Author's Note: Aw, such lovely reviews! (sniff) I'm not dead yet, as you can see. Still going. Enjoy!
Candles Against the Sea
Chapter 12: Evaluation
"I can't go in there."
Obi-Wan looked down at his little friend. Nibbi's small hands were wrapped around the young Jedi's forearm, just above the wrist. They were shaking faintly, reminding Obi-Wan of the dusty wings of night-flying insects
The two boys had been standing outside the clinic for ten or fifteen minutes, just watching residents of Onorda Street pass in and out of the small, unassuming building. Obi-Wan had wanted to give the homeless child time to work up his courage, but it appeared that he had only grown more nervous. Just then a young mother walked into the clinic, cradling her five-year-old son in her arms. The gentle swelling of her abdomen indicated the reason for this visit.
"Hey, I bet that little boy will be waiting in the children's room," Obi-Wan said, pointing at the little family disappearing inside the double doors. "You'd have lots of fun playing with him."
Nibbi hid his eyes against the Padawan's upper arm. "Can't," he squeaked out.
Obi-Wan gently cupped the little one's chin with his free hand and turned to face him, dropping to one knee. In this position Nibbi's head was a bit higher than Obi-Wan's, but he ducked his head as if to diminish and hide himself.
Obi-Wan dipped his own head to maintain eye contact. "What is it, Nibbi? What's wrong?"
Nibbi hunched his shoulders. "I don't belong in there. I can't go in."
"Of course you belong, little friend. This clinic is here just for people like you." He paused, studying the downcast eyes and trembling lips. "Why do you think that, Nibbi?" he asked softly. "What makes you different from that other little boy?"
"I . . . 'm dirty."
Obi-Wan blinked. He'd forgotten—after an initial struggle to ignore the grime caking the little one's face and hands, to see beyond that to the deserving child hidden behind the filthy vrelt, he had forgotten all about it. "Oh. Well, I suppose you are."
He lifted his own hands, looked critically at the dirt that had transferred, the residue of sweat dried in the faint crevices that would deepen with age and harden with training. "Looks like you've rubbed off on me a bit."
He meant it as a joke, but the little boy did not take it as such, and Obi-Wan's smile vanished as Nibbi's face seemed to fall even further. "Oh, Nibbi, it's not that bad," he said hastily. "It's pretty hard to be squeaky-clean when you're living in an alley. It just makes us look like brothers, remember? Don't worry. Nilla is used to homeless people coming in. A little dirt won't hurt a thing."
"But what if . . . what if someone makes fun of me?"
The Padawan hesitated, looking at his little friend with his head tilted slightly to one side. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way.
"Tell you what, Nibbi . . . there's a 'fresher just off the lobby. Why don't we go in and clean up a little? Then you can look in the mirror and see for yourself whether you look any different than that other little boy."
Nibbi drew a deep, doubtful breath, then nodded. Obi-Wan smiled and rose to his feet, extending a hand. His smile broadened when the little hand slipped into his without the slightest hesitation.
In the refresher, Obi-Wan wet a couple of disposable towels, and the two boys took their time washing their face and hands. The young Jedi was touched by Nibbi's diligence and enthusiasm in this task, and a bit saddened. After a time he gently removed the now-worthless towel from the little one's hand and again knelt to face to him.
"Did I miss anything, Nibbi?"
Nibbi looked him over with small, wrinkled brow and pursed lips. He touched the side of Obi-Wan's face, next to his right ear, and a patch of skin on his forehead. "Here, and here."
Obi-Wan wet another towel and handed it to him, and Nibbi obligingly scrubbed the offending spots. Then the child shyly asked the same question. His forehead was still wrinkled, but in worry now. Obi-Wan washed the spots Nibbi had missed, carefully and tenderly, praising the job he had done.
With Nibbi's permission, he lifted the little boy in his arms to look in the mirror. Two pale, shiny-wet faces peered back at them, young and open. Curiosity shone in both pairs of eyes, rich brown and bright blue-green, as they studied themselves and each other.
Nibbi's face was much too thin and worried for a seven-year-old, Obi-Wan noted, but he looked very different without the ever-present dirt. The difference was akin to that between a clouded sky and one that was clear and blue, lit by the sun beyond. Even better would be a smile, or one of those wonderful little giggles, but Nibbi wasn't ready for that. Obi-Wan vowed to do his best to earn one before their time today was over.
The young Jedi also noticed scars—a long thin one across the delicate cheekbone, a thick one like a half-drawn square on the side of the jaw. A fist wearing a ring, Obi-Wan decided, feeling sick. A belt-buckle.
"My hair's still dirty," Nibbi said.
"I'll bring cleanser tomorrow, and we'll take care of it," Obi-Wan promised. "You know what, Nibbi? You're a nice little boy, just like the one we saw earlier." You deserve to be happy and loved as much as any other child.
"You think so?" Hope and disbelief warred in the big, dark eyes that watched the Jedi from the mirror.
Obi-Wan nodded firmly. "I know so, little brother."
A tiny, crooked smile, and Nibbi leaned back against Obi-Wan's shoulder, pressing his freshly-scrubbed cheek to that of the older boy for a moment. A sharp spark of warmth pierced through Obi-Wan's chest at the small, fleeting gesture. "You wouldn't lie t'me?"
"Never."
Nibbi nodded slowly. "'Kay. 'M ready t'go in now."
X
"We feel that we must be up front with you, Master Jedi. We are looking into joining the Republic at this time for several specific reasons, and we would appreciate your input as to whether or not the Republic will be able to assist us with these problems. Now would be a good time to speak of them, I think, in this private meeting."
