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Education

by Ms. Nawilla (ms_nawilla@hotmail.com )

Category: Humor, Angst, AU, Q/Anakin
Summary: A personal account of Jedi 'education'.
Feedback: would be most appreciated at ms_nawilla@hotmail.com
Series: Sequel to "Wall." I suppose if I write more this will be the 'Wall Series'.
Wall: http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/m/msn-wall.html
Rating: R, but character describes certain sexual activities.
Warnings: Rampant hormones, het longings, femslash.
Archive: M-A. If anyone else wants it, please email at ms_nawilla@hotmail.com.
Acknowledgements: Big thanks to Ceria, my beta and cheerleader, especially for challenging me to actually finish this fic which has languished on my hard drive for too long in an 'almost done' state, and to the ever patient Hikaru for archiving. Also thank you to all the readers of "Wall" who requested a sequel. I did eventually get to it, and I had a hilarious time writing it. (Everyone should channel a horny teenager once in a while.) The song quoted appears on Daryl Hall and John Oates' "Rock and Soul, Part I" (or at least that's the cd I have that it's on.) If you don't know who they are, I can't help you. (If you do, they're on tour! Woohoo!).

They're calling it preparation
You're waiting for a separation
You're nothing but another odd number
Memories that you won't remember
So you got a little education
And a lot of dedication
But you want a little night school
Maybe some of it'll rub off on you           -- "Adult Education," Daryl Hall, John Oates, Sarah Allen

My master said I would need time. Time to adjust. Time to recover. Time to heal.

He was right.

Ow!

For future reference, losing your virginity in all possible ways will leave you sore in the morning. Especially when your master has huge, masterly man-fingers as thick as a gaffi stick. Huge, masterly, talented fingers.

Yes, he was right, but Sith, it was worth it.

They just don't cover that part in all those 'health and development' classes they make us padawans take. They tell you the 'important' stuff, like how and why you should put on a condom, and why you really don't want to get someone pregnant at a young age and so on. And why you shouldn't sleep with people you meet on missions even though your master might. But they don't tell you the important stuff, like the part when your prostate gets poked, you'll scream bloody murder and it feels so good you'll think you've died. Until that thick finger moves again and you realize it's going to keep moving over and over until you have to come because it's so good that you just can't stop it anymore. Until it does it again and you realize that you're covered in semen but you're still hard and it almost feels even better than it did before you came.

No, they don't cover that stuff.

It kind of makes you feel bad for all those girls who don't have a prostate.

Not that I expect I will forget, but for posterity, Master Qui-Gon massaged my prostate last night. I can almost say that I have not a shred of virginity left. Almost. He still hasn't actually screwed me with his penis yet, and I haven't done the same to him. And I haven't gone all the way with a girl yet, but I'm looking forward to it. But if I find a serious girlfriend, she's going to have to like my prostate. Oh yes, definitely. Force, it was good.

I can't believe I actually lost count of how many times I came last night. I can't remember doing that before. I mean, it's not like I take notes, but damn, it was so good, I just don't remember. It was at least four times. Not to mention the last time when I sort of came after Master Qui-Gon did. I think I even liked doing him better than him doing me. Well, almost. I mean, he hardly ever really lets go like that, moaning and yelling my name as he climaxes. It was . . . incredible. He got so tense and he said it was coming and then I rubbed his penis, just like he likes it, with that thumb thing, and then I could see it. I could actually see his orgasm coming, like this bright, bright light, as bright as the filament in a light panel, deep inside him, and then it just exploded and it was so hot and warm and just good that it even made me come a little bit.

I hadn't even noticed I was hard again. Ha, ha.

I kind of wish I could have seen Master Qui-Gon's face though, when he came. I wonder if he looked the way he did when I finally learned to suck him off without my teeth getting in the way. He looked wizard then. Actually he looked kind of like a wizard too. He had been making his Stern Master Face when he was instructing me, in between the 'oohs' and 'ohhs' and such, and then he had come and his whole face relaxed and he just kind of glowed really bright until it faded as he relaxed. He looked so much younger.

I guess that means I had finally gotten it right.

Not that I have any doubt that I got it right last night. Wow. I've never made him yell like that.

Well, I've never made him yell like that during sex. I have actually made him yell. Usually when I'm driving.

But what am I writing about, back to the sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! Yes, we had SEX! Over and over again! And my butt hurts this morning, which is why I'm soaking in the tub right now, but it's not so bad because last night I had a whole lot of SEX!

