Chapter 12. Future Considerations
Steady purpose and firm determination were Anakin Skywalker's companion on his quest to bring his master justice. He knew Obi-Wan had not gone into depth regarding his treatment in captivity, but he had finally shared his struggle with his padawan, in the process deepening Anakin's respect for the man.
Even now, admiration and awe at his master's struggles to adhere to the light dominated his thoughts. Despite pain and privation, despite drugs and despair, despite forced dark thoughts and deep fears, Obi-Wan had clung fast to faith – faith in the Force, in his padawan, and in his friends. He had held true to his principles, his mind, and his heart, yet fearing the dark tendrils that had threatened to strip all that he held dear away, he had sought to protect his padawan with silence and solitary healing.
You should have trusted me, Master. Yet, even with that thought,Anakin could not truly blame the man or feel resentment. Misguided though his master's attempt had been, his fears, unfounded or not, had been made based on what he thought best for his padawan. He could not fault his feelings, even if he could fault the reasoning.
Had he known, he could have offered solace and comfort for more than the nightmares alone. He could only thank the Force that Siri had found a way to reach the part of Obi-Wan the padawan could not.
He vowed to do all that was in his power to make his master whole once more, to present for justice those who knew nothing of mercy or fair play. He would repay his master's devotion to the padawan's well being with his own.
Once he found Ventress; once she found what she despised in principle: justice.
**
Two azure blades crossed and held steady; the two opponents exchanged a nod. Obi-Wan stepped back, pivoted, and swung, a feint to draw a thrust.
The exertion felt good; the muscles relatively loose even if not at full strength as yet. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on Obi-Wan's face as he parried Ki-Adi-Mundi's blade.
"Had enough, Master Kenobi?" The taunt was in jest, for neither was going at full speed.
"Not at all, Master Mundi." Obi-Wan's blade shot forward only to slash in a downwards diagonal. As Ki's blade moved to intercept, Obi-Wan brought his knee up, announcing his intentions by adding a wicked wink as he did. Ki spun to one side as Obi-Wan's lightsaber swept back up and moved to tap Ki's neck. A Force push knocked the blade aside as Obi-Wan scrambled to regain his balance.
He landed with a thump on the floor and shook his head, wincing a little.
"Ouch," Ki said sympathetically and offered his fellow Jedi a hand up. They each took a short rest to swallow a few sips of water before resuming positions.
"For an out-of-shape Jedi, you're doing a passable job."
"Spare me the compliments, my friend, so I can save my breath to fight rather than return your flowery praises."
"Tut, tut, Master Kenobi." Ki parried a thrust and feinted, grinning at Obi-Wan. "We should put you in with Knight Tachi's class, only I'd hate to see the padawans corrupted by listening to your thinly veiled insults and sarcasm."
"Very funny, Master Mundi," Obi-Wan grumbled, risking a slightly daring move. The purpose of the exercise, after all, was to strengthen his muscles and increase his stamina. In recognition of this, Ki didn't take advantage of the slight opening Obi-Wan left, satisfied with merely evading the strike without retaliation, which is why he looked surprised when Obi-Wan's lightsaber clattered to the floor of the sallé.
An almost comical look crossed Obi-Wan's face at the same time. He opened and closed his hand several times, working out some kinks. Catching his colleague's expression, he muttered apologetically, "I just lost my grip; my hand cramped up."
"It was broken, and pretty badly at that," Ki reminded him. He laid a hand on his colleague's shoulder and studied him critically. "You look pretty beat, as well. You're not overdoing it, are you?"
"Me?" Obi-Wan was all innocence. He wiped his face with a towel, and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe a little."
He sagged onto a bench as his legs gave out. "Maybe a lot," he admitted, leaning back and closing his eyes. Hadn't Neille mentioned infants down in Peds - maybe he should go visit– perhaps - at nap time….
**
The young padawan he remembered from before greeted him as he walked into Peds, his hair a bit damp at the tips from his post-workout shower. Marla, he remembered her name now, bowed and asked him how he was; a pleased smile crossing her face at his reply or at his remembering her name, he wasn't sure which.
The young girl's bubbly spirit and infectious cheer was perfect for the Peds ward, and a welcome contrast to his own padawan's sometimes moodiness. Anakin had been bright and bubbly when he had first come to the Temple, though not without a streak of obstinate bravado that flashed at the oddest of times.
Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wished that Qui-Gon had not spoken of the prophecy of the Chosen One in front of Anakin all those many years ago. A boy of nine should not have to bear the expectations of destiny on such young shoulders, but Qui-Gon's single-minded focus on seeing Anakin admitted for Jedi training had blinded him to the impact of his words to the boy on whom much was said to rest.
"I see none of them are fussing." Obi-Wan stood amongst the cribs, looking at the little faces, some scrunched in sleep while others were lax. Such little ones – so young, so untouched by other than the need to sleep, eat, and be taken care of.
He reached a finger down to the nearest child and ran it over the smooth cheek. The child sighed and nestled against the gentle touch.
