, I could let the anger go and be thankful that I could help him, and that he would recover. I knew he was safe in the Bacta and healing, and finally comfortable and in no pain.
I dressed and put myself together as Slan adjusted himself to whatever standard of appearance he favored. He was posing in the mirror when I came out. He had grown quite a bit, and his coloring had changed to cream colored on his stomach, and golden on the top with some striations, something like a tiger but muted. He was a very handsome creature indeed.
"Gorgeous," I said, and he giggled. "Come on, Handsome, I'm half starved."
We found the closest Commissary and got some roasted dlif, a protein-rich mushroom of sorts from an outlying planet. That and the spicy grain and leafy vegetable soup (fielle) were quite a tasty and comforting meal – I was beginning to get used to the food, and that was a blessing. Now I wasn't ready to kill for red beans and rice… The colors were another matter. I wasn't accustomed to purple soup. Slan tucked into his as though he were going to the chair. I looked over my notes as the soup cooled, and was surprised to hear a familiar voice, sounding concerned.
"Ah, here you are, Belinda. I was looking for you."
I stood, a bit flustered. "Master Dooku, please, join me, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"
He was carrying a tray, and sat at my invitation. "I am well taken care of, thank you. I hear my wayward Padawan came in through the Healers' Wing this afternoon. Is he going to be all right?"
"I'm glad you heard about Qui-Gon. You should likely ask Master Bodreau about specifics on his condition. He's in Bacta now, but he's comfortable, I can assure you of that."
He nodded, looking quite relieved. "I was aware of his pain, of course. Some bonds are never truly broken. Are you all right, Belinda?" he asked, gently.
"A little tired, perhaps, but fine. The learning curve is steep on the pain reduction techniques, but I seem to have developed a knack for improvising on the fly. It's good to be able to help."
He nodded. "Indeed. Qui-Gon was most fortunate as well."
"Patient, more like, Master," I replied, smiling. He chuckled, and we ate quietly for a bit.
Over the past months Master Dooku had, surprisingly, become a friend. Master Bodreau had accepted his offer to help tutor me on matters of protocol and the history of the Jedi Order after a rather sticky incident, and we often had tea or lunch together to discuss assignments and questions as his schedule permitted. I had found Yan Dooku to be a fine, reasonably patient teacher, with a strong sense of right and definite opinions that often differed with those of the Jedi Council. He was sometimes a bit moody and had distinct curmudgeon tendencies, but he did have a sense of humor, luckily for me. We shared a common disgust with corrupt politics and a dislike of politicians in general, though I often found myself struggling to understand some of his insights and lessons.
He felt that the Jedi were too closely connected with the Senate and the status quo, and the more I learned from my classes, from him, and from the studies I pursued independently, the more I agreed. I could see that he bore a deep affection for Qui-Gon, and of course that was something else we shared in common. His recent assignments had kept him fairly close to the Temple – not surprising, considering what I had told Master Yoda. He was a bit twitchy about being there so much, but his investigations of the possible rising of a Sith Lord had proceeded rather well because of the help I'd been able to give him, and I always loved to hear the stories he had to tell about the lovely things he had and the missions he'd undertaken. He taught me well with the stories, too.
"What was it that could give him so much pain?" Master Dooku asked.
I sighed. "It seemed to be a device made to torture, though I don't know the reason. Of course, it didn't work too well, so they used a drug to reduce the nerves' firing threshold. Then he just went into trance until they gave up, as far as we could tell."
He smiled grimly. "He has much endurance, but sometimes doesn't know when to stop."
I nodded. "And he told me not to be upset, because he had chosen to do the job he does. I know that, Master, but it's never easy to feel a friend suffer."
He quirked his lip. "That is certainly true," he said. "But you did what you could. I am sure that he knows."
"Of course. He'll be in Bacta for a day or two at least, I think. I'm sure he'll be glad if you visit, even so," I said. He smiled, a bit more easily.
"I hope so," he said. "I hope he'll rest."
"I'm with you on that one, Master Dooku. He doesn't have much choice for a while, at least. We'll see when he's up and about. I understand he has a bit of a reputation for resisting treatment."
He chuckled. "Again you show a gift for understatement, Belinda. He's a reputation for driving the Healers to distraction. He started when he was only a teenager, and hasn't improved since."
"I'll bear that in mind, sir," I said. Well, he's already done that to me; maybe I'll have a chance to get him to relax.
