The Book of Paths: The Chosen Path

by red rose knight

Six years have gone by since The Long Twilight Path. As sentiments are turning against the Jedi, ObiWan Kenobi and his apprentice Bali Tiro return… COMPLETE

3.

The Book of Healing Part II

"He doesn't speak to me. Not in words at least. I can sense emotions and ideas through the bond but not words. Master lets me know that everything is all right."

"It is, Bali," Bant said softly as she studied the padawan's medical charts. She looked over at the sad faced padawan and smiled. "It will take time."

Bali shifted nervously on the exam table. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he met the silvery eyes of the healer. "But how long?"

"However long it takes."

"But I'm getting better."

Bant looked up, meeting is bright green gaze. "Yes, and you are quite young. You are supposed to be resilient."

"What about master?" The youth frowned, struggling to fight back the well of emotions that threatened to drown him. "Is he getting worse?" he asked hopefully. "He's supposed to be getting better."

The healer turned her attention back to the chart before sighing. Looking up, she studied the worried face that waited for a happy answer. "It has only been a few weeks. When Obi-Wan healed his master, he was in a coma for two months."

"But he's not in a coma."

"You have to give him time to heal."

Bali slid from the table and walked to the door, turning back he saw the sadness in Bant's silver eyes. "You are not just saying that to make me feel better, right?"

"Obi-Wan was strong, he will get better."

The thirteen-year-old took off down the corridor, making the few necessary turns to the room he often spent most of his day in. It did not matter if Bant followed; she knew where he was going.

Palming the door open, he quietly entered the private room. The sleep couch remained unslept in and the equipment unused. A single chair sat in front of the window.

The heavy rust colored cloak hung heavily over Obi-Wan's shoulders. Pale fingers protruded from the billowing sleeves and lightly trembled. It was better today, as it was each day, Bali tried to comfort his fearful thoughts. Soon the trembles would be gone and master would be better.

Obi-Wan's eyes remained closed facing into the golden light that cascaded in, warming the silent form.

Grabbing another chair, the apprentice drug it close to his master. Sitting down, Bali studied Obi-Wan's calm countenance. He started to reach out, but withdrew his hand, fearful of disturbing the older Jedi. Cautiously, he touched the Force and sent a gentle, probing tendril.

Warmth blossomed through the training bond and pale blue eyes opened and stared at the padawan. The older Jedi gave a small smile then his gaze dulled and heavy eyelids drooped closed again.

The Book of Friendly Advice

"You need to take precautions," Bail Organa said sternly.

"He is still my husband," Padmé replied studying the miniature, three-dimensional image of her friend and colleague. She frowned. "But you are right. He is influenced by Palpatine." That admission hurt her. Anakin was her husband but she could see the lines drawn between them. With every passing day she became more certain that he believed Palpatine to be the Republic's savior. And every passing day, she believed Anakin to be more than just an employee but a tool to secure his position. She could not prove that though and feared that if she did not draw Anakin away soon, they would quickly be on opposite sides of the political struggle.

"Just be careful."

"I am always careful."

The Book of Crossings

"We where strained before the civil war, now with our numbers is even more depleted we cannot even keep up with diminished calls for assistance."

Qui-Gon studied his friend Mace Windu as they walked through an exclusive section of the temple but said nothing.

Mace continued, "We have spared a few extra scouts to search out more gifted children but it will be years, possibly centuries before we can return our numbers." The senior councillor turned at the sight of a dark haired padawan racing through the corridor. "Young Tiro, padawans are not allowed in these halls," he barked. "You had better have a good excuse for his violation."

The nineteen-year-old stopped and turned sharply to face the two tall masters. He bowed formally. "Forgive me for the intrusion."

The name had sounded so familiar and yet it took a few moments before Qui-Gon recognized the young man before him. He had only been a child the last time the white haired master had seen him.

A dying child.

Bali straightened, meeting the masters with his bright green eyes. Numerous brightly colored markers of achievement lined the long dark brown and flame tipped padawan braid that cascaded gently over the youth's soft tan tunic. He eyed Mace as he spoke, "Master Obi-Wan has wandered off again."

With that simple sentence, Qui-Gon's breath caught. He had spent years trying to forget the empty shell that Obi-Wan had become. The last time he had spoken to his former padawan, the young master was so far beyond functioning that he could not get the horrible image out of his mind.

And the forgotten memory of that terrible moment in the senate corridor where Obi-Wan had cradled the dying boy and offered his own life in trade for Bali's.

The padawan shifted as if threatening to bolt.

Mace sighed then smiled wickedly. "You have not been back a day. How could you lose him?" Then returning to the authoritative mask, he wagged a finger at the chagrined padawan. "I have often told you that a leash is a good investment."

"But then he would drag me to those boring lectures he enjoys attending."

Qui-Gon studied the conversation that he was conspicuously not a part of, yet longed to understand the subtle inside jokes passed between the councillor and the padawan. He could barely take his eyes off the apprentice that stood before him. When the young man smiled it was as if his Obi-Wan had been reborn. He shook his head at the silly notion. He was just feeling that way because Bali was Obi-Wan's apprentice. He was projecting something that was not onto the youth.

Mace placed a hand against Qui-Gon's shoulder and jostled him slightly. "You okay?"

"Yes, of course."

"I've been calling your name for the last minute."

The white haired master shook his head again trying desperately to clear the thoughts that had unwillingly intruded. "I was just reminded of something."

Mace looked at him curiously. "I need to take care of a little business but I'll meet you in the lunal lounge in an hour? All right?"

Qui-Gon nodded and watched as Mace led Bali through the restricted corridor.

The Book of Grace

"Did he acquire housing?"

"He made me do it," Bali answered as they started down the corridor of the restricted training area.

