JEDI DREAMING
by: ardavenport
- - - Part 4 - - -
"I'm sorry, only the Council may send any communications to your Master," the same bluish-brown-haired woman overseeing the Mission Ops terminals told him. Obi-Wan still did not know her name and now he felt foolish for not having looked it up before coming.
"I wish to ask for permission to send a communication," he amended.
"You will have to ask a member of the Council. I cannot give it," she reminded him.
Obi-Wan hesitated, a new idea forming. Yoda was only the Council member that he was most familiar with, since he was a mentor to Creche when he was a youngling. There were eleven other Council members. Could he get permission from one of them? He could not think of any reason why not, since all Council members had equal authority.
"Um, I'm not sure who I should ask," he said uncertainly. This was true. He knew some Council members acted as instructors to Initiates and younger Padawans, but others were only names and stern faces to him.
"Oh, well, let me see." She turned to check her screens while Obi-Wan silently kept his thoughts on any other Council member but Yoda, who had already declined his request.
"Master Yaddle will be here after first meal. I can pass your request to speak to your Master to her." Obi-Wan let his breath out. He had a chance. "But if she cannot allow it, you must accept it," she instructed him. Obi-Wan nodded.
"Is there anything else you wish to add to your request?"
"No," he responded gratefully.
"Then you may go, Padawan." Feeling more glad than he had in days, he bowed and left.
o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o
"Like this." Obi-Wan let his lightsaber fall forward, only using his wrist to direct it back around to complete the circle. Then he did it again, three circles and a lunge forward. Ee-Ida imitated his motion, though not as smoothly. Qui-Gon had shown her some techniques before he had left on his mission and he had asked Obi-Wan to continue helping her practice while he was away. The young Twi-lek girl was growing and she complained often about how clumsy it made her feel, but she was still more than a head shorter than Obi-Wan as well as being two years younger.
Ee-Ida's Master had been badly injured on a mission and Qui-Gon was one of several Masters who were helping with her training until he recovered. Qui-Gon used a different fighting style than Doombas, Ee-Ida's master, which was contributing to her problems with learning it.
He stood behind her, showing how she would protect herself with the whirling blade attacks. They moved slowly together and, her expression puckered with determination, she copied him. They did it several times, each time a little faster, and the repetition helped. Pleased, she bounced on her feet, turning toward him.
"Oh," she said, the smile leaving her green face. Obi-Wan looked behind him.
Sitting in his float chair, Master Yoda approached them. Both Padawans deactivated their sabers and bowed. Yoda's chair stopped before them. Obi-Wan's thoughts stopped, frozen in dread.
"Doing well, young Ee-Ida is?" he asked. Hardly glancing toward the young girl, Yoda's eyes stayed on him. If Yoda had wanted to finally accept his request to talk again about his dream visions, he would have just sent a com. This was something more important.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, nodding.
"Finished you are," Yoda said to her. "To Obi-Wan, I must speak." Ee-Ida's eyes widened in surprise. She and Obi-Wan had just begun their session. She turned to him and he nodded. She hastily bowed again to Yoda and scampered away.
Obi-Wan stood alone before the float chair. Master Yoda did not speak, his eyes impassive, unreadable. Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan wanted to ask, but dared not. Anything that might have befallen his Master would become real as soon as the words were spoken.
Yoda waved one clawed hand for Obi-Wan to follow and turned his float chair around. They passed the training areas of Jedi sparring and exercising. A few nodded their heads to Master Yoda, who nodded back. No one seemed to notice Obi-Wan.
The sounds of movement and humming lightsabers faded behind them. Keeping his own expression neutral, Obi-Wan walked alongside the float chair. But inside he felt stricken. Yoda needed to speak with him personally, and alone. About something important.
After a few minutes, Obi-Wan saw that they were headed toward the lifts that would take them to the living areas. They crossed a wide walkway, past enormous columns under the high, patterned ceilings of the Temple. Other Jedi sedately passed them. All around, the Temple remained as serene and peaceful as it lad been when Qui-Gon last left it. And Obi-Wan could not remember his Master's face.
"Request permission to speak with Master Qui-Gon, you did," Yoda finally said when they had reached the lifts. They were alone with no one else around.
Surprised by the remark, Obi-Wan looked at him.
"Yes, Master," he acknowledged and pressed the call button for the lift.
"To Master Yaddle you gave your request." Yoda narrowed his eyes at him.
Baffled, Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes." The lift arrived. It was empty. They entered together and Obi-Wan pressed the lighted symbol for his level. Yoda did not object.
"After I said you should not. You went to another." Yoda's eyes found him and his brows lowered, his expression severe. Obi-Wan's fears for Qui-Gon shifted into something else. "Meditate on this vision I told you." Yoda slowly shook his head, disappointed.
"I-I did," Obi-Wan stammered. "It got worse. I think that if I spoke with Qui-Gon about it, that I . . . ." His words died under Yoda's steady glare. Get past the visions? Feel better about them? He felt like he was making excuses. He was.
