The Book of Studies
Obi-Wan Kenobi folded his arms across his chest, tugging at the edges of his heavy cloak as he finished the basic details of their report on Itheria to the Jedi Council.
Yoda watched in silence, listening but not really. He had kept up with the weekly reports Obi-Wan filed so nothing was of news to him. Instead, the little green master used the exercise to study the two Jedi.
Without shifting his large gaze, his attention flicked from the calmly speaking master to the nineteen-year-old at his side. He sensed sadness and worry gently emanating from the youth but then it quickly disappeared behind heavy shielding. It was interesting, the little master thought, another curious trait the boy had picked up from his master.
Obi-Wan shifted slightly to answer questioning from Ki-Adi Mundi. Yoda watched the older of the two carefully tugged at his cloak again. The action was almost so subtle that it would pass unnoticed from anyone had they not been looking for it. The ginger haired master was a little thinner and grayer than Yoda remembered, but that was the only obvious changes he noted.
Lightly reaching out with the Force, the ancient master brushed up against Obi-Wan's shields. Naturally, they were extraordinarily powerful and he expected to sense nothing. Instead, he became dully aware of the slight fuzz of masking. Deciding not to probe further into the ruse he withdrew, certain the truth would reveal itself in time.
The young master shifted again and this time his unsteadiness caught the green Jedi's attention. Scrunching his nose slightly, Yoda sighed, then turned his attention to the padawan again.
Bali stood straight and alert in his place at his master's side. To Yoda's unexpressed delight he was hardly the little boy that had wiggled his way into his heart years ago. The creams and muted browns of his tunic were set off by the color of rich soil in the elegantly cut cloak that flowed around the apprentice. He stood straight with his arms folded into the cloak sleeves, appearing as unobtrusive as possible as his master continued the tedious details of the report the Councillors demanded.
The ancient Jedi studied the soft spikes of Bali's dark brown hair, tracing his line of concentration over the tightly woven padawan braid. The red and blue markers garnered little attention as he had seen them often in his long life. The single white marker though always held great interest. Silently noting that it was set too low, but the little master understood why the boy kept it at the division of dark brown and ginger strands. The white was less stark against ginger.
He had been the one to present the white thread to the young Jedi. He had bound it into the braid as Obi-Wan had been unable to at the time. Throughout his long life, Yoda had never seen the white marker in use for the Sith had been driven out existence until late. While Bali had not been the first to earn the white marker, he was the first to wear it. Obi-Wan had been knighted just moments after having the white thread added to his braid.
Still studying the bright green eyes of the padawan, the ancient one felt great grief. Soon this boy would be a knight sent into a different galaxy than the Jedi had ever faced. Their numbers were painfully diminished through the war. Even now, the frequency of Jedi killed in the field was alarming. The little master felt helpless against the darkness that not only had crept up on them but also had surrounded them and was quickly strangling the light.
Now in his old age, the images of death still came and he could do nothing to assuage the fear that lingered at the edge of his being. It was not his death he feared, but rather it was surviving what horror lay ahead to rebuild what once was. He wasn't even sure he had the strength to begin again.
His thoughts wavered to the Order's service and how it had changed over the last few years. Merely the blink of an eye in the lifetime of the ancient one. The Order answered to the Senate, or at least those that still had faith in the Jedi. Their support had dwindled in favor of the Chancellor's new Republican Army. White armored figures accompanied by the Palpatine's sanctioned mediators.
These, he did not trust, but they had won the favor of many.
"As you know," Master Serinka, an elderly master who had replaced the fallen Adi Gallia began, "we cannot keep up with demand for Jedi mediation. The reunited Republic has taken a step backward by centuries. Treaties broken in war must be started anew."
A flash of terror danced in Bali's bright green eyes. They shifted first to Mace Windu who had remained quiet through most of the meeting, then to Yoda.
A languid blink of his large eyes was the only response Yoda offered to Bali's silently pleading gaze. Understanding the padawan's concern but knowing that he could not interfere, he stirred his stick over the tiled floor.
Bali's pleading look returned to Mace but the Councillor also remained silent, as did the entire room. When the apprentice turned to meet his master's sharp gaze he immediately dropped his to the floor.
"Something, Padawan?" Obi-Wan inquired. Without giving Bali a chance to answer, he turned back to the waiting councillors. "I understand the need for Jedi in the field and would readily agree to a new assignment but we have returned specifically for Bali to prepare for the knowledge trial."
Undaunted, Master Serinka spoke up again, "Experienced negotiators are needed in the field. Taking the trial at a later time will not affect the apprentice's training."
A sharp exhale from Obi-Wan seemed surprisingly loud in the circular room. He closed his eyes for a moment before addressing the Council. "I disagree, Master. Bali has already put this test off once to attend to a mission on Itheria. He needs to get this trial out of the way in order to continue with his training unimpeded."
Just as Serinka was about to argue, Mace interrupted, "A period of downtime is scheduled." He shot the elderly woman a warning gaze, which quickly silenced any further attempts. "Certainly Padawan Tiro has much to catch up on. And as much as we need Jedi in the field, we need Jedi to pass on their knowledge here as well. While Padawan Tiro is studying, I am sure Master Kenobi will consent to teaching a few classes."
Pale blue eyes shot the senior council member a sharp look.
"Excellent." Mace gave a devilish smile as he leaned forward in his seat. "Of course, due to extended time away from the Temple, you will have to request new housing. I suggest you do so immediately."
The Book of Master and Padawan Part I
Replaying the action in his mind, Bali watched at the ease in how he had responded to the attack. The mental image of himself twisted about gracefully. Every footfall perfectly timed just before the fourteen-year-old launched himself in the air.
