Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

"You didn't spend two days with your arm immobilized in bacta afterwards."

"True." Obi-Wan glanced for reassurance at his master's left hand, which now bore only the faintest of scars from that incident. "I was busy enough with the meditation exercises you assigned me."

"The direst punishment I could think of for your defiance," Qui-Gon said drily.

"But even that led to my breakthrough in telepathy, so it wasn't entirely dreadful."

Qui-Gon's eyebrow crimped in puzzlement. "But what does all this have to do with your . . . technique for generating Force?"

"Ah." Obi-Wan had too much control over his body to blush, but his eyes dropped shyly. "Well, you thought I had used a saber, and I didn't bother to correct you . . ."

"Used a saber for what?"

"To get the collar off my neck."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment, but he apparently still couldn't make the connection. "You're saying you didn't use a saber?"

"Of course not. Both our sabers were locked in a case in the sleep-room, which was flooded. I was stuck in the 'fresher with no breather and almost no tools at hand."

"Obi-Wan, you will have to be more plain. How did you get the collar off?"

The young man coughed. "I reasoned that an overload of Force energy might cause the crystals' resonance to break down. But I had to generate that energy within myself somehow. So I, err . . ." The very tips of his ears began to go pink in spite of himself.

"You masturbated."

Obi-Wan nodded, involuntarily glancing around to see if anyone was in earshot.

"In the 'fresher of a sinking ship."

"I was fourteen at the time, Master. At that age . . . anytime, anyplace."

Qui-Gon chuckled richly. "Nineteen being infinitely more mature?"

"Well, I am!"

The one good eyebrow began to draw downward. "And that was all it took to get your collar off?"

"Once I built up enough Force to leak past the crystals, the material holding the collar together began to melt. That was how my neck came to be burned."

"Do you mean to say," Qui-Gon began slowly, "that I could have freed myself inside of fifteen minutes, if I had only . . ."

"Yes, Master."

"And you never thought to mention this?"

Obi-Wan looked pointedly at Qui-Gon's left hand. "I . . . didn't think you would appreciate hearing it just at the time. And we weren't likely to encounter those crystal-collars anywhere else, so it didn't seem to be a necessary piece of information."

"But now you think you can make use of the same thing in our current situation?"

"There's no reason why it shouldn't work in hyperspace as well as it did inside that collar."

Qui-Gon leaned back slightly against his up-tilted pallet. "I see a flaw in your logic, Padawan. You say the incident with the collar proves that you are generating more internal Force through sexual arousal. But would you not have gotten the same results even if you were calling the Force in from the outside? Perhaps it was your added strength in summoning an external Force which overwhelmed the collar."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I could feel the Force building within me long before the collar broke, Master. If it were coming from outside, I shouldn't have felt anything until after the collar fell apart."

"I see," said Qui-Gon slowly. "You could be right about that."

"Surely it's worth a try," Obi-Wan urged. "If this is all that's needed to heal you . . ."

"You seem very insistent, Padawan."

Obi-Wan swallowed. "I don't like to see you hurting, Master."

"Is that your only reason?"

"Isn't it enough? If we can't do something about that eye, you might end up with a very unpleasant choice between prosthesis or regeneration. Or --" He shut his mouth firmly.

Qui-Gon's eyebrow arched. "Or?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Or, it occurred to me you might make Master Piell's choice." He looked down in shame. "I find the idea . . . doesn't appeal to me, very much."

"Nor to me, Padawan, although I make no assumptions about why Master Piell chose it. If it eases your mind, you might wish to know that my choice in such a case would be regeneration. Unpleasant enough, perhaps, but only temporary. And surely you would have no objection to a few months spent at the Temple with your friends?"

"No, Master," said Obi-Wan in a small voice.

"And I believe we have already established that I need not lose the eye, though it might take me a day or two in healing trance."

"You still wouldn't be able to carry out the mission."

"A mission which you are well able to handle on your own, Obi-Wan. Yet you are most insistent upon trying this idea of yours. Therefore I ask you again: your concern for my health, and for the mission -- are these your only reasons for wanting to have sex with me?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and on the exhale he released his embarrassment and anxiety to the Force. "No, Master."

Qui-Gon waited.

"I have desired you ever since I was fourteen, since our conversation on Alderaan," the young man said steadily, eyes on the blanket that covered Qui-Gon's chest. "I believe sex with you would be . . . very enjoyable. I am an adult now, quite capable of granting or denying consent even to you. So the objections you posed on Alderaan no longer seem valid. And I am concerned for your health and your ability to participate on the mission. I wouldn't have asked you to do this simply for my own gratification, nor would I expect you to agree only for that reason."

"Do you think so little of your own charms?" Qui-Gon chided softly.

Obi-Wan looked up. "I beg your pardon?"

"No matter. Thank you for your honesty, Obi-Wan."

"But you're going to say no, aren't you?" the young man said glumly.

"I didn't say that. I must think about this carefully, and for that I will need some time alone."

Obi-Wan nodded and stood to leave. The extra weight at his belt reminded him of something else he'd been meaning to tell his master. "Here. I picked it up after the explosion." He unhooked the lightsaber and extended it toward Qui-Gon. "I . . . I used it, by accident. I couldn't find mine quickly enough."

Qui-Gon paused, his hand extended to accept the hilt. "Do you think I would begrudge you the use of it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It felt wrong. It made me think of . . . bad things." He couldn't express the feeling of unease that had come over him when he fought with his master's saber.

Qui-Gon's other hand came up, and he wrapped it over Obi-Wan's, curling his fingers close around the weapon. "You did well, Padawan. The ship is safe, and I will recover, either sooner or later."

Obi-Wan nodded unhappily.

Qui-Gon glanced down bemusedly at his bare collarbones disappearing under the light thermal sheet. "Since I have nowhere to keep it just at the moment, would you put the saber in with my other things? And perhaps bring me something to wear? I should like to get out of this bay as soon as I can persuade the droid to let me go."

"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan started to pull his hands free, then paused. He bent hastily and placed a warm kiss on his master's knuckles. "I'll leave you to make your decision now." He managed a smile.

Qui-Gon's eye crinkled fondly. "Thank you, Padawan. I'll call you when I'm ready."

Obi-Wan left the medical bay feeling uncertain about the future, but quite determined that all would be well between him and Qui-Gon no matter what lay ahead.

Obi-Wan walked slowly through the corridors of the ship towards the quarters he had been sharing with Qui-Gon. His master was right, he realized; he had been deceiving himself. All his rational arguments, so carefully mustered and so dispassionately presented, had been mere camouflage for a more personal desire.

When he reached the small cabin they had been assigned, he drew Qui-Gon's pack out from its strap-down in the closet and rustled through it, savoring his master's spicy scent among the folded clothing. He pulled out a light tunic and a pair of sleep pants to take back to the medbay, then carefully tucked Qui-Gon's saber into an inner pouch. That done, Obi-Wan folded his bunk down from the wall and sat on it, thinking.

In some ways, he recognized, he really hadn't changed much since he was fourteen. He still wanted Qui-Gon in the depths of his heart, but he had been concealing that longing from his master for so long that he had hidden it from himself, as well.

He flopped back on the bunk and stared at the high ceiling. Over the past few years, he had played at sex with other padawans. His experiences hadn't been extensive, but he supposed they could be called varied.

A smile crept over his face. Yes, "varied" was probably the best word to apply to a group of partners that included one human female, one human male, and one non-human female. His memories of his time with Riennan were vivid, but disjointed; he had been clumsy, and she had been patient. She made a good partner for his first time, and he was glad he had asked her -- but they never really belonged together in the long term.

Bruck had been an enjoyable lover -- and still was, off and on -- but enjoyment was the only real purpose for their liaisons. Obi-Wan had learned a lot, since Bruck was always more than willing to experiment; among other things, Obi-Wan had learned how the channel the extra Force to his lover to increase pleasure. He'd also discovered that he could dissipate sexual Force by levitating things, so long as his partner didn't make him laugh too hard and ruin his concentration. He had thought some of the techniques he learned with Bruck might be useful in healing Qui-Gon, if his master would only agree. But in spite of the fun, and the discoveries, and a surprisingly genuine sense of affection, Obi-Wan knew that what he shared with Bruck was only sex, not love.

It was Bant who had taught Obi-Wan the most about his own feelings and his capacity for love. She had taught him about balancing his own needs against those of another person. And it was also Bant who taught Obi-Wan about heartbreak and how fragile love could be . . .

Obi-Wan walked through the Temple at a loose-limbed stroll, trying to keep the fatuous smile off his face. His entire body and soul seemed to be glowing with well-being. It was hard, just at the moment, to believe that anyone could possibly object to a display of happiness. But he reminded himself firmly that not everyone could be as lucky as he was, and he shouldn't rub their faces in that fact.

As soon as he stepped through the door of his quarters, he allowed himself to break into the huge grin that had been tugging at his lips all evening. His master wouldn't mind; Qui-Gon knew exactly what Obi-Wan was smiling about and was happy on the padawan's behalf -- although not as happy as Obi-Wan himself.

Or perhaps Qui-Gon did mind. Certainly he looked stern enough as he turned away from the dataset. "We must talk, Padawan."

Uh-oh. Those words, in that tone, were always a signal of trouble. Obi-Wan carefully folded his hands together inside his sleeves. "Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon sighed as if he had an unpleasant duty to perform. "I have received complaints from three separate people -- two of them masters -- about your activities in the Water Gardens tonight."

Obi-Wan's jaw dropped. "How did they . . ." Oh, Force, he must have been broadcasting. He thought he had more control than that. Or perhaps it had been Bant whose shielding slipped; he hadn't been in much position to notice at the time. "I didn't realize there were so many people around," he said weakly.

"Regardless of the number of people present, I think you are more than old enough at sixteen to recognize that a public venue is not appropriate for such activities."

"It wasn't public exactly, Master. We were under one of the walkways. No one could see us!" Obi-Wan struggled against the heat that wanted to flood through his face.

"They could feel you through the Force."

"They could have done that from the hallway outside Bant's rooms, if we stayed there."

"The rooms are shielded. And people do not retire to the hallways for peaceful contemplation; they do that in the gardens. You disturbed their meditations."

Obi-Wan gulped. "We couldn't think of anywhere else. Calamarians need to do it underwater --"

"And all Jedi, of any race, are provided with adequate facilities for their needs."

"But Bant shares her swimming room with three other Calamarians! And two of them were, um . . ."

"You could have waited, instead of imposing your sensations upon others."

Obi-Wan looked at the toes of his boots. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon studied his padawan. "Under the walkway?"

"Where the fountain runs beneath it. We didn't think anyone would know," Obi-Wan said, shame-faced.

"Hmm. I see you're getting plenty of practice in your breathing mastery. But you will have to work on other areas of your control, as well."

Other areas such as controlling his facial expressions, Obi-Wan realized, his blush surfacing at last.

"Obi-Wan. Look at me."

It was hard, but Obi-Wan raised his head and stared at the spot between his master's eyes.

"I can understand your desire to be with your friend --"

"She's more than just a friend," Obi-Wan interrupted earnestly. "We're in love."

