Joint Strength Conclusion: Two Ceremonies

Through the remainder of Coruscant's long night, three Jedi Healers worked over Obi-Wan's knee.

At first, Obi-Wan had been awake, face white despite the support the Healers were giving him through the Force. Qui-Gon tried to help by narrating his entire experience since leaving Obi-Wan three days before, putting all his creative power into making the story as riveting as possible. He was rewarded by Obi-Wan's unwavering attention, while some of the pained tightness left the boy's face. Then, in short phrases, Obi-Wan related his own tale, carefully describing all his actions, but leaving unsaid the motivations and emotions that had driven him. Qui-Gon noticed this omission, and wondered. But he did not push for more, and suddenly, almost between one sentence and the next, Obi-Wan fell deeply asleep.

Qui-Gon stayed with him, occasionally brushing gentle fingers across the boy's brow, allowing a subtle pulse of the Force to seep into his sound, healing sleep. He tried not to stare broodingly at the Healers, bent in silent focus at the other end of the platform where Obi-Wan lay. At least once every fifteen minutes, he found it necessary to forcibly restrain himself from asking urgently about their progress. Obi-Wan's boneless stillness did not reassure him.

Finally though, as the platinum light of morning filtered into the room, one of the Healers, Cattidi Mun, stepped away from the platform and eased several of his tentacles into more comfortable positions. He offered Qui-Gon a small smile, and a staccato clicking noise, his species' signal of approval.

"We have repaired it," he said, while Qui-Gon was drawing breath to ask. "He must treat it gently for a day or two, but no permanent damage remains."

Qui-Gon dropped his head, crossing his arms across his chest as he assimilated the relief that coursed through his spirit. After a moment, he looked up and said simply, "Thank you."

"We serve the Force," Cattidi raised a tentacle, knotted in a gesture of reverence. "And, in this case, the outcome brings us great satisfaction."

The two other healers had broken their focus as well, and nodded in agreement.

"It was a bad injury," said one, whose name Qui-Gon did not know.

Cattidi pulled a light coverlet closer about Obi-Wan's shoulders, and then raised his chin toward Qui-Gon in inquiry. "You will stay with him?"

At Qui-Gon's nod, the Healer continued, "He'll wake soon, no doubt feeling fairly rested, which is more than you can say, I think."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I'll survive."

Cattidi clicked his approval, and, with a nod to his companions, followed them from the room. Qui-Gon settled into a cushioned bench against the wall and studied the morning light, now tinged with gold. Had it really been only three days since he and Obi-Wan had walked through a similar morning's glow to part at the Temple's main doors? And what had he had been his last words of advice? "Don't pack much. . .?"

Qui-Gon allowed himself a small derisive snort. Not much wisdom there to carry the boy through the trials he would face in the hours that followed.

Obi-Wan, he thought. This wasn't what I had in mind when I brought you back here from Bandomeer.

Hesitant footsteps out in the hall alerted him, and he turned to see the doorway filled with three young students: a Calamarian girl and two male humans, all wearing identical doubtful expressions.

Qui-Gon raised a hand to beckon them. "Come in. You're welcome, though he's still asleep."

"No, he's not," came a slightly blurry voice.

Qui-Gon pivoted, automatically reaching out to lay a hand against his temple, and the three students gathered quickly at the end of the bed. Obi-Wan managed a grin, directed first at Qui-Gon and then his friends.

"Good. . . morning?" he said.

"Yes, Padawan, morning." Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan's next, unspoken question. "And the Healers were able to fully repair your knee."

After the celebration provoked by this news had receded, a small awkward silence pressed itself on them. Obi-Wan broke it by suddenly remembering to introduce his three friends, who all seemed slightly awed by Qui-Gon's imposing presence. The Master felt this, and smiled.

"I need to go make some inquiries, Obi-Wan. I'll be back soon." With a nod to the others, he swept from the room, though his stride lacked its usual energy. Bant, Garen and Reeft watched him go, and then transferred accusing gazes to Obi-Wan. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I'm sorry! I just couldn't tell you all about it yet."

