The Book of Hangovers
Obi-Wan had been dreaming. He had dreamed of being an apprentice jumping into the waters of the pond and swimming as Bant playfully taunted him. He had dreamed of walking in the moon garden at night with Halla wrapped around his arm. Her gentle, teasing smile came back to him. The peace of the happy dream was only shattered by the raucous laughter of Bant, Garen and Reeft that echoed through his head as the memory one of their less that stellar explorations of Coruscant's night club district floated into the happy dream.
All through the dream, Bant's never ending voice wafted. He wondered if she ever stopped to take a breath and feared that it would never end until he woke up from the wonderful dream. Not that it would shut her up, but at least he could defend himself against her barbs.
Or at least try, after all, this was her fault. He should never have let her talk him into sneaking out and now he was probably in trouble. He will be meditating on his disobedience until his knighthood.
If he just stayed in the wonderful dream, he would not have to suffer his master's wrath. Yes, that sounded good. But there was something tugging at his senses, pulling curiously at the edge of his mind. It was familiar but distant. Strangely enough though, he was comforted by the sensation. It beckoned him back to the waking world and reluctantly he followed.
It was like being caught in a bacta tank, struggling through the liquid; fighting against the restraints that threatened to keep him permanently imprisoned. He struggled pulling free of the non-existent walls that held him prisoner. A painful thundering in his head bloomed at the first touch of consciousness.
Almost immediately, he became painfully aware of the bright light shining unmercifully through his closed eyelids. A low groan escaped as he twisted to bury his face in the not so soft pillow he had wrapped himself around.
"Oh look," a voice happily chirped, "sleeping beauty has finally rejoined the world of the living."
"Please stop yelling," Obi-Wan grumbled pulling the pillow tight around his face and over his ears to protect them from the abuse. Every joint in his body ached terribly and the slightest muscle twitch sent waves of agony radiating through his body and eliciting another pained groan.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty, I've got something to take the edge off that hangover."
Obi-Wan offered a muffled reply, "Hangover?"
"Oh, don't tell me, you are always this cheery in the morning."
"Go away," he grumbled.
"Sorry, Sparky, but we need to check up on your electric personality."
Slowly Obi-Wan peeled the pillow back and opened his eyes. Something blurry and salmon colored hovered before him. Squinting and trying to focus, Obi-Wan decided it was Bant. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut.
Bant just laughed and shoved a glass full of foul smelling green liquid at him. "Drink this, it will help you get over your hangover."
"Hangover?" Obi-Wan repeated as he pushed the glass away. He did not remember drinking that much.
"Funny, I don't remember there being an echo in here."
Obi-Wan whimpered. He felt her cold fingers press against his previously warm neck. "Ow!" he howled.
"You big baby," Bant hiss as she disposed of the used up pain medication patch. "Now open your eyes and take a big gulp of this stuff. I promise it will help."
"Whisper," Obi-Wan begged.
Bant leaned forward until she was just inches from his half-buried face. She spoke loudly, "Drink this or I will start yelling."
The young master jerked and tried to bury himself deeper into the folds of the blanket. After a moment, he sighed loudly and blindly reached up for the glass. Getting a good strong whiff of the noxious smelling drink, he huffed, "This isn't going to kill me, is it?"
"It's your favorite white paste thinned out with some happy juice."
"Isn't that what got me here in the first place?" His head was still throbbing painfully and he dearly wished Bant would quietly walk away and turn off the lights so he could peacefully die. Still, he couldn't figure out how Bant was so cheery. Didn't she drink as much as he did? He could not remember, it felt so long ago. Well, as long as his master did not expect him to go through a rough work out like last time he would be all right. A soft chuckle escaped him as his fuzzy brain conjured up the image of the rather unhappy face of his masterright after he had thrown up all over him. It was rather precious to see the usually unflappable Qui-Gon Jinn's look at that moment.
Kind of reminded him of the look the elder Jedi was giving him now.
