Reposted 11-19-05: Thanks for critiquing me, Blaze the Unmaker. I just tweaked things a tad bit, so there's not much change, but hopefully enough.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

Writer's Block: Today I'm going to be doing some shameless plugging for my friends. They mean a lot to me, and I want to show them that I care. Of course, most of them don't read this anyways, but oh well… XD It's the principle behind the gesture. Please read their works, it's good! At fictionpress Ash-chan, Blaze the Unmaker, Tatianna Blusummers, HeartofStone, and tearsarefalling all have profiles. Mostly it's poetry (if you like poetry, then you'll like their stuff), but Blaze the Unmaker is also writing a story. On www .schnoogle .com Sherri Lyn CarMikel writes some good Harry Potter stories. It took me a while to figure out how to get to her stories (evil search engines -shakes fist angrily at them-), so I will write out the address to save you the pain. http: (double slash) www .schnoogle .com /authorLinks /SherriLynCarMikel/

A couple people had questions about the last chapter, so I'll try to answer them to my best extent. Kye's name is pronounced as 'key.' I just had some fun with rewording it. The younglings have a purpose in the story…as for what that is, you'll just have to find out on your own. ;) I'm sorry if I seemed like I dumped a whole lot of new characters on you all at once, but since they're a group I introduced them as a group. I'm glad that you liked them…they may be original characters, but I tried to make them realistic and fleshed-out so no one would go: 'Ugh, OCs? No way I'm reading that!' Besides, I had fun finding odd species and giving them accents. I am easily amused.

Thank you for all the reviews. I'm very happy that people are giving me constructive criticism and suggestions to help improve my writing. I hope you continue to enjoy my fic. Feedback is loved, as is the person who gives it to me.

Page Amount: 6

Word Count: 4,278

Started 7-29-05 and finished 7-30-05

Listening to: System of the Down "Question!"

Written by Ice Dragon3

Jedi Genocide

Chapter Nine: Mind Trick

Obi-Wan was trying to teach the younglings the fine art of Persuasion. So far Ki'lya was the only one to fully master the ability (a surprise to him, since normally she was the least-commanding person he knew), but Skraith wasn't far behind. By 'mastering,' Obi-Wan meant that he could feel the tug of their suggestion on his mind; he was too strong-willed for their Persuasion to actually work. Rei and Sei were also becoming proficient in the skill—once again their talent in mental manipulation of the Force made Obi-Wan wonder if they had telepathy abilities. They were much younger than either Ki'lya or Skraith, yet they were catching up at a rapid pace.

Often Obi-Wan found himself wondering if the twins could speak through their minds. Anytime he saw them together the question floated to the fore of his thinking. Of course, he understood that he could easily ask them outright about it, and receive an affirmative or negative answer once and for all…but there was no fun in that. It was one of those mysteries best left undiscovered. It was more fun not knowing than having an actual answer, and he was constantly amused with trying to solve the question on his own. It was a game of wits that he thoroughly enjoyed and did not wish to end prematurely.

"Say it again, Jarg, with less yelling and more urging; you have to make me think that it's my idea."

"Messa trying, Massa Obi-Wan! Messa jus' don't get thissa." Jarg's eyes boggled back and forth on their extended stalks, their jerky movements displaying his frustration and confusion.

Although Obi-Wan felt the distinct need to sigh, he refrained from doing so. He didn't want to hurt Jarg's feelings; it wasn't his fault that Obi-Wan was aggravated. Well, yes, it was, but Obi-Wan needed to deal with his impatience on his own. "You need to extend the Force and wrap it around my mind, blocking all my own thinking so yours can enter unhindered. All this has to be done gently, so that the target is unaware of the change. Because as soon as they are aware of what you're trying to do, they can instantly fight you. Even if they aren't Force sensitive, because this is their mind, they can easily win such a mental tussle. Discretion, not brute force, is the only way to overpower the other's mind."

