In War
Pt 4
"It shows you have a good heart. But, for one thing, we're Jedi. Not social workers. It's not our job to collect the galaxy's waifs and strays."
"Then it should be. What is the point of having all this power if we don't use it to make people's lives better?"
"But we do make people's lives better! You know we do! Right now the Jedi are dying to make people's lives better."
-Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker,
General Kenobi had been privy to many interesting scents throughout his life as a Jedi. Somehow, being the Padawan learner of Qui-Gon Jinn meant acquiring a vast knowledge of the galaxy's worst stenches and most pathetic life forms. At the age of 15, he had been locked in a storage shed with twelve sopping wet Wookiees. By age 17, he had even once been caked in ceremonial gundark dung—
But none of that compared to the smell that hung in the air of the flying refugee camp that he had come to oversee. Most of the worst smells that floated through his memory had been easily washed off after a trip to the refresher unit. The odor that he was immersed in while aboard the aptly named Refuge was not a smell of which he could easily rid himself.
The air was drenched with the hopelessness of sentient beings from different worlds who had lost everything. And that stench was what kept Obi-Wan Kenobi awake at night.
The Force itself reeked of children's tears, widows' anguish, ghosts of the brave who had fought and lost, the blood of innocents. Muddy with stale, crimson blood and dark with despair.
This is the product of war. Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder, maintaining the constant mask of Jedi calm that he had worn every day of the Force-forsaken conflict that engulfed the galaxy. Even as his heart and soul chipped away piece by piece with every battle that he fought, he always maintained the cool, stoic façade to the public. The Force wrapped the wounds of his heart in its soothing balm, drying the tears that he could never shed, smoothing away the scars into controlled strength and wisdom.
The Jedi General strode through the thick of the quaking mob, a beacon of light in a sea of desolation.
"How long until we reach Alderaan?"
An Ithorian navigator turned and droned an answer.
Obi-Wan nodded, accepting the time. Thirty-seven hours until they reached their destination. The Jedi Master did not allow impatience to sneak a foothold in his thoughts. Yes, he had questioned the Council when they requested that he and a unit of troopers step away from the front lines. Yes, he had originally felt that this mission was beneath his skill level at first, that he was better suited in battle, protecting those who could not protect themselves. However, as their voyage wore on, Kenobi began to appreciate the escort duty. This was a welcome respite from the constant rush of war. He suspected that the clone trooper unit that accompanied him to guard the refugees felt the same, though they would never voice a frivolous concern such as exhaustion. They were bred for battle, and war was their purpose in breathing.
"Yes. Thank you. And make sure you avoid Wild Space. It could lengthen our journey, but those lanes are not secure."
The navigator purred an affirmative response, then moved to reroute their travels. Kenobi wandered away from the bridge, his duties momentarily attended to. All the refugees were accounted for, safely aboard the Refuge. There was no danger on the horizon that he could sense.
Perhaps it's time to meet my partner, the General mused. When he first boarded the Refuge, he had been told that he was to be working in conjunction with a relief worker who was responsible for the organization of where the huddled masses came from and where they were to go. However, he had yet to meet this elusive worker. It seemed that he or she had been suspiciously absent from every area he occupied.
The Jedi Master mentally shrugged, dismissing the notion of seeking out someone for the sake of companionship. The Force was his ally. And the Force knows how much I need some time in meditation.
Obi-Wan walked the large ship until he finally came across a secluded corridor with a large viewport that overlooked the vast expanse of stars. He removed his armored outer vest and his boots, lowering himself soundlessly to his knees.
Inhale the Force, letting it pour in through his nostrils like a cool, refreshing breeze. Exhale weeks of stress out through his mouth, ridding his body and mind of the toxins of war. There is no emotion, there is peace.
Inhale the Living Force, boundless in its light and peace. Exhale the weight of battle, the burden of innocent lives lost and torn apart. There is no death, there is the Force.
The Jedi allowed a small smile to grace his lips, his heart soaring with the warmth that flooded his senses. He began to shift his muscles in the familiar patterns of moving meditation as he began a kata that he had known since he was a youngling. Behind his closed eyelids, the Force transformed the blackness to flare into vibrant colors life and light.
For a few brief moments, Obi-Wan Kenobi was truly, deeply content, even as the galaxy waged war and chaos around him.
Booted feet strode purposefully through the maze of long corridors and packed halls on the Refuge. Each footfall made a muffled click, the boots worn soft and broken-in but defiant nevertheless.
Rhyn Lisboth had once admired the Jedi Order. At some points, it had bordered on hero-worship. Years before the war had stolen her innocence and her desire for justice had robbed her of her awe at the galaxy; she had been a little girl on Corellia. She met a Jedi while on Treasure Ship Row…and he had saved her life. His silver blade had intersected the blow that death's cold hands nearly dealt. His emerald eyes gleamed with peace. He was a true keeper of justice, a knight who fought for the common people.
But the war that tore apart the galaxy had slowly but surely eroded her respect for the "guardians of peace." She had heard too many stories of the Jedi leading armies into battle to truly believe that they stood for the peace that they once had clung to. She had seen the devastation of the worlds left in the wake of their war.
