A/N: I have an outline. I do. But the bit of this story that was supposed to be one chapter is turning out to be two, probably three. I hope you all like wookies and Qui-Gon/Ben bonding time, because we're going to be camping out here for a bit.
Alaris Prime was not quite a day's travel from Coruscant. Although it was a comparatively short travel time next to some of their further-flung missions, it was a very long time to mull over the complexities of their assignment. Ben fared worse. Reviewing the dossier and chatting idly with Qui-Gon could only occupy him for a few hours and inevitably, eventually, silence overtook them. It left Ben with only his own company, and on this particular mission, it was a very annoying company to keep.
When left to the confines of his own thoughts, Ben was plagued by the familiar nagging he'd felt during the State Dinner with the Coalition and the Federation representatives years ago. He knew this mission. He hadn't been a part of it, but Qui-Gon had told him about it. Told him… what? The lacuna in his memory mocked him. It would be useless to ask this iteration of his master about the never-was. Ben decided to take a walk about their vessel to clear his head.
He knew what Alaris Prime could be one day. In the Clone Wars, it had been a valuable engineering outpost, where the Wookiees developed some of the most devastating weapons in the Republic's arsenal. But how it had arrived at that point, how the Wookiees had claimed the planet, expelled the gundarks, and overcome whatever other challenges awaited them was a blank spot in Ben's memory. Through the fog, he could see the faint outlines of drama, of some big thing that he was missing. Unable to clear the cobwebs, Ben sighed and turned back to the cockpit. When he opened the flight deck door, he found Qui-Gon in conversation with Feemor.
"You sure you don't mind?" Qui-Gon was asking, brow furrowed. Ben walked into the cockpit and closed the door quietly, trying not to interrupt. Feemor's pleasant lilt carried over with reassuring calm.
"Of course not. I'll be grounded for a few more months while Aola finishes up her coursework anyway. Your apprentice is safe with me. 'Sides, we poor souls of the Jinn branch must stick together - isn't that right, Obi- oh. He's gone and fallen asleep again."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "Probably for the best." Ben smiled and lowered himself into the copilot's seat.
"Aye, I can only hope it's helping. Lad needs to get back up on his feet, the inactivity is driving him mad. Driving your dear old master mad, too."
"Dooku?" Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow in aggravation. "Hasn't he got better things to do than lurk?"
"Oh, aye. Enough for a few days, sure. He's been down to the creche to see Ben's favorite youngling - is Ben with you?"
"I've just walked in, in fact."
"Hullo, Ben. As I say, Dooku's been down to see Anakin quite a bit. But you know the man. Can't suffer children for more than a few moments at a time. He's been by more and more to ask if Obi-Wan's fit for the dojo."
"And you told him in no uncertain terms to sod off, I hope," Qui-Gon flicked a few controls to monitor their flight progress. Feemor chuckled.
"Ever the rake, Master Jinn. I sent Aola to placate him. She seems to be enjoying the distraction."
"Distraction?" Ben asked. Feemor's lackadaisical tone was absurd. "I've heard Yan Dooku called many things, Feemor, I've never heard him called a distraction. He's sure to be wiping the floor with her."
"Oh, he is. She's got plenty of burns to prove it. But you know the lass, she likes frollicking with murderous beasts."
"Are you comparing our grandmaster to a savage animal?"
Feemor chuckled. "Not in so many words."
Qui-Gon smirked. "I hope she enjoys herself. Perhaps her enthusiasm will dissuade him from pestering my apprentice."
"Maybe. I shall inform you of all the riveting details as time allows."
"Of course. Give her and Obi-Wan my best."
"I will. Force be with you, Master; Ben."
"And also with you." Qui-Gon ended the transmission and put his comlink away. Ben smiled, snorted softly, and shook his head.
"What?" Qui-Gon wanted to know.
"It would've been nice to have him around the last time. Don't know if Obi-Wan's told you, Nazzaran flu is insufferable."
"He has - too many times to count, in fact."
Having his own master complain about him to his face was something Ben would never get used to. He usually felt compelled to apologize. "Sorry about that."
"You've had it before, then?"
"Yes. After that bore on Nazzar with the membership fees."
"The exact same?" Qui-Gon turned to look at Ben in surprise.
"Almost entirely. You were even sent on this exact mission."
"Was I?"
"Yes, you went solo, I was left behind sick, and I hated every minute of it." Ben scratched at his beard and shrugged. "It's a peculiar point to remain constant across two rather different lifetimes. I wouldn't wish that flu upon anyone."
"I see." A pause while Qui-Gon scrolled through his dossier, not actually reading any of it. He and Ben rarely acknowledged Ben's history as Qui-Gon's apprentice. It was simpler that way, especially around Obi-Wan. But now, alone, on a mission together again, a latent sense of camaraderie blurred that unspoken convention. "This mission… I don't suppose I divulged any helpful details to you when I returned?"
