Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 11

~

The Embassy District was thick with traffic. Shuttles and small cruisers filled the air with the whine of engaging repulsors and the rumble of displaced air. Morning fog lay thickly over all, obscuring all but the top hundred or so stories of the highest buildings. Landing pads displaying the banners and sigils of thousands of worlds floated serenely above the cloud over.

On the landing pad that flew the royal sigil of Naboo, a small crowd of beings waited. Armed guards in the red armor of the Diplomatic Corps scanned the surrounding buildings and spoke quietly with snipers hidden nearby. There had been enough attempts on Queen Amidala's life that a special detail had been assigned to watch over her during her stay. To one side stood a small group of Jedi, outwardly serene, yet there was a distinct chill between some of them. Some members – for reasons of their own – were not present at all.

A small party opposite the Jedi was composed of Senator Aden Goorni, a short gray-haired man soon to be appointed to Senior Senator upon the Chancellor's formal assumption of office. Ambassador Brendal Ysao, less than a decade older than the Queen was a pale, slender, blue eyed blonde of Kindaree descent and noted for his dispassionate demeanor. As they waited with a full medical team at their sides, the men gave the impression that they were the only ones on the platform.

A silver gleam brightened on the horizon and grew larger as it approached the platform before resolving itself into the liquid silver, flying-wing shape of the Royal craft. An escort of twelve bright yellow Nubian fighters arrayed in a protective dodecahedron formation around the ship, breaking away to land just as the cruiser touched down.

There was a pause, then the ramp into the craft lowered; revealing a woman in a deep blue, knee-length cowled tunic. With a sharp gesture, she beckoned the medical team into the ship, sealing the ramp almost on their heels once they were aboard.

There was only waiting as other ships entered and exited the proscribed airspace of the District. The Senatorial, Embassy and Governance Districts formed three interlocking rings of light when viewed from orbit and traffic here, while still heavy, was tightly controlled. There had been many small actions of late against certain targets within District One, and with the Inauguration festivities as well as the Jedi Convocation, Coruscant Security Forces – called SecFor – were taking even fewer chances than usual.

The very air seemed to chill even further when the ramp opened to allow a handmaiden and a tall, dark-haired Jedi to exit. Instead of making their way to the waiting Council, both headed for the Senator and the Ambassador, and conferred closely with the pair.

The Ambassador Ysao made a gesture toward the party of council members and the dark haired Jedi did not so much as favor them with a glance before making a slicing motion with his hand. The ambassador nodded, his fine white-blond hair blowing around his head in a sudden downdraft, and spoke into a comlink. The reply, snatched by the rising wind, made him nod.

The Jedi and the handmaiden went back into the ship and the ramp sealed behind them.

A short time later, a large transport marked with the sigil of Corellia pulled up to the platform and extruded its wide gantry. On cue, the ramp of the royal cruiser dropped once more to permit the debarkation of the parties within.

Armed guards in light armor were first out. Dressed in the blue and burgundy of Naboo or the green of Corellia, their faces were grim as they took up positions around the ship and the transport. A sound of hydraulics filled the air as an ion cannon in the ship's dorsal pointed itself to the sky. The Jedi murmured among themselves, some looking shocked, others grim. Master Yoda bowed his head, looking almost pained.

The party that came down the ramp next was even more shocking. The techs that had entered the ship guided a medsled with a still, pallid form aboard. Telemetry devices fed readouts with red, green and yellow graphics. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his dark red hair in gruesome contrast to his white, drawn face, lay unconscious within. A small blond boy sat at the foot of the bed, his hair cut spacer short and his padawan braid ostentatiously over his right shoulder. His blue clothing was a cross between the court dress of Naboo and Jedi robes.

To the right of the bed, holding the unconscious man's hand was Queen Amidala. Dressed in a richer version of the boy's clothing, she wore the ritual pace paint of her office and a sapphire speckled circlet of woven platinum wires around hair upswept to reveal a thin braid that demarcated the hollow of her right shoulder.

Both young woman and boy gazed at the assembled council, then wordlessly lifted their chins in a gesture of utter defiance. The boy's blue eyes gleamed dangerously as they rested on each individual in turn, seemingly marking them out. The queen rested a hand on his shoulder and the blue-star fury subsided somewhat; not quelled, but banked against a time when it would be of use. Next down the ramp came handmaidens, dressed in deep blue tunics, weapons at hip. The deep cowls his all but the stubborn set of jaws and the occasional movement of lips as the spoke to one another. One moved to grasp Obi-Wan's other hand, folding her small, slender fingers around it. The Queen reached over to pat her handmaiden comfortingly.

Garm Bel Iblis, his face looking like a cloud about to spit lightning joined the group. His aide, a young man with an unruly shock of brown hair and eyes that missed little joined him at the foot of the medsled. Each man wore armor under ambassadorial robes and carried a CorSec issue heavy blaster.

Newsie camera droids began to cluster, the bright logos of their networks flashing as they looped about the platform. In nearly two hundred newsrooms, programming managers of over a thousand species cut off other programming and seamlessly edited the flow of footage for their commentators to follow.