He was impressed with what he saw. Never knowing he could move like that. Even better reminding him of his master's feline grace.
Breaking through the meditation, Bali gave a small smile as he watched himself bound forward. His entire body moved as it should and his fist squarely connected with the older Ilo Pentaro's face.
Vaguely, the padawan remembered throwing a few more punches but the images did not return to him for review.
Reaching up, he lightly pressed fingers to the swollen, dark flesh around his right eye. He definitely did remember the larger, fifteen-year-old hitting him and then pounding him into the ground like a practice bag from the gymnasium. He tried to smile but his chin hurt where Ilo had struck him several times.
Rising slowly from a meditative stance, Bali felt his bruised side, then walked slowly to the door of the small chamber. Palming it open, he smiled at the waiting figure of his master.
Comfortably cradled in a nearby chair, Obi-Wan looked up from his reading. He rested the data reader on his lap as pale blue eyes studied the quiet padawan.
Bali shifted nervously in the doorway wishing his master would say something. When that did not happen, the apprentice piped up, "It has been hours. I have thought much about my actions."
"And?" the master slowly prodded.
"He deserved it."
Obi-Wan sighed and motioned the youth to go back into the meditation room.
With a loud groan, Bali marched back in but just stood there. He knew he had been wrong tackling and punching Ilo, but there had been a good reason for it even if no one—not even his master—understood.
The rude fifteen-year-old had called his master "Oafy-Wan". He could not allow that insult to stand unchallenged. Granted, he had been soundly beaten by the much larger boy before a few knights had managed to intervene but he thought he had gotten his point across. After all, he had some bruised knuckles, so hopefully Ilo had a bruised face to match.
"You are supposed to be meditating," Obi-Wan said.
Frowning, Bali twisted around to find his master leaning against the doorway. "Why am I being punished, he—"
"Did not physically attack another padawan."
"He started it."
"Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Bali huffed then squeezed his eyes closed as he struggled to keep his hands open at his side even though all he wanted was to make tight fists.
When the apprentice opened his eyes, he found Obi-Wan's trembling hands gripping the door frame for support. Then far too slowly for Bali's liking, the older Jedi walked back to the chair and wearily sank back into it.
"You should be meditating," Obi-Wan sluggishly said as he tugged on the edges of his cloak, drawing it closed for warmth.
Bali knew the longer he continued to act out, the longer he was keeping his master from resting and healing. Through the thick layer of exhaustion that clouded Obi-Wan's eyes, Bali could see the worry. He didn't mean to cause trouble or get into fights. They just sort of happened wherever he was.
"Forgive me, Master."
"Not until you understand and accept your error." The older Jedi sighed. "What is going on, Padawan? Three fights in three weeks?"
"Ilo deserved it." That seemed to be his standard answer to everything. Someone deserved it. He never told his master why he fought and was glad he was never asked.
"Padawan."
The words were still a little slurred but they were getting better. His master had been trying to follow healer's orders and speak out loud. He had no complaints because mostly he liked it when his master spoke with words and not just through the training bond.
Nodding lightly, Bali said, "I will try harder, Master."
"That is all I ask."
"Yes, Master," the apprentice sighed and knelt in the center of the chamber. "It is difficult."
"Ilo Pentaro is not the first, nor will he be the last to call me that, rest assured, Padawan. But it is not your place to defend against such childish and pointless attacks."
"Yes, Master."
The Book of Responsibility
"Teach?" Obi-Wan growled.
"Master, you have spent the last year and half teaching on Itheria."
"It is hardly the same thing," the older Jedi said as he stopped in the middle of the council antechamber.
"At least we are staying here," Bali said with a grin thankful that his master had pushed to remain temple bound for a time. His bright green eyes glittering with the warm light that poured in from the windows. The youth shifted slightly. "I suppose I could always take the test later. It will not keep me from learning."
"That might be true, but turning in regular essays gets in the way of you filing mission reports."
"That is your job."
"It is about time you take on certain responsibilities."
Bali frowned.
Smiling, Obi-Wan continued, "After all, you will just be giving up classroom oriented lessons for the wonderful world of detailed documentation." He reached up and lightly slapped Bali's cheek. "You'll wish for Master Cepria's essays after a few reports." Obi-Wan sighed and folded himself deeper into his cloak. "You should go to the housing office and take care of getting us a place to stay."
"Should you not do that, Master?"
"I realize they can be quite disagreeable at times, but you have handled worse." Obi-Wan smiled. "Make sure to carry your saber with you."
"That is not very reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." The older Jedi turned and began to walk away from the padawan.
"Where are you going!" Bali called out.
"For a walk."
The apprentice just stood there until his master had vanished into the corridor. Twisting about the empty chamber, Bali caught sight of the stonework high above the massive chamber doors. He was reminded of that little room with the strange carvings on the walls his master had shown him so many years ago.
Memory of the alien words that had no known counterpart in the galaxy came back to him. They would have been easily forgotten if Bali did not have the strangest sensation that he knew what they meant. A small part of him wanted to climb up into the room but knew he should not during a Council meeting. He would have to wait.
Besides, there was much to be done. His master had charged him, quite unfairly, with acquiring housing. After that he wanted to get their apartment belongings out of storage. He had a project he wanted to take care of as soon as possible.
The Book of Binding Ties
"Are you afraid?"
Those three little words encompassed all that was going wrong in the Republic and Senator Amidala knew it. She stared into the strangely emotionless black eyes of Massis Neebo, the Rodian representative of the powerful Trade Union.
