A little over an hour later, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon – he'd dropped the Master honorific in the privacy of his own thoughts – boarded the Radiant VII, a Consular-class cruiser assigned to them for their mission to Naboo.
He didn't recognize the ship's captain and lieutenant, Maoi Madakor and Antidar Williams, other than the Exploration Corps insignia on their uniforms, but both greeted him and Qui-Gon professionally and in minutes, they had stowed their gear and taken seats in the rear of the cockpit. While Lieutenant Williams began the pre-flight checks, Captain Madakor swiveled her seat around to face them.
"Transit to Naboo will take approximately 51 standard hours," she said, and Obi-Wan hid his surprise that the Radiant VII had a class 1.5 hyperdrive. He'd expected at least a class 2, if not a class 3. "Once we're safely in hyperspace, you'll be free to move about the ship as you please, provided you do not interfere with any of the crew."
"Of course, Captain," Qui-Gon agreed, and Obi-Wan inclined his head as well.
"Meals are at 0800, 1300, and 1800 standard hours," Captain Madakor continued. "If you require anything else, please ask."
Qui-Gon nodded again, so Obi-Wan said, "Thank you, Captain."
She smiled, the expression appearing oddly comfortable on her face, and said, "Then strap in, and we'll depart as soon as we receive clearance."
BREAK
Once they made the jump to lightspeed, Obi-Wan excused himself to his assigned stateroom, which was really more like a berth. It had a bunk along one wall and a combination closet and desk unit along the opposite wall, with just enough room to pull out a stool from under the desk and settle it in the narrow passage between bed and desk.
A door beside the desk led into the fresher, which was barely large enough to turn around in, and Obi-Wan stepped into it, turning his head to the left so he could see his right ear in the small mirror mounted to the wall. More specifically, he could see the tiny tuft of hair that didn't blend in with the rest of his haircut: the remnants of his padawan braid.
In the normal course, he would have scheduled an appointment at the temple aesthetics station so the tuft could be trimmed and shaped in a way that wouldn't stick out.
Unfortunately, there'd been no time to do that before the Radiant VII departed, and now he found himself wondering how – or even if – he could manage a trim himself. Granted, the tuft didn't stick up like a cowlick, but its presence would certainly be noted by someone amongst the diplomatic parties, and that might adversely affect their perception of him and therefore the mission.
Trimming it wasn't a question of having the necessary equipment. Over the course of his training with Qui-Gon, he'd learned long ago to keep a grooming kit ready, packed with spares of his favorite personal care products and clippers for hair and nails.
It wasn't a question of skill, either, for a similar reason.
No, the question was access.
His braid had rested behind his right ear, and he was right-hand dominant. Making a neat cut with the hair clippers would be a challenge.
The cabin door chime sounded, and a moment's focus told him Qui-Gon stood outside. He reached out with the Force to nudge the door open.
A moment later, Qui-Gon filled the fresher doorway. "I sensed your frustration. Perhaps I can assist."
"Yes, please." Obi-Wan deliberately gave the second word too much emphasis, and amusement, not censure, flickered in Qui-Gon's eyes. "I was beginning to regret not being a contortionist."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "It's a master's place to see a padawan to knighthood. That journey doesn't end just because the braid is cut."
Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. "Would you prefer I sit?"
"Yes, thank you," Qui-Gon said. "I'll sit on the bed, and you can sit on the stool. We'll be of a height."
Obi-Wan snorted as he maneuvered past Qui-Gon in the not-quite-too-snug space. "You'll still tower over me by a handspan at least."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "An accident of biology, nothing more."
"A useful one, however – for you." Obi-Wan settled onto the stool and offered Qui-Gon his clippers.
Qui-Gon accepted the clippers, glanced toward the fresher, and levitated Obi-Wan's comb to him. Wordlessly, he set to work, running the comb over Obi-Wan's head and through the tuft. After a moment, the soft buzz of the clippers filled the room.
"I owe you an apology."
"I'm fairly certain you owe me several," Obi-Wan returned dryly, and Qui-Gon flinched minutely. "Which one are you thinking of now?"
"The one to encompass them all," Qui-Gon said finally. "I can't say I would have realized what I'd done, what I was still doing, if it hadn't been for the Council meeting, but I realize now."