I'm nineteen. What can I say? I'm young, and hormonal, and still horny even though I'm sore. Oh boy, I can't believe it, I'm hard again. I mean, I'm just soaking here, I didn't even touch my cock but I've been thinking about last night and writing about it and trying to remember the details, and BANG! Mr. Happy Ani is awake again and really wants his morning exercise even though Mr. Back Door would rather not do business for awhile.

Even though I have been sitting here, wondering if I could find my own prostate if I tried.

Ow. No. Okay, we'll wait on that like Master Qui-Gon said.

Get a grip, Skywalker. It's not like you bled or anything. It's just a strained muscle and Master Qui-Gon said it would only be a few days before you could do it again. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I can wait.

Okay, I can wait, but I don't think Mr. Happy Ani can, so I'd better stop this log before I drop it in the tub. I'd hate to have to explain that one.

Well that was nice. It's really too bad I lost count last night because I think I might have just broken my previous record for number of orgasms in a standard day. I tried jerking myself off (by the way, the soap they provide here is really good for that, nice and slippery) and it was starting to feel good, but not good. I hate when that happens, when you just can't get there. And then I shifted a little and my still sore butt bumped the tub and WOW! I just remembered it all, and the feel of his hands and Force, I came so hard and fast and it just went all over. But it was so good and I just couldn't stop my brain and my brain just kept feeding my cock so I just kept rubbing and WOW. I came again.

It's times like these that I love being a horny teenager.

Then I looked at all the water I had managed to splash outside the tub and decided I really hated being a horny teenager. Next time I'll have to jerk off in the shower like Master Qui-Gon likes to do. It's not like I didn't have to shower off the semen anyway.

But I'm not complaining. It was nice. It was just messy. And I kind of wanted a blowjob this morning.

Okay, to be honest, I wanted Master Qui-Gon to stick his fingers up my butt again, or maybe even his penis (and no, I can't figure out which is bigger yet), but that was before I noticed my butt hurt. But before I had the utterly awesome experience of prostate massage, oral sex was just my favorite way to start a morning. It's easy to wake up and be cheerful when you're getting the kinks and exhaustion sucked out of you in the best way possible.

But we're on a mission. And we already missed a meeting. And Master Qui-Gon had to go meet with the diplomats and find out what we missed and he hasn't briefed me yet, so he let me stay here and soak.

Too bad I'm not flexible enough to suck myself off. I knew I should have tried harder in gymnastics class. I've heard some of those really flexible Jedi can even deep throat themselves. Of course that's just a rumor, but why can't they teach us that? That's a much better incentive than a grade and a chance to advance to aerial katas. I'm already a pilot, so I don't need to be flexible to fly. And it's not like I'll be able to do them when I finally stop getting taller. You'd think I'd be done growing by now, but no.

Still, if I get a little taller, I might be able to screw Master Qui-Gon without standing on a footstool.

Oh Force, I'm laughing my head off. Obi-Wan must have had to use a stepladder! Ha ha ha! Okay, I know that's awful to say, but he must have. I've seen the little lines on the wall in the closet and he was way shorter than me and Mr. X, who must have been Xanatos.

Then again, he did a lot of aerial katas, so he probably can deep throat himself. Or do other body-bending things. No wonder Master Qui-Gon misses him.

Well, Master Qui-Gon is pissed. Maybe I should have given him a blowjob this morning.

Of course, it's not like anyone can tell he's pissed. Unless they're me. Or Master Yoda. Or Master Windu for that matter because I think he gets some kind of sick thrill out of it. (Of course, if Master Yoda was your master, you'd probably get off in weird ways too, because I really don't want to imagine a little, green, sex ed instructor. Eww.) But no, he's definitely pissed. He came back much too soon which means something has gone wrong, told me to run through my morning exercises, no matter that the sitting room is too small to do anything I'd really consider exercise, and in proper Jedi fashion, marched off to his room to meditate. Or fume. He was glowering the whole time.

Oh yes, definitely pissed.

I just don't know why. Of course, it's not as if he's going to tell me. He'll sit in his room and brood silently for awhile and every once in a while, a red-hot burst of Force energy will flash, the tiniest bit sneaking under the crack in the door, and then when he's done, Stern Jedi Master will be back before I might get some clue as to what ticked him off. Not that he'll say, "I'm cranky today because I pulled a muscle," or "the morning tea sucked" or even "oh, by the way Ani, the head of the mining faction groped my ass, watch yourself." Master Qui-Gon likes to do the mysterious Jedi thing. I'll just have to watch him and watch who he interacts with, and see when the glowering red cloud head forms again, or wait until he has another great emotional Force fart.