"Had the strangest dreams," Obi-Wan absently mumbled to Qui-Gon. "I have not swum in the pond in almost eight years, well at least not since I was thirteen. I felt like I was drowning in it." He took in a final breath and downed the contents of the glass, then sputtered and gagged. It tasted worse than it smelled.
Quickly slapping a hand firmly over his mouth, he turned away from Qui-Gon and focused all of his will power on not vomiting up the stuff he had just downed.
Bant kindly held up a bucket, just in case.
The wave of nausea quickly grew worse before it started to slowly subside. He groaned again because it was all he had the strength for.
The healer gently brushed her fingers through his tousled ginger hair. "How are you feeling?"
"I want to die."
"Just don't do it on my shift, I don't want the paperwork."
A very slight nod as the illness and extreme sensitivity to everything slowly began to recede. Feeling brave, he slowly opened his eyes. The light was still way too bright but he decided he could live with it. Shifting slightly his vision focused on the menacingly large figure of Qui-Gon standing just a few feet away. His arms were folded into the deep sleeves of his cloak as his stern expression studied the scene before him. The next thing Obi-Wan found were Masters Mace and Yoda watching him in much the same fashion.
Bleary eyed and barely conscious, Obi-Wan frowned before asking, "Did I do something stupid?"
"Probably," Bant replied, the cheeriness leaving her voice for a more serious tone.
"I didn't think I drank that much," Obi-Wan mumbled as he tried to sit up and get his bearings. His world spun and Bant offered support to keep him from falling back over.
The trio of masters exchanged curious looks.
"It was just a one time thing," Obi-Wan continued to ramble, "if you don't count last time." His voice slurred. "I mean if I feel this bad after a couple drinks I promise, Master, I'll never do it again."
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to answer, but stopped.
Mace looked to Bant for explanation.
Bant pressed her hand over Obi-Wan's mouth. "Shut up before you embarrass yourself."
"It was your bright idea," the Jedi mumbled, twisting away. "Let's all sneak out, you said. We'll never get caught."
"At least he's not throwing up," Qui-Gon whispered softly.
Sitting up under his own strength, Obi-Wan drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his folded arms. Every fiber of his being hurt. His chest hurt, his lungs ached. Muscles, bones and even his hair hurt.
Bant gently rubbed his back.
"Where am I?" he asked softly, sounding too much like a lost child.
"You are in the healing center," he friend gently replied.
The warm euphoria of being young and stupid quickly wore off into painful reality. "What is wrong with me?" Weary blue eyes stared up at the four that hovered closely.
"You are suffering effects similar to a hangover," Bant answered.
"What?" Obi-Wan looked up and met Bant's silver eyes. He had been drinking with friends, how did he end up there?
Mace cleared his throat drawing the young master's attention. "You confronted a Sith in Senator Amidala's apartment a few days ago." Mace then nodded toward Qui-Gon.
The graying Jedi took up the explanation, "The Sith used Force lightning on you. You were injured and I had you transported to the Temple for treatment." There was a pause and a strangely melancholy look clouded the older man's eyes.
"Treatment?" Obi-Wan whispered. The confusion was still strong as he struggled to push past the fuzziness that clogged his brain.
"Nothing a day in bacta didn't fix," Bant said quickly.
Feeling cold, Obi-Wan tugged at the blankets since all he had on were simple gray sleep clothes. Bant quietly helped by pulling the thermal covers up over his shoulders.
"A Sith," he said, the memory began to slowly return.
Bant studied her long time friend for a time. "Research tells us disorientation should be expected." The slight tremor in her voice belied any confidence she tried to project. "You should recover eventually."
Obi-Wan just sat there quietly. He could hear his friend explaining to the masters what was wrong with him but none of the words really held any significance and were gone from memory as quickly as they were spoken. Burning off like the morning mist was the daze that had followed the wonderful dream he had.
Reality was settling in and Halla Keizian was dead.
