Journey of the Whills: Circle Shift, Part III

by Flamethrower

Title: (Re-Entry) Journey of the Whills: Circle Shift, Part III

Author: Flamethrower

Archive: MA archive, my Archive, and AO3

Category: Q/O, AU

Summary: Politics: The art of spinning straw into gold while blindfolded and bound.

Warnings: None.

Spoilers: I use some things from the new Clone Wars cartoon, but not everything because their utter lack of disregard for canon even within the cartoon drives me nuts. But the rest of it is just too damn awesome not to use! Still, if you're not caught up and don't want to be spoiled, be warned: here there be dragons.

Note: This is a continuation of the Re-Entry series; if you're new to the story, I'd suggest you start at the beginning with the links below. This gets complicated. Really complicated.

Feedback: Is golden and treasured.

Thanks: Merry Amelie, mrs_stanley, and writestufflee, who are the finest damn betas a hack writer could ask for. Once again, they help whip my ramblings into shape.

Standard, well-abused Disclaimer:
"Rob? That's a naughty word, we never rob! We just... sort of borrow."
"Borrow? Boy, are we in debt!"

Series links:
Re-Entry (Complete)
&
Journey of the Whills:
Part 0: Prologue
Part 1: Beginning Anew
Part 2: Circle Shift, Part I
Part 3: Circle Shift, Part II
Part 4: Circle Shift, Part III

And if you want to avoid AO3, the wonderfully solid Master-Apprentice archive still has everything. (I do mean everything -- watch the summaries to avoid stumbling into other alternate universes!)

He'd never conducted a secretarial interview; had not, in fact, ever needed a secretary before. Most of the superficial datawork had already been delegated to others long before Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had been invited to join the Council, in that long ago other-when, and the job had been military-based due to the war effort. This was not then, though, and there was a lot of Temple minutiae tied up in the permanent Council seat that Yarael Poof had surrendered to him.

Thus, a secretary was a necessity, likely to be a godsend. He had spent the entire morning interviewing senior Padawans and new Knights who, for some insane reason that Obi-Wan couldn't fathom, actually wanted the job.

Most of the Councilors he now worked with had at least one secretary. Mace Windu, as Head of the Order, had four.

He would be happy just to find one.

When Reeft came to the office at noon, Obi-Wan had his head in his hands. The tea he'd ordered had never showed, and he was contemplating leaping from the top of the nearest Tower in frustration.

"Well, I'd ask how it was going, but in your case, body language speaks volumes," Reeft said, sitting down in one of the cleaner chairs available in front of Obi-Wan's workstation. A cloud of dust flew up into the air. Master Poof seemed to have had something against cleaning droids. The entire office needed to be nuked and rebuilt, but Force, who had the time? At this rate, Mortis was going to be less a curiosity and more of an escape attempt.

"Want a job?" Obi-Wan asked without moving his hands.

"Oh, Force no," Reeft retorted. "I happen to have trained to be a diplomatic envoy. You need a data-monger."

"True, but so far I haven't spoken to one that doesn't set my teeth on edge." He dropped his hands and leaned back in his chair, which squealed in protest. Yet another item to replace.

"Maybe you're being too picky?" Reeft suggested, picking up a data-disk from the bookshelf and blowing dust off of it. "Or maybe it's this office. For someone as fastidious as Master Yarael, this place is a trash bin. You should set it afire and start over."

"I did have a similar thought," Obi-Wan said, smiling. "As to being picky?" He blew out a long sigh, releasing most of his frustration and tension with it. "Master Yarael's secretary agreed to meet with me, but made it very clear that he wished to continue working for Yarael, and wanted little or nothing to do with me. The others were all senior Padawans with some very overblown cases of hero worship."

Reeft put down the disk, wiping his hand off on his trousers. "Hero worship is supposed to have its uses."

"Yes, but it doesn't do me any good if they're too distracted by the worship to do their damn jobs," Obi-Wan grumbled. "Or if they're too busy picturing me naked. The last two were miserable at shielding."

Reeft laughed. "And you can't torture young Anakin with the job until he's a senior. You seem to be trapped between a rock and a hard place, my friend."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm sure a solution will present itself. It may just have to wait. In the meantime, if no one hears from me in a few days, it's because I've been buried in an avalanche of reports."

"And thus you will continue to serve as an inspiration for the rest of us, who are learning quickly that we don't wish to be Jedi Councilors, after all," Reeft grinned back.

I don't wish to be a Councilor, Obi-Wan thought, but was saved from further reply by the office chime. "Come in," he said, standing as he took mental note of his visitor's identity.

The door slid open, and Senator Bail Organa stepped into the room, flanked by two aides. "Oh for-Brax, wait outside. I'm not going to be assassinated in a small, windowless room occupied by two Jedi," Bail said, and closed the door in their faces, much to Brax's displeasure.

Reeft let loose a near-silent meep and jumped to his feet, as if his diplomatic training was an electric prod. "Senator Organa, a pleasure to greet you."

"And greetings to you, Padawan Reeft. I've been hearing good things about you," Bail replied, offering his hand to the quickly-composed Dressellian.

Reeft managed a genuine smile, taking Bail's hand to return the greeting. "Someone was being kind."

"And you, Councilor Kenobi-"

"Oh, don't you start!" Obi-Wan growled back, shaking his head. "It's good to see you, Bail."

"Likewise," the junior Senator of Alderaan replied, lifting both arms. Obi-Wan walked over and accepted the other man's embrace, and for a moment it was as much greeting as it was nostalgia. Especially considering...

"Bail."

"Hmm?"

"Please get your hand off of my ass."

Bail chuckled and stepped back, a wide smile on his face. "Forgive me; I am, apparently, incorrigible."

Reeft was torn between maintaining his diplomatic expression and choking on laughter. "Ah. I suppose this explains Garen's minor sulk after the Yinchorri Accord."

"Was it that soon after?" Obi-Wan asked, perching on the edge of the desk. "I hadn't realized."

"I hadn't realized that the hero of the Yinchorri Accord would be the sort to hang out in a seedy bar," the dark-haired man said. Clean-shaven, creamed-caff skin, laughing dark eyes, wide smile. Obi-Wan had looked up, surprised to be flirted with, and was almost shocked sober as he recognized the other man. Bail Organa, junior Senator of Alderaan. Someone he knew well, intimately well-had laughed with and loved and grieved with, long ago, in a time that, for Bail, had never happened. Obi-Wan's early Knighting had meant that he and Bail had never had the chance to meet. Until now.

And he was young. Oh, so very, very young.

This wasn't any way Obi-Wan had ever pictured, meeting Bail Organa again. Even when the young man had been kidnapped, just as in Obi-Wan's original timeline, his only involvement had been to direct the other appointed Jedi team in the right direction. Then, out of stubbornness or idiocy, Obi-Wan had insisted that his role in Bail's rescue be kept silent. The opportunity to again meet one of his dearest friends had passed by.

Instead, here Bail was, on Coruscant, both of them over the age of eighteen... and complete strangers. It had been three weeks since the Yinchorri funerals. Most of Obi-Wan's thoughts had been stuck in a swirled, pathetic miasma of I can't and Not yet and I love him and He will never see!

Obi-Wan realized he was staring and blinked hard, trying to righten his senses and his time-sense, with little success. Thrashed. He was utterly thrashed.

