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As Clear As Mud	By : pronker Category: Star Wars (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4966 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
As Clear As Mud

Chapter 2

A/N: These are parts two through eleven of a one hundred-eight part story, each part approximately one thousand words.
Part Two
Night fell quickly in Trow's summer. Both Anakin and Obi-Wan felt awed by the sheer width of the river, its shores barely visible in the thinning fog, as they moved along with no effort needed to steer. Such uncontrolled power made Anakin a bit nervous, while Obi-Wan rode through the darkness asleep, his form barely visible in the weak light of Trow's two small moons. When Anakin did fall asleep at dawn, Obi-Wan stirred.
"Gnnnnngh, by siduses ... bust've choked od da wader or idhaled or sobedig, Adakid ... oh." Obi-Wan glanced at his slumbering Padawan, arms and legs asprawl in heavy just-post-adolescence sleep. When Anakin was like this, Obi-Wan knew better than to disturb him and truly, there was no need. Barring disaster, they would arrive near Nepsa late day after tomorrow, although Obi-Wan didn't recall if the capital was precisely on the river or simply nearby. He moderated his time sense to alert him at that point and ran some internal diagnostics while he was at it: earache, headache, sinuses thumping against his brain or so it felt, bruise an unholy shade of purple on his right temple. He relaxed in a cross-legged position on the rippling floor of the raft, acknowledging and bending to the river's omnipresence. The bruise took a few minutes to heal, capillaries caressed with needle-fine shards of Force-power to stimulate his body's natural healing and if Anakin had been awake, he would have seen the bruise shade to brown, greenish-yellow, and finally dusky rose. The headache took longer. Neck muscles responded to thicker, finger-shaped pulses of the Force that kneaded and rubbed, trailing bliss from cervical vertebrae to occiput and back again. A delightful twenty minutes and he was done. Obi-Wan saved the most difficult healing for last, using a delicate technique he had learned from Luminara Unduli in a few weeks' lessons. It was his sinuses that throbbed and since they lay inside bone, Luminara thought that in emergency situations far from her gentle ministrations, he could learn to self-heal. So he breathed deeply and attacked his frontal sinuses with a molecule's width strand of the Force, sifting through skin cells and cartilage, arriving at a hollow almost filled with humid secretions. Obi-Wan sensed pressure and a nearly clogged release duct; he thickened the strand at the far end to a half-centimeter and drifted through the muck to probe gingerly at the opening. "Nyyynggh." Five minutes later, the technique worked and he gave his body a chance to adjust, refraining from clearing his throat or coughing, which would only start up the headache again. Then he proceeded to maxillary sinuses and finally he cleared his ear tubes, at last allowing himself a thorough hawking and spitting over the side of the raft. Really, he must treat Luminara to dinner for those lessons.
Anakin slept until late morning before lurching to his knees in the unsteady raft. "Gotta go, Master. Don't look." Obi-Wan and Anakin knew each other's habits so very well; Anakin had a shy bladder. Obi-Wan did as he had done on innumerable occasions and closed his eyes.
"Of course, Padawan."
By midday, the river had narrowed enough for them to spot jungle on each shore, multi-trunked trees festooned with tiny-leaved vines that had pale yellow blossoms. Shrill screams called across the water to them, evidently from flittering birds in large flocks. Now and again a groaning roar echoed. Narrowing the river had increased its speed and instead of a smooth ride, little bumps marked their progress. To avoid spinning, Obi-Wan traded coxswain duties with Anakin on an hourly basis, leaning into the paddle made into a rudder. It all could have been a vacation rafting tour had not the Billaqori Congress of Tribes been meeting in six days to discuss whether or not to allow Republic forces to establish a base near their equator. "Reps, not Seps," chanted a few groups of demonstrators in the holovid shown during the briefing last week.
"Show the Billaqori the Republic way of doing things, Obi-Wan. You and your Padawan have an opportunity to demonstrate how democracy works, in reasoned debate and persuasion. Yet, if the Billaqori prefer the Separatists' way, be gracious in defeat, but before you leave," Mace Windu's voice hardened, "show them the Ohma-D'un holovid. The unedited one with the dissolved Gungans, the one even the Galactic Intruder refused to broadcast."
"Yes," Obi-Wan said slowly. "I hear now that the Gungans show it to their younglings from first school year onward. They pledge each morning to remember the atrocities."
Mace nodded grimly. "As they should." His face turned stony. "Before leaving their system, wait just out of orbit. I predict old Strenghis and his Cabinet will call you back double-quick."
Anakin had held his peace with difficulty. Indoctrination. Jar-Jar was responsible for this policy, he was certain. The last time they had seen him, Representative Binks' overweening attitude galled Anakin and disturbed him a bit. The lack of political training, much less ability, spurred Binks to bouts of patriotic speeches and even Boss Nass deferred to him sometimes. Padmé indulged Jar-Jar, Anakin thought, when she placed him on Propaganda committees. She wanted him out of her way, certainly. and designing slogans to go with enormous floating billboards must have seemed innocuous. Anakin wasn't so sure. He'd speak with her the next chance he got.
The river continued.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Three
"Anakin, hold still. You've a thing on your neck. Bend down a bit." Anakin obliged, glancing about alertly first. His nerves had not settled at all after two days, Obi-Wan observed. He bent up the left earlobe. There ... a creature? No. He prodded the thumbnail-sized orangish material before scratching it off with one fingernail. He sniffed. "Mold. It's mold."