Neebo leaned back in the plush chair of her private office and studied the younger woman. "Am I afraid?" Neebo asked. "Who among us are not? These are interesting times we live in." She gave the Rodian equivalent of a smile. "A vote of no confidence? I feel you are rushing into this."
Padmé straightened slightly, desperately working to ease her mild backache. "The war has been over for a year and a half. In that time loyal Republican worlds have begun to suffer under a martial law that is more strict and destructive than even the rebelling worlds have been faced with. Yet, no true reason has been given. Tell me, this does not bother you?"
"We must petition him to release emergency powers and provide detailed documentation of why certain planets are being treated more harshly than others."
The Naboo Senator leaned forward; her dark brown eyes remained steady on the Rodian across the desk from her. "While we remain tied up in procedure, Palpatine grows stronger every day. His Republican Guard grows larger. The army he has created dwarfs the Trade Federation's droid armies and they are under his sole control. We know nothing of this army, not even where these soldiers originate from. Funds are being diverted from other needs to support these unknowns." When she got no response, Padmé continued. "You supported a bill to help the Terkanian refugees establish a new colony. Have you heard about this colony being built? Have you heard anything about the millions of homeless Terkan?"
"I have been busy."
"There is no colony. No aid came. They are still scattered about the region waiting for promised help." Padmé relaxed in her stiff seat and waited knowing it all she could do as Neebo considered her words.
The Rodian was a key figure in the Senate, with her by the Loyalist's side, Palpatine would have no choice but to relinquish his power and turn reigns of his army over to the Senate.
"But how do you know all this?" Neebo questioned.
"We have information gatherers around the galaxy preparing reports on their findings as we speak."
"Jedi?" The Rodian sneered. "It seems to me they are past their prime. With the Republican Guard as keepers of the peace we do not need their kind."
"Do you believe Palpatine's army keeps the peace or enforces it?"
The Book of Ancient Places
The temple spires, which compared to most of the city planet's upper level structures were quite old. Yet, they were the newest sections of the ancient structure. Its root ran deep through the multitude of city levels, touching the very soil where sunlight had once shown many millennia ago.
The deeper, more centralized areas of the structure were beyond any description of old. Much like the future, the walls were always in motion, growing and expanding to fill changing needs.
The edifice rose desperately up through the layers of crumbling city far below the bright surface slicing through Coruscant's outermost skin to remind everyone of its indelible presence.
Thousands of years of near constant renovation and expansion left it a veritable fortress of the finest steels and longest lasting forms of duracrete. An unwavering triumph to the Jedi spirit.
Yet, far from the image of a great bastion to the service of the light, deep from the life that roamed the temple in pursuit of calm and knowledge was a ghost of the building's birth.
In the darkest recesses of the city planet, at the very base of the temple, sheltered and hidden away under fortification designed to keep the general populace at bay remained the original stone temple of the Bendu.
The reddish masonry was long buried under layers upon layers of expansions both outward and upward. Natural light had not cascaded across the temple core in over fifteen millennia. And often it felt that long between the familiar sounds of footfalls in the duty corridors.
Officially termed the temple core by various Jedi in the pursuit of knowledge of the ancient past, Obi-Wan Kenobi preferred to call it by its true name: The Bendu Temple.
The pale blue of his lightsaber splashed against the stone walls of the curving corridor. His pace remained slow, but steady as he held the weapon out to better light his way.
The power had long since been diverted to the occupied sections of the temple above. Not that it would matter much, Obi-Wan knew, for the Bendu temple did not rely entirely on conventional power. For it is never truly dark.
For now, his saber would guide the way.
He had ridden the lifts as far down as they would go and taken the stairs many more flights down before reached the entrance to the top most level of the Bendu temple. He would not go any deeper, for in his padawan years, he had never been below the grand corridor or the chamber dome.
Holding the tip of his lightsaber close to the arched ceiling, he examined the strange translucent stones. Gold flakes in the stone reflected the pale blue of the blade. In the pattern on the ceiling, Obi-Wan had always imagined the golden glow of sunlight filling the corridor with a kaleidoscope of color.
Stumbling slightly, he moved closer to the wall and pressed against it for support. He was tired inside and out and knew that it was a folly to undertake this journey. More so alone. It had occurred to him to ask Bali to go but things had to be done and he wanted to do this alone. This was his secret place that no one, not even Yoda knew.
Well, at least that was what he hoped. So far the little green troll have never disturbed him there.
Leaning heavily into the wall, Obi-Wan drew strength bolstering himself for the short journey ahead. As he stood there, he slowly became aware of the faint hum moving up through the floor and the walls behind him. Reaching for it, he brushed a conduit of Force energy.
Smiling, he was pleased to know the light remained.
For the Bendu had known quite well where they were building this magnificent temple. In its time, the ancient stone temple was the most fantastic structure on Coruscant and remained so for thousands of years before the city began to engulf it with newer levels. While it may have been beneficial for the Jedi to build a temple elsewhere, there was no place in the known galaxy did the Force flow so freely.
The Bendu temple had been designed to direct the energy flow, not stifle it. There were no symbols or deeper meanings to the structure other than not blocking the free flow of the Force.
Feeling stronger, the Jedi set out again. He did not have to go far before the pale blue of his blade illuminated bas-relief images of the ancient Bendu.
Obi-Wan's immediate attention alighted on the image of one monk, dressed in the familiar Jedi cloak and cowl. He sensed as a teenager and now so many years later that the carving was of Anun Mon'Ari. The kindly old face reminded him of stories about the first Bendu monk to touch energy known as the Force.
Pausing for a moment to pay silent tribute to the ancient Bendu, Obi-Wan bowed his head.
