Lineage IV

3.

Qui Gon tied the blindfold in place securely.

"Someday I should like to know why every blasted thing I do must be-"

Obi Wan's grumbling tirade was interrupted by a colossal thud as the droids steering the replacement girder into the dome made a slight miscalculation and rammed the durasteel beam into the support struts. The far reaches of the roof rattled in dismay.

"For stars' sake," Alepo Sator snapped, gesticulating furiously at the inept droids. "No. there…yes, there, and put it between these two rows…so help me, you piece of vaping junk, you touch that mardangea bean and I'll send you through the composter! Yes! Just put it down."

Qui Gon watched in amusement as the mechanical help scurried away, fleeing before the horticulturalist's highly verbal wrath. "Are we ready, Alepo?"

"Droids," the botanist sniffed. He glanced at Qui Gon's apprentice, kneeling nearby with his eyes covered by a thin band of cloth. "You Jedi always put on a carnival show?"

The tall man smiled enigmatically and pointed to the roof. "I presume the damaged piece has to be removed first?" The two chastened droids were already hovering near the ceiling, welding and ratcheting appliances fitted into their utili-sockets

Alepo thrust his gnarled hands into his belt. "Yes. Your services are much appreciated," he added. "It would take another two days to get the proper lifting equipment sent over from Ord Froma, and I'm expecting another storm any day. Tonight, possibly."

Qui Gon nodded, and knelt down beside his Padawan while the agricultural director watched from a polite distance.

"What are we doing, master?"

"We are going to lift the cracked girder out of the scaffolding and lower it to the gravsleds – genty," Qui Gon informed him. "Without touching the mardangea beans."

"Force forbid," Obi Wan muttered, dryly.

"I will guide you.," the Jedi master continued. "Open yourself to the Living Force, and follow my prompting."

"Yes, master."

It was a relatively simple task. The Force flowed through them, around them, binding all things together. He could feel Obi Wan sink into its currents, his bright presence nestled beneath Qui Gon's, steady and serene. Together, in a luminous realm where distance and otherness were mere overtones in a greater unity, they held the massive object aloft while the droids finished removing the bolts and braces that kept it in place amidst the buttressing system. Then, as though wafting a delicate bubble down to earth, they lowered the beam to the soft soil of the garden floor. It settled upon the waiting hover-trolleys with the slightest creaking groan. And the Jedi released it, exhaling in unison, Light seeming to swirl and dance with the loamy dust clouds.

Alepo Sator cursed reverently under his breath. Qui Gon opened his eyes and spared the botanist a brief smile.

"Now," the Jedi master instructed his student. "We must raise the new beam into place and hold it while the droids secure it in place. " He paused. "And I think this time, you will guide me."

Obi Wan balked at that suggestion. "Master… I don't know whether…that is, if it slips-"

"There is no try," Qui Gon reminded him. "And I will be here to make up for any deficiency in focus or skill. The mardangea beans are safe."

This was sufficient reassurance. "Yes, master."

Once again, they slipped beneath and beyond ordinary awareness. The Force surged round them, blurring self and other, world and body. Obi Wan raised his hands, fingers curling upward softly, and the heavy girder lifted from its hover-sled, floating slowly upward to the roof and the waiting droids. The object wobbled, steadied, and continued to ascend, until it reached the trestlework above. A nudge, a subtle shift, and it slotted into place, and stayed there, flouting every law of physics, while the droids industriously set about welding and bolting it into the surrounding beams.

"Beautiful," Alepo muttered.

Qui Gon touched his Padawan's shoulder and removed the blindfold. "Well done."

Obi Wan looked up at the repaired stretch of roofing, a small smile of satisfaction lighting his eyes. "Thank you , master. I could not have accomplished it without your help."

The tall man raised his brows. "I did nothing."

A line appeared between his apprentice's brows. "But…I felt…and you said…"

"I said I would make up for any deficiency on your part. There was none; and so, I was not needed. Why does that disturb you?"

The young Jedi's frown deepened, but he bowed his head respectfully, lapsing into a pensive silence. Alepo Sator shouted out final instructions to the droid crew and paced back and forth along the orchard rows, surveying the repairs from every possible angle.

"I'm keeping you around," he grunted, pointing one long finger at Obi Wan. "You Jedi make excellent farm equipment. Maybe you can think up some other way to tick off that Council of yours, earn another round of duty here."

"Ah…" Obi Wan sought for a diplomatic answer. "Such an assignment would hardly qualify as punitive. It is my pleasure to serve," he tried.

Alepo's sunbeaten face rumpled into a sarcastic grin. "Sycophant," he grunted. "Maybe you're better off with them politicians after all."

"I'm not brave enough for politics," the young Jedi objected, with a hearty shudder.

The botanist snorted, a soft explosion of mirth. "Jinn, take him away and feed him. I'm beholden to both of you."

The Jedi bowed and departed, leaving Alepo happily puttering among the tidy rows of bean shoots.

"I think it's growing," Obi Wan muttered, portentously, as he prodded at the tentacled thing with one finger. A long tendril uncoiled and wrapped itself about the offending digit. He quickly withdrew his hand.

"Most things do, when properly nurtured," Qui Gon observed, stretching out on his sleep cot. "Even you." He carefully smothered his smile behind one hand.

His apprentice shot him an acid look and pushed the pot along the ledge until it stood at the extremity closest to the master's bed.

"Obi Wan."

"I'm sorry, master, but it was very… intrusive… last night."

The tall man crossed his ankles and relaxed, waving the lights off. "Pheremonal response. It's attracted to your anxiety. If you would simply relax, my young Padawan, it would swiftly lose interest."

