Chapter 7

I am not interfering, thought Qui-Gon as he walked through the main house to Tak Traxis' study. I am only...fact-finding, he said to himself as he softly knocked on the great wooden door.

A conversation between himself and Obi-Wan yesterday came to his mind. His Padawan had shaken his head. "Where is the love in this family?" he had asked half jokingly. They had been walking behind Velk, just outside his hearing, on their way to the neighboring farm. "They insult one another. They speak sarcastically to one another. Or they don't speak to each other at all." While Valia could certainly shoot off her mouth, he knew she was a generous and loving soul, and he was trying to reconcile that with what he was seeing.

Qui-Gon smiled as he walked beside Obi-Wan. "A certain amount of respect perhaps is what is lacking. The friction you see is somewhat normal, and to be expected. This is certainly not like the 'family' in which you and I grew up in, where peace and resolution of conflicts are valued above all. But the love is there, deep down. I feel it." His student sometimes still had to learn to look deeper, beyond what appeared to be an impasse.

"With all due respect, Master, I think even your optimism is not enough for that situation," he indicated with his eyes back in the direction of the kitchen in the main house, and what they had just seen and sensed.

"As for that," Qui-Gon said, referring to Lia and Tak, "Not all is lost. The roots of their old relationship run deep. While the tree might have died, the roots may still send up a living shoot. There is hope even for them."

Obi-Wan gave his master a sidelong glance, and there appeared an obstinate set to his brow and jaws, a look Qui-Gon was coming to know well. "Remind me to be as far away as possible when Lia finds out you have helpfully interfered in this situation," he said with a small smile. There was no walk-in cooler built that would contain her opinion of Qui-Gon's meddling with an old personal family matter.

"Obi-Wan, I don't plan to interfere," said Qui-Gon looking straight ahead as they walked, a faint smile on his face. "It is only that my curiosity is aroused now. There is more to Tak Traxis that what she has said about him."

"Master, I have seen what your boundless curiosity can lead to. I'm afraid it may lead to interfering. And because this is a personal matter for you..."

"You fear that I am losing my objectivity?"

"No, Master, I mean just in this particular case, not in everything. Lia means so much more to you than just an assigned duty, she's your...I mean, she..." Obi-Wan left off, not wanting to carry this conversation any further.

Qui-Gon smiled and sighed. "Obi-Wan, I will be the first to tell you I have no profound words of wisdom on that. I am not going to tell you I can be objective in this matter, because you are right. It is personal, and I am only human." He did not add that for a healer and a peacemaker, his first-hand sight of this ongoing rift in her life threatened to break his heart. "It's not much different than asking me to be objective about my relationship with you," he gave Obi-Wan's opposite shoulder a quick clap and a familiar squeeze. "Is it?" Obi-Wan felt all the warmth and affection radiating from the brief gesture, and thought once again how very lucky he was to have Qui-Gon as his master.

"If she isn't completely happy with the situation, she's at least at ease with it." Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Well, then, there's the eventual task. To get her to see herself that deep down she really is not so at ease with it, and that she does not want to be," Qui-Gon responded.

A gruff 'come in' was his sign to enter as he stood waiting. Qui-Gon opened the door and stepped into Tak Traxis' private study, office, and retreat.

It was the clutter that assaulted his eyes first. Qui-Gon had not known what to expect, and was indeed trained to not guess beforehand what people were like. He was just as prepared to find an austere and minimalist office, but the clutter reminded him to not form any preconceived notions. Though it was hardly the way his own apartment in the Temple on Coruscant would ever have looked, the mess somehow reassured him about the man who occupied it. It seemed more human, almost friendly. Haphazard piles of flimsy sheets and printouts were stacked all over the top of a dark, ancient wooden desk and the shelves behind it. Antique-looking textbooks leaned crazily against each other on the shelves. An obscure-looking collection of dusty jars shared space with the books. There appeared to be seeds, dried fruit pits and soil inside them. Farm implements and tools made of wood and metal hung on the walls, having become so old and mysterious they had now become objects of art. An old-fashioned, decoratively carved wooden gun cabinet stood in the corner with more clutter spilling from the top. A stuffed and preserved creature surveyed the room from its perch atop the cabinet with glassy stare and fixed, toothy snarl. On the floor, players for various farming and tree-husbandry journals lay about, along with the scattered journal plaques. Potted plants were everywhere. Facing Tak's desk was the stump of a once enormous tree, its flat top sanded and varnished, forming a large seat.

