Obi-Wan shifted his shoulders again, trying to find a comfortable spot in the clothes the palace staff had graciously given him. It was difficult to look natural in a silky smooth shirt when you'd worn three layers of linen and wool all your life. Rusty red wasn't really his color, but it was close enough to brown that he didn't do a double-take whenever he spotted it in his peripheral vision. Even so, he preferred whites and creams. He hoped his robes would dry soon.
The knight felt eyes on him, and looked over to see Mace Windu giving him an admonishing side-eye. Of course, Master Windu was the embodiment of regality in his borrowed blue outfit. It fit him perfectly, and the high-collared neckline did not compel him to fidget. Without the lightsaber clipped to his belt, he would've looked like a local - a noble, even. Obi-Wan pulled at his too-tight collar again.
The tall double doors in front of them slid apart, and an attending droid stepped out and bowed. "Her Highness and her Council will receive you now, Masters Jedi," it said in a prim voice. Obi-Wan yanked at his shirt one last time and followed Master Windu into the room. The Force washed over them in purple-red waves of tumult and confusion. Ahead, the Queen and her Council were seated at a long oval table, embroiled in discussion.
"If this is some gambit to recoup their losses from the Plasma Trade agreements, it will not stand. It cannot!" insisted Sio Bibble, the governor of Naboo. Obi-Wan had met him briefly upon his first arrival to Theed, and had been given the impression of a short, homely man who would much rather sit home and write plays than administer a planet. Now, however, it seemed that the claws had come out. A fleck of spittle flew from the regent's lip as he continued, "They have gone too far this time. An army! In the bedrock, too - there's bound to be a mine."
"We do not know that for certain, governor," Queen Amidala said stoically, still and poised as a heron, blue-grey cowl drawn up around her painted face. "The information recovered from the droid's databanks has yet to be decrypted."
"It's not even within our territories - that's Gungan land," said a helmeted man standing slightly behind the Queen with her retinue of handmaidens. The monarch looked to him.
"The Gungans have no monarch standing between them and the Federation, Captain. I must speak for Theed and Otoh Gunga both."
The captain gave a slow nod and stepped back. The gold lattice headpiece the queen wore around her hood glittered as she turned and looked up to the Jedi. "Master Windu, Master Kenobi, welcome." She graced them with a rare, small smile, and they bowed. "I must give you my undying gratitude for your service today, and for returning my dear Padme to me in one piece." She spared a look at her handmaiden's bandaged nose, and her smile developed a playful tilt, "More or less."
The Jedi bowed again, just slightly. "We come to serve, Your Highness," Mace said in the easy way of a man who'd uttered those words a thousand times or more, "we thank you for your hospitality and generosity."
"Of course," the Queen said, "you saved the life of one of my most trusted attendants."
"Actually, Your Highness," Obi-Wan interjected. He looked back at Padme, who'd cleaned up nicely and was picturesque in a demure burgundy robe - save for the reinforced bandage she had on her nose. He gave her a smile, forced crooked by the puckered scar on his lip. "It was Padme who saved my life, and Padme who recovered the data from the droid's servers, and who deactivated the droid's comm centers."
The only evidence of the Queen's surprise was the slight raise of her eyebrows. She turned her neck to look at her handmaidens. "Is this true, Padme?"
Padme flushed. The Queen - and the rest of the handmaidens, Obi-Wan noticed - were all looking at her with interest. "Yes, Your Highness," she said, and gave a quick curtsey. The Queen watched her for a few moments, some unreadable message passing between her and her attendants.
"I'm glad to hear it, you are very brave." the queen said at last.
"Thank you, your highness," Padme curtsied again. Amidala looked back to the Jedi. As if reading the Queen's mind, Captain Panaka gestured to the assembled council.
"Please, gentlemen, take a seat. We have much to discuss."
They stepped forward to claim the two last seats around the table. Mace took the one closest to them, halfway between the councilors and the Queen. This left Obi-Wan with the chair directly opposite. He stepped around the Queen to get to it, and brushed past Padme on the way. He gave her a friendly smile, and she had to fight back her own grin. The rest of the handmaidens ducked their heads and shot her amused glances, trying to look as though they hadn't. Mace watched the exchange, and the maidens, and then Obi-Wan's utterly oblivious expression, and heard himself sigh. He wanted to give the younger Jedi a snide look, but it was not the time.
"Yes, I think we do."