Oh, well. He didn't need brain matter for propositioning, and self-pity wasn't anywhere near as fun as the currently available alternative. Right then, Bail Organa was the only thing he wanted.

He stood up, returned the other man's smile, and took Bail Organa's hand. It was warm, his skin smooth, just as Obi-Wan remembered. "Seedy bars have the best alcohol, a fact you must have already discovered for yourself if you're down here. Can I buy you a drink?"

If anything, Bail's smile widened a few more parsecs. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Minor sulk?" Bail was saying, while Obi-Wan dusted off the other chair and did more harm than good for the three of them, judging by the cloud that rose up into the air. "I thought that Wookiee-sized man was going to be the end of me."

"Garen was just being protective, I'm sure," Reeft said, in defense of his chosen partner.

"Garen was being an idiot," Obi-Wan countered, but smiled to take the sting out of his words. "Besides, he got over it in record time."

Reeft blushed. "He did, yes."

Bail grinned. "As I said, I've heard many good things about you, Padawan Reeft."

The Dressellian man sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "I'll kill him."

The chime sounded again; Obi-Wan hesitated before answering, hoping he wasn't about to fit an entire retinue into the small office. The room was designed for work, not meetings.

I know you're in there. I bring steaming beverages!

"Oh, bless the Force," Obi-Wan said, just barely refraining from dragging Bant and her caffeinated burden into the room. He noted before shutting the door that Bail's waiting aides had also been plied with tea. "You're a brilliant woman. And you've gotten better at sending."

"I'm well-trained, at the very least," Bant confirmed with a smile. "Though, this was Master Qui-Gon's idea. He caught me in the commissary and sent me with the tea, saying you were contemplating tower suicide again."

"Force bless you both, then," Obi-Wan said, stealing a cup from the tray. "Padawan Janks is an unreliable source of tea."

"Padawan Janks needs a foot up the arse," Bant retorted, and then winced. "Er, my apologies, Senator Organa."

"Don't mind me," Bail said, ripping the lid off of his tea and taking a sip. "I am once more a mere casual acquaintance, at least until the meeting begins. Say whatever you like. Senator Organa hears nothing."

Bant smiled. "I'd forgotten that you like to play the charmer."

"Force," Reeft grumbled. "Did everyone meet this man but me?"

"Aalto didn't. Neither did Voktja."

"I, ah... am familiar with Padawan Voktja now," Bail admitted, looking chagrined.

"I told you not to sleep with her," Obi-Wan said, relishing the sensation of caffeine hitting his bloodstream like a shot.

"And thus I learned to listen to my friend's wisdom." Bail smiled. "I'm sorry I missed the wedding, Obi-Wan. I did want to go."

"It's all right," Obi-Wan raised his cup in vague salute. "You already apologized once. I don't mind, and you weren't the only one. There has been a lot going on in the past year."

"They wouldn't have noticed your absence, anyway," Bant supplied, her eyes tilted in a sly manner. "They were a bit too preoccupied with-"

"Don't you dare, Bantling," Obi-Wan cut in. He didn't mind the teasing, himself, but the Mon Calamarian was not yet aware of how deep Bail Organa's feelings for Obi-Wan Kenobi were. Another few months in her empathy classes, and she would know... and never forgive herself for such a cruel statement.

Bant waved her hand. "Touchy crechemate."

"Besides, the gift I sent should have made certain you knew of my thoughtfulness," Bail said, looking smug.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "You're the one who sent the silk comforter. Force, Bail. Head of House or not, I know you don't have that many small fortunes to throw around!"

"I have more than I like to know about, anyway." Bail shrugged. "Fortunately for me, someone owed me a favor, and that was the result. Thought you'd like it-and stop giving me that look. It was my gift, and there will be hurt feelings if you try to give it back to me now."

"There is no way in hell you're getting your hands on that blanket," Obi-Wan said in a mock-growl, which made the others laugh.

"I thought so," Bail said, putting the tea aside. "Now let me see the sleeve. I've been dying to get a look at a genuine trade sleeve since Knight Muln let it slip."

Obi-Wan grinned and pulled up the tunic sleeves covering his left arm, baring the shimmershade tattoo from wrist to elbow. "Voyeur. Just because you'll never get one..."

"Exactly. I must live vicariously through you," Bail said, taking Obi-Wan's arm with gentle hands, examining the designs with his fingertips. "Gorgeous. Garen said you had it all done in one evening."

"I did, yes," Obi-Wan said, pulling his shirt back down when Bail released his arm. For all that he had gotten the sleeve done as a declaration of his love, it was still not something he wanted to flash to the world at all times. He liked the privacy of it, knowing that his vows were written into his skin, hidden by clothes where few would ever see. So little of his life was private, now, and what little Obi-Wan could keep for himself, he would.

"What's with this office, anyway?" Bant asked, dust stirred up yet again when she tried to move a stack of 'plast. "Why is it so awful in here? Why haven't you burned it out yet?"

"Fire does seem to be the preferred method of redecoration," Reeft noted, sharing a smile with Obi-Wan.

"I've been busy trying to figure out these," Obi-Wan said, taking in the 'plast, the disks, and the accumulated detritus. "Décor is secondary to reports, Bantling."

"Feh. I can do this stuff with my eyes closed," Bant replied, reading over one of the reports in question.

"Can you?" Obi-Wan asked, a flare of hope blossoming in his chest.

"Sure," Bant was already sorting through the flimsiplast pile in earnest. "I'm apprenticed to Master Tahl, remember? I am a data-digger extraordinaire. This stuff is cake compared to some of the research I've done."

Did you send Bant on purpose, love?

Hmm? What? Qui-Gon sent back, mental tone once again stuffed to the brim with innocence. I merely sent you tea, as I prefer you to be in one piece and not splatted onto duracrete.

Uh huh, Obi-Wan replied, fighting another smile. Brilliant, love. "Bant Eerin, how would you like to be a Councilor's secretary?"

"Huh?" Bant glanced up, distracted from her 'plast. "Oh! Sure, I suppose. Gets me away from a certain cranky pregnant Master, at least. Do I get to fix this room, too?"

"That would be an absolute kindness. In the meantime, you get to attend your first meeting as a Council secretary. If we leave now, we'll be just in time. Come on, Reeft."

"What? Me?" Reeft stood up, blinking in surprise. "Garen just sent me to check on you, I'm not..." his voice trailed off as realization struck. "I'll kill him!"

"That's two death threats in less than ten minutes," Bail observed. "He must know you very well."

Reeft stuttered, blushed, and then chuckled. "I'm supposed to be a trained diplomat, but if it's Garen conning me, I fall for it every damn time!"

"That's because he knows how to distract you," Obi-Wan said, and maintained an innocent expression when Reeft sent a glare in his direction. "Shall we?"

Reef sighed. "Master Binn has been so reticent about my Trials. I guess now I know why. Senator," he said, waving a hand for Bail to precede him.

Obi-Wan stopped Bant just before she could leave the office by resting a hand on her shoulder. "No pink."

"No pink," she repeated, grinning. "But you have to admit, me giving you that table sure got you to find furniture in a hurry."

"Wench," he grumbled, before slinging an arm around her waist. "This'll be fun. More like the old days."

"They'll be eating out of our hands in no time at all," Bant agreed.