The door to the lift opened. Yoda exited and Obi-Wan followed. He felt queasy. Qui-Gon wasn't dead? he wondered. That realization suffocated under a lesser, but more immediate dread.
Yoda led him down the hall to his room.
"Disobey you did."
No, he wanted to say, but he felt numb with the realization that more words could only make his situation worse. They stopped at the door to his room. Obi-Wan opened it.
"Stay here you will, until Master Qui-Gon returns. No more trouble will you make until then." Obi-Wan backed up through the doorway.
"Master Yoda. . . . Qui-Gon?" he managed to say.
Yoda scowled back. "Received a report today we have, from Master Qui-Gon, that the mission goes well. No longer your concern that is." He waved his clawed hand at the wall panel in the entryway. The door slid closed between them.
Obi-Wan stared at it. Then he backed away. Retreating into the main room he hit his leg on the table before he sank down onto one of the floor cushions. It hurt a lot.
Qui-Gon was not dead, he kept thinking, clutching his injured leg to his body. When Yoda had sent Ee-Ida away he had been certain that the ancient Master had come with the bad news. But now he had fallen into a new plight. Everything had seemed so clear to him about what to do that morning; just ask another Council member.
The pain in his leg peaked and faded. He lowered his knee and leaned forward on the table. He had been so sure about what to do, but his actions would look completely different to Master Yoda, since he had failed to mention anything about Yoda denying his request in his message to Master Yaddle.
A tear ran down Obi-Wan's cheek, then another. Yoda said Qui-Gon was well. But he still did not know where he was, when he would return and there was no chance of contact now.
Qui-Gon said that for emotions to pass through a Jedi, they still needed to be felt. Obi-Wan thought that if Qui-Gon were there to say it again, he might be able to do it, let them pass through. But alone, all Obi-Wan could do was endure them.
Crying freely, his head down, his sobbing filled the small space he now occupied. But there was no else there to here it.
o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o
At second meal, the door chimed. A droid stood in the doorway when Obi-Wan opened it. The blue-gray machine handed him a covered tray and promised to return later to pick it up.
Obi-Wan placed it on his table and sat down on a floor cushion before it. But when the droid returned later, he handed back the meal, mostly uneaten.
o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o
The droid returned for third meal. Now hungry, Obi-Wan better applied himself to the food. It tasted like nothing, but his stomach stopped growling. He had hardly finished half of it when the door chimed again. But when he opened it, instead of a droid, a Jedi stood there.
He stared a moment, recognizing Doombas, Ee-Ida's Master. Obi-Wan stood back as he limped forward with a loud thump-clacking sound as he alternated between booted foot and artificial leg. He was a large broad-shouldered Human with a lot of weight to move around. He stopped, looking down at the food tray.
"I couldn't believe the message Ee-Ida got when she commed you. That you were confined to your room on orders of the Council." Obi-Wan cringed. Yoda must have added an automated message to the com. Doombas frowned down at the food. "Now, if it were your Master, I could believe that. He could drive anyone to the dark side. But you? I didn't think it likely."
"Um, are you allowed to be here, Sir?" Obi-Wan asked tentatively. Doombas looked offended.
"If the Council wanted to forbid you visitors, then they should have put it in their com," he stated crossly. Then his expression softened. He held up a big wad of brown fabric in his large hand. "You left your robe in the training arena. Ee-Ida found it." He pushed it toward him and Obi-Wan took it.
"Um, please sit," Obi-Wan offered, but Doombas scoffed at the floor cushions.
"I can't sit on those yet." He thump-clacked across the room and seated his large body at the end of Obi-Wan's sleep couch. After hesitating, Obi-Wan put the robe down and sat on a floor cushion facing him, looking at his face. He had a long, thick metal-gray beard and a fringe of long hair around the base of his head that was tied in a tail that hung part way down his back. The top of his head was bald and shiny. Doombas smiled.
"You can look," he said, pointing at where his left leg used to be. Obi-Wan blushed.
"I haven't decided if I want a mechanical replacement," Doombas announced, as loud as he was big. "They do everything the real one does. You can even make it look real. But it would still be dead. I don't know if I want something dead hanging off of me all the time," he finished more to himself.
"But my problem's easy to see. All you need is eyes. Yours is a bit harder to figure out," Doombas pointed out. Obi-Wan shrugged but did not answer. He hardly knew Doombas; Qui-Gon knew him better. The older man smiled sadly.
"You don't have to say anything. I can just be here to return the robe. But Qui-Gon helped me with my Padawan and I didn't want to leave you to the mercies of the Council while he's away on their business." Obi-Wan lowered his eyes; his throat tightened. He really thought he had exhausted those feelings, but they re-emerged anyway. Doombas noisily rose to his feet and crossed the room again to stand over him.
"I'll help if I can. I have a lot of time these days."
Obi-Wan nodded, then hastily rose to follow Doombas to the door. When the big man was gone and the room sealed again, Obi-Wan returned to his place. He slowly sank down forward, casting a dark shadow on the table under the overhead light. His arms wrapped over his head, he wept, fresh emotions flowing freely again.
- - - End Part 4 - - -