Chapter 10. Greetings and Meetings

– As much as I… appreciate… your help… I would very much like…to walk… here… on my own…

The boys snickered as Tur was making futile attempts at batting away Bant's mothering and fussing.

– You'd like to collapse on your own in front of everyone, Master Le'em? – the Mon Calamarian proved herself quite competent at verbal sparring, and even Tur chuckled, respecting his opponent's potential.

– Yes, I would prefer exactly that, if you allow me.

– Oh, for Force's sake! –the girl rolled her silver eyes.

– You are forgetting yourself, padawan. Didn't you call me Master Le'em?

– Bant! What the Sith were you thinking! You should be lucky if the Council doesn't ground you for years to come! We were all worried sick! How could the three of you dare disappear like that?

– Master! We… – the Mon Calamarian paled and looked down at her feet awkwardly as she saw a golden-skinned woman standing on the platform only steps away from them, looking at the same time incensed and relieved, and then the woman's her green- and gold-striped eyes rose to meet Tur's, instantly freezing in motion. Sensing something unusual, the girl stepped away, unsure of what was going on between her master and the stranger they picked up at Eo'ra-A. Both Jedi stood, staring at each other, as if spell-bound.

– Tahl? – croaked Tur, swallowing heavily against the lump in his throat.

– Lemmy! – a flutter of cloth and braids swarmed around him, and Tur reluctantly wrapped his arms around the warm body clinging to him, tattered tunic soaking with tears. – Lemmy… I… thought I lost you too…

– Sh-sh… I… – he rubbed her back, all words cut away by surprise and guilt, uneasiness gripping him tightly with its claws. – S-s-sorry… Mayte… I should never have left with her…

– Thought I lost… both of you… – Tahl sobbed, gulping, refusing to let go, and Tur could only hold her tight, silent and awkward, his past bursting through the confines of his memory.

– Look who returns, – someone spoke behind them, and the two broke away, startled.

– Qui.

– Incredible.

– Qui-Gon, stop. Good to see you, Tur, – Mace Windu squeezed between the two men, giving Tur a one-armed hug. – Although I must admit I am surprised.

– Me too, Mace, but there's no time for story-telling. A padawan, Obi-Wan, has been kidnapped. About twenty hours ago, Eo'ra-A of the Ployt system.

– I know. The Council has been informed, but we do not possess sufficient knowledge on the identity of the kidnapper.

– Master, we – Bant started, but Tur held up his hand, silencing the padawan.

– We need to concentrate on Obi-Wan, not the one who has him. It's urgent.

– You understand we cannot dispatch a rescue mission without receiving the full information.

– To Sith with protocol! – Tur's patience gave out faster than his knees threatened to. – He needs help! You let him go away in the state he was in, you don't know what he's facing right now as we talk!

– Tur –

– I was picking up the pieces your Council and your twisted system left, and I tell you he won't survive much longer there! He's connected to this former master of his!

– We will proceed with all possible speed.

– That is not enough!

– And I suppose you think you always do enough? – Qui-Gon interjected, elbowing Mace aside. – You're so willing to help now, claiming we don't care enough here at the Temple? Says who? You return all mighty and noble after your life-long vacation somewhere off-world telling everyone what to do?

– Qui, don't, – Tahl pulled at his sleeve.

– Now you are protecting him? Where was he when you were slipping away after Mayte's death? Sulking somewhere away, nursing him broken life, thinking about the dead? When I was here, dealing with somebody else's pain, something he should have been doing as well!

– Qui, please –

– What, you have nothing to say? It was always about you! It's because of you Mayte left, because it was important to you to have her all to yourself!

– That's enough! – Mace bodily pulled Qui-Gon away, staring intently at Tur, who swayed, his fists clenched and face drawn in pain he couldn't escape. – Come on, let's get you to the healers, – the Councillor said softly, slinging Tur's arm over his shoulder and supporting his old friend's body, and Tur obeyed limply, concentrating on putting one feet in front of another as Mace led him towards the waiting stretcher.

– H-he… needs help… fast… won't… – Tur wheezed, sinking to the white mattress, the small trip totally draining him.

– Quiet, save your strength. Relax. We're going to help him.

– P-promise me, – green eyes were glazing over, pleading and desperate.

– I promise, my friend. Now rest. You're home.

– T-t-tahl?

– Sleep.

– Ma-y-t… s-sor…

The world dissolved, and the last thing Tur saw was her eyes. The same. Golden and green.

– And now you have plenty of time to rest, sir, – cheerfully chirped the droid, releasing Tur's newly bandaged thigh and getting the blankets ready for him to lie down.

– Are you that much intent on boring me to death? – Tur growled, scarcely containing his annoyance.

– Sir? Depression is not unusual after a trauma, sir, however, I am not trained in psychology. I will refer you to the Temple's soul healers, then –

– Sith, don't you understand me? Leave me alone.

– Don't worry, sir, it is not unusual to feel alone in such –

–I. Want. Out of here. Now. Or you'll discover how good I am at dealing with artificial intellect, – Tur stood up, his hands reaching menacingly to the droid's controls.

