Some Other Future's Past
Chapter Nine
~
"Tomorrow's a rest day. Founder's Week is right after, and Admittance Day is right after the next rest day. Even the Queen gets some time off. Thanks be! " Padmé slipped the last of the classified documents into the carbon-fiber envelopes and stowed the stack in her office safe. It was full dark outside and chilly enough that she had turned on the heater in deference to Anakin's dislike of the cold. "All I have to do is make a half-dozen speeches and attend two state dinners."
Only two pools of light illuminated the office; one from a task lamp over the fine wooden desk, the other from a floor lamp in a small conversation corner with a settee and a pair of overstuffed chairs. Normally, the office would be filled with bustle and predinner chatter. However, tonight most of her handmaidens were already off to spend time with the families they so rarely able to see. Rabé and Eritaé remained at he palace in case they were needed, though.
Anakin grunted from his position on the long settee. "No rest for me. I'm going with you to Coruscant even if it means I pass the exams five minutes before we lift."
He worked with a datapad, running test preparation programs. The citizenship exams were not terribly difficult, but they were meant to be taken after years of schooling, not mere months. Even with Anakin's memory and aptitude, this would be an exam cram on an ambitious scale.
Padmé stretched until her spine gave a satisfying crackle and then she flopped into a chair across from Ani. After Evening Court, everyone had scattered, so she and Ani had taken a light supper in the office while slogging through their separate tasks.
"Tired, Angel?" Anakin turned of the datapad and rolled onto his side, facing her.
"About as much as you, Demon."
In response Anakin crossed his eyes at her and named every Queen of the Medgian line.
"You know, I actually think that you can pass the exams, and I also think you'll have a better margin than five minutes, Ani." Padmé was impressed. The Medigan line was one of the longer and more notorious dynasties in Naboo's history, spawning such notables as Eriamé of a Million Enemies, Luciré the Poisoner, and Attiné the Merry (times five) Widow.
To their credit, they had taken good care of the people, but the entire family seemed to have had a predilection for killing each other off. The line had come to an abrupt end when Otarin the Mad blew himself to bits while trying to assassinate his fifth cousin by marriage, Kianaé the Unruly. This act of bad planning paving the way for the Succession Wars and the benignly neglectful rule of the Urindi line who – all things considered – rather would have stayed home and kept designing plants.
"Your history is fascinating stuff. My passing the exams is only going to happen because your ancestors all seem to have been either bloody minded or completely off their mountings." Ani ducked the pillow she threw at him. "See? You must be tired - your aim is off. You're usually a pretty good shot for a pacifist."
When Obi-Wan came in, she had Anakin curled into a helpless ball on the carpet as she gleefully and ruthlessly exploited every tickle spot she knew about.
~
Obi-Wan watched the pair at play while he thought that in a handful of years, Padmé might have occasion to regret this incident. Anakin tended to keep score and if the boy's appetite was any indication, her 'little Ani' was not going to be little for very long.
He hated to disturb them; both of them together had not had as much of a childhood as he had.
Clearing his throat did not work, and Obi-Wan finally resorted to a piercing whistle most often used in hailing an aircab. The last time he had gotten in the middle of one of the infrequent tickle wars, the results had been undignified.
When the laughter had died down to soft hiccups from Anakin and the occasional stray giggle from Padmé, he rounded the couch and settled into a chair. The young ones were relaxed, and that would make tonight's task all the easier. From the portions of the Archives he had been able to access, Obi-Wan had determined the technique for identifying different types of bonds. If there were any placed with malign intent, removing them might be painful.
Padmé caught his mood more ably than Anakin did, but the boy was so tightly attuned to her that the change in attitude was instantaneous. The pair quieted and hoisted themselves onto the couch, waiting for him to speak.
"The records I had access to are very old, and were written in a time where this type of thing must have been common." Obi-Wan spoke quietly. He had to be sure of himself because if he wasn't, and either one of his padawans picked up on it, and resisted, the damage could be enormous. "If I find an imposed bond, I will need to remove it immediately. You might feel ill, or extremes of hot and cold, you might even feel pain. Whatever I need you to keep in mind that it must be excised, that such a thing endangers not only you but all that you both love."
