Author's Note: Hello, everyone and thanks agains for reading and reviewing. :)
There is more coming soon that will catch you all up with the posts to date on the boards at TheForce.Net, then you will have to suffer the week-long wait between posts. You see, I could not let myself post it here without a name, and I was unable to come up with one until just two weeks ago. I did not want to overload everyone with a lot of reading, so I've been posing a chapter every couple of days.
::: runs and hides :::
And there will be a new chapter up on Sunday!
~
Some Other Future's Past
Chapter Eight
~
All was silence.
Anakin felt as if a rug had been jerked out from under him and he had been flipped into mid-air, left to fall where he would. They, the Council, the ever bloody Council was going to take Obi-Wan away. He blinked his eyes hard and locked down his presence in the Force; he'd eat glass before he would let Mace Windu see him hurting.
Shock and the beginnings of pure fury echoed down his bond with Padmé. She had a white-knuckle grip on her mug of sweetbark tea and Anakin reminded himself to never, ever get that woman this mad. Angel though she may be, she now had the look of one about to whip out a sword and start lopping heads.
"And when the Council authorized 'by all means' were they cognizant of the fact that Jedi Kenobi is considered a citizen of Naboo and a Councilor to the crown?" The young queen's tone was as smooth as glass, but her presence in the Force gave the suggestion that she might spit lightning bolts.
The Jedi Master nodded serenely. "It was mentioned, yes. However, he is still a Jedi, as yet unassigned by the Council to any particular mission."
"While many Jedi undertake self-directed missions, it is always at the discretion of the Council." Obi-Wan supplied. "If they had wanted me back on Coruscant, I would already be back on Coruscant. The Council is not known for taking 'no' for an answer. By having Master Windu come here and bring me back, they are reminding me that I am here at their sufferance."
"But will they let you come back?" Anakin was proud that he managed to keep his voice steady even if the tight knot in his chest tried to choke him. Part of him wanted to hear a reassuring lie, to have Obi-Wan tell him that of course he would be back, no matter what. Nevertheless, if the Council could take away Qui-Gon – akin to taking away the sky in Anakin's opinion – who or what else could they rip out of his life?
"I don't know, Anakin. But I will do my best to get back to you and Padmé." Obi-Wan seemed to sense what he was feeling and enveloped him in a hug. "Besides, I must teach you not to curse like a spice runner if it's the last thing I do."
What Anakin was about to say next was interrupted by a soft, insistent tone from his datapad. Obi-Wan let him go as Anakin retrieved it from his belt pouch and activating it, nodded at the message with satisfaction and relief. Padmé regarded him with an upraised eyebrow and he returned her look with a steady gaze.
"I made some changes to my class schedules." He said as Padmé held out her hand for the data pad. "They've been approved."
He passed it over and her other eyebrow rose to join its twin as she read the information there. "You've pushed back all your classes other than your citizenship courses and your training at the Academy."
Anakin matched her neutral tone exactly. "That's right."
"May I ask why?" Padmé kept her voice smooth, but he could feel her hurt at being kept out of the decision.
"Padmé, as long as I stay on Naboo -and I want to stay forever! - I'm protected by the rights that Naboo gives everyone. But I can never leave Naboo. If I ever left, or was taken, I could be deported – like the Jedi wanted – or stuck into a military school or an orphanage." Anakin worked hard to keep his emotions out of his voice. "The only way I have any rights other than as a refugee is to become a citizen of Naboo, which I can do at ten."
"And you did not see fit to tell either of us?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.
''Since I did this in between time that I left the garden and the time I left my room to come here, I had no chance." Anakin replied in kind. "Besides, I didn't feel like arguing about it."
"Argue?" The tilt of Padmé's head, the way she regarded Anakin with a sharp gaze made Anakin feel like a hapless finny being eyed by a spear-fisher bird.
Anakin sighed. "Let me say that another way I argue but you win."
~
It was the finest wrestling match that Mace Windu had the pleasure to observe in a long time.
While Obi-Wan should be teaching the boy tact and diplomacy, he doubted that the rough-and-tumble being that was Anakin Skywalker would ever have much use for them. As Mace Windu watched, the boy almost seemed to become like the primordial rock of this world – dense and immovable.
