Wow. Just one more chapter to go after this one, folks! I have no intention of abandoning this 'verse, but the next segment is proving a bit elusive, so it may be a while before I post in this storyline again, after next chapter. But bear with me, please. Much thanks to everyone who's reviewed!

Whispers of Menace

A Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Alternate Universe

Chapter Twenty:

Naboo Celebration

and

Farewell to a Jedi

A grand parade took place in Theed two days later, with Gungan warriors formed up in ranks on the streets, kaadu riders on either side of the column. The Riders bore elaborate organic horns and played a festive march, accompanied by choirs of Naboo younglings. Streamers and confetti filled the air, and people thronged the higher streets and bridges. The procession ended before the Palace's Grand Stair with a great deal of pageantry as a white-clad and lightly made-up Padmé presented Boss Nass with a large crystal orb that shone with an inner light. The 'Jedi heroes' got to stand off to one side, with Qui-Gon in a hoverchair, his Master and Padawan at his shoulders, and the entire Council arrayed behind us.

Between Master Yoda, Master Dooku, and myself, Qui-Gon was 'persuaded' to stay off his feet until the Temple's healers gave their permission. That didn't keep the Naboo from partying us to within a centimeter of our lives, though. The young Queen apologized several times, but she'd been right that afternoon in the infirmary; the bureaucracy had gotten the bit in their teeth and ran away with the arrangements for various ceremonies they deemed 'necessary'.

We got back to Coruscant a week after the battle. Naturally, the healers wanted the injured Master to see them immediately, and Bant was waiting in the hangar when we arrived. Nor was she there only for Qui-Gon.

"I believe a physical is in order for someone," she stated. "I know you didn't have time before you had to go back out, but now that mess has been dealt with, and we need to get your Padawan in the system."

"What's a physical and why do I have to be 'in the system'?" The little blond took hold of my right hand as he asked, staring at the healer trainee with an odd fascination.

"It's a medical examination," I explained as we walked. "That way, they know if you have any allergies, need nutrients or minerals to supplement your food, and helps them diagnose things when you're hurt or sick. It establishes a performance baseline for your body." He hummed and nodded, eyes still locked on Bant.

"Obi-Wan mentioned that you're from Tatooine." The unexpected comment startled me, but I quickly saw where she was taking the conversation. "I'm Mon Calamari—my homeworld is mostly water, and we avoid deserts because they'd dehydrate us in a Coruscant second, which could kill a Mon Cal. You'll learn about a lot of new species here."

"Almost all water? Wow…" Bant gave him a Mon Cal grin as we entered an exam room, then gestured him onto a table. It took an hour and a half to get through the questions as she started looking Ani over; he didn't know the answers to several of them, and I made notes so that they could be included in our first message to Shmi Skywalker. The healer trainee—who was close to her Trials for Knighthood and graduation to full healer status—frowned and made disapproving noises more than once. When she'd finished, she motioned me over to a corner while my buddy got fully redressed.

"What kind of degenerate was supposed to be taking care of him before you stepped in?" Bant was clearly furious. "None of even the basic vaccinations, long-term malnutrition, all those scars… especially that big one on his shoulder that looks almost deliberate—"

"He was a slave," I told her in a hushed voice. She flinched. "The Republic's laws aren't even given lip service on Tatooine, or many of the other Outer Rim systems. His mother was kidnapped as a young child, and it's thanks to the Force that Anakin survived the first week of his life. I'll explain some other time; it would only hurt Ani to hear what she went through." The Mon Cal's shoulders slumped momentarily as she nodded, but then the brisk manner of an experienced healer returned.

"As I said, there's evidence of long-term malnutrition, but he's young enough that we can compensate for it and reduce or negate much of the damage that's been done. The nutrient supplements he needs and a salve to heal some of the scarring will be delivered to your quarters. The biggest one will probably need surgical removal, though." Bant paused. "His midi-chlorian count is thirty-six thousand, eight hundred and twenty parts per million. The analyzer almost topped out."

Yikes. Now I could understand Obi-Wan's reaction back on Tatooine. To the best of my knowledge, that was almost twice Master Yoda's count, and he was almost unanimously acknowledged as the most powerful Jedi in the Order.

"I'm glad he has a Master with your philosophical flexibility, given his obviously strong bond with his mother," the Mon Calamari continued. "Most would try to make a clean break, but I suspect that's a bad idea."

"Oh, understatement of the year," I murmured back.

"Perhaps. Competes with what I heard Master Jinn say about his leg. 'Just a scratch,' my left flipper." I snorted. "All that's left until you have those answers, then, is the standard immunizations. It will take a day or two to calibrate them for a youngling, instead of an infant. You'll get a message when they're ready."

