He groaned, leaning forward to find the bucket, and retched into it despairingly. How could he still be this sick? He braced himself against the edge of the cot with one hand, struggling to hold his hair back with theother. Another wave of nausea rolled through him and he choked. "All right, all right." His Master's hands held his head expertly. He was sure he had managed to heave up everything he'd eaten for the past month long ago. "I'm dying!" he croaked. "Ya're not dyin'!" Obi-Wan fell back to the pillows weakly. He glared at Qui-Gon through very red and swollen eyes. "It's horrible!" "Ya'll get used to it." Obi-Wan moaned. They had left the small spaceport three days ago and, since then, his stomach had threatened to return home without him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The "Syrene" was the most enchanting thing he had ever seen. Used to the big pleasure cruisers of the Senators, or the utilitarian barges and battleships always crowding Coruscant's port, Obi-Wan had been instantly captivated by his Master's strange craft. The ship was small, holding only a crew of seven, it's plating a deep bronze colour, rich in delicate chasework. The maneuvering sails of tensile-treated steel arched back from it's bow like enormous bat wings, their gilded ribsgleaming in the harsh overhead lights of the hangar. There were small, ovalportholes on the four decks, each shielded by opalescent plastisteel that reflected a rainbow of colours. He had been wide-eyed with delight to watchthe pilot droid begin their take-off, the huge sails opening for flight likethe wings of a great, fragile dragon. The ship was far stronger than she appeared, and better-armed. All her gun turrets were hidden in the same elaborate scroll work that covered the outerhull. Obi-Wan had counted seventeen laser guns, three bays of photon blasts, and some other odd-looking spike rearing from the curved prow like a serpent's head. The inside was equally quaint. The gun-decks and engine rooms were festooned with that beautiful curling decoration like ballrooms back at the Temple. Even the engine itself was glorious in it's twisted, golden casing, from which the main power core rose like a shimmering fountain of light. Their quarters were opulent, the bed glimmering in rich fabrics he had neverseen in his Master's palace. Obi-Wan shook his head. The man was totally impossible!! //Fancy decking out a ship like this and living in such squalor at home!// Unfortunately, Obi-Wan's enjoyment of the Syrene was short-lived. After prowling around the craft for a few hours, he began to feel distinctly unwell. Qui-Gon had disappeared up to the bridge and he had settled back into the big bed of their quarters to read when the first bad wave of nausea hit him. Now he was in the small, stark sickbay, helpless in the grip of what he could only surmise was imminent death. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Qui-Gon simply laughed at him and brought him a glass of water. "Drink it." "It won't stay!" he moaned. "It's only space sickness. Ya will live." "Not that I want to." Obi-Wan muttered darkly. But the water stayed down and he gazed out the porthole. "Where are wegoing?" "Never mind." Obi-Wan glowered at him, accepting the wet cloth and draping it over his forehead. "This is not fun!" He rose up on one elbow. "And why do you always look like you want to say something to me, and stop." Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "I do not." he said mildly and totally without conviction. "You do too! " Obi-Wan retorted. "You do it all the time! You think I'm not looking at you and your whole face is a big question mark!" Qui-Gon settled himself in a chair beside the cot. His lips quirked into a smile. "Is tha' any way for ya to talk to yer old Master?" Obi-Wan smiled back. "Yes, when he teases me and takes me lightyears intospace and doesn't tell me where we're going and always looks as though he is questioning me about something I don't know and no, you're not old. Qui-Gon nodded silently with a sarcastic smirk. His eyes drooped a little as his smile deepened. "Thank you for taking care of me. I think I feel a little better." Qui-Gon reached up to stroke his hair back. "Ya sure? I can give you some---" "NO!" Obi-Wan had a horror of medicines, healers, surgeon-droids or anything elseconnected to the subject. The four required healer's visits each Standard cycle during his time at the Temple had always been a fight. As grateful as he'd shown himself for his sponsor's last gift, it had made him sick with terror to walk into the medical-droid's unit for those enhancements. He shuddered and lay back. "I'll be alright now, I think." Qui-Gon sat back and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Ya really want to know?" "Which? Where we're going or the Unknown Question?" Obi-Wan murmured. His Master laughed softly. "Ya may look exhausted and miserable and sick,but ya don't miss much." The boy stuck his tongue out weakly. "Both! "Well then, our course is set for Xaennon on Ceruspa. Nice little place." His laugh sounded ominously inward to Obi-Wan's ears. A sudden grin split his face. "Ya'll like it sure enough!" "But," Qui-Gon continued, glancing out the window speculatively. "tha' could change too." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and sighed. "You never give a straight answer to anything, do you know that? You talk in riddles half the time!" Qui-Gon eased back into his chair. "Then ya'll have to get good at riddles, won't ya?" His voice was mild, but Obi-Wan wasn't fooled at all. Not anymore. //Alright. An Adventure. Well, my whole life has been a big adventure since you, Master.// "And the other?" For a long moment, Qui-Gon simply look at him intently, long enough for Obi-Wan to have to force himself not to squirm. He continued to meet his Master's eyes evenly. "What d'ya know about the Temple?" Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise. Then he recalled the katas. Ancient warriors. He took a slow breath. "Not very much. I thought it had always been there, the way it is." "The buildings, some of 'em, are very old. Ya know that, don't ya?" "Oh yes!" Obi-Wan brightened. "The oldest tower is the shortest, but has the prettiest viewing garden in the whole complex." "Well, those were the Old Temple. A long time ago." "How long" Obi-Wan demanded: he hated stories without details. He wriggled back against the pillows, his tender stomach forgotten in the promise of one of his Master's tales. "Almost a thousand years. It was a different place then. And the Jedi were a bit different than wha' you know." The boy nodded, his eyes clear for the first time in three days. "They were Knights, Warriors, who traveled the galaxy empowered by the New Republic, after the Empire crumbled. They were needed to do some hard things. Hells, they' d been doin' em for nearly a thousand years afterthe Sith Wars." Obi-Wan's eyes were enormous. "What's a Sith?" He grinned at Obi-Wan. "That's another story." He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs. "Anyway, they were used for stoppin' rebellions on Republican planets, disputes over trade rights, general order-keepin'. " Qui-Gon's eyes had gone dreamily inward as he warmed to his story. "All were Force-sensitives, trained the way I'm trainin' you. But harder, much much harder, at least at the beginnin', so I was told. They were a tough lot that got too tough and too big. Too many of 'em. By the time I'm talkin' about, there were thousands upon thousands of 'em, all armed to the teeth an' they scared the bloody hell out of the Senate. " "Why was the Senate scared? Were they bad?" "Nah, not really. Generally, they did what they were supposed t'do well. But between the Senate worryin' about a giant independent army right in the capital itself, and their own way o' making rituals out of everything, they made themselves a bad bed to sleep in. Somewhere in there, they stopped bein' tough. They were playin' at back door politics and got lulled bytheir own sense of...I don't know, pride maybe. Or arrogance that can't look itself in the face. It wasn't the first time tha' happened." Qui-Gon shookhis head. "Bloody idiots! During the Marigenata Wars, they tried to overthrow the recognized government of Remwara. And lost. Bad move. The Council scrambled and ended up signin' a dangerous deal: those who were in the war were given leave to commit suicide or be executed; the others were disarmed. Those who argued the treaty were threatened with permanent Force-damping." He sighed deeply. "In the end, most signed. Some were killed or worse." Obi-Wan hugged his knees, his eyes wide. "But if they were good?" // It doesn't make sense!