"Could this hurt you?" Anakin whispered.
"It's possible. Sometimes a suggestion is implanted, sometimes a 'packet' of power is opened and used in defense." The histories said that even non-Force sensitives had been used in that way - the hapless victim turned into an uncontrollable destructive device. "I believe that I can defend against anything like it, though."
Anakin and Padmé eyes with each other.
"We already settled this, Pad." Anakin settled back into the cushions of the couch with an air of one holding the high ground.
"Rock-Cloth-Blade." Padmé sniffed and crossed her arms. "Silly way to settle things."
"It's just as valid as talking your opposition to death." Anakin retorted, then grinned. "Besides, you're just sore that I beat you two out of three. It's not my fault you lead with your shoulder every time you throw 'Rock.'"
Padmé looked disgusted. "I always used to win against Sola, but that's not the point. I'm older, I should go first."
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin. "Rock-Cloth-Blade? You settled this with a child's game? Why not Eenie-Meenie-Miney-Moe-Catch-a-Wookie-by-the-Toe?"
"Anyone who can count to two knows how to rig that one, Obi-Wan." Anakin looked around the room. "Should we do this here?"
"Next to my chambers, this is the safest place in the palace." The Queen's working offices and private chambers were proof against all forms of espionage devices. "We're not likely to be interrupted. Most of the staff has gone home for the holidays."
"All right then. Anakin, are you sure that you want to go first?" Obi-Wan could feel the boy's internal jittering and apprehension. Anakin's glance at Padmé changed that jittering to determination, even if the apprehension remained in place.
"What do you need me to do, Master?"
"Do you remember the trances I showed you?" Obi-Wan asked. At Anakin's nod, he continued. "I want you to go to the point where you are still aware of your surroundings, but feel slightly disconnected from your body. Padmé, if you would take that chair over there? I need to focus very carefully."
Padmé kissed her friend on the forehead, went to the chair, and folded herself up in it while Anakin arranged himself on the couch.
It took very little prompting to get Anakin into the desired level of trance.
::: Ready, Anakin? :::
The boy's response was more a feeling of agreement and relaxed preparedness than an actual thought.
Giving Padmé a look that he hoped was reassuring, Obi-Wan entered his own meditative state and turned his attention to his youngest padawan. Anakin greeted him, again without words, just feelings.
Sending thoughts of support and encouragement, Obi-Wan eased the lad slightly deeper into trance. If he did find something, Anakin would most assuredly fight back. Even untrained, the boy was strong enough to cause a lot of damage to both the palace and its occupants. The farther 'up' he had to come to do that damage, the more time Obi-Wan had to defuse the hypothetical situation.
Gently, Obi-Wan began to do what Anakin referred to as 'walking around in someone's head.' Generalized emotions and state of mind were there for him to see, all tinted with Anakin's changeabout personality. The bonds Anakin maintained were bewildering in number and variety, so Obi-Wan started with the strongest and most obvious. It did not lead to whom he expected - Anakin's strongest bond was with Padmé and it was reciprocal. Obi-Wan wished again for access to the part of the Archives that would deal with this, as it was he'd had to slice his way in past codebots and sentinel files placed to lure the unauthorized.
Moving on, he found the bond that led back to himself, pleased to feel how much stronger it had grown in just a few short months. It was a true Master-Padawan bond and the Jedi was a little surprised at his own emotions of care and protectiveness for this young life.
Slowly Obi-Wan began to test each bond in turn. The bonds to his mother, the handmaidens, his friends left behind on Tattooine, Captains Panaka and Olié, and a plethora of others were all normal and healthy. He was mildly surprised that one bond led to Qui-Gon, but it had been the elder Jedi who had charge of Anakin during their bounce around the galaxy.
Finally, just as Obi-Wan was thinking he would not find anything, he came to a thin, almost unnoticeable bond. It seemed to be latent, with no activity at all from either direction. There was no flavor of personality in it, nothing at all to tell Obi-Wan who – or what - might be at the other end.