"Growing on me?" Anakin clawed at his neck. "Is there more?"
"Calm down, Padawan. We're bound to get a little fuzzy in this humidity. I have a partial solution."
"Just do whatever." Anakin ran his fingers through his Padawan-crop, lifted his braid, traced under his innermost tunic with a hurried hand. "Please," he added.
"We'll cut each other's hair."
Anakin stuttered, "N-n-not my braid! I've worked for it, Master, and ... "
"No, that won't be necessary. We should trim our hair and armpits, my beard, sufficiently to air out as much skin as possible."
"How about down th-- "
"No, that's quite enough, Padawan. Here, you may do first honors." Obi-Wan lay back, the auburn strands of his full head of hair hanging limply in the still air. "Mind the raft."
Anakin glanced once at Obi-Wan's relaxed posture and decompressed a bit himself. He ignited his lightsaber. As was proper before touching his Master in a non-training capacity, Anakin closed his eyes briefly and accessed a dollop of steadiness by reciting the Respect-for-Master's-authority release.
Obi-Wan expected a tug and a shearing slice, repeated until the job was finished, and so was unprepared for the sensation of Anakin's long fingers sifting through his hair to snug themselves against his scalp. The hair protruded between Anakin's fingers as the lightsaber thrummed next to his left ear. "It's the way my Mom used to cut my hair," Anakin said softly. "'I'll be cut before you will,' she used to say." Back, sides, top completed, Anakin approached the beard in the same fashion.
Obi-Wan bared his throat, the better to allow an even job. At last, head and jaw, throat and sideburns sported no more than a pinkie's width of hair. "Thank you," he said. Anakin's head afforded a mere two minutes of effort. Obi-Wan hadn't cut Anakin's hair since the first Master-to-Padawan ritual cutting, when Anakin's tiny braid first dangled beneath his right ear. Obi-Wan ran his hand through the soft spikes, remembering for a moment, then snapped off the lightsaber. "Done. We can each do our own underarms." To Obi-Wan's expectations and Anakin's disgust, each pit bore the beginning spots of mold. "Don't scratch, Anakin. If the skin is broken, the spores may get into your system and do who-knows-what."
They hesitated before broaching the next topic. "I know that they're down below. I just know it. I can ... feel them crawling," Anakin blurted.
"'They' are neither sentient nor mobile. There's nothing for it but get through this, Padawan; by next Republic Day we'll laugh about this at the Temple picnic." Republic Day was at the end of the following month. Obi-Wan was certain that the picnic would not be cancelled due to the war. He had a hunch that wartime sentiment would exhort all demonstrations of patriotism into furious overdrive.
"Not me. A crash, nearly drowning, mold on our ... on our ... "
"Private parts," supplied Obi-Wan.
"Cock and balls," riposted Anakin.
"Ion cannon on a caisson."
"Ion cannon? Haven't heard that one."
"They switched to repulsor lift right about the time that you were born," Obi-Wan said with a straight face. "Kept getting bogged down on swampy planets."
The river chortled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Four
Early the third day, Obi-Wan nibbled on his 5,796th protein pellet. He calculated at each mission's meals, which turned out currently to be twenty-three years of extra-Temple missions, figuring approximately fourteen-day missions at six times per year, just about, and three meals daily, 5,796, yes, that's right. He drank thirstily from the survival kit's puffpackets of muja juice. The shores of the river appeared minimally closer now, but something else hove into view: a dam spanned the river seventy meters ahead. "Anakin."
"I see it." Anakin had been about to suggest a brief swim alongside while clinging to the raft with one hand. The humidity was getting him down and he wished that he had selected another color of uniform from the supply room than the absolute deepest shade of brown.
It was a pressed-soil dam. The current sped up noticeably and threatened to thrust them into one of the spillways at each end as it would any floating object, dropping them over the edge from an unknown height.
"Paddle hard for the midpoint." Obi-Wan said. The two Jedi strained for the center of the dam, oars in teamwork tandem. They knotted the mooring rope securely about a protruding root from a snagged timber. After climbing the eighteen meter-high structure to survey from the dam's peak, they saw that a trail zigzagged at the crest, any tracks deposited erased in soppy mud. At either end of the trail, jungles closed in, their trees an even fifteen meters in height. Clouds lowered from a gray humid sky and all in all, an abundance of Nature made the two men feel cosmically quite small.
Anakin scratched but could not reach a stinging insect welt in the middle of his shoulderblades. Obi-Wan obliged. "Ohhh, yes. That's sooo good. Lower, please." Anakin leaned into his Master's soothing fingers, eyes closing rapturously. Soon he could do this, too. After his Knighting, he would no longer need to murmur the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release. It was only one of the many privileges that he was looking forward to. His eyes popped open at the sound of a small squeak. A tiny rodent reared up on springlike hindlegs near his left boot. It observed him with a pair of bulging eyes, rubbing its clawed forelegs nervously together. He moved closer, but the creature tolerated, not liked, exposure to humans and it bolted for its burrow.
Obi-Wan, bemused by Anakin's actions, watched him squat by the animal's hole and peer inside the small dark den. His Padawan appeared to enjoy a rapport with this creature as well as the reek in Geonosis' arena. Looking up and down the dam, Obi-Wan spied thousands of similar holes, some with bobbing heads of the creatures that appeared, spotted them, and then disappeared only to pop up a minute later. He squatted, too, noting how the dam was made entirely of pressed soil, soil permeated with rodent holes. Soil that had turned to mud. Even as he watched, his boots sank ever deeper into the slurry. He spotted pieces of dam crumbling on the downriver side, little by little. "We're in trouble."