Yes, I know it's probably bordering on the Dark Side to call your master's emotional release a Force fart. But that's what it is. He holds it in with so much effort that you'd think he should have turned purple, and then he goes somewhere where he thinks no one will notice and just lets it rip. Thankfully they don't have a smell, because let me tell you the real ones sure do. Not that I'd tell him what he does when he's sleeping because there are just some things we padawans have to pretend don't happen. You know how it is. (Of course, that's not the only annoying thing he does when he's sleeping, but I'd rather not discuss that.)

At least he finally gave me some idea of what we're doing here. He had a datapad with him when he came in and before he shut the door in a civilized manner (and mentally slammed it), he growled something about me taking a look through it before lunch. It's about time. I hate being kept in the dark about these things so of course Master Qui-Gon won't tell me what we're supposed to do here because I have to learn to deal with things that annoy me. (Unless of course the Council didn't tell him until today and that's why he's pissed.) Of course, I'm learning not to mind it so much. After all, if I have nothing to study, I might as well just, oh, I don't know, . . HAVE SEX!! Yes, I know, one track mind, nineteen, hormonal. No. Not now. I should be studying this datapad.

Of course, I should meditate a little first and have my own little Force fart. We already missed one meeting because we were getting it on last night. Time to be a professional. Can't afford to miss anything important.

I just hope we didn't already and that's not why he's pisssed.

Whoa.

What the— ?

Why the hell didn't he tell me?

I mean, I knew we were going to Regulus Prime, but I didn't think we'd get this mission. The mission. The council has sent us to mediate the Great Mining and Mineral Resources Debate of the Regulan Cluster. A debate that has raged for four years and has run through twelve mediators, eight of them Jedi.

It's about time the Council brought out the big guns. True, it's not as if the planet is about to go to war over this, but the other systems who would like to trade with Regulus for their ore, (not to mention the Jedi who would love to pick over the planets for sabre crystals), are really starting to squawk over this at diplomatic cocktail parties. There's a finite amount of certain ores in the galaxy and darn it, Regulus has a lot of them and still in the ground too.

Of course they also have environmentalists and traditionalists and various factions and before the external conflict of trading issues can be decided, the planet has to figure out whether or not they want to tear up the ground to get at the goodies to begin with. They stand to get a lot for their ore, but mining is a messy business. They have to reach a consensus.

They would reach a consensus a lot faster if they actually kept a mediator longer than a month or two.

Well I don't know everyone the Council sent, but the usual negotiators haven't been working. Master Gorb, Knight Tuelley, Master O'kashkt and Padawan Damorra, Knights Gerask and Vullthim. Mineralogists and resource management negotiators. And then the Council started sending in the heavyweights, like Master Koodm. Negotiators that handled higher priority negotiations. It wasn't so much that this mission is so crucial as that it just refuses to be resolved. The Council had to do something. Force knows who they sent when Koodm was sent back, frustrated, spitting and cursing like a pirate caught with contraband. I know it wasn't us.

Until now.

Still, it would have been nice to know this three weeks before we left so we could do important stuff, like grill Koodm and the others to find out why they got sent back. Or review my geology because it's really not my strongest subject. (They're rocks. They break, they melt, they cool down and the move really, really slow. Thrilling.) Or maybe we could have spent some time studying the different factions and figure out where the power is and if it's the environmentalists rejecting the negotiators so the planet will never be mined or if it's the pro-mining factions refusing to make concessions. Or if the local gods just hate Jedi master topknots or something. (I think it's a pretty stupid look myself, but then my own hair is evidence that 'Jedi style' is an oxymoron.)

But we were busy three weeks ago, negotiating between two systems with real problems (like how much they want to blow each other up) and other than the poor track record with traditional Jedi mediators, this mission should be a walk in the park.

Considering how traditional Master Qui-Gon is, it might be a walk in the park anyway.

Um . . . on second thought, that was a pretty big fart just now. Maybe it will be a walk in a safari park instead.

Still, I just can't believe my master let us skip a meeting for sex, especially if we were assigned this mission. I just don't get it. I suppose it's possible that he didn't know what we were sent here for, but he had said the meeting wasn't that important, so I just assumed he knew why we were here last night.