He was no longer a Jedi padawan, but a master.
Clinging to that last thought, panic rose in him. "Where's Bali?" He struggled against the tangle of covers to get up; knowing only that he had to find his apprentice.
"Fine, he is," Yoda reassured softly. "Singed but recovering well."
"Where is he?" Obi-Wan demanded, fighting with the covers. He had to find the boy to make sure he was all right. Hands tried to push him down. "Bali!" he called out. Worry seized him. Where was the boy? He had sent him away but Bali came back and the Sith–
In the doorway, Bali appeared. Concerned bright green eyes met his master's pale blue. He gave a weak smile as he glanced over to the masters that watched.
Obi-Wan eased back at the sight of the weary thirteen-year-old. "Are you all right?"
Bali nodded.
Relieved, Obi-Wan retreated into the protective folds of the blankets.
Yoda leaned forward slightly to look past Mace's cloak. His large yellow eyes studied the boy, then slowly drawing his ears back slightly he nodded to Bali.
The apprentice grinned and raced to the side of his master's bed. Immediately Obi-Wan reached out, placing a calming hand to the boy's shoulder. A great sigh of relief welled up in him at the sight of Bali in his new cloak. Automatically reaching through the bond, he brushed Bali's worried thoughts and reassured him. He felt a relieved pulse from the apprentice and never thought anything felt so wonderful.
Bali grinned, then straightened as if suddenly realizing that they were being watched. The concern eased from his face and he immediately took the position of an obedient padawan.
All of this did came under Qui-Gon's watch, who silently studied the interaction of master and padawan. Again the gray haired master looked as if he were going to remark but stopped. He gave a gentle smile toward the master and padawan.
"Singed the boy is," Yoda said finally, "but well. Told us with the innocence of youth about the attacker."
Mace continued, "Master Jinn and his apprentice told us of their experiences. Your recollections are clearest right now, before you have a chance to analyze what you saw." He took careful note of Bant's sharp look but ignored her. "We realize this is a–"
"I understand," Obi-Wan replied but remained quiet. His head still hurt and it felt like it was taking all of his strength to keep it from falling off his shoulders and rolling across the floor. His first, clear thought of the confrontation was spoken slowly so not to mistake what he was going to say, "The Sith we battled on Naboo was the apprentice."
"How do you know?" Qui-Gon asked, started by the remark.
"The master told me so just before he tried to fry me." Obi-Wan shook his head this was taking more strength than he imagined. "Said something like you may have killed my apprentice but you will not kill me." He still felt bad and lightly buried his face in the palm of his hand. After a moment, he straightened and asked slowly, "How is Senator Amidala?"
Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "She is recovering. Her injuries, much like Bali'sPadawan Tiro's were not severe."
"Good," Obi-Wan answered tiredly.
Seeing her friend's distress, Bant immediately stepped in. "Okay, you found out something. Now let him rest."
"I'm fine," Obi-Wan tried to argue.
"Rest," Bant said, pressing a hand to his shoulder and offering up a powerful sleep suggestion. The Jedi's eyes rolled back and he fell over in bed. She pulled the warm covers back up to his shoulders. "Want to stay?" she asked Bali.
The boy nodded, making sure to keep close to the bed.
"The rest of you," Bant said turning her attention to the hovering masters, "out."
Mace started to argue, "Since when–"
"Get out!" She pointed toward the door just in case they had trouble finding their way.
"Hanging around Dirad too much, she has been," Yoda grumbled as Bant waved them out of the small room.
She twisted back to check on Bali and his sleeping master. "Take care of him," she said softly. When she turned back, she was surprised to catch Qui-Gon's hesitation but did not let the master drag behind. She roughly forced him from the room.
Bali nodded obediently and sat down in a chair next to the bed. He adjusted the covers slightly. Master had always sat with him when he was hurt or sick. Bali had only done it once for Obi-Wan and that was before they became master and padawan. Even if his master was just sleeping it seemed important for him to be there.