Anakin was still observing the hole, waiting for a furry head to re-emerge, when Obi-Wan pointed to the river. "Anakin, look!" Small swimming heads, rodent-sized, coursed as fast as they could through the swirling brown foam, fleeing their homes. Anakin looked startled as Obi-Wan grabbed his sleeve. "It's the dam! The flood has weakened it. Back to the raft!"
Too late. Sucking at their feet, the river ate the dam impossibly fast. Obi-Wan was knee-deep, then thigh-deep in liquified mud. "Jump into the water!" he cried. If the mud clung to them and water washed over their heads, they risked drowning in the raging river, even with rebreathers. He saw Anakin in trouble, too, and grasped his Padawan's hips, heaving upward, pulling Anakin free of the mud but pushing himself further down as he did so. Now he was armpit deep in the water with mud clinging up to his waist. He undid Anakin's grasp brusquely. "Swim, Anakin. Swim away from me."
Anakin took in the situation calmly, as calmly as he had gauged the danger at the arena. "Master, hear me. I will not leave you."
"No time to argue, Padawan. I will be all right." Anakin heard nothing but certainty in Obi-Wan's voice. He did not believe him. The water had reached Obi-Wan's neck and he could see him struggling to free himself.
Anakin dove blindly into the flood, using Obi-Wan's body as a guide. He felt a lightsaber, then the mud's clinging grip on both legs. Using his hands as scoops, he pulled handful after handful of mud away, freeing one knee, then the other. Now Obi-Wan gained leverage, scissoring his legs as his calves and then ankles came free. Anakin had to surface for another breath.
"I'm nearly free! Swim away, now!" Obi-Wan Force-pushed Anakin back several meters. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan took a deep breath --- and oh, the water was up to his shorn chin now -- and sank beneath the surface.
Too long. It was taking far too long. Anakin struggled to swim upstream back to him, but made scant headway. Tears sprang to his eyes. Don't die! Don't leave me, Master!
Then Obi-Wan's muddy head appeared as he coughed gouts of brown water and Anakin groaned in relief. "Over here! Master, over here!"
Obi-Wan gasped, blindly wiping mud from his eyes as he homed in on Anakin's voice. Anakin forgot to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release as he grabbed Obi-Wan's hand firmly, treading water.
"I wanted ... to keep ... the rebreather back ... for a real emergency," Obi-Wan spluttered.
Anakin choked. "I don't ever want ... to see what you consider ... a 'real' emergency!" Bad enough that they had both lost their boots in the mud.
The river gulped.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Five
Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin's hand fiercely, but the current pulled the two struggling beings hard against a drifting log and their connection broke. Tumbling, choking, Obi-Wan flailed his arms and kicked bare feet in an overhand stroke towards what appeared to be the surface. Yes! One breath, then another and another. He suppressed his coughs by compressing his diaphragm again and again until water from his lungs and stomach poured from his mouth and he could function again.
Something caught Anakin's right foot, a submerged branch by its feel. At least, he had no sensation of teeth snapping at his toes. Whatever it was, it was heavy and tumbling. He gasped as its roll took him under. Bubbles of his escaping breath caught at his ears, his nose and then swirled upward. A tug did not release his foot so he bent, squashing the last remaining air from his lungs. Time nearly stopped as he twisted his ankle from its wedge in a branch's notch. But which way was up? He had now been carried deeper and blackish-brown water seemed everywhere the same, with no light glimmer to guide him. Another object bumped him, this time on the cheek. His vision dimming, he saw two yellowish glows that did not blink. Eyes? A fish's eyes. Nearly touching his face, the orbs rose and he followed them towards the surface.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called hoarsely. "Anakin!" A dozen strokes brought him abreast of Anakin as he clasped him under the chin. "Relax, Anakin. Let me swim for you."
"I'm ... all ... right."
"I will be able to steer us if you relax." He cupped Anakin's chin, but did not attempt another overhand stroke. In a sitting position, he pulled Anakin onto his lap and straightened in the water, slipping his arm from Anakin's chin to his waist. "That's better. There's a dock, see it? Maybe a village or town."
"Okay." Obi-Wan held him firmly with one hand while Anakin sat on his thighs, his nose just above the water. Obi-Wan commenced to kick while steering with his left hand toward the dock. The flood's rage lessened now that they were below the dam. Craning his head to look backward, he could see that the dock was a simple wooden structure, no gangways, only a single rope dangling for tying any watercraft.
The two clambered up the rope onto the dock. Trow's primary burned away any chill while they lay out, relieved to be out of the rushing water, but the enervating humidity precluded their clothing drying out completely. Birds, insects, flyers of all kinds buzzed over them. Obi-Wan had lost his socks also in the flood, as had Anakin. Walking barefoot through a jungle was a dismaying thought. He glanced sideways at Anakin. More clothing needed to come off him. Obi-Wan hawked and spat some brown water. "Padawan."
"Yes, Master?" Anakin picked at a spot of mold between his toes. At least with no boots, air could reach their feet.
