Reposted 10-31-05 (Happy Halloween!): Thank you so much, alchemy dream! I fixed those little errors, so hopefully everything's good now. Where would I be without wonderful people like you to critique me? Well, my writing wouldn't be in some place good, that's for sure. :)
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: Of Smoke and Blood by Shaltayen. It's Star Wars, rated M, and has slash X/Q (Xantos/Qui-Gon). This fic is really short, but what I love about it is that it's got this poetic, twisted feel to it. And the way she did her paragraph formatting—I've never seen anything like it in my life. Each sentence runs on from the last paragraph and ends in the next, giving everything this chillingly warped sense. And since the entire fic is dark and twisted, it works wonderfully.
I had fun writing the Threepio scene in the last chapter. I love him—he's just so easy to write, and it adds in a little comic relief to keep everything from becoming too heavy. We also got to see Anakin's more manipulating side…I wanted to show how Anakin feels the need for complete control, and from your reviews I see I was able to do that. I'm glad that you guys can relate to my original characters. That means I'm doing a good job (hopefully!) with making them realistic.
Thank you for all the reviews, they made my day. I love reading them, and I like to reread them too. XD Yes, I am pathetic. But what I'm trying to say is, that your reviews mean a lot to me, so thank you very much. Anywho, if you spot any mistakes, please tell me and I'll correct them. I adore constructive criticism.
Page Amount: 11
Word Count: 8,385
Started 7-31-05, written 8-1, and finished 8-2-05
Listening to: frou frou "let go"
Written by Ice Dragon3
Jedi Genocide
Chapter Eleven: Far From Here
'Mornings suck,' Tarren complained to himself. 'The day should start at noon.'
Then he had to ask himself, 'Why the hell am I up this early, then?' Seven o'clock…he had no clue why he woke up at such an annoying hour. The sunlight that streamed through the cafeteria windows was still faint, a faded buttercup yellow. If the sun wasn't fully awake and brightened, what was he doing up?
He nursed a cup of coffee and scowled at it. He had nothing personal against it…except that its caffeine effect wasn't working as fast as he would have liked. Master Obi-Wan always warned him that drinking so much coffee would stunt his growth, but Tarren dismissed that as mother hen or old-guy talk. He only drank it occasionally; when he woke up before eleven or when he stayed up past midnight. Since he tried not to do either of those two things, he only had about three or four cups per week. Not bad, if he said so himself.
Sipping the black liquid, he winced. Hot. Disregarding the fact that he was scorching his tongue (who needed taste buds this early in the morning anyways?) he took another long gulp.
"Good morning, Tarren," a cheerful voice chirped as she plopped down in the seat next to him.
He almost choked on his large mouthful of coffee. He managed to spit it back into the cup before he accidentally swallowed it the wrong way. " 'Way," he mumbled. He had been going for a strong and forceful 'Go away,' but he supposed the meaning got across either way. He was too tired to care.
"I got you breakfast." A plate of buttered toast and scrambled eggs was shoved in front of him.
"Don't eat breakfast."
Carra laughed. "Careful, you're starting to sound like Darrien."
Tarren snorted. The smells of breakfast wafted towards him, and he wrinkled his nose in aversion. He took another sip of coffee and was thankful when the bitter aroma overpowered the mild smell of toast and eggs. What a disgustingly 'morning' smell.
His unwanted companion leaned in towards him, her golden eyes much too close for comfort. "Have you ever wondered if there's more to this place than we know?"—he ignored her, sipping his coffee and keeping his eyes averted—"There's so much that goes on here and we can't even explain it. The majority of people don't even notice what's taking place right in front of their noses most of the time…but I do. I watch, and what I observe frustrates and fascinates me. If you could solve those mysteries—even just a millionth of them—wouldn't you want to?"
He didn't reply. He didn't even look at her. She could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn't make a difference whether he responded or not. She liked to hear herself talk, was all.
"If you had the key to unlock everything, wouldn't you use it?"—he gulped down his coffee a little too quickly when she said that word—"Not for yourself, but for the sake of knowledge," she pressed on, "You can only be serving the Temple by solving the mystery. Think—if we can understand how these strange occurrences work, then we can help them. Because I know that everything that happens here aids the Temple in some way…I just don't know the 'why.' Sometimes I'll pass over doors that I know are there, and never see them. What's at the bottom of the lake? Why do certain droids short-circuit when they entered this building? There has to be a reason for all of it… There are secrets here. Don't you want to learn them?"
"We are Jedi. We perform our duties. There is no excuse for questioning the ways of the Force." That had to be the longest sentence he had ever said during a morning. But he had to get rid of her soon—she was making him nervous.
"I'm not questioning the Force…I'm trying to help it. To do that we need to understand it," Carra pressed on. "The Jedi Code tells us that 'there is no ignorance; there is knowledge.' We need to achieve that enlightened stage to fully understand the ways of the Jedi and the Force. We need knowledge."
Tarren got up without another word, slamming down his half-finished coffee mug. He walked out of the cafeteria without once looking back. The mug rattled on the table a bit before calming, the black liquid inside trembling slightly for a moment longer. Some of it had splashed over the edge, and a dark drop of coffee slid down the mug, pooling at the base and making a ring on the table.
Carra's eyes danced merrily, and they were a stronger gold than the morning light. She deftly snatched a piece of toast from the untouched plate and took a bite out of it. Savoring the flavor of nearly certain victory, along with melted butter and bread, she said contentedly, "There's hope yet."