Since they had no one else to test the Force Persuasion on, Obi-Wan volunteered himself. While they wouldn't be able to overpower his mind, he could at least judge their capabilities and progress since he was the target. A very small part of him, the part that he was ashamed of, thought that Lilitaa would have made the perfect test target. She was still very young, so her mind could be thought of as 'weak-minded'—though to be fair Obi-Wan admitted that hers was only undeveloped. He quickly squelched that particular thought, and afterwards felt ashamed and guilty for even thinking of it in the first place.

He noted that Jarg was concentrating and emptied his mind, letting all his thoughts and emotions melt away like ice on a sunny day. He was trying to make it as easy as possible for the youngling to access the command center of his brain.

"Yousa will hop on yousa foot."

Nothing.

"Yousa will hop on yousa foot!"

Jarg started hopping on his own foot, in an attempt to elicit the same response from Obi-Wan. It was then that Obi-Wan decided that it was someone else's turn to try. "Very well, Jarg, I think someone else should have a go. But before so…a suggestion. I believe your odd accent may be part of the problem. The listener concentrates so hard on understanding the words that they don't compute the meaning," Obi-Wan explained, "Perhaps if you tried giving your commands in your native Gungan dialect, the target would follow them."

Jarg frowned. "Messa don't understand…wouldn't theysa jus' nossa comprehenda?"

"They wouldn't know the words, yes, but you'd know the meaning behind those words. Since this is your suggestion, their brain should, in theory, connect instantly the idea with the words. That way, you don't have to concentrate so much on pronunciation and finding the correct Basic words. You can focus more on the suggestion behind the speaking."

"Yessa. Basic issa hard to speakah. Messa bill don't lika much." Jarg used that bill, so clumsy in Basic, to smile apologetically.

Obi-Wan felt sorry for Jarg's difficulty in speaking Galactic Basic. The Gungan dialect called for a natural upward tilt at the ending of many words, hence why so much of Jarg's Basic had an extra 'ah' at the end. Their bill was better suited for the pronunciation of Gungan, and when used to form Basic words it became hindering instead of helpful. On the flip side, Obi-Wan doubted that any non-billed species could properly speak Gungan.

But on Coruscant Gungan was not spoken, and that helped Jarg none. Only two languages were universal: money and Basic. Naturally, as Coruscant was a universal place, these two languages flourished here while most others died.

Jarg sat down on his meditation mat and closed his eyes, a serious look on his face. Obi-Wan felt Jarg draw a thread of Force power into him, and he knew that his Gungan youngling was practicing. Jarg might not be the best—and he surely wasn't—but he worked hard and tried. And because of that, Obi-Wan was proud of him. Jarg was a good person.

Tarren jumped up to go next. "Blink your eyes!" he said commandingly before Obi-Wan even had time to empty his mind. Tarren grinned triumphantly at him and said, "See? He blinked his eyes!"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Nice try, Tarren. However, Persuasion does not work that way—hence the name persuasion. The mind will instantly oppose a direct command given, no matter how skillful or powerful you are. You must suggest."

"Oh. Uh…someone else go while I practice." Tarren instantly started bugging Ki'lya to give away the secrets of suggestion. Far from being irritated with Tarren's insistent nature, Ki'lya answered each and every question patiently to the best of her ability.

Darrien got up from his seat. "I'd like to go next, Master Obi-Wan," he said respectfully. "I've watched the others, and I think I know what to do."

Obi-Wan nodded. Darrien hadn't even tried once since they started this exercise. Instead, he had carefully analyzed everyone else attempts. Obi-Wan was curious to see if this observation had indeed helped Darrien. Clearing his mind, Obi-Wan waited for Darrien to gather the Force around him.

Darrien said in a low, suggestive and mild voice, "You will raise your right arm."

Obi-Wan's right arm twitched slightly.