This inadequate statement precipitated a storm of questions and jests, and the room became uncommonly noisy, for quite a long while.

Finally, though, when Obi-Wan had explained the circumstances of his apprenticeship and apologized to all their satisfactions, and then recounted much more soberly the events in the power conduit; and Garen and Reeft humorously narrated their own story of endlessly waiting and finally falling asleep in Obi-Wan's barren room; and Bant had described the General and the _sinna_ and the explosion: finally, then, a new silence spread over the room, comfortable this time, and filled with thoughtful warmth.

Garen cleared his throat significantly, and darted a sharp glance at Bant. Blushing slightly, she stood from the bench where she had long since perched, and drew a small, silken-wrapped parcel out of her tunic. With an exaggerated bow, she handed it to Obi-Wan.

Giving them a quizzical half-smile, he untied its braided string and slipped off the fabric covering, emptying into his hand a tiny, intricate pendant on a long leather cord. When he unwrapped the cord and dangled the pendant in front of his eyes, he realized that it was a replica, small but exact, of his mother's sculpture. His lost treasure.

For a moment, his throat constricted and he could say nothing. He cleared it and looked up at them, all peering at him a bit anxiously.

"You made this?" he asked.

Reeft nodded. "Bant remembered the design really well, and I plotted the pattern into the computer. Garen carved it with his lasercutter."

Obi-Wan, seeing them now with more observant eyes, noticed for the first time the marks of little sleep on all their faces.

"You stayed up the rest of night to make it."

A little sheepishly, Bant nodded. "We finished about three minutes before we came to see you. But it's not like we were going to sleep anyway," she added quickly. "After the excitement and all."

Obi-Wan rubbed a thumb across it, watching the inner glow brighten under the heat of his hand. He smiled then, and said slowly, "The sculpture was. . .well, it represented my family and their hopes for me. It still does, I guess, but now it also means friendship. True friends."

He lifted it, letting it wink in the sunlight. Finally, he said, "Thank you. I. . .I can't believe you did this for me."

Garen looked down, face reddened. "I'm glad we did. You'll be going away, now that you're a Padawan, probably right after the Braiding today, so. . ."

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped wide. "Braiding! Today?"

His friends stared back at him, disconcerted.

"Well, yes," Reeft said. "It showed up on everyone's 'pads about an hour ago. 'A Braiding for Obi-Wan Kenobi, in the Main Hall'. . ." His voice emphasized how unusual that was.

"With the entire Council in attendance!" Bant burst in.

Obi-Wan sat back, dumbfounded. It was not unusual for members of the Council to attend a Braiding, but often it was a more informal ceremony, with the Master and the new apprentice and many of their friends, usually held in one of the gardens. But for all of them to come! and in the Main Hall. . .!

"It's a great honor," he whispered.

"Didn't Master Jinn tell you?" Reeft's voice was faintly incredulous.

"I intended to." They whirled to see Qui-Gon leaning against the door frame, smiling, a brown robe draped over one arm. "But it seems you've beaten me to it."

Bant's coral skin took on a much deeper tint. "We're sorry. . ."

Qui-Gon held up one hand to stop her. "No apology is needed. I'm glad that Obi-Wan has such loyal friends. And, also, you're right. We will be leaving soon." He smiled at Obi-Wan. "I've just received word that Clat'Ha has requested that we return to Bandomeer for a few days, to further assist in organizing the local government." He stepped into the room and lowered himself onto the padded bench that Bant had vacated, gesturing toward the robe he held as he said, "You'll also be pleased to know that Healer Cattidi has released you from his care into mine, so you can get off that platform if you want to."

Obi-Wan sat up with alacrity, and Garen jumped forward to help him ease off the platform onto his feet. He tried a tentative step, testing the knee rather gingerly, and then walked the full length of the room. Turning back with a grin, he said, "Good as new."

Answering smiles bloomed on his friends' faces, and then Reeft jerked his head toward the door. "I really want to get come breakfast. Anyone with me?"

Bant glanced at Garen, who rolled his eyes slightly and nodded, and the three of them left the room, leaving laughing good-byes behind. Barely a moment later, however, Bant reappeared and enveloped Obi-Wan in a careful hug.