The tall master smiled, "You are a much braver padawan than I was at your age. My master and I slept in the lounges for three days before I finally got up the courage to face them."

Bali smiled and allowed a small laugh. "He told me to do it and then just walked off. That was after we were before the council."

"He is probably mad about my request that he teach. Madame Serenka often forgets that all Jedi cannot be in the field at all times. Besides, there are many who would be interested in your master's knowledge, he should share it for the benefit of the Order." Brightening from whatever grim thought had possessed him, Mace glanced about the hall. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, Master," Bali replied. "He is just ahead." The youth could sense Obi-Wan's warm presence but just mildly. His master was in a deep meditative state that closed him off. He rushed forward while casting back to make sure Mace was staying close. He barely gave notice to the curious look of masters that he sprinted passed. Sliding to a stop before two closed doors of a practice room.

As he reached for the controls of the chamber, Mace grabbed his wrist and whispered softly, "Humor me." He motioned Bali to follow him back through the hall to a narrow corridor that led to a small staircase. At the top of the stairs, Mace opened a door that led to an expansive viewing deck.

To Bali's surprise, the deck was filled with silent knights and masters and even a few padawans their side. No one's gaze left the floor. The dark haired youth moved through the crowd deeper along the deck before turning his attention to the display below.

Obi-Wan moved in perfect grace as the blue of his lightsaber sliced cleanly though the air. The only sound in the chamber was the hum of the blade. All around him a series of training drones moved silently. Then all at once they began to fire. Obi-Wan's lightsaber cut through the air easily deflecting the bolts in a style and grace that had not been seen in years. He moved oblivious to the crowd above.

Each bolt from the practice probes was deflected to the stone floor or wall. He did not attempt to deactivate the probes, just continued to defend against the barrage.

Bali's heart raced. It was rare he was able to watch his master practice alone. They had always worked out together during their time with the Itherians and never had the chance to step back from the scene. He was amazed by the skill in his master's movements. For a few moments, the apprentice forgot that his master had been so ill for so long.

Obi-Wan began to systematically disarm the probes.

Soon the amazement gave away, for the padawan could see what the others could not. It always began as the twitch of muscles in the Jedi's calm face, the crinkling of skin around his pale blue eyes. Yet, his movements never stilted remaining as perfectly controlled as always.

The saber blade flashed in a controlled arc. The tiny orange training bolts were swiftly deflected back at their host and soon only two probes remained. They fired simultaneously. Twisting back, Obi-Wan easily deflected the first shot, taking out the probe. Missing the other bolt, it passed harmlessly by and snapped against the stone floor.

The spherical training probe spun about and fired again before Obi-Wan had a chance to recover.

Bali tensed, drawing in a stifled breath.

Blue flashed connecting with the orange bolt expertly sending it back to the probe. The small round object hovered back to its station.

Remaining briefly frozen in place, Obi-Wan stood there breathing evenly, his gaze focused on nothing in particular. Exhaling softly, he returned to a relaxed stance and deactivated his weapon.

For some reason Bali could not smile when Obi-Wan's reverie was shattered by the realization that he was being watch. The Jedi stared up to the viewing deck, studying the many faces that had silently watched him. Finally, his gaze settled on Bali.

The Book of Longing

The amber glow of the city warmed the expansive view of the sprawling metropolis from the lunal lounge. Qui-Gon paused before the window, folding his arms across his chest as he watched the myriad of colors of traffic lines that flowed passed.

Giving a heavy sigh, the white haired master paced over to a group of tall back chairs set up for discussion. Pulling one back, he sat down giving his aching joints a much needed rest. From where he sat he could see distant running lights of a transport moving in for landing.

Allowing his thoughts to drift, he mentally returned to the corridor he and Mace had been in when they were interrupted. And what a great master he was! Qui-Gon internally growled at the memory of his actions. He had stood there like a damn fool staring at the youth as if he had never seen a padawan before.

Gently stroking his white chin whiskers he conjured up the image of the boy again. Boy? No Bali Tiro was hardly a child anymore. There was an age in his green eyes that came from the difficult life he had led as a Jedi padawan.

Last he had heard the boy and his master were on an extended mission to Itheria. Dully the Jedi master wondered what had happened to get them recalled from the field. Certainly he would not have so easily returned to the temple had he known they would be here.

He briefly acknowledged the cowardice in that line of thought.

This was supposed to be nothing more than a short, innocuous visit. Deliver his findings to the council and put in for another long mission. This was supposed to be easy.

And he craved something easier. He was just getting over the new stresses of fieldwork. There was much tension in the galaxy and it felt as if most of it was directed toward the Jedi. It could be that he had seen too much pain and suffering in the last few years as well as the growing prejudice and hate that was not only directed toward the Jedi but to different alien species. He could tell the council in detail everything he saw and felt but they could do little but stand by and watch as the tide turned against the Order.

The thing that sat like a rock in the very core of his being was that same distrust—even hate—had been reflected in Anakin's eyes. The brief meeting on Oselem had left him feeling cold. Anakin was hardly the boy he had brought from Tatooine let alone the young man he had spent ten years training. His brief joy at seeing Anakin was quickly swept away as a pall crept into the memories of the meeting and it clouded his heart still.

For the first few years he had imagined Anakin would return to the Order, return to him. Yet, that never happened. Six long years had passed since he had last seen his former padawan and if it had not been for the familiar Force signature, he would never have recognized his former apprentice.

The master tried to convince himself that he was growing forgetful in his old age but the more he had dwelled on the encounter the more he saw that Anakin was forever lost to the Jedi and him.

Shifting in his chair, the white haired Jedi looked back to the window hoping to find anything that did not involve Anakin to entertain his thoughts until Mace arrived.

