Posted 3/3/2019

RESOLVE III

14.

Four days after leaving Master Yoda's company Obi-Wan was still traversing the jagged surface of what must have been one of Tython's largest mountains. The black stone was covered in moss and mushrooms, making it dangerously slippery to walk on. The closer he got to the summit the more the moss gave way to splintered edges and odd barnacle growths. It resembled something one might find growing beneath the sea, not on a mountain top, but Obi-Wan had seen plenty of unusual plants and creatures in his life, so he didn't find it particularly strange.

He breathed in the crisp air, breath puffing out in small clouds of condensation. It was getting colder, the sparse snow cover from meters below turning into a denser cloak of white the higher he climbed. Obi-Wan wanted to shake his head at himself, for once siding with Master Che. Maybe he shouldn't have left without the healer's approval, but he also knew that Master Yoda had been right. The closer he came to the summit, the stronger the Force's draw became.

Obi-Wan knew he was going exactly where he needed to.

Still, he exercised great patience, stopping often, making camp when he needed rest and taking care not to overexert himself. In a way, the solitude was nice. It was a different kind of solitude compared to what he experienced during his captivity. One in which he knew that those he cared about were but a stone's throw away.

Their numbers may have thinned, but those who remained still harboured spirits shining bright in the Force.

A sense of peace settled within Obi-Wan's heart as he continued his way up the snowy slopes. He thought he was getting close to the peak, but the low-hanging clouds obscured the mountaintop. The winds slowly began picking up as he stepped out onto a ledge leading up a steep set of stones arranged in a stair-like fashion. From the way the stones had cracked Obi-Wan thought that a staircase must once have been carved into the mountainside.

The chill snapped around his cloak as suddenly as a bee sting, instantly inducing shivers. He drew his arms to his chest, and had to lean into the cliff-side as a sudden gust of wind brought with it a pelting of snow flakes that caught in his beard and cut across the bare skin of his cheeks.

This complicates matters, Obi-Wan thought as he squinted up at the distance he still needed to cover. He could feel the beginnings of icy numbness in his ears, nose, and fingers as he caught sight of the shifting clouds some four hundred meters above him.

It was midday and he had two options; Go back down and wait for the weather to clear, or soldier on to the top. He was close now, he could feel it, but freezing to death would be a real possibility if he reached the summit and was unable to find shelter. It was likely that the air would continue to thin out as well. Hypoxia would be another threat, and he didn't have a rebreather with him. That seemed like such an idiotic oversight now, but Master Yoda had practically chased him from the temple.

Obi-Wan crouched down and leaned his back against the cold stone. He glanced up to the icy shelves of rock above, then down to the jagged outcroppings below. With the new snowfall starting to cover his tracks there wasn't really a safe option. Going back down presented less of a risk, but only because he knew what to expect. Above lay a mystery. A mystery that kept calling to him, beckoning him forward the way a parent might a child.

He could only sigh, close his eyes, and lean his head against the stone.

Obi-Wan clutched a hand over his heart where the little kaiburr crystal rested within his tunics. He waited. He stopped thinking. He felt.

Up.

With a deep breath Obi-Wan steeled himself against the cold, called upon the Force to help keep his blood warm and pumping, and pushed himself to his feet. His ascent began anew, into the icy winds and treacherous terrain he went. The visibility decreased the higher he progressed, but his awareness of the Force grew with every step. Obi-Wan knew he was heading straight for a Force nexus.

There was something at the summit. Something ancient.

A brief gap in the clouds revealed a twin set of stone pillars, carved in vaguely humanoid shape, but it was too far for Obi-Wan's human eyes to identify the details. The mist rolled past and obscured the two stone figures once more, but now the Jedi at least had a point to aim for.

It must be an entry point of some sort, Obi-Wan thought. Similar to the statues of ancient Jedi Masters outside the Order's temples.

Obi-Wan pushed his physical limitations aside, and called on the Force to aid in his ascent. He had no way to keep track of time, with the sun's rays scattered within the thick mist, offering no insight into where in the sky the sun currently sat. To his senses the remainder of the journey felt rather swift.

When he finally looked upon the twin pillars he saw clearly, despite its weathered state, what the two figures represented. They were opposites in every way, and the duality of the representation reminded starkly of the painting on the ceiling of the council chambers.

One figure appeared to represent the light, the other the dark. Like Tython's moons, Obi-Wan thought.

