-
His legs folded and back straight, Obi-Wan sat on the bed in his room in Will's quarters. Will had explained earlier that much of the living area of the ship was empty space with room modules set within it; adding a new room was often as simple as constructing a new module to connect it to the old. Adding a room to Will's quarters took only a few hours. Obi-Wan wondered how much time the Enterprise crew spent in space, that they took such care with their living arrangements. Did they have a home planet, or home planets? It was difficult for him to tell.
With an effort, he focused his mind, measuring his breathing for the first levels of a meditative trance. He felt mildly anxious about beginning the familiar exercise; he focused on his anxiety, examining it. Fear could be a teacher. And he had reason to be afraid: the last time he had drawn on the Force the sheer power of it had spun his conscious mind out of control. That was because Xanatos had saturated his body with some sort of substance, a drug that magnified Force-sensitivity. Most of the time the drug only gave him nightmares, or left him feeling tired. But at one point Xanatos had done something that activated the drug, so that he was nearly overwhelmed by the power within him... Obi-Wan no longer felt transparent, light and full of light, the way he had after Qui-Gon had helped him to change the drug's bias from the dark Force to the light. But he could still feel it within him: a strange sort of potential, almost a physical buzzing in his Force-sensitivity. Somehow the substance was quiescent for now, as it had been for most of the time he was hostage to Xanatos.
How had the drug become active in his system? How had it become quiescent once more? Obi-Wan cast his thought back in time, back to that time... Memories flashed through his mind: powerful memories, painful memories, and his first instinct was to deny them. He surfaced from his meditation all at once, with a soft cry of pain. His heart was racing, his fists clenched tight. He threw himself down on the bed, curled tightly, as if to hide from his fear, cocoon himself from memory.
"Ben?"
He heard a knock at the door, and it slid open. He heard Will step to his bedside, pause, sit down beside him. A warm, comforting hand came to rest, open, on his tight shoulders.
"It's all right, Ben. You're safe here."
At least for now, Obi-Wan thought.
"Would you like me to stay until you can sleep? I don't mind."
You're very kind, but I need to think, I need to face my fears. There's danger coming, I feel it. I need to be ready. But Will was already rubbing his back, in slow circles, and Obi-Wan could feel his body relaxing, tension draining from him. Exhaustion pulled at his conscious mind. Weeks of being on edge, of waiting, of enduring, of looking for a chance that never came, had taken their toll on him. He needed rest. Grateful for the feeling of security Will brought him, Obi-Wan let his mind sink slowly to dreams.
But first, before sleep took him entirely, he let memory return to him, expecting the pain this time, accepting it. He saw Xanatos crouched over him in anger, just before the Force exploded within him. Saw Xanatos injecting a hypospray in his arm... So that's how it worked. Some sort of activator drug, paired with the original... But what does that mean for me now? The question drifted in his mind as he fell into a deep, sound slumber.
He did not notice Will get up, finally, cover him with a blanket, and quietly leave the room.
Hours later, he woke all at once, his sight and mind captured by stars: a magnificent view of stars visible through portholes in the ship's hull where it curved over his bed. And he was warm; comfortable even without the blanket that covered him. Never in his young life had he experienced such luxury on a starfaring craft: even the luxury ship on which he and Qui-Gon had taken passage to Telos had been cold and cramped compared to Enterprise. A generous craft, home to a generous people. Fitting.
He had yet to understand the timekeeping systems here, but near as Obi-Wan could tell, it was some time yet before he would be expected to wake. He was no longer tired, so he pulled on the short brown robe Will had given him to wear over his sleep clothes (bathrobe, pajamas; Obi-Wan reminded himself of the strange words) and padded silently through the door into the main room.
All was still. Obi-Wan shed his robe, laying it over the back of one of the couches, and in the open area at the center of the room, began the stretching exercises preliminary to the morning rituals of physical meditation that he had performed nearly every dawn of his life, at the Temple or away from it. Without trying to draw on the strength of the Force, he opened his senses; the comfort of sleep and waking to safety had brought to him a feeling of calm, but also determination: to take control of his life, to act as a Jedi should. To act to forestall disaster. To heed the will of the Force.
He felt within himself a strange mix of emotion: fear of losing himself to Xanatos' drugs. Fear of losing his will to Xanatos' control. A deep sadness at thoughts of the Temple, of his home and friends. Were Bant and Garen, and all his other friends, performing these same exercises even now, in the coolness of the wide Temple meditation halls? Anxiety for Qui-Gon; for Ki-Erin and her master. Shame, that he had behaved so poorly, in the time when they had come to rescue him. Had his foolishness cost them their lives?
One by one he examined these feelings, recognized them for what they were, and let them go. They did not go far: he knew time and further reflection were necessary for him to come to terms with all he had experienced, all he was experiencing. But for now, he faced his fears and his anxiety, knowing it was necessary for him to understand and act with clarity of purpose.
