Exodus

Chapter 7

I had imagined something better than this. Here, on Apsolon Beta, a throwaway planet in the Mid Rim, the Republic's many refugee groups are given temporary shelter from the storms and squalls which drove them to these metaphorical shores. Needless to say, the accommodations are not striking. At least my Feorians have been given their own camp – a rude compound, albeit one with no gate and no fence, filled with pre-fab bungalows and a few public buildings for eating and bathing. I should not say "my" Feorians. These people now belong to no one.

They are happy, I tell myself. They are happier, even if they do not yet know it. Freedom is better than slavery, even if it brings with it great burdens and challenges. How many years…how many generations before these people fully integrate into society? Will they ever? I am told a commission has been established to find them a permanent home, and to research and cultivate the preservation of their extinct culture. Their not-so-extinct culture. The Feorians do not understand any of this. Many of them still think that we have simply bought them and that they have been transferred to another owner. There is much still to be done – far more than one man, or one lifetime, can accomplish.

But these melancholy thoughts are distracting me. And here comes the medic whom I have been avoiding all afternoon.

"Master Jinn!" he calls out, hurrying forward with two assistants in tow.

I bow. Caught. There is nothing to do but admit defeat. This fellow and his med team have spent the greater part of the last four days locating and removing the slaving implants from each and every one of the Feorians along with the linked electrocollars. It is a tricky procedure – the chips are also rigged for self-destruction in case of tampering and pose a considerable danger . I have declined to have my own chip removed until all of these innocents are cleared from the threat. I took Beobu at his word; and the team here has honored my request. Of course the delay has also meant four days spent here in camp with the Feorians. Mace returned to Coruscant to deliver a Council report, damn him.

And Obi Wan elected to stay here, by my side, among the "pathetic life forms." He loathed the idea, but he chose it freely for my sake. His anger at me is incandescent, a lovely sharp ire like a glow-moth carving across a night sky. If anger were not a path to the Dark Side, I would never apologize. I might let him remain angry indefinitely... His wit is sharper, his saber skills deadlier, his very movement more elegantly powerful when he is angry. But this is not the Jedi way.

I follow the medic to the mobile surgery unit they have set up on the outskirts of the camp.

"It's between the base of my neck and the right shoulder blade," I inform the surgical assistant, a thin spindly droid with an emotionless face plate. Whoever thought droids were a good idea in the healing arts, I know not. But he was a fool.

"Affirmative," the thing tells me, as though surprised that I know this. "This procedure is delicate, Master Jedi. It would be most unfortunate were the device to be triggered during extraction. I recommend sedation during the procedure."

Hells, no.

"Master."

Oh, so he's found me. Amusement at my expense is rapidly obscuring the layers of anger and resentment, luminous clouds veiling that hot flare of vexation and hurt. And I can feel a burgeoning affection for the Feorians, too. I told him – he always ends up liking the pathetic life forms. It just takes a period of adjustment.

"Do you wish me to stay and hold your hand?" my apprentice smirks.

Impudent brat, I think. I know he heard it through our bond – that barely concealed smile betrays it. He has refused to discuss the mission any further, beyond that one explosive confrontation on the smuggler's ship. I know that the silence will last until the Council has thoroughly chewed us up and spit us out again. Until then, I am grateful for this momentary respite, a moment of familiar humor.

"I think I can manage, Padawan."

"You'd better make it a double dose," he advises the medic. "He's a handful."

I'm a handful? I only did what I had to do…that's' all I've ever done. Two hundred lives are worth a little trouble and a tongue-lashing. I will him to see it, to understand. Compassion trumps all- otherwise there is no point in being a Jedi, Code or no Code, Council or no Council. For a moment, before the blasted drugs begin to take effect, I glimpse Obi Wan's face. He is still angry, yes…but there is something more there now.. He is also pensive, soberly weighing loyalty and intellect against harsh experience and personal feelings. I respect the struggle – but I know which will win in the end. And that is enough. I feel content.

So here they are at last, standing before the Council. Stars know why it took four solid days to depart from Apsolon Beta. Some complication with the slaving implants, I'm told. No matter. We've had plenty of time to debate and discuss the outcome of Qui Gon's latest indiscretion. The Council has already come to a decision. All that remains to be heard is the other side of the story.

"Why did you not return to Coruscant immediately upon releasing the bounty hunter into custody?" I ask Qui Gon.

"The Force told me I was still needed," he replies, as serenely self-confident as though I had asked why did you eat and he had answered because I was hungry.

"Padawan," I continue. "What happened after the mission was finished?"

