ALWAYS SOMETHING NEW
by ardavenport
Young Obi-Wan Kenobi arrived at the large eating hall, but even before he looked around, he sensed that his Master was not there. Subtly emptier by the lack of his Master's presence, the room softly echoed with the mummers and noises of the many Jedi seated at small tables where they ate and conversed. Obi-Wan rose up on his tiptoes, trying to make the most of his nine year-old height to see past all the people and tables. He did not expect to see Qui-Gon Jinn, but he did not know what else to do. His Master was always there after he finished with his morning class with the other younger Padawans.
"Padawan Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan jumped and turned around to look up at a tall Oblobian Jedi standing right behind him. Obi-Wan did not know her; she tilted her long dusty orange head at him, her golden hair tail falling down over her shoulder almost to her waist. She had small, kind green slitted eyes.
"Master Qui-Gon asked me to give you this." She handed him a small data screen. "He wishes you to meet him for second meal."
Clasping the screen with both hands, he read the message. Qui-Gon wanted him to come to a public restaurant. Outside the Temple. He stared down at the glowing text and the coordinates under the message. Qui-Gon had not said anything about this at morning meditation. What had changed?
Beyond the screen, he saw the Oblobian's boots. She was still waiting. Hastily, he looked up.
"Thank-you . . . . for giving me Master Qui-Gon's message." He did not know her name and he could not think of a polite way to ask. He did not ever remember seeing her with Qui-Gon.
She looked amused as she bowed in return and left him.
How was he going to get to Master Qui-Gon? He had been outside the Temple and off world many times before, but not by himself. The coordinates for the public restaurant were not even in the same sector as the Temple.
He quickly moved aside for three large and brawny Jedi holding trays and looking for a free table. One of them quirked him a fanged smile, silently letting him know that they had seen him and would not have run him over. He returned the smile with no confidence and then moved to stand by the side of the entryway to the eating hall.
Looking at the message again, he realized that this was some kind of test. His Master expected him to be able to make his own way to him. He left, hurrying down the hall in the opposite direction of the Jedi going to their meals.
He made his way to the ground transportation bay, a large, imposing and dark space on a lower level.
"I require a speeder," he announced to the attendant droid, a skinny blue-gray metaloid Temple unit.
"Do you have your Master's permission?"
"Yes." He held up the screen for the Droid's eye-scanners to see.
"This seems to be in order. Please wait here." The droid politely inclined its small round head before leaving. Obi-Wan stood, looking around at the entry space of the large, darkened transport depot.
A noise and presence from behind alerted him and Obi-Wan turned to see an older Jedi Knight coming in. He was broad-shouldered with a big, bushy beard and frizzy hair around his bald head. He wore long tan tunics with a black and silver lightsaber hanging from his broad, dark brown belt. Obi-Wan had seen him before, but did not know him.
Another attendant droid appeared.
"I need a transport for one. A speeder bike will do," he announced in a loud coarse voice.
"Of course, Sir." The droid bowed without asking if he had permission and left.
Obi-Wan averted his eyes and folded his arms before him. Then he realized that he wasn't wearing his robe. He was leaving the Temple without his robe. He was just wearing tunics and belt and boots. His robe was new, too. He had grown a bit in the last year.
Did he have time to retrieve it from his room before the droid returned?
No. The droid came back.
He squared his shoulders and followed it to his assigned speeder. It was small and red, with only two seats in front with an open canopy and an empty equipment rack behind. After climbing in, he saw that the droid have given him one that he could comfortably drive; his feet easily touched the floor pedals. Dropping the message screen in the passenger seat, he punched the coordinates into the computer and put his foot on the accelerator.
The speeder zoomed off through the cavernous depot. Emerging from the below-skylevel exit he zoomed along with the other traffic in the canyons of the buildings, going away from the Temple. The computer blinked, an arrow pointed toward the nearest rising traffic lane that would take him to the higher express lane to his destination. He piloted the small speeder, merging with the other speeders and transports, both hands firmly on the drive-stick. Only when the vehicle was level and traveling with the rest of the traffic flow did he exhale and then punch up the auto-pilot.
