Lineage II


Part 8: Deluge

Qui Gon Jinn woke to the sound of his apprentice hitting the floor with a muffled thump.

A heartbeat later he was sitting upright, squinting in the late morning light spearing through the uneven window shades of Duena's guest bedroom. "Obi Wan."

The sudden impact with an unyielding floor had jolted the young Jedi into wakefulness, too; he pushed up onto his knees and gazed blearily at Qui Gon, raising one hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"Nightmare?" the master inquired.

A nod of affirmation. Several deep centering breaths.

"Vision?"

"No," the Padawan rasped. "Just the usual nonsense. Falling from a massive cliff. Into a lake of fermis, this time. That 's a nice twist." He shrugged nonchalantly, clambered to his feet, stretched into a full backbend. "Uuuuuuuuuuuuunnnngh. Force, that's good." He sprang upright. "I'm fine, master. Now that we're not falling anymore. Is there breakfast?"

The tall man snorted softly. Perhaps it would not be such an ominous day after all. "I don't think a soul is awake in the big house, but I'm sure Duena can find us some tea."


"It does not make light morning reading," Qui Gon warned his apprentice, who sat cross-legged upon Duena's low sleep mat, intently perusing the Syndicat records the Jedi master had copied the previous day.

"No," Obi Wan agreed distractedly, brows beetling together further and further as he read through the history of neurological experimentation undertaken at the expense of Phindar's citizenry. "This is awful. Worse than we initially supposed, master."

The tall Jedi set aside his empty tea cup. "Unfortunately, that is often the case. As peacekeepers we are frequently called upon to address the last and most desperate symptoms of tyranny or imbalance… but so often there are long and tragic stories already in place before Jedi intervention arrives."

"And we weren't even officially assigned to Phindar. How much longer might this have gone on had Guerra and Paxxi not hijacked our ship?" He hesitated, frowning. "It seems our presence was a mere coincidence – that the Syndicat might well have continued on with their abominations, unhindered - for decades, even."

Qui Gon shook his head. "There is no such thing as a mere coincidence. It was the will of the Force that we be present on Phindar at the moment we were – you must have more confidence in the mysterious causes that underlie our actions and choices. The Syndicat would not have been… permitted.. to rule indefinitely."

The Padawan mulled this over in silence. He placed the datapad beside him, somberly. "I see now what the Sentinels were so concerned about," he said quietly. "I should not have been so angry with them."

"Suspicions, whether well grounded or not, do not justify extreme precautions," the Jedi master replied. "Though you should not harbor anger, I am unwilling to excuse them."

The boy ran a hand through his short hair. "But what if they are right? What if…" He pointed to the datapad, "This is what that mind wipe droid was all about? What if I'm… compromised?"

Obi Wan's expression was one of abstracted distaste, but Qui Gon knew better. "You are a Jedi, Obi Wan. You cannot be truly compromised so long as the Force is with you. And it will always be, so long as you keep your face turned to the Light."

The Padawan nodded, once, though there was an edge of dissatisfaction to his quiet.

"You must not fret, young one. If there is some… trial… to be faced, then we will face it together when the time comes, with the aid of the Force. You can do little to prevent such an eventuality, if indeed you have been somehow affected, and you can do nothing about it by brooding in anticipation."

This was better, and it earned him a fleeting smile.

"Let us continue with the investigation," Qui Gon suggested. " If we can determine what power or influence lies behind the Syndicat, we can perhaps contribute to the downfall of the larger evil – and prevent this travesty from happening again elsewhere, to other innocents."

And that was a trump card, the winning argument. Obi Wan's face hardened into fierce determination. Never mind himself; he would throw everything he had at the hidden malice lurking behind the scheme; do anything to protect others from the same suffering.

Qui Gon withdrew the data chits Valorum had entrusted to his keeping, and solemnly handed the small case to his apprentice. "I have here the lists of scientific research funding granted by the Telosian government in recent years. The Archives computer has already cross- indexed them to other known organizations and names. If you can find anything that suggests a connection between this Syndicat operation and a wider network, then you will truly have done the galaxy a service."

"I'll find it," Obi Wan promised.

