Legacy

Book I

Chapter 22

"He's really sort of cute when he's sleeping," Bant Eerin observed, philosophically, tucking her patient in and checking the placid biomonitor's settings.. "You would never know he's capable of scrapping a dozen tanks single-handedly."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Qui-Gon agreed, all but melting into the relative comfort of a plastoid chair in the ship's well appointed if small medbay. It was a relief to know that Obi-Wan would be recovered in short order, now that proper equipment, and expert skill, were at hand.

"They can indeed," the apprentice healer replied, huge round eyes fixing him with an uncomfortably perspicacious glare. ""Don't think you're fooling me, Master Jinn."

Vexed- and taken aback at the habitually timid Mon Cals' newly acquired imperiousness – he raised both brows. Apparently the young healer had learned much during her two year tenure at Alderaan's premier university – enough to render rank and reputation insufficient defenses against her sense of duty.

"You're next," Bant declared, fixing him with a look that channeled Ben To Li at his most vociferous and authoritative. "It was a beautiful serendipity that I was heading home aboard this ship; I think anyone else might have overlooked the less obvious." She folded her arms and stared down at the tall Jedi master, posture and bearing those of a woman who would brook no opposition.

Qui-Gon knew himself to be caught – and this time, there would be no Obi-Wan rushing to the rescue. He surrendered to his fate bravely, for he was a Jedi.

"Very well, Healer Eerin," he grumbled.

Bant had the great satisfaction of arriving home at the Temple on Coruscant with two subdued and sedate patients in tow, a conquering hero returning with the spoils of war, evidence of her vast prowess and skill. Even Ben To Li was impressed.

"You've done very well indeed," the silver haired senior healer murmured, fingering the end of his neatly trimmed beard. "I can't find a thing wrong with either of the impertinent whelps – except Kenobi here still entertains some laughable notions about the Teth conflicts. That, however, is a congenital defect ; there is no cure for terminal irrationality."

Obi-Wan merely raised his brows. "Did I mention I've met real Paxellian legionaries now?"

The healer tapped data into the release forms, snorting softly. "Next you'll be telling me you were abducted by them and worshiped as a divinity… showered with riches and slave girls, too, most likely."

"We didn't get quite as far as all that. I was rather busy with other things."

Ben To waved a dismissive hand at him. "You can bore me with your twaddle later. Right now, I'm busy with other things."

"Oh, I shan't take up any more of your valuable time," the young Knight promised, winking broadly at Bant. "Am I allowed out on parole now?"

"Yes- and Force forbid I see you again soon in any capacity but that of visiting pest. I've my hands full as it is. Pass that same message on to your accomplice, will you?"

"Of course, Master Li."

As though summoned by the thought, Qui-Gon Jinn appeared in the doorframe, neatly attired. "Here," he addressed his young counterpart. "The quartermaster sends his, ah… regards."

Obi-Wan accepted the pile of pristine cream and brown cloth with feigned apprehension.

"Master Pakkra's exact words," the messenger continued, blandly, "were: tell Kenobi that if he requisitions another cloak inside the next ten-month, I'll fashion one for him out of his own irresponsible hide."

"Oh dear!" poor Bant exclaimed.

"I'd like to see him try," the subject of the harsh threat muttered, changing into proper uniform with the ease of long habit.

"Take heart," the tall Jedi master counseled his former padawan. "The Council is likely to beat him to it. We are due in the south tower at meridian."

All levity fled the younger Jedi's demeanor. He shrugged into the new cloak, adjusting its voluminous hood to drape about his shoulders.

"What's this?" Ben To Li indulged in a dark chuckle. "Expecting censure from the Council, are we? The acorn does not fall far from the tree."

Knight and Master favored him with identical looks of disdain, and swept out into the corridor side by side, leaving the two healers to smile fondly in their wake.

"So let me summarize." Mace Windu's resonant baritone echoed darkly through the sun-drenched Council chamber. "You destroyed the governement's automated attack force, posed as a heathen deity, and unleashed a barbarian war party on the Nemoidian trade officers."

Obi-Wan bowed his head, hands folded tightly together inside wide cloak sleeves. "Yes, Master." He stood, encircled by twelve critical gazes, awaiting the inevitable reprisal for rash action.

"You do realize what is lacking here, Kenobi?" the Korun master continued, dark eyes glinting with a singularly fierce light.