// Qui-Gon smiled. " It was a trick, a calculated move to discredit the fools. Y'see that war ended the New Republic and created the one we've got now. The Republican Alliance." His face darkened. " The Alliance Forces polished off most o' the population of Remwara, just f'good measure. And the story goes that the Republican Alliance wasn't an Alliance at all. It was one person." Qui-Gon's expression had become grim. "One of the Senior members of the Jedi High Council decided he'd rather be an emperor than a monk, cos' that's what the once-mighty warriors had become. Idiots obsessed with aesthetics. But th' tricky bastard knew better than to take the title. So he created the Alliance, bought the Senate, and disarmed the Jedi. " He heaved another long sigh. "The worst part of it, is no one knows who he was, so the legend goes. Like a bloody ghost, he was there, then he wasn't. His name simply got lost in history. Don't ask me how, but it did." "That was, oh, some five hundred years back. Politics kept it's usual course." he grinned briefly. "It's always who can get wha' for how much anyway. But the Jedi were not th' same anymore. They weren't trusted and didna trust themselves." He looked at Obi-Wan quietly."I imagine the Temple you know developed in time. More aesthetics!" Obi-Wan's chin set stubbornly and he stared down at his knees. He loved his Master's stories, but really disliked it when they got personal. It was too much like another lesson. Qui-Gon's eyes softened and he tipped the pouting face back up. "Don't get silly on me, boy." "Well, I don't see why you can't be a warrior and have some manners!" Obi-Wan muttered. Then he grinned. "I bet you made all that up! Just so you can eat with your hands. And I still want to know what a Sith is!" Qui-Gon reached over and smacked his thigh. "You are gettin' t'be a mouthy brat." Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes Master." "Now try t'get some sleep. Please." It wasn't really a question: Obi-Wan knew that tone. He rolled over obediently, sighing another "Y-s, Mmstr" in the pillow and soon found himself on a paper dragon of dreams, flying over Coruscant's towers amid thousands of faceless ancient Jedi armed with golden lightsabres and carrying lacquered teatrays. More than once, he giggled in his sleep. XII Obi-Wan woke to a rather rough shaking. His eyes opened clearly for the first time in days to see his Master leaning over him with his usual sarcastic grin. "Get up, boy!! Ya been sleepin' like the bloody dead!" "Mmmmmm..." He stretched languidly and smiled. "You should have tried to wake me with a kiss." A light clip to the ear made him sit up. "I know tha' one. And I do na think I qualify for Prince Charming." Obi-Wan yawned. "True. More like the Ogre...." Their eyes met and they both exclaimed together "But that's another story." It was wonderful to wake to laughter. Obi-Wan loved his Master's laugh. It was deep, rich, coming straight from his gut. Had he been able to hear himself, he would have realized that roar had changed his from a timid giggle to an genuine, open-hearted laugh that made his eyes dance and his face irresistible. Qui-Gon scooped him out of the bed, covers and all and whirled around in a tight circle, still laughing, while Obi-Wan beat against his back, struggling to talk and laugh at the same time. "Stop it!!! You'll make me dizzy!!" He was silenced by a kiss and dropped back on the bed in an unceremonious heap. "We've docked. And ya've been asleep for nearly a full day! Now up, and get dressed. I laid 'em out for ya. " Obi-Wan bounded out of bed. "Are we going to see the city?" He went to rummage in the wardrobe, but his Master took him by the shoulders and turned him to the chair. On it lay one of his best seryth-silk robes with all its accoutrements. For a long moment, he simply stared at it, then he rolled his eyes and looked at his Master with a smirk. "Sure." he turned back to the wardrobe. "I'm na kiddin' ya." Obi-Wan turned to him, eyes wide. "Why in hells would you want me to wearthat!?" His Master simply chuckled and shifted his weight from one hip to the other.Obi-Wan realized he was decently dressed for once. //Well, as decent as I believe he'll ever get!!// The usual rough tunics and leggings, or worse, the leather jerkins and thigh-high riding boots, had been replaced by a slashed tunic in midnight blue velvet over one of some filmy fabric that billowed to his wrists. The leggings were simple, black; the boots of some polished hide, cuffed above his knees. It looked oddly barbaric and elegant at the same time. Obi-Wan also noticed a barely perceptible series of bulges beneath the wide sash and near the tops of each boot, not to mention the obvious blaster strapped to his right thigh and he cocked his head to one side. "Master?" Qui-Gon eyed him quietly. "Yes." "You wouldn't use a blaster on a thousand-credit bet." His Master simply smiled inscrutably and leaned back against the scrolled bulwark. "Just get dressed. We've got a dinner with the Governor of Xaennon. He spent a fair amount o'time on the Inner Rim." His smiled widened wickedly. "Ya might even know him." Obi-Wan threw a pillow at his back as he disappeared through the door. Then he turned to survey the complicated series of under robes with a sigh. He'd gotten so used to the freedom of his simple clothing. For a moment,he put his hand to his cheek in dismay, racking his memory for the proper order. A long sigh, and it came back to him. He began to dress methodically. By the time he had the elaborate, wide-sleeved outer robe tied by its sash, he was cursing fluently in at least twelve languages. //All hells and back!! I never realized this was so--so--bloody --Ahhh!! Force!! Hells!! Fuck!! Bedamned!!// Finally finished with the complex ties that fastened it all, he turned to the small dressing table and realized his Master had set out a good array of his cosmetics. Obi-Wan just shook his head and sat down to brush out his hair and rebraid his plait. He knew he shouldn't wonder anymore how his Mastergot his information. Picking up a pencil, he began on his eyes. After poking himself once, and having all his work run down his tearing face, he was ready to spit like a cat . He washed his face and tried again. //C'mon Kenobi. It's not that hard!! You've done this for years!! // Qui-Gon poked his head inside just as he slipped on the sandals, and simply stared. He had never once, in all these months, seen Obi-Wan in full regalia. It was impressive, or, at least, would have been, had he not takenone step and nearly tripped over the trailing robes. Another stream of curses and Qui-Gon could not repress a laugh. Obi-Wan glared at him. "This is all your fault!!" His Master took pity on him and offered his arm for support until Obi-Wan could relearn how to walk as they headed to their shuttle. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Qui-Gon had been right: Obi-Wan did like Xaennon. It was not much like Coruscant, but reminded him of the summer Temple, on it's outskirts. The streets were broad and lined with deep-eaved houses and shops. Obviously, they were heading to the Governor's palace and were in the best area of the city: it was very charming and quiet. The Governor's home was not a palace at all, but a villa with a wonderful view from the approach over its sloping roof to cool forest and mountain. He sighed, for it brought back so many memories so quickly. Instinctively, his posture became a little more fluid, his feet remembering how to make his body glide in the high-soled sandals. This was not lost on Qui-Gon, who still had his elbow and felt the change of motion immediately. The Governor proved to be unknown, much to Obi-Wan's relief, but he knew the type very well. Somehow, he slipped back to Temple padawan with ease, his voice softening in light small-talk, his serving skills at the intimate dinner poised and unobtrusive. Govenor Meryck was a small man with elegant manners, a pointed face and very dark eyes against his pale bluish skin. Hehad clearly spent most of his time in either Coruscant or perhaps Alaeda. Offering the dessert wafers, Obi-Wan repeated a little pun in Alaedana and the Govenor laughed heartily. // OK. Now you know where. I wonder how he ended up here? // His Master's voice rumbled in his head, //Because he's a gambler and he cheats.// Obi-Wan allowed himself to look up into Qui-Gon's eyes innocently. To his surprise, Qui-Gon handled himself quite well. At least he didn't forget which utensils to use, until the second course with it's elaborate sticks. Without words, Obi-Wan felt the minor surge of panic. //Thumb and fourth finger, Master.// He was rewarded with a tiny smile and an arched eyebrow. //Thank you, Padawan.// Obi-Wan glared momentarily under his lashes. Why did his Master sometimes manage to make that word sound so---dirty! He continued his steady chatter, keeping the Governor talking about himself. //Everyone's favourite subject!!// Meanwhile, he indulged himself in a brief daydream of emptying the teapot over his Master's head. He nearly spit when he was rewarded by a Force-slap on the back. Gritting his teeth, he turned to smile sweetly at the Governor and leaned alittle closer to the small politician. To his disappointment, Qui-Gon only looked down at him impassively. He rarely spoke during the meal, and when he did, it was only to the Governor.Obi-Wan was sure that they knew each other and that this was not a simple social call. He telegraphed his Master // ?? // // I need his help for some trade. He likes ya.// There was a pause, then// Obi-Wan? // // Yes Master?// //Don't get carried away.// Obi-Wan resumed his airy flirtation with an inward groan. He remembered he was an ornament: a prize to show off, to attract envy, possibly to dangle as a carrot. He was by no means so naive not to think that his functions included much more than warming his Master's bed. But he really would have preferred a training session and perhaps a swim in the lake. Besides, his knees were getting stiff from the unaccustomed position and it all seemed rather trivial. A part of him was laughing at himself, while horrified thathe was thinking in such a fashion. After the meal, the Governor escorted them around the lovely garden to watchthe twilight, until he and Qui-Gon stopped to talk of some cargo shipment. Obi-Wan had been so glad of the break in making subtly coy conversation and getting not-so-subtly pawed under his sleeve that he let his thoughts drift and was surprised when Qui-Gon suggested the Govenor come to the shuttle to see a sample. He didn't remember any sample of anything. Or any cargo. // Stow the panic, boy.// a very low warning. Obi-Wan covered a grimace with his hand, then slipped it through the Governor's arm again. His heart was racing. Their shuttle was not far, and they boarded without incident, until Qui-Gon slammed the blast doors shut and pressed the ignition. Meryck yelped, "What in hells do you think you're doing!!?" Qui-Gon lounged back against the door with an easy smile. "There's a matter o' some 4,000,000 credits. That's what I'm doin'." "Are you mad?! I'll have an army after you, Jinn!! I swear you won't get away with this!!" Qui-Gon shrugged expressively, turning to guide the shuttle to the dock. "Ya really think I've forgotten tha' phoney transport company scandal from last year? Or the embezzlement charges I paid to have dropped the year before? More to the point, how about that spice run you had me do for ya'? I'm na so sure your adorin' people would be in a hurry to know all that, do you?" He turned briefly from the controls with a smile. "So sit back and shut up." He pulled up to the Syrene with ease. "Besides, they'll pay a nice ransom and I'll cut ya in, as always. One of those fancy casinos makes that much in six months." The Governor's face had gone a stale shade of grey. "I'll--I'll--" Qui-Gon shut down the engine. "Ya'll take it. Like ya always do. Now move and don't do anythin' stupid." A short walk through the docking tube and they were safely aboard the Syrene. Obi-Wan never realized he'd been clutching the Governor's arm, nearly as frightened as the man himself. He didn't know this person. The voice was his Master's. Certainly the body was his, but the face was a stranger's,with eyes that bored like blue lasers, where there was no emotion at all in their depths. He gulped, his mouth half-open when Meryck's arm suddenly arched around his throat, the other hand holding a small blaster. "I'll kill him, Jinn. I swear I will." Qui-Gon turned, shaking his head with a short laugh. "Oh, I doubt tha'" Time seemed to have frozen for Obi-Wan. His Master was striding up to the bridge, apparently unconcerned that this weasel had a blaster at his temple.His mind surged with panic for a moment, then he relaxed back against Meryck, consciously making his shoulders tremble. The Governor's grip shifted tohis hair as he shouted after Qui-Gon almost incoherently. Obi-Wan's right arm shot up to slam against Meryck's head as his left elbowed him hard in the ribs, his left hand gesturing the blaster across the deck. He Force-shoved the man back against the bulwark and turned around swiftly. "And I thought we were friends!" He chided lightly as he pulled the blaster to him and spun up the corridor in a swirl of silk. "Now come to the Commons and behave yourself." The Governor gaped for a moment, then followed the sibilant trail to the Common lounge in silence. XIII Obi-Wan had a drink set before Meryck at the sumptuous table in the Commons and regarded him gravely. It took every bit of self-control he possessed not to Force-choke the politician. Meryck glared at him. "And do you know the penalty for a slave to strikea free man?" "Perhaps on the Inner Rim. Here, I daresay it doesn't matter quite so much. Besides, I am my Master's property and worth more than your whole city. If you had killed me, I don't think you'd be breathing right now." His voice was even, soft and without malice. "You'd no right to fight back." Obi-Wan simply looked at him in silence. He went to the sideboard along the scrolled bulwark and brought a tray of small delicacies to the table. "Nothing's poisoned. I made this for my Master. " Meryck stared at him, clearly uncovinced. Obi-Wan shrugged, ate one, and smiled. "I'm leaving you for the moment. I think you'll be comfortable. There's wine here on the table and spirits in the sideboard." He moved gracefully to the door, then turned. "The door's palm-locked, so don't bother." Once outside and having locked the door, he started to run up the corridor.He paused to kick off the sandals, yanked the train of silk up, and stormed into the bridge, trembling with anger. "You USED me!!!" he shouted. Qui-Gon was seated before the console, his palms resting in shallow depressions of it's gilded, serpentine surface. There were no other instruments except the viewscreens showing all angles outside. He didn't turn around. "In more ways than one!" he chuckled. "You bastard!!! Do you know what you've done? Now I'm a