Settling back, Obi-Wan scrutinized all the settings on the auto-pilot. Speed, attitude, course, all green. Everything was going exactly as it should. He looked around at the other speeders around him. Most carried multiple people, some with droid drivers. They traveled with him, but he passed a few and he saw a couple zipping by dangerously over the legal speed limit. It was a bright sunny, cloudless day and the outside air felt good.
His stomach growled. It was past time for their usual meal and he looked at the chrono.
Panic suddenly tightened inside him. He had not checked to see how long it would take for him make the trip; it would be almost three hours before he reached his destination. He turned around in his seat, but the Jedi Temple was far behind him now. He suddenly felt trapped in the little red speeder.
Picking up the message screen again, he carefully read the text. It only said where he should meet his Master for second meal, a public establishment called Sa'Tu'Maugh. There were coordinates along with Qui-Gon's sign-off, but nothing else. There was nothing about why his Master wanted to meet him there, and nothing about exactly when he should arrive, though 'second meal' strongly implied that is was sooner than in three hours.
Obi-Wan unhappily wondered if he should have taken a flyer. But he was not authorized to pilot a flyer, though he had some training in simulators. He put the message aside again and activated the speeder's com. Tapping through the options, he signaled his Master and waited. He had to com that he would be late.
The light blinked yellow; unavailable.
"Master, I will be arriving in three hours, at 13:22." He quickly stated his message and signed off. He had a fleeting thought about increasing speed, but he would have to override the autopilot to exceed the legal limits. And if the police droids stopped him, he would be even later; he doubted that he could explain to them that he had Jedi business important enough to break the traffic laws for.
Surprisingly, he got a response almost immediately. Text only.
'Acknowledged. I will meet you then.'
Obi-Wan frowned unhappily at the message before clearing the glowing text from the screen. His Master was likely doing something important and could not answer the com directly. And he would be late for it. He was still taking his primary training at the Jedi Temple and only accompanied Qui-Gon for the most routine of duties. Planetary embassy visits, formal functions and training.
Now his Master has something new for him and he would be late for it. Feeling the time sliding by very slowly, he slouched in the pilot's seat. He had already failed before he had even arrived.
He watched the position marker, a yellow dot on the gridlines of the city below, very slowly crawl to its destination on the navi-comp's map display. Eventually, he got tired of it and looked around at the real thing around him. Regardless of his tardiness, he would still be expected to do his best. What would Qui-Gon advise?
Sitting up straight, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. All Qui-Gon's advice led to the Force. He cleared his mind. The energies of life, especially from the city under him, swirled brightly. Now it felt like a river, carrying him along with the traffic toward his Master.
Qui-Gon . . . . eating. Sitting at a table that they often sat at in the eating hall, and . . . . Qui-Gon holding up a spoon and pointing at his soup . . . . taking a bite of a pastry, flaky golden crumbs clinging to his beard . . . . dishing out a dinner portion for him at an eatery at the spaceport on Ugasti . . . . .
Finally sighing, his shoulders slumping, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. There was no insight at all in the Force about what his Master would want from him when he arrived. His stomach growled.
The nav-map showed that he was barely one-third of the way. But the terrain of Coruscant's endless city had certainly changed. He had never been to this part of the planet. Several tower clusters, living areas and commercial districts rose up above the gray plane. His speeder followed a long feature, like a deep dark crack receding into the distance. Looking down, he saw regularly spaced orange glows dotted with flashes of bright yellow and white. This was probably a manufacturing district. He recognized a couple of other speeders that had made the long trip with him from the government district.
He could do nothing about what his Master wished for him until he arrived, so he observed what he could on the way. He saw clouds in the distance, raining over the city plane, the air slightly darker below them. At one point, his speeder passed over an immense ridge in the city plane that ran perpendicular to his traffic lane. As his speeder zoomed past, he glimpsed many, many balconies, colorful awnings and very tiny people on them. This was one of the largest living districts on the planet. Of course, he had been taught all about the various sectors of Coruscant in training. But that knowledge suddenly seemed new with the experience of being near all the things that he had learned about at the Jedi Temple. But eventually his interest in his new surroundings faded as his speeder's position marker closed in on his destination.
