LIVING HISTORY
by ardavenport
= = = Part 33
"Oh! I thought that was you!"
Still bent low, he peeked up under his hood and recognized Healer Mwassil, still wearing her Healer's tunics and veils, now decorated with bits of confetti, pale purple and yellow lights flashing across her smiling face. She grabbed him in a hug.
"Oh, he looked so wonderful up there!"
The floating platform was still there, low by the wall. There were usually rules against floaters crossing too close over a crowd and that seemed to be the case here, but the announcer still craned his neck, looking for him as he spoke, his words lost in the din of music and partying.
"Ughh." Obi-Wan pointed and Mwassil turned.
"Oh, no! They're horrible!" Ducking low, too, her grip still firm, she dragged him deeper into the party. But halfway through they could not go any further. The bodies were packed so tightly, still moving to the music. The room was noticeably warmer and sweatier. Obi-Wan pointed toward the far end of the stage. But Mwassil shook her head and put her mouth to his ear.
"We'll never make it over there!"
They had to turn away from the crush by the stage, going almost all the way to the quieter back of the Hall where the more sedate partiers had taken refuge. As soon as they passed through the portal of the sound suppressor field, Obi-Wan realized that his com was signaling.
"Yes, Master."
"Where are you, Obi-Wan?"
"We're in the back of the Hall. We tried to get past to where you are, but it's too crowded."
"We?"
"I ran into Healer Mwassil. She was watching the Play."
"You were just wonderful out there!" she chirped in. "I am so proud!"
"Yes, thank-you," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "I have the artifacts, and I need you to take them. There seems to be one final presentation and then we are free to leave. Custodian Tykon will send someone." He signed out and put the com away.
People came and went by them through a smaller door in a false wall at the far end of the Hall. A group, two men and two women passed by. They were all garishly dressed in colored metallic fabrics worn loosely over very fit bodies. One of the men pointed at Obi-Wan.
"Oh look! He's dressed just like a Jedi! I should have thought of that!" They went into the party.
"He is a Jedi, you sssatsimit," Mwassil muttered unkindly. "Just look at them. We're going to have all kinds of business from this lot later; over-induging, headaches, stomachaches and I've seen just about every body part that can be sprained get over-worked at these things. The Plays are marvelous, but the aftermath is completely unnecessary. But it's tradition, so they get away with just about everything."
Above, a large floater coming very quickly from the stage side of the Hall descended. There were four Castle Custodians on it, three in light blue formal tunics, the fourth, Temba, in a darker shade, trimmed in silver.
"We've come to escort you to the backstage," he gestured to a spot in the middle of the platform. Obi-Wan turned to Mwassil to thank her, but she stole a big hug from him instead.
"I'm so proud to have known you two. It has been a privilege."
He warmly hugged her back. "It has been our privilege. And thank-you for helping my Master get well. I know he was difficult, but he does appreciate what you did for him."
"Oh, he wasn't difficult at all!" she denied, beaming. "I've had much worse. And you both look so healthy now, you do me so proud. Good-bye!" She released him and he stepped onto the platform. It immediately rose high, going toward the stage.
The reason for his heavy escort because apparent as soon as they passed back over the party. Every one of the viewing platforms, along with some of the floaters, was now occupied by people with holo-recorder droids whose sensors followed them as they went by, but none approached.
The band finished a song to loud applause as their platform passed high the mob and behind a black wall. There was another black wall in front of them and they took a sharp left turn as they descended. Qui-Gon was waiting with Sebo and Custodian Tykon. There must have been sound bafflers behind the stage because the noise from the band was much less than Obi-Wan expected.
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon took the gray strap attached to a dull gold metalloid box off his shoulder and handed it to him. It wasn't too heavy, but he hoped he wouldn't be carrying it for too long.
"If you think that you are at all in danger of losing it, destroy it." Behind Qui-Gon, both Sebo and Tykon looked horrified. Obi-Wan bowed his head.
"Yes, Master." He had no idea how he was supposed to do it or if that possibility was at all likely. Qui-Gon would have said something if there was a self-destruct device. All he could do with his lightsaber for such a large object was cut it in half and then cut up the halves. But if it did become necessary, he would try.
"Sssats!" Director Tykon appeared and slapped Qui-Gon on the back. "Ready?"
Sighing, Qui-Gon nodded. Apparently amused by the Jedi's lack of enthusiasm, Tykon slapped him again, waved to someone that they couldn't see and strode off. Qui-Gon laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, pointing him in the direction that the Director had taken. They moved slowly forward and Obi-Wan realized that they were at the end of some kind of line.
