Master Apprentice Archive Jedi Exiles: Year Zero Quick search:

Archive: M_A; anyone else, just ask

Category: AU, angst, Q/O, O/Br, chan, h/c

Rating: PG13

Warnings: (Eventual) consensual sex between two minors, and between an adult and a minor.

Spoilers: early JA books -- diverges from canon around #7

Series Timeline: Obi-Wan is 13-14

Summary: Eight Jedi padawans know a secret no one will believe.

Disclaimers: You the man, George. The only thing I'm getting for this is some cheap thrills and (hopefully) some feedback.
Feedback: Live for it.

Thanks to: KatBear, Master Jenn, and The Rose.

thoughts/emphasis

:: Shyriiwook (Wookiee-speak) ::

The boy stood alone on the launch pad, travel bag containing the remains of his old life resting at his feet. In a few moments the AgriCorp guide would arrive to escort him to his new life, unwanted as it was, and he had precious little time left to hope.

Hope there had been a mistake.

Hope some master, any master, would arrive on his heels and claim him.

Hope his abandonment was really a final test of his worthiness.

Hope it had all been a dream, and he had not lost his temper, and he would wake up in his bed at home, in the initiate dorms.

Such hopes were rapidly drowning in the fumes of interstellar craft and the harsh artificial light which held night away from the launch pad, and by the time a figure came up to him, he had mostly resigned himself to his fate.

He would not be a Jedi.

"No," answered the figure -- whose face he could not see beneath the deep cowl -- although the boy had not spoken aloud. "You will not be a Jedi. But that does not mean you must spend your life grubbing about in the dirt, slaving to feed the ignorant masses who will never appreciate it." And astonishingly, the figure was holding out a lightsaber. Hesitant, the boy reached for it.

He had spent his entire life in the Jedi temple. No one ever told him not to take candy from strangers.

The funny red haze was the worst; tortuous, though he could not say why. The scene beyond ought to disturb him more, but Obi-Wan's fear and frustration centered on the red tinge.

Beyond the haze a red and black creature fought a Jedi master shaded in delicate tones of pink, leaping and slashing, blocking, thrusting, parrying; a beautiful, deadly dance. Obi-Wan wondered why his master seemed to struggle, wondered if Qui-Gon's plan revolved around feigning weakness, and eventually wondered, with dull shock, if there was no plan and if Qui-Gon -- unbelievably -- was going to lose.

Almost as though summoned by his thought, the dance escalated, rushed to a finish that had a saber blade through Qui-Gon's chest.

"No!" someone screamed, and the creature looked up, met Obi-Wan's eyes...

"No!" Red haze vanished to blackness, hands gripping his shoulders and sweat dampening his skin.

"Obi-Wan, shhh. Calm down." Qui-Gon. Even in the dark Obi-Wan knew him, the subtle, pleasant scent of the man speaking of safety -- a reassurance new and untried, but more surety than Obi-Wan had ever known before.

"Master."

"Just a dream, Padawan. Go back to sleep."

"Where..."

"Almost to Gala. Sleep."

"Yes, Master," he whispered, and he did sleep again, and he did not dream, sensing his master's immutable presence nearby; new comfort, new trust. And the vessel ghosted onwards, a whisper in the black night of space.

0.1 A Change in the Wind

Obi-Wan groaned when he saw the name next to his on the sparring roster. "How does he do it? This is the fourth leave he's ruined!"

"So back out," Siri Tachi said, shrugging philosophically.

"I can't back out. Everyone will think I'm afraid of him."

"Do you care what everyone thinks?"

"I... yes. Yes I do. Do you have a problem with that?"

Siri shrugged again. "Not really. I was just wondering if you were going to whine all day, or go meet your arch-nemesis on the battlefield."

"You've been watching Pirate League vids again, haven't you?"

"Last week Captain Von rescued Kaiden from Davu Deln. Big fight scene. It was strat."

"I can't believe someone who's fought real pirates would watch that junk."

"You don't know what you're missing, Kenobi. So, you going to fight Chun or not?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just don't understand how he can be here every time Qui-Gon and I get a little time off. Or why he insists on sparring with me."

"Because he knows he can get to you."

"Hey, Kenobi, are we gonna spar or what? Get into hyperdrive."

Obi-Wan shot a cool look at Bruck, who was waiting impatiently in the ring. Mind your emotions, Kenobi, he reminded himself. Be calm and patient; wait for him to lose his temper. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he should have phrased it: 'wait for him to lose his temper first.'

Grimacing, grateful Qui-Gon was having tea with Yoda on the other side of the temple, Obi-Wan shook out his limbs and set his saber to quarter power. He stepped onto the mat, bowed stiffly to his opponent, and dropped into a classic guard stance.

He was barely in time, for Bruck went on the offensive immediately, coming out of the traditional bow with his saber lit and swinging. Obi-Wan managed to parry, but within moments he knew he would lose -- sparring with Bruck was a challenge even under better circumstances, but Obi-Wan had just come in from a long series of taxing missions and Bruck was riled up about something or other.

Your focus determines your reality. One of Qui-Gon's oft-repeated tidbits of masterly wisdom came to him, and Obi-Wan chided himself for deciding the outcome before the battle was well begun. If I think I'm going to lose, then I will. It isn't over till the score-keeper chimes.

Five minutes later, the hovering droid did chime, a triple ping signalling victory. Obi-Wan picked himself up off the mat, bowed to a smirking Bruck Chun, and walked back to join Siri. He felt his opponent follow him, and suppressed an irritated sigh.

Siri handed a towel to each of them, though Bruck hardly needed it. "Nice match," she said, however both her tone and her pointed look at Obi-Wan said the gesture was a Tachi attempt at politeness.

"Sure was," Bruck said cheerfully. "Ghods, Oafy, don't ever wonder where your nickname came from. Master Jinn must have to save your ass all the time -- I'm surprised he lets you out of his sight."

Face burning -- for Qui-Gon actually had needed to rescue him on two separate occasions during this last string of missions -- Obi-Wan whirled on Bruck. Unwilling to admit how close the insult hit, he seized on the other point of contention. "That is not my nickname! That is a stupid, hateful, childish taunt that you started calling me out of spite."

Bruck only raised an eyebrow, satisfaction fairly tainting the air around him. "Maybe I should have called you Obi-Whine instead, if you can't take a joke."

A scattering of snickers met this, and Obi-Wan realized a number of other padawans were listening avidly to the argument. I've been Oafy-Wan for two years, and just when it's starting to slack off, I get labeled Obi-Whine. The Force hates me.

"Oh, grow up and start acting like a padawan, Bruck." This, surprisingly, came from Siri. "And you," she said, turning to Obi-Wan. "You can stop acting like a padawan for ten minutes, you know. You're on leave. Be silly. Go do something fun, and stop getting all bothered by Bruck's teasing." With that she stalked off, leaving both boys openmouthed.

"Siri! Hey, Siri, wait!" Bruck shot a venomous look at Obi-Wan. "Nice going, Obi-Whine." He hurried off after Siri.

Obi-Wan pulled his thoughts together, draped the towel over his neck, and walked away in the opposite direction, heading for the showers.

Teasing. Siri thought Bruck's spite was just teasing. Were he and Bruck the only people in the temple who recognized the dangerous quality of their rivalry? Another thought occurred, and he halted at the shower entrance.

Maybe only Obi-Wan took their conflict so seriously. Maybe Bruck really thought he was just teasing, that 'Oafy-Wan' really was just Obi-Wan's nickname.

No. He thought back to the worst of their fights, over a year before, when Bruck maliciously attacked him and tried to keep Qui-Gon from choosing Obi-Wan as his padawan. That incident could never be misconstrued as mere teasing.

"Kenobi!"

Startled, he spun around to find a group of senior padawans glaring at him. "W-what?"

"Are you planning to stand in the doorway all day? Move!"

Embarrassed, Obi-Wan stepped aside, allowing the group to enter the showers. As they passed, he heard one of them add, "Obi-Whine."

Yoda had finally gone away to wherever he went when he wasn't annoying his former padawans. Sighing happily, Qui-Gon moved his favourite chair into the sunlight -- artificial sunlight from the viewscreen he'd managed to fix to the ceiling, but sunlight all the same -- planted his tea within easy reach, and cracked open his long-owned but as yet unread volume of Khetzisian affirmations.

At last. Three years he had waited to read this book, for every time he opened it, distractions, disruptions, and emergencies seemed to pop out of the Force. Not this time. This time he would--

The front door swished open, and a disgruntled fourteen-year-old padawan stalked in. "Master, how would you describe me?"

Qui-Gon looked up from the volume, noting Obi-Wan's dishevelled appearance and troubled expression, then glanced back down at the culmination of twenty-fourth century Khetzisian spiritual wisdom. With a sigh, he closed the book. Soon, beloved, he silently promised it. Very soon.

He set the book down next to his tea, and patted the arm of his chair. Obi-Wan came over, but declined the chair arm in favour of sitting at his master's feet. Ghods. It must be a major crisis this time. Obi-Wan's unending moral dilemmas and history of asking the most awkward questions in all of padawanhood aside, Qui-Gon had a duty to guide his apprentice through both training and the ravages of growing up.

"Describe you?" he repeated, stalling for time and hoping Obi-Wan would elaborate, and thus give his poor master a clue as to what in the lower levels of Coruscant was worrying the boy this time.

"Yes. Describe me."

"Well, you're a Jedi padawan. You have dark blonde hair with a bit of red in it, green eyes--"

"Master! Describe me. My personality."

"Ah. Yes. Well, you're dedicated and loyal, kind, serious, conscientious, brave... um, honest, um... Obi-Wan? What's wrong?" Qui-Gon regarded his padawan's growing statement of horror with alarm.

"You think I'm boring, too!" Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and dashed from the room.

"Padawan! No, I don't think..." The door swished shut, cutting him off. Qui-Gon sent a longing glance at his book, then heaved himself out of his chair, feeling every bit of the last four months of missions coalescing in his body, urging him to sit back down. With a sigh, he shoved aside his plans for a day of sloth and went after Obi-Wan.

Siri found him in the Stone Garden, wedged under a limestone overhang. Obi-Wan grimaced as she regarded him, knowing that if Siri found his latest meditation spot -- he refused to think of it as hiding -- then Qui-Gon certainly could too.

"What are you doing under there, Kenobi?"

"Meditating. Go away."

"Ah. The Sulking Rock-Lizard koan. Very enlightening."

"Did you want something, Tachi, or is disturbing other people's meditations your new pastime?"

"Well, I thought you might like to know Garen is back, but I see you would rather brood under a rock."

"Garen! When did he get in?"

"He's not 'in' exactly, but he's on planet. They've got him ferrying senators to the new orbiting power station for the next two days, then he's back on escort duty."

Obi-Wan bit his lip. If I ask Qui-Gon to let me go now, he'll want to talk and I'll be stuck discussing my feelings for the rest of the day, and tomorrow I start an academic cycle. There's no way I'm getting out of the temple.

Siri was watching him with narrowed eyes, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Stop acting like a padawan, eh. He tilted his chin up.

"Got enough credits to split an aircab?"

0.2 A Face in the Crowd

Tyyshakkebi heartily disapproved of Aalto's near hero-worship of Bruck Chun, but since Aalto was -- in a convoluted, roundabout way -- part of her honour family, she felt obligated to keep the boy out of trouble. Which was why, when Bruck suggested following Kenobi and Tachi, Tyyshie let out a long howl of dismay.

::Aalto, my friend, you have a chemistry exam tomorrow and a meditation sub-trial next week. This is not a good time for pranks.::

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, Tyysh," Bruck said before Aalto could respond. Aalto shrugged an apology, grinned lopsidedly, and climbed into the aircab after Bruck.

Grumbling softly to herself, Tyyshie joined them, and the aircab lurched after the one Kenobi and Tachi had taken. ::This is not how I want to be spending my rest day.::

"Aren't you curious to find out where the Perfect One is sneaking out to?" Aalto asked.

Tyyshie snorted softly. She disapproved of Kenobi just as much as she did Bruck, even though she admitted Kenobi had maintained a flawless record since Melida/Daan. No matter how his abandonment of the order rankled her sense of honour, she had to admire his perseverance, and, regardless of her feelings, skulking around spying on their fellow padawans was plain wrong. ::This is unethical, my friend.::

"So's sneaking out," Bruck said, again leaping in before Aalto could answer. "We can't all be perfect... not even Obi-Whine, it seems."

Muttering curses in Ewok, Tyyshie glumly watched the scenery blur by, and wondered if her master would be contemplating a Wookiee-fur robe by the end of the day.

The aircab landed at, of all places, the Senate Dome, and the three padawans paid the driver, then scrambled out, scanning the sparse crowd for their quarry.

"What are they doing here?" Aalto asked, sounding as though he regretted coming.

