The Sword and Stars
Part IV — Holiday

SUMMARY: With the ion storm still restricting space travel, the Jedi decide to spend a day at the park.

Qui-Gon's commlink signaled as he walked with Chydanio back to the tavern.

A voice self-consciously cleared its throat before it ventured, "Master?" Obi-Wan sounded exactly like someone who had waited as long as he thought decent before making the call, not sure if the person he wanted to contact was "occupied" or not.

Qui-Gon traded an amused glance with Chydanio at the young apprentice's expense. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

Something suspiciously like a relieved sigh at the promptness of Qui-Gon's response issued from the commlink, as did a soft giggle that was cut off abruptly, as if a hand had been firmly placed over a mouth. Obi-Wan asked, feigning nonchalance, "Shall we meet somewhere this morning?"

"Yes. What about The Sword and Stars?"

"Certainly."

"And if you happen to see Y'Chelle, tell her she's welcome to join us as well." He loftily ignored the elbow Chydanio poked in his ribs.

"I shall, Master." Obi-Wan cleared his throat again. "What time...I mean..."

"At your leisure, Padawan. I am already here." Qui-Gon cut the connection before the younger man could stumble through any more delicate circumlocutions.

As they crossed the terrace and walked in the front door, Chydanio murmured, "He showed great self-restraint."

A loud argument was in progress in the kitchen, which the tavern's early-morning customers had learned from long habit to ignore.

"And what am I supposed to do with eight crates of them?" an angry voice demanded.

Another voice said sarcastically, "Take a little citrus juice and a lot of tree-bark spice — "

Something that sounded like a large pile of metal containers crashed to the floor. Beings continued their conversations, watched the holovid-feed on the projector above the counter, or concentrated on their food. The only person who seemed concerned about the noise was Qui-Gon.

"Would a Jedi's services be required?" he offered.

Chydanio sighed. "No. Cooks think they're hired to be temperamental, that's all." She pointed to the back door. "I hope the back terrace will be suitable for meditating. If not, let me know. I could probably get you into Garin's place, he doesn't open until the noon hour and it'd be empty and quiet there."

"I'm sure this will be fine," he said. With a finger he lightly guided her face to his and kissed her.

There was nothing embarrassed, nothing unsure about the Jedi Master, even in such a small thing as a gesture of affection. Chydanio smiled into the kiss, a hand resting on Qui-Gon's chest, and then she turned towards the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway, she quickly weighed which objects within easy reach of the cook and the produce buyer could be turned into potential weapons before she called out, "Fair morning!" knowing full well they weren't fooled by her tone of exaggerated cheerfulness.

The cook's feathers reluctantly settled and the buyer's claws retracted when they saw it was her, and they returned her greeting grudgingly. "I'd better see a menu for midday — that involve all eight crates — in five minutes," she said, skewering them both with a glance before she went back to the prep area.

Ialii was already there busily gathering supplies, and he turned at the smell of her, his tail beginning to lash back and forth in what Chydanio knew signaled impudence.

"Fair morning," she said warily.

"Fair morning." He reached up and brushed his whiskers against her cheek in greeting. It was a good sign, but Chydanio took the precautionary measure of grabbing the tip of his tail firmly, ready to pull if she needed to. He went on airily, "The speeder's half loaded up, and the kits are coming in a little later. They're helping Ryje." Ryje was Ialii's second wife, pregnant with triplets.

"Glad to hear it." She waited for the inevitable.

"Night shift said that you left here last night with a human male of compatible age, so tall — " He measured off with his paws. " — so wide, with a long, neat mane."

"And face fur. Yes, I did."

"The same human male you served personally yesterday afternoon?"

She decided to save him some time. "And the same one I walked in with this morning, yes." She stared at him, daring him to ask the next question.

He stared back. "I already know." He tapped his nose significantly. Her defiant expression melted and her grip loosened on his tail, which he snaked around her waist, hugging her merrily. "I'm just waiting for you to admit it..."

