VI. The Finer Points
Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood patiently before the Jedi Council's questions. He was used to being in this position.
"And does she know that her quarters were entered?" Mace Windu was saying.
"Not to my knowledge. According to my apprentice, though, she is aware that she is still being watched, and is not pleased." Obi-Wan had described her reaction as scathingly angry--but he was still young enough, and sensitive to mistrust, that such a reaction would affect him. Qui-Gon wondered, then, why he was likewise affected.
"Gain her trust, you must, Qui-Gon," Master Yoda said gruffly. "Gained it long since, you should have."
* * *
**Week 6, Day 4: A 5,000-year-old peace treaty isn't an easy thing to translate, even on my better days--but I could barely concentrate enough to remember what language it was written in. I'm 36 years old, damn it. I have had more than my share of dates, flings, and relationships.
So why the hell have I spent most of the day pacing and talking to myself?
Because of the note I found inside--*inside!*--my quarters yesterday evening. The fact that my rooms aren't as lockable as I assumed they were really ought to piss me off more than this, except that the note was from Master Qui-Gon. He asked me to join him for dinner. In his quarters. Tonight. Put 'Qui-Gon' and 'dinner' in the same sentence, and my imagination goes into overdrive.
I know, I know, nothing's going to happen. I don't think fulfilling women's fantasies fits in the Jedi Code. But I'm still going to dress nicely.**
* * *
"Please, come in, Cathleen." Master Qui-Gon ushered her into the main room of his and Obi-Wan's spacious quarters, smiling at the light blue Alderaanian dress she wore belted in silver. "I see Obi-Wan found time to help you expand your wardrobe."
"Yes, he did." She grinned at the memory of the Padawan's not-so-infinite patience for her hunting through the Temple's second-hand human clothing. Considering the work most Jedi did, she'd been surprised that so much of it had still been in such good condition. "Where is Obi-Wan tonight?"
Qui-Gon led her into the dining area, still smiling. "He has his own duties to see to this evening."
Cathleen resolutely ignored her pounding heart, chiding herself to control her emotions around this particular Jedi Master. *It just figures,* she thought wryly, *that the only Jedi who makes me weak in the knees is also the only one that can sense me getting weak in the knees.*
Dinner was already waiting on the table, steam curling enticingly. Qui-Gon pulled a chair out for his guest before seating himself. Cathleen smoothed her skirts underneath her as she sat. Then she noticed one of the side dishes.
"Is that grunkstl?"
"Of course. Obi-Wan told me how much you enjoyed it."
She couldn't believe that Padawan's audacity. "Typical," Cathleen laughed. "A sixteen-year-old apprentice with too much time on his hands." When the Jedi Master's pleased expression vanished, she explained. "I don't do bug eggs."
His lips quirked in a sly smile. "Well, in that case, I shall be sure to relay to him how much you relished them tonight."
Other than a bit of small talk, they ate in companionable silence. Qui-Gon took her share of the offending dessert with a chuckle, while Cathleen savored the warmth of the wine.
* * *
The genetic profile showed the strand of hair to be human, but that was the only thing he could be sure of. The woman's initial Force absence had reminded him of his Master's latest allies. As he'd tracked her, though, he came to realize that she did exist in the Force--but in a very different way.
He regretted the necessity of no communications with his Master during this mission. His path, though, was clear. She was monumentally inept, or she was more dangerous than he could imagine. Either way, she was a riddle that had to be solved.
* * *
"I understand Master Yaddle put you to work in the Library. I've also heard that the record keepers are quite pleased with your progress." Qui- Gon finished off the grunkstl and took a long sip of his own wine.
Cathleen shrugged "I've been enjoying it. Learning a new language is always fascinating--it gives me a window into different thought processes."
"The catalogue records show that you've been searching for a book...?"
For once, she let the annoyance of being watched slide. "Yeah, it's a book that Master Yaddle had me read aloud to her. Well, part of it, anyway. I can't remember the name of the author, but the title was _The Broken Philosophers_. It was fascinating, I wanted to read the rest of it."
"She let you read part of _The Broken Philosophers_?" Qui-Gon laid his hands flat on the table and sat back, looking stunned. "The reason you can't find it in the Library is that it's kept closely guarded. I myself, like most Jedi, have only been allowed to reference it once or twice." His look of dismay was suddenly replaced by a quick smile. "It's not that this disturbs me, you understand."
She didn't, but she nodded anyway.
"Perhaps Master Yaddle and I have more in common than I thought," he muttered.