He disengaged the auto-pilot after the nav alarm beeped as he zoomed toward a cluster of gleaming towers. Taking the controls, he dove down into the local traffic lanes with a stream of other speeders and transports. The route blinked pink and yellow on the nav-comp. The restaurant was at the top level of one of the tallest towers, but he had to park the speeder near the base, only a few levels above the major pedestrian ways.
He slowed and descended into the shadows of the tower canyons. A couple of turns put him on a major thoroughfare, a glowing blue and silver sign ahead marked his destination, Sa'Tu'Maugh. When he stopped at the disembarkation platform, valet droids rolled forward, one handed him a parking chit and another took charge of his speeder as soon as he got out and told them his business.
Another droid pointed him toward the express elevators to the top. He got in with a couple of other patrons, two rotund female Thurustrians in bejeweled white gowns who didn't even seem to realize he was there. Their bulging waists almost backed into him on the ride up as they laughed over the fashion taste of a former school mate who was getting married soon.
They got out first, announced that they were meeting another party to the maitre d', and were promptly escorted in by a silver server droid. But Obi-Wan had to clear his throat to get the woman to notice him.
"May I be of assistance, young Sir?" the maitre d' asked, peering down at him over the top of the reservation stand.
"Yes. I am here to meet Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Obi-Wan answered, his arms folded into his wide tunic sleeves before him, head level, eyes upward. His stomach growled. Clenching his teeth over the embarrassing noise, he kept his face rigid. But the maitre d' acted as if she hadn't heard it, her expression calm.
"Ah, of course." She raised a finger, another droid appeared and she told it to take him to Master Qui-Gon Jinn's table.
"If you will follow me, Sir." The droid bowed before leading him into the restaurant. As soon as he entered the main dining area, he felt a certainly that had been missing hours ago in the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon was waiting for him. Following the winding, carpeted walkway among the multi-levels, Obi-Wan saw that most of the tables were empty, but it was still between the usual meal times.
A clear-plas dome covered the whole restaurant with an excellent view of Coruscant below, but it was gradually tinted gray toward the base so the light was not too bright, even with the blue sky above. Pale blue cloths covered all the round dining tables; some were small, for two, others larger, for four or more people and they all had a centerpiece of decorative leaves and flowers with a little white light in the center of the arrangement.
Ascending a series of wide steps, Obi-Wan spotted his Master's profile seated at a table next to the tinted window wall. As soon as he reached the upper level the droid pulled the chair opposite Qui-Gon out for him.
"Master." Obi-Wan bowed.
"Obi-Wan. Please take a seat," he answered with a smile and a pleasant tone. Obi-Wan sighed. If Qui-Gon was displeased with his tardiness, he would not conceal it. He turned to the other chair at the small table and saw that the droid had laid down a small step and put a velvety blue cushion on the seat. Behind the table was a tall stand, Qui-Gon robe hanging from it and Obi-Wan again acutely missed not having his own. He went to his seat. When Obi-Wan sat down, he was high enough to comfortably sit at the table though his feet did not touch the floor. The droid removed the step and left them.
"Would you like some water?" Qui-Gon held a crystalline goblet and a large pitcher.
"Yes, please."
While Qui-Gon poured, Obi-Wan looked down at his place setting. There was a stack of four plates, the largest on the bottom and three bowls on top of those in the center of his place setting. Arrayed around him, on folded napkins of varying shades of blue were twenty-seven different eating implements. Lined up above all that were four different drinking vessels of varying sizes, metallic silver goblet, dark blue glass cup, white-silver cup and a large brassy mug. This would be a very complicated meal.
Qui-Gon put down the pitcher and held up the goblet which floated up from his hand, across the table to gently land on his side where Obi-Wan could reach it. He took a sip.