And again his thoughts returned to the hall where he and Mace had been where Padawan Tiro had been searching for his master. At the thought, a long buried ache in his heart returned and he could do nothing to stifle it. The phantom pain had been there for years but he had always managed to dull it with attention to duty.

Sighing, he pulled at his cloak, noting the room was a little chilly. That particular lounge always was during the evenings but his actions did not protect him from coolness that seeped through his cloak.

A silly notion rose to the forefront of his thoughts. Maybe, just maybe during his brief stay he could tempt Obi-Wan into sharing some light conversation over a cup of tea. He remembered that they had occasionally done that during Obi-Wan's apprenticeship while on missions. He had never done that with Anakin, the youth was always too excitable and ready to spring into action to enjoy a quiet sunrise or sit and calmly discuss the day's plans.

Often on mission, he still found he missed that conversation. When it had been there he had taken it for granted. Now he longed for it, sometimes even imagined the ginger haired youth across the able from him telling of some great architectural find he had made the day before between bites of brightly colored berries.

Strange, he finally admitted that after all this time, that was what he most longed for.

The Book of Coming Home

The slow journey through the sprawling temple to the residential section had been quiet until Obi-Wan and Bali reached the bank of lifts. One of the sliding doors opened revealing two laughing padawans that raced passed teasing each other about which would win the next duel. Bali paused in the hall to watch the boys, then stepped onto the waiting cart with his master where he stole a worried glance at the older Jedi. Obi-Wan did not acknowledge it until they were safely ensconced in the lift and being carried up to the level their new apartment resided on.

The dark haired padawan frowned and reached over lightly brushing ancient dust from the shoulder of his master's cloak. "Did you find the most unkept place in the temple to drop your cloak on?"

Surprised, Obi-Wan examined the powder that covered the dark reddish material. "Something like that." He looked to Bali's concerned expression. "You do not need to baby-sit me, Padawan."

"I was not," the apprentice said indignantly. "We have been here for many hours and I was just…worried that you were not seeking our rooms. I figured you would be tired."

"I am always tired." Then offering a weary smile, Obi-Wan said, "I managed to get a few hours of rest this afternoon and since you were still occupied on temple rounds I decided to also take in a short practice session."

"Oh."

"I am fine," the older Jedi stressed as he pressed a hand to the youth's firm shoulder. Bali did not need to know that he had spent several hours passed out on the floor deep in the bowels of the temple, it would only worry him more. Besides, it served as rest no matter how voluntary it was. "Did you meet with your instructors?"

"Yes and I have much to prepare for. It seems they want to cover everything I have ever learned."

"And then some I am sure."

Bali made a face.

"You were the one in such a hurry to take this trial." With a knowing smile the older Jedi asked, "And how did your visit with the housing office go?"

"I believe there are rules against padawan abuse and I think you broke them all sending a poor innocent child like me to face the housing office."

"Consider it a trial by fire. Besides, it seems red tape is as much a part of being Jedi as anything. Be proud, you survived relatively unscathed."

"I had serious dark side thoughts."

"Hacking the front desk apart with your saber would have only resulted in more paperwork to fill out."

The apprentice grumbled something incoherent. Bright green eyes met Obi-Wan's. "And after doing everything but a Wookiee mating dance, Knight Holowek tried to deny giving us a room because you were not there to take responsibility for potential damages. What did they think I was going to do," he asked innocently, "blow up a green jelly ball?"

Obi-Wan sharply eyed his rather mischievous apprentice.

"I painted over it," Bali quickly added. "Three times."

"Yes and Knight Holowek still complained the wall had green splatters when we signed out."

Bali sighed. "It was an accident. Awar and I were going to—"

The lift cart suddenly grew quiet.

"I do not think I want to know," Obi-Wan said giving a soft chuckle. He reached to the lift wall for support as a wave of unsteadiness rushed through him. His little display in the training room had taken a lot out of him that he truly did not have to give. Sensing his padawan's worry, he sent a gentle pulse through the training bond.

It was quickly returned with another warm pulse that said more than words could and a smile from the apprentice as the lift continued its journey upward.

Bali spoke, "Knight Holowek said you earned placement on one of the higher levels. A larger apartment with a balcony."

"I have not been in an apartment with a balcony since I was an apprentice." More likely, Obi-Wan knew they had more vacancies than they knew what to do with and were giving away the better quality rooms.

"You can sort of see the Izen Towers from the apartment. It is very far away though." When the lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, Bali eagerly stepped off the lift but turned in surprise when Obi-Wan did not follow. "Master?"

Obi-Wan stared silently out in the corridor. It had been so many years since he had seen the dusty blues of this particular senior residential level.

"I have already brought our things up. Even stopped off at the storage lockers and retrieved the few items we left behind." The worry grew intense in Bali's voice as Obi-Wan still refused to move. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course," the older Jedi said quickly shaking off his daze and joined the younger in the corridor. He glanced about as the lifts stood at the intersection of all the halls and wondered which unfamiliar corner would they find their room in.

Taking a few steps, Bali paused until his master followed. "I really wanted to get Warbler out of storage. I did a lot of repair work while we were on Itheria and Mo'onet of His Highness' Kahier had a busted PodBot and let me salvage the working parts. I think I can fix him."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Obi-Wan groaned as he walked a few paces behind the youth while he studied the corridor. It had not changed much from his memories.

"I knew you would be overjoyed, Master," Bali laughed before slowing and stopping by one of the doors. Just above the control panel was the familiar placard that had been on the wall of their old apartment. It read simply: Kenobi/Tiro. Brushing his fingers over it, he said, "They already got it up." Turning back the smile slipped from his handsome young face. "Master?"