Tarren didn't know where he was going—just that it was far away from that nosey Bothan. Letting his feet carry him, he accidentally ran into someone. "Sorry," he muttered before continuing on. But this time he wasn't walking alone. Heavier footfalls than his matched his pace. He turned around and, still sluggish from the morning, snapped, "I said 'm sorry, so go 'way!"
"Apology accccepted," Skraith said calmly. His green eyes, bright and alert, contrasted wildly with his dark-red scales.
A little thrown off by the way Skraith had mildly responded to his angry apology, Tarren mumbled, "Good." He whirled around and started walking again. But Skraith continued to follow him. "What you want?" he yelled over his shoulder, unwilling to stop again.
"Keysss."
Tarren did a one-eighty so fast that he nearly stumbled over his feet. "Stop bugging me 'bout those! I told Carra, I'll tell you, you can't have 'em! They were entrusted to me, so keep your grubby hands off 'em!"
"I mussst have them," Skraith insisted, taking a step towards Tarren. "You mussst give them to me."
"I'll do no such thing!" Tarren said indignantly. "They're mine!"
Skraith took another step closer; his four green eyes had an intense look to them. "They do not belong to you. They were given to you. Recccently."
"So? Obi-Wan tol' me that he knew he could trust me!" Tarren snapped.
"Obi-Wan doesss not realizzze your ineptitude. Hand them over." He held a clawed hand out insistently. He straightened his lengthy, scaly form to tower over Tarren. Annoodats were tall creatures, and Skraith was six years older than Tarren. The effect was impressive.
It was threatening.
Without thinking, Tarren turned and ran.
Panting, hunched over from cramps in his abdomen, Tarren struggled to hear through the pounding in his ears. There were no heavy footfalls following him. He was safe…for the moment. Now that the eminent danger was gone, he had time to think. And his thoughts were angry. First Carra, now Skraith. It seemed like everyone wanted these keys. All they unlocked were some stupid storage closets…what was so interesting about that?
They were more trouble than they were worth. Tarren stomped over to the Temple entrance, planning on telling Master Obi-Wan, first thing when he entered the building, that he could take his stupid keys back. He didn't want them anymore.
However, the waiting took over an hour. By that time, Tarren had had time to assess his thoughts and think more clearly. He patted his pocket, assuring himself that the keys were still there: they were.
"Tarren?" Obi-Wan asked him, puzzlement and amusement coloring his voice richly. "What are you doing hiding behind a pillar?"
Tarren's head jerked up; he saw that Obi-Wan was wearing another weird, fancy outfit (this one blue and flowing). He ran a hand through his black hair. "Uh…I was trying to find a quiet place to meditate. People kept bugging me." Well, that was the truth. Except for the meditation part. But contemplation was almost like mediation…right?
"…I see. You seem troubled…is there something you wish to tell me?" Obi-Wan asked, concern in his voice. "You can tell me anything."
"No, there's nothing." Tarren shook his head. Looking objectively back on the events, Tarren knew that he could've handled the situations much better. It was just that it had been so early in the morning, and he hadn't been thinking…now that he was prepared, he could manage them easily. They wouldn't be able to ambush him anymore. There'd be no more surprise morning visits.
Obi-Wan sensed that Tarren wasn't telling the complete truth. Normally, he would have pressed Tarren to learn the truth of what troubled him, but all the other urgent matters he had to attend to distracted him and left him somewhat neglectful of Tarren's feelings. "Well, if there's nothing, I was wondering if you would like to walk with me?"
"Sure, I'd be honored, Master Obi-Wan." Tarren had to jog a bit to keep up with Obi-Wan's fast pace. "Since it's a little earlier than the normal lessons, should I get the others and tell them to meet in meditation room six?" he asked Obi-Wan in-between taking breaths.
"No, not yet. There's something that I need to do first, and I would like you to be there also."
"Why?"
"You can assist me by being an alibi and lookout. Please, it would mean a lot to me if you helped."
Tarren felt honored that Obi-Wan trusted him enough to do this. Now more than ever, he was certain that his decision to deal with Carra and Skraith on his own was the right one. Obi-Wan had given him those keys in an act of trust; what kind of message would he be giving if he shoved those keys back into Obi-Wan's hands? "I'll be the best lookout ever!" he said proudly, puffing up his chest a bit. "You can count on it."
"I'm glad to hear that," Obi-Wan said kindly. "This room will do." He entered an empty room and locked the door behind him, leaving Tarren alone in the hallway. Although he was glad that Obi-Wan trusted him to do something that was evidently important to him, he had no clue what Obi-Wan needed an empty meditation room and lookout for. Shrugging, Tarren reminded himself of what Obi-Wan said often: Jedi do their duty. No questions.
Obi-Wan took out the vibrating comlink. Clicking it on, Yoda appeared. "You have impeccable timing, Yoda," Obi-Wan said. "I'm starting to wonder if you aren't as omniscient as the Force you so admire."
"Appreciate your admiration, I do. But omniscient I never have and never will be. Simply well connected I am," Yoda said modestly, if allusively.
"I must say, I find myself overwhelmingly curious as to who your sources are."
"Unimportant that is." Yoda waved a clawed and gnarled hand dismissingly. "What matters is that know I do, when it is important to contact you."
