The Book of Changing Plans
The Supreme Chancellor stood silently watching as the Senator and the Jedi boy carrying the handmaiden retreated into the private chambers. Calmly he adjusted the fine layers of his elegant robes. The deep blues with gold and silver threaded highlights shifted about as Palpatine glanced about the room.
It was expected that Amidala would make things more difficult, removing herself from the safety of the Senate Security forces. On the other hand, it further separated her from everyone else which could be politically advantageous. Mercifully she still listened to her husband, otherwise his observations to Skywalker about the Izen's safety would have gone unheeded.
Most likely the young senator would have set herself up in the Param Towers. While he could have easily circumvented the security there, the fact that many Republican officials and grand investigators lived and worked out of the building allowed for many Jedi to be about at all times. It was a chance he was not so willing to take.
His calm façade tightened slightly but not enough to reveal the fury that welled up in him like a storm. There had been point and reason enough to force this confrontation but the girl had proved to be made of stronger stuff. He had always known that she was a force to be reckoned with, still she had surprised him. She had struggled with his suggestions when she should have easily bowed to him.
Could it be the children?
That had thrown off his pet assassin. Her unshielded furiosity at the realization her intended victim was pregnant had come to the dark lord deep in the night. He had feed on the madness that consumed his little pet. The girl was now useless in putting the senator out of his misery. Oddly enough, it had worked out in his favor, her unbridled hatred for Kenobi would drive her now.
The disguised dark lord smiled slightly and brought his thoughts back to the children of Skywalker. Their father's blood flowed through their veins so they too would be powerful force users, especially the boy. All of his energies of late had been spent blocking Skywalker's knowledge of his offspring. He feared soon though, the girl would reveal it and his plans brought to naught.
The regal figure of the chancellor turned his weary gaze toward the expansive windows. Maybe he could put this little problem to use.
According to that old fool Nochian Spex, without Skywalker, the children posed little threat. Yes, he would see to their learning. Molding them into the image he chose.
They would serve him and make the galaxy tremble under their might. Yes, he could make use of this little change.
Children could not harm him.
He sensed Captain Lanat's approach. "Yes, I too am quite busy and must be on my way," Palpatine said raising his hand and waving it gently to buy a few more moments in the apartment.
A spike of anger rushed through him but he made sure to keep it carefully concealed. It had been too convenient for that silly handmaiden to just topple over like that. He had scanned the room upon entrance and knew the girl had minimal force sensitivity. She could not have sensed anything.
No, he knew it was the workings of the Jedi boy.
Curious of the Jedi Council to place him in the same sort of mission that nearly killed him years ago. It left Palpatine to wonder what sort of game the council was up to. He never trusted them and was not foolish enough to believe they were completely without suspicion. But this was an interesting move on their part.
The boy had suspected something, strange and bothersome all at the same time. Hmm. Young Tiro was full of surprises, very much like his master. If he had time for curious quests, it would have been interesting to look into.
Yes, he remembered him quite well, a thirteen-year-old boy who had possessed Spex's secrets. A boy, in agony of the Sith's making, who had freely offered all the information he sought.
Had he not?
That nagging little voice returned. It had always been there in those darker moments of doubt when things seemed to be going so well. Always left to wonder if something had been left out or forgotten.
No. He had mapped a course for every possibility. He was on the threshold of victory. Soon all would fall to him.
Still, his thoughts returned to the padawan. Not all of his plans had worked out so well, but they would be dealt with eventually.
After robbing the boy of his precious prophecy, he had planned for the child to die and with him take his master's spirit. But instead of a broken Jedi master that he could bend to his will, he was left to watch as both master and padawan had continued to live, even flourish. They should enjoy these last few moments soon they, like all of the Jedi Order, would be little more than a footnote in history.
The sea of rage churned within the Sith master. He could stand before the members of the Jedi High Council and they could not see through his façade and yet a mere child had sensed…what?
The boy should have been focused entirely on that toy droid. He should never have noticed the conversation with the senator. At least he put an end to an annoying little droid.
Hadn't he destroyed it once before?
Turning sharply on the startled security officer, he inwardly smiled at the confusion that still clouded Lanat's gaze. "Captain, could you please escort me back to my transport?"
Lanat opened his mouth to answer but paused as his sharp gaze grew dull. "Of course, Your Excellency."
The weak minded were so easily controlled.
The Book of Healing Part VI
"You have obstructed this enough, Master Windu," Ekyo Taluim's nasal voice jarred the quiet of the healing center corridor. "Do not use your council position to bully me." Waving a green scaled finger at the Councillor, Ekyo demanded, "You will remove yourself and allow me to attend to business."
"Business?" the tall Jedi Master asked as he calmly folded his arms across his chest.
Ekyo glared at Mace. "I do not have time for your games. We both know this is for the boy's own good."
"I seriously doubt that," Mace retorted.
"You are an advisor to the committee, not a member. My decisions stand firm."
"They can also be brought up to review," Mace answered as he shifted slightly to keep Ekyo from passing into the resident recovery hall.
Deep green scales seemed as if to ruffle at the impertinence of the dark skinned Jedi. Ekyo's black eyes sharply studied Mace for a moment before speaking in a grave tone. "Master Kenobi is little more than a breathing stone and young Tiro has no bond with him. The boy will be recycled. I have the authority of the Apprenticeship Management Committee."
"I would curb your tone, Knight Ekyo," Mace warned.
"The boy will be remanded to my custody pending assignment to a new master."
That had been enough. "No!" Bali growled as his bright green eyes watched the two warring Jedi. "I will not go with you."
Mace just calmly looked at the boy and smiled when Ekyo turned in surprise.
"Padawan Tiro," the committee chairman said quickly finding his composure again. He worked up a smile in an attempt to placate the padawan. "This is for the best. You will go and gather your belongings and report to student housing immediately."
"No." Bali stared at the green skinned Jedi. His heart was racing at the thought he was going to be taken from his master. The fear had been there but it had never been real until that moment.
"Padawan Tiro," the small master coarsely replied. "You will—"
"No!" Bali cried out then turned and bolted passed the two Jedi and on down the hall to his master's room.