Qui-Gon made his way to the back terrace. The chairs and tables were still stacked to the side, leaving a large clear area enclosed by a high stone fence blocking the view of the docking bays. Ivy climbed wildly over the fence, disguising it and mingling with the overhanging tree branches from the other side.

It was quiet outside this early in the morning, and peaceful. Qui-Gon knelt on the ground, his hands resting palms down on his thighs, and closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun.

He had much to think about, and the memory of loving Chydanio the night before, of awaking to the warm weight of her snuggled up against him, gave way to the question of what exactly had happened between them.

Chydanio hadn't meant to open herself to him so fully, but she had no training in mental disciplines, no ability to hold anything back. Qui-Gon had allowed her to sense of him only what the living Force did — the here and now, the feelings and thoughts and sensations of the moment. But she'd revealed to him so much more. He'd seen her family, her beautiful sib, her dreaming sib, her genius sib. He'd seen where she'd grown up. He knew her bitter disappointment when she'd been denied the chance to go to art school, and her justifiable pride in making the tavern a success. He'd felt her deep love for Jancer, her anger when she'd found out that she wasn't able to have children — a thousand hurts, and a thousand joys. She'd revealed herself to him, given him everything that was her, in a way no one else ever had. And he was leaving within the next few days.

What was the proper return?

Just as he was reaching the centerpoint where his questions and musings would be balanced by the insight of the Force, he sensed Obi-Wan and Y'Chelle approaching, long before they actually reached the tavern. They had obviously shared a Force-bonding the night before and weren't aware of how strongly they were broadcasting their delight in each other's company. More than that, though, Obi-Wan was projecting a changed Force sense, a change that the Master needed to focus on in order to define and understand it.

Qui-Gon sighed minutely; meditation on his own situation would not be one of his accomplishments that morning.

Y'Chelle and Obi-Wan joined him and arranged themselves so that Master and Knight flanked Padawan, the better to reinforce his meditative state. Between them they managed to move Obi-Wan from emotion to the closest thing to calm Qui-Gon believed the apprentice capable of at that moment — but not before he caught enough of the younger man's stray thoughts to piece together exactly what had happened the night before. So after their meditation time, the Master fixed Obi-Wan with one of his fur-ruffling stares.

The apprentice instantly colored, looking defensive and vaguely guilty.

Y'Chelle, ignoring Qui-Gon's expression for the undercurrent of amusement beneath it, said tranquilly, "As you know, Master, Obi-Wan is a quick study and an excellent pupil."

"Yes, I know."

The younger man gathered himself together and returned Qui-Gon's gaze, a martial light in his eyes as he asserted, "There seem to be some gaps in my training, Master, some things you've seen fit not to share with me."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow as he regarded his Padawan. "If you have any questions Y'Chelle did not answer last night, feel free to ask me now."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and then rather comically closed it again, realizing belatedly what Y'Chelle and Qui-Gon already had — that any question he cared to ask would embarrass him far more than any answer would embarrass the Master. In a low voice, he conceded, "No questions, Master."

"I see. Shall we continue?" The younger man nodded.

Still kneeling, the three Jedi stretched slowly and meditatively, performing the same ritualized movements all Jedi had from the beginning of their training as guardians of the galaxy, until they were standing, relaxed, balanced, at one with the Force.

They activated their lightsabers and in the same unhurried, meditative way, they ran through a set of dueling exercises. With each repeated set they increased the pace until they were performing a carefully choreographed, one-sided duel at full strength and speed. Qui-Gon stepped forward and faced Obi-Wan and they engaged, weapons flashing as they struck, withdrew, parried and thrust again and again, totally attuned to each other.

