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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
As Clear As Mud

Chapter 3

A/N: These are parts twelve through fifty-two of a one hundred-eight part story.
Part Twelve
Obi-Wan felt roiling waves of panic from Anakin, enough adrenaline surging through the boy to suggest that he was fighting a furious battle within. If he loses control and fights me, will I win against the Chosen One? And if I do, will I like it? And if I don't, what will knowing that he is stronger than a Master do to us? And why, oh why, is he shielding so strongly? This anxiety must be about sex, but not masturbation because he and Anakin had had The Talk years ago. It was neither of their finer moments, but it was gotten through, and Anakin knew that self-pleasure made for good mental health. Which was Obi-Wan's current cunning plan, though tossing off wasn't very involving with one's partner, even with mutual observation. Obi-Wan wasn't certain that the practice qualified as honoring the Mother. It was the best idea he could come up with, though. To put on a good show for Leader Qikal, who was coming their way again, blast him, Obi-Wan embraced his Padawan gently, running both hands down the knotted back and up to the hunched shoulders. He has had a sexual encounter with another Padawan, certainly something mild, and he is shy about telling me.
Anakin felt Obi-Wan's strong hands knead stiff muscles and he buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck. He nearly swung a roundhouse blow when Qikal drew his braid from between his and Obi-Wan's throats with his roughened hands. "Good Jedi, commune more closely. Show the Mother that even Jedi know how to love." With a final pat to smooth the braid, Qikal moved along.
At this, Anakin jerked back from the embrace. His breath hoarsened. He walked to the pile of coarsely woven throws and chose the softest that he could find. It was black, with black fringe. He sniffed it. Clean, at least. Near the edge of the commons seemed as good a spot as any. Now that he was not actually being touched by Qikal, his head cleared. He calculated swiftly. No, the timing was fortuitous. After this delay, there was still time to complete the mission. His Master would not put this ... this detour on any formal Council report. Would he?
"M-M-Master, wait. I w-w-want to do something before we s-start."
Anakin looked Obi-Wan full on and recited the complete version of the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, the one almost never uttered by anyone. "I release myself from your authority, my Master, temporarily and only for your greater good. I recognize that all the Jedi that I am I owe to your training and promise to place myself under your authority when need is past. Until then, I will touch you without asking permission as you touch me in the normal way of things. May The Force B-Be With Us." He hiccupped towards the end as he removed the last scrap of uniform that remained on his body, the tough threads securing his Padawan braid. He unravelled the plait. He placed his Merit Beads under the throw to secure them from rolling and from an obscure impulse to protect them from witnessing whatever happened. It seemed all his Tatooine superstitions and his old stuttering habit were coming out as his stress level rose.
So formal, my Padawan. This is a survival situation, nothing else. We have done and will do what we must to survive and complete our mission and nothing will change between us, ever. Obi-Wan stroked his short scruff of beard, nodding seriously. He could tell that Anakin was profoundly affected by this. He resolved to guard him more than ever. "Whatever we do, Anakin, you have my promise to protect your body and your soul. Nothing will happen here that you and I cannot handle together. Come lie down." Time to be a Master.
Anakin obeyed.
"Anakin."
Anakin hiccupped again. "Yes."
"I will not hurt you, I promise." It tore at Obi-Wan to see Anakin this unnerved, he who had leaped out of a speeder above Coruscant's madly congested skyway to accost Zam Wesell. Anakin's face bore many scratches from Trow's lianas as well as a collection of small welts from insect bites. He was beautiful to Obi-Wan despite them all. Wondering what his own face looked like, Obi-Wan kissed him.
The river murmured.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirteen
"M-M-Master." The kiss began as a reassurance, Anakin could tell. After a moment, his Master deepened it, exploring Anakin's lips, teeth and tongue. Caught in a reflex beyond his control, Anakin tightened his arms about Obi-Wan's neck as his knees shook. Their bodies seemed to melt together, though Obi-Wan thoughtfully had cleared his cheek from Anakin's nose so that Anakin could breathe. Anakin breathed increasingly faster.
Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, go slowly. Don't frighten the boy. Boy? He is twenty, after all. Obi-Wan felt Anakin respond to him as he opened his mouth more generously. Anakin tentatively thrust his own tongue at his, enjoying the inside of his cheek in a curious way. Obi-Wan controlled his own response as he slid down one hand to trace a nipple as the other threaded through the unbound braid.
They parted a moment, both breathing raggedly. A few more Billaqori strolled in, hand in hand, to join them. Each selected a cover for the ground or a single embroidered pillow to kneel upon. Murmurs began as with no formality at all, each male and female dropped to the ground. There were no other same-sex pairs. What an incredibly wholesome reason for this orgy, thought Obi-Wan as, in the Force, passions arose with an intensity of color and sound that he had never experienced. He reached out to touch the Force and allowed it to touch him. Oh, yes, he would be gentle.
We're so close, we've never been this close, not even on Sugnid right at the end of that misbegotten mission when it seemed heatstroke had killed him and I breathed for him. This Trow mission, too, was dinko-bit from the start --- he's kissing my tongue --- but I can't respond. I simply cannot, got to pull back now. And Anakin did, turning his face away, trailing a string of saliva. "Not possible, no, Master, I can't. Please don't make me."
Obi-Wan brushed Anakin's temple with a retreating kiss and considered. This was only his body reacting; he loved Anakin and would continue to love Anakin until his own end. Even though Knighting would usher Anakin into his own separate career, they would meet on Anakin's and Obi-Wan's Knighting Day anniversaries to share drinks and tell stories. As their bond thinned over time to a strand, it would still exist. A kite, that's what Anakin is to me, thought Obi-Wan, who was becoming a little cosmic from the Force's heightened aura around him. He had run faster and faster into the wind, until the Force lifted Anakin from his grasp, sailing his Padawan ever higher. But still connected.
"Master. I just can't." Anakin loosened his arms from Obi-Wan's neck, curling fetally onto his side away from him. "It's not working." Shields up, shields up. Don't give in. Never thought I'd give in to even thinking this, much less doing this ...
Obi-Wan would find a solution. Anyway, just how would Qikal know if he had completed the act in Anakin's ass or Anakin's mouth ...ugh. Don't go there. So Obi-Wan compromised with another position, keeping contact with Anakin's skin to remain at least half-hard, dropping little pecks on Anakin's sweat-drenched skin while he rolled Anakin onto his side and spooned behind him, nuzzling his head into Anakin's shoulderblade due to their disparate heights. Rubbing all that he could reach still didn't bring him fully erect, though. He supposed Anakin's meter-thick shields were responsible for that, as there was no give-and-take of synergy beyond that outside the Force. So this is how commoners enjoy intimacy, he thought, lapsing under stress to an epithet for non-Force sensitives that he'd not used since living in Initiates' Hall.
Obi-Wan pitied Anakin. The boy was floundering, his wavering shields befitting a Junior Padawan. Obi-Wan sent as powerful a pulse of calm assurance as he could through their bond. Their close physical proximity amplified the bond's sheer volume. Obi-Wan swore that in another minute he would hear Anakin's individual thoughts, though he never had before. It wasn't something he had ever wanted, neither with Qui-Gon nor with Anakin. Anakin's trembling abated, the Force offered a still place to think, and Obi-Wan thought.
He soothed Anakin further with a hand on the boy's hip, feeling its angle beneath the calloused pads of his fingers. "Padawan, I will come for both of us."
"H-h-how? This place is degrading, it's barbarous, nobody could perform under these circ--- "
"Hush. I know a way." And he did. The Force had shown him.
The river rhapsodized.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fourteen
"Relax, Anakin. This is merely another stumbling block to rise above." He cleared his throat. "I will need your assistance, however. Please lie still and provide me with, uh, friction." Hyperbaric techniques should work as well on erectile tissue as on sinuses. A delicate procedure, you said, Luminara. Delicate enough for my cock? Breathing deeply to center himself, he smoothed Anakin's no-longer-quivering buttocks apart after a brief caress over the muscled curves. He placed Anakin in a lapsitting position though they both reclined, sliding one of Anakin's legs slightly upward, and placed his half-hard length in the sweaty crease of thighs from behind. Obi-Wan reached around to press down on Anakin's pubis for leverage, angling himself up on one elbow to tuck his chin atop his Padawan's bicep.
