A/N: I've managed to avoid taking stuff from the original JA series, but honestly, I got lazy, we fanfic authors steal other stuff (namely characters, universe, plot) anyway, I'm not getting paid for this, and it's frankly easier to copy and paste rather than figure out how to reword something that's already been articulated anyway. Still, it's just to warn you that for those of you who have read the JA series some parts of this are going to read very familiar. I made some minor editions because Jude Watson's writing style is actually pretty peculiar, I'm not sure I like it, I guess that's what you get when you're writing for nine to thirteen-year-olds. I wouldn't say it's bad, I read it fine when it was just the book, but added to my own writing style it looked really misplaced. I didn't work overly much on it so the style differences are probably still pretty obvious, but I did enough so that at least Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were in character for my fanfic; they had such a different dynamic in the original, I guess it made sense because of how George Lucas decided to film Phantom Menace but really the two were such an awful pair…to me, anyway. I guess that's why I'm writing this fanfic, hahaha.

Darsant Avat

The Thirteenth Birthday

The days after Obi-Wan recovered were the happiest he could remember. His master, according to Kit, had gone off somewhere while Obi-Wan had slept, and when he returned he seemed a little bit different—more at ease, more willing to let Obi-Wan have some freedom, and he seemed to have found a kind of peace Obi-Wan never realized he lacked. He would not say Master Qui-Gon was content, but he seemed to have found a purpose that stabilized him, and Obi-Wan would never object to that.

His thirteenth birthday was an ordinary day. They had been dispatched to another planet just a few days prior to oversee a political event, which ended with little of note. Master Yoda had then contacted them to give them another mission without any break or heading back to Coruscant, so the morning was spent preparing for departure, Obi-Wan packing their things while his master arranged for transport. It actually felt a little bit odd, to face his birthday without any presents or any real acknowledgment, especially from his master.

It was not that Master Qui-Gon had forgotten; of that, Obi-Wan was certain. Even if he did, it was not a big deal—he trusted his master enough to know that there was be a good reason, and it was not because he was displeased with Obi-Wan. Besides, the boy had to acknowledge, the past few birthdays had been absolutely strange for a Jedi padawan, and it was probably just as well that he got back to normal. There was a ritual, on a padawan's thirteenth birthday, and it would be difficult to complete with all the distraction of presents and letters, plus they were being sent on another mission, further proving that time waited for nothing, not even birthdays.

The boy mentally shrugged at all of this and was about to walk straight to the ship when his master pulled him to a stop.

"You don't think I've actually forgotten, have you?" His eyes were filled with laughter as he peered down.

Obi-Wan could not stop his grin from escaping. Alright, fine, just because I don't mind doesn't mean I'm not excited about this. "I wouldn't blame you if you did." The last few missions were not hard, but they did occupy time, and with Master Qui-Gon constantly busy, when exactly would he go find a present?

Master Qui-Gon tugged his braid gently. "Brat. It's not just any birthday, is it? It's your thirteenth birthday. There's a tradition we have to abide by." He reached into his tunic, took Obi-Wan's hand, and pressed a smooth, round stone onto his palm.

Bemused, Obi-Wan stared at it. Masters usually thought for weeks to months about the gift they would give to their padawan on their thirteenth birthday. It was supposed to represent the promise of being the best teachers they can be, the hope that the padawans would be the best student, and that upon knighthood and beyond they would honor those who instructed them and remember them. By all appearances, however, Master Qui-Gon had given him a rock. Did it contain some sort of power? It seemed relatively normal.

"I found it years ago," Qui-Gon said musingly as they both looked at the stone, "When I was no older than you are now. I found it in the River of Light on my home planet."

Obi-Wan lifted it into the light. It felt smooth and polished, and felt very nice in his hand. When the sun hit it, he could see red streaks running through the shiny blackness. For all its beauty, however, he could not fathom what was so special about it.

"Why did you keep it for so many years?" He wondered out loud. It surely must have been special. His master would not collect just any rock, even though for a Jedi, Master Qui-Gon was kind of strange. He obviously had kept it on him for a long time just to wait for this moment.

"That's for you to figure out, hm?" Master Qui-Gon smiled.

"Why didn't you give it to your former padawans?"