Ha ha, then again, maybe my youthful vigor and fine, sweet ass are really just that irresistible.

Okay, somehow I don't think that was it, since he only stuck his fingers in that fine, sweet ass of mine that that was the reason he let us sleep in. Maybe I'm missing something here.

Hooooooboy! Lunch, and I just saw something that looked utterly delicious.

Or someone.

Hot! HOT! HOT! HOT!

Did I mention she was hot?

Wow. Master Qui-Gon finally let me out of our rooms to go get us some food (he's still working on his bad case of Force Gas) and now I see why he was keeping me locked up. Ha ha. Sheesh, they have hot women here on Regulus.

Tall. Blonde. Cool. Sculpted.

And with really nice breasts.

Hey, I may have spent last night getting fingered by my master, but it's not like we're in an exclusive relationship.

And it's not like he has an ass like that, Force, she just bent over to pick up her pack.

. . . . .

I think she's looking at me. I'm really only typing this so I can pretend to look around and think about what I'm writing and use it as an excuse to ogle her. Oh, so nice to ogle too.

. . . . .

I think she's teasing me. You are teasing me, aren't you? Ooh, she's licking her lips now, and giving me the eye. Oh baby. You're a hot one, aren't you, Babe? Oh yeah, so h—

. . . . .

You know, I should probably pay attention to what I'm doing. I almost ordered us live Rance Toads for lunch and paid for it with my lightsabre. Oh yeah, rein in the hormones, Skywalker. Where's your infamous Jedi control? Ha, probably with my knighthood which will still be a few years in coming, even though I've got more midi-chlorians in Mr. Happy Ani than Master Yoda has in his whole body. Okay, that might be something of an exaggeration. Master Yoda's midi-chlorian count is pretty respectable and you know, I'm a pretty good size, but I'd look damn ridiculous if Mr. Happy Ani were as big as the old toad.

Toad. No wonder those Rance Toads looked so incredibly horrid.

On the other hand, I might have as many midi-chlorian in Mr. Happy Ani than in the entire body of say that hot, hot lady . . . who disappeared. Potential sex thwarted by food. Mr. Happy Ani was hoping to share his extraneous midi-chlorians with the less fortunate. Life is utterly unfair.

Still, she couldn't have gotten too far. We're still in the diplomatic compound, which is almost sequestered from the rest of planet, and if that cool blonde is working for any of the diplomats, she's going to have to get permission from the mediator to get out of here. And considering said mediator is my very own master, such petty concerns will likely have to go through me.

People always want to get out of sequestered places. I've been through this before. They could be in paradise and the world beyond the walls could visibly be an utter and unlivable hell, but it won't matter, it's exactly where they want to be because it is where they aren't allowed to be. Forbidden fruit has its attractions.

Maybe that's why the order is so surprisingly open and encouraging about sex. If you can do what you want, when you want, provided you're of age and responsible for it, there's no attraction in doing what you're not supposed to do because no one will tell you you're not supposed to do it. Not that it seems to make me less horny or anything, and if it was supposed to, it sure as Sith ain't working.

Ah, lunch. And no babe in sight. Back to the room. Hopefully Master Gaseous will be feeling more serene. After four years, it's about time these talks get started . . again . . for the final time . . we hope.

I hate rocks.

I hate rocks and I hate being a hormonal nineteen-year-old who is hard as a rock.

I also hate being a hormonal nineteen-year-old who was dumb enough to sit down on a chair as hard as a rock when I spent the night before . . . needless to say, 'ow'.

I also hate running into hot as lava rock women in the lunch line, losing them, and then finding that not only is the hot babe staying in the room next door, she isn't interested in introducing herself because she is too busy sucking face with another hot babe.

Nice to watch but, arrrgh!

So much for my seductive pick-up line: Hello, my name is Anakin. I'm a Jedi. Have you ever seen a lightsabre? If you can keep a straight face, you'd be surprised how many girls will giggle and go for this. Not to mention women. Hot women.

This remains unproven among hot women busy sucking face with other hot women.

And lunch is cold.

I am starting to get worried about Master Qui-Gon.

When I came back, he didn't answer to my call of 'lunch,' his door was still closed and the room was, well, Force-ripe. I figured he was still deep in farty meditation.