Kenobi lets out a long sigh of resignation and glances sideways at Qui Gon. Who knows what passes between them silently. "Master Jinn disappeared from camp early that morning. I woke and tracked him to a location a few klicks distant, where I discovered evidence of a brief struggle. Concluding that he had been captured by Marshaak's forces, I called for assistance. Master Windu responded," he recites carefully.

"Hm," Yoda grunts. "Woke, you say. Sensed not your master's peril, did you, until too late?"

Kenobi flushes. He's got to learn to control that – it gives away too much. "I believe I was quite deeply asleep," he says tightly.

Yoda purses his lips. "Under Force compulsion?"

The Padawan's back stiffens. "Yes, master."

"I see." My turn to strike. Qui Gon is disgruntled. He would rather answer the questions himself. Too bad. "And what did you believe the correct course of action to be?"

This doesn't pose such a risk. "I knew the Council would immediately send aid. An imprisoned Jedi is always a top priority. Master Windu arrived to help rescue Master Jinn."

"And the Feroians?" Ki Adi gently prods.

"Unfortunately, they had been linked to Master Jinn with a slaving device. In order to rescue him, it was necessary to remove all the slaves from Marshaak's fortress. To attempt otherwise would have been imprudent and endangered lives."

"How convenient," Depa murmurs. I catch her eye. She always knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Yes, master," Kenobi agrees, clearly uncomfortable. He glances sideways again, but Qui Gon is interested in some detail in the distant landscape outside the panoramic windows.

"So, you would say that everyone involved acted precisely according to the Code and in the only manner possible to effect a facile and peaceful solution?" Ki Adi urges.

Kenobi hesitates. Jedi do not lie.

"Well?" Yoda prompts.

"The results of our actions were all good and worthy of the Jedi, " the young man ventures at last. "I cannot find fault in the outcome. Master Jinn was rescued, and the Feorians ended up free of slavery and re-established under Republic sponsorship."

But Ki Adi is not to be outdone by a mere lad. "I asked whether in your judgement there was no other course of action open to you?"

Kenobi would be squirming if he weren't a Jedi. I sense a distinct ripple of pleasure from my fellow Councilors. Qui Gons' face is a stony, cold mask. He's intensely furious that we have chosen to interrogate his Padawan rather than him.

"The only other choice would be to abandon my master," the boy states flatly. "That is unacceptable."

"Captured by Marshaaks' men on purpose, he was. Manipulated the situation to his own purposes. Used a sleep compulsion on you, Padawan, he did. Used your loyalty to force the Council's hand. Blameless you would have been if abandoned him you had."

"I counseled just that," I put in. Here comes the hard part. I don't really want to strike this blow, but it's my duty. "And what was your response?"

Now we have Qui Gon's attention. He didn't know that I had been on the verge of leaving him to his well-deserved fate. His eyes widen as he studies his Padawan.

Kenobi addresses me levelly, not a flicker of emotion anywhere. I am impressed. "I begged you, Master Windu. I took responsibility for the decision and my master's actions. And I suggested the plan for his rescue."

Depa folds her hands. "Which included hiring a smuggler crew to transport the slaves back to Republic space," she clarifies. "And holding Master Windu at lightsaber point."

She is protective of me, naturally. I hide my smile and turn back to the two Jedi in the center of the room.

"Yes, my masters." Kenobi holds his head high. He is a man going to his execution. I know the look well.

"You are….blessed…Jinn.," I growl. The ingrate doesn't even know how very, very true this is. "I would have left you. The Jedi Code is not to be manipulated to suit your own desires. Had your Padawan not intervened, you would still be in Marshaaks' clutches."

The look he directs at me is not one considered appropriate for use inside the Temple precinct, much less the Council chamber. At least Kenobi has the decency to blush on his master's behalf.

"Discussed this we have already," Yoda informs them. "Amends to be made, there are."

Yes," I say. "You, Qui Gon, are my sparring partner every day for the next two months. There will be no missions for either of you during that time. You are both officially on probation as of this moment forward, until the Council reconsiders your case in sixty days. At that time, you will each recite the entire traditional enchiridion portions of the Chakora commentary on the Code, by heart, in front of the entire Council."

Qui Gon looks like this might be a tolerable arrangement. Kenobi is expressionless, but dismay seeps through his mental shields.

"Two months?" Qui Gon repeats. "That is a long time. Surely there is some work we can participate in…." They both hate idleness.

"I'm not finished. There is still the matter of the smugglers. The Temple has remunerated them from its private treasury. You will be repaying that rather staggering sum, since it was you who formed the contract."