He stepped between the two towering statues and began ascending the stairs. It led him up and around the peak. At one point Obi-Wan had to Force-jump over an enormous piece of rock that had fallen into the passage, but that proved to be the only obstacle of any significance. Not long after a set of stone doors hid the entry into the rocky mountain's summit.

Obi-Wan stopped in front of the doorway to catch his breath. The air had grown thin, as he knew it would at that altitude, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. His breaths came in short gasps, the air holding too little oxygen to fill his lungs. He began feeling faint and knew he'd be in trouble if he didn't do something quickly.

The doors ahead of him were frozen over, ice flaking off the surface. Obi-Wan dropped to his knees in front of it and took out his lightsaber. He didn't want to damage the ancient doors if he could help it, so he started hammering away the ice with the pommel to see what was depicted on the surface. What he found was yet another representation of light and dark duality, but the subject wasn't the moons or humanoid figures this time. Instead it depicted a tree with countless flowing branches and roots that spread all the way to the bottom edges of the doorway, and down the centre a thin line ran.

Obi-Wan focused on the line, and sensed that it was where the two doorways joined. He placed a hand against the icy stone and closed his eyes. He drew on the Force, and felt the cavernous space beyond. He felt the crevasses the doors ought to slide into, and knew that he needed only to reach out and draw them apart.

So he did.

Obi-Wan reached out a hand and with the Force slid the heavy stone doors open. Darkness loomed beyond, but it was an escape from the wind and ice still buffeting him, so he entered without a second thought. Once inside he ignited his lightsaber and the room was immediately filled with a blue glow, magnified by what appeared to be countless crystals growing on the walls.

It was a sight unlike any he had ever seen before.

Warmth pulsed against his chest, and Obi-Wan quickly stuck a hand inside his tunics and pulled out the kaiburr crystal. It seemed to resonate with the cavern around him. And no wonder, too. At a glance it was easy to identify that the crystals growing on the walls were also kaiburr.

As Obi-Wan's gaze wandered around the place he spotted a small altar in the centre of the room. He knelt beside it and breathed as deeply as the thin air would allow.

I'm here, he thought. The Force was strong around him, but it existed in an uncontrolled rhythm. There was no thought or direction, no purpose that Obi-Wan could identify. So he ignored the fact that he'd been drawn there, and did what he'd wanted to do weeks ago. He pulled the ancient lightsaber from his belt and placed it on the stone altar in front of him. Next to it he placed the small kaiburr crystal. Then, he deactivated his own blade and stowed it at his side before closing his eyes and emptying his mind of all thoughts, seeking to become one with the Force in that place and in that moment.

Time lost all meaning, and gradually the Force reshaped itself into a harmonious river around the Jedi.

Obi-Wan.

Without losing his grip on what he was feeling, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to the bright blue glow of the chamber. The source of the light was unknown, but the voice he'd heard was one he would forever recognise.

"Qui-Gon?" He whispered.

My padawan. At last you can hear me. I have watched over you for many years, and I know your path has not been easy.

"You returned to the Force twelve years ago," Obi-Wan said, voice steady. "How is it possible that you are speaking to me now?"

It is possible to maintain one's sense of self after returning to the Force. It is a path to immortality. My own training was incomplete before my physical death, and I cannot yet commune with the living at will without a nexus, but I can teach you the path.

"You can teach me to achieve immortality?" Obi-Wan's surprise was quickly drained away by his rationale. "What good is immortality within the Force's embrace when the living have been plunged into darkness? Have you brought me here only to teach me how to continue living after death?"

You are disappointed.

"Well. . . Yes!" Obi-Wan said. "I followed the will of the Force and it led me here, and I'd hoped it would be for a reason other than my own gain."

What is it you seek, Obi-Wan?

"I seek to help the Jedi find their place in the galaxy once more," Obi-Wan said, conviction growing more firm as he spoke. "I seek to save the Republic's democracy, to defeat the Sith lord who holds it hostage."

These are grand ambitions, padawan.

"Ambitions? No, not at all. These are necessities if civilization is to be preserved. If peace is to be won and maintained."

And how would this be achieved?

Obi-Wan blinked. "I don't know," he said.

Change is inevitable. To fight it is as futile as trying to change the tides.

"When change is forced by a tyrant it should not simply be accepted," Obi-Wan argued. "Sheev Palpatine has brought much suffering to the galaxy, and we cannot let his reign continue."

So you will kill him.