I went looking for him after I had eaten my own lunch. No master. Not in his room, not in the 'fresher,' not on the balcony. No homework or directions. Nothing. I'm seriously starting to feel like a neglected padawan here—

. . . . .

The hot babe was at the door.

THE HOT BABE WAS AT THE DOOR!

The way today is going, I think I've been hard for 50% of my waking hours. Maybe that's another reason why Master Qui-Gon isn't going to massage my prostate again for awhile. Is that why I'm even more horny than usual today, or is it just that she's really REALLY HOT?!

Ahem. She also gave me a security badge and said that Master Qui-Gon had it dropped off at her room while I was out getting lunch. Apparently the talks have started in earnest and I'm needed. Or Master Qui-Gon is needed and wants me there eventually. She didn't seem to think it was all that urgent.

Which is good, because, I kind of feel like jerking off again, but I probably shouldn't because we've already missed a meeting because of my hormones already.

I wonder why Master Qui-Gon didn't just leave me a note himself, but I suppose it's possible he didn't get the chance. Not that I'm complaining about the messenger. Whoohoo.

And Hot Babe also told me that I should bring Master Qui-Gon his lunch in the observation deck. I thought this was an excellent opportunity to ask her if maybe I could bring her lunch later. So hot.

Sigh, too hot. She asked me if I was an errand boy. Errand boy?!

"No," I told her. "I'm a Jedi Apprentice. Defender of the Light. Guardian of the Peace. Padawan to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the mediator of this conference!" She raised her eyebrows at that, and I realized, to my embarrassment that she was quite a bit older than me, and probably saw my little outburst as teenaged temper tantrum.

So much for my pick up line.

Older, but in a hot way. In a 'let's not waste time on lovey-dovey stuff' kind of way.

I wanted her more.

She held out the security badge and I took it, trying not to huff at her skeptical look.

"So you're a Jedi apprentice and your master is the conference mediator?" she asked at last, and I swear she looked like I had said something hilarious. Like there was some joke I had been left out of or that I had turniach in my teeth or my sash was untied or something.

I wanted to wipe that half-smile off her face.

Preferably with my lips.

"Yes!" I said and she just grinned at me more openly. Her eyes danced. I wanted to hit her.

I wanted to jump her.

She crossed her arms under her breasts, definitely what those old poets would call 'an ample bosom' and grinned more. "Really?"

Really? Really? Really what?

"Yes, really!" I finally argued back. Almost yelled. (Better meditate on that one, Skywalker.) And then I tried to ask her if there was anything else my master told her. Like he wanted extra water because there wasn't any of if he needed his lunch before the talks resumed or if he could eat at the table. Or if I should bring my sabre or leave it here (which translates to wear your sabre on your belt openly or keep your robe on so no one sees your sabre.) I really meant to. But her grin widened, like the feline that ate the yellowbird, and I just opened my mouth and it came out.

"What, did you need to see my lightsabre or something?"

At that point she looked down and then started hissing, and it took me a moment to realize she was trying not to laugh and obviously failing as her breath escaped between her hot, hot lips.

I followed her eyes down to my groin.

I hate being a horny teenager.

"No, I think I can see it just fine. I'll take your word for it, Padawan Skywalker, apprentice to the mediator."

I felt my face flush as I closed the door on her and then leaned against it. STUPID!

Obviously I jerked off before I was calm enough to write this.

I hope Master Qui-Gon didn't starve to death. He must be hungry after all that Force-farty meditation. I hope it wasn't anything too serious. I'm obviously not going to be a nice soothing source of serenity after that embarrassing little fiasco.

Now I know why some men are sworn homosexuals. So hot, and yet so out of reach.

For now. I don't give up that easily.

Alright, lunch packed, security badge pinned (designation: observer), off I go.

Observer? Not Junior Diplomat, but Observer? SithHell! Doesn't anyone take me seriously?

It was some time after his last entry that Padawan Skywalker finally made his way to the observation lounge in the Regulus Prime Diplomatic Conference Center. Being a conscientious padawan, his observer badge was prominently displayed on his person and he was allowed in with little interference from security. A quick Force-scan revealed his master sitting on the far side of a transparasteel-enclosed balcony around and above the main mediation chamber, along with several other muted signatures, hallmarks of well-shielded Force users. Frowning, he made his way around in the near silence, passing the alcoves and lounges used by various factions and journalists, some eating, drinking, tapping away at datapads or watching monitors intently. He glanced toward the clear wall that separated the lounge from the conference tables below and was startled to see a holodroid buzzing about at eye level. Curious, he leaned closer to the glass to look down at the negotiators, hoping to gauge how long his master had before he would begin the talks.