Jinn's eyebrows rise. Hadn't thought of that, had you my maverick friend? "How?" He asks politely. He really hasn't a clue what's coming.

I steeple my fingers, savoring this moment. "There are some very generous individuals in the Senate who have agreed to donate a fraction of their fundraising proceeds to the Feorians' cause. The profits should cover the debt to the smugglers, as well as a hefty contribution to the relocation effort."

Qui Gon looks pleased. "That is good news. And how does this involve Obi Wan and myself?"

"You will be attending every one of the gala events. There are seventeen scheduled over the duration of your probationary period, plus four public parades. I'm sure you will find the experience highly reformational."

Silence. Qui Gon's pleased expression slides off his face, to be replaced by utter impassivity. The Force churns with his outrage and disgust. Beside him, Kenobi seems to shrink into his robes. I think I catch him casting a fleeting glance at Yoda – a plea for mercy. I don't think so. It took a lot of calls to arrange this punishment.

They bow, in unison, as unhappy as a pair of kitlings dunked in a cold river. "Yes, masters."

When the burnished doors hiss shut behind their retreating backs, I finally allow my laughter to burst forth. Serves you right, gentlemen!

Well, here we are. Not exactly on a diplomatic mission. We are at present surrounded by forty seven gluttonous senators and aides, thirteen obnoxious and assorted consorts and concubines, and a sea of officious serving droids. The floating barge sluggishly wends its way through Coruscant's skies. Pieces of confetti are stuck in my hair – the sticky kind. It wil hurt coming out.

"No thank you," I tell the serving droid offering me bubbling chappaga. Though possibly I should just drink myself into a stupor – anything to alleviate the vile boredom of these events. And to think this is just number three of twenty-one total. I shall have to be committed to the permanent care of the mind healers when this ordeal is over. My master should already have been committed years ago.

"Not so," he smiles, reading the unspoken thought.

"Master, I find myself tempted to jump off the edge."

"Suicide is not the Jedi way," he sighs. "Or I would join you."

We watch as the barge passes a senatorial residence building. I avert my eyes form some of the revelry going on in the upper balconies, the penthouse suite with its transparent domed roof. How much longer? The Twi'Lek Senator's concubine is twining herself around me, and I have to extricate myself from her soft but rather intrusive fingers.

"Excuse me, Ma'am."

She actually bites me on the ear before departing. Force help me! We are trapped on a pleasure barge with these beings for at least another three hours…how could Master Windu be so cruel? I look up at Qui Gon. He has a bruise purpling across one cheek. Another sparring session this morning, then. Master Windu has been further developing his own special saber form, called vapaad. It is considered a form of Dark Side flirtation. I don't doubt it.

"It is worth it, Obi Wan," my master reminds me.

The Feorians. Innocent people saved. I have to keep repeating it to myself. This is possibly the worst thing we have ever suffered on behalf of Qui Gons' strays – his famous lost causes. I'm not sure how much more championing of the underdog I am wiling to undertake.

"You'll be brilliant, Obi Wan," he tells me. What? Is that a prediction about the future? No thank you, master, please keep your focus in the present moment where it belongs. On the other hand, this present moment is extraordinarily uncomfortable, so I don't blame you.

"I owe you not only my thanks, but an apology, Padawan."

We haven't discussed Seluvia since that first argument on the ship… and here he picks this time and place. Typical Qui Gon. I shrug. The truth is, I've already forgiven him. What's done is done…and Qui Gon would not be himself unless he occasionally strayed so far out of the expected bounds that he gave the Council a conniption. And I have to admit that after all the days in the camp, and many more meditating on the question…well, I have grown fond of the Feorians. Part of me secretly agrees that it was worth it.

"No apology is needed, master…but I accept." He lays a hand on my shoulder. All is forgiven and forgotten. How else would it end?

"I'll make it up to you," he promises, really and truly wishing to mend the rift, a pledge never to manipulate me in that manner again. "As soon as we are…ah…out on parole. We can take a quick training trip somewhere. Your choice. Ragoon? Stellaria? Alderaan?"

That is an offer I won't refuse, although it is completely unnecessary. On the other hand our training trips never work out as planned. Perhaps I should request something a bit more staid. Where would I like to go when this absurd probationary period is over?

"Why don't we go check on the Feorians?" I suggest, surprising even myself. But I mean it; this is the simple truth. "I'd like to see how they're coming along."

Qui Gon smiles, that rare burst of warmest joy that lights up not only his lined face but the Force itself. And the night doesn't seem so torturous after all.