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"We would definitely like to bring him in for a more in-depth audition as soon as possible," she stated while she gathered some paperwork for Ben to fill out. "Would tomorrow be too soon?"

"His classes begin the day after tomorrow so I don't see why he couldn't," Bruck noted absently as he pulled his own small comp pad from his utility belt and checked Ben's schedule.

"Classes?" Trijil asked curiously as she glanced over her personal choice for the part of Obi-Wan. He was rapidly reading through the script, a frown developing between his eyebrows.

Bruck just nodded as he cleared his comp pad and put it away. "He is a new teacher here at the Temple. His classes haven't started yet so I don't think there would be a problem there. But the final decision would have to come from the Primary, I think." The knight glanced from Yoda to Trijil. "Something like this might constitute a security risk."

"A security risk," the director asked, coming forward. "What kind of risk?"

Bruck blinked at him, almost confused. "Well, I doubt the Chancellor is going to want him anywhere outside the Temple with anything less than six to eight bodyguards at all times. You'll need to work with the Primary's office to make certain that wherever he's auditioning is a secured facility."

"What has the Chancellor got to do with us auditioning this teacher?" Trijil asked slowly and Bruck suddenly realized that no one had gotten around to introducing Ben to the Coordinator.

"Ah," he said, sparing a sharp glace down at Master Yoda who was studying his gimer stick intently. "Well let me introduce you then. This is Master Benjamin Lars, the Chancellor's Consort-to-be and...."

"Author of the Obi-Wan books," Trijil suddenly squeaked, her dark eyes widening. "Omigosh! He'd be perfect!"

"He'd be a nightmare," the director stated in uncompromising terms.

"But P'ter, he'd know the character inside and out and he can at least act a little!" his coordinator pointed out.

"Trijil, do you honestly think the Chancellor is going to allow his Consort to be filmed for a vid?"

"Excuse me."

"Maybe he would," Trijil replied, her hands on her hips. "Master Yoda here thinks he would and he's the Head of the freaky Council. And you cannot deny that he would be perfect in the part!"

"Excuse me."

"I don't know that S'lorin would even go for this!" P'ter replied, his hands in his hair. "My brother may put up with a good deal to get the right actors in his vids but this is going too far."

"Excuse me!"

Both the director and the Coordinator turned to the very annoyed voice and found Benjamin glaring at them, holding up the comp pad he'd been reading.

"Yes?" they both asked.

"Who wrote this?" the teacher asked in a low, hard tone.

Trijil blinked. "Well, you did."

Ben's expression turned dark. "No, I didn't. I didn't write this. This is utter trash!" He waved the comp pad at them angrily. "I wrote a very good book called Master/Apprentice. I want to know who butchered it in order to turn it into this screen play!"

P'ter raised his brows at the younger man's tone. "That was written by one of the best scriptwriters in the business," he stated.

"One of the best?" Benjamin echoed in disbelief. "I've only read a few pages and I'm finding all kinds of errors! He's got the Councilors having an orgy in the Council Chamber, for Cali's sake! That is not in any book I have ever written!"

"The script obviously can't match the book exactly," Trijil said in a soothing tone but Benjamin wasn't having it.

"It was stated in the contract that I signed with ILM that I would have final approval over the script before it began production," the writer seethed as he flipped the comp pad off. "I have not seen this before and I certainly would not approve it."

He turned and stomped towards the doors. Bruck blinked and then hurried after him.

"Hey, you can't just take that with you," Trijil yelped. "That's confidential!"

The writer glared at her as he clutched the comp pad tightly. "It should be. Stars forbid anyone think this trash is going to be in any movie I'm associated with."

He stopped and glared back at the pair of moviemakers. "The Jedi Temple may provide the Senate with a rotation of padawans and knights to keep them happy but that is not all it does. The Jedi also stop wars, negotiate treaties, and basically keep the Hutts and other drug lords from completely overrunning the Outer Rim. They stand against the Darkness of the galaxy. Sure my books have really good sex in them but that is not all my books are, just as that isn't all the Jedi are. And I won't stand for a script that implies it is."

Ben ground his teeth for a moment or two as he tried to get his temper under control. He took a deep breath.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a few words with my publisher!" he stated as calmly as he could before he nodded at his guards and stalked out the door. His bodyguards moved quickly to get in front of him as Bruck followed behind, sparing the room a final, almost apologetic look.

Once Ben, his liaison and his guards were gone, Master Yoda turned back to the stunned director and his casting coordinator.

"Told you, did I?" the small master cackled. "Obi-Wan, he writes. Obi-Wan, he can be."

Trijil looked down at the smug little being and then the two guilty-looking padawans behind him.

"Ah...well...I know he certainly looks the part," she stammered hesitantly, looking back at her director. "But he doesn't seem very happy with the script at the moment."

P'ter just looked annoyed. "I told you he'd be a nightmare."

Trijil just looked at her director with a mournful expression. "He would be perfect," she insisted in a low tone.

The director just returned her look, his gaze vague and thoughtful. After a long moment of silence, his lips curved in a very calculating smile.

"Indeed, I think he might be, Trijil, my love." The director turned to Master Yoda. "Is there a comm unit nearby I might borrow? I have a call I need to make very quickly."

"P'ter?" the coordinator asked almost hesitantly. "What are you doing."

The man gave her a wide smile. "I'm just going to have a chat with Master Lars' publisher before he gets there. If he dislikes the script so much, I think perhaps I have a solution."

"Can you believe this, Qui-Gon?" Ben growled as he paced back and forth in front of his lover's massive desk. "That director actually wants me - me - to play the part of Obi-Wan Kenobi in his vid!"

Qui-Gon had already been in residence and trying to figure out how to break the news to Benjamin about Khamier and his brother when Ben had arrived back at the estate. The young man had wasted no time in tracking down his lover but to the Chancellor's surprise, however, after a single kiss hello, Ben had slammed a comp pad down on his desk and started to rant.

"And not only that producer nutcase but Master Manipulator Yoda set me up so that I'd 'accidentally' run into them dressed in the uniform of a padawan! He even had some other padawans helping him!"

The Chancellor leaned against his desk and watched as his Consort-to-be paced. After a few minutes of deliberation, he replied, "You would be the best choice, Ben," he stated thoughtfully. "You wrote the book and you know the character inside and out. In a strange way, you are Obi-Wan."

"No, I am not!" the writer stated emphatically. "I write about him. But I'm not Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"But you understand the character and obviously the director thinks you could do it or he wouldn't be pressuring your publisher into pressuring you."

Benjamin's rant had initially begun with the fact that his publisher had told him it would be a good idea.

"I'm not an actor, Qui-Gon, and even if I were, I can't tell you how much this script sucks," the writer stated flatly, waving the comp pad that held the script he'd been editing all afternoon.

"But you said the producer has offered you full rein to edit the script if you would take the part of Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon leaned back with a grin. "I would think you'd jump at the chance."

"Why?" Ben asked, suddenly still and staring at his lover. "Why would I want to add yet another complication to my life? Why are you even thinking this is a good idea?" His green eyes suddenly dropped to the comp pad in his hands. "Is it because it's Obi-Wan?" he continued in a smaller voice. "Do you want to see Obi-Wan again? Is that who you want?"

A moment later, Qui-Gon had Ben wrapped in his arms. "Never think that, Benjamin!" the man said firmly in his lover's ear. "You are the one I want to bond with, not Obi-Wan. He was just the one who showed me the path to you. If I stood you side by side with him and had the choice, I wouldn't even see the Jedi. All I could ever see or want is the teacher who takes such pride in his work, the writer who thinks it's a good idea to rehearse his sex scenes with me before he writes them, the romantic who whispers erotic poetry in my ear as he takes me inside his beautiful body. Only you, Benjamin, only you."

Ben was holding on to his lover tightly as Qui-Gon ran his hand down his back and pulled him closer. He listened to his lover's words of assurance, holding each one close to his heart.

"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," he finally said as he pulled away slightly to look into his lover's blue eyes. He studied the arch of his brows and eyelashes of Qui-Gon's eyes as his fingertips mapped the contours of the man's face. Then Ben leaned his head onto Qui-Gon's chest and the Chancellor's arms tightened around him before he drew the younger man over to a couch and pulled him down to straddle his lap.

"Have I ever indicated I was in any way unhappy with you?" Qui-Gon asked quietly and Benjamin immediately shook his head.

"No, never," he replied. "I don't know why that occurred to me, Qui-Gon." Ben sighed as he leaned back to meet the blue-eyed gaze. "Bruck told me today that I'm high maintenance and I guess he was right," he said with a small sigh. "But so much has happened during the past month that I feel like I haven't been able to take it all in." Qui-Gon's arms tightened and pulled Ben closer.

"And now this," he held up the rather dented comp pad. "Even if I decided to do this, I'd have to give up teaching. And I'd definitely have to put off my next book. I can only do so much and still be with you. And that I will never give up."

"Seeing as I would never allow you to do so, it won't be a problem," came the confident statement.

"Being in a vid would take up a lot of my time, Qui-Gon. There might be days or weeks that I wouldn't see you. And they are planning a movie to go with each book."

Qui-Gon made soothing circles on his lover's back and he considered Benjamin's words. Finally he looked seriously at the man in his lap. "Do you want to do this, Benjamin?" he asked with no indication in his tone that he was for or against the choice.