"Ohhh ... , " whimpered Anakin, but Obi-Wan felt utter softness in the timid organ that brushed the backs of his fingers.
Sounds of the coupling of dozens of Billaqori fell away, the rough blanket became black septsilk, and even the cringing distress of his Padawan blurred as Obi-Wan began to thrust, rocking Anakin firmly, his mind sifting through his own cells to use Luminara's technique of forcing drainage away from his aggrieved frontal sinuses to forcing blood into his uninterested penis. The triple layers of spongy tissue firmed agreeably; it seemed the orange mold did not affect sexual responses. Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's shoulder without knowing it.
Anakin's groin did any necessary thinking as he felt Obi-Wan's uppermost leg tighten around one of his parted knees. Even with Obi-Wan's breath harsh in his ears as the kiss brushed his shoulder, Anakin responded with a pitifully weak erection that never grew larger. Shields, need to strengthen shields. Anakin didn't dare drop them a bit. He's so close to coming, he's gasping. I might say, "No, do it like last time," or "Padmé,darling," and then he'd know, he'd know ... kriff.
Obi-Wan no longer needed the Force. Somewhere along the way, Anakin's presence became more than enough to drive him onward to completion, which surprised Obi-Wan: he'd thought himself heterosexual, if it ever came down to it. Why is he shielding so heavily? Poor boy, did I ever intimate that I would berate him for any little indiscretion with Tru, or Darra, or Ferus --- no, wait, it wouldn't have been Ferus. It might have been pity that pushed Obi-Wan over the edge, the tenderest pity that he had ever felt, pity that made him first suck and then bite Anakin's straining tendon above the join of neck and shoulder. Pulling a few hairs out of Anakin's groin as he clenched his fist over the pubic bone, Obi-Wan came, and came, and came ...
I made him do that? Just me? So much, it's all over me, it's, it's ... impressive, Master. Anakin froze, wondering what he could possibly say now. This thing had happened, no matter why, and Anakin felt as if he had turned a corner onto a mysterious street, filled with high-end shops and street entertainers and exotic food vendors, all clamoring for his attention, all waiting to see where he would spend his precious coinage. At this point, he truly did not know.
Anakin thought that he didn't know what to say next, but as it turned out he didn't have to. As if he were Force-sensitive, Qikal limped towards them with his glowrod as Obi-Wan's breathing returned to normal, noted the plenteous emission, said "Festival Fulfilled!" and moved on. Anakin glared at his retreating back, but Obi-Wan ignored the leader as he threaded Anakin's unbound braid through his fingers. He twirled the strand around his thumb before yawning and rolling onto his back. All around them, couples straightened their clothing and fumbled with their sandals. A few die-hards and the very young and enthusiastic sighed over lingering kisses and recharged their energies slowly for a second dallying. Obi-Wan wondered if begging for two spare pairs of sandals would work.
"Padawan, we should sleep."
"Not here. Anywhere but here."
The river eddied.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifteen
"Jedi."
"What?" Anakin snapped. He fastened his belt with short, angry motions. He could still feel Qikal's fingers on his chest, pulling out his length of braid, patting it, lingering on his back.
It was that advisor. She came out of the dark pool of the commons, straightening her lavalava. "You two have a bed for the night?"
"Not yet." Obi-Wan leaned away from a dwelling's thatched overhang where he had been lolling. "We'd appreciate some shelter."
The woman called farewell to her erstwhile partner, who was heading in the opposite direction. She turned back to Anakin and Obi-Wan. "You're only entitled to hospitality tonight if you've joined in honoring the Mother, which you have." She finished fastening her sandals. "Come on. It's not far."