Following the nearly imperceptible thread, Obi-Wan hoped to get some idea of where this had come from only to meet with nothing.
There was nothing at the end of this bond.
But it was a very peculiar nothing. The originator of the bond had not been Anakin. It had nothing of his personality in it. The originator of the bond was not dead, otherwise the bond would slowly decay. There was just a big, blank nothing.
Reaching for the bond, Obi-Wan was surprised when it seemed to evade his mental 'grip' and slink even more into its camouflage. It seemed to be active now, and from it he sensed a slyness, an innate malice and nastiness that made him long to wipe his hands.
That told the Jedi all that he needed to know.
Obi-Wan bent his will on the bond, both holding it fast and squeezing it. Fully active now, the phantom at the other end began to fight back, first by attacking the Jedi. His skin tried to crawl, his hair to stand on end and his gut surged in warning. It sent images into his mind, of Qui-Gon dying by inches, of Anakin reduced to a gory vacuum-exposed corpse, of the Temple made a smoking hole scented with the smell of burnt bodies.
As the Archive texts instructed, Obi-Wan ignored this. To engage was to find this kind of bond attached to one's self.
The phantom changed tactics and instead attacked Anakin. Deep in his trance state the boy began to stir as disturbing feelings and images reached him. Obi-Wan increased his efforts, bringing his full strength to bear on the bond as false messages of pain began to flood Anakin's nervous system. The boy's leg kicked, his hand gripped the front of Obi-Wan's tunic hard enough for his fingernails to tear the fabric as he fought his way out of trance.
The bond stretched, thinned, and then snapped like a towline for a heavy cruiser. Hard enough to make light and pain bloom behind Obi-Wan's closed eyes. Anakin's scream of agony aborted into a gagging retch and trailed off into moans. Obi-Wan dragged his eyes open, squinting against even the dim light just as Anakin deposited his dinner into the potted plant next to the couch.
Obi-Wan pulled a throw from the back of the couch and wrapped the boy in it. Anakin was too exhausted to talk, the pain had been real enough, but no mark was on him.
"Thought I was dying. Burning up. Hurts." Tears trickled from under closed eyelids as he whispered. "Did you get it, Obi-Wan?"
"I did." He stroked the sweat-soaked blond hair. "Somewhere a Sith has a blasting headache."
His padawan's mumbled response trailed off into the breathing of sleep. Obi-Wan lifted the sleeping child and settled him into one of the deep chairs, then turned to Padmé.
White-faced and trembling, she backed away from him. "S-something's wrong" Her spice-brown eyes seemed to grow darker, night-flooded.
He felt the gathering of malign intent, the phantom full of fury at losing one if its prizes and determined to take it out of the Jedi's hide. Only Padmé's strength and will had been able to prevent it from blasting Obi-Wan where he stood.
"Run run master I can't I can't nooooooo!" Padmé's wail was a whisper as the power that held her struck at it's chosen target - the unconscious body of Anakin Skywalker.
~
The night moved.
From deepest mediation to full alert took only seconds. The Master Jedi was on his feet with saber in hand before he even knew what was happening.
The young queen had been polite enough to offer him rooms in the Guest wing of the palace and he had accepted. He was determined to keep an eye on Obi-Wan and his padawans and it did not matter what he had to do to pull it off. The children that the young Knight had taken to teach would either be the salvation of a dying order or it's death stroke. The majority of the Council wanted the problem to go away, seeing only the possibility of doom, but Mace Windu and a few others dissented.
When the decision had been made not to train the boy, Mace Windu had stood against it. As Obi-Wan had felt, the child's power was even more of a danger left unschooled and without restraint. Mace had left Naboo hoping that the younger man's compassion and love for his master would override his inclination to obey the Council. How gratified he had been to be right about Obi-Wan, the compassion that had been planted by Qui-Gon Jinn was now in full fruit. In time, Obi-Wan would be one of the greatest masters the Jedi had ever known.
If he survived whatever malignancy was unfolding, that is.