::Likely they are here on official business. We should return to the temple.::

"Naw, they wouldn't have had to take an aircab if they were on an errand," Bruck said. "And anyway, Kenobi looked as casual as a Hutt at an opera. Look, there they are."

Tyyshie strode after her companions, her long legs easily keeping up with their faster gait, but they made it only a short distance before their quarry halted in the lobby.

"Muln's back," Bruck said, disgust colouring his entire statement. "I should have known Kenobi would sneak out for something dull." Despite his apparent annoyance, he insisted they hide behind one of the decorative pillars ringing the lobby while Kenobi and Tachi sat on one of the crescent-shaped sofas and chatted with Muln.

::I could be studying right now. I could be finishing the plans for my new lightsaber design. I could be doing anything except spying on my agemates.::

"This is kind of boring. Can't we go back to the temple, Bruck?"

Bruck dismissed the suggestion with an absent flick of his braid. "Keep quiet, or he'll hear--"

Kenobi's head snapped up, and his gaze swept outward, over the scattering of beings streaming through the lobby. Bruck hissed and took an unconscious step out from behind the pillar, just as Tyyshie felt a prickle ruffling the fur along her spine.

"Bruck!" Aalto hissed. "Get back here before they see you."

Said too late, for Kenobi had already spotted them. He frowned, opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped and scanned the room once more, even as Tachi and Muln demanded to know what Bruck was doing there.

Aalto looked at Bruck for direction, but the other boy ignored him, and instead scanned the room as Kenobi did. Tyyshie felt it then, a low throb of fear and pain, muted and introspective until it suddenly spiked into a psychic blast. Tyyshie threw her head back and howled.

She caught a brief glimpse of frightened face in the crowd, and then Aalto, Bruck, and Obi-Wan were tearing across the lobby, Tachi and Muln belatedly following. Tyyshie broke into a lope to keep up. Dodging beings of all species, the padawans ran through the Senate Dome corridors, until a voice rang out, "Hey! You can't go in there."

A tingle of warning from the Force came too late; emergency doors slammed on either end of the corridor, trapping them.

::This is not my idea of a rest day,:: Tyyshie said mournfully, but then Bruck and Kenobi drew their lightsabers and set to the doors, and the day went from bad to worse.

0.3 Official Channels

Qui-Gon entered the Senate Dome security offices with hood up and hands tucked into sleeves. His companions -- Adi Gallia, Ker-Si Emorgen, Chavv Arka, and Techole Ty -- mimicked his posture, and to all appearances the group of Jedi moved with placid grace. Qui-Gon, however, noted the stiffness in Adi's usually smooth stride and the miniscule twitches in Knight Arka's lekku.

If ever there was a group of furious Jedi, this is it, he thought, gripping his forearms so tightly his fingers grew numb.

"Ah, you're here." The guard captain swept his gaze over them with thinly veiled contempt. "The commandant will see you in a moment."

"No," Qui-Gon said.

"No? Wha--"

"We will speak with our padawans first," Adi said, her cool gaze challenging the captain to argue.

Resistance melted into sullenness, and the guard led the way to the holding area. There they separated. Qui-Gon stepped into the detention room containing one Obi-Wan Kenobi, and was immediately bombarded with an agitated apprentice.

"Master! Good, you're here. Did you get me out? Did you feel it? It's probably too late now -- those stupid guards wouldn't listen to us even though we apologized for wrecking the door. Did you-- Why are we still here? Let's go after him."

"Padawan."

The word halted Obi-Wan as he headed for the door.

Qui-Gon slowly released his annoyance to the Force, and managed a reasonable tone. "You left the temple grounds without permission."

"Well, yes, but--"

"You caused a security lockdown in the Senate Dome and disrupted the galactic government."

"I--"

"You destroyed an emergency door worth one thousand, nine-hundred sixteen credits."

"I... Yessir."

"You resisted detention by Senate security."

"But they--"

"Padawan."

"Master?"

"You had better have a good explanation."

"I do, Master."

"Good. Then start at the beginning."

"Yessir. I'm sorry I left the temple without permission, Master. Garen was in and I wanted to see him, and something Siri said earlier made me reluctant to ask you."

"Would this have something to do with you thinking you're boring?"

Obi-Wan flushed. "Sort of. More like I was taking a break from being a padawan."

"Go on."

"We came to the Dome, found Garen and started catching up. We were only here a few minutes when I started feeling something strange, like someone was in misery and his shielding was slipping."

"Force-sensitive?"

"Yes. I started looking for him, and I spotted Bruck, Aalto, and Tyyshie -- and no I don't know why they came here -- but after a moment I found him. He saw me too, and then everything intensified, like he was screaming for help across the Force. I had to help him! Master, it was Inath Koe."

Qui-Gon frowned, not recognizing the name.

"He was an initiate in my age group. He was sent to AgriCorp shortly after I was, but he disappeared before he reached his assignment."

"Ah." The situation was not uncommon. Qui-Gon felt there would be fewer 'disappearances' if the reassignment sub-council would take more care when appointing former initiates to a particular branch of service. Obi-Wan himself proved that; no one who knew the boy could mistake him for a farmer. "So, you followed him."

"Yes, Master. He was with someone, but I couldn't see who -- I just followed Inath's Force-signature. It led into a restricted area, then the guards shut the emergency doors and, well, helping Inath seemed more important than a set of blast doors."

"I see." Obi-Wan perked up at his master's mild tone, but Qui-Gon swiftly disabused him of notions of acquittal. "You acted poorly today, Obi-Wan. You can meditate on alternative courses of action on the way back to the temple."

"But, Master, what about Inath?"

"Padawan." Warning tone.

"Yessir."

Qui-Gon strode out of the detention room, meek apprentice in tow. He was pleased to see the others assembled, and that Adi had collected Garen as well as Siri. He spoke briefly with the other masters, then handed Obi-Wan over to Chavv Arka. "Knight Arka and Master Emorgen will escort you back to the temple."

"Master?"

"I have some things to take care of, Padawan."

A smile broke out on Obi-Wan's face, his relief palpable over their bond. "Yes, Master."

The commandant was blocking the holding area's exit. With a shared glance, Qui-Gon, Adi, and Techole Ty herded her off to the side, while Arka and Emorgen hustled the padawans out the door.

"They can't leave until the magistrate reviews the--"

"Thank you, Commandant," Adi overrode the woman's protest. "The order will, of course, pay for the blast door, and no formal reprimands will appear on your record."

"Damn right they'll pay for-- My record?"

Obi-Wan safely out of hearing, Qui-Gon raised an imperious brow. "Yes. You interfered with a Jedi investigation, Commandant. In the future, I suggest you try to be more mindful of whom you are and are not authorized to detain."

The bounce in Master Ty's step as they stalked out was the only betrayal of their serene Jedi fa?ade.

The damaged blast door was a logical starting place, and Qui-Gon wasted a few moments admiring the neatness of the circle cut through it before moving on to his task. After several minutes of casting his senses out, he detected a hint of fear and pain beneath the stronger impressions left by six agitated young Jedi.

Considering the state of urgency his padawan had been in, Qui-Gon expected to find stronger imprints from their quarry. He followed the trail, noting it faded further before disappearing entirely. Odd. As though the boy had had a quick fright--

Qui-Gon mentally slapped his forehead. Of course. Obi-Wan said Inath's emotions intensified as soon as they saw each other. Naturally the boy would be upset to meet up with agemates who are now padawans. Shaking his head, he returned to the lobby, where Adi and Techole were tracking down witnesses. The three masters met up near the main entrance.

"No one remembers a boy," Techole said. "They very clearly remember a group of Jedi dashing through the building though."

"We've fixed some of the damage, but we can't do more than blur their interest without violating the code. This will make the evening holo-cast." Adi's statement remained neutral, but Qui-Gon could sense her irritation.

"Inath's trail faded away. I expect seeing our padawans startled him." The others nodded, and, in silent accord, they left to hail an aircab.

Obi-Wan leapt to his feet when the door opened, and Qui-Gon hid a smile as the boy snapped to attention to cover the lapse in dignity. "At ease, Padawan."

Obi-Wan sank sheepishly back to the couch. "Did you find him, Master?"

"No, Padawan. The trail faded away."

"But... he was very upset, Master. He should have left a trail even I could follow."

"Perhaps your presence caused his turmoil," Qui-Gon said gently, mindful of Obi-Wan's tendency to blame himself for every problem. "He may have calmed down after you were detained."

"He was upset before he saw me. And why would he call for help?"

Qui-Gon sat next to his padawan. "Obi-Wan, you know how difficult it is to leave the order for AgriCorp." He squeezed the boy's shoulder to ease the words. "Not everyone handles themselves as well as you did. Do you understand how a sudden confrontation could send Inath into a panic?"

"I guess so, Master."

"Good. Now, about your actions today."

Obi-Wan looked up at his master, eyes suspiciously large and dewy.

"It won't work, Padawan. We'll start with leaving the temple without permission."

A sigh and wry grin, and master and padawan put the matter of Inath from their minds.

0.4 Whisper Reprised

Red haze tainting and blurring, a sheet of translucent blood separating him from his master, and Obi-Wan watched, nearly sick, as Qui-Gon battled the black-robed creature.

Go forward and help him! his dream-mind screamed, but his dream-body refused to obey.

The dance sped on and on, flowing with grace to its inevitable conclusion. Back and forth, brilliant red striking muted green, chests heaving, sweat rolling, but while Qui-Gon laboured, his opponent played. They moved into the final steps, and Qui-Gon knew as well as Obi-Wan that the finale would not be pleasant.

A calm, accepting statement dropped over his master, and Obi-Wan wanted to tear it from him until the man refused to give up, until he defied destiny.

But Obi-Wan was stuck behind the ugly red haze while the dance wound down to its natural conclusion, and Qui-Gon collapsed at the creature's feet. "No!" someone screamed, and the creature looked up, met Obi-Wan's eyes...

Gold eyes in a boy's face, painted red and black.

Obi-Wan bolted for the 'fresher, nearly tripping over tangled sheets as he struggled off his sleep couch. He made it to the small room in time to lose his dinner, and had the leisure to regret the second piece of ertaberry pie.

He was dimly aware of Qui-Gon moving about, drawing a glass of water, pressing a cool, damp cloth to the back of Obi-Wan's neck as he hung over the basin.

When he felt his legs would hold him, he stood and accepted the glass.

"Do you need to see the healers?" Qui-Gon ran a hand across Obi-Wan's forehead.

"No. It was just a dream."

"Again? Padawan, if this is getting worse, perhaps you should..."

"I'm fine. It's just... upsetting. Really, Master, I'll be all right."

"If you're certain, Padawan."

"I am, Master."

Qui-Gon tucked him back in, pulling the blankets up to his chin, setting the glass within reach. "Good night, Padawan."

"G'night, Master." Safe and warm and loved, he drifted off.

Cold and dark and alone, he could not cry, because crying was weak and he mustn't be weak, must be strong, mustn't cry, must be strong...

Dimly, the boy wondered if anyone, anywhere, could tell him his name.

0.5 Bad Feelings

"Padawan Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan looked up from his lunch to find a blond, human padawan holding a tray and shifting nervously. "Yes?"

"Did you really see Inath?" the boy blurted, setting his lunch down next to Reeft's before anyone could warn him. Obi-Wan sighed. There was a good reason no one sat directly beside the Dresselian padawan at mealtimes.

"Yes, I saw him. He was--"

"At the Senate Dome, right? Tyyshie said you tried to save him."

Obi-Wan flushed. He didn't know what he had thought Inath needed saving from, but his knees certainly remembered all the meditations on circumspection. "Were you friends with Inath?"

"Since the cr?che. Nadi-Ka Liru."

The name triggered vague memories of a boy in the next year-group up from his. "Obi-Wan. That's Reeft, Jer, and Tsekti."

"Pleased-to-meet-ya. So listen, Chun told me it felt like Inath was in trouble."

"Yeah."

"Is that a 'Yeah, Inath was in trouble' or a 'Yeah, Chun says Inath was in trouble'?"

"The first." Obi-Wan had to smile; it seemed Nadi-Ka had had a few run-ins with Bruck. "You sound like you don't believe Bruck."

"After what he did to Inath? I'd rather kiss a bantha than listen to that little bastard."

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised at such language coming from a Jedi padawan. Qui-Gon would run his apprentice through the obstacle course until he dropped if he heard Obi-Wan speaking like that. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued. "What happened?"

"Oh, that was after you left, Obi," Reeft said around his current mouthful.