"Master, what is happening?"
"There is a final precession of the Play performers among the audience on their way to their own private party. We are not required to attend that," his Master assured him, "but since I was technically in the Play, it would be noticed if I did not make a last appearance."
Obi-Wan refrained from saying anything about Qui-Gon's name appearing in the Play roster after he lept on stage.
"And Director Tykon has requested one final act from me, and perhaps against my better judgement, I have agreed." He shrugged out of his dark brown robe. "Here, take this."
Obi-Wan took it, and rolled it up to carry under his arm. Under his other arm was the box. Sebo smiled up at Qui-Gon but did not say anything. They seemed to be last with a group of Castle Custodians behind them. The sound of the party in Tamwa Hall increased before they turned a corner where a sound suppressor portal glowed red up ahead.
"Hey, what are you doing! You're supposed to be up front!"
"Where're you going?!"
"Hey!"
Voices cried out and then Obi-Wan saw Yana, wearing only the gray tunic and pants that she wore under her guard armor on stage, rushed up to him and grabbed him around the neck. She pressed her lips to his, her mouth an open invitation.
"What are you doing?! Oh, Director Tykon, do something about this!" Custodian Tykon sounded upset. Director Tykon laughed.
Yana pulled back. Obi-Wan was sure he was not any good at kissing; that was definitely not part of his Jedi training. But Yana did not seem to mind as she hung off of his neck and gave his Padawan's braid a little tug.
"You are soooooo cute." She kissed his nose. "And I heard you weren't going to be at the party. So, I'm going to tell you now before you go." Her next kiss was all tongue and teeth to him; he found the warm, round curves of her body pressed to him much more distracting.
Suddenly she pulled away, just ahead of Custodian Tykon's grab. Grinning and dancing backward out of reach, she laughed and dashed back toward the front of the line.
"Oh, really!" Custodian Tykon complained. Director Tykon laughed again.
Obi-Wan felt a touch at his shoulder. Embarrassed, he took back the bundle of his Master's robe, which he had dropped. Then he shifted the strap over his shoulders so the box hung in front of him. Qui-Gon smiled but said nothing.
They moved past the sound suppressors and were again assaulted by the party, the band playing a thumping cheerful beat. Tykon appeared with his arms held out high and wide. The crowd loved him and he took extra time absorbing their attention. There were plenty of Custodians and real guards to hold back the crowd, but they did not seem to be pressing in too much though they did hold out their hands for Tykon to touch as if bestowing a blessing on them.
Then they moved out into the Hall, Obi-Wan keeping one hand on the box slung over his shoulder. The cheering was loudest for the lead performers and for Tykon, but the crowd was still appreciative of all of them. On their left Tykon continued touching hands, the Custodians and guards having cleared a large open space in the packed crowd.
The music changed.
Obi-Wan recognized a medley of tunes from the Play, but rendered on a much smaller, simpler set of instruments. Tykon, standing at the far end of the open space raised his arm. After a long pause, Qui-Gon raised his arm, palm outward toward Tykon. Obi-Wan felt the Force from his Master, like a warm, indrawn breath of energy.
Tykon stepped out in prancing dance steps and Qui-Gon matched him. The crush of crowd held back by guards and Castle Custodians gasped; the new Chancellor was among them.
Qui-Gon matched Tykon's moves, every foot tap, hip wiggle and hand flip. His motions were not fluid like the Director's, but they were precise. Kicks, arms waves, jumps, Qui-Gon's were the mirror image of Tykon. When Tykon spun around, over and over, his white sash whipping around, lights flashing off his gold pants, Qui-Gon spun as well, long hair flying out. And he stopped exactly when the other man did. Tykon paused dramatically, but Obi-Wan guessed that be was just regaining his balance from the spin. Qui-Gon remained unperturbed.
The music sped up and so did the competition. Tykon delivered rapid, prancing stomps and Qui-Gon mirrored every one. Tykon suddenly froze. Qui-Gon did, too. The dance proceeded in a series of fast moves and random freezes. The band started following the action, alternating between pounding a loud rapid beat and falling silent except for a couple of tense, plucking strings. The crowd loved it. The floating platforms with their holo-recorder droids circled above.
Tykon's hair and sparkling red shirt were damp with sweat, but Qui-Gon looked calm as they circled each other. Snarling, Tykon twirled and danced forward and the two closed on each other.
At arm's length, they froze, Qui-Gon's face serene, Tykon panting, his eyes wild. They spun again, arms out.
Obi-Wan gasped.
