Chapter 5
Obi-Wan had spent hours in a fruitless search for
Saché. No one had seen her. The Queen's
handmaiden had seemingly disappeared.
Returning to his room, Obi-Wan found Anakin sprawled on his
bed, feet on the wall, reading a Jedi Knight comic book. The bed covers were sprinkled liberally with
cookie crumbs. "Off my bed,
brat!" Obi-Wan bellowed.
Unconcerned, Anakin rolled onto his stomach. "Master, you must call me
Padawan," he said sweetly, with a mocking gleam in his eye.
"I'll call you the devil's spawn!"
Anakin allowed tears to well up in his eyes. "M-m-mommy," he began to wail. "Master Qui-G-g-gon!"
"Oh, spare me the tears," Obi-Wan scoffed. "You turn them on and off like a faucet."
Anakin's tears did indeed cease immediately. He shot Obi-Wan a look of pure loathing that
gave the Jedi a brief moment's unease.
Yoda's oft-repeated mantra echoed in his mind: Fear leads to anger.
Anger leads to hate. Hate leads
to suffering.
Well, Obi-Wan thought ruefully. We've gone clear past the fear and anger
and are well into the hate and suffering.
And I'm the one who's suffering.
Ani cocked his head as if listening to Obi-Wan's
thoughts. His eyes glazed and his
breathing became harsh. "Join me
on the Dark Side . . . Together we will rule the galaxy," he intoned in a
hollow voice.
The hair on Obi-Wan's neck stood up. Really, he was beginning to doubt the boy's
sanity. At the very least, he was
possessed. Yes, thanks to Qui-Gon, he
was saddled with a psycho-Padawan. Once
the lipstick crisis was behind him, he would have to approach the Council to
see if he could somehow shed this abomination.
His promise to Qui-Gon be damned.
He was sure Mace Windu would support him. He'd wager Windu couldn't resist even a postmortem jab at
Qui-Gon. Well, it might all work
out.
He deserved a nice apprentice, Obi-Wan thought. One who looked up to him and appreciated the
wisdom and experience he had to impart.
One who'd "Yes, Master" his every utterance the way he'd done
for that boring old fart, Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan considered his years of apprenticeship. The endless bowing and scraping, fetching
and carrying, serving tea and cookies to Qui-Gon's lame friends, and always, always
that droning voice, "Patience, young Padawan . . . Patience, young
Padawan," until Obi-Wan was ready to make like a Sith and rise up and slay
his Master. Luckily, a Sith had
risen up and slain his Master for him!
Darth Maul . . .
" .
. . is still alive," Anakin said.
Obi-Wan forgot to breathe for a moment. Once more, he was stunned by Ani's seeming
ability to read his mind. He studied
Anakin, who had recovered from his trance-like state while the Jedi was lost in
thought. "Darth Maul is dead,
Anakin," he managed to reply.
"Oh, no, Flabby-Wan.
He's alive. I saw him in
the main hangar an hour ago. He had
Saché with him. They got into his ship
and took off. Whoooosh!" Anakin's hand 'whooshed' past Obi-Wan's
nose.
Obi-Wan sat down hard.
This was bad. This was very,
very bad. Darth Maul alive? When the Sith Lord had slipped in that pool
of vomit (Obi-Wan just couldn't help it after seeing poor old Qui-Gon
run through like that!) and shot into the melting pit, Obi-Wan had been
astonished at his good fortune. He put
it down to the will of the Force, and when recounting his story to the Jedi
Council had, of course, left out the embarrassing parts and embellished his
deeds ever so slightly. After all, he
was already being hailed as a hero, and surely it didn't hurt to encourage that? What hero had ever defeated his adversary by
hurling all over his own boots? Now his
lies (not to mention Darth Maul) had come back to haunt him.
Obi-Wan whimpered and buried his head in his hands as Anakin
stood over him, smirking. "C'mon,
Grubby-Wan," the small demon
chortled. "We'd better pack."
"Pack?"
Obi-Wan croaked.
"For our trip."
Obi-Wan stared in bafflement at Anakin, who shook his head
pityingly. "You know,
Scabby-Wan. Our trip to Yavin 4. We've gotta follow Darth Maul, kill him and
bring back Saché. And we've gotta do it
before anyone finds out what really happened at the melting
pit," Anakin finished with a
gleeful lilt in his voice.
The Jedi was so overcome with the horror of his predicament
that he didn't think to wonder how his Padawan knew Maul's destination. Obi-Wan knew Anakin was right -- he had to follow Darth
Maul to almost certain death. If he
didn't, well, being called 'Vomit Boy' and 'Barf-Boots' by his fellow Jedi
would be the least of the humiliations he would suffer. Death (as long as it was not too
protracted or painful) was preferable.
Obi-Wan rose to his feet.
Anakin was already cramming clothing into Obi-Wan's standard-issue
'Jedi-beige' Corellian Tourister duffle.
"This is gonna be wizard, Tubby-Wan," he trilled.