Ekyo tried to chase but Mace stepped in the way blocking the much smaller Jedi and allowing Bali a much needed head start.
The apprentice could feel the two Jedi closing the distance as he slowed at the open door of Obi-Wan's room. Rushing inside Bali palmed it closed and set the internal locking system. He knew it would not hold them for long but at least he would have a few more moments with Obi-Wan before he was taken away.
"Master!" the thirteen-year-old cried out as he threw himself against his master's chest. "Wake up, please," he cried into the warm folds of the heavy cloak. A tear-rimmed gaze sought out his master's closed eyes. "If you do not wake up, I can no longer be your padawan anymore. Knight Ekyo said so."
"Open this door!" Ekyo cried out from the hall.
After everything they had been through this would be how it would end? All Bali wanted to do was sob, to cling to his master's cloak. He didn't want a new master. He wanted Obi-Wan.
"Sorry, Master. I am sorry everyday," he cried. "I wish Master Spex never told me anything. Do not care about the future." The boy said softly, pressing his spiked head to Obi-Wan's shoulder. "But then you would not be here. He would have killed you." There was a pause. "You would not be here." He closed his eyes as he heard the keypad to the door being activated.
"I am sorry, Master."
"Young Tiro!" Ekyo snapped. "You will obey immediately, this is not helping your case."
"Ekyo," Mace growled as he grasped the petulant knight's arm. "Let him be."
"He will be broken of this disobedient streak. That is what caused the mess in the first place," Ekyo said. "I will be sure of that."
"I dreamed that we would fix the weak overhand defense Mace has taught you," a soft, slurred voice said drawing complete silence in the room.
Bali looked up in shock. "Master? You are well?"
Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head sloppily as he answered. "No, not yet but better."
The Book of the Deadly Dance
Warm light flickered through the windows of the air taxi as it glided through the Coruscant afternoon; the pilot deftly weaved in and out of traffic. All the while its lone passenger remained oblivious to the close calls and near misses.
Obi-Wan sat quietly in the tall bench seat; head gently dipped in the pose of light meditation. The Jedi took in the dying natural light as it was blocked and filtered through the mammoth skyscrapers of the megalopolis.
Tugging lightly at the edge of his cloak, he pulled it close protecting from the phantom chill that had haunted him for so long. Weariness hung heavily in the worn flesh around his eyes. Eyelids fluttered slightly before revealing a pale blue gaze.
The Jedi stared absently at the city around him. The transport was on approach to the Izen Towers, a gleaming fortress in the sky. The ride was smooth, which made him all the more aware of the slight tremble in his hands. He hoped for a peaceful night that he could find rest in.
He was so tired.
As the transport neared the Izen, the stronger the dread grew in the ginger haired Jedi. The walk from the landing to one of the elevator banks was long.
Bright orange sunlight reflected off the Izen's many windows and polished outer skin. The warming radiance felt so good to his chilled form. He craved it, just as he had in the Alonaro lounge earlier that day.
Memory of the hand pressed to his shoulder came back to him, as did the flood of emotions brought through that simple touch. It was the first time in so many hours that he allowed his thoughts to return to that moment. There had been so much information offered that he could not even begin to process the assortment of emotions and feelings that had been delivered in the brief contact. Just the last one stood out. Remained with him.
Qui-Gon was proud of the Jedi he had become.
It did not make the pain go away but it eased it a little.
"Here we are," the driver said, his roughened voice tearing violently into Obi-Wan's thoughts.
The Jedi looked out at his surroundings not even realizing they had arrived on the massive landing pad at the primary entrance to the exclusive apartment community.
Paying for the ride and pausing long enough to see the cab take off and vanish into the constant flow of traffic, Obi-Wan just stood there for a time.
Another sound of engines drew his attention and he turned just in time to catch sight of the Supreme Chancellor's official transport taking off from a lower landing pad. He watched until the transport was at a good distance before striding across the platform to the railed edge. Leaning heavily against the black rails, the Jedi stared down over the edge to study the platform the chancellor's ship had apparently lifted off from.
"A supply delivery pad," he mumbled to himself before retreating to the grand entrance of the building. Pulling at the edge of his cloak, he drew it close as he quietly slipped through the ornately decorated common area and offices. A few of the residents were making their way about but beyond that it was relatively quiet.
He paused in the center of the expansive room, then marched toward a carefully out of the way security station.
"Master Jedi," the station chief said as he rose from his seat before a series of security panels and monitors. "Is there something I can do for you."
Blue eyes carefully studied the room and the quietly waiting figure in the gray uniform of the Kinperton Security Agency. "The delivery landing pad about ten levels down, grand entrance side, what arrivals and departures have there been in the last few hours?"
Without hesitation or question the security officer accessed the records. After a few moments, he looked up. "We had a delivery of maintenance supplies early this morning and that is it."
Showing no hints of concern with the statement, Obi-Wan calmly inquired, "What about a ship departing a few minutes ago?"
The officer just looked at the Jedi curiously. "Sir there has been no arrivals or departures all after noon from that pad." He quickly turned and called up a security recording of the delivery landing pad. The holographic image hovered between the two men as it quickly played backward leading up to the arrival of Obi-Wan's taxi. Playing forward again, Obi-Wan watched the surrounding sky through the high arched entrance. Where he had seen the chancellor's transport fly passed. There was no ship.
Folding his arms across his chest, Obi-Wan nodded to the man to end the playback. "I must have been mistaken." He turned to leave the office but stopped at the door. "Has the Supreme Chancellor visited today?"
"No, Sir. We would be informed a minimum of two hours in advance and have extra security officers on hand. We have had no notice today."
"Thank you." Obi-Wan left the office and paused in the decorative marble surroundings. Turning so he could stare out of the grand entrance, the Jedi quickly revaluated the scene again. There was no doubt in his mind that the chancellor's special transport had just taken off from a lower landing pad on the Izen Towers.
Masking the weariness that had a strangle hold on him, he marched through to the main hall to the lift bank. Reaching to activate the control panel, he paused allowing his fingers to hover a centimeter from the buttons. Withdrawing from the elevator bank, Obi-Wan quickly moved to a more open area.