"Nevertheless. You must not allow your emotions to spur you to rash behavior."

"Yes, Master."

"However, there are worse places than the Temple for youthful excesses. There's little enough harm done this time."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Wait until noonmeal tomorrow. The rumors will have reached the other padawans by then."

A smile twitched at Qui-Gon's mouth and was quickly suppressed. "That's the other thing I wanted to speak to you about. We won't be attending noonmeal tomorrow."

This time Obi-Wan met his master's gaze directly. "We have a mission?" His heart sank for the first time upon hearing such news. Normally, he was excited to hear of a new assignment.

Qui-Gon nodded. "We are to examine allegations of slavetrading on Dantooine."

Obi-Wan's mind whirled with impossible ideas. He could ask to stay behind -- No! He hated it when Qui-Gon went on missions without him. Perhaps Bant could come along . . . but her master would never agree to it. Nor would the Council be receptive to a request that the mission be given to someone else.

Everyone would look at Obi-Wan and Bant and see nothing more than two teenagers experiencing love for the first time. They wouldn't see how earth-shattering a separation would be, right now when the two had only just discovered each other. They would claim that it would be good for the young couple to spend some time apart from each other.

"How long will we be gone?" Obi-Wan asked in a strained voice.

"You know I can't foresee that, Padawan. We might have other missions to attend to after this one is over. But I will try to get us back here for at least a short break as soon as possible."

Obi-Wan nodded, swallowing against a huge lump in his throat. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, just after dawn. Our transport will be on pad four."

"May I . . ." Obi-Wan's voice failed.

"I've already packed your bags. I'll meet you at the transport in the morning. Go ahead, Obi-Wan. Spend the night with her."

Obi-Wan raised burning eyes and saw genuine compassion in his master's face. It almost destroyed his composure. "Thank you, Master," he whispered, and fled.

It was difficult and painful to be apart from Bant. Obi-Wan thought of her and missed her every hour of every day for the first weeks he was away from the Temple. But the mission to Dantooine was a challenging one, requiring close concentration. For part of the time, they were undercover and out of communication with the Temple. By the time they had traced the network of slavers and convinced the Hutt who headed the group to keep his business away from Republic worlds in the future, Obi-Wan realized it had been several days since he thought of Bant.

Then followed another mission, and another without a break. The third mission, to Rhunir, was Obi-Wan's least favorite type: an entrenched civil war with a racial/religious foundation that went back generations. Ever since the time when he was thirteen and had nearly left the Order because he believed he could make a difference in just such a hopeless war, Obi-Wan found such situations especially heartwrenching.

In this case, it appeared that even though both sides had specifically requested a Jedi mediator to help them end the senseless loss of life, what they really wanted was for their own friends to stop dying. No one on either side had any desire to stop killing their perfidious enemies. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan left the day after the cease-fire ended -- both sides claiming the other had broken the truce first -- and hostilities engulfed the planet in warfare once more.

By the time the mission ended, Obi-Wan was heartsick and exhausted to the bone, and he only nodded wearily when Qui-Gon mentioned that they were to have some rest at the Temple before their next assignment.

As soon as they got home, before even unpacking his things, Obi-Wan sought out Bant. Her joy in life and gentle sense of humor were just what he needed to help him release his fears and worries.

But he found that something was different, something was not quite right. Bant was fretting about some harsh comments she had received from her teacher in Intermediate Philosophy, a class that Obi-Wan had started three times but never stayed at the Temple long enough to finish. He waited patiently through her complaints about the teacher, but when he tried to describe the terrible mission to Bant, she didn't seem to understand. She thought it was pointless for him to worry about strangers who were obviously bent upon their own destruction.

Yet Bant was one of the most caring and generous people Obi-Wan knew. Surely she, of all people, should understand that if a Jedi ever stopped caring, he risked turning to the Dark. Obi-Wan knew that sometimes he got too involved in the struggles of those he met during missions, but he'd never expected to have to explain those passions to Bant, who had known him ever since they were initiates together.

Perhaps, he thought, it was just her frustration with the philosophy class. So he left her early that evening, pleading tiredness. But the next day was the same. Bant spoke of her own concerns and the latest Temple rumors, and Obi-Wan had difficulty even pretending to be interested in what she said. Then, when he talked about his missions with Qui-Gon, a blank look came into Bant's silver eyes even though she tried to hide it.

And when they went to the swimming room and locked the door, it was even worse. Not that Obi-Wan was incapable; he had never had that particular problem, although he knew it would probably happen when he got older. But it seemed as if only his body was interested in their activities, not his mind and heart. And since it took a certain amount of creative participation to make interspecies romance successful, Bant wasn't having much fun either. She needed a Force tickle in places Obi-Wan couldn't reach physically. Obi-Wan, in turn, felt that for once he needed a partner who could kiss him.

They parted unsatisfied, and Obi-Wan had the feeling that when they met again in the morning, it would be to dissolve their relationship.

He thought that he was doing a good job of hiding his hurt and profound disillusionment, but apparently it wasn't good enough. Almost as soon as he stepped into their quarters, Qui-Gon asked what was troubling him.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It's Bant," he said in flat tones. He forced out a smile, trying to look grownup and casual about such things. "I think we're breaking up."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Has she found someone else?"

"No. At least -- no. She would have told me. It's just . . . something is missing. That spark. Whatever it was we had before, it's . . . gone." Obi-Wan sighed, staring at the display screen that served as a window in their wall-bound quarters. Qui-Gon could have chosen a view from any of a hundred worlds, yet he always programmed in a scene of Coruscant just outside the Jedi Temple, letting it change in real time.

"Ah. That happens, sometimes," Qui-Gon replied gently.

Obi-Wan scowled at his master. "You think it's because we're just kids, don't you? And we go through phases and never stay interested in anything or anyone for very long."

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow. "Did I say anything of the sort?"

Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped. "No. I'm sorry, Master. I'm probably not going to be very good company for a while. I just . . . I really thought this would be forever. Do you know what I mean?"

"I know."

"Maybe I am too young. Maybe I really do have a terminally short attention span."

"Age has nothing to do with the validity of your feelings, Obi-Wan. And many an experienced adult has felt a beautiful attraction fade away and die over time." Qui-Gon hesitated a moment before asking, "Did you form a bond with Bant?"

"No." Obi-Wan's mouth folded sadly. "We talked about it, but we decided to wait." They had planned to prove to the world in general -- and their masters in particular -- just how steadfast they could be. But now it seemed that Bant wasn't as steadfast as she had promised. Or perhaps, deep down inside, Obi-Wan was the one who was fickle.

"That's good. It means you can still be friends, once the first disappointment is over." Qui-Gon's voice was soft and understanding.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't think so. I can't imagine sharing a meal with Bant and all our old friends, knowing . . ." He swallowed hard. "She's been my best friend since I was eleven, and now I don't know if I can even stand to talk to her again! I feel so ashamed." He scrubbed at his face angrily, telling himself that he was not even tempted to cry.

"Why should you be ashamed, Padawan? You've done nothing wrong."

"It was supposed to be forever, and we couldn't even make it last for two months once we were apart."

"Obi-Wan, not all relationships are meant to last. Permanence should not be the only measure for judging the success of a partnering. Did you not enjoy your time with Bant?"

Obi-Wan remembered the days of constant anticipation until he could see her again, and the nights of smiling languidly up at the ceilings, and all the delights that came between. "I suppose."

"And did you not learn a great deal?"

"I don't know what I learned." Not to trust his own heart, he suspected.

"Then perhaps you should meditate on the subject. But consider this, my young Padawan." Qui-Gon gestured at the display as it turned rosy with the slow setting of the sun. "Should the sunset be considered less beautiful because it lasts only a fraction of the day? Or should it be treasured for its brevity and uniqueness?"

"That's different. Sunsets aren't supposed to last. Love is. If it doesn't last, it isn't really love."

"No? Obi-Wan, there are hundreds of knights in this Temple who have never had a love relationship that lasted longer than a year or two. Should all of them be considered failures? Should they look back on their old loves with bitterness, or should they cherish those memories as gifts from the past?"

Obi-Wan stared sullenly at the fiery clouds. It wasn't the same, but he would never get Qui-Gon to understand that.

"Go to your room, Padawan. Or to one of the gardens, if you prefer. Meditate on the matter. You don't have to tell me what conclusion you reach unless you wish to, but I want your heart to be more at peace before we speak again."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan collected his robe and headed, not for the Water Garden, which was Bant's favorite, but for the Stone Garden. Bant thought the place barren and unappealing, but whenever Obi-Wan looked at the beds of small stones, he thought of his first present from Qui-Gon. The place had private meaning for him, and he wasn't likely to meet anyone there who would insist on speaking with him.

He sat on a flat-topped slab of some sedimentary rock, watching the little silver flecks in the material gleam and change as twilight faded and the garden's muted lanterns came on. He thought about Bant, and his dreams for their life together. He had had such expectations, had imagined their future in such detail, and now all of that was gone. Was he supposed to feel no disappointment over the loss of all that glowing potential?

No, he decided at last. Disappointment was normal. It was a kind of grief for something that had never been. But just as it was the Jedi way during funerals to contemplate the beauty of the life that had been rather than the sadness of the passing, in the same way Qui-Gon wanted him to remember the sweetness of his memories of love rather than focusing on the absence in his heart.

It made a kind of sense. Certainly Obi-Wan had no wish to blot those wonderful days from his mind entirely. But he was afraid that he would never be able to love anyone else in quite the same way. He could never give his heart with the same surety, knowing as he did now that his feelings might change in a few months or perhaps years.

The life of a Jedi was full of change, naturally. Obi-Wan never knew where he would be sleeping or what he would be doing from one week to the next. And there was always an awareness of the greatest uncertainty of all: the simple fact that he might not be alive a day or a year or a decade from now. But within that ever-changing life, there were a few solid and immutable points. The eternal Force was the foremost of these. The Jedi Code, the ideal of service, and unceasing routines of the Temple provided other anchors of stability. Master Yoda himself, though he was hardly immortal, had been a constant in the lives of generations of Jedi. And for Obi-Wan, at least, there was always the surety of his master's love.

In that moment of realization, Obi-Wan's heart bloomed open and feelings burst forth that he had never guessed he was carrying within. He knew then that he would be able to give his love fully and freely and with the sure knowledge that it would be forever . . . so long as he was giving it to Qui-Gon.

Kneeling on the rock with his head tilted back and his arms spread wide, Obi-Wan let that glorious certainty pour through him until it seemed it was locked in every cell. Then he carefully tamped it down, coaxing his heart back into a curled bud and wrapping it about with shields. Some day he would touch those secret feelings again, but the time was not yet.

When he returned to their quarters, stiff and cold in the light of dawn, Obi-Wan's heart was as peaceful as any master could wish. And deep within, buried under layers of snow, the seed of love waited for the moment when Spring would arrive and it could blossom once more.

Obi-Wan stirred and opened his eyes to find himself curled on his bunk, eyes gummy and mouth sour with sleep. He had fallen asleep without ever undressing or pulling the bedclothes over him, and the chronometer said he'd been that way for nearly twelve hours. Shock made him want to leap up and do all the things he should have been attending to, but sleep still hung over him like a pall.

