Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next morning dawned clear and bright, and Obi-Wan awoke with a jolt at the first clear notes of birdsong wafting up from the gardens outside his window. Leaping out of bed, he shrugged hastily into his robes and raced into the kitchen, hurdling the forgotten energy bars neatly on his way down the hall. They'd have breakfast before leaving on their holiday, and Obi-Wan wanted to be the one to prepare it. He wanted to see Qui-Gon's smile over his offering of tea. He wanted to do something for his new Master/friend. He wanted something edible to quiet his growling stomach.

Skidding around the corner, he nearly ran into Qui-Gon, who was setting the teapot over the burner. Flattening against the storage units as Obi-Wan slid to a startled halt, Qui-Gon laughed when the flustered young Jedi tensed, preparing to Force-leap over the Master's head again, if was what it took to avoid crashing into him.

"I know that my tea is good, Obi-Wan. I didn't know it was that good."

"I wanted to make the tea for you," Obi-Wan confessed, sketching a bow of apology before peering into the cooler. "I suppose now I'll have to settle for making you breakfast."

"The tea I have under control, but if you insist..." Qui-Gon swept an arm at the preparation area, gracefully allowing Obi-Wan to take control of his culinary domain and retreating with a pleased smile.

This, Obi-Wan did. While Qui-Gon leaned against the doorframe and watched companionably Obi-Wan made a lighting-fast inventory of available foodstuffs. Menu decisions were made with the same speed, and a pleasant cold breakfast was assembled with the swift efficiency. By the time the tea was properly steeped, Obi-Wan had melons and a grain cereal on the table. Qui-Gon nodded his approval before setting his tea mug in front of one place setting, and very formally placing Obi-Wan's mug in front of what was now his permanent place at the table.

The Master settled comfortably across the small table from Obi-Wan's new mug in silent symmetry of their relationship, and gave his companion a crooked smile before picking up his spoon and beginning to rearrange the sliced melon to his liking. "I could very easily become accustomed to living with this sort of luxury."

"Luxury, Master?" Obi-Wan studied the melon, then glanced back to Qui-Gon for clarification. Was a melon a luxury on this world? It was easily obtainable on his Coruscant. Perhaps this was a rarity that he was treating so casually?

"No, not the melon, Obi-Wan." A chuckle distracted him from his mental anxieties as the older man made fast work of his breakfast, at the same time managing to make it look positively leisurely. "I meant the company, the good food, being spoiled by not having to face that kitchen myself. And two tea mugs on the table. I find I've missed that."

"It's only simple fare, Master. If you'd let me know what you like, I could prepare something a bit better."

The tea mug returned to the table with a thump. "Are you not listening to me, Padawan?"

"No, Master. I mean, yes, I am listening, Master." Obi-Wan straightened under the stern glare coming his way.

"I said that I enjoyed the food, the company and having you here. It means that I am very pleased by this, just as it is. Will you quit worrying so?" Qui-Gon softened his scolding words with a smile. "Now, have you given any thought as to packing?"

"No, Master. Will there be special needs on this mission that I should consider? Should we--"

"Obi-Wan, stop." Qui-Gon shook his head, laughing softly. "This is not a mission. This is for fun. First order: stop fretting. Second order: Relax. Next, pack light. Take anything you'd enjoy having with you, though now that I think of it, I believe the only non- utilitarian items you have just now are...erm, Santros' 'socks.' Do you like to read? Perhaps you would find something satisfactory in my small library. We have a few data disks available as well." He trailed off, suddenly uncertain exactly what this Obi-Wan would find enjoyable.

"Thank you, Master. I'll see to packing right away. Do you want me to pack for you, as well?"

Qui-Gon cast him a strange look. "Erm... no, Padawan. I think that I can manage on my own." He paused and frowned slightly. "Do you know what we need? A tent. Yes... A tent might prove useful where we're going. Do you think you can snick one from Santros?"

"It would be my pleasure, Master."

The bags were packed in only a few minutes, and Obi-Wan slipped out of the door to his room to find Qui-Gon staring at the huge box of energy bars lurking in the shadows of the hallway.

"Padawan, that cannot live here. Sooner or later one of us will forget about it and come to grief some dark night."

"I know, Master. I didn't mean to leave it there, but there's just no room in my quarters for all of those. Santros gave me enough to see us through a five-turn famine."

"Don't complain about it. He likes you. This is a rare happenstance, and one we must exploit to its fullest." He thoughtfully considered the pile of wrapped edibles. "The kitchen? No, no room there. I haven't room for them, either."

"The 'fresher is out," Obi-Wan muttered.

"And that leaves the common area." Qui-Gon's foot gave the box a shove, sending it sliding toward the living area.

Contemplativly surveying the room, Obi-Wan inventoried possible out of the way spots. "You've filled all the corners here. Under the chairs perhaps? Or should I haul them back to the room in the Knights Tower?"

"Too far away to go when we want one. Why don't we shove the box under the comp unit? We don't walk under there, and my knees don't fit under there anyway. It's also quite convenient."

"Convenient, Master?"

"The last thing we do before going out on missions is to check for last minute updates from the council, yes? So when we check, we can grab a handful on the way out."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, and the two of them herded the box into the cubby under the comp unit and shoved it in. Obi-Wan gathered two generous piles of the bars, presenting a handful to Qui-Gon. "And now we're ready?"

He nodded. "Grab your cloak, and let's introduce you to the concept of a holiday. Meet me on platform X47K once you get the tent," instructed Qui-Gon, installing the energy bars into his supply belt and giving Obi-Wan a look that said they were both in trouble if Santros discovered that Obi-Wan was sharing with him.

Obi-Wan shrugged in answer to that silent observation, knowing that he could squeege more out of the taciturn Jedi whenever they needed them. Answering the verbal order, he said, "I think I can manage to find the platform, Master."

Obi-Wan left then, already deep into his quest for a tent. Only after he had entered the vertical lift that would deposit him on Santros level did Obi-Wan realize that Qui-Gon had mentioned their going on missions in the future so offhandedly, it seemed the Master assumed it would happen. It then occurred to him that he and Qui-Gon had been carrying on two different conversations at the same time. On two different levels. Almost as he and his former Master had done through their link. True, the flow of communication had been far clearer through the training bond, but it wasn't that much more clear, and Obi-Wan had had no problem discerning Qui-Gon's thoughts.

/What's going on here?/ he wondered briefly. /Should we be able to do that?/ He quickly shrugged it off as coincidence, remembering that, even as an Initiate, he'd had a superficial bond with Qui-Gon Jinn. /This is probably a carry-over from that: certainly, it can't be anything more. And how complicated can it be to discuss energy bars non-verbally?/

Twenty minutes later, Obi-Wan joined Qui-Gon on platform X47K, tent properly procured. It hadn't been difficult; he'd only had to endure Santros' lecture on how he knew all too well what a Knight would need, and that Obi-Wan should have taken the tent yesterday when it'd been offered to save Santros, busy as he was, being interrupted over something that could have been avoided. A few humble 'Yes, Masters' and 'No, Masters' later, and Obi-Wan had made good his escape to platform X47K with tent in hand.

He also discovered that the ship they were taking was a freighter. All the better: there were no tourists to weave through or to avoid. No one for whom he had to be the inscrutible Jedi. Though, given how good Obi-Wan felt this morning, he wouldn't have minded striking up a conversation or two with a Coruscant stranger. These Coruscant strangers were far different from those on his world, and the approval and affection he'd encountered yesterday was something he wanted to take the time to enjoy.

Weaving his way through the containers waiting to be loaded, Obi-Wan amused himself by tossing the tent-cube he'd gotten from Santros up into the air and catching it. He found Qui-Gon easily where he leaned, arms crossed, against a stack of droid parts.

"I see that you got our tent."

"Yes. No trouble at all."

Taking up residence beside Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan watched as the freighter was loaded. The captain was a female Twi'lek dressed in very little but her tentacles. She supervised the loading with great efficiency, ordering the droids and other workers in a fast, shrill voice, expecting instant obedience and no wasted time. She also cast a warm smile Qui-Gon's way, welcoming him before he'd ever set foot on her deck.

"Do you two know each other?" asked Obi-Wan, tucking the tent-cube into his pack.

"We do. I rescued her from slavery when she was a child, brought her to Coruscant, and found a foster family to care for her."

"Slavery? I thought your Republic was above that."

"It is. But it's a large galaxy, Obi-Wan, and not everyone belongs to the Republic."

His smile was wry. "I'm familiar with that problem. So, the dregs are out there?"

"Oh, yes. They're out there, but they're not here. Not on Coruscant. There's too much Light on Coruscant, and the -- what did you call them? The dregs? Dregs cannot bear it. Like attracts like, and if one has darkness within, one seeks the darkness without. The pirates and the slavers gravitate toward their own organizations, their own planets."

"Not so different from my world."

"The most organized are the Hutt," said Qui-Gon. "They rule the gambling planets on the outer rim and have no use for the Republic, its civilized ways, or the Jedi. They work with the slavers, whose victims are most often beings addicted to gambling. Someone loses one too many games and cannot pay his or her or its debts. The Hutt extract payment in other ways."

Obi-Wan nodded at the familiar scenario and tried not to think on it too deeply. It was, after all, a Hutt and his slave that had reordered his life so painfully, and not that long ago. "I've seen Hutts and their slaves before. I wish it were not so here."

Qui-Gon turned to glance at him oddly. "Perhaps we will succeed in eliminating it one day." He broke off as a pit droid darted up to snatch the pile of parts he was leaning against, bashing Qui-Gon in the shin as it turned with its load and running over his foot as well. Growling, Qui-Gon backed away from the industrious -- and irritated -- droid as it toddled off chattering electronic curses at the tall man.

Obi-Wan couldn't help laughing at the Master's affronted expression. "Perhaps we should move, Master?"

A few clicks later, and the Twi'lek was motioning them up the gangway. Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon onto the ship as he'd followed his Master hundreds of times before. The interior was dingy and dirty, but its aura was not. Putting her hands together, the Twi'lek offered the Jedi a respectful bow and murmured, "The Force be with you on our journey."

Qui-Gon returned the gesture, only to lay his hand on her shoulder. "And with you, S'pex. We are honored to ride aboard your vessel."

Her tentacles rippled with pleasure, her skin glowed a deeper blue.

"I am honored to have you aboard, Master Qui-Gon." After giving another slight bow, she slapped a hand over the control to raise the gangway and hurried down the corridor. "This way to your cabin, Sh'ra Jedi."

Qui-Gon pushed back the door of the cabin only to stare in horrified disbelief. "Padawan, I--"

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Stepping up beside Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan saw the problem immediately. The sleeper cabin was only six meters by four meters wide. The bunk they'd been assigned was folded up into the wall, and Obi-Wan was certain that when it was unfolded it would have room for only one of them.

Qui-Gon sighed as he turned to Obi-Wan. They were standing chest to chest in the small space, with Obi-Wan's nose on the level with Qui- Gon's chin.

"I apologize for the rough accommodations, Padawan. This was the only ship I could find to take us to Parthas on such short notice. The planet is remote and not part of the usual shipping lanes, and they like it that way."

"I don't mind," Obi-Wan said truthfully. "I've slept in far worse places, Master. Let's see what shape the bed is in."

They pulled it down together, only to discover that in order for it to open fully they had to close the door. Which meant that when the bed was down, the door could not be opened.

"That's one way to assure privacy," said Obi-Wan dryly.

It was a narrow room, meant for one person. The Master stood with hands on hips and eyed the bed as though it was a particularly recalcitrant Initiate refusing to do his biding. Obi-Wan shifted slightly, only to get one of those elbows in the ribs. Qui-Gon immediately dropped his stance and opened his mouth to apologize again. Laying a hand on the Master's arm, Obi-Wan sought to forestall him.

"It's all right. I'm not upset, and you shouldn't be, either. It's dry in here, warm, and we have a bed. At certain times in my life, that's been sheer luxury all by itself. I'm not complaining."

"Yes, but there's nothing to do but sleep, and we've just gotten up!" the Master snapped petulantly.

For some reason, Obi-Wan found this funnier than anything that had gone before. He let his laughter carry him away until he had to sit on the bed, and then went off into additional gales when he saw the perplexed look on Qui-Gon's face.

"Master... I'm sorry, but where I come from--in the life I led before- -sleeping is sheer luxury. I think I could sleep for a week and still not catch up."

"So... this is a good thing?" Qui-Gon ventured. "You'd not object to our putting ourselves to bed for the duration of the journey? It's not an overlong trip, but it will take a day, and will cover a few meals. But I promise you, our energy bars would be far tastier than any meal S'Pex might offer us."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Then we'll eat an energy bar or two, curl up in our warm little bunk, and sleep away the journey."