Warning spiked through the Force and he reached for his lightsaber. Casting out, he sought the source but found nothing. Only the briefest, fluttering darkness had captured his attention before vanishing.
Refusing to relax his guard, he tightened his grip on the silver cylinder of his saber as he raced toward an emergency stairwell rather than risking being caught in a confined area such as a lift.
Sending a warning to his padawan, the Jedi was surprised to feel as if the message was being sent across the galaxy instead of just the apartment building. He hoped Bali was all right.
Closing in on the emergency passage doors, Obi-Wan reached out mentally, bringing the Force to bear on the sealed door. It snapped open allowing him to race through it unimpeded. Pausing long enough to seal the door once more, he then bounded up the staircase several steps at a time.
At a landing platform, the Jedi spun, catching the pale blue blade that drove down on him in a powerful block. The power of his attacker threw them both against the railing, driving his ribs against the durasteel barrier. Grunting in pain, he managed to twist about and deflect his attacker's blade. Calling on the Force, he shoved his assailant to the wall.
In a flash of rich and muted browns the attacker bounded forward, chasing after Obi-Wan as he raced to the next level. Blue clashed and sparked as the blades were driven apart and Obi-Wan threw himself at the nearest door. Sparks flew as the attacker's blade met the doorframe.
Turning about, the Jedi brought his weapon up even as he continued to walk backward toward a more open area. Signs along the walls told him he was coming up on the Izen's ballroom, which was reserved for guests and their doings only.
Mercifully it was empty at the moment.
Blades repeatedly met in violent strikes as the two combatants were driven toward the ballroom floor. Coolly, Obi-Wan defended against the maddened attacks but his muscles were quickly straining under the sheer power of his attacker.
Blue slashed through the air but Obi-Wan managed to shift free of the deadly attack and put some distance between them. He breathed heavily as he struggled to hide the exhaustion that was quickly consuming him.
"You don't look very happy to see me," Halla Keizian said as she straightened. The warm light from the golden chandelier high above the center of the ballroom gave the false Jedi a soft glow.
"You are dead," Obi-Wan growled.
Halla stepped forward and playfully attacked but was met with a serious block. "My master would never let me off that easily." She lunged at Obi-Wan but he continued to block her. "Not even going to talk to me?" she teased.
"I have nothing to say to you." Obi-Wan paced a wide circle around the false Jedi. He never allowed his study of her to falter. He could feel the trickle of sweat, the coolness of it against his forehead. He couldn't waste his energy playing with her. All of his focus was given to searching for the first sign of weakness. He had to end the fight and end it quickly or he knew he would lose.
Halla playfully lashed out but Obi-Wan merely shifted out the way. Her green eyes narrowed. "You don't look so well."
Obi-Wan did not answer.
She smiled viciously. "The boy is here."
Stepping into the attack, Obi-Wan slammed into Halla's defenses as sabers clashed and hummed. He sliced deep into the mad woman's defenses and slashed her tan tunic sleeve, cutting into her arm. Expecting servos to be revealed, the Jedi was shocked when Halla wailed in pain and threw herself out of Obi-Wan's reach. The red wound had his attention and nearly allowed Halla to regain the upper hand as she lunged at him.
She drove him backward across the dance floor. Growling, she said, "I told you my husband was creating technology to repair me."
"The same man you murdered?"
Releasing a feral howl, Halla unleashed a powerful Force push that sent Obi-Wan across the highly polished marble floor. As she raced at him again, he rolled to his feet and managed to block the deadly blade. Twisting about, the real Jedi kicked out connecting firmly with her ankle sending Halla off balance. He then flipped her onto her back.
She struggled to free herself but was pinned against the red and gold spiralling pattern in the center of the dance floor. Giving up the fight, she began to laugh, the thousands of lights from the magnificent chandelier high above glittered in her insane eyes. "Oh, you did miss me!" she teased. "Better than a closet and no frustrated old master to get in our way."
"Who is he?" Obi-Wan demanded as he shook the cackling Sith. "Tell me!" He was not going to play her games. Not humor her. It was her master that had tortured Bali.
"Who, my love?" she purred.
Wrenching the saber from her hand he recognized it as the one he had lost long ago but discarded it, sending it flying across the dance floor. "The beast that tried to kill Bali. Your master."
"I am his pet," Halla gleefully replied as she tried to twist free of the Jedi's hold. "Pet. Pet. Pet." Again she began to laugh.
"Who is your master?" he demanded.
Halla strained nipping at him.
He pushed her away.
"Make you a trade," Halla said then burst into giggles. "Give me the boy and I will tell you who my master is. He would be safe with me."
Blue flashed as Obi-Wan activated his weapon and threw himself at her. Just as quickly, Halla called her weapon back to her hand and barely managed to block the furious assault.
"Give back the boy," she said, straining under Obi-Wan's renewed attack.
"You will never—"
"Liar and a thief," Halla shot back as she managed to clip Obi-Wan's shoulder sending him reeling.
He gripped at the smoldering material and wounded flesh but was made to defend himself against a volley of vicious strikes. He managed to stop and hold her off briefly before gaining the upper hand again. Driving her across the dance floor, their weapons hummed and clashed in a deadly dance.
Halla bounded backward nearly losing her feet to a quick downward slash and flipped through the air landing at Obi-Wan's side. Bringing her weapon about the tip of the blade cut across the Jedi's shoulder blades.
The pain laced through him, nearly numbing his already trembling fingers. Tightening his grip on the lightsaber hilt, he threw his hand back, slamming Halla in the side of the head with it. He stumbled forward, desperately trying to focus and draw as much strength from the Force as he could.
The darksider twisted about, blood glinting in her hair from a fresh gash. Her fingers twisted the padawan braid about. "You want my master? Find him yourself," she growled. Bringing her weapon up, she took the offense. "I once thought you had been lied to by the council, but now I know you were in on it. You are going to die for your treachery and the boy will be mine."
He barely heard her words in his own struggle against pain and exhaustion. Muscles across his back strained and burned where they had been cut by Halla's stolen blade. Staggering slightly, he caught himself and managed to raise his own weapon just as she lunged at him again.