He scrubbed at his face, and his eyes fell upon the clothes he had set out for his master. Shame filled him -- Qui-Gon had said he would call when he was ready, but Obi-Wan had been too deeply asleep to respond. Yet when he reached out tentatively through their bond, he had an impression of profound relaxation and flickering dreams from his master.

So, exhaustion had overtaken Qui-Gon as well. Normally, they could compensate for the familiar combat reaction, but this time Qui-Gon was wounded and Obi-Wan had been caught off guard. They would both feel better for the rest.

He had enough time to give himself a quick wash from the freighter's limited water stores. While he was waiting for the depilatory cream to take effect, he considered the memory that had come to him in his dream. His romantic relationship with Bant had ended that day; although she had been willing to keep working at it, he would have felt like a liar knowing that he felt more for Qui-Gon than he ever could for anyone else. But at least he and Bant had managed to recover their solid foundation of friendship after a few months of shyness.

He hadn't exactly suppressed or shielded the knowledge of his love for Qui-Gon, but he'd skirted around it for so long that now it tasted fresh and unfamiliar to his mind. Not wrong in any way -- it was a liberation of his senses and emotions even to admit to himself that he loved his master. But he wasn't certain how Qui-Gon would react. He couldn't try to hide his feelings, not after the earlier deception that Qui-Gon had seen through so quickly.

He expected Qui-Gon to refuse his suggestion for healing, but he didn't want his master to think their relationship was in any way unbalanced by love. A tiny thread of fear snaked through his heart that Qui-Gon might decide he would be better off with another master, or at least a period of separation until Obi-Wan got over what might be considered a mere infatuation. In fact, Obi-Wan knew it was something far deeper than that, and he cherished his love even though he knew it might never be consummated.

With a deep breath, the padawan centered himself and released his anxieties into the Force. He would simply have to wait for Qui-Gon's decision and trust in his master's judgment. In the meantime, he realized, he'd better wash the cream off his face before he dissolved all his skin.

Once he was clean, dressed, and relatively alert, Obi-Wan headed to the mess hall for something to eat. He was ravenous -- another common symptom after a fight. He found Captain Ctecteru in the mess with Satiirsti and Eriskiett, and greeted them gladly. While he was filling his bowl, they assured him that all was well with the ship; they would be arriving at Borritt less than a day behind schedule. Eriskiett eagerly detailed the progress of repairs on the damaged sections of the freighter, and even Satiirsti was drawn out a little by an inquiry about her hurt shoulder.

The Bristeen idea of a delicious meal tended towards mixtures of seeds, grains, and small insects. At least the insects weren't still alive, and Obi-Wan had resigned himself days ago to eating at least a few with every meal. This time, he managed to avoid most of them without giving offense when a subtle stirring in the back of his mind warned him that Qui-Gon was awake. He explained that he was being summoned, offered his remaining insects to Satiirsti, and excused himself from the room. After a quick stop at their quarters to collect the clothing he'd picked out, Obi-Wan headed for the medbay.

He found his master sitting up in bed and blinking, features endearingly blurred by sleep. Half his face was still obscured by the dressing, but Obi-Wan noted the infinitesimal tightening of the lips that indicated the nerve-stun had worn off without being renewed. The medical droid was whirring around, trying to persuade Qui-Gon to lie flat. When Obi-Wan approached, the droid appealed to him for support.

"Your friend wishes to leave the infirmary," it droned in the closest thing to distress it was capable of showing. "I have explained that this is far too premature . . ."

"Sorry, TM40," said Obi-Wan with a half-smile, dragging his eyes away from Qui-Gon. "When a Jedi master wishes to leave, you would be wisest not to try to stop him."

Qui-Gon's eye lit upon the bundle tucked under the padawan's arm. "Are those my clothes?"

Obi-Wan nodded and handed them over. "I'm afraid your cloak was ruined." By blaster scoring, fire, flying shards of metal, and a quantity of blood.

Qui-Gon sighed and sorted out the pile of fabric on his lap. "I'll hardly be needing a cloak for a while -- not with the ship and the orbital habitats all set to Bristeen temperatures."

"So I thought." Obi-Wan began to chivvy the droid away from his master's bed, activating the privacy screen around the bed so that Qui-Gon could dress in peace. "Will you need any assistance?" he asked, trying not to stare as the thermal sheet slipped down far enough to expose a dusting of hair and one brown nipple.

"I don't think --" Qui-Gon stopped and winced as he tried to raise his left arm. His upper arm and the side of his chest had also been bruised and cut by debris from the exposion, although not so badly as his face.

Obi-Wan stepped forward quickly and pulled the left sleeve of the tunic forward to make it easier for Qui-Gon to slip his arm inside. He waited while his master shrugged into the other sleeve, then held the narrow sash behind Qui-Gon's back where it could be easily grasped. For a moment, he had Qui-Gon in the circle of his arms, almost embracing save for the few inches that separated their skin. The flesh on his inner arms prickled with awareness of Qui-Gon's heat, and he was breathing a little rapidly when he stepped back from the bed.

Qui-Gon glanced at him knowingly, and Obi-Wan had to work at suppressing a blush. "I believe I can manage the pants on my own, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan waited anyway, one hand hovering beneath his master's elbow, until Qui-Gon had stepped down from the pallet and was standing steadily. Then he walked through the privacy screen and waited, alert for any hint of distress.

When the screen's humming died, he turned to find his master ruefully contemplating the soft slippers he had provided. Obi-Wan's lips quirked; he had bought those slippers for Qui-Gon years before -- the very first present he had ever given his master. The gift seemed genuinely appreciated and was brought along on every mission, but rarely worn. Qui-Gon Jinn might be the epitome of serenity, but he spent very little time actually relaxing.

"I trust my boots were not also destroyed?" Qui-Gon asked. The boots were one of a very few areas where the Jedi master indulged both his sensuality and his vanity.

"No, Master." Only one of them, a mischievous impulse prompted him to say, just to see Qui-Gon's expression. But he continued truthfully, "They just need cleaning. But I didn't think you would need them to walk as far as our cabin." By his tone, he let his master know that there would be an argument if Qui-Gon was planning to go anywhere else.

Qui-Gon nodded a reluctant agreement, and Obi-Wan quickly knelt to ease the slippers onto his master's feet before the wounded man could try to bend down. They walked slowly through the corridors of the ship, Qui-Gon moving upright but stiffly. No one approached them. Obi-Wan saw a crewmember -- he thought it was Trecteeks, who had been just behind him at the time of the explosion -- look up at them before hurrying down a side passage. So the ostracism had begun already.

Qui-Gon was white-lipped by the time they reached the cabin, and Obi-Wan noticed a fine tremor as he helped his master down to the bunk with a hand under his elbow.

Obi-Wan channeled as much Force as he could access toward his master for support. "You should lie down and rest, Master," he urged when Qui-Gon remained stubbornly sitting up. "You can get started on that healing trance."

Qui-Gon's eyebrow rose. "I thought you would want to discuss your idea for healing me."

Obi-Wan hesitated. "Of course." He folded down his own bunk from the opposite was and sat at attention, though he didn't particularly want to hear Qui-Gon's reasons for rejecting him. He was still too young; an apprentice could not truly give free consent to his master; it would interfere with their current relationship and Obi-Wan's training -- the arguments would go something like that.

"Tell me again your reasons for pressing this matter." Qui-Gon regarded the young man keenly.

Obi-Wan sighed, hardly eager to bare his feelings only to have them brushed aside. But perhaps Qui-Gon sensed the change that had occurred in his heart overnight. He braced himself. "I love you," he began baldly. "I don't wish to see you in pain, or pushed to one side on a mission when you should be in charge. I don't want you forced to remain idle for months of recuperation. And also, I find you very desirable sexually." He pressed his lips tightly closed and waited.

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time. "You do realize that we can't make any commitments to each other, don't you, Obi-Wan? It would be wrong while you are still my padawan and bound to obey me in other areas."

"Of course. But to be with you, even one time only, I think, would be . . . delightful." Obi-Wan shrugged and forced a smile to his face. "I understand that you see it differently."

"On the contrary, I agree with you."

Obi-Wan blinked.

"I think we should give it a try."

"What?" The apprentice managed weakly.

"Unless you've changed your mind, that is. Have you?"

"Have I -- no!" Obi-Wan gathered enough of his wits to recognize the gleam of amusement in his master's eye. "But I thought that you . . . that is, you wouldn't want . . . you would think . . ." He trailed off helplessly.

"I've considered your reasons, and I think they make a certain sense."

"Which reasons?"

Qui-Gon tilted his head slightly. "Well, there is the mission. As you know, I dislike going into any situation without being prepared for anything that might happen. Our mission is not simply what will occur once we reach Bristeetst -- there is also the voyage itself to be considered."

Obi-Wan nodded. "The previous ice freighters were attacked more than once on the trip, weren't they?"

"One of them encountered three separate groups of ice pirates. If we should see more combat on this journey, I will be little help so long as I can barely stand and walk."

Obi-Wan considered this. He knew his master hated to watch him go into battle alone. If he had thought of it, that would have been a far more telling argument than the fact that Qui-Gon would be held back from participating in the Bristeen inaugural ceremonies. "Is that your only reason?" he asked.

"No."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as Qui-Gon offered nothing else. "May I know what other reasons you have?"

"No." Firm, but not ungentle.

"That . . . doesn't seem quite fair." Obi-Wan thought of the difficulty with which he had bared his own soul.

Qui-Gon sighed. "This is precisely why a sexual relationship is discouraged between master and apprentice, Obi-Wan. I am your teacher and your guide -- not your peer. I am under no obligation to tell you my reasons for anything I choose to do or not to do. In this particular case, I don't believe it would serve you to know what other reasons I have. Will you refuse me because I cannot be more open?"

Refuse? "Of course not."

The corner of Qui-Gon's mouth curved upward. "Then I believe you have some preparations to make."

Obi-Wan's heart tried to go into hyperdrive as he realized that this was really going to happen. He was going to make love to Qui-Gon! He would make sure everything was perfect --

He froze, half standing. "Are you . . . will you be up to this?"

Qui-Gon's face took on half of his driest expression. "Leave that to me."

Obi-Wan swallowed, dry-mouthed. "We, erm, might have to keep going for several hours. For the healing to be complete."

"Fortunately, my lover is young and virile and possesses great stamina."

Obi-Wan had to tell his heart firmly to slow down, or else Qui-Gon might have heard it from across the small space. Just hearing the word 'lover' on Qui-Gon's lips was doing the strangest things to his body. Also some not-so-strange things, but it wasn't time for that yet. Struggling to control his involuntary reactions, Obi-Wan managed, "Right. Well. I'd better go make preparations, hadn't I?" He left the small room reluctantly, throwing a quick look over his shoulder to see Qui-Gon still sitting on the bunk.