With the speed only a Jedi could command, he raced through the darkened hallways of the Queen's Palace, homing in on the battle he could sense taking place. It felt as if there should be mayhem and warfare in the halls, yet only the sound of the night wind could be heard. As he closed in on the Queen's offices, the sense of desperate struggle increased.
The locks tumbled to his command and he went though the doors and into the office without breaking stride, only to stop in consternation at the scene before him.
Amidala stood in the center of the carpet, her aura in the Force a tumult of light and dark as she fought an evil strong enough to kill Jedi masters. The possessing entity had lashed out not at Obi-Wan, but at young Anakin who by sheer strength alone was holding his own death at bay. Sickly purple lightning flickered centimeters from his body as he stared at his fellow padawan, the effort of keeping the deadly energy contained demanding all of his resources while Obi-Wan worked feverishly at severing Amidala from that which had taken her over.
Mace could feel the young Knight's strength waning, and stepped in. What he found made him vow to make their heads ring like Temple bells for a week. The dark power that held the queen was too strong, too old, and canny for one so inexperienced. Mace laid hold of the link and channeled the Force into a single, powerful strike.
The bond thinned, its capacity more than halved, and Obi-Wan strangled it – denying it the ability to repair itself. Mace struck again, and again, each time reducing the flow of power. Obi-Wan tightened his grip after each strike until Mace could feel Amidala join in the fight, pushing the dark away – breaking its hold by degrees.
The lightning that had reached so greedily for Anakin now turned back on Amidala as the entity determined do destroy her. Once again, Anakin surprised him by shifting his containment and the seeking filaments stopped a breath from Amidala's terrified face.
"Now hit it now hit it now" Her plea was a whisper, her eyes clearing of the inky blackness that had filled them. "Give the p'kachnee kischslun something he won't forget."
Master, Knight, and Padawan slammed pure energy into the link in and it snapped with a sound very like a faraway howl of agony. The young woman crumpled to the carpet, her master trying to catch her and instead going down with her, there to be joined by Anakin who had enough strength to roll out of his chair and crawl to them.
Only the sound of the young woman's sobs and the loving reassurances of her master and her friend broke the quiet sighing of the night wind.
~
Long hours later, as the first glow of coming dawn lit the tops of the hills, Mace sat in a chair by the Queen's bedside. The physical toll on both padawans had been enough to send them to bed, the psychological toll remained to be seen.
Amidala was consumed with guilt not only for attacking Anakin, but for being 'weak' enough that such a bond was set on her in the first place. She fretted about the harm that might some from having a Sith spy in her very head, she worried that she was in some way evil, and that she had somehow allowed this to happen.
Anakin slept on a chaise placed next to the bed; he had been vehemently opposed to being away from Amidala. When both padawans were conscious at the same time, Amidala would weep and beg forgiveness for her 'wrong.' Anakin would reply that he knew that wasn't her, so she didn't do it, so there's nothing to forgive, and that some Sith would have hell to pay when Anakin caught up with him.
It would appear that the biggest factor in Amidala's healing would be her fellow padawan. The strength of their bonding was surprising, even if Mace had read of such things, it was something else to be confronted with the reality.
Obi-Wan, acting in his role as Queen's Councilor, had informed the appropriate offices that Queen and page had been overtaken by an unknown pathogen. EmDee droids found fever, depletion of electrolytes and evidence of a galvanic immune response. Anti-inflammatory, anti-nausea, and immune supporting medications were administered, then the EmDees left their patients with firm orders to rest and take fluids.
Obi-Wan had been nettled to be included, going to his own bed only when he was too tired to argue with Mace any further.
Anakin stirred and shifted in his blankets, then rolled out, stumbling to the 'fresher in a fashion that declared his brain was not yet fully engaged.
Sometime later, he came out and quietly stated that he was in need of clothing. Mace replied that might be so, if he were going anywhere but back to bed, therefore a fresh sleep shirt and sleep pants would do just fine, and to lie down before he fell down. The padawan apparently grasped that good judgement was the better part of bravery and went back to the chaise as if it had been his own idea.