The Book of Adumbration
Bali sprinted across the floor of the community level. The initial warning from his master had been muted and broken but now Obi-Wan's strain was coming through quite clear. His heart pounded for fear that he would not get to the battle scene in time.
The chancellor's visit had left a strange pall over Senator Amidala's apartment and he had anxiously awaited his master's return. There was much he wanted to tell him about how the chancellor had acted oddly and Warbler's bizarre outburst before something…attacked it? No, he had not come to that conclusion yet, but the thought was there.
Casting out, careful not to disrupt his master, he checked in on the battle as he drew close. Relief flooded the apprentice to know that the older Jedi was still holding his own.
The closer Bali got the fight the stronger the poisonous touch of darkness was. It flowed like a noxious gas all about the apartment complex and the Force warned of great dangers that awaited him.
Just ahead, the magnificent chandelier glittered at near eye level. Its many golden appendages reflected the white, crystalline light from the thousand tiny jewels that sprouted from it.
The chandelier hung through a massive opening in the floor that turned the community section into a gallery above the ornately patterned ballroom floor.
At the chandelier matching railing that surrounded the opening, Bali was able to catch sight of his master in battle with the false Jedi. The darkness oozed from the long haired woman so powerfully no amount of disguise could hide the dark servant that she was.
Amidala's attacker.
Halla bounded forward, her blue blade slashing wildly through the air driving Obi-Wan back a step. The Jedi tried to counter but was quickly overwhelmed by Halla's unrelenting attack.
Fearing for his master, Bali decided that he did not have the time to take a more appropriate route to the ballroom floor. Taking his lightsaber in hand, the apprentice threw himself over the railing, calling the Force around him to soften the impact of his landing.
Barely touching the floor, he activated his weapon in a flash of green and rushed at Halla.
"No! Bali! Remain with the Senator!" Obi-Wan barked.
Halla slammed Obi-Wan with a powerful Force shove sending him crashing into the floor. Turning her mad green gaze on Bali, her blood red lips turned to a smile. "Hello, Padawan."
Wordlessly, Bali brought his weapon up, the jade green blade humming as he took on a defensive posture. He could not help but to steal a quick glance passed her shoulder to his motionless master. Then his gaze locked on the padawan braid with the flame tip weaved into Halla's dark brown hair.
At the sight of the stolen braid, all Bali wanted to do was reach up and touch his own marked braid fearing that she would take it too.
"You are so beautiful," Halla purred and lowered her weapon. Keeping it activated though, she moved slowly toward the padawan.
Beyond the false Jedi, Bali sought his master again but the Jedi remained motionless so he quickly sent a small probe to see that Obi-Wan was relatively all right.
Halla glanced back at where Obi-Wan lay. "He is for the moment but we will take care of that soon enough."
Shifting a few steps to the side, Bali tried to turn the waiting fight so he would be between the madwoman and his fallen master.
She did not follow his lead, remaining where she stood. Her green eyes, bright and all seeing. Under her scrutiny, the apprentice felt as if he were naked, unable to hide anything from her.
"You are afraid of me," she said softly. "I suppose I deserve that after the last time we met." She took a step closer, but Bali remained firm, drawing his weapon a little higher, a little more ready to strike at the Sith beast in Jedi robes. "Had I known then, things would have been different."
Whatever it was it did not make him feel better.
"I see so much of him in you." Another step forward. "Just like him, you will not even speak to me." Halla frowned, then with barely a hint of warning she lashed out causing Bali to struggle to block. "Good. One less thing I will have to teach you, my padawan. Still, we will have to train the Jedi out of you." She shook her head sadly. "Always waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the attack. Waiting and seeing what happens next. If you wait too long they take everything from you. I will teach you to be aggressive, my padawan."
"I am not your padawan."
There was something very strange in her green eyes. Something that was not insane or evil. Something familiar but Bali did not know quite what it was.
Of course, she was familiar, after all, she had once kidnapped him.
Before he knew what was happening she threw a seemingly wild upper slice that easily disarmed him. Diving for his weapon it rolled just beyond his reach as he struggled to put distance between he and the madwoman.
Reaching, he called the weapon back to his hand but before he could activate it, she was right on him. Her blue lightsaber blade humming just centimeters from his ear.
"You are like him," she whispered. "He hates me. Thinks I am a monster. An enemy that deserves only death. You pull away, like him. I might tarnish your light."
He tried to move away but she was quick and kept close. When she reached out to touch his face all he wanted was to scream and twist away.
"My eyes," she half sang brushing a finger along the side of his face. "Pretty green eyes."
Bali shifted, turning his saber about so slow and careful, hoping she would not notice.
Fingers brushed over his lips. "You have his mouth."
Gently, he tipped the emitter end up trying to aim it at the false Jedi. He could see tiny veins lacing over her ivory flesh.
A finger traced down the colorful markers on his padawan braid. "Why did they take you away from me?" she whispered. When she reached for Bali again he pulled away, fear shining behind his eyes. Anger flared in her own wild green. "They made you fear me."
Bali remained silent as he watched another strange shift in her eyes.
"Run," she said so low that he could barely make out the word. Brushing her fingers over his cheek, she continued, "All I ever wanted was you. So perfect and beautiful. Not your fault you are just like him."
Her words were terrifying.
"You should have been mine."
"I am Jedi," Bali answered.
"And you will be dead because of it. My master will see to it." Sadness glittered in her eyes before they hardened and turned cold. "All Jedi will die and the Sith will control the galaxy."
"Then I will die fighting as a Jedi." His finger brushed against the activation button on the saber hilt.
"You do not have to die. Leave the Republic, it is not safe for you, my—"
Shock filled her eyes as a lightsaber blade tore through her lower chest. Obi-Wan's strong arm wrapped around her pulling her away from Bali. The pale blue of his lightsaber was driven through her back. She opened her mouth as if to scream but could make little more than a choking noise. He deactivated his weapon, the damage done.
Obi-Wan's voice was low and rough from exhaustion. "You are a traitor to the Jedi Order. You murdered your master among countless other Jedi. You are a traitor to the Galactic Republic. An assassin."
