Author's Note: Thank you all for the overwhelming feedback so far. I am pleased and gratified by how many have read this story and given reviews, both here and on the obidala forums. I hope you will continue to convey how much you enjoy reading this. I have begun Episode II with a chapter which covers the ten years between, with events from Rogue Planet by Greg Bear and Outbound Flight by Timothy Zahn. Each horizontal line represents a the jump in time and scenes. I hope have included enough for you to understand what has happened in those books so far by the point of my scene insertion, but not too much to spoil the plot of said books. For a more detailed understanding, please click the link for notes on this part in my bio. Enjoy.
Episode II.
The Calm In The Mirage.
How is it that, being gone, you fill my days,
And all the long nights are made glad by thee?
Amy Lowell; A Dome of Many Colored Glass.
Part 13: Thoughts & Emotions During Rogue Outbound Storms.
"The Chosen One Qui-Gon gave to us all, not proven, full of fear and yours to save. And if you do not save him...."
Obi-Wan still dwelt on Yoda's words, said to him long before the mission to find Vergere began, before Anakin had met the Blood Carver known as Ke Daiv. Before all he and Qui-Gon had to worry about was the latest invented droid creating havoc about the Temple, or the next pit race it's designer had chosen to compete in.
Now they had to worry about something else their Padawan was capable of. Something far darker than racing or droids.
The discovery of Ke Daiv's body continued to haunt him, along with the knowledge of what Anakin had done. Such power not only brushed the dark side of the Force, it embraced and accepted it, as shadows seduced light. It did not matter that Anakin had felt unable to control the power, or experienced remorse after the deed was done, the anger he expressed during that time was a cause for concern.
Qui-Gon had been distressed by the report of it, which he heard when Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the Temple. Only recently recovered from a particularly bad seizure, he was prevented from joining the mission by the Healers. To Obi-Wan, who had witnessed part of the betrayal which Xanatos had dealt upon his Master, it seemed that Qui-Gon feared he had failed again in his teaching of the Chosen One of the Jedi.
Until, much to his surprise, Qui-Gon began to defend Anakin's actions, almost to the point of justification, resulting in the first quarrel between himself and Obi-Wan since the latter's knighthood ceremony three years ago. Obi-Wan did not deny that Anakin regretted the act, or that the deed had been beyond his control, but he could not attempt to clear the boy of all the guilt in committing the act, as Qui-Gon now tried to do, for Anakin had accessed a previous point of contention with the Blood Carver as the focal point for his anger.
His former Master's behaviour had surprised him. Obi-Wan remembered well the effects of Xanatos' betrayal upon Qui-Gon. It left him exposed to all the emotions of recrimination, guilt, anger, grief, distrust, insecurity even incredulity. But not once had he attempted to excuse or justify Xanatos' actions. Not to the Council, not to Obi-Wan.
Yet again, it seemed, Anakin was to be treated differently.
"Ke Daiv did try to murder him," Qui-Gon had said when Obi-Wan finished relaying his report of the mission. "Anakin had a right to defend himself."
"In such a violent fashion?" Obi-Wan queried incredulously.
"The act was out of his control, padawan," Qui-Gon reminded him gently. "He still has much to learn, but he did realise that point, and he did feel guilt afterwards. Surely we should not condemn him?"
"I am not suggesting that, Master," Obi-Wan replied, running a hand through his hair as he tried to summon the wisdom and the strength for this debate. "But nor do I believe that we should just forget that the act even took place. Anakin certainly won't."
"Which is precisely why we should," Qui-Gon argued. "The boy deserves not to have the incident rule the rest of his training. Already there is a level of expectation concerning him about the Council. Knowledge of this deed will only add to it."
"Such an expectation would not have existed if you held your tongue concerning the prophecy when the Council rejected him," Obi-Wan pointed out.
"Anakin has a right to know of the enormous potential inside him," Qui-Gon countered.
"Perhaps," Obi-Wan allowed. "But such knowledge, now rendered commonplace, has and will continue to subject him to an unusual amount of pressure. More pressure than any padawan should face. As his teachers, it is our duty to relieve him of those burdens, to give him the guidance and strength he needs to accept such perception."
"You've just argued more in favour of my point than your own," Qui-Gon said. "I think Anakin has learned from this lesson. He does not need to be reminded of it."
"Master Cho Leem warned us to be careful," Obi-Wan added. "I think we should follow her advice."
"I shall talk with her," Qui-Gon remarked, before leaving the quarters. "Seeing as you put such stock in her diagnosis," he added, leaving Obi-Wan to flinch at the emphasis and the tone behind it.