A chill raced over Obi-Wan and he tugged at his cloak. Again he glanced about the hall before facing the door. "Are you sure this is the right one?"

"It has our name on it." Bali pointed to the placard.

"Right."

"It is okay, isn't it? I could always go back and request another—"

"No. Yes, of course, it is fine. This is just a room no different than all the others on this floor or any other. Just an apartment."

Green eyes looked to him as if he had suddenly grown a second head.

"Lead on," Obi-Wan said managing a weak smile.

The worry quickly dissipated into relief over Bali's face and it was clear he was glad to finally be home. He palmed the door open and tried to step out of the way but Obi-Wan offered up a light Force push that sent the padawan stumbling and giggling into the common room.

The first sensation to hit Obi-Wan upon entering was the smell. The fragrance of the old apartment was just as it had all through his padawan days. It seemed to exist no where else in the Temple. In fact the only places in the entire galaxy he had found the scent in was old scroll rooms and libraries where knowledge was housed on wood pulp. There was a strange longing in the emotions that welled up in him. Then he saw Bali cross the room and whatever thought had possessed him vanished.

"I have not had a chance to unpack yet," Bali said, approaching the table in the common room corner. "After bringing everything up, I went and saw Healer Bant and told her we were back."

"Surprised she hasn't been searching for me," Obi-Wan said, pausing long enough to take in the room again before sinking to the small couch in the center. It wasn't the same seat that had been in the apartment during his apprenticeship but it was very similar. It was firm and new and definitely would not have fit Qui-Gon Jinn's tastes for well-sworn comfort, which suited Obi-Wan just fine.

As Bali rummaged through the box on the table, Obi-Wan reached out through the Force, touching the echo of the apartment's previous occupants. Anakin's Force signature was all but dispersed but Qui-Gon's was enmeshed in every fiber of the room.

"She was busy," Bali said.

"What?" Obi-Wan snapped back into the moment.

"I said Bant was busy. Seems the crèche had an outbreak of Gradierian Pox."

"Lovely."

"She has been mixing up mass batches of bacta and solva to relieve the itching."

"Good, something to keep her entertained." Obi-Wan tugged at his cloak and continued to study the room. It was strange seeing the apartment without the small decorations and ornaments that Qui-Gon had once filled it with.

"She wants to know if we will be free for a late meal tomorrow."

"I suppose."

"Good because I already committed us."

Obi-Wan twisted on the couch to see the blushing youth. "Padawan."

Bali shrugged innocently. "You know no one has the power to say no to her. She is going to get her way no matter what."

"You do not have to give in so easily though."

Flushing more, Bali went on, "But just so you know, if Liril joins us I am suddenly coming down with a severe case of Corellian flu."

The gray flecked ginger haired Jedi noted that Bali never looked up from the storage container he was ransacking.

"Now why I wonder would you do that?"

"Liril is an animal."

"She is a little girl."

"Not anymore."

"Oh, I understand," Obi-Wan mocked. "You are going to wish you had stayed on Itheria." Smiling at the still deeper shade Bali turned, he continued, "I would be more afraid of the Knights and Masters prowling the temple. They will be wanting to tutor your studies and help you with your saber practice."

Panic flushed Bali's bright gaze. "And you know this from experience?" He grinned reaching for the object of his desire at the bottom of the container. "At least I have done nothing to inspire such activities, Master. Or should I mention several of your more famous security cam recordings?"

"I knew about most of them."

Bali made a face. "Master." Then the padawan pulled his hand out of the packed container and opened his palm revealing his prize. A deep frown crossed his still boyish features. "It shrunk!"

Obi-Wan grimaced at the sight of the tiny green PodBot. "More like you have grown in the last few years." Seeing that Bali remained stunned by the revelation, the master slowly stood. His pale blue gaze searched the walls and the small corridor that separated their rooms. He looked back at the kitchenette and swore he could smell tea brewing.

"It is tinier than I remember," Bali said when his master approached the table.

"Padawan," Obi-Wan sighed. "Your hands were smaller at thirteen. It just looked bigger. Trust me, that little beast is exactly the same size it was before."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Bali slipped the little droid in a large pouch on the side of his utility belt and then started to sort through the rest of the items in the storage container. "Do you want to put some of this stuff up?" he asked and held up the colorful tapestry that Bant had purchased a lifetime ago.

"Might as well or she will be dragging us to the Biviny market on a shopping spree." Obi-Wan's attention caught on something just beyond Bali's shoulder. He took a few steps forward and reached out brushing his fingers along the white wall next to the hall entrance. His fingers glided over a slight indentation in the otherwise smooth surface. Maintenance had missed it when the room was recycled.

"I can call housing," Bali grimaced at that last word, "and have someone repair it if you want."

"No. Leave it."

For a while, both master and padawan studied the damaged wall before Bali finally inquired: "I wonder what could have smashed it in like that? I slammed into the walls in our old apartment all the time and never dented them."

"Yes but your head is not nearly as hard as mine."

The Book of the Knife

"Excellent," Palpatine had spoken with a weary voice and somber face. "I am grateful to you, Master Skywalker," he said warmly, nudging the title just a little and inspiring a smile in the holoimage of Anakin. "Yes, you will commend the soldier who stopped Klune's escape on my behalf." He then shook his head sadly. "When will they learn that we will not turn a blind eye to their traitorous activities?"

"Traitors will never learn but fear will keep them in line," Anakin's holo replied through the static of hyperspace travel.

"Yes and we must never back down to them. Even now, I can feel their poisonous influences moving through the Senate." He looked thoughtful and concerned.

"Chancellor?"

Inwardly the older man smiled, knowing he had Anakin's complete attention. "I fear more rebellion is brewing from within and the Jedi may be the cause of it."