"Good." He rose and left the young Jedi to it. The best remedy for melancholy was hard work; and in some ways this was Obi Wan's battle. With the scheduled demolition of the Syndicat headquarters by the Phindian government, the investigation on this world would be brought to an effective halt; but if they could forge a link to some wider plot, it was possible that the villains responsible might eventually be apprehended and punished. He was aware that the Council had turned the inquiry over to the Sentinels… but that did not mean that he was personally ready to relinquish it yet.


"Oh, Jedi Gon! Good morning to you. Too fine a day to waste on sleeping, so?"

Duena was scratching about in her straggling garden, uprooting weeds with the efficiency of a veteran bounty hunter.

The tall Jedi drew in a great lungful of the warm air, gazed approvingly at the bright sun, already high overhead.

"Those lazy bantha-heads better get up soon, true fact!" Duena muttered, with a jerk of her head in the direction of the big house. "Paxxi's inauguration later today, so, and they better be there. All of Phindar will be crowding the courtyards, so. Coming, you and Obawan, are, so?"

"Of course. We shall gladly attend." He bowed.

The ancient Phindian clapped soil from her wrinkled hands and huffed her way upright, knees creaking. "My one son married and governor, my other son still a rascal," she sighed. "But better rascal than dead, is this not so, Jedi Gon?"

Xanatos. He forced a smile. "In most cases, yes."

"I am too old for such silliness… not so, I lie!" Duena mournfully picked up her spades and other tools, stuffed them in a stained knapsack. "So much to celebrate, and here I am thinking of the sad past, so. I wish their sister could have been here, true fact."

"I am sorry for your loss," the Jedi said quietly. "Joy and grief often keep company together."

Duena's aged head dipped. She fixed the Jedi master with a knowing look. "So, Jedi Gon. You are not as old as me, so – but old enough to understand this. Phindar is old enough to learn this, too. We are happy for our freedom, true fact… but so many poor Lost ones – one in every family, no lie! Scars for generations."

Xanatos. Joy and grief did indeed keep company together. "May they bring you wisdom," he sighed.

The Phindian matriarch shuffled toward her hovel, casting him a last and penetrating glance. "So, Jedi Gon. You do not lie."


"Master." Obi Wan was brimming with suppressed excitement.

"You've found something."

"Possibly." Which was the equivalent of triumphal crowing in anyone else.

"Let us see, then."

"Here." The Padawan pulled up the relevant files on the 'pad. "Look at this. Here are payments made by the Telosian government to a laboratory research foundation called Arbor Biogenetic Foundation, located far out in the Rims… almost the Rishi Maze. And here is the schedule of quarterly reports made on the Renewal experimentation on Phindar. They match. And," he added, pausing dramatically, "You will never guess for what this Arbor Foundation grant money was allocated."

Qui Gon's mouth thinned. "Behavioral conditioning?"

Obi Wan scrolled through a lengthy disclosure statement. "It says for psycho-medicinal purposes, criminal rehabilitation, other unspecified purely theoretical intentions. None of this is legal under Republic jurisdiction, is it?"

"No," the Jedi master mused. "But that does not mean much, especially when the facility is on the border of unincorporated space."

"Yes, master. Do you think this is significant?"

The Force resounded with cold certainty. "Yes," Qui Gon decided. "I'm afraid it is. Well done, Padawan. I fear Tahl may have a rival in the field of abstruse researches. You would do well not to boast about your exploits in front of her."

"I'll leave the strutting to you, my master."

Qui Gon's blue eyes narrowed, but his apprentice projected a deceptive facade of youthful innocence and did not meet his gaze. "Hm." One of them was growing a bit cocky, that much was clear.

"Ought we to bring this to the Phindian government's attention?" Obi Wan inquired, tactfully changing the subject in a wise spirit of self preservation.

"No," the tall man replied, after a moment's consideration. "It lies outside their power. Paxxi and his advisors will have sufficient burdens simply stabilizing this planet's economy and infrastructure. We shall report this discovery to the Council, and the Sentinels. A Jedi investigation is in order, I think."

"What about the victims of Renewal?" the boy pressed. "Surely their families would wish to know who was responsible for their suffering?"

Qui Gon smiled bitterly. "Not all such knowledge brings peace, Obi Wan. And we know nothing for certain, yet. While your compassion is commendable, it is best sometimes not to add to the burden of grief with further revelations." He paused. "Finding the proper way to deal with its past will be among the primary challenges of freedom, for Phindar."

