Chapter 26

Disclaimer: It's certainly not for lack of wishful thinking…

oOo

In the Royal Palace in Theed, Nute Gunray, the Trade Federation's Viceroy, was rudely thrown out of his – well, technically Queen Amidala's – bed, which he had claimed as his own, which was well within his rights as the invader of the planet. Hastily, he threw on a robe he had found somewhere on the ground – it did, in fact, also belong to Queen Amidala, and the Neimoidian looked rather silly in the pink glittery robe adorned with frills and colourful feathers.

He yawned widely. "What is it?" he asked, still sleepy and disgruntled because his assistant had thrown him out of bed in the middle of the night and insisted he join him in the throne room at once.

"It's Lord Sidious, and he's as scary and ominous as ever, even in the middle of the night. Especially in the middle of the night, if I may say so. He demands to speak with you immediately," Rune Haaku whispered urgently.

"Oh no," the Viceroy groaned. "What does he want this time?"

"He says it's about his enormous accomplishments in the Senate. He says that the Republic will soon vote for a new Supreme Chancellor, one who aims for unlimited power – and allegedly looks great in black, if Lord Sidious is to be believed."

Nute Gunray quickly scuttled over to the comm. station with the spidery legs.

He pressed a button and the Sith Lord's blue and larger-than-life hologram flickered into existence. Quickly, the Viceroy bowed.

"Yes, Lord Sidious. How can I be of service?"

"Ahhh, Viceroy. Well, to be honest, I could do some help with finding a new apprentice; I fear my current one won't live for very much longer. But that's not why I called. I was just savouring my new power. I've always wanted to wake people in the middle of the night and have them bow and scrape before me. So a bit more bowing and scraping, if you please."

The Neimoidians shared a confused look followed by a resigned shrug. If the frightening Sith Lord demanded it, they would surely comply, mostly because they valued their lives more than their pride.

After about three minutes, even Sidious' blown-up ego had enough and he got to the other reason for his call.

"All right, that's enough now. Oh, why do I put up with such spineless fools as you? Ah yes, now I remember. It's because I didn't get the good-looking main characters on my side. I should have known better, I guess, than to hope for that. I only get the second-best looking character after he gets all fried, because we couldn't have one of the handsome guys on the Dark Side, oh no. But never mind. What's important is unlimited power, not unlimited good looks, after all, or I would never be able to become Emperor."

Sidious sighed and mumbled a few choice curses under his breath about the unfairness of it all.

Suddenly, he grew serious and asked: "It the planet secure? I'm sending you my apprentice and don't want him slaughtered by some stray Jedi just because you don't have the situation on Naboo under control."

"We have taken over the last pockets of primitive life-forms. We are in complete control of the planet now. There's no need to worry for your dear apprentice's safety, I assure you, no need to worry at all," the Neimoidian quickly guaranteed Sidious.

"Good," the Sith rasped evilly. "I will see to it that in the Senate things stay as they are. No, wait, that's bad for me. I will see that in the Senate, things will change dramatically. Yes, that's much more to my liking. I will shake the very foundations of the Republic and turn it into something much more suited to my need for unlimited power."

Sidious cackled evilly.

"As I told you earlier, I am sending you my apprentice, Darth Maul, to join you."

"Yes, my Lord," Nute Gunray agreed, not that he had much choice in this.

As soon as Sidious' hologram had disappeared, Rune Haaku drew up one of his non-existent eyebrows questioningly.

"A Sith here?" he asked with panic in his voice. That was the last thing they had expected as they signed the pact with the Sith. They had rather expected the evil Darksiders to remain safely behind the safe positions behind the frontlines the Neimoidians usually occupied, as every good conspirator backing the leader of an invasion did.

oOo

Padmé ambled through the narrow corridors of the sleek silver cruiser. They had taken off and entered hyperspace about half an hour ago, and the only thing betraying the mind-boggling velocity at which they were hurtling through hyperspace were the soft whirring and the tiny vibrations of the ship's engines.

Padmé and all of her handmaidens – with the possible exception of Hanké, who was married, and to a woman at that – were ecstatic that the Council had decided to send the same team of Jedi with them again. They had even brought Anakin along, though Padmé doubted the wisdom of this decision.