She led them through the gloom of the nearly silent village, through alleys, past the village well, around the aloas corral and into her home. She struck a flint to light two oil lanterns similar to the ones at the commons, leaving Obi-Wan to wonder at the varying levels of technology in Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy. Ordinary citizens had flints, Qikal had glowrods. He tucked away the observation for later. He bowed to the woman. "Thank you."
"My name is Kuki Franell. You two hungry?"
"Starving." Obi-Wan looked around the one-room home. There was a wood range in one corner, where Kuki bustled about, and a round table with one chair. Some cupboards, rolled sleeping mats against one wall, and a lone mirror completed the decor. It was one of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's upscale homes; it had an actual planed naynabo-wood floor. She lives alone --- one chair --- has occasional company --- extra sleeping mats --- and cooks well --- delicious smelling something on the range. When Kuki handed them each a pail containing steaming water, a passably clean cloth, and pointed to the back door, Obi-Wan and Anakin needed no words.
"There's cool water in the rainbarrel in the middle of the yard for rinsing," she said. "Take a lantern, and mind the aloas droppings out there."
When they returned, Kuki had set the table with simple wooden bowls filled with a rich broth containing heaps of vegetables and large chunks of fish. Anakin wondered if the fish had had yellow eyes and hoped that it was an entirely different species. Before eating, Kuki stood before the mirror with her own steaming cloth and wiped off all the smeared ochre. Some still stiffened her straight black hair, but to Anakin's relief, the soft lamplight precluded seeing any orange spots. They all three gathered the bowls and settled companionably on the floor after a brief dispute over who was to have the single chair for hospitality's sake.
"This is good." Obi-Wan wasn't lying, because even though Billaqori cuisine contained not even salt to enliven foods, Kuki's choice of vegetables included a little mushy something with exquisite flavor that thickened the broth.
"Thanks. My husband's recipe. He always did like to cook, Mother rest him. Me, not so much." They finished the meal in silence. Kuki passed out plain water to wash everything down with before saying, "I'll use my flatboat tomorrow to take you to Nepsa. It'll take all day to get there. An easy float, though. I've got the whole day to devote to you. You're lucky it's off-season, or you'd be sharing my boat with an aloas or two, or bales of Kopi tea leaves, or anything else we trade to Nepsa merchants."
"To get glowrods and force pikes?" Obi-Wan put in. He smelled a mystery and was not too tired to sift clues.
"Leader Qikal has the only glowrods and force pikes around. We elected him because, well, he needed a job and can't do much with that knee of his. He went to Nepsa to be confirmed and came back with those things. That was just before last Festival. He's an excellent bureaucrat, actually." Kuki stretched and yawned. "'M tired. My maid will wash your clothes overnight."
"You have a maid?" Anakin's mood had improved with the meal and homey atmosphere. Now that the tension was released, he could see himself relaxing enough to sleep.
"Yes, it's my one luxury. Being a flatboat captain with a good salary means that anything left over from savings and necessities goes to the maid. Her name's Papso. Just put your things out by the front door with mine. She works nights."
"Erm, we'll need something, Kuki ... " Obi-Wan began.
"Sure thing." Kuki opened a cupboard and hauled out two lavalavas. She turned her back. "I'd give you sandals, too, but ... wait. Dunri, my husband, he was a large man. I saved a few things, I couldn't bear to ... well, here."
Anakin forgot his bashfulness as he and Obi-Wan whipped off their uniforms and tried on the lavalavas and sandals. Anakin's toes and heels lopped over the soles. He didn't care.