The meeting was not held in the Council Chamber, on account of their guests. Instead it was in one of the formal Council meeting rooms, the same place where the Yinchorri debriefing had taken place, as it was the only room large enough to hold them all. Half of the Council was already seated, but abandoned their chairs when Bail entered the room.

"Senator Organa, you're early," Mace Windu greeted him, bowing.

"Far better than being late, I'm certain. Greetings, Master Windu, Master Gallia," Bail said, returning the bow before moving to greet the other Councilors.

"Welcome, Padawan," Mace said, as Reeft glanced around the room. "How do you feel?"

"Doomed, Master Windu," Reeft admitted. "Where do I sit?"

"Over there, Reeft. You'll be seated next to the Naboo Senator, when he arrives," Adi Gallia said, directing him over to one of the spaces not yet marked by a file folder.

"Does he know?" Mace asked Obi-Wan in a soft voice.

"He knows that the game is afoot, but doesn't yet know the nature of it," Obi-Wan replied, watching as his longtime friend calmed himself enough to greet the others in the room, as Bail was doing. "I told you Garen would hold his tongue."

"Wonders will never cease," Mace replied, a quick smile lighting his expression. "But he's not the only one who can keep secrets."

"What are you-oh," Obi-Wan managed to bite off the rest of the sentence, turning to face her properly. "Queen Amidala. A pleasure to see you again."

"Master Kenobi, the pleasure is mine," Padmé answered him, cloaked by the traditional makeup of Naboo royalty, though she had foregone the headdress. Her gown, on the other hand, was as elaborate as ever, glimmering in a shade of blue that reminded him of something, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite recall what.

She smiled up at him. "Keeping my appearance today a secret from you was not easy, especially when one has just been confirmed a Councilor."

"And yet you've managed brilliantly." Obi-Wan smiled back and took her hand, keeping an eye toward protocol. "You must be here for the confirmation of Naboo's new Senator."

"Yes, especially given that it has taken almost a full year to get the process complete. The Chommell Sector has been without representation for longer than any of us would prefer," Padmé answered, her eyes flashing with suppressed irritation. "But now it is done." She waved forward the man who had been waiting a respectful distance behind her. "Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Horace Vancil, newly elected and confirmed Senator of Naboo and the Chommell Sector."

Obi-Wan bowed in greeting. Vancil was an elder Naboo man, with pristine white hair and a tailored black overcoat that made him appear larger than he actually was. For all that Naboo tradition dictated political retirement at a young age, Amidala's court was full of men and women who had continued with their chosen professions. "Congratulations on your appointment, Senator."

Vancil smiled and returned the bow. "Thank you, Councilor. It's a genuine delight to meet one of the heroes of Naboo."

"Well, now you're in an entire roomful of them, Senator Vancil," Obi-Wan said. "Have you met Master Windu, yet? He and Master Yoda helped to coordinate the Gungan military assault against the Trade Federation army."

Queen Amidala had moved on to complete her political duties, and Senator Vancil was thus distracted, which gave Obi-Wan the opportunity to actually brief his new Council Secretary on what was about to happen. Bant nodded at his short summary, retrieving one of her custom datapads from her robe pocket. "I was wondering how the Kamino thing was going to be dealt with. I didn't expect a front row seat for it," she murmured.

"Plan to be front and center for a lot of things, Bant," he said. "It seems many hurdles have been cleared at once."

"Joy," she muttered, patting his arm before seeking her seat. Adi, a master at improvisation for meetings such as these, had already created a place for her next to Brax. Bail's aide greeted the Mon Calamarian Padawan cheerfully, his mood much improved by the gift of fresh caffeine.

They were joined by Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura. Aayla still tended towards silence in situations like these, but Quinlan already looked as if he wanted to bite something. One of the others must have already informed him of what his next task was to be; once he had a target, Quin's patience for meetings was almost nonexistent.

Obi-Wan sensed him just before a large hand slipped into his, and he grinned without looking at his mate. "You're very good at being quiet, when you wish to be."

Qui-Gon's voice was pitched low, meant only for his ears, and it seemed like the deep rumble of it sank into his bones. "Is that a challenge, Master Kenobi?"

"Oh, I hope so," he whispered back, moving off to seek his own chair before Qui-Gon had him distracted into nigh uselessness.

The representative for the Abrion sector, Esu Rotsino, joined them a moment later. Her escort, a blue Twi'lek Knight, settled in with an air of quiet professionalism.

I'll be damned, Qui-Gon said, dipping his head in greeting when the Twi'lek smiled at him. I haven't seen Orykan Tamarik since Tahl Knighted her.

Esu Rotsino gave a short, blunt greeting to the group at large before allowing Adi to direct her to a seat. The elderly human woman had been present in the Senate for so long that she had grown to despise overly long introductions, especially among people she already knew. The behavior was favorably tolerated from Senator Rotsino where it wouldn't have been from a junior.

Obi-Wan watched her out of the corner of his eye while hiding a smile. Rotsino's customary behavior during Zan Arbor's original trial had been a welcome balm every time he'd needed to take the stand. She had always been short and to the point, whereas others had tended to drone on and on. It hadn't been his first time in the courts, but it was still one of the worst stints he'd ever seen. Force, if there was one thing he didn't want to repeat...

Love, there are far better things to be dwelling on.

Obi-Wan gave a slight nod of acquiescence, fighting back a sigh as he moved to take his seat. Other things, then. I was also thinking that Senator Rotsino is humored by the Senate because no one else wants to do her job. Keeping tabs on the Rishi Maze was considered a political nightmare, even at the best of times.

Rumors abound that if Rotsino dies in office, the Rishi Maze may secede from the Republic rather than try to find a new representative, Qui-Gon sent back, as he settled in between Adi and Plo Koon.

That's what they did the last time. Granted, choosing to ally themselves with the Separatists was less about politics and more about survival, Obi-Wan replied, accepting a second folder from Saesee Tiin. He hoped Bant could come up with a solution for the state of his office quickly, because Force knew where he was even going to put today's files. It kept the Confederates from ravaging the Maze. We sure as hell weren't in the position to help them.

"Let's begin," Mace called. In short order everyone was seated, with only Yoda and Oppo Rancisis absent. The former was in the creche, tending to his more favored duties; the latter had departed Coruscant, acting as the Jedi representative during the yearly review of the Yinchorri branch of the Judicial Forces.

"The Jedi Council is known to all present, but for our newest member, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," Mace explained, glancing at the Senators. Obi-Wan managed a terse smile when Esu Rotsino gave him a curious look. "Senators Rotsino, Vancil, and Organa, this is Jedi Master Orykan Tamarik, accompanied by Reeft, Padawan of Master Binn Ibes." Mace went down the table, introducing the Council secretaries who were present, Bant among them. "Master Jinn is here in official capacity as well, acting as diplomatic advisor for the matters at hand. And lastly, Queen Amidala is known to you all due to the popularity of Naboo's disagreement with the Trade Federation."

Horace Vancil released a great snort of amusement at Mace's cagey wording. Obi-Wan wondered how many of those present, aside from the Council, would fail to notice that the reason for the young Queen's presence had not been mentioned.

Introductions dealt with, Mace delved right into the heart of things. "We're all here today because the Prime Minister of Kamino has finally agreed to receive a delegation from the Republic. While this would normally be presented before the Senate committees, the fact of the matter is that they have strict stipulations. The first is that the delegation must be fronted by the Jedi Order, or the Kaminoans will deal with none of us at all."

