II. Surveillance
"May I have word with Cathleen, Knight Halcyon?"
Master Qui-Gon's voice broke her concentration. The title of the book-- _Secular Morality in the Modern Galaxy_--collapsed into so many meaningless symbols again. Cathleen finished downloading it to her portable reader, and turned to face her distraction. Nejaa Halcyon was just walking off.
Qui-Gon took her by the shoulder. "Pack your things. I'm getting you out of here."
"What? What are you talking about?"
Qui-Gon heaved a sigh. He looked like he had a headache. "The Council has refused to let you go. There's nothing more I can do to convince them that you're not a danger, so I--"
She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. "What makes you think I want to go? You haven't said word one to me about this, Master Qui-Gon."
He gave Cathleen a look that seemed to go right through her. "I'm trying to get you out of the Temple, Cathleen. I know you're unhappy being kept in that cell, under constant surveillance."
She stared at him in disbelief. "I don't know whether to kiss you or kick you, Master Qui-Gon. You know, I'm really grateful for your concern, but...I have no intention of leaving the Temple."
"But you--"
Cathleen cut him off again, shaking her head. "All I really want are some normal quarters, and freedom to go where I please, without always being watched. I'm perfectly happy to stay."
It was Qui-Gon's turn to stare at Cathleen. "You want to remain in the Temple? You don't even want to go back to your home planet?"
At his mention of Earth, Cathleen's stomach went hard and cold. "Look, I have a master's degree in linguistics. If you like, I can type you up a five-hundred-word essay on the differences between the Latin and Russian genitive cases. I once had dreams of cracking Minoan Linear B. But here I am, a middle aged, middle class, mediocre Spanish teacher with students who just don't care.
"I'm not married, and I have no children," she continued. "The only family I have left--if you could ever call it a family, anyway--couldn't care less what happens to me. What sane person would want to go back to *that*, when there's all this," the wave of her hand taking in her surroundings, "to explore?"
The Jedi Master pinched the bridge of his chiseled nose. "I apologize. I may have been--unfocused." Then he looked back up again, an odd little smile playing over his mouth. "Perhaps new arrangements may now be made for our guest?" Qui-Gon said in a slightly louder tone.
Master Depa Bilaba glided out from between the aisles of parchment books. "My apologies, Cathleen. We expected you to take Master Jinn's offer, you understand." She smiled serenely. "The Council simply needed a sign of trust."
The cold lump in Cathleen's stomach rematerialized in her throat. How could they! "I thought this was the *Jedi* Temple," she snapped, "not the setup temple. You could have just asked me!" She pivoted on her heel and stalked out of the library.
* * *
**Week 1, day 5: You'd think that suddenly finding yourself in the _Star Wars_ galaxy would be a fan's dream come true. And it was, for about a day. Then I let on to Master Saesee Tiin, the Iktotchi Jedi who was keeping me company--or so I naively thought--that the Jedi story was a legend from my world that I'd always loved.
Like the twit that I am, I forgot he was telepathic. Yeah, I know, I'm a blonde joke waiting to happen.
The next day, when the healers released me, I was *escorted* to the Council chamber, and grilled for three hours straight.
What all did I know about the Jedi order? What was this war that Master Tiin had seen flashes of in my mind? How had I come to know about the Sith? What was my purpose here, and was I an agent of the Dark Side? I managed to keep my answers short, civil, and just this side of the truth.
Then I was shown to a one-room cell--well, two, if you count the bathroom--and told that I would be allowed only limited access to the Temple, and then only under guard. They didn't put it quite that way, of course, but that's what it amounted to. Master Qui-Gon sat with me (read: guarded my cell) most of that day, and was kind enough to give me writing supplies.
I'm rather proud that I managed *not* to ask him what sort of confession I was expected to write.**
* * *
Obi-Wan found her wandering the halls, looking lost. She seemed lonely, too, and for a moment he resonated with his Master's sympathetic tendencies. He fell into step beside her, silently taking in the fact that she was still wearing a gray initiate's tunic. Her own garb had apparently been scorched upon her arrival. He'd see if he could get her clothes more to her liking soon. When she stopped and looked at him, he noticed that her eyes were the same indistinct shade as her tunic. Small lines around her eyes and mouth that he hadn't seen at their first, brief meeting in the infirmary seemed more defined now. She was older than he'd originally thought.
"Come to take me back to jail?" It was an angry question, but her voice was tired.
"No. Actually, I've come to show you to your new quarters." He hesitated, unsure of how a younger man went about chastising an older woman. "Master Qui-Gon was worried about you."
The sudden touch of her hand on his cheek surprised him. "You know, you're almost young enough to have been one of my students back home." She smiled, dropped her hand, and looked away. "And Qui-Gon's a smarter man than I thought."
* * *
**Week 2, day 2: I had a strange dream last night. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.
When that semi hit my car, I know I should have died. It's only by some strange miracle, I suppose, that I'm here. The will of the Force, I'm sure Master Qui-Gon would say. But in my dream, I found myself back in my ruined little car, only I didn't have a scratch on me. I think the dream-car may have flipped over once or twice, maybe even caught on fire, because it was a total, smoking wreck.
I really should have been ground beef in there, but instead I got out and walked home. When I opened the door to my apartment, all my students were waiting for me, throwing some sort of surprise party. How every student I'd ever taught could fit in that tiny space, I have no idea; dreams have their own rules.
It was a nice dream, but strange. Maybe it's my subconscious mind's way of saying that I've found a new home.**
"May I have word with Cathleen, Knight Halcyon?"