The river smiled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixteen
The two moons had ascended into Trow's night skies, their pallor marking the darkness with strange shadows. When Anakin dropped his tattered uniform on top of Kuki's wad of clothing and looked up again, the sight of Obi-Wan backlit by a silvery glow took his breath away. All his feelings rushed forth from the past four days to leave him slightly agog at the sight of his Master's form. From beginning to end, this mission could be a textbook case for Master/Padawan protection. He had saved Obi-Wan from the flaming ship, Obi-Wan had swum for him when he was exhausted. Obi-Wan had schemed to keep him safe from a shocking violation, he had played along by acting with all the skill that he possessed. Anakin wasn't good at acting, at least not like this. Living a lie with Padme was different. It had a good reason and a timetable for ending: the end of the war. At the victorious end of the war, the Chosen One, surely by then sitting on the Council, would state firmly that his wife and he would live together openly, within or without the Jedi Order. In Anakin's fantasy, Master Yoda, Master Windu and all the hidebound rest of the Council debated and argued, finally coming up with a Jedi Code Revision that all Jedi would vote on, a little taste of democracy for the ancient order. In Anakin's fantasy, secret lovers of Jedi came out of the woodwork, all hypocrisy disappeared, and the galaxy moved on. In Anakin's fantasy, he was the Chosen One not because of any heroics, but because of the needed reshaping of the Code, an almost anti-climactic deed of skilled debate. In Anakin's fantasy.
Anakin had to say something, but he had to look away from the vision first. "Master, circumstances have led us into roles that we were unprepared for. I just want you to know that, that" --- he took a stuttering breath --- "I will be responsible for any repercussions if you want to tell the Council about this."
Obi-Wan was astounded. "I don't know what you mean, Padawan. I hadn't intended telling the Council at all. It's not something for their ears. Or their judgment." He dropped his own wad of clothing atop Anakin's. "Besides, I don't tell them everything, you know."
"You, you d-don't?"
Obi-Wan sat down on the porch step and patted the space beside him. "Oh, my Padawan. Anakin. Do you think privacy doesn't exist in the Order? Just because I sit on the Council doesn't mean that I gossip about the doings of my friends. That's not what we're there for, Anakin. We decide how best to interface with the Senate, how to plan battles, what sort of Padawan belongs with what Master, what the curriculum should be for the initiates ... I could go on and on. Gossip about private goings-on doesn't enter into it."
"Master, can I ask you a question?"
"Anything."
"When we faked everything, did you like it?"
"I did not. We did it to survive and to further our cause. I dislike faking anything. The entire situation was completely embarrassing for me, as I know that it was for you. Why, those shields you put up, Anakin, I can imagine the distress that the whole incident caused you. I plan to say nothing to anyone about this, and if you don't want to ever mention it again, that's all right with me." Obi-Wan patted Anakin's hand.
"Master, I want to tell you something."
Here it comes. A teachable moment. "I'm listening."
"I want to be closer to you."
"Padawan, I don't think we could be any closer than we are right now. You and I share what Qui-Gon and I shared, a bond that includes a deep friendship with no secrets. It is one of my joys in life."
Anakin opened his mouth to confess his marriage, but with Obi-Wan's words caught himself and switched to another secret. This night had been too intimate, too overwhelming to really like. Why, just the touch of Obi-Wan's hand near his cock nearly panicked Anakin. His other big secret involved violence, a subject that he thought Obi-Wan would empathize with since he knew so much more about it than he did sex. He knew without asking that Obi-Wan's experience with sex was limited; he might even be a virgin, not ignorant of other ways but not tempted. Still, Anakin almost blurted his and Padme's big secret. "Master, I've done something bad. When the Tusken Raiders killed my mother, I lost control and killed them. Killed the whole village, one like this one, full of simple people just living their lives. I can't keep it in anymore."
Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open. Not this, he couldn't have expected this. Those meter-thick shields not over some trivial fumbling in the dark with another Padawan or perhaps a Knight, but something incredible. His Padawan, his Anakin, crushed by the death of his beloved mother when he was too late to save her, if he had been there a day earlier, if Obi-Wan hadn't needed his help to protect Amidala ... Obi-Wan shook his head. "Anakin, Anakin. This village isn't like the Tusken village, don't you see? Tuskens raid, they kill people who they find alone, they aren't blameless. I'll help you sort this out when we get home. We'll see the soul healers, the Council. You're not in this alone."
The Force hadn't indicated that the Respect-For-Master's-Authority release wasn't still on, so Anakin put his arm around Obi-Wan's neck and laid his head on his Master's shoulder. "What would I do without you?"