Nadi-Ka snorted. "Inath is really quiet and a bit shy. After Master Dree chose me, he was on his own in the dorms. I tried to keep in touch, but you know how it gets. You're off on missions and it's hard to stay friends with people back at the temple, especially initiates." Obi-Wan wondered how hard Nadi-Ka tried; he himself had never found it difficult to maintain friendships, even with Garen, who had been reassigned to PilotCorp after he turned thirteen. "He didn't have any real friends for months after I left," Nadi-Ka continued, "then one day he writes and tells me all about his new pal, good old Bruck Chun."

"So what'd Bruck do?"

"Pretty much the same thing he did to you," Reeft said. "Picked at Inath until he lost his temper."

"Only Chun was supposed to be Inath's friend." Nadi-Ka was glaring around the table, daring anyone to defend Bruck. "At least Inath made him pay for it."

Obi-Wan raised an inquiring brow at Reeft.

"Didn't you wonder why you didn't see Bruck when you got back from Melida/Daan? He spent that week in the medicenter."

Nadi-Ka snorted again. "He deserved it."

"Yeah, well Inath did him a favour then, 'cause that's where Bruck met Master Emorgen," Tsekti said from the far end of the table.

Nadi-Ka glared. "They should have shipped Chun off to AgriCorp instead. Then maybe he'd be in whatever trouble Inath is in now." With that he rose and stalked away, dumping his uneaten lunch in the recycler.

"I knew I should have asked for his muja cobbler," Reeft said mournfully.

In the two weeks since the incident at the Senate Dome, Obi-Wan had struggled with nightmares, but they had gradually faded. After the conversation with Nadi-Ka Liru, they returned, only instead of Inath's face, the painted creature looked like Bruck.

Qui-Gon wanted him to see a mind healer, but Obi-Wan insisted the dreams would end on their own. He was on an academic cycle -- the annual quarter-year of temple studies -- along with the fourth of the padawan population in his rotation, so his minor problem would not interfere with any missions. Qui-Gon reluctantly agreed to respect his wishes.

Nadi-Ka's story shed more light on the incident at the Senate Dome, and intellectually Obi-Wan understood why Inath panicked -- seeing Bruck as a padawan would have certainly upset Obi-Wan if he had stayed in AgriCorp. Yet he could not shake the persistent feeling that Inath had not been running away, but reaching out.

The week after speaking with Nadi-Ka, Obi-Wan returned home from a gruelling philosophy debate in which Jer Nairel thoroughly trounced him, only to find his master's bags packed and waiting by the door. He groaned even though he had known it was inevitable; the Assignments Sub-Council wasn't going to let Qui-Gon laze around while Obi-Wan got his engineering ticket and learned to speak Huttese.

"It's only to Mireau, Padawan. A little diplomatic incident that the locals have exaggerated because they think the senate ignores them." Qui-Gon ruffled Obi-Wan's hair, then took him down to the training salle and ran him around the ring in farewell.

After seeing Qui-Gon to his transport, Obi-Wan returned to empty quarters and leftovers for dinner. Despite the hollow feeling in their quarters, he preferred to eat at home rather than brave the refectory crowds. He spent the first night alone staring at the shadows in his room; thereafter, he slept in Qui-Gon's bed.

Obi-Wan found Bruck in the forty-second level library, huddled over a console with Aalto Deacon and Tyyshakkebi. They blanked the screen as he approached.

"Kenobi," Bruck said.

Though he had intended to ask the other boy if his dreams had been troubled lately as well, another question suddenly occurred to Obi-Wan. "Why did you chase Inath?"

Bruck stared at him blankly, before bursting out, "Come on, Kenobi! You were there. You felt it too."

"I... well, I felt he was upset--"

"Upset? He was terrified and in physical pain."

"But... why would you care?"

Bruck stiffened, and Obi-Wan mentally kicked himself. "Fair enough, Kenobi. You've had your shot at me and I guess I deserve it, but mention it again and I won't take it. Understood?"

Obi-Wan flushed, realizing Bruck's behaviour was no excuse for his own. "Yes. I apologize."

Bruck watched him for a moment, then snorted. "Don't apologize until you're sorry for what you said, not just that you said it to my face. Now, did you want something?"

"No. Forget it." Obi-Wan turned away.

::Padawan Kenobi?::

He turned back and regarded Tyyshakkebi, who hovered protectively over Aalto. He didn't know her well, for she was in the same year-group as Nadi-Ka, and they had only taken one class together. Even for a Wookiee, Tyyshakkebi did not look happy.

::Perhaps you could tell us why you pursued Inath?::

"I overreacted."

"What?" Bruck burst out. "You don't believe our masters, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"But... I know what I felt. Inath needs help. Aalto?" Bruck grabbed the other boy's arm.

"Uh-huh. Didn't you feel it, Obi-Wan?"

"I thought I did." He cast an inquiring glance at Tyyshakkebi for her opinion, and she gave a complex Wookiee shrug in response.

::The database's holo of Inath Koe matches the boy we saw at the Senate Dome, so his identity is certain. As for the rest, I felt something, but whatever it was did not affect me as strongly as it did you, Aalto, and Bruck. I am reserving judgement at the moment, but I am inclined to trust Aalto's word.::

"Wait, what about Siri and Garen?"

::They were much slower to respond to the alarm, and Tachi's opinions on the matter are similar to mine.::

"Why us though?" Obi-Wan wondered.

"That's what we were checking," Aalto said, pointing to the console. "The three of us all had classes with Inath. We think we reacted the strongest because we knew him better."

"But you and Bruck knew him better than I. Why did we have similar reactions?" Obi-Wan flushed suddenly, realizing he had admitted his feelings had been stronger than he let on.

There was silence for a moment, then Tyyshakkebi said, ::Perhaps the common factor is not you knowing him, but him knowing you.::

Adrift without his master to advise him, Obi-Wan wandered over to the fountain garden, hoping to run into Master Yoda accidentally on purpose. Instead he found Siri, leading a gaggle of cr?chlings on an 'expedition' through the garden, which was just as well since Obi-Wan wanted to speak with her, too.

"Hey, Ob-- Alasa! Drop it. Hoi, don't you even think about putting that in your mouth. Hey, Obi-Wan."

"What do you think happened?"

Siri gave him a Look. "What do I think happened about what?"

"Sorry. I meant at the Dome."

"Ah. Breiko! The fountains are not for wading. Get out of there. I don't know what I think, Obi-Wan. Master says Inath chose to leave AgriCorps, and that we can't be responsible for people who don't want our help."

"But he did want our help." Obi-Wan knew with sudden surety that it was true.

"Our masters -- Alasa, that is not a proper application for the Force! Our masters looked and found nothing. I don't know why you won't let it go."

"I have a bad feeling about this. I think we're all missing something."

"We sure are. We're missing two cr?chlings. Now, either help me find them or take your quandary somewhere else."

Obi-Wan sighed, and used the Force to pluck two small children from a tree.

Loitering in Master Yoda's favourite haunts got him nowhere, so Obi-Wan found himself on the little master's doorstep the next day.

"Sit, young Padawan. Tea we will have, and cookies we will eat. Great problem-solvers cookies are."

Obi-Wan accepted a sugary wafer with only a mild twinge of guilt. Qui-Gon disapproved of cookies, claiming they were fattening and that a Jedi needed to maintain a pure system, but Obi-Wan suspected that Yoda's insistence on answering every crisis with sugar had caused the prejudice.

"Master Yoda, what would you do if you had a feeling about something, but people you trusted said you were wrong?"

"Hah! Story of my life that is. 'Having visions again the little green troll is,' and 'Too many cookies before bedtime he eats,' and 'Take a padawan he should. Keep him out of trouble it will.' Hah."

Obi-Wan grinned, and set the rest of the cookie down. The unaccustomed sweetness hurt his teeth. "But what do you do about it?"

"Tell them how wrong they are I do. Then, when right I am, 'told you so' I say."

"I can't say that to my master!"

The gimmer stick flashed out and thumped him on the shin. "Say that you will not indeed! A padawan you are. Unseemly backtalk is."

"So what do I do?"

"Eat your cookie you should." Yoda sipped from his cup, watching Obi-Wan over the delicate rim.

Obi-Wan sighed. He supposed it was just Yoda's way of telling him what he knew all along: listen to the Force.

0.6 Code and Consequence

They hit a wall when they searched for the official report of Inath Koe's disappearance. Tyyshie was far more comfortable fiddling with delicate electronics that mucking through computer code, and neither Aalto nor Bruck had any experience at hacking beyond the normal junior padawan expertise -- such as breaking into the refectory computer to double portions of spiced cream at dinner, and tampering with enviro controls to set Knight Da'ora's 'fresher to dispense only cold water.

::We need help,:: Tyyshie said, finally admitting the temple's security system had defeated her.

"Who should we ask?" Aalto wondered. "Not many padawans could break this security level."

"And it must be someone motivated enough to want to help and not tell anyone," Bruck added.

::I can think of two. Siri Tachi, though I'm not certain about her skill, or that the incident at the Dome was enough motivation for her.::

"Who else?"

Tyyshie gazed at Bruck for a long moment. ::Nadi-Ka Liru.::

"Siri it is. Let's go talk to her."

Tachi was nowhere to be found, but a last-hope inquiry with Master Gallia -- who had not looked favourably on the three of them since The Incident -- confirmed that Tachi and Kenobi had gone to the Superfun Gamegrid, a mid-level entertainment center.

"Since when does Perfect Padawan frequent the game centers?" Bruck asked. "I have a funny feeling about this."

Tyyshie had leisure to contemplate Bruck's obsession with Kenobi as they loitered near the local traffic landing pad, hidden from casual sight but with a clear view of the siderunners that could carry pedestrians to the lower-level skypaths. At the end of two hours, the only conclusions she reached were: 1) humans, particularly the adolescent male variety, were incomprehensible, and 2) Tyyshie herself was crazy for listening to them.

Tyyshie was just about ready to haul Aalto back to his quarters and then stand over him with drawn lightsaber while he studied for his planetary science final, when Bruck suddenly clutched Aalto's arm.

"There they are. I knew they were doing something they shouldn't."

Tyyshie blinked, curiosity winning over pique as Tachi and Kenobi stepped out of an aircab. Superfun Gamegrid was only a five minute siderunner ride and forty minute walk away -- not far enough for perpetually empty-pocketed padawans to splurge on a cab. ::I believe you are right, Padawan Chun.::

Despite the recent trouble, Master Gallia still thought Obi-Wan was a good influence on Siri, and gave permission for them to leave the temple. They had all received individual punishment, but Siri received only light meditations and extra katas since she had not participated in the death of the blast door. Obi-Wan knew he was testing his luck to return to the Senate Dome the moment he was allowed out of the temple, but he had been so certain they would find something...

And they had not.

Obi-Wan slumped in the aircab's hard seat, wondering what sort of punishment Qui-Gon would think up for this latest escapade when he returned from Mireau, and worse, imagining the disappointment his master would feel.

"I don't understand why there weren't any Forceprints left," Siri said, tapping an annoying staccato on her lightsaber.

"Maybe we all had a joint hallucination," he said, not really believing it -- his feeling of wrongness had only grown.

She cast him a withering glare. "I know what I felt, Kenobi, and even if you did feel it more, the Forceprint in that hallway is not as I remember."

Obi-Wan sighed. Trust Siri not to believe him until he said he doubted himself. He should have known he could not convince her with words -- Siri needed to be shown. "All right. If what we felt was real, what happened to the imprint?"

"Maybe it was erased."

"No one can erase a Forceprint."

"I meant blended in with other imprints."

"Maybe in the temple, but not in the Senate Dome. Beside, we would have felt a residual signature."

"You were the one who wanted to go look! Why are you arguing with me?"

Obi-Wan turned the glare back on her. "Doesn't your master play logic games with you? Someone has to argue the other side."

Colouring slightly, Siri fell silent for a moment, during which the aircab pulled up to the temple landing platform.

"Well aren't you the lucky little padawan."

Obi-Wan froze in the act of stepping from the cab. "Bruck. What do you want?"

"Just wondering where you got all the money from. You must have credits stuffed in your mattress to afford a cab to the Superfun."

"We didn't go to Superfun," Siri said, stepping onto the platform behind Obi-Wan. "We went to the Senate Dome."

"Siri!" Obi-Wan glanced at Bruck, but rather than pouncing, the other boy only looked thoughtful.

"We're trying to open the investigation report of Inath's disappearance," he blurted suddenly. "We need you to break the security code, Siri."

Obi-Wan exchanged a cautious glance with Siri, remembering that Bruck and Aalto were convinced Inath needed help, and even Tyyshakkebi felt strongly enough to involve herself.

If Bruck and Obi-Wan actually agreed on something, how could it not be true?

"Stop breathing so loud."

"So sorry, Tachi. Maybe I should just hold my breath until I die."

"I can't concentrate with you huffing in my ear, Chun."

::Keep quiet. We do not need to attract attention.::

"How much longer?"

"A few more minutes. I have seven more gates to clear."

"What's the librarian doing, Aalto?"