"Yes, I do indeed have something important to tell you," Obi-Wan said, becoming all business as the 'Jedi switch' flicked on in his brain. "I found out that the weapon used to destroy the reek's cage during the assassination attempt on Leia Skywalker was a DC-15 blaster rifle…and those blasters are used almost exclusively by the clone troopers. If you'll give me permission to mingle with the clone troopers, I'm sure that I can find the person or group who was behind the attack."
Yoda struck his gimer stick once on the ground, an air of finality about him. "Give you permission I cannot."
"Why?" Obi-Wan demanded. He told Yoda his theory: "I'm betting that some of the clone troopers are feeling resentment towards the Emperor, and thus the Empire. As you know, the clone troopers have been assimilated into the Imperial Stormtrooper ranks. This larger group includes not only the clones but also distinctive people renown for their spectacular performances. The Emperor handpicks all these individuals, and every single one of them have been loyal or close to the Emperor in the past—we all know that the Imperial Stormtroopers are basically the Emperor's lapdogs and favorites. The clone troopers are now forced to mingle with these exceptional and unique personalities, all of them different, all of them skilled, and surely all of them haughty with superior complexes. And, most importantly, all are favorites of the Emperor.
"Already they face opposition from most of the regular populace—for moral, ethnic, and political reasons—and this conflict must be exaggerated and put to the extreme from continuous contact with the stormtroopers that aren't genetically engineered. The people who hate clone troopers and are hated by them, the naturally born, are now a permanent fixture in their daily lives. This must be making the clone troopers band together for support and safety. They feed off each other's discontent: they were the ones to build the Empire with their efforts and sweat and blood and deaths. And now they find themselves outcasts in their own ranks—all on the Emperor's command. Who wouldn't want to rise against a superior so cruel-hearted?"
Yoda gravely shook his head.
Obi-Wan emitted a small growl of frustration. "I know that I can find the group responsible for this! If we have allies on the inside…there'd be no limit to what we could achieve. If you just let me talk with them, I'm sure I could befriend them. Please, Yoda, I want to do something useful."
"Something useful you are doing already," Yoda said sharply. "Leaving your post would only incite suspicion, and lost this opportunity would become. Send one of our own we will, someone thought dead by the Empire. Eyes high up are focused on you, and invisible our infiltrator will be because of this. Have duties to attend to you do. Let others do their own." His green eyes, strong as ancient oaks, attested that nothing Obi-Wan said would change his mind.
Letting his frustration evaporate, Obi-Wan bowed and said, "I'm sorry for my rashness… My head understands that sometimes stillness is the strongest course, but my heart cries for me to spring to action. Though I know there is purpose for it, all this waiting is testing my nerves."
"Often find the true character of ourselves and others we do, not in the moments of action, but in the pauses in-between. Strong you are, Obi-Wan. Overcome this you will. In times of despair, remember the Force. Never alone are you, with the Force."
"Yes…duty and the Force. I will help you as much as I can. Give my respect and goodwill to the Jedi who volunteers to spy among the clone troopers. May the Force be with them on their mission."
"Everyone the Force is with, at all times. Simply harder it is to detect at some times than others." Yoda smiled, green face crinkling up. "More you have to tell me, I sense."
All the thoughts that had been pushed out of his head while he had been talking about the clone troopers came back. The information had been slithering in the back of his mind and now he grasped it firmly. It was hard to hold onto—wriggling in his mind like a snake—because he did not want to remember. He knew he was only making things harder for himself by stalling, and finally said bluntly to Yoda: "Skywalker wants to teach in the Temple."
Yoda's eyes widened with surprise. "See this outcome I did not."
"Me neither." Obi-Wan tugged a hand through his hair jerkily. "He says that he wants to spend more time with me and that's the reason of his request…which is part of the reason why I suddenly wanted to get away from the Temple. I want to protect my younglings from him, and I thought that by leaving I might draw Anakin away from here…but I know now that leaving the Temple is not the solution."
"Indeed, it is not." Yoda sighed, leaning on his cane. "Accept him the Temple must; a teacher he will become. But if close he wants to be to you, close you must keep him—do not let him talk to the younglings alone. Tested our young Padawan Learners will be; see if they are true Jedi we will. Come troubles do and leave they will. Seek guidance with the Force I will, and contact you if insight I am given."
"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan said.
"May the Living Force be kind to you," replied Yoda, smiling gently. Then he bleeped out of existence.
Obi-Wan sighed at the empty space. Hopefully, the information he had just passed on to Yoda would be the key to a swift and decisive victory. Every day that he spent close to Anakin made him a day nearer to being discovered as a spy, and death. Every day raised the chances of the small Jedi rebellion being exposed. The clone troopers could be the answer; they had tilted the balance once before and they could do so again. He cradled his head in his hands and rubbed his temples wearily. He hoped they were the answer.
Exiting the room, Obi-Wan noted that Tarren was taking his guard duty very seriously; he was standing straight and stiff, and took to rotating his head periodically in an oddly owlish way. Even though Tarren's 'guarding' resulted in somewhat ridiculous actions such as these, it warmed his heart to see such dedication in his pupil. It was this warmth—inexplicable, indescribable—that gave him the strength to carry on. "Thank you for your assistance, Tarren, you have been a great help—more than you can imagine."
Tarren gave him a toothy grin. "No prob, Master Obi-Wan. You know that I'll help you in any way I can."
"I do." Obi-Wan smiled. "That is why I chose you."