"How was your morning training?" Qui-Gon always asked him this when they sat down for second meal, but Obi-Wan had to think to recall what it was. It had been about hyperspace drives. But before he could say much about it, a tall man, flanked by two immaculate silver serving droids, stepped up to their table. He looked at least as tall as Qui-Gon, but only half as broad. He wore a long blue and silver-trimmed tunic, its crisp material covering his whole body up to the close collar at his neck and the cuffs at his wrists. A silver band held back his mane of brown-gold hair on his head.
"We are honored by your patronage, Master Jedi," he addressed Qui-Gon with a low bow and a polite nod to Obi-Wan. "If you are ready, we are prepared to begin."
"I and my Padawan are looking forward to it, Steward Turess." Qui-Gon nodded back.
Turess waved a hand back at the droids. They rushed forward, their long, thin, extending arms easily reached across the table over their place settings. They displaced all but the largest, bottom plate to the side and precisely rearranged the cups and utensils, clinking them into place. Then they flicked out folded napkins and both Jedi put them in their laps. From a floating tray, they served the first course while Turess narrated.
"We will begin with a whipped ergrassi paté, selected from only the freshest tiriti nuts and succulent siga fungi, blended, sieved and then aged and chilled for thirty days in our private environment controlled sub-chambers, seasoned with just a whiff of our own private blend of urtzu pepper. Served with a potozo-grain chip, rolled as thin and delicate as a quoyam fly's wing, and browned to crispy perfection, with a hhughli leaf and olossmo flake garnish." Their host kissed his fingertips and exhaled breathily. The droids withdrew.
In the center of the plate sat a single dab of a smooth gray swirl, bisected in half by a golden circular chip with an embossed circular pattern on it. Next to it lay a little branch of green leaves. Orangery-red sprinkles covered it and the empty white plate around it. A tiny, long-handled spoon lay on its right side and a silver pincer-tool perpendicular to that at the bottom.
Obi-Wan could have eaten the entire thing in one bite.
Keeping still, he watched his Master lift the chip to his mouth with the pincer, a drop of paté, leaf and sprinkle perched on the edge. He nibbled it off, inhaled deeply, exhaled and smiled back to the steward.
"An excellent start to the meal."
Turess beamed back and left with his droid.
Horrified, Obi-Wan looked at the little morsel in the middle of the huge white plate before him. Even though he was famished, he would have to eat this food with whatever protocol it required. Stomach knotted and feeling a little nauseous with hunger, he took up the tiny spoon and pincer and began. He snipped off all the green leaves with the pincer and then picked up the chip. It freely slid out from its slot in the paté. With a miniscule spoonful of gray with leaf on his chip, he raised it to his mouth and bit the edge off.
"Breath in the taste, Obi-Wan. Appreciating the meal is not unlike appreciating the Force. It gives you strength."
Nodding back, he closed his eyes and breathed. The fragment of food dissolved into pure flavor in his mouth. Pleasantly salty, creamy, flaky, crunchy, bitter. Exhaling, he opened his eyes again. Qui-Gon tilted his head, the tinted blue sky behind him. Obi-Wan nodded approval.
Then he picked up his water cup and drained it.
He did not think his stomach would be fooled for long, but he could fill it up for now until more sustenance came. His attention entirely on the little bit of food that he had, like a meditation focus, he continued nibbling bits of it from the chip. He liked it, but he had to keep all his attention on the process of eating it to keep himself from wanting to eat it all and then lick all the sprinkles off the plate. He balanced the size of each spoonful with each bit of chip, counted the leaves, making sure that he would have the proper amount for each bite.
By the time he got tot he last bit of chip, his plate was empty except for a ring of sprinkles around a light gray smear of paté in the middle. He sighed. The taste seemed to fill his mouth and sinuses, a promise of the meal to come. He hoped that if each course was this small that there would be a lot of them. Across the table from him, his Master beamed.
Steward Turess and his droids appeared again. One of the droids slender arms shot out with a carafe of water and filled his water cup and they both removed the paté plates.
"And now," Turess announced, his high voice enthusiastic, "a blosstachian broth, simmered for two days in an atmosphere of fragrant blosstachian blossoms, made with Toctrian spring water, filtered seven times through the finest rachnisa mesh and flavored with just a dash of dumrasic."