"Helping some seniors find something. Are you almost done? He keeps looking this way."

"Don't rush, Siri. You'll only trip the detection nets."

"I thought you said this was a low security file."

::It is. Only twenty-four gates.::

"Yes, but they're at modulating frequencies. Damnit, I've lost another one."

"You're almost there. You can do it, Tachi."

"Wait -- I'm in!"

"Good job, Siri!"

"What does it say?"

"Was there an investigation? Did they find anything?"

"Stand back. I can't see the screen with all of you blocking the light."

"'Assigned to Dantooine... shuttle landed at 22:00 hours... AgriCorp guide delayed... no witnesses... no signs of struggle... voluntary resignation!' I don't believe that."

"Inath had never lived anywhere but the temple. He would have at least found his footing before leaving Agri--."

"Sith! Close it down!"

::Master Windu!::

"Padawans Deacon, Chun, Tachi, Tyyshakkebi, and Kenobi. Report to the Junior Division Disciplinary Office immediately."

"Yes, Master Windu."

0.7 Conversations

Obi-Wan walked into the Disciplinary Office without slinking, creeping, shuffling, or in any other way indicating his disgrace. Qui-Gon always told him to face his problems squarely, so he kept his chin up and his shoulders straight.

A few steps in he faltered. Over his year and a half as a junior padawan, Obi-Wan had only committed one offense requiring higher discipline than his master could dole out, and the Melida/Daan debacle had rated the High Council's intervention, not the Disciplinary Office. He didn't really know what he expected to find at the JDDO, but it was certainly not Master Windu, the office's Master Kolthaga, and a Mon Calamari man in healer's robes.

"Have a seat, Padawan Kenobi," Kolthaga said, and Obi-Wan belatedly bowed to the masters before obeying.

"Padawan Kenobi, you were caught in the act of breaking into temple records requiring level nine security clearance. What is your security clearance, Padawan?"

"Two, Master Windu."

"Do you have your master's permission to view secure files?"

"No, Master."

"Did any master, knight, or senior padawan give you permission and/or order you to view those files?"

"No, Master."

"Did anyone coerce you?"

"No, Master."

"Are there any other circumstances we should be aware of?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Very well. Begin with the incident at the Senate Dome last month."

Obi-Wan launched into the tale, staying carefully neutral as he knew Master Windu would not appreciate a report coloured by the padawan's assumptions. He kept to the facts, and described his feelings using the scale taught to initiates who were just learning to evaluate their own instincts. He was surprised all over again at the depth of his urgency, and he could tell the masters were equally surprised, and not in a good way.

With a sick feeling tying his stomach in knots, Obi-Wan realized they thought he was exaggerating.

Master Kolthaga nodded thoughtfully as Obi-Wan finished. "Despite your history of involving yourself in ill-advised causes, your record this past year has been flawless. We will keep that in mind while deciding your punishment."

Master Windu cleared his throat and gestured at the healer. "This is Master Ottu. You are to meet with him twice a week to discuss these dreams you've been having."

Obi-Wan barely managed to greet the healer through the cold shock that poured over him. Only one person had known about Obi-Wan's disturbing dreams, and that person had promised to let Obi-Wan work it out himself.

The padawan bowed stiffly as the masters dismissed him, and went back to his quarters to await official judgement.

Somehow, the thought of punishment no longer disturbed him; all else paled in the face of his master's betrayal.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, thank you."

"The question was more than polite chit-chat, Padawan Kenobi."

"I know. I... well, I'm upset, of course. Frustrated that no one seems to be listening."

"I'm listening."

"You're only listening because you have to, and anyway, you're asking the wrong questions."

"I see. Go on. What else do you feel?"

"Helpless. Like things are out of control. I wish my master was here. I miss him, even after..."

"After?"

"He promised he would let me try to deal with the dreams on my own first."

"Ah. Perhaps I can help with that. Master Jinn added a note to your medical records -- as he is required to do for any physical or psychological difficulties you experience. Normally your health files are inaccessible to anyone but your master, but once your name appeared on the discipline hearing roster, Master Kolthaga needed to access your records to assess your mental state."

"Oh."

"I hope that helps. Please continue, Padawan Kenobi."

"It does, thank you. I suppose... I suppose I'm a little angry at Master Qui-Gon for not being here when I need him. I know it's silly and inappropriate, but it's how I feel."

"Anger springs from fear."

"I know that."

"What are you afraid of?"

"That I'm not doing the right thing. One minute I think I should listen to the masters, and the next I know I can't give up on Inath. He's in trouble. I guess I'm afraid of making a mistake like Melida/Daan."

"Was Melida/Daan a mistake?"

"I left the order."

"Was leaving the order a mistake?"

"I... I thought not at the time. Now, yes, I do. Everyone says so."

"Ah."

"What? You don't think what I did was wrong?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"You infer much from one syllable. We're not here to discuss what I think. What else do you fear?"

"I think you're avoiding the subject."

"I could say the same of you."

"You're awfully good at words games."

"It's my job. Are you going to answer the question?"

"I'm afraid the dream might not be just a dream."

"Your data file indicates you have clairvoyance factor of plus three. Prophetic dreams are well within your abilities."

"You're saying that might actually happen?"

"Perhaps. The future is always in motion."

"I can't let it happen! That creature kills my master."

"Allowing or disallowing a vision to pass is not --"

"--a matter of personal choice, as trying to avoid a vision could cause it to happen. I know. I've taken basic temporal theory."

"Good. Then you realize fretting about the future is pointless and could even be detrimental."

"Yes. It doesn't help though."

"I understand. Dreams can inspire powerful emotions. I can recommend some meditations to help you deal with them."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. It looks like our session is over for the day. Before you go, Padawan Kenobi, I'd like to assign you an exercise. I know you have done many meditations on the Melida/Daan incident, but I'd like you to think about that time of your life again, and specifically why you associate it with your current situation. Your master should be able to help with this. He returns tomorrow."

"You've spoken with him?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, thank you for your time, Master Ottu."

"You're welcome, Padawan Kenobi. I'll see you next week."

Qui-Gon trudged down the corridor, the pack over his shoulder weighing more than was physically possible given the absence of any nearby black holes. Physical exhaustion contributed only a small part to his fatigue, though the simple mission to Mireau had turned into a complicated game of cloak-and-dagger, during which the master sorely regretted not having his padawan at his side.

Thoughts of Obi-Wan dragged a deep sigh from Qui-Gon. He hated academic cycles, and anticipated the day when Obi-Wan could conduct his studies primarily over the temple intranet, accessible from anywhere in the galaxy. Unbidden came the thought that his padawan would then have less opportunity to get in trouble.

Unfair, Jinn. Obi-Wan doesn't seek these situations out. They just happen to him.

But Obi-Wan always allowed them to happen.

Qui-Gon regretted leaving Obi-Wan to deal with an obviously significant problem by himself. He also regretted not asking Tahl to keep an eye on his padawan, although with the very subtle undercurrent of tension between Obi-Wan and Tahl, perhaps it had been a wise decision after all.

I might have asked Adi Gallia, instead of assuming Obi-Wan would go to her or one of his other friends' masters. Force, what that boy doesn't get into.

Unaware of his own passage, he found he had arrived at their quarters, and he let himself in, noting the enticing smell that permeated the rooms. His padawan was baking -- muja scones by the scent. My favourite. What a coincidence.

"Padawan! I'm home."

"Welcome back, Master." Obi-Wan appeared with tea and a plate of steaming scones, which he set next to Qui-Gon's chair before hurrying to take the master's bag and robe. Qui-Gon noted the adorable dusting of flour on the boy's nose, and had to fight down a chuckle -- Obi-Wan was in trouble after all. "Aren't you overdoing it a little, Padawan?" he asked, reaching out to wipe the flour away with his thumb.

Obi-Wan had the grace to flush and lower his eyes as Qui-Gon called him on the transparent ploy. "It doesn't hurt to remind you what a cute, innocent, young padawan I am, Master." He peeked up through lowered lashes.

Qui-Gon unceremoniously threw a cushion at him.

"Sit, Padawan," he said, taking his chair, "and start talking."

Obi-Wan obeyed, assuming the emotional crisis position -- cross-legged at his master's feet -- and telling his side of the story in the dry tones of one who has repeated the same words many times. Qui-Gon listened attentively, comparing Obi-Wan's point of view to the reports from Mace Windu and Kendi Ottu.

He sighed as the boy finished with a recitation of his fears concerning his dreams. Qui-Gon himself rated a zero in the clairvoyance category -- any lower and he would be in the negative range, where foresight faded into vague feelings and deja-vu. Anticipating where a blaster bolt would hit was the extent of his clairvoyance, useful enough, but he had difficulty taking visions seriously, and he knew he was not the one to help Obi-Wan with this. Qui-Gon also knew he had been remiss in assuming Obi-Wan would let the matter drop.

This is my padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi. He'll only let it go if he's satisfied he's done all he can.

"Padawan, I feel I have done you a disservice."

"Master?"

"I let you believe we made only a cursory investigation, because I thought you were too emotionally involved. I thought you needed distance." Qui-Gon sighed, and stroked Obi-Wan's soft brush of hair, feeling the spiky strands tickle his palm. "The Internal Affairs sub-council sent in a Force-tracker and a telepath to verify our initial findings."

"And?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, hating the miserable expression that blossomed on his padawan's face. Deciding that lectures and punishments could wait, Qui-Gon opened his arms, inviting Obi-Wan onto his lap.

He measured his padawan's unease by how quickly Obi-Wan abandoned adolescent dignity and cuddled up to his master. With his face pressed into Qui-Gon's neck, Obi-Wan's words emerged barely audible.

"He's in trouble, Master. And no one believes us."

0.8 Truces

Obi-Wan slouched in a corner of the library, fiddling with his stylus and brooding. He had twenty minutes before he had to get home to make dinner, and after that he would be confined to quarters until evening meditations. He sighed. He used to enjoy meditating with Qui-Gon.

He never thought he would tire of his master's attention, but the current level of scrutiny had him jumpy and snappish. The master apparently having decided idle hands were to blame for Obi-Wan's recent lapses, the padawan's schedule now bristled with rigidity, from morning workouts, to lunchtimes assisting in the cr?che, to afternoon classes, to evenings studying in his room. Morning and evening meditation sessions turned into marathons during which Qui-Gon politely but firmly forced his apprentice to root though his own subconscious, sorting out the uncustomary clutter of emotions. He had not seen his friends outside of class or the training salle in a week.

Obi-Wan poked half-heartedly at the data slate. Quantum physics, while normally fascinating, held little interest while his mind churned with the worst dilemma he faced since Melida/Daan.

Obi-Wan did the meditations and exercises as Master Ottu suggested, and the more he thought on the matter, the more uncertain he became. The only conclusion he drew was that Master Ottu had not been trying to tell him his decision to stay on Melida/Daan was wrong, but had been suggesting there was no right or wrong decision.

There, Obi-Wan thought, lay the similarities in the two situations. He could not decide which path was right because both choices had their own unpleasant consequences.

A disgruntled wave through the Force announced a new arrival, jarring Obi-Wan out of his brooding, and he looked up as Bruck Chun entered the library, head down and data slate held tight to his chest. The other padawan quickly found a seat far from Obi-Wan, and bent over his work. Glancing around for observers, Obi-Wan collected his materials and moved to Bruck's table.

"Go away, Kenobi," Bruck hissed as he sat down.

"Why?"

"I'm not allowed to talk to you anymore. Master thinks you're a bad influence on me."

"Me?" Obi-Wan spluttered, drawing a frown from the librarian. "What about you? It was your idea."

"You went along with it."

"So how does that make me the bad influence?"

Bruck grinned suddenly, a flash of even white teeth. "Because otherwise Master'd have to admit it was my fault."

Obi-Wan clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sharp snort of laughter.

"Is there a problem, Padawans?" The librarian managed to make himself heard halfway across the room without raising his voice over the low, precise tones libraries and funerals inspired. Silent, the boys shook their heads, both quivering with the effort of holding back hysterical giggles. Obi-Wan knew if he laughed now he would need a sedative to stop. The pressure of the last two months demanded release.

They calmed by the time the librarian's gaze dropped back down to his terminal, but the moment it did, Bruck flicked Obi-Wan. Hard.

"Idiot. You almost got us thrown out."

He gritted his teeth as the laughter surged again. "Stop it. I'll pee myself."

Bruck buried his face in his arms, leaning into the table, shaking silently. Taking deep, slow breaths, Obi-Wan ran through a calming exercise until he felt his control return. Bruck had not lifted his head from the table, though he appeared to have regained his equilibrium, and Obi-Wan idly rolled his stylus through his fingers.