Master Qui-Gon's voice broke her concentration. The title of the book-- _Secular Morality in the Modern Galaxy_--collapsed into so many meaningless symbols again. Cathleen finished downloading it to her portable reader, and turned to face her distraction. Nejaa Halcyon was just walking off.
Qui-Gon took her by the shoulder. "Pack your things. I'm getting you out of here."
"What? What are you talking about?"
Qui-Gon heaved a sigh. He looked like he had a headache. "The Council has refused to let you go. There's nothing more I can do to convince them that you're not a danger, so I--"
She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. "What makes you think I want to go? You haven't said word one to me about this, Master Qui-Gon."
He gave Cathleen a look that seemed to go right through her. "I'm trying to get you out of the Temple, Cathleen. I know you're unhappy being kept in that cell, under constant surveillance."
She stared at him in disbelief. "I don't know whether to kiss you or kick you, Master Qui-Gon. You know, I'm really grateful for your concern, but...I have no intention of leaving the Temple."
"But you--"
Cathleen cut him off again, shaking her head. "All I really want are some normal quarters, and freedom to go where I please, without always being watched. I'm perfectly happy to stay."
It was Qui-Gon's turn to stare at Cathleen. "You want to remain in the Temple? You don't even want to go back to your home planet?"
At his mention of Earth, Cathleen's stomach went hard and cold. "Look, I have a master's degree in linguistics. If you like, I can type you up a five-hundred-word essay on the differences between the Latin and Russian genitive cases. I once had dreams of cracking Minoan Linear B. But here I am, a middle aged, middle class, mediocre Spanish teacher with students who just don't care.
"I'm not married, and I have no children," she continued. "The only family I have left--if you could ever call it a family, anyway--couldn't care less what happens to me. What sane person would want to go back to *that*, when there's all this," the wave of her hand taking in her surroundings, "to explore?"
The Jedi Master pinched the bridge of his chiseled nose. "I apologize. I may have been--unfocused." Then he looked back up again, an odd little smile playing over his mouth. "Perhaps new arrangements may now be made for our guest?" Qui-Gon said in a slightly louder tone.
Master Depa Bilaba glided out from between the aisles of parchment books. "My apologies, Cathleen. We expected you to take Master Jinn's offer, you understand." She smiled serenely. "The Council simply needed a sign of trust."
The cold lump in Cathleen's stomach rematerialized in her throat. How could they! "I thought this was the *Jedi* Temple," she snapped, "not the setup temple. You could have just asked me!" She pivoted on her heel and stalked out of the library.
* * *
**Week 1, day 5: You'd think that suddenly finding yourself in the _Star Wars_ galaxy would be a fan's dream come true. And it was, for about a day. Then I let on to Master Saesee Tiin, the Iktotchi Jedi who was keeping me company--or so I naively thought--that the Jedi story was a legend from my world that I'd always loved.
Like the twit that I am, I forgot he was telepathic. Yeah, I know, I'm a blonde joke waiting to happen.
The next day, when the healers released me, I was *escorted* to the Council chamber, and grilled for three hours straight.
What all did I know about the Jedi order? What was this war that Master Tiin had seen flashes of in my mind? How had I come to know about the Sith? What was my purpose here, and was I an agent of the Dark Side? I managed to keep my answers short, civil, and just this side of the truth.
Then I was shown to a one-room cell--well, two, if you count the bathroom--and told that I would be allowed only limited access to the Temple, and then only under guard. They didn't put it quite that way, of course, but that's what it amounted to. Master Qui-Gon sat with me (read: guarded my cell) most of that day, and was kind enough to give me writing supplies.
I'm rather proud that I managed *not* to ask him what sort of confession I was expected to write.**
* * *
Obi-Wan found her wandering the halls, looking lost. She seemed lonely, too, and for a moment he resonated with his Master's sympathetic tendencies. He fell into step beside her, silently taking in the fact that she was still wearing a gray initiate's tunic. Her own garb had apparently been scorched upon her arrival. He'd see if he could get her clothes more to her liking soon. When she stopped and looked at him, he noticed that her eyes were the same indistinct shade as her tunic. Small lines around her eyes and mouth that he hadn't seen at their first, brief meeting in the infirmary seemed more defined now. She was older than he'd originally thought.
"Come to take me back to jail?" It was an angry question, but her voice was tired.
"No. Actually, I've come to show you to your new quarters." He hesitated, unsure of how a younger man went about chastising an older woman. "Master Qui-Gon was worried about you."
The sudden touch of her hand on his cheek surprised him. "You know, you're almost young enough to have been one of my students back home." She smiled, dropped her hand, and looked away. "And Qui-Gon's a smarter man than I thought."
* * *
**Week 2, day 2: I had a strange dream last night. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.
When that semi hit my car, I know I should have died. It's only by some strange miracle, I suppose, that I'm here. The will of the Force, I'm sure Master Qui-Gon would say. But in my dream, I found myself back in my ruined little car, only I didn't have a scratch on me. I think the dream-car may have flipped over once or twice, maybe even caught on fire, because it was a total, smoking wreck.
I really should have been ground beef in there, but instead I got out and walked home. When I opened the door to my apartment, all my students were waiting for me, throwing some sort of surprise party. How every student I'd ever taught could fit in that tiny space, I have no idea; dreams have their own rules.
It was a nice dream, but strange. Maybe it's my subconscious mind's way of saying that I've found a new home.**