He went first to the infirmary. There would surely be something there which they could use for lubrication. He managed to get his body under control once he was away from Qui-Gon's intoxicating presence, but his mind was whirling with plans. They would need a position where he could maintain a certain level of arousal for a long time. Some of his experiments with Bruck came to mind. There had been that time they went to the Pulse Lifter club on Coruscant . . . . Yes, that would do nicely. And the captain had offered to do anything she could to help Qui-Gon's recovery.

After his raid on the medical stores, Obi-Wan headed for the bridge.

His preparations complete, Obi-Wan stepped into the cabin and froze, staring at the man sitting on the bunk. Qui-Gon was singularly unhelpful, merely making a sweeping gesture with one hand to indicate this was the padawan's show to direct. There was a gleam of amusement in that blue eye, and Obi-Wan quailed for a moment at the thought that his master might be laughing at him inwardly.

He steadied himself with a reminder that Qui-Gon had never once mocked him, even at times when he must have looked far more foolish than today. There was the first time they had ever sparred together with lightsabers, when Obi-Wan -- a good fighter for his age, but over-anxious to impress -- had tripped and hit himself in the nose with his own saber, fortunately only at half power. The boy had been mortified, but Qui-Gon had simply attended to the burn and suggested adding a series of balance exercises to his warm-ups.

Remembering the incident and his thirteen-year-old chagrin, Obi-Wan had to smile in appreciation of his master's restraint. His heart warmed as Qui-Gon returned the smile openly. Perhaps he had been misreading his master's half-covered expression, and the light in Qui-Gon's eye was from affection rather than amusement.

Affection was good, even if Obi-Wan had hoped for more. He wondered a bit about the 'other reasons' Qui-Gon had for agreeing to this liaison, but he knew better than to press the question, even in his own mind.

"Well," Obi-Wan began, and fell silent. But he was a little easier in his own mind, and he felt confident that the awkwardness would fade. He unhooked the lightsaber from his belt and opened the closet to tuck it safely in his pack.

"Everything ready?" Qui-Gon inquired.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I spoke to the captain, and made some arrangements with her. And I got this -- thought it might come in useful." He tossed a fat tube onto Qui-Gon's lap before turning to fold his own bunk out of the way.

Qui-Gon studied the medical lubricant. "I expect it will."

"So . . . perhaps we should get started." Obi-Wan was pleased to note that his voice sounded quite steady.

Qui-Gon nodded gravely, setting the lubricant beside him. "Where do you wish to begin?"

"I suppose the usual place to begin would be removing our clothes." Obi-Wan went to work on his belt, knowing that as soon as his outer tunic came loose, his excitement would be obvious.

Qui-Gon hesitated. "You are in charge here, Obi-Wan. I won't reject anything you wish to do. But I'd prefer to start with an earlier step than undressing, if you don't mind."

Obi-Wan paused, belt in hand, then ducked to stow it in the closet. "What step?"

Qui-Gon patted the bunk next to him, and Obi-Wan sat obligingly, near enough to feel his master's heat. The older man turned, his hand coming up to caress Obi-Wan's cheek. "Every good seduction," Qui-Gon murmured, "should start with a kiss."

Obi-Wan had never been able to share kisses with Bant, since her mouth wasn't constructed for it. But he'd received a thorough grounding in the technique from Riennan, with occasional refreshers from Bruck. He found kissing enjoyable, if not so essential to pleasure as Qui-Gon seemed to think. So he tipped his chin up willingly . . .

And discovered that kissing was very different indeed when he was in love with the person he was kissing.

There was nothing particularly special about the physical meeting of their lips; it was actually rather awkward, due to the injuries that immobilized half of Qui-Gon's face and mouth. The difference was within Obi-Wan, as a slow fire ignited under his breastbone and began to spread inexorably throughout his body -- notably to points south.

With a muffled sound of surprise, Obi-Wan lifted his arms to clasp his master and draw him closer, remembering at the last moment to hold lightly in deference to Qui-Gon's injuries. Their lips and tongues moved into a wonderful -- if somewhat lopsided -- dance of advance and retreat, licking and stroking and melding, while the heat built between their bodies until Obi-Wan felt as if he might burst into flame.

When, inevitably, a miscalculated move caused Qui-Gon to draw back with a soft grunt of discomfort, Obi-Wan was left staring up at his master with eyes that he knew must be shining as though he'd never been kissed before in his life. And truly, he felt as if he hadn't. If everything else about making love with Qui-Gon turned out to be as new and exciting as kissing, Obi-Wan wasn't sure he would survive the experience.

On the other hand, they should have no trouble generating all the Force they needed. Obi-Wan's body was singing with it already, and he could feel the echos sounding through his master as well.

"I was right," he said, his voice emerging high and breathless.

Qui-Gon nodded, one finger tracing a line down the younger man's cheek. "It does work in hyperspace."

"No. I mean --" Obi-Wan leaned in to lick at the unhurt corner of his master's mouth. "Delightful."

It was too much to hope that a Jedi master would actually blush, but the exposed half of Qui-Gon's face shone with startled pleasure.

"What was that the captain was announcing over the intercom?" Qui-Gon asked, somewhat muffled as his mouth was attacked again.

"Hmmm? Oh." Obi-Wan sat back a little. He vaguely remembered a whistling voice while he had been lost in the kiss, but he didn't need to hear it to know what had been said. "I asked her to turn off the gravity. There are some preparations to make before the ship is ready, but it should go off in half an hour or so." He stroked his master's long neck with the back of one finger, recalling his childhood fantasies. Well, he no longer had to wonder, he thought happily, nuzzling in to taste Qui-Gon's skin.

"Turn . . . off . . . the gravity?" Qui-Gon gasped.

"Mm-hmmm. It will be easier for what I had planned." Obi-Wan pulled back again to frown at his master. "Unless it makes you ill?" Qui-Gon had never shown any sign of queasiness when they did low-gravity exercises, but then, he was also very skilled at hiding any discomfort.

"No, not ill, but . . . Obi-Wan, have you ever tried sex in zero gravity? It isn't as simple as it sounds."

"Simple enough for Force-users. You just have to know a few tricks." Obi-Wan licked his lips and leaned closer again.

"But when did you -- ahhh." Qui-Gon tilted his head to give the younger man better access to his earlobe.

Smiling at the response and giving the ear a thorough suckling before he licked his way down toward Qui-Gon's pulse, Obi-Wan delayed a few minutes before he explained. "It wasn't true microgravity, but Br-- I've been to one of those repulsor-lift clubs. You know the sort, where they apply grav-canceling to the entire club?"

"Mmmm," Qui-Gon replied, more or less in agreement.

Obi-Wan sat up to look his master in the eye. "This is all right with you, then?"

Qui-Gon blinked dazedly. "Of course, if it's necessary for your plan. I told you, you're in charge here, Obi-Wan."

"Oh, good. Does that mean we can get to the undressing part now?" Obi-Wan pulled the neck of his master's tunic wide so that he could lap at the hollow between the collarbones.

Undressing was just as awkward as it had been with any of Obi-Wan's partners, yet somehow with Qui-Gon it was sweeter. They stole kisses between the removal of each item, and eventually fell into a pattern where Qui-Gon loosened the clothing and Obi-Wan did the actual disrobing for both of them. Since Qui-Gon was wearing less, he was the first to become completely naked, his leggings coming off while Obi-Wan was only bare from the waist up.

"Oh," the padawan breathed, entranced. Some part of him had always envisioned Qui-Gon as being huge, even monstrous. He knew his master appeared very generously endowed when flaccid, but apparently Qui-Gon was one of those men who grew only a little as he became erect. For he was certainly erect now, his phallus warmly flushed with blood -- but perfectly normal in girth and only a little longer than average. It would make Obi-Wan's job much easier for the next few hours, but the elegant proportions were also charming to the eye.

Obi-Wan had already knelt on the deck in order to pull off Qui-Gon's slippers and leggings. Now, unselfconsciously, he bent his head to touch and smell and rub his cheek across Qui-Gon's erection. He had just taken his first taste of the broad smooth head and the bitter droplet seeping forth, and he was about to draw the whole thing in and start suckling when a sharp tug on his braid made him look up.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon husked, "if the gravity is about to go off, you'd better get the rest of your clothes off and get everything stowed away. Especially your boots -- we don't want them floating around the room while we're busy."

"Oh . . ." Obi-Wan's eyes fell back to the object of his recent attentions, glistening with moisture. "Of course." He started on the buckles of his boots, uncommonly fumble-fingered. His feet seemed to have grown since he put the boots on. When he got them off at last, he turned to put them and the rest of their abandoned clothes in the closet, safely tucked under the tie-downs. He glanced quickly around the room, but he and his master had both been too well drilled in spacegoing procedures to leave any loose toiletries about.

"Your leggings," Qui-Gon pointed out softly, and Obi-Wan flushed, pulled off the last of his clothes, stuffed them into the bottom of the closet, and closed the door.

He turned to find Qui-Gon's eye fixed firmly on his backside as he straightened, and an extra pulse of blood thudded through his erection at the intensity of that gaze. He stood still for several moments, letting Qui-Gon look his fill although there was nothing the master hadn't seen many times before. Everything was very different in this context, Obi-Wan acknowledged as his master's gaze rose to meet his. Certainly each part of Qui-Gon's body seemed more beautiful than ever before.

"Will you keep the dressing on?" he asked, gesturing at the cover on the broken side of Qui-Gon's face.

"I might as well. It won't be in the way, will it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Then it will come off soon enough when we are done."

Obi-Wan smiled at the confidence in his master's voice. He hoped he could live up to those expectations.

"Come here, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon raised a hand to stroke the length of the padawan's flank from ribs to thigh, then inward and upward to cup the soft sac in his hand.

Obi-Wan's breath caught as his master bent forward to taste. Without conscious thought, his head tilted back, his eyes fluttered closed, and his hands threaded into Qui-Gon's thick hair. The older man's cracked jaw wouldn't part wide enough to take Obi-Wan in, but he offered expert strokes from his tongue and fingers.

Obi-Wan felt his excitement peaking far too soon, as much from the realization that this was Qui-Gon bowing before him as from the actual physical sensations. "Stop," he gasped, just in time, and Qui-Gon drew back to give him an inquiring look.

"Need to . . . go slow," Obi-Wan managed, acutely conscious of the fingers still wrapped around his erection. "Keep going for hours, remember?"

"Ah, yes. I wouldn't want to interfere with your plan," Qui-Gon returned drily. But he undermined this show of composure by licking quickly at his lips for one last taste.

Obi-Wan sank to the bunk beside his master and fumbled for the tube of lubricant. He looked at it for a moment, considering the difficulties of reaching inside his own body. "Would you, er, prepare me?" he asked, holding the tube out.

"With pleasure." Qui-Gon placed a hand on the younger man's hip and pulled gently until Obi-Wan turned away, crouching on the narrow bunk on hands and knees.

A brush of lips against his upraised rear and a gentle hand stroking his tender sac made the padawan lift his hips higher. Then a slick finger was gliding across his opening, over and around the puckered lips until he pushed outward reflexively, and the finger slipped inside. Obi-Wan's breath shuddered in and out as the finger explored and retreated, returning with one of its fellows and more slick fluid. He gasped and rocked back against the intruders when they sought deeper and pressed upon the core of his pleasure.