"Your Highness, you said the intel we recovered was still in decryption?" Obi-Wan spoke up.
"That is correct, sir," answered Captain Panaka for the queen.
"Any word as to when that will be done?"
"Our engineers are making process. They've already uncovered some of the files, but nothing of note. Their full report will be done in a few days - they are under orders to report any notable finds immediately."
"Of course," Obi-Wan nodded.
"If the Federation is behind this… this army, we will appeal the matter to the Senate."
"I have no doubt that these droids belong to the Federation, governor," Mace Windu said confidently. "The real question is, what are they doing here?"
"And what are they doing on Gungan land?" Obi-Wan added. "If they are after your plasma mines as you suggest, sir, they ought to be stationing themselves closer to Theed and the veins in this sector."
Bibble frowned. Beside the Queen, Captain Panaka looked as though he was holding his tongue. Obi-Wan glanced at the other two councilors who had remained silent by the governor's side. He could not recall their names, but he did remember that the royal council of Naboo consisted of ministers of art, music, and cultural affairs. It's no wonder the Federation chose Naboo for such a huge cache, Obi-Wan thought to himself, this planet was built for peace. They're helpless. He looked back to Panaka, who seemed to be one of the few people in the room who trod boots past the palace gates more than once a week. "Something to say, Captain?" Knight Kenobi asked.
The guard cleared his throat and explained, "The Gungans are a vulnerable people, master. The Federation knows that. They don't consider themselves a part of the Republic, and have no sway with the Senate's watchdogs. They don't look after the land, they stay under water, and they fight amongst themselves too much to watch their forests."
"The Gungans are a free sentient people," Queen Amidala cut in firmly, "They cannot be treated this way, especially now." She paused, and, if Mace watched her exceptionally closely, he could see her eyes flicker to Padme, see her nod, and flicker back so quickly he could've missed it with a blink. "I will meet with their leader. They were put in danger - they could still be in danger, and they have a right to know."
"Your Highness, relations with the Gungans are still tense, at best. You must consider-"
"Theed and Otoh Gunga have kept each other at arm's length for too long, governor. If the Federation's threat is more extensive than this one garrison alone, we must stand together. Captain," she turned and looked at Panaka, who nodded immediately.
"I will prepare a missive immediately, your Highness." The Captain took his leave, accompanied by two of Amidala's handmaidens. Padme remained, and took a subtle step forward, not quite filling the space where Panaka had stood.
Across the table, Bibble was plucking fretfully at his prim white beard. "Your Highness, we must consider that we have no jurisdiction over the Gungans' lands," he said.
"A foreign standing army stationed on a Republic world is a reportable offense, no matter what part of the world they're on," Mace told him. "This is a matter to put before the Senate immediately. I will see to it that the Chancellor gets my report, but if you wish to make an appeal yourself, I would encourage you to do so now."
"We will send word to Senator Palpatine at once," Bibble decided. Padme quietly tensed beside the Queen, and the Queen eyed her.
"No," she said with authority. "I will go myself."
Bibble looked put into an awkward spot. "With respect, your highness, Palpatine has more authority in the senate. Even if you go to Coruscant, it would be the wiser choice to have Palpatine plead the case in your stead. We'll send him all the evidence we've gathered."
A penny dropped, and Mace's opinion of Padme Naberrie skyrocketed. He turned to look at her, and then forced himself to look at the not-Queen Amidala when he said, "I would advise you go to Coruscant personally. Senator or not, Palpatine will let you speak."
"Thank you, Master Windu," Amidala accepted the encouragement as someone already resolute to do the thing they'd been encouraged to do. Her eyes strayed toward Padme. "I will see that he does."
At that moment, a door opened behind governor Bibble and a frantic young messenger jogged into the room. "Your Highness," he said breathlessly, stopped, bowed, and resumed jogging until he came to the table. "Councilors -er, Masters," he added upon seeing the Jedi, "we've just uncovered this on the datacards you brought us." The young man placed a round holodisk in the center of the table and turned it on. A marquee of holographic text filed by. The assembly read together in silence, punctuating the air with gasps and murmurs.
"This is criminal," Bibble breathed.
"Yes." Mace watched the text loop around to its beginning and felt a pang of guilt. Surely, over the course of his one-man campaign he'd destroyed dozens of pieces of evidence like this, all without a thought. He'd been so focused on spiting Palpatine that he'd forgotten to go about the whole thing properly. He silently cursed himself for his blindness. "The Senate will be very interested to see this." As will Ben Kenobi.