"It's not what I had planned," Ben said quietly as he looked down at the manuscript in his hand. "I definitely want to fix this script." Then he looked back up. "I'm just not certain about the acting thing. If I decided to do this, would it damage your career, Qui-Gon? Would having a Consort who is a vid actor be a problem?"

"Benjamin, I have been the Supreme Chancellor for fifteen years. Before that, I was the senator representing the Yliss Sector for fifteen years. And before that, I was heavily involved in the government of my home planet. While I know you have never had an issue with my age, it won't be too many more years before I become heartily sick of politics and step down from the office to retire officially."

Benjamin laughed. "Qui-Gon, even if you retire, you'll still be involved with politics. You won't be able to help yourself."

"Perhaps," the man returned with a half-smile. "But at that point, it will be a pastime and not a full-time job. What I want you to understand is that you don't need to make decisions for your life based on what it will do to my reputation. Your decisions just need to take into account what you want and what you can do to support your soon-to-be-bondmate in his old age."

Ben's eyebrows rose slightly before he leaned forward to kiss his lover gently. He slowly traced the lines of his lover's face again. Then he leaned back with an amused look in his eyes.

"There's only one other problem with this whole acting thing," the younger man said as he powered on the comp pad and turned it around for Qui-Gon to read. "This scene is pretty calm compared to some of the others in the first book. You think I'd be able to do something like this on screen for billions of sentients?"

Qui-Gon's eyes read over the passage, his blue eyes getting narrow and heated. Then he looked up at his smirking lover.

"This seems to be the scene where Obi-Wan's master introduced his apprentice to the sexual side of the Force."

"Yes."

The Chancellor glanced down at the scene again. "There is a fair bit of bare skin here."

"Um-hum."

"We should try this," Qui-Gon noted absently before he glanced up with a hard gaze. "However, for the vid, part of your contract will state that scenes of an explicit nature will use a body double. Explicit will be defined by my lawyer who will shortly be contacting the idiot producer who is obviously mad to have even considered that'd I'd let anyone else see what belongs to me."

Qui-Gon then threw the comp pad over the back of the couch and pulled his lover close, his fingers moving to undo the fastenings on Ben's tunic. Benjamin just smiled as his hands wandered along Qui-Gon's shoulders, smoothly undoing buttons and snaps as he nestled further into his lover's lap.

The larger man groaned as Ben inched closer and slowly began to press their hardening shafts together as he leaned up and took Qui-Gon's lips in a light, slow series of kisses. Qui-Gon sighed into his lover's mouth as finally, his hands met the smooth skin of the young man's back and Ben's shirt was tossed to the floor. Then Qui-Gon's large hands wandered from shoulders to waist, touching and caressing sensitive areas he'd mapped out extensively over the past week.

Ben groaned approvingly as one hand slid up into his thick tawny hair, pulling him deeper into Qui-Gon's wet, probing kisses. The other hand slowly slid downward, gripping his lover's ass firmly before moving back around Ben's waist and undoing the buttons of his trousers.

As always, Qui-Gon sent a quick prayer of thanks to his ancestors that Ben rarely wore underwear as the younger man's beautiful cock was immediately released from the tight material. Benjamin moaned into his mouth as he wrapped his fingers around the hard shaft and slowly pushed downwards. Ben pulled away from his lover's kisses and laid his forehead against Qui-Gon's as he moaned a few rather garbled words and thrust upwards into that warm, tight palm.

The older man met the lust-green eyes of the man straddling his lap as he reached down between the cushions of the well-used couch and grabbed a tube of his favorite oil. A few seconds later, a well-oiled palm wrapped around Ben's shaft and slowly pumped again.

"Stars, yes Qui-Gon," he groaned as he thrust up into that warm, slippery fist.

"Show me your pleasure, Benjamin," Qui-Gon coaxed in a low tone as he finished lubing the fingers of his other hand. "I want to see your pleasure. I want to hear it."

Even as he slid his palm up and down Ben's velvet shaft, his fingers glided down the tight skin between his lover's cheeks and rubbed gently against the sensitive entrance there. Ben arched back and pressed down even as the first finger pushed inside his body.

"Yessss!" he sighed as he tried to speed up the pace of his lover's hand but Qui-Gon gripped him firmly even as he pressed his finger farther into the heat of Benjamin's ass.

"Slowly, my Ben," Qui-Gon soothed, his blue eyes focused on the wild expressions crossing his lover's face. "I want this to last. I missed you last night, my intemi," he said gently as he caressed Benjamin deep inside. The younger man shuddered and tried to thrust upwards again but Qui-Gon just tightened his fingers around Ben's cock and stopped moving his hand. Ben moaned unhappily as his hands tightened on Qui-Gon's shoulders.

"Qui-Gon, please," he panted as he glared down at him. The older man just smiled as he dragged his fingertip across his lover's hotspot again and Benjamin let out a low keening moan.

"I'm preparing you, lover," Qui-Gon continued and he thumbed the head of Ben's leaking erection and squeezed. Benjamin growled and the finger inside twisted just so, leaving the young man gasping. "But I want to take my time touching you before I lean you over the back of this couch and fuck you until you're screaming my name."

"Aw, gods," Benjamin stammered and grit his teeth as he tried not to thrust upward, hoping his bastard lover would start moving his hand again. "Please!"

Qui-Gon decided to have pity on Ben and began to move his palm slowly up and down the satiny skin of Benjamin's erection while he gently withdrew his finger. Ben made a peculiar crooning sound that was a mixture of relief at Qui-Gon's movement and unhappiness from the missing finger. A moment, later, however, he was arching back again as two oiled fingers pressed inside him, scissoring slowly and opening him up for what was to come.

Qui-Gon watched his lover cry out, his throat and body arching upwards as his hands began to move in tandem. Benjamin's face and chest were flushed as he pressed backwards onto his lover's skillful fingers and then forwards into his large, solid palm.

Oh, gods, YES, Qui-Gon!

The older man brushed hard against Ben's sweet spot as his lover's words rang through his mind. Qui-Gon loved it when Ben was so far gone in his pleasure that he didn't even realize the garbled sounds coming from his mouth didn't match the amazing words he sent directly along their bond and into Qui-Gon's mind.

"Are you ready for me, love?" he leaned forward and asked as he pressed his fingers deeper into Benjamin's body.

pleasepleasenowpleasepleasenowplease

It was the work of a few moments to lean his lover over the back of the couch, pressing Ben's straining erection directly against the silken fabric as Qui-Gon divested him of his remaining clothing. He pushed two fingers inside his lover again and stretched the tight ring Benjamin's anus even as he leaned his chest against Ben's back. With a low growl, Qui-Gon pressed his lips against Ben's neck, nipping at the light bruise of the mark he never allowed to fade.

"I'm going to make love to you now, Benjamin," he whispered into his lover's ear. "I'm going to slide so deep inside you that you can feel me next to your heart."

You're already next to my heart the words sprang into Qui-Gon's mind, brilliant with Ben's emotions. You're in my heart, now I want you in me inmeinmeinempleaseinme!

At the pleading words, Qui-Gon wasted no more time. He released his own hard erection and with quick, deft fingers he oiled himself thoroughly. Then he pulled his fingers out of Benjamin's body and replaced them with the head of his straining shaft. As he slowly slipped inside, Ben's chant changed to delirious words of affirmation and love.

I love you, my Benjamin, Qui-Gon sent strongly as he penetrated his lover and began the long, slow thrusts that he knew Ben wanted. Love you so much...loveyou...loveyou...loveyou!

Ben's pleading cries became staccato screams as Qui-Gon thrust faster and deeper into his lover. Neither one was going to last much longer as the larger man pushed into his lover with more powerful strokes, grinding Ben's erection into the silken material of the couch.

As Qui-Gon's mouth found that sensitive spot on Ben's throat and bit down, Benjamin blindly reached back, wrapping his arm around his lover's neck. On Qui-Gon's next, fierce lunge, Benjamin screamed his lover's name and came hard. His body contracted tightly around Qui-Gon's shaft even as their bond exploded with pleasure, pulling the larger man into an orgasm so intense, he lost touch with everything around him save the pleasure and love singing along his shared bond with his beloved mate.

Moments or minutes later, Qui-Gon slowly leaned away from his lover, pulling the man tightly against his chest as he nuzzled Ben's neck affectionately.

"I love you, Benjamin," he whispered into the younger man's ear. Ben just smiled and turned to take his mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss.

"Love you too, my intemi."

Qui-Gon decided that given the circumstances, the news about his Primary chasing after Knight Lars could wait.

24968.05.35

"Whoa."

The single word breathed from the lips of a stunned Callis guardsman seemed to sum up the feelings of his four companions since no one else spoke for a full minute. They were all standing before the stairway that led up to the front doors of the Supreme Chancellor's estate, staring up at the amazing structure which seemed to spread in all directions.

"Whoa baby."

Another moment of silence was followed by an amused reply.

"I think 'whoa' was sufficient, Maxim," came a light tenor voice.

The soldier who had first spoken wound his long, brown braid through his fingers and slowly shook his head.

"I don't think so, Rebierba," he said softly. "I think this place deserves not only a 'whoa baby' but an 'ohmylittlegodlings' as well." He glanced around at his amazed companions. "I think Benji did way well for himself, don't you think so, Erro?"

"Heh," was his companion's reply though his friends, well versed in interpreting the man's various monosyllabic replies, could hear strains of awe in his response.