Y'Chelle paralleled Obi-Wan's movements beside him, and then when Qui-Gon moved away she took his place. Obi-Wan found that, although each action was still the same, Y'Chelle's style was very different from the Master's — a slight pivot here, an unusually balanced stance there, her weight shifting unexpectedly, her lunges and swings differently timed — and he used his newly-learned understanding of the Force to stay with her stroke for stroke, defending, attacking. As their laser swords crossed one last time, the blades sliding down each other until they were hilt-to-hilt and the two Jedi stood toe-to-toe, Y'Chelle grinned at him, delighting in how well-matched they were.

Returning her grin and breathing hard, he disengaged from her. And almost immediately Y'Chelle turned to face Qui-Gon, whose lightsaber was already raised, ready for her. Obi-Wan fell back a few paces and watched, mesmerized. The Force flowed through them both like living energy, balancing them, making Qui-Gon light and graceful, giving Y'Chelle grounding and intensity, bringing them both in harmony with each other. They circled as they fought, dancers in an intricate dance, and the end caught Obi-Wan by surprise even though he knew it was coming. Knight and Master stepped apart and saluted each other with their sabers before they deactivated them.

Qui-Gon nodded, approval burning bright in his eyes. She was indeed strong in the Force and she wielded it with authority and grace. "Well done, Y'Chelle."

She met his gaze proudly. "Thank you, Master Qui-Gon."

"That was beautiful," Obi-Wan exclaimed as they walked back through the tavern to a table on the front terrace.

"You sound surprised." Y'Chelle reached up and pinched his chin, holding his gaze with hers as she teased, "I thought you knew that strength and beauty don't cancel each other out."

"Especially since both are such a part of her," Qui-Gon added, and from him it wasn't a compliment, but an honest assessment. Y'Chelle realized that she had finally proven herself to the Jedi Master, and she flashed a grateful smile at him.

Obi-Wan suddenly realized as they sat down that he and Y'Chelle hadn't eaten dinner the night before. "I'm starving!" he declared. "I could wrestle the ears off a gundark and eat it raw."

"I wouldn't recommend it, Padawan."

"Gundark for breakfast?" Y'Chelle made a face. "I wonder if they have any jelly pastries..."

A young waiter took a stumbling hop out of the tavern door as if somebody had pushed her from behind. "You wanted to meet them — go!"

The two kits were barely as tall as Y'Chelle, and the one who had been pushed had Ialii's spotted coloring but her fur was tufted all over instead of sleek, as if she was still growing into her coat. Behind her, the one who had pushed her was also tufted and mostly orange, with white ears, one white paw, and a black smudge along her nose.

They both tripped lightly over to the table and held a teapot out. "Will you refresh yourselves?" they chorused.

Y'Chelle was utterly charmed. "Yes, we will," she answered warmly, gesturing for them to set the teapot down. "My name is Y'Chelle, and this is Obi-Wan and this is Qui-Gon. May we know your names?"

The spotted one answered, "My name is Ruslan. This is — "

"I'm Kusmin," the orange kit put in, her whiskers quivering as she stared openly at them. "You do smell funny!" This earned her a questioning smile from Y'Chelle, a smirk from Obi-Wan, a look of long suffering from Qui-Gon, and a sharply-pulled tail. "Ow!"

"Not funny!" Ruslan corrected in a firm voice. "Just...different."

The two younger Jedi placed a substantial order for breakfast in between arguing about which leaves to put in the tea while the Master looked on tolerantly, and then when the kits had gone back inside Obi-Wan, ostensibly to explain Kusmin's comment, gave Y'Chelle a greatly embellished account of his and Qui-Gon's encounter with Ialii the afternoon before, to her immense delight. Qui-Gon didn't bother correcting Obi-Wan's story; he was more interested in observing his interaction with Y'Chelle, realizing that the apprentice's changed Force sense was due in large part to Y'Chelle's presence and that, in order to understand it, he needed to understand the young Jedi Knight as well.