"I'm so pleased for you," she murmured, and then she was gone.

Qui-Gon smiled, and bent down to lift the pendant still dangling in Obi-Wan's hand.

"Is it a good copy?" he asked quietly.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Very good. I. . . they. . ."

"I know. You are blessed in your friends, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan nodded, and lifted the pendant over his head, and then slipped into the robe Qui-Gon offered him, grateful that he didn't have to leave the Healers Wing dressed in a medical tunic.

"Concerning friends. . .," Qui-Gon said, "I must go to the shuttle bays to bid good-bye to one. Will you come?"

"Of course, Master."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, through the Temple's morning bustle, . Many eyes followed them, and there were some who would have liked to stop them and discuss the night's extraordinary events, but a thoughtful gravity encompassed the two of them, and the busy Temple traffic parted and flowed around them without pausing, as if they were a rock in the midst of a rushing stream.

Finally, Qui-Gon said quietly, "They did not find him, down below the fan."

Obi-Wan nodded, unsurprised. "I don't understand how he could have missed being sliced by the blades."

Qui-Gon let out his breath in a slow sigh. "He was. . .is. . .strong in the Force, even though it's a dark power. Somehow he managed to fall between them and save himself." He shook his head. "And I'm certain he had an escape route prepared. He's off planet by now."

"Do you think that he really had someone helping him, here in the Temple? Someone who got him into the computer core?"

Qui-Gon's face grew grave and still. "I hope not. Perhaps he found a way to do it himself. . . If he did have an accomplice, it's someone with unlimited access, and that's a . . .a disturbing thought. The Council will investigate."

They were crossing the atrium now, aiming toward the sleek metal doors that led to the shuttle bays. Obi-Wan's brow furrowed deeply in thought, so much so that Qui-Gon finally asked, "What are you wondering about?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I just don't see how he could be planning this whole elaborate scheme at the same time he was trying to kill us on Bandomeer! He couldn't be in both places at once!"

"No." Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, and then said slowly, "I think that he had been laying the groundwork in Triki for a long time. Subverting Teek could not have been a quick or easy task. He originally planned to kill me there, I think, and then, after Bandomeer, he rushed back to Triki and then Coruscant, adapting his plan to merely trap me there, and use you as his instrument of revenge. 'I always have a back door', remember?"

"I guess it's not so strange that he had two plans going at once, then."

"No. In fact, it's extremely characteristic of him."

The sleek doors slid aside, and they entered the huge shuttle docking bays lining the north side of the Temple complex. This was one of Obi-Wan's favorite places, though he had rarely had a reason to come here. Now, though, his eyes were far away, unseeing. Softly, he said, "He'll try again."

Qui-Gon stopped him with a hand on his arm, and, when Obi-Wan looked up, said, "Yes. But we'll face that together when it happens."

Obi-Wan looked away. "I didn't face him very well this time."

"The circumstances were difficult, Padawan. We were both running in different directions, and when we were working separately, we were merely chasing after Xanatos, playing a game by rules he designed. Only in working together did we defeat him. Remember that. Two are stronger than one-that's the way of a master and an apprentice."

"And of friendship." They looked up to see General Molu approaching, raising a hand in greeting. "And you have been a true friend to me, Master Jedi."

"And you to me," Qui-Gon smiled.

The three of them walked together down the row of docking bays, the _sinna_ weaving among them. When they stopped, Qui-Gon watched as the approaching shuttle eased into the bay. Quietly, he said, "You must return to Triki." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I will stand before the Oracle at the next waning of the moon."

A small silence descended, until Qui-Gon said, "You will always have a place here, if. . ."

A half-smile on Molu's face stopped him. "No, my friend. I thank you for that, but no. My home is there."

"But if the Oracle calls for exile?"

Molu did not answer. Instead, he squatted down and held his hand out to the _sinna_, who scampered to him with a trilling coo to sniff energetically at his fingers. Molu studied its sleek form for a moment, and then looked up at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "You see the _sinna_? It's a beautiful creature, and seems content, but it's not what it was meant to be. It should be running free, deep in the jungle, with the others of its tribe. Here, it's an oddity, a disconnected spark astray from the fire where it was born."

