Lineage VIII
Chapter 10
"Beautiful," Cin Drallig murmured, clapping his hands together once to signal the end of the exercise. "We'll have you performing both katas with weapons before long… you are a natural-born practitioner of the form."
"It makes a wonderful theoretical study," Obi-Wan cautiously agreed. "And I have begun studying Master Seva's commentary – he suggests that the advanced kata be used as meditative anchors. I should like to achieve such a level of fluency… in order to immerse myself in his teachings, of course."
The weapons-master inclined his head. "It has been a pleasure. So long as you are at leisure to pursue such training, I am happy to continue with you."
The Padawan bowed deeply. "I am honored, master."
"You will excuse me," the senior Jedi replied, standing and ushering his young companion into the adjacent corridor. "I have agreed to a sparring match with some of the Councilors this morning – it would be best to warm up before I face their wrath." A wink followed this pronouncement.
Obi-Wan risked a small smile of amusement, unsure whether this confidence was one appropriately made to a senior Padawan, but reluctant to allow the moment of humor to pass unacknowledged. He bowed a second time as the swords-master disappeared into one of the smaller salles, then started as the far end of the corridor veritably shimmered with Mace Windu's dominating Force presence.
The Korun master was accompanied by Dooku and Ki Adi Mundi, the threesome obviously intended as partners in Master Drallig's morning competition.
Yet another bow was requisite; and to his dismay, the triumvirate of Temple authority did not merely nod and continue on their way, but chose rather to approach him in affable spirits, effectively blocking his escape.
"Padawan Kenobi," Master Windu boomed, in something approaching a good mood. Obi-Wan wondered if the happy anticipation of all-out melee affected the intimidating Jedi master in much the same way it did himself – an odd notion, but not an implausible one. "What brings you down to Cin's domain so early?"
"Not practicing your dueling techniques in the 'freshers, I hope?" Ki Adi Mundi jested, his pale blue eyes twinkling with contained mirth.
Open mouthed, Obi-Wan covered his confusion with yet another bow.
"It was an amusing anecdote," the Cerean Jedi continued. "I must thank Master Jinn for sharing it."
Surely he must be the color of a Antaran beet; the Padawan thrust hands into opposite sleeves and hoped his manifest dismay would inspire them to take mercy on him. Mace Windu actually patted him on the shoulder as the three elder men strode past into the practice room he had just vacated.
On impulse, he turned. "Master Windu?"
The Korun paused in the doorway. "Yes?"
Obi-Wan swallowed, gathering his courage. But the Force had provided opportunity – he must not fail to act on its prompting. "May I have a word with you please?"
The dark man stepped nearer, politely inclining his head. "What does this concern, Padawan?"
"Regarding the holonet reporter who came to the Temple – the one assigned to the Chancellor's public relations campaign… " He almost lost his nerve when Master Windu's eyes narrowed in dark anticipation, but a Jedi finished what he started. It was too late to back out now. "I – I wish to request a disciplinary hearing. For myself."
He had the dubious honor of actually catching the revered Korun master off-balance. "You what?" Then, recovering his habitual severe composure – only a faint trace of bemusement running beneath his grave exterior - "Very well. I think we can accommodate you." He turned into the salle and hailed the other two Jedi, who returned to the corridor with brows raised in open curiosity.
Obi-Wan's eyes shifted from one to the other in surprise.
"Let's get this over with," Mace Windu declared. "We only need three for a hearing. Master Dooku can represent your master in absentia; you are in his teaching line."
The Padawan blinked. This was not precisely what he had imagined, but before he could even mentally formulate a proper objection, he was being shepherded into the small classroom on the right, where the three Council members took seats upon the tiered benches, indicating that he should stand before them in the room's center.
"All right, Padawan, what's this all about?"
One hand closing about his 'saber's hilt, Obi-Wan steadied himself in the Force and plunged into his confession, detailing his misdemeanors in a rapid and flatly objective recital. "I am sorry, masters – my conduct is inexcusable and I submit myself to your correction."
He kept his gaze down, noting the irregular grain of the polished boards beneath his feet, but he could still feel the swift exchange of guarded looks – and even amusement- rippling in the universal energy field. If the three Jedi masters bothered to confer upon their sentence, they did so silently, within the sheltered cloister of the Force.
Mace sighed deeply, his emotions, if any, utterly inscrutable as ever. "So you failed to cooperate, thus failing the commission I assigned you."
"Yes, master." The Korun's annoyance leaked beneath his shields, making the young Jedi squirm inwardly.
"And you behaved in a manner which ill reflects upon the Order and may result in the propagation of further misinformation," Ki Adi Mundi added, though not unkindly. "You seem to have forgotten that this interview had far broader ramifications than those encompassed by your personal perspective."
"Yes, master… I have since reflected upon this."
Mace's dark gaze slid sideways to Dooku. "Are we in unanimous agreement, then?'