– Sir! – the machine beeped in alarm. – I don't understand what it is you wish, sir.

– Oh, I don't suppose we could enrich your vocabulary, – Tur rolled his eyes in exasperation. – I want to be cleared from this facility.

– But you are recovering, sir.

– I. Am. Already. Recovered. You understand? – the ex-Jedi reached for the buttons again.

– You are already recovered, sir. You are cleared, –the droid repeated, backing away from him, its sensors twitching in agitation.

– Didn't think mind tricks worked on droids, –muttered Tur, pulling on the clothes that were lying by the bed. – I believe we have reached an understanding, Em-zee-too. You may go.

The droid rolled away when the door opened, letting in a visitor.

– Well-well, Councillor Windu.

– You know you won't talk me out of my duty, Tur, –the dark-skinned Jedi smiled, crossing the room to the window and leaning on the window sill.

– What would I do that for? – Tur shot him a mockingly wounded glance.

– Are you allowed to be up yet?

– Last time I looked, the only thing you had to do with healing, Mace, was avoiding this Sith-forsaken place at all costs. And believe me, I'm perfectly qualified to access my own condition. By the way, I am cleared, isn't it so, Em-zee-too?

The green droid blinked, shooting Tur a terrified glance.

– As you say, sir.

– See for yourself, – the ex-Jedi announced proudly, waving at the droid.

– So when there're no people around, you start harassing droids, – Mace looked at him, his face questioning and amused. Tur shrugged nonchalantly.

– Huge experience of having no people around.

–Speaking of which. Since you have already released yourself from the healers' care, the Council needs to hear your story. You said it was urgent, so I can push certain buttons to get you an audience as soon as possible.

–How soon?

– Today, if you're ready.

– And they will decide about the mission.

Mace sighed, massaging his temples.

– You know I only have so much influence. There's a lot of people besides myself. But at least this is a start.

– It needs to be a finish. I treated him, Mace. I know what he's facing now. He can't handle Force-deprivation, and this former master of his used the collar on him when Obi-Wan was thirteen. He didn't remember it, I saw that in his mind. There's dark residue implanted in his mind, the remainder of their training bond. I couldn't deal with this, that's why we left, he needed a cure. There's a hundred ways for that son of a Sith to torture him. He won't last long.

– I… understand, Tur, but you really should tell this to the Council.

– Fine. What time?

– An hour soon enough for you?

Tur's eyes widened.

– Thank you, Mace.

– Don't thank me yet. And anyway, you're welcome. See you there. And do have pity on that droid.

– Will do, Councillor.

– Master Le'em! – a familiar voice rang through the corridor, and Tur found himself in the tight embrace of the Mon-Calamarian padawan. – It's so great to see you up and well.

– You too, my lady, – chuckled the ex-Jedi, returning the hug, and leaned to whisper into the girl's ear, – And you have no idea how much I'm glad to be up.

– Master Le'em? Is it the effects of your old seductive self or have you really rejoined our ranks? – Bant blushed, releasing the man, and turned to scowl at her approaching master.

– Is the last one so difficult to believe? – Tur raised his eyebrow as the golden-skinned woman wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his tunic.

– Not at all, – Tahl said softly, reluctantly letting him go. – You… you're serious?

– It's a long story, – Tur sighed. – When Obi-Wan's ship crashed on my planet, it was touch and go at first, and I… couldn't let him go like that, so… The next thing I knew there was a training bond, probably something I used to pull him out of it. And… he needed a master.

– So many things we did wrong, – Tahl whispered, her gaze pensive and distant.

– What about how much I did –

– Lemmy, listen to me and listen close, – the Noorian said crossly, her hands on her hips. –You. Are. Not. The. Reason. For. Everything. Now repeat.

– Tahl, I –

– Listen to me, you obstinate crècheling! – golden-striped eyes meet the dull green, surprising Tur by their fury. – You are not the reason why she's gone. – You did everything you could. Scratch that – everything that could be done, – Tahl added softly, but firmly. – You understand this?

– I –

– Answer me. I don't accept any replies except "Yes, Master Uvain", Bant's my witness.

– Alright, I capitulate, yes, Master, –Tur raised his hands in a placating gesture. – But still. I'm sorry, Tahl.

– Me too. When you left… I… both of you… – she waved her hand, at a loss with what to say.

– I know, I gathered as much from Qui, – Tur's lip curled bitterly.

– Tur Le'em! Will you finally stop it?! I thought I'd made myself perfectly clear. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Please, Lemmy.

– Fine, it's just –

– I know. But now you're here. We all have years to make up for.

– All?

– Qui'll come around. Trust me. He… it's been hard back then. He was worried about you, about me… I guess he just lost it when you came. When Bant comm-ed the Temple she didn't know your name. And then…

– Here I come, – Tur blew out, a little smile tugging at his lips.

– Master Uvain, the transport is ready, – somebody shouted.

– I'll be there in a moment! I'm going on a mission, Lemmy. Mace promised to keep an eye on you.

– Believe me, he's already started doing that.

– Oh, has he? Fine, behave yourself. See you soon, – she squeezed Tur's shoulder, smiling, and he grinned back.