The Force shifted, exploded as though he had triggered a landmine. Obi Wan gasped, face abruptly attaining a ghastly pallor. Vertigo and migraine spread in woozy, rippling puddles across their bond.

"Padawan!" He nearly lurched himself, grasping at the boy's elbows to steady him.

"Ah… master…"

"Here, lie down. Breathe." Qui Gon infused the churning sea with calm, drawing upon his own rooted center, channeling pain away, into the Force. But there was a great abysmal pool of it, welling from deep in his apprentice's psyche, a black and oozing wound. "Obi Wan. Focus."

"Ahh…. No! No! I won't!"

The master's own alarm stained the seething sea further. In the roaring of the Force, the drumming of his pulse, he heard the compulsive voice of a vast mob, of a reverberating command so overwhelming, so visceral, that it squeezed away breath, blacked out vision, stifled hearing. The boy arched backward, as though caught in the grip of a violent seizure, every muscle rigid with resistance, shaking with effort.

"….Qui Gon!" Hands clawed frantically into his arms, digging hard into flesh, twisting the cloth of his tunic sleeves. The Jedi master grunted, held firm to his own center while the storm raged, frenetic, about them.

At last, it ceased. Obi Wan's head lolled back, limp, and he collapsed in a sprawl on the floor, chest heaving, utterly spent.

"What was that?" the tall man asked, as his apprentice blinked dully up at him, eyes barely focused.

Obi Wan swallowed. A sudden squall rose in the hollow Force, a cloud spitting angry fire. The Padawan tensed. "Those Phindian schuzzo!" he snarled. "Blast them! Blast them to the lowest Sith hell! I hate them!"

Qui Gon gripped his shoulders. "No, you do not," he warned. "Do not go that way."

The cloud expended its fire in an actinic blaze; rainfall came next. "I … I thought I conquered it," Obi Wan choked out, jaw clenched. "I…I..master, I failed! They…that droid…I ..I –"

"Hush." He brushed trailing moisture away. "The victim is not a failure. And you have not yet finished this contest. We have yet to see who will conquer."

Splendour broke through the cloud, in a blinding shaft. Obi Wan's smile was the ageless defiance of new dawn, pure arctic fire, a saber's blade in the midst of darkness. "I haven't lost. I'm just not winning at the moment."

Qui Gon chuckled, despite himself. "Exactly, Padawan." He pulled his apprentice into a sitting position. "Now. I think this might be a good time to practice those centering meditations. We have some time before the gubernatorial investiture."


The Order was millenia old, and millenia strong. It had its own traditions, its own legacies, its own wisdom, its own secrets. These were handed down with caution, with reverence, in due time and place, in the right circumstances, master to apprentice, in endless lineages, preserved, reinterpreted, flames of ancient knowledge kindling in present experience, renewed with each passing generation. Things that could be taught in words, committed to memory, were learned young in the protective shelter of the Temple. Those that could not – the great majority of the Way – were taught by example, bitter experience, direct apprenticeship.

The deep centering meditations were one of these things. Qui Gon felt a pang that such knowledge was called for so soon: generally reserved for use in time of terrible ordeal, or for healing in the aftermath of such a crisis, the extreme form of open meditation was not something commonly taught to a junior Padawan. But as BenTo Li had warned him, Obi Wan was like the omphalos stone he carried: a conduit of the Force, a beacon that seemed to attract both Light and Dark. He must be armed against the inevitable, albeit precociously.

"You will not like this at first," the tall master cautioned him. "You may feel vulnerable, as when the Sentinels probed your mind. But remember that it is the Living Force to which you yield, not some other sentient being."

Obi Wan remained gravely listening.

"As a beginner, you should use an anchor. I would suggest your river stone, perhaps. Many Jedi would use their saber crystal for this purpose. Or another person, if need be."

"You."

"Yes – but I want you to be able to achieve this trance state without my presence. It is likely – in the future – that you would only need this form of meditation in the worst of conditions, and that means when you are alone with no ally but the Force itself."

His apprentice nodded, eyes wide and pensive.

"I used the river stone as an anchor before," he said. "Without understanding."

