Myren and Olana brewed in the kitchen while Dooku and I moved chairs in front of the recessed wall where a fire could be built and stoked. It seemed anachronistic in the era of portable power and personal heat, but I understood why a visible and central fire would have an emotional attraction.

"It seems a bit underhanded for the Council, to try me in absentia," I offered to Dooku while the two of us stoked the rising blaze. It was an oblique salvo.

"On the contrary," the Master noted. "If it comes to that point, you will be brought before the Council. Every courtesy, every formality will be observed before you are ordered to surrender your lightsaber and forever barred from the Temple. That, Obi-wan, is the worst part."

"I could survive exile," I insisted. "I have plenty to do."

"Not that," he clarified. "I mean the trial itself. I can think of no fresher Hell than having we twelve as your judges: Masters of the Force, committed to a true and deep understanding of your motives and perspective for every action you took. We will honestly listen to your side, give you the deepest and fullest hearing you could imagine. And then, when there could be no doubt in your mind that all your arguments and defenses were genuinely understood and considered, then we remove you from your place with us." He swallowed, his memory sharp. "I have never seen a man or woman more thoroughly eviscerated, before or since."

I gave no immediate response, instead collecting my thoughts involving the events of nearly a year prior. Olana thrust a piping mug of sweet cider in my hands as she and Myren took their own seats flanking us.

"From a moral perspective," I began, "killing is an imposition of will. Physical violence, like mind control, theft, or imprisonment, substitutes your own choices for someone else's. It deprives another sophont of the ability to do what they want."

"Murder," Dooku rejoined, "is more than just theft, Obi-wan. When you take the life of another, it is not just one particular choice you take from them. It is all of their later choices."

"Not to mention the harm you're doing to the Force itself," Myren added. "Choosing to end a life damages the very fabric of the Force."

I frowned at him. "I've heard that said before, but I've always questioned it. Death is as natural to the world as life; it's important to the ecosystem of most worlds. Animals like us cause death every day just to stay alive, while microbes live and die by the trillions. Is the Force suffering damage from these things every day?"

Myren shook his head. "It's not just the death that makes a difference. It's the choice behind the death. Murder imposes your will, not just against their will, but against their life. It is that push - of will against life - that is felt strongly in the Force."

"That is why murder by a Jedi," Olana added in dawning comprehension, "is seen as so much worse. It magnifies the damage, doesn't it?"

The Seer assented. "Never forget that, when it comes to the Force, the mind is as real as… no, more real than the body. Your intent absolutely matters. And it's your true intent, not whatever you delude yourself into believing you want." His eyes regarded me again, and it was hard not to flinch away.

"My intent," I explained, "is to leave communities as a whole in a better position than I found them. When I encounter a mind so twisted up in itself that it is resigned to doing evil - a being who has killed remorselessly, for his own gain, and will do so again - I should impose my will on them. Every additional day that they are alive, they will do more harm to others. Killing them is a moral act."

"No," Master Dooku intoned, "it is not. No one being, not even a powerful Seer, can claim to know the full balance of another's future actions over years or even decades. Even the most vile of criminals sometimes reform - or, absent that, perform some acts of kindness that are irreplaceable."

"A theft of choices," Myren added. "None of those you killed will ever atone for what they have done, will ever attempt to repay the evil with acts of good. You eliminate them when they are morally bankrupt, and so they will always remain."

"How long should I give them?" I fired back. "How many more slit throats should they be permitted? If I come back five years later, and they're still abducting children to sell to slavers, do I wait another five years for this mythical atonement?"

Dooku gave a thin smile. "How fortunate that you do not have to answer these questions, Obi-wan. You are not their judge, nor their executioner. If you can truly look at a man and see his history of misdeeds and the state of his mind - and, despite the rarity of such talent, I do not doubt you - you have many more options than killing them."

"Turn them over to the courts? To be released days later?" I scoffed.

Dooku nodded. "Turn them over to the courts, yes. With solid evidence of their crimes, and the will to see them brought to justice. Not as quick or as satisfying as a quick kill, is it?" His eyes narrowed at my look of disgust. "If you do not have the stomach to pursue justice, then do not cloak your actions in it."

Olana cleared her throat. "How does any of this pertain to the Viceroy of the Trade Federation?"

I nodded, unhappy to be back on this unpleasant topic. "When we met with Gunray, he resisted Qui-Gon's mental suggestion, and in doing so, the Master and I felt the contours of his will. It…" I frowned, thinking about the feel of his mind, the hot ball of hatred wrapped up so tightly at the center. "... It wasn't fully his. His will had been tampered with, twisted by the Sith. To what end, I did not know, but the danger of leaving such a creature in control of the Blockade Fleet and the Trade Federation at large was immeasurable. I acted while I could."

Olana supplied, "You shot him, his two assistants, and the protocol droid."

"And planned to shove their bodies out of the airlock. Didn't have the chance."

"Master Jinn went along with this?" she seemed more surprised at Qui-Gon as an accomplice that than at me as a murderer.

"It appeared so," I nodded toward Dooku.

"He saw it as a battlefield decision, but resolved to bring it before the Council at the first opportunity. It was you he supported, young Kenobi. Not your actions." Dooku's voice rang with genuine pride at his apprentice's loyalty.

"A resolve that deepened, no doubt, after the attack on Tatooine."

"Six deaths, easily avoided," Dooku said flatly.

"They attacked me," I insisted.

"They were lying in wait for you," Dooku rejoined. "What would Master Yoda have done?"

I bit back a caustic reply and thought about his question. Yoda was a seasoned warrior; what would he have done? He would not have killed them, clearly.

"He would have gone another way," I finally concluded. "Avoided them altogether."

"Were you capable of doing that?"

Their pliable thoughts, easy to sense from a distance, appeared in my memory. "I was."

"Then it sounds like the question is this," Myren lifted the mug to his lips. "What is it that you think you know, that Yoda doesn't?"

I drank from my own mug, because I had no answer.