"It truly is a magnificent estate," another of the soldiers noted with reverence. Beside him, Maxim snorted.

"Yeah, it puts that little so-called palace of your grandmother's to shame, doesn't it, Fei?" He snickered as the Orian aristocrat scowled.

"If you gentlemen are finished gawking, the Chancellor is waiting," another voice interrupted drawing the scowls of all five soldiers to the speaker, a tall, slender young man who, in Maxim's opinion, had far too high an opinion of himself. Just because he was an aide to an aide of Qui-Gon Jinn didn't mean he was better than they.

"Thanks for the reminder, Tush," he replied with a wide grin as he moved forward up the steps. "We'd better get moving guys."

"That's Toish!" the aide insisted as he tried to hurry and get in front of the brown-haired soldier. The small group stopped before the great doors, as Toish looked them over with a somewhat contemptuous expression. All five were attired in their formal Callis uniforms which were neatly pressed and polished to perfection. In his opinion, however, such common soldiers had no business being invited to the Chancellor's grand estate. "You need to remember that you're not just talking to an army buddy back on your backwoods planet. This is the Supreme Chancellor and you will show him respect. Be silent unless he asks you to speak."

Five pairs of eyes narrowed just so but only the soft-spoken Rebierba answered.

"I believe we can show the proper respect to those who deserve it, Syr Toish," the blond noted quietly though his expression was anything but gentle. "I suggest you focus on your job which is to take us to the Chancellor and then depart."

The politician flushed before he turned away angrily and pressed the button placed in the center of the left hand door. Though they didn't hear the chimes that pealed beyond the entrance, an immaculately dressed butler immediately opened the doorway. He glanced over the group with an expressionless gaze as Toish stepped forward with an important air.

"I am Sweali Toish. His Excellency is expecting me."

The butler's eyebrow rose but a fraction of an inch as he looked down at the self-important aide but even so Toish flinched.

"His Excellency is expecting a group of Master Benjamin's shield mates," the butler said in a tone just a step away from frigid. "I understand you have guided them from the port. You may return there now. Thank you for your service."

Toish opened and closed his mouth a few times but under the steady gaze of the doorkeeper, the man merely nodded and turned to stalk down the stairs towards the waiting hovercar.

"Thanks for the ride, Tush!" Maxim called gleefully after the man before he turned to find that the butler was now eyeing him. He instinctively gave the man his most innocent smile and waved. "Hey. How ya doing?"

The butler's eyebrow raised another fraction of an inch but his overall expression seemed to change subtly from condescension to a wary welcome.

"If you would follow me, his Excellency is expecting you," he stated in deep tones before he opened the door further to allow them into the house. As each man came through the doorway, they noted a footman across the hall intently studying a small computer terminal, his fingers gracefully moving over the keyboard.

After he shut the door, the butler then glanced at his underling and the butler looked up and gave a single nod. The man then turned to his new charges.

"Gentlemen, you have been cleared to move freely about the estate, but I'd advise you not to do so until you become more familiar with the grounds. For now, however, Chancellor Jinn is expecting you and luncheon has been scheduled for just after your meeting."

The five soldiers glanced at each other and them back at the large man standing before them.

"When do we get to see Benji?" Maxim asked. "He's the one we came to see."

The butler glanced at him again, this time with a glimmer of approval. "Master Benjamin is writing this morning." The man's expression thawed enough to give the long-haired soldier a small smile as he turned to move down the hallway. "I understand that, as of yet, he is unaware of your presence here."

Again the soldiers glanced at each other before they followed the butler, each man absently falling into their patrol pattern as they followed: Erro and Maxim front just behind the butler, Rebierba in the middle and Feilan and Trisan bringing up the rear.

"So Ben doesn't know we're here?" Maxim asked their guide as his eyes darted around the hallway, amazed at an opulence he'd rarely seen in his life. "I thought he was the one who invited us."

"That is a question you would need to take up with the Chancellor," the butler stated as he continued along the hallway. He glanced back at the five soldiers, trusted friends of Master Benjamin. "Though I suspect it is because Master Jinn wishes to surprise him."

Maxim pouted a moment before he fell into step with his partner and concentrated on seeing as much as possible as they passed through the large hallways of Chancellor Jinn's estate. It was quite an amazing sight and Maxim actually recognized a few pieces of art he'd seen in textbooks when he'd been in school. Behind him, he could hear Rebierba and Feilan quietly passing comments on that painting or statue in tones of awe. Obviously Chancellor Jinn was rising steadily in their opinion.

They had been walking for a good five minutes before the group turned off into a shorter hallway that only had a few doors along the walls. The butler stopped before one and tabbed twice before he stepped back. Almost immediately, a blue-robed guard of the Republic opened the door. His eyes moved past the butler and looked over the five new arrivals.

"His Excellency is expecting them, Lt. Vorick," the butler said quietly. "They are to be guests of Master Benjamin."

The guard nodded and stepped back, gesturing for the five to move into the room. The Callis soldiers passed the guard and then waited while he closed the door behind them. Then Lt. Vorick moved to take the butler's place in front of them as he guided them across a small foyer towards another door that was standing open. The guard stopped in the doorway and bowed slightly.

"Your guests have arrived, Your Excellency," the man said quietly.

"Send them in, Lieutenant," a voice responded. The guard bowed again and then stepped back, gesturing for the five behind him to move through the doorway.

Now a bit nervous, Maxim glanced at his partner and was somewhat relieved at the usual lack of expression on Erro's face. Bolstered by that normalcy even in the face of the overwhelming, Maxim stepped forward and entered the room, followed by his shieldmates.

The room beyond was large and along one entire wall were shelves filled with actual, paper-bound books. On the other side of the room was an elaborate communications system with screens showing various news network anchors, their lips moving in silence. Directly across from the door, however, was the object of their quest, standing behind one of the largest desks Maxim had ever seen.

Qui-Gon Jinn was a large man and very handsome but Maxim could feel the Chancellor's assessing blue gaze all the way across the room. But even as the man was looking over his five new arrivals, so were they considering him. As they moved to stand in a line before his desk, Maxim knew each of his companions was looking Jinn over, not as the Chancellor but as the man who held their absent sheildmate's heart.

"Gentlemen, please be seated," the Chancellor said, gesturing to the chairs that had been placed before his desk for just this meeting before he himself sat down. As one the soldiers stepped backward and dropped into a chair, still maintaining the tense at-ready stance they had taken up as soon as they had entered the room.

"I appreciate you coming to Coruscant on such short notice," Qui-Gon stated calmly as he looked each man over. "My Consort speaks very highly of his trust and friendship for you all."

"Yet we understand that you have not told Benjamin of our presence here," Erro suddenly stated, his dark blue eyes steady in their regard of the most important man in the galaxy.

Qui-Gon just nodded. "That is correct," he replied with a half smile. "I wanted it to be a surprise for him. I know he misses his home and friends on Callis." The Chancellor leaned forward and folded his hands together over the paperwork on his desk. "I also wanted to thank each one of you personally for the parts you played in making sure Benjamin and his companions made it off Callis alive," he said firmly.

"He is our shieldmate," came the quiet words from the brunet seated in the center of the five. "He chooses to walk another path but that bond will always be there between us."

Qui-Gon studied the brown-haired soldier and then nodded.

"You would be Trisan Borimi," he said in a questioning tone. The soldier just nodded. "You grew up with Benjamin."

"Oh yeah, and does he have some stories!" Maxim piped in with a grin at Trisan that the quiet agent returned with a small smile.

Qui-Gon turned to study the man sitting next to Trisan and he had to repress a smile. "And you would be Maxim Ildim," he stated, this time without a doubt. The man definitely had the longest hair of the group, tightly braided in a long tail down his back. Maxim gave him a beaming smile.

"Agent Maxim Ildim, Lieutenant First Class," he introduced himself.

"Agent Ildim," Qui-Gon returned his nod. "I feel prevailed upon to note that here in Elysèun, we would prefer that you keep the use of smoke and dye bombs to an absolute minimum."

Maxim blinked. Then he stammered out, "Of course, sir."

To his left, Maxim heard a snicker but by the time he turned with a glare, Erro's expression was once again neutral. Chancellor Jinn also turned to the dark-haired soldier.

"I'm afraid I can't match the rest of your names from the report though," Qui-Gon stated with something of an apology.

"Agent Erro Low, Lieutenant First Class," the man replied with a nod. The Chancellor then turned to the two men seated on the right of Trisan with a waiting expression.

"Agent Rebierba Winyer, Lieutenant First Class," the blond soldier stated with a somewhat shy smile and a nod.

"Agent Feilan Arang," the last man stated proudly. "Lieutenant First Class."

"You are all welcome in my home," Chancellor Jinn stated as his gaze swept over the group. "But it is not just to thank you that I have requested your presence. I have seen your records and each one of you is an outstanding soldier and together you seem to be able to complete whatever mission you've been assigned." Qui-Gon leaned back with a thoughtful expression as he studied them. "I know you have spoken with Khamier Sarin, my Primary Security officer." He waited a moment as they acknowledged the meeting. He watched their expressions closely to discern their opinion of Khamier but each man wore only a solemn mask.

"I would like to offer you a new assignment, one backed by the Republic Primary of Security's office. You would report directly to Khamier Sarin and his Second, Kiers A'larni."

"You are offering us positions as part of Benjamin's security group, are you not?" Agent Winyer's quiet voice asked and Qui-Gon slowly nodded.