He gasped in surprise as he realized the negotiations had already begun, and in fact, from the looks of the chamber, had been going on for some time, yet his master was not among the negotiators. He was up here. In the observation lounge.

Observer?

Uncertain now, he hurried to reach Qui-Gon, more concerned about their exact mission here than how hungry the man must be by now. He rounded the last corner, to the lounge directly above the mediator's table and Master Jinn came into view.

Qui-Gon was seated in an overstuffed chair, just slightly too small to be comfortable for his frame, staring intently into the room below.

Surely we haven't been rejected as mediators before we've even started.

He stepped closer and his master looked up at him and waved him over before returning to stare as he had before.

"I brought your lunch, Master." Qui-Gon took the offered steamed vell grain in vegetable sauce with a slight nod, placed the food on a small table, and gestured vaguely for Anakin to have a seat.

Anakin joined him, biting at his lip as he formulated his question. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I trust Knight Tachi was able to give you your security badge with no problems?"

His mouth dried up instantly and blood flushed his face.

"Knight Tachi?"

Qui-Gon turned abruptly to look him over. "Yes, Knight Tachi. A bit shorter than you, blonde hair, blue eyes. Very business-like. She'll be staying in the room next to ours, so I left your badge with her and asked her to give it to you when you got back."

Knight Tachi. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Hot. Business-like my ass.

"Oh, Qui-Gon, he's probably never met Siri, she's been out on the Outer Rim for years." A tall, dark woman he hadn't noticed in the chair next to his master's leaned forward to speak to him directly. It was several more moment before he recognized her as Master Gallia. "Siri was my last padawan, Anakin. She's a bit younger than Obi-Wan." He blinked at her, taking a moment to make sense of her words. Master Qui-Gon rarely spoke of his last apprentice, at least not intentionally.

It was several more moments before he recognized Master Gallia as the woman who had been sucking face with the rather enthusiastic and casually-dressed Knight Tachi.

The hot Knight Tachi who was obviously less than impressed with lightsabre. After all, she had her own, and probably a multiple-crystal blade at that.

And she didn't seem interested in the other kind.

His master on the other hand seemed quite interested in something going on below them, neither commenting nor even noticing his apprentice's fiery blush as identities were revealed. Master Gallia's gaze had returned to the chamber below as well; Anakin quickly followed suit. The negotiations seemed to have been going since at least early morning if the full trash cans near the caff dispensers were anything to go by. It didn't make any sense.

"Master?" he whispered, leaning close in case the delegates could hear them below through speakers or acoustics. "Why are we sitting up here?"

Qui-Gon's eyes never left the negotiation floor. "Why would we be sitting elsewhere, Padawan?" he answered just as softly.

Anakin looked down at his observer badge in sudden distaste. "Um, well, I'm sitting here because I brought you lunch." He did not need to look at his master to know this was hardly the correct answer. "And the delegates have deemed me an observer, so it makes sense that I would sit in the observation lounge."

"Indeed, Padawan." Qui-Gon's gaze never left the room below.

Anakin frowned. He hated it when his master played mind games with him even more than when Qui-Gon immersed himself so totally in the moment that Ani was never even sure the man remembered he was there. Unfortunately it wasn't clear which of those scenarios was currently playing itself out.

"Well," he tried again, hoping for the former. "I suppose I asked the wrong question, Master. I'm where I would reasonably be, but why are you sitting up here?"

Qui-Gon turned to look at his apprentice directly. Anakin resisted the urge to squirm in an immature, un-padawan like manner.

"I'm sitting here to observe, Padawan." Jinn turned back to continue his intense observations. Anakin leaned forward, squinting at the badge pinned to his master's tunic. Without falling over, he could just make out half the letters on it, but it was unmistakable. His master's badge clearly identified him as an observer. Now thoroughly confused, Anakin focused on Adi Gallia. She too sported an observer badge on her rather enticing bosom, but with additional markings. Unobtrusively, Ani sharpened his vision with the Force, deciphering the symbols and small print and matching them to his memory of the data pad he had read earlier. Master Gallia was indeed an observer at this conference, but she had also been granted Level Four Security Access, higher than the Level Three of a typical observer. Unlike himself, and apparently Master Jinn, Diplomat Gallia did not need the mediator's permission to leave the compound.