Ben stared ahead through the cockpit windows. "You did, actually. Quite a few, very thorough. Apparently it was a fascinating, involved assignment." When he ended his train of thought there, Qui-Gon looked up from his paperwork, waiting. Ben met his gaze. "Unfortunately, I can't remember any of it," he admitted.
Qui-Gon scoffed and closed his 'pad. Ben grimaced and put out his hands in defense.
"I was sick. And beyond that, I was very put out by not having been able to go. You talked for hours, Master, I couldn't have listened if I tried."
"Inattentiveness fueled by bitterness... honestly, you should know better," Qui-Gon reprimanded, as though Ben were still his apprentice. He shook his head. "The Force gifts you with unprecedented knowledge of the future and its possibilities, and you forget it because you were sulking."
"I did not forget," Ben insisted, shoulders down, chin high in a diplomatic air. "I never knew it in the first place." Perspective was everything. Ben checked their progress toward Alaris Prime; they were nearly there. "The Force works in mysterious ways. No matter how blind I am in this instance, things never happen the same way twice. You are not here alone, I am not completely without my wits, and I'm sure as we go along, something will jog my memory." He eyed Qui-Gon with a sly and pointed glare. "The Force will provide a solution, I am sure." Qui-Gon hated it when he parroted his sayings back in his face.
Qui-Gon shook his head in chagrinned silence. After a while, he turned toward the con and began packing away his things for departure. "Remind me to lecture Obi-Wan on attentiveness and respect to his superiors when we return."
Ben side-eyed him. Qui-Gon side-eyed back. "Do you honestly think that will help?" Ben asked, voice droll.
If Qui-Gon found this funny, it did not register on his face. "If things never happen the same way twice, it's worth a shot."
The Jedi ruins on Alaris Prime had been under excavation for three years. Soon after the negotiations between Attichitcuk and the Republic had been settled, a dozen Jedi had been dispatched and had ever since been living on-site to conduct the excavation. Using technological aids only when necessary, the team relied heavily on the Force to uncover their own history, hauling off boulders and weeding out parasitic vegetation from the ancient stone walls. It was an arduous task, but deeply rewarding.
The temple itself was an expansive structure, miniscule in comparison to the Ziggurat on Coruscant, but impressive for how much of it remained intact. Winding underground corridors, elevated plateaus, and square, windowed towers combined into a labyrinthian, eclectic architectural specimen that would no doubt occupy the imaginations of Jedi scholars for years.
Derelict for centuries, the temple was enshrined inside and out by vegetation. Trees grew in and through towers, roots decorated the hallways where young Padawans had once traveled to their classes, and the long, wide, pillared chamber that the researchers believed to be a refectory was now covered in ivy. These particulars had been footnoted in the dossiers of the Temple's incoming guests, shown in holopics and short asides. Although the team had not spoken of them, Ben knew that Qui-Gon was excited about their accommodations. He, fond as he was of nature, was somewhat less so.
"Ah, Master Jinn! And Master Kenobi, is it?" A tall, broadly built Jedi approached as they strode down the ship's ramp.
"Ben Kenobi," the named bowed politely. "Pleasure to meet you, Master…?"
"Radigan," the man's smile was lopsided and kind, and just a bit mischievous against his sun-tanned skin. He had long, blue-black hair tied in a rakish tail, but some of it fell out of its tie as he bowed. "Nomar Radigan."
"A pleasure to meet you, Master Radigan," Qui-Gon greeted.
"To you both as well." He eyed Ben in particular and chuckled. "I have to say, I was a little confused when Obi-Wan's prefix changed on the latest mission update." He glanced at Qui-Gon, "You keep a backup Kenobi on hand, just in case?"
Qui-Gon laughed. "I'm afraid that my apprentice is Temple-bound with a particularly stubborn virus. Ben is Obi-Wan's uncle, and an old friend of mine."
"Ah, that explains it," Nomar said, and winked at Ben, crowsfeet scrunching merrily. "You must know I only jest, Master Kenobi. Come on, I'll show you inside."
They walked out of the small packed-dirt landing bay and onto a walking trail. The path weaved through dense forest, made entirely of soil except for a few improvised stairways. As they walked, Qui-Gon became increasingly engrossed with the natural fauna, a smile growing beneath his mustache. Ben would have normally rolled his eyes to see it, but he too was feeling the draw of the forest. The Force was strong here, thrumming like an old heartbeat and a welcome home.
Nomar seemed to understand his companion's thoughts. "As it turns out, Jedi temples age like wine. The older, the better." He bounced down some steps and from behind an overhanging branch, the half-ruined temple came into view, brown stones outlined by mossy grids of grout. Nomar gave an appreciative sigh and stepped over a large tree root to continue on their path. "I was skeptical coming here at first, but now," He took an appreciative breath of jungle air. "I can't imagine leaving."
"Skeptical?" Qui-Gon remarked, "I would have thought it would be an honor."
