LIVING HISTORY
by ardavenport
= = = Part 24
Lowering his head, Obi-Wan nodded again. He knew and accepted that the Sith were the embodiment of evil. But he did not know what he would sense if a Sith suddenly appeared to him. And he could sense that Qui-Gon was not telling him everything he knew; true knowledge of the Sith was potentially corrupting and not shared with Padawans.
He lifted his head. "No, Master. I do not. But I will follow your teachings. And learn."
Qui-Gon's hand squeezed his shoulder, a brief, intense acceptance. "We will learn together." He looked away. "But for now," his tone lightened, "we will eat."
They crossed to the food prep area. Obi-Wan grimaced down at the black mark on the floor left by his careless lightsaber. He knew what they would be doing during the three days of rehearsal. Meditating (possibly about Sith, or possibly not) and training. Obi-Wan trained every day, with Qui-Gon, with other Jedi and alone; he could feel the difference in himself from just a year ago. Aside from being physically taller, he was stronger, the Force coming to him more naturally, though he was still far from the ease and skill that his Master commanded. But they were not on Coruscant. And it seemed a wasted opportunity to only do the same things that they in the Jedi Temple.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon looked up from the root he was slicing.
"I would like to review the local holo-media. If the Custodian thinks that they will send snooper droids here, we should know more about them."
Qui-Gon's lip twitched in a suppressed sneer. But he then sighed and nodded. So, after they finished preparing and setting out their midday meal, Obi-Wan slid open the compartment where he had seen the holoprojector. It was a large unit attached to the back wall of the compartment; the projector platform flipped down and out, a large vertical screen opening up behind it. Activating the small control screen, Obi-Wan saw a fairly standard menu of functions and quickly scanned through them. His eye noted one option for later: "History Play Reference Holos".
Picking up the remote controller for the unit, he went back to the table. There was a huge selection of public broadcasts from topics ranging from teaching modules to entertainments, local sector activities to galactic events. Obi-Wan selected the most popular public information offering.
"We're here on the shores of the Scared Pond of Urzaro," The bluish transparent man leaned so close to his holo-recorder that his face distorted. Behind him the screen lit up in extreme color detail, a magnificent vista with a line of dark blue and green trees in the distance, the planet's largest moon hanging like a big gray, cratered bauble domnating a blue sky reflected in a pond of brown water half covered by greenish yellow blobs of alge. The detail on the screen was so sharp that they could see tiny blubbles forming and popping on the brown scummy water.
". . . where yesterday," the man went on enthusiastically, "it was revealed that King Zweritmu was in fact sterile, so the entire royal lineage of the House of Tatwa are actually the progeny of the King's cousin, a wusner herder. And I have here the Venerate Tizard and the Very Venerate Chilzom Tykrus." The holo-image shifted to the left, panning over to two men, one distinguished white haired man dressed in fitted, embroidered clothes, the other a bit stooped with long gray hair in a simple long tunic, hanging down past his knees; his feet were bare. "Excuse me, Venerate Emertis Tizard and Very Venerate Emertis Chilzom Tykus after last night's brilliant performance.
"Tell me, Venerate Sweritmu," the announcer addressed the finely dressed Venerate, "We all know how strict all the Living History Lands are, and especially the Swalen. So, were you neutered as part of your training, or was it part of your formal initiation?" The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out and the awkward silence stretched out.
Obi-Wan cringed as the announcer enthusiastically went on with his intrusive questions with the Very Venerate Emertis. Qui-Gon picked up the controller and switched the feed.
" - - - scoop bikes and single bikes and double bikes and TRIPLE bikes - - ," a broadshouldered woman in a bright yellow suit quickly strode down a row of speeder bikes as she rapid-talked down her inventory. The huge open pen behind her was filled with more of them, " - - and blue bikes and green bikes and gold bikes! Bikes with two, four and six rocket boosts! Bikes with fins! Bikes with vanes! Bikes with fins and vanes! - - "
Qui-Gon switched the feed.
"I can't Morgna! I can't!" A man with pale blue eyes and sunny blond hair pleaded to a smaller dark haired young man in a red and blue smock. "I love her. How can I ask her to - - "
"How can you not ask her? Brayel you're not thinking straight. The whole Cabal can see what needs to be done. Why not - - "
Qui-Gon switched the feed.