"You ask too many questions," Qui-Gon tugged his braid again, amused. "Have you done the other parts of the birthday ritual?"

"Not really," Obi-Wan admitted. The other parts his master was talking about involved reflecting on the past…but what was there to reflect? There was nothing to think over that he did not already know. He looked up at his master, grinning. "This is the first actual present you ever gave me, Master Qui-Gon, since you chose me four years ago."

"What did I give you then?" Master Qui-Gon tilted his head.

Obi-Wan tucked the rock into his tunic and did not say anything. He was not really sure what to say. How does one tell a man that he gave him a home? There were simply no words to describe.

Master Qui-Gon seemed to understand, though. His eyes became soft and deep.

"Come, child," He said to Obi-Wan, "Let's board."

The pilot of their ship was a Phindian, with long arms and the stereotypical mournfully gangly body.

"Two minutes," Said the pilot, "I finish loading."

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi," Master Qui-Gon introduced.

"Yes, big surprise, Jedi are not hard to spot," the pilot mumbled, picking up a loading carton.

"And you are…?"

"Pilot. I am what I do."

Obi-Wan sauntered forward, curious. "You need any help?" He asked.

The pilot blinked his red-streaked yellow eyes and seemed at a loss for a moment.

"No. You board, let me load." He averted his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"No, not sure. Not so! I lie. Yes yes, go."

"Come, Padawan," Master Qui-Gon called. Wondering why the pilot was being so shifty, the boy obeyed.

"The planet of Gala has been ruled for many years by the Beju-Tallah dynasty," Master Qui-Gon began once they were somewhat settled, "They were successful in uniting a world with deep tribal hatreds. There are three tribes on Gala - the city people, the hill people, and the sea people. Over the years the Tallah rulers grew corrupt. They plundered the planet of wealth, and the people are close to revolt. The old Queen knows this. Instead of giving the throne to her son, Prince Beju, she has agreed to elections. The people will choose among three candidates. The Prince is among them. He has lived in seclusion for mush of his life. The Queen feared for his safety. He was trained as a ruler though, and is anxious to gain the throne."

"This sounds catastrophic," Obi-Wan remarked, "They're never going to figure this out through a mere election, not with that kind of history."

"It will be difficult," Master Qui-Gon agreed, "Which is why we are being sent; there are those who are resistant to the change. Prince Beju for example. We are told that he's not happy that he has to submit to a vote by the people. He considers the rule of Gala to be his birthright. We will be there as guardians of the peace, to make sure the elections go smoothly."

"Is there any sign that the Prince is planning something?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yoda says not," Master Qui-Gon answered. "But he also said that we should not rely on that." Qui-Gon sighed wryly. "It was a typical conversation with Yoda…so we should be prepared for anything."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Prepare for anything, you must!"

"Brat." His master ruffled his hair.

The pilot climbed into the cockpit and sat down in the seat. He leaned over to set a course into the navi-computer. "I'll drop you on Gala and go on," he said. "Now sit tight and don't talk much."

Obi-Wan exchanged an amused glance with his master.

He's so grumpy, Obi-Wan thought, We should call him Mr. Grumps.

The ship took off, leaving the planet behind to enter the deep blue of space.

"I wonder what Bail is doing," He said to his master, "He was yelling a lot about this person his sister is dating."

"Oh dear. Why was he yelling?"

"Apparently he's some…unrefined bloke."

"Ha! I imagine anyone his sister dates would be an 'unrefined bloke'."

"Bail's pretty annoyed, anyway."

Suddenly, the ship veered and dipped alarmingly.

"Oops, sorry, very strange space shear," the pilot said. "Too much distracting talking behind me. Time for hyperspace."

Obi-Wan blinked, suddenly having a peculiar feeling about the pilot, but he did not have time to articulate his thoughts because in the next moment, the ship shot into hyperspace. After nothing happened for a while, he allowed himself to relax a little and glanced at his master, but Master Qui-Gon was frowning slightly, his hands stiff as if ready to reach for his lightsaber.

They were halfway to Gala when a warning light began to blink and beep insistently on the control panel.

"Don't worry," The Phindian said. "Just a small fuel leak."

"Fuel leak?" MasterQui-Gon asked. The beeping suddenly shifted to a loud siren.