And that is what they did. Brushing the crumbs from the bars off of the blankets, they stripped off their outer tunics and their boots. Obi-Wan waited while Qui-Gon moved to the far side of the bunk and settled on his side with his back against the wall. Politely squeezing himself into as small a space as possible with his large frame, he waited for Obi-Wan to join him and offered a grin of his own.

Slipping beneath the blankets, Obi-Wan settled with his back to the Master. Qui-Gon squirmed backward, trying to give Obi-Wan another fraction of an inch, and then sighed. "It's just going to have to be a very friendly nap, Padawan."

"I don't mind. I'll be sleeping in about three breaths, I think."

"Xan would have had fits at the insult to his dignity. And his wardrobe. He'd have been wrinkled, and that would have been even worse. Xanatos always insisted on looking the part of the elegant Jedi, even as a Padawan. I'd never have heard the end of it."

There was no answer from Obi-Wan, save quiet, steady breathing.

"And it seems I'm not going to hear the beginning of it from this one." He sighed. "Poor lad, you really are exhausted, aren't you." Qui-Gon settled a hand companionably on his new Padawan's shoulder, closed his eyes, and saw his own way into sleep.

Obi-Wan awoke suddenly with a sharp pain in his ribs. /Elbow,/ his mind provided muzzily. He tried to shift away from it, but found his retreat blocked by the space-cold plasteel of the cabin wall. Further investigation revealed that he was also curled up on his side with his knees uncomfortably close to his chest. Fetal position. The reason for this was simple -- his part of the bunk was occupied by a pair of impossibly long legs.

Qui-Gon was sleeping in a space too small for his large body, and in his sleep he'd tried to make adjustments for the sake of comfort. The only possible solution was for the big man to sleep diagonally. He was blissfully unaware of his intrusive position, but Obi-Wan was painfully crunched into an upper corner of the bunk in a space far too small for anything remotely resembling comfort.

There were only two options. One, kick Qui-Gon and chase him back on his side of the tiny bunk; or two, abandon the bunk altogether.

Mindful of his Master's comfort and dignity, Obi-Wan settled swiftly on option two. His cloak was snagged from the wall and, with the ease of a diver, Obi-Wan curled head-first off of the bunk and into the tiny standing space left for opening and closing it. He then slid easily into the space beneath the bunk itself. Spreading the cloak on the floor, Obi-Wan wrapped up in it, enjoyed stretching cramped muscles in the relative luxury of a few more inches of room.

Adventures. Everything with his master on his Coruscant had been an adventure. Some good, some bad, but never boring. /It seems the tradition is going to continue,/ he smiled to himself as he settled on to the cold ship floor. His Master -- no, not his Master, but Master Qui-Gon Jinn all the same -- could make almost anything unique. Listening to the comforting sound of the man's familiar, heavy breathing from above him, Obi-Wan sank back into sleep.

He awoke later to a bellow just above his right ear. "OBI-WAN!"

The voice held anxiety and was a definite command to report. One that Obi-Wan had been trained to answer immediately.

"Ma-- OW!" Sitting bolt upright in response to the startling summons, he smacked his head forcefully against the forgotten plasteel bed shelf above him.

"Obi-Wan, are you in here?" Qui-Gon demanded anxiously.

"If you're horizontal, there is no way I could have escaped, Master," Obi-Wan snapped back, too busy trying to get his watering eyes to refocus to bother with tact. "I couldn't have opened the door with you in that bunk."

A surprised sound reached him, and then Qui-Gon's head appeared upside down in his small space, hair trailing toward the floor. "What are you doing down there?"

"Was sleeping," he muttered, rubbing at the forming knot on his forehead.

"I see that, but why there, for Force sake? The floor is hard as rock, and you've got to be freezing. Would you get back up here, please?"

"I'm down here because the bed is too small for one of you, let alone a companion. I thought we'd both be more comfortable this way. Did you know you sleep diagonally?"

He blinked up at the incongruous sight of Qui-Gon peering under the bunk at him, his long hair flowing toward the floor with the insistance of artifical gravity. Obi-Wan tried not to smirk. Instead, he rubbed at his head again and asked the first question that popped into his mind. "Are we there yet?"

Qui-Gon gave an answering snort of laughter before withdrawing. "In fact we are, Padawan. Crawl out of there and lets see if we can escape this knothole, shall we?"

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Sh'ra Jedi! Sh'ra Jedi!"

Qui-Gon turned and crouched in time to intercept the child who streaked past Obi-Wan and Force-leaped to wrap her arms around his neck. She hugged the Master so tightly that Obi-Wan wondered if the older man could breathe.

"You came back!" she shrieked.

Qui-Gon winced as her enthusiasm traveled straight down his spine "I said that I'd return, Vakati."

He hugged the girl close, then settled her on the ground. She grabbed his hand, balancing on her heels and rocking back and forth to become a human pendulum.

"Have you had adventures since you left?" she demanded. "Did you fight nasty draigons or ugly rancors or--"

He smiled down at her and managed to pull her solidly back onto her feet before disengaging his hand from her clutching fingers. "Coruscant was peaceful, and no rancors invaded the Council chambers while I was there."

She eyed Obi-Wan. "Did you get a new Padawan?"

"No, Vakati. No new Padawan for me."

"That's too bad. Da said he really liked the last one a lot. I'd like to meet a Padawan. Hey, I could be your Padawan. While you're here, anyway. Can I be your Padawan today?"

Smiling at the child, he ruffled her bangs and attempted to redirect the awkward conversation. "I believe that your da needs you to be his Padawan today. What did you learn while I was gone?"

"He taught me how to spear a fish. It's really easy if you know how. Are you going upriver again? Do you know how to catch fish? I could show you if you want?"

The child prattled on, reminding Obi-Wan of Anakin. He sighed, not really missing his charge nor welcoming the inrush of memories surrounding that name. Wandering away from Qui-Gon's side, Obi-Wan cleared the ship and glanced around the village where they'd landed.

The stone cottages were half-buried in the earth, with grass roofs drooping over the streets. Drums sounded from somewhere close by, a ceremonial counterpoint to the villagers unloading the ship that had brought the Jedi to them. S'pex, their erstwhile pilot, sat atop a nearby rock and nibbled on something that looked like a gursha root. Obi-Wan wondered if the wrinkled grey thing had aphrodisiacal qualities in this universe as well. He thought of asking, but what if the answer was yes? Where would the conversation go then?

Everywhere Obi-Wan looked, he saw green: green trees, green fern, green grass, and variations thereon. He had seldom been to a place that felt so alive and unsullied. The trees encrouching on the village formed a canopy for the living Force, interrupted only by the meadow in which the freighter had landed. Feeling the soothing touch of the Force, Obi-Wan relaxed just a bit. It was easy to understand why Qui-Gon wanted to return to this place, and it was kind of him to drag his newest pathetic lifeform along with him.

Obi-Wan watched as a second little girl inched her way up to Qui- Gon. The Master wasn't doing anything intimidating, but Obi-Wan supposed that someone that tall could be intimidating all by himself when you didn't even come up to his waist. /I remember being intimidated by him myself, when I was a lot taller./

Tugging on the Jedi's sleeve, she summoned a shy smile and got his attention, and Vakati's as well. Ignoring the scowl the older girl gave her, the child held one of the suspicious roots up to Qui-Gon. Bowing, he murmured his thanks and took the root, but didn't bite into it.

Leaving the Master, the little girl headed solemnly over to Obi-Wan. He, apparently, wasn't nearly as intimidating as the tall Jedi with him, for the child marched right up to him, bowed with a solemnity that would have been worthy of any Temple initiate, and offered him a root. Bowing formally in return, Obi-Wan took the gift, only to have the child break out in giggles, hide her face, and run back the way she'd come. /Perhaps I am intimidating, after all./

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and frowned slightly at the root Obi-Wan was holding. Heeding the warning, Obi-Wan watched Vakati streak after the second girl. Evidently the formal welcoming party had concluded their ceremonies, and Obi-Wan shrugged as he watched them disappear into the cluster of small buildings.

Retrieving their packs, Qui-Gon joined Obi-Wan and handed his to him. "You've been given an aprhodisiacal offering, Obi-Wan. I suggest we leave them for S'pex to enjoy. She seems to be immune to their effect, as are the villagers."

Following Qui-Gon's lead, Obi-Wan tossed the root to S'pex, who caught both easily and gave them an understanding grin.

"Master, do you think she's blessed or cursed in her immunity?" Obi- Wan cast a casual glance up at Qui-Gon.

"Considering there's not a T'wilek for at least sixteen parsecs in all directions, I'd say she's blessed. This way, Padawan," he added with an anxious glance back toward the tiny village. "Quickly, before they invite us to dinner and ask us to stay the entire week."

Heading away from the freighter, the two Jedi made their way down a path through fern and cat-tails to the edge of a river. Stepping onto a rickety-looking dock, Qui-Gon dropped his pack into a waiting skiff, stepped inside, and steadied the boat. Obi-Wan paused long enough to give the watercraft a dubious visual inspection, then glanced back at Qui-Gon. The Master's calm demeanor assured that it was safe, regardless Obi-Wan didn't feel entirely convinced that was so. While Qui-Gon waited, Obi-Wan reluctantly stepped into the small boat.

"We'll head down river and make camp at dusk."

Shrugging out of his cloak, Qui-Gon settled on a hard wooden plank at the back of the skiff, took up an oar, and nodded for Obi-Wan to do the same. Obi-Wan slipped out of his cloak as silently instructed, wondering if it was a precautionary measure should this worn craft decide to dump them both in the water. Another glance at Qui-Gon showed no new signs of anxiety, but instead a pleased anticipation. Shrugging in silent acceptance, Obi-Wan his place at the bow and took up residence on a plank only slightly softer than his bed on the freighter floor. Casting off the moorings, he coiled the rope at his feet and took up his own oar. Qui-Gon was well underway by then, moving into the river and quickly leaving the dock behind.

"I didn't think to ask if you like boats," the Master offered between strokes of the oar. "Or water, for that matter."

"I've only nearly drowned once, Master, so I'm fine with both -- so long as the boat remains on top of the water."

That earned a deep chuckle. "You'll have to tell me the tale around our campfire tonight."

Obi-Wan grinned, well pleased with his efforts to make the Master laugh. He began stroking in rhythm with Qui-Gon, letting the motion of the boat and the Master's powerful presence behind him guide him. After only a few minutes, Obi-Wan found that he could sense what Qui- Gon wanted him to do with the oar, which left his conscious mind free to absorb the details of the river and surrounding rain forest.

The silence was deep here, filling the younger man with a peace he'd not felt in months. The lapping of the water against the skiff, the sunlight through the trees, the gentle splashing of their oars... This became Obi-Wan's world for the next few hours, and the young knight was happy to surrender to it. Closing his eyes, he felt the sun's warmth on his face and enjoyed its caress as they passed beneath trees laden with ivy and heavy vines. Qui-Gon's incredible presence at Obi-Wan's back soothed him. Reaching out with his Force sense, he basked in the older man's aura as much in the warmth of the sun.

"I've decided something," he murmured.

"What's that, Padawan?"

"I like this excursion much better than many missions I've been on. It's a definite improvement over someone trying to kill us."

"Agreed."

A companionable silence fell between them again, amazing in itself since the two men hadn't known each other very long. /But then, what isn't amazing about this universe so far?/ thought Obi-Wan.

"Did others often try to kill you, Obi-Wan?" came the quiet rumble from behind him.

"Often, Master. Jedi in my world are not so well-respected nor so welcomed as they are in yours."

"They won't hurt you here, Obi-Wan." There was a promise in those words, the offer of security beneath them.

Strange creatures watched from shore--chewing placidly on the foliage as they watched the skiff pass, or slithering into the water to follow in their wake. /Taste good lunch?/ Obi-Wan could almost hear the various sharp-fanged waterdraigons ask. One even dared scrape the bottom of the boat, making it rocking gently. Obi-Wan felt a ripple in the Force as Qui-Gon sent the creature on. It departed as requested, but not before rolling an eye back to glare at them as it submerged.

/We brought a tent,/ Obi-Wan remembered, /which means that we'll be sleeping outside with the carnivores. I don't care to be eaten. Does this Qui-Gon prefer first watch or second?/ "Are you certain they won't hurt us here, Master? Do the creatures know that?"

"These creatures are curious more than hungry. The river is teaming with fish, and those that hunt here are well fed."

Obi-Wan couldn't remember when he'd passed a more effortless day. They glided along for long periods of time, with Qui-Gon pointing out that bit of flora or fauna, showing Obi-Wan what plants and berries were safe to eat, and what was best avoided. The list of local creatures with sharp teeth and ill temper was also gone over carefully.