The river subsided.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventeen
Obi-Wan followed Anakin back into the dark dwelling where Kuki already snored. The two Jedi stretched out side by side on separate sleeping mats as they had rested on the raft. Placing their sandals to one side of the mats and undoing their belts securing the lavalavas, they spread out the full material over themselves to form a half-covering for sleep. In the still air, the gurgling of the river could be faintly heard even though it was a half-kilometer away. Obi-Wan considered the distance that they had come and the distance that they had yet to go to reach Nepsa and considered themselves still in good shape for the mission. This upsetting, unwelcome sidetracking episode could be put behind them. Upsetting. Unwelcome. Strong words. Perhaps unexpected was a clearer depiction of his current state of mind. Qikal's goodwill might help their cause. Obi-Wan did hear Dormin mention that President Strenghis and Qikal knew each other. Some good should come of that. That was the good fallout. The bad fallout was Anakin. This night jarred loose his confession about his revenge --- Obi-Wan could not qualify it as justice --- upon the murderers of his mother. How his Jedi control could slip like that Obi-Wan couldn't imagine, though Anakin was still a Padawan, still learning. I'll need to see the soul Healers, too. I can't handle this by myself. We'll confer with Amidala, who was there, and speaking of whom, why didn't she tell us about Anakin's problems? Or didn't he tell her, either? Obi-Wan turned from facing Anakin to facing the round window. He could spot perhaps fifty stars through a gathering haze from where he lay. Anakin had wanted to visit all of them, and their planets. Obi-Wan wished that Anakin would visit his inner self as easily. It was starting to hurt that Anakin had kept this big a secret from the one who had thought that they had no secrets. He wondered if something had changed between them after all.
Anakin was put in mind of the time that he and Padme's room at a secluded inn contained twin beds. The Convention of Chommell Sector Senators took place in a wilder atmosphere than he was used to thinking of in regard to politicians. Theed's retreat near Varykino in snow season, Padme warned him, was where politicians went to unwind. The four-day convention covered for the fact that seminars took only the morning hours; the afternoons and nights were theirs, all theirs. It had been three months into their marriage, and they couldn't get enough of each other. For propriety's sake, the inn considered twin beds acceptable for a Senator and her bodyguard. The beds began as an annoyance for the couple, but soon turned into an aphrodisiac. So near, and yet so far ... it thrilled each of them to "visit" each other's beds, lying even closer than normal due to the narrowness of the accommodations. When they forgot to move one bed far enough away from the wall and their movements knocked the headboard rhythmically against the plaster, Senator Friml of Chommell Minor inquired kindly the next morning if the jigging Gungans from one floor up had kept them awake as well. Senator Friml was advanced in age. Padme had done some of her finest speechwriting in that room, pressed against Anakin's chest with a comforter draped over them both in the dawn hours. Anakin had treasured her delicacy in body as never before and was almost afraid to handle her, although in physical daring she was bold. She was a wonder on the slopes, too, flying over moguls on repulsor skis, laughing brightly over her shoulder at him for no reason at all.
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan's shoulder. There was no longer a need to touch him for reassurance or warmth in this now-peaceful night. The Force was silent and he would wait until the entity indicated it was right to be under authority again. Until then, he was his own man, and that felt strange.
"Padawan."
"Mmmhmmm?"
"Let's rest."
Of course, Obi-Wan could sense his wakefulness. And Obi-Wan was tired after sex, naturally enough. Anakin stretched, yawned and did a fairly good imitation of breathing deeply and regularly until he both heard and felt sleep come to his Master. His Master occasionally slept rather loudly, what with his allergies and sinuses and all. Tonight was one of those nights. Anakin turned over, tucking the lavalava around his feet again. Dim starlight shining through haze from the dwelling's single unglazed window outlined only the faintest shape of the person next to him. Kuki lay directly beneath the window next to the mud wall and so was invisible, but Obi-Wan, now ... Obi-Wan he could watch. Anakin pondered their porch conversation. Now that he thought about it, Obi-Wan had not answered Anakin's question about liking their experience on the commons. Or rather he had answered the part about faking it; no, Obi-Wan had not liked faking, but about the sex, well, Anakin realized that he had not answered the more basic question of whether he liked that or not. Anakin meant it when he said that he wanted to be closer to Obi-Wan, and now that he was his own man, for however long that lasted, anyway, he had options as never before. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan loved him as he loved Obi-Wan. If circumstances were otherwise, would Obi-Wan's squirming and panting and thrusting have gotten a rise, so to speak, out of Anakin? If they had clinically decided to release tension, or generate warmth on one of those despicable icy planets, or just plain experiment as Padawans did with other Padawans, would they feel differently now? He had never before considered this question awake. His dreams were another matter.