The girl-queen, superbly skilled for her or any age, brought all her will to bear on the stubborn boy. She was a glacier bearing down on the rock. Irresistible force met immovable object. The Jedi Master felt privileged to see it happen.
Obi-Wan had occasional input, but seemed to be prodding the pair to hash things through on their own. Whether the new knight admitted it or not, Obi-Wan had two padawans. Either one would have been a busy handful for even the most sanguine of masters, much less a man with less than a quarter of a year from his knighting. However, his light touches directed the conflict and kept it focused.
Anakin was a creature of the Living Force – as attuned to the moment as any young animal might be. Obi-Wan had divulged a great deal in their time together. Prankish, mercurial, ardent, outspoken and deeply loyal, Anakin would require careful handling. If Mace had to pick a master for the boy, it would be a hard call - perhaps the Dark Woman, perhaps himself.
Qui-Gon the point was moot.
However Mace felt, Master Sifo-Dyas had been adamant. The Jedi master was no longer on the Council – he had felt that he needed an extended sabbatical some two decades ago and had not taken his seat upon his return. It had been Sifo-Dyas' idea that Qui-Gon required an extensive retreat and meditation. The Council had agreed and charged him to guide the maverick master into greater accord with the Unifying Force.
The young Queen – at first glance – appeared to be the calmer, more stable at the pair, but first impressions were deceiving. Padmé Amidala was as passionate in her way as Anakin was in his. Diplomatic training had taught her to assume an aloof mask, a deliberate and regal mien. From her acts on the Senate floor and her return to a world under siege, Mace knew she could be impulsive – but her first concern was for others. Her intense dislike of authority was not obvious, perhaps not even to her.
Perhaps Obi-Wan was the best master for both younglings. His training with Qui-Gon taught him something of the Living Force, even if his strengths lay in the Unifying Force.
Finally, the glacier and the rock came to an understanding. Each gave just enough, shaped by the experience instead of ground down or shattered by it. Each shaped by the meeting.
Breakfast was resumed.
~
The conversation turned to lighter subjects, much to Obi-Wan's relief. The thought of his bond to Qui-Gon being severed added weight to his shoulders and colored his thoughts with worry. He was torn by his duty to his students and his obligation to his master. Padmé and Anakin were just beginning to stabilize after ordeals that would have shattered most adults. Anakin finally trusted him, Padmé was no longer a jagged mass of emotion hidden behind a mask and swathed in silk. The other learners who came with them – the handmaidens, the pages, and others - all looked to him for peace and stability.
How could he leave them?
How could he not leave them?
Qui-Gon was his father figure, his mentor and friend. As much as they had their differences, Obi-Wan loved him. The communication that he achieved with deep meditation had strengthened and what he knew distressed him deeply. All the same, Qui-Gon was adamant that Obi-Wan remain on Naboo.
::: You are already on the wrong side of the Council's pleasure, my son.::: His master told him. ::: They tell me nothing, but I have gleaned that much. Protect the younglings and yourself, and allow them to protect you. :::
From his master's own mind, he could feel a steady deterioration of self. Master Sifo-Dyas had charge of Qui-Gon's care and kept him in a windowless room in the largely empty east tower. His healers came only once a week, and then did not speak to him, only did their work and left. The rest of the time, he was seen to by menial dumbots that brought his meals and clothing, or by voiceless EmDee units maintaining his medicines and medlinks. Other than Sifo-Dyas, only Council members came to see him, and then it was never without the tall ascetic master at their sides.
Whatever Sifo-Dyas was doing, Obi-Wan could feel it turning his master into someone else. It was as if the only part remaining of the man Qui-Gon Jinn had been before the Naboo mission was the bond that he shared with Obi-Wan.
Anakin was steadily packing his breakfast into whatever internal space warp he stored that much food, seemingly intent on nothing but his plate. The boy's presence in the Force was 'pulled in' and if Obi-Wan had been looking for him, he would have had a hard time of it. Padmé was studying the morning's communiqués quite intently while conversing with Master Windu about the state of the Senate.