The Sith's attack had hurt. Bali knew that his master had blocked most of it, but he had still felt the pain through their bond. Sometimes he wished his master would not try to protect him so much.
__________________________
The Book of Civilized Government
"I object! This is all grand speculation!" Padmé cried out as she leapt to her feet in the floating senate seat. As the round hovercraft floated to the center of the senate chamber, the rich blue robes over her dress twisted about as she studied the rumbling crowd. "We do not know that for sure," she said evenly making sure her voice carried easily over the din.
The Relian Senator quickly responded as he craft hovered close to hers. "How can you deny it! You, yourself was attacked by a Force user."
"But I wasn't attacked by a Jedi," Padmé replied sharply. Were these people so stupid they did not know the difference between Jedi and non-Jedi?
A roar boiled up from the chamber depths as the senators went wild cheering and jeering the argument.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine hammered the gavel against the podium. "Please! Please! Let us have order," he demanded as he glanced around the chamber. Concern high in his stress worn features.
The vast room thundered with the raging debates.
"Order!" Palpatine kept demanding even as he was completely drowned out.
"The Jedi are behind the assassinations!" A voice called out.
"They are servants of the Republic," Palpatine replied to the heckler.
"Greed is what is tearing the Republic apart," Padmé announced over the throng of voices.
The timbre dropped to a mere hum.
"Greed!" She yelled into the vast openness. "It began ten years ago with the Trade Federation's blockade of Naboo."
A Neimodian Senator's craft floated out into the center of the chamber. "These are the same lies that you used to censure use in that mock trial of justice. We will not stand by and be attacked further."
Undeterred Padmé continued, "After the Federation were found guilty of illegally blockading Naboo they retaliated by aiding the rebelling mid core worlds of the Aveniar Imperium."
"Smoke and mirrors!" The representative of the Bankers Association cried out. "We are not discussing a few rebelling worlds. We are speaking of a menace that has far too long plagued the Republic."
Padmé spun in her place staring out at the maddened crowd. She would not let these money mongers control the direction of the hearing. "These assassinations are being carried out against anyone who stood against the Trade Federation's blockade–"
"We've heard it already," a fat Twi'lek said dismissing the young woman with a wave of his hand. Laughter filtered through the noise at the Twi'lek's insolent gesture.
"Why have none of these secessionist worlds suffered an assassination?" The Bothan Senator Roem Hael called out as his platform glided into the center. "I dare say it is because they are behind it!"
Finally, another voice of reason, Padmé thought.
"You have no proof!" The Neimodian cried out. "No proof! These baseless accusations have driven others from the Republic. They drive us away now too!"
A low rumble filled the massive hall.
"The Trade Federation announces its declaration to secede."
The room exploded into a defining roar.
Padmé just stood there, staring blankly out. After a moment, her gaze found that of Palpatine's. He looked as shocked as she felt.
More calls filled the room as senatorial transports moved to the center. Neighboring worlds of the Aveniar Imperium started to announce their intentions to leave the Republic.
The roar was deafening.
Palpatine frantically hammered the gavel trying to regain order, but it was useless. "Please. Let us discuss–"
The Relian's carriage flew around the room as the Senator addressed the maddened crowd. "The Republic has crippled and stifled us for too long. It is too big, too old and too mired in red tape and tradition to be of any use anymore. We ask for help and it goes to committee all the while our people are dying." He turned to face Padmé and pointed a long gray finger at the young Senator. "You of all should understand this." His attention returned to the crowd. "Under the secessionists regime, we will not be choked by senate discussion. We will act."
"This is tyranny!" Palpatine called out. "You are opening the door for lawlessness. Total chaos."
"Under the new regime we will govern ourselves. Define our own taxation and trade routes. The Republic will have no more say."
"Please!" Palpatine begged but went unheard as the room broke up into calamity.