Obi-Wan didn't mean to be cruel, but with Qui-Gon, he'd learned to be specific. "What do you realize?"
The clippers fell silent, and the comb ran through his hair. Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether or not to be grateful they weren't facing the mirror. Not that he needed to see Qui-Gon's face to read his emotions, usually. He stretched out his Force sense, and felt Qui-Gon's presence, subdued but sincere.
"I let my experience with Xanatos cloud my judgment of you," Qui-Gon said, "because I feared losing another padawan. I had overlooked his faults because he was a Force prodigy, and so I found fault with you when there was none."
Obi-Wan snorted. "I'm hardly flawless."
"I doubt anyone is without fault, but as a padawan, you had none worth the mention."
Obi-Wan's thoughts stilled. That was the most praise Qui-Gon had ever given him in all their years together. More startling even than his offering it, his sincerity echoed in the Force.
Qui-Gon stopped combing hair too short to actually need a comb much of the time and rose, stepped out from behind Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan rose as well, shifting in time with the movement so he faced his former master.
"I am so very proud of you, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon allowed his shields to drop completely so that Obi-Wan could feel the words as well as hear them. "And I am even more sorry that I wasn't the master you deserved."
Obi-Wan could only drop his own shields in return. "I don't know about deserved, but perhaps you were the master I needed."
Qui-Gon chuckled, a hoarse sound cut off almost as soon as it began. "I can't see how that could possibly be true."
"True or not, we made the best of a bad situation that was none of our doing, and I'm very grateful for everything you've taught me."
"And will continue to, if you allow it."
"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan smiled briefly. "I'm not so arrogant to think I know everything just because I'm a knight now."
Qui-Gon smiled back and shifted so that Obi-Wan could step past him to look in the mirror.
"It looks as if it has always been cut that way," Obi-Wan said. "Thank you."
"Well, it wouldn't do to have half of the ambassadorial delegation looking unkempt." Qui-Gon rested a hand on his shoulder. "Come, we'll review the Council's briefing packet over tea."
BREAK
As it turned out, reviewing the briefing packet was a waste of time.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had barely been aboard the Trade Federation's lead battleship for ten minutes, had just been served drinks by a droid called TC-14, when a bolt of fear spiked through the Force, followed immediately by a shuddering jolt through the battleship.
The two Jedi leapt to their feet, summoning and igniting their lightsabers in harmony. The droid stumbled backward, waving its arms and apologizing.
"They've destroyed the Radiant," Qui-Gon said.
"And we appear to be next on their list," Obi-Wan added as some kind of smoke began hissing into the room from the ventilators.
"Dioxicin," Qui-Gon said.
That was enough for Obi-Wan to take in a deep breath, encouraging the Force to regulate his body's natural functions to preserve his life as long as possible – and hopefully longer than the gas remained in the room. Qui-Gon would be doing the same.
When the doors to the conference room finally slid open, the pair moved, destroying or disabling the battle droids sent to confirm their deaths and then making their way to the command center.
Of course the Neimoidians in charge had sealed the door. While Obi-Wan stood watch, Qui-Gon applied his lightsaber to the door, intending to cut a hole for them to access the bridge.
Which would've happened, sooner or later, if the Neimoidans hadn't deployed droidekas – battle droids armed with shields and stunningly impressive weaponry – against them.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, especially when they didn't know how many droidekas could be deployed against them, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon dashed away from the confrontation, toward the hangar bay.
The Radiant might be gone, but surely there were other ships that might be commandeered.
In fact, there were a lot of ships. A lot of ships, and even more battle droids.
"It's an invasion army," Obi-Wan murmured.
"This is an odd play for the Trade Federation, especially over what is essentially a minor dispute," Qui-Gon murmured in return as they studied the scene before them. "We've got to get to the planet's surface, warn them, and contact Chancellor Valorum."
Obi-Wan nodded. "We can stow away on one of those ships."
"Separate," Qui-Gon said. "Easier for one to escape detection than two. We'll rendezvous on the planet's surface."
BREAK
Droids were slightly harder to distract than organic beings, but Obi-Wan sent a pulse through the Force that sent one battle droid stumbling into another. Just as organics would, the droids turned to see what had happened.