"I've been thinking about something Siri and I were talking about. When we went to the Senate Dome the last time, we couldn't find any of Inath's Forceprints. It was as though someone had erased them." He paused, waiting for Bruck to tell him that was impossible. Instead Bruck sat up and glared at him.

"Are you still on that, Kenobi? Force, you're going to end up on probation if you keep it up."

"But... you were the one..."

"Yeah, I was. Until my master came down on me like the wrath of Yoda."

"But what about Inath?"

Bruck looked away, and swallowed several times. "If he didn't want to be a farmer, that's his business."

Cold shock doused the short-lived spark of warmth between them. "Force, Chun, you never change, do you?" he said, and stood, chair scraping loudly in the quietude. "Of all the selfish--" He halted, abruptly recalling that he had chosen a similar course of action -- or non-action -- and ignored his instincts because it was easier, and...

And safer.

Disgusted with himself, disgusted with Bruck, Obi-Wan grabbed his slate and stylus and stalked away, heedless of both the librarian's scowl and the tiny voice that reminded him he wasn't allowed to leave the library until eighteen bells.

A choked sound stopped him before he reached the doors. He turned reluctantly, not surprised to see Bruck's shaking once more, and he doubted the other boy was laughing. Obi-Wan shifted, uncertain, torn between empathy -- an often inconvenient trait acquired by osmosis from Qui-Gon -- and the memory of conflict and rivalry; the knowledge that it was Bruck Chun who looked as though he might cry. Bruck Chun, the boy who almost cost Obi-Wan his place among the Jedi. Bruck Chun, the master of manipulation.

Before passing seconds could force Obi-Wan to choose between comforting an enemy or turning his back on a brother Jedi, Bruck seemed to pull himself together. Whatever plagued him receded, and he tilted his chin up to glare at Obi-Wan.

"You know, not all of us can be Perfect Padawan, Kenobi. Some of us have black marks on their records. Some of us can't rely on our masters taking us back if we screw up."

Obi-Wan blinked, suddenly appreciating Qui-Gon all the more. His master, although deeply disappointed in what he called Obi-Wan's rash behaviour, had been supportive and understanding, and his two-pronged solution of distraction and intense shared meditations left the padawan feeling loved, if misunderstood.

For the first time he wondered how his partners in crime fared.

"Bruck, I'm not a perfect padawan. In fact, I've been far from perfect of late, and if you have black marks on your record, then I have one big one on mine. It's just..." He sat back down next to Bruck, and tossed his slate on the table. "I don't know what to do. I have this strong feeling something terrible happened to Inath." He felt, rather than saw, Bruck flinch. "Sometimes I feel selfish for backing down, and other times all I can think of is Melida/Daan and how I felt when I realized what I'd thrown away."

"My master says to choose your battles carefully," Bruck offered, quiet, looking everywhere but at Obi-Wan.

"Yeah. Mine too. I don't understand why no one wants to fight this one though."

"Well... we do." They shared a quick, conspiratorial grin before the distance returned, and they both sat staring at their data slates. "So, what did Siri say about missing Forceprints?" The question emerged as though drawn out with some barbaric instrument of torture.

Startled, Obi-Wan repeated the conversation from the aircab, and their discoveries at the Senate Dome.

"Maybe there's something in the records about erasing Forceprints," Bruck said at last.

Obi-Wan only blinked in response. He had not even thought of checking; everyone knew Force-signature imprints could not be erased, only covered. With a wary glance at the librarian, the boys moved to the access terminal, and Bruck keyed in the search.

Most of the data files returned were texts they had already read in various classes, all of which insisted Forceprints could not be erased, but several of the prospects were unknown -- untitled, and locked with high security clearances. One of them, however, was only a level ten.

"Too bad Siri got caught on a nine," Obi-Wan murmured, surprised that he was even considering breaking into another restricted file.

"Well... Tyyshie did say she wasn't certain Siri could do it." Bruck paused, and bit his lip. "She actually thought Nadi-Ka Liru was a better choice, but I wanted to ask Siri."

"Nadi-Ka?" Obi-Wan asked, recalling the blond boy from the refectory. "Inath's friend? He would probably do it."

"Don't be so sure, Kenobi. He's not fond of me."

"But he is fond of Inath."

"Tyyshie has a lot of classes with Nadi-Ka. I... I could ask Aalto when I see him in chemistry. Tyyshie tutors him in planetary science, so Aalto could ask her to ask Nadi-Ka." Bruck's voice was almost diffident.

They shared a long, probing glance, each measuring the other's commitment, before Obi-Wan nodded. "Let's do it."

"Sometimes I feel very self-centered."

"How so?"

"I don't agree with the masters' decisions, but I'm cooperating because I don't want to be punished, or disappoint my master even more. By obeying the masters I'm abandoning Inath, and I'm only obeying for selfish reasons."

"Obedience to your superiors is nothing to feel shame over."

"But I know they're wrong. And there's another aspect of my self-absorption. Most of me thinks I'm right, but a small part is afraid I'm just being stubborn and blind, and the masters really do know more about this. By focusing entirely on Inath Koe, I'm denying the order my full attention. I am selfishly withholding my potential for service to the galaxy, just as I did by quitting the order on Melida/Daan."

"Back at that, are we?"

"So it seems. I realize I'm obsessing on it because it's the largest moral quandary I've faced until now... Melida/Daan was worse, really, but I've learned caution since then."

"Ah."

"Perhaps not as much as I should have, I admit."

"You're young yet. What else have you learned from this?"

"That there isn't always a clear path. I thought I was right to leave the Jedi, and then I thought I was wrong. Now I think there was no right or wrong, only my own conscience and the will of the Force. Is that what you were trying to teach me?"

"I wasn't trying to teach you anything -- that's your master's job. I'm just here to listen."

"And make unhelpful comments."

"That too. I believe we're done for the day. Please convey my regards to your master."

"Thank you. I will."

Nadi-Ka met them in the back of the library the next day. Tyyshie had offered manual labour on a fellow junior's engineering project if the girl would take Tyyshie's punative groundskeeping shift that day, but Aalto had the afternoon sparring rotation on third-days, and Master Gallia was watching Tachi like a sand kestrel tracking a whomp-rat.

Bruck and Kenobi were already there, Bruck supposedly researching poetry of the High Corellian era, and Kenobi working on a quantum physics project. Nadi-Ka, having stayed clear of the minor rebellion thus far, was relatively free of restriction.

Striding up to them, he thumped Tyyshie on the arm, and nodded politely to Kenobi. "I want one thing clear from the start," he said, gaze boring into Bruck's stiff figure. "I'm only here for Inath. I don't like you, Chun, and if I had my way you'd be working on some Force-forsaken backwater AgriCorp project, up to your elbows in Bantha shit."

Tyyshie exchanged a look with Kenobi, then both padawans stared at Bruck, waiting for the blast.

"I'll try to keep out of your way, then." Bruck bowed, all wounded dignity and victimized grace.

Tyyshie snorted softly. She had seen Bruck in action before, playing the injured party for both cr?che and teaching masters, usually leaving Aalto to stammer excuses for his own involvement in whatever scheme Bruck had initiated.

Kenobi stepped in with Master Jinn's best diplomatic manner. "We're all here for Inath, Nadi-Ka," he said, reaffirming Nadi's purpose and shifting Bruck from victim back to volunteer with a smoothness Tyyshie envied. "I suggest we get started, as the three of us have rather tight schedules at the moment."

Nadi-Ka nodded sharply, and sat at the terminal.

An hour later, as Kenobi and Bruck were eyeing their chronos nervously, Nadi-Ka grunted in satisfaction.

"Almost there."

Tyyshie watched him handle the last gate while simultaneously keeping the others fluid, so as not to trigger the detection net by the lack of fluctuation. An intense burst of concentration, and the terminal chimed its compliance. The file opened.

Obi-Wan insisted they gather all at once, rather than passing messages through mutual classes. After much fast-talking, calling in of favours, and in Aalto's case outright lying, the six of them gathered in the garden by the indoor lake, near enough to the waterfall that the rush of water obscured their words from casual overhearing.

"All right, Obi-Wan, how bad is it?" Siri demanded.

In answer, Obi-Wan handed her the data slate onto which they had copied the restricted file. "It's a very old treatise, and vague on the details, which must be why it was locked with such a low security level."

Aalto read over Siri's shoulder for a moment, then pulled away, shivering. "Sith," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Why don't they tell us the Dark side can erase Forceprints?" Siri burst out, and Nadi-Ka shushed her.

"I think most of those locked files were texts on the Sith and the Dark side," Obi-Wan said, "and the masters don't like us studying the Dark until we're much older, and even then, it's just..." He shrugged his shoulders to show the chancy nature of such pursuits.

"I knew Inath was in trouble," Bruck whispered, and Nadi-Ka jerked, staring at him with wide eyes.

::The question of what we are to do remains.::

"I've been thinking about that, too." Obi-Wan took the slate from Siri's lax grip. "We haven't handled this very well at all... sneaking around, breaking into secure files--"

"But Inath--"

Obi-Wan cut Bruck off with a finger to his own lips. "Quietly. And, yes, I know we may not have discovered this any other way, but the fact remains that our behaviour has been atrocious. I think we should have asked permission to investigate further right from the beginning."

"What? They wouldn't have let us."

"My master said they sent a team in. They might have accepted our help, and maybe we could have motivated them to search harder."

"That's a lot of mights and maybes, Kenobi."

"In any event, we can't change our past actions. All we can do is act responsibly now." Five sets of eyes stared at him in shock.

::You are suggesting we take this to our masters and the council.::

"Yes."

Another long silence, each of them thinking his or her own thoughts, until at last Aalto asked, "What if they don't listen again?"

"I won't give this up," Obi-Wan replied, so softly it was almost lost under the fall of water.

Silence again, then a murmur of agreement.

We won't give him up.

0.9 Burden of Proof

Obi-Wan ghosted after his master, unable to read Qui-Gon from the featureless brown expanse of robed back. He managed not to slink in his master's wake, but after the debacle in the council chambers, he felt as though everyone was staring at him.

Well, what did you expect, Kenobi? You spent the last two months sabotaging your own reputation and destroying your credibility. Did you really think they would believe you?

Obi-Wan flinched as he recalled the serene, judging eyes of Master Windu, Master Yoda's drawn back ears, and Adi Gallia's emotionless voice explaining exactly why texts on the Sith -- even those authored by Jedi -- were forbidden to young padawans.

He shivered, though the corridor was quite warm. He hadn't realized the dangers of reading the file -- seductive concepts, traps laid down in innocent-seeming phrases, temptation behind the descriptions of power...

They thought him Darkened.

He didn't feel Darkened, just conflicted and guilty and frustrated and desperately anxious over the fate of a boy he hadn't made the effort to get to know when he had the chance; dark emotions, yes, but not Dark, and all things he had felt before reading the forbidden text.

Yet if he had been compromised, how was he to tell? Did the damned know they were damned? He shivered again, and thought of Xanatos, who seemed to consider his own Fall a mere disagreement on principles.

And what of your agemates? You didn't think of them when you went breaking into forbidden files. Maybe you've set Siri on the path to the Dark side, or Bruck, or Tyyshie.

The thought of Tyyshakkebi turning yanked Obi-Wan out of his self-pity -- the Wookiee padawan was so Light side she nearly glowed in the dark. And yet Tyyshie believed.

So why wouldn't any of the masters?

Qui-Gon swept into their quarters, peripherally aware of the turbulent presence at his heels. The master had said nothing since leaving the council chambers, could think of nothing to say that would not result in losing his temper. He had not felt so unsettled since--

Since Xanatos.

Angry, Qui-Gon shoved thoughts of his former apprentice from his mind. They would not help him deal with Obi-Wan. Still wrapped in silence, he went straight to the kitchen and began making tea, stalling and trying to calm himself through familiar activity.

Obi-Wan edged into the kitchen. "I can do that, Master."

"Go wait in the common room." Qui-Gon wanted to wince at his own harsh tone and the cowed statement it prompted from his apprentice. Obi-Wan had never been a timid boy, and Qui-Gon knew he needed to control his own feelings if he intended to handle the latest incident without damaging their relationship.

Taking deep, calming breaths while the tea steeped, Qui-Gon pushed his anger into the Force and found his center. Feeling better, he carried the tea into the common room, handed Obi-Wan his cup, then sat at the comm terminal and proceeded to ignore his padawan.

Scrolling through his messages, Qui-Gon was surprised to see several from Obi-Wan's friend Garen, before he remembered the council had decided to shut down the pilot program. Perhaps Garen can distract Obi-Wan from this matter when he returns to the temple, Qui-Gon thought. He finally found what he was looking for -- a transcript from that morning, sent to his account after the meeting with the council ended.