"Oops, worry," The pilot shut off the indicator. "I must exit hyperspace and land on the nearest planet to our location." He quickly entered the information into the navicomputer. "Not a problem," he continued, whistling through his teeth.

The ship shuddered as it reentered normal space. Immediately, the comm unit came alive.

"Identify yourself!" a loud voice demanded.

"Ah," The pilot muttered. "This world is unfriendly."

"What planet is it?" Master Qui-Gon asked.

"Closed to outside ships," Pilot muttered.

"Identify or be destroyed!" The voice thundered.

"So find another planet!" Master Qui-Gun suggested sharply, beginning to lose his patience.

"Emergency." Pilot leaned into the comm unit. "We have an emergency on board. And Jedi! It is a Jedi emergency! Asking permission to land—"

"Permission not granted! Repeat: permission not granted!"

Master Qui-Gon peered through the viewscreen. "Where are we, Pilot? We must be close to Gala. This should be a populated system. There has to be somewhere else to land!"

"Not so!" The Phindian cried as he maneuvered the ship with a lurch to the right.

"Why not?"

Suddenly, two starfighters appeared and split off with each other in order to flank them. Laser cannons began to fire. The pilot scrambled in a panic.

"Because we are under attack!" He screamed, and began to take evasive action as the starfighters screamed toward them. Obi-Wan was thrown against the console.

"I think I can lose them!" Pilot shouted as the ship was attacked by laser fire.

Uh…Obi-Wan managed to think despite the urgency of the situation, That's not happening.

"Stop!" His master roared, throwing himself forward and wrenching the control from the pilot's grasp. "Are you insane? This transport can't outmaneuver two starfighters!"

"I'm a good pilot! And can't you use that Force of yours?"

Master Qui-Gon stared disbelievingly, while Obi-Wan struggled not to laugh.

"We can't work a miracle. The starfighters are escorting us down. If you don't follow them, they'll blast us right out of space."

Grudgingly, the Phindian took the controls again. The starfighters wheeled and flanked them, guiding then down toward the planet's surface. When the landing platform was in view, they waited until they were sure the transport ship was landing, then zoomed off.

Slowly, they settled. Master Qui-Gon strode to the viewscreens to get a full view of the landing platform. "Assassin droids are surrounding the ship."

"That doesn't sound good," The Phindian said nervously. "I have a couple of blasters and a proton grenade -"

"No. We will not fight. They're here to guard us until someone arrives. They won't attack us."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Pilot remarked, eyeing them.

Master Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan.

"I'm ready, Master," Obi-Wan said.

"Then come."

Master Qui-Gon activated the release lever for the exit ramp. He strode out, with Obi-Wan close in tow. The Phindian lurked behind in the doorway.

The assassin droids turned toward them but their built-in blasters did not fire. "You see, they're here as escorts," His master said quietly. "Don't make any sudden movements."

"They're not escorts," Obi-Wan shook his head, voice equally quiet as he studied the droids. They were killing machines, designed and programmed for battle without conscience or consequence. What kind of world had they landed on?

They made their way down the ramp, and the droids made no motion. Obi-Wan knew it was only a matter of time though.

"They're going to attack," He warned. His master still did not say anything, but then there was a blur of motion as he suddenly jumped, his cape cracking in the air. He landed on a pile of old metal crates nearby. Obi-Wan moved before thought, leaping over the heads of the first line of droids. His lightsaber was already in his hand. He activated it and saw the reassuring blue glow.

This is the first time I'm using it! He had this real lightsaber for such a long time, it felt a bit odd to actually use it in real combat. For a moment, he felt a flash of doubt, but he pushed it aside as he landed. He could hear the click and whirr of the droids' joints as the swiveled, trying to get better aim.

The Jedi had the advantage of speed and better maneuverability, and the Force guided Obi-Wan, helping him anticipate the droid's movements.

Master Qui-Gon leaped down from the crate. With one stroke, he sliced through three droids. Obi-Wan cut through the first droid on his right, then used his momentum to twist and roll into the legs of a second. The droid wobbled, trying to aim as Obi-Wan sliced through its spindly legs with his lightsaber. As soon as the droid fell, Obi-Wan dealt a blow to the control panel on its chest. The droid collapsed, inoperative.