The long silence that followed had Cathleen mentally agreeing with that statement.
"Can I ask you a question?" she ventured.
"Of course."
"What is it with you and the Jedi Council? You'd be on the Council, except that you're always at odds with it. I've never really been able to figure that out."
Master Qui-Gon gave her a piercing look. "I won't even ask how you knew that, Cathleen."
"I'm sorry, I--"
"They have become hidebound and dogmatic," he interjected. His voice was edged with...scorn? "I have committed the sin of following a different philosophy, one that all too often clashes with their official policies."
Cathleen downed the last sip of her wine. "What do you mean?"
"The Jedi began as a religious order. Over the millennia, it turned into one of service as well. But now, it is fast becoming a political body, and faith has no place in politics."
While he was speaking, she took a pen out of her handbag. "You know, there's one thing that's always really bugged me about you Jedi." Reaching for a napkin, she almost knocked over her empty wineglass. "You always talk about the Force as if the Dark Side never even existed." She began with a circle, pivoting her hand at the wrist like a compass. "And when you do mention the Dark Side, it's like you're walking on eggshells. But the Light Side wouldn't exist without the balance of the Dark...." She ran out of words, and handed Qui-Gon the napkin instead.
His eyes never leaving the drawing, he said, "What is this, Cathleen?"
"That's a yin-yang, a symbol from my world representing the unity of opposites."
The last time she'd seen him with such an intense expression, it was worn by his on-screen counterpart, preparing to do battle with a Sith lord. "More than just unity, it seems." Then, to Cathleen's surprise, he crumpled the napkin and dunked it into his water glass.
"But, as much as I enjoy debating the finer points of philosophy," he said, his dark mood dissolving with the ink, "we do have more pressing matters to discuss." From a nearby drawer, he took out a small holoprojector.
* * *
He opened his eyes, and smiled. Anger was an easy emotion to track, and hers sang on an entirely different plane of the Force. Coruscant, and even the damnable Temple itself, was a muddle of lesser beings. The life of this woman, though, played a clear tone above the rest of the static.
She would be leaving the Temple soon, he sensed. Unfolding the heavily creased flimsiplast, he stared at it for the hundredth time. His own tattooed visage snarled back. One false-skinned hand punched a code into a small communicator; she would be in need of transportation.
Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood patiently before the Jedi Council's questions. He was used to being in this position.
"And does she know that her quarters were entered?" Mace Windu was saying.
"Not to my knowledge. According to my apprentice, though, she is aware that she is still being watched, and is not pleased." Obi-Wan had described her reaction as scathingly angry--but he was still young enough, and sensitive to mistrust, that such a reaction would affect him. Qui-Gon wondered, then, why he was likewise affected.
"Gain her trust, you must, Qui-Gon," Master Yoda said gruffly. "Gained it long since, you should have."
* * *
**Week 6, Day 4: A 5,000-year-old peace treaty isn't an easy thing to translate, even on my better days--but I could barely concentrate enough to remember what language it was written in. I'm 36 years old, damn it. I have had more than my share of dates, flings, and relationships.
So why the hell have I spent most of the day pacing and talking to myself?
Because of the note I found inside--*inside!*--my quarters yesterday evening. The fact that my rooms aren't as lockable as I assumed they were really ought to piss me off more than this, except that the note was from Master Qui-Gon. He asked me to join him for dinner. In his quarters. Tonight. Put 'Qui-Gon' and 'dinner' in the same sentence, and my imagination goes into overdrive.
I know, I know, nothing's going to happen. I don't think fulfilling women's fantasies fits in the Jedi Code. But I'm still going to dress nicely.**
* * *
"Please, come in, Cathleen." Master Qui-Gon ushered her into the main room of his and Obi-Wan's spacious quarters, smiling at the light blue Alderaanian dress she wore belted in silver. "I see Obi-Wan found time to help you expand your wardrobe."
"Yes, he did." She grinned at the memory of the Padawan's not-so-infinite patience for her hunting through the Temple's second-hand human clothing. Considering the work most Jedi did, she'd been surprised that so much of it had still been in such good condition. "Where is Obi-Wan tonight?"
Qui-Gon led her into the dining area, still smiling. "He has his own duties to see to this evening."
Cathleen resolutely ignored her pounding heart, chiding herself to control her emotions around this particular Jedi Master. *It just figures,* she thought wryly, *that the only Jedi who makes me weak in the knees is also the only one that can sense me getting weak in the knees.*
Dinner was already waiting on the table, steam curling enticingly. Qui-Gon pulled a chair out for his guest before seating himself. Cathleen smoothed her skirts underneath her as she sat. Then she noticed one of the side dishes.