Tarren shuffled his feet, embarrassed and delighted by the compliment. Joy won out and Tarren grinned hugely. He patted his pocket reassuringly and said, "You won't regret it."
"Now, come, my young Padawan Learner." Obi-Wan motioned grandly with his hand. "It is unbecoming for a teacher to be late for his own class. It's almost time for the regular lessons, and I'm sure that everyone else has already gathered in our normal meeting place."
Tarren's eyes gained a sly look to them. "Well, we don't really have to hurry to the meditation room…a teacher can never be late to lessons when he's the one teaching them."
"Nice try; obvious, but nice. However, being a teacher, I cannot condone to your insubordinate thinking. We must hurry." Tarren groaned, but jogged quickly to keep up with Obi-Wan. He could not match Obi-Wan's swift strides with his short legs, and struggled because of it.
Despite Tarren's bravado and great leaps of responsibility, it must be remembered that he was still only a child, and even a child striving to be an adult is a child nonetheless, and his strides are no more longer because of his struggles to fit into a foreign land.
When they arrived at the door they paused for a moment to catch their breath. Obi-Wan entered appearing close to immaculate, but Tarren still retained a winded look about him. Anakin was, much to Obi-Wan's worry, already there with the rest of the class. The younglings were staring at him with expressions varying from fear to resentment to curiosity. Like watching a reflection ripple gently in water, it was as if the younglings didn't know what to feel, and could not adopt one expression on their faces. Indecisiveness was the only constant on their visages.
Two people that Obi-Wan didn't expect to see raced towards him gleefully. Leia jumped at him, and Obi-Wan was forced to either catch her or let her drop. Soon enough, she had her hands wrapped around his neck as he carried her. "What took you so long, Obi-Waaan? We were bored. Daddy was trying to teach us something stupid, called 'med-tit-action.' " She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "My leg fell asleep from sitting still for so long."
"It's called 'meditation,' Leia," Obi-Wan corrected gently.
Luke hovered by him and said quietly, "I managed to do it." Pride colored his voice and face as he looked up expectantly at Obi-Wan.
"I'm very proud of you, Luke. That is a very hard thing to do on your first try," he complimented, ruffling the boy's blonde hair affectionately with one hand while holding Leia with the other.
"I don't care," Leia declared huffily. "It's boring."
"It's a good practice to clear the mind," Obi-Wan corrected her.
"Speaking of making clear…" Anakin got up from the meditation pad he was using and walked over to them. "Where were you? I find it a bit hypocritical of you to always rag on me for not being on time, then arrive late for your own class."
"He was helping me," Tarren butted in, sticking his chin up stubbornly. "I didn't get the finer points of meditation and Master Obi-Wan had to explain them to me. It took a while because I didn't understand anything he said."
Anakin smiled mildly, his eyes dancing with amusement. In his eyes lazed the smirk that a battle-hardened alley cat gives to an incessantly yapping, yet harmless, pup, who's boldness has gotten him more trouble then he knows. "I didn't realize I was under attack."
"You're not," Obi-Wan said firmly, instinctively stepping in-between the two. "You are only under inspection at this point. Students like to test their teachers, as you are well aware of."
Grinning, Anakin agreed, "I remember those good old days."
"Wait a second," Tarren cried, "Are you saying that he's our teacher now? What about you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. "You better not be leaving or…or…or I'll…" Tarren shut up, unable to make his thoughts comprehensible. Frustration and disbelief was written clearly on his face, and 'betrayed' was slowly seeping into his features.
"He's not taking it as well as everyone else, now is he?" Anakin joked lightly, unperturbed. "Yes, I will be teaching—along with Obi. Sorry, Master Obi-Wan." His gaze found Obi-Wan, clearly finding the label amusing. There was a hidden challenge swimming in those murky waters, and it nearly provoked Obi-Wan to snap at him. But he refrained from lowering himself to that; he would not be undermined in front of his younglings. Anakin paused for a second, then let the moment slip by and said, "So your classes will be taught by a joint effort."
Tarren was about to retort, but he stopped when he saw Obi-Wan staring at him sternly. "Fine, Master…Whatever." He flopped down onto his regular mediation pad to Darrien's left side. And although he was still clearly angry, something had loosened in his face after he had learned that Obi-Wan was not leaving. Relief softened his features.
"You may address me as Master Anakin, or, if you're feeling more formal, Master Skywalker. I have no preferences and either will do." Leia raised her hand and waved it impatiently. Anakin asked, "Yes, Leia?"
"Can I still call you 'Daddy,' Daddy?"
"Certainly, honey. I was only saying that for the benefit of the younglings who might be unaware of whom I am or what to call me. Now, go sit on your pad so we can begin meditation."
She shook her head, curly brown hair flying everywhere. "I don't want to."
"Would it help if you could sit on my lap?" Anakin asked, used to this behavior and knowing exactly how to counter it.
"Yes!" She scrambled out of Obi-Wan's arms and hurried over to Anakin.
He rested her on one of his legs and said gently, "You have to close your eyes and empty your mind of thoughts…"
She scrunched her eyes closed. After a few seconds she cracked one of them open and said, "That's too hard to do. I have too much to think about."
"It's only as hard as you make it. Fine, let's approach this a different way…" A creative light sparked in his eyes.
