Coruscant, 24 BB
Obi-Wan Kenobi was not happy. Technically, he was rarely happy, but he was usually at least calm. Tranquil. At peace. But at this particular moment, he was utterly confused and more than slightly annoyed.
He supposed that his current feelings had something to do with the fact that his last mission had involved a drunken thief, a spoiled royal from a backwater planet, and a rather inconveniently-placed nest of incredibly foul-tempered Gundarks. The bite wounds were now fully healed, but Obi-Wan still limped a little. Gundarks were not creatures to meddle with, apparently.
And now the entire Jedi Council was at his door, telling him to forget about meditation and rest and go to the Outer Rim on a pirate hunt with no leads and no information.
No, Obi-Wan Kenobi was most definitely not happy. And his leg was starting to hurt again.
"Knight Kenobi, this task is vital to the Republic." Shaak Ti said, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. "Jabba the Hutt is powerful and he would make a vital ally."
"You have had harder missions, Obi-Wan." Mace Windu's tone was firm. "Pirates might be able to outsmart a Hutt, but a Jedi? It will not take too long for you to locate the pirate captain, contact us, and aid in the capture."
"I would be honored to accept." Obi-Wan said placidly. He didn't really have a choice in the matter and arguing with the Jedi Council was something that was more suited to Qui-Gon, not him. "When do I leave?"
If the Council was taken aback, none of the members showed it, aside from a look of pleasure in Kit Fisto's eyes and a flash of surprise on Pablo-Jill's face.
"Tomorrow morning." Master Windu informed Obi-Wan. "This mission is of top priority."
"Of course, Master Windu." Obi-Wan replied. "Is there anything I need to know?"
"Know little about these pirates, we do." Master Yoda said gravely. Obi- Wan peered down at the diminutive Master. "Very mysterious they are. Striking, running, hiding. Very clever, these pirates. Very careful, you must be. Only find the pirates. Engage them, do not. Fight them, do not."
"Yes, Master Yoda." Obi-Wan bowed to the old Master.
"That will be all, then." Shaak Ti said, clearly satisfied. "You may return to your business, Knight Kenobi. Be at the eastern transport docks by 0800."
The Jedi Council left Obi-Wan's room, filing out neatly. Some of them, like Pablo-Jill and Shaak Ti, looked surprised, as if they had come expecting a fight. Masters Yoda and Windu looked relatively pleased. Obi-Wan smiled a little, a harsh and bitter sort of smile. The Masters would get no rise from him, not now. It had been a long time since Qui-Gon died on Naboo and longer still since his rebellious Initiate years. He would not argue with the Jedi Council now. It would not bring Qui-Gon back. It would not bring his friends back from their missions nor make them Initiates again, wild, carefree, and happy. Arguing with the Council would only undo years of hard work, of good behavior. And that was unacceptable.
The door to his rooms slid shut behind the Council, leaving Obi-Wan alone. Stiffly he walked towards the refresher, keen on getting clean after spending a month out in the Outer Rim, where cleanliness had varied meanings to the beings who inhabited the planets.
The water that cascaded from his shower was lukewarm and soothing, relaxing his aching muscles. The bite wounds on his shin had healed into white, ragged scars. Over the years, Obi-Wan had acquired a wide variety of scars. It was an occupational hazard for Jedi, he supposed. Not all planets were friendly towards the Order.
Is it too much to ask for a week or two of relative relaxation? Obi-Wan asked silently. Some time alone, time to meditate? Lately the young Knight had been feeling out of tune with the Force, as though someone had thrown a rock into a pond, disturbing the smooth surface. Meditation would correct the disturbances, Obi-Wan knew, and while meditation could be achieved on a ship, the kind he was hoping for could only be found in the Room of the Thousand Fountains.
Shutting off the water, Obi-Wan grabbed the nearest towel and dried himself off, aware that his damp hair was sticking up wildly. He stepped out of the 'fresher and into his bedroom, blinking groggily. It was getting late; no time for dinner or evening meditation. The warm shower had put Obi-Wan in a sleepy state and he was too tired to even go make himself some tea. Yanking on a pair of sleep pants and a loose shirt, the tired Jedi Knight made his way to the bed.
It was very comfortable, he noticed, more comfortable than it normally was. Of course, anything was more comfortable than the beds on a ship or a floor.
I suppose meditation will have to wait…Obi-Wan managed to think. He blinked twice into the mattress, feeling the familiar warmth of sleep stealing up his back. He closed his eyes, and within a few moments, the young Knight was asleep.
That night, Obi-Wan dreamed. It was hardly a rare occurrence, of course, because everyone dreamed. But this dream was particularly vivid, startling in its clarity. Obi- Wan was walking down the hallways of the Jedi Temple, at ease with the person trotting at his side. The person was speaking, talking about the latest speeder that had just come arrived on the market in excited tones.
Obi-Wan found that he could not turn his head to look at his companion, but he deduced that it was a young male human, a boy, someone bursting with energy. The endless chatter was strangely soothing; it felt normal, almost. The Jedi was content to let his companion talk, occasionally nodding to show he was listening.
The other Jedi of the Temple, the Masters, Padawans, and Initiates, flicked in and out of view, doing what they normally did. Obi-Wan caught sight of Qui-Gon chatting idly with Master Dooku and he smiled at his old Master. Yoda stumped by, leaning on his gimmer stick. Mace Windu was leading a group of younglings around, talking about lightsaber combat. The normalcy of it was comforting to Obi-Wan, and he heard himself laugh at something his companion said.