"You don't seem surprised," he returned. "Did Khamier speak to you about this?"

"No, he didn't seem to have much time to spare," the blond soldier replied with a rather mysterious smile. "But we suspected this trip couldn't be just about escorting Ben to the Y'sang Tourneys since he's not all that fond of the sport."

Chancellor Jinn smiled slightly at the younger man. "Very well then, I hope you have discussed the matter among yourselves because I would like to add your expertise and abilities to my Consort's security group."

Qui-Gon met each man's gaze as he continued. "However, there are issues to consider before you make your final decisions. You would need to cut all ties with Callis and align yourself solely with Office of the Supreme Chancellor. Then you would be evaluated and given any training needed to perform your assigned tasks. Once you are considered ready, you would be ranked and officially attached to the Consort's security."

"We have discussed these very issues on our trip to Coruscant, your Excellency," Rebierba replied as he glanced around at his companions. Seeing no disagreement, he continued. "All of us are willing to renounce our Callis citizenship and accept positions attached to the Office of the Supreme Chancellor." The blond man leaned forward, his expression sincere and steady. "However, you must understand that we do not do this out of any loyalty to you as a man or as Chancellor. You seem to be a good man and if Ben loves you, we trust his choice. But we are offering our services for Benjamin and his protection. We will be loyal to him first and always."

Qui-Gon listened to the man's words and then nodded.

"As the Supreme Chancellor, I can only say I didn't hear that," he replied without inflection. "As Qui-Gon Jinn, Committed to Benjamin Lars, I am only too glad to hear it. There are things going on in the Senate and on Coruscant that I would have Ben protected from and I think you are the ones who could accomplish that."

"When do we begin?" Agent Low asked, speaking directly to the Chancellor.

"My Primary is on a leave of absence for the moment but should be returning hopefully within the week. Once he returns, he will be in charge of your evaluations and training. How long that will last will depend solely on you."

"But you said there were issues now that were threatening Ben," Rebierba pointed out in a worried tone. "Can we not be added to his guard rotation immediately?"

"I prefer that we wait for Khamier's evaluation. Currently, we have his security well in hand," Qui-Gon noted. "I would like you to be here more in the c apacity of friendship for a few days. I know he is missing his home even if he doesn't speak of it."

"We would like that as well, Sir," Rebierba replied evenly. "But we also feel that the sooner we are assigned to his guard rotation, the sooner he will feel comfortable with bodyguards."

"Agent Winyer, I have seen your records and understand you are all highly skilled," Chancellor Jinn replied. "But the Guards of the Chancellor's Office are ranked on a different measure than the soldiers of Callis. We have to know your abilities according to those measures in order to place you within the Consort's group."

"But, Sir, what if something happens? We want to be available to keep Benjamin safe."

"Keeping Benjamin safe is very much my objective," Jinn replied firmly. "Currently, however, I am confident that the Primary's men will be able to handle any threats to my Consort's safety. I want to add your skills to his security group but that doesn't mean those in place around him now cannot protect him. Khamier chose them personally and Benjamin is safe in their guardianship."

Rebierba bit his lip before he glanced sideways at his companions who returned his look with worried expressions of their own but Chancellor Jinn didn't notice this as he stood and circled around his desk.

"Now, since we have some time and you five have a few days at least before you'll need to report for evaluation, perhaps you would like to join us for lunch?"

"Lunch sounds good!" Maxim replied as the rest of the group stood. He got a rather wicked look on his face as he bounced towards the Chancellor. "Can I go get Benji?"

The Chancellor's eyebrows rose. "Benji?"

Benjamin glared at the screen as he tapped his fingers on the desk. Displayed on the monitor was the script written for the film based on his book - his very well researched, historically and culturally accurate book.

He'd been assured by his publisher that the manuscript had been written by one of the best scriptwriters in the vid-making business but Ben wondered who had made that particular judgment. As far as he could tell, the being who wrote this screenplay had barely even read his book and certainly didn't bother with trying to understand the plot. All the screenwriter was concerned with was the sex - big, explosive sex scenes that had barely anything to do with the story.

Benjamin sighed and sat back in his chair as he considered the words on the screen. He'd read through the script twice already, marking the problems he had found in bright, red print. The manuscript wasn't completely hopeless but, in Ben's opinion, it needed a lot of work to bring the quality up to his personal standards.

His publisher had suggested that he work with the scriptwriter on the changes he wanted to make but he didn't think Oyarra was aware of how extensive the problems were. However, since he'd never written a vid script before - had never wanted to - Benjamin supposed he would have to work with the man. The scriptwriter would just have to realize this script wasn't going to production until it had an actual plot similar to the one in his book.

A voice clearing behind him drew his attention away the screen as he glanced at the figure beside him. He gave the butler a half-smile.

"Hello, Illms," he greeted the servant. "Is it lunchtime already?"

"It is, sir," the older man said with a slight bow.

Benjamin glanced back at his screen thoughtfully. "I wonder if Qui-Gon would mind if I had lunch here."

"I believe he would, sir," Illms replied with hint of expression. "He has some guests I think he was eager for you to meet."

"Guests?" Ben asked, disinterest in his tone. He looked back at his screen, considering whether he could get away with staying at his desk.

"And the cook has prepared honey bread and cream for luncheon," the butler coaxed without appearing to coax.

The younger man looked up, a grin curving his lips. "Honey bread?" he asked, remembering the sweet bread from a previous dinner. It was now one of his favorite recipes. "I suppose I can spare an hour," he said magnanimously as he reached forward and saved his changes before he shut down the file.

"Very good, sir," Illms said. With a nod, he walked across the room and opened the door for his master's Consort-to-be.

Though he'd far rather open the door for himself, Benjamin only nodded a silent thank you as he walked through the doorway. He'd learned the hard way that Qui-Gon's servants insisted on opening doors and pulling out chairs and generally making sure their master and their master's future Consort wanted for nothing.

They were almost to the Chancellor's smallest dining room (the estate boasted five of various sizes), Benjamin placidly following the butler who still intimidated him at times when a pair of callused hands suddenly covered his eyes. Benjamin stiffened almost immediately as his fingers automatically moved to pull away the hands blocking his vision. With a quick twist and a flip, Benjamin tossed his suspiciously willing assailant over his shoulder and onto the floor.

Then he froze again as he got a look at who his assailant was.

"Hi Beeeeeenji," a grinning Maxim sing-songed, looking up at him from the floor where he had landed flat on his back. "Good to know you haven't lost the old instincts."

Benjamin closed his mouth and then grinned wickedly. "Maxim!" he caroled as he leaned down and held out a hand to help his friend up. Then he caught the slightly shorter soldier in a fierce hug. "What are you doing here?" he demanded happily.

"Well, me and the guys thought we'd drop in and have lunch with you and the Big J," the man replied jauntily as he straightened his already hopelessly rumpled uniform.

"The others are here too?" Ben asked, completely surprised. "You're Qui-Gon guests?"

"Of course!" Maxim replied happily. "We couldn't let you run off without us, could we?" Then he glanced up at the stunned butler. He looked a bit worried. "You okay?" he asked the somewhat red-faced servant.

"Certainly," the man replied, straightening and assuming a neutral expression once again. "It's just that we do not allow such shenanigans here on Master Jinn's estate. And certainly not with his Consort."

Max's eyebrows rose. "Shenanigans?" he repeated in a confused tone. "Hey man, I'm taken and Benji knows it. I'd never try anything on him." The soldier gave his shield-brother a wink. "Not that we didn't have a few good times back in training, eh, Ben?" he continued with a happy sigh that made the butler look away with a light blush.

"But Erro and Fei would tie me up with my braid if I tried anything with anyone other than them." The longhaired soldier paused and then thoughtfully fingered his braid. "Hummmm, that may not be a bad idea."

Illms coughed suddenly, trying to cover suddenly red cheeks, and Benjamin decided to have mercy on the old man. "He means the rumpus, Max. Jumping me in the hallway."

"Hey now, I was the one being tromped on, I must point out," Maxim objected.

"Where are the others?" Benjamin hurriedly asked as he glanced at his lover's flustered butler.

Maxim dropped his braid and gave his friend a grin. "They're in the dining room waiting for you," he replied as he slung his arm over Ben's shoulders. "And you're late."

"I wonder why that would be," Ben asked with a roll of his eyes.

"You always were the late one," Max noted with a condescending smile that quickly turned to a grin. "If you'd just let Illms do his job instead of playing around out here, we could be eating lunch as we speak."

Ben sighed and accepted the inevitable. "You're right, of course," he said. "Illms, if you would be so kind as to lead us to lunch?"

The older man just eyed the pair standing before him and turned away, a long-suffering expression on his face as he led the young Master and his rabid friend to the dining room.

Benjamin had been overjoyed to see his friends and they now sat talking around the large, white, arble bone-wood table. Qui-Gon watched in fascination as Benjamin relaxed in the company of his friends. He'd only seen his Consort this relaxed in the company of Vellen or Owen and Qui-Gon was glad that these men, who meant so much to his lover, would stay on as a permanent part of his life.

The conversation ranged from 'do you remember' stories to fragments from the soldiers' current missions, Feilan Arang's grandmother's continuing attempts to get him married off to a 'suitable young maiden of fair repute'.

"If it was a fair young male of suitable repute, Fei might be able to show more interest," Maxim noted with a snicker.