Qui-Gon was far too jaded to be fazed by his childhood friend's stern tone, but it was painful to see his own protégé subjected to the same scathing chastisement that the gathered councilors habitually imposed upon himself He stirred impatiently, quashing an impulse to step bodily between Mace and the perceived felon.

"Yes, Master Windu; I am truly sorry."

"Really." A pause, in which the revered master's gaze flitted from the young Knight back to his tall and maverick companion, and then over to Yoda, who sat hunched in his own chair, mouth wrinkled into an inscrutable line. "I would have jettisoned the Trade Federation cargo, too."

A bright flare of mischief lanced between the Korun and the youngest member of the assembly. Obi-Wan's head came up, blue eyes glittering with relief, gratitude, and – Qui-Gon's brows rose in surprise – recognition of a kindred spirit.

And what sort of teaching relationship might that have been? the older man wondered, briefly, momentarily encompassing Mace and Obi-Wan in one sweeping mental brushstroke. Surely it was a mercy of the Force they had never been paired; they would have exponentially multiplied each other's propensity for wreaking havoc and inordinate fondness for stick-up-the-arse Code-spouting.

He shielded that thought very carefully, of course – though the swift sideways glance Obi-Wan spared him might have been laced with suspicion.

"Other than your somewhat novel definition of reconnaissance," Ki Adi Mudi mildly interjected, "the mission outcome is not poor. We now have a good idea what is stirring in that sector; knowledge is to be preferred to ignorance, no matter how ominous its ramifications."

"Hmmmph," old Yoda grunted, shifting testily. "Under pressure from Trade Federation, the Niffredni government acted; but what motive have the Nemoidians? Too risky for mere profit is this scheme."

Qui-Gon stepped forward. "I concur. Though Tord believed himself to be operating for the sake of material gain, there was something …. wrong.. with his mind. I felt Darkness within him."

"A puppet, you believe he was, Master Qui-Gon?"

"I do." The grim implications were wasted on none of them. "Though of whom, or what, I cannot say."

The abundant noontide light was leached of its warmth, a shadow of premonition settling over them all.

"But that leaves us with the question why," Adi Gallia mused. "What ulterior motive could anyone have for encouraging the formation of an independent militia in the Rims?"

Yan Dooku's glimmering blue hologram steepled its fingers. "The Republic's border territories have been crumbling into sedition for a century," the Shadow observed, coolly. "It is only the lack of resources that prevents them from outright treason."

Mace scowled at his cynical colleague. "Then it behooves us to discover precisely who is behind this gambit."

Dooku inclined his head, aristocratic features composed in a stern determination. "I shall make it my personal quest," he promised.

"Something more to say have you, Qui-Gon?'

The tall master nodded, conferring silently with his young partner before speaking. "Yes. I – we both – recommend that some protection be provided for the indigent natives of Niffrendi. It is they who stand to lose the most, and they who will be the first to suffer should these machinations start again.."

Yoda huffed and tapped clawed fingers against his chair's armrest. "Meditate upon it we will. Much trouble brewing in the Rim, there is. Need for greater Jedi involvement, perhaps."

Knight and Master bowed, delegating the responsibility to others, at least for the moment.

"May the Force be with you," Mace dismissed them.

"Obi-Nobi!"

Obi-Wan paused in mid-stride, excusing himself from Qui-Gon's company with a sprightly smile of apology, and hurried across the crowded concourse to greet his Twi'Lek comrade.

"Feld. Still unattached, I see."

But the blue-skinned Jedi grimaced expressively. "Obedience and duty, my friend."

They fell into step, heading by unspoken mutual consent toward the senior dojo level. "You've, ah, surrendered to the inevitable, then."

Feld's lekku twitched. He directed them toward an open door, the entrance to a teaching salle where an older initiate class was practicing 'saber drills. "I attended the tournament last week, while you were gone."

Obi-Wan raised his brows, expectant. "And?"

The Twi'Lek Knight straightened his spine manfully. "And allow me to introduce you personally."

The younglings filed out, respectfully nodding and bowing as they passed the pair. "Master Spruu. Master Kenobi. Excuse me, Masters. Pardon, Masters. "

And then, last in line: a nimble young Nautolan, her green headtails bound back with a thin leather tie, her enormous opalescent eyes shining with undisguised hero-worship. "Master!" she exclaimed, bowing very low indeed before Feld, whose air of serene authority was shattered by the ear to ear grin splitting his face. He placed both blue hands on the lithe girl's shoulders and turned her to face his friend.