Master Thracia Cho Leem left the Order last night. Without any explanation. It was presumed she had gone to continue what he and Anakin failed to finish, to find Vergere, her former apprentice. But Obi-Wan wondered if she had seen something in her healing of Anakin, something that made her pause, for when it was over she had pulled him aside and warned him and Qui-Gon to be careful in their tutelage of the boy. She had also apologised for her words to him in Counsel, when they were assigned to the mission, before advising him to seek solace of his own, for his soul could do with it.
Which is what brought him here, to the private com port in the quarters he shared with Anakin and Qui-Gon at the Temple. Silently he tapped out the special coded preset she had given him for precisely such a call, pressed the send key, and waited for a response.
His patience was swiftly rewarded. The blank screen before him coalesced into a beautiful young woman, with dark brown hair loose and cascading down her back, and equally dark eyes that sparkled as they regarded their caller.
"Master Kenobi, what brings this rare pleasure of seeing you to me?" Padmé Amidala Naberrie, Queen of all the Naboo, asked.
Obi-Wan glanced at the chrono and immediately felt contrite. "Forgive me for disturbing your sleep, milady, I had no idea the hour there was so late."
"There is no need for an apology, I have yet to fully retire," Padmé smiled at him, unable to restrain a blush as she caught his fine blue grey eyes appraising the way her nightgown clung to her body. "And you did not answer my question."
He bowed his head, hiding his eyes from her searching gaze. "I needed to see you," he replied simply. "To hear your voice."
Padmé was concerned. "What happened, Obi-Wan? Are you allowed to tell me?"
"A rather harrowing mission," he replied, for the details were now classified. "For both myself and Anakin. Which resulted in a fight with Qui-Gon."
"Oh, my love," she murmured, the words surprising both of them, as her hand reached out to touch the holo of him, wishing she was on Coruscant to offer him proper comfort. He put his fingers upon the screen where hers were placed, his mind wishing the same.
"Tell me something," he asked softly. "Anything. I just need to listen and look."
She obliged, relaying to him the events of her life since their last conversation. Obi-Wan leaned back in the chair before the holo and let the sweetness of her voice wash over him, along with the sparkle in her dark eyes, and the lustre which the light of the stars behind her bestowed upon her figure. His mind took in the words with which she used to describe her days, allowing their blessed normality to soothe and comfort his harried mind, until the wisdom was gained to heal the breach with his former Master once more.
"And keep in touch," Master Windu added.
"I will," Obi-Wan replied, before turning round and heading towards the entrance of the Council Chamber. When he reached the threshold however, he paused to face the Korun Master. "Emotion is not the enemy, Master Windu. It is present within all of us, everyday of lives, no matter how much we deny it. Learning to deal with every aspect of it is the true test of any Jedi."
Mace dwelled on his words for a moment, then bowed his head in acknowledgement of the wisdom and insight in the advice. "Perhaps you are right, Obi-Wan." He raised his dark eyes to level with the blue grey ones of his friend's former apprentice. "Clear skies, and may the Force be with you."
Obi-Wan bowed. "And with you, Master." he pressed the release for the door and exited the Council Chambers.
Silently, he made his way to the quarters he shared with Anakin and Qui-Gon, his mind meditating on the best way to inform the latter that he was again to stay at the Temple while their padawan went on another mission. Lately the Council had become more and more protective of Qui-Gon, worried that the illness which wracked his body would hinder him if he participated in some of the more lively field missions. It was a judgement which Qui-Gon railed against, and lately, as his illness waxed and waned, one he attempted to flout. Recently Obi-Wan chose to forget informing his Master about the latest mission, in favour of avoiding the fierce debate that usually arose over the protective nature of the Council and his padawans.
Thus, when the door to the quarters they shared opened to reveal his Master pacing the floor of the living space, Obi-Wan was prepared to see this debate through.
Whatever the cost.
Qui-Gon came to halt as soon as he caught sight of him. "Well, where to this time?"
"Barlok," Obi-Wan replied. "To assist Master C'baoth in his negotiations between the local government and the Corporate Alliance." Assist was a loose term, for Master Windu had actually ordered him to keep an eye on the Jedi Master. But if Obi-Wan couched the assignment within just such a term he might loose Qui-Gon's interest in the matter and thus keep him Temple bound.
"Another one," Qui-Gon mused thoughtfully. "The Republic seems to endure so many such disputes these days."