"Thank you, Bant." I turned just in time to see Anakin reaching for a second piece of hard candy. "Oh, no, you don't, mister. You've had your extra sugar for the morning." I'd learned before we left Naboo that he wasn't accustomed to getting refined sugar, and even a little too much in his system was likely to keep him bouncing off the walls long past his bedtime. And then he would be an absolute grouch the following morning.

I sighed, knowing that I had five weeks to figure out how to give him a tenth-lifeday treat without him turning into hell on repulsorlifts.

We got back to the reception area just as Qui-Gon was being released for lunch. To my surprise, he and Obi-Wan also knew Dex, having encountered him several years earlier and occasionally needing his expertise since. So we made a detour to my and Ani's suite where I grabbed the recording from the race, and then the four of us caught a shuttle to CoCo Town. When we came through the front door, the Besalisk caught sight of the adults immediately.

"Well, if it isn't three of my favorite Jedi!" he said cheerfully. "What'd you get into this time, Qui-Gon?"

"A fight, as usual," Obi-Wan replied, grinning when his Master rolled his eyes. Our friend echoed the grin and left the kitchen to greet us. That was when I realized that Ani was hiding behind me, peeking around my arm. The older Padawan got a bone-cracking four-armed hug, which didn't seem to help the little blond's confidence much.

"I didn't think you knew these two rabble-rousers, Serra."

"Oh, I just spar with Qui-Gon's former Master on a regular basis," I answered, punching one of Dex's arms lightly. "I brought you something, and I thought this little scoundrel ought to meet you." Pulling Anakin into sight caused the much larger being to crouch.

"Th' name's Dexter Jettster, kiddo. Just now become a Padawan?" The boy nodded silently. "Serra'll do right by ya, never fear. Not afraid t' stand up t' that stuffy old Council in favor of th' right thing, for one." Then he straightened again and yelled over one heavily-muscled shoulder. "Three specials an' a junior, Jay!"

"Comin' right up, boss," replied the Gran in the kitchen. The waitress quickly poured three fizzy drinks and gave me a questioning look.

"I think he can handle a blue milkshake," I told her. Then, our drinks in Dex's capable, if over-sized, hands, we slid into the largest booth in the restaurant. "You mentioned to me, once, that you'd seen the Boonta Eve Classic." Dex grinned.

"Yeah, that was 'bout ten years back. One heckuva course, that's for sure. Last one was run a couple weeks back, an' I heard there was some upset over th' results. That Sebulba lost."

"He still has his sponsorship?" My friend nodded. "Pity, it looks like he got someone to cover his rear." I grinned, pulling out the holoset with the recording and passing it to the Besalisk. "Exclusive footage of the race from the winner's pod, including chatter with his crew chief. I made a copy to keep, but that's the original."

"An' here I thought ya weren't allowed t' go t' Tatooine." At that comment, Ani stared at me, an odd look on his face.

Not allowed? he asked.

It's a long story, I'll tell you about it later.

"We didn't have much choice," Obi-Wan told our friend. "It was the only place in range of the damaged ship where they weren't actively looking for us." Dee soon arrived with our food, and while we ate, Dex watched the race with rapt attention. I got an odd glance the first time my voice came from the recording, and just smiled back at him.

"Whoa! I knew there was funny business goin' on, with all th' explodin' engines 'round that filthy Dug—Force preserve!" His jaw dropped as he watched Ani's jump. "I have never seen a pod do somethin' like that before. Who built it?"

"Skywalker himself, actually. From his own design."

"Human?! Serra—" I held up a finger and got him to watch the end, then put an arm around my Padawan's shoulders.

"Dex, meet Anakin Skywalker, Boonta Eve champion."

"Hi," he squeaked, both hands clutching the glass that held what was left of his milkshake. "The shields were Serra's idea." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan just chuckled.

"Well, I'll be darned. You're a bit of all right, there, squirt." The Besalisk gently poked Ani's shoulder. "Anybody who can make Sebulba eat dirt is somethin' special." He grinned and got a smile in return. "So ya built your pod an' tweaked it against his dirty tricks. Ya musta raced against Sebulba before."

"Mhm." The choice of topic was just right to draw the little blond out of his shell. "Last time—before Boonta Eve, I mean—I crashed when he flashed me with his vent ports. Watto was mad at me, but I did save most of his pod, so he wasn't as upset as he could've been." Then he frowned. "Sebulba made a nasty comment about my mom after I first raced against him. That's why I wanted to beat him so much. So I came up with my design and started putting it together as I found the parts. Of course, everyone knew about Sebulba's remark, and nobody wanted to tell their owners about my racer 'cause they wanted to see him humiliated an' defeated by a slave."

"Well ya certainly did that, kid."

Then Qui-Gon glanced at his chrono and sighed heavily. Apparently, the healers had given him a certain amount of time for lunch, and it was almost up. Dex teased the Jedi Master about it as we waited for the Temple shuttle to arrive.