Then the fingers were gone and a larger, warmer invader took their place. Obi-Wan cried out and surged back onto his master's shaft. Qui-Gon released a lush groan as his hips thrust forward, joining the two of them together irrevocably. Obi-Wan felt his master's weight draped over his back, easily borne in the ship's light gravity yet still warmly overwhelming. Unbalanced by his injuries, supporting himself with one hand, Qui-Gon nevertheless surged into a powerful rhythm, pumping into the younger man's body.

"Wait!" Obi-Wan gasped belatedly. Then a change in angle brought Qui-Gon's shaft into perfect alignment, and the padawan gave in with a groan. He tried simultaneously to raise his hips to his master's thrusts and keep his back arched as an extra support.

Qui-Gon froze. "Wait?" he ground out.

"No . . . I was mistaken. Go on." Obi-Wan pushed back, wanting to feel that power lance through him once more.

"Am I ruining your plans?" Qui-Gon's voice was breathless, but well under control.

"We can work around it. I'm flexible." Obi-Wan wriggled again. The gravity wasn't even off yet; he wanted to enjoy this abandon while they still had a bed to work with.

"So I noticed," Qui-Gon chuckled, and started moving, more slowly this time. He levered himself up a little, one hand braced on the bed squarely beneath Obi-Wan's chest. His weaker left hand starfished down the young man's belly to the erection which leaped eagerly into his warm palm.

Obi-Wan moaned and let his shoulders collapse onto the bunk. He rocked eagerly, back upon Qui-Gon's erection and forward into Qui-Gon's grasp. He could not have said what made this joining so much more powerful than any of his previous experiences, unless it was the knowledge that this was his beloved master pressing against the back of his thighs, piercing into his bowels, enfolding him in the clasp of that enormous, beautiful hand. The Force they drew up sparked palpably along the bond between them, enhancing the pleasure in a way Obi-Wan had never known before.

Dimly, Obi-Wan realized he was sobbing with ecstasy as he writhed back and forth between the two delicious stimuli. Qui-Gon was not silent either, his first muted grunts turning to abandoned moans as the tension built between them. They found their perfect angle and moved in unison, ratcheting up the pace and the pleasure until Qui-Gon gave a hoarse shout of completion. Obi-Wan felt himself tumble over a peak and then he was falling, falling up into his master's embrace . . .

Dimly he realized that the gravity had gone off at last, and he had just enough sense to press his own hand over Qui-Gon's upon his erection as he spilled forth all his joy and love.

Clearly Qui-Gon had also had some opportunity to learn the tricks of making love in zero gravity, for he twined his legs around Obi-Wan's and pulled the younger man close as they panted for breath. They were both damp with sweat in the warm atmosphere of the ship, both drenched in pleasure and already halfway to exhaustion. The Force pulsed hugely in both of them, but it wasn't enough. Not yet.

Obi-Wan leaned back into his master's arms and gamely tried to catch his breath, knowing that his work had barely begun.

Since the freighter was so large, their cabin was generously sized compared to typical shipboard accommodations. The high ceiling meant that they had a reasonable amount of space available when the gravity was off. Obi-Wan reached out with just a thread of Force and adjusted their position to make sure they wouldn't bounce off any walls. He'd have to remember to check their position occasionally while they worked.

He tilted his head back against Qui-Gon's shoulder and lifted their joined hands from his wet cock. Luxuriously, Obi-Wan licked the bitter fluid from his master's fingers -- after all, they wouldn't want it floating in little droplets around the room. He felt Qui-Gon shudder against him, and the shaft still trapped inside him stopped softening.

With a sweet sigh, he released his master's hand. "Do you think that's enough to start with?" he asked, his voice gone low and languid.

"Enough?" Qui-Gon returned vaguely.

"Enough Force."

"Oh." Qui-Gon's arms tightened around the padawan, and he drew the gathered Force to him. "It's a good start. I can begin the healing, but I don't know how long it will take."

"Don't worry. I have an idea about that." Obi-Wan stretched his legs carefully into the air and looked about for the only item he had left loose in the room. The lubricant was floating near the corner of the ceiling and two walls, and he brought it to him with an easy call.

Qui-Gon began to pull back, and Obi-Wan reflexively spread his legs further apart, trapping his master's legs which were wrapped around him. "No!" he gasped. "Stay in me."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Obi-Wan, I don't know if I'll be good for much more. Especially if I'm concentrating on healing."

"You don't have to come again. Just stay in me, and stay hard. You can do that." Obi-Wan sent a shiver of Force to his master's cock, and felt the thrill race through his own body where they were joined. Qui-Gon began to harden again.

"I'm going to move away a bit, but not too much, all right?" Obi-Wan pressed his elbows back against his master's chest, making a space between their bodies and letting the stiff shaft recede until only the head was still within him, held tight by deliberate clenching of his muscles.

"Now I need you to spread your legs a little further." As the powerful thighs loosened their grasp, Obi-Wan began to tilt himself downward. His own legs went back between Qui-Gon's, and his torso moved down until he was at right angles to his master's body, still joined together.

"Obi-Wan, what are you doing?" Qui-Gon protested in bewilderment.

"It's a position that will let me maintain a certain level of tension. For hours, if need be. It might be a little uncomfortable until you get used to it. Let me know if it actually hurts, though." Obi-Wan kept rotating his body slowly until Qui-Gon's legs came behind the younger man's back. Now the master's shaft was pointing almost directly down away from his body, and Obi-Wan could feel the strain thrumming through Qui-Gon's muscles. There was no actual complaint, though, so he continued.

His own heels were somewhere around Qui-Gon's shoulder blades now, and they hung in the air with their buttocks pressed together. Slathering a generous measure of lubricant onto his fingers, Obi-Wan reached between his legs and began to tease at Qui-Gon's opening.

"Obi-Wan!" The master spasmed, almost jerking himself free.

"It's all right, this will work," he soothed. "We've already done the hard part. Can you relax a little?" He felt the ring of muscle open to admit his fingers, and reached in to slick the passage thoroughly. At the length of his reach, he found Qui-Gon's sweet spot and felt the shaft still trapped inside him twitch with pleasure. He continued until his master was loose and open.

"Here we go, then." Coating his own erection, Obi-Wan pulled it downward, away from his belly where it wanted to nestle and down toward the dark hole that awaited. This was the uncomfortable part, for him, but he knew it would work, so he breathed carefully and released his tensions until his shaft was in position.

He had to lock his heels around Qui-Gon's ribs and pull a little with his legs and with the Force to bring them closer together. It was hard to imagine how anyone could accomplish this without the Force, although Obi-Wan knew he and Bruck weren't the first who had ever tried it. But with some judicious pulling and pushing, he got the head of his erection past the puckered ring and felt himself hotly clasped by Qui-Gon's body.

"Oh!" he gasped shakily at the exquisite sensations as he worked them closer together, feeling his master's shaft sink deeper into him at the same time. He could only move a few more centimeters until they were joined as closely as possible, their testicles nestled snugly side by side. "All right?" he managed to ask, his voice high and trembling.

"I never knew this was possible," Qui-Gon murmured.

"It's . . . a good position for very slow lovemaking," Obi-Wan explained. "Useful in zero gravity because it doesn't get messy when someone comes. Not so good for wild motions or stimulating the prostate." Or gazing into each other's eyes, which he was sorry to miss. "But this . . ." With a gentle undulation, he lifted their bodies apart a few centimeters and then back together. "I can keep this up for a long time."

After another rippling move, he was no longer quite so sure, though; this was more exciting than he had remembered. Qui-Gon's longer shaft allowed for some extra penetration, and the sensation of his own flesh buried inside his master was exquisite, even if he could only get halfway in. Then there was the way the erotic sensations echoed back and forth along their bond; he hadn't shared that pleasure with Bruck. But he did remember the special way the Force resonated in their flesh.

"This is also good for . . . setting up a sort of . . . feedback loop." Technically, Obi-Wan knew, there was no reason why penetration should have any effect on who donated energy to whom. But somehow the two became equated in the mind, and the mind affected the Force. He could almost feel the power flowing into him at the spot where Qui-Gon's flesh pierced him. He let it build in his own body along with his arousal, then fed it back through their other joining. It was perfect.

Too perfect. Obi-Wan gave up on speech and instead merely reached out to capture his master's feet, tucking the long shins under his arms and using them for more leverage. He moved faster, pulling and pushing, hearing his own soft cries building to a crescendo. But it was too soon.

He could feel Qui-Gon catching the energy he passed and using it, subtle motions of the Force threading through his master's injured body. Qui-Gon was slipping off into a deep working trance while Obi-Wan's flesh sang with purest pleasure, but it was going to take hours. Obi-Wan couldn't afford to come again so soon, yet the arousal and the Force were already building within him.

He made himself stop and go still, clamping down on the pressure point at the base of his cock like a ring of Force inhibiting his climax. When the critical moment had receded a little, he began to move again, very slowly.

It was like a dance, a kata requiring the utmost balance and care. He would concentrate on the delightful sensations until his arousal built, then feed the energy to his master and force himself to back off a little. Then coax it up again to a near-frenzy, then slow down once more. He lost track of how many times he had passed through this maddening cycle before he could resist no longer. His unconscious whimpers building to a long cry, Obi-Wan poured himself into his master's body.

Even then, he didn't release control entirely. He clamped down once more with the Force before he had quite finished spurting. It made him groan in delicious agony, but he knew he would be able to keep going longer if he didn't spend himself all at once. He rested briefly, feeling the Force he had generated flowing into his master's body. Then he began the whole cycle over again.

It went on for a long time. Obi-Wan's inner chronometer failed him as he lost the ability to think about anything but sensation and Force. His world narrowed to Qui-Gon's ankles against his ribs, Qui-Gon's thighs behind his hips, Qui-Gon's shaft within him and Qui-Gon's heat around his own erection. When he needed to build his excitement he let himself think about the perfect intimacy of penetrating and being penetrated. When it was time to cool off he opened his eyes and adjusted their positions between the walls of the room.

They started to dry off at one point, the contact between them growing sticky and raw. He had to hunt around for the lubricant, which had gotten wedged underneath Qui-Gon's bunk. Smearing the stuff on himself and Qui-Gon was a new sensation which almost destroyed his equilibrium, as he felt his master's flesh warm and pulsing between his fingers and thought of that pulse disappearing into his own body. When he was done, he carefully sent the tube away to fit snugly into a corner of his own folded bunk, in case he needed to find it again -- though in truth, he didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep this up.

He came again and again, but never allowed himself true completion. His skin was slick with sweat, but he burned in the warm air. Qui-Gon came with him at least one time, perhaps more, and he nearly lost control as he felt the warmth gushing up inside him.

He was almost gone, lost in a haze of sensation, when he felt a gentle tug at his mind. His eyes flew open. "Master?"

"One more, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was hoarse with weariness. "The last time. Give me everything you have."

Obi-Wan realized his master was finished; he had done everything possible with their limited time and energy. They were both exhausted to the point of collapse, and Qui-Gon's erection was fading despite the Force that still tingled between them.