"They're all far less dangerous than rancors," the Master imparted. "Most of the creatures that might try to eat you out here are slow and smelly. This means that you'll know they're about before they're upon you, and all you need to do is to run upwind to avoid them."

"That's comforting," Obi-Wan murmured. "But what if they're already upwind, as they'd have to be for me to smell them?"

"Take the long way around," the Master pointed out sensibly.

Obi-Wan twisted to look back over his shoulder. "You're telling me to run in circles?"

Silence met that question. And then, "Obi-Wan, are you baiting me?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, trying for sincerity and innocence. "If there's a risk that I might be prey to some creature, I want all of the information I can get."

Qui-Gon's narrow-eyed stare told him it wasn't working. "Run in a half-circle, then."

"Thank you, Master."

The sun was sinking low in the trees when Qui-Gon guided the small craft into a tributary. Moments later, they rounded a corner and Obi- Wan's jaw dropped to see the waterfall, the mist, and the rainbow cast by the setting sun.

"Master...."

"Breathtaking, isn't it? This is where I was when Xanatos sent word that you'd arrived."

"I'm sure you didn't take kindly to being interrupted," Obi-Wan commented almost absently. Stretching out a hand, he let the water droplets play on his hand, stared at the prisms of light in their beads. "It's beautiful."

"Yes. It is." A long-fingered hand stole across his shoulder, rested there heavily. "And no, I was not pleased at being dragged away. But the interruption proved to be well worth my time," he added, squeezing the shoulder lightly. "I'm happy to be able to share it with you, Obi-Wan. Shall we make camp?"

They grounded the skiff, with Obi-Wan leaping out onto the grassy shore and pulling it up out of the shallows so that Qui-Gon wouldn't get so much as a boot wet when he stepped out. The Master gave him a quizzical look as if to say, 'What do you think I did when you weren't here?' but accepted the service with a tolerant smile.

As one and in silence, they set about making camp. Retrieving the tent cube, Obi-Wan headed for high ground. Ripping off the wrapper and unwinding the plastring surrounding the cube, he set it carefully in the middle of the space he'd chosen. Stepping safely back, the young man waited and was not disappointed.

"PHWOOMP!" went the cube, exploding with a percussive force that Obi- Wan knew from experience to stay well clear of. Flinging itself hither and yon, it finally settled into a most functional tent. Obi- Wan had learned from his first triggering of such a cube that, if given the opportunity, it would fling other things as well in its effort to establish itself, namely young and unwary Padawan. Having been launched several feet to land embarrassingly on his backside, Obi-Wan had learned an important lesson in less than a heartbeat; stay well clear of opening tents. Qui-Gon's grin at his obvious caution informed him that he wasn't the only Padawan to be so assaulted by sleeping structures.

Joining him, Qui-Gon handed the Jedi a small camp shovel and set to with his own to dig a shallow trench about the tent. If it rained, the runoff would run off rather than under or inside their tent. As Obi-Wan joined him in the effort, he realized that all of their work was being done in silence, as if each man knew what was required and no words were necessary. He remembered working the same way with his former Master, but it hadn't happened until late in his apprenticeship.

/Often, I asked questions just to hear him talk,/ remembered Obi- Wan. /I so loved the sound of his voice. What he said wasn't bad, either, but it was such work to get him to speak./

Obi-Wan knew from past experience that the tent they'd brought was practically indestructable, provided the user anchored it, which Obi- Wan set about doing. Behind him, Qui-Gon discarded his shovel and gathered rocks to form a site for their fire. Larger, naturally placed boulders might serve as seats, but stone was hard, and Obi-Wan had always preferred the ground.

Rummaging through his pack, the Master pulled forth a collapsible stick, nodded once to Obi-Wan, and proceeded to walk the shoreline as if he were looking for something. Opening the tent, Obi-Wan unfolded the compact bedrolls, folded their cloaks into something resembling pillows, and set them at the head. Storing their packs inside the tent, he exited to see that Qui-Gon was still searching the shoreline- -for what, Obi-Wan wasn't quite certain. Every so often, the Master would pause, tilt back his head and hold out his hand, and concentrate on the water.

Climbing a large, flat rock that was imbedded between water and shore, the Master did his reachy-feely thing once more and then nodded, as if satisfied with what he'd sensed. Snapping open the odd stick, he pulled out some thin line, stuck something on the end of it, and cast over his head. A few clicks later, and he was reeling in the line and his first fish, was grinning down at Obi-Wan.

"How did you do that?"

Qui-Gon winked. "Be mindful of the living Force, young Padawan."

Obi-Wan watched the silvery water creature protesting its sudden captivity. "And now that you have it, what are you going to do with it?"

"We're going to eat it," Qui-Gon informed him solemnly.

Obi-Wan stared up at him, waiting for the truth to be told. Qui-Gon offered no further explanation but began removing the water creature from the line. In dawning horror he realized Qui-Gon was sincere about this.

"Master, no," he protested, but Qui-Gon held up the fish, nodding. The fish stared at him balefully, remaining silent on the subject.

Obi-Wan scowled fiercely at the older man before turning away and heading off to look for those berries and things he'd been told were edible. They'd have more to eat for dinner than fish, and this mindful Padawan would provide it. Qui-Gon's laughter rang behind him, warm and beloved in the setting sun.

Qui-Gon caught six fish for dinner, a number which Obi-Wan thought was excessive because he wasn't certain he wanted to eat even one. It would have been rude to have said so, however, and so Obi-Wan kept his silence. Having gathered his berries and large fronds and leaves of something Qui-Gon had again assured him was edible ingredients for a salad, Obi-Wan set a fire, boiled water for tea, and prepared his contributions to the meal while the darkness gathered.

Qui-Gon cleaned his fish at the edge of the water. Obi-Wan was grateful that the big Jedi's back blocked the operation, as the younger man had never enjoyed watching living things being beheaded and gutted. Yes, they were necessary for food. Yes, he knew how to prepare whatever was around for that food. But that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

Coming to the fire, Qui-Gon wrapped his prizes in thick leaves and set them over the flames before claiming the mug of tea Obi-Wan offered. Sitting on his haunches, he waited for his fish to cook.

"You've been watching me all day," Qui-Gon murmured, giving his companion a quizzical look.

"I can't help it. In some ways, feel as though I might wake up at any time and discover none of this--including you--is real."

Qui-Gon offered a crooked smile. "I assure you that I'm quite real. So is dinner."

Obi-Wan eyed the long, rolled up lumps dubiously. "You have a point. I can't remember ever dreaming of fish before."

Retrieving his wilderness salad, Obi-Wan prepared two plates and handed them across to Qui-Gon. A few minutes later, and the Master was removing his fish from the fire. It took a few tenative snatches at the hot leaves, but he finally got a fair grip on one edge and yanked sharply. The leaf unfurled, rolling the fish inside to land in the middle of Obi-Wan's vegetative collection and stare up at him irritably. Its twin was subsequently tossed alongside of it, bearing a similar accusatory expression in its flat eye.

Obi-Wan stood silently and stared back at his meal, so skillfully procured and generously shared by Qui-Gon. This surely surpassed any other unpleasant culinary surprise his Master had ever presented to him.

Before Obi-Wan could decide what to do with his steamed watercreature, a rustling and scrabbling in the bushes informed them of uninvited guests. Obi-Wan sprang to his feet, his hand going to the hilt of his lightsaber as two lizard-scaled, wicked-clawed somethings bounded into the campsite. Cautiously eyeing the fire, they sniffed the air and barked at each other, clearly disturbed by Obi-Wan's defensive stand.

"You're late," Qui-Gon commented, getting to his feet. Reassured, the creatures headed straight for him. Waving their talons, they butted up against his knee and barked again.

"Master?..."

"Think of them as landlords, Obi-Wan. Nothing more, nothing less. They've come to collect their rent."

Stretching tall on their hind legs, they snatched the two raw fish Qui-Gon offered between their sharp-toothed jaws and bounded out of the campsite. Trembling bushes and receding snuffly noises marked their passage,

"Will they return for dessert, Master?"

"Hmmm? No, that should hold them until morning."

"Six fish?..." Obi-Wan ventured, sitting close to the fire and bracing his back against a convenient rock.

"And now there are four. Two for you, and two for me."

Obi-Wan grinned. "You knew they'd come."

"Of course I knew. They've come every night that I've been here." Settling beside Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon again handed him the plate bearing his two fish, which lay limply alongside the cooked berries and leaves.

Obi-Wan stared at the food, then poked at a fishtail with his knife. Flat, shriveled fish eyes stared up at him, unfairly reminding him of Bant, who had been left far away in that other universe. The fish itself looked...displeased and highly critical of him.

"Something wrong, Padawan?"

"Master, forgive me, but I've always had a bit of a problem eating something that's looking at me."

"Well then, give it back."

Obi-Wan willingly handed the plate back to his master, contented for the fish to be in the possession of someone who appreciated them. But before he could rise to seek his store of energy bars, Qui-Gon turned toward the fire. With the plate in one hand and the gutting knife in the other, he whacked off the two offending fish heads. They soared into the fire to land with a splat, sizzling and shriveling on their way to becoming ashes.

Obi-Wan stared at the hissing fishy bits, and then stared up at this man whose resemblance to his deceased Master obviously ended after darkness set in, the man who had clearly been seduced by the barbaric setting into odd behaviors....

"Do you wish me to remove the tails and fins as well?" Qui-Gon asked politely.

"No, Master," Obi-Wan replied thinly, staring dismally at the fire as a smoked, charred fish head turned his way. Mercifully, it had ceased its accusatory stare, but only because its eyes were gone. Suppressing a shudder, Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon. "Is there... anything else to eat on this planet?"

"Very little, Padawan."

"I was afraid of that."

The plate containing now headless fish was waved under his chin, and Obi-Wan politely reclaimed possession of it. Qui-Gon watched the younger man poke at his dinner, peel back the skin and explore for bones. Every so often, Obi-Wan would hesitantly taste the fish itself. Taking pity, Qui-Gon rummaged through his supply belt and handed Obi-Wan one of his energy bars.

"Thank you, Master." Finishing the greens and the berries, Obi-Wan tipped the plate of disassembled fish toward his Master. "Should we save this for our landlords?"

"They prefer their fish uncooked. And more intact than that, I think."

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the humor in that deep voice and tossed into the fire what was left of the fish before unwrapping his energy bar. Savoring what was left of his dinner, Qui-Gon finished eating before furthering the conversation.

"I've been doing some more thinking about your Master," he ventured. "He seems to have greatly disliked having the Council tell him what to do."

Obi-Wan gave a snort and tossed the empty wrapper into the fire.

"I'm right, then?"

"Oh, Force, yes. He listened to the Force, made his own decisions and hated having 'stuffy Tower-dwellers' tell him he was wrong. Especially when they hadn't been on the mission and hadn't known what was actually happening. He was so in tune with the living Force that he responded to the currents as they happened. He hated someone trying to second-guess things later."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I think your Qui-Gon expected them to fall in with his plans regarding Anakin. In his journal, he indicated that he made promises to Anakin's mother based on certain assumptions--a grave mistake all by itself. When the Council thwarted him in fulfilling those promises, he stopped thinking clearly. He stopped considering the ongoing consequences of his actions."

Obi-Wan nodded. "He felt strongly that Anakin was the Chosen One, and that the Force had led us to him. I doubt it occurred to my Master that the Force would allow any other outcome with the Council."

Staring into the fire, Qui-Gon continued. "I think Qui-Gon blamed himself for Xanatos's turning."

"He did, Master. He spoke of Xanatos very little, but he did hold himself responsible."

"From what I read in his files, your Master adored the boy and was totally blind to his faults. And believe me, Xanatos has many," he added with a wry half-smile. "When Xan fell, it brought a new and very unwelcome experience to Qui-Gon's door: public failing. The entire Temple was aware of his humiliation. Peer reactions probably ran the gambit from sympathy to glee that someone of his stature could be so blind. Others may have wondered if the Darkness wasn't within Qui-Gon himself, if he hadn't helped his apprentice fall. Qui- Gon himself may have wondered. And then there was the very personal betrayal by a Padawan whom he truly loved as a son." The Master shook his head. "No one can face that sort of tragedy and not be changed by it."

"I think he was terribly hurt by it," said Obi-Wan. "He swore he'd never take another Padawan after him. And he refused me five different times."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at that.

"I think he took me on only because he was too embarrassed to turn me away again after we'd worked together so well. There were draigons, you see?" he added with a shrug. "He needed help, and I was there."