Darrien smiled, bowed low to Obi-Wan, and returned to his seat. Skraith was looking at the other youngling, but because of his reptilian features Obi-Wan was unable to tell if the expression was one of admiration, disbelief, or something else entirely.

Obi-Wan himself felt a bit of disbelief. Darrien had drawn the Force to him with such rapidity that Obi-Wan had been caught unprepared, and then the precision with which he directed that energy… Obi-Wan, in his surprise, had actually begun to raise his arm involuntarily before he regained control of his senses. While it was nowhere near a perfect use of Persuasion, and he had not only been caught off-guard but with his defenses willingly lowered, that Darrien had managed to make him, a Jedi Master, move his hand was amazing. It exceeded any of his expectations.

"That was very good, Darrien. Had I not been a Jedi, your Persuasion would have worked completely. That entails, class, the target becoming dazed, repeating what you say, and doing every suggestion you insert into their mind. And afterwards, they think it was their own idea. In some cases they may even forget performing the action. However, you must be aware that a few people may actually realize that they were tricked after a period of time—small or otherwise—and if this happens you should be prepared for retaliation. My suggestion is to try to be as far away from them as possible at that point." Obi-Wan smiled, trying to make the situation lighthearted with a joke. A couple of the younglings chuckled and nodded their heads in agreement. Turning from the miniature lecture he had given the younglings, Obi-Wan spoke once again to Darrien, "I must say that I am impressed, Darrien. Persuasion takes a lot of skill and control."

Darrien's dark brown eyes shined with pride, but the look quickly became modest as he bowed his head. He accepted the compliment in silence. But Obi-Wan could swear he detected the faintest of smiles tugging at the edge of his pupil's lips—but then again, perhaps it was just the lighting, and how it threw the corners of Darrien's mouth into shadows.

Obi-Wan would have continued the lesson, but he was disrupted by a voice. "It's getting late, isn't it?"

Turning quickly, Obi-Wan spotted Anakin leaning against the doorway frame, a casual grin on his face. He hadn't even felt his Force signature. The thought rose again to his mind: 'Just whom are you hiding your presence from?'

"Is it really?" Obi-Wan glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. 9:54. "I guess it is. I'm sorry, I just wasn't keeping track of time, and it really didn't feel like it was that late…" Obi-Wan smiled helplessly. "We probably took up more time with meditation that I thought." Obi-Wan had deliberately avoided looking at the clock; he wanted to stay for as long as possible. This was home, and he did not wish to leave it.

"That's why I'm here to escort you back home. I knew something like this would happen." Anakin smiled teasingly at Obi-Wan. He straightened his lanky form and walked over to where Obi-Wan stood.

This was the first time that the younglings had come into close contact with Anakin; before, the most they had gotten was a glimpse of him walking the hallways with Obi-Wan, maybe catching a phrase or two. Now, their oppressor (one of two) was towering over their sitting forms and talking familiarly with their Master. The younger younglings (the Coruscanti crowd) looked uncomfortable, shifting in their seat as they shifted their gazes every which-way. Skraith and Ki'lya maintained calm, neutral expressions. Carra and Tarren both had barely concealed looks of resentment—mingled with curiosity—painted on their faces. Jarg and Darrien appeared unaffected, although Darrien seemed to be studying Anakin intensely, his brown eyes unreadable.

"Careful, you might give my Padawans the idea that you are omniscient," Obi-Wan joked.

"No, I only know the way you are," Anakin countered.

"Quite a feat within itself."

Anakin shook his head. "Not for me; by now I've known you too long to be surprised by anything you do."

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan drawled, "Oh, really?"

"We should be getting back now, Obi. It's really late, and I told Leia and Luke that they could stay up until you got a chance to say goodnight to them…they really should be getting to bed soon. I just didn't think that it'd take you this long to come home."

"I better hurry then, shouldn't I? I don't want to have to deal with sleep-deprived children tomorrow." They were a handful as it was, and that was when they got enough hours of sleep. If they suddenly became cranky…

"If it comes down to that, we'll just dump them on Threepio." Anakin gave a grin that was both mischievous and playful.