"They're all slated for release to the crèche soon," Marla offered, coming to the Jedi's side. "All of these are new arrivals, here just to be checked out for any unforeseen health issues. Are you going to sing to them?" As soon as she asked, she looked embarrassed, remembering that his singing to the crechlings was supposed to be a secret – something commonly known in the Healers Ward but not referred to.
Obi-Wan looked at her and smiled. "Perhaps," he admitted. He sat in the empty rocking chair, chin in hand, and gazed at this next generation of servants to the Force. What challenges would they face, what rewards would they find, and what sacrifices would they be called on to make?
What kind of future would his generation bequeath, not just to these children but to all the other children in the galaxy?
That answer belonged only to the Force; in its hands alone. Prompted by the thought, Obi-Wan smiled and picked up a child at random. Reseating himself, he cradled the sleeping infant in one arm, gently stroking a downy cheek with one finger.
Holding the present in his hands, indeed.
He couldn't help but wonder what kind of future would these infant Jedi help to shape? Smiling gently, he began to hum under his breath. Soon, he too was asleep.
**
Anakin never tired of dropping out of hyperspace. Ribbons of light, a kaleidoscope of blurs would pop out of existence to be replaced by the inky darkness of space illuminated only by star shine. Even Obi-Wan admitted to being spellbound by the beauty, something master and padawan shared.
"'Tis like being held in the palm of the Force," he had said once, a deprecating smile on his face. It was one of the first discoveries that a young boy had made about a new master: a spark of imagination and love of beauty was only masked by the quiet and usually less expressive exterior.
"It's wizard!" Anakin had agreed.
"Wizard indeed." A strong hand had tousled his hair, bringing a yelp of protest for Anakin was not a boy – no – he was a Jedi padawan. Protests had done no good; Obi-Wan would tousle his hair or later, tug his braid when it grew, at his own whim.
Just a few degrees off "straight ahead," with only a minor course reflection necessary, shone Riflor in a system of three suns.
Anakin's lips tightened. Here's where I was reunited with my master. He tried to focus on the positive, on the elation and relief he had felt when he had first laid eyes on his master. Swinging his blade, undeterred by the band of bounty hunters surrounding Alpha and he, yet Obi-Wan's eyes had lit up at his first sight of his padawan, even if his first words had been far more prosaic, intent on battle tactics.
"For you, Master," he muttered, gave a gentle tug on his braid, and for a moment almost imagined he heard an echo of a muffled laugh.
He dropped into the gravity well and into orbit. He didn't need the coordinates; he merely needed to follow the lingering notes of fear and relief in his memory.
Artoo tootled a sharp note. Anakin flipped the sensor toggle and magnified the display; Artoo was right. The fan fighter was not lying broken and crumpled where it had come to rest, though the skid marks were there marking the ship's rough landing.
It would not have flown again. The two padawans had done a thorough inspection once they'd copied the computer data before returning to Coruscant in Ki-Adi-Mundi and Anakin's fighters. They had been instructed to leave as little trace of their presence as possible other than a few sensors.
Anakin's brow wrinkled.
"Do you see a debris field, Artoo?"
At the affirmative toot, a tight grin crossed the young Jedi's face. "Destroyed. Perhaps they don't even realize Obi-Wan is alive – I wonder if that's why the Council hasn't announced his return. We were in-system not long after they crashed; let's see how close we can pinpoint the approximate time of the ship's destruction. Check as well if the ship was destroyed from above or by ground charges – yeah, I want to know if they got close enough to know whether or not there were bodies in the ship."
After a whistling query, Anakin grinned. "Artoo, unless they gathered DNA samples, they wouldn't know the two bodies Alpha dragged in there weren't Obi-Wan and Alpha, let alone human. That means Ventress won't know that we know about Rattatak – yeah, I know she was reported to be seen elsewhere, but that doesn't mean the reports are correct."
The toot sounded remarkably like the rising inflection that marked a question in Basic.
"They were good enough to get the Council to agree to this mission, but the Chancellor wasn't convinced of the accuracy, either. He knew how important this mission was to me, so he had the source discreetly checked out. It's reliable enough, often enough - no, neither of us passed that on to the Council. We wanted them to approve this mission, Artoo. It's important, very important – it's to protect Obi-Wan."
Blurp.
"He can usually protect himself, yes, but not always. You saw him when we rescued him –"a mournful warble was mirrored in Anakin's eyes as his jaw tightened. "Never again, Artoo, never again…."
**
Ever since Obi-Wan's impossible return from the dead, Siri had felt the need to spend however much time she could in his company. What had nearly come to pass could still easily come to pass, for him or for her. Time together was to be savored, hoarded against separation, for separation would come.
He would return to war; she would, as well, in time. One of them, or both, might not return one day.
So like a moth drawn to flame, Siri had once again sought her fellow Jedi out. Since his return, he spent much time with the younger Jedi, working out, or meditating in the gardens. Of necessity, the female Jedi had grown to know his routine. She knew the crechlings story hour and the schedule for the classes in diplomacy Obi-Wan guest lectured in, so the odds were at all other times he was here, immersed in the Living Force that he found so soothing.