The river slept.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighteen
For a moment, Obi-Wan did not know where he was. There were birds singing, but not the familiar birdsong that began the Wake Up Naturally, Every Time! program that eased each day into his Temple quarters, gradually adding light to the mixture of heat from the baseboard registers, the smell of caf automatically brewing and the diffident, "Master, wake up," if he overslept. Someone snored, someone not Anakin.
"Anakin?"
"Good morning, Master. Sleep well?"
It all came back. "Yes." Not a dream disturbed his rest. In the wake of yesterday's events, Obi-Wan felt the need for meditation and for once, Anakin did, too. They settled on their sleeping mats in well-practiced poses, allowing themselves a morning nod at each other before waves of the Force pulled them in without effort. Time didn't count here, time was their friend who waited politely until they were done before rejoining them.
Anakin had slept only a little. He used the meditation to examine his mind. He used the meditation to examine his desires. He used the meditation to soothe his thoughts when he discovered an attraction to Obi-Wan in them. He used the meditation to tell his heart that love was not a river with one destination, but a series of small streams leading into an attitude of compassion. He used the meditation to bring himself to a state of confusion. He used the meditation to recognize that sometimes life was confusing. He used the meditation to picture himself telling all this to Padme. He used the meditation to return his heartbeat to its normal pace.
Obi-Wan, as usual, emerged rejuvenated from his meditation, focused on the next few days only. To him, the Trow mission enjoyed a better chance of success because of meeting Qikal and bending to his fervor regarding the Festival. In the Force this morning, there were twenty-five pips of new life in his immediate vicinity. The Mother would be pleased. As he rebraided Anakin's long plait, Obi-Wan touched the hickey he had left on Anakin's neck. He replaced each Merit Bead in its proper strand, wove the threads a little into the braid, tied them in their usual knot, and surveyed the results. He laid three fingers over the bruise.
"You don't have to help me heal it, Master," Anakin said quietly. Kuki still slept.
"But I need to. It will stay for days, otherwise. I'm sorry, Padawan. I didn't realize that I would do that."
Anakin reached up and removed his Master's fingers. "I want it to stay. My tunic collar will hide it, and it will remind me that you saved me until it fades. Sometimes I need to be reminded of Jedi things like that."
"As you wish."
Kuki awoke with a snort, got up, padded to the door, opened it and retrieved a neatly folded stack of clothing. As Obi-Wan took the uniforms from her, her fingers brushed his, and she shivered. She tiptoed to the far corner where the range was and pulled on her work clothes, a short shift with sturdy trousers underneath. Her clatter at the range produced bowls of grain mush, sprinkled with a sweesonberry lookalike, and two mugs each of delicious Kopi tea. They all ate ravenously, with second helpings. "It'll take all day to reach Nepsa." Kuki Franell, Flatboat Captain, had not caused a passenger to be late in some years. "Let's go."
Qikal saw them off. The leader's festive headdress had been put away in storage, Obi-Wan guessed, and the crippled man seemed ordinary today, a functionary with receding hair no longer matted with the fashionable ochre paste. "Jedi, you have honored the Mother. We will drum the message to our other villages. Lower-Cremba-on-Gitchy may send out a party to accost you, if we don't." Qikal needed telling off about his coerciveness, but Anakin and Obi-Wan merely bowed unsmilingly in farewell. Obi-Wan had perceived undercurrents in the Force that adjured him to hold his tongue. He told Anakin about them this morning.