"What changed?" Bail asked, frowning as he scanned his own folder. "Up until last week, Prime Minister Lama Su was against receiving any sort of delegation, no matter who fronted it."

"What changed is our discovery that the Sith acquired some of their cloning cylinders," Adi Gallia said, glancing at Obi-Wan. "The Kaminoans seem to be horrified. They claim they never share their technology with outsiders, and are firm in their belief that Sidious must have stolen it. They want to know how."

"They are willing to welcome our delegation, and hear out the Galactic Senate's political message, in exchange for help in deducing how Sidious managed to override their security," Mace continued.

"Those cylinders aren't small, so it's not like the man went into Tipoca City and snuck out with the machine tucked under his robes," Ki-Adi Mundi observed. Senator Rotsino made a sound of amused agreement.

"Master Orykan Tamarik has agreed to represent the Order. She will be accompanied by Padawan Reeft as secondary diplomatic envoy for the Jedi," Obi-Wan said, when Mace silently directed for him to continue. "Their other stipulation is that the Republic delegation shall be limited to a very small number of representatives, two of whom were requested by the Kaminoan Prime Minister."

"Senator Organa, as was discussed with Chancellor Valorum and senior Senator Bail Antilles, you are accepting leadership of the Kamino delegation," Mace said. "Your reputation has already preceded you on Kamino."

"Wait. I'm lead?" Bail lifted his head, his eyes wide. "I'm a junior Senator, Master Jedi. I don't have the clout to handle these-"

"Two days ago, Senator Bail Antilles informed the Chancellor that he will be retiring from service in six months," Mace told him.

"Shit," Bail whispered, paling. Vancil eyed him but said nothing, while Rotsino continued to look amused. "He hadn't said a word." He ran his hands through his hair. "And instead of elections, I'm getting booted into Senior position."

"Well, there will be elections, but it's the Junior position that'll be up for grabs," Adi grinned. "Congratulations, Senator." The words were echoed around the table.

Bail sighed. "Thank you for your kind words. I take it Esu is my second?" he asked, shaking off his surprise as best he could.

Mace nodded. "Senator Rotsino is their second choice, as she would be their representative in the Senate if Kamino agrees to join the Republic."

"Hey, not everyone can say they've been able to boss around Rotsino," Quinlan winked at Bail, which made Rotsino chuckle.

Mace gave Quinlan a sharp look, annoyed by the interruption. "Senator Vancil will also be accompanying you."

"You know, perhaps it would be wise to advise the Kaminoans to choose their own Galactic representative," Qui-Gon suggested. "We've been trying for years to get a second Senator for the sector, and the excuse of a new member system might override some of the old arguments."

"They are, technically, not even in the Maze," Senator Rotsino said, tapping her nails against the tabletop as she considered the proposition. "Given their location, and the desire to maintain their autonomy, the suggestion is a valid one."

"Agreed," Bail seconded, looking hopeful. "It can be something we discuss with the Prime Minister when we arrive. That might serve to make our offer seem more appealing."

"And my role in this shall be?" Senator Vancil asked, looking curious.

"Getting your feet wet," Rotsino declared, giving him a firm nod. "You are new to this level of politics, and need both exposure and experience."

"Given the rather dark mark that the position of Naboo Senator currently bears, it is also felt that the opportunity to shine under the umbrella of a negotiating success would help to diminish that tarnish," Amidala said, her face grave. "Your predecessor did much without attaining the favor of those he represented. My presence here is meant to signal my approval of your tenure on Coruscant, and the Chommell sector's approval of the Kamino venture."

"Ah," Vancil said, his expression pensive. "And if the Kamino negotiations fail?"

"Then you get to learn how to spin straw into gold," Bail told him, grinning. "The challenge with a failure is to make it sound like it was a success for other reasons."

Vancil raised an eyebrow, inclining his head in gratitude. "Thank you for being candid. But I hope it will not be necessary to learn to spin so quickly."

"Then we are agreed?" Adi asked, and received confirmation from each Senator. "Master Tamarik and Padawan Reeft will communicate with the three of you over the coming week, to make sure that the delegation comes together in a timely manner. The Kaminoans are anxious to conduct this meeting, and it would be wise not to waste the opportunity. Knight Vos?"

"Right," Quinlan said, giving the group a half-hearted smile. "I'm here because of Jenna Zan Arbor and Uta S'orn's mutual breakouts from their respective penal colonies three weeks ago."

"Oh, balls," Senator Rotsino swore. "That woman, again? The pair of them caused such trouble last time," she said, her eyes narrowed. "We don't need that nonsense again. Are you going after her, Knight Vos?"

Quinlan nodded. "Both my Padawan and I will be tracking her, Senator. The initial search teams have had no luck, but I know that my Padawan and I can find her, no matter what hole Zan Arbor has crawled into. We're hopeful that we can bring her in before it becomes another court trial for biological abuses."

The Abrion representative smiled. "I thank you. I had to sit through her last trial. I have no wish to hear of her exploits a second time."

"Nor I," Qui-Gon murmured.

"And thus, I lose a set of bodyguards," Amidala lamented, smiling at Quinlan.

"Lose?" Quinlan grinned. "Your Highness, there are still Jedi watching over you. You just won't meet them unless circumstances call for it."

"Yes, my family, too," Obi-Wan answered the unspoken question when Padmé looked at him in surprise. "We are not slacking from our watch against the Sith, even if it may initially appear to be so."

"Sneaky," Bail noted. "I approve."

"You have your own tails keeping an eye to your safety, Senator Organa," Plo Koon informed him, which made Bail lean back in surprise.

"Why me?"

"Your ties to the Jedi are strong, both because of your family and your public record on Order/Republic relations. You're far more vocal about such things than senior Senator Antilles ever was. It would have been easy enough for Sidious to try to take advantage of that," Mace explained.

"Don't look at me," Obi-Wan said, when Bail did exactly that. "I was neither Councilor nor coherent when that decision was made."

"Anyway," Quinlan said, recalling the conversation by thudding his fist once against the tabletop. "I do have several things to say before we continue." Noting that everyone had turned their attention back towards him, Quinlan continued. "For the moment, S'orn concerns me less than Zan Arbor. We have a datamonger-"

Mace cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, a data profiler," Quinlan corrected himself, on the verge of rolling his eyes. "We have a data profiler looking for S'orn through more traditional channels, as S'orn's status as former Republic Senator gives her access to avenues of exploitation that Zan Arbor cannot attain on her own. If this were a normal case, finding S'orn would lead to Zan Arbor, but those two have never had a standard partnership. Given the fact that Zan Arbor caused the death of S'orn's son, it's probable they are not even working together."

"Or S'orn is working with Zan Arbor only for the opportunity to take revenge," Rotsino cut in. "Uta was always far more wily than she was given credit for."

Quinlan nodded. "Also possible. Right now we are discounting nothing. In the meantime, Zan Arbor's status as a wanted felon limits her opportunities to claim Jedi to perform her experiments on. But there are more Force sensitives in this galaxy than us. The Republic needs to be made aware that even our very minor sensitives are at risk. We must all keep watch; if she wants something badly enough, Jenna Zan Arbor will kidnap whoever she feels is the best test subject for her research. Her capture must be a Republic concern."

