Legacy II

Chapter 30

Mace Windu's fingers were steepled together, his dark eyes hooded. "You exhorted the Prime Minister to relinquish her system's independent representation in the Senate?"

Qui-Gon Jinn shifted restlessly, impatient beneath the revered Korun's scrutiny. "Bipartisan tension on the world has reached such an extremity that no other viable option presented itself. Our mission mandate was to insure a peaceful outcome."

"Of an election!"Mace thundered.

"Of a transition," his maverick colleague placidly replied.

Ki Adi Mundi cleared his throat. "The voting conglomerates have proved effective in streamlining the democratic process in recent decades. The supreme courts find them constitutional; Terajon's enrollment in such a collective body does not constitute a violation of principle."

Qui-Gon dipped his head gratefully to the Cerean Jedi master.

Mace subsided into brooding disapprobation. "I do not trust the bloc system. It smacks of corporate consolidation – especially since the Trade guilds have been allowed to buy their way into the Senate."

"We are not here to debate the relative merits of the Republic's representation system," Adi Gallia reminded them all. "The only question is whether the Stewardship has been spared further strife."

"Contention still flourishes, but the threat of violence is greatly diminished, " Qui-Gon asserted. "Minister Ichiru expressed satisfaction with the outcome – and Chancellor Valorum has expressed his approval."

Obi-Wan, studiously keeping his head down in the midst of this verbal fire fight, winced at his former master's bold evocation of the Chancellor's authority. It was never, in his limited experience, wise to go over the heads of the Jedi Council.

Master Yoda stirred out of his gargoylish impassivity, ears twitching. "Unconventional solution, you have found, Qui-Gon."

"The right solution for the circumstances," the tall man insisted, refusing to be patronized.

The Grand Master grunted sardonically, and then skewered the young Knight with his gimlet gaze. "Obi-Wan – what say you of this? Concurred with Master Jinn's decision, did you?"

The subject of this unfair inquisition flicked a glance sideways at his mentor; Qui-Gon's chin lifted fractionally, conveying bland indifference to the answer, a self-assurance surpassing any courtesy or claim of reason. "Of course it was a collaborative decision," he asserted.

Yoda's wrinkled lips pursed in a thin line; his eyes slatted into two accusatory crescents. But he said nothing, despite his obvious suspicions.

Obi-Wan tightened mental shields to breaking point. You owe me, Master.

"Staunch accomplice you possess, Qui-Gon. Enviable is such loyalty."

"I value Obi-Wan's insight greatly," the tall man allowed, inclining his head. Grey eyes slid sideways, crinkling slightly at the corners; a subtle murmuring of gratitude warmed the Force's currents.

Mace Windu was not to be so easily placated. "We have other pressing concerns; this New Dawn merits close monitoring, especially since Jenna Zan Arbor appears to have found a new focus for her zealotry."

"And a new patron, Masters," Obi-Wan pointed out. "We have yet to discover whom she serves."

"Wealthy," Yoda mused. "Powerful, well-connected."

"If Sifo Dyas were not slain," Mace growled, "I would name him as mastermind."

Yan Dooku tapped elegant fingers against his seat's armrest. "A new threat is stirring, on the borders and in the heart of the Republic. A threat with no name or face, as of yet. We must make the unmasking of this patron our prime priority."

"Agreed," his Korun colleague rumbled.

"Submit, you will, a full report to the Archives database," Yoda commanded, mercifully abbreviating the session. "Peruse its details later, we shall."

Debriefing complete, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fled for the relative shelter of the lift tube.

"You owe me, Master."

The tall Jedi master let his weight fall back against the compartment's burnished wall, chuckling deep in his throat. "You have indeed snatched me from the nexu's jaws, as it were."

"Yes, and it's going to cost you dinner in the city. What about Dex's new place?"

The Temple's resident rogue spread his hands in regret. "Alas, I promised to help Master Pertha rake the Serenity Garden's sand this evening. Perhaps when we are finished? Unless you would care to join us."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms smugly. "No, no – I shan't sully your meditative bliss with my presence."

"It was not so much an invitation as a suggestion. You would benefit from such a soothing exercise… especially after this last mission."

All too familiar with the monotony of aforesaid exercise, having been subjected to its purported calming properties time and again during his stint as Qui-Gon's padawan, the young Knight inwardly relished the privilege of his station and its concomitant freedoms. "I think not."

Qui-Gon raised a hand. "Don't make me pull rank."

Obi-Wan raised a brow. "Don't make me laugh."

The lift hit rock bottom and opened onto the colonnaded Hall of Concordant Unity.

"Comm me when you're finished!" the younger man called after the Jedi master's rapidly retreating figure.

He was answered with a curt wave, which he interpreted as a flag of truce and a promissory note for dinner, and then sought out a less tedious occupation for his own evening.

Dooku returned from the extended Council session to find his private quarters comfortably occupied by an insouciant trespasser.

The Sentinel cast a withering eye upon the door's code key plate. "I see there has been some malfunction."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, unfurling from the Force's timeless embrace, mouth twitching mischievously. "Not at all. I simply informed the maintenance supervisor droid that your plumbing was impacted, and then intercepted the repair droid when it arrived. The override sequence was 67aurek9, by the way."

Dooku's mouth thinned. "I shall have to reprogram the system parameters, I see." He padded across the common room, and folded his black cloak onto a narrow console table. "Do make yourself at home."

"Thank you," his uninvited guest replied, dipping his head respectfully.

A snort, which might have been darkly amused. The silver haired Jedi folded himself upon another cushion, taking up position at the ebony table dominating the room's austere décor.

"So," he murmured, regarding his young companion thoughtfully. "You have run afoul of Jenna Zan Arbor once again. I must say, the two of you seem bound by a curious magnetism."