The young Queen, who was once again in the guise of a simple handmaiden, had been looking for a certain Jedi Padawan all over the ship. She had only seen the hem of his robe whip around the corner as Obi-Wan entered the ship, but she had been unable to find him since then. She doubted that he would be in the room he shared with his Master, who was much too preoccupied with Anakin, anyway. Somehow, there was tenseness in the air and an awkwardness in the interaction (or rather the conspicuous lack thereof) between the two Jedi that had not been there before. Padmé wondered what could have happened, because despite their differences both in character and in opinions, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had seemed rather close even when disagreeing with each other.

But something had changed between them during their short stay on Coruscant. Their relationship was no longer the same comfortable one between Master and Padawan as Padmé had come to know it.

The situation had changed. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hadn't.

And that was the problem.

So Padmé had been searching for Obi-Wan in all his usual hideouts: the cockpit (though she had been thrown out immediately), the engine room and the storeroom. He hadn't been in any of these.

Padmé finally found him sitting in a corner of the ship's recreation room. Usually, the Padawan had avoided that room. Padmé couldn't quite understand why, because it was a pleasant room and quite popular with the handmaidens. But now, Obi-Wan sat there, cross-legged, on the floor. He wasn't meditating, that much she could tell, because his eyes were open and his shoulders ever so slightly slumped. Still, the young man didn't seem to notice her – or any of the other dozen handmaidens that had already clustered around him. And although his beautiful blue-gray eyes were open, he was staring right through them, as if he didn't see the girls or even the wall opposite him.

Although the expression on his face seemed as calm as ever, the Padawan looked lost in thought… and sad.

Padmé approached the Padawan and put a hand on his shoulder. Startled, Obi-Wan's eyes finally focused on his surroundings instead of whatever it was he had seen.

"Oh –" Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet. "Your Highness," he said, bowing hastily. Neither Padmé nor Obi-Wan noticed the slip-up.

"Why did you sit there on the floor?" Padmé asked. It was a stupid question, and she realized it, but with the Padawan looking her in the eyes, she couldn't think of anything sensible to say. In fact, she was glad that she had managed a coherent sentence at all.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," he said, looking around and seemingly noticing the bunch of handmaidens looking expectantly up at him for the first time. "Sorry," he repeated, already sounding preoccupied again and left the room to look for another dark corner where he could brood, leaving thirteen thwarted and baffled girls in his wake.

As the girls tracked him down again, though, he already sat in another corner, and his mind obviously was somewhere else again.

The handmaidens decided disappointedly that bothering the Padawan was not much fun when the only answer they got was a stare that went right through them. They had not even managed to elicit a single one of his adorable blushes. Even though the girls had enjoyed watching Obi-Wan do the most boring things, like meditating, right now it was incredibly frustrating and not a little depressing to be around the unhappy Padawan.

They tried several times more to talk to Obi-Wan, who either just sat there, eyes glazed over, and completely ignored them, or apologized, said that he hadn't wanted to intrude and moved to sit in another corner.

Padmé didn't want to give up yet, though. She consulted her handmaidens and together they came up with a plan that might just work and cheer the Padawan up – or at least snap him out of his thoughts. It was no fun at all teasing him when the young man didn't even have the grace to blush and squirm uncomfortably at their flirting.

So they withdrew and left him alone for the time being.

Obi-Wan didn't even notice.

Obi-Wan tried to make sense of all the warring thoughts and emotions inside his head. He was uncertain what to feel: sadness, relief, worry, hurt, gratitude, joy, shame and confusion all swirled inside him.

Qui-Gon Jinn had been a wonderful Master to him, despite all their differences, and Obi-Wan wouldn't exchange the time they spent together for anything. He was incredibly thankful that his Master had taken him as his apprentice, no matter how reluctant at first, and taught him all he knew. And really, he couldn't be angry at his Master for finally allowing him to take the trials. His apprenticeship had lasted much longer than was usual, anyway, and although he hadn't minded staying with Qui-Gon – he hadn't minded at all – it was time to let go and move on.

Obi-Wan couldn't even begrudge Anakin's taking over his place beside Qui-Gon, because while Qui-Gon was a demanding Master and not exactly easy to deal with, Obi-Wan knew that being allowed to share the time of the great Jedi Master was worth every single complication that being Qui-Gon's apprentice inevitably entailed. In Obi-Wan's opinion there wasn't a better teacher in the whole Jedi Order.