A tinkle of music accompanied a burst of glowing, sparklng flowers and loose holographic petals on the floor before them.
"- - for that certain special someone in your life," a woman's voice cooed. "From single spectacular bursts to promenade, our flower showers come in fresh and hypo-allergetic scents. Make your reservation - - "
Qui-Gon switched the feed.
Obi-Wan took a few bites of food while his Master cycled through the public information offereings. They weren't that much different from the thousands of feeds available on Coruscant, except that the focus was mostly on Maarzim and its Outer Rim sector instead of the whole Galactic Republic. Commercialism was certainly alive and well on the Outer Rim. His Master's disapproving eyes flicked his way once as he cycled through the selections.
The back screen of the holo-projector filled with soaring views of different landscapes with ghostly transparent details rising and falling over the holo-projector. Orchestral music swelled and receded with each one.
Qui-Gon raised the controller again.
The screen image soared up forested hills and cresting, revealed a stone fortress overlooking a town on a hillside. A tall spire dominated it, more than twice as high as any other tower in the whole structure.
Qui-Gon lowered the controller.
The view circled around Naardin Castle before switching again to a dry landscape of dramatic rock formations and sparse purple vegetation. The image swooped up and down and then switched again to skim over an ocean, rushing up toward a forested island with steep vertical cliffs. The music rose, reaching a dramatic climax as the view zoomed into a black hangar opening in the rock face. Stylized text burst out proclaiming the eternal grandeur of the Living History Lands before dissolving into a shower of fading sparks that formed into a transparent mini-council of five people, seated in a circle of chairs over the holo-platform.
"History is being made. Right now," a man with thinning hair began. He wore a suit similar to the others and he sat in a chair with a higher back, marking him as some kind of host or leader. "Four of the major History Plays, innagurating Mwetta as the new Chancellor of the Living History Lands, have been performed. Tomorrow, The Gwad, with The Mystery of the Tortorb Labyrinth . . ."
This introduction launched a sometimes spirited and reasonably civil and serious discussion of the various major performances and the two Jedi ate their meal as it proceded. All five commentators agreed that the first Living History Play, 'The Seed' in the K'zrai Lands, had been excellent; it revealed that a small group of influential intellectuals of their day had, in fact, murdered one of their peers and used the upheaval it caused to found a charitable order of Historians that was still active in the present day. They were all united in their disappointment in the Dimara Grat Lands Play about the hidden correspondence between a musician and an explorer who was lost in the void beyond the Galactic Rim. As they mentioned each Play, the five chairs dissolved into quick holo smippets of the performances. They approved of the third and fourth History Plays with varying amounts of enthusiasm and speculated about the next performance. Then they moved on to what they expected from the final three Plays.
"Remember, The Tragedy of Darth Yarr was originally slated to be fourth in the lineup," a woman with very thick hair shaped into a deformed cube on her head, confided to the others, "but Naardin's slot was switched with with Swalen's, along with Gwad and Poonkagree, to accommodate this supposed 'epidemic' of sephrada virus, giving them extra time and putting increased pressure on Swalen and Gwad by forcing them to go early - - "
"Really," a man in a shiny tunic with strings of dark beads hangning down his chest interrupted, "I think the extra pressure worked to Tworin Aka's advantage; that was one of the most energetic performances he's directed in years."
"Let's hope it goes well for Titi Lwassa tomorrow night." the host added. "She is not known for working well under pressure. But," he re-directed the speculation, "will the extra time be beneficial for Ebsi Tykon? There have been rumors all season that he is not happy with his collaboration with the Mwemas, Aka and Smetin team that the Overseers forced on him."
"Can you blaaaaame them?" a thin man with light hair standing straight up asked with elongated vowels. "Ebsi Tykon has been liiiiving off of his victoooories for yeeeeears now. He ooooonly produces good work when he's working in collaboration with others. But he's running out of peeeeople who will put up with his tantrums. Aka, Smetin and Mwemas have aaaaaall worked with him before and it amaaaazes me that they're willing to do it agaaain."
"Roobi Mwemas has not only worked with Tykon before," a woman wearing a sleeveless shirt made of disks that matched the shiny pair hanging from her earlobes added, "she's also had an intermittent amorous relationship with him."