Obi-Wan nodded, shielding his thoughts as he observed his Master. Qui-Gon had recently come out of a stasis session where his body was put to sleep as a further delay concerning the onset of his illness. As a result he appeared and felt stronger than he usually was when dealing with the effects which the disease visited upon his body. Yet, Obi-Wan also knew that this facade did not last long. Despite the best efforts of the Nubian physicians who suggested this treatment, the affliction continued to pour great strain on Qui-Gon.
"I think I shall stay here," Qui-Gon decided, surprising Obi-Wan for he had expected much more of a fight. "Master C'baoth will not want me interfering in his missions, nor you and Anakin for that matter."
"That is true," Obi-Wan agreed. "But I shall do as the Council instructed me."
"As should we all, young one." Qui-Gon murmured, sinking into the large sofa behind him, causing his companion to regard him with a critical eye.
Obi-Wan caught the hidden strain within his Master's eyes, noticing for the first time since he entered the quarters the extreme effort his body was using to keep him awake. "Master, did something happen with the stasis?"
Qui-Gon shook his head, placing a hand above his pupils, sighing as he let the fingers massage his temple. "The Healers informed me that the more they resort to putting me in stasis, the greater the possibility that I will fail to return from it."
"Does that mean abandoning such treatment?" Obi-Wan asked.
"For a time," Qui-Gon confirmed. "Such is the nature with an unidentifiable illness. Experiment only if there is no risk to the sufferer." He sensed the rising levels of concern and moved a hand from his temple in an effort to quell them. "Fear not, padawan mine, this will pass, though perhaps not as quickly as it should."
"Maybe I should ask Mace to assign someone else," Obi-Wan murmured, as he watched his Master anxiously.
"No, you and Anakin go," Qui-Gon urged. "The sudden quietness of this apartment might restore me."
Obi-Wan mocked frowned. "We don't make that much noise, do we?"
"You, no. Anakin on the other hand, with his constant tinkering...." Qui-Gon smiled as he let the sentence end. "That reminds me, have you found his latest project?"
"Not yet, why do you ask?" Obi-Wan inquired.
"Because I don't think Master Yoda is going to like it. I came across the plans on his datapad. Something to do with a reverse gimmer stick hit device...."
Just find a way aboard," Mace asked him. "However you have to do it."
Obi-Wan nodded, then bowed before exiting the Council Chamber. This was the second time he had greeted Master Windu alone in that room recently, and the second time he was assigned to watch Master C'baoth. Armed with the full up to date details of the Outbound Flight project, he mulled over the information and the Jedi who had requested to go all the way back to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon and Anakin.
Theoretically, Outbound Flight was a sound project. A noble quest of exploration into the Unknown Regions, a chance to terraform more planets, expand manufacture and food supplies, an opportunity for a second Jedi Temple, where a new code could be written. Obi-Wan could understand why eleven Jedi Knights and six Masters put their names forward when one considered benefits such as these.
But he could also comprehend why the Council were so concerned, for this was not the best time to loose eighteen Jedi from the Order. Not to mention the recent troublesome propaganda about the Order which was spreading through the Republic like wildfire. Accusations concerning their involvement in the Blockade Crisis, the heavy-handed attitude of some Masters and Knights - C'baoth amongst them -when dealing with Republic or non- Republic citizens. The some times healthy suspicion adults held when dealing with their gifted offspring.
He dealt the list of Masters and Knights a cursory glance, his mind searching through his impressions of them. The fact that most were C'baoth's equal when it came to unwholesome reputations conveyed a disturbing message to those in the Senate and elsewhere who regarded the Jedi with suspicion. Some of the names on this list were also those who disagreed with the Council on a regular basis about the way the Order was run. It suggested that the Order was treating this mission as an opportunity to get rid of the most rebellious members. Or that it was sending those they trusted into the Unknown Regions on an insidious invasion plan.
These were the suspicions which were spreading through the Republic right now; most of them unfounded, but when viewed in a certain light, hard to deny. Given the amount of unrest and corruption, some mistrust was understandable. But it was the last thing the Republic needed. Just as sending away a quota of the population skilled in engineering and exploration was unwise.
But the reputation Master C'baoth amassed after Barlok, meant anyone and everyone who were not onboard before, were now. And those who still held caution were subjected to the Master's forthright persuasion. Obi-Wan could not help but worry over the outcome of this mission, not just for the Jedi, but for the Republic citizens going along.
His chrono beeped, reminding him of the time on Naboo. When he was inbetween assignments, he usually took the trouble to call Padmé. The thought of hearing her voice at this moment was soothing balm to his troubled mind. Looking up, he got his bearings and set off for his quarters.