In the death throes, Halla tried to struggle against Obi-Wan's grip. Dropping her stolen lightsaber, she fought his hold before her panicked face turned on the apprentice. "Mine," she whispered, reaching for a stunned Bali. "Mine."
"Never, Sith witch," Obi-Wan softly growled. He held on tight until her fighting ceased and she fell limp against him. The older Jedi looked to his apprentice, then sank to his knees, still holding Halla close. A smoldering hole in her tunic the only immediate sign of trauma. He gently cradled her head and brushed dark strands of hair from her peacefully sleeping face.
Bali remained frozen, staring at the Jedi holding the Sith. His finger gently moved away from the activation button on his lightsaber. Obi-Wan had interfered before he could act.
It was a few moments before he realized his master was staring at him. Obi-Wan made no move to release her.
"Master?"
The older Jedi frowned. Damp ginger strands of hair swept forward, lightly brushing against his forehead. The stress and weariness heavy in his face but sadness colored his eyes. "Alert security. The senator's security. The assassin is dead."
Slowly, Bali rose to his feet, but he never took his gaze from his master and the madwoman in his arms. "Will you be all right?"
"She cannot hurt anyone now."
The padawan remained motionless, lingering on the image.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and whispered, "Go."
The Book of Fury
The sleek, silver form of the Supreme Chancellor's official transport glided smoothly into the secure landing bay not far from his offices in the Senate. The craft expertly set down and awaited the okay from the security chief on the floor before beginning disembarking procedures.
Palpatine sat quietly in his seat surrounded by four of his Red Guard. They remained alert as the signal was given and the transport opened its landing platform.
Still, the chancellor remained motionless in his seat, seemingly unaware of the goings on around him. His peaceful visage marred only by his drawn fists.
His pet had failed.
Still, Kenobi lived.
If she had not been playing games, she could have easily finished Kenobi. He was no match for her. Those last moments of her life had been spent wanting that padawan of Kenobi's. Her mind was further gone than he had realized, especially if she thought he would ever allow her to take on an apprentice.
The up side was she was now out of his way so he could fully focus on young Skywalker.
"Your Excellency," Mas Amedda said at the doorway of the chamber Palpatine sat in. "Where have you been? We have had to reschedule your meeting with that Domani Ambassador." The Chagrian paused, glancing about the interior of the transport. "Is this all the security you took?"
"I had to speak to an old friend," the chancellor said calmly even though a white-hot spike of anger rose up at the interruption. He was calmed by the thought that soon instead of interrupting him, the Chagrian would be bowing before him before being crushed. Rising, he swept his elegant long coat about and faced the blue skinned Vice Chancellor. "I did not want to make a production of it and chose only the most basic of needs."
"These are dangerous times. You should put your protection first if not for yourself, for the good of the galaxy."
"Yes," Palpatine agreed. "Yes, you are right." They walked down the landing pad side by side as Amedda filled him in on the happenings of the last few hours. Dry political mongering nothing more and he allowed his thoughts to briefly return to the troublesome Jedi.
Yes, Kenobi would be put down soon enough. He was no match for Skywalker and it would take precious little before he could unleash the fury of his new pet. Then he would dispose of Skywalker. He did not want to risk keeping him around too long.
Still, the padawan, Bali Tiro, quirked his curiosity again. Yes, if it allowed without disrupting his plans, he might spare the boy. If nothing else but for some entertainment later.
Yes, he would see.
The Book of Master and Padawan Part III
Moving on silent feet, Bali crept along the wall of the stone garden. Steps ever so careful not stray from the path and shift a single grain of sand. He paused, glancing out at the rows and patterns drawn in the sand surrounding and circling a few various sized stones meticulously placed about the floor.
There was a large bloodstone placed just a little off center, balanced in a sea of sand, cultivated ripples encircled the stone. It was such a beautiful shade of red that it almost detracted from the other, plainer stones in the garden. At least, until he took a moment to carefully study them. Their harsh, jagged and broken sides gave them character that the smoother bloodstone did not possess.
Turning to the platform at the edge of the garden, with a simple stone bench, the apprentice just stared at his master for a time. The fifteen-year-old smiled, but the other Jedi did not see him for his eyes were closed.
Bali moved slowly over the remaining path and approached the bench. His first thought was to speak but chose not to disturb the peace of the stone garden.
Sinking to the bench next to his cloaked master, the boy stared out at the stones for a time.
Sometimes all Bali wanted was to be ten again. He had decided that was the best age. Back then, he had been Obi-Wan's apprentice for nearly two years and it was still when the Galactic Republic seemed strong on the surface even if it was crumbling inside. They were not caught up in some invisible war. There were no Sith to fight, no Jedi dying for useless reasons.
When he was ten, everything was good. Both he and his master had found a pattern and they worked comfortably together. Nothing seemed impossible and he was happy then.
Even if, at fifteen he was no longer a child, sometimes that was all he wanted. Nearly everyday since he turned thirteen, he just wanted things to be happy again. He wanted the comfort in knowing his master would be there to be understanding no matter what kind of trouble he got into. Wanted comfort in knowing that everything would be all right but most importantly he wished only for the comfort in knowing that his master would be there to protect him from the monsters that lurked in the shadows.
It did not seem like he was asking for too much.
Except that every time he looked into his master's pale gaze, he knew things were different. Obi-Wan had nearly lost his own life rescuing an errant padawan from the abyss. There was nothing he could ever do to repay that.
A light tug on his padawan braid drew his surprised attention. Obi-Wan offered a weary smile, tugging on the ginger tip again. The apprentice grinned and slumped against his master's heavily cloaked shoulder. For a moment, the sense of well being that had been lost so long ago returned.
The Book of Strained Relations
Bali shifted his gaze across the busy common room of Senator Amidala's apartment. For a time, he just stared at his master in conference with Padmé and the Jedi High Council member, Eeth Koth.
Obi-Wan shifted a little stiffly tugging at the fresh cloak and tunic that had been delivered shortly after the councillor's arrival. To those who did not know the Jedi, they would not have seen the echo of a wince or the extra care that Obi-Wan took in his movements.