Before he could congratulate himself on slicing a droid that was not programmed to shut off before killing him, there was another droid, and Obi-Wan was forced to contend with that. He could sense his master's movements behind him, and knew that he was driving the droids back toward the crumbling wall of the landing platform. He twisted and turned, his blade spinning loosely in his hand, and eventually Obi-Wan was able to reach the outer flank of the droids, allowing him to drive them back to where his master wanted them.

There were only four droids left standing when the Jedi were able to maneuver them against the wall. Working in tandem, they avoided the constant blaster fire and, with a sudden movement, rushed the droids, slicing through their jointed legs. The four collapsed in a heap, and his master sliced again, making sure they were down for good.

He turned to look at Obi-Wan, who beamed at him.

"Not bad," He stated. "See, I told you you had nothing to worry about." He turned back. "Where's that pilot?"

The Phindian was gone. The control console was destroyed by the blaster fire.

Master Qui-Gon took out his comm, but he could not reach Yoda. "Communications must be jammed. This is some world we've arrived on."

"What should we do, Master?"

"We need to find that pilot."

"How?" Obi-Wan began to stretch out his senses, but his master laid a hand on his shoulder.

"He'll find us," He stated, "We should not linger here. Stay close to me, Padawan."

The world was Phindar, and a rather poor world it was. The people were dressed in coarse clothing, and Obi-Wan could see that their clothes had been mended many times. Readout signs in shops announced in scrolling type: "NOTHING TODAY" or "CLOSED UNTIL SHIPMENT". Locals glanced at the signs, sighed, and plodded on further, their market baskets empty. Lines formed outside shuttered shops, as if the Phindians were willing to chance that they would open soon.

More than that, though, were droids. Assassin droids were everywhere, their joints clicking, heads rotating. On the muddy, unpaved street, gleaming silver landspeeders zoomed by with no regard for traffic rules or pedestrians attempting to cross.

Three Phindians, dressed in full-length metallic silver coats, suddenly appeared on the walkway. They strode, shoulder to shoulder, their dark visors incredibly black. The other Phindians quickly moved off the walkway into the muddy road, as if afraid they would get crushed. The silver- coated Phindians didn't falter, but took charge of the walkway as if it were their right.

Master Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a hard tug on his cape, and quickly they both stepped off the paved walkway into the muddy street. The silver-coated men marched by.

As soon as they passed, the other Phindians climbed back onto the paved walkway. Once again, they began the process of looking into shops, then turning away when they saw there was nothing for sale.

"I sense a lot of fear here, Master," Obi-Wan whispered.

His master looked grim. "Stay close."

The boy was nervous. This was the first time he had actually been on an outright corrupt world. It was not even a world they had been assigned to. There was an odd blankness in the faces of some of the locals, as if they had been mindwiped.

Suddenly, a large gold landspeeder screamed around a corner. The Phindians in the street scurried to safety, and the others on the walkway shrank back against the buildings.

Obi-Wan felt the dark shadow shimmer outward from the gold speeder. With a slight touch to his shoulder, his master led Obi-Wan to withdraw silently and quickly. They faded back into an alley and watched the speeder blast by.

A silver-coated driver was at the controls. In the back were two figures. They wore long coats of gold. The Phindian woman had lovely orange eyes shot through with gold the color of her coat. The male next to her was larger than most, with the long, powerful arms of the Phindian people. He did not wear a mirrored visor, and his small, bronze- colored eyes swept the street imperiously.

The gold speeder zoomed around the corner, nearly hitting a child who was being frantically pulled along by her mother. Obi-wan stared after the speeder, incredulous.

"Easy," His master laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We were brought here for a reason," Obi-Wan told his master, "We won't be able to leave this planet without doing something."

His master squeezed his shoulder. "Let's investigate then. To the market."

Obi-Wan followed. This was turning out to be quite a birthday.

The pilot did find them, and brought him to meet his brother. It turned out he was Paxxi, and his brother Guerra, who actually knew Master Qui-Gon, and they were thieves who stole from the dictatorial Syndicat, a criminal organization that took over Phindar and created artificial shortages of resources in order to repress the population. They were responsible for the assassin droids, the general misery of everyone, and mindwiping various members, sometimes sending them to hostile worlds for fun in order to see how long they would survive. Somehow the brothers got it into their heads to recruit the Jedi into helping them thwart the Syndicat.