"Even moooooore reason for her to want to avoid him! Reeeeeally, can you imagine? And what about these new rumors that Tykon has even insulted the Jedi Venerate from the Galactic Republic. A Venerate! A Jedi Venerate! Can you imaaaaagine?" The five chairs dissolved into a still image of Qui-Gon that started out the size of a boot and quickly inflated to life-size.
"Confidential sources say that the Jedi tried to strangle Director Tykon during one of the auditions."
Obi-Wan gulped his bite of grain flat and nut spread and glanced toward his Master who did not react. These people had some kind of inside information though not accurate. And they did not seem to know that he even existed.
The Qui-Gon image fizzled out and reformed into the five chairs again with the sound of a forced laugh.
"Ha ha ha!" The host wagged a finger at the thin man, "I think that if a Jedi really tried to strangle Ebsi Tykon he wouldn't be going into rehersals now. Ha ha! But we can't linger on any un-holy heresay. Blithmi," he addressed the cube-haired woman, "what can we expect from the final four performances?"
More speculation followed. They all seemed to think that Tykon would easily do better than Hrot, the Director for the Dimara Grat History Play, 'Floor Under Floor', the one that they all did not like, but that the Majwaru History Play, the final one, would be the show piece of the whole celebrations. The five kept chatted on as the Jedi finished their meal and went to clean up.
". . . I caaaaan't agree with you there. I predict that the Poonkagree Play will completely upstage them all, especially Majwaru. I think that Zratta Nuel will regret not trading places for an earlier spot. She'll be under a lot of pressure - - - "
Qui-Gon shut off the holo-receiver. Then he folded up the platform and slid the compartment door closed over it. Obi-Wan frowned. He had planned to select the Skyways holo next, but his chance had passed for the day at least. He knew the words even before his Master spoke them.
"Now, Obi-Wan. Training."
%% ]]]-x-[[[ === ]]]-x-[[[ %% ]]]-x-[[[ === ]]]-x-[[[ %%
"What are you saying? We can't . . . we're not . . . Just because we . . . That doesn't mean anything. Right, Brak'cha?"
"What matters is what you feel, Zim. And for feelings like yours, I'm not an expert. You're the only one can know that." the elderly woman standing behind the young woman facing off with an equally attractive young man was dressed plainly in a long robe with a long loose hood hanging down her back. The holo-drama proceeded three-quarters size on the tower apartment floor. The projection system was different for the stored dramas in its library. The screen sserved as a backdrop while the scenes played out in transparent colors, sometimes as knee-high crowds, sometimes as giant transparent floating heads, emoting important scenes.
Obi-Wan had claimed that morning of the first full day of rehearsals that they should view Skyways, since it was one of the reference dramas being used by the performers. The argument was weak in Qui-Gon's opinion, but this was the first of three days when they would mostly not be needed. They could not leave, since they knew the Mystery. Maarzim tradition and law demanded that they remain in sequestration until after the performance. Since they were Venerates, they were technically allowed free access to the rest of the Castle, but Qui-Gon saw no reason to cause Custodian Tykon any more anxiety than she already had to deal with.
Qui-Gon lost interest in the drama by the third scene and covertly watched his Padawan instead. He was obviously looking for any scenes where Qui-Gon appeared in the background. There were four of them and Obi-Wan's sharp eye spotted him in every one. But the most interesting development was when the lift activated and Obi-Wan hastily switched the holo-drama off. One of the Castle Custodians appeared to tend the garden. She bowed to them, begging their forgiveness for her interruption before going outside. Obi-Wan did not turn the drama back on. He just sat their, feigning meditation until the woman finished her tasks, methodically circling the entire exterior balcony and finally returning with a basket of produce. Only after she was gone and the lift hatch sealed did Obi-Wan go back to holo recorder. Qui-Gon took his seat again and said nothing about his apprentice's obvious embarrassment that anyone should catch them watching the holo-drama.
Though he tolerated the story of the young woman falling in love with her family's hireling while persons and droids with vague and sinister motives tried to kidnap her, Qui-Gon did enjoy seeing Roetee Zhazem again. This was her work and her legacy, her life in fact. After the holo was released and her work was feted in the popular venues, she sent a small mountain of cut flowers to the Jedi Temple with a dramatic note of thanks. Qui-Gon had been away on a mission at the time, but he heard later that Master Piell and Knight Worod (who had also briefly observed the holo-drama production) used them for an exercise where the Padawans in the Temple first kept as many of them in the air as they could and then smashed pairs of them together with the best accuracy they could manage. There had been flower petals everywhere and they were quite visible in the thank-you holo that Master Piell sent back to Roetee Zhazem for her gift.