The lad was dozing when Amidala awoke and made her own targeted stagger to the facilities. After a longer time, the female padawan exited the 'fresher in a cloud of steam and made much the same statement as young Skywalker had. Mace made much the same reply.
Amidala disagreed. The Jedi master held his ground and issued the ultimatum that until Obi-Wan came back from his own much needed rest, he was the boss. Amidala could choose to do this the easy way or the hard way - but however she chose, she would be doing it his way. After a short consultation with Anakin that seemed to consist of facial shifts and shrugs, Amidala evidently reached the same conclusion as he had. Retreating into the 'fresher, she returned scowling, but dressed in a pair of sleep pants and shirt.
Anakin laughed at the sight of Queen Amidala in her fuzzy Ewok slippers until she nailed him with a pillow.
~
The sun flowed through the window of Obi-Wan's room, illuminating the solitary figure hard at work. Carefully, he stowed the product of hours of effort in his belt pouch and stood, stretching. He had better go rescue Mace Windu from his apprentices before the Jedi master busted him back down to padawan and fled for Wild Space.
There was much healing to be done, but Obi-Wan was not worried overmuch. Both younglings had bad shocks, but with the love and support of their 'family' they would come though fine. He was proud of them both for what they had done last night, astonished that they had been able to act on their own behalf at all.
Studying himself in the mirror, he shook his head ruefully – he looked nothing like he thought a Jedi master should look. His hair was a little longer, but still prone to spontaneous bed head-like activity and he really did need to get started on that beard. It just seemed that every time he managed to go two or three days without depilitating, a state of affairs would arise to demand that he dispose of his nascent beard.
Obi-Wan smiled sadly, his image of a Jedi master had always been that of his master.
That situation would be remedied soon enough, he told himself, the smile taking on a grim glint. When he left Coruscant, he was taking Qui-Gon with him.
The hallways of the palace were still quiet. Since it was a rest day before a major holiday, his padawans would have time to recover somewhat before the world made demands of them once more. Rabé and Saché both knew of what had happened last night and would cover for Padmé as needed.
A chuckle escaped him as he remembered Rabé's reaction. If the Sith had the sense the Force gave a myrmin, he'd run far, fast and long before he went near the handmaiden. Though outwardly meek and quiet, she went from a standstill to 'remove vital organs' mode in the space of a full breath. The kiss she had given him nearly bruised his lips before she ran from the room to check on her mistress.
Obi-Wan pulled at his collar, he'd put it down to her relief that Padmé and Anakin were alive and whole. He was a Jedi, after all. He didn't go about smooching with a girl just a week shy of her sixteenth birthday.
Moving briskly though the palace, he entered the Queen's private wing. Eritaé sat guard at the gold-chased greel wood doors that led into Padmé's quarters. Just from the way that the handmaiden stood, Obi-Wan could tell that she was armed to the teeth.
"Her Highness is awake, Master Kenobi." Eritaé studied him as she spoke, making him want to look for a soup spot on his tunic. "Please go in."
He thanked her and was bemused to see her searching look turn to an approving grin. What test had he just passed? What was going on around here that he didn't know about?
Questions about the oddities of handmaiden behavior vanished at the sight of his padawans. Curled up in their blankets on the queen's huge bed, both were pale, with dark circles shadowing their eyes. Padmé was quizzing Anakin on the Articles of Soverignity, with Master Windu looking on. The scent of timatya soup and spiced rolls still hung in the air
The rooms were a mix of the regal Amidala and young Padmé, the stuffed Wookie doll from the Midway sat in a carved Ysali fruitwood chair that was worth as much as a starship. Holoportraits of her family and friends stood among priceless Filani glass figurines. Colorful hand-pieced quilts, rustic tapestries, and a collection of stuffed animals broke the heaviness imparted by the blue-and-gold silk brocade of bedding, upholstery, and curtains.
His padawans looked up at him, murmuring greetings, and he swept them both up in a fierce hug. Never one to let his emotions have rein, he let them both sense his pride and love for them, letting it pour from his soul.