And as he clarified his feelings, his thoughts grew to encompass a larger perspective, of his position as actor and tool within a larger web of lives and of purpose. He felt a threat, stymied temporarily but once more gathering strength, and recognized it as Xanatos: hunting for Qui-Gon, and hunting for him, but above all hunting for the strange ship that had so intrigued him. He felt the need of the crew of Enterprise: far from any territory familiar to them, and the route home every day less certain, still they performed their duties with steady determination and an unflagging optimism. They had no inkling of the threat Xanatos posed, soon to descend upon them.
Only Obi-Wan knew what was coming. He alone stood between the two worlds, with knowledge of one as he learned the other, and with the will to protect the people who had taken him in, and the will to stop Xanatos, to foil his plans. Questions of strategy passed through his mind: What kind of assault force would Xanatos bring to bear against the enormous Enterprise? What were her defensive and offensive capabilities, taking into consideration the damage she had already sustained? Could she hold out against proton torpedoes, continuous strafing runs by small starfighters, ion cannons?
He needed to know more. If only Xanatos had not left him mute! He had only a few days in which to learn enough to evaluate Enterprise's capabilities and to form and implement several alternate plans of action. Mentally Obi-Wan put near the top of his list figuring out a way to disable the implanted device that disabled his ability to communicate.
Feeling a sense of accomplishment, of fresh purpose, Obi-Wan stepped gracefully into the closing forms of the morning ritual. He settled to his knees, focused on his breathing, and let his mind and senses return to the present. He was surprised to see Will sitting on the couch nearby, watching him. The man smiled as Obi-Wan focused on him.
"That's quite impressive. Is it something you practiced at home?"
Obi-Wan nodded, and drew one sleeve across his brow.
"Why don't you wash and dress; you can join me for breakfast when you're ready."
-
Fifteen minutes later, Will was at the table with a cup of coffee and his padd, reading the ops report on personnel assignments. Ben came from his room, his hair still wet, but fully dressed: he called up tea, a fruit platter, and a pile of biscuits from the replicator, obviously pleased that he now knew how to work the machine himself. Will wanted to speak with Ben about the day's schedule, but knew better than to interrupt an adolescent boy who had just begun breakfast. He watched covertly from across the table, amused, as the boy methodically tucked away everything in front of him, then returned to the replicator for a second helping.
"Do you have an extra stomach in your leg?" he joked. The boy smiled uncertainly. Will pushed his padd to one side, and leaned forward.
"I have an assignment off-ship that will occupy me for several hours early this afternoon; do you think you could occupy yourself here for that time?" Ben nodded his agreement. "Good. I'll need you to stay within the civilian quarters of the ship whenever you're unaccompanied; I'll show you the boundaries this morning. Once we're done with that chore, I thought I'd take you with me to visit Geordi in Engineering; I need to get a report from him on progress with repairs to the warp drive. Would you like to see Engineering?" Ben's face lit up, and Will knew he'd guessed the boy's interest in things technical correctly. "After I get back I'll be on duty on the bridge, but we've already arranged for you to spend that time with Wesley." Ben nodded his agreement.
Will tucked his padd into his uniform pocket, and rose from the table, gathering his dishes from breakfast for return to replicator stock. Ben joined him, in conscious imitation, rapidly swallowing his last few bites of biscuit.
"We'll be having lunch together before you go; there's no need to worry you might starve," Will teased him. The boy smiled hesitantly, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Don't mind me," Will apologized hurriedly, "I remember what it was like to be hungry at your age. I'm just making fun."
-
A quick tour of the civilian area of the ship, and Will brought Ben down to deck 36, to Geordi's office. The Engineering Chief was not actually in his office - not that Will had expected him to be - he was on the Engineering floor, at a computer terminal, surrounded by a small crowd of his "techs", reviewing the current problems and giving out assignments. Will stood unobtrusively by the side wall to wait, Ben at his side carefully examining his surroundings, the many terminal screens and instrument panels and of course the dramatic matter/antimatter reaction chamber. They had only a few minutes to wait: soon Geordi's crowd dispersed to their stations, about two thirds of the yellow-shirts stepping into the turbolift for destinations elsewhere.
"Good morning, Commander; Ben," Geordi greeted them. "What can I do for you?"
"An update on progress with repairs, Mr. LaForge?"
"Coming along," Geordi told him. "The damage to the plasma injection assemblies in the starboard warp nacelle is what's holding us up at this point. Without dry dock facilities, we have to proceed with extreme caution; and that takes time."
"How much time?"
"At least two more days; possibly three."
"And everything else?"
"The rest of the repairs, to our shields and weapons systems and so on, are nearly complete: we'll probably finish today and begin running diagnostics."
"Right on schedule, as you predicted, Geordi."
"I do my best, Commander." Geordi looked down at Ben. "What do you think of Enterprise, so far, Ben?"