"Yes," Qui Gon agreed. "Which is how I know you are ready for this. In deep centering, you will withdraw your entire focus into the Force itself, without reservation. In essence, you throw yourself on the protection of the Force, yielding over conscious will and thought. There are deep-seated, instinctive inhibitions against such a thing, and for good reason; this is a technique to be used sparingly, and in time of desperate need. A master would not need an anchor; but for a beginner it provides a mooring, a line back to ordinary awareness."

Obi Wan turned the river stone over in his hand, frowning. "You think I need to learn this now, master?" he asked, soberly.

"I do," Qui Gon affirmed, not evading the implied admission that the situation was serious. "I would have taught you before, had I anticipated how dire your encounter with the Syndicat would prove to be."

"Better late than never," the Padawan muttered, wryly.

"Focus on the present moment," Qui Gon reminded him. "I will guide you." He moved to kneel directly behind his apprentice, hands on the boy's shoulders. Obi Wan sat before him, holding the river stone in one hand, eyes closed.

"I'm ready, master.'

"Then let us begin."


"Jedi friends! Can you not cure my headache with your powers, so?" Guerra wriggled his fingers in the air, in hopeful demonstration.

"No," Qui Gon Jinn placidly informed him.

"We are sworn to uphold justice," Obi Wan added.. "Not thwart it."

"It is good to see you, at such an early hour," Qui Gon smiled, ironically.

The Phindian pressed both hands over his ears. "So! You are both such tender, coddling fellows… not so, I lie! But still like you, I do, true fact."

"Have some caff," Obi Wan smirked. "It helps, as I recall."

Guerra despondently swallowed several cups of the tepid offering, cringing when Duena walked by, bestowing a withering look of disapproval upon her son, without deigning to say a word. "Oh, my mother, just as soft hearted as you Jedi – true fact!"

"Hurry up, so!" the matriarch called form the adjacent room. "Little time to get ready, no lie! Paxxi's inauguration in less than an hour, and you still half-drunk, Guerra. Proud you make me – not so, I lie!"

Her son threw both long arms in the air and looked beseechingly at the ceiling.

"Will you be appearing in the ceremony, Guerra?" Obi Wan inquired.

"So! A speech all ready, no lie! No hard feelings, I am glad my brother beat me in the election, and the people of Phindar must know this, so!You Jedi are to be at the front on the dais with my brother, too. Better for New Phindar, so."

"New Phindar?"

"So!" Guerra enthused. "A nice ring to it, true fact. Better than plain Phindar."

"Phindar good enough without extra frills, so!" Duena grumbled from the kitchen.

Her wayward heir rolled his eyes. "Why my brother insisted on having this inauguration the day after his wedding, I do not know!" he grouched. "Power hungry, Paxxi has become… not so, I lie! Kaadi's idea, so! It must be. Task-oriented, that woman is, true fact."

"A fine quality in the governor's wife," Qui Gon pointed out.

"Get ready, lazy-bantha-head, Guerra!" Duena shrilled.

"A fine quality in any woman… not so , I lie!" Guerra chuffed.. "Stop badgering me, so!" he hollered in the general direction of the kitchen. "I am ready in a moment, no lie. See you at the government center, Jedi friends."


"I have a bad feeling about this, master."

They stopped, halfway along the wide avenue leading to New Phindar's seat of government. The mind-wipe-droid-cum-statue loomed above them, its grotesque shadow splayed over the duracrete pedestrian walkway.

"I sense it, too." Qui Gon studied his apprentice carefully. "But we shall be mindful, and move forward."

Obi Wan already looked a bit peaked. "Yes, master."

"Perhaps you should not attend this ceremony."

The suggestion was met with a brazen defiance. "I'm coming."

"Not if I order you to remain behind."

Obi Wan stared at him, his cheeks scoured of color by some vast and nameless premonition, eyes bright with the same dark certainty. "You said that fear is not in a place. That we carry it within. So what good will it do to be here or there?"

The Jedi master exhaled. A fair point, if delivered with a bit too much vehemence.

"It is also true that a fool rushes to meet danger, while a wise man waits for it to call at his door. "

The Padawan shifted, dropping his gaze to the purple silhoueete of the twisted statue above them, then lifting his gaze back to Qui Gon's. "I would rather be by your side, master," he confessed, quietly.