Obi-Wan was all for the idea, especially when it turned out the Syndicat appeared to be involved with Prince Beju of Gala. Apparently, the prince thought that creating fake shortages was a good idea, and had created a bacta shortage on his own planet. He intended to "save" his planet with Syndicat's bacta, thus depriving Phindians of the same supply.

"I guess he was planning something," He said to his master. Good old Master Yoda.

For some reason, Master Qui-Gon was not as eager to help these people as Obi-Wan had suspected…or perhaps it was more because Paxxi and Guerra were kind of irritating. They wasted a lot of time saying the exact opposite of what they meant to say, only to repeat the stuff after exclaiming, "Not so, I lie!", something that had gotten very old ages ago.

"We'll help you," He said to Paxxi and Guerra. Before the brother's could speak, he held up a hand to stop them. "But you must promise me something."

"Anything, Jedi-Gon," Guerra vowed.

"You will tell me the complete truth always," His master ordered the sternly. "You will not withhold information, or shade it, or twist it. You will obey the Jedi rule to tell the clear, solid truth."

"Yes so, Jedi-Gon!" Guerra rushed to assure him while Paxxi nodded energetically. "For a hundred moons I would not lie to you again!"

"Never mind the hundred moons," His master threw Obi-Wan a long-suffering look. "Just do as I say."

Heh, Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose, Fat chance of that. It looked like his master agreed, if his expression was any indication.

"It is better to act quickly," Guerra said. "We should break into Syndicat headquarters tonight."

"So the plan is to sneak into a vault that conveniently stores all of their treasury," Said Obi-Wan, "Steal from it, and then what? How are you going to spend it? What are you going to use it for? Are you going to wave the credits in front of the assassin droids patrolling up and down the streets?"

"Ah, Obawan jokes, he does!" Paxxi the pilot laughed, "Wave credits at droids, not so, but the source of the Syndicat's power is in their money, as is anyone's!"

Obi-Wan turned to his master. "I vote hacking. That's my piece."

"You're assuming that all the assassin droids can be hacked from a single source," His master was amused, "And hacking droids takes far longer than stealing from a vault, ironically."

"What are we going to do with the money?" Obi-Wan pointed out, "They have the blasters. Even if we had money, all that will happen is they will force us to hand it over. We accomplish nothing by stealing from the vault. That's pointless."

"Then what do you want to do?" Guerra asked.

"If hacking droids will take too long…let's work from Prince Beju."

"I agree," His master nodded, "The best method is to work from Beju."

The Phindians stared at the Jedi, not comprehending.

"Beju is arriving soon, right?" His master asked.

"Yes, but—"

"Gala is not far away. Has Beju ever come here before?"

"No, this is the first time, but—"

"Here, Obi-Wan," His master took out a small projector, and summoned the hologram of Prince Beju. Ironically familiar features stared at him, set in an unfamiliar sneer. Beju was actually not much older than Obi-Wan was, and through transmissions and holograms, it would not be difficult to suggest that there had been distortions…

"Nooooooo…" Obi-Wan exclaimed when he saw it, "You're kidding me."

"If we're going to do any sneaking, I think this is a better use of that."

"Noooooo…" The padawan moaned, "Don't tell me I look like him! Arghhhhhh why can't I have a nice doppelganger?"

"Don't you know?" Master Qui-Gon turned the image off, "Doppelgangers are never nice. Do you know what to do?"

"How am I going to impersonate Beju? I need the silly hat and cloak and stuff, plus they probably know when Beju's due to arrive and everything."

"We need to get to Gala," Said his master, "And fast, I would suggest."

The Phindian brothers were staring, aghast.

"The Jedi are a boring lot, my brother."

"Not so, you lie!"

"Yes, indeed, I lie."

"I can't believe he looks like me," Obi-Wan grouched in dismay, still unhappy that it turned out he looked like Prince Beju, "This stinks! I am more good-looking than him though, right?"

For some reason, Master Qui-Gon laughed uproariously at this, and refused to explain why.