Whispers of Menace

A Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Alternate Universe

Chapter Nineteen:

Aftershocks

I didn't even notice that help had arrived until a medic reached for Qui-Gon's shoulders, helping another lift the injured man and transfer him to a medical capsule hovering silently next to me. For a moment, I was confused about what was going on, and then another person was pulling me slowly to my feet.

"Easy, now, Master Jedi," the woman told me. "He's out of danger now. You did very well, you and your young friend." At first, I thought she meant Ani, but then it dawned on me that she was referring to Obi-Wan; she probably didn't know that my little buddy was the reason she and her people had known what to bring and where to find us.

Across the reactor pit, members of palace security snapped a set of Force-dampening cuffs on the Sith, the matching collar already in place. A simple stasis pod waited for him. It would be a while before the Naboo felt charitable enough to do anything else with him, if the Council didn't step in first.

I suppose that I grayed out a bit then, because my next clear moment began with hearing Anakin shout.

"Master!" There was a great deal of noise around me, and a lot of people. His warm little hand slipped into mine, my other arm draped over the female medic's shoulder as she steadied me. I hazily noticed that my Padawan had grabbed my cloak and was struggling to keep the balled-up fabric from dragging on the ground as he walked. "They took Master Qui-Gon to their infirmary already, in a big rush. Is he gonna be okay?"

"I dunno," I managed to mumble.

You really, really like him, he commented through our bond. I frowned. You called him 'Qui', kinda like a nickname. At least it's not the kind of cutesy thing I've heard girls call the boys they were seeing, he continued, one blond eyebrow cocked in a manner I hadn't thought a kid his age could manage. While I continued to struggle for any clarity in my thoughts and emotions, he peered around me to speak to the Naboo woman. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"Concussions do funny things to people until the brain bruises heal up," she responded with a chuckle. "She needs to be watched for a while, just to be safe, but she'll be back to normal before too long."

"And what about Obi-Wan?" I could feel him relax, knowing that I was not badly hurt.

"He's simply worn himself out. From what I saw, they had one doozy of a fight down there. Someone did a good job of demolishing the bad guy's knee, though, so the damage wasn't all one-sided."

"That'd be me," I said blearily. "Humanoid knees don't normally go sideways." Both of them snickered as my senses began to fade in and out again unevenly. "I hate concussions."

I lost another chunk of time then, and found myself seated, propped halfway up in an indecently comfortable bed. Ani was perched on the edge of the mattress, his hands weaving through the air.

"… so I accidentally wound up in one of their docking bays—slid all the way to the back end," he admitted with a self-effacing grin. "And I was sitting there sideways, trying to get a restart, droids coming up all around us. Artoo got the engines going again, but I think I hit the torpedo launcher with my elbow, 'cause three of them went through a really big, open hatch. They hit a humongous piece of equipment, and things started exploding all over! Since that wasn't something we wanted to get caught in, Artoo and I beat it out of there. Then, 'whoom!', the whole ship blew up!"

Had he just told me that he personally destroyed the control ship? I blinked as a brief analysis confirmed that initial impression. I hadn't meant for him to be quite that instrumental in the space battle.

Then again, I realized, if I pointed him at any enemy craft and told him it needed to be vaped, he'd probably find a way, no matter how big their ship was or how poorly he might be armed. It made a perverse sort of sense for the Chosen One to be able to pull seeming miracles out of nowhere.

"Naboo to Serra." The half-mocking words drew my attention to the door, where Obi-Wan was leaning against the jamb. "They're not sure how well his leg will heal up, since they've no experience with lightsaber wounds, but Master Qui-Gon's out of mortal danger. If you'd like to see him later…" The offer was left wide open, and I nodded, sagging back against the pillows with relief.

"What happened to his leg?" my Padawan asked in a frightened whisper once the copper-haired youth had left.

"The Sith meant to kill him," I replied quietly. "I was fortunate to deflect it as much as I did. He could have died anyway, from the shock."

"But you wouldn't let him." I must have looked as surprised as I felt, or Anakin sensed it through or bond. "Obi-Wan said you did more good than he ever could have, without using any healing. That you held onto Master Qui-Gon when he should have slipped away."