"They serve," was the simple reply.

"That may be so, but the recent civil war has shown us that we do not need them nearly as much as it seems they need us. Much of the Senate has chosen the aid of the Republican army peacekeepers while a shrinking minority still seeks the aid of the Jedi. I fear that they may be bartering for support."

Anakin remained silent, which pleased Palpatine immensely. "I am concerned that they might prey on your wife's trustworthy nature and be led astray."

"She has held great faith in the Jedi, Sir," Anakin paused, "as you are well aware they aided during the blockade of Naboo."

"Certainly, unfortunately things have changed. The Republic has changed. Could not the Jedi?"

There was another long silence. If it were not for his great self-control, Palpatine would be grinning. Even through the great distance, he could feel the seeds of doubt growing in Anakin's mind. Years spent fostering suspicion in the young man was succeeding better than he had expected.

Sensing Anakin was about to argue again, Palpatine spoke quickly, "You must forgive me and I completely understand if you say no, but there is a pocket of dissention brewing on the third moon of Banor. It is not far from your current position. Except I know you are anxious to return to your wife."

Anakin's eyes betrayed nothing as the hazy blue image fluctuated slightly. He frowned but then his expression grew determined. "I will do as you bid, your Excellency."

"Good." Raising his hands in a supplicating manner, the politician offered a friendly smile. "Now, I promise not to send you on a mission for a while. You and your wife deserve time together and I would not want to interfere with young love."

"Thank you—"

"No, thank you," he quickly cut in. "My assistant will be transmitting the information to you shortly. After your return and seen your wife, when it is convenient, please stop by my office I would truly like to thank you for your service in person."

After the image of his unwitting servant had faded, the warmth in his face turned ice cold. Yes, this little mission will give him time to wonder about Senator Amidala's alliances.

That fool Spex thought his prophecies safe. How wrong he was. Anakin Skywalker was falling to his suggestions and soon would be his to control.

Palpatine relaxed slightly in his large desk chair. His plans were coming together nicely and there was nothing in the galaxy powerful enough to stop him.

The Book of Growing Up

Bant twisted anxiously in her seat, glancing around the nearly empty cafeteria. When the only brown cloaked figure to enter through the high arching main doors was a Bantu, she frowned and turned back to face her quiet apprentice that sat across the table from her. "Please try to be good for a little while."

"It is not because I am not trying," Liril indignantly huffed as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I know, Padawan. You cannot help yourself. This hormone surge should start working its way out of your system soon."

"Will we be able to do field work again?" the anxious Vesian girl asked.

"Yes." She remembered how upset Liril had been to be put on medical restriction to the Temple until the apprentice had gone through her Mektat cycle, a hormonal surge that drove a Vesian's biological need to procreate. The girl was only halfway through the three month long cycle.

Liril grimaced as she leaned into the table. "But I have to go through," she animatedly waved her hands about, "this every three years. It's not fair."

"It is part of being Vesian, we all have our own bio-idiosyncrasies. Have you been chatting Knight Rimil?"

The pink skinned apprentice nodded. "She says the first one is always the worst. She said it was some sort of mating instinct. I don't want to mate."

Bant's silver eyes blinked as she stifled a laugh. "Well I am sure that will please every male in the temple."

"Master!" Liril bellowed and turned brighter shade of pink. She shrank back into her seat. "I am not that bad."

"Oh, really? Can Padawan Kelti attest to that?" Bant twisted about to search the cafeteria.

"I didn't hurt him."

"No but you scared him half to death."

"I did not bite him that hard."

Bant rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You should not have bit him."

"What did he expect walking around the practice floor without a shirt on? I mean, those orange scales down his back glimmered—"

"Focus!"

"I'm trying," the pink skinned girl growled.

At the sight of Bali and Obi-Wan entering through the main doors, Bant leapt to her feet. "It's about time!" the healer called out briefly silencing the soft din of the large room.

The shout did little for the two Jedi who took their time weaving through the series of tables that stood between them and the Mon Cal and her Vesian padawan.

Bant's heart fluttered at the sight of the two calm, cool Jedi. She was reminded of the last time she saw the two walking alongside each other. The little dark haired boy that followed his master about, imitating everything that Obi-Wan did. What she saw now was a far cry from her memories. Bali was no little boy, yet he stayed close to his master's side, leaving a formidable image of the two.

"Pretty," Liril purred.

Waving a hand at her hormonally charged padawan, the healer admonished, "Hush. Obi-Wan would not be pleased to hear that."

"I was talking about Bali."

"So was I. Obi-Wan will cut you to ribbons if you mess with his padawan." Breaking into a warm smile, the healer stepped forward and greeted her friend with a warm hug. "It has been so long."

"Bant," Obi-Wan whispered returning the embrace.

Bali retreated a step putting his master between he and Liril's predatory gaze.

Liril twisted in her seat to get a better view of Bali and slowly drew her tongue over her red lips before blowing him a kiss.

"Come on, let's not stand here looking silly," Bant said as she turned back to the table. Taking control of the situation, she gave Liril a silent warning through their training bond.

Frowning, the padawan sank in her seat.

Then Bant pointed Obi-Wan to the chair near the suddenly grinning girl.

"Pretty blue eyes," the Vesian whispered breathlessly looking up at the older Jedi.

"Focus!" her master snapped causing Liril to start in her seat.

"Yes, Master."

"This will all be over in a few months, just a few more months," the healer mumbled to herself. Grabbing Bali's wrist she pulled him to the seat next to her. "You'll be safer here."

A concerned Bali looked to Obi-Wan.

"You're a big boy," Obi-Wan calmly said folding himself into the folds of his heavy cloak. "After all, are you not the one who was brave enough to charge into a nest of hyklee?"