Seeing it was Qui-Gon, Tak immediately became more congenial. In fact, Qui-Gon thought, almost relieved. He rose from his seat behind his desk. "Come in, come in. Have a seat," he invited, then looked down at the tree stump. Tak moved forward to clear away its surface of what looked like parts of a child's motorized toy that he had apparently been trying to fix at some point. He pushed the whole thing aside to the floor, and stepped behind Qui-Gon to shut the door.

"I usually leave the door open, but I...well, the grandkids can make such a ruckus. Can't hear myself think," he finished. Qui-Gon nodded. He could not know how much more time than usual Tak was spending in this room the last two days, but he had gotten the distinct impression upon walking in that the man was in hiding. From what or whom, he had a fairly good idea.

He took a seat on the polished stump and thanked Tak for seeing him, and for his family's generous hospitality to him and his apprentice. There followed a conversation of small things, local doings and the questions any faraway visitor might want to know about a large fruit farm. Qui-Gon sensed Tak's growing curiosity about his unexpected visit, and an impatience to be back to his work, or whatever he had been doing in here.

Behind Tak, through the open pair of doors leading outside to a patio, Qui-Gon saw a field worker dragging the wilted length of a large vine across the lawn, presumably to a compost processor. Qui-Gon nodded toward the doors, indicating the clean up.

"A shame about that vine. Will it take long for it to grow back?"

"Yes, a damned shame. It will probably take three or four years before that bare patch on the wall fills in," Tak growled, turning to look out the doors. "I see the girl hasn't outgrown this foolishness with climbing. Put dangerous ideas into the grandkids' heads, that's what it will do." Tak turned back to face Qui-Gon. "I suppose if you hadn't caught her, we'd have a fine example of what happens when you try stunts like that."

"Indeed," agreed Qui-Gon simply. There was a short silence.

"Thank you. For catching her." Tak said grudgingly and belatedly under Qui-Gon's calm gaze.

"Actually it was Valia I came here to talk to you about," Qui-Gon said. He sensed an instant clenching up within Tak at the mention of his daughter's name. Tak rose from his seat behind the desk and began pacing in what little clear space there was on the floor.

"I'm hardly the one you want to be talking with about her."

"Why not? You have not even heard what I would have asked."

"Well, it doesn't matter because I stopped knowing her when she turned fifteen or so. Come to think of it, I didn't really know her before age fifteen either, so I there's nothing I can tell you about her."

"Perhaps it's not so much about her I would ask you about, it is about what is between you and her."

"Nothing. That's what's between her and me. There's your answer," Tak said a bit sharply. He stopped pacing to look at Qui-Gon, his gray eyes going cold. "And why does this concern you? This is an old family matter, long-finished business that would hardly involve you."

"The outcome of what happened sixteen years ago may be concluded, that is true," Qui-Gon said gently. "But it is hardly finished. As her friend, it does involve me. She has confessed, perhaps in not so many words, that this old conflict is still a burden to her."

Tak stared fixedly out the doors. "A burden to her? Well, if that's the case it is a burden of her own making," he said tightly.

"That is your point of view on the matter?"

"Damn straight, it is!"

"And you share no part whatsoever in that burden; you feel absolutely nothing? You have no reason to avoid sharing the same table with her at the family's meals? You are so consumed with office work that you have no time to venture out of this room today, while she is anywhere in the house?" Qui-Gon asked calmly.

Tak's eyes and mouth narrowed. Then he inhaled, and let forth a detailed, lengthy, expletive-filled piece of his mind on the matter. He explained exactly what his opinion was of Qui-Gon strolling into his office asking all these questions about his family's business and relationships. He elaborated on Qui-Gon's probable daily doings, what he spent time meditating about, what Tak thought about him and his fellow followers of an obscure religion, and anyone else who hid themselves away in some ivory-towered temple on a planet millions of light-years away from here. He commented on the audacity contained within Qui-Gon's private parts to come in here and pry open old, private and painful wounds, and the apparent delight he was taking in it. He was just getting around to starting on Qui-Gon's probable parentage when he noticed that other than his own ranting and shouting, it was startlingly quiet. The object of his tirade had not said one word. The garden worker who had been doing some hedge trimming near the small patio had laid down his trimmers and discreetly slipped away. A bird or some small creature chirped hesitantly outside. The sun shone as brightly as ever. Tak forgot what he had been about to shout, and why it had been so important that he shout it.