"And the Chancellor," Obi-Wan added.
Amidala stood, and her councilors stood with her. "Master Jedi," she looked to the two knights with steely determination running through every manicured inch of her. "How soon can we leave for Coruscant?"
"As soon as you are ready, your Highness," Obi-Wan said.
And so, within the hour they were packing up enough equipment, fuel, and clothing (oh, so much clothing) for a week's trip to Coruscant. Obi-Wan, now back in his Jedi robes, was busy helping the handmaidens lift the heavier pieces of luggage onto the ship when the Queen arrived in the hangar, accompanied by Captain Panaka and Governor Bibble.
"You must convince Rugor Nass to see reason," the Queen was saying. "If we are to scare off the Federation once more, we must stand resolute."
"Your messenger is on her way, your Highness," Panaka said.
Sio remained uncertain. "But even if the Gungans agree to see our messenger, Highness, would it not be wise to meet with them in person?"
"I would prefer it, but I have a duty to my people, Governor. This cannot wait. Rugor Nass is a ruler; he will understand that urgency. See to it that he receives the full holo transmission I have given to you."
"Of course, your Highness," said Bibble with slight hesitation.
The Queen approached the ramp of the ship, where her maidens were waiting in neat lines. Obi-Wan stepped up beside her. "Senator Palpatine has been informed that you are coming, your Highness," he told her. "He's requested that you comm him as soon as possible."
"I will speak to Palpatine when I arrive on Coruscant," she said, and began ascending the ramp. "He has been fully briefed on the situation. He cannot want anything further with me now."
Obi-Wan watched her go with some admiration. The handmaidens began to file up the ramp after their queen, and Obi-Wan walked up behind them. He fell into step with Padme as they headed to their seats. "Your Queen is a strong-willed ruler," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I admit I underestimated her."
Obi-Wan's eyes were fixed ahead, so he missed Padme's small, gratified smile. "You underestimate too much, Knight Kenobi," she said, and moved past him to join her sisters, who were gathering in the luxurious cabin. "You even underestimated me, at the start."
"Ah," the Jedi tipped his head, pausing just before he opened the door to the bridge, "that is a mistake I am sure to not make again, for fear of retribution." He tapped his nose along the same lines on which Padme had broken hers. "And perhaps a very large blaster rifle." He gave her a smile and disappeared into the bridge. Away from male company, the handmaidens all giggled freely, and Padme shooed them away.
"Master Jinn," said the young Cerean padawan, crested forehead smooth with childish wonder. Qui-Gon drew in a very slow, careful breath and looked down at him.
"Yes, Ni-Tal?" he asked patiently.
"Did you really fight a Sith on Kamino?" the child asked. Kamino had become a recurring theme in Qui-Gon Jinn's saber courses. Usually, he ignored the questions and assigned the inquirers more katas for their trouble. However, Ni-Tal's contribution was a new arrangement of the prevailing melody, as he had omitted the refrain which had been repeated so many times now it was likely engraved in the salle floor. Refreshed by the student's originality, Qui-Gon opened his mouth to answer. Before he could, the nervous boy felt compelled to add: "I mean, S'lora said that Master Obi-Wan killed the Sith, but you were his master, weren't you? And he was still an apprentice then, right? So you had to be there too."
Ah, but there it was. Delayed, but not omitted after all. Qui-Gon's reply aborted itself and he let out his breath as a sigh. Too. And so the pupil outshone his master. Ah well. All was same in the Force. "Yes, I was there. I fought the Sith."
Ni-Tal's blue eyes grew wide in wonder, and something in his upturned face looked familiar. Qui-Gon wondered if this was one of Ki-Adi's descendants. Hadn't he a gaggle of grandchildren by now? Surely some of them had ended up in the temple. "They are real," Ni-Tal whispered, almost as if he hadn't meant to.
And there was that look again. Qui-Gon suddenly knew the familiarity had nothing to do with genetics. It was that childish gleam in his eyes, the mixture of awe and fear and hope, dusted with confused hormones and encased in a shell of innocence that showed signs of molting. It was a look Qui-Gon had seen, years ago, on Obi-Wan's face. Though the story was a tired one, some tug on Qui-Gon's heart told him to say,
"So they are, little one."