He straightened, looking away over their shoulders to the brightening sky beyond the docking bay. "And so would I be. I am Trikan, and on Triki will I stay." He lowered his eyes to gaze unwaveringly at their faces. "If the Oracle calls for banishment, I'll refuse to accept it. I will take Honor's Path."

A grim foreboding etched itself into Qui-Gon's face as his tall form seemed to sag slightly. Slowly he asked, "Honor's Path?"

Molu's hand strayed to the hilt of the dagger in his belt. "I will sacrifice my own life as the price of the gods' judgment."

Obi-Wan felt the blow of those words strike his Master like an armored fist. "No!" he cried. "Surely. . ."

But Qui-Gon's hand settled gently on the back of his neck, steadying him and cutting off the remainder of his protest.

Molu smiled at him. "You do me honor, young Jedi. But I would not have you fear for me. Your Master knows that I have tried to act as the gods would have me, and when I stand before the Oracle, the gods will judge if honor has been served."

He shrugged. "For myself, I believe my heart is pure."

Qui-Gon said, "I believe it also." And he bent, crossing his wrists in front of his face in a Trikan salute.

Molu echoed the gesture, and with a final smile, turned to board the waiting shuttle. At the base of its ramp, though, he paused, and turned back.

"My world is wider for having gained your friendship, Qui-Gon Jinn. And yours, young Kenobi. The gods watch you."

He lifted a hand in farewell, and disappeared into his ship, the _sinna_ bounding exuberantly at his heels.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood silent until the rectangle glow of the ship's door had contracted to a square, and then a sliver, and then was gone. Then, Qui-Gon straightened his shoulders, and smiled down at the boy beside him.

"Come. You must try to get a few hours' rest. It's an important day for you."

He rested his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder as he said, "For both of us."

They left the shuttle bay, walking slowly back across the atrium in a companionable silence. After a few minutes, Qui-Gon frowned, noticing that Obi-Wan was beginning to limp. Without a word, he curved his arm around the boy's shoulders, subtly directing him to a smoothly fashioned metal bench, under a potted catalla tree. Obi-Wan sank onto it and rubbed absently at his knee. Qui-Gon seated himself on the rim of the tree's huge pot, stretching out his long legs.

"Padawan, will you tell me something?"

"Of course, Master."

Qui-Gon lifted one hand, gesturing caution. "I'm not requiring an answer. I'm asking, only."

Obi-Wan nodded. Refusing to answer a Master's question was forbidden, but Qui-Gon was leaving him that option, if he wished it.

Slowly Qui-Gon said, "Xanatos wanted you to go to the Council. He did everything in his considerable power to make that happen, but you didn't go. By doing so, you saved the Council's lives, and your own, but I'm wondering, why? Why did you so stubbornly resist the natural response?"

Obi-Wan closely examined one thumbnail for a moment. Finally, he said, "After I met him, down there, I could sense that he wanted me to go, and so I tried to do the opposite of what he wanted."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That was wise, and shows a sensitivity to the Force that's admirable." He let the warmth of the compliment wash over Obi-Wan, and then continued gently, "But at first, before you met him? Why not then?"

Silence stretched between them, a long, waiting silence.

Qui-Gon leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, fingers interlaced. He studied Obi-Wan's bent head, eyes dark with concern.

"Please tell me."

Slowly, then. Obi-Wan spoke. "I was afraid, Master."

He looked up, staring unseeing at the tree's knotted branches. Qui-Gon waited for a moment, and then prompted, voice low, "Of what?"

Obi-Wan transferred his stare down to his booted foot. "I didn't. . ."

He stopped. Qui-Gon waited. Finally, after a short sigh, he spoke quickly, in chopped phrases. "We came all the way back here, from Bandomeer. I thought that you must be worried, that the Council wouldn't approve of me as a Padawan, that you needed to persuade them in person. So then, the fight with Bruck, the lost saber. . .I was afraid, that they'd see all that as more reason to transfer me to the Agricorps permanently. That I wasn't worthy to be your apprentice."