Obi-Wan usually communicated with Qui-Gon in the hour following breakfast, when Padmé was getting ready for Court, and Anakin was turning in his completed schoolwork. Now the approach of that hour seemed to stretch interminably. Anakin was the first to excuse himself, he was in attendance at morning and evening Courts and took his classes in the afternoon. Padmé left when Sabé poked her head in the door. Master Windu was absorbed in a report from Coruscant concerning a group of Corellian Jedi who had broken a piracy ring.
Taking his chance, he mumbled something about getting dressed for Court and took his leave at the absent nod from his superior.
It took all his control and training to keep himself from running back to his quarters. He and Anakin had been relocated to a level immediately below the family wing where the rooms were just as large, with the same view of the falls, but a great deal less luxuriously appointed. His room adjoined Anakin's, which was linked in turn to another secret passage that came out behind a waterwall in the Queen's solar.
The stripe-grained spicewood and warm brown glazed tile was restful to the eye, the furnishings were comfortably upholstered in a soft brushed cloth or cloned leather. Obi-Wan laid on the bed, closed his eyes and brought his concentration to bear.
He was aware of everything. The smell of freshly laundered bedding and furniture polish. The sound and vibration of the falls. The feel of the bed under him and the breeze from the windows. Molecules of water danced in the air with particles of his own shin, shed simply by the impact of air on his cheek. Atoms moved within those bits of skin and even smaller particles moved within the atoms. Those same particles were spread throughout the throughout the universe, in everything from the largest galaxies with untold quadrillions of stars to the smallest cell of a dust mite trundling through its universe of the carpet on the floor.
Only when one understood the grandeur of even the smallest dust mite could one understand the Force. Even that tiny insect with a life span measured in hours had its genesis in the death of the mightiest of stars that had shone for billions of years. The bonds of life to life to even more life were almost overwhelming to Obi-Wan; this was his master's strength, not his.
Instead, he reached for the bonds he had chosen.
Anakin, full of jolts and jounces as he was of loyalty and dedication. His anger matched by his compassion, his strength in the Force by his concern for his family of outcasts and oddlings. The hurts were healing, but still tender, and the darkness of spirit yet present, but driven back.
Padmé, healing from the horrors she had seen even as she healed her world, the young woman was growing stronger in her use of the Force. She would go down in history as a great queen simply based on her first two years in office, but Obi-Wan felt something even greater in store for her.
Finally, he came to the bond he shared with Qui-Gon. He imagined it being made strand by strand, thickened and strengthened by years together as Master and Padawan. Obi-Wan was singularly unfanciful, but he imagined that the bond as a rope of spun diamond like the Renfani made. Each strand glowing with an inner fire, strong and full of beauty.
It was the early morning on Coruscant, the Senatorial sector still in dark phase. The sky was never entirely dark, the constant traffic and lights from enormous buildings left the sky a rather muted, starless purple. The Temple would be dimly lit, only the more nocturnal of the Jedi stirring about. Even now, he could feel Qui-Gon sleeping the sleep of the injured – that healing sleep whereby the body found the energy to make repairs.
Mentally, Obi-Wan frowned. If Healers were supposed to be seeing his master, then why was he in pain? He knew the extent of Qui-Gon's injuries, and that even with a Healer at hand they would take time to put right. Yet, here was pain left unattended to sap the body of rest and strength. Why?
The deeper Obi-Wan looked, the more alarmed he grew. The passing months had brought healing to the worst of the injuries, but it was almost as if someone had deliberately made them to heal wrongly, leaving Qui-Gon debilitated and in pain.
::: Eh? Obi-Wan? What's wrong, lad? :::
Though sleep muzzed, there was nothing wrong with his master's mind. Obi-Wan sent his findings and was rocked to the core by his master's reply.