Qui-Gon read over the transcript, concentrating on the words uncoloured by emotion, then went through the recent reports from Kendi Ottu, which were irritatingly vague. Kendi seemed to think Obi-Wan was exploring the limits of duty, and that the rebellion sprang from a misplaced sense of responsibility. We all go through a stage of feeling responsible for the whole galaxy, Qui-Gon reminded himself, recalling his own well-meant revolt, which had consisted of housing a multitude of pathetic life forms in various -- inappropriate -- parts of the temple.

Feeling only a little better equipped than he had before, Qui-Gon turned to face his padawan, who was fidgeting on the couch. "Obi-Wan--"

"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan blurted.

Qui-Gon waved a hand to indicate he should continue.

"I know I shouldn't have broken into those files, and I never would have read them if I'd known what they were. But don't you see? If the Dark side could have erased Inath's Forceprint, then you wouldn't have sensed what we did!"

"Obi-Wan! Enough. The investigation team found traces of nothing more than a mild fright, and they did not sense any Darkness or Sith, or any other bogeymen. None of the prescients or telepaths are picking up any undue distress. Obi-Wan, part of being a Jedi, part of being an adult, is realizing when you are wrong and admitting it."

Obi-Wan did not respond, sitting stiffly and trembling so hard lukewarm tea sloshed onto his hand.

Qui-Gon sighed. "Garen has been calling you. Go and contact him now, because I'm putting your comm code on restriction. If you can't control your behaviour, I will control if for you until you are ready to resume responsibility." He watched Obi-Wan wince at the third consecutive use of his given name rather than the more usual 'Padawan'. The boy stood, bowed, and slunk off to his room to make the call.

Qui-Gon sat in silence for a long time, wondering when he had lost control of the situation. I swore I would never let things deteriorate the way they did on Melida/Daan. If I have to lock him in his room and flood his soul with Light meditations, I will help him past this obsession. I am not going to lose him again. Not to Darkness, not to anything.

"Muln here."

"Garen."

"Obi-Wan! What's happened? I've been trying to reach you for hours. They said you were with the council."

"It's a very long story, Garen, and I don't have the time right now. Is everything all right with you? You sound upset."

"You mean you haven't heard? They're shutting down the pilot program. I'm coming back to the temple."

"Oh, Garen, I'm sorry." Obi-Wan tried to muster some sympathy for his friend, knowing how much Garen loved to fly, but he felt drained and defeated, and a little angry with his master's deliberate blindness.

"It's not so bad. Clee Rhara has all but promised to take me as her padawan. We'll soon shake up the ranks, eh, Obi? You and me and Bant and Reeft, just like old times."

Obi-Wan bit his lip. Bant and Reeft thought he'd cracked under the pressure of being Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. Each had tried to talk some 'sense' into him, but that had been a month ago -- he had no time for socializing anymore, and no longer saw anyone outside of classes. Of all his close friends, only Garen knew, only Garen had been there.

Garen had been there.

Oh, Force. Selfish, selfish boy, Kenobi. Why can't you think about the greater good, for once? Why do you let yourself be dragged into these causes, to the exclusion of everything else? What is wrong with you?

"Obi-Wan!"

He jerked, thoughts scattering. "Yeah?"

"Force, you wouldn't answer me. Are you sure you're all right?"

Selfish, selfish boy. "No, I'm not. Garen, would you be willing to do something for me?"

"Anything, Obi."

"Don't promise until you hear what it is."

It took three days for all the votes to roll in. Obi-Wan pried up the loose tile on the fountain next to the tenyen tree in the Garden of Stars, and sighed as he saw the piece of paper hidden there, the last one to come in. He'd had no way of checking if Garen had managed to contact everyone, and he'd been certain someone's master would discover them. He touched the paper, flavoured with the sting of Tyyshakkebi's worried Force-signature, yet the Wookiee padawan had marked a clear circle.

Five scraps of paper. Five circles. Five votes yes.

Obi-Wan didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.

He had no time for further deliberation however, for the academic cycle was ending, and Obi-Wan knew he would be leaving for a mission the second he finished his quantum physics final. The six padawans would certainly be split into different rotations after that, so they might never again all be in residence at once.

If he took action, it must be now, while he had the opportunity and the others' permission to risk all their careers. Permission to not give up.

The fourth-level initiate class streamed out of the salle, hanging their training 'sabers on the rack as they filed past. Obi-Wan signalled his quarry, a young Iktotchi initiate.

"Ezenephra, I noticed you were having some difficulty transitioning from fourth parry to second strike position. Would you like some extra help?"

The girl blinked rapidly, the Iktotchi version of a blush. "Yes, Padawan Kenobi. Thank you."

Obi-Wan smiled, and took the girl through the kata she was struggling with, trying to recall every scrap of information he had on Ezenephra Pae. Already a powerful empath at eleven standard years, and strong in the Force, she would likely be snapped up by a master the moment she passed her candidacy trials.

Before long, Ezenephra mastered the move -- her difficulty had been laziness more than lack of skill -- and Obi-Wan congratulated her on her improvement, feeling slightly nauseous at what he was about to do.

"Ezenephra--"

"I think we're friends now, Padawan Kenobi. You can call me Zen."

"Well, seeing that we're friends, you may call me Obi-Wan, Zen. I wanted to ask if you would do something for me, but you must feel free to refuse."

"Of course."

"This is very important, Zen. If you feel pressured in any way, tell me no. That's an order. Got it?"

"Yup!" She grinned at him and his heart almost split in two.

"Do you remember a Zabrak initiate named Inath Koe? He left for AgriCorp last year."

She thought a moment. "The one who liked Azitanci music? He was always playing it in the dorms."

"That's him. My friends and I think something happened to him on the way to his assignment. Something very bad."

"That's awful. Does the council want me to help look for him? I didn't know him that well, but I could probably project the right signature to a stronger telepath."

"No, Zen. The council doesn't believe Inath is missing. They think he left willingly."

"But you don't think so." Zen was eyeing him shrewdly now, reminding him strongly of Bant.

"We have no proof, just suspicions. We have gotten into trouble for acting on those suspicions already, and in fact, we may have ruined any chance of the masters trying to find Inath."

"You want me to locate him by myself? I don't think I can do that."

"You won't have to. We saw Inath a few months ago, and we sensed he was in a lot of pain and fear. We'd like you to go to the place we saw him, and see if you can sense anything there. If you do, you would tell the council, and they might then believe us. But if you get caught or don't find anything, you could be in a lot of trouble. You might ruin your chances of gaining a master."

"I doubt it. I already have four of them vying for first asking rights." She watched him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then nodded. "I'll ask."

"Ask who?" But she had closed her eyes and no longer seemed to be listening. Obi-Wan waited, fighting the urge to shift his weight or check his chrono -- he had a session with Kendi Ottu after assisting the fourth-level kata class.

Zen's eyes popped open, as though sensing his urgency. "The Force says yes," she said, cheerful and confidant. "What do you need me to do?"

Obi-Wan let his breath out in a rush, divided feelings once more surging in him. Nevertheless, he pressed on, pulling a generous stack of credits from his belt pouch and handing them to her. "You'll need to take an aircab to the Senate Dome. A padawan named Garen Muln will meet you there, and take you to the last place we saw Inath."

"Okay." Zen accepted the money -- more than enough for a round trip -- bowed, and trotted toward the door.

"Wait. You're going, just like that? Don't you need to think about the risks involved?"

She appeared baffled. "The Force said yes, Obi-Wan."

There was nothing else he could say to that. "Thank you, Zen."

Obi-Wan stopped to post a hastily written poem to the padawan's open discussion board, signalling to Garen and the others that Zen was on her way, then fidgeted through his counselling session. Dinner with Qui-Gon dragged, their conversation crippled and painful, and by the time evening meditation came they had settled into uncomfortable silence.

He tried to keep his mind on the meditation Qui-Gon led him through, but his thoughts kept drifting toward Garen and Zen, and his unease grew, until, quite suddenly, it spiked into a sharp mental scream.

"Zen!" Obi-Wan leapt to his feet and Qui-Gon was there instantly, holding Obi-Wan upright as waves of sheer terror rolled over him.

"Obi-Wan. Padawan, talk to me. Tell me what it is."

"I-it's Zen. Ezenephra Pae," he added at Qui-Gon's frown. "I... I sent her... to the Senate Dome. To look. She's an empath... an initiate." Qui-Gon's hands flexed once, digging bruises into Obi-Wan's shoulders, and the padawan gratefully grounded himself in the pain.

"Stay here." The master's voice cut the air, and Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen Qui-Gon so angry.

"I'll come with you. I can--"

"Stay here."

"I will stay here," he repeated, struggling to keep from sitting on the couch, but his legs obeyed Qui-Gon. Seething, Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon leave.

His master had used a compulsion on him.

He fought it, throwing off coils of suggestion, but the training bond left Obi-Wan's mind with few defenses against his master, and Qui-Gon had not pulled the force of his words.

Get up. Go after him, he ordered his body, but his body was intent on following Qui-Gon's will. Frustrated and helpless, Obi-Wan could only wait while echoes of Zen's panic rolled through the Force.

Ezenephra Pae was trembling violently, and her fear and frustration swathed the council chambers like thick cobwebs. Obi-Wan noted she appeared physically unharmed -- a condition unlikely to last if she did not moderate her tone.

"I know what I felt, Masters." Zen glared around the chamber, finally settling on Saesee Tiin, who had sampled her memory and declared it indistinct and self-contradictory. "There is a Darkness in the senate. Behind one of the doors in that hallway, I sensed a flash of pure evil."

Mace regarded the girl with cool eyes. "We have sent three teams to the Dome, and none of them have sensed this Darkness."

::Respectfully, Masters, Initiate Pae's emotional outburst may have startled the Sith into deeper cover.::

Depa Billaba raised an elegant eyebrow. "I question your liberal use of the term 'Sith', Padawan Tyyshakkebi. That particular cult has been extinct for centuries."

The seven padawans -- Obi-Wan, Bruck, Siri, Tyyshie, Nadi-Ka, Aalto, and Garen -- shared a glance over Zen's head. The girl remained oblivious to anything but Saesee's disbelieving stare. "The evidence all points to the Sith," Obi-Wan said when no one else spoke.

"What evidence?" Depa asked. "The feelings of eight young students, which conveniently cannot be substantiated by more experienced Jedi? Mysterious vanishing Forceprints? An initiate's panic attack?"

"No one else was there while it happened. The Sith had plenty of time to cover his trail." Obi-Wan fought not to glance back at Qui-Gon for reassurance -- especially since he already knew it wouldn't be there. Each master stood just behind his or her padawan, except for Siri, whose master was on the council, and Zen, who had a nervous creche master standing for her. Obi-Wan pushed aside his doubts, and plunged forward. "If the Sith could erase Inath's imprint, he could hide his own Force-signature. He could be hiding right in plain sight!"

Ki-Adi-Mundi regarded Obi-Wan flatly, as though sensing the boy's fear. "This is what comes of reading texts on the Dark. You are fixating on the Dark side of the Force."

Mace Windu glanced down at the panel in his chair's arm. "The last investigation team has reported in." There was silence as a mental conversation occurred between the council members, then Mace nodded. "Master Tekka and Knight Ondoloi also report no signs of Darkness. Initiate Pae, step forward." Zen complied. "You are on probation for one quarter, and you are denied the opportunity to take your candidacy trials for one year."

Obi-Wan winced. Zen would be twelve before she could even think of becoming a padawan, which left her only a year to find a master. He hoped one of the masters currently interested in her could see past this incident.

"I hope your judgment improves in the future, Ezenephra," Mace continued. "Padawan Muln, probation for one half. Padawan Liru, probation for one year. Padawans Chun, Tyyshakkebi, Deacon, and Tachi, suspension for one quarter, followed by probation for one year. Padawan Kenobi, this is your second serious offense in as many years. You are suspended until Master Jinn and Master Ottu declare you fit for duty." The councillor's gaze swept over the group. "You will cease this line of investigation, Padawans, Initiate, and allow your superiors to handle the matter."

"No."

It took Obi-Wan several moments to realize he had said the word, but when he did, he took a deep breath. This was it. His paths were diverging, and he could no longer walk both at once. He thought of his dream, wondering which path might lead to it, and decided it did not matter. The future was ever-changing, and he could only be responsible for the now.

Feeling as though Coruscant's gravity had just increased tenfold, he unclipped his lightsaber, and set it on the ground. "I don't know why you can't see what we see, but as a Jedi, I cannot allow the kidnapping of one of our own by a Sith to be ignored."

"You must do as you think right, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Mace said evenly. He did not look surprised. "May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan bowed, and turned around. Qui-Gon...

Qui-Gon was shutting down. Obi-Wan winced to see nearly visible shields and barriers coming up, cutting off, protecting. His master's -- former master's -- face rapidly went expressionless as stone, his gazed fixed somewhere over Obi-Wan's head.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, but Qui-Gon did not answer, and Obi-Wan fled the council chamber.