"I don't think so, Max," Rebierba said with a grin in Feilan's direction. The dark-haired Orian aristo was practically steaming. "I think he has his hands full enough between you and Erro."

"I am not Feilan's problem," Erro said quietly with a meaningful look at Maxim.

"Hey!"

"I know you left the school officially at the end of term, Ben, but did you hear what happened to Administrator Pomit?" Trisan suddenly entered the conversation, hoping to keep them from a Maxim explosion. He noticed, however, that he not only caught Ben's attention with that question but the Chancellor's as well. Qui-Gon Jinn glanced at him with an extremely smug expression that was almost immediately smoothed away.

Trisan would not be surprised to find that Qui-Gon Jinn was aware of Pomit's underhanded attempt to cut his Consort from the most prestigious school on Callis. He, himself, had found out because he kept in contact with several of his old teachers there. More than one of them had been willing to share the news that most of the educators there had been very happy to hear.

"No, I hadn't heard anything had happened to him," Ben replied as he set his wine glass down. "What happened?"

"It turns out that he'd used several grants that had been won by the school for personal expenses such as vacations and redecorating his home," the quiet soldier said with a half-smile in Ben's direction. "The records of his expenses turned up quite unexpectedly at a Directors' audit a few weeks ago and he was immediately fined and fired."

"Turned up unexpectedly?" Benjamin looked a little stunned at Trisan's news. "But...he'd been there for years. He was tenured long before you and I got there, Tris. Why would the records just suddenly turn up?"

The slender soldier just shrugged, carefully not looking in the Chancellor's direction. "He'd apparently been siphoning off funds from student grants for years. An unexpected audit of the committee who directed the grants was requested by the educational department," Trisan replied as he poked at a vegetable on his plate.

"Requested unexpectedly, hum?" Benjamin asked archly, his gaze swinging in his lover's direction. Qui-Gon just gave him a bland look.

"I was glad to hear about it, actually," Trisan continued thoughtfully. "I never did care much for him. He was..." Trisan's voice faded for a moment as he considered, "a fucknut," he finished in a satisfied tone.

Beside him, Rebierba choked on his wine and glanced hastily at the Chancellor as Maxim and Benjamin burst out laughing. Erro just kept eating and Feilan covered his eyes.

"Tris!" Rebierba hissed under his breath.

Trisan didn't look the least bit repentant. "Well he was."

"Don't worry about it, Syr Winyer," Qui-Gon said in an amused tone. "I had the displeasure of meeting the man and I must agree completely with Syr Borimi's assessment of Admin Porim."

"Hey, that reminds me of the time Trisan came out with an equally pointed opinion about that waiter that was making a move on Benji during the Ibkis mission five years ago," Maxim said gleefully. "Remember that guy? Black hair, blue eyes, six foot, five inches of pure muscle and not much between the ears?"

Benjamin immediately looked alarmed. "Maxim! You are not allowed to tell that story!"

"Why not?" Max leered at his friend.

"Because I remember the Seldis mission, when Erro, Tris and Fei were on lunar patrol and you, me and 'Bierba ended up in that bar that catered to races who had multiple genders."

Erro, Trisan and Fei glanced at each other and then scowled at Max, who just pouted.

"Damn," he griped. Then he brightened. "Well, what about the Harridan assignment?" he pounced.

Benjamin just crossed his arms and said, "The Yuldani Incident."

Maxim flinched at that one. "All right, all right. No need to get rough."

There was silence for a long moment before Rebierba picked up his wine again.

"Well, I for one, think the Chancellor needs to know about the Yurp Skirmish," he noted innocently. "After all, that is one of the more memorable."

"Rebierba!" Ben wailed, feeling betrayed at the gentle blonde's words.

"Oh yeah!" Maxim perked up again and turned to an interested Qui-Gon. "We've got to tell you about that one! Ya can't live with Benji and not know about the Yurp Skimish!"

"Oh gods," Benjamin covered his eyes.

Aren stared out the window of the shuttle with no expression on his face. The late afternoon traffic on Coruscant was something he'd scoffed at from the safety of Callis but now, caught in the middle of it along with the rest of the passengers from his transport he had to admit this was possibly the closest he'd been to Cali's Hell.

It didn't help Aren's mood any that the main topic of conversation among the Callistan passengers around him was one Benjamin Lars, native of Callis and now unexpectedly one of the most important men in the galaxy.

Benjamin Lars, his own son, who had scarcely had more than two conversations with him in the last year.

It had been a very foolish miscalculation for Aren not to realize the seriousness of his son's relationship with the Supreme Chancellor and he had spent the last week fielding questions from his peers on what exactly was happening with Ben. Being unable to say much due to the fact that he didn't know anything at all, Aren had just replied that he'd been asked not to speak of it due to his son's desire for privacy. It didn't help his case any with his co-workers, however, when the publicity packets generated by the Chancellor's office were finally released to the planetary media. Ben might as well have been cloned for all the mention that was made of his family.

"I can't believe that Lukas H'ammill is really Benjamin Lars," a giggling older woman said to her companion just behind him and Aren found himself gritting his teeth. "He looks like such an unassuming young man. Apparently no one outside his closest family had even an inkling of him being an author."

Aren's hand clenched on the armrest before he forcibly relaxed his fingers. Another slight from his son was the complete secrecy concerning his true income. Aren had always assumed that his wife, bitch that she was, had somehow provided a trust for the boy that he'd been unable to touch and which Benjamin had been able to tap once he came of age. He'd certainly spent enough on that house of his, not to mention the extensive trips he'd taken during his summer breaks.

His own circle of friends had been completely shocked and some were offended by the revelation that Aren Lars, a man quite vocal in his contempt for the Jedi, had a son who wrote one of the most popular series of books in the galaxy. Few could believe he hadn't known about his son's books and their subject - the Order of the Jedi - though again, Aren had kept his silence when asked. His servants were still finding pieces of several shattered bottles in his study, evidence of his reaction to the very public press conference where his son had announced his authorship galaxy-wide and yet hadn't had the decency to warn his own father.

It only took a few pointed comments for Aren's friends to find out that his son's current teaching post at the Jedi Temple was a subject that was strictly off-limits. Aren could only hope that the Chancellor, who was known to have a similar opinion of the Jedi as bed-warmers that Aren did, would put his foot down and not allow Benjamin to teach there.

Hopefully, he would have the opportunity to discuss that issue and others with the Chancellor in person. Benjamin was willful and headstrong and while he had no doubt that the Chancellor could keep him in line, Aren thought perhaps Jinn wouldn't mind some pointers from the man who'd watched the boy grow up and spent a great deal of time disciplining him.

Aren snorted absently as he glared out the plexiglass window into the traffic beyond. Obviously he hadn't spent enough time disciplining Benjamin or the boy would have done the correct thing and allowed Jinn to meet his father before he Committed himself to the Chancellor.

The man glanced up and sighed again. According to the digital readout just above the robotic pilot's head, they were still an hour away from the Senate Building. Fortunately, his bags had already been taken to his hotel, as Aren didn't want to have them with him while he tracked down his son. It was important to establish himself as quickly as possible as Benjamin's father. Ben had already amassed quite a bit of influence and power in the Senate just by Committing himself to Jinn. Aren could share in that authority with little effort if he could just get Ben to accept him publicly. He was high in the government on his home planet and was a figure to be reckoned with there but Coruscant was an entirely different playing field and Aren wanted part of that power. He was determined that his son would get it for him.

Aren had no doubts that Ben would have told his lover of his antipathy towards his father but the man was confident that he could sway his son to his side. Coruscant was a large, crowded place and someone familiar would be a welcome sight for Benjamin who was known to revel in his quiet, private home in the territory outback. Aren spent the remaining time before they arrived at the shuttle's destination plotting different ways to ingratiate himself with the man who would soon be his son-in-law.

An hour later, the shuttled landed at the Senate Building and the majority of the passengers disembarked. Aren watched with a sneer as most of the people he had traveled with left to join a tour group that was about to move into the building that was the center of the galaxy's government. He, himself, strode confidently towards the main doorway. He had spent a lot of time on his journey from Callis researching the protocols of the Senate and what he could expect when he arrived. He suspected he'd have to drop his name immediately to get any reaction at all from the lackey on duty at the main reception desk.

The main reception hall of the Senate was a vast echoing chamber with many valuable holos and works of art but Aren was only interested in the reception desk at the far end of the room. There was a line of several beings standing before the desk and Aren's lips tightened angrily but he could do nothing but wait for his turn.

After several minutes of waiting, Aren stood before three humans who were in charge of the desk. The young man in the middle eyed him with a rather condescending look before he forced a smile across his narrow face.

"How man I help you, Sentient?"

Aren stepped forward, trying to keep his expression neutral. "My name is Aren Lars. I'm here to see my son, Benjamin Lars. I understand he's usually found with the Chancellor."

The man blinked once. "You want to see Benjamin Lars?"

Aren nodded once.

"You're his father?" the man continued with a disbelieving tone.

"I am," came the flat reply.

"Why are you coming in this way?" came the sneering question. "If you're his father, wouldn't Syr Lars be expecting you?"

Aren just raised his brow slightly, recognizing a powerless young man trying to exercise some power. "Is that really your business?" he asked in a low tone.