Ben looked up with a winning smile and nodded vigorously. His blue eyes sparkled.
"Something special, isn't she? You're welcome to look around with Commander Riker; just don't touch anything unless you're invited to, alright?"
Ben nodded seriously.
"You should know that Data and I have made some progress on how to turn off your unwelcome implant." Geordi looked up to include Will. "It contains a power feedback system like nothing we've seen before, that we're not sure we can safely interrupt. On the other hand, it does seem to contain its own external communications module..."
"It can be controlled externally?" Will asked.
"Exactly. So if we can just work out its language... But that, of course, is not an easy challenge, especially given we have no samples of external feedback to study. But we're working on it." He touched Ben's shoulder.
"Thanks, Geordi," Will said for them both. "C'mon, Ben, I'll show you around: we can let Mr. LaForge get back to work."
-
Obi-Wan sat once more in Will's quarters, at the dining table, the parts for his new lightsaber spread out in front of him as he worked; Will had gone for the afternoon on his assignment, and Wes had not yet finished his school day, so now seemed the best time to work on the 'saber. Constructing a power recycling circuit was proving to be a challenge; it was one technology he could not find reference to in the ship's extensive databanks.
The visit to Engineering had taught him a great deal. The crew there, as elsewhere, was friendly and readily explained anything he showed any interest in; like engineers anywhere they were more than happy for an appreciative audience to whom they could explain their work. Obi-Wan was surprised to see they had no concept of a hyperdrive; their drive technology had evolved along completely different lines. They could actually travel through realspace at many times the speed of light, as Wes had explained to him yesterday. There were historians within the Republic who claimed that thousands of years ago, long before hyperspace travel, several species in the galaxy had developed Faster-Than-Light travel, but had abandoned it, when hyperspace drives were invented, as an inefficient and fuel-intensive means of travel with undesirable time-dilation side effects. Many modern scientists claimed that was impossible; that FTL travel itself was a theoretical impossibility. Well, prevailing scientific wisdom in the Republic was wrong: FTL was implemented and soon to be again functional, if Geordi was correct. Though Obi-Wan could see why it might have been abandoned in favor of hyperspace travel within the Republic. Even at Enterprise's top sustainable speed of about 1500c, she would take the better part of a century to cross the galaxy. Using well-mapped hyperspace routes, that same journey could take only a week or two.
Learning about Enterprise's shielding and weaponry was turning out to be a difficult task. As near as he could tell, the ship was equipped with various types of more and less familiar energy burst weapons; phaser technology, which seemed to be related to the replicator technology that so fascinated him; and variable-frequency shields. From diagrams he had studied in the ship's computers, he could see that weapons were much fewer in number than on a similar-sized Republic ship; they appeared to be distributed for ideal defense from one or two large vessels, but would have less success in defending against a large number of small vessels such as Xanatos was likely to bring. Even control of the weapons was centralized, not distributed. How could one or two defense officers mount a credible counterattack against a few dozen small- to medium-sized fighters?
They also seemed to have no ready defense against a concentrated ion burst. One or two bursts from a large ion cannon had the potential to cripple all the ship's power systems indefinitely, leaving them helpless. Still, their emissions and sensing technology was quite sophisticated; Obi-Wan had no doubt that given time he could help them put together a suitable defense.
If only he could speak to them!
That, of course, was the biggest obstacle to his helping. He could see no way to get any crewmember to give him access to the defense systems. He was, in their eyes, a child - why should they give him access to important ship functions? Not that he hadn't tried. But his pointing and questioning looks only got them to laughingly explain that they couldn't show him that, that was restricted access, don't touch now... No, he would have to be circumspect in his meddling.
Obi-Wan set down his tool and examined the power supply he was adapting. He inserted the probes of a power meter to test it, and found it was functional. It would not work as efficiently as those to be had at the Temple, but it would suffice: the charge should last at least ten hours even with the blade set to full power. He set the cylinder into the base of the hilt he had designed, careful of the circuitry he had welded into the top half of its length. All that remained was to get a true pair of Adegan crystals: originals, not the copies Wesley had replicated for him. Somehow the replication process had not reproduced the resonances Obi-Wan had felt in the crystals he had first chosen.
The door chimed; Obi-Wan went to open it. It was Wes, of course.
"All set to see more of the ship?"
Obi-Wan nodded, then indicated the table. He walked back to his project, Wesley following.
"How's it going?" Wes asked, as Obi-Wan piled tools and components back into the bin that Wesley had given him. Obi-Wan shrugged, and smiled, glad for once that being mute made evading a question so easy for him. He had a feeling the Enterprise crew would be concerned if they knew he was building a rather powerful weapon. Very few people aboard seemed to carry personal weapons at all. He stowed the bin in his room and followed Wesley out.
"Chess club meets in Ten-Forward this afternoon; have you ever played chess?" At Obi-Wan's shake of the head, he grinned mischievously. "I'll have to teach you then."