The droids presented long, clear tubes with bulbs at the ends. Taking the smallest bowl and plate from the top of the stack of dishes next to their place settings, the droids deposited drops of dark liquid. But the bowls were so tall and narrow (more like cups than bowls) that when full, Obi-Wan doubted that there was more than half a swallow in each of them. Again, Qui-Gon took the first taste and complimented Turess on the quality of the meal. His Master was obviously demonstrating how the course should be eaten and Obi-Wan silently thanked him for it.
This time he had to take the tiny bowl, which had a slight indentation on one side to act as a spout, and pour out a few drops into a round spoon hardly any bigger than the last one, open his mouth and inhale as he placed the drops on his tongue. Again, he was rewarded with an abundance of taste without much substance. It smelled sweet, while actually tasting appealingly sour. He pretended that the soup was the Force itself as he made as much work out of eating it as he could to hold back his hunger. By the time he took in the last drop of broth, his stomach had un-knotted, as if it had accepted that it wasn't going to get filled any faster. Again, Qui-Gon beamed at him over the table's lighted, flowered centerpiece.
Turess and his droids appeared again.
"And now, a salad of fresh, young, keeta greens, picked just this morning from our private greenhouse, climate controlled to the precise conditions of their native world, Thorghastmi. Garnished with grumang slivers, temtoku seeds and thinly sliced pickled yacora. And seasoned with today's sasilb vinaigrette."
The droids slipped out the next largest plate from the bottom of the stack, the dishes hardly clattering as they did so. Then from a compartment-ed platter on a floating tray between them, they assembled the salads in a circular pattern in the center of their plates while Turess supervised. When they were done, Obi-Wan thought that there might have been a whole two mouthfuls of greens and colorful orange and purple garnish, with nearly colorless vinaigrette artfully sprinkled over it and splattered on the plate. He pressed his lips together as he silently watched Qui-Gon put a bit of greens in his mouth with a pair of silver tongs. He chewed. And chewed. And chewed. Finally, he gave Turess his approval and the servers left again.
Fearing that the greens would be tough, Obi-Wan took his first bite. They practically dissolved into bits on the third chew. This time, he treated the flavor of the salad like it was the Force while his teeth ground it into bitter/sour aromatic particles. He didn't take another bite until there wasn't enough left of the last one to chew. When there was only a spatter of vinaigrette left on his plate Qui-Gon again nodded his approval.
Next came a dainty selection of tiny predastimin and tzeor crackers with a blue, green and yellow selection of thin mekrach cheese slivers. The cheeses were so strong, the smell alone became his Force-focus as he ate it. It also came with a cup of amosta juice.
Then came small, perfectly round, bright purple scoops of makrothm sherbert and a few swallows of ne'irdi pear extract, all served with fresh, warmed napkins. Then a fan of hollow moolu-sticks (seasoned with urtzu and murtznu pepper) from which he had to suck up clumariz sauce before carefully eating them and then slurping crumtha tea in a particular way that made it foam it in his mouth.
He no longer had to distract his hunger by the time the main course of nockri stem fillets in dotto sauce, baked omoris root and steamed misa beans arrived. They formed a lonely triad of green, tan and dark red in the center of their large plate, but the portions of the meal deceptively looked larger as the plates and bowls got smaller. Qui-Gon asked him about his hyperspace drive training while they ate small bites with knife-edged scoops and prongs. Obi-Wan told him about the various standard engines and ships and his Master frowned at him only once when he opened his mouth to speak before swallowing his last mouthful. He did not make that mistake again.
The restaurant on the different levels around them began to fill up with more patrons, each table with its own steward and serving droids, but the large room was sound-muffled so the increased activity did not intrude on their conversation.
The after-main courses followed with more tea and juices, sweet otos-chips and pomcry paste, ebba-grain pasta coiled around sliced wappa leaf and bright red hasly peas that had to be captured with thin prongs and eaten one at a time. Qui-Gon told him about his own experiences with hyperdrive engine training when he was a young Padawan and predicted that Obi-Wan would do much better than he had.