"May I present my padawan learner, Zhoa Pleromata. Padawan, this is the notorious Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Zhoa looked as though she might explode. She almost forgot to bow.

Stifling any expression of amusement, Obi-Wan dipped his head courteously. "Padawan. I am sure you will be a great Jedi one day, if you possess the patience to endure the rigors of Master Spruu's company for the next ten-year."

The young Nautolan all but shrank back against Feld's towering figure. "Master," she whispered, tugging at his tunic sleeve.

The Twi'Lek dropped to one knee and listened gravely as his apprentice murmured a question in his ear.

"Ah," he smiled, rising gracefully. "Obi-Nobi: Would you honor us by sharing evening meal tonight? I promise not to cook – we'll fetch something from the refectory."

"Well… so long as the fare is edible. It would be my pleasure."

Feld sent his student skipping away down the hall with a gentle wave of one hand. "What do you think, eh?" he inquired. "So sweet – I've dodged a blaster bolt. This is going to be easy."

"How old is she?"

"Not quite eleven yet." Feld congratulated himself upon his wise choice with a very smug smile.

"You are in deep trouble, my friend," Obi-Wan assured his confident acquaintance. "I look forward to watching the debacle unfold."

The Twi'Lek Knight chuckled. "You bastard. We dine at sixth hour."

The promised repast was unremarkable, but the company good. Feld listened enrapt to Obi-Wan's account of the affair on Niffrendi, gaping and guffawing at all the right places in the narrative, especially the episode involving Olokk, god of chaos.

"Attend carefully," the Twi'Lek advised his awestruck apprentice. "You are to emulate nothing this man does."

"Yes, Master," Zhoa solemnly intoned, clearing away the dishes without being asked.

"Pull another stunt like that and they'll station you on Chandrila permanently," Feld warned his friend. Then, while his apprentice was distracted with dessert preparations, "And how, ah, is the partnership working out? You and Master Jinn make quite the team."

The young Knight found the question far easier to answer than he might previously have. "Being on assignment with Qui-Gon is always… lively." He paused, feeling the Force chime harmoniously in accord with the sentiment. "Of course, we're still getting to know one another."

Feld bestowed a very quizzical look upon him, but chose not to reply.

"I made this myself," Zhoa announced, reappearing in the spartan common room bearing a small platter of Nautolan sticky-rozz balls. "I hope you like it, Master Kenobi."

"I'm sure I shall. Thank you very much."

Their attention was pleasantly diverted into other channels for the rest of the evening.

When he returned to quarters late that night, Qui-Gon was – predictably enough- waiting up for him.

"You needn't have," Obi-Wan groused, good-humoredly.

"But when have I ever followed the dictates of reason?" the tall man playfully retorted. "As you have complained on innumerable occasions."

"Sola." The younger man yielded carelessly, forfeiting the contest before they had truly engaged. He knelt at the low table, noting that the tea was perfectly brewed, his arrival obviously anticipated down to the last minute. There was a strange comfort in being so… familiar.

"I attended the late legislative session with Mace," Qui-Gon informed him, pouring the fragrant green liquid into two bowls. "Word travels fast; Niffrendi's planetary authorities have retraced their petition to the Senate – and the Trade Federation has denied any connection with Tord or Ghurb, claiming they were renegades."

Obi-Wan snorted. "Likely."

"The Chancellor and the Senate were relieved," the Jedi master elaborated. "Threats to the tenuous security of our borders are … too much… for the committee system to handle."

"But something must be done, Master. If unrest is stirring, as Master Dooku suggested… and if there is a malign power pulling puppet strings…"

"I know," Qui-Gon quietly replied. "The balance is shifting. We all feel it."

They did; the Republic slid vertiginously toward some undefined future, one veiled by shifting mantles of shadow and light. But in the moment, in the here and now, another balance had been attained, counterweight to the blurred horizons of the possible. A new poise and equilibrium settled into permanence between them, the strength of a legacy built upon solid foundations.

"There is no saying what the future may bring… but we shall face it together."

Their eyes met, no further words needful to compact their luminous alliance, the security of a hard-won peace.

And the Force rose with the coiling steam, settled with the warm air, surrounded them and penetrated them and bound all things together in the yoke of whatever that destiny might, in time, reveal.

End Book I

- With hearty thanks to Valairy Scot for her invaluable editorial skills -