"Damn and blast," he muttered hoarsely, dragging a hand through his hair. He wiped away a bit of foamy spittle that had collected in the corner of his mouth. He ventured a look at his houseguest who was still sitting on the stump. The man looked calmly expectant, as though he was actually waiting for him to continue. As if Tak had not made a complete and utter ass of himself, and offended him beyond all hope of redemption. For a second he felt as though he was in someone else's office. That he was some underling and this man sitting before him held the position of power, whose whim could determine whether he stayed or was banished. Then the strange moment passed. This Jedi, this Qui-Gon Jinn sat patiently and serenely before him, waiting to hear more of whatever he had to say.

Tak found himself unable to say anything, let alone shout. A great weariness seemed to settle over him. He felt tired and old. It was true, he had been going to great lengths to avoid Valia in the house, and it was draining him. The very sight of her brought back memories, some of them guilty ones. He had simply snapped.

"Before I collect my apprentice and leave your home, I will say our farewells and give our thanks to your wife," Qui-Gon said quietly and moved as though to rise. "I am sure she will be most curious why we are leaving."

"No!" a stricken Tak said. "No! Please. I'm sorry, lost my head, I was angry, angry at having to remember... Please, don't leave. You are our guests and I should never have shouted, spoken to you like that, even if you did ask about...that."

"If I was out of line asking about such a personal matter, please forgive me," said Qui-Gon. "But I have heard Valia's side of the story, and though I believe what she told me is true, I realize there are at least two sides to every story. Your side of it interests me, if you care to tell it."

Tak stared at Qui-Gon. No one had ever asked him what happened. Well, after all, everyone knew what happened. Everyone around here. But here was this stranger, this mysterious friend of his daughter who was actually curious about his side of things.

"Or if you would rather not, if I have interrupted your work..."

"No, wait. I'm really not doing anything that important in here. Please, stay, don't walk out there. Because I know Binny might wonder who I was just yelling at, if she heard me, and if she knows it was you, she would...she might be...well, dammit, she'd...let's just say I'd be sleeping every night out under the stars until sometime next year."

A small, knowing smile crept across Qui-Gon's face. "You have my word I won't go to her with that information."

"Gods, thank you," said a relieved Tak. He rummaged in one of the deep desk drawers and produced a large square bottle half-filled with dark amber liquid. "Drink?" he offered.

Qui-Gon accepted with a nod of his head. Tak produced a short glass and splashed some of the liquid into it. Qui-Gon took the offered drink and raised it to his lips. He tipped it and touched the liquid to them, almost kissing the surface. It was not a motion designed to fool anyone into believing he had actually taken a drink. It was simply what the Jedi Master would do at any ambassadorial function where a toast was required. It was a graceful, almost ceremonious gesture. He set the glass down on Tak's desk.

Tak stared at him. One dark eyebrow went up in bland amusement. "Refill?"

"No thank you," said Qui-Gon with equal blandness.

"It's local, made right here on Nyme' in the town of Hyssan. Best brandy in the galaxy, in my opinion."

"I will trust your good judgement on that, as I really never drink alcohol." An acrid whiff of the heavy liquor still hovered around his nostrils. He briefly wondered what corrosion a steady intake of this stuff would wreak on one's insides.

Tak hesitated. Qui-Gon sensed he was refusing some sort of macho peace offering. "Please, feel free to indulge, or observe whatever custom you wish," Qui-Gon urged his host. "For the first time, I think now I know what it means when someone says a man looks like he could use a drink."

