While I was holding off resumption of some of my Coruscant activities until after the Kamino visit - most notably my work as a bouncer at an under-level tavern - some important business matters had to be dealt with beforehand. The most important of these were my ongoing work with BlasTech R&D (laying the groundwork for the E11 design that would eventually become a staple of the Clone Army), and my acquisition of a significant interest in Kamino Armorsmiths Ltd. I might be the only person in the Galaxy who knew how successful they would be over the next 25 years as their infantry armor, manufactured to exacting specifications and built from a uniquely efficient Mandalorian template, became the iconic 'face' of the Galactic Republic (and, unless something changed, the Empire).

I had agreed to the Kaminoan armor-makers' most recent set of changes to the contract, and was just beginning on a response to a BlasTech accountant justifying the size of testing facilities, when my door hissed open. This was not unusual in itself. The small Temple quarters had locked but no chimes, and the custom was touch the door relay: if it was locked, you went away and tried later; if it opened, the person was available.

"Master Kenobi," the girl bowed. She looked to be in her early teens, dressed as a youngling initiate not yet a Padawan. Her light violet skin and bluish hair marked her as a Zeltron. The mode of address was technically proper from a Padawan to a Knight, if a bit overwrought.

As I turned my attention to her, the girl entered the room with easy grace, a smile on her face. At the same time, I felt a pressure on my mind as her will pushed against me. I received it, and felt waves of feelings wash over me… trust, acceptance, contentment. Zeltrons were known to weakly influence the emotions of those around them with their own, but this was considerably stronger than that. I was a genuine telepathic push.

"Hello there," I smiled as I pulled myself away from my emotions. I left my feelings present in my mind, affected by her push and sending her the echoes she expected, but I made sure my will was entirely separated from them. "You have me at a disadvantage, I'm afraid."

"Partha Nellis," she announced, bowing again. "You haven't followed the tournaments? I placed the last two years." Another push, this time for me to be impressed and interested. Admittedly it was impressive, since winning over multiple years meant she had won lightsaber duels against children a year or more older than her.

"Really? I'm afraid I've not kept track of the initiate contests and trials, sorry." I kept my smile wide. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Master Kenobi, I think there's something I can help you with." Curiosity, importance. She held out a data stick, which I took and inserted in my console. "Olana Chion says you're considering her as your Padawan learner. I… didn't want you to make a hasty decision." Caution, fear, regret.

The data presented by the sticks were rankings and scores going back three years. I recognized only about a third of the names. "You wanted to make sure I was aware of her mediocre test scores."

"Yes, as well as what I believe to be the reason for them." Partha looked genuinely concerned and conflicted, like she only reluctantly decided to share this, even while pushing pity and disappointment toward Olana. "She is very bright when she has time to work in her own pace, but she has no confidence under pressure. That's why these evaluations come out so poorly for her. She's been trying for years, and we keep rooting for her," pity for Olana, admiration for Partha, "but she falls to pieces every time."

"You don't think I should take her as my Padawan?" I asked simply.

Partha feigned greater concern. "You know as well as I do, Master," admiration for Partha, pride in Partha, "that Jedi are assigned dangerous missions with no room for hesitation." Fear, panic. "You need an apprentice you can rely on."

"One like you?" I filled in, and she pushed rectitude, satisfaction in response.

"I'm just becoming eligible, yes." Pleasure, admiration. "Or any one of several initiates that show quickness on their feet." Disinterest.

I nodded, my face displaying serious concern, and copied the files to my console before handing back the data stick. "You have given me much to consider. If you… are interested in being my Padawan?"

Partha pushed satisfaction and admiration as she smiled brightly. "Yes, Master Kenobi, certainly!"

I gestured a dismissal. "Then I'll look into this, and we will speak again."

"Thank you, Master." One last burst of emotional warmth between us, and she left.

This was interesting information, but not in the way that Partha intended. Olana and I had discussed her test scores already. She had initially claimed the same shortcoming that I had just heard from Partha: choking under stress, essentially. But after helping her with some emotional control exercises, I had given her similar tests and found her scores greatly improved.

At the time, I had believed that Olana had shown remarkable progress… but in light of Partha's quite adroit use of offensive telepathy, I suddenly found myself with a different hypothesis. I wanted another perspective.

Anakin, as it happened, was in the dining hall, finishing up a late lunch with three other children his age. I stayed back and observed, delighted to see how well he fit in, conversing pleasantly on some topic or another, laughing and joking along with the rest. I only flagged the boy down as they rose from the table to return their plates to the adjoining kitchen.

"Hi Obi!" He said, and waved enthusiastically as his friends headed off to wherever they were expected next. I know Anakin disliked being in limbo, not having grown up training in the Temple with the others, but not yet a Padawan and able to attach himself fully to Qui-Gon and me. My instinct was the same as his, to get him through the initiate trials as quickly as possible, but my former Master disagreed. Qui-Gon believed that one of the main skills Anakin needed to learn was patience, and so insisted he become involved in certain training exercises.