Part of the shell cracked and fell away, but Ni-Tal braved through it. "What was it - I mean, what was he like?"
"The Sith?"
Ni-Tal nodded. Qui-Gon glanced around himself to find that his entire class, all dozen of the junior padawans placed into his care, had stopped their exercises and were watching him with rapt attention. He looked up at the chrono on the wall. They had another hour to go. They were meant to be performing level three Ataru moon katas right now, but the Living Force approached like an old friend and reminded him that sometimes, saberwork of the mind was just as important as that of the body.
"Well," he began, looking around at his young audience, "what have your masters told you about the Sith?"
A round of uncertain glances took flight. Sith was a dangerous word to use in the Jedi Temple, especially for one under the age of eighteen.
"Well," said one brave girl, "my master said that no one has seen one for a thousand years - um, I mean, until Master Kenobi, that is."
These children had still been in the creche when Ben had killed the Darth they called Maul. They did not know a world without the Sith, but true darkness had a way of making even the most acclimatized soul squirm. "Your master is correct," Qui-Gon nodded, and the girl flushed with pride. "None for a thousand years, and in the past ten years, we've seen - and killed - two of them."
"Both of them by Master Kenobi," an exuberant human boy said with a grin. "I mean, uh… not the same one. Master Kenobi and Master Obi-Wan."
Some of the children laughed at this amusing twist of fate, but Qui-Gon remained somber. "And neither of them take any pride in the fact, I can tell you. There is no glory in killing, not even in killing a Sith."
A contemplative pause. "But…" ventured a curious Mon Cal. "If we do not kill them, won't they kill us?" She fiddled with her fins. "...that's what my master told me."
"Ah," Qui-Gon raised his brows and nodded. "I wish your master were right. If we do not kill the Sith, the Sith will kill not just us, but everyone else, too. Destruction is their goal. Such is the Dark Side of the Force."
A darker silence. Eggshells of innocence littered the floor. "But Master Jinn," spoke up a tiny Iktotchi girl, the smallest of the class, "why can we not bring them back to the Temple? My master says the Sith were once Jedi, who fell away from the rest. Can we not bring them back to the light?"
The concentrated aura of childish optimism could've cured plague. However, at sixty-one standard years, Qui-Gon's heart was already dismissing her naivety. Then, he suddenly remembered Yan Dooku, and Ben's comments on what could have been. The Living Force hovered by his side, patiently waiting for him to see the puzzle. "Some Jedi might agree with you," Qui-Gon told her, which was a heresy. "But no matter what the possibilities, we must always be attentive to the Force, and more now than ever, to the Light." Joints creaking, he lowered himself to the floor and crossed his legs. His students followed his example unquestioningly. "Come, we will meditate on it now."
Some of the students shuffled and glanced at each other, confused as to how their saber class had devolved into a philosophy lesson. However, the majority were more than happy to follow the venerated master's example and delve into a meditative trance. They created a loosely formed circle, like they had in creche, crossed their legs and closed their eyes.
"And then you'll tell us about Kamino?" Ni-Tal asked quietly. Someone chuckled. Eyes still closed, Qui-gon sighed - something he hadn't done this frequently since Obi-Wan's padawan days.
"Hush, Ni-Tal," he reprimanded. A few moments passed. Ten, fifteen years ago he would have left it at that, but that was then. Nowadays, his hair was growing in silver. "Maybe later," he amended. Qui-Gon could see Ni-Tal's excitement with his eyes closed. He sighed again; his own personal refrain amid the chorus of the youth. The Force giggled, and invited them to bathe in the light.
Ben breathed in slowly, letting the light wash over him from within and without. A small fountain burbled nearby, accompanied by the low hum of floating bronzium and the sound of soft, distant footsteps. But here, deep in the center of his meditation, Ben could only hear the cries of a world he'd snuffed out of existence.
He'd always known he was going to change things - saving Qui-Gon, introducing Obi-Wan to the Old Code, saving Dooku. It'd all been the dearest wish of his heart ever since he realized he had the power to change things for the better. But he'd become so absorbed in his task, he hadn't realized how he was changing things for the worse.
Leia. Ben's heart still ached with every beat to think about Bail and Breha, mourning over a child - no, children - that they had never had time to know. He remembered the look on Bail's face, so many years ago but so many years ahead, when he'd taken Leia in his arms for the first time. He'd stood there in the ruins of the Republic and held his daughter, and for a moment, the galaxy had been put to rights. But now… now, the Republic was standing, but Bail was not. And even if that was a mathematical victory, the blame fell squarely on Ben's shoulders. They sunk a little deeper toward his toes.