Tak flashed a quick smile and grunted a short laugh. He poured a generous amount into another short glass, and raised it in a brief toast toward Qui-Gon. He took a small swig, and tried to relax. The liquor warmed his mouth and left a trail of embers as it slid down his throat. He eyed Qui-Gon again and briefly wondered how much of the bottle he would have to consume to make him blur. Fade away. Completely disappear. There probably wasn't enough brandy on all of Nyme' to do that. Not with this fellow. Maybe he was losing his mind and hallucinating. Maybe the deeds of his past were finally visiting him in the form of a large, brown-clad tree spirit who had sprouted out of the old stump in his study. This was the kind of thing that happened when men got old and doddering. Tak drained the glass in one drink and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, Qui-Gon was still there. He poured another full glass and then shut the bottle back in the drawer. Or he really might drink the whole thing.

"Did she ask you to come in here and talk to me?" Tak asked, sitting back down behind his desk.

"No. This was my own idea. She doesn't know I'm in here."

"If you are her friend, then maybe you'll feel obliged to share this conversation with her, or at least put your own slant on it in her favor."

"I will say nothing of this to her unless you specifically ask me to, if it is your express wish to reconcile with her." Tak looked at him doubtfully, and stared into the depths of his drink. "You have my word as a Jedi," Qui-Gon reassured him. "And I have had a little training as a diplomat, so I have had some experience in looking objectively at both sides of a situation. Something I had time to learn between 'buggering apprentices in the Temple'," he said with a dry smile.

Tak groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. "Ye gods, did I really say that? Uhh, well... Didn't mean it. Any of it. Binny is always saying I shouldn't yell so much, that I don't know what I'm saying. She's always on me about how bad it is for my health."

"She impresses me as a very wise woman."

Tak sighed. "She is. She's a damned good woman." He rummaged in another drawer and produced a shabby, well-used pipe. He absently stuffed whatever he was going to smoke into it, staring past Qui-Gon at the wall. The brandy had reached his head and suffused its warmth into his nerves. What the flaming fire rings, he thought. Maybe by unburdening himself to this stranger, just maybe...no, the situation was too old, the grudge surely too established. Valia would one day happily dance on his grave. He lit the pipe, took several long drags from it, and started talking. He told Qui-Gon about Valia's associating with boys he had not deemed proper for her, her habits of disappearing for entire days, the defiant attitude she had seemingly been born with and had honed to a rare piece of work in her teen years; and finally her declaration of her love for Lommi Dekkar and the resulting pregnancy.

The liquor in Tak's glass was gone now, and was working its tongue-loosening magic. He went on to explain how he had always had it in his mind to make her his successor, despite the fact that in this largely patriarchal society, it was almost always the sons that preserved the line of succession. Despite their rocky relationship, there had been something there when she was a child, a respect for her, and a feeling that she would preserve and defend the family holdings with all that she was. He had more or less promised her the succession. But the mutterings among the local Growers' Association had reached his ears long before she turned sixteen. The discussions of what was right and proper, the not so subtle hints that she might not be fit to be the future owner-operator of the Traxis farms, because she was female.

"At first I dismissed all the talk. There were a few other women who had become heads of their farms, and I thought it was nonsense to not give Valia the chance. But by and by, I found myself agreeing with the members. They all said my oldest boy would be a more suitable choice," Tak said. Qui-Gon nodded. This Qui-Gon was the easiest person to talk to, thought Tak. He didn't interrupt, and he looked interested in everything Tak was telling him. Encouraged, he went on. "I knew I was bucking tradition by choosing a daughter to follow me, but everything that happened that year gave me all the excuse I needed to change my mind." Tak was sitting on the edge of his desk now, and shifted to get comfortable. His skinny haunch came perilously close to knocking over a large stack of flimsies. "Maybe it was a weak-kneed thing to do, but at the time my decision made perfect sense."

"That decision was based in what you knew and felt at the time," Qui-Gon said. "Your operation is no small thing, and you wanted to leave it under the charge of someone responsible."

"Exactly!" Tak said, jabbing the air with the stem of his pipe. "But...if it were only that," he said. "If only." He knocked the ashes out of his pipe into an already overflowing ashtray. Qui-Gon sensed he was getting to the worst part of his tale. Tak's eyes drifted to the drawer where his brandy was stored.

"Perhaps we could go outside and continue talking there," Qui-Gon suggested, gesturing toward the patio. The air in the room was becoming hazy. Tak nodded, and refilled his pipe. They stepped outside and settled themselves on the edge of the cobbled patio. Tak leaned forward between his knees and looked out over the lawn and off to where the freela trees began.