"Oh, it is, don't get me wrong. But I'm not really the sort for this kind of assignment. It wasn't me they wanted. My apprentice, Zulo, is helbent on becoming a scholar. He's got a knack for this sort of stuff," Nomar's voice softened with pride. "He heard about the ruins a few years ago and petitioned the council to allow him to come along. They granted the request, and of course I went with him."
"It sounds like a wonderful opportunity, especially for a padawan." Qui-Gon gave him a smile.
"It is, and I'm proud of him for seizing it. Though, I admit I was disappointed to hear your apprentice wouldn't be joining you. Zulo is a good kid, but here, it's Masters as far as the eye can see. I would've liked for him to spend time with someone his own age. He's only nineteen, but acts like he's eighty-five."
Qui-Gon laughed. "I'm not entirely sure Obi-Wan would have helped. He's an old soul, far too serious for his age. And he broods," Qui-Gon glanced at his once-padawan. In his younger years, Ben would have glared for the comment. But age had made him better friends with himself, faults and all. He shrugged.
Nomar let out a laugh. "Sounds just like mine. Perhaps they can make friends, once we get back to Coruscant. Force only knows when that will be." They'd reached the temple entrance, an open doorway leading into a yawning blackness. Nomar flipped a switch, and a long string of lamps flickered to life, illuminating a dirty, curving hallway. Master Radigan lead the way, with Qui-Gon and Ben following after in single file. Dozens of footprints were visible in the soil-dusted tile, sometimes interrupted by a root or a stray rock. Their footfalls added to the collection, echoing off the close walls as they descended into the cool belly of the temple. Qui-Gon and Ben took in their new surroundings in silence. Privately, Ben thought that the atmosphere felt strikingly similar to the basement levels in the Temple where he'd found sanctuary for so many years. As he was about to mention it to Qui-Gon, he realized abruptly that Qui-Gon had never been to the basement levels. He kept quiet.
"Truth be told," Nomar broke the silence in a far more somber tone of voice than before, "It's a good thing the Council has sent two masters instead of one. You aren't here for the excavation, and from what I hear, yours might not be the sort of mission you'd like to bring an apprentice into."
Qui-Gon frowned. "I'm sure Obi-Wan would've been up for the challenge, had he been well. He's a senior padawan now; quite ready for the trials, I'd say."
Ben, who had been concentrating on where he placed his feet, whipped his head up to stare at the back of Qui-Gon's head. The taller master did not seem to sense his shock.
"Is he? Well," Nomar hesitated somewhat awkwardly, "that's good. But I hold my words, Master Jinn. It might be better to go into this without the… ties that an apprentice brings along. You're working with the Wookiees, pitted up against gundarks and worse. It's going to be rough and tumble all the way down."
"Worse?" Ben picked up, glancing around Qui-Gon's shoulder to their guide.
Nomar shrugged apologetically. "Rumors. Now, granted, I'm little more than a dogsbody around here, but our surveyors have sent in some reports of unusual activity in the unoccupied sectors of the planet. We stay in close contact with the Wookiees, who say they have no idea what it is we've seen. We're not properly equipped or staffed to investigate. It could be nothing… but I'm not so sure. I'd keep an eye out."
Qui-Gon hummed pensively, frowning in the way he often did when forced to face future eventualities. "The Force will guide us," he said at length, baritone resolute. Ben pushed away a bad feeling. The hallway opened up into a room and the trio fanned out. Qui-Gon moved to walk beside Ben, and gave him a stern, questioning look. Ben shrugged helplessly. His memory remained as shrouded as the warnings Nomar gave them.
"Master Krill!" Nomar called, and waved at a figure across the room. From behind a makeshift desk, a human female smiled and stood.
"Masters Jinn and Kenobi, I presume," she approached them and bowed. They replied in kind.
"Indeed we are," Qui-Gon answered for them both.
Nomar smiled, holding out a hand to introduce the newcomer. "Gentlemen, this is Tora Krill, the de facto leader of our little setup here."
Tora smiled humbly at them. Her short white hair gave her a spritely, energetic look, though her face and neck were showing the wrinkles of late middle age. "I'm not actually in charge," she clarified, eyeing Nomar in a way that said she'd lectured him about this technicality before, "that's master Ular's purview, but he's been swamped with administrative minuta, and I have the most experience with the ruins." She folded her hands in the neat manner of an executor and returned attention to the Temple's newest wards. "Master Ular is away presenting our research at a conference, but let me welcome you to Alaris Prime in his stead," she smiled at the two masters. "I realize your mission lies outside of the temple, but of course we are always happy to host our own."
"We are very grateful for your hospitality," Ben smiled, taking point in their conversation before Qui-Gon could snap at it. "It's an honor to see how you're uncovering our Order's history. How is the excavation proceeding?"
Tora flushed with pride. "Very well, I'm happy to say. The condition of the temple is far better than we had anticipated. Much of the structure is as sound as the Ziggurat, and we've been able to catalog whole roomfuls of artifacts - a very rare find."