"I see how he got the way he is," Obi-Wan said mournfully, pitying C-3PO. Anakin shook his head, laughing silently with his eyes. Obi-Wan turned to the younglings and said to them, "I must be going now, but don't worry; you can't get rid of me that easily. I will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that day, and so on. I want you to all get in an hour of meditation sometime tomorrow morning. When I arrive we'll start lessons where I left off." They nodded affirmatively to him. "May the Force be with you," he said as he departed, Anakin following like a shadow.

The room fell silent as the door closed, leaving the eleven younglings to themselves and their separate thoughts.

Tarren was the first to move; he got up and announced to the silent room and its occupants, "I'm bushed. I don't know about you guys, but my nice, warm bed sounds like heaven on Coruscant." He casually waved his hand over his shoulder and said, "see ya" as the door closed behind him.

This breaking of the silence caused the others to become restless. Ki'lya, like last night, took it upon herself to escort the younger children to their rooms and tuck them in. Normally this was Obi-Wan's job, but as he was no longer here Ki'lya felt that it was her responsibility. She had the warmth of a mother around her, and the little children felt drawn to her. "Come on, Quinn, Rei and Sei, Huo, Lilitaa. I'll walk you guys to your rooms." Lilitaa tugged on her pants leg, and Ki'lya picked her up and set her on her hip.

As she began to walk out of the room, Carra jumped up and exclaimed, "I'll come with! The more the merrier, after all!" She noticed that Huo was lagging behind a little, so she scoped him up and set him on her back. "There, a piggyback ride is much better, isn't it?"

"Why?" he questioned.

Carra laughed. "Hey, I'm supposed to be the inquisitive one here, kid. That line's practically copyrighted to me."

Jarg, Skraith, and Darrien were left in the room. Darrien had his eyes closed, and his breathing was shallow and even. He appeared to be meditating. Skraith was staring, with avid attention, at a spot on the floor. His four eyes were unblinking. Jarg looked down, but saw nothing interesting. "Yousa okasie?" he asked Skraith, concerned.

"Yesss. Thanksss for the concccern." Skraith continued to stare at the blank spot.

"If yousa say so…" Jarg said, unconvinced. "Well, messa off to bed! May da Force be with yousa!" The Gungan bumbled out of the room and into the hallway. When out of hearing range of the room, he muttered something akin to 'theysa odd ones, theysa are.'

A long stretch of silence wrapped around the room, taunt as durasteel wire. Darrien in his inactive state of meditation; Skraith with his unmoving, unfocused staring. Eventually, Darrien's forehead wrinkled as his lips curved slightly downward in a frown. "Why are you still here?" he questioned bluntly.

"I have nowhere better to be." His tail flicked off to the side, but other than that he remained immobile.

"You are making it difficult for me to focus. Your presence is distracting," Darrien said dryly.

"That I cannot help." His forked, black tongue flicked out for a second before retreating behind pointed teeth. When Darrien got up abruptly, Skraith followed suit and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Away. To be alone. To meditate." Darrien spoke in his short, curt manner. He did not concern himself with the elegant, but ultimately useless, flowery dialect of language. In his mind, anything that couldn't be summed up in a ten-word sentence or less was something not worth saying.

Skraith nodded his head. "Then I ssshall asssissst you."

Darrien turned to look at Skraith, and for the first time since his initiating of the conversation, Darrien's eyes held mirth in them. "Perhaps you misunderstood my choice of words."

"No."

Darrien shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." He walked slowly to his room, lost in thought, hands hidden in his pockets. Skraith followed after him, always just a half-step behind. The dim corridor lights glinted off his deep-red scales. When Darrien got to his room, he nodded his head in Skraith's direction. "Night." Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door behind him. The click of a lock was heard.