"Yes, Master, but the worst they could was rend me limb from limb." The green eyed apprentice twisted to face Liril's ravenous gaze. Tilting his chin toward her, he added, "I am afraid of what she will do."

"That is why you are sitting next to me," Bant said patting his shoulder.

"I would be good," Liril whispered sounding a little disenchanted.

"You cannot control yourself, Padawan, no matter how hard you try." Bant then quickly turned her attention to her quiet friend. "It has been a year and half, old man."

Obi-Wan eyed her but she could sense the silent growl at her description.

Blatantly ignoring any dirty look Obi-Wan could offer, Bant focused on the dark haired youth sitting next to her. "Look at this young man!" she cheered fawning over Bali and causing him to blush. "I remember when you were still kicking my shins."

Bali nervously giggled then sighed, "Why does everyone seem so surprised when they see me? I'm still just me."

"Because the last time I saw you in person you were a mischievous little boy."

"Nothing has changed except he is taller," Obi-Wan replied.

"And very handsome," Liril purred.

"Focus, Padawan," Bant absently said.

"I'm trying," she huffed.

"I know." Studying Bali's bright green eyes, Bant laughed. "You have not even got comfortable in your chair and your master is already talking bad about you. One would think you had a bad reputation or something."

Bali glanced to his master and smiled. "It is not like Master would know anything about—"

Screaming the young man leapt to his feet and bounded back from the table. "What was that!"

Obi-Wan and Bant's gazes fell to a very sheepish Liril.

"What?" the pink padawan demanded in mock innocence. "It was just my foot." Eyeing Bali, she snarled, "Big, brave padawan you are."

"Keep it away from me," Bali demanded taking his saber hilt in hand but made no attempt to return to his chair.

"Bali," Obi-Wan said softly.

The youth roughly exhaled before clipping the silver cylinder to his belt and flopping back down in his chair. "I think have been violated," Bali pouted.

"It is not the first time."

"That was different."

"I am not so sure Lady Regalion's husband would agree with that."

"That was an accident, Master," Bali groaned. His bright green gaze focused on the smiling Liril. "She did that on purpose."

"Do you remember ever being so young?" Bant softly inquired of her long time friend in an attempt to break up the tension.

"Yes and I remember how much trouble it got me into," Obi-Wan answered.

Liril's gaze softened on Bali, then her jewel green eyes suddenly became startled. Shoving her chair back, she stood and announced, "I think I need to go meditate."

The healer looked at her shocked padawan. "Yes, maybe that would be wise," she tenderly told her apprentice. "Do you need—"

"No," the cute Vesian said sadly, "you stay and visit. I'll be all right."

Bant leaned against the table as she quietly watched her padawan wander through the cafeteria pausing to eye a young knight before disappearing through the main doors. "She said she was feeling in control today. I think its Bali's fault."

The apprentice sputtered, "But she put her foot—"

"She is joking," Obi-Wan said.

Still flushing, Bali frowned as he looked at the two older Jedi. Starting to get up, Bali mumbled, "I think I'm coming down with Corellian flu." Then added a few coughs for effect.

Bant glanced over at him and advised, "You don't get a cough, it runs—"

"Please!" Obi-Wan and Bali called out simultaneously.

The healer just looked at the two disgusted Jedi before her. "You big babies," she teased throwing her hands up in the air with playful frustration. "You can take on an horde of rebels using you for target practice but a little body talk and you two get all wimpy."

A tense Bali relaxed slightly before looking to his master. "You know, I think I have some things to take care of. May I be excused?"

Obi-Wan nodded but when the youth gave a wicked smile as he stood up, lightening quick reflexes allowed the older Jedi to catch Bali by his ponytail. "Be good."

"I am always good, Master," Bali said before pulling himself free of Obi-Wan's hold.

"That is often up for debate."

Once Bali was gone, Obi-Wan pressed his forehead to the table.

"I think they were afraid we were going to gang up on them and give them another talk about discretion," Bant laughed.

"Bali is good. He won't make those mistakes."

"So were you and you made them."

Obi-Wan sighed. "This kind of talk makes me feel old."

Smiling warmly, the healer reached out and brushed her salmon colored fingers through the silvery wisps in Obi-Wan's ginger hair. "Well those gray streaks in your hair are not helping much."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The Books of Small Wonders Part I

Deep within the Force shielded crèche in a large meditation room in the nursery sat a sleek, blue scaled, lizard-like Tykon on one of the round cushions. Her glittering yellow eyes focused on the tiny bundle in her arms. She hummed a soft lullaby as she rocked the tiny, tan wrapped figure cradled in long arms. A black taloned hand adjusted the blanket revealing the tiny pink face of a four-month-old human boy.

"So now you are going to sleep?" Texa Gurgon softly hissed. "You crave contact, don't you?" Sighing she made herself a little more comfortable on the cushioned seat. She glanced up and stared at one of the mediation center walls and frowned. "It looks like you have company, Small One. Leave it to the troll to disturb you once you find peace."

The wall flickered and an opening appeared. Masters Yoda and Na'tho stood silently in the doorway but Texa remained seated with her attention focused on the infant in her arms. The familiar tapping of Yoda's gimer stick finally drew her mildly agitated attention, "What do you want, troll?"

The baby grunted, his tiny arms reaching up, stretching and then settling again. When Texa looked back at him, bright green eyes stared up at her. With one of her menacing fingers, she lightly poked the little nose and the baby gurgled as he grasped the talon.

Yoda stopped before the sitting crèche master and stretched adding a few inches to his diminutive height so he could see the baby's face. "Better, is he?"