"Our bodies are attracting mold spores and by this time tomorrow we shall have even more spots growing on our skin." He needed to disgust Anakin, who had bouts of shyness about his body. "If we had arrived at Nepsa as planned, there would be healers to help fend them off, but as it is, we must help ourselves." He looked down at his soggy tunics. "I, for one, am perspiring in this humidity and do not intend to furnish a richer medium than I must for Trow's indigenous --- whatevers." He stood to emphasize his point. "I'm disrobing to my undergarments. Please do the same." He pulled apart his leggings' laces, shoved them down to the dock and undid the belt and obi to yank up the tunics' skirting. He shed the top two tunics, leaving a final thin layer of the one-piece standard-issue set of short-legged drawers attached to a short-sleeved top with a slit neck. For practical purposes, the designers had installed an unbuttoned fly and dropseat for human/humanoids. Their dousing and their perspiration rendered the thin white weave transparent in most places. Finishing off by rolling the tunics and leggings into a cylinder, he replaced his belt and obi, threading the excess clothing through his belt at one hip. "Padawan?"
Anakin followed suit. Yes, it was divine to rid himself of the clothes' bulk; he just wished that he didn't feel naked, though. He swam often, and Obi-Wan did, too, so why did this half-concealing, half-revealing attire make him feel ten times more embarrassed than Jedi-issue swimtrunks? At least no others were around, just Master. He kept his eyes determinedly on Obi-Wan's face as he said, "Look, Master, the trail's not washed away." He pointed to a meter-wide path through lianas and those ever-present multi-trunked trees with their knobby roots. "And it's fairly soft for our feet, just muddy enough."
The morning dragged on into afternoon, which shaded towards evening. Obi-Wan and Anakin kept a brisk pace, needing to use their energy on this first day of hiking as much as they dared. Obi-Wan glanced about for the food that their briefing said was edible. Muscle tissue was safest to eat, but Obi-Wan's thoughts of an entree centered more on fruit or, if they were lucky, fish. Just before the sun dipped into shadows, a swamp apple mentioned as "tart but harmless, most nutrients in rind" drooped toward their heads from three meters up. Obi-Wan pulled delicately with the Force, and Anakin put out his hands to catch the ripe fruit. He took a bite, said, "It's okay," and handed the rest to Obi-Wan. In the gathering dusk, their undergarments did not look as see-through as before, but both Anakin and Obi-Wan pulled the excess clothing on their belts to hang in front of them.
The river deepened.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Six
Anakin had fond memories of barns. On Tatooine, eopies could weather sandstorms well enough, but most owners took pity on their dumb beasts and sheltered them in large municipal barns of thick adobe. Smells and soft snorts of creatures from banthas to eopies to pet dinkoes permeated the unlit structures, making them altogether one of the nicest memories Anakin brought away with him. As he surveyed the deserted barn that he and Obi-Wan discovered in the same clearing as an equally deserted farmbuilding just off the trail, Anakin looked at the stalls' size and envisioned what kind of beast normally resided here. There was a clean, thick pile of bedding material, shredded liana fiber from the looks of it, heaped in the center of the floor, swirling in the oncoming storm's advance breeze. Whoever lived here had loosed their animals, but prepared for their return in advance. The barn's door was opened freely, not a sign of a beast's crashing through, not a hinge broken. As to what sort of beast, it was smaller than a suubatar, but larger than an akk dog, Anakin surmised as he sniffed a rich odor in the air, a grain aroma that smelled pungent, barnlike, and well, likeable. Anakin grumped to himself a bit about the Council's emphasis on politics, politics, and more politics in their briefing and not a whit about natural history. Well, that is their focus now, Anakin, what with the war and all. They didn't expect us to crash in the back of beyond like this. No more Living Force-sensitizing trips to Ragoon-6 for the duration, I guess. How sad. Anakin hadn't rationalized the Council's actions like this before, and wondered if this wasn't what they called maturity.
Obi-Wan poked at the nibs of fiber with his bare foot, stooped and crumbled a handful between his fingers. He glanced out an unglazed window at the roiling gray clouds. "A storm coming and we have shelter, Anakin. Things could be worse."
Anakin nodded, leaning on the broad windowsill. Obi-Wan stood beside him and together they watched as a blast of wind bent the proud trees. Moments later a lone crack of lightning split the sky. Thunder grew in intensity and just when it should have stopped, it changed in character, continuing for several minutes. The Padawan looked questioningly down at the Master, who listened intently. "Drums," he said. "From a few kilometers away." He could not see Anakin's face now as he leaned in his general direction to shout over the drums' booming. "I sense no danger." And he didn't, though his Force perception had an odd flavor to it, a glimmer of something outside his experience. But life-threatening? No.
Anakin slumped on the bedding, scooping out his body's outline while he lay back. Rain pounded steadily against the glazed tile roof of the structure. He yawned. Considering the strong wind flowing in from the window, they would need to huddle for warmth tonight, even with putting their shed tunics and leggings back on. There was an almost pleasant cool dampness in the air, so unlike last night's mugginess. Anakin could handle dry desert heat much better.
The lightning flashes were nearly non-stop now as the storm hit the clearing in full force, strobing the barn's former comfortable gloom. Obi-Wan hollowed a place beside him and lay down. Without a word, he opened his arms. Anakin draped his braid forward and pressed his back against Obi-Wan's chest while Obi-Wan flung a leg over Anakin's hips. Anakin's shivers faded as he fell into sleepy silence. Obi-Wan soon followed, rearranging his senses once more to tune out white non-threatening noise as his face pressed into Anakin's brush cut hair. It was when he examined the miasma of the omnipresent jungle, equating it similarly to his Force perception of non-threatening odor, that he immediately noticed a slight change.
