"I have completely reformulated the amino acid structure to align exactly to Emily's nutritional requirements, and have modified the consistency to one more easily broken down and utilised by her digestive track. I have also extracted all extraneous volatile compounds to negate any possible adverse reactions to odour or flavour."
"So…it's mush?" Anakin asked, peering through the glass at the newly unsealed food container Obi-Wan had just retrieved from the transfer hatch. His padawan pulled a face at its contents and then shot a sympathetic look over Obi-Wan's shoulder.
"It's a fully comprehensive nutritional protein paste designed to be entirely compatible to Emily's unique physiology," Master Pelri said, her tone edging from mild reproval to offense.
Picking up a spoon, Obi-Wan turned to where Emily was sat, huddled slightly in the corner with a grim set to her mouth, as she eyed the steel bowl with the wariness of a hunted animal. Repressing a sigh, Obi-Wan tried to put on his most encouraging smile as he slowly crossed the room, easing down until he was crossed legged in front of her, close enough that his knee almost bumped her own. Trying not to grimace, he brought a spoonful of the slightly grey, semi-gelatinous paste up to his nose. A brief sniff confirmed Pei's removal of all volatile compounds. It smelt bland with a hint of saline. Taking a deep breath, he shoved a spoonful of the mixture into his mouth. It was lukewarm, glutinous and didn't seem to change in texture as he chewed it. He swallowed it down in one try, though it left a sticky residue that coated his mouth.
"Well?" Anakin asked through the speaker. He had just returned from sparring lessons with Master Plo Koon, and was still bright-eyed with the enviable energy of youth.
"It's tasteless and odourless mush alright," Obi-Wan confirmed, trying to clean some of the film off of his teeth with his tongue.
"Nutritious tasteless and odourless mush, Obi-Wan," Pei's voice piped up from where she was observing next to Anakin. The slight bite to her voice said - in no uncertain terms – that she was entirely offended and utterly exasperated by the two of them.
"More importantly," Pei continued in clipped tones. "I believe it is something she may finally be able to eat without incurring a violent negative reaction."
"I do hope so," Obi-Wan sighed, holding the bowl and spoon out to Emily, who had been watching his every reaction with sharp-eyed attention. This was the seventh attempt at having her try to eat something. The first six had led her to being almost instantly, violently ill and Obi-Wan would - frankly - rather be tossed alive into a Sarlac pit without his lightsabre, than have to bear another day of desperate attempts to soothe the poor woman, as she heaved and sobbed until there was nothing left but bile. At this point, he wasn't sure what was more torturous; the ongoing attempts to feed her - or watching the horrifically fast progress of Emily's own body cannibalising itself in an attempt to heal her injuries. It had only been six days since she'd first awakened, but already sharp lines and protruding bones were beginning to form under her thin clothes, and a hungry shadow had hollowed out her eyes and cheeks.
Emily cautiously took the bowl, the now constant tremor in her hands causing the spoon to rattle along the metal rim. She cradled it in her lap, scrutinising the contents with a growing expression of tired resignation. Obi-Wan tried to say a few words of encouragement in her native tongue. 'Please eat food,' he encouraged. Emily looked up long enough to give him a frown of confusion - and really, he was trying his best to learn the complicated language - before directing a glare back down to the bowl, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she pushed the contents around with the spoon. Slowly, she raised a small lump of the quivering paste and then, eyes closed, she slid it into her mouth.
The room was silent and utterly breathless with tension as she chewed. Obi-Wan had never been so invested in watching another person consume food before; was never so entirely absorbed in observing each flicker of expression and in counting each shaking breath. It probably didn't help that Emily was a ridiculously expressive person. Obi-Wan didn't need to sense her in the Force to know what she was feeling; it was played out so clearly on her face, that he felt like he was experiencing everything alongside her. She chewed for a few seconds before attempting to swallow the spoonful. It took her two tries before it was down, and she needed the help of several mouthfuls of water, while Obi-Wan steadied the trembling glass in her hands. They all waited, silent and hopeful, eyes searching for the tell-tale signs of her stomach rejecting the offering. After what felt like an eternity, Emily finally let out a long breath, the tight tension in her back loosening as she slumped a little. The room suddenly echoed with a triumphant whoop of elation from Anakin over the speakers. A little twitch - just the barest ghost of a smile - touched Emily's lips at the sound, and Obi-Wan felt his own smile break out in mutual relief.
"Excellent," Pei said, the satisfaction in her voice almost palpable. "I'll have our technician's put this formulation into production straight away. I recommend small but frequent meals throughout the day at first, to allow me to monitor Emily's vitals; but I must say, this is exciting progress."
"I'm going to go tell Doctor Nema!" Anakin said, rushing out of the observation room.
"That padawan of yours has far too much energy," Pei said, a hint of fondness in her voice.
"Yes - but it is said that training a padawan helps one to stay youthful. Perhaps you should take another?" Obi-Wan suggested, a little cautiously. Pei's hands stilled, for just the barest fraction of a second, as Obi-Wan carefully observed her. Pei was hard to read - even for a Jedi - but Obi-Wan had known her long enough to translate every pause or twitch. She shook her head, as if clearing away her thoughts, and her dark eyes were sharp when she looked at him.