Bail sighed. "All right. I'll talk to Senator Antilles. Between the two of us we have enough allies in the Senate to get a motion on the floor to get this issue taken public."

"And I have enough allies to see to it that a vote is called, whether Mas Amedda likes it or not," Rotsino added darkly.

"The Vice Chancellor misses the provisional power he used to have over the Chancellor's office," Bail explained to Vancil, when the other man looked confused. "When it was revealed that Palpatine helped to orchestrate the scandal against Chancellor Valorum, Amedda lost his special grant to block the Chancellor's actions."

"Which is why we're able to have gatherings such as these once more," Saesee Tiin said, a devious smile on his face. "Chancellor Valorum is allowed to call his own damn meetings again."

Vancil was outraged. "That's what that period of fruitless idling was about? How in the bloody hell-excuse me, gracious ladies-how in the universe did they expect the Chancellor to be able to do his job?"

"Certain parties in the Senate, who cannot be found liable, even though we know the truth of the matter, did not wish for Finis Valorum to be Chancellor," Qui-Gon said, a faint scowl on his face. "They did an excellent job of tying his hands, the better to promote their own agenda."

"Which was, in fact, a Sith's agenda," Aayla Secura said, and then blushed violet.

Vancil scrubbed at his face with one hand. "Then whom do I trust, Masters Jedi?"

"Your people," said Amidala.

"Your intuition," said Mace.

"Your knowledge of right and wrong," Obi-Wan added. "And don't be afraid to push back."

"Mm, yes. Push Tikkes down the stairs, while you're at it," Rotsino murmured.

"Esu!" Orykan Tamarik gave the elder Senator a stern look. "I happen to like this new Senator, and we've precious few that are likeable. Let's see if he proves useful, first. Then you can have him deal with Senator Tikkes."

Rotsino roared with laughter while Mace glowered at the Twi'lek Knight. "You've been in the Maze too damn long, Tamarik."

"Yes, Master Windu," she agreed, smiling.

"I'm not pushing anyone down any stairs," Vancil said, frowning. "Senator Yarua would never forgive me if I spoiled his fun."

There was a beat of silence around the table, and then everyone assembled was fighting some form of laughter. "Oh, Force," Bail managed around chuckles. "Horace Vancil, I believe you'll fit in just fine."

Vancil nodded, his eyes full of mirth. "I'm not entirely ignorant of Senate workings, Senator Organa, and the Wookiee Yarua's conflict with Tikkes is legendary."

"We'll introduce you to our allies before leaving for Kamino," Rotsino announced, and Obi-Wan was not the only person in the room who shared a pointed look with a companion. Rotsino had made such a gesture only five times in her entire career.

"In the meantime, I must return our attention to the Kamino matter for other reasons," the elder Senator continued, frowning. "I do not doubt the Order's word that the Sith Lord is using cloning technology, but how can we be certain the cloning technology is actually Kaminoan? I'm sure the Kaminoans will have similar questions, and I'd like to have the best information I can get for this visit. There are other options out there, such as the Spaarti cylinders."

"The Spaarti tend to produce unreliable results for full body growth," Saesee Tiin answered. "We don't even use them for organ cloning, given the cellular instability the Spaarti cylinders are known for. For full body production, Sidious would have wanted the best."

"Which, I believe, takes us to the third component of this meeting," Amidala said, her hand resting on the folder that Saesee had handed out just before the meeting began.

Adi nodded. "It does. Your Highness, Senators: you were also called to this meeting because you each hail from planets that allow the cloning of organs for medical replacement. Your home systems are among the very few who allow such cloning. Even the fact that the Jedi Order grows replacement options is not well-known in the Republic. We make no secret that we do such things, but for political expediency, it remains a quiet matter."

Qui-Gon muttered something about neutrality, making it sound like a dirty word.

Rotsino sighed. "I was wondering what sort of bait we were to dangle before the Kaminoans to attract them to Republic membership, given their craft. Masters Jedi, you realize the bias we will face, both in the Senate and in public. Cloning of full beings has been illegal almost since the technology was created. Even organ cloning is looked upon as a despicable practice."

"And it is a bias that we must work to overcome, now more than ever," Depa Billaba said, inclining her head at the older Senator. "Palpatine's abuses aside, Kamino is an opportunity to show others that more good than harm can come of such technology."

Bail raised a hand. "I, for one, would like to see the available technology improved. Alderaan allows the practice, but due to the issue that Master Tiin spoke of with the Spaarti cylinders, we have too many limits to what we can currently do for our people. We have success with only a limited number of internal organs. Even bionic limb replacement is a joke."

"Kamino won't join the Republic if they think their sole economic venue will be made illegal. But, if they become a primary medical supplier..." Adi let her words hang in the air.

Quinlan whistled. "They'd be rich. If the rest of the Republic will go for it."

"And as a final kicker, consider this: Kamino cannot become an ally of the Sith. As a neutral body, they will do the work of whoever pays them. If they're Republic-contracted and aligned, the Sith will have one less venue of dominion to pursue," Obi-Wan said, glancing from face to face as he spoke. There were no dissenting voices or expressions, not this time. Unlike some issues, there was no Council member willing to argue against Kamino's tactical importance.

Bail nodded. "It sounds as if we need a public relations campaign. A delegation is one thing, but getting the Republic to accept Kamino's eccentricities in order for the Senate vote to pass..."

"I take it the Chancellor's unofficial position is of approval for this course of action?" Rotsino asked, practically smirking at Mace.

"Chancellor Valorum is choosing to maintain public neutrality until the delegation returns with its initial findings," Mace replied. "If the Kaminoans lean towards Republic membership, then Chancellor Valorum will announce his official stance. In the meantime, you have his quiet support, Senator."

"Good. Finis has shown an astute backbone since Sidious's unmasking," Rotsino said. "I'm glad that trend seems to be continuing."

"Bail's idea is sound, and I have a suggestion on the route it may take." Obi-Wan glanced down the table. "But that will depend upon Queen Amidala and Senator Vancil."

Padmé inclined her head. "I'm listening."

"How many citizens of Naboo needed cloned replacements, of any sort, after the Battle of Theed?" Obi-Wan asked. He knew the numbers, but at least half of those present did not.

Her expression saddened, but her gaze was shrewd. The clever girl knew exactly what he was getting at. "Far too many, Master Jedi."

"A documentary?" Ki-Adi Mundi was frowning in thought. "It is an effective communications tool..."

"And there is still a great deal of public sympathy for the plight of the Naboo, even a year past the resolution of the invasion," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Propaganda," Qui-Gon rumbled, managing to make the word sound almost as bad as his earlier grumble about neutrality.

"A useful tool," Ki-Adi Mundi countered.

"That depends entirely on your point of view," Qui-Gon retorted.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid my current viewpoint is limited to "Jedi Good, Sith Bad,"' Obi-Wan snapped.

"A not entirely unreasonable point of view," Padmé said dryly. "I appreciate the argument, Master Qui-Gon, but in this instance, I will regard propaganda as a necessary evil. As Senator Organa has stated, the current cloning technology available is still woefully insufficient. If galactic conflict breaks out, the Kaminoan talent will be sorely needed."

Obi-Wan watched Mace and Adi exchange glances. "And you believe that to be a possibility, Your Highness?" Mace asked, giving her an intent look.

