Growing Pains
Out and About
Part 2
Having been scanned and frisked and catalogued by the various automated staff, and then somewhat apologetically ushered into a small but mercifully clean holding cell in the substation's basement level, Obi-Wan found himself contemplating means of escape, almost reflexively. He had noted every exit, the location of the lighting control panels, the overhead vent shafts, the alarm system sensors, and the door locking mechanisms. If drilled by his master, he would have been able to accurately draw a map of the entire complex and suggest three different exit strategies, all of which involved an egregious abuse of power. On the way over, he had briefly considered leaping from the speeder and disappearing into the crowds… but he knew that , sooner or later, he would have to give a full and truthful account of his doings to Qui-Gon. He judged himself better off enduring the humiliation of being bailed out lawfully and honestly than trying to justify a dramatic violation of the local statutes. A Jedi was not above the law… at least, not a padawan out on a stroll without his master.
The officer who had apprehended him proved an amiable enough fellow. He spent a full three minutes gawking at the data-readout on his 'pad when he slotted Obi-Wan's ID chit into the interface. "Okay, kid, you got legit credentials. I'll just call this superior of yours… gotta follow protocol. Oh, and speaking of which, you need the fresher or some food?"
"I'm fine, thank you for your concern."
The man stood arms akimbo. "You know, " he mused. "Kid your age in here… we usually send 'em through the community service and rehab program. I have the informational vid here. I'll set it to play."
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and endured in silence as a shielded projector in the corner cast the flickering holo-documentary into the open space before him. The production featured a multi-species assemblage of teens roughly his own age, all of whom recited their stilted lines with implausible enthusiasm, and none of whom would actually pass for a street thug on any known system in the galaxy. The sole human member of the cast was a freckled, tow headed boy wearing a garish ensemble of fashionable street clothes. This person's one claim to fame was the grating repetition of the officious safety slogan "just say no."
The young Jedi rolled back on the hard cell palette and wondered what would transpire were he to apply this advice in everyday life. The second or third time he just said no to his master's mandates, he would be facing consequences that made the purported results of hash-stim addiction look like a walk in the Coruscant Botanical Gardens. He wadded his cloak behind his head and did his best to ignore the remainder of the blaring educational holo, resolving never to succumb to the temptation of complaint about boredom and delays again.
The mag-lev taxi system deposited Qui-Gon Jinn within easy walking distance of the police substation. He bypassed the pedestrian swift tube and crossed the busy intersection on foot, adroitly dodging between whizzing cargo trams and rail-buses.
The guard on duty admitted him to the rear detention center without question, issuing him into a small anteroom manned by a pimple-faced cadet. A more experienced security officer sat behind a desk, tapping information onto a holo-display with a bent electro-stylus. This individual sprang to his feet upon the tall man's arrival, eyes widening in mild alarm at the imposing height and breadth of his visitor.
"Master Jinn?" he peeped.
"You have my apprentice in custody?" the Jedi master politely inquired.
"Ah, yes. Nice lad, very good manners… have to say, I was awfully surprised to find a young Jedi involved in such hooliganism." The man hesitated, judging whether his words had given offense. "The thing is, if you'll excuse me giving advice to your reverend self, Master Jinn…?"
"We may all benefit from the life wisdom of others," the tall man assured him.
A beaming smile of approval. "Just so. These talented youngsters – the ones with a lot of pressure and expectation on em – you know, they're just as likely to get involved in this stuff as the marginalized ones. You got a parental figure with impossible standards to meet, you got a drive for perfection… it makes for unhealthy psychological patterns. The need to escape. And these experimental drugs nowadays – whew. It ain't worth it. Kid needs an ear, maybe. Sympathetic person he can confide in. I can tell you care – I mean, you're here to fetch him. I'd look on this more as an opportunity to grow than a failure. It's actually a blessing that I caught him when I did."
Qui-Gon regarded the man solemnly. "Your perspective is very enlightened. Would you be so kind as to show me the way?"
The flustered officer gestured him down a short flight of steps and into a basement level hallway lined with small cells. A handful were barred by energy fields, indicating an occupant. "Yes, here… " The man punched a code into the panel and released one of the shimmering barriers.
Qui-Gon leaned in the narrow door frame, careful to retain a severely impassive mien, despite the comically abashed expression on his padawan's face. Obi-Wan managed to make eye contact for a few seconds before dropping his gaze to the scrubbed plastocrete floor.
"He under your sole legal custody?" the police officer inquired.
"You could say that," the Jedi master replied.
Obi-Wan stood, mortification radiating off him in waves. "I'm truly sorry, Master."
Qui-Gon hooked both thumbs through his belt. "We will discuss the matter in private."
The security officer produced a datapad and thrust it beneath the tall man's nose. "Sorry to put you through this rigamarole, but you need to affix your print and signature here, here.. here… here. Diplomatic immunity applies, plus the usual statutes related to minors and off-worlders. I just gotta do my job. And, uh… hash stim." He wagged a finger at the young Jedi. "That's not a play-thing. And off the street like that – probably cut with some toxic additives."
The padawan managed a sober nod, anxiously awaiting his liberation.
"That's all in order," the policeman chuffed, tucking the document pad into a voluminous back pocket. He waved his prisoner forward. "All right, youngster, I'm releasing you to your own authorities here. But I feel obliged to send you off with a word to the wise: drugs is not the way to take the pressure off or to find happiness. You gotta personal problem you need to solve… you talk to an adult you can trust. Hash stim won't give you any real answers, believe me." He jerked his head in Qui-Gon's direction. "He'll tell you the same thing, I bet."