Rayel Tooks, the Sylelian Chief of Security, looked Qui-Gon frankly in the eyes as he spoke. His hands were folded in front of him on the conference table, hiding the personal communicator that the Jedi had never seen him without. His shoulders were military-straight, dark eyes piercing and commanding, even as his words spoke of supplication. It was indeed a private meeting of only three: the chief, the president, and the Jedi.
The Jedi Master nodded gravely. He had expected something like this when he noticed Tooks' bearing sharpen when he had mentioned that his apprentice would not be joining them for the talks this afternoon. The security head obviously had something on his mind that he didn't want to express in front the Padawan.
"You can trust me with your concerns, as you can trust any Jedi," Qui-Gon said.
A quicksilver smile flashed across the middle-aged human's face. "You refer to your apprentice? I do not distrust him, far from it. But the matters we must discuss are not meant for tender ears."
"I see." Qui-Gon sat back slightly, folding his hands on his chest. He was mildly astonished by how quickly Tooks had picked up on his subtle defense of the boy, but more astonished at his own quick instinct to do so. One would have thought the Jedi Order itself had been disparaged. "What did you wish to discuss?"
Tooks closed his little communicator in one fist and used to his other hand to punch up a holo image on a small console set into the dark wood of the table. A model of the Sylelian system flickered into existence in the air and spun slowly: warm yellow binary suns, six planets, a small asteroid belt and a larger one. The chief's blunt finger indicated the larger belt, between the fourth and fifth planets.
"We have heard unpleasant rumors about criminal activities occurring in this region of the system. Historically, Sylelius has wielded jurisdiction only over the planetary surface, and there is much resistance to expanding the government's role. The people are conservative, and they dislike the idea of so much power being held by one man, even one as good as President Hindegar."
The president's mouth quirked, and he gave his head of security a brief nod.
Tooks nodded back, not the hint of a smile on his expressive features. "Unfortunately, this leaves the other planets of the system open to . . . undesirable opportunists, to say the least. Lately the rumors have been growing more frequent and detailed, and we fear that the activities are increasing."
Qui-Gon sat forward, studying the hologram as if the fuzzy blue and white lines could reveal the secrets of space beyond. "What kind of activities?" he asked, though he could make a shrewd guess.
Rayel Tooks sighed, but spoke frankly and firmly. "Brothels. The illegal kind. The kind that keep slaves . . . underage slaves. We don't want their kind here, Master Jedi. Not only are they harboring criminals from all over the galaxy, but they are also a threat to the vulnerable of this planet, our planet."
Qui-Gon nodded grimly. He understood their desire for a private meeting now, and for Republic assistance.
"They are hiding under ancient Sylelian laws that prevent us from interfering with the rest of the system," Hindegar said wearily, "but if we were to join the Republic, this region of space would automatically fall under Republican jurisdiction. And then you could move in and sweep the asteroid belt, with the Sylelian Constabulary Force, if need be. At least, that is our understanding of the situation. Are we correct?"
Tooks' fist tightened around the communicator, and the faces of both men were intense, waiting.
"We've had a rash of unexplained kidnappings in the last few months," the security man said quietly. "It is not good, Master Jedi."
Please tell us you can help, his strong face pleaded silently.
"Your basic evaluation of the circumstances is accurate," Qui-Gon said, glad that he could give the right answer to this question. "There are particulars to discuss, but that would, indeed, fall under the control of the peace-keeping arm of the Republic, perhaps even the Jedi."
Both men relaxed almost imperceptibly in relief, and the Jedi smiled warmly, again pleased to find himself in the company of these honorable leaders. Had he grown so used to dealing with corrupt and misguided leadership, that coming in contact with noble men in power was such a sweet breath of relief? He supposed he had.
"Are there any other potential security problems you wish to discuss?"
Apparently there were, but that was the worst, and had weighed most heavily on both Tooks and Hindegar. At mid-afternoon they took a break to walk the grounds of the capitol building, refreshing their minds and spirits with sunlight and cool breezes and the sight and scent of innumerable flowers blooming in a riotous glory of color.
Again Qui-Gon meant to question President Hindegar, but did not have to. Rothis was eager to discuss his troubles with one he trusted to understand and give worthy counsel. "I talked to Amora this morning," he began, once Tooks had walked far enough ahead to be out of casual hearing range.
Qui-Gon smiled, touched by the guarded excitement in the man's voice and demeanor. "How did it go?"
"I'm still nominally in charge of her schooling, so I was able to pass it off as an academic assignment, this need to volunteer daily somewhere. I gave her a list of potential organizations and sites that need and can use untrained volunteers and told her she had three days to choose one. But I think I already which she will pick."
"Truly?" Again, Qui-Gon didn't have to push. Hindegar was happy to share.
The president nodded cheerfully, apparently feeling much more at ease now that something was being done to help his daughter, no matter how slight and potentially risky. "I think she will choose the clinic on Onorda Street. She'll be least likely to meet any of her friends there."
"You're not worried about her getting into trouble in such a seedy area?"
Hindegar quirked a smile, looking up into the tall Jedi's face. "It's not so bad. Ambassador Grenik is a very touchy man, I'm sure you've noticed. But I would have an IS squad escort her to and from wherever she chooses to go, as always."
"You trust your Internal Security to care for Amora?"
Again the cheerful, relaxed nod. "I trust them with my life. And my daughter is my life, Master Jinn. Make no mistake about that."
"Oh, I don't," Qui-Gon said softly. "That is readily apparent to anyone with eyes to see."