"The war started on my doorstep, Master Windu," Padmé replied, lifting her chin. "Until Sidious is found, I am not so foolish as to believe the Republic is safe."

That seemed to confirm a decision Adi had made, for she smiled. "My sister used to, ah, have relations with a very well-known documentary 'vid maker. With your permission, Your Highness, I can make a call and get him onto Naboo the moment he's available."

Padmé nodded. "I have only two stipulations. The first: He must interview only those who wish to be interviewed. If I hear otherwise, he'll have to deal directly with me for harassing my people. The second: Myself and Senator Vancil are to have final say on the footage to be published before the documentary is made public. That way we have another line of verification to make certain that this filmmaker is using the truth as his weapon, not lies."

"Since our position is actually in the positive at the moment, it might be a good idea to see if anyone in the Order would consent to be interviewed, as well," Ki-Adi Mundi said, glancing at Qui-Gon to see if he would argue the point. Obi-Wan's mate rolled his eyes.

"That's a good idea. Add the hero of the Republic to the documentary and folks will be lining up to see it," Bail said, grinning at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan winced. Just what he needed-more people staring at him, under the same stupid title, in more damned propaganda. Fortunately, he had a convenient escape hatch. "That's a nice idea, but I haven't actually had any sort of replacement surgery yet."

Rotsino frowned. "Forgive my ignorance on the matter, but shouldn't that have been performed on Naboo, before your leave of absence from the Order?"

"On Naboo, there must be at least a twenty-five percent chance of survival before organ replacement surgery will be performed," Padmé said, answering on behalf of her planet. "The only allowed exception is if the patient will die without the replacement."

"And your survival chances were listed as...?" Bail asked, turning a worried glare on Obi-Wan.

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. "I haven't looked up the numbers in a while, but I think the listed survival chance for torso damage from a concentrated plasma-based energy weapon is...five percent?" he asked, glancing at Adi for confirmation.

Adi nodded. "For a great deal of non-humanoid species, yes. For humanoid species, the survival percentage is listed as less than one percent."

This time it was Rotsino who swore; Bail just looked ill. "Blessed gods, lad," Vancil said, giving Obi-Wan a shocked look. "How in the worlds are you still sitting here? You should be a ghost!"

"I almost was one," Obi-Wan admitted. "I lucked out on three fronts. It was a quick, in-and-out jab. If Droga had lingered over the kill, or done a better job at placing his lightsaber, I would have died instantly. As it is, I still have a kidney, most of my liver escaped damage, and I don't necessarily need a spleen." Granted, there was a list of planets that wouldn't allow him to visit without one. It had been one of the highlights of Abella's argument for getting him back into surgery. "They don't really like throwing replacement organs at you if they think it will be a waste."

"No wonder you were gone for a year," Rotsino said, fighting another smile. "If my compatriots grumble about your presence on the Council during your Confirmation, I plan to slyly insinuate that you seem to be immortal."

"The man's been in the Healers' Ward for a life-threatening injury every two years since he was fourteen Standard," Depa said, her mouth twitching suspiciously. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"I only heard two things mentioned, though," Vancil insisted. "What was the third?"

Padmé broke into a broad grin. "Lifebonds are not only a matter for songs, Senator."

"Songs?" Obi-Wan gave her a sharp look, intensified by Adi's cut-short giggle. "What songs?"

If opportunity allowed, Qui-Gon tried to read something from Obi-Wan's journals each night. He'd tried to return the permission Obi-Wan had granted him after the Battle of Theed, sent in an automated message meant to be received upon death. Obi-Wan had merely looked amused and handed him the entire stack.

"You've done all this in four years?" he'd asked in shock, while they were still on Kaazcint. Garen had brought the journals from the Temple at Obi-Wan's request, if only so he could start writing again.

"Well, these," Obi-Wan touched the top five, "are copies of the ones I originally wrote on Tatooine. I spent a lot of time, effort, and swearing, writing down what I did, and I wanted it back. I recreated them from memory; they're as intact as they're ever going to get. The rest are... well." Obi-Wan had grinned and pointed to a specific one. It was bound in leather, purchased by Qui-Gon and gifted to Obi-Wan for his eighteenth birthday, right before the Yinchorri Uprising. "The other three started with this one."

Tonight Qui-Gon had chosen one of the Tatooine journals, a book that covered the final years Obi-Wan would spend on the planet, living as a Jedi in exile:

There was a young man who met a wise sage on his travels. The sage asked the young man: "To whence are you going?"

The young man said: "I'm just walking, because I have no place to go, and I'm in no hurry to get there."

The wise sage was not known as such because of his age, and his eyes were shrewd. "Ah," said the wise sage. "You are looking for something."

The young man was honest, for he was taught to be polite to his elders. "Yes."

"Ah," the wise sage said again. "But there is a problem."

The young man nodded. "Yes, wise one. What I want is beyond my reach."

The wise sage smiled. "Perhaps you should buy a pair of stilts," he said, and bid the young man farewell.

The young man frowned, and, feeling like a fool on a fool's errand, he purchased a pair of stilts in the next town, which was hosting a traveling carnival. A carnie with a flint eye and a wide smile taught him how to walk on his stilts in exchange for more of the young man's coin. This left him very poor indeed, but nature fed him well, and he was not concerned.

The young man tightened his pack, hopped upon his stilts, and began walking down the road. He still felt very foolish.

But as he walked, he looked around, and saw things he had never seen before, and never would have. The higher branches of the trees were full of bird nests, each crowded with fledglings about to fly. The tall grass seemed to wave in the breeze, rippling like the ocean he'd left far behind. The air was clear, not full of the dust from the road that he stirred up with each wooden step. He could see his path stretching out before him, a long ribbon of brown against the green, and the horizon seemed less distant than before.

The young man smiled. The old man was a wise sage, indeed.

Perhaps what he wanted was not so unreachable, after all.

Obi-Wan entered their bedroom after Qui-Gon had read the last line. His mate smiled when he discovered Qui-Gon lying in their bed. "Ah, just where I wanted you."

That was an excellent idea, but Qui-Gon had an opinion to voice, first. "Obi-Wan, this is incredible," he said. He held out the journal, open to the story, when Obi-Wan gave him a curious look.

"Oh, yes," Obi-Wan said after a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth as he re-read the text. "I remember this. That was a strange dream."

"You dreamed that?" Qui-Gon asked, as Obi-Wan marked the page and set the journal aside.

"Mm," Obi-Wan said, taking a moment to run his hand over the leather cover. "I had a lot of vivid dreams in my final years there. I'd say they were less Force-visions and more... stories, I guess. I think my subconscious was dreadfully bored, and thus started putting interesting things together for me to look at when I closed my eyes. Of course, this was also just after one of my slips."

"Slips?"

"I didn't write it down. I wasn't proud of it," Obi-Wan said, staring down at the book. "I'd just finished an entire year not speaking to another soul, living or dead. When a Jawa caravan came through, I traded for alcohol and did my best to become stone-blind drunk. That story is what came to me in my sleep that night."