That earned him a startled look. "Your Master was a very proud man. He was deeply damaged long before he met you. It's not just that he denied you, Padawan; he seems to have denied the entire world. He locked himself in and everyone else out.

"When you came along, he was still refusing to let anyone close, and refusing to be close to anyone. He had made discipline his god." Qui-Gon shifted his attention from the fire, locked gazes with Obi- Wan. "This is the frozen heart you walked into. This is the heart that taught you and molded you, gave you skill and competence, but your Master was incapable of loving you. Not because you were unworthy of his love, or were never good enough to win it, but because he had left being human behind. He didn't dare love you, for fear of letting you fall to the Dark as well."

Spellbound, Obi-Wan listened, watched the play of the firelight over the harsh features of the older man. He'd heard a variation on these words the night before, but now the Force pulsed with the truth of them.

"Your Master was determined not to make the same mistakes again. He was determined never again to be so humiliated, so wrong, so blind, so vulnerable. So hurt. I believe that there was something deeply wrong with him, wounds inside of him that no one could have touched, much less healed. After taking you as a Padawan, I believe he decided, in his pain, that if he did everything differently, the risk of having you fall could be minimized. Ergo, he did not dare show you that he cared. And he did care, Obi-Wan. Very much."

Obi-Wan nodded in a way that answered neither yes nor no, and then tossed a stick into the fire, sending sparks rising in the heat of the flames.

"I knew he cared about me," he answered slowly. "He showed me... in his own way. And I was fortunate to have him as my Master. He only wanted me to be as good as I could be, and he was the best of our Order. I wanted...I wanted to make him proud of me, even if Jedi aren't supposed to feel that way."

"He was proud of you, Obi-Wan. How could he not be?"

"And then he found the Chosen One. He had to train him. It was...was...."

"It was wrong," Qui-Gon reiterated. "Even if Anakin was the Chosen One--which he definitely is not here--it was wrong of your Master to abandon you that way."

"He said I was ready."

"He did, did he?"

"He said I was impetuous and headstrong and had much to learn of the living Force, but that there was little more I could learn from him."

Qui-Gon gave a breath that might have been a laugh. Obi-Wan looked up from the flames to judge, but the older man did not look amused. "I also believe that there was something wrong with your Council. Becoming a Knight in my world is a joyous occasion, not one filled with misery and sorrow and uncertainty."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "There are far too few of us on my world, Master. We haven't the time to cosset Padawans and wait until they feel ready. If one is trained and capable of aiding the Order, then one must do so."

"If you did not feel ready, then you were not ready, and they should not have forced you into it."

"I haven't felt ready for anything that's happened to me since Naboo," he confessed.

"That's understandable," Qui-Gon offered gently.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Obi-Wan considered all the Master had said. He didn't say anything for a very long time, just stared into the fire and sat alone with his thougts. When he did speak, the boldness of his question startled even him.

"Master, would you tell me about your Obi-Wan? How your Obi-Wan died?"

Drawing a deep breath, Qui-Gon busied himself by tossing another log onto the fire and fiddling with its placement for a long time.

Obi-Wan realised that the normally forthright Jedi was evading the question. "I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have asked. Please don't--"

Qui-Gon interrupted the apology with the wave of his hand. "If we discuss your Master, it's only fair that we discuss my Padawan. How could you not have questions." His voice was quiet and sad, but controlled. "My Obi-Wan. He was much like you in many ways, but there are differences also. There was an astonishing self-confidence to my Padawan. A certain arrogance about his abilities, and a belief that he was indestructible."

"Curse of the young," contributed Obi-Wan.

"In part," Qui-Gon agreed. "But it was to such a degree in Obi-Wan that I think it was a flaw in his character. There was a fine line between his brilliance and skill--which were very real--and his attitudes about them, which were not exactly what one would wish to see in a Jedi. I knew of the problem, you see, but didn't correct it in time. I never thought it would lead to his death. I frequently pointed out to him that he needed to have a little humility, but while his words agreed with my admonitions, his attitudes did not."

Qui-Gon gave a regretful smile. "You know that our world is very different from yours. The missions we served and the lessons I imparted did not test my Padawan as you were tested, Obi-Wan. I foolishly thought that humility would come to him as he grew older. He would learn in the field if not with me, after he was knighted. As soon as he had to rely upon his own judgment, once he saw how his attitudes and decisions affected others, he would learn." Qui-Gon shrugged. "No matter how brilliant you are, there's always a bigger fish. I thought my Padawan would find that out as we all do, with a few bumps and bruises to his head or his ego. But I was wrong. He wasn't granted the time."

The Master fell silent then, staring moodily into the flames and obviously reliving scenes that only he could see.

"It was on a mission then?" Obi-Wan asked quietly. "Was it to Gellos?"

"Gellos...." Qui-Gon was silent for so long, Obi-Wan believed that he was not going to answer at all. But finally he sighed deeply. Letting his head fall back, he braced it against the rock and closed his eyes. Went back into the memories and began letting the words flow.

"No," he answered softly. "It was Anoz. We were sent to Anoz and set down in the middle of a tribal war. Both sides wanted nothing more than to annihilate the other. We weren't there to negotiate for peace, which was fortunate because as matters stood it was totally impossible. Our mission was to escort the women and children to a safe place; nothing more and nothing less. Council had warned us to not even try reasoning with these people; a thousand years of hatred could not be dissolved by any words we might speak.

"The women had requested our help as they'd decided to abandon the men to their war. They wanted their children out of conflict, and safe. It was meant to be a simple transport run: pick up the women and children of one warring side, transport them to a safe site, and then collect the other half. It shouldn't have taken a day."

"What went wrong?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Qui-Gon offered a breath of sound that might have been a laugh, had it been less bitter. "Everything. Everything went wrong. First, the women decided that they wanted to leave in one group. To show unity to their idiot warring males, they said. The transport waiting for them on the outskirts of the village was big enough, so that was not a problem. No, the problem started when they wanted to gather with their children in the village's public square."

"Buildings all around, difficult to defend?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Gods, yes," Qui-Gon confirmed, frowning. "And as the women gathered with their children, so did the men."

"Oh, no...."

"Oh, yes. It was revealed that the men did not approve. They came forth to prevent their families from departing. How can you fight a war when there is no one to cook for you? To bandage wounds and tend the injured? To tend other warrior needs?" Qui-Gon's voice rose in anger as he relived the conflict. "And so the men came, creeping toward the edges of the square where the women were gathering. Of course, since the women of both warring sides were there, so were the men of the opposing factions. Suddenly, what was supposed to be a simple, peaceful transport turned into a major armed conflict, with the innocents of both cultures caught in the crossfire."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the images Qui-Gon's words summoned. "Did you get them out, Master?"

"All but three. One woman and her two children were seized from the edge of the group and dragged away. The men of her clan began firing blasters into the opposing group, which began a full-scale battle. I ordered Obi-Wan to lead the women behind the lines and back to the transport, to stay with them and wait for me to join him.

"We exchanged some... harsh words. He wanted to stay with me, to fight with me. I ordered him to see to the mission and to the safety of those we had come to transport. He accepted the responsibility, though he made it clear he thought his skills could be better utilized elsewhere. But he went, leading the women and children behind the lines. I went after the woman who had been abducted.

"By then, the men were so involved in fighting each other that they barely noticed the group fleeing with Obi-Wan. He successfully led them safely to the transport. There was a narrow area before the landing field, and one Jedi could easily hold it. I had no concerns with that -- Obi-Wan was brilliant with a lightsaber. He would protect them, and the task would keep him out of the fighting.

"It took me awhile to reach the captives. The fighting was intense at that point, the men so involved in their war that they noticed nothing but their enemies. I managed to get the woman and her children free of their abductors and the conflict, but skirting the battle lines and reaching the transport was impossible for the moment. The entire village was falling; we had to hide and wait out the battle.

"About an hour after we parted, Obi-Wan comm'd to let me know that they'd arrived safely. I reiterated that he was to stay with the ship and protect them. I'd meet him when I could bring my charges safely through the lines. We'd then complete the mission and return to Coruscant. The connection was open, but Obi-Wan did not acknowledge my orders. I'll never know if he even heard them."

Qui-Gon fell silent at that point, staring into the flames with such pain reflected in his eyes that Obi-Wan ached for him. The younger man knew that the story had ended for the night. Probably forever. He'd not ask again, and Qui-Gon would definitely not bring it up again. Obi-Wan regretted having asked now, seeing how deep his Master's grief was. He was trying to think of some way to apologize about asking when Qui-Gon's low voice startled him.

"Minutes later, I felt the bond between us shatter. There was no question in my mind that he was dead. I felt him die. The battle ended soon after that, and I saw the family safely to their transport. Sent it on its way. I then went looking for Obi-Wan. Tracked back back along the route I thought he'd taken.

"By the time I reached the city, there were so many dead...so many I couldn't identify... Blasters, you see? And falling rubble from the buildings. I began looking for my Padawan's Force signature, then. Doing so was faster. I didn't have to stare into every dead face, or look at all the boots."

Hesitating, Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and then another before trying to continue. There was a distant, almost glassy look in his eyes, and Obi-Wan knew the Master was reliving every bloody, hellish moment, just as Obi-Wan had relived the scene in the meltdown pit on Naboo during the mindsweep. Sighing shakily, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and bowed his head, looked away from the flames and whatever inner vision tormented him.

"I finally found him," he murmured. The search had led me straight back to the village square, and Obi-Wan had been standing where he'd last seen me. He was just outside a doorway, under the building stones. The old structure had come down, destabilized from the blaster fire.

"The stones had crushed him. Crushed his skull." Qui-Gon choked, struggled to continue. "When I got him free of the rubble, he didn't even look like my Obi-Wan any more. But he still felt like him. I knew that he was dead before I found him, but...I think I lost control there. Didn't behave like much of a Master. I just wanted my Padawan to be whole. I tried...tried to push the bones back under the scalp where the broken edges had torn through, but I couldn't. They just grated against one another and shifted around, and blood and brain matter kept leaking out through the breaks."

Raising his head, stared at the fire and into the past. His hands moved in the firelight, and in their gestures Obi-Wan could see the Master's efforts to heal the young boy who'd wanted only to be at his side.

"I kept wiping the blood away, but it kept coming back. And I kept leaving more bloody fingerprints and smears." Tears coursed down Qui- Gon's cheeks, wetting his beard. "The bones were sharp where they'd been broken -- but I guess you know that, don't you." Dark eyes caught and held Obi-Wan's in the firelight.

"Yes, Master," he dared breathe softly. He'd seen far too many battlefields, had experienced too many broken bones himself not to know.

"I cut my fingers trying to push back the bones. I didn't realize it then, but I was leaving my own blood every time I touched him." Qui- Gon stared at his fingertips, glowing red-tinged in the firelight and clearly evoking the memory of other stains. He fisted those fingers, curling them in so tightly that his knuckles shone white against the light of the fire. "Using my hands didn't work. I used the Force to try again, because I wanted the bones back where they belonged. First the bones of his skull, then the smaller bones of his face. Put his eye back where it belonged, instead of dangling down on his cheek."

Qui-Gon gestured again, his fingers remembering along with his soul. Tears welled in Obi-Wan's own eyes, and he shuddered. The images Qui- Gon was evoking were all so real.

"Next, I tried to move the blood out of the tissues where it had pooled. Obi-Wan still felt alive. Pieces of him were still alive. Cells, you know. It takes the cells awhile to die, so while they lived, I tried to heal him." Qui-Gon's eyes were bleak and desperate, holding his companion's. "I got the bones stabilized and fixed the worst of the gashes on his face so that he looked like Obi- Wan again. But then the cells died, and he wouldn't heal anymore and he was just...just...."

"Master...." Obi-Wan whispered, unable to hear any more.

Qui-Gon sagged. His shoulders rounded and he leaned forward, his hands dangling between his knees. "He was just dead. Matter kept leaking out of his ears, and the blood was still everywhere. I can still see it, you know? Smell it. Blaster scores and copper and burned flesh. I just held him, then. I wanted him to be whole. I wanted...."

Qui-Gon choked and broke off again. He breathed deeply, repeatedly, struggling with the sudden surge of grief reawakened with the remembering of this trauma. Sliding down off of his rock, Obi-Wan crept up to Qui-Gon and laid an arm across his back. The big man seemed oblivious to the touch, his muscles rock-hard, but Obi-Wan didn't let go.

"I realized, after a time, that the battle had stopped. It was silent, totally silent. And these men were standing around, had crept up to us, with some hiding in the rubble. Everyone had stopped fighting, had come to stare at my poor Obi-Wan. They hadn't meant to kill him. And really, they hadn't. He didn't die in battle -- not even that glory that he'd have appreciated. He just had a rock fall on his head.