criminal!! Anywhere else it would take days for me to die." "Better a criminal than a---" Obi-Wan spun the chair around, white-faced with fury. "Don't you dare!! Don't you dare say it, you -- you-- you left me there!!!" he wailed. "You bloody left me!!" His voice was beginning to rise hysterically and Qui-Gon stood up abruptly, and backhanded him to the deck. Obi-Wan stared up at him, one hand pressed to his bruised face in shock. He'd received a knock on the head to bring him to attention in meditations, the occassional blow while sparring, but never, never had Qui-Gon struck him in anger. Qui-Gon's voice was harsh. "Don't YOU dare. I've no time for any o' this shite! I've a ship to pilot and ya didna need me there." Obi-Wan glared at him, the trailing layers of silk riding up around his legslike ribbons around a maypole. His shoulders were heaving, his eyes glittery. His Master looked down at him for a long moment, then grabbed his arm and yanked him up into his arms. His eyes tore into the boy's, dialated nearly black, hot as lava. Obi-Wan's whole body melted into the embrace, his hands twisting in his Master's hair, lips claimed in a devouring kiss. Whatever anger he had felt transformed itself into quite another kind of heat. Tongue on tongue, he pushed forward tasting Qui-Gon's mouth, opening his own. For something ofan eternity, they dueled, each attacking, then retreating in an oral dance of desire. Then his head fell back against his Master's shoulder, dizzy and lightheaded. Qui-Gon smiled down at him. "First case o' battle-lust?" Obi-Wan punched his arm lightly and leaned against his chest, sighing, "You bastard!" Qui-Gon sat back down pulling the boy onto his lap. "Ya know, it's a good thing I'm only orbitting. Ya're a damned distraction in here!" Obi-Wan sat up on his Master's knees and regarded the console. "Well, show me. How does it work? I've never seen a panel like this!" "Ya've never seen a panel at all!" Qui-Gon murmured. "Yes I have!" the boy retorted. "I was in plenty of pleasure cruisers! " He ducked his head against his Master neck. "I used to sneak into the bridge if I could. There were always so many switches and buttons and knobs." Qui-Gon laughed softly. "Well, none o' those fools could pilot this craft. She's my own design and ya see all that decoration?" Obi-Wan nodded. "It's all made of cerusin. It's a metal but it's sentient, Force-sensitive, in it's own way. Only someone like us could pilot her." "You mean with our abilities?" "Aye, and they'd need a bit o' trainin', too." "So the rest of the crew? I saw no one." "I need no one. Syrene's quick enough to take care o' herself. To apoint, tha' is." The comlink interrupted him in a distinctly feminine voice. "Port bow, Dulaan. Shuttle craft approaching." Qui-Gon's left hand reached around Obi-Wan's waist for the depression onthe console. "Aye, I see it. Armed?" Obi-Wan watched in fascination as it rippled to curve around the shape of his hand exactly. "No, Dulaan." "Alright. Carry on. I won't be long. And thank you." As he liftedhis hand from the depression, it smoothed out completely. Obi-Wan giggled as he stood up. "You thank the ship?" His Master looked down at him for a moment. "Don't ya say please and thankee?" "Oh." A bit bemused, he followed Qui-Gon out of the bridge, struggling with the material that swirled around his feet. He paused to retrieve his sandals as his Master opened the Commons door. "Obi-Wan, ya keep our guest company. I won't be long." Pouting a little, Obi-Wan turned and walked reluctantly to the Commons. He had no desire to see or hear Meryck again in this lifetime or his next. Sighing, he opened the door and went to the sideboard, looking down at his hands. Without turning, he asked, "Can I get you anything else?" Meryck watched him with sharp eyes. "Yes, " he said, his voice silky. "I'm sorry about before. Jinn is, well, unpredictable at best. He surprised me." He shifted on the lounge. "Come over here and have a glass of wine." Obi-Wan walked over but kept his head down, acutely aware of the bruise on his left cheek. He poured the politician a glass of wine, declining one himself, and sat down, his face still averted. The Governor's hand reached out and turned him gently. "Poor little thing. You must have trouble with him." Obi-Wan kept staring at the edge of his own sash. "It's nothing." he murmured. Meryck's smiled and lifted his face. "You know, you're too pretty by far." His fingers traced the bruise. "But I suppose you're used to it." Obi-Wan's chin set mulishly and he raised his head. "No, I'm not." Meryck's eyes were sympathetic to the 'lie'. "It's alright, child. Now, if all this goes well, I could---" He moved closer, his arm snaking around the boy's shoulders. Obi-Wan drew back sharply. "I think not." His voice was icy. "Don't be such a little fool!! He mistreats you, puts you in grave danger. You seem to be a sweet little thing. Why don't you let me take you away from this? It can't be that difficult a decision." He was playing idly with the heavy padawan plait hanging over Obi-Wan's shoulder. The boy twitched it out of his hand, drawing himself up. "Do you know what this is?" he flicked at the thick braid. Meryck shrugged. "Some pleasure boy hairdo?" The slap resounded in the Commons like a shot. Obi-Wan was on his feet, his eyes hot with anger. "It means I'm a Jedi Temple padawan, that's what it means. How dare you!!" The Governor faced him with a sneer. "Jinn with a padawan!!? I doubt that very much!! You're just another little imposter he---" Obi-Wan didn't waste another word. In a rustling swirl of silk, he strodeto the door, just as it opened for him to face his Master. "I thought I told ya--" The boy held up one imperious hand. "I suggest you attend to your company, Master. I'll be in our quarters." Head held high, he swept past Qui-Gon and down the corridor to their room. Once there, he closed and locked the door. Then he went to the wardrobe to retrieve his regular clothes. For a long long time, he sat staring at the mirror, the simple clothing in his lap, studying his own reflection with increasing agitation. Suddenly, he stood up and proceeded to tear the robes off of his body, one at a time until they lay in a shredded pile at his feet. If he had had access to the airlock, they would have been flying into space. As it was, he left them on the floor and threw himself on the bed, dry-eyed and miserable. Once, he'd known exactly who and what he was; what he had been since he was two years old. He had been proud of his accomplishments, his beauty, his desirability. Now, despite that moment by the lake a month ago, he felt entirely adrift. He didn't know what he was anymore. Worse, evidently neither did anyone else. His Master didn't value his padawan status except as a dupe to lure his victims, so much so that his own veracity was doubted. This conflict was taking every bit of pride he'd ever felt and making it dust in his mouth.He wished he could cry, but he was far too unhappy. So he simply stared at theporthole, watching the stars and wondering if he would ever know what it felt to be whole again. XIV He saw the shuttle pull away, heard the engine begin to hum, watched the stars drift to streaks of light as they shifted to hyperdrive. His Master would be settled in the big chair, his hands pressed into the console, more communing with his ship than piloting her. Devoutly, he wished he could have such a link with anyone who could understand him. He thought he had figured this out until he realized just how little Qui-Gon cared that he was a padawan. He had brought everything he was to the relationship, but it meant nothing. His pride, his skill, his very self....it all meant nothing. The only things that seemed to matter to his Master were the endless drills and meditations and whatever other archaic nonsense he taught. All a lie. He was still staring out the porthole when Qui-Gon entered