"See that you do," he replied, smiling. "Thank you for letting me know what was happening," he continued, rising. "I will indeed speak with Master Bodreau. Good evening."
"Good evening to you, Master. I'll see you soon, I think."
He smiled, and bowed a bit as I rose as well. "Yes, that's most likely. Get some rest, Padawan, you've done well today. May the Force be with you."
I bowed to him, and wondered at his remark. "And with you, as well, Master – and thank you," I said. I didn't know my fatigue was so obvious, I had best beat it back to my quarters and do the rest of my work. And praise from Master Dooku was rare indeed. I was impressed that he thought I'd done well, and gratified.
So I went back and studied for a while. When I found myself reading the same sentence for the tenth time, I knew that both Masters were right, and I was very tired. I very much needed to meditate that evening, so rather than fall asleep in my meditation alcove as I'd done more than once, I decided it was now or never.
I settled in to a comfortable position, and Slan curled up at my knees. The meditation had always fascinated him, ever since he'd seen Qui-Gon meditate on the island. He always wanted to be close to me when I meditated; I think he enjoyed the relative quiet.
Today I had a lot to consider. I had learned a way to quiet the human nervous system in a seizure, and I used the techniques taught me to be sure to cement that technique in my memory. It was useful, and I didn't want to have to reinvent the wheel. I had also managed not to allow my emotions to get in the way of my work, and even though I had been deeply saddened and angered by Qui-Gon's condition on his arrival, had also managed to maintain my concentration and help him, which was what mattered. Maybe that was the secret of true maturity – to accept one's feelings and move beyond them for the greater good. That was a heavy thing to consider, and I supposed that I hadn't the energy to go all through the line of reasoning now. I reluctantly left it for another time.
Then there was the emotion that I had felt from him – that was startling, to say the least. I'd become accustomed to the idea that though I loved him, Qui-Gon did not – could not – return my feelings in that way. I'd studied the Code and rules and never found any prohibition against love and marriage, but the current leadership of the Order actively discouraged any form of attachments among any Jedi. It puzzled me. I wasn't very sophisticated when it came to philosophy, but even when I considered it under the uncompromising light of truth that the Force could give, love was not a bad thing. I could see the peril of obsession, infatuation, possessiveness, jealousy – those truly were paths to the Dark Side, I'd seen it more than once even in my limited experience, I could definitely understand – but real love was something that seemed to be part of the Living Force, coming from something much larger than one human soul. My infatuation with Qui-Gon had burned off like fog in the morning, but it seemed very much like my love for him was a fact by then, like it was just part of me – one of the best parts. I still considered it so.
Though I found him very beautiful, I didn't just love him for that, either. I loved his subtle humor, his kind nature, his deep compassion, his keen mind, his need to aid those in search of justice. I loved watching him at 'sabre practice, where he flowed like water, one with the Force that I could almost see swirling around him. He was, according to many who knew, the finest swordsman that the Order had seen in centuries. I'd seen a few competent swordsmen in my life before, in the SCA and even in a few fencing and kendo classes, but he, of course, was orders of magnitude beyond them. It wasn't the studied perfection of form and kata that he displayed, but it was oneness with the weapon, with the situation, changing with the moment. It was stark, deadly beauty to see. I loved seeing him interact with the children, where he was a thorough, loving teacher.
As I'd told Master Yoda, I'd no illusions about being the first woman to fall in love with the Jedi who saved her, nor even about being the first woman to fall in love with Qui-Gon. If my feelings were returned, of course, I had other things to think about. I had to admit, unrequited love was a bit less complicated. Now it was time to really get over yourself, Kyle, and make the hard choices -- or listen to the Force and let the choices be made.
I had done a fair bit of studying on it in the past few months; I could find no prohibition of love or marriage in the original Jedi Code. When I asked Master Dooku about it, he said that the current interpretation of the code did not date to the original Order, where it was common, and even encouraged, for members to marry and have families. One of the greatest Jedi, Nomi Sunrider, was a woman who became a knight after she'd had children, when her husband had been killed. When we discussed it, I found that he felt as I did, that the denial of family ties and love made the Jedi more vulnerable to the Dark Side, most especially humans. His argument covered a lot more ground than my mere gut instincts did, but it essentially came down to the same as mine – that love can make duty joy, but lack of it can make duty bitter and empty. That, he felt, was the reason that many Jedi fell from the path. I hoped secretly that this was a revelation that would protect him from that fate. I had grown to care quite a bit for him in the time I'd known him. As cranky and sharply critical as he could be, he could also be kind and witty and wise. I knew in my bones that he was a key to this complex puzzle in which I was mired; it was vitally important that he stay with the light.