Qui-Gon sighed, but did not judge; he doubted he would have maintained a Jedi's serenity at all times if it had been himself in Obi-Wan's place. "Despite its potentially liquid origins, it's a tale I'd love to see given to the Padawans," Qui-Gon said, watching Obi-Wan as he moved around the room, shedding belt and clothes, putting each thing where it belonged in turn. It was like witnessing an active meditation, and Qui-Gon didn't doubt that Obi-Wan's bedtime habits were a holdover from desert exile. "Though really, these books should be in the Temple Archives."

Obi-Wan made a face. "Gods, please no. At least let's wait until I'm deceased and no longer give a Bantha's ass that people like dear Tahl are dissecting my private thoughts."

Sensing Obi-Wan's discomfort with the idea, Qui-Gon shrugged where he lay. "Then that's how it will be," he said. "Come here."

"Have something in mind, then?" Obi-Wan asked, starting to smile.

"Sex," Qui-Gon replied.

The smile became a grin. "Delightful. Any details?"

"I think I would very much like it if you were to fuck me."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan tried for nonchalant, but a full-body shiver wracked his lean frame.

"Well. If you think it's a good idea," Qui-Gon teased.

Obi-Wan simply gazed down at him for a minute, his eyes gone almost green with lust. "No, I happen to think it's a fantastic idea, you blasted pirate. Fuck, you can be so... so... verbal."

"Verbal?" he repeated, smiling.

"You said that and I started to drool," Obi-Wan informed him, shucking the remainder of his clothes in three short movements.

He caught his spouse in his arms, running his hands down Obi-Wan's bare back. "From both ends, I see," he rumbled, feeling cooling dampness smear against his thigh.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Obviously."

He was looking up into his spouse's eyes, content and very much ready to enjoy the evening, when the comm chimed for attention. Both of their comms.

Obi-Wan froze just before their lips touched. "No. No, no, no..."

The comms chimed again-all three of them. Qui-Gon could hear the faint sound coming from the comm embedded in the wall, which they had both forgotten to deactivate after a replacement had been acquired.

"Fuuuuuuck!" Obi-Wan ground out, and then took a deep breath. "Miserable blasted timing."

"In that we are agreed," he said, and had to take a moment to shake off his own moment of temper. He hadn't been interrupted in such a manner in-well-decades.

"I think it's going to start happening a lot more often," Obi-Wan said in reply to the unvoiced thought, and then answered his comm. "Kenobi."

"Is Qui-Gon with you?"

"Should I bother answering this, then?" Qui-Gon responded, frowning, as he regarded the noisy device in his hand. Mace was always blunt, but he wasn't rude unless the need was dire.

"No, don't bother. It was just Adi trying to raise you in case you weren't in the same room. I need you both in the Council chamber the moment you're able to get here."

The call terminated in the next breath. Obi-Wan swore and sat down to start pulling on the clothes he'd just thrown to the floor. "This had better not be another Yinchorr."

"Padawans?" Qui-Gon asked, pulling open a drawer. His own laundry for the day was already down the chute, in the hands of the cleaning droids.

Obi-Wan paused before shaking his head. "Mace didn't say, and Anakin's already down for the night. I don't want to wake him unless I have to. He's been skimping on sleep to work on blueprints."

Rillian was asleep too, but the Wookiee roused easily. In fact, she was waking even as he reached through the training bond to check. Master? she responded, a groggy note in her mental voice. Something's wrong?

I have no idea, he sent back. We've been called by the Council. Obi-Wan isn't planning to wake Anakin unless it becomes necessary, but you may join us if you wish. His newest Padawan hadn't spent much time in the Council chamber, and had yet to see a mission briefing aside from the group briefing before Naboo. The experience would be good for her, even if it led to nothing.

"No, it's definitely something," Obi-Wan said, pulling a shirt over his head instead of dealing with his tunics. "Yoda is not pleased. He also says," Obi-Wan continued, his eyes unfocused as he listened to the ancient Master, "that bringing Rillian with us is a good idea."

Qui-Gon didn't have to send for Rillian again; she was waiting for them in the main room when he came out of the bedroom. She had both of their robes in her arms, and was blinking, wide-eyed and owl-like, in the dim light of their quarters. He accepted his robe and smiled, ruffling the short-cropped fur on her head as they stepped out into the hall, with Obi-Wan just behind them.

"Master Licia has missed three check-ins in a row," Mace said, the moment the doors closed behind their small group. Only he, Yoda, and Depa Billaba were present; Depa was still in her nightdress, with a brown robe thrown hastily on over it.

"Damn," Obi-Wan said, accompanied by a swift, sharp spike of tension through the bond. "Sithspit, Mace, I can't go-I can't reschedule at least three of the things I have to do this week."

"I know," Mace replied, a worried cast to his features. "I leave the choice to Qui-Gon. There are others who could go, but they won't have as much familiarity with the situation as he will."

"I am missing key facts about this conversation," Qui-Gon cut in, irritated. "Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Master Licia was overseeing the renewed negotiations for the Republic membership of Tholatin," Depa said, her voice soft.

His blood froze in his veins, the air stilled in his lungs, and his throat seized. Then long years of experience overcame memory, and Qui-Gon could breathe again. "I wasn't aware that they were trying. It's been fourteen years since their last attempt." They couldn't even finish the original negotiating process the first time without murdering each other.

"Tholatin submitted their new petition last month. Master Licia was present for two weeks before she missed her scheduled check-ins. The Tholatin consulate, when contacted, claimed to be unaware that Master Licia was in any sort of difficulty. All of her updates prior to this suggested that everything was going well, but considering what happened to our last Tholatin delegate..." Mace trailed off, raising his hands in a frustrated shrug.

Qui-Gon nodded before glancing down at Rillian. "I suppose if I were to suggest that you stay here, you'd refuse."

Rillian smiled. [If I can go with you to Naboo to deal with a Sith, I can go anywhere else.]

He smiled back, thinking that both Rillian and Obi-Wan had been Padawans capable of astute logic at the worst possible times. He wouldn't have it any other way. "Obi-Wan?"

"It's probably a good thing I'm not going," Obi-Wan said, managing a smile of his own. "I think I'd be far too tempted to punch a great number of people in the face."

"Let's not do that to your reputation just yet," he agreed. "I've gone over the basics with Rillian, but it was months ago, and the lesson has never been put into practice. Padawan, will you show this young Padawan what she needs to do?" he asked, and the formal words felt strange on his tongue.

Obi-Wan's head jerked a nod, shocked by the raw formality of the request. "I would be ever honored, Master." He turned to Rillian and gave her a cheerful smile, his eyes too-bright. "Come, Raallandirr," he said, guiding the bemused Wookiee Padawan from the chamber. "While your Master is briefed by the Council, you and I have things to do."

Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the other three Councilors, and caught the expression on Yoda's face before the old being had the chance to hide it. "You knew I'd say yes," he said, scowling. "Stop looking so damn smug."

Yoda didn't comment, but twitched one long, pointed ear.

Qui-Gon shook his head. Meddler, he thought fondly, before looking at Mace. "Tell me what I need to know."

A few hours before dawn, everything was settled: bags were packed, transport had been arranged, and Qui-Gon had a data disk full of Licia's reports on Tholatin's current situation. He'd made sure to add a pertinent newsfeed listing to the disk, highlights of Tholatin's history since his last trip to the damned planet.

Qui-Gon visited the Healers' Ward, catching one of the Padawans on duty to receive the histamine blockers that were now a necessity. Frustrated with the time it took, he wound up plucking the hypospray from the sleepy girl's hand and administering it himself.