::: Yes, I expected as much. Though, to give the Council the benefit of the doubt, I do not think that they had any idea Sifo-Dyas would go so far. :::
::: Why? Why would he do this, Master? He's harming you deliberately and if he were to sever our bond while you are this weak it might well kill you! :::
::: Sever? Where did this come from? :::
::: Master Windu is here, he arrived this morning and ::: Obi-Wan held nothing back, telling Qui-Gon everything that had transpired from the moment he had sensed the other Jedi. ::: and he was ordered to bring me back for the Convocation upon his return. :::
::: The Convocation? That would explain it; there are enough Jedi expressing dissatisfaction with the direction of the Order that the Council wants to parade me about as a reformed and penitent gadfly. Sifo-Dyas has been an ideologue and an absolutist for as long as I have known him. The Councilors of the past have pared ever closer to the bare bone of the code, while discarding the meat and blood that made it live. ::: Sadness washed through Qui-Gon's thoughts. ::: We have lost our compassion, we Jedi. We are marionettes for the politicians, no longer warriors for the spirit or protectors of the people. How can we protect what we have been taught is of no import? :::
Obi-Wan's heart tightened in his chest. How often had he derided those beings as 'pathetic life forms' and side issues? He had seen what that attitude engendered in Anakin and dealt with the aftermath that his own arrogance had caused. The people perceived rudeness, arrogance, disdain – and reacted to it. Even the people of Naboo – once the Council's actions became known – had drawn a line between 'those Jedi' meaning the Council and 'our Jedi' meaning Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.
::: Master, I'm sorry! I did all of that, but I know now that there can be no Unifying Force without the Living Force. I failed you, not for the first time, and I am ashamed ::: Obi-Wan let the thought trail off, feeling every misstep as if it had just occurred.
::: My beloved son. ::: Qui-Gon's thoughts were filled with love, joy, and even pride. ::: You have never once failed me. You made mistakes, yes, but to make mistakes, you must live and experience the universe around you. Those who never take the risk of making an error are alive, but they never truly live or develop compassion for those 'pathetic life forms' who do. You have passed the greatest and last trial that you needed to overcome. You are a Jedi Knight in truth, Obi-Wan, not just in name. I am so proud for you! :::
::: I am? You are? ::: Obi-Wan was dumbfounded, but felt a lightness of being, a surety that he had lacked before. Not overconfidence, he thought as he felt his way around his own head, he would still make mistakes, but with the grace of the Force, they would not be so bad.
::: Do you still have your padawan braid? :::
::: I never removed it. I was waiting :::
::: In the ancient days of the order, a master was simply present when a padawan was raised. A padawan would remove his own braid as a way of affirming his readiness for knighthood, ::: Qui-Gon reminded him ::: I am present. :::
::: I don't know if I can maintain rapport while I do this. :::
Obi-Wan forced one eye open and had the sudden disorienting sensation of being in many places at once. His fingers moved to the pouch on his belt that contained his multitool and it felt as if he was stretching between his own bed and a small room on Coruscant. Fumbling at the tool's options, he managed to pull out a short razorblade. Another dip into the pouch turned up a small clip that he attached to the part of the braid closest to his own head.
As he brought the blade up and aligned it to make the cut, he had the disconcerting thought that he might well slice his own fool neck by mistake.
::: Thus making this the shortest knighthood in history. ::: Qui-Gon commented and Obi-Wan could almost hear him laughing.
::: Master, no! I'd become one of Yaddle's history lessons! I can hear it now - "Missed he did. A dimwit he was." :::
The humor steadied him, though it was an effort to maintain the rapport and cut at the same time. Obi-Wan felt each hair as the blade snicked through it, then carefully coiled and stowed the braid.
::: You will braid that into the hair of your padawans, Obi-Wan, ::: Qui-Gon spoke with certainty. ::: And don't tell me that you are simply minding them for me, because you are their master in truth. You are the future of the Order, my son, and I know that you will do well. As for me, whatever happens, happens. Even if Sifo-Dyas severs our training bond, nothing can ever sever my love and respect for you. :::
~
He was late.
Obi-Wan was never late.
Anakin would wager that Obi-Wan was even born on time, exactly nine months from the moment of his conception.
The Queen's Gallery led into the Hall of the Queens in the Great Palace, the alabaster glowed with the ascending sun. The deep jewel-toned blue of the occupant's clothing made the arches and lender pillars of translucent stone appear even more ethereal.
Padmé still wore the dress from the breakfast meeting, but now with two more layers of silk underdresses in aquamarine and a deep sapphire. Her hair was swept up into a fountain and fall of curls threaded through with citrines and pearls. Whether she was Padmé or Amidala, she never failed to stun Anakin with her beauty.
Anakin fidgeted in his own page's costume, glancing down the hallway as Padmé, Eritaé, and Yané got into their places for the procession.
"Should I go find him?" he whispered.