The place was deserted when he entered, not unusual, for Anakin had classes and Qui-Gon was teaching some of the Senior Padawans when his strength permitted. Obi-Wan crossed the living room and entered the study, where the com device bordered the three way desk in the centre of the room.
Seating himself in the chair before his workspace, he tapped in the familiar number of digits which she had given him before he left Naboo and leaned back against the nerfhide covering while he waited for the services to connect.
Unhappily, his patience was only rewarded with an answering message. For a moment he savoured her tone as the recording delivered the polite words, then spoke into the com, leaving a note of his own promise to get in touch when he could.
"Settle yourself in, Master Kenobi," Chancellor Palpatine said. "It's likely to be a very long and weary day."
And he was right, Obi-Wan mused as he almost stumbled through the doorway of his quarters, collapsing in a exhausted, inelegant heap upon the sofa. The negotiations with Roxuli's central government and the system's asteroid mining colonies made the trials of C'baoth and Outbound Flight appear to be a breeze; a minor concern in the grand scheme of things. He was fortunate the Chancellor had taken the decision to stay onboard out of his hands, for it was a selfish move to remain with Outbound Flight, when the Republic was struggling so much. The project to explore the Unknown Regions now seemed akin to rats abandoning a sinking ship.
He and Anakin had experienced all the bad parts of the Republic while they were on board; from the mutinous dissent and suspicion of their citizens, to the overbearing attitude of Master C'baoth in regard to anyone questioning his authority. Frankly, Obi-Wan was relieved to get Anakin away from the ship, for his apprentice did not need to be taught that such arrogance delivered results. Nor that mind melding in the Force was a good technique either. In fact, C'baoth seemed to heading down the path which led to the dark side, if he continued to assert his methods and authority against the rising tide of dissent and suspicion from Outbound Flight's crew and passengers. Obi-Wan feared for the outcome of the mission, and he doubted that one lone voice would have steadied the ship.
The Council would need a briefing from him, a summary of all the events before he delivered his report in full tomorrow morning, but Obi-Wan felt such a task was presently beyond him right now, and any attempt would convey an unhealthy display of negative emotion. He needed a hot shower, something soothing to eat and drink, then bed, before any of the normal procedure after an assignment could take place.
Summoning the energy to rise from the sofa, he opened his eyes just in time to greet his apprentice with a glance as Anakin entered their quarters.
"Master, a call came through for you while we were out," he said, handing him the pad which contained the message and number.
Obi-Wan took the device and cast his blue grey eyes over the string of digits. Abruptly his mind found a new siphon of energy and he rose to his full height. "I'll be using the com for the next hour," he announced.
Anakin frowned. "Are you calling her?" he asked.
The terse accent to his voice caused Obi-Wan to pause. Only tiredness prevented him from answering in his usual calm fashion; he responded in a clipped snap. "Yes, I am."
He felt Anakin's resentful stare follow him all the way to the com.
"Your Highness."
Padmé smiled as she turned to greet her visitor who was regarding the elaborate outfit she wore as Queen Amidala with a new sense; the eyes of someone who would be wearing such costumes soon. She remembered her own awe during that moment, silently wondering how she would manage to breathe in them, let alone walk across a room. "In a few days it'll be the other way round."
"It still doesn't seem real," Jamillia mused, her hands unconsciously touching simple folds of her handmaiden gown. "What did you feel when you first took the throne?"
"Strange," Padmé replied. "I'd been working towards it for years and suddenly there it was. Before I had time to adjust the blockade came."
"What do you think you'll do now?"
"Get used to being an ordinary citizen again," Padmé replied. "Take a vacation. Maybe settle down." she caught the interested gaze of her successor. "Why do you ask?"
"I was wondering if you'd consider a seat in the Senate?"
"Is Horace stepping down?" Padmé sought to confirm, for she had heard nothing from Senator Vancil about this.
Jamillia nodded. "Health concerns. I was only informed this morning."
Padmé laughed slightly. "I shall have to get used to not being informed first of everything that goes on in the Republic."
"Seriously, would you consider taking his seat?" Jamillia inquired. "I know you could do much good."
"I could also do much bad," Padmé countered, watching her successor smile in disbelief. Her reputation had only increased since the blockade, few maintained a healthy respect of her impervious nature to failure.
Jamillia shook her head. "I highly doubt that."
"Who suggested my name be put forward?" Padmé asked.