"Getting herself knocked up was bad enough, mind you. We don't take those things lightly around here. But then later, after...her trouble," Tak paused as though thinking of some way to describe something that was distasteful or beyond his scope of knowledge. Something that would be lumped into the mysterious category of 'female problems'. "We found her doubled up in pain at the neighbors. They called us when she wouldn't come home. Trouble with the baby is what it was. An ectopic pregnancy, that's what they called it. So I remember thinking, ha! There's the proof this is all wrong, this was a mistake, and not meant to happen. We'll put her in the medical center, get her...taken care of, and that will be the end of all this nonsense."

"But it wasn't the end of things at all, was it?" prompted Qui-Gon.

"Blast, no." Tak lit his pipe again with a small ignitor wand and began puffing madly. "We may not live at the center of the galaxy, but we do pride ourselves on having most of the modern conveniences, without having them ruin the place." He said this with more than a trace of superiority in his voice, as though he was thinking of the urban sprawl of Coruscant. "They told us afterward that ...that things had gone wrong, that there had been mistakes made by the medic droids and irreparable damage done. The short of it was she could never have children. Never, unless we could take her off world where there were much more sophisticated medical facilities. Well, the expense of that at the time was over our heads. I refused to think about doing it. Her mother and I argued something fierce over that. Add to that the fact that it crushed both of us to know there would be no blood descendants from her. No descendants from the heir I appointed to follow me, and keep the land in the family."

"Valia has told me how much blood lines and family names mean here," Qui-Gon interjected gently.

"It's the way it is here. Blood stands for something, who your people are," Tak said firmly. "Plants or people, it's the same. Good breeding and stock are vital." He turned to look at Qui-Gon. "Isn't this so with your kind?"

Qui-Gon smiled slowly. He was more concerned with how not to offend than with being offended himself at the moment. "With 'our kind', blood means nothing," he said. He was sure Tak did not want an enlightening lecture on midichlorians at the moment. "We put a bit more emphasis on our deeds and words than our family heritage."

Tak nodded with a short grunt, as if to say he had heard of such strange ideas elsewhere in the galaxy.

"Please, go on," Qui-Gon said.

"I took it out badly on her," Tak said after another long look off into the trees. "I called her...some things." Qui-Gon knew what he had called her. Strumpet. Slut. Whore. "I said all sorts of other things. Told her she'd ruined her life, she deserved this, and on and on." He propped his elbow on his knees and stared dismally out on the bright green lawn. "Later there was a meeting of the Growers' Association. I...I made her stand before them and they questioned her about her abilities to run a farm. It was a mockery of a courtroom, and their decision was already final before it ever began. I thought...I thought it would be a way to...to teach her a lesson, make sure she never took her responsibilities lightly again. It looked as though the point was driven home. I remember the way she hung her head."

It was genuine guilt and regret Qui-Gon sensed from him at this point. Guilt that resonated with what he had felt in him yesterday morning. Something that had been long ignored, rationalized, and pushed aside but had festered nonetheless.

"Then I said no more on the entire incident. It was done. Maybe that's the worst thing of all. Neither one of us would speak a word about it, and we barely spoke to each other about anything for the next three years. She spent a lot of time in the capital. School, different jobs. Then she left. I thought if she was far from here that would be best for her, and for us. I didn't want her here, but I never thought I would wonder and worry about her as much as I did. We didn't hear anything. Her mother was...well, her mother pined for quite some time. Things weren't so good between us for a while. The disappointment and disapproval in her eyes. The sadness. I'll never forget it."

"Yet I sense that you wanted to forget it and everything else to do with it."

"Right again, Jinn old buddy," agreed Tak. The alcohol had completely suffused into his brain by now, making him a combination of happily familiar and morose.

"It's a sad part of the tale you find yourself in the middle of," Qui-Gon said.

Tak straightened from his hunched over position. "The middle? End of story, more to my way of thinking. Past the end. Long done."

"I don't believe that's the case."

"You know what I thought for just a second this morning? For just a second? That I was going to be wearing that knife of hers between my shoulderblades."