The man's eyes narrowed but he merely gestured to the square pane of glass set in the desk before Aren. "If you'll place your palm there, I will process your identification," he instructed with a tone that said he highly doubted Aren's claim and would take a great deal of enjoyment in having him tossed out of the hall. Aren just laid his palm flat on the glass and held the boy's gaze as he felt the warmth rise from its surface, indicating a scan in progress.

A few moments later, the receptionist's eyes widened as he read the information flashing across his screen revealing that the man standing before him was indeed Benjamin Lars' father. He paled as he glanced up at the now smirking man before him.

"If you wouldn't mind waiting a few minutes, Syr Lars, I will see what I can do," he said in a much humbler tone than before. Aren just nodded as the younger man chewed his lower lip for a long moment. Then his fingers began flashing across the keyboard in front of him. A few silent minutes passed before the receptionist leaned back and motioned to someone across the hall.

Aren watched as a young, green-skinned being dressed as a Senate page trotted across the floor.

"Yes, Syr Toish?" the page asked.

"Please escort Syr Lars to meeting chamber 305," the receptionist instructed quietly. The page just nodded and glanced up at Aren.

"This way, please, sir," came the respectful request before the boy turned and headed off into the Senate. With a final narrow glare at the receptionist, Aren followed.

They walked and glided and took elevators for almost fifteen minutes before the page stopped before a doorway that was one among hundreds they had passed. The youth touched the panel beside the door with three, elongated fingers and bowed as the door slid open.

"Chamber 305, sir," he said and then turned to trot back the way they had come. Aren didn't even watch him go as he straightened his tunic and then stepped into the room. He narrowed his eyes as a man he didn't recognize rose from one of the comfortable couches placed around the room.

"Ah, Syr Lars, it is a pleasure to meet you," the man said in an amiable tone as he walked forward and held out his hand. "I am Senator Ethril Palpatine."

Aren clasped hands and nodded respectfully. "An honor, Senator, but I must say I was expecting my son."

Senator Palpatine nodded and then gestured to the couch he'd been seated on when Aren came in. "I know but the Chancellor is working from his lunar estate today and I understand Master Lars stayed there with him. Since neither one is immediately available, Qui-Gon asked that I greet you and make certain you are taken care of until he and Benjamin can return to Coruscant."

Aren grit his teeth for a moment, about to demand that he be taken to his son immediately when he suddenly reconsidered. It might be quite beneficial to have Senator Palpatine's backing and here was a prime chance to speak with him about the reaction of the Senate to Benjamin's sudden appearance.

"I appreciate your consideration, Senator," he finally replied as he seated himself next to the older man. "I must say I was expecting to encounter problems trying to see Benjamin but I didn't expect him to be taking a vacation day already."

"I understand your surprise, Syr Lars, but he has had a very stressful week already," Palpatine replied with a genial smile as he gestured for a serving droid to offer his guest refreshment. "I did get to meet the young man very briefly a few days ago. He seemed very mannerly and well behaved though perhaps needing a bit of guidance."

The senator glanced up as Aren chose a mild stimulant to drink and the older man smiled at his guest's nod of agreement.

"Ben has always been headstrong and stubborn," Aren replied as he sipped the warm beverage. "And some of his choices over the past years have left much to be desired."

"Chancellor Jinn seems very fond of him, though, and very protective," Palpatine noted idly. "I had hardly spoken with him a few minutes before he was hurried off to some other appointment." The senator glanced up and caught Aren's green eyes. "I'm sure Benjamin will allow you more time, though," he said gently. "Perhaps you might speak to him about some issues I would like to bring to the Chancellor's notice."

Aren took another sip of his beverage and then smiled slowly. Yes, this was exactly why he had come here. Already he was being petitioned to intervene with his son.

"I'd be happy to pass along your words, Senator," he said with a nod as he set his cup aside. "But I would need to speak with him first. We did not part of the best of terms."

Senator Palpatine waved off his words. "Benjamin struck me as being a very proper son and what son would not listen to his father?" Aren opened his mouth to reply but the older man stood. "Come now, I know you must be weary after your journey. I would like you to be my guest for the evening. We will have dinner and then you can rest. Tomorrow, we can arrange for you to meet with your son."

Aren just looked up at the older man for a long moment before he nodded and stood. "I appreciate your assistance, Senator," he said respectfully.

Palpatine just smiled at his words. "I'm happy to help, Syr Lars," he replied. "I'm certain you'll have a great impact on Benjamin's future."

Trained by the eldest, the twelfth and last,
This warrior of great merit will take one and only one student to her heart.
Train him well. He will shake the galaxy.
He will choose the Path.

Master Alisi Jeran, Coruscant Temple
Year of the Republic 18475

The Naboo ship, Theed's Pride, had been docked only a few minutes before a contingent of Jedi healers from the nearby Temple descended on it to retrieve the badly injured form of Jedi master Yinyan Osristh'ca. She was handled with the utmost care as she was moved into a steady, portable tank of bacta for transport to the Healing Temple.

She seemed to have improved slightly during her time immersed in bacta en route to Filanio but she was still unconscious and Owen still couldn't feel more than a tendril of their bond. He stood aside to watch the healers work, worried that he was about to lose her and yet trying to let that worry flow into the Force. It wasn't working too well.

He took a few moments to express his appreciation to the Naboo pilot and crew that had gotten his master here so quickly before he bowed to them and then followed the retreating group of Jedi. He wanted to find out where they were taking his master and then he wanted to find a place where he could lay down and sleep for while.

At that thought, he snorted. Owen sincerely doubted he'd be able to sleep well until he knew his master's fate. But he knew he needed at least to sit somewhere quiet and try to calm his mind and body. Between the worry over losing his master and the intense feelings of longing he had for Khamier, Knight Lars felt like he was a roiling ball of emotions. He knew some of the healers were darting glances at him as he passed, following his master, and he just hoped he could get by without having a soul healer pointed in his direction.

All he needed was time and a quiet place, he told himself. Once he saw that his master was settled here at the Temple and he spoke with the Master Healer, Owen would request directions to the nearest garden or meditation room.

Perhaps he could even make another call to Khamier and make sure the zabrak would be available to be killed immediately once Owen returned to the Temple.

At that thought, the knight found himself marginally calmer.

Yes, all he needed was a little time alone to gather his thoughts and emotions and then he would get access to a communications console.

Owen took a deep breath and then submerged himself into the Moment before he followed the group of healers surrounding his master into the Temple.

Even as the doors shut behind them, another ship was landing at a docking bay several miles away from the Filanio Temple. Inside, a Jedi Councilor and his apprentice waited patiently as the ship settled into its berth and the doors opened, allowing them to exit.

Eeth Koth glanced back at his apprentice before he moved across the docking bay with the intent of finding transport to the Jedi Temple.

"Come along, Bant," he called to his padawan who was speaking quietly with one of their crew.

"Coming, Master," she called before following him.

Remove not the symbol of the knight's Shield lest all be lost to the Dark

Most Revered Knight Guranga Tis, Barcouga Temple
Year of the Republic 15863
translated by Master Archivist Pini Dothz
Year of the Republic 18936

Just prior to the destruction of the ancient Barcouga Temple in the Waft Civil War, all prophecies relevant to the Order were translated and transferred to the main library in the Coruscant Temple. It is questionable even that this prophecy should be included with the Prophecies of the Chosen One as its relevance seems small. Some Jedi, though, feel the urgency of the original prophesy was lost in the translation. None live now who can say for certain.

(original text)

Don't mess with the claim mark, yer farkin' dimlighters, or else the one who made it will stomp your collective asses and Barkcorin's Ninth Hell will seem like a ta-spa vacation on the moons of Caymen.

Knight Guranga Tis, Barcouga Temple

Later that evening, Owen was still a silent presence in the large healing chamber where his master was completely submerged in a tank of bacta. He had not yet been able to speak with the Master Healer in charge of Yinyan but he had managed to gather a measure of calm by focusing on the very alive sense of his master within the Force. Over the past few hours, Knight Lars had gotten a few flashes of insight as he maintained a light meditation that led him to believe his master would survive her injuries and eventually take to the field again. But he couldn't get past the feeling of foreboding that was growing in his mind. He felt almost as if he were standing on a deserted bit of coastline and were he to turn around and face the sea, he would find himself within the dark shadow of a huge wave of water about to crash down on top of him.

It was little wonder that he'd spent the last hour pressed up against the solid stone, wall behind him.

"Knight Lars?"

The unfamiliar voice pulled him from his contemplation and he glanced down to find a young padawan standing in front of him.

"Yes, Padawan?" The young, pink-skinned female seemed rather excited.

"Councilor Eeth Koth has just arrived at the Temple with his padawan and is asking for you."

For some reason, Owen pressed back firmly against the wall as his eyes glanced up to the submerged figure of his master. Then he took a deep breath and pushed back the unexpected panic that rose in him at Koth's name.

"Thank you, Padawan," he finally breathed as he forced himself to step away from the solid comfort of the wall. "Would you please lead me to him?"

The female smiled and nodded at him. Her pale pink eyes were sparkling with excitement and he realized they didn't get many highly placed Jedi visiting this minor healing Temple and she was probably going to be crowing about this meeting to all her friends.

"In here, Knight Lars," she said as she led him into a small, windowless chamber that held a table and chairs, a small couch and little else besides a pacing Councilor and his padawan.

Councilor Koth glanced up and met his eyes as Owen walked into the room. The knight bowed to him and then turned to thank the padawan who had guided him. She smiled and gave him and the Councilor a proper bow before she turned to leave the room.