Ruslan and Kusmin brought place settings and set the table, Kusmin at first keeping a careful distance between her and Qui-Gon while Ruslan tried not to be as obvious about the Jedi Master's scent. But as Y'Chelle and Obi-Wan engaged the two kits in conversation and they became more used to the Jedi, Kusmin began eagerly questioning them and Ruslan, just as curious but not as outgoing as her orange sib, contented herself with being brave enough to stand as close to Qui-Gon as she dared.

When their table number was called the kits took off in mid-sentence with eager alacrity and came back out performing a precarious balancing act. Three Jedi quickly sent the Force to meet the young waiters and made sure everything, including the kits, arrived safely at the table. As Ruslan and Kusmin headed back to the kitchen Chydanio came out on the terrace and they romped happily to meet her. She bent down to accept the brush of their whiskers against her face before she shooed the two of them back inside, and then she made her way to their table.

Qui-Gon took Chydanio's hand and guided her to the chair beside his. It was merely a chivalrous gesture, but Y'Chelle nudged Obi-Wan all the same, asking the question with her eyes. He had to shrug, unsure. As he responded to Chydanio's greeting, he concentrated on Qui-Gon's Force sense to try to get an answer. And he discovered, not conclusive evidence, but a subtle change in the older Jedi. Obi-Wan had never sensed the Master this much at ease, this relaxed, in the presence of a non-Jedi. Or even among the Jedi, for that matter.

When Obi-Wan focused back on the present, the two women had just introduced themselves to each other. Chydanio was smiling at the young woman with the sparkling dark eyes and engaging grin and wishing for her sketchbook as she had the day before. "I can see why Obi-Wan forsook his Master's company for yours." As both the young Jedi suddenly turned self-conscious, she went on, "I just heard on the morning holovid-feed that there was a coup attempt at the governor's residence last night that was foiled by the governor's personal guards...? I heard a different version of events last night."

Y'Chelle was the first to get her self-possession back. "The Jedi prefer not to call attention to their actions," she offered modestly.

"Especially when their actions are performed unclothed," Qui-Gon observed. Chydanio choked on a laugh, and both Obi-Wan and Y'Chelle couldn't help laughing at themselves. The Master allowed himself a small smile as his eyes met Chydanio's.

"Have you had a chance to eat?" he asked her. She shook her head. "We have more than enough to share," he pointed out unnecessarily. "Please join us."

Obi-Wan served the tea and the Jedi took their first sip together while Chydanio watched, fascinated. Then, since there were only three place settings at the table, Qui-Gon offered his teacup to the tavern owner, and their hands lingered touching as she took it from him. Obi-Wan nudged Y'Chelle. She frowned slightly, not convinced.

As they began to serve themselves Kusmin came charging back out onto the terrace with her spotted sib following at only a slightly more sedate pace, the both of them skidding to a stop beside their table and demanding breathlessly, "Is your meal complete?" "Can anything be improved?"

"You might wait until they've tasted their food," Chydanio suggested gently, and hid a smile as the two kits promptly sat back on their heels, tails curled about their toes, and watched the Jedi with ears perked and whiskers aquiver.

Suddenly Ruslan, more observant than Kusmin, realized that Chydanio had a cup and Qui-Gon didn't, and she moaned under her breath, "Not enough place settings...!" Her tail wrapped around Kusmin's wrist, tugging her towards the counter as she explained under her breath what they'd done wrong.

Quickly Y'Chelle and Obi-Wan sampled some food, so that by the time the kits returned they could honestly tell them, "It tastes fine." "Nothing can be improved." Very pleased with themselves, the kits took themselves back to the kitchen. Obi-Wan grinned after them, and a laugh escaped Y'Chelle at the kits' too-eager serving style.

"I know, I know," Chydanio said. "But they're cute, and that makes up for a lot."

"Is that the philosophy that gets you through your day?" Qui-Gon asked her, and the younger Jedi realized that he was teasing Chydanio. Before Obi-Wan could elbow Y'Chelle, Chydanio, who didn't seem surprised by Qui-Gon's comment, gave the Jedi Master an innocent look.