Obi-Wan summoned the Force and augmented his speed and, before the droids had turned back around, slipped aboard the invasion craft. He found a small space between crates of weapons and secured himself there as the droids came on board.
While the ship took off and transited to the planet below, he let his mind wander – not really meditating, but not directing his thoughts, either. More than once he'd found answers to questions that eluded him during meditation by letting his thoughts go where they would, surfacing in his mind and then fading away.
…minor trade dispute…
…odd play for the Trade Federation…
…blockade is one thing; invasion quite another…
…how did the Trade Federation pay for so many droids?...
Later, Obi-Wan would joke that the chime signaling the ship had broken atmosphere sounded in exact time to announce the conclusion his wandering thoughts had ultimately arrived at:
Someone else was involved, somehow prodding the Trade Federation to this course of action. But who? And why?
BREAK
Once the ship had landed, the droids disembarked in formation, the clanking of their metal feet on the metallic deck echoing oddly before dulling as they set foot on the lush ground of Naboo. Unsure specifically where they'd landed, Obi-Wan decided his best course was to get off the ship to some kind of cover where he could assess the situation properly.
So he waited and watched, and as the last droids left the ship, he emerged from his concealment and summoned the Force to modulate his vision transiting from the dimness of the interior to the bright day outside and give him speed before zipping out of the ship. The ship's hatch was already beginning to close, and he streaked through that narrow opening, then into the woods at the edge of the plain where the ship had landed.
His path was clear, and as he reached the edge of the woods, Obi-Wan slowed to a pace suitable for an unknown, obstacle-filled terrain…
…and the Force sent him tumbling forward just as a blaster bolt hit the tree to his right.
A glance confirmed the Force's information – he'd had the misfortune to cross paths with a scout droid flying overhead on some kind of sky-sled.
He sped up again.
Obi-Wan kept running, dodging new growth and leaping over fallen trees, keeping as irregular a path as he could. He needed a moment's cover, or a small clearing, anything that would give him a chance to maneuver.
He sent his Force senses ranging ahead and around, searching for the slightest opening-
-there!
A clearing, ahead and a half-degree to the right.
Obi-Wan shifted his course even as he kept avoiding the blaster bolts flying his way. He could only hope the droid hadn't alerted its compatriots.
Even as the thought formed, he knew it was in vain. Of course the droid had done what droids did: follow their programming. If it was a scout droid pursuing him, there was every chance it had been programmed to report any activity to its superiors.
Maybe – just maybe – the superiors were too focused on the invasion to worry about one stray sighting.
He put that thought aside. Whatever might come later, he'd deal with it then. For now, the goal was to destroy the scout droid.
One more scan of the area he approached, to be sure the clearing was, well, clear, and he'd-
-sense his former master ahead of him, possibly in the very clearing he was running for.
He flashed a warning to Qui-Gon through the Force before dashing headlong toward the clearing.
He breached the clearing, leapt and somersaulted in the air, igniting his lightsaber on the way down, only to land on his feet just as Qui-Gon deflected a blaster bolt back into the sky-sled, sending it and the battle droid atop it careening into one of the massive trees surrounding them.
Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's gaze, saluted him with his saber, then deactivated it and returned it to its place on his hip.
Only then did he notice the tall being standing beside his former master. Obi-Wan concealed a frown and stretched out his senses. The being, tall and gangly with short eyestalks and ears that might be flippers or wings, had a muted presence in the Force, as though Obi-Wan were trying to hear underwater.
Water. The being was amphibious, then.
Still, Obi-Wan asked, "What's this?"
"A local," Qui-Gon replied shortly. "Let's get out of here before more of those droids come."
Qui-Gon took long strides away, but Obi-Wan remained where he was. "Let's make sure we're headed the right direction."
Qui-Gon turned back, frowning slightly. "What?"
Obi-Wan pulled a small datapad from his robes and quirked an eyebrow at his former master before calling up a map of Naboo.
Qui-Gon returned to his side. "Where did you get that?"
"We had an hour before we departed."
Obi-Wan tapped another command into the datapad and looked up. "The capital is southwest of us, about two klicks. It sits on the confluence of two rivers, one of which should be nearby. If we find it, we can follow it into the city."
"Ooh, da river," the local being said. "Mesa show you!"
The being took off without waiting for their acknowledgment. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon, who nodded once.
"Let's go."