the chamber. "Tha' went well." He stopped, looking down at the destroyed clothing at his feet, it's torn shreds piled atop the boy's regular tunics and leggings. Obi-Wan hadn't moved or turned to look at him. He sat down on the bed and reached out to touch the slender shoulder. There was no response. "Stop sulkin'" Obi-Wan never moved. "Alright, boy. Wha's the matter?" "He didn't believe me." It was a whisper of pain. "Didna believe wha'?" Obi-Wan flipped the braid across his neck to hang over his left shoulder across his back. "Oh, tha'" Qui-Gon was silent for a moment. "Obi-Wan?" Again, there was no answer. Qui-Gon sighed. "He's a fool. Why do ya say he didna believe ya? Obi-Wan turned slowly, but refused to look at his Master. "He called it a 'pleasure boy hairdo'. And treated me like one. Not that you'd care anyway." "Why do ya say that?" "You don't. It doesn't matter to you. All you care about is...oh, just leave me alone!" Qui-Gon grabbed both slim arms and gave him a little shake. "Why do ya say that!!?" he repeated, his voice a little harder. Obi-Wan looked at him, his eyes gone grey and cold and lost. "I heard you, you know. In the tower room a month ago. You called me a glorified bedslave." His Master sighed deeply. " I know ya heard. Why do ya think I came after ya by the lake?" "I don't have any idea." The boy's voice was bitter. "Why bother with a padawan? You could have had your drill-time fun with some brothel boy. "He smiled coldly. "Most are not as dumb as they act. It would have been considerably cheaper. And it wouldn't have hurt them to be called a liar." Qui-Gon shook his head. "You little fool!! I wanted you because you're a padawan." "Right." Obi-Wan's ruddy head dropped again. "Sure you did. That's why all you've done all these months is make me feel as though I had something tobe ashamed of, as though I were dirt under your feet. A toy to retrain. Thank you very much, Master. It's so delightful to be valued!" His voice was soft with scorn. Qui-Gon pulled him close and he didn't resist, nor did he respond. He simply allowed himself to be held. The long silvering hair spilled over his bowed head, tickling his bare shoulders. Then he felt Qui-Gon's chin resting gently atop his head. "Oh, Obi-Wan!" he whispered, unmistakable pain in his voice. "My Obi-Wan, can ya not trust me a little while longer?" The boy's head shook slightly. "How, Master? How can I trust you when I don't understand why you ever wanted me in the first place?" He sighed and remained as still as a statue for a long time. Slowly, Obi-Wan pulled away and looked up, his face very small and white except for the purpling bruise on his cheek. "Please tell me, Master. Tell me something! Anything at all. I feel so---" he turned his head and glanced out the window at the racing, streaking stars. "So lost." Qui-Gon bit his lip. His eyes closed, brow furrowed. "I canna tell you everything, love. But I can tell ya that I wanted you. Not just because ya're a padawan. Tha' was very important. Very. But I wanted you, Obi-Wan. I saw ya and I wanted you. " The boy smiled tremulously. "All from one holo-vid auction?" The broad chest heaved in a long sigh. "No. I'd seen ya before. On Coruscant. A few times in fact." Obi-Wan's eyes clouded with confusion. "On Coruscant!!? Coruscant!!! When were you on Coruscant?!" "I was there six months before the bloody auction. And a month before. I'd seen ya in the Pavilion Gardens first. Ah damn it, I canna explain to ya now. " He grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulders hard. "You've got t'believe me, boy. I canna tell you why, don't ask. But I found you." Obi-Wan shook his head wearily. "Oh, alright. I won't ask. I'm yours anyway." He took a deep breath and straightened his spine. "Keep your secrets, Master. I won't ask again." Qui-Gon rose, his hands clenched into fists. For a few minutes, he paced around the small room like a caged animal. Obi-Wan stared listlessly at his bare toes, listening to the sound of his Master's footfalls. Finally, Qui-Gon stopped and lifted the boy's head with a firm hand. "Work it out for y'self, lad!" he rasped. "What's the common denominator? What does a padawan have tha' my teachin' requires?" The blue eyes were intent. Obi-Wan blinked, a small line creasing between his brows. "The Force." "Right. So why's it such a mystery?" "But you never wanted anything I was taught!" //Oh I didna?// a low chuckle. Obi-Wan glared at him. "I meant anything other than that!" Qui-Gon shook his head and pulled the boy up into his arms. "And who taught me how t'eat properly? Who got Mairteth to stop burnin' every last morsel i' the house? Who's taught who, Obi-Wan?" His shining head cocked to one side, he considered his Master's words. "I guess I never thought of it." he said slowly. Even as he said it, he remembered Kal's words: //'Teach him. But never let him know'.// //Don't be ridiculous, lad!! Of course I knew. And wanted it. Why else would ya be with me?// "So does that mean the only things you want from my training is table manners and a good cook?" his face was serious but his eyes had begun to dance. "Brat!!" Qui-Gon smacked his bottom. "Or was that a good cock?" a murmur of a sound. //I don't believe it!! Did ya really just say that out loud?// Obi-Wan's eyes were glowing green coals in the white fire of of his face. Qui-Gon touched his cheek gently. "I'm sorry about that. I've a nasty temper." He laughed softly. // Did you really just say that?// Qui-Gon threw himself down on the bed and grabbed the boy close. "You are such a bloody brat! But you taste too good---" and all speech was drowning against Obi-Wan's parted lips. He let his Master kiss him, exploring with quick strokes of his tongue,his mouth a sweet source of passive heat. The kiss became more insistent, the tongue demanding response and still he waited, allowing the melting heat to build in the swirl of wet warmth that pierced his lips. Finally, slow and tentative, his tongue snaked around his Master's, heat upon heat, caressing lips and teeth with quick, feathery touches, as his hands twined around the broad shoulders. The comlink interrupted, Syrene's metallic voice echoing slightly. "Dulaan? I sense agitation." Qui-Gon broke free enough to raise his head. "Um...everything is fine, darlin'. " Obi-Wan's tongue lapped at his earlobe. //Agitation? That's a new word for it!!// Qui-Gon pulled him atop his tall body, resuming their kiss with enthusiam. //Shhhh....she gets a bit...jealous.// Obi-Wan's shoulders shook a little with laughter until Qui-Gon silenced the giggle, his blunt fingertips crushing one rosebud nipple hard. The boy moaned and writhed above him, warm lips dancing along his jaw down into the hollow of his throat. Their hips were moving together, hardness pressed to hardness, hands beginning to wander under one another's clothing. "Tha' feels so good!" Qui-Gon muttered into the boy's hair as Obi-Wan's fingers reached beneath his leggings to tease along the crease of his thighs. Light caresses fluttered between their bodies, Qui-Gon's hands on the rounded buttocks, Obi-Wan's lips glued to his, mouths open and pouring into one another. The heat around them was palpable, a living thing that shimmered as they dove together, lost in one another's bodies. "Dulaan, we have a problem." Qui-Gon heard the comlink and ignored it, his tongue delving deep into Obi-Wan's mouth. "Dulaan, we are out of hyperdrive." The nectar sweetness of that mouth was intoxicating. He grunted at the voice, his lips too occupied for thought. "Dulaan, we are---" A great rocking nearly sent Obi-Wan flying off him. He sat up abruptly, hishand immediately reaching for the scrolled bulwark behind him. "Syrene, wha' was that!!" "Dulaan, we are being fired upon. Port bow, two ships. Photon blasts. Shields are damaged." Qui-Gon bounded to his feet. "I'm on my way to th' bridge." His eyes met Obi-Wan's briefly. "Get