The apprentice frowned. His master was hurt but he knew that Obi-Wan would not allow it to interfere with his duty to serve. They would not be sent back to the temple for rest and recovery.
But the Sith beast was dead.
He had seen the long slash across his master's shoulder blades. He had stretched the bacta soaked bandage across the wound while Obi-Wan stood in painful silence. He had wrapped the gash in his master's upper arm where the madwoman had cut him.
He was hurt and they should go back to the temple.
The padawan stood silently waiting, hoping Master Koth would assign a new team of Jedi if the senator so wanted her protection to continue.
Glancing about the room, there were fewer beings about. Kimperton Security had retreated, terribly embarrassed by the attack in their walls. They promised to beef up security in and around the Izen.
He had notified the temple and informed the council that his master had killed the assassin. Master Koth and a few knights had arrived after a short time.
After informing everyone of the situation, Bali had returned to the ballroom. Security officers were all ready there, yet they remained at the edges of the room protecting the exits only. His master stood a few feet from the Sith's body, that he had wrapped in his cloak. At his hip, hung the lightsaber he had used for many years, in his hand he held the one that had been stolen from him by the Sith witch.
What Bali remembered the most was how his master had looked at him. It was as if he had never seen the apprentice before. At that moment, he had decided it was best if he stayed at the edge of the room like the security.
He folded his arms across his chest in the same worn fashion as his master, but froze. That witch had said he was just like him. Him, who? His master? Of course, he was Obi-Wan Kenobi's padawan, he would pick up some of his master's peculiarities, all padawan's did.
In the hours since the fight had ended, his master had only spoken when required of him and not a word to the padawan even when asked.
Worse, Obi-Wan's shields were up completely blocking him out. Not even a probing tendril to see if the Jedi was all right was accepted.
So he kept his distance.
Watching as a cover story was hatched at the directive of Senator Amidala. The official report and her later public appearance via holo was that the assassin was from on of the former League of Secessionist worlds and wanted revenge against the loyalist politician.
When finally Eeth Koth made his way to he guarded doors, Obi-Wan walked alongside the councillor. Bali quietly joined them, feeling it was his place to be there. He could see in his master's weary gaze that he was intruding but refused to leave.
Frowning, Obi-Wan turned to Master Koth, and spoke softly. "What will be done with her?"
"There will be an investigation," the Zabrak said. "There is no doubt you did what you had too, Master Kenobi. We will see what we can learn from her body. If indeed all you say is true, then it is very curious that her former wounds have been organically repaired. We hope to gain some insight into her master's existence." He folded his arms into the sleeves of his cloak. "Is there anything else, any hint she offered that could help us?"
Taking on a thoughtful look, Obi-Wan tiredly shook his head. "She seemed to believe whatever his plans are they will come to fruition soon. She said that safety was outside the Republic."
Eeth Koth nodded slightly but spoke no words. Stopping at the door he turned to Bali then back to Obi-Wan before bowing and then retreating into the fold of security in the corridor.
For a time the master and apprentice just stood there as occupants of the room continued to buzz about.
"Master Kenobi, Padawan tiro," Padmé's voice broke over the din drawing the attention of the two Jedi. Her lightly painted lips drew into a small smile. She was still dress for the holos when she released her statement to the Holonet Broadcasting Company. Pale fingers lightly brushed over elegant patterns, hand sewn into the material. "I want to thank you for agreeing to stay on until I address the senate tomorrow."
"We are at your service, Milady," Obi-Wan said as he carefully bowed.
Bali could tell the movement hurt. He could see the strain and exhaustion in his master's eyes and knew that Obi-Wan needed to rest.
When Padmé had been pulled away to deal with more details of the day's events, Bali reached for Obi-Wan's arm, careful not to upset any wounds. The older Jedi pulled away but led the youth into the corridor, passed security officers and into an atrium well beyond the lift bank.
"You should rest, Master."
Lightning quick reflexes allowed Obi-Wan to catch the youth by surprise, gripping him by his chin. Shocked green eyes stared out at the master's stern gaze. "You are to protect the Senator. Do not abandon her when a potential assassin is lurking nearby."
He tried to twist away. "Master—"
"If she had wanted too, she could have gone straight for Amidala's apartment."
"But she—"
"Do not argue with me!"
Struggling harder, he managed to pull away from his master's surprisingly strong grip. "Yes, Master," he huffed.
"Do not just agree to placate me. You needlessly risked the senator's life," the ginger haired Jedi growled as he tugged at his cloak. "You should have obeyed when I told you to return to her."
"But, Master, the witch was winning—"
"If she had gotten through me, then you would have been the senator's best defense against her."
"Master—"
A sharp look silenced him. Bali just stared at the older Jedi for a time. Even though Obi-Wan's shields were up he could still sense the anger coloring the Jedi's usually calm aura.
"Forgive me," the apprentice whispered.
"You said you would obey."
A hundred different thoughts and emotions raced through the younger Jedi but all of them had the same conclusion. He would do it again if necessary.
Obi-Wan grabbed the apprentice by the shoulders and shook him violently, jarring away whatever thoughts had possessed Bali. "How can I protect you if you will not obey me?"
"I am not child anymore."
His words cut as easily as a lightsaber blade.
"You are right," Obi-Wan calmly replied, then released his hold of the troublesome padawan. "You are right." He withdrew a step, paused and studied Bali for a time. With a gravity-laden tone, he said, "You are not a child but you still are my padawan. As such you will obey me. It is not your place to decide which of my orders you will follow. You will obey them all, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Disobey me again and I will have you remanded to the temple until you learn to follow orders."
"Master—"
Another sharp look silenced him.
Bali's heart sank. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Yes, Master."
The exhaustion was heavy in his voice as Obi-Wan added, "You should never have left the senator's side. There were things you should never have seen."
"I have seen you kill before, Master. You do it only when you must. I know that. It was the only way to stop her." He folded his arms across his chest, pausing to study the older Jedi. "It might not be right to feel this way but I am glad she is dead. I do not think I could handle her calling me padawan again. It was gross and distorted coming from that witch."