A pause. Almost whispering, Obi-Wan repeated, "I was afraid. I'm sorry, Master."

Qui-Gon's jaw tightened with sudden emotion, and he rose swiftly and squatted down beside the boy's bench, capturing Obi-Wan's eyes as he looked up in surprise.

"You have no cause for apology. If anyone should be offering apologies, it should be me."

Obi-Wan stared at him. "You?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Yes. Me. Obi-Wan, you heard what I told Xanatos, concerning you." He waited for Obi-Wan's nod, and continued more soberly. "That was truth I told him. You are the finest of Jedi, and I came back here from Bandomeer, not to convince the Council of that, but to show you how highly they, and I, regard you."

Now Qui-Gon glanced down, and when he looked up again, Obi-Wan was shocked to see unshed tears filming his Master's eyes.

"Xanatos' betrayal marked me deeply, more deeply than I cared to see, or admit, and it caused me to reject you repeatedly. Those rejections were painful for you, and I sought to repair that. I hope that you'll forgive my blindness."

The tiny flame of fear that flickered perennially in Obi-Wan's heart sputtered and died, the last wisps of its smoke fading away as he said, "If you'll forgive my fear. I should have had more trust in you."

Qui-Gon's face relaxed into a smile. "It's a bargain, then."

"Yes." Obi-Wan frowned exaggeratedly. "But if you're blind, and I'm afraid, we're not going to get very far, are we?"

Qui-Gon straightened to his feet, and his smile quirked one corner of his mouth. "I feel somewhat less blind. And I sense no fear in you. I think we will go very far indeed."

And so it was that Obi-Wan Kenobi was formally apprenticed to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, in the great Gathering Hall of the Jedi Temple, with the entire Jedi Council, and many more of the Temple's residents, in attendance.

He stood in the center of the Hall, warmed by the light of the sun pouring endlessly through the fifty-meter tall windows. A TSD hummed busily about him, trimming his longish hair close to his head, but leaving carefully untouched a portion behind his right ear. He glanced to the right, and caught Bant's eye as she stood between Garen and Reeft, beaming at him, her coral skin alight with joy on his behalf. Garen gave him a huge grin, scrunching his eyes closed comically. Reeft raised one fist and tapped his chin, a signal of unalloyed approval whose origins were lost in the misty beginnings of their childhood friendship.

Trying to hold his head very still, he managed a lopsided smile at them.

Turning his eyes the other direction, he saw his Master standing with the Council members, looking impossibly tall next to Master Yoda's diminutive form. Qui-Gon gave him a nod and a smile, and his own smile stretched into a grin of its own volition. On Qui-Gon's other side, Tel Udrunn sat next to a hovering medchair, her arm curled protectively around the chair's occupant, A'ali Cek. A startling white bandage covered the bacta gel coating her injury, but she offered Obi-Wan a bright smile nonetheless. He knew that she had overridden the Healers' wishes to come to the Hall this afternoon, and he felt honored.

He had thought so often of this day, when he had seen other Braiding Ceremonies, and watched here and there a fellow student become a Padawan. He thought of them now, those older apprentices, striding beside their Masters with easy confidence and extreme grace, their lightsabers swinging, their braids hanging nearly to their waists. He tried to summon up an image of himself like that, and failed utterly.

Qui-Gon waited, arms folded, watching the droid finish its work, and then glanced down at Master Yoda.

"You knew all along, that I was meant to teach this boy."

Yoda's ears raised alarmingly as he answered. "Nothing, I knew! Not my place to interfere with you, it is."

Qui-Gon looked back at Obi-Wan, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Of course, my Master."

At the very back edge of the crowd, behind a group of Healers, a lone figure stood, absolutely still, his face schooled into a rigidly pleasant smile. Bruck watched, as the droid hummed away from Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon stepped forward. He watched, expression never wavering, and a dark spirit moved restlessly beneath his skin. The web of stories he had spun had seemed to satisfy those who had asked, and he had not been summoned to appear before the Council. If they called him, he would only spin the web more skillfully. He had tasted the dark wine of manipulation and deceit, and he was learning well to mask its hold upon his soul.