"That theory is hardly supported, given the growing number of grey hairs on your head, now is it?" Pei replied, her voice carefully neutral. "Anyway, I have too much to do without someone constantly under my feet, messing with my equipment."
Obi-Wan was about to argue back, but a little tap on his shoulder pulled his attention away. Emily was looking at him expectantly, the empty food bowl tucked into her lap, spoon held an inch from his shoulder. For a dread-filled half second, he thought she was going to be sick and was steeling himself for another change of robes; but instead, she tilted the spoon in the direction of the medi-droid and asked, "Learn more?" in a passible attempt at Galactic Basic.
"You seem to have found yourself at least one eager student," Pei remarked.
"It is a pleasant change from the norm," Obi-Wan replied, giving a nod and smile of agreement to Emily. "M3L1," he called, the droid lighting up from standby mode at the sound of its designation. "Please activate holographic image display and resume language training protocol EL527."
M3L1 floated over at the command, stopping about a meter away from where they sat. Emily dropped the spoon into the bowl and, pushing it aside, shuffled around to give the droid her full attention. Obi-Wan was pleased to note a significant change in Emily's attitude in the last few days. She was now utterly focused on learning; eager to fill the hours she wasn't asleep with acquiring a knowledge of Basic, and in teaching her own tongue. This focus also seemed to have rubbed off on her emotional state too. She was less hostile now - which was a massive relief - and had become far more compliant in the small day to day requirements asked of her. She didn't flinch when he needed to touch her; whether that was to take a daily blood sample or change over her bandages. In fact - he'd even managed to make her laugh one day, all be it unintentionally, when he was trying to show her how the shower worked, and had accidentally hit the button for powdered clay and not water. The sound of her laughter, as he tried to cough and sneeze through a face full of powder, was like sunshine gleaming through a storm-darkened sky; both lovely and compelling, in spite of its fleetness. Obi-Wan was certain that, soon enough, they'd be able to glean the information needed to locate her home-world.
"Pass," he heard Emily say, and was pulled from his thoughts in time to see a holographic image of a Tauntau before it flickered away, and was replaced by a Felucian Yerdua plant. After a moment puzzling over the image, Emily replied tentatively with, "flower?" which Obi-Wan noted her using as a catch-all term for anything with a bloom. And so, they went on like that, image after image flickering in the air before them and, more often than not, Emily dismissing it away with a "pass". When he noticed her growing irritation at being unable to identify the images, Obi-Wan stopped the program, and started up the one Anakin had made especially for her.
"M3L1, please initiate custom learning programme 4297," Obi-Wan instructed.
"Initiating now," the droid confirmed, and immediately the image of a hulking Jotaz was replaced by three familiar looking people. Crude models of Emily, Obi-Wan and Anakin passively stood next to each other. They were only basic representations; the only way Obi-Wan knew which one was him was due to the beard. Anakin's model was distinguished by the short hair and braid. Emily was shaven and with an outline that indicated her bandages. Initially, Obi-Wan had been worried that she would be offended by the image - he remembered her long, pale brown hair from when he'd first found her. "Me?" she had asked, pointing to the hologram and when Obi-Wan nodded, she ran her hand over the image and smiled, a little sadly.
"Let's try having Model-B lift up and pass a red ball to Model-E," he said, and watched as a red ball appeared in the tiny hologram Obi-Wan's hands. "I pass the red ball to you," Obi-Wan said in English, focusing on the correct word order.
Emily was silent, her focus on the image in front of them. "You pass ball of red to me?" she said back, haltingly, in Basic.
Obi-Wan smiled - she really was coming along quickly - and clarified the phrase in Basic, "You pass the red ball to me." Emily repeated it back, mimicking the glottal stop she'd missed the first time. They said it back and forth a few times, Obi-Wan trying out the seemingly endless number of periphrases that Emily's language contained. Give. Pass. Hand. Each of them used in a number of other contexts. He could 'give Emily a pass" meaning that he wouldn't acknowledge her, or 'give Emily a hand to pass something along' but not in the literal sense of chopping off his hand and presenting it for her use. Luckily, the medi-droid picked up everything Emily said, and had already amassed a sizable lexicon - given the short amount of time since they had commenced this language exchange. Even if they managed to find Emily's home before he had fully learned her language, Obi-Wan hoped that the databanks would have enough to allow him to continue studying it into the future. He may even have the pleasure of using it years from now, on her home-world, should he ever get the chance to visit her there.
They spent a few hours this way; relaying the actions of their little figures. The holograms threw sticks and shared meals, dropped cups and picked up chairs before sitting in them. Eventually, Emily started to lose focus, yawning through her words. Obi-Wan shut down the droid and pointed to her bed. "You should sleep," he suggested in English. Emily for once didn't push back, she just nodded and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. Obi-Wan helped her to her feet, watching her wince as she massaged her calves. They had been caught up in training for longer than he had anticipated, and both of them appeared to be stiff from sitting for an extended period. Master Pelri spoke, just as Emily was about to bury herself under the covers of her bed.