"Anakin, are you feeling all right?"
Anakin shifted in his arms. "No. I'm not. It's due to all the river water that I swallowed, I think, but I have an intestinal upset."
Obi-Wan grimaced. "Say no more. Me, too."
Unless they had access to water purifiers, the citizens of Trow must be hardy indeed to endure these microbes' invasion of their bodies. This last affliction, albeit minor, could place the two Jedi in harm's way; a sudden attack of the symptoms might distract them until the spasms passed. Obi-Wan's guts gurgled faintly. Not again.
The river splashed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seven
Flocks of greenish-gray birds screeched in the post-dawn clear air, but stopped their cacophony just as a non-white noise crack! echoed in the barn and brought Obi-Wan and Anakin to alertness. Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber with his right hand, noticed immediately that it was numb from Anakin using it for a pillow, and changed to his left hand, thumb on switch, not activating it yet. There were two entrances to the barn and six Billaqori entered each, with one sliding over the windowsill. The thirteen formed a tight phalanx, their mud-colored skin and short black hair smeared with a kind of pattern in ochre paste. The tallest was somewhat shorter than Obi-Wan. A large male with a towering feathered headdress placed both hands before him atop his meter-long weapon. Looks like a vibro-axe, Obi-Wan thought. He and Anakin stood back-to-back.
Headdress said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice that was only slightly accented, "Jedi. You are off course."
Obi-Wan replied, "We lost our boat in your river. We are en route to Nepsa for the Congress of Tribes. If you could spare an escort ... "
As the twelve armed subordinates looked to Headdress, Anakin noticed that one of them seemed to gauge them measuringly for some reason. She whispered to the ostensible leader and he nodded. "Jedi are always welcome to join the Billaqori at our most important festival today. This very night is our sacred time," he said.
"Is that why the farmstead is deserted?" Their briefing had been on planet-wide politics only; perhaps this was a local rural festival.
"All within walking distance of a village must come to a Gathering. We honor our Mother tonight. When Dormin did not answer the drums last night, we knew something was wrong here."
That was how their presence was known, then; a dead-man's-switch arrangement.
"No one was here when we arrived before sundown last night," Obi-Wan said.
Qikal shrugged. "There are other trails than the one we took to arrive here. Dormin has a large family and may have started early to give himself more time for the trip. He is a pillar at the Gathering, so we --- I --- thought it worthwhile to investigate." Qikal smiled rapturously. "I knew that he would never dishonor the Mother."
Mother being everyone's mother, as in a generic all-giving avatar, Obi-Wan surmised. Why hadn't Mace included Trow's basic religions in their briefing? This was a common enough belief system, the Mother giving life, sustaining life, procreating more life ... Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about this suddenly. "Of course, we should be honored to observe your ceremony tonight. It is, possibly, a one-night ceremony?" Not the eighteen-day Mother ceremony on Supairp Prime, please. Not the endless speeches, ceremonial creations of blood brother kinships that had nearly drained him dry, with ritual wrestling bouts afterwards to see who could refrain from fainting the longest. Please. Though some called serving the Force a religion, the Jedi Order had very few rituals; the basic grounding of belief in the Force was an everyday thing. The only holidays observed were Republic holidays; any other special days had to do with individual rejoicings such as lifeday celebrations, Knighting Day anniversaries, and Master-to-Padawan first Braidings. All this was to Obi-Wan's secret relief. He had faith in abundance; he didn't need exhortations on previously selected days. He allowed none of this to show on his face as he asked delicately, "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is my Padawan-learner, Anakin Skywalker. And your name is ... ?"
There was grace in the middle-aged leader's bow. "Qikal. My name is Qikal." He turned to Anakin. "'Padawan-learner' ? Is this your son?"
"Apprentice, sir. My Master is training me to be a Jedi Knight." Anakin spoke up.
"He is in my charge. He will assist in our negotiations with your Congress." Obi-Wan took over the conversation as he recalled the odd tinge to the drumbeats' Force perception.
The woman who assuredly was the leader's advisor smiled warmly. "It is as the Mother wills. One partner for each of us," she said, touching Anakin's arm. "And he is old enough."
I don't like the sound of that. Obi-Wan placed himself pointedly between Anakin and the advisor. "Qikal, what precisely will we be expected to do?" He saw Qikal notice his lightsaber, appraising it as a weapon.
The thirteen had such broad smiles that their ochre makeup cracked on their cheeks.
The river bubbled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eight
The smiles broadened even more, if possible. The Force rippled in that unusual way that it had last night when lightning cracked, thunder boomed and drums superseded thunder. A different tinge embellished the happiness coloring the Force around the ecstatic Billaqori. Obi-Wan didn't know what to make of it.
Anakin did know what to make of it, and his general state of nervousness kicked into overdrive. Surely this tinge was natural to the humanoid Billaqori, as it was to all beings. Surely it would have no repercussions on him.
"Welcome to the Billaqor tribe. We of the Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy village will share our bounty with you, Jedi. Joining in our Festival of Plenitude honors us." They commenced to embrace Obi-Wan hugely, one after the other, to his surprise. They were shorter than he was, but quite well-built and strong. Good thing those intestinal upsets seem to have dissipated in the night, Obi-Wan thought as one Billaqori actually squeezed him enough to hoist his feet from the ground. Ever the diplomat, he returned each hug with equal fervor, smiling graciously all the while. Beside him, Anakin enjoyed equal treatment, although no Billaqori could lift him from the ground. The assistant to Qikal stood apart. There was something predatory about her, Obi-Wan thought.