Joyful shrieks of younglings learning small manipulations of the Force in guise of play melded with the soft sighing of an artificial breeze interweaving through tree branches.
Undeterred, several adult Jedi sat in meditation or walked the meandering paths in search of a few moments peaceful contemplation before returning to duties.
Amidst all this, the two Jedi wandered side by side, only their two hands occasionally brushing against the other, fingers occasionally entwining if for just a moment. Even without the concealment of Jedi cloaks, neither was willing to display the affection between them nor deal with the consequences should they be seen openly holding hands, though this decision was more from habit than conscious choice.
Too many younglings, initiates and padawans were apt to wander past, here in the Room of a Thousand Fountains – too many impressionable minds to confuse and too many questions possibly raised.
"How's Terzah doing?" Siri ventured to break the peaceful quiet between them, sensing that Obi-Wan was mulling something over in his mind.
"He's young and resilient, he's doing quite well," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "He's starting to turn his confusion and frustration at what happened to him into compassion for those who turned on him."
They reached the bench below the Haleothe vine; Siri sat, but to her surprise, Obi-Wan did not. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared a bit absently at a group of young initiates off in the distance, practicing their burgeoning skills at manipulating small rocks.
"Anakin was about that age when he became my apprentice," he murmured. "By the time he was officially my padawan at thirteen he had the skills of a much older padawan. He was enthusiastic and eager to learn. Not much more than a year later he hit puberty and decided he had the maturity to challenge me on the pace and scope of his lessons. I wonder if I was that irksome to Qui-Gon."
"You had your moments, Kenobi. As did I, and every other adolescent in the Temple, I suppose. Probably even Yoda in his youth as well – can you imagine Yoda muttering 'understand me, you do not, master,' while sulking?"
One of the biggest grins she had ever seen graced Obi-Wan's face as he pictured that scene. "Now there's a holovid I'd like to see."
After a moment, Obi-Wan shook his head, turned and gazed down at Siri, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Did you ever worry about being chosen – as a padawan?"
Sensing her friend was going somewhere with his questions, not just on journey into the past, Siri gave the question due thought. "Mmm, wondered, like I suppose we all did, but actually worry – no. In my naiveté, or perhaps arrogance, I expected to have my choice of masters. Adi began to watch me about the time I was eleven, I think; I was not much past twelve when she asked me to be her padawan. Why?"
She was indeed curious.
Obi-Wan never really spoke about his late initiate years, merely alluded to them in passing. It had taken years to see that underneath the cool and competent exterior he cultivated, seemingly without effort, there had once lurked a boy certain of his life path yet uncertain of his place within the Order that would help him achieve it. He had been a boy who longed for acceptance and validation and seemed to receive neither one.
Like most of those within the Temple, she had barely noticed his departure for Bandomeer, his absence of little note and that mainly in the form of relief that it was he, not one of they, who had been un-chosen.
"Because we all want to become a Jedi knight; that's the goal nearly every one of us strives for. It's what our training pushes us towards as well, but not all of us are suited to be knights, and not all of us will get that opportunity. Of that group, there…," he fell silent.
"We've lost a lot of Jedi to this war," Siri said quietly, sensing the direction of his thoughts. She sat up straight and stared at Obi-Wan in consternation. "You want me to consider taking a padawan!"
"What? No." He looked truly surprised. "It wouldn't be a bad idea, though."
"I'm going to go back to the war soon; I can't stay and teach in the Temple forever. A battlefield is no place for a young padawan!"
"Nor for older ones, either!" he shot back.
Now she was getting confused, he was not trying to cajole her into taking a padawan. This was a deeper discussion, one that of necessity delved into old issues he usually avoided because it had a bearing on what he really wished to sound her out on.
Sudden revelation dawned. "You're worried about Anakin."
"Of course I'm worried about Anakin, but I'm not talking about my padawan, actually. I'm – I'm just concerned about the future, for the Jedi, for all the beings affected by this war, the repercussions that linger long after the fighting ends. Are you up on the latest casualty counts – the Jedi, the clones, the civilians? Imagine Coruscant deserted – not one living being left alive on this entire planet and you've barely begun to imagine all those who have already died – or those who will."
His eyes wandered back to the group of chattering younglings.
Now thoroughly confused, Siri pulled Obi-Wan down beside her and patted his arm. 'Your point, Kenobi?"
"Decisions we face, Siri. Either we make them, or sit back and allow them to be made for us, either by action or inaction. Better to face those decisions."
"Ah, you're wrestling with some decisions, then. I begin to understand. Council business?"
"It will be, I believe." He looked directly at her and seemed to come to a decision. "Do you think you could have become a knight without a master, could you have eventually learned some of the skills we had to master without a training bond or a rudimentary one?"
Siri's eyes widened as she took in the import of his words. "Oh. In all honesty, Kenobi, I don't know. We can try, though. What have we got to lose?"
"Half a generation of future Jedi knights," he said in all solemnity.