There was a sigh and a muffled thump as his apprentice dropped onto his own cot. "You didn't help with that girder this evening," Obi Wan said, after a short pause.

Qui Gon used the Force to discreetly scoot the plant back to the center of its ledge. "No. There was no need, as I said. You handled the task beautifully."

A short silence, and then, "But I know that I didn't lift it by myself. I could feel another presence augmenting mine. I don't understand."

"You expected me to be supplementing your efforts, and so you were completely open to assistance, content not to be relying solely on your own strength. The Force is a powerful ally to those who are willing to accept its help."

"Oh." Obi Wan rolled to his side, and the plant's pot slid a half-meter toward Qui Gon again. "I… that is unexpected."

"Meditate on it," the Jedi master advised. "You think of serving the Force as pouring out every last scrap of your considerable talent to do its bidding; but perhaps you should think of obedience not as devoting your strength to the Force's cause, so much as making yourself a vessel of its strength. That, young one, is what humility means."

It was a great deal to digest, so late at night. But the lesson was needed, and valuable. He pushed the pot back to the very center of its shelf. "And do not move that plant again," he added, sternly.

"….Yes, master."

Eventually, they all three nodded off into quiet slumber, weary limbs, tumultuous thoughts, and over-curious tentacles gently subsiding into peaceful rest.

There was no dust storm that night, as Alepo had feared; instead, the plummeting temperatures brought a meteorological novelty. When Qui Gon glanced out the narrow housing unit window at dawn, the Agri-Corps grounds were covered in a generous blanket of snow. It piled high against the greenhouse domes, and its gently curving drifts transformed the landscape to a soft ocean of glittering white. The first rays of sunlight stroked this palette with exquisite delicacy, painting broad strokes of color over the flawless expanse.

"Obi Wan."

"Mmmn-rr."

Qui Gon fastened the window's thermal shutters, and roused his apprentice with a swift braid-tugging. "Up. Time for some light exercise."

The Padawan's eyes blinked open groggily. "Sparring?" he croaked in a voice still hoarse with slumber.

The Jedi master tossed boots, tunics, and the duster in his general direction, fastening his own belt and shrugging into his heavy cloak. "No. Something even better. Come. You have one minute."

It was precisely two and a half minutes before the young Jedi stumbled out of the adjacent 'fresher, fully if sloppily dressed, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, and visibly suppressing a wide yawn. "…Ready, master." Qui Gon decided to let the tardiness slide this time. They would work on instant alertness – a sometimes indispensable skill on missions – at a later time. Now, he had other plans.

Obi Wan squinted blearily at the bright swath of unsullied snow, and hesitated upon the threshold of the housing unit.

"Let's go," Qui Gon ordered, boldly leading the way forward. An icy wind stung at their faces, wrung tears from their eyes. He ploughed a short tunnel into the high white drifts, pushing with his legs and the Force, and glanced over one shoulder to be sure his Padawan was following doggedly behind. Ten meters from the prefab dwelling, he halted. "This will do."

Obi Wan's vexed exhalation was a tongue of white flame disappearing in the frigid morning air. He clutched the duster's folds tight, grimacing. "Why are we here, master?" he demanded, petulance faintly edging his tone.

"I thought you were eager for some light exercise… indeed, your desire to spar with me gave the impression that your lust for savage combat is undiminished, despite four weeks' peaceable occupation."

The young Jedi's eyes narrowed mutinously. "It is cold, master."

He waved an amicable hand. "Then go back indoors."

Incredulous, but unwilling to question the command lest it be summarily revoked, Obi Wan turned and marched back along the white-walled canyon. He made it four paces down the path before the first snowball slammed into his left shoulder, spattering shards of ice over his clothing and into his short hair.

He wheeled, mouth open, and took the next projectile in the jaw.

And in the next moment, Qui Gon was fighting hard to defend himself from a similar onslaught. The Force provided them both with ample arsenal; towering waves of ice and slush replaced the standard issue ammunition. Thrown weapons were turned out of their course in midair; makeshift cover was torn down and strewn in every direction. The hailstorm did not abate until both participants were sopping wet, frozen to the bone, and grinning with a rarely witnessed abandon.

"Peace," the tall man called out, holding up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. "A truce."

He took two more hits squarely in the midriff, and then grunted as he took the full impact of his Padawan, too, nearly losing his footing and going over backward into the trampled snow. They tussled, sliding perilously in the slick, hard-packed ice underfoot, and then fell in a heap of sodden clothing and flailing limbs, ending in an undignified heap some meters away.

Their unrestrained laughter flushed a few scavenging birds out of their roosting places with raucous cries of disapproval.

"Brat," Qui Gon gasped, levering himself upright. "You will never make a good diplomat."

"Aggressive negotiations, " Obi Wan wheezed, using the Jedi master to steady himself as he regained his feet.

"I see many, many early morning runs in your future, Padawan."

"I would prefer sparring, master, if it's all the same to you."

The Jedi master's chuckle faded into a wry smile. "Ben To is going to have my hide," he realized, abruptly sobering. "Quick. Inside the dome."

The Agri-dome was a short distance away. Qui Gon carved a path through the gleaming snow, and they hurried into the welcoming heat beneath the vast curve of its transparent roof. They stripped down to their trousers, reveling in the hot flush of returning sensation in toes and fingers. The greenhouse was quiet and soothing, and aglow with a joyful morning light, They stood wordlessly and basked in the moment, the frost on their hair and skin transforming to a coiling steam in the heady warmth..

And then Qui Gon's comlink rudely buzzed for his attention.

"Jinn."

To his surprise, the transmission was from Jedi Master Adi Gallia.