"Anakin, observing this festival of theirs will gain us transportation, I believe, and perhaps an escort," Obi-Wan said after the welcoming group dispersed to secure the farmstead. The thirteen helped themselves to food and drink from stores, since they hadn't brought any provisions with them in their pre-dawn rush.
Anakin flicked a glance towards the silent, beaming assistant. "Master, you said 'observe,' they said 'join,' did you notice?" Some of the Billaqori ochre makeup had come off on Obi-Wan's chin during the cheek-to-cheek rubbing part of the embrace and Anakin wiped it off for him.
"Their Basic is good but not perfect, Padawan. I'll explain the difference to them." As Qikal approached once more with packets of a purplish paste, Obi-Wan chanced, "Leader Qikal, my grasp of your charming custom is limited. Am I to understand that you allow outsiders to actually join in? Doesn't this offend the Mother in some way?" Obi-Wan's only perfect grade in Diplomacy Training came from Master Lingus, whose series of lectures that the Padawans nicknamed How To Lay It On Thick drew small crowds. Ask a leading question when under duress, she'd said. Throw all their beliefs into question. But in a nice way.
Qikal handed each of them a packet and said slowly, enunciating each syllable in a way that all beings did when speaking to foreigners, "I say again, welcome to our tribe, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. As the Mother wills, everyone in her territory without a mate will find one tonight. Any offspring will be birthed next spring in the utmost season of Plenitude." Qikal smiled with all his teeth. "No outsider yet has refused the honor. You would be the first." He ran his thumb around the tip of the weapon that Obi-Wan originally had thought similar to a BD-1 Cutter vibro-axe, but now appeared to be a small force pike.
And where did they get force pikes? Later, Obi-Wan, later. Obi-Wan heard Anakin's gulp of astonishment as his mind flashed to various scenarios: One: Fight. He could Force-push them all away without harming a soul. In case of pursuit, he and Anakin could run into the jungle through unknown territory with dwindling supplies, barefoot. Absently he rubbed his lightsaber's hilt. Possible, though by now he realized that the Billaqori had a simple but effective way of communicating with their outlying settlements, meaning that more battles might await them. While the Jedi extraction team that was surely en route would track them down eventually even without Obi-Wan's and Anakin's overt help, battling their way out of this would not help the Republic's cause at all. Risky. Two: Acquiesce. The path of least resistance, least possibility of danger to his Padawan, the mission and by extension, the Billaqori, and last of all, himself. More likely.
Anakin's thoughts blanked as he saw his Master nod unsmilingly towards Leader Qikal. 'Honor the Mother?' At that moment, he very much wanted his own mother, to advise him at the very least. He broke open the packet of what turned out to be a nutrient paste and shoved it in his mouth with his fingers. He finished it before registering what it tasted like and when Obi-Wan handed him his own as well, ate it the very same way. This time he did notice the flavor; it tasted like something all-natural, unspiced and extremely bland. Probably very healthy and good for him. Probably something Padme would enjoy. Certainly something Obi-Wan would relish. He didn't much like it.
When their troop marched leisurely down a five-person wide trail towards Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, Anakin found another reason to dislike the Billaqori. Their ochre makeup covered up most of the orange mold showing behind ears and at the waistline of their roughly-woven lavalavas, but not all. He made a moue of distaste upon discovering this, but schooled his features to impassivity when Obi-Wan shot him a look.
The river subsided.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Nine
Anakin flinched away from his Master when Obi-Wan pointed out another swamp apple tree on their hike, hardly able to look at him. He fumed all the way back to the Billaqori village. He ran over his own scenarios: One: Reveal his identity as the Chosen One and demand immunity from any ceremonial involvement whatsoever. Unlikely the Billaqori would place Jedi prophecy above their own religion, but still ... Two: Run. He was well-rested, he could have run faster than ever before away from this situation even though barefoot. He knew that Obi-Wan would cover his retreat, even at great expense to himself ... He didn't complete the scenario. Three: Acquiesce. At this point his mind blanked again. He trudged along the trail. There wouldn't be any fathering from this. There. Just. Couldn't. Be. How would he explain this to Padmé? He couldn't desert any child that he ever would have. If he made them, he would support them. What would the Code say? Personal responsibility to the Force was its keynote theme, wasn't it? But what if it wasn't? What if --- Anakin's mind gibbered --- what if, in this case of procreation under duress, the Code and the Council would say, It was the will of the Force, Skywalker, that this child was created. It will be cared for by its culture, never fear. But Anakin did fear. Already he grew indignant in his imaginary conversation, picturing the Council's distant, kindly compassion. My child will never be an "it." He or she will be a person!
Anakin's chest tightened and breathing was difficult. Then he relaxed into a moving meditation, swinging his arms to counterbalance his legs, blocking any discomfort from his bare feet on the trail, just walking, only walking. Probably conception is impossible between Billaqori and humans. He eyed the advisor obliquely. Secondary female characteristics indistinguishable from humans. Qikal thinks procreation possible, but Qikal doesn't know shit. There has to be a way out of this. There has to.