Padmé's eyes were worried even as her face settled into her Amidala mode.
The sound of quick footsteps sounded in the hall and Obi-Wan rounded the corner at speed.
"No need for the search party, here I am." He took his position as the chimes calling the Court loosed their delicate music into the morning air.
Anakin stared intently at Obi-Wan. Something was different.
At breakfast, Obi-Wan had been tense, worried, and unhappy and who could blame him? Now he was light. There was a sense of peace, and a joyful serenity that flowed from him like sunshine though the windows of the gallery.
The doors into the Hall opened and the procession moved forward. Captain Panaka was first, acting as guard and herald. More guards stood on the mezzanine or were salted discreetly through the crowd. As Panaka spoke the ritual words of greeting, Padmé and her attendants stepped into the aisle, each handmaiden three steps behind and to either side. The courtiers bowed deeply as the trio passed, followed by shorter bows in turn for Obi-Wan and Governor Bibble. Anakin and Cimmiré, acting pages, brought up the rear.
At the foot of the Queen's Dais, Panaka stopped, and pivoted on one heel. Facing the assemblage with a hand on his weapon, he held his stance until the Queen and her small entourage were safely on the Dais.
All the while, Anakin was studying the crowd out of the corner of his eyes. Carefully, he looked for new faces, measured intent, or the tell-tale blankness of expression that was even more obvious than a murderous glare.
Nothing. He made a quick gesture with his forefinger pointing down. Panaka nodded his head a scant centimeter in acknowledgement as Anakin and Cimmiré climbed the steps and took their seats on the riser of the throne.
"All who have petitions to lay before the Court, advance and be recognized." The crowd shifted and the morning's business was begun.
Panaka would take the petition from the being presenting it and read the small precis aloud. The Queen would then indicate that she would or would not hear the petition. If she chose to hear it, either Anakin or Cimmiré would descend to take the petition to the Queen. The petitioner would then present his case, and the entire Court was free to comment. She would either then grant, deny, or refer the petition elsewhere.
If she made the rare decision not to hear it, Panaka would either hand it back to the petitioner or have the pages convey it to the appropriate official.
As the morning went on, Anakin alternated between listening to the matters at hand and studying Obi-Wan. Certainly Master Windu, - standing in the alcove between the statues of Queen Orinaé and Valincé - seemed to be keeping a close eye on him as well.
The crowd swirled again and this time a tall man clad in the blue armor and headdress of a Senatorial Guard marched to the fore. Removing his red-crested helmet, he tucked it precisely under his left arm and gave an equally precise bow.
"Honor to Naboo and honor to Queen Amidala." The man was as hard as something carved from granite, his dark hair was shorn short enough to allow his scalp to show through and an old deep scar lanced from his jawline up through his eyebrow. "The Chancellor-Elect sends me to convey his good wishes to Queen Amidala and her honored court, and to request their presence at his Inaugural to be held on the fourth week of this month, Coruscant calendar."
The thought popped into his head at the same time that he felt it occur to Padmé and Obi-Wan. The Convocation of the Jedi was the same week.
Before Obi-Wan could so much as get a word in edgewise, Padmé was speaking in her Amidala voice and smiling at the guard. "Honor to you, Guard Captain, from all of Naboo. Convey our acceptance and with it our good wishes until we should see him on the auspicious day."
The Guard saluted smartly, replaced his helmet, and marched from the Hall.
In the stir created by the Guard Captain's departure, Obi-Wan bent in to speak to Padmé.
That's when Anakin finally saw it.
Obi-Wan had cut his braid.
::: Padmé, look! :::
She was so astonished that she actually lifted her finger to trace the spot where the braid once fell over his shoulder.
Obi-Wan's voice sounded in Anakin's head. ::: Yes. Qui-Gon felt that it was time. There is more to it, but that will have to wait until tonight, my young Padawans. :::
For a moment, the thrill and happiness of being called 'Padawan' nearly levitated him to the ceiling. He was going to be a Jedi after all.
Padawans. Two. Me and Padmé. Anakin was certain that his feet left the floor for a heartbeat or two.
~
If anyone wondered why Queen, page and Councilor were glowing like the alabaster panes of the windows, they forbore to mention it. In the alcove, Mace Windu allowed himself a slight smile.
~