Obi-Wan had little hope of garnering sympathy from the silver-haired master, who took every opportunity available to humiliate and confound him. He braced himself for a caustic rebuke.
But as always, Dooku seemed intent on defying all expectations. He raised one eyebrow, delicately. "I do not see what harm there is in discouraging an upstart politician's minion from pursuing a manipulative scheme. Indeed, Padawan Kenobi seems to have handled the situation quite well."
This was clearly not as much a shock to the elder Jedi as it was to the subject of the pronouncement; Obi-Wan watched in stunned silence as both Master Windu and Master Mundi shot aggravated glances at their elegant colleague. The Sentinel merely met their gaze unperturbed, returning his imperious regard to the Padawan after an awkward stretch of seconds.
"If we cater to the vile popular media, then we are devoted not to the ideal of democracy but its most pestilent symptom of decay. It is good that the younger members of the Order are still able to distinguish between service and sycophancy."
Obi-Wan stared, only half believing that the senior master had opted to play advocate and champion to his cause, and only half-agreeing with the man himself. Mace Windu snorted in vexation and folded his arms across his chest. "Well, Padawan," he rumbled. "It seems the tribunal cannot reach a conclusive verdict at this time… I will say that your conduct will, ah… doubtless create further headaches for the Council in future."
The admonitory growl in his voice seemed – momentarily- to contain a thrumming overtone like a barely restrained chuckle, but that simply could not be the case. Obi-Wan dipped his head. "I am truly sorry, master."
The Cerean Jedi spoke next. "Perhaps you should refer this matter directly to your own master. I am sure his counsel will be straightforward and salutary."
The Padawan nodded again, dismayed but accepting the inevitable. Qui-Gon would have to be told eventually. There was no question of prolonged secrecy, much less deception.
"And now," Mace finished, rising to his feet in one graceful motion. " I think our sparring session has been deferred long enough. Padawan: may the Force be with you."
Thus abruptly dismissed, Obi-Wan bowed and fled the scene, withdrawing with as much dignity as he could manage – and not daring to look back, even though he could feel an inexplicable spark of wry amusement from Master Windu, and Dooku's keenly assessing gaze resting on him all the way to the end of the main corridor.
"Ah… Qui-Gon. Imagine seeing you here." Dooku emphasized the latter syllable with a touch of derisive irony. He had never counted his former Padawan much of a scholar.
The tall man ignored the subtle jibe. "Knowledge is one of the three pillars," he reminded his past mentor. "And compassion the foundation of them all."
But the silver haired Sentinel turned the clumsy counter-strike away with the ease of a Makashi reverse parry. "Ah…. of course: the mind in subjection to the heart. You have changed so very little, Qui-Gon. Though I must compliment you upon your apprentice's development. He is growing into quite the promising young man."
They strolled up the Archives' main aisle, side by side, the gauntlet of Lost Ones staring at them as they passed. "He is progressing. Though he still has much to learn." Qui-Gon would by no means countenance the older master's calculating desire to push his Padawan toward premature Knighthood – and conscription into the ranks of the Sentinels.
"Hm." They passed into the main concourse. "Like student, like teacher," Dooku idly observed, thin smile like a shiv's edge.
It took great effort not to fall for the lure; Qui-Gon deftly changed topics. "You are headed off-planet, master?"
It was gratifying to see that his still-honed ability to read the older man's signature was a source of irritation. Dooku might be the best-shielded Shadow in the Temple, but he was not opaque to his own former apprentice. Once upon time they had been bonded by more than tradition and will; even in the most sterile and distant of teaching relationships, a certain forced intimacy of mind prevailed, if only for ruthlessly pragmatic reasons.
"We have received news that Sifo-Dyas has been sighted near Onderon… a mere red herring, to be sure, but we shall make a show of playing his game," Dooku replied, at length. "He is a skilled dejarik player, but not, ah – creative."
The remark held the faint echo of a familiar jest. Qui-Gon's own rogue methods of securing victory at strategic games had once been a sore topic of dispute and discipline. Now, the memory was but a stale aftertaste for both of them.
"Then may the Force be with you."
The elegant Sentinel's mouth thinned into a tight smile, and he bowed graciously, dismissing his companion and accepting the blessing with cool condescension. His black cloak frolicked at his heels as he swept away down the soaring hall, the very sun- rays parting to allow him passage.
"Fascinating," Agrion Pertha murmured, turning the toxin-saturated spine between two gnarled fingers. "Most certainly a venemous barb from a mature specimen – most likely micohastae… you see these parallel ridges near the base? That's what gives it away. Rugosan flora all have that vestigial organelle. Stars, wherever did you find this?"
Qui-Gon Jinn watched the botanist squint at the deadly projectile through an optic lens. "An assassin shot it at my Padawan – he employed a dart-gun, breath-propelled. Primitive enough to pass any weapons scanner with ease."
"Intelligent barve, then," the aged Togruta harrumphed. "But a spoiler of nature's treasures. Pulling out the spines kills the fungal colony – it grieves me to hear of anyone decimating the population of an already nearly extinct species, especially for violent purposes."