"Never believe that of her. While she may be one to vent her feelings, there's nothing vindictive about her."

Tak snorted. "What I might have done if I had been in her shoes, I don't want to think about."

At this Qui-Gon turned to look at him. Empathy. Whatever else this man was, if he had some occasional ability to picture himself in another's place, there was hope for getting these two back on speaking terms again. But he reminded himself again he was not here to arrange reconciliation between the two of them. Quite suddenly he thought of the dream Valia had told him of last night, and the soft shine in her eyes while she had spoken. If that dream came true, this man could be his father-in-law. His mind reeled at the entire idea, everything that it would mean. Rather than spin off to think of all the possibilities, he clamped down on his thoughts, reserving them for later. He wrenched his focus back to the present conversation and listened to what Tak was saying.

"Velk was always more...agreeable. I never knew what to do with her. She was no daddy's little girl, that's for damn sure."

"Well, that's not what you were raising her to be, were you? And it's been my experience that it's the more headstrong child or apprentice who needs even more support and guidance."

"Didn't know what she needed, and still don't."

She needed someone who would teach her where to best channel all that life and passion. Someone who would stand and fight between her and the monsters, not throw her to them, thought Qui-Gon. But he would never voice such a thing to him. Now was hardly the time for a rebuke, and it was certainly not his place to deliver it.

"What's been done is done," he said. "At the present, she is an extremely capable businesswoman, running four stores, and if I know her at all, she is plotting a fifth. What she needs now are people who believe in her, and support her ambition." And love her, he could have said. He did not add that he strongly suspected part of what drove her was the desire to build something greater than what she had lost, something she built with her own hands. Success in spite of what had happened here. Tak's only reply was a thoughtful-sounding grunt, the only apparent acknowledgement of his daughter's hard-won success.

"As long as she still comes back to see her mother and brother. It makes Binny happy. Valia wants nothing to do with me."

"Peace often begins with dialogue," said Qui-Gon. "Dialogue begins with one word." There was a pause, only the sounds of a midsummer morning as Tak seemed to think about this. The pause went on so long, Qui-Gon began to wonder if Tak had fallen into an alcohol-induced doze.

"Dialogue? Talking? You mean me talk to her? What in blazes would I say to her, after all this time?"

Perhaps something like 'I'm sorry' for starters, thought Qui-Gon. He quickly pushed the thought aside. He suspected those two words together did not appear frequently in Tak Traxis' vocabulary. "That I can't say, but I have great confidence you'll think of something, when the time comes."

"When the--you talk like this is actually going to happen."

"The matter is completely up to you, of course."

"Seems to me she's got a say in about half of it."

"Indeed she does."

"You're her friend, you can go to her and say anything. Tell her...just say...blast, tell her I wish her well, I'm glad she's made a good life for herself after all."

Qui-Gon leaned back and smiled. "First of all, that sentiment would be far more sincere if it came from you directly. And second, she does not know I am speaking to you about her. It's my hope that she does not, for quite some time. She is quite...fiercely independent about solving her own problems. The piece of her mind she might give me would be similar to the one you gave me. And the one you feared from her mother a few moments ago."

The chagrined smile on Tak's face was something Qui-Gon sensed rather than saw, because he was still looking straight ahead. Then Tak grunted softly. Then he laughed. It was the dry laugh of a man who believed himself suddenly bonded with another weary combatant in the battle of the sexes.

"So, you don't drink, but can I interest you in a smoke? Something to chew?"

"No thank you."

Tak clapped Qui-Gon on the back. "I like you anyway, Jinn."

"One more question, if I may ask," said Qui-Gon. He rose to his feet to be on his way.

"Why not," said Tak expansively.

"What has become of Lommi Dekkar? Would his older brother Jax be the one to take over their operation?"

Tak rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't seen Jax around here in years. Went off and got into some high-falutin' interplanetary trade corporation, I heard. Never had a lick of interest in farming. Lommi, now, he went to Tyannis for a couple of years. Taking classes or working city jobs. 'Finding himself' or some such thing, his parents said. But he's back now, he's the one who will be taking over the Dekkar farm. He's a man, so it was only natural he'd turn out to be capable and levelheaded, after all. Just a matter of time."

"I see," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully.