The Sword and Stars
Part I – Springtime on Tivelis
NOTES: The character Y'Chelle Anacris was inspired by the actress Michelle Yeoh, who I think would make a kick-ass Jedi Knight.
Thanks to Chris, for getting this story started. Thanks also to Lori, Raven, and Monica, for their great feedback and encouragement.
Obi-Wan Kenobi looked up briefly and caught sight of a sign on a busy tavern that said "The Sword and Stars" and decided it sounded vaguely Jedi-like. Continuing his argument, he turned to face Qui-Gon Jinn and walked towards the tavern backwards, eagerly gesturing as he said, "...but only the one would be needed, don't you see? And that would halve — no, reduce by two-thirds the response time, and then we could — "
A tall woman with short dark hair and steady gray eyes stood by the counter that spanned the outdoor terrace and indoor seating areas, adding receipts. Seeing the two men, she hooked a chair with her foot, pulling it out of the way of the younger man so he wouldn't trip. Qui-Gon nodded once to her, acknowledging her help. Although his expression was solemn, she thought she saw a glint deep in his eyes that might have been amusement, but when their eyes met for a brief second she couldn't be sure; his blue eyes were unreadable. His attention quickly went back to the other man, whom he interrupted with, "You would do well to concentrate on the present moment, Obi-Wan, with all its inherent — possibilities."
Obi-Wan checked at this, and seemed to realize only then the number of mishaps he could incur by walking backwards. He hastily led the way to an empty table on the large terrace, which had a view of a lush green park across the street that sloped away towards a central business area and, beyond it, a bay sparkling in the planet Tivelis's spring sunshine.
A waiter, looking very much like a human-sized cat walking on its hind legs, his white fur patched at random with orange and black, hurried to greet them with a bow and the ritual words, "Will you refresh yourselves?" and proffered hot water for tea. As he straightened and Qui-Gon's eye caught his, the fur from the nape of his neck all the way to the tip of his tail bristled and he almost dropped the teapot.
Obi-Wan looked from one to the other. Now that's a fear-response if I ever saw one, he thought as he raised his hand slightly and used the Force to ease the teapot onto the table. Sometimes Obi-Wan forgot that Qui-Gon had an air about him — of authority used to being obeyed, of calm assurance bordering on arrogance. It was less and less often that the Master fixed him with a stare that seemed to see right through him, but even his most neutral stare had an unnerving intensity. As Qui-Gon politely ignored the waiter's distress and spoke in low, even tones designed to put him at his ease, Obi-Wan reflected that there had been times when, if he'd had fur, he'd have bristled all over at one of Qui-Gon's looks.
Their parti-colored waiter made it inside to place their order, and Obi-Wan watched with interest as he came back out, went to the woman at the counter and agitatedly pointed with his tail at their table. She put down her scan-pad and took the bristly tail tip in her hands, stroking it soothingly as he apparently told her why he wasn't going to bring them their food. She seemed to speak reasonably, then remonstrate, then she yanked on his tail with what looked like exasperated affection. A lull in the conversation around them let him overhear her say, "Ialii, you have no more sense than the Force gave a piggle," and Obi-Wan suppressed a smile.
Qui-Gon, who had mixed leaves from the assortment of jars at the table and was brewing their tea, raised his eyebrows at his apprentice's obvious amusement.
"Nothing, Master," Obi-Wan said quickly, and turned the subject. "Ah — as I was saying before, the ship really could stand to — "
At the counter Ialii, confirming the woman's estimation of him, squeaked like a piggle and then beseeched as she laughed at him, "Just look, Chydanio!"
To humor him, she looked over at the table in question, where the two men were sitting in profile to her. They were both Jedi, the younger man apprentice to the older, that much was obvious to the casual observer by their clothing and the braid the younger man wore. But as her gaze lingered on them she began to see the more subtle contrasts between them. Obi-Wan, although the stockier and more sturdily built of the two, still had much of the boy about him — too much enthusiasm and confidence showed in his mobile features for the serious demeanor he obviously tried to project. And the taller man — there was a sense of immense responsibility about him, his gravity a part of him as much as the younger man's seemed only a cloak he put on when he remembered to. And there was something more about the Jedi Master, or had seemed to be, when he'd first come in... She wished she had her sketchbook with her. Both men, in their own ways, intrigued her.
She gave her considered opinion. "They don't look like they'll bite."
Ialii chuffed loudly, begging to differ.
Chydanio gave in and tied a clean serving cloth around her waist. "I don't know why I don't fire you," she muttered, grabbing two place settings from a pile near the counter.
"Because you love and adore me?" he suggested, and then whipped his tail out of reach before she could pull it again.
She took the long way — around a large party of boisterous ornithicids, wings aflutter with the agitation of their arguments — walking slowly and studying the two men with an eye to drawing them later. It was the only reason she noticed not only that how they drank their tea seemed like a ritual — holding the cups just so with both hands, eyes closed and heads bowed, inhaling the steam before they sipped deeply — but also, in some way that she couldn't explain, in the midst of the noise of the terrace and the crowds on the sidewalk and the traffic in the street, it was as if time stood absolutely still for them, creating a small space of calm for the span of that first sip. Then Obi-Wan looked up and saw her making her way towards them.
"It appears that we have a new waiter," he commented as he put down his cup.
Qui-Gon also looked up, and saw the woman who had saved Obi-Wan from breaking his neck when they'd arrived. "I wonder what happened to our variegated friend," he said mildly.
Obi-Wan suddenly thought of how very long it had taken him to realize that Qui-Gon, the man who from the moment they'd met he had trusted and respected and held in paralyzing awe, actually had a sense of humor. But once he'd made the discovery, he found that he genuinely liked the older man as a friend and enjoyed his company. "It was certainly nothing you said, Master," Obi-Wan assured him with a small smile.
"I trust not." And Qui-Gon, deadpan, shot him a look that went right through his skull and hit a tree in the park across the street.
I've got to learn how to do that! Obi-Wan thought, almost breaking into a broad grin. But at that moment Chydanio reached their table, and her presence suddenly reminded him that such an expression was at odds with his image as a Jedi, and he schooled his features.
Chydanio, fascinated, found that she wanted to see Obi-Wan's grin very much. Sensing, though, that if she teased him it would only cause him to be embarrassed and hide behind his feigned maturity, she impulsively determined to tease his companion instead. Even if he was a Jedi Master.
"My apologies," she said, laying out their table linen, all efficiency and business. "I'm a poor substitute for your original waiter, Ialii. It seems, however, that you...disconcerted him." She smoothed a fold in a napkin. "He said your scent is like nothing he's ever come across before."
"That's a first," Qui-Gon mused, and raised his eyebrows at his apprentice. Obi-Wan tried to look unconcerned.
She went on matter-of-factly, placing their utensils, "He's never met a Jedi before. I think that, just as every emotional state has a distinct scent to him, so does the Force, and the stronger the Force, the more...peculiar the smell is to him."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Obi-Wan looking vindicated; since the Force was strongest of all with a Jedi Master, it was Qui-Gon who smelled funny, not him. If she pushed just a little harder... She straightened and looked at them both. "He also said that one of you looked like a cross between a...warrior and an attorney, and that those kind of men are more dangerous than predators, even."
Obi-Wan's grin was like a ray of sunlight breaking through heavy clouds: sudden, bright, and so warm you wanted to raise your face to it in response. Oh, that was definitely worth it, Chydanio thought even as she turned innocent eyes to Qui-Gon and asked, having too much fun to stop now, "That wouldn't be you, would it?"
Obi-Wan had to turn away before he burst into laughter. Qui-Gon gave a small sigh and looked up at Chydanio. "I did seem to alarm Ialii," he admitted, "although that certainly wasn't my intention. There's nothing I can do about my scent, but please convey my regret for any distress I caused him."
When he'd begun to speak, Chydanio saw for a moment what Ialii had seen, and was herself a little alarmed. But only for a moment, because as she continued to look down into his blue eyes they almost seemed to open to her — yes, there was the glint of amusement she only thought she'd seen earlier, now closer to the surface. And she also saw that his apology was genuine. There was definitely power and decision in this man, but there was also kindness. And she didn't realize that the teasing look had left her own eyes as she regarded him thoughtfully.
Someone leaned out the tavern doorway and bawled their table number, then pounded on the doorframe for emphasis. She bowed to the two Jedi. "I'll be right back."
Qui-Gon watched her walk away. Usually, he only noticed things such as her expression in passing, going beyond surface appearance to what lay beneath, searching for the Force in all its manifestations. But he found himself wondering briefly about her — why she had reacted to him the way she had, and why the light in her eyes had changed right before she'd left to get their food. Then he shook his head slightly. It was none of his business, after all.
When she was safely out of earshot Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon, his eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. "A warrior and an attorney, Master — is that something I should be striving for?"
"Not necessarily," he responded equably. "I believe the question is whether you could appear more dangerous than a predator."
"Of course I could. I simply choose not to frighten the natives at every turn, as you do."
"Our new waiter doesn't seem to fear of me."
"Yes, but you don't smell 'peculiar' to her."
Qui-Gon took another sip of tea. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Obi-Wan?"
"Immensely, Master."
Neither of them could help noticing that Ialii, who was serving a table nearby, carefully kept the Jedi upwind of him. As he turned away Chydanio caught up to him, her arms and hands balancing several plates of food. They bent their heads together and spoke in low tones, and she gestured towards Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, which made Ialii's fur spike briefly before he smoothed it with an effort and said something further to her. As if in answer, she started to walk away.
"...my table, Chydanio!" Ialii hissed loudly.
She hissed back, "Then you take these plates over there — " The way his ears abruptly lay flat against his head was answer enough. "Then I get their tip — if there is one, if their food isn't cold by the time — "
He twisted his spotted tail in his paws, clearly torn. "What if...I serve the one with a tail and you serve the one with the face fur and we split it?"
She glared at him, incredulous. "Get. Back. To. Work!"
Chydanio turned back towards the table and saw two sets of blue eyes — one pair twinkling, the other grave — on her. She sighed and made it the last few steps to the table and set the plates down, offering the ritual words but in a harried tone, "Partake and enjoy."
"I hope we're not causing you any trouble," Obi-Wan said, smiling innocently.
"With the overgrown cat?" She laughed once and shook her head. "Don't misunderstand. We're old friends. I'm sure we'll survive two Jedi eating a meal here. Or at least a Jedi with a tail." She gave Obi-Wan a conspiratorial smile. "Ialii still has his doubts about the one with the face fur."
Obi-Wan suddenly realized that Chydanio was deliberately teasing Qui-Gon — and had been, when she'd first come to their table. She'd just met him and she was taking the liberty — ! And she did it so easily, with none of the deference he realized he'd assumed was a Jedi's right.
Affronted, he looked at Qui-Gon — but instead of seeing his own emotion mirrored, he saw the Master glancing up at Chydanio, a corner of his mouth quirked upward. When Chydanio looked back down at him, his expression smoothed itself out and he regarded her with his usual calm. And she responded, not to that calm, but to his almost-smile, with a small, slow smile of her own.
She said again, this time meaning it, "Partake and enjoy."
Obi-Wan turned thoughtful. He was used to minutely observing the Master in all things and interpreting what he saw, and now he found himself wondering about something he never had before. He knew there were Jedi who had spouses and families and homes, but Qui-Gon had none of these. It suddenly occurred to him that in some ways, perhaps Qui-Gon had chosen to forego these things because of him. Taking on a Padawan learner was no easy task, and ideally a Jedi Master would have no distractions, no other ties.
He had never thought about Qui-Gon being in a relationship. He'd never thought about him being — lonely.
"From the ferocious frown on your face, am I to assume that you're practicing to 'frighten the natives'?" Qui-Gon asked, breaking into Obi-Wan's reverie.
Obi-Wan focused back in on the moment and managed to answer in the same bantering tone, "I would never presume to steal your act, Master." And mechanically he began to eat, trying not to meet his eyes, trying to keep what he was thinking out of his face — was he indeed the reason Qui-Gon was alone? And if the Master had chosen this path, would it be Obi-Wan's as well...?
Qui-Gon stared narrowly at his apprentice; obviously, something was disturbing him. He finally turned to his own food and decided that time would tell him what it was.
As Chydanio went back to the kitchen, Ialii stopped her short and leaned towards her, his whiskers arched forward and quivering.
"What is it?" she asked, and when he didn't immediately respond she kidded him, "Did some of their scent rub off on me?"
"Be serious," he said, regarding her thoughtfully. "There's something...I can't place it, but I think I've smelled it before." He puzzled a little longer.
"Good or bad?" she prompted.
He looked up into her gray eyes. "Good. I associate it with a good memory, I think." He flicked his ears forward, then back, his equivalent of a shrug, dismissing the thought.
Chydanio shook her head. "Strange cat..."
She went back out to the terrace after a while to check on the two Jedi and refill their teapot, and without raising his head Obi-Wan covertly examined her. She was broad-shouldered and stood almost as tall as the Master, her face weathered and a little careworn, and her short dark hair showed a few silver strands. Deep laugh lines bracketed wide-set gray eyes as well as a too-generous mouth under a slightly crooked nose. Not beautiful, not even pretty, but there was something compelling about her all the same.
"Can anything be improved?" she asked them.
Qui-Gon had been trying without much success to discuss with Obi-Wan his earlier concern about their ship's engines, but knew Chydanio's ritual question didn't refer to that. "Everything's fine. Thank you," he answered for the both of them, since the younger man seemed to be having great difficulty looking at anything but the plate in front of him.
Chydanio leaned over Obi-Wan. "And you, Jedi-with-a-tail — is your meal complete?" she asked, smiling at him. He nodded silently, not raising his eyes, wanting simply to listen to her interact with Qui-Gon. The woman gave Qui-Gon an "Is he all right?" look. His answering "I don't know" look was clearly concerned.
So — gravity and kindness, calm solemnity and controlled power, subtle humor and endless, endless responsibility. Chydanio folded her arms across her chest, wondering what to say that might get Obi-Wan's attention and help this Jedi Master out. "You know, just the other day we were talking about..." she improvised slowly, then recalled that they actually had had a discussion about — "...the Jedi. If you don't mind, this is a good opportunity..."
Qui-Gon found himself wondering again about this woman — why, with apparently the best of good will, she was trying to help him after having gone out of her way to tease him earlier. He didn't need to probe the Force within her to tell that there was no malice or guile there; he'd seen that much in her eyes. He would have decided to trust her — if he hadn't found that he'd somehow given her his trust already. He hoped for the best, and that perhaps she might succeed where he hadn't.
"Certainly," Qui-Gon answered her, hoping this would turn Obi-Wan's thoughts outward. "What questions do you have?"
She recalled briefly. "Well, for instance, that 'mind trick' thing you can do..."
"It is a Jedi discipline called 'voice manipulation,'" the Master supplied helpfully.
"Voice manipulation," she repeated. "One of my cooks was saying that you can — " She stopped suddenly and shot him a horrified look as she recalled the exact conversation. " — um — "
Seeing that Obi-Wan was at least listening, Qui-Gon inclined his head, encouraging Chydanio to continue.
Unable to think of anything else to say, Chydanio plunged on recklessly, "Well, you know what they say, but I find it hard to believe that someone as good-looking as your apprentice would have to resort to the Force to...find companionship." And the expression in Qui-Gon's eyes managed to be both stunned and immensely diverted at the same time.
"The Jedi use their powers only for good, you realize," he said with a perfectly straight face as they both watched Obi-Wan slowly turn red.
"Of course," she agreed, her discomfiture forgotten at the sight of the apprentice's. She added, unable to resist, "And just as a Jedi wouldn't use voice manipulation, neither would he, say, offer to...demonstrate his Jedi reflexes."
Clearly aghast, Obi-Wan's eyes widened.
"Or show how he draws his strength and...stamina from the Force," Qui-Gon added amiably. Obi-Wan nearly grimaced.
"Nor, in a similar situation, would a Jedi ever offer to show off his...lightsaber."
"I suppose that would depend on the size of the lightsaber."
Chydanio's jaw almost dropped, as did Obi-Wan's, but she came back with, "But isn't that when voice manipulation would come in handy?"
"As a matter of fact, my own Master, Yoda, is fond of saying, 'Size matters not'..."
Obi-Wan finally raised his eyes and stared at them, disbelief and indignation on his young face. "His height! He's referring to his height!"
"Of course he is," Qui-Gon said, serenely regarding him.
The apprentice, open-mouthed, looked up at Chydanio. She winked at him. He colored even more deeply, then he clapped his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking. Chydanio joined in his laughter. Then she rested her hand on his head briefly, tilting his face up to hers. "Beware, young Jedi," she counseled, smiling down at him. "Springtime on Tivelis can be contagious."
"I can see that," he said, then asked Qui-Gon, "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Master?"
Qui-Gon contented himself with his blandest "I have no idea what you're talking about" expression and poured him more tea. As Obi-Wan took a steadying sip, he realized he hadn't noticed when Chydanio left their table.
The two Jedi sat in companionable silence finishing their meal, Obi-Wan no longer hiding from Qui-Gon, and then the Master asked gently, "Is all well with you, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan made up his mind. "There is something I wish to discuss with you, Master, but not here."