"You mean it's not working on you?" she asked.

"It's not necessary," he corrected. She caressed his jawline with a finger, smiling at him, and then sweetly kissed him. Obi-Wan glanced sideways at Y'Chelle. She nodded, and they both grinned at each other.

The topic of conversation soon turned to their prospects for the day. Qui-Gon had contacted Traffic Central first thing that morning. "The ion storm flight restrictions haven't been lifted yet," he said. "I can't even contact the provisional government on Carlienti, much less reach the Jedi Council on Coruscant. In short, we can consider today a holiday."

A pair of dark eyes lit with excitement at the possibilities. "Do you have any suggestions for what to do today, Chydanio?" Y'Chelle asked.

"There's really one thing none of you should miss, and that's the Spring Moon Blessing Ceremony today," she said. "There'll be a stage at Aquatic Park with entertainment all day, and kiosks set up for vending. Kusmin and Ruslan will be part of the choral recitation in the afternoon. At sunset Tivelis's master drummer will begin to perform and at moonrise will be the Blessing Ceremony."

"That sounds wonderful," Obi-Wan said. "Can you join us?"

"For the evening festivities, I'm sure I could. The tavern's got one of the kiosks, and Qui-Gon offered to help out. Ialii just took a speeder over with supplies and he'll be back for us and the kits — we're working the first shift."

Obi-Wan and Y'Chelle exchanged eager glances, and then declared, "We'd like to help, too!"


Ialli paused in prepping the midday meal to follow Qui-Gon's gaze across Aquatic Park to where Kusmin, Ruslan, Y'Chelle and Obi-Wan were helping to reassemble the stage that had been in the city center the night before. In their colorful work tunics the foursome stood out from the rest of the work crew and the two men watched as Y'Chelle lightly vaulted herself to stand on Kusmin's shoulders and, with much apparent coaxing, Ruslan climbed onto Obi-Wan's shoulders so they could help raise and steady a lighting pole. It was clear from way the kits and Jedi worked together that they were having a great time.

Ialii commented, "You should keep an eye on that boy, Qui-Gon; he's only been on the planet one day and he's already collected himself a harem."

The Jedi Master's mouth quirked upwards; he'd been thinking the same thing. But Obi-Wan striking up such quick friendships made an aspect of the change that Qui-Gon had sensed in him earlier that morning more apparent — the apprentice no longer believed that it was necessary to keep himself aloof from those around him in order to be a Jedi. He guessed he had Y'Chelle to thank for teaching his Padawan that lesson, too.

Qui-Gon looked down at Ialii, whose efforts to be friendly that morning, and especially this sally of humor, hadn't gone unnoticed, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Jealous, Ialii?"

He chuffed. "When I was young, Qui-Gon, three beautiful females was a slow day."

Behind them, Chydanio made a gagging sound. Qui-Gon agreed with Ialii calmly, "A slow day, to be sure. In my own youth, a fine set of whiskers was found particularly attractive."

"They were a definite asset." Ialii ran a meditative paw along his own set. As Qui-Gon stroked his own bearded chin for emphasis, Ialii went on, "As was a well-groomed coat in mixed colors." He looked up at the Jedi. "Perhaps if Obi-Wan's mane was brindled as yours is..."

"You two are really adorable when you're boasting." They turned, and saw Chydanio grinning at them.

Ialii's ears flattened. "We are not adorable!"

"We weren't boasting," Qui-Gon added.

"Well, since you two are getting along so well, Ialii, why don't you show Qui-Gon the drill?" As she stepped past them to get the cash box, she gave them both a quick, heartfelt hug, grateful to them both for befriending each other.

Ialii beckoned to the Jedi to follow him to the back of the kiosk. "Okay, Qui-Gon, watch carefully. You take one stick at a time..."