Obi-Wan was silent for a time as he contemplated an answer. A heavy weight settled in his heart. "I've trained my whole life to become a devastating warrior," he said. "Though I'd. . . I'd rather not fight. I'd rather resolve all this peacefully, but galactic politics is as wrought with hyperbole and misinformation as war-time propaganda. It's only grown worse under Palpatine's influence. He built armies for the sole purpose of destroying the Jedi Order, and if we hadn't found out about it we very well might have been purged to extinction.

"The man has plotted genocide and very nearly succeeded. So yes, if Palpatine gave me no other option, I would kill him. If I were able to."

You think yourself incapable?

"I don't know the extent of his power," Obi-Wan sighed. "But if the shadow over Coruscant is the result of him alone, then he must be uniquely powerful in the dark side of the Force."

Perhaps the problem doesn't lie with the Sith.

Obi-Wan's brows drew together, carving a deep line between his brows. His hands clenched his knees in a white-knuckled grip. "What are you implying, master?"

Balance must be achieved.

"Yes, well," Obi-Wan's voice grew soft as the fight slowly drained from him. "I have failed in the most important task you ever gave me. I've failed Anakin. My padawan. The chosen one. How can he bring balance to the Force if I could not even guide him to find balance within himself?"

He must find his own path to balance. To claim his failures as your own is arrogance. You are not he, and you do not make his decisions for him.

"He killed—" Obi-Wan swallowed his words. Two years later and he was still reeling from that sad night on Tatooine. He thought he'd dealt with those emotions. He thought he'd released them into the Force. But as he sat there in that ice cold crystal cave, the blue glow reflecting and refracting throughout the cavern, he realised that he still blamed himself for Anakin's inability to master his emotions.

Perhaps that was because he hadn't yet mastered his own. Obi-Wan dipped his head and accepted his failure as a Jedi Master.

Stop it.

Obi-Wan raised his head. Confusion filled his eyes as he looked at the flowing blue light. "Stop what?" He asked.

You have become a great Jedi, Obi-Wan. Too great, perhaps. And that is no fault of your own.

Obi-Wan stayed silent, and waited. He did not contradict his old master, and simply waited for whatever wisdom Qui-Gon wished to impart to him.

Why do you think the council feared the boy?

He should have known better than to expect a simple lesson. Qui-Gon had always taught in a way that forced him to find the answers on his own. It was the harder path, in the end, but Obi-Wan also knew it was the better, more meaningful path.

"To bring balance to the Force, an imbalance must first exist," Obi-Wan said. "Perhaps the council feared the boy because they could not identify the imbalance."

The Sith revealed themselves at the same time the Force led us to the boy.

"Two Sith, and ten thousand Jedi," Obi-Wan said. "Quite imbalanced, but I suppose Sith and Jedi are not of the Force. Therefore that could not have been what the council feared."

Explain.

"The Force will continue to exist whether or not there are Jedi to seek a greater understanding of it, or Sith to uncompromisingly wield its power. The Force will always be there, because it exists in every living organism. It's what binds our galaxy together, it's the only thing that transcends the bounds of time and space itself," Obi-Wan closed his eyes again as his thoughts took shape.

"Master Yoda told me he has not allowed the Jedi to change. Complacency. A slow decline into ruin. On an instinctual level he must have realised that the appearance of a chosen one could mean that the Jedi themselves were out of balance with the Force."

So much time spent contemplating sentient-created constructs. What do you think the Force thinks of this?

Obi-Wan opened his eyes as the beginnings of understanding dawned on him. Eyes wide, he said, "The Force doesn't think. It doesn't need to. It simply is. How we channel its power is based purely on our intent. Our emotions. . . our emotions affect. . . Anger draws more power, depression leeches it from us. Our intent. . . The Jedi have isolated themselves. We've lived apart from the wider galaxy. The average person thinks of us as obscure mystics or religious fanatics.

"Through seeking greater understanding of the Force we've forgotten to pay attention to the very thing that creates it."

And what is that, Obi-Wan?

"Life," Obi-Wan felt a strange sensation in his chest. He could only describe it as a feeling of elation as the Force swelled within and around him. "The Jedi have become disconnected from the living Force. We spend so much time attempting to understand and unravel the mysteries of the unifying Force that we've forgotten the importance of the fundamentals of existence."

And what can you conclude from this?

"The Jedi must change," Obi-Wan said without even a moment's hesitation. "We have to remember where we came from. We have to remember what balance in the Force means."

And you must be the one to guide them.

"How can I guide them, when I still have so much to learn," Obi-Wan said, and the Force around him subdued into a gentle flow.

Do not doubt yourself, Obi-Wan. You already have the answers.