He started in a low, soothing and rhythmic voice, "Close your eyes. I want you to picture a sunny day in a meadow…are you thinking of one?"—she nodded her head—"Good… Think of the sun warming your body, you're relaxed, the wind's rustling in the trees and over your face…there's nothing but you and the sunshine and the wind… You're warm and happy, and there's not a worry in the world… Not a thought to be thought…just sunshine." He paused, and then said extra softly, a whispered whisper, "Are you someplace far from here?"
She didn't even hear him.
Anakin smiled. "And that's the alternative way of learning how to meditate."
The younglings around him were a mix of confusion and disagreement; they had never been taught that way. But they said nothing to Anakin. Obi-Wan had always taught them to empty their mind, letting their spirit float into the great body that was the Force. Anakin had done almost the complete opposite, having Leia focus on one relaxing memory until that lulled her to 'sleep.' Anakin's way had been unorthodox, and they had never been introduced to such methods before. It unnerved them, drilling cracks into their carefully crafted routine. And, like all people, they resented and feared change to loved habits.
"That's the hint for you to start meditating yourselves," Obi-Wan said. The younglings hurriedly closed their eyes. He watched as they each sunk into a relaxed state, some quicker than others. But he noticed that all of them had a more difficult time than normal. Except for Jarg…but then again, sometimes he felt that nothing short of the apocalypse would shake Jarg up.
Anakin patted the empty meditation pad by him. "I saved you a seat," he said with a friendly, welcoming smile. Obi-Wan had to remind himself that there was a wolf lurking under that soft layer of fleece.
Obi-Wan took it and said politely, "Thank you."
"What? No 'Master Anakin' on the end of that?" Anakin joked.
"I didn't hear any 'Master Obi-Wan' myself," Obi-Wan said, keeping a light tone. "I'm just following your lead." Obi-Wan let himself relax and slipped easily into the ambiguous Force.
"Glad to know." Anakin closed his eyes and began to meditate. His features unwound, muscles loosening like a collapsing cats cradle. He hadn't done this in so long—it was like experiencing it for the first time again. How had he forgotten this wonderful feeling?
All too soon a mental summoning disturbed his peaceful state of mind. Scowling, he brought his mind down from its euphoria. He nudged Leia, and got Luke while she was shedding her disorientation. "We have to go home," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone else. "I'll leave you with Threepio once we get there. I have to go to a meeting."
Leia protested with her eyes, but knew not to complain verbally; she was used to these abrupt leavings and knew that nothing she said would stop him. The trio left the room quietly.
A while later, Obi-Wan drew himself and everyone else from the Force. "Now that the other…teacher…is gone, we can begin the real lesson."
Carra said ruefully, "It was so odd having the second-in-command of the Empire, Darth Vader, here. And teaching, nonetheless." She flexed her clawed hands before clacking her nails together—a nervous habit she could never rid herself of, no matter how hard she tried. "Makes you edgy."
"Makes us meditate a lot more than normal too," Tarren complained.
"Ssstupid," Skraith hissed. "Did you really think we would ssshow him all the Forccce techniquesss and lightsssaber ssskillsss we have learned? In cassse you have forgotten, we aren't sssupposssed to know them." His tone had a sharper edge than normal, going beyond irritated and into viciousness. Tarren glared at him, eyes scrunched up and angry.
"I'm sensing a disagreement between you two. What is the reason for this animosity?" Obi-Wan demanded more than asked of them.
Tarren shook his head stubbornly. "I bumped into Skraith this morning, and he wouldn't accept my apology. He said that it wasn't good enough." Tarren shot Skraith a dark look. "Some people don't know when they're wrong."
"Skraith, is this the truth?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling a headache coming on.
"To an extent, yesss. Excccept that I wasss not the firssst to be rude. That honor belongsss to our young and mulisssh Padawan." It was a not-so-subtle insult aimed at Tarren, striking a low blow at a known weakness of Tarren's.
"Don't bring my age into this!" Tarren retorted angrily. "Just because I'm younger doesn't mean that I'm less experienced! Age has nothing to do with maturity, as someone presently here can confirm."
Skraith hissed a long string of something either unintelligible or in his native Annoo tongue. From his narrowed eyes and biting tone it was unpleasant, perhaps even distasteful and vulgar.
"Why I oughtta—" Tarren was rolling up the sleeves of his Jedi tunic. Skraith's tail jerked wildly from side to side, like a provoked snake about to sink its fangs into a threat.
"You two stop this right this instant," Obi-Wan said sternly. His wasn't shouting yet, but his voice was getting close to that volume. "You are Jedi, not bickering children. If you can't let a silly disagreement like that go, how can you expect to negotiate with politics and fighting planets? Part of growing up is letting go of childish grudges, and so far neither of you has proven your maturity. I'm especially disappointed with you, Skraith—you're eleven years old, you should be above this sort of thing."
Skraith's back straightened, but he said nothing in his defense. His tail was completely still, and he didn't even blink. His reptile features were emotionless as he absorbed the reprimand with a blank attitude.
Tarren's face, in contrast, grew redder and redder. It seemed as if embarrassment and anger were duking it out for control, and every time the battle reached a new fevered pitch his face grew a shade darker. His five-year-old hands fisted, before hanging loosely at his sides.
"Are you two done fighting?" Obi-Wan said rigidly. When the two nodded their heads stiffly he let the rest of his anger and impatience dissipate into the Force before saying, "Then we will proceed to the training room and practice dueling—and I will make sure that you two get different partners, since I don't think I can trust you to fight fairly in a one-on-one duel yet."