With a grunt, Obi-Wan pulled his body free of Qui-Gon's shaft and tilted himself up his master's back. He was still buried inside the other man, still hard himself although he hardly knew how it was possible. He brought their bodies into line again, Qui-Gon's broad back pressed against his chest. He dipped his head to lick at one glistening shoulder, savoring his master's salt. Yes, he could do this. One last time, he could possess his master and fill him with love and lust and Force.

Slowly at first, gripping Qui-Gon's hips for the leverage he needed in lieu of gravity to push against, Obi-Wan began to thrust. At last he could sink to his full length inside Qui-Gon's heated passage, and it was glorious. He pressed his cheek between his master's shoulder blades, sobbing as he pumped in and out.

All of it -- every scrap of energy within him -- he gave to his lover. And this time he could feel it blazing through Qui-Gon as pure healing energy, cementing whatever changes Qui-Gon had made so carefully and painstakingly over the last hours. Obi-Wan moved faster, pouring himself into the task both for the sake of sensation and healing.

This would be the last time, he knew; not only the last time today, but most likely the last time he would ever be joined with his master like this. Qui-Gon was far too proper to consider a sexual relationship with his padawan without a very good reason. And no situation quite like this one was ever likely to come up again. So Obi-Wan was determined to wring every drop of pleasure out of this last encounter, and store it all safely in his memory to be taken out and considered at lonely future moments.

Incredibly, he felt Qui-Gon's arousal begin to revive as he moved. The older man had seemed spent earlier, but his cock began to awaken once more as Obi-Wan reached around to stroke it. A gentle redirecting of Force made Qui-Gon groan and arch into his grasp.

"Obi-Wan," he protested.

"You don't need to concentrate any more, Master. Let it go. Let it all go." Obi-Wan moved his hips faster, twining his ankles with Qui-Gon's and embracing the other man tightly to keep their bodies from flying apart with the force of their motions. Their skin made moist smacking sounds each time they came together.

"Obi-Wan." This time the tone was faintly pleading. "Link with me."

The younger man gasped as he felt his master reaching out along their bond. Qui-Gon was asking for more than a gentle Force exchange, more than shared physical sensations -- he was suggesting a full mind-link during sex. It was an intimacy usually reserved only for committed couples, who had already formed a love bond.

Obi-Wan's mind raced with questions he wanted to ask about what this meant. But there was no time, even if his pleasure-drenched brain could have formulated the words. And surely the answers would be there in Qui-Gon's mind if he made the link. So he opened his mind and reached back, meeting and matching Qui-Gon's mental clasp.

His master's thoughts and feelings exploded through Obi-Wan's mind: the deep convictions, the caring and generosity which brightened the man's unshakable serenity. He was astonished by how much of that warmth was directed at him -- and also by the fact that Qui-Gon seemed to think the warmth would be gone entirely if Obi-Wan weren't in his life.

But there was no chance for Obi-Wan to think about those amazing revelations when he was also sharing his master's physical sensations. Qui-Gon's body was arching into the pounding Obi-Wan was giving him, and the Force was roaring through him like a flood, energizing every cell with vitality and well-being. Obi-Wan cried out at the joint senses as he snapped his hips harder, driving into his master with everything he had. They were one being moving in two bodies, aflame with lust and Force and health and joy and love . . .

Yes, there was love in there, and it wasn't entirely coming from him. Obi-Wan had one instant to recognize it before his body convulsed in spasms of ecstasy, an overload of every sense that tore through him and shattered him into tiny pieces. It was like soaring into the heart of a star, a brightness that seared him and consumed him and left him to fall alone into darkness.

Something warm was being wrapped around Obi-Wan's damp shoulders. He cracked his eyes open muzzily. "Hmm?"

"It's all right, just rest." Strong arms came around him.

He came awake enough to realize that he was floating head down in the room. At least, he would be head down if there were any gravity to create a 'down,' but if that were so he wouldn't be floating . . . Determinedly, he pulled his thoughts together. Qui-Gon had retrieved a cloak from the closet and was tucking it around both of them. It was just big enough to fit, if they snuggled close.

"Wha timesit?"

"Around the beginning of ship's night, I believe."

Obi-Wan tried to translate that into some understanding of how long they had been occupied, but all the conversions between systems eluded him at the moment. Somewhere between four and eight hours, he decided. "How d'you feel?" he asked, almost coherently.

Qui-Gon's smile was brilliant, even with half of it covered up. "I feel wonderful, actually. Ready to wrestle a Gundark, as they say."

"Your face?" Obi-Wan's hand drifted up without conscious volition.

"It should be all right, if not perfect. I lost track somewhat during all those repairs. Have a look."

Obi-Wan's fingers curled tentatively around the edge of the dressing, and Qui-Gon jerked his head back sharply to pull the covering free.

"Oh . . ." Obi-Wan reached out to brush across the perfect brow and down the smooth cheekbone.

Qui-Gon blinked rapidly in the room's harsh light, his left pupil quickly shrinking to a pinpoint.

"You can see?" Obi-Wan asked, his fingertip just barely grazing the lower rank of eyelashes.

"It's . . . blurred, but adequate," Qui-Gon said. "I can compensate until we return to the Temple and let the healers have a look at it."

The skin was still pink where the worst of the wounds had been on Qui-Gon's forehead and cheek, but they looked more like minor scrapes a few weeks old than recent injuries that might have cost the master his life or vision. They would finish healing in a few days and leave no scar. Obi-Wan gazed in delight, drinking in the sight of his master's intact face and working eye. It was over a minute before he noticed anything off. "Oh. Your nose."

"I left that until the last. Did I mess it up?" Qui-Gon reached out delicately through the bond that still connected them, asking to share Obi-Wan's vision. Without a second thought, the padawan opened his senses at once. "It looks like you over-corrected. It was bent to the left before, and now it goes a little to the right. My right, that is -- your left." He pressed a finger over the bump in the bone.

Qui-Gon considered. "Well, it's not so terribly asymmetrical. I think the Bristeen can bear it without offense."

"I think it adds a certain something, actually." Obi-Wan cocked his head.

"I've had my nose broken and straightened before. Perhaps I should leave it this time?"

"That's up to you, Master. It's your nose."

"You seemed to have quite a strong opinion about whether or not I should keep my eye," Qui-Gon pointed out with amusement.

"Well, that's different."

"Is it?"

"Very different." Obi-Wan frowned. "You missed a bit on your jaw, here." He traced a slight divot below his master's ear.

"There was a bone fragment missing." Qui-Gon accessed his padawan's vision once more. "A beard would cover it. With a little effort, I can grow one before we reach Bristeetst."

"Oh, yes." Obi-Wan brightened. "I've always thought you would look good with a beard. Dignified. And you should grow your hair longer."

"I thought you had no opinion on what I should do about my appearance?"

"I didn't say that, Master. You did." Obi-Wan fought back a yawn. "How is your chest?" He started to stroke his palm down his master's ribs, then hesitated, thinking the intimacy might be unwelcome.

"Completely healed." Qui-Gon pulled the younger man a little closer into his embrace.

"Good." Obi-Wan's eyelids were drooping.

"Your idea was a great success, Padawan."

"Mmm. I knew it would be." Obi-Wan pulled the cloak a little tighter around himself and let his eyes drift closed. "Someone should tell the captain she can turn the gravity back on."

"Are you all right, Obi-Wan?"

"Mm-hmm. Just tired."

A hand brushed over his short hair. "You gave me too much -- you've drained yourself."

Hearing the worried tone, Obi-Wan forced his eyes open. "I'll be fine, Master, really. I just need rest." Another yawn overcame him, punctuating his words.

"Sleep, then. I'll talk to the captain."

Dimly, Obi-Wan felt himself being guided to the open bunk and loosely confined by its tie-downs. Then he sank into an oblivion so deep he never even felt the gravity returning.

With so little Force to draw upon, it took Obi-Wan several days to regain his energy levels. He slept a lot, causing his master some concern, and he had to explain several times that he was quite certain there was no permanent damage. He thought briefly about suggesting to Qui-Gon that he would recover more quickly if they generated some Force together, but he couldn't bring himself to be quite so brazen. He was too weary to try the solo method, either; instead, he merely dragged himself out of the cabin a few times to accept greetings and congratulations on Qui-Gon's recovery from the captain, the crew, and the medical droid. Then he went back and curled up for another rest.

It was rather pleasant, really, having his master fuss over him when he wasn't truly ill or hurt. The food was especially nice; with the help of Eriskiett, Qui-Gon managed to track down a number of human delicacies various members of the crew had been saving up. Ordinarily, since the Bristeen knew that humans could survive on their food, they expected that the Jedi passengers would eat whatever the rest of the crew had. But the avians had deep sympathy for an invalid's appetite, and many of them willingly donated their hoarded sweets and flavored drinks to appease Obi-Wan's tastebuds. He was tempted to feign weakness until they reached Borritt, and see if Qui-Gon could find a nice juicy slab of meat somewhere on the refueling station. But boredom proved a more powerful spur, and Obi-Wan was out of bed and exercising more than a day before their return to normal space.

Borritt was a bloated gas giant planet orbiting a dull red star, attended by a series of space stations and refineries. With no habitable planets in the system, the gas giant's store of unusually pure hydrogen was the only thing the place had to recommend itself, and the local industry revolved around harvesting, refining, and selling fuel. The star was cool enough that Borritt's wide orbit kept it well outside the melting point for water ice -- except when the star gave off one of its unpredictable, energetic flares. The flares posed little danger to any ship or station that was properly shielded, but Captain Ctecteru was worried about her ship's two-kilometer tail of ice chunks. She decided to park the freighter in a position that kept them in the planet's shadow in case the star should start to act up, even though it meant paying extra to have their fuel ferried from the refineries.

Fortunately, they had made it in time to keep their place in the fuel queue. Most of the other ships waiting a turn were parked in orbits closer to the refineries, and the ice freighter ended up floating alone in shadow.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were on the bridge as they entered the system, studying charts over the captain's shoulders. Obi-Wan spared a moment to look quickly at his master, keeping his amusement hidden. With his beard just starting to come in, Qui-Gon was looking unusually scruffy. Even Eriskiett had been moved to make a joke about moulting and downfeathers.

"Wasn't one of the other ice freighters attacked right here at Borritt?" Qui-Gon asked the captain.

"That's right," the captain whistled. "They lost nearly half their cargo in a single raid."

Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the charts. "Was that ship also parked on the outside of the planet?"

"Most likely. It's standard practice when bringing an ice cargo in so close to a variable star."

"Perhaps it would be safer to move closer to the other ships," Qui-Gon suggested. "The security forces from the stations will take some time to get here if we're attacked."

"They'll take long enough that we could risk losing a large fraction of our cargo, true. But if that star flares without warning and we have no protection, we could lose the entire cargo." The captain's feathered hands moved over the console, calling up records of the star's activity over the past few years. "I think staying here is a smaller risk."

Obi-Wan caught his master's eyes. "Could we get some of the security forces out here as a prevention measure?"

Just then, an alarm went off on the main control console. "Too late," the pilot whistled shrilly. "Raiders heading in from outsystem. They'll be here in five minutes."