– Safe trip.

– Thanks.

Tur exhaled, smile leaving his lips, and turned to walk in the direction of the Council's hall. He had a mission of his own to accomplish.

The round Council hall was the same as the last time Tur'd been in the Temple. The pillars. The patterns on the floor. The transparisteel walls with the traffic swarming behind them. And there he was, a lone figure standing in the middle of the circle, with the Council members sitting in their chairs, scrutinizing him, weighing him up. Judging him.

He stared at the floor, dimly aware of Mace getting over with the introduction. Bits and pieces of phrases brushed past his ears like those bright vehicles behind the windows, dangerously close but never connecting with his mind. Tur drew a deep breath, shrugging off the unease lulling him into a dreamy haze. He was no longer in the Jedi Order, there was nothing they could do to him. But everything depended on what they thought of him, he felt that too acutely. He had to persuade them. Obi-Wan needed it. Surely they would care about one of their own padawans? Former padawans, he corrected himself. And if they cared, why had this very boy been lying in Tur's arms, fading, wasting away, his connection to the Force damaged, his injuries pulling him closer to the black nothingness, his will to live close to non-existent? Why was he, a complete stranger who had shut out the whole world, why was he the only person who offered Obi-Wan comfort? Who could actually help, not lecture on the ways of the Force and the rest of existential crap? Who took away the pain, who treated the boy's injuries, who painstakingly lowered Obi-Wan's mental shields to repair the damage done by his former master?

– Tur Le'em.

He started, the words pulling him out of his reverie. The Councillors were sitting in their chairs, impassive, pensive, looking more like mannequins than living beings. He didn't dare to hope.

– Surprised we are, here to see you again. Hear your story from the beginning, we shall, – the little green troll's yellow eyes were fixed at Tur, wise and unfathomable.

– Masters, I understand that the circumstances may seem unusual, but my story is not at issue. It would take time, which we do not have. A former padawan of this Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi, has been captured by Rahd, his former master who had previously dismissed him as his padawan in front of this Council, tearing away their training bond without completely dissolving it. As the result, this Dark Jedi left in Obi-Wan's mind an imprint, which, when activated, could affect him physically, causing bouts of intense pain.

– Speak as if you were a healer, you do.

– How do you know your assumptions are right? – Even Piell eyed him with distrust.

– I was trained as a healer.

– Not in the Order?

– I believe that's common knowledge that I'm no longer a Jedi Knight.

– Not in the Order, you are. As for a Jedi… hmmm… more it means and even more it should mean.

– You were talking about an imprint. Are there reasons to believe it may be a link to the Dark Side? – interjected Plo Koon.

Tur suppressed a smirk. So cautious about a child turning to the Dark Side and doing nothing about a Dark Jedi in their own rows.

– No, Master. He was offered to continue his apprenticeship on the condition he agreed to do so. He refused. That was the real reason for his dismissal.

– That is what Obi-Wan told you and us, –countered Piell.

– He told me the truth. And before you ask, his shields were down. He was dying. Even one of you could have seen it was no lie, – Tur couldn't contain his bitterness any longer.

– See the Darkness in Di'el Rhad, we did not, – Yoda's ears sank, and Tur thought he felt a tinge of regret in the words.

– His ship crashed on the planet where I was living. He was injured. I treated him and eventually diagnosed the imprint. To prevent Rhad from discovering our location, we had to leave but were attacked. I was captured. The rest you probably know from Obi-Wan.

– By Di'el Rhad captured, you were?

– Yes. That's why I know what Obi-Wan's facing. With the imprint and a Force collar, it is possible to recreate the bond, surround him by the darkness. He will not abandon the Light Side, but fighting this will eventually take his life.

–Seen this before, you have, hmm. Believe you, I do.

– Masters, we need to organise the rescue as soon as possible.

– But meditate on it, we must. Decide on it now, we should not.

– You have heard what I told you! I know what happens. I –

– Although you are no longer in the Order, it doesn't allow you to forget our teachings, young one, – Even Piell looked at Tur crossly. – You lack patience. And we need to learn more about the Dark Jedi.

– This is right, – nodded Plo Koon. – It is not about our personal attachments. This involves the peace of the Galaxy.

– Masters –

– This meeting is closed. We shall summon you later, Tur Le'em.

Nothing. He could do nothing. Tur's mind didn't even register how he saw Mace's pleading glance, bowed to the Masters, left the Hall. They did nothing. And the kid was there, locked up in Rhad's stronghold, going through whatever torments the Dark Jedi had in store.

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't even Mace's fault. Force! Tur leaned his forehead against the coolness of the transparisteel, hypnotized by the blurred movement of the traffic. He could do nothing to help Obi-Wan. He would be late. Sith, they all would be late. But himself… he would be late again, too late to save someone. Hold on, Padawan. The silent prayer felt flat, the Force serene and impassive. Please, wait for me. Please. And despite everything, Tur suddenly felt a twinge, a sparkle of light entering his mind. And somehow he felt, dimly, vaguely, inexplicably, but with surprising certainty. He could do something. He would do something. And that was hope.