"But still, those men were responsible, and they knew it. And were horrified. They'd never meant to kill a Jedi, and certainly not a boy. He was just a boy, dead in their stupid war that had been going on for so long that no one even knew any longer what they were fighting for."

Qui-Gon fell silent, until Obi-Wan prompted, "What happened next?"

The Master shrugged. "Someone had the courage to send a message to Coruscant to tell them that their Jedi had been killed. 'So sorry, many regrets.' The Council replied that they were sending a special transport, asked if they could get us onto it. It arrived, and the men kept asking me to get up. One tried to take Obi-Wan away from me, but... He changed his mind.

"I don't know how long I stayed there, sitting on the ground and cradling him against me. Some sort of sensibility eventually returned. When he stopped feeling like Obi-Wan, I suppose. I picked him up and carried him through the village, to the ship waiting to take us home. The blasters and weapons were in piles along the way. And the bodies. So many bodies, lined up one next to the other, like some bizarre honor guard of the dead.

The pilot never emerged from his cockpit, never said a word to us. Just flew us back to Coruscant, to the Temple. Xanatos met us there, and when I stepped out of the ship and carried Obi-Wan down the gangway, the first thing I saw on Xan's face was relief. Joy. I'm standing before him with my dead Padawan in my arms, covered in blood and brain matter and spinal fluid and dirt, and Xanatos is relieved.

"I was furious. It turned out that he'd received word that one of the Jedi had died, but he didn't know which one. He had no idea if it was Obi-Wan, or if it was me. I shouldn't have held it against him for being glad that I hadn't died. It's nice to be wanted, occasionally. But I couldn't share his appreciation for that turn of events.

"Obi-Wan was bathed and dressed and placed upon a pyre in one of the meditation gardens. He was released into the Force with proper Temple ceremony, and mourned by his friends, and no one has ever said a word to me about it. Not a word."

Qui-Gon fell silent again. Obi-Wan settled to the ground beside him, sitting in the accustomed position at his knee -- close enough to touch, but not so intrusive as to crowd him in his grief. Reaching out, he touched one of the large memory-stained hands, trying to pull Qui-Gon back into speaking.

"Words about what, Master? Regrets or sorrow for his death?"

"No, there were many who offered condolences. I mean about my getting him killed." Qui-Gon dragged the sleeve of his tunic across his eyes, wiped away tears that just kept coming.

"Master..." For a moment, Obi-Wan was speechless, uncertain how to help heal this raw grief. "Master, you didn't let him get killed. This was not your fault."

"At least his death wasn't meaningless." Qui-Gon's voice was raw. "He ended the war, you know? Generations, that thing had gone on, their senseless fighting back and forth. Both sides just put down their weapons and never picked them up again after my Padwan died. Perhaps they saw their own sons' future in his broken body. Perhaps they were deeply upset to have killed a Jedi. I don't know. Really, I don't care. I'm glad that someone benefitted, but it certainly wasn't Obi-Wan. Or me."

Tears coursed from beneath the Master's closed lids. "I tried to keep him safe. If I'd let him stay with me as he asked, he would have survived."

"You sent him off to be safe, didn't you?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

A smothered sob. A nod.

"It's not your fault he died," Obi-Wan murmured. "You didn't fail him, Master. He failed you. He failed to obey you."

"I can't know that. I don't know that he heard me. He only wanted to help me. He was concerned for me, out in the fighting alone. It was my responsibility to keep him safe, and I let him be killed."

"Master, he disobeyed you," Obi-Wan repeated, twisting to look up into his face, trying to meet his gaze. "He deliberately disobeyed you."

"You can't know that. I can't be sure of that." Qui-Gon's voice held an edge of anger, as the new Obi-Wan insulted the memory of the old.

"I can." Obi-Wan's voice was so calm, so matter-of-fact, that Qui- Gon opened his eyes, swiped away the tears threatening to blind him, and stared at the younger man.

"I know, because I was like that," he said quietly, deliberately. "I was very much like him, and I can tell you exactly why he didn't listen to you. He wanted to be part of the action, and he wanted to protect his Master. He felt that he belonged nowhere else but at your side, and he didn't want to be sent off with the women and children. "

"Obi-Wan, you can't say that--"

"I can say it, because it's true. We are aspects of each other, remember? I did the same damn thing on Gellos! I nearly died there, through my own stupidity and willfulness. 'He is reckless and headstrong,' my own Master told the Council. Doesn't that describe your Obi-Wan? My Master chose those words for me because he felt they suited me, and he was right. Especially that day on Gellos, when I did almost the same thing your Obi-Wan did. Luckily, my Master was there, and he managed to knock me aside. If he hadn't, I would have died then.

"I was lucky. I learned many things that day. I learned that I wasn't immortal, and I learned to obey orders without question. I also learned just how angry my Master could become with me," he added with a rueful half-smile. "But I had to learn that lesson, just as your Obi-Wan did. If there are multiple Obi-Wans in multiple dimensions, then every Obi-Wan must learn it. Yours just... didn't get the chance to utilize the lesson afterward. But his death had nothing to do with your efforts as his Master."

He had Qui-Gon's attention now; the pain the big man felt was still overwhelming, but he was definitely focused on Obi-Wan's words. Resting a hand on Qui-Gon's knee, he continued.

"Your Padawan saw the women and children to safety, and then he headed back into the battle. He heard your order; he just didn't want to obey. He'd survived skirmishes before; why should this one be any different than the others? He thought that he was good enough, strong enough, Jedi enough to come back and help you. He was impatient and impetuous, and he wasn't going to miss anything. He felt that he belonged at your side, not baby-sitting the innocents, and he ignored your explicit orders to stay where it was safe. He chose to do this.

"You loved your Padawan, while my Master refused to love me. Or at least to show it," Obi-Wan added, acknowledging their earlier discussion. "So no matter what relationship you have with an Obi- Wan, he still has to learn this particular lesson for himself." The younger man shook his head and softly concluded, "I'm sorry, Master, but it was his lesson to learn, not yours."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment, staring alternately at the fire and then down at Obi-Wan, who stayed patiently at his side. "What you say makes sense," he finally admitted, "but, as I'm sure you can imagine, it still hurts."

Giving a small smile, Obi-Wan tightened his fingers on Qui-Gon's knee. "Losses hurt," he said. "Their dying hurts. We loved them, and we loved being with them. How can their being gone not hurt?"

Qui-Gon studied him intently in the flickering firelight. "You truly are what he could have been, had he been more disciplined, not as arrogant nor self-confident, and definitely not so cocky. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter what lessons I offered, my Padawan never had enough self-discipline. Had he lived, I'd like to think that he would have changed, but perhaps not."

Obi-Wan nodded. "While, in another univerrse, I tried endlessly to please a master who could not tell me he was pleased with me." Tiredness had replaced tears in Qui-Gon's eyes, at least for now. Obi-Wan could feel his emotional and mental exhaustion. "It's time for sleep, Master."

Rising to his feet, Obi-Wan dared to give the older man a quick hug before turning to douse the fire. While he tended that chore, Qui- Gon rose stiffly and made his way alone through the shadows and into their tent. By the time Obi-Wan joined him inside, the older man was curled stiffly, silently in his bedroll.

Undressing in the darkness, Obi-Wan felt shaken by Qui-Gon's grief. He'd never seen his own Master so stricken. Used to coping only with his own sorrows, the younger man was suddenly on the startling, helpless end of trying to comfort for a grief that could not be eased.

/He misses his Padawan as I do my Master,/ came the quiet realization. /I had no idea that he carried such pain./ Climbing into his own bedroll, Obi-Wan lay on his side, his own back to that of his companion. /I've certainly destroyed the joy of this sabbatical tonight. Will his unhappiness last through tomorrow? What can I do to help him?/

The darkness was filled with grief; the ache of the loss of Qui-Gon on Naboo, the death of the Padawan in a senseless war. Obi-Wan listened in the darkness and heard the ragged breathing of the man next to him.

/He did love his Padawan, that much is very clear. I hope Obi-Wan knew how lucky he was. I'd have given anything for just a moment of that from my Master. I wish I could help, but there's nothing for grief but to live through it. Or live around it./ Sighing, he rolled over to see Qui-Gon's broad back outlined in the partial light from the rising moon. /I'm so sorry, Master./

"Master," he whispered into the darkness, dared to reach out and rest his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "You asked how you could help me, and I asked you not to die. Would it help if I promised you that I will try not to die, either? And I won't disobey you."

The silence continued for a long moment, and Obi-Wan almost didn't hear the whispered reply in the darkness.

"It helps, having you here. Coming to know you. Seeing that you are what he could have been. The Force seems to be giving both of us a second chance."

"For which I am deeply grateful, my Master. It is such a gift to be allowed to spend time with you."

"I think that you are everything I dreamed he'd become," Qui-Gon said softly, half-turning, "but I am realistic enough to know that he probably wouldn't have. Couldn't have."

Obi-Wan squeezed the shoulder beneath his fingers. "We grew up in very different worlds. I can't help but feel that your world is the wiser, kinder one. Perhaps your Padawan didn't need to be what I am."

One hand reached up to cover his. "In truth, Obi-Wan, you are to be preferred."

With that, both were contented to let the silence stand between them while they shared the grief of loss and the comfort of each other's their presence that night. Obi-Wan's hand still rested on Qui-Gon's shoulder as both men drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Obi-Wan awoke slowly in the warm light, reluctant to open his eyes and face the day after the events of the evening before. Last night had been... had been painful. Painful to hear, yes, but far more painful to tell. Had he known how much it would cost Qui-Gon to answer, he never would have asked the question. But ask he had, and Qui-Gon had answered and suffered for it. From the revealed depths of the emotions, Obi-Wan had no doubt that what he'd heard was the Master's private version of the events; it was likely that no one else, not even the Council or Xan, knew the details that had been shared with Obi-Wan in the firelight.

/Now what?/ Obi-Wan wondered. /Now that I know his pain, have been made privy to his feelings of guilt... what happens next?/

Sighing, he scrubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes. Daring to squint at his surroundings, he tried to gauge the mood of the day before making some even greater error.

The sun shone through the tent, casting leaf-shaped shadows against the covering. Light spilled in through the side opening, illuminating the tiny shelter. And his companion.

Regardless Obi-Wan's time sense told him that it was late morning, the large lump beside him that was Qui-Gon did not stir. That alone was a bad sign, as Obi-Wan knew all too well that the Master was an early riser.

/He could merely be tired,/ he chided himself. /Small wonder he'd sleep late, once he finally got to sleep. Last night was very hard all around./ Obi-Wan's own recent reliving of traumatic events, courtesy of the Council's mindsweep, had provided a vivid reminder of how exhausting such emotions could be.

/Let the Master rest as long as he will,/ he decided instantly. /I'll just stay here, won't risk disturbing him./

Daring to crack open one eye, he saw that Qui-Gon had rolled over sometime in the night and was now facing him. The craggy features were relaxed in sleep, the lines around his eyes and across his forehead a bit finer than usual. His hair lay tangled across the cloak serving as a pillow, and his hair-tie had come half undone in the night.

/Like our new-found friendship, probably,/ Obi-Wan thought wryly. /One little question, and I muck things up. It figures./

A large hand lay out-flung and inches away from Obi-Wan's nose. Palm up, its fingers twitched in the sunlight, muscles bleeding off excess energy before its owner awoke. Thick callouses graced that hand. Obi-Wan knew their source, as his own hands carried the same collection, though not yet as thick.

/It looks like he knows how to use a lightsaber,/ Obi-Wan reflected. /I know it's a lot more peaceful here, though. Is this all the results of training and sparring, or is he as fierce in combat as my Master is? ...was.../

Memory returned like a solid blow, and his own pain settled into its familiar place within him. His Master was lost in the Force, and this one was probably now lost to him as well. /He didn't want me to fight beside him in the world we knew, and now I won't even get a chance to spar with him in this one./

Reaching forward, he dared to touch one fingertip, felt the familiar ridge of callous that had formed where Qui-Gon's forefinger rubbed against the upper guard of his lightsaber.

/After the agonised emotional bones I dug up last night, he'll probably want me out of his life and far away as soon as we get back to Coruscant. What would he have taught me, had things between us been different? Would I have been able to show him anything new?/

The long, thick fingers were familiar, but there were other marks on them, marks unfamiliar and mystifying to Obi-Wan. Raising up on one elbow, he leaned over and peered closely at them. Thin white lines crossed and recrossed the pads of Qui-Gon's fingers, fine and probably faded to all but the bright morning light.