"A moment, Padawan X'li," Councilor Koth called suddenly and the female stopped beside the doorway and turned. "I have some issues to discuss with Knight Lars. Would you mind if my padawan accompanied you for an hour or so?"

Padawan X'li looked very pleased as she glanced towards Bant. "I would be pleased to, Master Councilor," she said with a grin. Bant just glanced at Koth and then with a rather forlorn sigh moved towards the door. She looked back at Owen who gave her a gentle smile and a bow. Bant smiled shyly in return before she followed the other padawan out the door.

It shut silently behind the padawans and Owen turned back to find Councilor Koth standing right in front of him. It was an indication of his weariness that he couldn't contain his flinch of surprise.

"Councilor Koth," he greeted the zabrak with a nod. He tried not to stare at the man but his presence made the scar on his shoulder ache just that much more. "I hope your journey was an easy one."

The Councilor waved off his greeting and gestured him to sit down in one of the chairs next to the table. He, himself, did not sit. He stood looking down at the knight with a hooded gaze.

"Knight Lars," he began after a few, long minutes of silence. "How fares your master?"

Owen blinked and then looked down at his hands, folded carefully in his sleeves. "She is better than she was when we left Naboo but she still lingers at a critical stage of healing," he answered slowly. "The Master Healer has not yet had time to speak with me concerning the particulars."

Koth nodded slowly. "I understand she was injured on Naboo. Before that, however, did she have a chance to speak with you about Sarin's Mark?"

The knight glanced up at him, surprise ghosting briefly across his expression. "We discussed the Mark, Councilor," he replied. "She told me of its meaning and its consequences."

"And do you know why I am here?"

Owen studied Eeth's expression closely but the Councilor revealed nothing in his expression. "I assume to gage Master Osristh'ca's condition."

Eeth Koth met his eyes squarely as he shook his head. "I am here to remove Primary Sarin's Mark."

Knight Lars didn't even remember moving before he was staring at the Councilor from the other side of the room, his back firmly against the wall.

"No."

Koth looked at the knight in astonishment. The Councilor had considered quite a few reactions that he might get from a Jedi in this situation except the one that was the most unforeseen: outright refusal. That was something he'd have expected from a voluntarily claimed lover not an unknowingly claimed Jedi knight.

"Knight Lars," he continued in a softer, almost soothing tone. "You did not consent to the Primary's claim. He did not get your permission for the Kiss and I doubt you would have consented had he told you what he was doing. You must let me remove the Mark."

"But-"

"The procedure to removed Sarin's genetic markers from your blood is intense but simple," Koth pressed, stepping closer. "You would recover quickly and be able to return to Coruscant with your master."

"I thought the process was not reversible," Owen snapped. "Master wasn't certain it could be done at all."

"You did not return his Kiss," Koth replied. "A zabrak may claim a mate but there must be at least a claim in return. As it is, he has left you with the ritual only partially completed."

"That doesn't matter! I don't want to remove-" Owen's words suddenly cut off as he realized what he was going to say. He stared at the zabrak Councilor in complete surprise. He'd spent the last several days cursing Khamier for putting him in this situation, Marking him without even asking.

But now, presented with the opportunity to have the damn Kiss removed, all Owen wanted to do was get as far away from Councilor Koth as possible. All his instincts were screaming for him to defend himself and he was surprised and stunned to find Koth staring at his right hand, which hovered threateningly over the lightsaber hanging at his side.

"Knight Lars, you need to calm yourself," the Councilor said slowly as he caught and held Owen's gaze. "I have been sent here to remove the Mark you have been given-" His words were interrupted by the knight's abrupt denial but he just held up his hand. "I can see, however, that it has taken a deeper hold of you than I had expected."

Owen studied the Councilor for a full minute while he struggled to calm his unexpectedly turbulent response to Koth's purpose for coming here. Finally, he took a deep breath and released it.

"What possible reason have you for removing Khamier's Mark?" he asked in as close to a serene tone as he could get at the moment. "It harms no one and will not interfere with my missions."

The zabrak just raised a brow and then slowly approached the skittish knight. "It will not interfere?" he asked in a low tone as he smiled. He reached out to caress Owen's face softly and got as far as the knight's chin before he found himself Force-tossed across the room to land very uncomfortably on the couch.

Owen just stared at him wide-eyed and then looked at his hand as if it belonged to someone else.

"Councilor Koth, I apologize," he stammered out, a sincerely repentant expression on his face, but Koth noticed that the man came no closer to him.

"Do you see, Knight Lars?" he said as he carefully sat up, checking for any injuries worse than a bruised thigh. "A zabrak Mating Kiss does not just claim a partner. It makes the intimate touch of anyone else repulsive to them."

The Councilor said nothing more as he watched Owen realize exactly how accepting Khamier's Mark would affect his future with the Order of the Jedi.

Not being able to accept the intimate touch of another meant that he would have to rely solely on his fighting and diplomatic abilities. And while those skills were the ones Owen privately thought were the most important, he would be severely handicapped without the ability to stabilize a shaky diplomatic mission with his body since that was practically expected by all parties from the outset of the negotiations.

Accepting Khamier's Mark effectively meant an end to Owen's career as an active Jedi Knight. While he could still be assigned positions within the Temple, he would never again be sent to cement a planetary treaty or calm a raging war. All of the sexual skills he had been trained for would be beyond him.

And somewhere, deep inside, in that part of him that had been most damaged by a night of pain and fury in Senator Palpatine's clutches, the part that had always cringed just the slightest bit when he had to bed someone during the course of a mission, that part breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thank the Force.

However, the majority of his mind was caught up in the fact that he would be practically useless to the Order.

"There must have been others who chose this path," he finally stated, "or there wouldn't be such stringent classes in place to discourage it."

"Over the years there were knights who were marked by a zabrak lover, some who chose the Mark and others who had it thrust upon them," Koth quietly agreed. "Those who chose to keep the Mark and stay with their lover left the Order completely. When an exceptionally bright and talented padawan was Marked even before he finished his first rotation to the Senate, the Temples implemented a class to make sure their padawans knew the dangers of dallying with a zabrak."

"I suppose it's a good thing I didn't complete more than one rotation then," Owen snorted as he turned back to the Councilor. "If that class is so important why did Master Yoda make certain I never took it? It's almost as if he wanted this to happen."

Councilor Koth glanced away from the knight's intent gaze for a moment. "Master Yoda has always Seen and interpreted things differently than most on the Council. Unfortunately, he has the power to act on his interpretations, usually in ways the Council doesn't find out about until it is too late."

Knight Lars stared at him with a narrow glare. "Master Koth, why would Yoda, much less the Council, be Seeing things about me?" he demanded.

Eeth Koth just gave him a serene look. "You are far more important than you know, Owen Lars, and the addition of a zabrak's Mating Kiss could interfere with things on a level you cannot possibly understand," he stated in a very Council-mystical, I'm-not-going-to-explain way.

Owen just ground his teeth.

"It's those damned prophecies, isn't it?" he demanded angrily.

Koth looked as if a padawan had planted a board on the back of his head. "You...are aware of the prophecies?" he asked faintly.

"You're joking, right?" Knight Lars growled, completely ignoring the respect owed a Councilor as he paced across the room. "Padawan Damus is my year-mate. Padawan Damus who trained with Master Scholar Beali, who translated and interpreted old Jedi Prophecies. Padawan Damus who shared with every single one of our yearmates that he thought I could be the Chosen One. I've been teased about that nonsense since I was fifteen! He who will make the Choice. He who will make a Decision that will rock the galaxy." Owen snorted loudly and ran his fingers through his hair before he paced back across the room. "He who begged his master to get mission assignments off the planet as often as possible so he wouldn't have to hear it."

Councilor Koth stood and approached the knight, careful to maintain a neutral expression and unthreatening body language.

"Knight Lars, the Council firmly believes that you are the Chosen One," he noted quietly. Owen gazed at him with a disbelieving look.

"I'm just a knight, Councilor," the younger man stated. "That's all I ever wanted to be."

"Rare is the being who gets to choose his or her destiny, Knight Lars," the zabrak noted almost wistfully. Then he continued in a firm tone. "The best one can do is accept it and perform to the best of one's abilities."

Several facts clicked in Owen's mind at that moment.

"The Council thinks Khamier's Mark will interfere with my ability to make whatever Choice it is that I'm 'destined' for," he said, his tone calm once again. It wasn't even a question.

"It already interferes, Knight Lars," Koth replied flatly. "Should you keep the Mark, you would have to be removed from the active duty roster and assigned a passive assignment within the Temple."

Owen glared at the zabrak for a long moment before he paced away and studied the door. When he turned back several minutes later, his expression was again that of a confident Jedi knight.

"If that be the Will of the Force, then, so be it, Master Koth," Owen stated. "I will not allow Khamier's Mark to be removed unless he, himself, tells me he wants it to be so."

The Councilor just returned the knight's gaze before he slowly sank onto the couch. He suddenly felt every one of his years.

"Has it occurred to you that the Mark is influencing your decision?" he queried pointedly. Owen just glared at him and Koth released a long, slow breath.

"None of this is going as I expected," the Councilor finally said slowly. Then he closed his eyes and reached for the serenity of the Force. He did not seek that serenity alone as he had a sense of Owen meditating on the course he should be moving towards from this point on.

When he finally opened his eyes and caught Owen's gaze, the knight felt a good bit less wary.