Then slowly, he returned to his journey through the stale and dusty air of the nearly forgotten temple. The hum seemed more powerful with every step and the Jedi could almost feel the renewing energies swirling about him.
The curving corridor opened into a teardrop shaped room not unlike the Council anteroom. Any seating, had it ever existed was long gone. The brightly colored tiled floors spun out from the center in a complex pattern. Shifting his boot across the dust-laden surface, he revealed the metallic flaked stones underneath. While the upper temple basked in neutral and natural tones, the Bendu reveled in brilliant colors. He wondered if the rest of the core temple was just as colorful.
Having reached his destination, Obi-Wan stopped and studied the massive doors before him. Bringing the saber blade closer, pale light cascaded over the intricate carvings of millennia ago.
Obi-Wan had once read that the carver was a great master who was believed to be gifted with visions. His works told stories that were unfathomable in his time, let alone Obi-Wan's lifetime.
The left panel was filled with the image of Jedi, sabers drawn, racing into battle against an unseen enemy. The right panel showed a sky with two orbs carved into the heavy wood. They almost seemed to glow. Calloused fingers smoothed away the layers of dust revealing the fine detail of sand grains carved into the wood.
Painfully he remembered a sandy world with two suns.
The sand carving faded into an impression of a civilized world from space. His gaze recognized many of the markers of the world as reflecting Coruscant as it now appeared. He had seen it a thousand times on approach not to know and was amazed by the attention to detail and even more so the accuracy of the vision that had inspired the carver hundreds of generations ago.
The visual search stopped.
He placed his hand on the relief map of the planet where the Jedi Temple was. Fingers brushed over wood splinters. The carver had taken a chisel to his image and plucked a hole into the wood where the Temple should have stood.
Rumor had it the gifted master had gone mad in his later years and destroyed all images and references of the Jedi Temple in his art.
It was not the individual images of the great doors that drew Obi-Wan's attention. He knew, that if others were aware of the door's existence they would not only be surprised, but shocked for together, the two panels created a surprisingly lifelike image of a cloaked figure in quiet contemplation. He could not tell if it was protecting the room or warning away potential visitors.
The figure's hands were folded into intricately carved sleeves. Lightly brushing his fingers over the surface, Obi-Wan could almost feel the weave of the cloak. Leaning forward slightly he peered up into the face of the cowled figure. Its eyes were disguised by the lowered hood and yet, the Jedi had an incredible urge to reach up and brush the material away. Even under the protective fold of the wood, he could see the care that had gone into carving every line and wrinkle on the wizened face. For some odd reason it reminded him of the Chancellor.
Shaking off the silly notion and attributing it to his exhaustion, he pulled the ornate doors open revealing a dark, circular chamber. His footsteps echoed in the eerie silence as he stepped into the quiet room.
The doors glided closed behind him but Obi-Wan took little notice. He paced to one of many pedestals built into the curving wall with fogged white spheres sitting on top each. Picking one up of the stones, he deactivated his lightsaber. Closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the stone, the Jedi sent a pulse through the Force to the shape it began to glow.
The white light illuminated a weary smile as he placed the stone back on its pedestal. Suddenly all the other spheres around the room began to glow. The darkened room was immediately lit up with soft white illumination.
Obi-Wan's pale blue eyes sought out the stonework of the beautiful arching windows. Beyond them, he could see the masonry that had sealed the windows up as the modern structure that had grown up and around the Bendu temple.
Pausing to gather his strength, Obi-Wan walked to the center of the chamber. On the dusty floor around him, he studied the ornate pattern of a sun with a depiction of its rays spiraling out from the center representing the light they strived toward.
Beneath his feet, he could feel the low hum caused by the Force flow through the specially designed building. The newer temple had been built in sections over millennia and the Force could not move as freely up through the twists and turns of various layers.
Allowing his mind to slip into the comfort of meditation to the gentle hum of the Force, Obi-Wan focused on the sound as it turned into a soft litany that rose up from the bowls of the Temple singing softly to him. It had been so long since he had sought the comfort of the ancient Council chamber.
The ancient prayer welled up through the floor just as it had when the Jedi Council of long ago had convened. Yet, now there was no one to appreciate the beauty of the planet's core rising through the ancient Temple.
Obi-Wan wavered slightly. Adjusting his footing to better brace himself, the Jedi frowned. Tentatively reaching through the training bond, he touched Bali's thoughts. He sensed frustration, even agitation, and it brought a smile to the Jedi's face. The apprentice had obeyed and was facing off with the grumpy keepers of the housing office.
Bali was in need of taking administrative responsibility. He would be a knight in a few years and he needed this experience as much as he needed training in diplomacy.
The Jedi wondered if he should have stayed and helped. Certainly, he left Bali with several things to deal with. Sometime he wondered if he did that too often. Hurt welled up in him at the thought that Bali felt he had to take care of him. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was the master and Bali was the apprentice that was supposed to look to him for guidance and protection. Struggling to calm his breaths, he found that he could not easily let go of the pain.
It was not fair to Bali.
The boy was being punished for all of his mistakes.
Weariness consumed the Jedi and he wobbled again. Flashes of bright blue arched across his vision blinding him to the room. Dark eyes laughed wickedly as the dark image faded from his troubled thoughts and loosing his footing Obi-Wan toppled forward, crashing into the dusty floor.
The Book of Temple Ghosts Part II
"You know where the waiting room is," Healer Eleka said as she moved to block the doorway Qui-Gon was trying to enter.
"It's okay, Master," ten-year-old Anakin Skywalker chirped between bouts of scratching his arm. "I'll be out soon."