Besides, she was angry at the particular Jedi that had invaded her ship. She had managed to avoid him for much of the voyage, citing her own failure to remain impartial and nonjudgmental of the warrior. As a relief worker and an advocate for fair treatment of all lifeforms, it would have been a shame to take out any frustration that she had at the entire Order on just one man. It would have seemed hypocritical.
However, her firm resolve to ignore his presence had broken when she had come across a platoon of clone troopers practicing their combat moves on each other. Given, they had been in one of their own "training" rooms, but she had no tolerance for violence on her ship, even if it was of the "play" kind. The more rational part of Lisboth's mind acknowledged that it was a minor transgression, if it were wrong at all. However, weeks of little sleep and round-the-clock work had worn her patience thin and she needed a punching bag on which to take out her aggression.
That unfortunate punching bag was to be General Obi-Wan Kenobi.
If she could find him. Her irritation mounting, she started on her third lap of the ship in search of the elusive Jedi Master.
A storm was approaching. On the periphery of his meditation, he could sense an angry, crackling presence stalking toward him. He continued his kata. The Force whispered of a coming confrontation, a minor skirmish in the midst of a multitude of battles. There was no real danger coming; there was no threat to his wellbeing. Therefore Obi-Wan allowed the warning to trickle off his senses, rolling across his mind and dissipating in the peace the Force provided.
He vaguely heard footsteps approaching, encroaching on his solitude. The Force flowed through him, never ceasing, bringing hyper awareness. He could sense the intruder's height, weight, thoughts and feelings.
Roiling frustration, tainted with self-righteous heat. Bone-weary exhaustion, patience worn thin and stretched taut. Irritation flared as she approached, seeing his calm—
She cleared her throat loudly, attempting to break his concentration. Obi-Wan slowed his movements and came to a gentle halt, opening his eyes to focus on the short human woman who stood, arms crossed and feet spread wide in a commanding stance.
If her brow had not been knit in an exasperated scowl, her very presence oozing distaste for him, Obi-Wan could have thought her attractive. Dark circles and crows feet crinkled the skin at the edge of her brown eyes, which were shadowed with emotion.
Ah. Recognition dawned on the General as he began to gather bits and pieces of information through the Force. This must be the aid worker.
"General Kenobi." It was not a question. "I have an issue with your troopers." Disdain dripped from every word.
Obi-Wan was not ruffled by the lack of introduction. "I trust they have kept to themselves unless asked to help. They follow orders flawlessly." He picked up his boots and slid his calves into the tough leather.
"They have been causing a—a ruckus. I will not stand for violence of any kind on this ship. These people have seen enough—" She sputtered angrily, then paused, clearly struggling to regain her dignity.
Kenobi watched as the auburn haired woman took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart and slow her mind, which was moving quickly beyond her ability to articulate angry words. A small, amused smile curled the corners of his lips.
She restarted again, more slowly. "What I mean to say is, there is enough war outside of this ship. Please do not bring it with you here: into their lives again."
The Jedi Master regarded her quizzically, her last statement betraying that she clearly had an issue with much more than the activities of the clone troopers.
"I am sorry if their behavior has disturbed you. I will speak with them later," the Negotiator stepped in, unflappable despite the subtle accusation. "I don't believe we have met. You seem to know who I am, but I do not know who you are."
Her fury seemed to spike as the slight jab drew no response. "Rhyn Lisboth, Governmental Aid."
"Very well, Ms. Lisboth, I am sorry if there has been any distress caused to the passengers of this vessel. If there has been, we will make proper amends."
Damn. The only person offended by the actions had been Rhyn. Her ire was not quelled. Hot fire surged in her veins, fueling a need to fight someone—anyone. If she could not stop the injustice and violence of the galaxy, she had to vent against something or else she was sure she would explode. Again, the rational part of her mind pleaded with her to stop, to seek the refuge of sleep, but she desired to press on.
Her brief silence spoke volumes.
"It seems as though you have a problem with more than my troopers' actions and more of an issue with me," Obi-Wan ventured calmly. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
"No." Cold fire stared back at him. Yes, but not with you. It's inappropriate. I'm angry. And now is not a great time. Reason won the fight momentarily as Lisboth stilled her tongue.
"Very well, Ms. Lisboth. I will speak with my men on your behalf that they should keep rough-housing and training to a minimum. Anything else?"
He was so calm. No emotion, only peace. He was a statue made of flesh and blood, a war machine hidden under a gentility and culture. She despised him for it. He began to slowly walk away, his armor slung over his shoulder.
"No. Thank you. And please, be sure not to bring any further violence. You've done enough of that as it is." Her words struck, quick and sure, filled with venom, biting his heel as he left.
Kenobi's shoulders tensed for a brief, glorious moment. Her missile had finally hit its mark. But he gave her no cruel satisfaction. The Jedi Master simply walked down the long hallway to meet with his men, leaving Rhyn alone to her thoughts and frustrations.