Four green eyes contemplated the ground as Skraith walked, alone, to his own room. His tail swished faintly as if it had a mind of its own, and every time he went over tiled floor his taloned feet sounded out: tick tick tick.

"I just want to talk," Anakin said soothingly, reassuringly to the darkened room.

Once again, Anakin was in Obi-Wan's room, uninvited and unwanted. They had arrived home to be ambushed by Leia and Luke. The twins had crowded around them, wanting attention. They accused Obi-Wan and Anakin of abandoning them because they had been stuck alone with C-3PO all day—'poor C-3PO' was the first thing that came to mind for Obi-Wan. When he tucked them in, they said in smiling, sleepy voices, "goodnight, I love you." For some reason, it tugged at his heart. He kissed them both on the cheek, tucked the edges of their quilts underneath them, and left the room quickly. Jedi were not supposed to form strong attachments, but his affection for the twins was quickly spiraling out of his control. But it would be okay, it would be under control; as long as he willingly let go of those connections when the time came, everything would be fine.

"Well, no one is stopping you," Obi-Wan said wryly. As if he had a choice.

Anakin shifted closer on the bed. Obi-Wan was underneath the covers, for a second night in a row trying to ignore Anakin and go to sleep. "Talking is all I want to do," the tall form assured him. "I respect your wishes. Last night won't happen again—without your permission."

Despite Obi-Wan's resolve to ignore Anakin, he couldn't help but pay more attention after that. So Anakin did remember last night. Anakin's feigned ignorance had almost led Obi-Wan to believe that he had completely forgotten. Which could have been good or bad, depending on which way it was viewed. It could be viewed as bad because he did not want to relive the event and have to reject Anakin again, or it could be thought of as good because it meant that Anakin had completely forgotten the embarrassing situation he'd gotten them into. "I am happy to hear that."

"And I'm happy that you're happy," Anakin responded, and sincere truth was evident in his words—though it floated on the sickly oils of a used car sales-droid's slick responses. "What do you want to converse about?"

This got Obi-Wan attention even more; so Anakin was letting him decide the topic. A large part of his brain was screaming for him to dig around for facts, to find something that Yoda would find useful. But Obi-Wan knew to ignore this impulse. He had to take this slow, or Anakin would become suspicious. If he was going to visit every night, then there was no need to rush and make mistakes. This was like a game of chess, and even throwing away a pawn would be foolishness. He had to think out strategies beforehand, to outthink and box in his opponent until he could safely say 'check mate.' To Anakin he said, "How about something small? I see you've upgraded your arm again…another design of yours?"

Nodding, Anakin proudly held up his mechanical right hand. "Yes, I've improved it greatly from the older model. It was difficult…but this one has a much more complex build than the other one…more complex than even a human hand. I made the joints connecting everything a fraction of their old size, and added more of them. Plus, there's the actual programming itself…my brainwaves travel much faster to it, and the commands are carried out speedily. Now I don't lose that half-second that I kept wasting before."

"More joints than a normal hand? Now, why did you do that?" Obi-Wan asked. He turned in bed to face Anakin's sitting form. He could only see triple-jointed-ness as a hindrance.

"The hand is a flexible instrument. You may not realize this, but when stressed it can bend in ways that it's not originally meant to without breaking. Well, for a small amount of time, anyways." Anakin smiled, and there was something glinting and predatory in it that spoke of firsthand experience. "By adding these extra joints my hand can almost mimic any normal hand movement or gesture. Machines are clumsier than flesh, and for me to obtain the same grace that you have I must work twice as hard. Having a more complex build in my hand that makes minute movements easier does not make my hand more supple than yours, but only on par. I am severely handicapped, and I must—and will—seize any advantage that I can."

Obi-Wan moved his own hand, watching the way his fingers bended effortlessly. "I never thought of it that way."

"Most do not." Anakin smiled again, this time gentler, showing that he did not blame Obi-Wan for it.