Qui-Gon nodded. He arose and handed the wallet over to the younger man, advising, "Tip high, Obi-Wan — in case our waiter has to split it."
Obi-Wan smiled up at him. "That was my thought as well, Master."
The taller man made his way to the front of the terrace and stopped by the counter where Chydanio was standing. He leaned towards her so he wouldn't have to raise his voice to be heard, and found that she stood eye-level with him. "I want to thank you for your assistance," he said, and that close to her he couldn't help noticing the warmth in her gray eyes.
She shrugged a shoulder modestly. "Such as it was."
"Such as it was," he agreed. "Highly entertaining, eminently embarrassing, and as a reflection of you — most intriguing."
She gave a small laugh, knowing he wasn't trying to charm her but feeling self-conscious all the same. "You're welcome," she answered his first comment. And then was able to add, "As a reflection of you, I never would have suspected a Jedi of being...mischievous."
His expression was blank, but she could see the glint deep in his eyes. "I've been described in many ways, but never with that particular word."
She assured him in a low voice, "Your secret's safe with me, Master Jedi."
The upturned corner of his mouth softened his stern features. "As is yours with me."
"And what would that be?"
"That you know how to make a Jedi Master feel at his ease."
She tilted her head slightly, puzzled. "Is that a well-kept secret?"
"It is." Obi-Wan came up then, and the two men nodded a farewell to her, Qui-Gon adding, "May the Force be with you." They walked out and crossed the street together.
Before Chydanio could figure out what he had meant, if anything, Ialii came out on the terrace, and his whiskers started to quiver. "That smell — !" he exclaimed.
"The Jedi just left!" She was starting to get really annoyed with him. "I don't want to hear — "
"No, your smell!" he insisted. "It's been years, that's why I couldn't place it! The last time your emotion was that scent was when Jancer was still alive."
She stared at him, impressed. "How can you possibly remember what I smelled like that long ago?"
He tapped his splotched muzzle. "The nose can't forget. It was the night he and I met you for the first time."
She thought back to that night — and looked at him strangely. "Wait — what's that supposed to mean?"
Ialii flicked his ears forward, then back. "That you feel like you've met someone who'll become your best friend and best waiter." He poked her nose with the tip of his tail and she grinned at him, wondering which Jedi had triggered that particular emotional state. But Ialii went on, "Or, you feel like you've met someone you could fall in love with..."
As the two Jedi started down the gentle slope of the park towards the business district at the far end, walking on the grass rather than the wide, well-traveled path so as to keep their conversation private, the Master asked, "Well, Obi-Wan?"
"It was a good meal."
"Yes, it was, although that isn't what I was referring to."
"Good service, too," Obi-Wan went on inanely, not sure how to broach the topic uppermost in his mind.
Qui-Gon gave him a sideways glance. "Yes." There seemed no other answer to make, and he waited for the younger man to unburden himself of whatever was preoccupying him.
"And our waiter..." Obi-Wan finally continued.
"Yes?"
"She was...not ill-favored."
"High praise indeed," Qui-Gon responded dryly.
"I mean..."
Qui-Gon stopped and faced his apprentice. "You may speak more plainly, young Padawan."
He tried again, blurted out, "Master, she liked you. And...you liked her."
The taller man stared, bemused, at him. "Liked," he finally said, drawing the word out as if he didn't quite understand its meaning.
"Liked. In the way that — an ordinary person is attracted to another."
"Am I to understand that, one, you do not consider me an ordinary person, and two, that such a person should not — or cannot? — feel an attraction towards another person?"
"Master...can you?"
Qui-Gon folded his arms across his chest and gave Obi-Wan his full scrutiny. There was so much emotion behind the question, more than he could sort through at the moment. "Is the question actually, 'Can a Jedi?' If so, the answer is yes, of course. If the question is, 'Did I?' the answer is no."
"Are you sure?"
"Do you think I don't know my own feelings?"
"I know," he said slowly, "that, as a Jedi Master, you are more attuned to the Force and its manifestations than I am. But...if you don't recognize in yourself what I would consider in anyone else a — chemistry, an attraction, if you don't realize that you interacted with her in a way I've never seen you interact with anyone else, then I feel you should re-examine what happened back at the tavern."
Genuinely curious, Qui-Gon asked, "To what end?"
"Perhaps you could...get to know her better. Maybe become friends, maybe..."
"...maybe...?"
