Armistice
Scene 7
Anakin barged in without fanfare, as was his wont. "Going somewhere?"
Obi-Wan pulled his bootstrap snug and fastened it. "Presumably." He glanced up, not likig the high-handed stance his former padawan had adopted. "And I've had one lecture today already, so spare me the monotony of another."
Anakin grinned, unabashed by the curt warning. "Grumpy. Better stick around for that tea Master Che promised you – can't unleash you on the Temple otherwise."
"Ha ha." Obi-Wan found his 'saber and placed it reverently at his belt, then unfolded his cloak. "Speaking of unleashing, where is your apprentice?"
Anakin snorted. "Doing penance for insubordination. She tried to disarm me in saber practice this morning. Using some pretty novel Jar Kai techniques."
Obi-Wan could not entirely suppress his pleased smile. "She is a fast learner, Anakin. You should be proud."
"She's a fast learner and you're an underhanded akk. Don't think I don't know where she picked that stuff up." Anakin wagged a finger beneath his mentor's nose. "You're fostering sedition in the ranks."
"The partnership is right when the student teaches the master, my young friend."
"I'm glad you mentioned that, actually." Anakin smirked. "I've got a few things I'd like to talk about with you."
Obi-Wan shifted position, edging into a defensive saber stance. But he was saved from the inconvenience of making a reply by Phia, who chose this moment to enter with a laden tray. "Ah, tea. Thank you." He helped himself to the steaming cup and waved aside the other contents, wary of the lingering nausea in the aftermath of last night's debacle.
"You should eat, Master," the padawan timidly protested.
Anakin jumped into the fray. "I'll help with that." He filched the fruit and the compressed grain bar for himself, and waved the hydraulic door open for his companion. "After you."
They sauntered down the corridor toward the exit, side by side. "How goes the cyberwar on Allanteen?" Obi-Wan politely inquired.
"Well enough. We've located the encryption matrix for their bug... but there's no way to be sure we've rooted it all out without a test run in combat conditions. I've done all I can; if there's a bigger problem, it can't be fixed."
"I thought you could fix anything," the older man teased.
"Anything mechanical," Anakin corrected him. "That pile of poodoo interface technology Seinar Industries sold us last cycle doesn't count."
They chuckled together over that. Obi-Wan casually levitated his empty cup onto the reception desk at the Halls' main entrance.
"How 'bout the Naxellus situation? I heard they made a full surrender to Republic occupation yesterday – congratulations."
Obi-Wan's happy mood dissipated. "Yes. Well." They were not discussing his latest victory. Vokara Che has mandated light activity, had she not?
Anakin glanced sideways, frowning. "What? You were the treaty architect, weren't you?"
"It's not something for which I'd like bragging rights," the Jedi Master replied, tightly. "And stop changing the subject."
The lift at the corridor's end was empty. "Fine. Let's talk about you instead." Anakin hit the lift operation panel and fixed his friend with a penetrating look. "What's with you and the healers?"
Obi-Wan lifted his shoulders, projecting bland indifference. "Routine maintenance. I'm getting old, as you never tire of pointing out. Now stop fretting like a mother thranctill hen."
"Huh." The evasive reply did not satisfy. Anakin stopped the lift and blocked access to the control panel. "I was with you on Lanteeb, remember? Come on. What's going on?"
Obi-Wan used the Force to reactivate the repulsor-drive. The carriage lurched upward again. "Nothing, Anakin."
The younger man slammed his mechanical hand against the wall, palm-first. "Just like there was nothing between you and Taria Damsin. I'm sick to kriffing death of the bantha chisszzk, Master!"
It was a clumsy strike, but it grazed over a raw wound. Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away. "We'll talk later when you've better control of yourself," he said, exiting at the next level. His cloak skirled forlornly at his heels as he headed up the concourse at a brisk clip, leaving Anakin behind.
"Kriff it," the latter person muttered, knowing better than to give chase. He slammed the lift doors closed with the Force and shot to the top level on this wing, headed for the hangar bay outlet.
Once inside the Temple's spacious maintenance bay, he was greeted by an enthusiastic whistle from his loyal astromech.
"Hey, Artoo." The dome-topped droid wheeled in place and scooted along beside him as he stalked his way across the echoing deck. A curious, almost timid burble inquired after the cause of his ill temper.
"It's not you, buddy. Obi-Wan's driving me yarbo again."
A sharp tweet and bleep, signifying woeful sympathy.
Anakin spotted his star-fighter on the far side and made a beeline for it. "Never mind. He's got a loose wire somewhere, that's all."
The fighter's thruster array and radiation dampers were in dishabille, the tools and half-finished circuit interfaces left reverently untouched by the droid crew. Anakin's projects were sacrosanct, and exempt from the otherwise unbending standards of tidiness that reined in the Temple hangars. He flopped onto his back and slid beneath the chassis, plunging himself into the soothing routine of mechanical perfection.
"Artoo, hop up in the socket would ya? I need a diagnostic on this new fuel router."
The blue and white astromech complied, extending an arm to meld his own internal cyberpathways with the ship's onboard piloting computer. Droid and master hummed and whistled together, lost in the labyrinth of machinery for a long stretch of minutes.
"Whad we need," Anakin decided, holding a stray piece of wiring between his teeth, "Id a mission. Get the hells oud o' here. So I can acsh'lly talk to 'im." He finished the delicate task and considered his handiwork for a moment before sliding back out from beneath the gold and grey Lancet's hull.
Artoo expressed his uncertainty in a long string of snootles and whizzes.
"Yeah, well, it doesn't have to be clandestine. You can take undercover work and shove it, so far as I'm concerned."
An emphatic raspberry of agreement.
"Right," the young Jedi smirked. "That's exactly where you can shove it. C'mon, let's give Ahsoka's ship a tune up while we're at it."