The Jedi master drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms into his billowing sleeves. "As I am his master, I have a right to know what ailments are affecting my padawan."
The dark skinned Corellian laughed. "You will know as soon as we know, until then," she pointed a long finger down the hall, "in the waiting room." Then just as quickly, her attention shifted from the maverick master and onto the itching boy at her side. "Come along, Anakin. Let us see what caused you to have that allergic reaction."
"Mom would crush up some bantu root and smear it on my arm to make the itch go away."
"Well, I do not believe we have bantu root, but I am sure we can find something that would help," Eleka said just before allowing the exam room door to slide closed behind her and the boy.
Qui-Gon just stood there. At first, he wasn't certain why he refused to move but maybe he hoped Eleka would change her mind. She never did, not even back when Obi-Wan was his apprentice.
Turning, the master stared down the corridor. Reaching out through the Force, he could sense his former apprentice, not so much a Force signature, just a presence. He knew there wouldn't be a Force signature if Dirad had administered malfalox the day before.
Softly stalking through the corridor toward the patient rooms, he reached out again. The hall was quiet and he noted relatively without use. Good. It was never a good thing to find the healing center full of patients other than the usual small injuries and check ups.
He stopped at a doorway to one of the occupied rooms and studied the information tag hanging from a small hook. Turning it slightly with the barest touch he studied the info track and wondered what secrets the small chip held.
"I'm better now," a weary voice called from the room. "Really, I am."
Stepping forward slightly, Qui-Gon peered into the small, plain room. There was only one object of concern, a medical sleep couch with a rumple of covers spilling across it and over the edge. Approaching the sleep couch, he grasped the warm blanket that was just barely hanging on the edge before it could fall to the floor.
With the blanket held firmly in his hands, the older Jedi paused at the sight laid in front of him. Obi-Wan's wrists and ankles were bound in heavy restraints limiting his movement to mere centimeters. The Force suppressing drug malfalox dulled the twenty-six-year-old knight's eyes and dark circles marred the flesh around his eyes from neural trauma.
The young man briefly fought the restrains before weakness caused him to sink back to the healer's ward bedding. His rumpled gray tunic revealed a large bacta soaked bandage protecting a chest wound. The color of fresh blood spotted the wrappings.
Unable to help himself, Qui-Gon reached out to the wound only to have the younger Jedi try to shrug away.
"Don't touch," Obi-Wan slurred. "Hurts." He groaned as he pulled against his restraints but after only a moment, he gave up the fight. Turning attention to the wrinkled covers that only came up to his waist, he tried to reach it but could not. "Cold."
Remembering the blanket he held, Qui-Gon quietly moved forward and spread the brown, cloak like material over his former apprentice.
Obi-Wan gave a dull smile before closing his eyes.
Unable to help himself, the master gently smoothed the covers, tucking them into the edge of the sleep couch. Fingers brushed over the anchor one of the wrist restraints was attached to.
Moving closer to the sleeping knight's face, the older Jedi studied the calm features. Reaching out he brushed his fingers through the mussed up ginger locks. The padawan spikes had grown out just enough for Obi-Wan's hair to feather back. Withdrawing his hand, he found pale blue eyes gazing up at him. "Hello, Obi-Wan," the master said gently.
"Dirad said I would feel strange. Not know I would hallucinate though." The younger man chuckled to himself before trying to twist out of Qui-Gon's touch.
"You are hardly hallucinating," the tall master said before withdrawing a step. Folding his arms into the billowing sleeves of his cloak the tall master spoke calmly, "It only took you only three missions to end up here."
"I tried not to," Obi-Wan drowsily slurred. "Would have if—"
He jerked at one of the wrist restraints, pulling just enough to see his bound arm. Smiling the knight sank back to the bed.
"You used to listen to me."
Obi-Wan twisted slightly to better face the towering figure. "Never listened to me."
"That is not true." Shoving the accusation to the side, Qui-on stepped forward again. "I begged you not to do this." Qui-Gon whispered, fearful that someone might overhear. "You are not cut out for the life the council is pushing you into."
"I am Jedi." The injured Jedi cryptically added, "Ben said one path was closed. Another I must follow."
Confused for a moment, Qui-Gon paused before he searched for a hint of defiance in the drugged expression, but in the end Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan spoke the truth, as his momentarily addled brain knew it. He knew he should wait until his former apprentice was more alert, but something in the Force warned him that if he did not try now, the opportunity might not ever arise again.
"You are better than this. You have so much to give the Order."
Obi-Wan pulled at his wrist bindings. "Am serving. Following only path left open to me."
"You'll get yourself killed. You cannot walk into the fire mission after mission without getting burned." He swept his arm across the bed. "This was just a singeing, nothing more."
"You said we walk the lonely and dangerous path." Obi-Wan smiled allowing the sloppy grin to reach his reddened eyes.
"You know good and well that is just a possibility, never the standard. Have you forgotten your purpose as a Jedi?"
"Purpose?" Obi-Wan mirthlessly laughed. "I don't know my purpose."
Cloudy blue eyes looked up at Qui-Gon and for the first time the master saw fear in them.
Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan looked way.
"Not with these missions."
"The path I should have walked does not exist," the ginger haired knight breathed. "I don't exist."
Qui-Gon grabbed a warm hand and squeezed it until Obi-Wan winced and looked at him in shock. "If you feel pain, then you exist. There is no pain in nothingness."
"Pain? Exist?" Obi-Wan tugged at his restraints again. He pulled but they would not give before he did.
"As long as you are a Jedi it is your duty to be a guardian of peace and justice in the galaxy. We are diplomats first and foremost."
"Diplomats," the younger Jedi whispered.