Not again! Obi-Wan thought in dismay, unable to resist a quick glance at his master. They had barely recovered from the results of the last pirate attack, and now they had to face another.

Then he steadied himself, reaching out to the Force for confidence. Obi-Wan Kenobi had never turned from a fight in his life, and he wasn't about to start now.

Qui-Gon was leaning calmly toward the console by the pilot's elbow. "What approach are they taking?"

The pilot's hands flew, and the attacking ships appeared on the display with red trails to show where they had come from. "They're heading for the cargo, staying well back from the freighter's guns."

The freighter's weapons weren't much to boast about in any case, Obi-Wan recalled. The Gamorreans had certainly had no trouble avoiding them. He studied the weapons controls, which were part of Eriskiett's station.

"These ones won't be trying to board," the captain clacked. "They'll cut away as much of the cargo as they can and tow it off outsystem. They must have a ship waiting out there."

Qui-Gon turned to her. "Contact system control and request fighter backup."

"It will take them nearly an hour to get here. Half our cargo could be gone by that time." Nevertheless, the captain activated the comm.

"There!" Obi-Wan pointed to the display, and Eriskiett saw the opening he was referring to. She swiveled the ship's guns as quickly as they would move, but the attacking fighter dodged back into their blind spot before the blast seared through space.

Obi-Wan stepped back in frustration. "This is no good," he said. "We can't counter them unless we get a ship out there --" He froze. "That's it! Eriskiett, come with us. Captain, prepare to open Cargo Bay Seven to space." He hurried for the bridge doors.

Qui-Gon had frowned at the young man's peremptory tone, but he followed along with no more invitation than a single look from Obi-Wan. "What do you have in mind?" he asked as they strode quickly through the ship's corridors.

"We took a Kestrel starfighter from that first batch of pirates," Obi-Wan explained quickly. "It's a bit battered, but it should suffice. I'll fly it if you man the guns."

"Surely one of the Bristeen pilots --"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "The cockpit was altered by the Gamorreans. You and I are the only ones tall enough to reach the controls." He kept up his bounding low-gravity walk, waiting to see if his master would demur. Flying and fighting with energy weapons were not specialties of Qui-Gon's, but he was competent at either task. And the competence of a Jedi was far beyond the normal capabilities of the Force-blind.

Hearing no objection, Obi-Wan turned to Eriskiett, who was having trouble keeping up with their longer strides. "What repairs have you made since the last time I saw the Kestrel?"

"None!" she whistled breathlessly. "You can't use it, Obi-Wan -- it won't work!"

He scowled. "I thought the propulsion and weapons were fine."

"But there are no working sensors!"

"We don't need sensors," Obi-Wan said.

"The Force will guide us," Qui-Gon explained at the same moment.

"You can't wear the helmets -- no targeting computers --"

"We certainly don't need targeting computers," Obi-Wan returned with a small grin.

"No shields!"

Obi-Wan paused at the cargo bay door, his hand on the control. He glanced at his master, who nodded.

"We shall be careful," was all Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan opened the door and headed for the small fighter, hastily releasing tie-downs.

"We have no compatible astrodroids --" Eriskiett began.

"We can do without," said Qui-Gon.

"And the communications don't work!" she gasped.

Qui-Gon smiled at her. "In that case, I'd appreciate it if you let the security forces know we're not pirates." He stepped up onto the fighter's wing one step behind Obi-Wan and swung himself down into the rear-facing seat. "Clear the cargo bay and tell the captain we're ready for space," he called out a moment before sealing the hatch.

Obi-Wan hurriedly strapped himself in and bit back a curse when he found that the restraints wouldn't tighten around a slender human body. Then he discovered he had to loosen them even further so that he could slide forward to reach the foot controls. The seat position was not adjustable. A frustrated hiss trickled through his lips.

"Stop worrying about what we don't have, Padawan, and work with what we do have." Qui-Gon was adjusting his own straps, which were slightly better but still loose.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan glanced quickly around the cockpit, thinking. Since the seat was so low, the view-bubble began somewhat above his eye level, and that was the only window he would have to let him see what was going on. Everything else, he would have to sense with the Force. With no helmets and inadequate restraints, he'd have to take care which way he pitched the ship, or they might crack their heads on the ceiling. He would have to avoid making any outside loops.

He activated the controls and brought up the engines. "Fuel batteries at full capacity," he noted out loud. The Bristeen might not have intended to use this fighter, or even to repair it anytime soon, but they had taken good care of it anyway.

"Weapons charged at ninety-eight percent," Qui-Gon reported.

"Seals check out. Internal atmosphere control is up. Is the bay clear?"

"Yes. The outer doors are opening now."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and reached out for the Force. He would have to fly almost on pure instinct. He could feel the Force flowing smoothly through his master, as well, and he knew the two of them must work perfectly in tandem with each other.

Whatever Eriskiett had said to the captain must have conveyed some urgency, for the force field that kept air in the bay hadn't even reached full strength when the huge doors parted. The Kestrel shot out of the ship amid a plume of ice crystals as humid ship's air leaked into the chill of space. Obi-Wan banked the small craft along the freighter's flank, heading aft towards the ice cargo.

One of the unique features of the Kestrel-8F line was the rotating gun turret on the belly which allowed it to fire in any direction. The setup was unusual on a small fighter for two reasons: it was more difficult to aim accurately for shots at right angles to the fighter's path, and shots to the rear would be reduced in energy because they were working against the fighter's own speed instead of with it. Neither of those facts were of great concern to a Jedi gunner, and Qui-Gon's first move was to release the optional locks which kept the turret pointed within a few degrees of the fighter's direction of motion.

From what they had seen of the scans on the bridge, the attacking force consisted of five J2X snub-fighters, a model that included shields, dual energy weapons, and torpedoes. The single-pilot fighters were smaller than the Kestrel but slightly less maneuverable. As the first pirate came into Obi-Wan's line of sight, he saw that it had apparently been equipped with light-explosive torpedoes. The fighter released a double shot into one of the ice chunks right at the point where a carbifiber cable had been planted to fasten several blocks of ice together. The tough cable remained intact, but it was blown from its mooring in the ice.

Obi-Wan flashed quickly past the attacking fighter, and before the pirate even had a chance to register the Kestrel's presence, Qui-Gon fired. His two shots, traveling to the Kestrel's rear quarter, were sapped of some of their energy and had no chance of destroying the shielded snub-fighter. But destruction hadn't been Qui-Gon's intent. With exquisite aim, his first shot took out the fighter's shield generator while the second blew an engine power coupling. Disabled, the fighter drifted uselessly in space as Obi-Wan drew a spiral around the long chain of ice chunks.

Other fighters had already detached many of the cargo cables, and the end of the freighter's ice tail was beginning to come apart. At the very rear of the chain, Obi-Wan detected a fighter releasing jet-droids into some of the largest chunks. This time he didn't need his eyes; he could clearly sense the pilot's actions through the Force. The simpleminded machines would clamp onto the ice and start accelerating on some pre-programmed course, presumably back to the ship that had sent the fighters in-system.

Obi-Wan plotted a weaving course toward the fighter which took them past three sections of ice that were already under droid acceleration. Qui-Gon destroyed each of the droids neatly as they passed, vaporizing as little ice as possible in the process. Obi-Wan realized his master wasn't using vision either, and in fact probably had his eyes closed. Obi-Wan waited the necessary microseconds for the weapons to rearm, then angled the Kestrel upward to scream past within meters of the fighter. Qui-Gon's delicate touch disabled the second one as easily as the first.

But now the others had been alerted to the danger. They stopped trying to carve pieces off the ice cargo and converged on the Kestrel instead. Obi-Wan jinked hastily as double beams lit the space just off his right wing.

"Two of them," Qui-Gon murmured, as another pulled in on their tail.

And both fighters were apparently familiar with the weakness of the Kestrel model; they were staying behind and slightly above Obi-Wan's path, so that the belly-mounted guns couldn't reach them. Ordinarily, Obi-Wan could have solved that by swooping downward into an outside loop, but he couldn't afford to pull that kind of acceleration with their restraints loose. An inside loop would push him and Qui-Gon down safely into their seats, but it would also put their attackers higher above the Kestrel's plane of orientation.

He solved the problem by killing their propulsion, flipping the ship over using just the attitude thrusters, and reigniting the engines in the opposite direction. For a moment they were a sitting target, but their pursuers hadn't expected such a move and missed the opportunity to burn into the unshielded ship. In the next instant, the Kestrel zipped back on its new vector between the two pirates, and Qui-Gon took out one of the fighters' stabilizers as they passed. The fighter went off in an uncontrolled spin towards the giant planet.

The second pirate was more fortunate, or quicker on the uptake. He made a tight arc to the side that quickly took him out of the Kestrel's range of fire, and then returned to position on their tail. For a moment Qui-Gon was able to get off a shot, but the weakened beam was easily deflected by the pirate's shield.

Obi-Wan smiled as he felt the Force guiding his hands. He weaved and bobbed drunkenly to avoid the snub-fighter's beams, all the while letting their vector carry them back toward the freighter. He led their pursuer on a twisting path around the ice until, quite suddenly, the first disabled fighter came into view. With no propulsion and no shields, the pirate had been forced to sit there in space waiting for the security forces to arrive and pick her up. But her weapons were still functional, and the Kestrel appeared directly in her line of fire, presenting an irresistible target. Just as the pirate fired, Obi-Wan twisted his ship to one side. The twin blasts slid over his wing and lanced into the pirate that had been steadily gaining behind him.

The second pirate jinked and lost his speed advantage, but apparently his shields had absorbed most of the energy of the shots. Scored by the blasts, but still functional, he pulled into place once more above the Kestrel's tail.

"He's good," Qui-Gon admitted.

"I'm better," said Obi-Wan with confidence, bringing the Kestrel into a tight loop that carried them back towards the end of the long chain of ice. He waited until they reached the middle of the cargo, where enough of the cables had been broken that the chunks were just starting to drift apart. Then he turned the Kestrel into the crowd of wandering ice chunks.

It was like flying through a dense asteroid field, except that the obstacles were a million times more closely spaced. Obi-Wan glided over and around huge blocks of ice that could crush the little Kestrel in an instant, and he made it look so easy that the pirate took the bait and followed him in. The snub-fighter was smaller than the Kestrel, after all, and should be able to go anywhere the other craft could.

Except that the Kestrel was piloted by a Jedi. Obi-Wan guided it smoothly between two ice fortresses that were drifting closer together. He rolled the little ship to squeeze through the opening at the last possible moment, hearing a scraping sound from the hull just as he pulled clear. The pirate wasn't so adept, however, and all that marked his passing was a fireball bursting from between the converging slabs of ice.

The Kestrel emerged from the ice field a short distance from the fifth and last pirate fighter, who had seen all of his companions disabled or killed within the space of a few minutes. As soon as Obi-Wan started to line up on the pirate, he turned and headed away from the freighter at maximum acceleration. Obi-Wan followed along, keeping just outsystem of the pirate and herding him to one side. A single careful shot from Qui-Gon took out the fighter's shields, and then Obi-Wan eased the Kestrel back, letting the pirate think he was escaping.