Disengaging, he sat back, rather surprised at his own emotional outpouring. "I have, that is.. it is traditional for Jedi Padawans to wear some mark of apprenticeship. Among those with hair or fur, the tradition is for the master to take some of his own hair and braid it with that of the chosen padawan."
Unfastening the catch on the pouch he pulled out what seemed to be two locks of hair. It had taken him hours to separate his own hair and that of Qui-Gon into equal parts and find appropriate bindings.
"This is the braid that my master gave to me. I ask you each to wear it if you will have me as your master."
"We will," Padmé answered.
"Like there was ever a doubt," Anakin snorted.
Master Windu stood watching them, his expression inscrutable.
"Anakin, if you would give me some help here?" Obi-Wan asked.
With care and concentration, Anakin helped Obi-Wan bind the mixed auburn and dark brown hair into Padmé's curly dark hair. The Jedi could feel her self-doubt easing into joy as they wound each plait. Wrapping the base and end in silver and royal blue thread, he kissed Padmé's forehead.
"Thank you, my Padawan. I will be worthy of the honor."
Anakin's shorter hair made it somewhat more difficult, but in the end, he had a braid identical to Padmé's and all three of them were teary eyed.
"Thank you, my Padawans. I will be worthy of the honor."
This time, it was his padawans who let their emotions loose, tumbling him in a cascade of joy and affection that could probably be heard on Coruscant.
~
Epilogue:
Meanwhile, on Coruscant:
"You're a lucky man, Chancellor. That fall might have killed a younger man." The medtech put away his scans, nodding in satisfaction at the readouts. "The concussion is stable now. You can go home as soon as you're ready. Just ring C4P, and she'll contact the Residence for you."
The bronze protocol droid bowed, but kept silent.
"Thank you, Technician Trihsder." Palpatine inclined his head, carefully, but politely in the young man's direction.
"Most welcome, your Excellency. You've got to keep your health up if you're going to be kicking those bureaucrats back into line!"
~
Qui-Gon sat crosslegged on the thin mattress that served as his bed, basking in the joy that had come to him in a dark moment. His son, his Obi-Wan and his two padawans let their elation spin unrestrained into the universe. It surged down the bond and pushed out the thoughts that crowded his existence with circling shadows.
And with it came a promise.
We are coming.
~
To all appearances, Master Sifo-Dyas was deep in meditation. The flowers of the night gardens bloomed, filling the air with exotic perfume and water murmured soothingly over rocks in a fountain. Moon-moths fluttered from flower to flower, shedding falls of pollen and shimmering stardust.
In truth, Sifo-Dyas – who thought of himself as Darth Devastuus - was in a rage that could have leveled the garden and reduced every living thing in it to ash. It wasn't that the repulsive fish-head of a Healer refused to sever Qui-Gon's bond and reported his urgings to do so to her superiors. Not even that the clueless Council of idiots had questioned him as to his progress in reforming the maverick Jedi, and that yoda especially had questioned him about his methods could bother him that much.
But Sidious, that betraying, cowardly, dishonorable, wretched
Since his return from his 'sabbatical' there had been no way to touch him. From a minor functionary in the Senate, he had risen a the position of influence and then to the power of high office. Devastuus had to hand it to the backstabbing twerp; Sidious hadn't yet put himself in a position where he could give his former apprentice his comeuppance.
Say, peeling his hide off in finger-length strips?
The thought was soothing and Devastuus concentrated in that for some time.
He supposed that it didn't really matter that Obi-Wan knew there was another Sith about. They would look for one and miss the other, all Devastuus had to do was to be sure that the green newling Knight looked in the right direction.
The Sith were patient, and as Sifo-Dyas had been Sith-sworn since he was taken as a padawan by another Sith master, he could be very patient indeed.
The tall, lean man stood, his smile giving his face the look of a grinning death's-head before going back into the warmth and light of the Temple.
~
(NOT) THE END
~
No, dear readers, this is not the end, but simply an interlude. Our heroes still have a great deal to do...
