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Chapter 32
I'll Never Dream Again
"Kenobi!"
He jumped down from the workbench. Padme's unfinished wrapping dangled from his arm. "What is it?" asked Obi-Wan.
Brummel lifted Logan's head, showing a red dot at the center of his eye. "He has an ocular implant. It records your entire life. If it's still intact, it'll have what you need."
Landon puzzled, "Why didn't the Sith just take his eye then?"
"This isn't their world. They didn't know about implants. You're lucky Maul's a blunt instrument."
"We'll take it to the Tangent. See what R2 can do."
"That won't work," said Brummel. "There's a built-in destruct mechanism. Only authorized memory seekers can access video."
Padme interjected, "You don't need a memory seeker, when you know the Memory Master."
The beginnings of a smile tugged Obi-Wan's lips, before he glimpsed Coda. Her skirt was soaked red. Gobbets of liver covered her knees.
Obi-Wan swayed where he was, appalled with himself. He'd never displayed such lack of compassion.
He said too sharply, "I'm sorry, Coda. This isn't what I wanted."
"But it is what follows you," Brummel said.
Julian knew nothing of Light and Dark, the strange web of energies that directed Jedi inexplicably. But he had seen vengeance. Once he saw a surgeon let his patient bleed out over an unpaid debt. He'd seen POWs gunned down over minor slights. There is a look in someone's eye when hatred takes command.
The repair rod glided over Obi-Wan's arm. Black skin flaked away, a fresh pink layer growing in its place. Soon only scars would hint at what happened.
"Is something wrong, Doctor?" Obi-Wan asked.
"That young woman just watched her friend die," Julian said.
"I wish it weren't so. But I can't change it."
"No. But you could have prevented it."
Obi-Wan grabbed his wrist. "What do you mean by that?"
Julian met his stare, before shaking him off to continue treatment. "I tried to talk to you about Aayla. But you couldn't be bothered."
"Right now, I'm a captive audience," Obi-Wan said tersely.
"What happened on the roof?"
"Aayla made her move, but not quick enough to save him. Palmer told me the same thing."
Julian shook his head. "And you believed them? Can you really not tell when a Jedi's falling?"
"You've exhausted my mercy. Conscience prevails."
Obi-Wan squinted, rapidly blinking, staring at the wall. "I was worried after Axxila. I knew she and Miler were in love. But I had a talk with her..."
"And you thought you fixed her? With one conversation? What stunning hubris." One missed breath signaled Obi-Wan's hurt. Suddenly Julian remembered his station. The doctor's voice softened. "We're here to help you. But we can only do that if you listen."
"I'm listening now," Obi-Wan said.
The man before him was broken, neither brash nor self-indulgent. Sardonic wit could not be found. A great pain had built tunnels all through his inner self, and only echoes of a cry moved through the hollows.
Obi-Wan rested his chin on his fists. "I'm sorry about your son."
"I don't deserve pity," Landon said. "I told myself by leaving him, I was giving him a chance. But the truth is, every boy is better off with a father. Even if he's trash. Even if he teaches his boy the wrong lessons."
Obi-Wan said, "I didn't know my father. There are pieces of my mother, but they're shrouded in mist. I suppose Master Yoda comes closest to a parent."
"Do you love him?"
"I call it something else to satisfy ethics."
"Right. 'No attachments,'" mused Landon. "It's funny: I'm no Jedi, but I had the same rule. The difference is: I learned to follow it—and you never did."
The Jedi leaned back in his chair, and to Landon his ruined posture made him look like a peer. Obi-Wan said, "It's never made me do wrong. But I've come very close. The dam may break yet." He swallowed when he realized his grim admission. Only now did he know the truth had been festering.
Landon said, "That's why you're here, Boss. Because you're humble enough to guard against it."
Obi-Wan grimaced. That was enough self-indulgence. He leaned forward again, in the posture of a Jedi. "You told Aayla what happened." A statement, not a question. "Julian said you were terrified. He said without his arrival, she might have killed you."
Aayla's saber flashed on. She was on her feet it. "You're a rot in the Force! I should cut you out of it, before you spread any farther!"
"He's wrong," said Landon. "We were only talking."
Obi-Wan walked down the corridor. Clearly Julian was right. What signs had he ignored? How close was he to losing her?
"Bweeeep."
He met the droid halfway. "R2—have you isolated the signal?"
"Not yet, Master."
"What's taking so long?"
"Unknown. Perhaps the planetary shield is disrupting our sensors."
Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. That seemed unlikely. "Well, keep at it. I don't intend to be caught unaware."
He carried on to Aayla's quarters, requesting entry with the door chime. His third attempt prompted a faint "come in."
He found the Twi'lek standing at her mirror, applying paint to her face. Streaks of red and black encircled her eyes, which were dull, lifeless.
"What are you doing?" asked Obi-Wan.
"It's tradition on Ryloth for a grieving widow."
Obi-Wan tracked her to a night stand, where she fingered Miler's rank pins. "Would you call yourself a widow?"
Aayla sealed the pins in her fist. There was neither fury on her face nor the clarity of peace. She was walking a tight rope that mystified Obi-Wan. "I feared, before, for my place in the Order. Now I know, my place was with him."
Her jaw tightened. "'No attachments, padawan. No love or sadness.' Well, I'm not a vessel for the Council's will. And deep down, you know you aren't either. Everyone sees you're in love with Padme Amidala. We're living a farce! I won't partake in it."
Obi-Wan flared his nostrils. "Aayla, I am sorry for your loss. I truly am. But you have a duty. If you will not honor it," he growled, "I will lock you away. You can write your screed about the evils of the Jedi. I'll even send it to Sidious. But there will be no mutiny on board the Dawn Tangent."
Aayla scoffed, "Do you think I mean to mutiny? You lock away friends while a saboteur schemes."
"Maybe she's in the room now."
"Then perhaps you should kill me. Don't take any chances, Master Kenobi."
Her emphasis on his title cooled Obi-Wan's blood. He lowered his head, pinched his nose.
He took a breath and let it out slowly. "I can't have you out there. Not like this. I did not kill Miler. Neither did Landon. I'm confining you to quarters, until you've come to understand that. You are only one in a galaxy of widows."
Aayla asked, "Will you be so objective when Padme's buried?"
"We burn our dead. She would be no different."
He sat at a distance, peering forward. Coda desperately wanted to feel his eyes, to feel seen, human.
"How many people have you killed?" she asked.
"More than zero," he said flatly.
"I'm not afraid of you."
"Then you're very foolish."
"You did everything you could for Logan."
"Don't mistake that for virtue," Brummel warned her.
She wished she had the Force, to feel his Current. Coda had a predilection for honorable men. Brilliant thinkers, loving protectors, iron posts in a galaxy of melted morals.
She said, "Logan and me: we were close, before my reset. I wish I could remember. Whoever I am now didn't know him the same way."
"You're fortunate," Brummel said.
Coda constricted her face so her freckles overlapped. "How's that?"
"This is the first bad thing that's ever happened to you."
"Maybe. But that's not how I want it. Without my memories, I'm not the 'real' Coda."
"The 'real' you is the one who exists." Beneath his facade was some cosmic sadness. She wanted to know why.
The door opened and Obi-Wan entered.
Brummel stood slowly, eyes locked with the Jedi. He waited a beat before moving to the door. His shoulder brushed Obi-Wan's, equally stiff, as he exited the room.
When he and Coda were alone, Obi-Wan bowed his head reverently. "I wished to say again I am truly sorry. For me: it is a setback. For you: a tragedy. I pray you know I grasp the distinction."
Coda ignored his amends. "You'll need my help with the recorder. I'll know what to look for." Whatever pain banked her heart, she kept it from squeezing. "This Mercy Seat: is it really an Architect weapon?" Receiving a nod, Coda swallowed. "Then I'm going to make my life count for something. You have a new crew member. Assuming you want me."
Obi-Wan's palm slowly extended. "Welcome to the Dawn Tangent."
Padme turned the corner, nearly colliding with Landon. Her surprised shriek made him wince.
"They should've built this thing straighter," Landon said.
"I'm glad you're moving. How are you feeling?" She recalled his dismissal when she'd asked that at the temple.
"I'm lucky to be alive." He flexed his artificial fingers. "This'll take some getting used to, but Doc knows what he's doing."
"Is that a compliment I hear?"
Landon said, "Don't get used to them. I have a reputation."
Obi-Wan's footfalls preceded his appearance. He shuffled by Padme in the direction of the ramp. "Five minutes," he said over his shoulder.
Landon flashed her a smile walled off from his eyes. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That gives me a lot of flexibility." Padme thought his snicker seemed hollow. "Take it easy for now. We'll need you later."
Not for a moment had he considered an optical recorder. The greatest feature of our minds is the ability to forget. It self-edits to expunge mistakes large and small, building our better moments into myths. Brummel wasn't looking forward to the truth of Logan's life.