Obi-Wan first realized that the meal had finally satisfied him when the first of three desert courses arrived, dark manusa candies with yellow spider-leaf garnish. He had to concentrate so much on the complicated way that each course had to be consumed that he really wasn't sure when he stopped feeling hungry. He had liked everything to a varying degree, but now he really enjoyed the gnoush pastries and small square of amaad nut layer cake and fashu fizzy juice. While he finished, Qui-Gon paid the droid for the meal with with credit chit.
"Now, Obi-wan." He looked up and swallowed his last bite of cake. "What have your learned today?"
He put his eating prong down. "There a several standard hyperspace drives, Master, but only - - -"
"No." Qui-Gon held up a hand to stop him. "What did you learn from our meal today?"
Obi-Wan frowned. What had he learned? How to pretend that his food was the Force so he could eat it as slowly as he possibly could when he was starving? He had known the meal was some kind of learning test from the very beginning. But he did not know how to say it. That seemed to always be the hardest part about any training.
"I learned that there are many more ways to eat than I ever thought, Master." He sighed. And then covered his mouth over a little burp.
"There are." Qui-Gon smiled.
A motion on his left caught Obi-Wan's attention. He turned and surprised, saw that same bushy-haired Jedi Master who had asked for a speeder bike back at the ground transportation bay in the Jedi Temple. Stepping up to their table, he patted his chest, belched loudly and then covered his mouth and coughed.
"Well, Master Qui-Gon - - hmmmph, mmmmrrr - - he made things a little hard for himself in the beginning, but otherwise, you've done exceptionally well with your Padawan Learner. I'm sure the Council will be pleased with your training." He bowed low.
"Thank-you Master Su'um." He bowed his head in return. "I have been blessed with an apprentice with exceptional dedication."
Su'um turned to Obi-Wan, belched into his fist and patted his tummy. "But Padawan Kenobi, you are allowed to ask someone to take you in a flyer, if you need to meet your Master at any distance from the Temple." Not waiting for a reply, he turned and descended the steps away from their table.
With open-mouthed surprise, Obi-Wan looked from Su'um's broad back to his own Master.
"Master Qui-Gon, was this a test? For you?"
"Yes." He nodded and sipped his fizzy juice. "We learn together Obi-Wan, because there are always new things to learn. It is just more obvious for you at your age, because you are experiencing so many things for the first time. But there is always something new, for all of us." He put his cup down. "Shall we go?"
Obi-Wan agreed. They got up, Obi-Wan sliding down from the blue seat cushion while Qui-Gon paused to take his robe from the stand and put it on. Qui-Gon picked up a little tray with two breath-cleansing candies, took one and offered the other to Obi-Wan. It was cool and strong as it dissolved in his mouth. They left the table. Most of the people they passed were in the early stages of their third meal of the day. The visited the restaurant's luxurious fresher before leaving. The maitre d thanked them for their patronage and Qui-Gon thanked her for an excellent meal. They rode the lift down to the parking level with four other satisfied costumers. When they arrived they went to the droid attendant's desk and Obi-Wan presented his parking chit.
They went to the platform and soon a droid arrived with the red speeder. Obi-Wan cringed. It was perfectly sized for him. But not for his much larger Master. He looked up.
"Master, do you have your own transport?"
Qui-Gon shook his head, looking down at the little red two-seat speeder. "No, I was dropped off here."
"Should we call for a flyer?"
Again, Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. This will do."
Obi-Wan got in first and checked the controls. Qui-Gon climbed in after him; Obi-Wan made sure the speeder stayed level and steady as he did so. Then he helped as much as possible with the seat adjustments, but when they had done all they could, Qui-Gon's knees were still up at his waist level. The older man sighed and gave his concerned Padawan a cheerful smile.
"Always something new, there is."
### ### END ### ###
Note: In the DVD commentary of The Phantom Menace, during the scene with Qui-Gon first tells the Council about Anakin, George 'The Maker' Lucas specifically says that he expects that Jedi younglings are trained by Yoda until they are 7 or 8 years old when they are taken by a master; that is the background for this story.
Disclaimer: This story was first posted on tf.n on 3-April-2011 . All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to George and Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.