J-327
Chapter 1
The silver ship slides quietly between the dimensions, rocking with the motion of hyperspace. The engines whirr, the occasional whistle and bleep from the remaining R2 unit. It stands in the centre of the engine room, tinkering with the hyperdrive, Obi-Wan keeping an eye on it.
He takes one look at the readings that it was giving off and groans.
"You don't think you could go back out onto the hull and fix this now?" he asks the astromech.
Not a standard day out from Tatooine and they are already slowing. His master figures that it wasn't just the generator that took a hit from the Federation ships. And so Obi-Wan checks again: it is the motivator, which is running far below expected capacity, meaning they are stranded.
"Whoo-wheep wop gwoon," R2 replies indignantly. 'Not on your life.'
"I thought not."
Obi-Wan decides to tell Qui-Gon before he sleeps, so he heaves himself to his feet and goes to find him. He wanders down a short corridor to the rearward hold, where the droids had been kept.
Qui-Gon is not there, but one of the younger handmaids is. She is rearranging the blankets over Anakin.
"Eh-hem," Obi-Wan coughs, startling the handmaid. She looks up and glares at him, holding a finger to her lips.
"Shush!" she hisses.
"Sorry," Obi-Wan whispers. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't," she says. He is about to speak, but she gestures for him to follow her out the door and into the corridor. There is no one else about.
"Don't wake Anakin," she warns.
"I won't."
"What do you want?"
"Have you seen Master Qui-Gon?" he asks. "He said he needed the motivator readouts for tonight."
"He said that he was meditating and did not want to be disturbed," she replies. "Give them to Captain Olié instead."
He ignores the suggestion and continues. "I just thought that when we arrive on Coruscant, we could take a proper look at it with the technodroids on hand. We caused you all the trouble – the least we can do is help you repair the ship."
"No thanks," she says. She begins to walk away, but then turns to say something else. "You flatter yourselves."
"What?"
"Thinking that you are always at the centre of everything," she says. "In thinking that, you expose your percieved self-importance. You and all Jedi.
"I don't understand what you mean," says Obi-Wan.
"What you just said. 'That it's your fault.' It's not - it's the Federation's. But you try to make everything revolve around you.
"We do not," he objects. "The Jedi are sworn to serve all, whenever. I apologise if mine or Master Qui-Gon's offers of help are..." He doesn't know what to say, caught off-guard by her questions. "The Queen seems to appreciate us," he argues.
"You don't know her. How can you be sure? She doesn't let him answer. "Regardless," she says airily. "We don't need your help. Give the readouts to Captain Olié."
"Shouldn't it be the Queen who makes that decision?" he asks.
Without answering, she turns and goes into the forward hold. Again, empty.
She sits down at the little table and takes out a small hip flask. She takes a swig, and offers it to him. He declines with a wave of his hand.
She shrugs, and continues drinking.
"Aren't you a little young for that," he adds, gesticulating to the flask.
"As if you're any older than me," she snorts. "But then again, you 'oh-so-pure' Jedi stay away from drink completely, don't you?"
Obi-Wan avoids the question. "Naboo," he says, thinking. "Not had a registered Force-sensitive in over 300 years, and not a single Jedi in twice that. Right?"
She doesn't answer. They are making a habit of these open ended questions, he realises. He wants her to understand.
"Well, it's not necessarily that black and white," he explains, pulling up a seat. "Master Qui-Gon… and a few others… think that High Council are taking a lot of the 'rules' too seriously... Actually, a lot of the rules..."
"Like?" she asks.
He thinks this through too for a while before answering.
"Having a proper life," he says finally. "A real life, with a real home, and a real family. That's what we all want? Isn't it."
"Well, no," she says. "The whole point of being above us mere citizens, is that you're so mystic and celibate. Never loving, never losing, never learning."
"Maybe."
They sit in silence.
"But to have to feel no emotion at all..." she goes on, "It must be hard."
"Pardon?" He is wary of her change in tack.
"To never feel any attachment," she says. She suddenly sounds more interested, more caring once again. "It must be hard, isn't it?"
"Well, it's not about not feeling emotion, it's about ignoring it," he corrects. "But yes. It is hard. Harder than the physical training; tougher than the education, the politics, the negotiation. And far harder than the Force training."
She nods at him to go on.
"It's actually quite ironic," he realises. "You're working with a supernatural force that varies on emotions. And we're not allowed to use our emotions."
"And it's about balancing it?" she asks again.
"Yes, but to balance it, you have to be contented, to be at peace."
"And Jedi aren't allowed to be contented," she finishes for him.
"Yes. And we're not balanced. Instead, all the teachings focus on Ashla – that's the light side of the Force. It wasn't originally, not before the Hundred-Year Darkness. Ashla meant the whole Force, all emotions, good and evil. A Jedi's skill lay in his mastery of self so that he could use the Force without falling to either side. But some Jedi wanted to use pure emotion to gain control the Force, rather than to be in balance with it."
"Uh-huh," she says. She is interested now.
"They became more powerful than any Jedi before. But as with all power, it corrupted them. They fell to Boga – the Dark Side, and nearly destroyed the Jedi. Since then, we – the remaining Jedi – have had to focus on opposing them, and their teachings; that emotions give you power and should be encouraged."
"And so the Force is no longer balanced?"
"Exactly."
She understands. She understands everything, he realises.
"Have you ever loved anyone?" the girl asks, changing topic again.
"Me?" Obi-Wan says. "Why?"
"I just want to know."
"Thrice... Once when I was 13, when I was 15, and again when I was 18."
"So that would make you what... 22?. You can't be older than that." she smirks. "Which means that you're still in my range."
"I wouldn't say so," Obi-Wan counters. "What you said about never loving and never learning; you're wrong. I learnt my lesson."
"Of course you did," she says, and got up. "And to be honest..."
She creeps right up to him, breathing hotly down the collar of his tunic. Obi-Wan turns red, and not just because of the heat.
"I wouldn't be interested in the slightest," Padmé Naberrie whispers, and exited the hold.
Un-beta'd. Apologies in advance.
Second chapter next month. Please review. :)
Tra