"The Chancellor," Jamillia answered. "He recalled your moment appealing our case before the Senate during the Blockade Crisis, how well you captured the attention of all his colleagues, inspiring them to make a fundamental change. When Senator Vancil called him this morning, he mentioned your name as his successor, and Horace assented without a moment of hesitation."
Padmé frowned. For some reason, the news that Chancellor Palpatine recommended her for the post, troubled her, more than she liked to admit.
"Milady, I'm not asking for an answer straight away," Jamillia added. "There is still time. Take that vacation and think about it."
Padmé nodded, returned the bow the Princess of Theed gave her, then waited for the doors to close before she sought the peaceful solitude of the balcony, away from the glaring beeping sound of technology.
The view was different from the one which she really sought when she stood on such marbled floors nowadays, but she enjoyed the pleasure it brought her all the same. Ever since Obi-Wan showed her the Force the view from balconies seemed inadequate somehow.
Padmé sighed and closed her eyes as the mere thought of him served to comfort her. Communication between them had been sparse lately due to the increasing number of missions the Order assigned to him and his apprentice. In the early days they could spend hours chatting across comways, now, they barely had time for general inquiry into each other's welbeing before he or sometimes she was called away. After the abrupt end of each message she found herself longing for the days when there were no titles between them except Jedi; in other words when her reign as sovereign of Naboo came to an end.
And now that it was about to, she had another title beckoning her. Senator. Not a role with which, if she was honest with herself, she hadn't contemplated running for, at some point in her life. But that had been before she met Obi-Wan. While it was true that she never expected to give up her career when she settled down with the love of her life, she hadn't meant it to be a high profile one by that time either. While the office would give her ample excuse to spend time on Coruscant, it would draw just as much, if not more attention upon her and any relationship she had.
Yet she could not deny the appeal of the position. The amount of good work she could do, not just for the Republic, but for Naboo as well. From the moment she became an apprentice legislator, she had dreamt of rising to such a position, never expecting her appeal for reform of the elective monarchy to grant her sovereignty. Aside from the news that Chancellor Palpatine recommended her for the post, there was no real objection in her heart or her mind for accepting it.
Padmé took one last look at the splendour of Theed, which the Palace balcony conveyed in all it's glory. She listened to the voice inside her, the one she always trusted to guide her future. It was telling her to take this post.
A smile creased her lips before she turned to go inside.
Padmé almost stumbled into her office in the Senate, exhausted from the welcoming ceremony. If she had known there were some many procedures for a Senator's first day in office, perhaps she would not have been quite so eager to take the post.
She blinked as she took in her desk, a piece of furniture which she thought she had left spotless that morning. Now piles of gifts cluttered the fine Alderaanian Kiirn, leaving not one particle of the dark wood unblemished by fancy flimsi or ribbon.
After the exhausting day in the Senate, the task of opening each present was beyond her right now. Padmé sank down in her chair, the calm eye in the storm of these gifts, her eyes casting only a cursory glance over them, noting for any which might make her smile.
One did, much to her surprise. Wrapped very simply, with a single, elaborately knotted ribbon around a white piece of writing flimsi, the gift lay in the centre of her writing plane, with a note from her handmaiden, Dormé, saying that this was sure to bring her comfort.
Intrigued, Padmé retrieved the scissors which her attendant had also thoughtfully laid nearby, and snipped the ribbon in order to preserve the elaborate knot. Turning the box over, she carefully prized apart the folds, the strength of the writing flimsi such as to prevent tearing without a great deal of force.
When the flimsi lay flat upon the writing plane, it revealed an intricately carved box, made of fine Alderaanian Kiirn, surrounding Nubian semiprecious gemstones. A gold clasp was placed in the middle of the top, designed to be pressed for release.
Padmé obliged, and the surface parted, lowering to either side, as in the centre, a glass dome rose from a small dais. The sight within caused her to gasp, taking in a shallow breathless air of joy and pleasure.
Her favourite Nubian flower lay posed beautifully within, in that perfect stage between bud and full bloom. Below, the green stem was suspended on a rotating dais, allowing one to see the flower from every angle.
As it circled round to display the back, Padmé noticed another small piece of white writing flimsi, lying within the lid of the box. She reached for it, cautiously prizing the seal from the edge and straightened the folds.
Congratulations, Senator Amidala
I have no doubt you will perform miracles
within your new position
All my love,
Obi-Wan.
Padmé let her fingers trace the elegant handwriting, as her mind tried to imagine his clipped Coruscanti accent speaking the words. She was touched beyond measure that he found the time to prepare and send this to her.