Ben nodded, an interested grin on his lips. "That's wonderful to hear. It must be fascinating work - I shall enjoy hearing more as the project progresses. I'm something of a hobbyist scholar."
"Well," Tora smiled, pleasantly surprised by Ben's enthusiasm, "I shall be more than happy to indulge you. For now, I ought to show you to your rooms, I know you have an important mission ahead."
"Of course, thank you." This time his smile was wide and disarming, dimples and all.
Master Krill smiled back, stepping around the pair to lead them away. As Ben took steps to follow, Qui-Gon came up close beside him.
"Do you always flatter yourself into the better graces of the opposite sex?" He whispered.
"It was not flattery," Ben admonished, defensively, "it is fascinating, I do look forward to learning more. It's not every day we get to see our own temples as they would have been three hundred years ago." Qui-Gon knew from many years at Obi-Wan's side that it was a genuine sentiment. However, those same years of experience had taught him that Obi-Wan would never engage in such unabashed interest without an ulterior motive. As they walked side by side, his stare was silent and relentless. Eventually, childhood sensibilities still sensitive to Qui-Gon's tricks, Ben cracked. He tipped his chin defiantly. "Even if that were not so, it is in one's best interest to find a host's good favor."
"I see," Qui-Gon muttered, easing back and looking intensely smug. "I always said you'd be a charmer if you weren't so serious. Nice to know you've finally listened to me."
Ben sighed heavily, as grown children were wont to do around their fathers. Qui-Gon chuckled.
For all of Qui-Gon's teasing, Ben's efforts did work in their favor. Their original room allotment would have seen them sleeping in a damp, half-cleaned chamber with hard floor mats for resting; but after Master Krill had seen what her team had set up for them, she'd scoffed, apologized to them both - to Master Kenobi more than once - and moved them to a much more agreeable room, dry and clean. She'd even rustled up padded sleeping cots for them - a rare luxury in the field.
"A Jedi craves not physical comforts," Qui-Gon muttered after she'd left, eyeing the room and Ben's quietly pleased expression.
"No," his companion had answered, sitting down on his plush cot with an appreciative sigh. "But a good night's rest before a hard mission is not a selfish comfort. We come to serve, after all."
Their overnight accommodations settled, the two Jedi set about plotting their next course of action. They contacted Attichitcuk and announced their arrival. Apparently, they had not come a moment too soon. The Wookies were spread thin across their territories, battling off a new wave of gundarks and defending their fledgling crops as they had been for months. They'd already lost many good men and women to the fight, as well as equipment and supplies. It was unclear if they would be able to recoup their losses. Attichitcuk, however, adamantly refused to give up.
"As you should," Qui-Gon had concurred with the Wookiee leader. "Your people have suffered enough hardship on Kashyyk, I have no doubt they will overcome here on Alaris Prime. We will leave for your camp at dawn and render whatever help we can."
That settled, the pair covered the windows to block out the late afternoon sun and prepared for one last rest before they entered the mission field.
"Have you ever fought a gundark before?" Qui-Gon asked conversationally as they settled into their cots.
"I have, actually," Ben's smile was irrepressible and absurd for the topic. Qui-Gon noticed it.
"Was it as fun as all that?" He joked. Ben shook his head.
"No, it's just…" he touched his smiling lip with a finger, trying to make himself stop. "The time I'm thinking of… Anakin was with me, both of us were weaponless…" he chuckled at the memory of Anakin's face, the way he'd rattled on and on about that encounter for weeks afterward. That man did not exist anymore - could not exist. Ben missed him. "It was rather funny, is all."
Qui-Gon looked at him, quizzically. "That boy must've changed you more than I could've guessed, if you think fighting a gundark without a weapon is funny," he jibed, lying down on his cot and closing his eyes. "I should like to hear the story someday."
Ben almost launched into the tale then and there, but then he thought of Dooku's role in it - or rather, Darth Tyrannus' role in it. As far as Ben was aware, Qui-Gon was ignorant of his old master's sympathies - those that were, and those that might yet be. "Not all of it, perhaps," Ben said quietly, settling into a comfortable spot. Discomfort coiled in his belly and he felt compelled to change the subject. "Do you really think that Obi-Wan is ready for the trials?"
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, though Ben could not see. His moment of hesitation before answering was long enough to convey self-doubt, but short enough to convey solid conviction. "Yes, I do."
"Hmm." Hearing it felt odd to Ben. It was nearly three years earlier than when he'd graduated, and even then, he'd never received such glowing commendation from his master before Qui-Gon's own interests had demanded it. Hearing it now, meant for another iteration of himself, was both healing and hurtful. "It's a bit early for it, by my reckoning."
"Yes, I had thought of that," his master admitted, sounding unusually pensive. Though neither could see each other, Ben could imagine his expression, the seldom-wrought wrinkles of preoccupation on the face of a man used to living in the moment. "But you know better than I how much he's changed from what you knew, who you were at his age. Your arrival has… sped things up."