Still, Obi-Wan wished for a bit more consideration and a less blunt dismissal. He couldn't help but be deeply hurt by Qui-Gon's callous words in front of the Council. He also couldn't help thinking that it had possibly also been partly his fault. If the Jedi Master's patience hadn't already been tested by his Padawan, maybe he wouldn't have been as defiant in the Council Chamber as he had been and the matter could have been adjourned by a few days. If he hadn't disagreed with Qui-Gon so vehemently when it came to Anakin, maybe Qui-Gon wouldn't have seen the need to act immediately.

Anakin! The boy was also weighing heavily on Obi-Wan's mind. The young man simply couldn't dislodge that bad feeling when it came to Anakin. Sure enough, the child was no danger – yet, Obi-Wan reluctantly added. But not only did the boy pose an ominous threat, he was also indirectly threatened by the stubbornness of Qui-Gon. What should Anakin do in the middle of a battle? And Obi-Wan was certain that there would be a battle. The Trade Federation, for all its cowardice, would not relinquish its tight grasp on Naboo without a fight, in the middle of which a small, inexperienced child could be hurt or even killed all too easily.

Slowly, Obi-Wan managed to calm his thoughts enough for some much needed meditation on what had happened and how he had acted. Obi-Wan decided to apologize to his Master, because when it came down to it, despite all the bad feelings, worries or misgivings Obi-Wan held for the situation, he was still the Padawan and Qui-Gon was the Master. Although Qui-Gon had often chided him for his seemingly unquestioning obedience of the Council's verdicts, his tendency to stick closely to the Code and his focus on the Unifying Force, the Master had never taken well to criticism from his apprentice, no matter how subtle and no matter how justified.

When Obi-Wan's instincts differed with Master Qui-Gon's opinion, though, the Jedi Master would have none of it. Qui-Gon firmly believed that the Living Force was all that was worth knowing about and disregarded everyone who suggested otherwise. Of course, Qui-Gon was not always right – far from it – but Obi-Wan couldn't claim to have made no mistakes himself. And although it might seem unfair, that was the way the relationship between teacher and student worked: the Master led, the Padawan followed.

Obi-Wan reluctantly admitted that he had been wrong to quarrel with Qui-Gon. It had not been wrong to voice his concerns, even if the only answer he got were the usual platitudes of focusing on the here and now and on how there was always a bigger fish, but he should not have insisted after Qui-Gon had made clear what he intended to do. Obi-Wan decided to apologize once he finished his meditation, which would help him regain his calm centre and help him unravel the remainder of his tangled emotions.

He didn't get any further than shutting his eyes and breathing deeply twice before he felt himself being picked up by huge, strong hands and hoisted up into the air. Startled, he opened his eyes again to stare down at the floor, which was the way he was facing. He could see two enormous feet move beneath him, and they were certainly not his feet. In fact, no part of him touched the ground any more, as he had been slung unceremoniously over a broad and hard shoulder.

For a second, Obi-Wan was completely caught by surprise by this unexpected attack and seeming attempt at abduction. He called himself three kinds of fool for being so distracted and careless that someone could simply pick him up and throw him over his shoulder. That was not very worthy of a Jedi, he thought. What disturbed him most, though, was that the wide calves attached to the feet doing the walking for him were not encased in boots, as should be expected of someone who was strong enough to lift a fully grown (if not as tall as Qui-Gon) Jedi without difficulty. Instead, the huge feet wore delicate sandals, and those could only be glimpsed for short moments before disappearing again beneath a wide and elaborate frilly skirt with each step.

He had obviously been abducted by Hanké, the broad-shouldered bodybuilder who posed as one of Padmé's handmaidens.

That was definitely enough to snap Obi-Wan out of his daze. If the Queen wanted to talk to him, why didn't she just call for him? He could hardly refuse a royal order, after all.

He tapped Hanké's shoulder and asked politely if somewhat tensely to be let down because he was perfectly capable of walking all by himself, thank you very much.

Hanké just readjusted his tight grip around Obi-Wan's waist and completely ignored the Padawan's protests.

Finally, when they had arrived in the Queen's huge quarters once again, Hanké dropped Obi-Wan, who suddenly transformed from reluctant luggage to an undignified heap on the floor. The Padawan picked himself up again and straightened his clothes, trying to regain at least a bit of his bruised dignity. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment and there might have been a sparkle of indignation in his narrowed eyes. These same eyes widened in renewed shock, though, as soon as Obi-Wan got a good look at his surroundings. All the handmaidens were present, gathered behind Padmé who was dressed as the Queen for a change. They all looked at Obi-Wan, who felt distinctly uncomfortable with being the focus of attention. The setting looked entirely too familiar to the Padawan: a row of seats at the end of a long, narrow strip of deeply red carpet.