Qui-Gon sighed wondering if anything he was saying was getting past the drug-induced haze. He twisted, sensing Anakin was almost finished with his exam. Looking back at the quiet figure, the older Jedi intoned, "We are mediators, not commandos. That is a last resort only when peaceful solutions fail. I trained you in the art of diplomacy." He stood there, knowing there was more to say but lacking the words. Finally, the tall master retreated back to the door sensing Anakin wondering where he was.
"I shall do as I please," Obi-Wan slurred and twisted just enough so Qui-Gon could see the drugged smile.
A spike of white hot pain laced through Qui-Gon at how his former apprentice used his own words against him. For more times than he wished to count, Qui-Gon had relied on those very same words to win any discussion on rules and procedures. Those very same words—heard hundreds of times through Obi-Wan's apprenticeship—had been used to tell Obi-Wan that his opinion did not matter.
And now they had been turned back on him.
In motion before he could register his reaction, Qui-Gon's powerful hands clutched the younger Jedi's shoulders and he violently shook him. Pale blue eyes stared up in horror but it did not effect the older man. "You listen to me," he growled in a low, threatening tone, "you want to take on these suicidal missions? Fine, but you do it as a rejection of everything I taught you! Do you understand?"
Obi-Wan just stared up at him in stunned silence. Tears welled in the blue depths of his eyes, coursing down the sides of his face.
For a time they just stared at one another.
"I serve," Obi-Wan said. "I must serve."
"Killing yourself isn't service," Qui-Gon coolly replied as he backed away from the shaken knight. "Why can't you see that?"
"Lost my place." Obi-Wan gave a weary smile. "Need a place. Shall do as I please. You cannot stop me."
The master wanted to wish it were the drugs affecting Obi-Wan's mind, but in those eyes, he knew the truth. He was looking for a place to belong and there was nothing the elder Jedi could do to help him. "If you are doing this to hurt me, the only one you are hurting is you. I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself if you choose to continue this path."
"My path."
The Book of Ghosts of the Past
The information was important. It had to be to call him all the way back to the temple to deliver it in person.
Qui-Gon Jinn stifled a grimace as he marched through the temple's main corridor but still managed to nod a brief greeting to the various Jedi he passed. After all, not everyone needed to know how irritated he was at being back on Coruscant. He had left this place, hoping to spend the remainder of his years serving in the field.
It seemed that the Jedi Council and the ever-changing galaxy had different plans.
Years had passed since he had last been to the temple. After Anakin's departure he struggled to cope with the sudden absence of his padawan and the stark emptiness of a training bond. He tried to go on, like he had after Xanatos' fall. It seemed he had succeeded well in that for he was soon the victim of several meddlesome masters' attempts to keep him from wallowing in melancholy.
Since when did he wallow? And especially in melancholy? How ridiculous.
Still, he nearly had to kneel before the mighty council and beg them for an extended mission to Yinos. Then one day they suddenly call him to Oselem to investigate a possible unethical use of Chancellor Palpatine's powers.
The tall Jedi master kept his pace steady as long strides carried him closer to the series of lifts that would take him to the council chamber. Only there would he break his silence on what he had observed while on Oselem. He would tell them that Senator Yamu Cyan had been arrested for unspecified charges of treason against the Republic and no amount of searching or questioning had revealed even an allusion of wrong doing. The Senator had been killed when he attacked the arresting officers, whose unit or where they came from was strangely unknown except that they were officers of the Republic.
While it was not unheard of for a haughty senator to resist arrest, Cyan was a quite elderly Oselem. He could not have offered too much resistance to armed soldiers.
He would tell them all that but still had not decided to tell them that Anakin was also on Oselem and in the employ of the Chancellor. Also he would detail the reports he had gathered about a military build up in the Modell sector, more implements of the Republican army that was quickly spreading throughout the galaxy.
At the great crossroads, where all the corridors from the different tower bases intersected, the Jedi was brought to pause. Twisting about, his gaze caught the back of an older padawan briskly heading into one of the narrower halls. He watched until the apprentice vanished from sight then shook his head sadly. Sighing, he glanced about the crossroads, allowing himself to see beyond his eyes, he reached out through the Force. The master had been so agitated by the demanded return and his all too brief encounter with Anakin that he had never bothered to study his surroundings.
The temple was different, emptier. Easy to populate it with ghosts of his past when he knew plenty existed after the civil war and the dark times that were encroaching on them. Yet in that passing padawan, the image of Obi-Wan Kenobi remained perfectly imprinted on his mind.
The Book of Duty
Just beyond the Ediro asteroid field, lay the massive world of Conegura. It was home to the powerful Mining Consortium, where the ancient palaces of the former inhabitants now stood as glorious offices for the coalition's operations.
Through the gleaming jewel-like corridors the thunder of heavy boots echoed. Various alien species fled from the approaching noise, ducking into the safety of their offices or fleeing the building entirely for they recognized the deep blue armored figures marching through the former palace.
Anakin Skywalker was at the front of the heavily armed members of the Praetorian Guard, the elite class of soldiers and protectors of the Republic. His flowing indigo cloak swept out over the crystalline floor like a dark bird of prey.
Turning a corner but never slowing, Anakin reached out and brought the Force to bear on the expensive aqua stone door that stood between he and the performance of his duty. The panels quaked under the strain before ripping from their hinges and being tossed effortlessly across the room.
A Neimodian appeared. "This is an outrage!" he called out in broken Basic. "I will not have Senator Klune's office overrun with—"
One of the dark dressed figures used the butt of his rifle and slammed the Neimodian to the floor.