The tall man leaned over the other Jedi's shoulder. "And you are certain this hails from Rugosa?"
"Oh yes, yes… did I neglect to tell you? I've just imported six juvenile specimens into the smaller arboretum for research! It was a gift of the Force. I must show them to you sometime. They aren't nearly as toxic as this dart, yet – but wonderful nonetheless. Your Padawan helped me unpack them from the cargo container." Master Pertha's eyes glazed with an idyllic light, before a troubling afterthought occurred to him. "Your Padawan is hearty and hale, I hope? This one needle would be sufficient to send a bantha into instant cardiac arrest."
"Obi-Wan is fine – he is quite capable in self-defense."
"I'm glad to hear it," the elderly Togruta snorted. "Every time an unfortunate accident involving such a rare species is brought to public light, the Senate wants to restrict research and import parameters even further. Soon enough I'll be relying on the black market simply to supply teaching materials."
"That would be a lamentable state of affairs," Qui-Gon dryly agreed, wondering exactly how the avid botanist had acquired the illegal juvenile micohastae presently resident in the teaching arboretum. But he just as quickly opted to turn a blind eye to his colleague's maverick activities. "Let me be clear: this needle could not be obtained easily outside of Rugosa? Are there known sources here in the Core?"
But here Master Pertha's extensive knowledge petered out. "The underworld is not my area of expertise," he sighed. "However – Qui-Gon – if you do find a local dealer, I should be curious to know his name and going rates."
"If you spent any more time here, young one, Madame Nu will surely ask you to accept a position as her personal assistant."
"Force forbid," Obi-Wan muttered, turning his head over one shoulder and briefly glancing up at his mentor before returning his attention to the small holoplate inset in the Archives data terminal desktop.
Qui-Gon perched upon the corner, moving one of the three hefty stacks of holo-volumes to the side. "Perhaps I should rethink my decision to excuse you from formal classes during this trial – I see you are determined to seek solace in abstraction whether or not you have leisure time."
"Look at this, master."
There was tension latent in the Padawan's voice; Qui-Gon peered at the flickering holo-net feed, which was projecting a live-streamed version of a popular news and talk show. "Broadening your horizons, Obi-Wan? Has your recent interview with the press gone to your head?"
A slightly pained silence, but then the holo program shifted to a new and intriguing personality, riveting both their attentions. The newest celebrity featured by the roving cam-droid was a fleshy Nemoidian garbed in sumptuous robes and a grotesquely sculptured hat, the traditional designation of a barrister in that fiercely hierarchical society.
"Bune Dauggl. Defense attorney to Jenna Zan Arbor," Obi-Wan said, fixing the translucent image with an intense scowl. "I've never seen such a despicable liar… and we've met some earnest contenders, master."
"There is a significant difference between a con man and a lawyer," Qui-Gon mildly remonstrated.
His apprentice snorted. "Yes. The former obtains his fortune through trickery while the latter is paid handsomely for his work. The difference lies primarily in tax filing status."
The Jedi master merely lifted a brow, abstaining from further comment. It was sometimes wiser not to encourage the Padawan's acid wit by responding to it. The Nemoidian meanwhile was haranguing a small crowd outside the Galactic high courtroom's main stairwell. He eventually turned from the picketing mob and addressed the cam-droid directly.
"My client," he lisped in the unmistakable Nemoidian dialect, "is not a criminal. She is a philanthropist devoted to the common good of sentient beings in this galaxy. These accusations leveled against her are nothing but persecution heaped on the head of science and progress by an obscurantist cult. And it is high time the Courts recognized that vile and calumnious institution for what it is – the Jedi Order cannot wantonly oppress those who serve the cause of knowledge and equality for all citizens of the Republic. The day after tomorrow, when this trial commences, I shall personally-"
The Jedi master waved the holo-plate into stand-by mode, cutting off the Nemoidian's lambasting rant. He laid one hand on his student's shoulder, noting the taut stretch of muscle beneath his gently grasping fingers.
"I think perhaps you begin to see the grain of wisdom in the Chancellor's desire for a positive public relations campaign," he quietly observed. "Popular acclaim can be a powerful ally or enemy, one not to be overlooked simply because it is not founded on truth."
"Oh… yes." The young Jedi shifted uneasily beneath his hand, eliciting a small frown of concern from his teacher.
"What is it?"
Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped a trifle; he turned in place and reluctantly met the older man's gaze. "There is something I must tell you, master …. Regarding the interview with the holonet reporter the other day … I did not intend any disrespect to the Chancellor or the Council…. But…"
The older man ran a hand over his face, releasing his instinctive bad feeling about this on a short breath. He stood. "Very well. Let us return to quarters and have the tragic tale in full."
He led the way out of the Archives, bearing half the Padawan's immoderate collection of holo-books under one arm, a silent and subdued Obi-Wan trailing at his heels.