The finale of Skyways came with a lot of speeder crashes and blaster fire, along with a near-death experience that convinced the young woman that she really did love the young man pursuing her. Master Brak'cha helped with some timely use of her lightsaber, which shocked the young woman who, though she seemed to be reasonably intelligent, had not realized that her father's 'old friend' was actually a Jedi. The young man had figured it out almost immediately.
Obi-Wan shut off the holo-recorder as the artistic credits played, life-sized images of the characters zoomed up with the glowing text of each performer's name circling them.
"Did you enjoy assisting in this drama, Master?"
"I did not dislike it." He got up from his chair; his robe hung over the back, but he did not put it on. "It was an assignment and it was not unpleasant." He smiled. There were plenty of flowering plants outside along with tools for snipping off some of the blossoms.
"And now, Obi-Wan, I have some training for you."
%% ]]]-x-[[[ === ]]]-x-[[[ %% ]]]-x-[[[ === ]]]-x-[[[ %%
"Lunches!" PING!
"Snacks!" PING!
"Dinners!" PING!
"Special Ocassions!" PING! PING!
With each declaraction, super-charged with cheerfulness meant to convince the viewer that food tasted better when served on square and rectangular plates, a new delicacy appeared, presented on the miraculous quadrilateral dishes.
Qui-Gon switched the feed.
It was the second full day of rehersals and their isolation in the tower and Obi-Wan had suggested that morning, after the Castle Custodian had tended the garden and left, that they could benefit from viewing some of Director Tykon's work.
His expression turning distinctly critical, his brows lowered, Qui-Gon's had still agreed. He claimed the holoprojector controller and they sampled the public broadcasts. Aside from the usual planetary events that could be found anywhere in the galaxy - - government construction, dramatic and picturesque crime, the atmosphere, sports, on land and in large bodies of water, star activity in the local space sector - - there was plenty of information and commentary about the celebrations in the Living History Lands. They caught most of a biographical pictorial about Director Ebsi Tykon and other graduates of the Mwemas Academy who were contributing their talents to the 'sacred revelations'. Tykon's talent had been recognized when he was a very young performer, but he became globally recognized with his acclaimed directorial debut of the History Play 'Seven, Eight, Ot'. Since then, he had accumulated a couple decades of works, writing, singing, dancing, performing and directing. The pictorial rapidly flashed through a selection of scenes that might have meant something to someone who followed Tykon's work. When the holo moved on from Tykon to other artistic contributors Qui-Gon changed the feed, landing on a succession of inane interviews and advertisements that were as bad as anything they might have found on Coruscant.
" - - the Galactic Repulic!"
Qui-Gon paused.
"Look at these sweet deals!" a voice cried out. "We've got tables from Zirpok, carved from the blackest char-wood. Accents from Tidridor Five excavated from the volcanic pits of Grabru, beautifully polished, and durable; even a thermal blast won't scratch these babies." A holo of each item, transparent and twice life-size burst up from the projector. "Tables, tables, tables from the ENTIRE GALAXY."
Qui-Gon changed the feed.
" - - reproductions of the finest quality," a soothing feminine voice promised as a projected louging chair gently spun in mid-air, "but with all the most modern comforts. The Venerates devote their lives to keeping our memories alive. So you don't have to. And with a Twortwun ensemble . . . " Various furnishings and even whole rooms appeared with the loving narration. But Qui-Gon did not change the feed. Baffled by his Master's sudden fascination with a simple advertisement, Obi-Wan scrutinized the displayed merchandise, apparently intended for the observant Maarzim who did not want to suffer too much for History. His mouth opened in surprise when he spied a symbol, apparently the Twortwun logo, a half-filled circle partially covering a squat triangle. Together the two Jedi turned toward the portable fresher unit that they had been using since they arrived. The exterior was made of blond wood that matched the apartment's floor and pillars, dully polished and smooth with all rounded edges. On the door, like a very sublte embossing was the same circle and triangle logo.
Qui-Gon shrugged. "I suppose it had to come from somewhere."
= = = End Part 24