"I've sensed it." Palpatine. Maul. The Sith. "But not in the same ways."
"Even so. Your presence in his life, the matters he's had to deal with because of it, they've aged him. Obi-Wan is very nearly… no, he is a man. He'll make a great Jedi Knight - of a caliber I'm grateful to have seen in you." Qui-Gon let out a soft laugh and continued, in tone that made him sound older and more sentimental than Ben ever remembered him being, "As often as you say how different you are, Ben, you and Obi-Wan are cut from the same cloth. I've only realized how ready he is by seeing the man he might one day become in the flesh. If not for that, I might've hung on to him until the day he was gladly rid me - or me of him." He paused, a thick silence passing between them before he added, quietly, "Perhaps that's where I went wrong with you. I'm very sorry."
Ben had no way of conveying his emotions coherently. The swell in his chest to have earned Qui-Gon's regard, the ache he felt from missing being his apprentice, the sheer awkwardness of sharing his own master with himself. But Qui-Gon's condemnation of himself, a self he had never known, was something Ben could not ignore. "Obi-Wan is not me, Qui-Gon, no matter our similarities. And you are not the man I knew. You are different, in your own ways; I know you would never inflict upon him what happened to me."
"What I did to you," Qui-Gon saw through Ben's careful passivity.
"You have done nothing to me but mend what once was, Master, what never will be, and I thank you for it." The Force hummed quietly in their apology, a contented tone that invited both to rest. "When will you tell the council?" Ben asked at length, growing drowsy.
Qui-Gon hid how the question upset his inner sense of peace. "When the time is right," he said cryptically. "As you say, it's a bit early yet." Which he felt was true; but he did not entirely understand why.
"Just be sure to mention it to him before you mention it to the Council," Ben advised. "It'll be better for everyone."
Qui-Gon did not feel up to the task of asking why. "I'll keep it in mind," he said, and consigned himself to sleep. Ben followed his example shortly thereafter.
They awoke before dawn. Ben had warned Master Krill that they would be leaving early, so she'd wished them well and told them where to find their portable kitchen and 'fresher units. They washed up, checked their provisions, and quietly made their way to the kitchens for one last proper meal.
The halls were empty. Lonely security lights gave off just enough light to illuminate the doorways and uneven footpaths. Electricity generators and field equipment stood here and there, out of the way and dormant until their sentient masters emerged for the day's work. They made no noise.
Not wanting to spoil the silence, Ben picked up the disused threads of his mental link with Qui-Gon to say, "I think we're the only ones awake."
Qui-Gon craned his neck to see around the bend ahead of them. "Not quite," he replied, taking the sudden telepathy in stride, "Look."
Ben looked. They'd just come upon a large, recently-cleared chamber. It was a makeshift kitchen, full of tables and cooking equipment, right where Tora had said it would be. However, there was one fixture that Master Krill had neglected to mention. It was stooped over by a wall, shining a bright purple light on some obscure point of interest. A padawan's braid hung over the far shoulder.
"You must be Zulo," Qui-Gon said. Across the hall, the apprentice jumped suddenly, falling back and raising his bright lamp to see his visitors. Qui-Gon and Ben both winced and shaded their eyes, temporarily blinded. The boy hastily pointed the light away.
"Sorry," he said, blacklight causing his teeth to shine blue as he flashed a nervous smile. He leaned over and flipped on a regular lamp so he could turn off his hand-held one.
Now fully illuminated, Ben could see that he was only a boy. He was shortish, and gangly, still waiting on his post-pubescent musculature. His eyes were alert and intelligent, but, though disguised by his dark complexion, they sported fatigued bags underneath. Ben wondered if he woke up at this hour everyday.
"Hello, Masters, so sorry about that."
"No need to apologize. It is Zulo, isn't it?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Yes," he bowed, "Zulo Berron."
"It's nice to meet you, Padawan Berron. Your master speaks very highly of you." The apprentice grinned at the praise. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Master Ben Kenobi. We're in search of breakfast - this is the camp kitchen, is it not?"
"Yes, please, help yourself," Zulo gestured, kicking his equipment out of the way. They moved further into the kitchen, whereupon Qui-Gon set out hunting for tea. Zulo watched them with intense interest, which he was attempting, albeit poorly, to hide.
"You're the ones going out to help Attichitcuk, aren't you?" He asked. Ben smiled up at him.
"Yes, we are. How did you know about that?"
Zulo shrugged. "Small team around here. We don't really have secrets."
"Ah," Qui-Gon smiled as he put together a scanty tea tray with breakfast cakes, "That must be freeing. And maddening."
Zulo laughed. "A bit, I guess. Are you leaving soon?"
"As soon as we finish breakfast," Ben answered, joining Qui-Gon with a trayful of fruits and cooked cereal. They made their way to a table and set out their shared foodstuffs. "Why don't you join us?"