"You would not have had to face that if you had obeyed."
Fighting back a shiver at the thought of the Sith witch reaching out for him, Bali twisted about trying not to seem too obvious with the discomfort the thought brought.
"She cannot hurt you anymore, Padawan." Obi-Wan studied him for a moment. "See to the senator's security. Nothing has changed, we are still here for her protection." He pulled his cloak close. "I want to be alone for a while."
Bali was left to quietly watch as his master walked away.
The Book of a Single Touch
Stealing away into the night like a ghost, Qui-Gon Jinn walked softly through the corridor toward the maintenance hanger. His ship had been delayed by several hours due to repairs and he was growing impatient to leave.
"Work faster, standing there, will make them not," Yoda's gravelly voice broke the silence of the long corridor.
The tall master twisted about to see Yoda sitting quietly in his hover chair tucked away in an alcove. "I thought enough had been said in the council chamber," he straightened and folded his arms across his chest in a domineering fashion. "Or are you here to accuse me of running away again?"
Yoda's nose scrunched in irritation. "Insolent you are."
"I prefer set in my ways."
"To change, never too old are."
"For one so long lived as you are, that is a matter of opinion."
The ancient Jedi narrowed his yellow gaze and studied the other. "Anxious you are to leave."
"A mediator is needed on Keltis V. The sooner I get there, the sooner work may begin on renewing peaceful relations with the Somilu." Qui-Gon shifted his pack slightly, adjusting its weight on his shoulder. He had to prepare his ship and get in some reading while he waited for the mechanics to finish their work. He did not have time to rehash arguments with Yoda. "If you will excuse me, Master, I must be on my way."
He had only made a few long strides toward the bay when Yoda called out. "Speak to your padawan, did you?"
Stopping again in the corridor, Qui-Gon just stood there listening to the clanks and clatters, and the roar of engines just beyond the door that was almost within reach. Broad shoulders slumped and his pack slipped free and tumbled to the floor with a dull thud. "I have made my peace the only way I knew how. Now let me go."
The silence stretched out into near infinity for the white haired master and deciding he had sufficiently answered Yoda's question, he reached down and grasped his pack. Dragging it up off the floor, he managed to steal a glance back at the little green Jedi hovering a meter above the floor in his floating chair.
Another two long strides toward the door.
"And?" Yoda questioned.
"I have a ship to tend to." With that, Qui-Gon decided there was nothing Yoda could say or do to hold him up any longer. Even when the little master beckoned, he kept walking until he had passed through the protective door and into the massive chamber filled with ships of various sizes and shapes.
His long stride carried him quickly across the floor, footsteps thundering in the cavernous room, taking him to the small, one manned ship that waited.
"Another twenty minutes, Master Jinn," a faceless figure said from beneath the ship's belly as long blue fingers reached out and grasped a hydrospanner from the nearby toolbox.
"Take your time," Qui-Gon said in mock coolness. "I am in no hurry."
Dropping the pack again, the master drew away from the small runner and found a secluded corner. There was a large piece of formed plating off of a ship and he found that it made a good seat.
Glancing about, he wished Yoda had been so stubborn and bold that he had followed him. Alone he was left to wonder why had he not wanted to speak about the visit with his former padawan.
It had, after all been fruitful. He thought, although he could not entirely be certain, but he had offered the younger man what a wanted—needed—to know, right? It had not been that hard so why had he withheld it for so long?
He had the rest of his life to figure that out.
Qui-Gon's thoughts lingered on that last sentence for a time. Then slowly he withdrew into himself, hands balling up into fists. Tears blurred his vision as he tried desperately to retain hold of his swirling emotions. He shook as tears left shining trails down his weathered cheeks.
The memory of placing his hand upon his former padawan's shoulder returned. There had been so much material between flesh that he almost doubted it would work. He just needed the physical connection for a temporary bond. Words would not have sufficed in that moment when all he could do was share what lingered in his heart, even if he had to be reminded that it was there.
It had been quick and he had given so freely that at the time, he did not realize he had taken too.
The knowledge of the taking had come in the form of sand. Obi-Wan had become adrift after Naboo and he had been blind to his padawan's plight. In that moment, he had touched his former apprentice's pain, emptiness and struggle to make sense of an altered place in the universe.
At a single touch, he had felt the creeping chill that was Obi-Wan's constant companion and wondered how one could live with it.
It was not all cold, for there was warmth too. Found in the shining green eyes of a padawan learner named Bali Tiro. The old master smiled. The boy had brightened a dying flame, sustaining it and giving it a purpose, to light the future.
The weeping Jedi was grateful to the child.
The boy would make a worthy Jedi someday and it would be due in no small part to the love and caring that had been put into his training. He had seen his own lessons reflected in the boy, lessons that Obi-Wan had taken to heart in his own apprenticeship.
It gave the white haired man hope even in grief. He wept because his heart hurt and he felt helpless to ease the pain. It should be fair, his grieving thoughts acknowledge, after all, Obi-Wan had hurt for so long without hope for salvation from the pain.
A single touch had told him more than he had learned in years. A single touch had shown him the price Obi-Wan paid for acting out of love. A single touch had shown him the pain a master's—parent's—rejection had brought. A single touch had told him that happiness was a padawan.
A single touch had shown him everything and Qui-Gon could only grieve for he had squandered it all.
A single touch had told him that even the brightest flames are extinguished before their time.
The Book of the Aching Heart
Pale fingers gripped the wall for support as Obi-Wan struggled over the last few meters before reaching a small viewing room. Spying the few pieces of furniture that overlooked a window staring out into the ambering sky, Obi-Wan called the Force too him, bidding for a little more strength.
Taking in a desperate breath, he held on a moment longer for fear that his strength would give and he could not make it the last few steps. Master Koth refused their return to the temple because there was no one to replace them as the senator's security. He needed the rest. Bali could not just be left alone to protect the senator. Koth had explained they were strained and if there had been other Jedi available things would be different. He had accepted that, just as he accepted Yoda's pronouncement that they should remain in the field until summoned.