"I may not have the time necessary to reform the Order," Obi-Wan said as his thoughts darted back to galactic conflict. "Many Jedi will oppose the very notion. Meanwhile, the galaxy remains locked in war, feeding the Sith's power."

You will do as you must. That is all any of us can do.

The following silence was comforting, like a blanket wrapped snugly around the shoulders in the middle of winter. Obi-Wan focused on his breathing, on filtering as much oxygen from the thin air into his lungs as he could. He'd had to adapt to such fluctuations in breathable air before. Often, in fact. Not every planet had the same atmosphere, the same ratios of gasses. He'd had to struggle through the hallucinations of hypoxia once or twice as a padawan, and that led his thoughts to the idea of Force illusions, to what had happened to him on the pathway leading to the temple.

"Was I trapped in a Force-born illusion or was the battle real?" Obi-Wan asked.

It was real, and you were there, yet not there.

Obi-Wan sighed. "That makes very little sense, master," he said. "I picked up a lightsaber from a fallen Jedi, and it stayed with me. The blood that spattered my face and tunics from the destructive blasts was also real. How was that possible, if I wasn't. . . How was any of that possible?"

You are on Tython. It is a planet that has always been exceptionally sensitive to the imbalances created in the Force. It seeks to restore that balance, and you understand the suffering it seeks to rectify. You understand it, because you have lived it, and so, the Force has chosen you to see what others would not be able to interpret.

"It was a battle between Jedi and Sith," Obi-Wan said. "What more is there to interpret?"

Perhaps involving you in the battle was merely a catalyst for providing the wisdom you need.

"The lightsaber. . ." Obi-Wan said in a breathless whisper as realisation dawned on him.

Yes. You have the skill to look into the past, and have done so at will. Now, this lightsaber has been brought to your hand. You will discover what teachings it holds. Of that, Obi-Wan, I am certain.

The blue glow of the cave began to dim, and the cold slowly drew itself against his skin once more, displacing the pleasant warmth that the strong presence had brought. Obi-Wan sensed that his time with Qui-Gon was running short, and that he'd learned all he could from that cave, from Qui-Gon's presence. There was little left that needed to be said.

"I have missed you, master."

The Force will be with you, Obi-Wan. Always. And so will I.

The storm had been raging for three days. Lightning crashed upon the stone, scorching it black. It struck trees, setting them ablaze, and all the while the Jedi hid within their rediscovered temple.

"I have to tend to the crops!" The disgruntled tone of an older man floated across the kitchen area. "Our stores won't last indefinitely."

Siri glanced up from the datapad in front of her and looked past Ferus' shoulder at the grizzled Agricorp veteran. She sighed. There wasn't anything they could do about the weather, and it most certainly wasn't safe to wander outside. Besides, it was hardly the first time they'd had to hole themselves up and wait for a storm to pass. She turned her attention back to her datapad, where she was busy helping Ferus update the kitchen duty schedule.

"They keep getting worse," Ferus said quietly.

"I imagine this is why sentient beings have abandoned the deep core," Siri said. "Nature becomes increasingly unpredictable and destructive the closer one travels to the galaxy's centre."

"And the Jedi plan to stay here, in obscurity, eventually fading away entirely," Ferus' voice was soft, but his tone did not leave his mood up to Siri's imagination. He was displeased.

"The council is still debating," she said, attempting to appease herself with her own words. Ferus had every right to be frustrated with the situation. She was as well. She hated sitting on her hands while a room full of cautious beings talked about what was best for them all.

"But what if they do decide for us to stay here?" Ferus asked. "We would have to take. . . precautions so our Order doesn't die out."

"Is that what has you so worried, Ferus?" Siri leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "That you might have to father children?"

"I wasn't raised to think of myself in such a role," he sighed. "I was raised to mediate disputes, with a lightsaber if necessary, not to hide on a long forgotten planet while the galaxy slowly kills itself. You heard the news Bail Organa brought."

Siri didn't disagree with him. On the contrary, her own opinion on the matter was quite vehement. But she held her tongue for the sake of the younger Jedi who looked to her for guidance. If the time came to make a little noise, she would gladly do so, but patience held far more value in the present moment. Even if it irked her a great deal to do nothing.

"I wish I could set your mind at ease," Siri said.

Ferus sighed. "This doesn't feel right."

"I know."

They sat in silence, datapads forgotten on the table. Kitchen staff chatter drifted towards them along with the sounds of boiling stew, steam, and vegetables being peeled.