"In truth," the zabrak continued tiredly. "I have been having second thoughts as to the wisdom of removing the Mark," the Councilor admitted softly. He glanced over at the tense knight. "Will you sit and speak with me, Knight Lars? I vow I will do nothing that is not agreed upon first."

Owen studied the zabrak for a long moment before he nodded and moved across the room to sit beside him. Eeth watched him as he settled on the couch and noted that the man's hand still hovered unconsciously over his saber.

"Tell me, Owen Lars," he began in a steady tone. "You reacted to my suggestion of removing your Mark as though you have fully accepted Primary Sarin's Kiss. Is that the case?"

"I-," Owen opened his mouth, uncertain as to what he would say but knowing that he would never allow the Mark to be removed. Prophecies and career be damned, he would not be parted from his lover.

"I need him, Master Koth," he finally admitted softly, to the other man as well as to himself. "I admit I did not know what Khamier intended and probably would not have allowed him to bite me had I known. And I would have denied him because of duty to the Order, not because I did not want it to happen." Owen's hand strayed to his shoulder and rubbed the mark absently. Koth smelled the rising scent of Sarin's claim and he looked away.

"I can only say that he completes me," Owen continued in a low, almost reluctant tone. "I did not want this...attraction. I have fought it since I first was assigned to the Chancellor's teaching tour months ago." The knight looked up and caught the Councilor's gaze. "But now, knowing what I do of Khamier...I don't think I would want to live without it," he finished in a whisper.

"Do you understand what it means to be mated to a zabrak in this manner?" Koth asked in a formal tone. "Do you understand how this will affect your duty to the Temple?"

"I do," Owen replied firmly with no hesitation.

Eeth looked at the human beside him with a dark, assessing gaze. "One thing more to consider, Knight Lars," Koth noted in a neutral tone. "Zabraks can be very possessive of their mates, almost obsessively so. When I told Sarin I would be removing the Mark he had given you, he said he would make sure the Temple lost any support given by the Senate. He said he would destroy the Order."

The Councilor was silent for a time, allowing Owen to absorb his words before he continued. "This is the man you are allowing to own you under Zabrakian and Republic law. You will be his possession. That Mark is regarded as a brand of ownership on Zabrak. You will have legal rights but always, Khamier Sarin will have the final say. Knowing this, do you still want to keep his Kiss?"

Owen did not reply for several minutes. The Councilor noted that his dark eye s were unfocused, unseeing of anything outside his visions. When the knight finally turned his gaze away from his inner sight and looked at Jedi beside him, Eeth Koth understood that Owen had made his choice.

"Master, I cannot say for certain that Khamier would destroy the Jedi Order because you denied him his chosen mate and removed his Mark from my body," the knight stated calmly with more serenity than he had felt for weeks. "But I can honestly say that I would."

Bant waited patiently for her master to come out of the small room where he was speaking with Owen Lars. She had declined to go any farther with the young padawan who had stared up at her with the awed, provincial gaze of someone who doesn't get around the galaxy much. Hells it must be boring to be stuck in a backwater Temple like this one.

Fortunately, there was a small waiting area just a few feet down from where her master was and the Calamarian settled there, watching the door carefully. She didn't often get to travel with her master on missions and this was the first one she'd been on in months. She wanted to be ready when her master appeared.

She only had to wait a few minutes more before the door opened silently and Master Koth appeared followed by Knight Lars. She looked them both over carefully, noticing their very neutral expressions. She dropped into step just behind her master as they passed, getting a nod from Councilor Koth and nothing from Lars.

"Is everything all right, Master?" she asked as they moved along the hall towards the entrance of the Temple nearest to the docking bays. There were only a small number of Jedi healers in residence at this Temple and most of them were at dinner or at their posts so the halls were fairly deserted. "Is everything settled?"

"Yes, Bant," Koth said without glancing back. As they reached the entrance the doors opened silently and all three Jedi saw the shuttle waiting for the Councilor and his padawan. "Everything is taken care of here. We are returning to Coruscant."

"Excellent. My true master is expecting me soon and I mustn't disappoint him."

Councilor Koth was used to his apprentice saying rather odd things. He kept meaning to ask Mirra if Bant had been this off when she'd been apprenticed to her but for some reason, he never had gotten around to asking. Now, with his mind on the revelations forced on him by Knight Lars, he was only partially paying attention to his apprentice as they moved across the docking bay but even for her, those words were puzzling.

He turned to ask her to clarify her meaning and was stunned to find the hilt of her saber buried in his chest, the hum of its blade vibrating through his body. He glanced up and met her mad, green eyes, seeing insanity and darkness there for only a moment.

Then with a sigh, he disappeared, his robes and saber falling to the ground and Councilor Eeth Koth became one with the Force he had followed for so long.

A moment later, the Calamarian whirled around to face a stunned Knight Lars who was staring at the robes of the fallen Councilor. His saber was held in his hand, the blade gleaming brightly, but he was barely able to parry the padawan's first attack, so stunned was he by the Councilor's sudden death.

It took him several seconds to realize he was being herded away from the Temple's entrance and into the docking bay by the smug slashes of his opponent. That was when it finally registered that he was standing against the same warrior he had already faced on Callis and she had just killed her own Jedi master.

"Sith!" he hissed as he focused on trying to get his weary body to move faster.

"Of course," Bant replied and grinned widely as she stepped up her attack. "I am Venom," she hissed, "and your death."

A long line of fire danced across his chest as a slash got past his defense and Owen tried to sink further into the Force and ignore the pain. But another slash across the cheek followed by a gouge in his thigh and the Jedi stumbled backwards and hit the ground hard. Once on the ground, Bant kicked him sharply in the ribs and he tried to roll away and regain his footing but the Calamarian was all over him, her huge foot kicking his wrist sharply, sending his saber skittering across the ground.

Almost immediately, her other foot planted itself right on his chest over his heart and the tip of her saber blade hovered just over his throat. He could feel the skin there burning as the tip edged closer and he tried to move back as the blade touched his throat. He couldn't help the grunt of pain.

"And my master thought you could replace me?" the Sith said mockingly. "Maybe I'll just take him back your head and see what he can do with that."

Owen saw her arm flex in anticipation of driving the blade through his throat and all he could think of was Khamier and what his death would do to the zabrak. A second later, the Calamarian was gone as a blaster bolt hit her squarely in the chest and she fell to the ground, quivering with the force of the shot.

Owen stared for only a moment before he forced his body to sit up and move away from the twitching Calamarian. He had a moment to hope that his rescuers had the means to keep her Force restrained when he felt a blaster barrel pressed right up to his forehead.

"Don't move, Jedi," a harsh voice commanded and Owen immediately found out that they did indeed have the means to restrain a Force user as a power-negating collar slid around his neck.

Despite the blaster pointed at his forehead, Owen instinctively struggled, his hands wrapping desperately around the collar at his throat. And then he didn't feel anything as the being beside him started cursing and he felt the intense, tingling pain of a stun bolt at close range.

From the shadows of the Temple, Republic Agent 017 stared in dismay at the team of highly trained mercenaries that were gathering up Jedi Knight Owen Lars and the apparently insane Calamarian padawan who had attacked him. They moved with a practiced precision and were obviously well versed in bagging and tagging Force users. In moments the two Jedi - or rather the Jedi Knight and the obviously Sith-spawned padawan were moved toward the shuttle that was warming up on the far side of the docking bay.

Without hesitation, the agent reached out with the Force and placed a power tracing tag on Knight Lars before the man was out of reach. Lars was completely unconscious but 017 was able to wrap the Force tracer securely into the knight's aura. He then pulled out his ever-present mission comp pad and tapped in a complex series number and letters. He pointed it directly at the shuttle and in seconds an opening appeared on the front corner and a small, round ball of metal no bigger than the tip of his smallest finger shot from it, heading straight for the transport about to take off. Completely silent and unreadable, the tracer attached itself to the ship and then melded into the metal just as the transport lifted into the night sky.

The agent watched it disappear into the darkness even as he looked back at the healing Temple. He shook his head and wondered why not even a single Jedi had come to investigate the death of Councilor Koth and the battle that had happened immediately afterwards. He, himself, had just arrived on his own transport, which was idling in the next docking bay over. It was only at the urging of the Force that he had hidden himself in the shadows and cloaked his presence with his comp pad.

A moment later, Councilor Koth had appeared and the padawan had killed him and attacked Knight Lars. The agent had watched the battle that had only taken a few moments to play out before the Calamarian was shot down by the mercenaries who had been waiting on the shuttle.

017 shook his head as he turned and made his way back towards his ship. The lack of Jedi initiative at the Filianio Temple would be a research mission for someone else. He had neither the time nor the inclination to investigate. He had bigger problems to worry about.

His fingers were busy preparing a report on his comp pad of what he had just seen and registering the tracer he'd attached to the ship. If it reappeared from hyperspace in any Republic backworld, the tracer would report itself immediately. And hopefully, once they had located the ship, he would be able to locate the Jedi.

The Republic's best stealth agent cursed steadily under his breath as he trotted up the ramp to his ship. Sarin was going to skin him alive if anything permanent happened to that knight.

Running his fingers through his dark hair, Xanatos Chiyari, otherwise known as Lord Vonris Du'Telos, smacked the switch that closed the door behind him and headed to the cockpit. He'd better have a long vacation coming after this mission or heads were going to roll.