Change was impossible to fully comprehend. It was a hard lesson he'd learned as a child, when Tahl had been ripped from his life. But now, given a chance to live it all again, the meaning of change itself tormented him. What had been the point? If he had been forever destined to be here, to change the past, what had been the point of him suffering through the Empire? What had been the point of Leia, and Luke - Force, Luke, whom he still saw in his dreams - and Bail and Breha so happy? What was the point of nineteen years in the Tatooine desert if he was meant to end up here once again, bursting with joy and guilt all at once?
Change, the Force whispered to him. But change was the enemy, wasn't it? It was the reason his head bowed low, the reason his heart felt heavier than a galaxy. Change for the better, or so he'd thought. But now, he looked back on the once-and-never-was and saw flecks of light that he'd snuffed out for sake of change.
Change, the Force said again. He grit his teeth.
"This isn't your usual haunt," said a familiar voice, footsteps drawing near. Ben opened his eyes and looked up to see Qui-Gon Jinn walking toward him, backlit by a hall of windows and shining planets. Legs still crossed on the floor, Ben sat back and sighed.
"No," he said, "I'm afraid I've usurped your spot. I can leave, if you like."
Qui-Gon chuckled and waved it off. "I've no claim to it. I've only come up here for some peace and quiet from the exuberant youth," he said, which made Ben smile. Disguising his grunt as a sigh, Qui-Gon lowered himself onto the ground next to his old apprentice and relaxed, enjoying the atmosphere.
The planetarium had always been one of Qui-Gon's favorite spots of the temple. It was large and airy, and fortunate enough to have a spot along the base of the northwest spire, where sunsets poured in through the windows like liquid gold. It was an ancient place, bedecked in old bronzium statues and reliefs, all shining in the mid-evening sun. Faded tapestries hung from the ceiling along the hall's length, swaying softly in the air currents above pedestalled artifacts and heavy granite tablets engraved with the Jedi Code. Ben had fond childhood memories of this place. Qui-Gon would take him here to meditate, and they'd sit beneath the great bronze planets and watch them hover over the repulsor platform, orbited by shining blue moons in an endless dance.
Qui-Gon glanced to his side, studying the green and blue reflections on the floors. "I don't normally come to this side," he admitted, looking up around the great rotunda, admiring the stained glass windows and the circular fountain in the middle of the room. "I should."
It made Ben smile; it was somewhat bittersweet. "I used to come up here all the time as a young knight," he said.
"Oh?"
"Well, it was your favorite spot for thinking," Ben shrugged, looking bashful. "I suppose I… came to visit, as it were."
"Ah." Qui-Gon looked touched, but it was not a topic he felt comfortable breaching.
Ben glanced back at the fountain. "By that time they'd replaced the fountain, though."
"Replaced it?" Qui-Gon looked back at the quiet water sculpture and frowned. He had always harbored a love of fountains. "With what?"
Here, Ben smiled. "A statue of you, actually."
It caught Qui-Gon completely off guard. "What?" he asked, bewildered. Ben laughed at his incredulity. Qui-Gon glanced again at the fountain. "Why?"
"You were the first Jedi killed by the Sith in a thousand years, Master," Ben explained in a calm tone. "The council voted for it unanimously."
Qui-Gon absorbed this, looking at the fountain and up at the windows, trying to imagine it. "The first time they would've voted unanimously on anything I'd done - save censure," he grumbled. Ben snorted.
"I admit, it was nice coming up here after they put it in. They got your face right, for one thing, which was always good to see. And if anyone saw me up here, they'd leave me well alone." Qui-Gon wasn't sure if this was supposed to make him feel glad or sad for the man. He watched Ben's face, which soon lightened considerably. "I must admit," he said, "I'm thrilled it's no longer here."
Qui-Gon smiled. "I suppose I am too - although I'd love to see what they came up with."
"It was very stylish, very tall." Ben darted an amused glance at his old master. "They put you in cassocks."
"Cassocks?" Qui-Gon suddenly looked offended. "You said I died in battle, not doddering about in the archives like some stuffy old prophet." He scoffed. "Cassocks, what were they thinking?."