Anakin revealed a flimsy and dropped it in the assistant's trembling hand. "You will not interfere," he said evenly leading the Praetorian's toward the office door protected behind the Neimodian's expansive desk.
Slamming the set of doors with a powerful Force push, they bent back revealing the fat Vesian, Doan Mai Klune. The small, pink skinned man stood up from his glittering desk and carefully shifted some work under layers of reports. "What is the meaning of this!" he barked, his oil black hair ruffling with irritation over his extremely rounded shoulders.
"By order of his Excellency the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, you are under arrest for treason."
"Treason?" The furious Vesian laughed. "Treason? Do you know who I am?"
"Senator Klune of the Mining Consortium."
"Yes." Klune grinned, bearing his sharpened teeth. "If the Chancellor wants to stay in my good graces—"
"His Excellency is well aware of your graces, Senator," Anakin said sternly as he approached the desk, dully noting the guard taking up station inside the office and out. "Or do you deny selling refined dritanium steel to reputed members of the Aveniar Imperium?"
Klune glared at the young man. "That was before the war. You can't punish me for doing business."
"Since when are blatant acts of treason against the Republic considered just business?" When the Vesian did not answer, Anakin continued, "You have sold weapons grade materials to the enemy and now are supplying shipments of contraband to traitorous worlds."
"What contraband?"
From the folds of his dark tunic, Anakin retrieved a small data reader. Scrolling through the information he quickly found what he was searching for. "One week ago in the no trade zone we seized a Tanax freighter registered to the consortium carrying several cases of kysaks."
"Kysaks is a medicine to treat those with the Hoata sickness."
Anakin paused. That was the second traitor in recent weeks he had come across delivering aid for plague stricken areas.
"Under the law, no commercial traffic is allowed in the no trade zone."
"Blockaded area," the Vesian growled.
"The Riak homeworld is blockaded for its aiding of Aveniar soldiers during the civil war."
"That was purely altruistic. Or has the Republic grown so cold to allow the injured to die slow, painful deaths? They only treated a shipload of wounded Avens who crash landed on their world."
Anakin smirked. "That has nothing to do with the charges against you and your business. You have blatantly violated Republic law."
"The Republic senate would not willingly deny aid to its loyal constituents. Only the chancellor would be so bold." Klune waved the young man off with a sharp gesture and sat back down in his lush desk chair. "You owe me for the damage to the doors. Now, be gone before I reconsider the latest ore contract for the Chancellor's new army."
Anakin burned at the blasé attitude of the fat creature. With the slightest motion, the guard rushed into action and the heavily armored figures yanked Klune from his chair.
"You cannot do this!" the senator barked. "Help! Someone, help me! I have done nothing wrong!"
As the Vesian screamed for help, Anakin delivered a memorized statement. "You are under arrest for aiding traitors to the Republic, your properties are confiscated under the War Act and now belong to the Republican Treasury. You will submit to questioning or be remanded to the Dinato Penitentiary for the rest of your life however short it may be."
Klune's black eyes bulged. "I am a senior representative of the—"
"You are sympathetic to the rebellion and a traitor. Take him away!" Anakin did not even watch as the senator was dragged from the office by the dark clad figures still proclaiming his innocence. Slowly the young man paced the richly detailed office and finally leaned back against the aqua stone desk. As soon as the mess with Senator Klune was taken care of, he could return to Coruscant. The chancellor had promised him a break from worries about traitors.
He smiled at the thought of returning to the apartment he shared with his lovely wife. As soon as the corrupted few were brought under control and the Republic was safe and strong again, he wanted to talk Padmé into retiring. Certainly between her family's holdings and the compensation for his loyalty to the Chancellor she could afford a more sedate life, a less dangerous life. She would need too if they were going to start a family. He couldn't have the future mother of his children putting herself out as a target for every crackpot and rebel in the galaxy to take a shot at.
Blaster fire echoed through the offices.
In the sudden silence afterward, Anakin sighed and stood up again. Walking silently through the corridors, he decided after his briefing with the Chancellor he would stop off at the little flower shop in the Binivy Market and buy a dozen of the most beautiful Naboo aristois he could find.
Padmé always loved the deep red flowers.
Stopping in the middle of the corridor, he studied the smoldering hole in the Senator's fleshy back.
"What happened?"
The figure directly across from him over the prone body nodded. Through the mask filtered voice he said, "He attempted to run. As per orders, he is not allowed escape."
"Excellent. You should be commended for your actions. Obviously Senator Klune had something to hide or he would not have fled."
The Book of Healing Visits
Bali had bypassed the lifts in favor of the stairs that would take him down nearly a dozen levels to the healing center. He wasn't really in a hurry to get there, for he had already spent far too much time there in the years following the Sith attack on the senate. Strengthening his constitution, Bali charged ahead, even if he did pause at the first whiff of bacta and disinfectant. The memory of it made him mildly nauseas.
Quickly squashing the billow of panic, the youth forged on and walked boldly into the healing center reception area. The bland room had changed little since before he and his master had gone to Itheria. Mercifully it was empty of patients and he visibly relaxed a little allowing his shoulders to sink.
"How can I help you?" a voice purred from behind the large, curving desk.
Bali turned and in surprise was faced with a very pretty Vesian padawan. Her jewel green eyes accented the flowery pink color of her skin. She smiled a little too warmly at him.
"I am looking for Healer Bant."
"She is busy."
"Oh."
The healer padawan was on her feet and swiftly around the desk, rushing up to where Bali stood.