"So…if I had the same build as your mechanical hand, but the material was still flesh and bone, then my hand could be considered the most omega hand of the galaxy?" Obi-Wan started to go through the sign language alphabet. He had never realized before the intricacy of the hand, or the way he could effortless, thoughtlessly, control it.

Anakin chuckled at Obi-Wan's odd way of putting his situation. "Yours would certainly be superior then." He mimicked Obi-Wan's movements. His letters were always a half step behind, and some were awkwardly, almost incorrectly, made. "As you can see, I haven't mastered this newer model yet," Anakin admitted. Frustration did not mar his face; patience was in its place. When he truly wanted something, he had the patience of a hunter waiting for his prey, secure in the knowledge that it would eventually come to him—perhaps effortlessly, perhaps after violent struggle.

"I'm not used to the many new joints, and I only recently made this hand… But when I master it, it'll be worth the effort. Anything that takes waiting is worth it." There was complete conviction in Anakin's voice.

"It seems that you got the short end of the deal. I've never been gladder to have my hands attached firmly to my body. In fact, I've never before been happy to have my hands stuck on my arms—not because I didn't want them, but because I didn't think about them at all," he added quickly to the end, lest the wrong idea was given.

"There are ups to it. Like all things, there are pros and cons. It's simply about measuring which weighs more and which options are actually attainable. I cannot change that my right arm and hand will always be fake. I can simply make the best out of a horrible situation."

"Like how?" Obi-Wan leaned in a bit, wondering just what pluses having a prosthetic hand could have; perhaps he could give Yoda some information. Knowing the strengths of the enemy was an advantage not to be overlooked.

Anakin saw how he had caught Obi-Wan's attention. He held up his arm for Obi-Wan to see. The Coruscanti traffic lights flashed through the opened blinds, glinting off the metal arm. Headlights flittered across the reflecting metal: white lights, yellow lights, neon green and fluorescent pink lights. "The metal I made this of can withstand extreme temperatures, both hot and cold. I can crush with my right hand what would normally be thought impossible. See the small plates that are on the top of my hand and arm?"—Obi-Wan looked at the slightly thicker top-plates of the arm that jutted up faintly—"Those can block blaster fire."

Anakin leaned in, as if a child telling a cherished secret, and Obi-Wan instinctively tilted forward also, the listening audience. "They're coated with a thin layer of Cortosis, and can even stop a lightsaber blade."

Obi-Wan shivered; yes, he did have something to tell Yoda.

Anakin mistook the look for wonder.

"That's enough time to catch an opponent off-guard and kill him."

"That's…amazing," Obi-Wan complimented weakly. Wanting to change the path of the discussion, Obi-Wan asked, "But why don't you change the appearance of your arm? I know that some people have prosthetic body parts and you can barely tell the difference, if at all, because of the expert skin-covering laid over the machine."

"Why hide what I have?" Anakin shrugged. "I am not ashamed of this arm. This"—he raised his right arm and flexed his fingers—"is a testimony of my progression. It's a battle scar that I wear proudly."

"That is where you and I differ," Obi-Wan said, his voice heavy with a tiredness that came not from sleep-deprivation. "I would rather have no scars at all."

Anakin paused, and gazed at Obi-Wan in that odd way of his, that sidelong look. It was a look that equally aggravated and confused Obi-Wan. It spoke of both curiosity and indifference. It was an observing look, as if to study and peel away the physical layers of matter to get straight to the source. Bitterly, Obi-Wan bet that he used that same look on both broken machinery and Imperial soldiers.

"You seem tired, Obi," Anakin said in a kind and understanding voice. "I'll let you get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." He paused for a moment at the door before saying softly, "Sweet dreams."

"And to you also," Obi-Wan returned. Then Anakin was gone, and Obi-Wan was alone. He realized something, and this made him chuckle mirthlessly.

Anakin had kept his promised. He had only come to talk.