"Is that grunkstl?"
"Of course. Obi-Wan told me how much you enjoyed it."
She couldn't believe that Padawan's audacity. "Typical," Cathleen laughed. "A sixteen-year-old apprentice with too much time on his hands." When the Jedi Master's pleased expression vanished, she explained. "I don't do bug eggs."
His lips quirked in a sly smile. "Well, in that case, I shall be sure to relay to him how much you relished them tonight."
Other than a bit of small talk, they ate in companionable silence. Qui-Gon took her share of the offending dessert with a chuckle, while Cathleen savored the warmth of the wine.
* * *
The genetic profile showed the strand of hair to be human, but that was the only thing he could be sure of. The woman's initial Force absence had reminded him of his Master's latest allies. As he'd tracked her, though, he came to realize that she did exist in the Force--but in a very different way.
He regretted the necessity of no communications with his Master during this mission. His path, though, was clear. She was monumentally inept, or she was more dangerous than he could imagine. Either way, she was a riddle that had to be solved.
* * *
"I understand Master Yaddle put you to work in the Library. I've also heard that the record keepers are quite pleased with your progress." Qui- Gon finished off the grunkstl and took a long sip of his own wine.
Cathleen shrugged "I've been enjoying it. Learning a new language is always fascinating--it gives me a window into different thought processes."
"The catalogue records show that you've been searching for a book...?"
For once, she let the annoyance of being watched slide. "Yeah, it's a book that Master Yaddle had me read aloud to her. Well, part of it, anyway. I can't remember the name of the author, but the title was _The Broken Philosophers_. It was fascinating, I wanted to read the rest of it."
"She let you read part of _The Broken Philosophers_?" Qui-Gon laid his hands flat on the table and sat back, looking stunned. "The reason you can't find it in the Library is that it's kept closely guarded. I myself, like most Jedi, have only been allowed to reference it once or twice." His look of dismay was suddenly replaced by a quick smile. "It's not that this disturbs me, you understand."
She didn't, but she nodded anyway.
"Perhaps Master Yaddle and I have more in common than I thought," he muttered.
The long silence that followed had Cathleen mentally agreeing with that statement.
"Can I ask you a question?" she ventured.
"Of course."
"What is it with you and the Jedi Council? You'd be on the Council, except that you're always at odds with it. I've never really been able to figure that out."
Master Qui-Gon gave her a piercing look. "I won't even ask how you knew that, Cathleen."
"I'm sorry, I--"
"They have become hidebound and dogmatic," he interjected. His voice was edged with...scorn? "I have committed the sin of following a different philosophy, one that all too often clashes with their official policies."
Cathleen downed the last sip of her wine. "What do you mean?"
"The Jedi began as a religious order. Over the millennia, it turned into one of service as well. But now, it is fast becoming a political body, and faith has no place in politics."
While he was speaking, she took a pen out of her handbag. "You know, there's one thing that's always really bugged me about you Jedi." Reaching for a napkin, she almost knocked over her empty wineglass. "You always talk about the Force as if the Dark Side never even existed." She began with a circle, pivoting her hand at the wrist like a compass. "And when you do mention the Dark Side, it's like you're walking on eggshells. But the Light Side wouldn't exist without the balance of the Dark...." She ran out of words, and handed Qui-Gon the napkin instead.
His eyes never leaving the drawing, he said, "What is this, Cathleen?"
"That's a yin-yang, a symbol from my world representing the unity of opposites."
The last time she'd seen him with such an intense expression, it was worn by his on-screen counterpart, preparing to do battle with a Sith lord. "More than just unity, it seems." Then, to Cathleen's surprise, he crumpled the napkin and dunked it into his water glass.
"But, as much as I enjoy debating the finer points of philosophy," he said, his dark mood dissolving with the ink, "we do have more pressing matters to discuss." From a nearby drawer, he took out a small holoprojector.
* * *
He opened his eyes, and smiled. Anger was an easy emotion to track, and hers sang on an entirely different plane of the Force. Coruscant, and even the damnable Temple itself, was a muddle of lesser beings. The life of this woman, though, played a clear tone above the rest of the static.
She would be leaving the Temple soon, he sensed. Unfolding the heavily creased flimsiplast, he stared at it for the hundredth time. His own tattooed visage snarled back. One false-skinned hand punched a code into a small communicator; she would be in need of transportation.