It was a subdued group that walked to the lightsaber training room. Obi-Wan discreetly got the keys from Tarren and raided the storage cabinet for the wooden swords they needed. Just as unnoticeably, he slipped the keys back into Tarren's pocket when he returned with the supplies.
He set the swords on the floor and let them pick out their favorites. Tarren grabbed the sturdy, average length one; Skraith the duel-bladed; Darrien the long, thin sword; Carra a short, flexible one; Jarg one with an odd nick on it; and Ki'lya one particularly smooth and polished.
The Coruscanti crowd all got shorter, sturdier blades. They were too young to duel or have a personalized blade of their own. They didn't know what fighting style suited them best yet, and therefore couldn't choose the proper blade to work with. Obi-Wan had found them all lighter, smaller blades, which they used to practice maneuvers and common strikes. He was teaching them Form I, Shii-Cho, which was what every Padawan Learner started with. He had set them up with a routine to follow while he was busy focusing on the older students.
Lilitaa's small, chubby hands could barely hold up the sword, and Huo had difficulties swinging the blade too. Once again, Obi-Wan regretted not being able to teach each student individually…but he did not have the time for individual lightsaber lessons, and it couldn't be helped. He could only do what was humanly possible of him, and hope that it was enough.
Turning away from the younger younglings' practice routine, Obi-Wan said, "I'm pairing Tarren with Jarg, Skraith with Darrien, and Carra with Ki'lya. You will duel with your partner one at a time, with the other teams watching. I want you to see their mistakes and think of ways that you can avoid them yourself. I will be observing the fight also, but I won't mention anything until the end of the duel. The victor will be the one who disarms their opponent or deals them a 'deathblow.' Carra and Ki'lya, you're up first."
Carra and Ki'lya faced off each other. They bowed formally before readying their lightsabers. Ki'lya took the starting form for Makashi (Form II, a very elegant style meant specifically for lightsaber dueling) and Carra crouched for Form IV's, Artaru's, beginning stance.
The time-honored tradition was that a Padawan Learner started with Form I for lightsaber combat. They continued their practice of this simple but sturdy form until a master chose them. They could then choose a more complex form to learn (which is what they normally did—few ever became masters in Form I), and then their master trained them in that form. Form I gave them a sturdy background in lightsaber dueling that helped them learn the more difficult stances and moves of other forms with greater ease.
Obi-Wan had given them about a year or two of Form I practice, but because he knew they were never going to be chosen by masters he had started their advanced lightsaber training himself. With the Galactic Empire ruling the galaxy, Obi-Wan knew that there might come a time when it would be necessary for them to be skilled fighters. He didn't like the idea of preparing them for battle, but he'd rather them fight than die. "On the count of three. One…two…three!"
Carra raced at Ki'lya, her sword high above her head. Ki'lya raised her sword and deflect the downward slash, letting the other blade slide across her own to not only reduce the shock factor but to make an opening in Carra's defense. Carra's side was left unprotected, and Ki'lya thrust at it. Carra twisted, the blade missing her midsection by centimeters. She then used that twist to tumble to the floor, springing up behind Ki'lya while slashing diagonally at her torso.
Ki'lya's blade was already there, and the blow was blocked. Carra kept their blades locked for a moment, putting pressure on it. Ki'lya did not move. Changing tactics, Carra let Ki'lya's blade slip off her own, dropped towards the ground, and did a 360-degree turn while balancing on one leg, using her right leg and blade to create parallel horizontal attacks aimed at Ki'lya's knees and stomach. Ki'lya danced backward, her blade held at chest level and pointed directly at Carra. What she didn't expect was for Carra to take that spinning attack and use its momentum to tumble forward on her shoulder, stabbing upwards as she planted her feet on the ground.
She blade jabbed Ki'lya in the stomach at the same time that Ki'lya's blade tapped against her neck. They grinned at each other.
"Draw," Obi-Wan declared. "Not bad, not bad at all. However," Obi-Wan said before they could fully appreciate the compliment, "there were a few mistakes here and there that would have gotten you killed if you were facing a more skilled opponent. Carra, while your aerobatic skills are impressive and the Ataru form suits you well, your lightsaber techniques are sloppy. You can dance around the opponent but you can't land a blow—all you're doing is tiring yourself out. Learn to use your energy more efficiently…let your attacks slide into one another to build up a momentum too great to block. You need to learn to connect everything. And Ki'lya, your defensive skills are superior, but you need to be more aggressive. Makashi uses precise cuts—you have to aim at the vital organs. If you want to spare your opponent, then Makashi is not the style for you—this form is meant for dueling to the death. Can you handle that?"
Ki'lya bowed. "Yes, Master Obi-Wan. I feel that Makashi is the form for me…I will practice harder."
"That's what I like to hear." He grinned. "Now, Jarg and Tarren, you're up."
Jarg had no exact stance; he had declared that he would mix all the forms together to create his own dueling technique. This had been met with much amusement on Obi-Wan's part and snickers from the other children, but when he saw that Jarg was serious he allowed the Gungan to do what he wanted. It was an intriguing notion and he had wanted to see how it would work out, especially with Jarg's natural clumsiness and lanky body. Sometimes the effects were downright funny; sometimes they were impressive.
But no matter what, it always seemed as if Jarg's moves and attacks were accidental results of clumsy stumbling. This made him unpredictable, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if Jarg even knew what he was doing most of the time. Because of this, Jarg was not only dangerous to his opponent, but to himself, and Obi-Wan worried about him constantly. But he was willing to let Jarg do what he wanted. He would only step in if he felt it was necessary.