"Growing stronger everyday," Texa cooed, playing with the little hands that reached for her. "He has gained a little weight, I was starting to get worried but he has shown marked improvement these last few weeks. I believe he will overcome the premature birth and injuries."

For a time, Yoda studied the demonic face that grinned, enticing happy sounds from the infant in her arms. While many Jedi had worked with and handled this particular infant, Texa had spent the most time with him. Her skills in pediatric healing were more than welcome to the undersized baby that had been brought to the temple in the middle of the night and damaged from an attack that caused his birth mother to prematurely go into labor.

Shifting the tiny form around so both Yoda and Na'tho could get a view of the bright gaze, Texa smiled brushing her fingers over the wisps of brown hair that had started growing over his head in the last few weeks.

Na'tho frowned. "This is the age he should have been when brought to us. Not ripped from his mother's arms before she could lay eyes on her child. We give the parents, all parents a chance to decide."

The ancient master shook his head and turned his large gaze back to the baby. "For the child's safety, necessary it was."

The tall, thin initiate supervisor folded his arms across his chest. He shook his yellow head but did not argue."

The boy cooed and reached, stretching his fingers out toward Yoda. The little master played with the chubby fingers then he scrunched his wrinkled face and stuck his tongue out.

"Don't you spoil him, troll," Texa hissed.

"Spoil him, I am not," Yoda said indignantly. "Need laughter we all do. Happy, he is?"

"Curious." Texa wrapped the baby up again and then gently rocked him until his bright eyes closed and he slipped into a light sleep. "He is very responsive, especially to quieting techniques. Such a calm mind to be so young."

Na'tho shifted. "It is unlikely he inherited that from his mother. Still, this was wrong, Master, to bring this baby to us, he was kidnapped. A parent must willingly give the child up to the Order as I understand it, the girl was not capable at the time to make that decision."

The ancient Jedi leaned heavily against his gimer stick but allowed his gaze to search the room. His ears drooped slightly as he sighed. "Safety he needed."

"What of his father?"

"Involved the father is not," Yoda spoke with a grave authority that dared Na'tho to challenge him. "Dangerous to herself, the mother is. Good it was not for the boy."

"I still do not approve of your methods," Na'tho argued. "What proof do you have—"

A pathetic whimper escaped the baby as he started to cry.

"Argue elsewhere," Texa growled as she eyed them in warning. "I will not have you upsetting him. He was having a good day." Texa rose smoothly from the cushion, she was nearly as tall as Na'tho but far more menacing. Her yellow eyes studied Yoda as if he were an appetizer ready to be pounced on. "Come, Small One," she softened her tone for the crying infant. "You are fussy and need your rest. It has been a difficult first few months, hasn't it? Yes, and I cannot promise it will be any easier." She paused and turned back to Yoda. "Will he be affected?"

"Know this I do not," Yoda replied sadly. "Removed from his mother he was before her fall to the dark side. Uncertain I am to the power of his connection to her. Protect him here, we must."

"How do you know this?" Na'tho demanded even if his dark eyes said he already had the answer.

"Dead Master Denshau is."

Straightening and without word, Na'tho left the meditation chamber.

Yoda hobbled after Texa back into the nursery where other Jedi worked with the myriad of infants in the earliest stages of training.

"You could have broken it to him easier," Texa said as she laid the infant back in his crib.

"Easy it is not to lose someone you cared about, but know he did without being told. Ask he will, how she died when he is ready." Yoda reached out, calling the Force around him and floated himself up to the stool next to the cradle. He stared down at the red-faced infant. "Denshau's decision to remove the child it was ultimately. Concerned for her padawan, she was. Losing the battle the girl was."

"Sounds like she lost it completely." Texa adjusted the covers. "And where is she?"

"Unknown."

For a time, the Tykon studied the sleeping boy then she broke the silence with a familiar hiss. "He needs a name otherwise he will think he is called Small One. We rarely get babies without names. Where is he from?"

"Xim."

Texa's yellow eyes curiously looked to Yoda. "He is not Ximi. He is human."

"Born near Xim he was." Yoda thought for a moment. "Cared for him a Xim chieftain's principle wife did."

A clawed finger brushed a fat baby cheek. "This little one was very ill, but he is growing stronger, he will survive. He is your project, give him a name." She turned and went to another nearby cradle to check on a whining Zabrak infant.

Yoda looked over the edge of the cradle to the bright green eyes that studied him. He had always tried to spend a little time in the crèche allowing the infants to meet him and get used to the variety of alien life that made up the Jedi Order and the galaxy as a whole. The little master studied the infant. The baby looked at the master and giggled when Yoda scrunched his face up and stuck his tongue out again. "Easily entertained, you are."

A happy squeal from the baby drew Texa's attention. "The light is so bright in his eyes. May the Force be with him in overcoming any adversities he be faced with."

"Light," Yoda whispered, then his ears perked up slightly as he eyed the tall crèche master. "Bali Tiro."

"Where did that name come from?" Texa asked as she took a data pad and made the adjustment to the baby's records.

"A Xim moon Balitiro is."

Leaning forward and brushing the baby's tummy with a talon the boy cooed. "Bali Tiro. I still like Small One better."

Bali's joyful little face grew uncertain, then wrinkled in concentration. After a few moments, relief fluttered over the tiny features.

Yoda reared back wrinkling his own nose. "Small creature, big stink you make."

"You get to change him," Texa laughed.

The Book of Destiny and Fate

Reaching languidly across the archive station, Obi-Wan accessed the seven thousand-year-old writings of Master Olias Kentage. The ancient Jedi had composed numerous written meditations on coping with difficulties. Over the many millennia since his death his essays had often been accessed in times of spiritual need.

Obi-Wan had found comfort in the words to calm his weary spirit over the years. Noting the data records, he was not the only one. The writings had been accessed thousands of times in the years since the civil war had begun.