Ruslan and Kusmin had gone off in search of a cold drink they'd promised Y'Chelle and Obi-Wan would be the best thing they'd ever tasted. The Jedi, who had been helping to set out tables and benches, placed the last bench and sat down on it, taking a well-deserved rest. Qui-Gon found them there, and offered something to each of them. "Try one. It's a cephalopod mollusk."

Obi-Wan looked at it with apparent misgiving. "It's a squid on a stick."

Qui-Gon looked faintly disappointed, and reminded him, "When in diplomatic service, Padawan, food preferences are unwise."

Y'Chelle, who had been about to protest along the same lines as the apprentice, changed her mind and offered instead, "Obi-Wan and I can share one." She took a stick from Qui-Gon and held it delicately with finger and thumb at a little distance from her.

The Master nodded approval, and bit off the head of his mollusk, chewing thoughtfully. "Hm. It could use a little salt..." And he turned and headed back to the kiosk.

"Show-off," Y'Chelle muttered under her breath, and then realized she'd spoken aloud when she saw Obi-Wan's wide-eyed look of scandalized delight. "Here," she said briskly, holding out the squid to him and hoping he wouldn't tell Qui-Gon on her. "Have a bite."

He hesitated. "I'll just try a tentacle or two," he said, breaking off a piece and popping it in his mouth. Y'Chelle gingerly nibbled at an edge.

Their eyes met. "It's not that bad," she admitted.

"And it could use a little salt." Obi-Wan leaned close and took a larger bite.

"I wonder if Master Qui-Gon found the sauce that goes with this..."


When the crowds finally showed signs of slowing down, Obi-Wan took a pan out of Chydanio's hands and substituted a plate of food. She looked at it blankly, and then at him. He said, mock-sternly, "Break time. March!" He turned her by the shoulder and guided her out of the kiosk and down to the retaining wall at the water's edge. "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," he said, surprised that she hadn't put up more of a fight.

She sat down on the top of the wall. "We have a saying: Never argue with a being with a lightsaber." She set the plate of food down beside her, wrestled her boots off and turned around to face the bay, letting her bare feet dangle in the water with a contented sigh. Obi-Wan joined her, bare feet and all, and handed her a drink. "You made sure I ate two hours ago. I just wanted to return the favor."

Chydanio couldn't help a smile at his expression, it was so eagerly solicitous. "Thank you, Obi-Wan." They sat in companionable silence as she started to eat, enjoying the fresh breeze in their faces after the closeness of the kiosk and watching the sailboats skip along on the lively water of the bay as the pinnipeds barked in the distance. The young Jedi seemed to be more comfortable being himself today, as if he'd realized that there was a difference between appearing to be responsible and serious and actually being so, and that the one didn't necessarily equate with the other. Chydanio decided she liked this Obi-Wan very much.

She took a long sip of her drink, and then began rattling off a series of numbers from the tavern's latest financial report for him. He looked clearly puzzled, and she interrupted herself. "Oh! I thought you were here to find out if I was a suitable companion for your Master. I just wanted to show you that I'm at least financially stable." She let her gray eyes smile at him over her drink. "The rest is a little more subjective."

He shook his head. "I do realize that," he said, giving in to her teasing. "Shall we start all over again, Chydanio? I'd like us to be friends."

"All right." She took another sip before she asked conversationally, "So — what do you think of your Master's idea of a holiday?"

"Oh, I'm enjoying myself very much! I've never done anything like this, and it's fascinating!" And she listened, amused, to the young man enumerate with great enthusiasm all the things he felt were unique and exciting about working a food booth during the Spring Moon in the capital city of Tivelis.

Y'Chelle, meanwhile, noticed Ialii looking around distractedly for Chydanio. "May I help?" the Jedi asked.

"Chydanio and Ruslan were supposed to go pick up the second shift for the kiosk, and now I can't find either of them."

"I can take the speeder back to the tavern," she offered.

"But what about Ryje?" he asked, twisting his tail with obvious distress.

"Ryje?"