The younger man frowned, deeply troubled. "Master, are you...do you ever get...lonely?"
Qui-Gon said nothing, realizing that he should have seen this particular conversation coming for a while now. His overriding concern had been Obi-Wan's development as a Jedi, and he hadn't paid as much attention to him becoming a man. And he knew now that, although the younger man's concern for him was genuine, their disjointed conversation had less to do with himself and the woman at The Sword and Stars than with Obi-Wan and all the questions a young man who'd had his share of casual liaisons but never the chance for a romantic attachment naturally had.
Obi-Wan stumbled on, "Because I want you to know that it wouldn't...I mean, if you...if ever...you see, I wonder if I...when I..."
Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's shoulder and said gently, "You must learn to trust the Force, Padawan. You must learn how to trust love, knowing that everything has its proper beginning and end — learn to experience love fully, and to let it go when the time comes."
He didn't need to see the look in Obi-Wan's eyes to know that his words and their meaning didn't converge for the younger man. Only experience would do that. And it was a hard lesson, Jedi or no.
More practically, he added in the same gentle tone, "The decision cannot be made in advance. And only you can make it. As for me — I am living the life I want to, that I am meant to. I have no regrets."
They held each other's gaze steadily, until Obi-Wan took a deep breath and nodded once. Qui-Gon loosened his grip and clapped him on the shoulder, smiling down at him. "Patience, Obi-Wan. Patience, and trust." They continued through the park, walking more slowly, both deep in thought.
They had just reached a level stretch of grass before the park sloped away again when someone called out, "Master Qui-Gon!"
The Master turned, and inclined his head very slightly as he saw who had crossed the park to greet him, no expression on his face. "Y'Chelle."
She grinned up at him and his neutral greeting. "You're always so happy to see me," she teased.
He didn't rise to the bait. They both knew his opinion of her; it was hard for Qui-Gon to fully approve of a Jedi with her devil-may-care attitude, who wore her responsibility so lightly it seemed like play.
Qui-Gon's turn had blocked the newcomer from Obi-Wan's sight, and he moved around the Master to see who had joined them.
Y'Chelle was a slender, petite woman with jet-black hair cascading past her shoulders and dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was only a few years older than Obi-Wan and wore the hooded cloak and loose-fitting layered clothing typical of the Jedi, but instead of the courtly, solemn demeanor he'd come to expect from his long association with Qui-Gon, her emotions were plain on her lively face, and she turned her genuine, unaffected smile in his direction.
"You are Master Qui-Gon's Padawan learner?" she asked.
Before Obi-Wan could answer, the older man said with the deliberate tone of someone who was doing something against his better judgment, "Obi-Wan, this is Y'Chelle Anacris, who trained under Master Mace Windu. Y'Chelle — Obi-Wan Kenobi, my apprentice."
Y'Chelle's infectious smile widened as she stepped lightly around the Jedi Master, moving with the grace of a dancer. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan found himself smiling in return, and he missed a beat before he managed to stammer, "Th-the pleasure is mine."
Qui-Gon shot a quick glance at his apprentice and raised an eyebrow. Springtime, indeed — it didn't exactly take the Force to figure out what was going on.
He was sure Y'Chelle could see how Obi-Wan felt as well as he could and that she'd be kind enough not to break the boy's heart. He turned back to her; a word to the wise —
She was looking at Obi-Wan with obvious interest, as attracted to him as he was to her. And no, it didn't take the Force to see that, either.
Suddenly Qui-Gon felt quite old. And superfluous.
"So what brings you to Tivelis?" Y'Chelle asked them.
"An ion storm," Obi-Wan told her. "We're waiting it out before we continue on to Carlienti."
She nodded. "The same with me, except I'm on my way to Coruscant. I've never been to Tivelis before and thought I'd do some sightseeing." Y'Chelle looked at them both, but clearly meant her words for Obi-Wan. "Would you like to join me?"
Much as Qui-Gon disapproved of Y'Chelle's outward demeanor, she had passed her trials and was a distinguished Jedi Knight. And in any case, the very last thing he wanted to do was play chaperone to two people who would wind up in each other's arms before the night was through no matter what he did.
Besides, he thought suddenly, perhaps this was the perfect way for Obi-Wan to get a few of those answers he was looking for — even for some questions he hadn't thought to ask yet.
He said aloud, "If you wish, go on ahead, Padawan. I'll...look into the feasibility of upgrading our hyperdrive."
END PART I