/Scars?/ he pondered. /Oh, Force, they're scars./ A chill ran down Obi-Wan's spine as he remembered the conversation from the night before. /...He spoke of sharp, broken bones that he tried to piece back together with his bare hands.../

Hissing an empathic breath of pain through his teeth, Obi-Wan imagined what those cuts must have felt like, once Qui-Gon had become aware of them. On impulse, the younger man gently touched the pads of his own fingers to each one, traced them with sadness and regret.

/I wish I could make them disappear. I wish I could wipe away all of his pain. He said that having me here makes it easier, but I really can't believe that. I certainly didn't make anything easier last night by poking at old wounds./

Sighing, Obi-Wan placed his hand over Qui-Gon's for a brave moment, covering the scars and feeling the Master's warmth against his own skin. /I knew that the Force wouldn't let me stay with him very long, but I didn't realize that I would be the one to make him want me out of his life. I guess we all have talents. Mine must be to alienate my masters./

Immobility combined with pain and guilt proved too difficult for Obi-Wan to maintain this morning. Giving a final caress of a warm finger pad, he rolled over and out of the bed roll. Gathering his robes, he crept quietly from the tent, planning to collect water for tea and start the fire for breakfast.

Once at the water's edge and peering down at his reflection, Obi-Wan realized that the night had taken its toll on him, as well; his reflection looked just as weary and grubby as he felt. Being a clean Padawan as well as an efficient and attentive Padawan seemed a good plan this morning. Anything that might add to the positive column of today's reckoning seemed a good plan.

Shedding his robes, he waded into the water to take an abbreviated bath in the lake. Once immersed, he found it to be much colder than anticipated, and his thoughts toward cleanliness became very abbreviated indeed. A few quick splashes, a hasty sluice through the hair while he shivered, and he felt quite clean enough. Furthermore, the lake was occupied by any number of aquatic creatures that gathered curiously about him and nibbled at his skin while he make half-hearted scrubbing efforts. Eyeing the gathering fish, Obi-Wan was unsure if it was curiosity, food, or revenge motivating their actions. Swirling water at them with his hands seemed only to encourage more to join in the staring.

Sending soothing thoughts to his audience, Obi-Wan backed slowly out of the river toward the relative security of land and clothing. He eagerly shrugged back into the relative warmth of his robes, glad to abandon the chill water as well as its occupants and ignoring the fact that he'd dampened his clothing.

/So much for Padawan virtue in appearance,/ he decided, shivering again as his hair dripped water down his neck. /Usefulness is always preferable, anyway./

Snagging a few branches, he dumped them into the ring of stones and lit a fire. A quick return to the lakeshore for the forgotten cooking pan, a snatch at the Master's stores of tea, and Obi-Wan quickly set the pan over the flames. His next thought was for breakfast, preferably of a non-fishy origin. Not that there weren't fish to be had, but they seemed to have pegged Obi-Wan as the source of the disappearance of their relatives, and it seemed ill-advised to advertise the crime. If Qui-Gon wanted fish, he could work it out with the neighbors and deal with the consequences come bath-time. For now, Obi-Wan would find something else to sacrifice.

Haste precluded trekking about in the forest looking for vegetation volunteers. No, the only immediate source of sustenance would be that which the Jedi had brought with them. Namely, energy bars. Again. A bit of hot tea water, a few bars and some vigorous mashing, and Obi-Wan discovered that they showed no likelihood of dissolving any time during this sabbatical. Still, it offered a basis for something hot. And edible. /Mostly./ And it wouldn't poison them. Beyond that, Obi-Wan could offer no assurances. Adding a few nuts from his stash collected the day before, he eyed it dubiously, hoping his creation was accepptable.

Taking the tea from the fire, Obi-Wan was in the process of filling the mugs when a disturbance in the Force made him drop the pan and whirl, lightsaber instantly in hand.

Something was crashing through the woods toward him at high speed. It wasn't small, and it made no effort to hide its approach.

/Carnivore,/ Obi-Wan's mind supplied helpfully. /Large and fearless. But the Master told me specifically that we aren't in danger on this planet--/

No matter. The beast was nearly on him, and there was no time to warn his sleeping Master. There was barely time for Obi-Wan to check his footing and drop into a defensive crouch, lightsaber steady in his hand and blade activated, before the creature barrelled out of the woods.

Jedi reflexes prevented Obi-Wan from beheading the blue Twi'lek, but just barely. He aborted his strike and tipped the blade up just before she ran full into him. Her weight knocked him back so that both of them landed uncomfortably close to the fire--and she uncomfortably close to him. Her arms wound tightly around his neck while she continued scrambling for a hold as though wanting to climb into his own skin and stay there forever. It was not a comfortable state of affairs with a fire at his elbow, rocks underneath him and a very solid, rather heavy and rather bare female quivering on top of him. Loudly.

"Sh'ra Jedi! Sh'ra Jedi!" she shrieked, her skin faded to pale blue, her eyes dark and huge in her terror.

"S'pex?" he croaked, wincing as her screams assaulted his eardrums. Having never held a mostly-naked Twi'lek, he wasn't certain where to put his hands, but expedience won out over discretion, and he settled for pushing solidly at her shoulders.

She rocked back, landing seated in the dirt, trembling violently and wailing shrilly. She was babbling so fast in her native language that Obi-Wan couldn't catch a word, was alternately burying her face in her hands and reaching out to grab at him.

Reassurance was nearly as difficult a choice for the Jedi as extrication had been. Hesitantly, he settled for patting her shoulder, which was safely covered with the there-but-not-there krylon mesh her race favored as apparel.

"It's all right. Slow down."

Deciding the first order of business was to try conducting the conversation from a more upright position, Obi-Wan climbed to his feet. Reaching down, he spanned her narrow waist with his hands and used a bit of the Force to stand her upright.

Whirling to confront him once she had her balance, S'pex refused to slow down her panicked monologue. Her tentacles - head lekku - quivered as she danced from foot to foot and reached for him again, all but wringing her hands when he stepped back. Yes, her culture demanded that she touch to communicate, but Obi-Wan just couldn't concentrate when she was that close.

A deep voice spoke from behind Obi-Wan, and his Master's presence was like a sudden, soothing wave at his back. "If you began at the beginning, S'pex, we might have more of an opportunity of understanding precisely what's wrong."

Obi-Wan turned in time to see Qui-Gon -- no, Master Jinn -- straighten and fold his arms as he exited the tent. The regal epitome of a Jedi Master, he had not a hair out of place and might have been ready to address the Council or Senate itself. Serenity cloaked the huge Jedi like a shield, reaching out to reassure Obi-Wan, regardless its target was the Twi'lek. Going to her, Qui-Gon laid one hand on her shoulder, the other across her forehead.

"Deep breaths, little one, and try to relax. Then tell us why you are here."

Obi-Wan stared at the older man, feeling him influence their visitor's emotions, send calm and grounding through the Force to dissolve her immediate panic. Last night might not ever have happened, so distant was the vulnerability the Jedi Master had shown.

/How can he do that? And could he teach me to do it?/ Obi-Wan wondered.

"Pirates!" S'pex eventually managed to gasp after Qui-Gon had led her to a rock, knelt beside her, and waited out her hyperventalating. "Tried to board when I broke planet." She grabbed Qui-Gon's hands. "Not going back with them!" she hissed. "Not! Never again, slave! You promised!"

"I did, indeed. Never again will you be a slave," came the low reply. "We will make sure of that. Now, little one... Are they interested in your cargo, or only in your ship and yourself?"

She fell silent at that question, flushing a bright blue. Dropping his hands, she stared at her lap.

"Gursha," she said, offering no further explanation.

Creeping up on the other side of S'pex, Obi-Wan looked from the shivering Twi'lek to Qui-Gon and hoped for clarification.

"She's transporting gursha root for sale on the black market," Qui-Gon filled in quietly.

"But that's illegal." Obi-Wan frowned. "I mean, the aphrodisiac is legal on the regulated market if you have a prescription, but if you don't--"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "If you don't, you don't. Some try to obtain it through other avenues. Trade regulations, however, are not our concern." Rising to his feet, he brushed a hand over their young pilot's head lekku. "Our concern is seeing S'pex safely home."

Qui-Gon turned away, but S'pex's gaze followed him as though her world depended on him which, Obi-Wan realized, it now did.

"Surely the pirates tracked her down here," Obi-Wan ventured. "Her arrival was not planned with stealth in mind. Will they extend their efforts at acquisition to the village that supplied her?"

"Doubtful. Their objective is to board and steal both ship and cargo. It's not in their best interests to destroy their source. We will deal with this."

With that, Qui-Gon shifted his stance. Drawing himself up, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his head. While those blue eyes didn't harden, they did meet Obi-Wan's gaze with a look that was achingly familiar to the younger man. In a matter of seconds, this Master became the Qui-Gon Jinn that Obi-Wan had known. The Force thrummed with the power of a Jedi surrendering himself to its will and its direction. This had been the constant, heavy signature of the man who had claimed Obi-Wan as apprentice, had mentored and molded him. This was the man he'd fought beside, come to love deeply, and held as he had died.

/Two sides of the same dactare,/ Obi-Wan realized. /He's just gone into Master mode because there's a job to do. Sabbatical is over; he's a Jedi with a mission, and I'm going with him./

Shifting his own focus within the Force, Obi-Wan reached for the nexus of communication he knew would be there--reached for immediate connection with this man. The Force and Qui-Gon himself yielded willingly to his prodding, and Obi-Wan himself stepped easily, willingly back into the oneness that had died on Naboo. Tendrils of energy sparked from Master to Knight and back again, joining them in purpose for the mission at hand.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master."

They moved as one, in silence, to break camp. Bedrolls were folded, the tent was slammed via the Force back into its transdimensional cubing. Tossing the cube into his pack, Obi-Wan doused the fire, leaving breakfast and tea abandoned beside the ring of stones--the scavengers were welcome to it. Qui-Gon pointed at the skiff, sending it skittering across the water toward him and up onto dry land. A twist of his wrist, and it flipped itself over, secured until someone claimed it later. Shrugging into his cloak, Obi-Wan shouldered his pack and handed Qui-Gon his. As quickly as that, and they were ready to be on their way, with S'pex nervously leading the way into the woods.

"How did she know where to find you?"

"I've an open comm connection with her," Qui-Gon explained, moving swiftly to keep up and urging Obi-Wan to do so as well. "She was to return for us in a few days; I wanted to be sure we knew when she arrived."

Obi-Wan nodded in response to that logic. "Yes, Master. A very effective solution. I definitely knew when she'd arrived."

They reached the Twi'lek's freighter in only a few minutes, with neither the Jedi nor S'pex breaking stride as the gangway lowered at some silent command of its owner. Once aboard, they headed for the cockpit, with Qui-Gon halting at the archway to bow S'pex inside. The formal honor did little to settle her, but it did quirk a smile from Obi-Wan: Master Jinn was indeed firmly in control.

Shying past his bow to skitter within the command center, S'Pex flung herself into the pilot's seat, all but whimpering in her nervousness as her hands began flicking buttons, their dance over the console very much at odds with the rest of the trembling Twi'lek.

/She could miss something easily,/ thought Obi-Wan, taking up residence beside Qui-Gon and peering into the small cockpit as best he could. /She's not a pilot fit for the job just now./

Stepping inside the small space, Qui-Gon bent over the slender creature, stroked her forehead once more to send a calming and comforting her as though she was once again the child he'd rescued from slavers. Obi-Wan raised his shields slightly, not wanting to absorb the projection; he needed to be alert and totally attuned to Qui-Gon and the Force, not relaxed along with S'pex.

Fitting himself carefully between the pilot's seat and the controls, Qui-Gon maneuvered his bulk until he was able to bend down and whisper into the sense node serving as the Twi'lek's ear.

"Your world is this ship," he ordered, still stroking her forehead. "Only your ship. Your job is to fly her, and worry after nothing else."

A few seconds later, and a healthier blue flooded the Twi'lek's skin. Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction.

"There's a good girl," he murmured, his beard all but brushing the side of her face. "You're doing just fine."

Straightening, he squeezed out of the narrow space and beckoned to Obi-Wan. "Fly with her."

/Good plan. She could freeze or break under pressure up there, and we can't afford that. I don't think she's focused enough to be safe at those controls./

Stepping forward, Obi-Wan found himself fetched up against the tall Jedi's barrel chest. Hard muscle met hard muscle, they breathed the same air for a moment, and then Obi-Wan was squeezing past Qui-Gon, was climbing into the co-pilot's chair, to begin ascertaining what control did what.

"Master, hasn't she any laser cannon?"

"Her defense has been her speed." Leaning against the back of the chair, Qui-Gon laced his fingers together as S'pex hesitated, then muttered to herself and restarted her flight check.