"My mate — she's only a month from birthing and has trouble getting in and out of a speeder, she usually perches on the back with someone to support her and you can't trust Kusmin with anything so Ruslan was going to — "

"I can accompany Y'Chelle and help your wife," Qui-Gon offered, having overheard the conversation as he'd walked towards them.

"Thank you, both of you," Ialii said, grateful. "Go by the tavern first, that'll balance the speeder before you pick up Ryje. From the tavern go south..."

Y'Chelle whipped the speeder down streets and around corners and made such good time the second shift hadn't finished getting their supplies together yet. The two Jedi climbed out of the speeder and stood side-by-side on the sidewalk outside the tavern to wait. Y'Chelle combed her fingers through her tangled, wind-blown hair and looked up enviously at Qui-Gon, whose hair was still neat and tidy. "Someday I'll learn to put my hair up." As his eyes met hers she said in a sudden rush of honesty, "Thank you for accompanying me, Master Qui-Gon. I'm glad I've finally earned your approval. It means a lot."

From observing her so closely that day he knew he'd withheld his approval for too long, and he owed her an explanation. The Master reached over and untangled a lock of her hair, and then turned her head away a little and took her hair in his hands, deftly braiding it. "You know, Y'Chelle, way back when you were just an initiate, I thought Mace was wrong in taking you as his Padawan learner," Qui-Gon told her.

"No," she said, curious. "I didn't."

"I thought you weren't serious or dedicated enough, that you would be a discipline problem. And do you know what he told me?"

She shook her head. "No."

"He reminded me that not everyone could live up to my standards of perfection — even me. And he told me to mind my own business." He searched his utility belt for a hair tie. "And he was right. Mace has the same ability Yoda does, to allow a Padawan all individuality and not mold him or her in his image — to encourage uniqueness while still training an apprentice in the ways of the Force. It's not an easy thing to do."

Qui-Gon tied off the braid. Y'Chelle turned back to face him, and saw that his gaze was warm on her. "Clearly, though, Mace valued you for your singular qualities, and helped you to develop at your own pace and into your own understanding of the Force. Perhaps I haven't always been able to appreciate that, and I apologize. But when I see you with Obi-Wan, I understand a little better what Mace saw in you." His gaze turned thoughtful, and he took her slender hand in his to underscore his words. "You bring out qualities in my Padawan that perhaps I've stifled with my own views of perfection. You remind me of my duty to him. And, you've always made Mace very proud."

The Jedi Master's words were so unexpected, so kind, so frank, she couldn't think of anything else to say but a heartfelt, "Thank you, Master."


Obi-Wan and Chydanio both turned away from the water, letting their feet dry on the grass before they put their boots back on. He asked her, curious, "So why 'The Sword and Stars'?"

"Well, 'Sword' is a little joke," she explained. "I like to sketch now and then, and my 'sword' is any drawing implement. And 'Stars,' because I've always wanted to travel."

"So if you weren't a tavern owner, what would you be?"

She considered. "Well, when I was little I wanted to be a moon shuttle conductor."

He chuckled. "I did, too. How about now?"

"Now? I'm working on my pilot's license, so I might still be that shuttle conductor. But if talent were no object...a concert singer."

"Why a singer?"

"Because if you ever heard me sing, you'd know I couldn't carry a tune even if it had anti-gravs." As he laughed again, she said, "Okay, your turn. If you weren't a Jedi, what would you be?"

"I'm not a Jedi, yet. I still have to face the trials. But what do you think about me being an attorney?"

She had to laugh at his sly grin. "No, dream big! Republican senator, circus acrobat, pirate chieftain — "

"Pirate chieftain!" He actually seemed to savor the thought, before he admitted, "My Master would kill me."

"I suppose he would; he's so honorable and virtuous. Well, how about a star pilot? Or a military general? Or would something like a sculptor be an appropriate career for you?"

He turned thoughtful. "No, not a sculptor. A poet, perhaps." She raised her eyebrows in question. "Well, I've been giving it a lot of thought lately, trying to understand it all, and it seems to me the Force is almost a kind of poetry."