Hesitant, Zulo went to sit by Ben, and graciously accepted the piece of fruit offered him.
"We're up before the sun to rendezvous with the Wookiee colonists for our mission. But why is an apprentice awake at this hour?" Qui-Gon stirred his tea. "I have a padawan not too much older than you. At nineteen he would've slept in past midday, if I had let him. Has your master asked you to get up this early?"
"Oh," Zulo smiled sheepishly, "No, actually… I don't think Master Nomar knows I'm up. I was working on a project, is all."
"What kind of project?" Ben asked, scratching his beard. Zulo gestured to the corner where he'd been working with his blacklight. A meter or so above the ground, there was a thick band of limestone which encircled the entire room. In the artificial lighting, indistinct carvings were visible.
"There are some old inscriptions in the walls, maxims and sayings, so forth."
"Yes. The Temple on Coruscant has similar monuments around its halls."
"Yes, but these have to be translated," Zulo explained, shyness dissolving while discussing that which he knew well, "they're written in Old Galactic Standard."
"Really?" Ben's inner scholar was able to pick up on the significance before Qui-Gon did. He scratched the side of his face. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I can show you. The carvings are impossible to read, but there was ink there, and the leftover bits of it show up under blacklight. It's OGS, I'm sure of it. I've been translating the inscriptions to try and date the temple."
"Old Galactic Standard hasn't been used for thousands of years," Ben frowned, "I thought this temple was only a few hundred years old?"
"That's just it," Zulo exclaimed, eyes wide and excited, "I think the initial reports are wrong. This could be one of the oldest Temples in the Order."
Qui-Gon glanced askance at the worksite. "The memorialization of a dead language in a Temple does not mean it was not long dead when it was written. You can still find texts written in OGS in the Archives."
Zulo deflated somewhat, but his expression remained confident. "Which is why I'm also dating what the inscriptions say. I'm hoping there will be some lexical giveaway, maybe even a date somewhere."
"What does Master Krill say to this theory of yours?" Qui-Gon asked, biting into a sandwich.
This time, Zulo's whole demeanor shrunk, shyness returning. "She doesn't… that is… This project wasn't actually assigned to me. Per se. I've been doing it on my own."
"Master Krill doesn't know?"
Zulo bit his lip. "No."
"Hmm," Qui-Gon smiled, sipping his tea. He could not always sympathize with scholars; he did not have the right disposition for all of the intellectual drudgery. But he could sympathize entirely with a bit of rebellion. "So that is why you're up so early."
"Yes."
"You ought to tell the others," Ben suggested. "Or are there secrets among you after all?" Suitably chastised, Zulo nodded. "Still, I wish you the best of luck. It would be a remarkable discovery if this temple really is so old." Ben suddenly put down his spoon to scratch at his beard.
"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked him. "You've been doing that all morning."
"I don't know what it is," Ben grumbled, scratching, "It's an itch that won't leave me."
"Oh no," Zulo scooted slightly away from Ben, "You didn't get furlice overnight, did you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Furlice. They live in dark caves - and temples, as we've found out. They usually snack on gundarks, but they also go after species with hair." He squinted at Ben's face with a grimace. "Tend to go after facial hair first. You won't see any of the guys growing beards around here. I'd get that checked out before they spread to your hair."
Ben sputtered. "Lice?" Just what he needed. "And you, you've made it out unscathed, I take it?" He looked up at Qui-Gon, who blinked and shrugged.
"Perhaps they went for the weaker target, my friend."
"Very funny," Ben glared. He turned a more civilized expression on Zulo. "How does one get rid of these pests? Assuming that is what this is." Ben wondered if he was imagining the sudden sensation of crawling. He itched again.
Zulo looked uncertain. "Well, if you were sticking around, we've developed this whole cleaning routine to get them out and keep them out, but, since you're leaving… when we first had problems with them, everyone just shaved."
"Shave?" Ben said with distaste, as if the solution were in fact more abhorrent than the problem, "I'm not going to shave."
"Well," Zulo shrugged, not sure how to advise a master now that his cure-all had hit a sore spot. "I'm not sure what to tell you."
"The Force will present a solution," Qui-Gon finished off his tea and began clearing their dishes. Ben continued to scratch. "We really ought to be going. Thank you for the conversation, Padawan Berron. May the Force grant you success in your endeavors. You really ought to tell your master. I believe he would be impressed with your efforts."
The apprentice bowed. "Yes, Master Jinn." He glanced at Ben, who was now glowering at the air, picking at his facial hair. Qui-Gon chuckled.
"Leave him to me. He'll have far more to worry about when we meet with Wookiees and gundarks."
Zulo grinned hesitantly. "Force be with you both, then."
"Indeed."