Which of course begged the question of why Qui-Gon would need his own permission . . .

"Master?" The hissed whisper was much louder than he intended. "Why aren't you mediating?"

Qui-Gon turned abruptly to stare at him, his tight chair scuffing a bit at the rug as it moved with him. The large man winced a bit at the uncomfortable furniture before giving Anakin his full attention. "I'm not mediating, Padawan, because I am observing, as we are attending this conference as observers. Did you read the information on the data pad I left you?"

Anakin flushed. Adi Gallia suddenly seemed that much more interested in the goings on below than she had been before, but Anakin could feel her subtle attention like a wilting spotlight.

"Yes, Master. Of course I read the information. It detailed the issues in contention between the various factions, the geologic data about the sites in question, Republic market values for the ore grades believed to be available, and a short list of the mediators the council has sent to deal with this conflict up through Master Koodm. The datapad did not list the Jedi sent after, but I assu—" It was a mistake, and he had made it. No help now but to muddle through till the end. His blush brightened and his voice dropped to a bare whisper. "I assumed you were the next mediator the council had sent in, Master. It's rare for Master Koodm to fail at negotiations, and you seemed like the next logical choice."

Master Jinn raised his eyebrows. Anakin could almost hear the lecture he would be told to meditate on when they returned to their suite tonight. Never assume, Padawan. And flattery will get you nowhere. He fought the urge to squirm. So much for sex tonight.

"Your assumption, while erroneous, was hardly a rash one, Padawan Skywalker." Both men turned to face the regal woman beside them. Her face was smooth and serene, as calm as it was at a Council meeting, or in meditation, but her expression betrayed a mild curiosity. "In most circumstances, the Council would likely have sent you and Master Qui-Gon in to handle a stubborn situation such as this, but that was not an option when the decision needed to be made. The two of you were busy elsewhere, so we went with a different choice." She turned to stare at them, first Qui-Gon, then Anakin, and back again, as if evaluating them. "By the time your mission had been resolved and you had returned to Coruscant, another puzzle had presented itself instead." She stared hard at Anakin a moment. "A puzzle your master was uniquely suited for."

Anakin blinked at her. He had always found her somewhat intimidating, more so than Depa Bilaba or Master Yaddle. In the Council Chambers she was always cool, collected and seemingly untouchable. Somehow she seemed no less so sitting in an observation lounge in her mission tunics, half a galaxy away.

"What puzzle was that, Master Gallia?" He hoped he wasn't supposed to know already, but with Council members, he often found himself in the role of uninformed moron.

Of course, so did everybody.

She regarded him for another long moment before returning her gaze to the debate below. "When Master Koodm was rejected as mediator by the Regulan delegates, we were surprised to say the least. Koodm is nearly as well respected a mediator as Master Jinn." Qui-Gon acknowledged the praise with a nod. "Unfortunately, we were at a loss as to why Koodm had been rejected, just as Gorb, Tuelley, O'kashkt, Vullthim and Gerask had been before. Master Yoda believed it was a matter of the delegates trusting the mediator, and recommended they," she paused, looking for the right word. "He recommended they 'try out' several mediators, having several knights or masters settle smaller disputes for them, and to choose from this group one or several Jedi to handle this larger debate."

Anakin blinked. He was quite sure none of this had been on the datapad. He also wondered exactly what security clearance was required to even have this information if he had to hear it straight from the councilor's mouth rather than from a written report. None of this had ever come up at all those diplomatic cocktail parties.

"So what happened to the other mediators? Did they choose one?"

Adi nodded, slowly and deliberately. "Yes, Padawan Skywalker. The various delegates ran our Jedi through several rounds of unrelated negotiations, conducted many interviews with them, and even examined their mission records, at least the mission records that were not classified. One by one, they sent us our knights back, citing no reasons for each rejection, although they seemed much more pleasant about it, now that they were given a choice. This went on for the better part of a standard year, until finally, the Council had received word that a mediator had been chosen."

She looked them over carefully. Anakin glanced at his master, unsettled by Jinn's almost surprised expression. Apparently all of this was news to Qui-Gon as well.

"They selected him as mediator? Over Tozes, Velch, Q'Vari and Paell-Yuvon?" the master asked, his brow furrowed. Anakin couldn't tell if it was a look of disbelief or . . . something else. As if he were impressed.

Or proud.

But then Jedi were not prideful.