"I'm sure Obi-Wan will be back soon," Siri said. "Maybe talking to him will help us both."

"He is dear to you, isn't he," Ferus said. He caught the stern glint of his former master's eyes, and wondered if he'd perhaps crossed a line.

"I've known him since we were younglings," Siri said. "Of course I care for him."

"And if things—"

"No, Ferus," Siri interrupted, voice stern. "There are no what ifs here. Things are the way they are, and to contemplate anything else is to forget our purpose."

"Forgive me, master. I overstepped," Ferus said, bowing his head.

Siri sighed and stretched out a hand to lift Ferus' chin. She waited until he met her eyes, then said, "There is nothing to forgive. We live in a time of great uncertainty, and that is why it's so important that we remember what we, as Jedi, have learned. This uncertainty is growing into the beginnings of fear. We cannot let that seed take root, or the Order is doomed without any more help from the Sith."

"I understand," Ferus said so quietly his voice nearly went unheard beneath the sound of knives on chopping boards.

Anakin stared at the holographic projection of a man he once trusted. Now, he didn't know if he should end the connection before anything was said, or if he should give him a chance to say what he wanted to say. In the end, his grim curiosity won over his bitterness.

"How did you get this comcode?" Anakin asked in his most neutral voice.

"It's a simple matter, for someone like me," the voice of Sheev Palpatine crackled through the sound device, the hologram flickered in time with the auditory distortion.

"Someone like you?" Anakin raised his chin. "Do you mean a Chancellor, or a Sith?"

The image of Palpatine's lips stretched into a smile that failed to touch his eyes. "Have I ever been unkind to you, Anakin?"

"You lied to me," Anakin said. "You made yourself out to be my friend."

"I am your friend."

Anakin sighed. The galaxy looked so different to him now. He could scarcely believe that he'd ever trusted Sheev Palpatine. Posing as a caring adult had only made the sting of his lies and betrayal so much worse when his nature was revealed on Serreno. "You're not my friend," Anakin said. "You're the reason Naboo was invaded, and the reason why Master Qui-Gon died. You tried to have all the Jedi executed. Why would I want to be friends with someone like that?"

"You misunderstand, dear boy," Palpatine said, his face a mask of concern. "The Jedi betrayed the Republic and would hav—"

"I don't want to hear any more of your lies," Anakin said loudly. "You planned the Battle of Naboo, then you manipulated Padme to unseat Chancellor Valorum, which let you swoop in and save the day. I have little patience for your manipulative games. Get to the point, please."

Anakin watched as Palpatine's face morphed into calm exasperation. "Be careful, Anakin Skywalker," he said calmly. "I would so hate for you to choose the wrong friends. It could be, shall we say, detrimental."

"Your threats don't scare me," Anakin crossed his arms and raised his chin another fraction.

"No, no, you misunderstand, dear boy," Palpatine's expression changed to one of deep concern. "I reached out to you today because I heard some disturbing news. There are rumours that a Separatist cell has taken Padme Amidala captive. I also heard rumours that the two of you have grown close. I can only imagine the pain and worry you must feel, not knowing if she's safe, or if she's even still alive."

Anakin sat completely motionless as he processed Palpatine's words. "I doubt it was a Separatist cell," he finally said.

"What makes you so certain?" Palpatine's brow raised in a line that was supposed to convey compassion, but all Anakin saw were the soulless eyes beneath. He could only wonder how, as a young padawan, he'd never noticed it.

"Because," Anakin sighed. "Dooku asked me for my help not too long ago. Now why would he do that, and then immediately betray me?"

"Interesting," Palpatine said, and for once Anakin was unable to read his expression. "And you trust him over me, do you?"

"I don't trust either of you."

"You turned him down? That could explain the kidnapping."

"It's Padme's help he wanted. Why would he go through the trouble of talking to me first if he was just going to kidnap her anyway. Besides, she can't do what he wants her to from a cage. You're far more likely to have taken her, Chancellor."

"I assure you I did no such thing," Palpatine said, raising his own chin as a strange darkness entered his gaze, as though he knew he was about to get his way. "But. . . I am willing to help you find her, if you do something for me first."

Anakin wanted to cut the communication with the Sith Lord, but he doubted Palpatine would make the offer twice. He sat, indecisive, while the Sith merely looked on with an expression of dark calm. The silence stretched on, and finally, with a sigh, Anakin decided that it probably wouldn't hurt to hear Palpatine out. Padme would listen, at least, if their positions were reversed. Wouldn't she?

"What did you have in mind?"