The Memory Master pulled back from his console. "The data's perfectly intact. But I'll need several hours to calibrate the viewer. In the meantime, I've prepared rooms for you." He peered at the pink flesh of Obi-Wan's arms. "You've been busy by the looks of it. Why don't you get some sleep?"
"That won't be necessary," Obi-Wan said.
"I'm certainly tired," Padme admitted.
He withheld his annoyance, reminding himself that she didn't have the Force to hold off fatigue. "Perhaps respite is needed," Obi-Wan relented.
Brummel and Coda retired to their rooms. Obi-Wan's and Padme's were in another hallway. Distrusting their host, Obi-Wan insisted on inspecting her quarters.
Gunmetal walls surrounded a queen bed, along with a nightstand and vanity. The bed didn't look soft, which hardly surprised them. The facilities were designed not for comfort but function.
Satisfied she was safe, Obi-Wan said, "Let me know if you need anything."
"You could stay if you like." Padme's offer surprised her as much as it did him. Surely, she thought, he wouldn't consider it. But his silence was deafening. The improper part of her pressed him shamelessly: "At least 'til I fall asleep. I'm a little scared, to be honest."
She deserved a lecture, but he couldn't deliver it. Her needy look was too strong for his training. "Until you fall asleep," he promised himself.
Deep warmth rippled through her. She took off her boots, as he placed his saber on the nightstand. Padme climbed into bed, leaving space for the Jedi.
Obi-Wan sat upright against the wall. Padme sprawled over him, cautiously placing her head on his chest. His arms closed around her. She shivered from contentment.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine for right now," Padme blushed.
"Nothing's going as planned."
"You're our plan. They should call you 'The Improviser.'"
Obi-Wan grunted. "As monikers go, they've given me worse."
Padme ran her nails up his arm, avoiding the burns. "It's going to be okay, because you're the right man. No one could do this but you."
"The crew's falling apart," Obi-Wan challenged.
"We'll bend to our limits. That's unavoidable. You hold yourself to account for everyone's struggles. And I love that about you. But you're only human. While you care for everyone, I'll care for you."
She felt herself squeezed even tighter to his chest. Suddenly Padme could see everything clearly. She'd spent too many years wondering if he needed her. He did; he had; he always would. He protected her body, her mind, her heart. Now she'd guard his soul, force him to cease its self-mutilation. He needed her. She barely withheld her giddy giggle.
Padme drifted to sleep, feeling Obi-Wan's hands tangle her hair.
"Wake up, pretty child."
The smell of blood. A black, gravelly babble. Deep, droning, it scraped at the surface of his dreary brain. His throat began to burn, as a rotted-flesh stench filled his lungs.
He felt his hands shaking. No part of him worked, pinned to Nothing by chilling placelessness.
There was blood on his face. He lay bent in wrong ways, missing pieces of his body, a desecrated temple for the exploring blasphemous.
"Meet your king, pretty child. I know you before you were born and after you die. There is no beginning. But I am the end."
He tried to cry out. He felt the scream in his throat. But still the black babble was all he could hear.
Obi-Wan's veins strained like living vines to break through his skin. The rotted scent whirled, around and around, and he knew it now as the remnants of ancients, commanded by darkness, obtained from their graves to be avatar puppets. Their blood-red souls branded his eyelids.
"Wherever you go, I have always been. Whatever you think, I have always heard. I know you been lusting. That flesh so soft. You'd do woesome things to feel that womb."
He writhed. Tried rising. But too little of his body remained to command. He tried screaming again. But there was only The Babble. The Force was dead.
"It's not your womb, pretty child. It's mine to fill."
Finally—a scream. It ripped from his throat. His eyes flew open. He called his saber to his hand and swung at the darkness.
"Obi-Wan! Stop!"
He choked on his scream. He stumbled to the wall. There was nothing in the darkness but Padme Amidala. He stared, heart blasting, at her terrified face. The blue light of his saber made her look so pale.
"Padme?" he mumbled like a child. His grabbed at his face, feeling for blood. His hand came away sweaty with no sign of red. He felt down his body for any parts missing. Every inch was just what it should be.
Padme rose slowly, fearing to startle him. She'd never seen him so lost in all her life. "It's okay," she soothed. "You were only dreaming."
The saber slid from his grasp, shutting off with a bang. His urge to vomit was overwhelming. He stopped her approach with a warning palm.
"You were only dreaming," she repeated.
"No! No. Don't you understand? I'll never dream again."