A silence filled the Hall as Qui-Gon stood beside Obi-Wan and faced the gathering: Masters mantled with experience and peace, the few Knights who were not absent serving the Republic in the far reaches of the galaxy, students with eager, wistful lights in their eyes, Healers radiating the power of the Living Force. He placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, and said, "I've come to this place to take Obi-Wan Kenobi as my Padawan Learner. You who honor us with your presence here know that it is my duty as Master to teach, and Obi-Wan's to learn. The Braiding is the symbol of that commitment."

He turned to Obi-Wan, face solemn, but an encouraging glint lighting his eyes as one eyelid drooped in the subtlest of winks. Obi-Wan had to look away to keep from laughing.

Qui-Gon's hands moved deftly, despite their size, taking the uncut hair and swiftly plaiting its length, until a short braid hung behind Obi-Wan's ear, barely long enough to be seen, but there nevertheless. He secured it with a slim yellow cord that had once been wrapped tightly around his own Padawan braid, many years ago.

When it was finished, they faced the assembled Jedi as Master and Padawan, and Qui-Gon said, "We serve the Force."

From scores of throats came the answer, enveloping them with its bright power: "May the Force be with you."

And thus it was done.

At the next waning of the moon, General Molu stood before the Oracle of Triki.

He was dressed in a simple tunic of silvery gray, unencumbered with any weapons, and yet he seemed more imposing, not less, as he waited, still and unwavering.

A large crowd had squeezed into the Oracle's Temple, so much so that the requisite twenty paces of open space around the petitioner was in danger of being compromised. A huge contingent of Molu's soldiers stood bunched along one wall, their faces bleak. At the edge of the circle, eyes snapping with malice, stood Kai, the cultural officer, a large dagger thrust ostentatiously through his belt.

Orthu Bela stood beside the Oracle, eyes bereft of their usual jovial glow. He raised one hand, and the muttered chatter in the room died away, smothered under a blanket of tension.

He looked long into the General's face, and then turned to the Oracle, shoulders heavy.

"Oracle, will you hear us?" he asked.

"The Oracle is always willing to hear," the mellifluous voice responded.

"General Molu has violated the gods' taboo regarding the purity of the small moon's sky. He comes to ask that the gods judge his actions and pronounce exile or absolution."

A pause. There was no sound but the shifting of feet, and a sudden hastily smothered cough..

Then, the Oracle spoke.

"The gods have seen this action, and are grieved by the breaking of taboo. The waning moon is sacred, and its purity must remain inviolate."

A halo of thick tension seemed to circle every torch and spotlight in the Temple. The air pressed down with an ever-increasing weight as the Oracle contemplated the offense and the offender.

Then, it said, "However, the gods find no evil in General Molu. He has wielded an honorable sword."

As a cheer erupted from the soldiers' throats, the voice continued, "He may go in peace."

Molu permitted himself a smile.

And, much later that evening, he slipped out of the wholeheartedly joyous party that had erupted in the Main Court, and lifted his head to study the stars, a gilded cup held casually in one hand. He turned his face slightly, just enough to take in the sparkling region of space where Coruscant lay, far beyond the range of sight.

"I'd better send a comforting message to the Master Jedi," he thought. "He and young Obi-Wan are probably thinking I've taken a dagger to my own heart by now."

The moonlight caressed the sky. It was a good night for addressing the gods, and, as he thought of his Jedi friends, he dipped his fingers into his cup. Flinging a spray of winedrops upward, he spoke a blessing.

"May the gods walk with you, Master Jedi and Young Apprentice. May you serve the galaxy for many years in the power of your joint strength."

Then he drew his cloak more tightly about his shoulders, and turned to rejoin the celebration. On the pathway behind him, an offering of droplets shimmered in the light of the waning moon.

FINIS

Thanks so much for reading! Leave a review? Even though I wrote this story QUITE some time ago, I'm still here and I'd love to hear from you!