"She fast," the Twi'lek offered, not looking up. "Always already in hyperspace before pirates get so much as single whiff."

"Not this time," Obi-Wan muttered.

S'pex wrinkled her nose and growled at Obi-Wan's percieved insult. "Not my fault. There before I cleared atmosphere. No room to run."

"The friction alone during transition would have dissolved the outer hull," Qui-Gon agreed.

"Ship is sound," S'Pex snapped at her rescuer, sounding even more peeved. "Fortuna is good ship. I fly her well."

Obi-Wan glanced behind him as S'pex guided the ship up out of the canopy of trees. His Master's huge hands were level with Obi-Wan's temple, were settled on the headrest as though the three occupants were taking only a slow drive in an air car down a Coruscant lane. Tranquility bled through the superficial bond the two Jedi had established.

The ship's engines thrummed. The stratosphere was gained quickly, with clouds misting visual capacity. Reaching inward as his instincts and the Force warned him that a confrontation was coming, Obi-Wan felt adrenalin flood him. A few seconds more, and the freighter was outside the planet's atmosphere, free of Parthas's gravity and entering real space.

Obi-Wan's fingers danced across the controls, letting S'pex worry about the calculations for the jump to hyperspace. Her head was bowed over the navicomputer, trusting Obi-Wan to fly as she worked, so that she didn't see the scarred Corellian ship that loomed up on them from below and far too close for comfort.

/Away from here is a good plan,/ Obi-Wan thought. /We may wallow like skreeth in mud in subspace, but there's no need to make it too easy for them./ He forced the ship into a steep climb that made Qui-Gon tighten his grip on the chair and access the Force to keep his balance.

Hissing, S'pex clutched the arms of her chair, her eyes wide with fear, and her blue nails biting deep into the cushions. "You be kind my ship! She not fly for you!"

"I'm sorry. I'll apologise to your ship once we're clear of the company on our flank," Obi-Wan replied in as civil a tone as he could manage through years of combat experience before throwing the ship into a sharp vertical turn that made the engines scream as they tried outrunning the bigger ship. Qui-Gon's hands clenched on the back of his seat, and he thought he heard the breath of a laugh from behind him.

The rear shields rocked when the Corellian fired across the stern, making Obi-Wan strengthen the deflectors, regardless it was probably in vain.

Another outraged howl followed from the Twi'lek, but Obi-Wan trusted she was too busy to try to wrest control away from him. /She's going to be worthless in only a few minutes,/ he had time to think before starting to redirect the ship again.

"All stop," ordered Qui-Gon, as calmly as he might ask for another cup of tea.

Obi-Wan ignored S'pex's gnashing her teeth and reached to execute the order even as part of him wondered if he would have succeeded in outrunning them, had Qui-Gon given him just a bit longer.

"All stop, Master." His tone was as calm as the older man's, regardless it was far from what he felt. Taking his hands from the controls, Obi-Wan waited as the freighter drifted in an eerie silence, her engines shut down entirely.

S'pex looked from one Jedi to the other. "Stop? Not stop here! They board us!"

Qui-Gon nodded. "They will."

"I'm not going with them!" she shrieked, her fingers working frantically to release the safety harness and trying to scramble out of the chair.

Leaning down, Qui-Gon restrained her with only a hand on her shoulder. "Do you trust us?"

Her dark eyes flickered up at the tall Jedi. She hissed. "I not trust them."

"You came seeking our help," Obi-Wan pointed out calmly, one eye on the space outside the ship. /How will they strike? Where will they strike?/ "You must trust us. Master Qui-Gon, at least."

"And if you don't," the Master commented softly, "where is there to run right now that they will not find you?"

"Fortuna run before you gave her to them. Now trapped, and they coming." Giving a low moan, she slunk back down in the pilot's chair and glowered at Obi-Wan as though it was his fault she was in this predicament. Giving a deep sigh, she finally nodded, head-tails bouncing against her seat. "I trust you."

Obi-Wan had no illusions she was talking to him.

Qui-Gon nodded satisfaction. "Rear view, if you please, Padawan?"

He flicked the necessary control. There she was... the Corellian behemoth, with a smaller ship already underway, some distance from her.

"They come for us," S'pex observed in a voice filled with gloom.

"Indeed," Qui-Gon observed mildly. "You will stay in this cockpit no matter what happens, S'pex."

"Stay here? Nowhere to hide--"

"You will stay in this cockpit, and leave the rest to us. Do you understand?"

A sullen nod.

"S'pex?" he prodded.

"I stay. We dead already. What it matter where."

An amused smile ghosted across Qui-Gon's face, gone before Obi-Wan was even certain that he'd seen it. Then he turned to his P Padawan. "Obi-Wan."

It was only his name, but no more was needed. Leaping from the seat, he followed in Qui-Gon's wake as the Master left the cockpit, leaving S'Pex wailing and crooning to her ship.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Once clear of the narrow doorway, the Master turned and gestured the door closed with a flick of the Force. Activating his lightsaber, he plunged the blade into the locking mechanism, melting it and destroying its ability to open.

"They won't reach the ship's controls so easily now," he said quietly.

/He's also bought S'pex a bit of time in case we're delayed... or worse,/ thought Obi-Wan. "It will take no little work to get back in there without a lightsaber."

A screech sounded from behind the door heralded S'Pex realization of what the Master had done. The next moment, she was in full cry, followed by forceful pounding against the now useless hatch. Wincing, Obi-Wan observed, "I don't think she appreciates your efforts to protect her, Master."

"If you keep making that noise, they'll find you twice as fast," Qui-Gon called through the metal. The increase in volume made clear what she thought of his opinions and plans.

Another Force gesture, and a blast shield slammed obediently down across the door. S'pex's cries were effectively silenced.

"Special installation for just such an occasion." The Master touched the heavy thing as if in benediction. "Keep her safe until we return," he murmured, as if cold, unfeeling metal could be asked for favours.

"She'll be safe as long as we are, Master."

"Best we stay safe, then."

Giving a nod, Qui-Gon strode past Obi-Wan, who fell in behind him in the narrow corridor. His own hand went to the hilt of his saber. This was where he belonged, where he felt at ease. What he thought he had probably been born to do; to guard this man's flank.

"There are two ways onto this ship; the gangway we used, and the emergency airlock." Qui-Gon gestured as the airlock in question came into view, a good twenty meters down the hallway. "They'll access the lock first as it's faster. Depending on how many of them there are, they may use both."

"Shall I guard the gangway?" Obi-Wan asked, more than ready to accept the familiar challenge of combat.

"No." Stopping in the middle of the corridor and still some feet away from the airlock, Qui-Gon reached overhead to yank open the grill guarding a maintenance shaft. Turning back toward Obi-Wan, he swept an arm elegantly toward the small opening. "After you."

Giving a grim smile, Obi-Wan crouched and dove for the shaft. His boots scrambled for purchase on the slick walls as he sought to defy artificial gravity. Suddenly finding solid purchase, he realized that Qui-Gon was supporting him from below. Tendrils of the Force swirled around him, summoned by the tall Jedi as easily as he breathed. Bracing his boots on either side of the shaft, Obi-Wan reached for an overhead support and lifted himself further into the shaft to make room for Qui-Gon.

Leaping after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon settled at the base of the shaft, raised his hand and watched as the grill obeyed his command, closing with a quiet click.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan listened for the first grinding and thunks against the outer hull. He hadn't long to wait as the pirate ship docked against the freighter, the impact of the smaller ship sending an unnatural shuddering jolt through the Fortuna. There was much banging and sounds of violence being visited upon the beseiged ship's hull, and Obi-Wan winced at the damage he knew was being done to S'Pex darling. Obi-Wan checked his position once more before settling his lightsaber firmly in his hand.

The airlock blasted back, sailing beneath their small space overhead to hit the bulkhead with a thud that made Obi-Wan's teeth vibrate. Glancing down past Qui-Gon's shoulder, he watched the motley crew troop past their hiding place. They weren't much to look at, if the vertical glimpse he got was anything to judge by. Obi-Wan got a sense of body armor, dreadlocks, and gutteral mutterings in Corellian.

He counted four raiders in all before Qui-Gon inhaled and gathered himself. Obi-Wan caught the warning of movement just before the Master smashed feet first through the grill. Landing as lightly as a M'rew, Qui-Gon lunged forward, lightsaber ablaze, clearing a space for Obi-Wan. The younger man followed, landing neatly at the Master's side.

Whirling at the sound of the lightsaber's thrumming, the pirates stared wide-eyed at the unexpected sight of two Jedi poised for battle. Self-preservation took over after a heartbeat, and two of the boarding party dove for cover while the remaining two hunkered down in the middle of the corridor, their blasters blazing.

Deflecting the fire easily, Qui-Gon ordered, "Stay behind me!"

/Not bloody likely,/ Obi-Wan thought, /I'm no first-year Padawan who needs protecting from a couple of blasters./ He finished the thought only to grimace as he remembered that he'd promised to obey this man's orders. /Figures... First fight out of the bag and he's trying to protect me. Predictable, but...not necessary. And not fair!"

Blaster fire scorched the floor beside Qui-Gon as Obi-Wan followed at the Master's back. Taking up position in the centre of the corridor, Qui-Gon effectively blocked his companion from taking any real action in the fight. Time seemed to slow as it always did in battle for Obi-Wan. His vision was more acute, his perception and anticipation of his opponent's moves was clear. However, it was hard to even see the fighting as Qui-Gon's broad shoulders effectively blocked any view of their opponents' actions. Obi-Wan was helpless in the narrow space to do anything but wait and wave his lightsaber about uselessly behind Qui-Gon, guarding his back from nothing in particular as the Master plunged into the fray.

Qui-Gon didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to engage the invaders. His style of fighting was almost leisurely compared to the Qui-Gon he was accustomed to fighting beside. This Qui-Gon seemed content to deflect blaster fire, as though waiting for the exact bolt to come along before taking offensive action. One pirate was down and writhing in pain as he clutched his shoulder where Qui-Gon had sent a deflected energy beam to penetrate the vulnerable point where the armor joined. Patiently, the Master returned fire, his broad back guarding Obi-Wan, who felt a frantic panic rising within him as he was helpless to do anything but watch. Again.

It was all too much the same scene as in the melting pit on Naboo. The Master's long hair flew behind him, his long limbs drove his opponents further down the hall, he deflected endless fire and worked to wound the remaining three opponents. Two were down now; the second would never get up again. They passed the first fallen intruder, and Obi-Wan, grateful to be able to do something useful to protect his Master, summoned the Force, caught the man's mind in a solid grip and pushed. He fell back, unconscious on the cold, hard floor, would remain so until Obi-Wan commanded him to awake. Which would not be anytime soon.

Beyond that, all Obi-Wan could do was stay out of the way and follow QG's orders. He didn't dare disobey after what the former Padawan had done. At the same time, Obi-Wan was terrified that he was going to watch Qui-Gon die. Watching the man fight, Obi-Wan knew it was an unreasonable fear -- this Master's skill with a lightsaber was every bit as proficient and efficient as the other Qui-Gon's had been. Still, blasterfire did occasionally get past his guard, though he half suspected Qui-Gon allowed deliberately, so that Obi-Wan might have something to do. Seizing the infrequent opportunities, Obi-Wan deflected them quickly away from them, sending them sizzling into the walls.

It would take only one bolt getting by Qui-Gon, one that Obi-Wan might miss, and this Qui-Gon would also have a hole burned into him, through him, scorching cloth and flesh-- Obi-Wan forcefully yanked his mind away from such thoughts and memories crowding ever closer and waited for another bolt that needed deflecting.

Bellowing, one of the two remaining pirates barrelled down the corridor toward them, vibroblade raised and slashing menacingly as he bore down on the Master. Backing up a pace and nearly stamping on Obi-Wan's toes in the process, Qui-Gon grounded, twirled his saber, and waited. The vibroblade descended, and Obi-Wan tensed. Raising his hand, the Master halted the pirate in his hurtling, froze him in place long enough to slice through the vibroblade, melting it.

Obi-Wan's brain stalled. He'd never seen his Qui-Gon do such a thing, wondered now if his Master had been capable of it. Or if the idea had even ever occurred to him. This combination of Force and saber together left the Jedi much less vulnerable than in Obi-Wan's universe, where Force and weaponry had been used separately.

/Except by the Sith,/ Obi-Wan recalled, a shiver running down his spine. /That horned demon used it against us./

The bellow of another combatant reached them, and both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned toward the sound. Qui-Gon glanced back toward his paralyzed opponent before summoning the Force and gesturing to slam the pirate head first into the bulkhead. Obi-Wan heard the sickening crack of bone hitting titanium before the man slumped down in a tangled heap.