Lisboth's office aboard the Refuge was teeming with sentient beings of every species on the ship. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands, groaning quietly as another weeping family left with their reassignment. Another sleepless night. Dozens more stories of the tragedies of war. The Corellian glanced down at her roster. Only thirty more families were on her schedule for the morning. A long shadow darkened her doorway.
"If you need help, my men are more than capable of filtering appointments and handing out assignments." The familiar Core accent pulled her eyes up to see General Kenobi standing in front of her desk.
Pride rose in her throat, hideous, seeking unnecessary solitude. Insomnia choked the voice of reason into barely a whisper in the back of her mind. "I don't need your kind of help," she muttered halfheartedly.
"Ms. Lisboth, there is no reason to be uncivil. I care about these people, too—"
That was too much for her overtaxed brain and strained emotions to comprehend. Jedi? Care? Rhyn stood, bloodshot eyes confused, blazing with untamed frustration. "I've heard your code. There is no emotion. I've seen your victims. You say that you're there to help, but this—" she waved her arm toward the waiting room full of refugees. "is what you cause. You're hypocrites. All of you. You're not guardians of peace. You're warmongers—"
The aid worker stopped, shocked at her own outburst. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She fell silent, hands clenching and unclenching as she struggled to process everything that she had just said to the General. The deep, festering, bitter wound in her heart apparently needed cleansing. It was unfortunate that such cleansing happened in the form of abusing Obi-Wan Kenobi. She was suddenly too tired to argue, her words deflating her once boisterous resolve and strength.
Obi-Wan stood, taking the onslaught like a true Jedi. The words cut deep into his already wounded soul, but he sifted through them, gathering bits of perceptions and filtering out untruths. "I see." He paused, looking down at her schedule. He turned and closed the door to her office. "Let's take a moment, Ms. Lisboth."
The door slid shut with a resounding hiss, closing her off from the outside world and locking her into her office with the Jedi Master. For a moment, Rhyn felt trapped. However, after her most recent outburst, it was clear that she was not at her peak professionally. A conversation needed to be had before another, more public spectacle was made. Her lack of restraint was inexcusable.
The Negotiator quickly assessed the situation. The woman who stood before him clearly thought him to be inhuman, incapable of compassion, incapable of anything besides war. Obi-Wan, of all people, knew the overabundance of emotion that plagued his own heart from time to time. He knew his own humanity even when he did not show it to others. He sagged under the weight of the realization—Do I truly seem so callous? He shifted, coughed, and began to speak, aching vulnerability bubbling to the surface. If she could not believe by his words and actions that he was truly human, perhaps she could see see and hear it in his tone.
"Ms. Lisboth, I am truly sorry for whatever reason you have to hate the Jedi Order," Obi-Wan began slowly, his voice quiet, filled with regret. "I am also sorry that you see us as battle hungry monsters." He looked down at the floor. "But I can assure you: I'm no droid. I am a person, just like you are. I'm not your enemy. I want peace for this galaxy, these people, as much as you do." Hurt and weariness bled into his soothing voice. Kenobi sighed heavily.
The grey eyes that turned upward to meet Rhyn's pinned her heart to her spine, catching her breath in her throat. Gone was the battle-hardened soldier. The eyes staring back at her were of a tired man who lived and bled for others just as she did.
"Yes, I am a Jedi. So yes, the Jedi Code says that we give our emotion to the Force, but that does not mean that I do not feel." Obi-Wan shook his head, begging the woman to truly hear him. "So let me help you. I am not your enemy." There. He had said it— with a raw honesty that usually made his skin crawl. He had met her anger with peace. He had combated her severe frustration by displaying uncharacteristic emotion. Even if it was barely a crack in his normal Jedi reserve, it had to get through the callous woman's shell. Now what, Ms. Lisboth? If that hadn't disarmed her hatred, he did not know what would.
For a painfully awkward moment, Rhyn Lisboth stared at the Jedi Master, confused and taken aback. She cleared her throat, standing corrected. A wave of exhaustion made her limbs heavy and her words sluggish. "I don't hate you, General. I am sorry for my earlier outbursts. It was unprofessional and—"
"No need to apologize."
Her brows rose in surprise. False.
"An appropriate apology is allowing my men and I to do our jobs, which is to protect and help this ship and every creature on it." The Negotiator was back, cool stoicism replacing the momentary flux of emotion, smoothing over the hurts with the cool salve of the Force. "You have a brief break. Let me take over handing out assignments for a while. Go shower, rest, eat. Your work will be here when you get back."
Lisboth nodded warily. After all she had said to the Jedi, that was how he responded? By giving her a break? By offering vulnerability and kindness? Jedi… She shook her head. It made no sense.
Kenobi slowly steered the weary worker to the door. "Go rest. I promise everything is under control. If we have need, we will contact you immediately."
Completely disarmed and suddenly very aware of how tired she was, Rhyn nodded and allowed herself to be maneuvered out the door. She hesitated, staring out at the waiting room full of refugees—
"They will be fine. I promise." The calm, reassuring words held so much weight.
"Fine," she sighed. "I will be back soon."
With that, Obi-Wan watched as the woman staggered slowly through the waiting room off to her quarters. He shook his head, staring down at the mountain of datacards and datareaders on the desk.
He had work to do.