"If system security can't apprehend a single pirate with no shields, they should probably consider new careers," Obi-Wan reflected as he watched the last pirate zooming off in the very direction their reinforcements should be arriving from.

"Back to the freighter," Qui-Gon said drily.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan retraced their path, detouring a little to pass by the two disabled pirates so that Qui-Gon could stop their weapons with a few surgically-placed shots. "They'll have to hire some tugs to retrieve all that ice and plant new cables."

"With a little persuasion, I'm sure system security will be willing to pay for it," Qui-Gon promised.

Obi-Wan chuckled and aimed the Kestrel toward the freighter's open cargo bay doors.

It wasn't until the cargo bay was secure again and they were climbing out of the modified cockpit that Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon. "I hope I wasn't too forward back there, Master. I didn't mean to give you orders."

Qui-Gon paused with one foot on the wing, eyebrows rising. "That's all right, Padawan. You had information that I didn't. You were quite right to take action before it was too late. I would have taken over if it seemed necessary, but it wasn't."

Obi-Wan smiled, climbing down behind his master. "I thought that went rather well," he said.

Qui-Gon nodded, leading the way across the cargo bay. "We worked very smoothly together. You're getting quite good at teamwork, Padawan."

"Do you think it was the sex?" Obi-Wan suggested cheerfully.

Qui-Gon's step faltered. "Let's . . . go speak to the captain about how this is going to affect her schedules." He didn't turn to look at his apprentice.

Obi-Wan ducked his head to hide his amusement as he followed his master through the ship.

Qui-Gon Jinn stood patiently on the reviewing platform behind the Askiirst of Bristeetst, watching the aerial displays that punctuated the new leader's inaugural address. Half his view was obscured by the Askiirst's enormous headdress of multicolored feathers, and Qui-Gon had to watch his step when he moved to avoid the similarly exaggerated tail of the costume. The Askiirst was primarily a figurehead leader, as the Bristeen tended to believe that males were too preoccupied with prestige and appearances for any sort of serious occupation. The Askiirst would have a cabinet of female advisors to make his decisions, and a staff of female clerks to carry them out.

Captain Ctecteru was quite unusual for a Bristeen in that she had no less than three males in functional positions on her crew. No doubt it had helped her to take Qui-Gon and his padawan seriously. Their success in staving off pirates had also earned them a great deal of respect; when raiders had started to move in during the ship's third and final refueling stop, the pilot had simply announced over the comm that there were two Jedi aboard. The thieves had retreated after remarkably little consideration, and the freighter had eventually arrived at Bristeetst with all but two percent of its original ice cargo intact.

Whatever the limitations of their role in Bristeen society, the males were certainly good at putting on an impressive show. Qui-Gon blinked as three wings of Bristeen flew overhead in wheeling formations of glittering scarlet, teal, and gold feathers. It all served as an effective distraction from the meaningless platitudes the new leader was quoting from his datapad.

The wheels burst apart into tumbling individual acrobats just as the speech finished, and Qui-Gon recognized his own cue. He stepped to the front of the platform and began to recite the Senate's official recognition of the new leader, at the same moment that Obi-Wan took to the air from the other side of the great bay. Clad in dull brown and white, the padawan's show was purely a display of skill as he swooped easily from handhold to foothold, following a spiraling path around the bay. He used the Force so subtly that even an experienced observer might think he was truly soaring and gliding from one stop to the next.

Qui-Gon timed his words carefully, but he was a little ahead of Obi-Wan as he approached the end of his speech. Warned by a quick pulse through their bond, Obi-Wan skipped the last two handholds for a prodigious leap across the space to the reviewing platform. He alit on the edge of the platform amid a flapping of robes and produced a scroll from his sleeve with a flourish. Scribed on gilt paper and wrapped in blue ribbons, the scroll was as brightly colored as any Bristeen could wish. It simply repeated the words Qui-Gon had just spoken, but it represented the approval of the Senate in a tangible form. Obi-Wan bowed deeply as he handed the scroll to the new Askiirst.

Their role in the inauguration complete, the two Jedi stepped off opposite ends of the reviewing platform at the same moment and dropped fifty meters to land lightly on the floor of the bay below. They exchanged amused glances with each other before they were surrounded by a crowd of officials whisking them off to the obligatory celebration.

It was some hours before they were free to adjourn to the sumptuous suite they had been assigned on the outer rim of the habitat, and in that time they had no chance to speak more than a few words to each other. At last Qui-Gon stood in the main room of their suite, looking up through the overarching transparisteel wall to the stars wheeling slowly past.

Qui-Gon gazed out at the glittering sky, but what he saw in his mind's eye was the face of his padawan. He had come to realize, at some point while they were grappling in the small, hot cabin, that he was in love. He had begged for a link between them, an intimacy that should never have been permitted, yet Obi-Wan had granted it willingly. In that link, Qui-Gon had felt the genuine affection in his padawan's heart and the younger man's determination to give all that was asked -- but physical sensation had overwhelmed him before he could find out if it was truly love that Obi-Wan felt, love to match Qui-Gon's own. Now their bond had returned to normal, and Qui-Gon could only be sure of his own feelings, which were stronger than he had ever suspected.

A whisper of foreboding told him that this was the last love of his life -- but did that mean long love, or short life? In either case, it couldn't be ethical to tie Obi-Wan to him with promises when the young man still had so much to learn about himself and the world around him. Over the last few years, he had watched Obi-Wan discovering sex and love and all the wonders of adulthood along with his friends. Qui-Gon could never wish to stifle such a learning process; indeed, he was conscious that Obi-Wan's discoveries were responsible for saving his eye. Yet, having decided to make no promises, still he found himself greedily wondering how much he could have without promises. What were the ethics of such a desire?

He started from his reflections as the main door to the suite opened. Turning partly away from the door, he firmed his mental shields and made a show of staring out at the night.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Obi-Wan said, coming to stand next to him.

Qui-Gon glanced at his padawan over his glass of water -- pure water, which was a luxury here. "I believe it's meant to be."

Obi-Wan pulled off his cloak and tossed it over an expensive chair, then paused as he saw the datapad lying nearby with its light blinking. "A message?"

"From the Council." Qui-Gon sipped at his water.

"Already? We've scarcely finished this mission."

"But we have finished."

"We should be returning to the Temple so the healers can see to your eye."

Qui-Gon smiled, half-closing his left eye so that he could see the indignant expression on his padawan's face without blurring. "The healers at the Temple on Yavin will do as well, no doubt."

"Yavin?"

"That is where our next assignment will take us."

Obi-Wan scowled, clearly tempted to pick up the datapad and read the message for himself, but too polite to do so. "They have their own Jedi. What do they need us for?"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "Aside from the fact that the Jedi on Yavin are primarily philosophers, it seems the dispute we are to mediate involves the Temple itself. They wish to bring in impartial negotiators."

"Oh." Obi-Wan sighed. "Well, at least on Yavin I can get a bath." He wormed a hand inside his tunic to scratch at his chest.

"Certainly, there's plenty of water there." Qui-Gon watched that hand enviously.

Obi-Wan looked up with a suspicious frown. "We don't have to travel on another freighter, do we?"

"No, there will be a diplomatic courier ship here to pick us up the day after tomorrow."

Obi-Wan blinked. "So we do get some rest. Good."

"Why so insistent that we should rest, Padawan? The last two weeks have hardly been strenuous."

"You were wounded, Master."

"Ah. But I have been healed -- very effectively so." Qui-Gon settled in one of the soft chairs and leaned back at his ease. "I was impressed with your method of Force generation. You must have done quite a bit of research to reach that level of proficiency."

Obi-Wan started to say something, discarded it, and merely said, "Thank you, Master."

"No doubt the Council will find it interesting as well."

Obi-Wan stiffened. "The Council?"

"Of course. They need to know about any new technique that might be useful to other Jedi."

"But, Master, this particular technique . . . it's rather personal, isn't it?"

"It has a wider range of applications than you may realize, Padawan. Didn't you find it invaluable on Arawoon?"

"Well, yes, Master, but . . ."

"But?"

"Won't you be in trouble with the Council for, for . . . initiating a sexual relationship with your padawan?"

"Oh, but I didn't initiate it. It was all your idea, Obi-Wan. And you are an adult. I don't see why the Council should have any objection." Qui-Gon waited to see what effect his words would have.

Obi-Wan stood very still, staring at him. "I'm an adult," he repeated.

"You certainly are."

The padawan took two steps closer to Qui-Gon's chair. "And if it's my idea, there should be no problem," he prompted.

"I don't expect the Council to see any problem, no."

Two more steps. "What about you, Master? Do you see a problem with an adult padawan initiating a relationship with his master?"

Qui-Gon swallowed, his eyes tracing the gleam of golden light across the younger man's cheek and neck. "So long as there are no misunderstandings, no misguided attempts to enforce a commitment . . . then, no."

Obi-Wan came to a stop with his knees just between Qui-Gon's sprawled thighs. "No commitment," he said slowly. "Just a contract to seek mutual pleasure between two consenting adults."

Qui-Gon nodded, his throat too dry to speak.

A sweet smile spread across Obi-Wan's face. "How convenient," he breathed.

Qui-Gon tried to moisten his lips. "Convenient?"

"I've been wondering what it would be like to kiss you with your lips working properly. Now I can find out." And the padawan bent down, his hands coming to rest on Qui-Gon's shoulders as he brushed their lips together, then flicked out his tongue for a brief taste, then dove in wholeheartedly to a melding of mouths.

Qui-Gon found himself with his arms and lap full of eager young man as Obi-Wan climbed up to straddle him on the chair.

"Mmm," the padawan murmured, releasing the kiss at last. "I knew the beard would be nice."

"I thought you said it would look dignified?"

"And feel wonderful, too." Obi-Wan stropped his cheek back and forth against his master's jaw. "I never got a chance to taste you properly, before. Or touch . . ." He delved into Qui-Gon's tunic, fingers tracing lines of fire across the older man's collarbone and ribs.

Gasping, Qui-Gon caught at those roving hands. "Obi-Wan," he warned.

"Hmm?" With his hands trapped, Obi-Wan simply used his mouth to best advantage, nuzzling at his master's throat.

"Not here. I have a perfectly good bed in the other room."

Obi-Wan sat back a little, his warm thighs coming to rest atop Qui-Gon's knees. "You have an enormous bed in the other room," he corrected happily. "What a lovely idea! Come on." With one smooth move, he was on his feet and pulling Qui-Gon after him toward the bedroom.

Qui-Gon followed obediently, allowing himself a single wistful glance at the back of the younger man's head. Obi-Wan was so eager, so generous with his affections! Had he been as warm with all those other partners? Had they taught him that easy sensuality, that instant willingness to touch and kiss? What would Obi-Wan say if he knew that Qui-Gon longed to capture his heart, to bind and hold him forever?

No promises, no commitments, the master reminded himself firmly as he followed his padawan to bed. He would take what he could get, live in the joy of the moment and school his heart to ask for nothing more. It would be enough.

For now.

The End. (January, 2000)