Upon our return to the monolithic structure I'd lived in for over thirty years, I took Anakin and sought out Master Dooku for a sparring match. We spent an hour in our favorite gym going back and forth, up and down stairs, across catwalks, and through obstacles before the duel ended in a draw, Master Dooku's lightsaber at my throat and one of mine centimeters from gutting him. That reassured my Padawan immensely as to my safety when I had been fighting the Sith.

Afterwards, we returned to our quarters to begin Ani's training in earnest, starting with meditation. Getting him into the proper mindset proved tricky, but my soft, constant murmuring of instructions eventually lulled him into a light meditative state. I let him stay there for an hour before rousing him to change into fresh robes before sunset for my Master's funeral.

The ceremony began as the last direct sunlight faded from the open-air Memorial Garden. Sifo-Dyas' remains were brought out on a bier, cleaned, dressed, and arranged so that he looked almost as though he'd just laid down for a nap. He was placed atop the waiting pyre, and all in attendance looked toward me.

The deceased's eldest living Padawan always set the tone for a Jedi funeral, and the Chagrian male who had been my Master's first student had died before I ever arrived at the Temple. So I was given the choice between somber and joyful, and I knew he would have rather had his life celebrated. I started things off with a story from the year I was fifteen. We'd been sent to a relatively primitive planet, where a tribe of women had captured Sifo-Dyas, and I'd had to rescue him. He had not been happy about spending two days in their clutches; physically sated and exhausted, even by Jedi standards, but not happy.

Privately, I wondered what I might find if I returned to that planet and could find that particular tribe again. Would there be a number of young adults bearing a resemblance to my Master in one way or another? It might merit investigation, but if Ani hit puberty first, I wouldn't take him along. Not him or any other physically mature human male, really.

Everyone present who had known Sifo-Dyas well shared a story, most of them humorous, like mine. When the last Jedi finished, I lit the pyre and watched as his mortal shell was consumed. I'd made sure that two items were in his hands, a pair of long, braided cords decorated with beads and wrappings, one which had been worn by the Chagrian until he was Knighted, the other one of the pair my Master had made for me. He'd insisted that I have two identical cords, and now I understood why. It was only fitting that those symbolic connections would go with him into the afterlife.

My young charge fell asleep long before the fire turned to embers and then went cold, but I didn't mind. He had never met Sifo-Dyas, but he had enjoyed the tales that had been told. And I would teach him what the man had taught me.

Near the end, I was surprised when Madame Jocasta Nu, the head archivist for the Temple, came to speak to me.

"Your Master came by the Archives just before he left," she began. "He pulled several items and asked me to hold on to them and a datapad. I was to give them to you 'when the time is right.' I think Sifo-Dyas meant now, once you'd found your young friend." The often severe woman smiled slightly. "I took the liberty of having them delivered to your new apartment."

"Thank you, Madame Yu," I responded with a slight bow. With that, she turned and glided away, radiating serenity.

After the ceremony was over, I woke Ani up just long enough to get back to our rooms and into his pajamas, then tucked him in and turned off the light in his room. I returned to the main area to see what my Master had set aside for me.

The holobooks were older volumes, their cases showing the wear of many hands. Only the datapad looked like it had been made within the last half a millennium. I activated it, bringing up the letter I'd expected.

Serra,

I've liberated several of the older training manuals from the Archives' old storerooms for you, ones written for students not nearly as young as permitted by the Order's present rules. As well, this datapad contains instructions in the three levels of the Sight and how to best channel them: subconscious or premonition Seers like you, semi-conscious or dream Seers, and conscious Seers like me. The Force has told me that your Padawan will need the second set of lessons. I suggest that he or she put together and keep a dream journal, as I have always kept a log of my visions, and to include the earliest dreams he or she can remember.

Currently, I know little about your Padawan besides their very accurate dream visions and that they haven't lived at the Temple before. I do know, however, that you will be an excellent Master. In case my upcoming task leads to my death, I have ensured that all my personal effects will be yours. And no, I can't tell you what I'm up to; you'll find out in a decade or so anyways.

May the Force be with you always.

Sifo-Dyas

~Well,~ I thought, ~at least he hasn't left me completely devoid of his advice.~ I knew there were other Seers in the Order, but none of them were as skilled as my Master had been. And all of them were sticklers for the rules; they would refuse to help me or Anakin.

Perusing the other files on the 'pad, I found an extensive log of Sifo-Dyas' visions, dating all the way back to his time as an Initiate, when he had first understood what they were. Another document correlated some visions to the events they had presaged, with a third speculating on the meanings of the ones that had yet to occur. It was a treasure trove of information.

After a few minutes, I returned the datapad to the shelf and headed for my own bed. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep, and I knew nothing until morning.