He stumbled through the anteroom, paused at the lift to collect himself. One part of him screamed What have you done? while another calmly reassured him he had followed the will of the Force.

"Kenobi!" It was Bruck, and he looked mad. The lift arrived, and Obi-Wan debated simply leaving on it, but before he could decide, Bruck was there. "All right you Force-damned fool. What do we do now?"

"We?" Obi-Wan asked, then noted Bruck's belt was suspiciously barren. "You didn't."

"I did."

And then Aalto was walking toward them, and Tyyshie, and Siri... Garen, Clee's padawan for all of two days... all of them lightsaber-free.

They followed you. Of all the stupid things to do... Well, Kenobi, if you're wrecking your career, you might as well take your friends along.

"What are we going to do?" Aalto asked, and Obi-Wan realized the boy was staring at him.

They were all staring at him, even Zen, who was holding her tunics closed with one hand. He raised an eyebrow at her missing belt, and she lifted her horns in an aggressive gesture.

"I didn't have a lightsaber to turn in, so I tossed them my belt."

"Zen, no. You can still be a Jedi. It's not too late."

"Of course it's too late. Obi-Wan, there is a Sith wandering around the Senate Dome! The Senate Dome. Force, if you had felt the pure evil..." She glared at him, fury radiating from her small form.

"But you... I..."

::I assume you have some course of action planned, Obi-Wan,:: Tyyshie said, watching him with patient eyes.

Obi-Wan looked helplessly at them, then firmed his stance. The Force and my conscience. They're all I need to guide me. "The Sith have returned, and the Jedi won't believe it. If they won't see it, then we'll bring them proof."

0.10 Broken Whispers

On the first night, he dreamt.

A low buzz in his ears, a haze of red across his vision, Obi-Wan paced angrily. Qui-Gon had not said goodbye, and it tore at him, ripped at his heart while leaving his flesh untouched. Qui-Gon had not said goodbye, had just died in his lap without--

No. That was wrong. Qui-Gon had not said goodbye because he had not come to see Obi-Wan off... or ask him to stay. Obi-Wan refused to cry.

He knew then that he dreamt, and he paced, upset amid the buzzing and watery haze and the underlying silence. Everything was different; everything had changed.

A click, and both buzz and haze vanished, and for the first time he saw without a red tint across his vision. Hesitant, he stepped into the room.

Unfamiliar machinery hummed in quiet industry as he circled the deep pit. No other movement and no other sound until another click came as the red barrier cycled closed once more. The buzzing resumed.

Empty, quiet, the click of his bootheels the loudest sound. No Qui-Gon. No painted creature. He almost smiled at that, but the heavy cost weighed upon him.

No Qui-Gon.

But he could live with that, could live in a state of no Qui-Gon if it meant there was a Qui-Gon, somewhere. Anywhere. As long as--

Obi-Wan woke to an elbow in the ribs and Bruck's voice demanding more than one vote on their course of action, since it was his trust fund supplying the majority of their finances. Blinking, sleepy, mindful of Zen's horned head resting on his lap pinning him to the couch, Obi-Wan listened to the argument on practicalities without interest.

He was content. The dreams would not come again.

Obi-Wan had been gone a day, and already a dead stillness shrouded their... his quarters. He made tea, and it felt wrong.

You make tea nearly every day, Jinn. Why does it feel so strange now, just because Obi-Wan makes you tea sometimes? It's no different than when he's off in a class, and you're left to take care of yourself.

But it was different, because Obi-Wan was not off in a class, and Qui-Gon would be taking care of himself all the time now. No more padawan to fuss at him if he ignored inconsequentials such as mealtimes. No more padawan to jolly him out of a bad temper with anecdotes or improper but amusing impressions of council members. No more padawan for him to comfort, to guide, to love...

Yes, you certainly comforted and guided and loved him, Jinn. So much that he walked out rather than keep talking to a master who wasn't listening. You knew he was in trouble. Guidance, hah! You're lecturing him on circumspection, and he's off reading texts on the Dark side.

With an effort, Qui-Gon cut off the flow of self-recrimination, feeling old familiar walls slide into place, tea unpoured and cooling before him. Slow relief came with the mental barriers, calm setting in like a drug warding off pain. Comfortable, and false.

At loose ends, he wandered over to check his mail, wincing at the backlog of Obi-Wan-related messages. Test marks from teachers, old updates from Kendi Ottu, and dozens of files from Obi-Wan himself, since Qui-Gon had been monitoring his mail the last three days.

For as much good as it did, Jinn. Ruthlessly, he began deleting files. Assignments turned in, debates conducted on public boards, requests for research materials... all vanished from his screen unread, until the most recent message caught his eye. Obi-Wan did not care for poetry, yet he had posted a piece for open criticism. Reluctant, Qui-Gon opened the file.

Broken Whispers by Obi-Wan Kenobi

Broken whispers I once heard
In shadow's silk embrace
Spoke one sibilant unword
Then left this souless place

Through the still and breathless air
Silent night all hollow
Brave the soul which knows despair
Yet still would choose to follow

Down the path of angel's tears
Each step tasting glass and salt
Thus escape those banished years
That stronger strain the vault

Though I grasp they slip away
As starry 'scapes we cross
But soft the will-o-wisp would stray
So I knew not I was lost

And lost I am in solemn tones
A shifting spoken rain
No will to seek the passage home
So here I shall remain

Still those broken whispers sigh
And oh, such dreams they spin!
What hope of solace have I
Whilst so besieged within?

Broken whispers I once heard
This fading memory
Stealing 'cross the sleeping world
That is the heart of me

Qui-Gon flicked the screen off with more force than was strictly necessary, then lowered his head to his hands.

He had a choice, he saw. Two paths diverging; the familiar and the unknown, both difficult, both with heavy prices. He could travel the old road, shut himself off, dull the pain by fooling his brain into believing it wasn't there. Or he could choose the path passed by but never taken; let the hurt run its course and risk that it might break him.

He knew, deep inside, that if he erected those walls around his heart once more, nothing and no one would ever bring them down again.

Uncertain of his choice, anguished, he let the half-built barriers fall, allowing the hurt and betrayal to wash over him. Unchecked, the pain brought him to his knees in his empty common room.

Silent tears falling, Qui-Gon Jinn pressed his face to the floor, and wept.

Relentless and unending fear, gnawing and twisting, harvesting long-planted seeds like maggots hatching in flesh.

Fear leads to anger leads to--

True all of it, but they never spoke of the inevitability of the progression, the utter futility of resistance. Might as well stop time. Might as well learn immortality. He feared such thoughts; contemplating such things as forever sent him into a blind panic.

Living in the moment -- the moment being what it was -- the notion of endless time made him want to cower and yell and fight and sink into insensibility until he could unthink the idea.

Fear leads to anger leads to... leads to...

He didn't remember. He didn't care. Let it lead where it would; he had no choice but to follow. He relented, at long last, and let the fear and rage race through him unhindered, spiking into--

Hate. The forgotten step came easily, and with it a hint of blessed power, tarnished, but running so thick and strong it hinted at possibilities, hinted at freedom... escape... revenge.

He shuddered, feeling hate/anger/fear tangling, trapping as it liberated him. He need not be weak. He need not accept this fate. He---

A low chuckle slithered in the darkness behind him, wrapping around him with cold fingers. "Wise choice, my young apprentice. How do you like your first taste of true power?"

He did not answer, but they both knew the truth which lay in his heart. He liked it.

He liked it a lot.

0.11 Resolutions

"What is that?"

"It's a ship."

Siri shot Obi-Wan a look that could have wounded a rancor. "I can see that. But what is it?"

"Fifteen-being MonCal frigate spliced with a Corellian freighter and half a dozen classes of small starfighters," Bruck said, happily ignorant of Siri's growing ire. "I bet she'll do six over once we get her hyperdrive working right."

"It can't fly?"

"Of course she can fly, Siri. She's just not at top capacity." Bruck still had not looked away from the battered hull currently costing them twelve credits a minute to sit in a shoddy, low-level berth. "We took her for a test run before we bought her. What kind of idiots do you think we are?"

"Don't give her openings like that, Bruck," Obi-Wan said.

"Holy flaming Sith! Look at it!" The shout momentarily paused all activity on the hoverquay, but the approaching cluster of former Jedi padawans paid the crowd no heed. "Great gods of Alderaan, Obi-Wan, where'd you find her?" Garen Muln, eyes riveted on the docked vessel, glided over, and Obi-Wan was sure he would have continued off the edge of the platform if not for Zen's hasty grab.

Siri whirled on Obi-Wan and Bruck. "I can't believe we let you two buy the ship."

"I'll say," Garen said. "She's gorgeous! Look at the lines... How much did you pay for her?"

"Only fifteen thousand dataries," Bruck answered before Obi-Wan could shush him.

"You spent half our money on a piece of junk? Force, for another five thousand you could have gotten a functioning scout."

"A scout wouldn't fit us all comfortably, Siri," Obi-Wan said. "We may need to live on the ship at times."

"And a scout can't carry half the heat this lady can," Bruck added. "Once we install the weapons--"

"No weapons either? Is anything working on this scrap heap?"

"Life support and engines," Bruck offered.

::The structure is quite sound,:: Tyyshie said, emerging from the ship, fur standing in spikes where she had run greasy paws through it. She tucked a hydrospanner in her belt. ::And some of the modifications are actual improvements. I'm sure with a little work we can turn her into a satisfactory transport.::

Bereft of support, Siri glared at the rest of their little group.

"A ship is a ship," Zen said, tipping her horns in an Iktotchi shrug.

"Tyyshie's word is good enough for me," Aalto added.

"As long as it gets us where we need to go." Nadi-Ka wisely avoided Siri's gaze, and started up the ramp with his bags.

::Speaking of destinations, have we decided where we're going?::

Silence for a moment, then Aalto said, "There are abandoned Jedi outposts out there. Pteraptet. Vendar. H'Yaos."

"All abandoned for a reason," Siri said.

Obi-Wan glanced at his chrono, and picked up the travel bag containing the few possessions he felt right taking from the temple. "Let's talk about it on the ship. If we stand here too much longer we're going to owe the docking authority our souls."

The unnamed patchwork ship ghosted through the minefield embracing the second moon of H'Yaos. Battered cities and scarred landscapes hovered above the ship as she wound along the narrow path of disarmed mines, drifting at times within a span of destruction.

"Damn sure nothing bigger than us is getting in here," Bruck said cheerfully, his pale grey eyes fixed on the proximity detector, which he had manually configured to display the thin margin between armed and disabled mines.

"Be quiet and let me concentrate." Garen frowned, long-fingered hands caressing the navigation board.

"Oh, please forgive me, your royal--"

"Bruck, shut up and let the man fly." Siri's order was punctuated by a short growl from Tyyshie, and Obi-Wan might have smiled at the familiar comfort of his friends bickering if he hadn't been so nervous.

Tyyshie and Nadi-Ka swore they had disabled a path through the field, but the sensors still registered the weapons as active. Only the information Bruck keyed into the navicomp told Garen which mines would not be set off by the energy wake of their passing.

Obi-Wan felt as though he had aged several lifetimes by the time they cleared the field. Garen brought the ship through the moon's atmosphere, and shortly they were gliding over flat plains of tough yellow grass. No cities remained whole, though a few towns had escaped destruction, deserted now. The long-forgotten war had damaged the terraforming efforts, and the moon -- underpopulated to begin with -- had been abandoned, left to die a slow death.

Flying across the eerily still world, Obi-Wan thought back to his dream, and the empty room beyond the red barrier. H'Yaos felt the same way -- all right and all wrong at the same time, as though there should be people and life and motion, but a single act had shrouded it in stillness.

Moments later the unnamed ship landed near an isolated, three-storey, hexagonal structure. Garen opened the ship doors, and they had their first taste of their new home -- dry, dusty, thinner air than Obi-Wan was accustomed to, but free of Coruscant's pollutants.

They approached the outpost as a group. The installation had been abandoned shortly after H'Yaos was evacuated, the dozen Jedi knights stationed there the last to leave the moon. The knights had locked the doors with a Force bond, but as it was designed to let Jedi back in, the former padawans had no trouble opening the doors, which led to an atrium of sorts -- a roofed entrance with emergency blast doors at either end. Their ship would not fit, but Obi-Wan thought it might comfortably hold a couple of speeders.

Beyond the atrium they discovered an open-roofed courtyard -- vegetation overgrown and fountains stilled -- which held doors to the building proper. The interior was dusty and still. They found evidence of a hasty departure, but the outpost had not been thoroughly stripped as they feared. A brief exploration turned up two training salles, a gym with a pool, a workshop stocked with mechanical and electronic parts, a kitchen, a medical bay, an assortment of smaller rooms, and, best of all, a second-floor library -- intact and waiting for them.