Tarren used Form V, Shien. He took dueling very seriously. He bowed stiffly to Jarg and then pointed his blade at his opponent. The Gungan bowed also, and said with a cheerful grin, "Good luckah to yousa!" Tarren nodded, choosing to not respond verbally.
"One…two…three!"
Jarg and Tarren ran at each other. Tarren swung his blade low, but Jarg jumped over it. He landed shakily, tilting backwards with his arms flailing to keep his balance. This caused Tarren's sideswipe to go right over his head. Jarg let himself fall to the floor, planting his hands on the ground and kicking out with both feet. Unable to stop the momentum of his swing, Tarren was unable to block or dodge the kick and was sent flying backwards.
Tarren let the Force guide him and landed firmly on his feet. Holding his blade out in front of him, he took a more defensive pose and waited for Jarg to come at him. Jarg rushed him, and their blades clashed and locked. Tarren pushed his blade forward and down. He met no resistance. Jarg willingly let himself roll onto his back, blade still locked with Tarren's. Tarren fell forward from his overexertion of force, a surprised look on his face. Jarg planted his feet on Tarren's stomach and used the boy's forward inertia against him; Tarren was flung over his head. Jarg completed the backwards somersault and landed on his feet. He twirled around clumsily just in time for his blade to block the downward slash Tarren had aimed at the back of his ropy neck.
Tarren pushed forward offensively and Jarg was forced to give ground. He managed two steps back before tripping over his own feet. He fell to the floor, Tarren's blade still pressuring his. On his back and Tarren's blade progressively pushing his own sword downward towards his throat, Jarg suddenly let his blade fall.
But instead of hitting his throat, the two blades clashed against the ground just centimeters from Jarg's thin neck; the spontaneity of the falling blades had made Tarren unable to direct its motion toward his opponent's throat. Jarg's feet whirled up to lock around Tarren's right arm. He then twisted his body, flipping Tarren onto the ground as he rolled onto his stomach. Tarren lost his blade when he tumbled to the ground, and Jarg, flat on his stomach and off to the left of him, had his blade pointed at Tarren's head.
"Jarg wins this one," Obi-Wan said as the two boys picked themselves up from the ground.
Jarg gave Tarren a hand up and smiled, saying, "Messa was sure tha' yousa was going to win! Messa was lucky when messa arms gave out tha' da blades jus' missed messa neck!"
Tarren stared at him in shock. "So, wait…when you let your blade fall…that was an accident because your arms gave out? I thought it had been a brilliant strategy, but the truth is that you won because your arms gave out. You must be the luckiest being alive." Tarren laughed at the fact that he had been beaten by a fluke. The battle had been won fair and square, and because of that he didn't feel resentful towards Jarg or angry with himself. He could laugh at himself if he understood the reason why.
"Messa have strong legs, though!" Jarg protested. Then he grinned and laughed with Tarren, agreeing, "But mostly messa jus' lucky."
"Your unorthodox fighting style let you win this one, Jarg, but don't let it get to your head," Obi-Wan said sternly, although he doubted anything could inflate Jarg's head; he was entirely too good-natured and simple to gain an ego. "That the wins you do achieve are all accidental is not a good thing. You only win half, if not less, of your battles. That is not a good ratio. This fight was one of your more spectacular and ingenious ones, and it shows me that you can become a good swordfighter when and if you polish your skills. It's only because of these rare displays of exceptional dueling skills that I allow you to keep fighting in such a loose style. As you demonstrated in this battle, your legs are very strong and have a good range. Make sure that you keep using them to your advantage."
"Messa will, Massa Obi-Wan! Yousa can count on tha'!" Jarg said, shuffling his feet modestly at the small compliment. He stumbled on them a little, and laughed as he righted himself.
"Tarren, your problem is that you focus solely on offense or defense. By nature, Form V involves a mixture of offensive and defensive skills. What you need to do is mix those two together—blend attacks and blocks to your advantage. If you block and then see an opening, take it. If you're about to swing your blade in for a blow but see your opponent's blade coming toward you, change it to a block. Interchange them to confuse your opponent and force them to reveal weaknesses. Don't let your mind get locked into one mode."
"Will do, Master Obi-Wan." Tarren nodded his head, looking thoughtful.
"Now, the last pair to fight is Skraith and Darrien."
Skraith held his double-bladed sword with one hand, and it was tilted downwards and held slightly behind him. He used Form VII, Juyo. Although it was never mentioned, Obi-Wan worried that Skraith's use of the form bordered on the sub of Juyo, Vaapad. Only three Jedi ever fully mastered Vaapad, and two of them fell to the Dark Side. Mace Windu had been the only one to master it without giving in to its potentially dark powers. Vaapad drew on the Force and the emotions of the wielder to augment his attacks; this aggressive use of emotions could easily seduce the user to the Dark Side.
But Skraith was adamant on choosing Juyo; it was a very intricate style that involved a combination of grace, speed, and power. If he mastered it, he would be nearly unstoppable. That was what Skraith wanted.
Obi-Wan had known another Juyo user, and it was not a comforting thought that Skraith was using the same techniques, and even the same build of lightsaber as the other.
After all, that other had been Darth Maul.