"I… I just couldn't…" The dread tried to choke me again, and I was very glad that the other Padawan had closed the door behind him. I had no energy left to hold back the tears that rolled down my face. "I don't even know what it is I'm feeling!" And that was incredibly frustrating.

Instead of trying to find words to comfort me, Ani simply curled up against my side, our bond pulsing with his trust in and caring for me. And once I had exhausted myself crying, he started telling me about things he'd done before we met, and wild stories he'd heard from spacers in Mos Espa. Partway through the third tale, I realized that he was deliberately keeping me awake, probably on a doctor's orders. It was the usual type of precaution used with concussions; either don't let them sleep, or wake them every hour to make sure nothing has gone wrong. If they knew anything about Jedi—and Obi-Wan had probably told them, if they didn't—I'd have just an eight-hour watch period, when a non-sensitive would have had someone minding them for twenty-four hours.

Eventually, Panaka stopped by and expressed his thanks for stopping the Sith while simultaneously preserving what might be our only lead on a galaxy-wide threat. From some of his comments, I suspected that there were security holocams all through the generator complex. He also delivered the news that all eleven members of the High Council were on their way to Naboo, as well as Master Dooku. He had no estimate on their arrival, though, and soon left.

Then Padmé showed up for a much longer and more personal visit, wearing a handmaiden's gown. Its hood would have made it difficult to tell which of the girls she was, had I not known her Force-signature. We traded polite greetings as the door closed, pretending she was only one of the attendants and not the actual Queen. Only when the hallway was blocked off did she uncover her head, surprising a very happy greeting from Anakin.

"I couldn't possibly thank any of you enough for your help," she began earnestly.

"It is part of our calling, to help keep the peace in the Republic." I sighed and looked out the window. "I only wish that it didn't demand such a high price. I'm not like other Jedi, you know." She tilted her head in silent question. "I know my family, have emotional attachments to others that I do not hide from the Council, and that runs against the way that the Jedi Code has been taught for a millennium. It says that no attachments are permitted, to people or objects, despite the fact that we can't go through life without them and have healthy psyches."

"Has it always been that way?" my small blond student asked, his eyes suddenly the size of teacups. "Am I going to—"

"No way, no how," I told him emphatically. "The Council dislikes me because I am open about my disagreement with their interpretation of the Code. I swore to an older translation when I was made a Jedi Knight, a version that was taught for many thousands of years before the New Sith Wars. Before the Ruusan Reformation and the changes it wrought upon the Order and the Republic alike. Nor would I ever expect something from you that I could not expect of myself." He let out a relieved sigh, settling back against my side.

"So, why are you different?" Padmé asked.

"The Ti clan is odd for Jedi in the first place. Shortly after Ruusan, when the Order was recruiting heavily to counter their losses in the wars, my ancestors realized that the Order's minimum level of sensitivity was being surpassed by members of the family on a fairly regular basis. So they made a deal with the High Council of the time, in writing so that it would be binding. Candidates from our clan do not leave their families and Shili until after they celebrate their fourth lifeday, and the Temple must allow contact with immediate relatives at least once a year." I flashed a grin full of sharp teeth inherited from my species' predatory past. "There have been nearly one hundred members of the Ti clan in the Jedi Order, only one of whom has not become a Knight. And she's currently six years old." That brought a chuckle. "None of them have fallen to the Dark Side, despite being quite firmly emotionally attached."

"I would think that your High Council would see your family history as something reassuring, not a source of concern or distrust." The young Queen frowned, puzzled.

"I… kinda got the feeling, when you introduced me to them, that they don't trust Master Qui-Gon much, either," Anakin added.

"Well, I spar with Master Dooku frequently, and he has made remarks about his first Padawan challenging the Council's actions. Rather often." The brunette gave me an odd look. "Master Dooku is much like my Aunt Shaak: he plays the proper Jedi Master while maintaining contact with his birth family, though his relationship with them is more tenuous. I think he's technically nobility on his homeworld, though he doesn't claim the title. They probably only trust Qui-Gon more than they do me because he was raised entirely by the Order." That made both of my listeners snort derisively. "But I'm very open about my willingness to defy the Council. If the Force guides me in a given direction, I could care less what they think. So they've tried to make my life miserable, and may be starting to realize that it hasn't worked out quite the way they intended."

