KAYWANTHA

by Vicki Vance

Summary: A light mission for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turns out to require more involvement than originally planned. Ranges from deep drama to quip humor.

Rated PG-13

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so I am making no profit from this.

Author's note: You get a golden balloon if you can tell me what the meaning of a certain planet's name is. Here's a clue: it has nothing to do with Star Wars.

Normally, the senator's aide didn't mind being an aide; he was really a student at Razz University of Corsucant planning to major in dentistry, particularly that of Humans, Firrereo, and any other carbon-based being that didn't have sharp molars or frightfully long incisors. Twi'leks, for instance, who regularly took time to sharpen their teeth, did not appeal to him at all. He didn't ever want to look into the mouth of a feline Togorian. He'd even once had a nightmare that a Hutt had needed cavities filled and he had to actually climb inside the slug's huge mouth to perform the procedure.

But right now he didn't want at all to be an aide. There was something about the way the red-skinned Mebyli rebel leveled his blaster at his head that made the aide want to be back in that nightmare with the gigantic Hutt.

"Where is the senator?" the rebel asked him menacingly.

"What senator?" the aide asked. He knew perfectly well which senator the rebel meant, but for some reason his brain wouldn't work under the stress.

"Rebine Roemohn, lazerbrains," the rebel snapped.

"He's in his personal room at the moment," the aide's voice cracked when he spoke. It hadn't cracked since he began his ninth year of school.

The rebel nodded, thinking. The aide however, was so frightened he couldn't think in complete thoughts except for My, what nice teeth he has, I wonder what cleaning paste he uses. He stood, his feet anchored to the study room floor, staring as the rebel decided his fate.

The aide liked to think he was a brave young man, but the truth was his courage had never been tested. He also like to think that if he was tested he would pass with flying colors. He'd therefore pictured himself as a handsome twenty-something with long dark hair, chiseled features, big muscles, and a cool nature not even a Jedi could beat. Yet now, as he stood in frozen terror, he suddenly began to picture himself as the kid he saw in the mirror each morning; a twenty-something with short, unfashionable dirty blonde hair, a face like an insect from Dantooine, slender, and more panicky than a fire drill at a coffee house. At this moment, he would have made up a word to describe himself: non-nonchalant.

The rebel, however, could care less about the scrawny kid who stood before him with his arms raised over his head even though he was clearly unarmed. He just wanted Roemohn, dead or alive, and especially Kaywantha, a sacred symbol of peace from his home planet Mebyl.

The senator had stolen it from its glass observing case in Mebyl Palace Museum a short while after dark rumors concerning the jewel began to spread throughout the planet. It was completely unlike any other heist in Mebyl's history.

The senator simply ordered it to be removed and it was.

That's it.

No one had ever attempted to steal the gem and no one the rebel knew wanted to. If his buddies stole anything, it would be food or clothing, something useful as opposed to a pretty rock. But this was more than just a pretty rock! This was a symbol, nay, the essence, the very heart of Mebyl.

"In there?" the rebel asked the aide, nodding towards the door to his left. The aide nodded. He looked about ready to soil himself.

The rebel decided not to kill him. He was kind of funny in a way. He didn't notice that when he opened the door the aide pushed a tiny button on the wall behind him, setting off the silent alarm.

After a few seconds, the rebel bounced back into the room, waving his blaster at the aide.

"Where's the senator?" he asked.

"He's not in there?" the aide whispered.

"No, you Kowakian lizard-monkey," the rebel yelled. He liked insulting the aide; he got amusement out of the aide's right twitching eyelid when he hurtled foul language at the shrimp.

"Now I will ask you again," he continued, a little calmer now. "And if you do not tell me, I will shoot you."

The aide whimpered. The Hutt seemed like a walk in the park.

"Where is the senator?"

"I don't know," the aide blubbered.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for," the rebel said, shaking his head. He fired his blaster, but missed purposely. The aide shrieked and flung his arms around his face. After a few seconds, he peeked at the rebel and, seeing he was still there, promptly covered his face again.

"That was just a warning, pond scum," the rebel said. It was quite entertaining terrorizing the helpless aide. "I will ask but one more time and, like they say, three times is the charm. Where is the-"

The door behind him opened and a member of the security personnel shot him the back. The rebel had enough time to wonder why he was falling down before he died. Although he was in no real danger, the aide screamed.

"What in the paperbacks of the elders is going on?"

Clutching a bathrobe around his wet body, Senator Rebine Roemohn stormed out from the bathroom on the right, frowning so hard his bushy eyebrows met. He saw the man on the floor, the security personnel advancing into the room and his wimp of an aide covering against a wall. It was a rather troubling sight to him. So troubling that, for the first time in four weeks, he decided he needed to get some outside help.

Jedi help.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was unconsciously stroking his arm as he watched the holoset in his quarters. Just four days earlier, he'd almost lost it.

Obi-Wan and his Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had been assigned by the Jedi Council, who received pleas for help from the Republic, a mission. Padawan-Master pairs were ideal for missions; they were situations in which the Master could teach his student and still learn for himself. They'd been sent to the planet ModusTollens to settle conflicts between two allied groups of countries. However, because of the diversity, misunderstandings erupted in a way similar to dumping mechanic's oil on an ember. A war erupted and the Jedi pair were directly in the middle of it. Sadly, nothing in their Jedi training could allow them to stop it or escape it. Obi-Wan's right arm was badly injured, almost crushed, and both of Qui-Gon's legs were broken in the fray.