A wrenching heartbeat.

Qui Gon withdrew his hands from opposite sleeves and dropped to one knee. "Come here." He unclipped his saber from his belt and solemnly fastened it at Obi Wan's side. A pair of blue eyes widened in shock, then dawning comprehension. "This weapon is my life. You do not face this test alone, as you did the first time."

His apprentice bowed, wordlessly. A sunburst of gratitude broke in the Force, warmed between them. Qui Gon stood.

"Stay close," he ordered, and his smaller shadow moved along beside him, matching his long stride with hurried shorter ones, apprehension sharpening into resolve, dread dissolving into acceptance.

They were prepared. Though for what, they could not say.


New Phindar did not have offplanet funding to supplement its meager public coffers; and so, its government building was neither gleaming nor large. It was, in fact, the abandoned theater in a once prosperous sector of their business center.

"The Phidians were, as you might guess, once well-known for their satirical slapstick comedy," Qui Gon informed his student as they ascended the broad steps beneath the garish façade. The holoboard marquee had been repaired, and now flashed news of the impending Syndicat headquarters' demolition in bright, moving script, and an occasional illustrative explosion of neon colors.

A swelling crowd had gathered in the courtyard outside, an ocean of curious, patriotic Phindian faces peering as one at the small portico beneath which their new governor and a handful of officials and witnesses lingered. A gentle humming and murmuring filled the air as the audience chattered and muttered away. Obi Wan moved closer to Qui Gon; so close that their shoulders brushed. The tall man took note, but said nothing.

"Jedi!" Paxxi welcomed them. "Now we can begin- many tedious speeches. Not so, I lie! They elected me because I promised less talking than Guerra – not so, I am a terrible liar! Stand here, so! The hovercam needs to see you, true fact, or what is the point? Not so! I am glad to have you here anyhow, heroes and liberators of Phindar!"

"Did you not say we are due to begin?" Qui Gon nudged the Phindian's wandering mind.

"So! Just so, Jedi Gon! Are you sure you will not stay to be my chief aide? I will double your salary – not so, I lie! But good benefits, free caff and my charming company all day long, so! Who could resist such a job?"

The Jedi bowed, and the garrulous new governor ambled off to the podium at the center of the makeshift dais, ready to begin the first of his many tedious speeches. The crowd cheered wildly as he raised his arms in double salute.

"We shall witness the investiture and then return to Duena's home," Qui Gon promised his Padawan, who was staring stonily out over the gathered Phindians, white faced.

"It's coming," Obi Wan said under his breath, gripping the hilt of Qui Gon's saber as though it were the mast of a sinking ship.

"You will face it and overcome it when it does," Qui Gon assured him.

Paxxi launched into his acceptance speech with characteristic panache; his rhetorical style was a verbal echo of his daring and reckless piloting abilities. The audience urged him on with many hearty cheers of approval, occasionally drowning out his voice, a fact that in no way discouraged the new governor from continuing despite the clamor.

Obi Wan raised mental shields, melted into the Force, armored himself against the unknown until he had all but disappeared. Qui Gon, startled, turned his head to be sure the boy was still there. He could sense no specific threat, no particular disturbance in the Force, no hostile presence… yet the diffuse premonition of danger whispered at the back of his mind, too. They fast approached a tipping-point, the moment of overbalancing, the heart-stopping instant before freefall. He tensed, exhaled, grounded himself in the Force beside his near-invisible student.

"And so!" Paxxi bellowed out over his adoring audience. "Today we begin a renewal of our own, so! Wipe away all traces of the Syndicat, that is what we shall do, just so! And rebuild what we have lost. Many hands needed to do this… I do not lie. But we are ready and we can do this, so! I am honored to be the governor of our beautiful homeworld, so! Just as I am honored to be born here with all my brothers and sisters. Today is a new day, today we are truly liberated, I do not lie."

The audience waited for its cue.

"Freedom for Phindar!" Paxxi bellowed, his voice magnified by the sound equipment, caught and taken up in the crowd's deafening repetition of the phrase. As with one voice, thousands cried out their passionate love for their homeworld, until the square, and the buildings, and the very air shook with a sonorous gong note of joy.

Qui Gon glanced down to offer his apprentice a half-smile –

-But Obi Wan had disappeared.