"Good." Padmé crossed her arms, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I hope that changes after this, but if it doesn't, or gets worse, let me know. You'll always be welcome here."

"Oh, I doubt they'll have much choice, but it will be nice to have someone on my side for a change." Smiling, I relaxed again, rubbing the top of Ani's head. "I suppose someone is planning a celebration of some sort."

"Oh, quite." The Queen rolled her eyes. "The bureaucrats seem to be getting carried away with things, but they have to wait until Master Jinn can attend. The treaty with the Gungans will be made official at the same time." That might get… interesting. We talked a bit longer before she left, insisting on hugging us both—not that I minded, but my Padawan squirmed a little and turned pink after her back was turned.

"A lot more than that's gonna happen if you marry her," I teased in a whisper. He flushed all the way up to his hairline and down past his collar, making me laugh.

Once I was cleared to leave my room in the infirmary, the blond leaned over the side of the bed and came back up with my lightsabers. He smiled as he handed them over.

"One of the security people said it looked like you dropped them."

"Well, yeah, I did sort of get thrown into a wall." I rolled my eyes, amused, at his continued expectant stare. "Then Obi-Wan got in and backed the kriffer around toward me, and I went 'umph,'" I said, demonstrating the crippling move. "His knee went 'crunch,' and after that I was more worried about Qui-Gon."

"I guess you wanna go sit with him now, right?"

"I need to meditate first, get some things sorted out upstairs," I explained, tapping my temple. "But yeah. Why don't you find Jar Jar and see what kind of a mess he got himself into before you killed the droids?" We both grinned, and he gave me a quick hug before dashing off.

I folded myself into a simple lotus position on top of the mattress, hands on my knees and eyes closed. As I breathed deeply, the recent stresses drained away. The mystery of my Master's disappearance had come to an end; I had a strong bond with an intelligent, caring, talented youngling; I'd gained real friends among my Jedi brethren at last, with my Master's promise of more to come. Most of all, my new friends had all survived, despite the best efforts of the Sith.

Finally, I turned to more closely examine my feelings for Qui-Gon, setting my recent observations out on a mental table. And now that I could look at it all, the puzzle pieces began to fit together.

"One day, girl, you're gonna fall in love." It was a memory of a late-night conversation with Dex at his diner, over a year earlier. His staff had left for the night, so it had just been the two of us talking over kaf. One of his waitresses had run off that day to marry a boy she'd been seeing, quitting as she left. I'd laughed when he groused that love had stolen more of his employees than money and opportunity combined. Then he'd pointed a finger at me. "I just hope I'm around to see it and say 'I told you so!'"

The old rascal was going to get that chance, after all. I'd fallen hard for Qui-Gon Jinn, and knew that I had to tell him, even if he wasn't awake to hear me.

Obi-Wan didn't say a word when I turned up at the door to the Jedi Master's infirmary room. He simply gave me a half-smile and a grateful hand on my shoulder before he left. I took the seat he'd vacated just as quietly and simply watched for several minutes.

He looked so relaxed and peaceful, like he'd just gotten to sleep. His breathing was quiet but steady, head tilted toward the chair, his far arm resting across his chest. Someone had taken down his hair and combed it out, and the only visible sign of his wound was the slightly bulkier appearance suggested by the bacta dressings beneath the sheet.

"I was so scared," I finally whispered. Hesitantly, I reached out to touch his forehead, then cup his cheek, running my thumb along the cheekbone. He sighed, and a little more weight settled against my palm. Almost before I'd realized it, I'd leaned over and kissed him, the brush of our lips branding the faint scent and taste of him into my memory, just in case. Then I drew back and stood, leaving only my hand in place. "I love you."

Blunt-tipped, calloused fingers gently covered mine and kept them in place. "Stay." His eyes, open now, held no trace of drugs or pain, only peace, so I sat back down and watched contentment curve his lips. After a moment, he let go of my hand and reached toward me, tracing a white stripe where it crossed my cheek. "I didn't know Togruta could blush." Heat flooded my face, and he chuckled softly.

That was enough to break the ice, though, and we talked until Qui-Gon really did fall asleep.