The older Jedi smiled thinly, mercifully intervening at long last. "Thank you, officer. I instructed my padawan to investigate the inner city precinct this afternoon. I am happy to say we have discovered that your patrol does an admirable and principled job of fulfilling its duties." He laid a paternal hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
The security officer's mouth popped open in surprise, and then slowly formed into a sly smile. He nodded, sagaciously. "Oh ho… I see," he said. "We pass muster, eh? Well, you had me fooled, youngster… that's a good piece of work, now. We do our best," he added, pride swelling his chest. "I won't mention this, of course. I mean, in case you need to investigate other precincts, eh?"
"Your discretion is appreciated," Qui-Gon replied.
"Mum's the word,":the man assured them. He escorted them to the door in high spirits. "A pleasure – and sorry for the inconvenience."
"Not at all; we come to serve."
Once safely enclosed in a covered air-taxi, Qui-Gon activated the transport's back compartment sound-seal. "Now, Padawan mine. We are in private. And our police friend advised me to lend you a sympathetic ear. So start talking," he advised his young companion, who sat with cloak demurely bundled in his lap.
Obi-Wan's brows quirked upward in a pained valley, but words seemed to fail him. "I am sorry, Master. It was a misunderstanding."
Qui-Gon rested his head against the padded seat's back. "At the moment, Obi-Wan, we are closer to a total deficit of understanding."
"Yes, Master. Thank you for coming. And for .. what you said to the officer."
The tall man smiled thinly. "That was not for your sake, young one. Such a potentially scandalous incident had to be diffused. Negative publicity surrounding the Order would be a great detriment to the upcoming summit. The impression our friend formed was useful, inasmuch as it will keep your embarrassing actions quiet for the duration of the negotiations."
"Oh." The padawan's face fell, as the implications sank in. "I'm sorry."
Qui-Gon breathed out and regarded his student coolly."Why don't you start by telling me why you had a packet of low grade hash-stim on your person?"
Disabused of the notion that his master had come rushing halfway across the enormous capitol to save him personally, the young Jedi answered the question in a much subdued tone. "I bought it."
"I gathered as much," his companion dryly interjected. "But why?"
Obi-Wan threaded his fingers into a miserable knot amidst the folds of his cloak. "I went to the agora. I was shopping for a souvenir… for Bant." A swift glance upward, to gauge whether this innocent desire would itself prove damning, but Qui-Gon remained inscrutable. "I found nothing of special interest for a long while. I bought some food, wandered about a bit more, then entered a smaller side-street with older shops. I went into a droid repair shop, and when the owner asked me what I needed, I simply said I was browsing for a souvenir."
The tall man nodded.
"It was some kind of code word, Master. He ended up selling me the hash-stim before I really knew what was happening. But it seemed as though I should flow with the situation.. I was headed back to show you when the police bots stopped me."
The older man's mouth tensed slightly as he suppressed a chuckle. "You decided to flow with the situation."
"As you say, Master."
Qui-Gon exhaled loudly, on the verge of laughter. "By making an illegal drug deal."
"Yes, Master." A pause. "It didn't work out so well."
"No, indeed not. And you are well versed in the regulations concerning local planetary laws. I am concerned that you undertook this violation in far too cavalier a fashion."
Now Obi-Wan looked up boldly, a small flare of defiance drawing color into his cheeks. "But the Force guided me! It was the right thing to do.. I , I could feel it. It was meant to be. Why else would such a coincidence happen?"
Qui-Gon stilled his objections with a raised hand. "I have no doubt there was a purpose to be served. The Force moves in mysterious ways. In this case, I would not be surprised if your arrest and the information you passed on to the local security force led to the discovery and break-up of a drug-dealing ring. And that would be a good outcome." He let the words sink in. "But not for you."
The padawan blinked helplessly. "But I did what seemed right," he insisted.
The older man spread his palms. "Alas, obeying the will of the Force does not guarantee that events will issue into a convenient result for ourselves. In this case, your actions might have some good effect upon the city precinct in general. But they nonetheless remain problematic for you as an individual. We must not shrink from doing what is right, even if it costs us something personally."
His companion shrank back into the cushioned seat, defeated. "Yes, Master. So I'm… still in trouble."
The Jedi master relented a little. He placed a hand on his apprentice's knee. "Well, it wasn't such a very terrible transgression. I don't think we need to resort to cruel and unusual punishment."
Obi-Wan was too experienced or prematurely cynical to be consoled by such assurances. He watched Qui-Gon warily.
"To quote a wise man – not Master Seva, by the way – this should be looked upon as an opportunity to grow more than a failure. I have here," – he produced a small holo-disk from his interior pocket- "the entire informational series 'Youth In Crisis – A Rehabilitational Program for Troubled Teens.' Since we are looking at yet another delay before the negotiations can officially commence, I think you will have time to peruse all seventeen hours of footage and complete the Self-Reflection Quizzes at the end of each segment."
Horror leached all color from his protégé's flushed face. "I would rather smoke hash-stim," the boy choked out. "Master…."
"No pleading," Qui-Gon warned. "This has the additional benefit of keeping you safely occupied while we wait to execute our duties here."
Obi-Wan's brows furrowed together into a truly fearsome line, but the tall man remained unperturbed.
"Look on the bright side – you can bring the holo-disk back to Bant as a souvenir of your adventures. I'm sure she will find the account most stimulating."
The padawan's jaw clenched tight in aggravation, but his only response was a tight, "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon chuckled all the way back to the Keru Mutaar Hospitality Tower.