When Ben had visited Alaris Prime in the past, they'd been able to travel around the entire sphere without much trouble, using well-paved roads and landspeeders to cross distances at a convenient pace. However, the industrial base that he remembered from the Clone Wars was a figment of memory. Here in the present, there were no roads at all, and no hope of crossing the jungle terrain on speeder, and no good place to land a personal craft. And so, for the next several hours, the Jedi progressed on foot. Qui-Gon kept his left hand rested on his saber, eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, be they gundark or otherwise. Ben's hands were occupied with scratching his face.
"You know, the Wookiees will not thank you in the slightest if you bring your lice to them," Qui-Gon advised.
"It's not lice," Ben insisted, though he knew it was a lie - probably.
"Shall we let you test your wild hopes on a colony of people who are covered in fur? Or will you do us all the decency of shaving off the infestation before it becomes worse?"
Ben glared at him, hating how the man was so often right. "I don't suppose you have a kit with you, do you?"
"If you mean a hair kit, no, I do not. I didn't think it would be necessary. Though I do have a medic kit with a laserknife…"
"Nevermind," Ben grumbled, unclipping his lightsaber. "Give me a moment, will you?" He looked around their surroundings and set off down a short embankment.
Qui-Gon watched him march off toward a small puddle and ignite his saber. "With a saber?" He raised a concerned, skeptical brow. "You're trying to get rid of the lice, not your face."
Without turning around, Ben called back, "You would be amazed at the tricks you pick up when a saber is the only tool you have to your name," Ben said, sitting down in front of the puddle to use it as a mirror. "I would think you of all people would respect a good field trick."
Qui-Gon only shook his head and waited, eye still scanning the horizon, searching for any movement, and hint of trouble. There were none. Only birds chirping quietly and the chitter of bugs in the trees.
Eventually, Ben hiked unhappily back up the slope, rubbing at his clean-shaven face and picking off bits of singed hair and whatever remained of the lice. "Happy now? Let's go. We've still got at least twenty klicks to go."
Qui-Gon did a double take, and proceeded to openly stare. Ben was looking down at his map.
"We're headed southeast, by my estimation, which means we should be coming upon a valley fairly soon. We can follow its base for another dozen klicks or so, which should let us out here, just a few klicks south of Attichicuk's base." He looked up for his Master's agreement, but found him staring at him instead, mouth slightly agape. He frowned. "What?"
Qui-Gon's mind was whirling back in time, back to the day that Ben had first appeared in the Temple, to the moment when Qui-Gon had first laid eyes on him. Unnerving, he'd thought then. He long since forgotten about that feeling, the chill that had run up his spine when he realized that this man was not like Obi-Wan, he was Obi-Wan. The feeling was back now, stronger than before. Without his beard, Ben looked exactly like his younger self. For a brief moment, Qui-Gon believed that he had been propelled ten years into the future, a future in which he and Obi-Wan, not Ben, were once again set on a mission together.
"Master?" Obi-Wan asked.
Qui-Gon shook himself. "I'm sorry," he told Ben, blinking away abstraction. "You just… you look very different, is all." He scanned the slightly wrinkled version of his apprentice once more. "You've aged well." It was meant as a compliment, but Obi-Wan - no, Ben, Qui-Gon had to remind himself - sneered.
"I haven't aged since I was twelve, that's why I grew the damned thing in the first place," which made Qui-Gon laugh. Ben sighed, almost wistfully, and stroked his bare chin. "It'll take weeks to grow it back," he lamented.
"Vanities, Padawan," Qui-Gon reprimanded, setting off into a hike once more. Ben scoffed and followed.
"Diplomacy. I need that beard."
"For what?"
"Intimidation, among other things. And besides, without it, I might as well tell the entire galaxy my true identity. I should like to have it back before we return to Coruscant. There would be plenty of comments."
"Hmm." Qui-Gon hadn't thought of that. "The Force will provide a solution." But, on that same vein, "And what if Obi-Wan ever decides to grow a beard?"
"He shall have to shave. We look too much alike. Without some great distinguishing feature between us, we might as well announce to the whole Temple that he has a time-travelling counterpart who's been living amongst the Jedi for nearly ten years." Ten years. Saying it out loud made him feel old - even without the beard.
"And have you considered that?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Considered what?
"Telling everyone."
Ben balked at the idea. "Everyone? No." He shook his head, and added quietly, "Perhaps a few others. I want to tell Aola. She is close with Obi-Wan, with me. Her master knows, you know… She deserves to know, I think."
"Feemor's mentioned it before."
"Has he?"
"Yes, you two ought to talk about it when we return."
"Yes… I think I will." Ben let himself drift off into thought as they continued to hike along the low ridge until it descended into a valley.
They trekked on in companionable quiet for several more hours, speaking occasionally of the mission, or of the Temple and Zulo's project. They travelled down into the valley and along its path, and were halfway through hiking back up the cove's end when Qui-Gon very suddenly stopped and shot out his arm to prevent Ben from taking another step forward.