In any case, the knights and masters his master had listed were quite the mixed bag of ages, talents and species, but one thing was clear. They were all professionals and highly regarded negotiators. Negotiators known for getting even the most difficult factions to sit down and discuss matters. Negotiators who forged treaties among the galaxy's worst diplomatic barbarians.

Steep competition.

But it still didn't explain why they were there.

"So, if the delegates chose a mediator, who did they choose? And what are we here to observe?"

Qui-Gon gave him an appraising look, leaving Ani to wonder how many hours of meditation he had just bought himself with his impulsive questions, but Master Gallia seemed unbothered by his impatience.

"You and your master, young Skywalker, are here to observe the delegates and the mediator. You are here to determine why the mediator was selected over his fellow Jedi, and why the previous mediators were rejected. I trust if you take a careful look at the head table, it will be fairly obvious why we chose your master for this mission."

All questions died on his lips. A padawan was never in any position to question his superiors when the phrase 'fairly obvious' was involved. Anakin stood and looked down into the negotiation chamber. Two stories below him, the delegates and their assistants wandered about like ants, making a point here, voicing an objection there, calling for votes and laying down dead issues. Aides scrambled up and down the aisles, checking facts, fetching refreshments, and relaying messages. Slowly, his gaze drifted up to the head table, where the top representatives of each faction flanked their chosen mediator. Unconsciously, Anakin pressed his nose against the glass, straining for a better view.

No. It can't be.

Just outside his peripheral vision, Adi Gallia turned up a dial and a slightly tinny reproduction of the recorded dialogue below came out of a small speaker. The head of a mining corporation plead his case, then paused for the mediator to comment. It was voice that Anakin had heard no more than four times in the years since he had become a padawan, but even the less than optimal quality of the sound equipment could not disguise that distinctive accent.

He hadn't been mistaken. It was pride he had seen.

Slowly, without turning from the conference below, he stumbled back to his chair. Adi lowered the sound once more.

"Knight Kenobi."

"Yes," the councilor nodded. "Knight Kenobi. Quite the enigma. Excellent negotiator, like his master before him. Excellent swordsman. He's hardly ever at the Temple, takes back-to-back missions, and while his fieldwork is impressive, he is virtually unknown among the ranks of the Jedi. He still has difficulties with the Living Force, but overall he is a strong diplomatic presence that can see the big picture." She turned to Qui-Gon.

"Do you realize he is the first negotiator to actually get the delegates to assemble for these negotiations? Tuelley was rejected before he even set foot on the planet. Even Koodm was only able to get preliminary discussions going with the aides." She turned back toward the meeting. "And we don't know how he did that. Or why they let him. Hence your mission." Both men turned to her once more.

"You, Master Qui-Gon, know Obi-Wan best. He was your apprentice. You taught him the art of negotiation. You taught him diplomacy. You should know all of his tricks. You also raised him. Find out how he did this. Anakin, you are young, about the age of many of the aides. This puts you in the unique position of being able to socialize with them. You are also Qui-Gon's padawan, and have undergone similar training to Obi-Wan." She looked him over. "The Council looks forward to learning what you observe, and any insight you get about the system at work here. Obi-Wan's mission is to mediate this conference. Yours is to figure out why they like him so much."

"I suggest we spend this session just observing the delegates and their interactions with Obi-Wan."

Anakin slowly turned to look at the masters. Adi nodded her agreement as both returned their attention to the proceedings below. The volume dial had been raised once more. Neither seemed interested in whether or not he agreed too.

Neither seemed to have noticed his suddenly pale face and clammy hands.

Neither seemed to notice the shuddery, almost panicky feeling under his shields.

For that matter, neither seemed to notice him at all.

They were suddenly much too busy. Watching him.

Anakin shut his eyes against his master's penetrating stare, hiding from that intense, live-in-the-moment focus. Denying the gaze that excluded him completely. Months and years had past with virtually no contact, but Qui-Gon had caught a glance, just one look, and he was entranced, mesmerized. Fascinated.

Hungry.

Anakin stared down at the Jedi far below, seemingly oblivious to the Force-enhanced scrutiny of those above.

He's my master now! Mine! You can't have him. He looked back at his master. Mine.

The negotiations continued below him. Master Gallia's eyes tracked the delegates. Anakin eyes blindly surveyed the aides, while his mind turned over his revelations. Qui-Gon continued to observe the mediator, and the mediator alone. His food remained untouched.