"Hi, Anakin. I ran into a youngling today named Partha." The boy responded by screwing up his face and sending a spike of annoyance. "I take it you know her?"

The boy shrugged. "I've seen her around Olana. Partha seems nice enough and all, but she's really dumb."

That was certainly not the impression I had gotten. "In what way?"

"Well, she's always saying things to Olana about her training and skills, to, like, cheer her up, I guess. Only they don't." His feelings of frustration grew, tinged with a small amount of anger. "Instead they remind Olana of something she's not good at, and they make things worse. And then, whatever it is they're training, Olana can't do it right."

"This is only when Partha is present?" I asked to confirm my suspicions.

Anakin nodded. "That's why I say Partha is dumb, because when she's not even around, Olana does fine. It's almost like it's more Partha's problem than Olana's."

That was enough for me to discuss it with my learner-to-be. And when I returned to my room, a coded message was awaiting me that provided an excuse for us to spend the time together.

I could sense Olana's hesitation as she boarded the converted space tug. The craft was Corellian make: small, squat and metallic, almost a cube if not for manifolds protruding at right angles from the surface. Converting it for hyperspace had cost more than the ship itself, and it was still cheaper than any used transport of similar size.

In contrast to Olana, Anakin was thrilled to board the Somebody Else's Problem. He no doubt empathized with the junkyard origin of it, and in any event was always happy to have a chance to fly.

Olana and I sat back and watched as the nine-year-old maneuvered the ship out of the hangar with occasional assistance from R2. The Astromech had accompanied me on these trips before and could have piloted to the station on his own, but I was happy to give Annie the flight time.

"We'll be in hyperspace about two hours," I commented to Olana as Anakin made another hyperspace sensor sweep to confirm that hyper-lane was clear. "Let's get a session in. Anakin, join us in a half hour."

"Yessir," was the boy's acknowledgement as Olana and I left the cockpit for the small supercargo chamber.

"I know we talked about your test scores," I began, and was happy that her face didn't indicate any discomfort. "How you'd panic during real evaluations and do worse than you would otherwise."

"Our lessons have helped quite a bit, I think," Olana offered with optimism.

"You've made real improvement," I agreed, and enjoyed sensing a trickle of elation from her at the statement. "But other factors have come to my attention. Tell me, what do you think of Partha Nillis?"

Olana's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "She's a year younger. A Zeltron. Everybody likes her."

"Do you like her?" I kept my tone flat.

"Of course. She's one of my Jedi sisters, I love them all." The words were sincere, and yet, if I could look deeper into her mind, I was certain the emotions behind them were hollow.

"I didn't ask if you loved her, Olana," I chided. "I asked if you liked her. There were Jedi from my own time as a youngling that I didn't get along with. It's a mistake to believe that everyone is a friend just because you are both training together, or both within the Order."

She nodded, and I heard a whispered sigh escape her lips slowly. "It's… hard. She's so nice to me, always so worried about my performance, and yet…" Olana shook her head. "When she brings it up, it seems to make it worse. Everything she says just reminds me of my anxieties, my near-failures. So I… wouldn't go out of my way to talk to her." She looked up at me, her expression cold. "Which doesn't mean I hate her or anything. She tries her best with everyone; it's not her fault."

"How do you know?"

"Huh?" The girl's confusion deepened; I started to sense more of her distress leaking through her shield. "How do I know… what?"

"How do you know that it's unintentional? The way she makes you feel?"

Olana blinked, looking away from me as she thought. "I guess, I… always… assumed? She's a youngling, like me. We train together. We've taken all of our tests together; why would she want me to feel bad about myself?" She shook her head, but I could tell the idea was still with her.

"Consider this further, please," I instructed in the slightly more forceful voice I reserved when acting as an instructor. "I'm not trying to force you to come to any conclusion, Olana. Just think about it."

This got me a small nod. "Yes, Master," she said, but her voice was far away as though coming from a distance.

"I've decided to go to Kamino without you," I announced. "I expect you to have finished purifying and attuning the kyber crystal by the time I return, so that I can watch you build it into a blade."

That got me a nod, but no verbal response. I could tell that Olana was unhappy about this turn of events, but she kept her attitude to herself.

"Now," I sat up, adopting a lotus pose on the floor. "Let's work on our mental defenses. I'll push at your mind, and you endeavor to maintain your emotional center. Ready?"

We worked for ninety minutes, the last seventy of which included Anakin, too. Their techniques were each improving, but neither of them were yet particularly resistant to the effects of an emotional compulsion or push.

I wasn't too concerned. We had many years of training ahead of us.