Ben was laughing, "Oh, but you were in the archives, master. They gave you a bronzium bust there, too."
Qui-Gon scoffed again. "Force," he exclaimed under his breath, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. Remind me never to become a martyr."
"I shall make a note of it."
They fell into wordless companionship, high spirits ringing in harmony in the Force. The massive bronzium spheres continued to turn on their appointed paths, singing with quiet resonance. Idyllic as it was, Ben's spirits fell quickly, resuming their trek to the place they'd found in his meditation, a spot set some distance beneath the floor. Qui-Gon watched him quietly.
"Happy to see me and not my statue, and yet still troubled," he observed. A lifetime of separation did not alter Qui-Gon's sensitivity to his pupil's temperament. "What's wrong?
Ben sighed. There was no way to communicate it to anyone - even if Mace Windu had been here, it would have been too complicated an emotion for someone who'd only lived once. "Things have started happening again," he said, which was code for things I recognize from the past are happening again, "but this time I have no way to fix them."
Qui-Gon entertained a moment of alarm. "With the Sith?" He asked. Ben shook his head.
"No. Just… more… personal things." He looked down. "There are people I knew who I might never meet in this life. They might not ever meet anybody. And I'm just not sure why it was necessary that I know them at all if I was always meant to come back here, now, where I'd never know them. It's all changed, so what happened then doesn't matter." Ben gave a short, forceful sigh of annoyance. "Do you know, after all that happened - after losing you and everyone else, after the wars, after the Sith, I waited around for nineteen years to die?" He asked, casting a look at Qui-Gon, who was taking in the outburst silently, trying very hard to understand. "Nineteen years of nothing, for what? None of that matters now. I'm here, and I'm missing people I'll never know." He slouched, propping his chin on his fist.
After a while, Qui-Gon said, "Surely nineteen years gives you time to do something."
Ben considered this. Something, yes. Talking to his dead master in whispers, that was something, something which now made no sense, because they were talking in person. Guarding Luke, who no longer existed, for nineteen years, that was something. Living with the ghosts of everyone he'd killed and everyone he hadn't saved for nineteen years, that was certainly something. He said none of these things out loud. Instead, he muttered, "Like what?"
Qui-Gon studied him. After a while, the master said, "Maybe those years taught you something." he said. "You are not the man you were. Everything else may be gone, but you remain, with everything you learned in those years."
Change, the Force whispered to him again. You've changed. Ben closed his eyes. "But what is the point?" he asked the air. Qui-Gon shrugged easily.
"The Force will guide you to it. Until then," he nudged Ben so he opened his eyes, "enjoy the scenery."
Ben appreciated the gesture, but sighed. "It's not always so scenic," he said.
"No. But if you stay in the present, you'll always be looking ahead."
Fleetingly, Ben almost wished that it was Qui-Gon's statue sitting there with him. The statue had never given such irritatingly apt advice. "I'm not sure what I learned in those nineteen years that's worth keeping," he said. "Unless learning to be a cranky old man counts."
Qui-Gon let out a laugh. "Obi-Wan," he said the name kindly, patting him on the knee, "you were a cranky old man by the time you were ten." Which, Ben had to admit, was true.
But if not that, then what?
His commlink began to chirp at him, echoing in the vast, empty planetarium. Shaking off his thoughtful airs, he drew a fresh breath and answered it.
"Kenobi."
"Ben, hello. I thought I'd let you know, we are currently en route to Coruscant,"
"Ah," Ben smiled to hear Mace's voice. "Wrapping up so soon?"
"Queen Amidala is with us," he said, and Ben's smile disappeared. "We're going straight to the Senate. If you're not already there, you'll want to be. She'll be making a case before the assembly, and if I'm not much mistaken, Senator Palpatine is going to try and grab the spotlight from her."
Ben's face slowly drained of color. "Right," he said, businesslike and somber. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"I'll meet you there. Windu out."
Ben stood and brushed his robes smooth. "I need to go."
"Senator Palpatine…" Qui-Gon said with distaste. "...is this about droids?"
It was about a great many other, much more important things, but, strictly speaking, "Yes," Ben said.
"And who is Queen Amidala?"
Ben considered lying to him, but with Qui-Gon, that was a habit that had lost its charm ages ago. "As I said, things are beginning to happen again," he told the older Jedi. "Just not quite the same as before."
He left his old master to enjoy the planetarium alone.