I didn't know much about the psychology of other species yet, but I could see just from my own knowledge, feelings, and leaning that pure altruism was not guaranteed to produce the desired result in humans – an Order without conflict, dedicated to the good of the Republic. Why was there no room for personal happiness in the Jedi Order? Not everyone was cut out to be a celibate monk, even if you were considered a priest. Jedi were not required to be celibate. They had quite a reputation as lovers, as a matter of fact, though I imagined that tale had grown in the telling. I found the whole thing to be quite puzzling. Why would Jedi be allowed idle dalliance and not committed relationships? It seemed the opposite of the values they seemed to preach, truth and fidelity and honesty, to do the "wham bam thank-you-ma'am" number. One giant step -- backward.
"Perhaps your path is not as you expect," Master Dooku had said, after we had discussed that particular chapter of history, the Code, and its attendant wrinkles. "Certainly there must be change, both in the Order and in the Republic, for them to survive. We all have parts to play in this, and we must be guided as we see the way. But be assured, Belinda. You are exactly where you are meant to be, doing exactly what you are meant to do in this moment. Be at peace. Be glad."
I had looked up into the infinite dark eyes of Qui-Gon's Master, and I had seen kindness there, wisdom and knowledge. It was not the grim hooded look of evil; it was the clear honest gaze of a man who wanted to help, to save something precious that was very close to being irreparably broken. It seemed the look of a man who knows desperate measures may be needed, and that it may well be too late.
I had put my hand on top of his, the first time I'd presumed to touch him. He gently took it; his hand was warm and strong. "Thank you. I have to admit, I often have doubts."
"No room for those now," he'd replied, solemn but with a smile in his eyes. I had gotten the idea then that he knew what I had seen and what I could not tell him, and that he had chosen the right path. I could only pray I was right.
The whole thing was incomprehensible to me; I could barely get my mind around my small piece of it. I knew that the current system had been in place for thousands of years, which staggered me. Even with the average human lifespan increased to well over 130 years, the sheer continuity of things was incredible. But I could also see from my studies that both the Jedi and Healers' Orders had become increasingly intertwined with the Senate and Republic for the last several thousand years, and that this had prevented any objectivity on either body's part for at least that long. For a government, it was damn convenient to have hot and cold running miracle workers on demand, even a government as incredibly laissez-faire as the Republic necessarily was. There were thousands and thousands of star systems, trillions of beings. It was incredible, unimaginable in scope. Somewhere along the line, the individual, even the individual world, had become unimportant to the players of power. On that scale, it wasn't difficult to understand. Oddly enough, it had happened around the time that the Jedi Council had decided that it was not good for Jedi to be people – but icons, who could neither love nor hate.
Was that it? Had the problem come with the depersonalization of the Republic and devolved onto the Jedi Order? Incomprehensible sums of money changing hands between faceless corporations, entire cultures bought and sold, enslaved and destroyed as "progress" marched on. From my (probably oversimplified) studies and reasoning, it had somehow ceased to matter just around the time when the Universal Force became more important to the Order.
I was jolted out of my contemplations. It couldn't be that simple, could it? That the balance was gone, and something had to be done to redress the error… could this lead to the destruction of planets, the death of billions, the dark times of the Empire? And was my job to help prevent all this suffering? Was that why I was even here, alive? It seemed a heavy and awful responsibility, and it cowed me. I wasn't much for prayer even when I was in Catechism, but one formed itself in my consciousness now.
Guide me; give me strength in the task you wish of me. I will do what is needed, but I must know what that is. Surprisingly, the answer was immediate and clear – comfort surrounded me like a warm blanket, and I felt uplifted. Tears came to me for the second time that day, and I was deeply grateful. If I had a job to do, at least I had help. If I didn't watch out, I'd get religion.
I rose and stretched. Slan had fallen asleep, a tidy little bundle of fur at my feet, twitching in a dream, maybe of a lady Peroota Cat, or just a playmate. I smiled and scooped him up, and he looked drowsily at me.
/Bed? / He asked.
"Yeah, sport, it's definitely bedtime. Sorry to disturb you, but it'll be more comfortable with a pillow and blankets. Come on." He made a little happy noise, and snuggled into my arms. Silly little goof, he had more sense than I did.