Obi-Wan almost groaned. It seemed the girls were planning to force him to watch another of their dreadful fashion shows – probably because they thought he needed cheering up when in truth he wanted to be left alone and have time to think and to sort out his thoughts and feelings. And evidently that they had somehow managed to enlist the support of Hanké.

The handmaidens were ushering him towards the chairs already. Obi-Wan stifled a sigh and jadedly sat down. Although he had never wanted to subject himself to a sequel of episode one of the Fashion Wars, there was no way to back out of this now without being impolite.

He had survived The Fashion Menace, so what was to come now?

Obi-Wan decided to suffer through it like a true Jedi.

The first part of the show the handmaidens staged for his reluctant benefit was a presentation of glittering and frilly dresses. Obi-Wan termed it Attack of the Clothes, because the garish colours of the dresses practically screamed at him and assailed his eyes.

After a short break, which, unfortunately was too short for Obi-Wan to excuse himself and flee, the girls presented some of the latest fashion from Paris - which apparently was a planet entirely dedicated to designing the most ridiculously un-wearable clothes ever – in what must definitely be the Revenge of the Haute Couture. The girls could hardly walk in some of the more outrageous creations (they could not be termed clothes with a good conscience – they looked more like particularly hideous works of art) and looked completely silly in all of them. Obi-Wan didn't know who would want to buy some of these ugly things, much less actually wear them.

The so-called highlight of the show was a creation of metallic cloth which shimmered and glittered in the glare of the spotlights. The thin reflecting fabric was spanned over a frame in the shape of a rhombi-icosadodecahedron, and Eritraé who had the questionable honour of wearing it completely disappeared in this monstrosity of fashion. This particular part of the show had been dubbed A New Robe, but no matter from which angle Obi-Wan got to see the strange thing, he simply couldn't recognize anything even remotely robe-like about the thing.

The longer the show was going on, the more Obi-Wan's resolve to bear it patiently wavered. Soon, his thoughts returned to Qui-Gon and Anakin and his carefully diplomatic conversation ceased. His eyes slowly became unfocused again and he spent the remaining two hours and forty-two minutes of the fashion show trying to find the appropriate words for his apology to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan knew that he would regret it forever if he didn't resolve this latest disagreement with his Master before Qui-Gon died at the end of the movie.

oOo

Anakin sat on a bench and stared at the door that led to the Queen's quarters. He was bored. Bored and extremely miffed that Obi-Wan had been literally dragged inside when they didn't want to admit Anakin. A giggling handmaiden had told him that little boys were not allowed and would find the whole show incredibly dull, anyway.

Although Anakin begged to differ, the handmaiden had firmly told him to stay away.

The boy found it incredibly unfair that he had to sit out here, all on his own (Qui-Gon was busy knitting a pair of pink and woolly underpants and had told Anakin to occupy himself) while Obi-Wan got to enjoy whatever the girls were doing in there. It simply was not fair!

So Anakin spent the three hours he waited opposite the door planning his revenge against the Padawan. It was unacceptable that the girls were all starry-eyed about a reluctant and embarrassed young Jedi while completely ignoring him, the wondrous and incredible Anakin, the Chosen One, second only to George Lucas the Almighty.

Anakin twiddled his thumbs, an evil grin on his youthful features. His revenge would involve an old and worn pair of socks, a lace handkerchief if he could obtain one from Padmé, washing powder, a box of the Queen's makeup he had found behind a cabinet in the fresher where it had probably lain for at least three years by the smell of it, all the laxatives he could find in the ship's medbay and an unripe tomato as well as, for some strange reason, loud and mechanical breathing and a shiny black helmet. Now that he had decided on the components he would use, he only had to figure out exactly in what way he wanted to use them.

Anakin unscrewed the lid of the silvery box – it likely belonged to the Queen because it contained makeup the same shade of pale that her Majesty's face usually was – and sniffed its contents once again. It gave off a delightfully revolting stench. Anakin's face contorted in repulsion. "Yuck! Raaancid!" he muttered, disgusted and thrilled at the same time. No matter how he would put that to use, it would serve his intentions exceedingly well.

Quickly, Anakin screwed the lid back on. The stench had become almost overwhelming.