"But you're not supposed to do that!" she squeaked, her eyes finally coming all the way open.

"Complain to your Master," he told her, signing off on the form with one hand and tossing the used hypo into the discard bin with the other. Perhaps he should have been less brusque, but in six hours he was going to be in a shipboard 'fresher, sicking up everything in his stomach from the damned shot. Impending, unavoidable nausea was enough to make anyone irritable.

He walked through the barrier for one of the exterior landing pads and a cool breeze wafted over his face, a welcome balm after several hours of rushed preparations. Obi-Wan and Rillian were waiting, and his timing was perfect; the transport was coming in for a landing. Qui-Gon's nose twitched as he became enveloped in the swirling dust-clouds that the ship's repulsors stirred up, but the histamine blockers were already at work.

Rillian had both of their packs, one slung over each shoulder, and was disinclined to let him carry his own. He gave Obi-Wan a stern look, but his mate just grinned at him.

"She asked about how I used to handle things," Obi-Wan explained. "I gave her the expectations; she can make her own decisions about the rest."

Qui-Gon looked heavenwards, pretending to sigh. "Of course. That's three Padawans now who think I'm incapable of carrying my own luggage."

"Not Xan?" Obi-Wan asked, his eyes dancing.

"Xanatos would, if I asked," Qui-Gon said, aware that Rillian was paying rapt attention to their conversation. "But he always looked at me as if I were being ridiculous. He was adamant about carrying his own weight, but balked when it came to anyone else's."

[That seems like a silly mindset for a Jedi to have,] Rillian hedged.

"You'd be surprised how many of us think exactly like that," Qui-Gon said, exchanging a look with Obi-Wan. Not everyone in the Order held an altruistic mindset. "But in his case, I didn't mind so much. If there was one thing I was certain of in regards to Xan, it was that he would never make a good diplomat. He was very independent-minded; I suspected at the time that he would have wound up with the Shadows after passing his Trials."

"If it hadn't been for Sidious, he might well have wound up there," Obi-Wan said, and squeezed Qui-Gon's hand, both for reassurance and because the boarding ramp of the waiting shuttle had lowered. "Time to go."

[We'll see you soon, Master Obi-Wan,] Rillian said, heading to the boarding ramp with a cheerful bark. Through the training bond, her sense of excitement was a bright line of fire, just barely tempered by her awareness that this was as much a potential rescue mission as it was a diplomatic venture.

At least one of them was looking forward to the mess. They had just one last treaty before the membership agreement was finalized, he thought, remembering that time with far too much clarity. One. Blasted. Last. Treaty.

"Well, at least Licia has gotten them back to that part," Obi-Wan said, pressing close against Qui-Gon's side. "You'll be fine. You're less foolish now than you were then, love."

"I think certain parties in the Temple believe that's still up for debate," he said, flexing the fingers of his right hand.

"Don't," Obi-Wan murmured, shaking his head. "They have no power over you unless you give it to them, and Rillian would have a field day with you if you tried."

That made him smile. "Speaking of Padawans, I'm sure she's ready to be off," Qui-Gon said, and pulled his spouse into his arms. Obi-Wan was pliant and warm, and a fierce reminder that Tholatin could just go take a flying fuck, as far as he was concerned.

Obi-Wan laughed softly, a warm breath of air against his lips. "I think our dear Wookiee is right. I am a bad influence." He stepped back, regret in his eyes as he let go of Qui-Gon's hand. "May the Force be with you, Qui."

"And with you," he replied, smile widening. "Don't set anything on fire while I'm gone."

The answering laugh warmed him as much as Obi-Wan's body had, and Qui-Gon managed to join Rillian without looking back. The shuttle lifted off the moment he had the boarding ramp sealed, which meant that their timetable was short. He was surprised the pilot hadn't been on loudspeaker, demanding that he hurry the hell up.

Rillian was standing with one hand gripping a support bar, gazing out of the main viewport as the Temple became smaller and smaller beneath them. [Should I wait to unpack, or is this dinky thing taking us all the way to Tholatin?]

"Don't unpack," he advised. "I wouldn't even get comfortable. We'll be switching to a merchant frigate with a stopover in the Tholate system when we hit orbit."

They completed a rapid vessel exchange in tertiary orbit, right amid a mess of cargo vessels waiting to ferry their goods down to Coruscant. The merchant ship's air had a tangy, earthen scent in the air that reminded him of plant stock. "Definitely an agricultural vessel," he said, when Rillian wandered from one end of the common room to the other, sniffing with keen interest. "Empty, though, since it's heading out for stock instead of in. We'll be able to use the cargo bay for sparring when we get bored."

And they would be bored-Tholatin was at least a week and a half out from Coruscant with good engines, and this was a slow ship. Qui-Gon estimated their travel time at sixteen days.

Force. They were going to be gone at least a month from travel time alone.

His only reassurance about the length of the trip was that so far, Licia's Master, T'ra Saa, seemed certain that her former Padawan remained in good health. Licia could still be in danger, but her situation was not yet critical. Even if it had been, he and Rillian were only two days closer than the nearest Jedi team available to make the trip.

Rillian, overhearing the nature of his thoughts, sighed. [Then I'll have plenty of time to make my course selections for the upcoming semester.]

"We'll have plenty of time for a lot of things," Qui-Gon agreed, as Rillian finally allowed him to take hold of his own pack. "We've been granted a kindness as well, Padawan. This ship has separate berths for each of us." He'd lost count of the times he and Obi-Wan had been stuck in one berth. Then Anakin had joined them, and three bodies had done the interesting shuffle of trying to share one bunk to keep off of a space-cold metal floor.

She grinned at the notion. [Can you imagine when it's all of us trying to cram onto a single bunk?] she asked, chuckling. [Especially when Skywalker and I both start growing. We'll wake up tied in knots!]

"My back will be a knot all of its own," Qui-Gon said, amused. "Come on. Let's settle in, Rill. We'll be here for a while, and might as well make ourselves at home. We'll meet the ship's crew when they're done getting us out of Coruscant traffic."

Rillian complied, snagging her pack and darting into the berth she'd been assigned. Qui-Gon followed at a slower pace, palming open the door to his temporary quarters. Single bunk, too short but not the worst he'd seen. Terminal with a chair bolted in place. A single viewport, currently filled with the sidewall of a carbon-scored freighter wall.

And no Obi-Wan.

Sith-spit and shite, he grumbled, setting his pack down on the bunk as he sighed. This was going to be harder to get used to than he'd initially thought.

He opened his bag and then swore out loud, plucking the leather-wrapped, blue-sheened lightsaber hilt from the top of his bag. "You didn't, you ridiculous, ridiculous man..."

A parchment strip had been wrapped around the hilt of Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Qui-Gon pulled it off and unrolled the note, wondering what kind of explanation he had been provided with.

I'm only a thought away if you need me. Keep it as a reminder of that and more. I love you.

Then it continued:

I am a Jedi Master in a Temple full of Jedi, and I can borrow a lightsaber if I really need one. Stop frowning at me like that.

That made him chuckle, because he had been frowning. "I love you, as well," he said softly. He made short work of unpacking, then went to rejoin Rillian in the ship's small common room with the welcome weight of a second, noisy-crystal lightsaber at his side.