Padmé stood silent and motionless in the center of the fray unable to act. Sides were being drawn and the air carts were being emptied of those leaving the order and safety of the Republic.
"Senator?" her assistant Sirceé whispered into her ear.
"Yes," her voice was barely a whisper.
The assistant quietly handed a data pad over.
The senator took it and quietly reviewed the information. She deleted the information and handed the pad back to Sirceé. "Thank you."
__________________
The Book of Master and Padawan Part VI
Laughter had never been forbidden in the ancient Jedi Temple, but it was limited to the more common areas of the great structure. Heard in the halls around the classrooms and in the cafeteria and around the residential floors. The joyous sound was rarely heard above the somber hum of peace and meditative silence.
The mirth echoed during the Festival of Light that occurred once every twenty or so months when the stars of the binary system Kyros alined. A brilliant white light lit the sky from their conjuncture and it could be seen from almost any point in the galaxy.
The glow was so magnificent that not even Coruscant's brightest day could obscure the Kyros brilliance. It stood as a great beacon to the Jedi Order, a reminder if ever there need one, of the light they strive for.
As always, the ritual of the day began early before the sky began to lightened. Every Jedi sought deep meditation to reflect on what had been and what will be as well as reinforcing their place in the universe. A deep and solemn act lasted much of the morning. The ritual of meditation was often performed among groups of friends or alone as each Jedi chose. Master and padawan teams, especially young ones, spent the meditation together. A young padawan was dependent on their master to learn how to appropriately partake in the ancient celebration.
As the mediations ended, the Temple became more alive than usual, humming with joy and laughter. Friends gather for parties and entertainment. The Temple buzzed with the excitement of the celebrations.
All rules were broken for one bright day and evening where everyone was equal. No lines of authority ruled and the often stodgy Council members danced on tabletops and partook of Alderaanian ale.
Friendly debates echoed through the massive structure and there was no corner free from the glow of the festival. Games and other entertainment filled every corridor. And even the most severe of masters cracked a smile.
The day had long since turned to night and the dark sky lit by the binary Kyros shined through one of the garden domes. The festival had continued but even the most notable of the revelers had slowed. They watched the Kyros stars as they began their decent apart for the next twenty months.
In a clearing in the garden, a group of young padawans and initiates had gathered. The day's festivities had worn them out and they slumped dully, staring up at the departing stars. Most had already passed into sleep and the initiate masters had come to retrieve the children.
Soft footsteps padded over the grass as Obi-Wan approached the remaining children. He spied his own nine-year-old padawan in the group.
Bali wavered slightly as he struggled to stay awake but he was quickly loosing the battle. His heavy eyelids slid closed and he started to teeter sideways until gentle hands caught him and held him upright.
"I think it is time for you to go to sleep, Padawan," Obi-Wan said softly.
"I'm not tired," Bali mumbled then broke into a wide yawn.
"Of course not, but I am exhausted and you should put me to bed."
"Yes, Master," the boy mumbled again as he obediently tried to stand up.
Obi-Wan reached out and scooped the unsteady child up, cradling the exhausted padawan in his arms.
Bali yawned again, allowing his head to fall against his master's shoulder but did not protest too much. "I'm awake," he slurred softly. "Not a babyI can walk."
"Not very well."
Somewhere half in dream, Bali giggled as he was carried from the garden.
Many strange sights from the festival would be remembered as there would always be a story or two to tell. Masters Windu and Gallia dancing on top of a table in one of the conference rooms would not soon be forgotten. The holovid would guarantee that. Nor would the image of the six inebriated masters whose padawans dyed them bright purple. It would be days before the coloring would finally be washed out. In all corners of the Temple, there would be laughter for months about the strange sights of this day.
Yet, the one that gathered the most attention and curiosity was the sight of a solitary master carrying his sleeping padawan through the Temple corridors. That no one who saw it could forget the gentle look of the famed and feared Sith killer and the gently cradled the boy in his arms.