They stopped. Qui-Gon, with one hand grasping the front of Tykon's shirt, held the other man up completely off the ground, his toes dangling. The Jedi's other hand was firmly wrapped around the Director's fist, which was clearly aimed at his face. Even the band fell to silence. The colored party light spun craizily. With the sound of ripping fabric, Tykon wildly grabbed onto Qui-Gon for support with his free arm.
"Aaaah." Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, Qui-Gon glanced toward the fist, as if noticing it for the first time. "I seem to be the first one of us to miss a step." He released Tykon, who dropped to the floor and stumbled backwards.
"You win." Qui-Gon smiled, turned and walked away. He almost reached Obi-Wan before the crowd erupted in cheers and applause and moved in.
Qui-Gon whirled around in a defensive crouch.
The crowd gasped and drew back.
Straightening, Qui-Gon reached his Padawan and retrieved his robe. The Custodians and guards reformed their ranks as the crowd resumed their noisy yells and cheers, but keeping a more respectful distance. The band started up again.
Looking around, Obi-Wan saw that Sebo, grinning broadly, was still with them. She still wore the mostly black Darth Yarr costume, though she seemed to have lost the mask and gloves. Obi-Wan was quite certain that the Sith lightsaber was in the box that he carried before him. People cheered and jumped up and down as they passed by, but as they reached the end of the Hall, the performers along with the new Chancellor and other dignitaries went to the left, waving and shouting farewells to the Jedi, except for Tykon, who stopped, smirked and applauded as Pecku appeared from the crowd and joined him. Qui-Gon inclined his head in return.
Then they were out the large doors, the Custodians and guards keeping back any stray partiers. They emerged blinking into full sunlight. It was only mid afternoon, the largest moon low in the sky. The Chancellor's flyer, a long sleek metallic blue transport with a closed canply, waited for them.
"Qui-Gon."
They turned. Sebo stood in the doorway, her eyes teary.
"Thank-you."
Qui-Gon bowed low to the Venerate. "I am honored."
A man in a dull silver and black uniform touched the side of the speeder and it opened. He closed it after they were seated.
Relieved, Obi-Wan put the box down on the seat next to him as the flyer rose up in the air, heading toward the spaceport. Qui-Gon sat facing him. They were in a private cabin. The pilot's head was visible through a window to a separate compartment up front. Qui-Gon touched a compartment on his left. It slid open and a table surface extended with refreshments.
"Master?'
Qui-Gon looked up from sniffing the clear contents of a flask.
"You said you were not going to be participating in the Play."
He nodded, poured water into a pair of clear cups. "I did. But the Force, it seems, had other plans."
"I felt something, but . . ." Obi-Wan paused, searching for the right words and settled for just the facts. "I thought it was just you. But I don't understand why you did it."
Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. "You sensed me then?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
"Nothing more?"
"No, Master. But the vision I saw of the woman with the baby, it was the same as in the Play. But, you saw more?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes."
"What did you see?"
Qui-Gon did not answer as he thoughtfully stared past his right ear. Obi-Wan self-consciously touched his braid and then quickly put his hands in his lap. Jedi Padawans learned patience while waiting for their Masters.
"I saw a tiny hole," he finally said, "A spot of . . . clarity. It appeared in the midst of the Dark Side. And then swallowed it up. And there was nothing left but a cold void."
"So," Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, "the Play is true. Darth Yarr renounced her power." He wondered if this was knowledge that only Jedi Masters were permitted to know. He had always been taught that all Sith ended as victims of their own vices, slain by their fellow Dark Sideers or defeated by Jedi, or those they oppressed or preyed on. Jedi. It was inevitable that the conflict they lived for would consume them. Or it was supposed to be.
Qui-Gon handed him one of the cool clear cups of water. "I must concede the possibility." He hunched over his own cup, clasped in both hands.
"How could the Archives be wrong, about Yarr? And Minigan? In the Play, he went to the Dark Side as well. And renounced it. And concealed what happened after he returned to the Jedi to become a Master later. Is it possible?"
Qui-Gon held up a hand, stopping the questions.
"All that must wait." Qui-Gon put his cup aside and sat back. "We must return all of this," he gave a nod toward the box on the seat next to Obi-wan," to the Temple and report to the Council. After that, all of the events of this mission will be carefully considered. It is very unlikely that you will be included in any deliberations." He sadly shook his head.
After a long pause, Obi-Wan swallowed his disappointment. He wasn't even allowed to access data about Sith in the Archives without Qui-Gon being present. Of course he could not be part of the deliberations. He nodded.
"Yes, Master."
They rode together in silence the rest of the way back to the spaceport to take the Maarzim transport back to Coruscant.
= = = End Part 33