Anakin's nerves jangled like a vioflute's tremolo, Obi-Wan sensed. So far on the two-hour hike to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, his Padawan did not look at him once. Neither did he speak to any of the Billaqori, though the leader's advisor attempted to draw him out in conversation. Obi-Wan sighed as he stopped to pull out a sticker wedged between his toes. The Unifying Force pulled at him, and he skipped over any nighttime apprehensions to focus on tomorrow's journey towards Nepsa. Perhaps they could borrow a watercraft, or there was a shortcut through the jungle, even a beast to ride would do ... The Living Force erupted in his mind again as he saw the advisor draw near Qikal and speak in a low voice. Obi-Wan decided that he didn't much like the Living Force. He continued placing one foot before the other.
Qikal nursed an old injury, Anakin noticed, as the leader strode along with a hitching gait. A large lump beside his right knee spoke of an improperly set fracture. When the group rested briefly, Qikal sat on one of the smoother roots of the multiple-trunked trees called naynabo. He gestured to Anakin to join him on an adjacent seat, and Obi-Wan seamlessly invited himself along. "I find myself needing a rest also, Leader. At our ages, we should listen to what our bodies tell us, isn't that right?" Obi-Wan suggested through the Force that he was older than he looked and smiled a middle-aged man's commiserating smile at their shared plight, settling himself on the far side of Anakin.
Qikal rubbed the bulge on his knee a moment. "You will respect the Mother if you choose a partner from among us. When we arrive home, there are a few unattached females who desire to fulfill their duty." He stretched out a kink in his back. "I will find you each a suitable partner, although" --- he appraised Anakin in as frank a way as any Obi-Wan had ever witnessed from the Outer Rim frontier cantinas to the rowdier night spots of Coruscant --- "any Billaqori would want either of you. Even myself."
Forget about acquiring transportation for the mission. The priority was Anakin. If he had wanted to choose a more damaging fate for his Padawan, Obi-Wan could not have done it. Anakin was just twenty; his person as a Jedi Padawan-learner should be inviolate. This would not happen. No. "He's mine," he said. Feeling Anakin's and Qikal's stares, he said more firmly, as he thought a lover would say, "We're, um, together. We've just had a little spat, isn't that right, Anakin?" He put his arm around him in a more-than-comradely way that he had seen spouses use and gave him a tug to pull him even closer. He tilted this head against Anakin's and breathed into his ear as he strained away. "Follow me on this."
Anakin used his whiny voice. "A little spat? Is that what you think, Obi-Wan? I told you to requisition a brand new ship, but noooo. And now here we are. The garden spot of Trow." It was a convincing snit, with some truth in it on Anakin's side, Obi-Wan supposed. That was what made it a good lie.
Leader Qikal's brows beetled. Then he rose to his feet, putting his personal preferences aside for the good of the Mother. He straightened with considerable dignity. "As you say, Jedi, one of you is the teacher, and one of you is the learner. It may be that those roles will control what you do here tonight. One thing is for sure, there will be an honoring. As for offspring, well ... " He broke off as a thought struck him. "Unless your species is unlike ours in more than skin tone?"
"No!" Anakin and Obi-Wan chorused. "That is, Leader Qikal," Obi-Wan added, "we fully intend to keep faith with your customs."
Qikal summoned his advisor with a beckoning hand as he set out again on the trail. "That would be wise," he said over his shoulder to the two of them. "Because I am proctor of the entire proceedings."
The river froze.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ten
At the outskirts of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, Qikal startled Anakin by running a palm along his flank. Then he stood tall again as Leader, with the greenish-gray feathers in his headdress not stirring at all in the balmy post-deluge air. Some citizens came out to greet them, about fifty all told, oldsters, couples with what seemed at least three younglings apiece, and giggling teens. Old Dormin was the first to speak.
"Trokas, you spook too easy. We left early yesterday afternoon and stopped to fish along the way, that's all. Camped out halfway here. We heard the speaking drums, you know, but couldn't answer. Mother is getting along and can't walk as fast as she used to." Dormin's mother could have been an icon for Trow's ancient Mother-lifegiver; the old lady's sparse white hair crowned a sunken skull with only bright dark eyes showing any vitality. She elbowed her stout son in his side.
"Who says I can't talk as fast as I used to? I can talk just like I did at thirty, even faster. I have a lot more to say now." Dormin took her hand to steady her on her feet, but she shook him off. "I just rode the aloas to give it some exercise."
Anakin received his answer as to what kind of beasts lived in the Dormin household's barn. An ungulate of a nexu's approximate size stood tethered in the shade of one mud-and-wattle building, swishing its short feathery tail at buzzing insect pests. Its cream-and-chestnut striped fur gave it some camouflage in the dappling sun filtering down onto the jungle floor, Anakin supposed, although he thought the elegant meter-long horns must have been a bother when running from predators through the underbrush. A small saddle lay next to the hitching post, while a teen rubbed down the aloas' quite beautiful fur. In the Force, the aloas glowed with simplicity and a certain native cunning, just like the Billaqori villagers did. But no malice. Anakin turned his attention back to the conversation.
"Dormin. We are pleased you and yours are safely arrived. The festival wouldn't be the same without you."
"Trokas. I knew you when old Strenghis and you were hangers-on at Congress, running messages and brewing Kopi tea for that bunch. Strenghis moved up the ladder by smart dealing, but you, my man" --- Dormin clapped Trokas Qikal on the back --- "have kept the faith. Thanks for caring, even if you are an old worrier."
Leader Qikal allowed himself a slight smile. "It's what got me elected as leader, my friend. Have you arranged for child care for tonight?"
Dormin's mother spoke up. "It's under control, Leader. The old man and I have brought new games for the kiddies and all my friends will help out, too."