'Skraith is either very foolish or very strong,' Obi-Wan thought. He had to be one or the other to use such a dangerous form. Skraith had shown his loyalty to the Temple and the Jedi time after time, but his choice of form still troubled Obi-Wan. That was understandable: Darth Maul had used that form to kill Qui-Gon, his former Master. Obi-Wan had then killed the Sith Lord in his anger and despair. It was not a memory he liked to remember.
Darrien, like Tarren, used Shien. His stance was simple, his expression calm.
"One…two…three!"
The two raced at each other, their blades whirling in their hands. They fought with a quickness and grace that was savagely elegant. Every blow was aimed to 'kill' their opponent. Obi-Wan didn't even try to separate the individual attacks. They battled with such speed that every move blurred into the other; block, attack, right left thrust left right up down sideswipe thrust kick jump. It was dizzying to concentrate on their whirling blades. Their swords constantly knocked into each other, causing a noise akin to an irregularly beating heart. If they had used lightsabers, Obi-Wan knew the air would have hummed and sung with the continuous contact. Instead it marched with the pound of drums.
Skraith locked the top proportion of his double-bladed sword with Darrien's single-bladed one, using the lower part of his sword to swipe at Darrien's feet while his opponent's blade was immobile. Darrien used a Force push to throw Skraith backwards before the blow found its mark. Skraith landed on his feet, claws sinking slightly into the wooden floor as he flipped backwards to avoid Darrien's rush. As he landed for the second time his blade was held in front of him, slicing down vertically. The inertia he had built up and his full bodyweight were behind the attack, and the force splintered Darrien's upraised sword as he moved it quickly to block.
Darrien's face remained emotionless as he continued to fight with the splintered blade. It was reduced to no more than a knife. Skraith, though he had an obvious advantage now, kept his face blank even as his attacks became more brutal. They coolly fought a heated battle.
Up down duck slash right left sidestep swing thrust block twist—
Whump.
Contact.
Skraith's blade dug into Darrien's chest, right about where his heart should be.
"Skraith wins this duel. But I want you both to know that you fought valiantly." Obi-Wan shook his head in amazement. "You two have certainly excelled past all my expectations. Some of the moves you've perfected you shouldn't even know about, at least not for a couple more years. I want to specifically point out Darrien's usage of the Force while in combat, which is something I haven't taught you so far—I'll be teaching you how to use Force powers during duels some time next week. Darrien showed creativity in combining the Force with his physical attacks, most notably because I haven't trained you in this method yet."
Darrien nodded his head. He avoided looking at the shattered sword he clutched.
Obi-Wan turned to the class, and not only praised Skraith but gave his class a lesson in tactics: "I am fully impressed with Skraith's intelligent strategizing. If you carefully observed the fight from the sideline—like you were supposed to—you can notice how Skraith led Darrien into the trap that led to the destruction of his sword. He boxed Darrien into a situation where he had to push Skraith back—that was the foot-slash while keeping their blades locked. When Skraith was thrown backwards, he appeared defenseless. Darrien pressed offensively, thinking he had gained the advantage, even when Skraith landed on his feet and did another back flip. It was because Darrien pressed the attack that he was right beneath Skraith when he landed his jump, allowing Skraith to use his combined inertia and bodyweight to shatter Darrien's sword. This gave Skraith an obvious advantage for the rest of the duel, and ultimately led to his win. I commend you for your planning, Skraith."
Skraith bowed modestly, but it was clear that he was pleased. "Thank you, Massster Kenobi. I have learned from the bessst that ssstrategizzzing isss the bessst courssse of action. I am glad that I am worthy enough to reccceive your praissse." His four green eyes, with their cat-slit pupils, practically glowed.
The rest of the class was devoted to the practice of moves individually. Obi-Wan went around, correcting stances and giving advice. As he corrected Carra's footwork (she had a tendency to crouch too much), he watched Skraith and Darrien out of the corner of his eye as Darrien approached the Annoodat.
"You fought skillfully," Darrien said.
Skraith flicked his tail and responded, "Ssso did you."
They proceeded to practice separately together. No words were spoken, no looks were exchanged, and they gave no indication of acknowledging the other's presence. It was as if they existed on two separate, un-connecting dimensions and could not communicate with one another, even though they had spoken just minutes ago.
Obi-Wan chuckled; as he said before and would undoubtedly say again, theirs was an odd friendship.
Too soon he knew he would have to leave the Temple. He didn't want Anakin to enter the Temple to pick him up and discover them wielding wooden swords. Anakin had reacted extremely negatively to just the notion of the Temple having weapons; if he was to witness them in use by his younglings…
For the sake of the Temple he wrapped up lessons early and locked the swords away. As he had nowhere else to go (he didn't want to draw Dex to Anakin's attention, so he couldn't go to Dex's Diner—despite how nice that sounded), he headed back to Skywalker Skyscraper…the most luxuriously jailhouse in the Senator District.
As he entered the house, he was hit with the most delicious aroma of cooking food. Anakin peered out of the kitchen, a pleased and surprised expression on his face as he said to Obi-Wan, "You made it just in time for dinner." Anakin didn't verbally express his happiness with the fact that Obi-Wan had come home early, and of his free will.
He didn't have to; the warmth in his voice and eyes spoke for him.
Much to Obi-Wan's dismay, he realized that he was methodically being domesticated, small step by small step.
And for the sake of the mission, he had to allow this to happen to him.
"I'm glad you didn't start without me," Obi-Wan replied warmly, gluing on a happy smile.