Obi-Wan's hackles rose, invisibly. "It was not a welcome encounter."

Dooku flicked dust from his sleeve. "She is but a pawn in some greater scheme.. but I will allow you, the vile creature deserves swift justice."

"Which has been already once been visited upon her and left no scar."

The senior Jedi waved a dismissive hand. "Justice must sometimes be sought outside the delusional strictures of a mock trial. I wonder whether your recurrent entanglements with the good Doctor do not augur the judgment of destiny."

"A Jedi seeks not revenge," Obi-Wan warily countered.

"But the Force may wreak vengeance on the legions of Darkness," Dooku intoned. "And there is no greater service than the sublimation of personal desire into greater Purpose."

The young Knight remained wrapped in a pensive silence.

"Someday," his host prophesied, "You will dare to claim your birthright. There are few in any generation who are called upon to be true blades of Light - instruments of the universal Force."

Obi-Wan shunted his discomfort with this oft-repeated proclamation into that self-same Force, diverting the conversation into more amenable channels. "Speaking of blades, Master, we brought back a curious artifact from Terajon. A forged sword – metal, pre-spacefaring epoch, the previous owner surmised. Although, I'm not so sure. It has a strange… signature. Qui-Gon and I both agreed."

"Intriguing," the Sentinel murmured. "And where is this oddity now?"

"We sent it back to Coruscant in a stasis container. It should be in the Archives accessioning level by now."

Dooku rested his perfectly manicured hands upon dark trouser knees. "I shall importune Jocasta Nu later, then, and have a look at this marvel."

They sat, each warily contemplating the other, for a long span of minutes.

"You are disturbed," the Shadow observed, at long last, the barest glint of sympathy stirring in his deep set eyes.

Obi-Wan studied his folded hands, then withdrew the folded paper tractate from an inner pocket. "This," he admitted, on a soft exhalation, and extended the antiquated document to his companion.

Dooku's fingers smoothed the parchment flat upon one knee. His silver brows contracted delicately as he perused its contents, then rose. "Impressive, " he murmured. "Most impressive."

"It is seditious propaganda," his young guest frowned.

"No, no," the older man purred. "I would not so malign the author of this treatise… from whom did it originate?"

The young Knight's shoulders lifted, casually. "Person or persons unknown."

It was difficult to say whether Dooku believed him or not; certainly the Sentinel's mental shields were as impeccable as his own, a smoked glass reflecting back only the hazed assumptions of the inquisitor. "Still," the older man said, "It is good to know that intellect has not died out entirely from the galaxy at large."

"Nor the impulse to treason?"

But Dooku only chuckled, a soundless shimmering in the plenum. "My dear boy, rebellion against tyranny and decay can hardly be counted as treason. " A weighted pause. "There may come a time when the Republic's true friends are those who dare stand against her corrupted doppelganger."

"Master!"

The Sentinel seemed to dismiss his own outrageous claim with an airy gesture, but an oracular gong-note still resonated ominously in the Force. Obi-Wan stirred, unease trickling into his limbs, prompting him to restless squirming.

"May I keep this?" the older man asked, simply.

Surprised, his companion blinked, and then nodded. "Of course." He watched as the paper was carefully folded and then slipped between the layers of Dooku's tunics. "It is of no consequence to me."

"Of course it isn't," the Shadow replied, his thin smile a trenchant benediction. "And I shall see that it is suitably preserved ."

Task accomplished, Obi-Wan bowed his respect and fled the scene, unexpectedly glad to be relieved of the damning piece of evidence, the indelibly scrawled dictates of some fickle and heartless fate, the future's indecipherable book.

He would live in the present moment.

"I'm famished; just how long precisely does it take to achieve transcendent serenity, Master?"

Qui-Gon, characteristically, was merely amused by his annoyance. "As ever, you ask the wrong question, Obi-Wan."

"I'm coming down there myself to expedite the process."

A suppressed chuckled edged the tall man's reply. "We'll have a rake waiting for you."

When every stone, from pebble to boulder, had been placed with exquisite care so that the sum balance was in perfect equilibrium, and every grain of sand had been painstakingly raked into concentric overlapping circles about these immutable anchor-points, the surface of the rock garden an unruffled representation of stillness-in-motion, the two elder Jedi declared that the meditation was complete, and stood beaming upon their handiwork.

Obi-Wan stowed his rake in the small storage shed. "You do realize the younglings will be in here tomorrow morning, wreaking havoc in every direction?"

Master Pertha only beamed indulgently. "There is no chaos, there is harmony."

Qui-Gon held out a hand over the pristine spectacle, doomed to be prematurely trampled into disarray by eagerly scampering feet. "This is what the next generation exists to accomplish, my young friend: the feckless disruption of established wisdom. By teaching, we are pushed to relinquish our attachment to the first forms in which we embody our own wisdom, and to achieve motion-in-stillness. Wonderful, is the mind of a child."

"I am not taking a padawan, if that's what you're building up to here."

The aged Togruta chuckled heartily. "Force's sake, Qui-Gon, feed the lad – plummeting blood sugar has a very deleterious effect upon temper and mood."

Obi-Wan flushed, despite himself.

"Come along," the tall Jedi master told his friend. "The diner closes its doors at midnight, and we both know you fly slower than a paranoid old biddy."

His former apprentice shrugged into his cloak. "You are picking up the bill, don't forget."

"Dex won't charge us, anyhow."

They made a graceful double bow to Agrion Pertha, and held each other's laughing gaze without breaking their perfect sabaac-face for a long few seconds, and then strode away side by side, poised at the fulcrum of motion-in-stillness, upon the brink of a tumultuous future.

End Book II