Ben's senses jerked to life, and he watched the elder man's face intently. "What is it?"
Qui-Gon did not answer immediately. After a moment of silence, his mental voice was tense. "Do you sense that?"
A disturbance. Small, unintelligent. Growing larger, closer. Familiar. "Oh, chssk," Ben cursed, and drew his saber.
Qui-Gon did likewise. "Gundark?" He surmised. Ben let out a sigh.
"Gundark," He agreed. The creature burst into view, sniffing the air. It saw them, bared its teeth, and charged with a roar. The Jedi split up, flanking the beast on either side.
"You know," Ben said from across the heavily-wooded field, "I never actually learned how gundarks made it out this far," he swept his saber in a casual arc, missing the gundark's foreclaw when it drew it up at the last second, and ducking out of the away when it brought it back down to land on top of him.
"Perhaps you should stop wondering how and start focusing on the fact that they have," Qui-Gon struck a hit on the animal's paw as it swiped at him, and it yowled.
"Well of course it's here," Ben threw back, running underneath the belly of the beast, "but how did it get here?"
Qui-Gon did not roll his eyes, but only because he was busy dodging the Gundark's angry claws. It's shrieks were deafening at this close range. "You said you've fought a gundark before, how did you defeat it then?" He yelled over the noise, sliding down a ridge toward the head. As the Jedi slid, the beast turned completely around, sending it's tree-trunk thick tail barrelling at Qui-Gon's head. He put up his saber at the last minute, severing half of its tail entirely, to the creature's wailing agony. It fell in a bloody, twitching heap and the Jedi winced in sympathy, feeling guilty for inflicting unnecessary suffering.
The gundark kicked with its hind paw and ejected Ben out from beneath itself. The Jedi groaned and stood, robes now covered in soil. He hobbled toward his master. "With a cave full of very large boulders, which seem to be scarce about now." He eyed the severed tail and shrugged. "Nice try, though." Their pause to converse gave the gundark time enough to turn around and spot them. It dove at them face first, teeth gleaming. The Jedi ran.
"There's a steep cliff not far ahead," Qui-Gon yelled as branches and weeds smacked against his legs. Ben glanced over his shoulder at the pursuing gundark, trying not to trip on roots and rocks.
"Its tail is throwing it off-balance. Nip at the heels?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "Now," he said. The two veered off to either side of the path, running around and coming back behind the creature from opposite directions. Alternating in turn, they dodged at the monster's feet and shins, prodding it with their sabers onwards toward the cliff. It roared and bent down to take a bite out of Qui-Gon, but came back up with a mouth full of foliage instead. The treeline came into view, and then the rocky cliff beyond. The gundark burst through the wood's edge in an explosion of leaves and dirt.
As simple as the creature's brain was, it seemed to have realized their plans for it. It roared in anger and charged back toward the Jedi and the safety of the forest.
"Now?" Ben asked loudly.
"Now," Qui-Gon confirmed mentally. They raised their hands as one and sent a massive push through the Force, sending the gundark flying backward and over the edge of the cliff. Its claws scrambled at the edge, but it fell to the ground with a fading howl. The sound of its landing was punctuated by the splitting of trees.
"Well," Qui-Gon panted, trying to catch his breath, "as good as any boulders, I'd say."
"Yes, it's rather easier with weapons," Ben agreed, and went forward to look over the cliff.
Far below, the gundark was silent. But nearby where it had landed, the sounds of a familiar alien language rang out. Qui-Gon came up beside Ben and peered at the carnage. Already, two hair-covered bodies were running toward the fallen gundark, waving their bowcasters overhead in victory. Their growls echoed up the cliff face to their allies above.
"I suppose," said Qui-Gon, brushing hair out of his face, "that would be our rendezvous point."
By the time they'd reached the bottom of the cliff face, the Wookiees had already begun clearing up fallen trees and loading them into repulsorcraft. It appeared they were butchering the gundark, chopping off claws and fur, sorting usable bits and marking out where the best cuts of meat would yield. Ben winced. He couldn't imagine fried gundark being an exceptionally palatable meal. Still, he supposed it was good to see the gundark's unfortunate demise put to good use for others.
As the scavengers worked, a huge, golden-brown Wookiee emerged from the forest. As he passed, other Wookiees nodded their heads respectfully. Though Ben's Shyriiwook was rusty, he was able to make out the speaker's boisterous greeting.
«Masters Jedi!»
Ben smiled at him. "Attichitcuk," he bowed slightly. "It is good to see you - you seem to have come upon us at just the right moment."
The Wookiee leader seemed to chuckle at this, though it came out as more of a purr.
«No, master Jedi, it is you who has come at just the right moment. I am incredibly grateful to see you. Come with me. We cannot waste any more time.» He waved a massive paw, bidding them to follow.
Qui-Gon and Ben shared a look, and fell into step together behind Attichitcuk, allowing themselves to be led toward the new Alaris settlement and whatever dangers lay within.