/Is he dead?/ Obi-Wan wondered. Qui-Gon was clearly not going to spare time on any nicities during combat, not when his attention was needed elsewhere. Battles needed dealt with swiftly and firmly, and Obi-Wan could sense through their superficial bond that Qui-Gon wasn't about to spare those who would harm S'pex. She was under his protection, and protect, he would. Beneath that determination thrummed another: to protect Obi-Wan as well. Battles would end swiftly, certainly, if Qui-Gon had anything to say about it.

Growling, the Master held his saber at the ready and stalked down the corridor like some great-maned M'rew intent upon ending its enemy's life. Force energy roiled around him, ready to be summoned to do the Master's bidding. The hair on Obi-Wan's neck stood straight up as the energy crackled around him, recognised him, and backed off at Qui-Gon's command. Obi-Wan couldn't remember ever having sensed such power before. Still, any Jedi capable of channeling the Force directly through him or her and wielding it at will as Qui-Gon was doing wouldn't have publicised it. No Master would.

Patterns of Light swirled around the Master, setting him aglow and eclipsing the stark, eye-burning artificial light of the corridor with its more brilliant radiation. Clearly it was visible not only to Obi-Wan, but to the pirate as well. Backing away from the Jedi, he dropped his blaster and raised his hands in surrender. His face was chalk-white beneath a filthy, tangled beard, stark terror glinted in his eyes, and Obi-Wan thought the man had probably already wet himself. /Some pirate./

The barest gesture, and Qui-Gon sent the blaster skittering across the floor and safely against Obi-Wan's feet. Gesturing again, Qui-Gon muttered in Corellian. "Sleep."

The intruder's eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed, boneless as a Trogellian bloodworm. Drawing a deep breath, Qui-Gon visibly relaxed and released the power of the Force he'd summoned.

"How did you--" Obi-Wan began, only to break off and whirl in place as much bashing and crashing sounded down the corridor behind him.

"They've gained access at the gangway," Qui-Gon observed.

Adrenalin flooded Obi-Wan's frame. The pirates were here. On the ship, and at his back. It was time to take the fight to them, before they reached the joining corridors and gained access to the rest of the ship. Obi-Wan knew that kind of freighter had only three corridors on this side, and if he and Qui-Gon could hold the first turn, they could keep the intruders dammed up in the gantry-way.

Questions regarding strategy surged up, but were dismissed as Obi-Wan reached for the point of balance where reaction and training took control of his body, where his will and his lightsaber joined as one. /How many intruders are there? Are they armed? Have they weapons more powerful than blasters? Are they all Corellian or have they other species with them? Can we reach the corridor in time? They will not reach my Master. Not this time./

Focusing on speed and totally immersed in intercepting the intruders and protecting the man at his back, Obi-Wan sprinted for the turn in the corridor.

"Obi-Wan!"

He skidded to a halt at the urgency in that voice, was commanded just as much by the fear spiking abruptly through the bond. Turning in place, he bounced on the balls of his feet and stared back down the corridor at his companion, was startled to see that Qui-Gon hadn't followed him. His late Master would have made great use of those long legs, pelting down the corridor with his Padawan to engage the battle, just as this Qui-Gon had stalked the intruders only moments ago, bringing the battle to them with all possible speed.

But now, this Qui-Gon stood immobile and stared at him with... with....

Fear?

Yes, fear. Obi-Wan could read it in those blue eyes, even at this distance.

What was this? This Master was no stranger to battle, and he'd already shown himself to be more than competent in combat. How could he be afraid? But those eyes were filled with alarm. Confused, Obi-Wan froze where he was.

/Obi-Wan.../ A whisper, a plea through the bond. Those worried blue eyes now reminded him of other eyes that had held his gaze on a far-away planet as the light had died from them. "Don't leave me.

He was never certain, later, whether Qui-Gon had spoken aloud, or through their bond. The connection between them shimmered with the Master's emotion, overwhelming Obi-Wan's own focus on the conflict, on their mission, on engaging the enemy. The Master's emotions followed, impacting like a physical blow. Yes, Qui-Gon's fear was genuine, but it wasn't for himself. The great wave of concern/protection/fear/loss was all centered around Obi-Wan. For this new Padawan.

Obi-Wan had left Qui-Gon standing alone. Fighting alone. It was just like on Naboo, only this time Obi-Wan had been the one to bolt off and abandon their teamwork. Never mind that was how he'd been taught to fight with his Master, how they had managed in skirmishes and altercations for years. They would meet the conflict and Obi-Wan would position himself either close beside his Master or on the far side of the threat, to pin it between them. This Master didn't fight that way, or didn't understand what Obi-Wan was attempting to do. Obi-Wan knew that he'd made a critical error, leaving this Master standing alone and unprotected.

He could hear heavy boots tramping toward them now; they were so close that Obi-Wan could make out whispers in Corellian and hear their battle armor creaking. A few more feet, and they'd round the corner with the Jedi in plain view. Weapons were set to deadly force, cocked and ready.

The Force tingled, warning Obi-Wan that the enemy was only spans away. Time was short. Decisions should already have been made, strategies should have been in place. Still, he and Qui-Gon stood multi-spans apart in the corridor, divided by memory as well as space.

This tactical error was massive. Obi-Wan had positioned himself in the crossfire that was to come between the Jedi Master and their attackers. As if that were not bad enough, whatever Obi-Wan could not personally handle would strike down Qui-Gon, because the older man could not properly defend himself with Obi-Wan standing in the way. If anything got past Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon would go down. He would die, not only because Obi-Wan hadn't been good enough to protect him, but also because Qui-Gon wouldn't endanger Obi-Wan by returning fire to save himself.

Mistakes brought death. Obi-Wan had just committed a mistake that could lead to the death of Qui-Gon. Again.

Fear surged upward, whispering toward panic as he watched Qui-Gon standing alone, focused solely on his newest-- /stupid/ -- padawan. Was there time to right this? Obi-Wan had to try.

He took a step back toward his Master. Another, and then another, and then he was ducking his head against his chest and Force-sprinting frantically back the way he'd come, uncaring that he'd turned his back to the enemy, uncaring that he was entirely vulnerable to attack. It didn't matter if the pirates nailed him, so long as he reached Qui-Gon's side and the Master was free to fight in his own. He ran just as hard as he'd run on Naboo in a failed attempt to reach his Master, with every nerve alive with the memory of that failure as well. He could hear the whine of the blasterfire behind him, could feel the laser-bolts pursuing him that last, fateful stride.

This time, the Force was merciful. This time, Obi-Wan reached Qui-Gon in time. Skidding to a stop just before he crashed into the older man, Obi-Wan spun hard and went down on one knee to flash his saber overhead and intercept a furious series of blaster-fire raining down on them. He felt Qui-Gon in motion behind him, felt the green blade whistling and vibrating in concert with his own, cutting the air over his head. The Master was a brilliant swordsman, whatever the universe; it felt right to Obi-Wan, this dance they shared. Their union through the Force was seamless--a private, deep kind of joy, even in battle.

But the pirates were many, and as the latest wave of bolts broke over them, Obi-Wan knew without a doubt that, had they not been together, they would not have been able to avoid all of the fire. /Because I didn't wait for guidance,/ Obi-Wan realized, /I nearly watching him die again./

It would not happen again.

Dodging the hail of returned blaster fire, the pirates retreated back around the corridor. Resetting his grip on the saber hilt, Obi-Wan took advantage of the first lull in the fire. Getting cautiously to his feet, to his feet, Obi-Wan sent a wordless query through the bond. /Advance, Master?/

He felt the older man's approval and crept steadily down the hall, with Qui-Gon close at his back. Now, the Knight was in the front. Now, the larger man was all but trapped behind him, unable to do more than offer superficial defense - a fact that Obi-Wan was all too conscious of. Still, Obi-Wan was the first line of defense, and that was important to him. He wasn't in the crossfire this time, and if he went down, Qui-Gon could easily save himself.

Three of the bolder members of the boarding party popped back around into the corridor facing them. Jaw locked in grim determination, Obi-Wan did not hesitate to engage the three new intruders, returning as good as he got. Unfortunately, these three didn't seem nearly so inclined to give up the fight as quickly as had Qui-Gon's opponents. Obi-Wan knew all too well that the reason for that probably lay in the fact that they were facing a younger, much less intimidating opponent. Still, the Force flowed around him, slowing time once more as Obi-Wan centered in the bond and within himself. He felt no anger -- that had been left behind at the melting pit on Naboo -- but a tenacity and a certain resolution guided him. The attackers would not get past him, they would not hurt the man who had proven so vulnerable in spirit and so powerful in battle, following so close on his heels.

On some level, Obi-Wan knew that it would have made more sense for him to have simply stood aside and let Qui-Gon handle this crew as he had the last. But this was his job. He was a knight, and while he might fail at many things, he could handle a lightsaber. Had he not battled the Sith and held his own? At least for a while? He was not nearly so important to any world as was Qui-Gon: Obi-Wan was not the master of the Force, he was merely a knight with a blade. As such, his place was in the face of danger while the Master stayed safe behind him. Qui-Gon was simply not going to die again on Obi-Wan's watch; he would do what was necessary to protect the man he was coming to love.

/I can do this,/ he thought. /I CAN./

Contented to deflect the odd energy bolt into the bulkhead, Qui-Gon deliberately settled within the bonded circle they had generated and let Obi-Wan take over. He watched in what was fast approaching wonder, for he'd never seen any Knight or Master defend as Obi-Wan could. Vibroblade or blaster, it made no difference; the younger man had clearly learned from his battle with the Sith, and from watching Qui-Gon himself only moment before.

Force-stunning the leader of the pack, he drove another invader back with a series of deflected bolts that the pirate was hard put to avoid. Dancing backward, the pirate invaded his companion's space, tromped on his toes, and won a series of shouted expletives that distracted every Corellian.

Pressing his advantage, Obi-Wan Force-leaped between two of the invaders and kicked out to break one's nose. At the same time, he slashed the other, severing the hand holding the blaster and sweeping his saber around to take the other hand that was raising a vibroblade.

The man screamed to see his hands fall to the deck, the wounds instantly cauterized. Falling to his knees, the pirate continued wailing while Obi-Wan danced backward. His leader bent double and growled as blood poured from his nose, and Qui-Gon attempted to lunge past Obi-Wan, to finish what the Knight had begun.

But Obi-Wan was allowing no backup. Spinning his Master's old lightsaber, he somersaulted over the fallen ones and came up with a whirling lightsaber in the middle of the small knot of intruders. His airborne, aggressive arrival into their midst was accompanied by the humming, glowing menace of a constantly spinning blue blade that was intimidating as well as visually confusing.

The strategy worked; they hesitated for just that fraction of a second, fingers frozen on the trigger of the blasters. Qui-Gon seized the advantage Obi-Wan had bought, Force-yanking the weapons out of their hands.

The spinning lightsaber moved in a wider arc, and Obi-Wan wielded his blade twice more. And so it was that two more sets of hands fell to the deck, with their owners standing in stunned shock, staring down at the still-twitching appendages.

Crashing to his knees, the leader folded his hands and raised them in supplication, babbling his surrender.

"Sleep," Qui-Gon murmured, coming up behind Obi-Wan and touching the pirate lightly between the eyes. "Leave his hands intact, please?" he murmured mildly.

Obi-Wan panted, but didn't back down his defensive stance. His lightsaber thrummed in his hands, the gamma blade a bright, bold blue.

"Yes, Master." There was obedience in that tone, but no particular approval of the request. The man could still be a danger, and that was not to be allowed.

Qui-Gon leaned momentarily against the Jedi, rested a calming hand on his rigid shoulder and felt Obi-Wan shiver under the unexpected touch.

/By the Force what a warrior/ the Master thought. /Barely more than a Padawan, and yet he handles combat like a veteran three times his years. /What has this boy faced to have become such a fierce fighter? And this is the Padawan who feels that his Master went into battle alone because the apprentice wasn't 'good enough' to help him? Gods, the boy is stunning.

Qui-Gon surveyed the carnage at opposite ends of the corridor. /Two dead. The rest wounded, and some permanently disabled. Unable to harm anyone ever again. 'To defend and protect...'/ Qui-Gon remembered the Code. /No quarter given from this one, not until it's asked, by me or by the attacker. Did his Master teach him this defense? Independent, strong, capable. But obedient. This one yields with only a word from me. How unlike my Obi-Wan, and what an incredible knight he will be./

Giving Obi-Wan another reassuring pat on the shoulder, Qui-Gon moved past him to peer around the corner into the now empty ship docked to the gantryway. "Shall we make certain we have no other guests?"