"Please ensure that the children remain with you this time. Last Festival was most unbecoming. You and your spouse and friends wound up playing with the games and the children escaped your care. Some interrupted the honoring." Qikal glared at the old woman, who stared at her sandals a moment before replying.
"Leader, most couples finish fast and come back to gather their children. We got bored with waiting for the second-timers and partying to finish, that's all."
Anakin thought that Qikal's glare was a close fourth to his Master's, and that Dormin's mother's excuse needed much work. It was something to work on to take his mind off the approaching evening. As he looked around, Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy mirrored hundreds of villages at this level of sophistication he had seen through the years. Tropical climates, lack of stones for building, and need for ventilation influenced architecture to construct earthen homes with vegetation-thatched roofs. The local variety of clay clung well enough to the wattle underpinning and even allowed round windows to keep their shapes. Anakin knew that vermin thrived in dark, airless places. He wouldn't mind entering one of these homes. The openness of being under the sky suited him better, however. He and Obi-Wan weren't prisoners, at least. They would simply fake compliance, yes, that's it. Somehow he and Obi-Wan would put on a show. Perhaps they could get away with it. Faking this whole thing would be so close to actually joining in that it almost didn't matter. Almost.
Obi-Wan entered the state of observing-without-looking that he had perfected. Like most communities, Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy clustered its homes and public buildings around a commons, in this case an area wide enough for thirty couples to, well, couple. A few lanterns shaded with what appeared to be thinly-scraped animal hide hung from the corners of the perimeter's buildings. From the size of the village and his knowledge of demographics, Obi-Wan estimated that there were eighty non-participants and sixty participants. He found himself digging a toe in the soil to test for softness, and was relieved to spot a large pile of throws and largish embroidered pillows in one far corner of the area. Of course, he and Anakin would never consummate their relationship, although it was a loving one. Faking was the order of the day.
The river laughed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eleven
Dex's would never serve this nutrient paste, Obi-Wan observed. It had neither fiber nor grease in it, for one thing; whatever the conglomeration was of meats, fish, fruits, or vegetables left no substance at all, merely a smooth purple mucilage. It had the advantage of being a change from protein pellets and that was its saving grace. "Padawan. Mix the pellets in with it and there is at least something to chew."
Anakin still couldn't believe what Obi-Wan had done. Here he and his Master were sitting side by side leaning up against a dwelling's back wall, eating out in the field on a mission, while the afternoon diminished and shadows grew long. They should be planning their scheme, recalling old strategies and examples of chicanery that had worked before, perhaps eying an out-of-the-way spot in the commons where lighting was dim. At last the meal was finished. Anakin discarded the empty packets of food and glanced toward the one lone hill that seemed to exist in this southern territory of Trow. The reddish sun inexorably dipped behind the small prominence, fingers of pink and pale blue clouds effervesced to deep purple, and then it was night. Leader Qikal lit the lanterns one by one so that the commons glowed with islands of illumination amid an inky ocean. Anakin couldn't stand the silence any longer. Croaking out the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, Anakin placed a firm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and swung him around to face him.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reprimand, but the dim light revealed one very distraught Padawan. Obi-Wan smiled instead, placing his hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Anakin, we will get through this. It is a minor thing, after all. By this time tomorrow, we will be well on our way to Nepsa with this all behind us. Can't you sense it?"
Sensing anything in the Force was the last thing Anakin wanted to do right now. Couples strolled by, smiling in that empty-headed way that he hoped, he hoped, he and Padmé never did. The Force swirled around him, colors deepening in tone, changing until there was not a pastel in sight. Heavy hues, sparkling blotches were the norm. And it may have been Anakin's imagination, but the humidity seemed to have increased. "Master, what are we going to do?"
"Well, we're not going to do what Qikal thinks we are going to do. I may have to look lasciviously at you and say certain things, and we may have to disrobe and squirm about, but that should be enough to fool anyone if we find a dark enough spot. This will all be over with soon, my Padawan. Quiet, here comes Qikal." The two Jedi held hands.
"See, Jedi, the moons rise and the Festival of Plenitude begins. Welcome." And Qikal waited in the unnatural hush of a village whose children were enthralled by quiet activities. Obi-Wan rose, drawing Anakin up with him. Qikal waited until Obi-Wan's fingers actually unhooked Anakin's belt before limping away.
"I can do it," Anakin hissed. "Please, Master." Anakin's hands shook, but he removed belt and obi, tabards and tunics outer and inner before undoing the leggings' laces to slip them down and off. He didn't look at Obi-Wan at all. It was bad enough that he heard clothing rustle. Two minutes later, he took a deep shaky breath and shucked his undergarments. "Master, please ... "
"Anything, Anakin."
"DoIhavespotsdownthere?"
"Come into the light more. No, I don't ... there, I see one tiny one through the hair."
"I knew it! I knew we should have trimmed everything!"
"Calm down, Anakin. It's nothing more than a few centimeters wide. Check me over, please."
"All right ... just a moment ... yes, a small one, too. Maybe we're getting resistant."
"Let's hope so. I'm tired of thinking about them, much less seeing them on people."
Complaints rarely came from Obi-Wan and to hear this from his lips emboldened Anakin. He nearly hugged him, but just then Qikal shone a glowrod over a couple nearby, murmured encouragement and a hearty "Happy Festival Night!" before moving briskly on to the next entwined pair. Oh. He has a glowrod. No faking then, Anakin realized.
The river sighed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
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As Clear As Mud

As Clear As Mud

Chapter 2