"I'll need a blood sample - preferably before Emily falls asleep," Pei said. Emily stopped at the mention of her name.
"A moment," Obi-Wan said in English and, walking over to the transfer hatch, he retrieved the analysis disk Pei had dropped inside. Emily already had her arm out when he turned around, which managed to illicit a chuckle from him.
"If you could take the sample from one of her wounds this time, Obi-Wan," Pei said. "I want to see if her body has started to utilise the digested food to promote healing."
"Right arm, please," Obi-Wan requested, and Emily dutifully raised that limb instead. He pushed aside the bandage at her wrist, careful to only expose a small amount of blistered skin. Luckily the anaesthetic gel meant there was no discomfort when the little disk pinched away a sample of her blood and tissue. Obi-Wan briefly rubbed his thumb over the spot, before catching the mindless reflex, though not before smearing a layer of gel over his thumb. He covered over the burn mark, giving Emily a nod. "All done," he confirmed.
Obi-Wan watched as Emily practically face-planted into her pillows, pulling up the sheets until she was just a little mound of soft silver-grey blanket. Obi-Wan deposited the disk back in the hatch, rolling the tight muscles in his shoulders as he pressed the release button.
"Could you dim the lights to thirty-five percent, Pei?" Obi-Wan asked. "I think I'm going to run through a few Form drills, and try to loosen out my muscles."
"First it's muscle stiffness. Then it's ocular degeneration…and before you know it, your eating stewed muaroot and complaining about how all the younglings nowadays just never behave like they did back in your time," Pei teased.
"If you take out the eyesight and muaroot, that's exactly what I'm like already, Pei," Obi-Wan said, muffling his laugh so as to not disturb his roommate. The Sullustan smirked back, loading the little disk into one of her contraptions.
"Born an old man, I've always said it," Pei agreed.
Obi-Wan moved to the side of the room. Barefooted, he ran through the Form I and Form III stances, letting his body fall into the familiar moves. It was easy to slip into the Force this way, to feel it flow through and around him. In the Living Force, each second was a lifetime; every heartbeat the birth, life and death of a whole galaxy of beings. He was just one insignificant speck - and at the same time - he was everything. A feeling of unease shimmered over him, drawing him out of the vastness of the Force.
"Did you catch your skin on the sample disk, Obi-Wan?" Pei asked, her voice filled with the unease he'd felt in the air. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, letting his limbs fall into a neutral position.
"No," he replied, thinking back to when he took it. "I took a sample from a burn wound, just as you asked."
"Hmmm, it must have been contaminated. I'm going to need you to take another when Emily wakes up."
"What do you mean conta-" Obi-Wan started to ask, but he was cut off when the observation room door opened, with Masters Windu and Billaba stood in the entry way, the short blonde hair of his padawan lurking just behind them.
"What did you do now, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, his mind already filling up with all the terrible things his apprentice could have done, that would illicit two council members coming to speak with him.
"I didn't do anything," Anakin protested, as the three entered the room.
"We're not here to speak to you about your padawan, Master Kenobi," Mace Windu said.
"Well, that's a change," Obi-Wan replied, his dire fears replaced instantly with curiosity.
"Word has reached us of a political unrest in the Pijal system," Master Billaba said. "Our records revealed that you had conducted a mission to that system when you were an apprentice to Master Jinn."
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied. "We helped Master Aveross to resolve a complicated political dispute between the monarchy and the Czerka Corporation, which resulted in the end of the monarchy and the installation of a democratic Assembly instead."
"We would like you and your padawan to return to the planet, to investigate these rumours and ensure that the current government is unaffected," Master Windu said.
"Wait, what about Emily?" Anakin asked, looking between each of them. "She needs our help. Can't Master Aveross go instead?"
"Rael Aveross is currently on an extended mission," Master Billaba said. "This matter needs to be investigated with urgency, and by someone knowledgeable in the planets politics."
"But-"
"I understand, and my padawan and I will - of course - attend to this matter immediately," Obi-Wan said with a bow, interrupting before Anakin could add anything else. Mace Windu gave his apprentice a long, searching stare.
"A transporter and supplies will be arranged for you. I suggest you wrap up any outstanding business you currently have," Mace Windu said. "You will be expected to leave in six standard hours."
"May the Force be with you," Master Billaba added, as the two council members bowed and left the room.
"We can't just leave her all alone," Anakin blurted out, twisting and tangling his fingers together. Obi-Wan pushed aside the reluctance that wormed through his own chest. It was the first seed of attachment, he knew, and it was better to squash it now, than let it take root and grow.
"We will do as we are asked by the Council," Obi-Wan said, putting a stern bite into his voice. "I'm sure Emily will be perfectly fine while we're gone."
"Anyway, I'll look after her," Pei said, patting Anakin briefly on the shoulder. "Now that she's eating and comfortable interacting with the medi-droid, by the time the two of you get back, I wager you'll hardly recognise her."
"Master Pelri is right," Obi-Wan agreed, but his eyes strayed to the reflection of Emily's sleeping body in the glass screen. A sharp pang of worry sparked deep in his chest, adamantly refusing to be extinguished.