dressed. There may be trouble." He disappeared through the door at a dead run. XV Obi-Wan sat up, his eyes huge as another jolt rocked the small craft. His mouth was suddenly very dry, and his hands shook as he yanked on his leggings and tunic, ignoring the ripped streamers of his silken robes that clung to the rough fabric and dangled from his elbow and down his back. He shrank back against the bulwark as he heard the port side lasers firing with low humming noises. He suddenly felt very small and very much alone. Guided by some unknown instinct, he rummaged in the drawer for his lightsabre, clipped it to his belt and fled to the bridge. At least there, he would feel safe with his Master. Running lightly up the corridor, he heard a blaster shot and felt a whirring past his right ear. He whirled around to see two seven-foot G'dlackian raiders closing in on him fast. Terror moved his feet more than anything else. He simply ran, instinct propelling him forward at inhuman speed. He was a blur as he reached the bridge doors, slammed into them hard enough to make his head spin. "Master!!! Open the door!!" he moaned against it, hearing the heavy footfalls approaching. // MASTER!! // It wasn't fast enough. One of the raiders was raising his blaster. Obi-Wan froze, his mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes closed, waiting breathlessly. Then the red wall of his eyelids faded to tendrils of blue and green and silver. In a eternal moment, he melted into the Force that swirled around him like waves. His right hand moved of it's own accord to grasp his sabre. He felt as though he were moving through water, each muscle a separate reality of it's own. He heard the blast, felt his arms moving, his body spinning in the arc of the seventh kata. The hum of the glowing sabre was a melody, his body the instrument, all flowing into the churning ocean of the Force surrounding him. Then there was silence. Cautiously, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The silvered tendrils of visible power faded from his dazed vision slowly. One of the raiders had slumped against the bulwark, the deflected blaster shot a smoking hole in his chest. The other lay, headless, at the boy's feet. Obi-Wan choked, gagging at the cauterized neck. The raider's head was some four feet away, eyes still blinking in shock. The lips were moving. His face drained of all colour and he sagged back against the door, then turned and began to bang on in furiously. "OPEN IT!! OPENITOPENIT!!!!!" he was screaming, dancing backwards fromthe truncated corpse at his feet, pressing himself to the unyielding metal. When it opened, he fell into the bridge and crawled toward the console, his whole body a live wire of panic. // Obi, stop it. Ya canna lose it now! I canna help ya! // "Master?" he reached out, his vision narrowing, spots of blackness dancing before his eyes. Qui-Gon's face was utterly still in concentration. He laid his left handin another depression of the console and the tall spire atop the Syrene turned to focus on the ship that had moved starboard. He took a long breath, closed his eyes and sank himself deeply into the Living Force. Shaking like an autumn leaf in a gale, Obi-Wan looked up from the deck to see the power visible around his Master, the swirling wash of silver and green making the tall body indistinct as Qui-Gon gathered the Force within him. His left arm seemed a glowing shaft of light as he focused it through himself, through the Syrene, up to the crystal embedded in the spire. A shimmering bolt of pure Force energy poured from it to surround the attacking ship. Obi-Wan's eyes darted to the view screen, watched the searing lightdancing around the raider ship. For a frozen moment, it wavered, flickering in endless movement, then blinked out of existence. Qui-Gon sagged forward in the chair, his head drooping as the visible Force diffused around him and disappeared. Without stopping for rest, he reached his right hand down to it's place on the console to activate the photon blasts aimed for the other ship. Obi-Wan could see how it shook with the effort of movement. There were blasts from the corridor, pounding on the bridge doors. "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was a whisper, threaded with exhaustion. // Yes, Master? // The boy's mouth was too dry for speech. "Can ya cover the doors? They're usin' a boarding beam. I've got to get that other ship." // Master no!! You'll kill yourself! // "Just hold them off for a moment. Syrene'll help ya." The ship's mechanical voice echoed in the small chamber. "Dulaan, shield are low. More boarders. " "Where?" Qui-Gon's voice was harsh. "Engineering deck and here." "Cut air from Engineering and seal the doors." "Calynide gas, Dulaan?" "Yes, yes. Just get rid of =91em!" Qui-Gon was fighting exhaustion, his vision wavering as he struggled to get off a few good shots at the remainingship. He cursed himself for a fool to have ventured this alone. Even one trained crew member would have helped. Obi-Wan had risen to stand on shaky legs, his eyes glued to the doors. He struggled to remember his training, the katas, the movements, the meditations. But all he could do was watch those doors, hardly daring to breathe. // Obi-Wan, relax. Let it flow through you. Don't fight. Be. // Even Qui-Gon's mental voice was rasping with weariness. Slowly, Obi-Wan moved forward and to one side. If blaster shots came through those doors, he would draw them to himself, rather than risk them hitting his Master. He activated his sabre and closed his eyes. He felt the doors open before he heard their slight whisper and his body exploded into motion, a whirling arc of blazing blue light. He sensed bolts rather than saw them, knew where they would fall and deflected them. A hissing to his left told him he'd missed one, that the delicate scroll work was damaged. He spared it a glance and barely registered that the metal seemed to melt and twist to repair itself. His body was tiring, and he knew he had to do something, anything. He had never sparred aggressively. Always, his actions had been dictated by his Master's attacks. He wasn't sure he could attack. He could only try. A microsecond to collect himself, then he whirled into the offensive, his sabre a blurred pinwheel of blue light flashing forward as he surged against the grouped raiders blocking the doorway. He closed his eyes, letting himself see with the Force and danced on the edge of a precipice of death. He stopped trying and simply spun with the motion of the bodies around him.He felt the blaster bolts that whizzed past him, felt the jar through his sabre as he deflected others, felt the slowed hum as it cut through flesh. There was no emotion, no feeling, only the reality of the Force and it's movement through his exhausted limbs. Again, silence descended like a shroud over him. Panting, he stood trembling with the buzz of the lightsabre in his hand. A flash of pain in his left leg made him wince, and he looked down to see the tear in his leggings, blood running down his calf to pool around his bare foot. Half a dozen raiders littered the corridor, most dead, some dying. Ignoring them, he forced himself to walk back into the bridge. The hot flow of his own blood was warm, wet beneath his feet. He saw the back of the tall chair, moved forward warily, a lump of apprehension rising from the pit of his stomach. Qui-Gon was slumped forward over the console, his left hand still sunk into the spot that operated the spire. Obi-Wan checked the view screen. The other ship was still there, quivering in a haze of Force energy. He could feel the waning energy that course through his Master's body. Asthough in slow motion, he reached out, his hand pressed over Qui-Gon's. The Living Force flared up around them like silver flame. // Master, help me!! Please, I cannot do this. I can't!! // Qui-Gon's head lifted from the console, his eyes unfocused. He breathed out a long sigh, blinking. Then his right hand closed over Obi-Wan's. A long, shuddering intake of air made the broad shoulders shake. The silver tendrils of power poured through them both and Qui-Gon's head fell back, his eyes rolling as it coursed from him into the boy. Obi-Wan reeled forward againstthe console, fighting to keep conscious as he felt the Force ripping into his mind, his soul to flow into the ship. He could feel her hostility, her anger and his heart pleaded, begged for her help. // Please, please, don't fight me. I'm only trying to help. Help him.Pleasepleasepleaseplease...