"You know, I'll just—"
"I am trained in the healing arts. I am sure I can help you. Do you have any achy muscles?" She invaded his personal space drawing just inches from his face. Her deep black hair glinted almost blue in the white light of the room. As she surged forward, Bali retreated until the wall stopped him. "I am excellent at treating strained muscles. Any little scratches or burns that need taken care of? I can rub—"
"I think I will wait far down the hall for Healer Bant." He gave a nervous giggle then tried to escape along the wall but the girl just moved to block his escape. He added, "Very far down the hall." He wondered if it would be wrong to scream for help.
"How pretty." She lightly fingered the ginger tipped padawan braid. "Fun." When Bali tried to break free, she again quickly moved to stay between him and safety. "Don't run off—"
"Focus!" Bant's all too familiar, yet almost panicked voice rang out. "Stop molesting every cute padawan who comes in here."
Instantly the girl retreated and Bali gave a loud sigh of relief then turned deep red realizing they had heard him.
"Sorry, Master," the padawan said and rushed back to the desk in embarrassment. She ducked behind the tall counter so only the tips of her black hair shown.
Bant shook her head. "You will have to forgive Liril, she's not in her head right now. Just a few more months and this will all be over."
"Liril!" Bali cried out in shock as he strained to see the pretty Vesian. Last he remembered she was an icky little girl.
Liril raised her head and smiled then licked her lips to a shine and blew him a kiss.
"Focus," Bant demanded.
"I am trying, Master," Liril growled, flopping back into the desk chair. "It would be easier if he would go away." In agitation, she waved a delicate hand at Bali as if trying to shoo him out of the room.
Nodding, Bant silently agreed.
Liril smiled ravenously at the dark haired apprentice. "If you ever need any sore muscles massaged—"
"Just ignore her." The healer grabbed Bali's wrist and pulled him deep into the healing center toward the offices and classrooms. When they were at a safe distance, the healer turned sharply and wrapped the youth in a warm hug. Worry bled into her words, "I was beginning to think you two were never coming home."
The apprentice returned the hug. He remembered when she was just the scary healer and then she was this funny friend of his master's and now, he thought, maybe she was his friend. "Master really wanted to stay out in the field but I have tests to take and well, you know."
Bant rocked back on her heals and studied the handsome young man. "Well it is good to know he is as stubborn as usual. Where is he?"
"Meditating probably. He stuck me with acquiring housing."
Laughter rang out through the corridor as Bant struggled to regain control. "I see you survived," the healer snickered. "At least he hasn't lost his sense of humor."
Bali gave her a withering look.
"It couldn't have been that bad."
"He told me to carry my saber."
"He was just kidding, it doesn't do any good."
"So I discovered." Frowning, Bali glanced about the hall. "Can we go someplace private to talk?"
Nodding, the healer led him to her office and closed the door. After taking their respective seats. Before Bali could say anything, Bant quickly asked, "How is he?"
"He was doing better until Master Mace suggested he teach while I study."
"I swear that Mace loves to live dangerously." Bant gave a light laugh as she settled into her chair. Almost whispering, she said, "Give me some warning before they duel. I want to see this." After a short pause, "Mace was probably just goading him."
"I don't know, he looked pretty serious and master was upset to say the least."
"Once Obi was adamant about not taking on a padawan. Look how that turned out."
Bali remained quiet. There was a little part of him that always seemed to show up at inconvenient times to remind him that if it were not for him, his master would not be ill now. That nagging voice whispered in his ear, never quite allowing him to forget his mistakes.
"You okay?" Bant asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Yes, I am just tired from the trip is all. It was long and I still have much to do today. I need to get on schedule to meet with instructors about test preparation and I need to get some stuff out of storage, find master and open the apartment."
"I won't keep you long then, if you promise to drag Obi-Wan to a late meal tomorrow."
"Of course. I know he would be delighted."
"After he growls and grumbles something about mush. How is he?"
"He's found a routine that works. Master is better, you will be surprised." Bali gave a weak smile, then turned his bright green eyes on the healer who calmly studied him. "I just…I think I saw Master Jinn at the crossroads a few minutes ago."
Bant winced at the mention of the Jedi's name.
"Master would not have come back if he knew Master Jinn was here." He couldn't quite explain why, but something told him that was how Obi-Wan would react. He just wished he understood why.
Without word, the healer turned to the terminal at the side of her desk and searched for some information. "He's been on an extended mission. I don't see any record for recall. Wait. He's on leave, doesn't say what kind though. Maybe someone figured out he was sick in the head…I did not say that and I will deny it if you repeat it."
"Deny what?" Bali asked playfully.
"Looks like he got in a little after you and Obi-Wan." She stared up at the wall for a moment before looking back at Bali. "You have to warn Obi-Wan so he doesn't have any unpleasant run-ins."
He nodded.
Turning back to face the apprentice, Bant inquired, "So outside that, is there anything else I should know?"
"Like?"
"You said he was feeling better."
Bali nodded with a wide grin. "Yes. Better than he has in a long time."
The Book of Interceptions
Mace Windu paused at the door and sighed loudly before palming the controls and stepping into the dimly lit room. "Another report just came in," he said evenly as his gaze fell to the small green figure quietly meditating in the center of a large round chair. "The Republican Army has sent battle cruisers into Altera Prime to quell a conflict." There was an uncertain pause. "Yet our information shows no conflict that needs ended."
"Come to use this report did?" Yoda asked as he opened his large eyes and studied his friend. "Or to the senate was this information sent?"
"Intercepted actually," Mace corrected, uncomfortably leaning against the wall. "It was directed to the Chancellor's office over secure lines." Again, the tall master paused before adding, "We are getting reports of a communication interruption in that sector."
"Unaware then the senate is." Yoda had not spoke it as a question.