They surrendered to one side and took advantage of the meager medical supplies to patch themselves up as best they could before escaping to a starship. They limped back to the Jedi Temple where they were welcomed despite their failures. After some corrective surgery and long bacta dips, the two Jedi were taking much needed rests.

When they'd been captured, a surgeon had sneered over Obi-Wan as he lay on a cot, feverishly fighting the pain in his fractured arm, and had asked if he wanted it amputated. The surgeon finally backed down from his offer, laughing that his superiors had commanded the Jedi boy should sit through the pain for a long time before he lopped it off. Obi-Wan hadn't been too keen to the idea of parting with his arm and was for the first time in his life thankful for a being's cruelty.

His arm was still a little weak but it was healed, bending only at his elbow now. He preferred it that way.

The door slid open and Qui-Gon sauntered through. He was a big, tall man, yet he moved smoothly and didn't speak in a deep booming voice. He was in fact a gentle man but his appearance contradicted his manner.

He idly watched the holoset with Obi-Wan for a few moments; the news was on and apparently a Trandoshen had tried to steal some of the animals in the Holographic Zoo of Extinct Animals. After running from a gorgon made of pigments of light and hiding in a tree with imaginary snakes, he was arrested for disturbing the peace. The reporter appeared amused while telling the story, yet was very testy when he announced the Trandoshen was under the influence of drink and couldn't be charged with insanity and would therefore be out of prison fairly soon. Before switching over to the traffic, he distinctly muttered "Lunatics all over the place."

"Master Yoda wants to see us," Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan as the scenes of wrecked speeders and hovercars flashed on the set.

"Another loose end with ModusTollens?" Obi-Wan asked.

"He told me that it has nothing to do with ModusTollens," Qui-Gon said. He studied Obi-Wan's disappointed reaction for a moment and then said, "Don't worry about it, Padawan. We tried our best."

"We still failed," Obi-Wan muttered.

"Not entirely," Qui-Gon corrected gently. "Had we gotten ourselves killed we would have failed. Try not to be so upset by it. Comfort yourself with the knowledge that the Republic is sending twelve Jedi Knights and five hundred thousand troops to stop the fighting. We were only two Jedi; a Master and a Padawan. Just think, they're sending in Knights."

"To clean up the mess we made," Obi-Wan grumbled.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said slowly, catching his Padawan's full attention. "Even if Mireena herself been there, I still believe ModusTollens would have sunk to war."

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. Mireena was the pseudonym for Meri Deleena, probably the greatest non-Jedi compromiser and peacemaker the galaxy had ever seen.

"Now come along," the Master said. "Master Yoda is waiting."

Obi-Wan hauled himself up from the sofa and switched off the holoset. He followed Qui-Gon out of their quarters to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, a favorite hangout for Yoda. They found him in his favorite hangout spot, a few rocks in the artificial sun next to a pool of clear water. He offered a smile.

"Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan," he greeted them. They seated themselves beside the little Jedi Master, facing the pool of water.

Obi-Wan was jealous of the water. He thought it was too clean. He touched his acne-peppered face and stared at his fingertips that were shiny with oil.

He'd dug through a Barabel's vomit to retrieve a comlink it had eaten. He'd swam through the sewer system of a city and got coated in all the wonderful things a sewer system contains. He'd even sifted through a gundark's droppings in search of a tiny key.

But there was nothing quite as gross as pus and oil from your own face.

Qui-Gon watched Yoda respectfully as he spoke.

"Aware I am that you are weary from your last mission," he said. "A little less of a demanding mission I have in store for you if you accept it."

He glanced at Obi-Wan briefly; the teen was rubbing his fingertips together as if something sticky were on them. Obi-Wan realized he'd been caught not listening and nodded.

"What is it?" he asked, proving he was paying attention.

Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan was a good kid. He was intelligent, loyal, sometimes a little too empathetic and as normal as fifteen-year-olds came. Almost as tall as Qui-Gon, he lacked his grace and often made hasty decisions. Not necessarily bad decisions, just hasty.

"A senator from the planet Mebyl has wrongfully acquired a jewel from his planet," Yoda said. "Return it to its museum his people have demanded, for a symbol of peace it is. He has complied, but slow he is in doing so. An assassin or burglar attempted to reacquire the jewel, yet failed. Fears for his life the senator does. Yet, strangely..."

"Strangely what?" Qui-Gon prompted.

"He does not ask for protection of his person," Yoda said. "But of his daughter, who has run away from him. Intelligence suggests she is hiding in a nightclub. Your mission, should you chose to accept it, would be to find the girl and return her to her father without letting harm fall to her. Remember, the senator has decided to return the jewel, yet wants he his daughter safe."

"Kind man," Qui-Gon commented. He turned to Obi-Wan. "Care for this at all?"

"It'd be a nice change of pace," Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon nodded to Yoda.

"We accept. When can we begin?"

"When night falls, alive the clubs come," Yoda said.

To Be Continued…