AMNESTY
by ardavenport
o EPILOGUE o
The transport had a closed canopy; the terrain of the planet zoomed by below as it headed toward the designated gathering place, the clouds passing by above. They had already crossed from the night side of the planet into day. There was a single droid driver and wide cushioned bench seats facing each other.
Inspector Cayhoil sat next to Vaklarooz. Cayhoil's creased trouser legs next to Vaklarooz's armored knees.
Qui-Gon sat next to Obi-Wan, with the bundle of clothing wrapped up in his brown Jedi robe on the seat next to him.
Mercenary and Inspector both uncomfortably looked in every direction but at their travel companions while Qui-Gon, impervious to their tension, calmly gazed at them, evaluating the two. Obi-Wan did the same. Vaklarooz flicked a few hostile looks at them, and he seemed on the verge of saying something a couple of times, but he would then glance toward Cayhoil and look away.
Finally, the transport slowed, the flat plain of the official gathering place in sight. There were already many ships parked there. On the control screen in front, Qui-Gon could see the directions the droid followed as it descended and landed. The transport canopy popped open as soon as the engine rumble died down, the fresh scent of the low grasses and tiny plants of the plain coming in with the outside air. Cayhoil and Vaklarooz were on their feet immediately. They did not even give the Jedi a backward glance as they climbed out, down onto the plain and away. Obi-Wan leaned to the side, watching them head toward an angular temporary structure with lines of refugees snaking out from its wide doorways. Though they couldn't make out all the words, Vaklarooz's loud complaints came back to them.
". . . fazzhuz Jedi . . . how did he know? . . . . almost cut my head off over that little brat . . . "
Qui-Gon smiled. "What do you think of them, my young Padawan?"
Obi-Wan's turned back to him, his thin Padawan's braid draped over his shoulder, his blue-gray eyes amused.
"They do seem to have . . . . a relationship." His expression turned thoughtful. "And Vaklarooz has been working for the authorities for ten years?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "Ever since his supposed assassination of Jedi Master Ketchpir." He told his apprentice the story the mercenary had told him, about being hired to kill the Jedi and then becoming an expendable part of a trap that Ketchpir saved him from at the last minute before dying herself.
Obi-Wan's eyes turned back to where the mercenary and the inspector had gone.
"Aaah! That is a new look for you, Kenobi!"
They both turned to see Jedi Masters Magah, Minee and Charamu arriving.
"You don't get very much sun, do you, youngling?" Charamu, a small brown-haired woman with a loud voice and a very curvy figure, called all Padawans 'youngling' no matter what their age. Her own Padawan, Scalat, a skinny female only a few years younger than Obi-Wan, looked on him with wide, green-eyed interest. The four arriving Jedi, all Humanoid females, took positions around them.
Obi-Wan shifted his bundle of clothes to clutch it before him. Magah, less than ten years younger than Qui-Gon, but with smooth, flawless brown skin, glanced down at the lightsaber strapped to his boot, and pouted with what might have been disappointment. "I think it just makes you look exposed. And I've tried a lightsaber that way." She sighed. "It's not very satisfying."
Obi-Wan blushed as Master Charamu nodded agreement. Master Minee, who was older than Qui-Gon with a long iron gray braid hanging down the back of her brown robe, huffed impatiently at the other woman's appraisal.
"I'm sure you have." Qui-Gon quirked a smile. He put an arm around Obi-Wan's bare shoulders, which were cold-pimpled again. "But his clothes were . . . spoilt during our vigil. They need to be cleaned."
"There will be time enough for that when we get these refugees on their way." Minee scanned the field. There were dozens of people around and probably many more in the temporary building. Masters Fakmeer and Bradni strolled into view. "We still have to go with these people to their real amnesties." The Jedi would escort the refugee ships out of Federate space to the planets where the former outlaws would be resettled. "We can only hope that they have the good sense to accept their good fortune and truly renounce their old ways." Minee made a sour face and folded her arms into the opposite sleeves of her robe.
Qui-Gon thought about Vaklarooz and Cayhoil together on a planet with a three-droid spaceport and a lot of warm beaches and shady trees.
"Yes, I think that some of them will."
o END o
Disclaimer: This story first posted on tf.n on - - - . All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to George and Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.