// He sensed the release, felt the bolt of energy rising and dazedly, watched the view screen as the second ship wavered in the ghostly light and vanished. He sank to his knees, his head pressed against the arm of the chair, his hand slipping away from between his Master's. For a long, long moment, the universe dizzied and spun drunkenly. He heard Qui-Gon groan softly, and raising his head took such effort. Qui-Gon had lost consciousness, his tall body slumped to one side, blood pouring from a blast bolt in his shoulder. Obi-Wan reached up, stricken. His Master's face was ashen, lips pale and parted as he struggled for breath. // NOOoooooooooo! // He fought off a wave of panic and nausea. "Syrene, is there an emergency kit in here?" Somehow his voice registered a calm he was far from feeling. He shook his head to clear it and got to his feet. Gently, he eased Qui-Gon from the chair to the deck. He touched the console gently. "Please, Syrene!! Please help me to help him." The mechanical voice sounded sullen. "In the left banking. Compress the wound and use the bacta sheets. " Moving as though in a dream, Obi-Wan did as she had told him, pulling off his tunic to bunch beneath Qui-Gon's head. His Master's thin shirt was soaked red with blood. Trembling so violently he could barely hold his hands steady, the boy placed the gel sheets over his chest, reaching with difficulty to get one under the big body to cover the exit wound. He knelt beside the prostrate figure in agony, his head bent low over Qui-Gon's chest. // Oh, my Master please!! Please don't leave me here like this! Qui-Gon,don't! Don't you dare die on me!! // XVI Obi-Wan was beyond terror. He was beyond any kind of emotion now. His slender hands pulled gently at the remains of Qui-Gon's shirt. "MmMaster?" his voice was barely audible. Dazedly, he sat back on his heels and looked around him, then up at the viewscreen. Nothing but stars reached around the little ship, a spangled web inthe blackness of space. A low groan made his head snap back to focus on his fallen Master. Qui-Gon's eyelids fluttered open. "Gone?" Obi-Wan's voice rasped "Yes Master. Don't try to move, you're injured." Qui-Gon ignored him and attempted to sit up, his face going even whiter with the strain. "Damn it!!" He managed to lift himself onto one elbow. "Obi, can ya take the controls? We're damned sittin' ducks out here like this." The boy's face was nearly as white as his own, eyes dialated near-black, but he nodded. "Master, please lie still." Qui-Gon sat up and glanced down at his shoulder. "How'd ya find the medpak?" Obi-Wan had slipped into the tall chair and was eyeing the console, his lower lip quivering. Qui-Gon shifted and managed to turn himself around to lean back on the console's banking. He looked up at the boy. "To yer right. Use the smaller one with your right hand." Obi-Wan stared down at him, his eyes blank in sheer terror. "Master...I don't know..." "Calm down!!" Qui-Gon groaned as he began to tear the remaining bits of fabric from his torso. "The course is already plotted. Just relax. Let it flow through ya." Tentatively, Obi-Wan reached out and laid his shaking hand in the small hollow. Immediately, he felt the metal moving beneath his palm and fingers to cradle his hand. //YOU!// He could hear the venom in Syrene's voice, feel her jealousy. He struggled to rein in the sob building in his chest. Fear, pain and disbelief were robbing him of coherent thought. "Please please!! He can't. He's injured. Help me!!!" He didn't even realise he had spoken aloud, much less that he was talking to an inanimate object. Qui-Gon's voice cut through the blanket of panic beginning to enfold him. "Syrene, don't be such a bloody bitch!! I'm down on the deckin' with a blaster bolt through my bloody shoulder. Now help the lad!" // Will he be alright?// Obi-Wan heard the ship's metallic voice in his head. He nodded, breathlessly. // Yes, but we've got to get moving. There might be more raiders. // The pooling metal surged around his hand and he could feel the ship pulling the Force through him. "Relax, Obi...let it go. You're the river..." Qui-Gon groaned again as he struggled to his feet, swaying with the effort. "Just let it flow, Obi. I'm goin' to the sickbay for a moment. Will ya be alright, boy?" Obi-Wan nodded, biting his lower lip in concentration. He could feel the ship's every buffet as Syrene coursed through the still blackness of space. His face broke into a smile. This was wonderful. He was flying, really finally flying a ship. He had always wanted to fly. Indeed, he hadn't lied at all when he had told Qui-Gon how he used to sneak out of receptions and parties to watch the pilots of the pleasure cruisers in awe. He'd been caught more than once, and was severely punished the last time when he'd been found sitting on a co-pilot's lap, one delicately manicured hand on the navigation bar. Good little padawans were not supposed to ignore high dignitaries who had spent a small fortune for their company and run off to giggle with the pilots on the bridge. Obi-Wan was grinning at the memory. // Did they really punish you? // Startled out of his reverie, he heard Syrene's voice in his mind. He realised she must have seen every thought. "Yes. I got quite a beating for that. This is fun!!" He no longer worried about talking to the ship. Syrene, for her part, seemed more curious about him than angry and jealous now. The ship's mental touch was a tickle inside his head, decidedly different from the Force-sense of another person. He let his own awareness guide the little craft around a small pocket of debris, fully enjoying the weaving motion and the prickle of anticipation as he sensed each small obstacle. He was so engrossed in flight that he didn't even feel his Master binding the still-bleeding wound on his leg. He glanced down, his face a small flame of pleasure. Qui-Gon grinned up at him. "Ya're a natural at this. Why'd they never let ya fly?" Obi-Wan grinned back at him. "We were just talking about that!" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "We?" Obi-Wan's nose wrinkled in a giggle. "Syrene and I. I got a hell of a whipping the last time I skipped out on a formal luncheon to sneak up to the bridge." // Poor Obi. But it was worth it, wasn't it? // The boy burst out laughing at Syrene's wry comment. Qui-Gon simply shookhis head. "Now I suppose I should be jealous, ya fickle female!" Obi-Wan turned his head. "Master, are you alright?" He had been so wrapped up in his pleasure, he'd nearly forgotten the raiders and the fight. His memories surged back up, making him feel nauseous. // Focus, boy. Keep yer focus. // Qui-Gon's mental touch reached deeper, calming him. "Concentrate on flight. Keep aware of here and now. The past can take care o' itself. And yes, I'm fine. Do ya want to take her into hyperdrive?" The boy's eyes widened, his whole face alight with a dazzling smile. "Can I? Really?" "Sure. We'll get there a whole lot faster, that's f'sure!" His Master laughed. "Left hand, the upper one, there." He indicated another of those shallow depressions. Obi-Wan reached out his left hand and felt the metal pooling around it. // Syrene? Is it ok? // // Of course, silly. The course is plotted. And once we're in hyperdrive, you can tend to him. He's not as fine