The third floor consisted of living quarters, and Obi-Wan claimed an inner bedroom that overlooked the garden. Tossing his bag on the bare sleep couch and sneezing at the dust it raised, he wandered back down to mechanical lab, where Tyyshie, Garen, and Nadi-Ka had gathered to assess the stock of parts.

"They didn't take much when they left," Garen said, head thrust into a storage bin. "They must have been in a hurry. We should be able to get the ship into decent shape, though we'll have to go off-world for some of the non-standard parts."

"And they left lightsaber fittings," Nadi-Ka added. "If we had crystals..." The former padawans shared a look.

::They would be locked away for safety. Check the cabinets.::

They scattered, each extending senses in search of the distinct vibes of lightsaber crystals. "Here!" Garen said, tugging on the doors to a cabinet in the corner. "It's got a smart lock. Nadi, can you break it?"

"This lock must be a hundred years old. Of course I can open it... just give me an hour or two."

Knowing they could do nothing to help, the others went back to their tasks. "Won't it be great to have a 'saber again?" Garen said as he went back to cataloging the equipment.

"I'm not certain we should," Obi-Wan replied. "We're not Jedi anymore."

Garen gave him a look. "Do you really want to hunt down a Sith without a lightsaber in your hand?"

"Good point."

Zen and Aalto came in from the garden, dusty and dirty and decked with leaves and bits of twigs. "The kettle-garden is overgrown but doing well," Zen announced. "We've plenty of fresh vegetables, and the emergency rations are still good, though all the other food has spoiled."

"How are Siri and Bruck doing in the med bay?" Obi-Wan asked.

"They found a medical droid," Aalto said. "It's not working though, and Bruck doesn't know what's wrong with it. Siri says the bacta wasn't sealed properly. It's all dried up so we'll need to get some more."

"Add it to the list then." Obi-Wan mentally subtracted the cost of bacta from the dwindling sum in their credit account. Without Bruck's trust fund they would have been dependent on their severance pay from the order -- which was enough for former Jedi to start new lives but by no means sufficient to fund an eight-being war on a Sith Lord.

We still don't even know who we're fighting, Obi-Wan thought. There were so many practicalities to take care of -- food and shelter, weapons and transportation, medical facilities in case one of them was injured... Beyond all that, he felt woefully unprepared to battle a Sith, and without masters, they had no one to train them. We can only hope the library has enough material to make up the difference.

He knew it would not be enough. Nothing could make up for the lack of personal instruction. A swell of resentment for the obstinate blindness of the council surged in him, and he ruthlessly quashed it. If they'd only listened, we would have all the support we needed.... or someone more qualified would be doing this job.

"Almost got it," Nadi-Ka said, breaking Obi-Wan's introspection. "Someone go fetch Siri and Bruck?"

Aalto dashed off, and the others gathered around. With a final chorus of cantankerous beeps, the electronic lock opened, and Nadi-Ka pulled the doors apart.

Dozens of crystals winked at them from padded and divided trays, most in shades of blue and green, with a scattering of other colours. Obi-Wan thought there were close to forty stones -- an adequate supply for such a small outpost.

"Strat," Bruck breathed. He had arrived unnoticed, and stood peering over Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Reverently, they carried the trays to a work table. Obi-Wan let his gaze wander over the blue-tinted gems. He ignored the small sampling of tanzanite as he found it too soft, and focused on the wider selection of sapphires. For long moments he stared at the trays, barely noticing as his friends made their choices amid exclamations of delight. None of the stones called him.

Come on, Kenobi. There are twelve sapphires -- well, eleven now. "Nice choice, Zen," he murmured absently. You don't have the luxury of hundreds of options. Just pick one.

But he could not. None of them seemed right, and in fact, after staring at them for so long, they actually began to repulse him.

"Take your time, Obi-Wan," Siri said, sympathy in her voice. He glanced over at her choice, surprised to see her settling the cabinet's lone diamond into an individual padded case for safekeeping. Diamonds, while powerful and nearly indestructible, did not make good lightsabers. The blade would be almost invisible, and just as dangerous to bearer as to opponent.

Obi-Wan considered, then grudgingly allowed that the choice suited Siri -- hard and focused, all angles and intensity. It did not help him make his own choice however. He gazed at the trays, then abandoned the blues. If Siri did not stick with her original colour choice, then he did not have to either. Although if Siri did chose a white blade before, I doubt Master Gallia let her build it.

He wandered over to the miscellaneous colours, but the handful of tiger eyes, carnelians, and amethysts held no interest for him. Resigned, he looked over the greens, automatically dismissing the emeralds and tourmalines in favour of the alexandrites. His original training saber had had a soft tanzanite as a focus, which had cracked at a very inopportune moment, forcing him into building his first 'saber much earlier than usual. He swore he would never choose a soft stone again...

Nothing amongst the alexandrites either. On to the softer emeralds.

Nothing again.

Disgusted with the Force, disgusted with his own subconscious, Obi-Wan at last looked at the tourmalines, beyond annoyed that the first one he saw called to him. Stupid poetic justice.

With a sigh, he collected the stone and tucked it into an individual storage box to await the completion of the casing, and tried very hard not to think of of Qui-Gon and his tourmaline-focused lightsaber.

In between building their lightsabers and keeping up on their katas, they slowly adapted their new home, dividing into teams in order to get the work done quicker. Siri and Nadi-Ka tackled the library, cracking open file after file. Without having to worry about detection, the work went swiftly, and the wealth of information they recovered amazed them. Zen and Aalto set the kitchen to rights, then set about putting the rest of the outpost in order -- getting the water running, the lifts working, and cleaning out five decades of dust. Garen and Tyyshie repaired the ship, while Bruck and Obi-Wan sorted out the training equipment and tried to deduce what was wrong with the medical droid.

"We have a list!"

Obi-Wan looked up from the mass of parts as Siri and Nadi-Ka entered the workshop, waving a data slate in triumph. He was more than ready to abandon the medical droid he and Bruck were attempting to jury-rig. Garen and Tyyshie, hunting through the parts bin for something to patch the frigate's leaky coolant system, wandered over to join them, but Nadi-Ka had to call Aalto, who was focused entirely on helping Zen build her very first lightsaber.

They moved to one of the second-floor conference rooms. Forsaking the table as the chairs needed reinforcing before they could be used, they settled in a circle on the floor.

"It's a good thing bureaucrats are so compulsive about keeping records," Siri said, tapping the data slate. "We found the schedule for the room Zen felt the Sith in. According to the Dome records, it was booked for a conference on the introduction of taxation on Outer Rim Zone 188 trade routes. Chancellor Valorum attended, as did the senators of Malastare, Naboo, Keeron, and Vorguba, the head of the Trade Federation, and the master of the Inter-Stellar Shipping guild. Each of them had several aides in attendance and there were two Dome employees serving drinks, which brings our total to thirty-three beings."

::Without setting our thoughts in durasteel, I believe we can assume one of these people is the Sith.::

There was a round of agreement.

"We'll need to investigate all of them," Bruck said. "Monitor their contacts, look into their past deals."

"We'll have to be careful," Aalto added. "We don't want to alert the Sith that we're looking for him. Or her. Or it."

Zen sighed. "This is going to take a long time."

"We can't expect to win this overnight." Obi-Wan looked around the circle, meeting each set of eyes in turn, willing them to understand. "I think we need to start operating on the assumption that we are completely on our own. Even if we gather enough evidence to send to the council, we can't count on them anymore. We need to assume we are the only beings who know about the Sith, and are willing to fight."

"Fight?" Nadi-Ka stared at him. "How can we win against a Sith?"

::We do not need to win. Only stop him.::

Silence for a long moment.

"Can we stop him?" Zen whispered. "He was so powerful. I only felt it for a nanosecond, just a minor chink in the shielding, but, oh Force, the Darkness..."

"I don't think we have a choice," Siri said, her jaw set. "Our only other option is to go back home, hope our masters forgive us, and try to live our lives knowing what's out there. Knowing we left Inath in its grip."

"We don't have a chance though," Nadi-Ka said. "We were at the beginning of our training."

"So?" Obi-Wan asked, suddenly angry. "We can keep going. There's a whole library of reference material. Training vids. Meditations. If we help each other, if we stay focused and work hard..." It still would not be enough. But it might give them a chance. And what was life without hope?

"This is going to take years." Nadi-Ka's statement shouted his dismay.

"So it takes years," Bruck said, defiant. "I'm in."

"Me, too," Aalto said.

::I will do whatever it takes.::

"It has to be done."

"We're the only ones who know."

"We can't leave Inath."

"We can't leave the Sith."

Nadi-Ka sighed heavily. "Then it's us. So what are we sitting around for? Let's get to work."

Sparring with Bruck was a newly pleasant experience. The intensity between them had tripled since arriving at H'Yaos, but the energy poured into advancement and mutual learning rather than competition and rivalry.

The companionable air abruptly changed the day they were scheduled to leave on their supply run and first investigation effort. Dodging and leaping around the second-floor training salle, Obi-Wan sensed an unusually aggressive overtone in Bruck's offense, and a hint of resentment in his defense. Obi-Wan tried to blame anxiety over their upcoming mission, but as the match progressed, Bruck's agitation increased.

Finally, Obi-Wan thumbed his 'saber off and stepped back. "Bruck, you're losing your center. Relax. Ground yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan raised a brow. They had agreed a program of mutual instruction was the best way to improve, and thus far Bruck had accepted criticism from his peers, and doled it out impartially in return. Bruck also had not called him 'Kenobi' in the month since they left the order. "Is there something you'd like to talk about, Bruck?"

"I... you..." Bruck shut his 'saber off, and stalked over to the bench. He wiped his face with his towel, picked up the water bottle, and set it back down again. "It's going to take years, Obi-Wan. We went against our masters, defied the council, left the order... and we still can't rescue Inath."

Cautiously, Obi-Wan approached, and sat down on the bench next to Bruck, sensing there was more. They were silent for a long time.

"That day we fought," Bruck said at last, "and I told the medics you started it... I didn't think they'd believe me." A bitter laugh. "I thought... I hoped we'd get shipped off to the AgriCorp together."

"You wanted to go? Why?" Obi-Wan burst out, staring incredulously at the other boy.

"I knew I wouldn't be chosen. I had four months left, a record for temper, and some stiff competition." He cast Obi-Wan a rueful glance, and took a deep breath. "And I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Going alone."

"You picked a fight with me and nearly destroyed my chances to be a Jedi just so you wouldn't have to go to AgriCorp alone?"

Bruck winced. "Sounds pretty awful, I know."

"Why me? Why not Aalto, or Tsekti, or that Twi'lek you always sparred with... Wrenow?"

"Your birthday was closest to mine. I figured they might send us to the same place."

Obi-Wan said nothing, but glared his disbelief until Bruck looked at the floor. "You did the same thing to Inath."

"Yes."

"You were friends with Inath. I can see why you would want to leave with him. But you hated me! I don't understand." Bruck fidgeted, then hesitantly slid his hand into Obi-Wan's. "Oh," Obi-Wan said. A light squeeze, sudden understanding struck him, and then, "Oh!"

After a moment Obi-Wan squeezed back, and Bruck's eyes lifted finally from the ground. And then--

"Chun! Kenobi!" Nadi-Ka appeared in the doorway, and they jumped guiltily apart. "Get out here and settle this. That crazy Wookiee wants to call the ship the Honourable Warrior. Come and tell her Lightsword is a better name."

Reluctant, they followed Nadi outside, where their companions had gathered next to the ship with a laser etcher.

"Star of Justice," Siri was saying.

"We are not naming our ship after Captain Von's tub on Pirate League," Zen said, wrinkling her tiny nose.

"We could call her The Resolution, because we want a resolution, and, well, we're resolved. Like a play on the word."

"That's a good idea, Aalto, but there must be thousands of ships with that name," Bruck said. "I'll have to go with Nadi on Lightsword."

::Perhaps, Resolution Hunter, or something such.::

Garen snapped his fingers, excitement lighting his eyes. "Resolution Game," he said, grinning at Aalto. "Game as in quarry. Then the whole name will have a double meaning."

They looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders, even Nadi-Ka. It was Garen's ship after all. They could all see it -- in his face, in the way the ship responded to his light touch on the controls. After a long silence in which no one objected or offered other suggestions, Tyyshie took the etcher from Siri, and programmed the words. A moment later the beam flashed over the hull, carving solid letters into the metal, and tinting them a deep green.

"The Resolution Game she is," Bruck said. He offered a shy smile to Obi-Wan. "Shall we take her out on a maiden voyage under her new name?"

As the others met the idea with enthusiasm, Obi-Wan felt his cheeks unaccountably grow hot, but then Siri grabbed one arm, and Bruck the other, and, laughing, they pulled him aboard.

~Finis~