Naboo was news. Anything and everything they did lately attracted paeans of praise or foaming-at-the-mouth criticism. Corellia had taken up their cause and now other worlds were stumbling to follow suit with greater or lesser degrees of success.

But this! This was pure platinum in terms of ratings!

Knight Gia Bellan, a short Corellian with pale brown hair and warm brown eyes, with her dazzlingly blue-skinned Twi'lek padawan Jassrie came down the ramp. They were followed by Knight Kevritt Sural, the tall dark-haired Jedi, gently guided his new apprentice – a golden-skinned, hairless, ten year-old Yinari boy named Takk. Nieran Thassi, one of the genderless, utterly androgynous Lue slipped down the ramp with a padawan from his/her own sect.

Only a peek at chromosome pairing could determine a Lue's sex, because the mid-range voices and absence of any male or female physical traits gave no clue to the observer. The olive-skinned, hazel-eyed beings were calm of face and stride as they conferred with each other.

Copper-skinned Jana Kurchan and Master Puaraa Li – a female of Shaak Ti's race – spoke softly as they joined their fellows.

Not one favored the south end of the landing platform with so much as a glance.

The Council stood as if turned to stone, only Master Shaak Ti cold be heard stomping a foot in agitation.

Three young pages hustled down the ramp, hiding among their elders like chicks in the wings of their parents.

Finally, one last person came down the ramp and signaled the crew to bring it up. Dressed in a long brown robe, the being permitted the hood to fall back and reveal his face.

The heads of forty-some networks got religion when Master Mace Windu walked over to the medsled and gently touched the young knight on the forehead.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, lips moving and the older Jedi covered the younger's eyes with an opaque coolpack. After a few words to the Queen and the boy, he herded the entire company ahead of him to the transport. As he came to the ramp, he paused and looked across the platform to his bretheren.

Yoda was the first to break the deadlock, moving haltingly across the platform on his cane.

~

Gesturing the others into the transport and telling them firmly to stay put, Mace Windu moved to intercept the tiny, ancient master.

They stood in silence for a moment, Yoda having come farther across the platform that it seemed that his limping gait would allow.

"The ruling of the Council you have disobeyed." Yoda's voice was soft, but with a note of steel in it. Every Jedi going back more than five hundred years had heard that voice from infancy, they knew the small master's presence and felt safe within his care. It was a mightily hard voice to disobey.

"Because we were wrong, and we are wrong." The dark-skinned master's voice was heavy with sadness and regret. "I can see that now. Why will you not consider"

"To much risk there is. Been a Jedi have I for eight hundred years, Mace." Closing his green eyes, Yoda shook his head. "Bare my Order's throat for the deathstroke I will not."

"Instead we slowly twist in the noose, old friend. Dead is dead quick or slow. These young ones may be our only hope against the darkness to come." And come it would, like a flood, and tear the Republic from its very foundations.

Opening his eyes, Yoda gazed at the transport where Anakin Skywalker – whose command of Basic could not be too good, as Mace remembered quite clearly telling him to stay put – leaned against the bulkhead and stared out at the pair. The handmaiden Rabé joined him, and Amidala herself, who returned Mace's raised eyebrow with one of her own.

When he had time to speak to those two He prayed that the Force might be with him; he had never met with a bigger pile of stubborn in his life.

"Obey Qui-Gon's request, it would seem Obi-Wan has – against all orders. Even worse is to take a padawan as a nearly grown girl! Surprised I am with you, Mace Windu, that this you would do such."

Mace had not been surprised that Obi-Wan would take on a padawan, no, the young man had much to offer. Even if lacking experience, the young Jedi was en excellent teacher. What had floored the elder Jedi was that he had taken both Anakin and Amidala, in addition to teaching all who would come to him. That morning in the garden had been like watching a sure, steady flame surrounded by bright sparks.

"Not I, Master. Both Anakin and Amidala are padawans to Knight Kenobi."

"What do you say?!" Yoda literally rocked back on his heels, his voice carrying across the platform. Then in an agitated mutter he said, "Speak with him I must. There are reasons for our ways and casting the grain away with the chaff he is!"

Mace forestalled the elder master with a hand. "I would wait, Yoda. Your reception – especially by his padawans – might be very hostile, especially since the incident that put him in that medsled was approved by the Council."

"Told we were that Obi-Wan would not be harmed."

"Yet you can see that is not the case." Once the Jedi had managed to pry his padawans off their unconscious master, the amount of damage done had been frightening. The bond had not broken, but shattered – almost as if to do as much damage as possible. "Obi-Wan has been unconscious until just this morning. What was done was cruel, not only to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, but to Amidala and Anakin who were frightened nearly to death. Are you determined to drive them into such deep dislike of us? Already they see us as enemies, not allies."

"Discuss this we must. A family are the Jedi supposed to be. Consensus we must have!" Yoda starred at Anakin, and Anakin matched the ancient look for look. "Or lose everything that we are. You will attend the Convocation?"

Mace Windu inclined his head in assent. It was a mark of the order's internal strife that yoda would even ask. "I will be at the embassy if you should need me. As will the others."

Yoda simply sighed and returned to the Council more slowly than he had come to meet Mace.