"Master, why did the nerf cross the sky lane?" The young boy asked.
"I don't know, Padawan." Obi-Wan said, humoring the child. "Why?"
"To get to the other side!"
Obi-Wan awoke to the irritating sun streaming through his window and the feeling of nostalgia deep in his stomach. The feeling was puzzling; he had never experienced the event in his dream. He had never taken a Padawan, not one in the eight years since Qui-Gon's death at the hands of the Zabrak Sith and his own Knighting.
Rolling out of bed, Obi-Wan shuffled to the kitchen, attempting to find something hot to drink. It wasn't that he didn't want a Padawan. The idea of a youngling to raise and teach was pleasing. But Obi- Wan had seen hundreds of young Initiates and none struck him as the kind of Padawan he would want. No one was the right match.
Sighing, Obi-Wan managed to brew himself a decent cup of tea. The stuff was hot in his throat, but he didn't mind. He found a set of Jedi robes and pulled them on, straitening them so he looked presentable and calm. With a wet comb he was able to make his unruly gingery hair lie flat and he trimmed his beard.
I look awful. Obi-Wan thought. There were shadows under his eyes, a testament to many late nights, and his skin was pale. Today is going to be one of those days. He clipped his lightsaber onto his belt, comforted by the familiar weight, gathered a few spare clothes, stuffed them in a sack, and left his rooms, heading for the hangar bay to borrowed a speeder and plunge into Coruscant traffic and head for the eastern landing docks. Master Windu said that his transport would be ready to take him the Outer Rim world of Nar Shaddaa, a known cesspool for pirates and smugglers, there.
On his way down, Obi-Wan watched those around him. The halls of the Temple were filled, as usual, and everyone was polite and friendly, nodding their greetings to Obi-Wan. They all thought he was a model Jedi, a man with purpose who followed the Code and did good Jedi deeds.
I am a good Jedi. Obi-Wan told himself. It didn't matter that he didn't feel like one, that he was often lonely, mournful, and bitter, spending his time brooding alone. I am a good Jedi. He repeated. I am. But the words felt empty in his head.
After eight years, he should have moved on. Qui-Gon was one with the Force. Dead. Gone. It was time to move on, to forget. But Obi- Wan couldn't find the strength to do it, to forget Qui-Gon and move on with his life. It was too painful.
Today is going to be one of those days. Obi-Wan thought dryly. By the end of the day, he was going to have a headache and his heart would be full of sadness and pain.
Arriving at the hangar bay, Obi-Wan selected a speeder and, rather reluctantly, entered the bustling Coruscant traffic. After fifteen minutes of obeying traffic laws and dodging those who did not, the Jedi arrived at the eastern docks. Parking his speeder, he looked for the transport that would take him to Nar Shaddaa. He spotted it down the row of transports, a solid gray hulk, waiting as beings streamed into it. Apparently Nar Shaddaa was the place to go.
"Knight Kenobi!" Someone vaguely familiar was waving Obi- Wan down, beckoning the young Jedi over towards the transport.
"You will be riding this transport to Nar Shaddaa, yes?" The speaker was a Jedi Obi- Wan recalled seeing in the hallways, a quiet female Togruta, the sort of Jedi who was content to organize missions, not participate in them. While that life seemed rather boring, at least she had time to meditate.
"Yes." Obi-Wan replied.
The Togruta nodded agreeably. "Good." She handed him a bag. "In here you will find credits, a comlink, and other items to aid in your mission. The codes to access your room on the transport and on Nar Shaddaa are also inside. I see you've brought some clothing of your own, and in there are also some to disguise yourself. Good luck."
"Thank you." Obi-Wan said, putting his spare clothes with the disguises. He was tempted to tell her that he didn't need luck, but that would sound pompous, and pompous a good Jedi was not.
"You will be riding the transport to Nar Shaddaa. There will be several stops along the way and passengers will get on and off. Nar Shaddaa is the second-to-last stop before the transport begins its return journey."
Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. "Thank you."
"May the Force be with you." The Togrutan Jedi said.
"And with you." Obi-Wan replied with the customary response. He turned to face the transport. As a public transport, it would travel slowly, stopping at multiple worlds before arriving at Nar Shaddaa. He hated flying, and the transport did not look particularly stable, despite its massive size.
Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan walked to the transport, rummaging around for his pass. Showing it to the rather annoyed-looking Zabrak watching the door, he stepped on the transport. The ceiling was low and dimly lit, and the young Jedi immediately knew that this particular transporrt was for shadier beings.
Wonderful. He thought bitterly. A long flight on a transport with criminals. Now thoroughly annoyed, he wandered off in the direction of his cabin, warily watching the occupants. Several looked at him with shifty eyes, sizing him up, perhaps looking for credits or a reason to bother him. The Jedi steadily ignored them, turning down the hallway where his cabin was located and opening the door.
Obi-Wan's cabin was dingy and derelict, the bed looking like it already had some small insect inhabitants. Setting down his bags gingerly, the Jedi looked around gloomily. There was another set of luggage in a corner, and sure enough the 'fresher door was closed and someone was moving around inside it. Loudly. Employing the use of words in multiple languages that would get Obi-Wan sent to his rooms to meditate if he uttered any of them.
With a defeated sigh in the direction of the floor, Obi-Wan set his bags in the opposite corner and settled in a nearby rickety chair. He wasn't going to be doing any meditation during this trip.