Checking the small data reader in his hand, he studied the contents of the downloaded files. Logging out of the archive station, the Jedi leaned back into the tall chair and tugged at his cloak seeking what warmth he could. Taking his eyes from the idle display the ginger hair Jedi brought his gaze up to the stacks of information that had been collected by the Order since its inception.

"Humbling is it not?" Yoda's gravelly voice filled the silence.

Pale blue eyes shifted from the awe-inspiring towers of information to the small green master in his hovering chair. "Yes, it is," Obi-Wan warily replied.

For a while, Yoda kept his gaze to the myriad resources of information, but then he turned back to the quiet Jedi. "Seeking solace are you?" he asked, hovering his chair close to the other Jedi. "Know this I do, not enough it is to read that we should be strong, live this we must."

"Sometimes that is easier said than done," Obi-Wan said softly, secreting the reader into the layers of his tunic before turning his attention back to Yoda. Quirking a ginger brow, Obi-Wan asked, "Why do I have a feeling you are here to meddle in my life?"

"So predictable am I in my old age?" Yoda teased with a twinkle in his large eyes.

Leaning against the arm of his chair, Obi-Wan studied the grinning troll. "I have learned that visits from you herald trouble."

"Hrumph!"

Pressing himself into the tall chair, Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest, determined not to allow the ancient master to make him do anything.

"Stubborn padawan always you were."

"As I intend to remain."

"Trouble trusting yourself to take a padawan learner it was not."

"Depends on your opinion."

Yoda sharply eyed the younger Jedi. "Believe this you do not."

"Yes, it was trouble." Obi-Wan gave a faint smile.

"Give it up you would not."

"No." The Jedi broke into a warm smile that reached his eyes at the thought of his apprentice. "I would not."

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Yoda waved a small, clawed hand. "Come, come!" Directing the hover chair around, the little master flew off through the archives.

Obi-Wan just sat there. Following that troll would only cause him undue grief but if he refused he was certain to get whacked with a gimer stick. Sighing, the Jedi rose from the warm chair, burying his hands deep into the billowing sleeves of his cloak and slowly walked in the direction the hover chair had headed.

Out of the archives, the Jedi found the little master waiting at a crossroads. Yoda gave him a determined look and flew off before Obi-Wan had the chance to back out of the little adventure.

Reaching a learning section of the temple, Obi-Wan finally caught up with the little master.

"Have many openings throughout the temple, we do," Yoda quickly said.

"We are here only for Bali's knowledge trials. Then I suspect we shall be returned to the field," the younger man said defiantly folding his arms across his chest.

Yoda frowned. "Running from the temple you are."

"I hardly believe that is true, Master. We are needed in the field as you well know."

"As well Jedi are needed here."

"Yes, Master, but—"

"Returning to Kanidas for an extended mission, Master Ilume is. Temporary replacement she needs."

"Master—"

"Insolent padawan you act like," Yoda said crossly grabbing up the gimer stick at his side and waving it threateningly. "Teaching bad form to young initiates you will."

"What do I…Master, I am not training initiates." Obi-Wan stopped in the center of the corridor, waiting until Yoda idled and turned the chair around. "I have a padawan and he is enough."

"Resident masters teach."

"I will teach seminars."

"Benefit younglings more."

"Master—"

Yoda waved the gimer stick again. Once he had earned the younger's quiet attention, he continued, "Imagined you a teacher I did."

Reluctantly Obi-Wan listened but could not fathom what madness was inspiring such thoughts in the ancient master.

"Look at me like I am mad, you do."

"No, Master."

"Old he is," Yoda continued as he reached up and tapped his wrinkled green forehead. "Missing a focusing crystal you think." The little master laughed. "In your eyes it is clear. A teacher you do not see yourself."

"I am not a teacher. I am uncertain of teaching my own padawan let alone influence anyone else."

"Hmmph."

"Master—"

The gimer stick flashed through the air with sure intent only to miss its target when Obi-Wan deftly avoided the blow. "I am not a teacher," he repeated. "I was trained as a diplomat and a—"

Yoda closed his eyes and slowly exhaled, raising his head slightly he heeded the call of the ancient mysteries. "Long I have stared into the future. Welcomed the flow of the Force I have. Foreseen change and disaster. It has shown me the light and hope for the future. Seen much in my long life. Know much is left to be seen."

Obi-Wan shifted wishing the ancient master's reverie would end.

Opening his eyes slowly, Yoda focused on the ginger haired Jedi before him. Sadness laced his voice, "Destined to be a teacher you were." He shook his head. "Fated to fight the encroaching darkness, you are."

"Master."

Lowering his head, Yoda added, "Difficult life this is."

"Master Yoda."

The little Jedi looked up and gave a wrinkly smile. "Benefit the younglings teaching will. More powerful is memory of lessons taught than of enemies vanquished. Think about it you will." The little master guided his hovering chair about and sped off down the hall leaving Obi-Wan bewildered and alone.

The Jedi turned about the atrium wondering why Yoda had rambled about the future and why he had been led there. There was nothing particularly special about the atrium it connected different learning centers. He had last been there when he had been an initiate.

Through an arched doorway, his gaze settled on a group of younglings chasing a Chalactan Jedi around the room in some sort of game. When the instructor turned, her dark eyes met Obi-Wan's. She straightened but did not take her gaze from him. Then offering a frown, she turned her attention back to her students.

"I will not train initiates," he grumbled before tugging at his cloak. Then Obi-Wan quickly retreated from the atrium back to a main corridor that would take him far from that room. He could not even begin to decipher the usually cryptic statements of the little master. Except for some strange reason he imagined he had sensed guilt in the ancient one.