~

The embassy of Naboo, thought Obi-Wan, seemed determined to out-Naboo Naboo. Granted, he had seen little of it, but what he had seen was dazzlingly beautiful and seemed to fly in the face of Coruscant's megapolitan atmosphere. Flowers bloomed in lighting designed to mimic that of Naboo's primary and Naboo's wealth of ornamental stone and rare woods was in copious evidence. Even water was lavishly showcased in ornamental fountains, pillars and waterwalls.

Now he lay in yet another soft bed, aghast at how worn he felt. His head still felt like a broken pot, even though he knew there was no physical damage. The dim light was easier on his eyes, and hid the tears that wanted to overwhelm him.

The place where his bond to Qui-Gon had been was a raw, screaming wound. All through his spirit, he felt as if he had sustained shrapnel wounds. He could not so much as light a candle or enter rapport with his padawans without excruciating pain.

He had to try and recover quickly, the thought that a mere two days of Master Windu riding herd on his padawans

It was also imperative that he get up and about soon, so that he could get to the temple and rescue Qui-Gon. There was no further doubt in his mind that whatever the future held for him and for his master, it was not to be found within the walls of the Temple. Obi-Wan reached for his master's presence, ignoring the pain it caused. The only thing that he was able to ascertain was that Qui-Gon was still among the living.

"Stop that." The voice came into the room with the scent of spiced fish broth and tea. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Rabé set a tray on the bedside table.

The young handmaiden was dressed as she might have back home, in a simple plum-colored tunic and leggings, her dark hair in a thick waist-length braid. Obi-Wan was embarrassed to need her aid in getting to a sitting position, and even more embarrassed when he had to use both hands to lift the cup of broth to his mouth.

"You need rest, Jedi Kenobi. Whatever you were doing, it did not look restful. Please do not do it again." She tugged the bedding into a more comfortable position and took a place in the cozy, velvet covered bedside chair.

The broth was delicious, not too hot, but enough to warm him. Warmth brought relaxation, dulling the pain in his head. His eyelids sagged involuntarily, and he fought to concentrate and stay awake.

"Rabé"

The empty mug was taken from his hands, the covers pulled up. "Hush."

The indignant ghost of a thought brushed Obi-Wan's mind. He was a Jedi and being hushed by a little girl! A reply fought to solidify enough for him to speak.

His lips moved, but no words formed.

"Hush."

His eyes closed even more insistently. .

"Hush."

Obi-Wan went into the soft darkness of deep, healing sleep.

~

In the quiet of the Healer's observation wing, Qui-Gon lay in a softer bed than the one he had been given in the tower. He did not remember coming here, carried in Healer Chaawushro's arms like a child would carry a doll.

He did remember, however, the Wookie healer threatening to tear off Sifo-Dyas' arms and beat him to death with them if he so much as came near her charge.

Wookies, even those rare few who became Jedi, still had certain turns of phrase. The thought brought back a memory of Obi-Wan, no more than fifteen under Chaawushro's gentle care.

The Jedi was unaware of his tears until the soft arms of the healer cradled him like a child once more.

"Your heart-son is here, old friend," she crooned. "He is here and in care of those who love him. All will be well. All will be well."

~

It was his fifth ruby bliel and Anakin was getting tired.

He had begged some time to explore the huge city-planet, and in the hubbub had his wish granted. Padmé was asleep, Obi-Wan as well, when he slipped out of the embassy in a dark blue coverall with a billed cap covering his hair. In a short time he had found one of Coruscant's less savory districts and set about chatting up the locals. In a short time, he found himself halfway across the planet watching swoop races in a derelict industrial district.

Refinery burn-off lit the sky with a lurid glow, distorting colors and faces into a parade of death's masks. Making his way down a street lines with tattered stalls and battered signs, he chucked the empty cup and looked for something to eat. Some gingib or a tarna sandwich would hit the spot right about now.

The sizzle of meat juices dripping onto a heating element pulled him aside, to a stall manned by a Dug. The oddly articulated being carved him two tarna and took Ani's four credits. As he ate, Anakin looked around, trying to pick out someone, anyone, who could help him.

"You Skywalker." The Dug scratched his moustache with his big toe. "You whipped Sebulba in Boonta Eve."

"Yeah, that's me." Anakin dropped one hand to the pocket on his pants leg that held his blaster. "Who're you?"

"Me Barruda. Old time racer. Sebulba my tribe-fellow." The Dug surprised Anakin with a booming laugh. "You got 'im good, that cheating slime-sucker. What you doing in this place, little human boy?"

"I'm looking for something." Anakin looked at the passing crowds. "I need to make some fast money. I just need to keep it quiet."

The Dug's moustaches all but stood on end. "Lookin' for a pod?"

Anakin took a bite of his second sandwich and chewed it before swallowing and answering. "Not pods, I promised someone... that I wouldn't race pods."

"What den? You want to get on some action, I tell you."

Dispatching the last of his sandwiches, Anakin nodded to a sleekly tricked-out swoop. "I want action. What about those?"

The Dug turned off his neon sign and poured Anakin another ruby bliel.

~