Grasping the top of the first chair he came to, Obi-Wan released the last well of remaining strength and made it to the long bench covered in fine burgundy leather. Muscles gave out as the Jedi collapsed against the cushioned seat, groaning from a mixture of relief and pain. His body trembled from exhaustion and ached until strained muscles finally were relaxed.
The soft cushion did little for his slashed back and the wound burned mercilessly. Focusing on his breathing, the weary knight closed his eyes and allowed his inhales and exhales to slow and become regular. For a time, he just laid there, sprawled across the long bench staring up at the ceiling as the last of the day's light danced across him.
Relaxing his shielding slightly, he reached out and brushed against his padawan's mind.
Bali seemed to be fine.
Good.
Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan drew up his shields once more and allowed his mind to drift, seeking a healing meditation to mend his damaged body.
The calm he needed would not come for his heart was conflicted. Brushing fingers through his tousled ginger locks, he sighed heavily as the image of Bali twisting away from Halla's touch returned to him.
His heart had leapt and panicked at the sight of the madwoman reaching for his padawan. She had stolen Bali once and there was no way as long a blood flowed through his veins that he would allow her to harm the boy again. After all, it had taken Bali years to get over the nightmares of a faceless, black clad creature that had called him padawan.
Halla had been so tangled up in her madness, so focused on Bali; he had been free to move. For a moment, he had feared his strength had fled, but at the sight of Bali struggling not to have Halla's fingers brush against his cheek, it returned.
Obi-Wan had every right to take her down for her crimes. She had sinned against the Republic, against all life itself by her murderous ways. He could not let her go to threaten more lives.
Halla Keizian had died on Xim.
Groaning softly as he shifted, rolling onto his side and carefully tugging at the edges of his cloak drawing it around him to better fight against the phantom chill that had settled in his bones.
Mostly, he finally admitted, he had killed her because she and her glowing lightsaber blade were a threat to Bali.
She had been perched over his padawan. Every movement had to be sure to spare Bali any injury. He had felt nothing, save a sense of duty when he drove the blade through her back.
Halla Keizian ceased to exist the moment she took the name Darth Vengier.
The memory of wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close danced in his mind. He had been desperate to get her away from Bali so she could do no harm in her dying struggle.
He had held on, because that was all he could do for her as she fought death.
Mine. Mine.
The battle in his heart grew more intense.
Halla Keizian had been a Sith, a murderer and a…mother.
Mine. Mine.
Obi-Wan tugged on his cloak seeking warmth that did not exist.
She was mad, he told himself as the ache in his heart grew. He had held tight during her death throes.
For Halla Keizian, all Obi-Wan had felt was a desperate want. She wanted her child. The madwoman had reached for Bali with all the certainty of a parent.
He told himself that her dark master that had created her, twisted her in such a way that little sanity remained. She had kidnapped Bali once and remembered him. She was insane and had no true concept of what she was doing.
Mine. Mine.
But his heart knew she reached for that same feeling of completeness he felt. She reached for the piece of herself once thought lost. At that moment, he understood. She was reaching for her child. Their child.
The damage had been done and nothing he could do would bring her back.
In the end, she was just Halla Keizian.
When her tormented spirit had found release, the pain in his heart became unbearable. No memory of laughter or a teasing smile could mend it. For he knew what he had done.
In the peaceful expression of eternal sleep, he had seen the girl she had once been. Her hand outstretched as if still reaching for Bali.
Still reaching for her baby.
And Bali had seen it all.
The Book of Temple Ghosts Part VI
Obi-Wan shifted the light utility pack and adjusted its weight on his shoulder as he quickened his pace through the quiet corridor. This was his third mission for the Council, after this one, he would ask for extended fieldwork. After all, there was no reason he should always return to the temple between missions. He was no longer a padawan needing class and trials.
Staring at the flat gray wall, Obi-Wan remained focused on the slight curve that would lead him the hanger entrance where an assembled team of knights had gathered, waiting to embark on the rescue mission to Doyga.
Tugging at the edges of his cloak, he paused, noting with concern the ease at which the habit was becoming. Drawing his cloak closed would not warm him anymore than ignoring it.
So taken up in his thoughts on the healing chill, he crashed into the tall figure of Qui-Gon Jinn causing him to stumble back a step.
A gentle hand clasped his arm. Taken by surprise at his former master's presence, he swore never to allow such run-ins to happen again.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a gentle smile. "I was hoping to run into you." He paused, then added, "Not literally, of course."
The young knight pulled away.
"Please," the tall master said as he moved to block the corridor.
"I thought we had said all there was to say?" The words came out more bitter than planned.
Qui-Gon frowned. "I understand that you are angry, hurt."
"I have a mission to attend too," Obi-Wan said as he lightly bowed, then brushed passed the other Jedi, returning to his journey toward the hanger. Anger flared briefly, before being stifled. If only he had been more organized, then he could have left earlier and not risked this confrontation.
It was the last thing he needed.
"You do not have to do this. You can still back out."
Back out? This was not something decided on the fly. He had willingly taken this mission, just like the one before it and the one before that, including the side trek asked by the council.
"Since when does the council let you pick and choose which missions to take?" Obi-Wan asked, pausing in the corridor, his back still to Qui-Gon.
"When they offer near suicide missions."
Obi-Wan heard the slight shift in the fabric of Qui-Gon's soil brown cloak and knew the master had folded his arms across his chest. "Someone has to do it."
"It does not have to be you."
He could not bring himself to face his former master. "What would you have me do?"
"Mediate, after all, that is what you were trained to do."
The newly born habit asserted itself, and he tugged at the edges of his reddish-brown cloak. If only the answer was so simple.
Simple had left him a long time ago. Now all that remained were dreams of sand and barren deserts and the cold that never went away. All that remained was the haunting certainty that everything was wrong and he had no clue how to repair it.
"I was trained to help and to protect those who could not defend themselves. This mission does that."
"Obi-Wan—"
"You have not cared much about my decisions of late, so why should you care now?" he asked sharply, turning a pale blue gaze on the Jedi master. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, the young Jedi retreated, returning to his journey, his mission.
There, everything that could possibly be said had been said. There was nothing left, save good-bye and even that failed him.