"Define poetry," she said, intrigued.

He said slowly, "Poetry is...revelation, and glory, and mystery suddenly unveiled. Poetry isn't inherited, it isn't given — it's what no one knows. And poets show us, remind us, what poetry is, that the grand and the beautiful and the good exist, that life isn't just circumstance — that it has wonder, and meaning."

And it was almost as if Chydanio were seeing a wholly different young man before her. She gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "Know what, Obi-Wan? You already are a poet."

He blushed deeply and looked back across the water, pleased and suddenly shy. And his attention was caught by two sailboats racing against each other. "That looks like so much fun!"

She smiled at the sheer boyish delight in his face. "Have you ever sailed?"

"No, never."

"Would you like to?" He turned to her, and the answer was plain. "I've got a little boat — nothing fancy, but I could certainly teach you the fundamentals."

"You mean I could learn to sail?" he asked, almost disbelieving his good fortune.

"I get the feeling you can learn anything you set your mind to, Obi-Wan." She regarded the young man fondly. "I'd be very happy to teach you."

"And may Y'Chelle and Master Qui-Gon come, too?"

Even in the midst of his excitement, he didn't forget his friends. "Of course. There's plenty of room for four. After you learned how to handle the boat, we could take it across the bay, there's a wonderful beach for swimming, or we could go into the delta, there are a couple of good places for hiking down there, or we could see if anyone wants to race — " With each mention of possibilities, his eyes shone brighter and brighter. She found herself going on, caught up in his enthusiasm, "We could pack a picnic lunch — we could spend the whole day out tomorrow if you wanted to."

"It sounds wonderful!"

"Better than working in a tavern?"

Obi-Wan grinned, and Chydanio couldn't help answering with one of her own. There was something so endearing about this young man, something that made her want to put her arms around him and cradle him close...

"So this is where you'd gotten to — we've been looking all over for you!" Qui-Gon said, joining them on the wall.

"Obi-Wan was telling me how much he's enjoying working today," Chydanio said as she and the apprentice put on their boots. "I think if he weren't a Jedi, he'd be working for me."

The younger man's blue eyes were mischievous. "Maybe. Do you need an apprentice, Chydanio?"

"I've got all the kits I can handle; I don't need another!"

"I'm not a kit!" he said, indignant.

"Of course you're not," she said quickly, frowning as she stared at him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking about."

"He may be young, but in many ways he's wise beyond his years," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan straightened proudly at the praise.

"I know," Chydanio agreed, with a lingering glance at the young man. Then she turned her attention back to Qui-Gon. "So why were you looking for us? Anything wrong?"

"No. But Ryje is here and she wanted to meet Obi-Wan, and I think Ialii had a few questions for you."

They walked back together, Master and Padawan carrying the conversation, and Obi-Wan went on ahead as soon as Qui-Gon caught sight of Ryje and pointed her out to him.

Qui-Gon looked at Chydanio. "You're very quiet."

She shook her head. "I was just thinking about how I called Obi-Wan a 'kit' back there. He's not, you know."

"It's probably just habit, being with Ruslan and Kusmin all the time. He won't take it to heart."

"No, it's not that." She was silent for a little while longer, and then, looking down, she said slowly, "You know...if I'd had a son, he'd be about Obi-Wan's age." She glanced up, saw the apprentice talking animatedly with Ryje, and looked down again. "He's a fine young man, Qui-Gon. I hope you're very proud of him."

"I am. Then again, he's had an exceptional upbringing, with the most extraordinary of teachers." Their eyes met, and she conceded him a smile. He went on more seriously, "As have Ialii's kits. And I know you're proud of them." His hand went to her shoulder. She leaned towards him, accepting his comfort, and he put his arm around her.

"What if I bought his apprenticeship from you?" she asked idly.

"You can't have him."

"I'd give you a fair price."

"You still can't have him..."

END PART IV