as he wants us to think. // // I know. // Obi-Wan could feel his Master's fatigue, despite his dancing eyes and his grins. He felt a sharp tug at his Force-senses, then gasped aloud as he felt the intense drain on him. The ship's metal wings folded back and she surged into hyperdrive. The intensity of it left him trembling and panting as though hehad come. The thought made him blush and Qui-Gon laughed aloud, quite awareof what piloting Syrene could be like. "Dulaan, we're on autopilot now. I will inform you when we are ready todrop back to normal speed." "Thank you Syrene. Fer everything." Obi-Wan left his right hand in place for a moment and let his mind reach outto the ship. // Thank you. // // Of course. Be good to him. // // I will. // Reluctantly, he took his hands from the console and stood up. "Let's get some rest Master." For a moment, he paused at the bridge doors, afraid to view the evidence of the raiders on the other side. His stomach lurched, remembering that disembodied head with it's moving lips and shocked, blinking eyes. A shudder ran through his slender frame. Qui-Gon grasped his shoulder gently. "It's alright, Obi. Don't worry." The boy took a long, deep breath. Hells, he thought to himself. If I coulddo it, I should be able to look at it. He didn't see his Master's knowing smile over his head. When the doors opened, he walked calmly through them without a trace of fear. XVII "WOOOOOOOHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" the screams echoed against the lake canyon's green hills, cupping the sound and spilling it into the blue sky. The scream preceeded a huge splash into the dark water, sending fireworks of foam into the afternoon. "I've gotcha naow!!" Koll ran headlong off the long rock overhang atthe eastern end of the lake. "Come on, then, and get me!!" taunted a dripping Obi-Wan as he tread water lightly, pushing his wet-dark red hair out of his face. Another bloodcurdling shout, followed by a splash split the whirring insect-quiet of the afternoon. Late summer breathed out all it's treasures here in a rush to win the race against impending autumn. The mild air was thick with the scent of grass and late blossom, of ripening fruit and the promise of colder days. Qui-Gon stretched his long legs out under the great tree by the shore. He swung his left arm around experimentally, shrugging the kinks out of it. Mace had settled next to him, watching the flashing bodies in the lake witha smile. "Hard to remember they're both so young, isn't it?" Qui-Gon scowled. "They should be left to be so. It's a crime to make 'em grow up so fast." Mace shrugged. "What can we do? It's the way of things, now." "Tha' doesn't make it right." He raised his head at another volleyof shouts and laughter. "He'd never have been like tha' four months back." Mace leaned back against the tree trunk, pouring them each a goblet from the pitcher near his feet. "And you!! I could cheerfully have your greying head for that last stunt!!" "Oh, stop yer naggin'!! I managed, didn't I?" "Thanks only to him!!" Mace retorted. Qui-Gon only grinned at him. "Ah, ya should've seen him fight!! Made me damned proud o' the lad!" "And damn near got you both killed!! Are you out of your mind, Qui-Gon, to put yourself, worse, to put the boy in such danger!?" There was a long uncomfortable silence between them. When Qui-Gon finally spoke, his voice was low and hard. "It was a calculated risk I had t'take. It's gonna get worse before better, Mace. We'll all be facin' more than we know. I do na think the Senatewill stir itself much. A mere blip or two that the negotiatin' teams can take care of. What I'm worried about is the Republican Guard. We're gonna be up against an army of genetically engineered fighters. And we know that wi'all our abilities, we're not bloody immortal!" "But to risk him so soon..." "He did just fine. I knew he would. And I needed him to decoy Meryck." "Nevertheless," Mace replied. "You should have had at least a few crew members." Qui-Gon grimaced. "More idiots to pay off!!" He dismissed the thought with a wave. "It only dilutes the profits and runs a worse risk of informers.No, Mace, I'll na have any more betrayals. The last was bad enough." "True..." Mace's smooth brow furrowed. "The amount was staggering for a short run. How did you get Meryck to agree?" "I dangled a few carrots." came the mild reply. "And planted a few seeds." "What?" Qui-Gon's teeth always seemed to grow huge when he smiled like that, Mace thought. It made him look like a big, hungry feline, lounging by a forest pool, waiting... "I planted comlines all through out Meryck's place. I've a notion he's playing at both sides and mean to catch him out." Mace raised an eyebrow. "Were you raised by wolves?" Another predatory grin as Qui-Gon pushed his sweat-damp hair back. "Na, just a coven of Sith witches in league with the fey folk." Mace grinned back at him. "Speaking of Sith witches, how's your sister?" His friend just groaned and lay back into the sweetgrass. "A hag, as always. If you're wantin' Maera Dubh, you'll have better luck not tryin' through me!" Mace's expression grew thoughtful. "You should make amends with her. She'd be a powerful ally." "She a miserable, deceptive, evil bitch an' I want naught t'do with the wretch!!" "In other words, she's just as devious as her charming brother." "Bugger off, Mace. I don't want t'hear it." A slight breeze ruffled Qui-Gon's hair. His eyes were trained on the horizon, always aware, even in the slumber of a summer afternoon. Koll and Obi-Wan were sitting on the rock ledge, legs dangling. It did not take any kind of Force-driven sense to know that they were stuffing themselves on thebucket of blackberries for which they had braved the brambles earlier. The dappled sunlight softened his face to an almost pensive expression. "What in all that's holy are you thinking of, Qui? You look almost melancholy." "I remember being that young. A long time ago." He shot Mace a rueful smile, rotating his stiff left arm again. "I don't mind tellin' ya that bolt took the starch out o' me." Mace sniggered. "Are you confessing to age, my friend? To, how shall I say it, a lessening of your formidable strength?" "Sarcastic bastard you are! And yes, I'm na gettin' any younger. It was past time. I'm just glad our friends at temple found him at all." Mace shook his head infinitessimily. // Hush. No place is safe for that talk. Even here.// Qui-Gon yawned. //True. Annoyin' but true. I've intercepted nearly all his little reports. They were goin' to a certain Senator Dariall, but I'm quite sure it's a blind. I'll find out.// Mace refilled their glasses and took a long draught. The shadows were darkening over the lake as the sun dipped lower. It's rays flooded the ground with streaks of dark gold, spangling the mist rising off the surface of the midnight water. "You should go there." "Go where? That bloody industrial hellhole?" // Be serious, Qui. We need information. The layout of the place, the spaceport, the security.// Qui-Gon sat up and skimmed a rock across the water. "I willna do it!! I hate the sight of cities." //I know. But so soon? I was hopin' to give him a few more months' training.// "Well, you know best, but the boy might be homesick. You might have a little compassion for that." Qui-Gon's ears pricked up. Yes, there, behind them in the tall grass. Not very subtle, he thought sourly. // And he'll know the place inside-out. Better than any of our people there except the ones we cannot spare.// "Oh, all right, ya're worse than a mother hen!! I'll give the lad a treat and take him home for a spell. He could use it." Qui-Gon stared out over the lake with inseeing eyes. "He's becoming a rowdy." The last low sparks of the setting sun glinted, shadowing the lines around his eyes, his mouth. // He's beginnin' to ask questions, Mace. How much can I--// // Not yet! Not yet. We just can't. Yet. // On to Chapter 18