For two more minutes, Anakin had to wait before something interesting happened. Suddenly, the door swished to the Queen's quarters swished open and Obi-Wan came staggering out, seeming very much overwhelmed and his cheeks blazing a deep red. Whatever it was the handmaidens had done with him, maybe it had not been quite as enjoyable as Anakin had imagined.

Obi-Wan looked harassed and worried. He ran a hand through his short, spiky hair and shuddered once. Then, he noticed Anakin sitting on the bench. Immediately, Obi-Wan straightened and flashed Anakin a genuine if still somewhat shaky smile.

"Hi," Obi-Wan said, "what are you doing here? You are bored, aren't you?" It was barely a question.

Anakin nodded, surprised that Obi-Wan had needed nary a second to recognize his boredom, which he had thought well concealed.

"So Master Qui-Gon is knitting already?" Another nod. "You'll have to get used to that, he does it all the time. There are two major drawbacks to his admittedly rather unusual hobby: he can't bear if anyone is in his vicinity when he is absorbed in his knitting, and he usually gives the results of his favourite pastime to his Padawan, whether said Padawan actually needs it or not – never mind that Jedi wear solely the standard issue clothes. Anyway, my room is stuffed with self-knit pullovers, pants, underwear (both for men, and for some inexplicable reason, also for women) and pyjamas."

Obi-Wan stopped his narrative for a moment, his eyes twinkling with laughter and mischief. Anakin looked up at him in wide-eyed curiosity. He had never imagined that the usually quiet and serious Padawan could be so – so kind and humorous. Anakin had thought he was much too reserved and uptight and solemn for such trivial things as jokes and had probably never laughed in his whole life. The boy was about to learn that he was quite wrong concerning Obi-Wan's sense of humour, though.

At the sight of Anakin's huge, innocent eyes looking up at him, something in Obi-Wan's eyes softened and he discarded all of his concerns and earlier misgivings. The poor boy would soon have to deal with Master Qui-Gon and his numerous peculiarities. He needed all the guidance and warnings and advice on Qui-Gon he could get. It simply would not be fair to withhold all the knowledge Obi-Wan had gathered in his years as Qui-Gon's apprentice from Anakin, who would most probably soon become Qui-Gon's next Padawan.

So Obi-Wan decided to help Anakin in any way he could in dealing with his Master and push aside his own regret at the way Qui-Gon had discarded him and the obstinate bad feeling concerning the boy.

"What else does Qui-Gon do in his free time?" Anakin asked inquisitively.

Obi-Wan gladly complied with Anakin's indirect request to tell more about the enigmatic Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Master Qui-Gon is very extraordinary. He is not only an extraordinarily skilled warrior and negotiator, he is also full of wisdom that may admittedly occasionally seem weird. I'm sure you've already heard a few of his favourite sayings, like the one about bigger fish. I have no idea where that originally came from, but Master Qui-Gon says it all the time – except, of course, when there's actually a bigger fish. He is not only a Master in the Jedi arts – and knitting, of course – but he is also a master in dactylonomy – you should see him counting with his fingers, it's, um, indescribable – a master of expressionist dance, onomatopoeias, glass-blowing and fishing as well as the self-styled sovereign of some obscure little backwater planet called earth, which no one has ever heard of and if it exists, I'm pretty sure that Qui-Gon is not its ruler. He is also a master in playing the didgeridoo. That went so far that he made me learn how to play the bagpipes because he thought that these two would go well together. He even asked Mace to join in with his alphorn. As you can probably imagine, it sounded horrible, and the Council was there to find the source of this dreadful racket in no time. But not only his taste in music is – well, let's say questionable, at best. Don't ever let him near the kitchen if you value your life! Not only are the meals Qui-Gon prepares absolutely inedible, he also usually burns down half the kitchen along with the food. So there are two alternatives: you can either eat at the cafeteria – the food is usually adequate, and if you want something really nice you can always go to Dex's Diner – or you learn how to cook by yourself, which is what I did," Obi-Wan finished with a small smile.

"Wow, wizard!" Anakin's interest was piqued.

"Oh, talking of food: are you hungry?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin realized that he was in fact pretty starved. Planning one's revenge had made him quite hungry. So he nodded enthusiastically and followed Obi-Wan to the galley, deciding to postpone his revenge for just a bit and investigate the Padawan's cooking skills.

Both of them enjoyed their little chat which did not only serve to dispel Anakin's boredom and alleviate Obi-Wan's constant worrying but also made the remainder of the flight to Naboo seem not quite as endless as it had seemed a few moments ago.

oOo

Edited on 19th February, 2011