Dormin, Dormin's mother and the rest of a few other families gathered, too. Dormin's mother laughed raucously. "That's just like them. Don't know their aloas from a hole in the ground, or their enemies from their friends." She beamed toothlessly at the two Jedi and the large group stepped forward in a phalanx as if to repeat the round of crushing embraces in farewell, but Kuki took pity on her guests.
"We need to leave, Mother Dormin. See you tomorrow night. Feed my aloas for me?"
Dormin's farmer instincts took over. "You know it. Come, Mother."
The river receded.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Nineteen
As the woman pushed the six-meter flatboat away from the dock, Padawan and Master both sought shelter from the sun in the small lean-to amidships. Probably have to pee over the side sometime around midday. Obi-Wan can distract Kuki ... no. I can come right out and tell her ... no. I can hold it until we arrive at Nepsa ... maybe. As a Senior Padawan, Anakin needed to get beyond his bladder problem. He decided that when he and Master consulted the soul Healers, he would bring it up casually. It had gone on long enough. He didn't want to have to learn Master's technique for sinus self-healing and apply it to his urinary tract. He couldn't help being squeamish, he told himself defensively.
The sun was halfway to its zenith when Obi-Wan asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time that Qui-Gon made an entire industry disappear?"
"No, Master."
Obi-Wan crossed his ankles in front of him and settled in for a long story while Kuki sculled the flatboat to the middle of the broad current. The waters at this point of the river ran swift and deep; it wouldn't do to hug the shore and risk hitting a gravel bar. The middle, fastest section was also the most dangerous.
"It was on Gronullo Two. I hadn't been a Padawan for long. There was a labor dispute between management and employees. The managers, who employed child labor in a planet-wide chain of meat-processing plants, used them to scavenge the carcasses of their enormous herd-beasts, about twice as tall as an acklay. The younglings would crawl inside after the creatures were gutted and use flensing knives to remove the kidneys that adhered to the inside of the spine. Most of the beasts wound up skinned, beheaded and gutted, but roasted whole for tradition's sake in pits you would have to see to believe. Well, I was thirteen and-a-half and small for my age, so I went undercover to see what working conditions were like." Obi-Wan smiled reminiscently. "You know how Qui-Gon favored the Living Force? He could not resist getting dirty, getting inside creatures' lives, their simple minds lending him insight to aspects of the Force that I didn't understand then and only understand a little better now. He was so good at that. I couldn't keep up with him. Anyway, I reported to work, they issued me a brute of a knife and I swarmed in with the rest, one of us to a carcass, so many per hour. The kidneys weighed about seven kilos each, bloody nasty things, but they were a source of cheap protein for the Gronulloans and the management didn't want to lose even the small amount of profit derived from them."
Anakin tried to picture a young Obi-Wan in this disgusting job and couldn't. He didn't know where this story was heading, but hoped it got out of gore soon. "Is this winding up a lesson in economics, Master?"
"You'll see. After six days there, I could see that conditions were fine. The younglings made me welcome. Everyone was content or mostly so; they wanted lower quotas, that's all, because working quicker than was safe with those fierce knives resulted in cuts and even dismembered fingers. All in all, a simple mediation would resolve this, don't you agree?"
"I think that the management should take a cut in profit and eliminate those jobs. Or break open the carcasses and get the kidneys out that way. What was the tradition, anyway?"
"That their herd-beasts' meat tasted better cooked whole and that the two-day roasting parties made for a local industry."
"Nothing faith-based?"
"Aha, good question. No."
"Then why keep the younglings in harm's way? I could see if Gronullo Two were poverty-stricken, but it's not."
"Not now."
"So what happened?"
"Qui-Gon happened."
"This is going to be good."
"Oh, it is. Qui-Gon left me to work undercover and we only commed each other daily after dinner. In the meanwhile, he visited a ranch and observed the herd-beasts. They would roam the plains and were so enormous that harvesting them annually took a great deal of planning. The leaders of the herds would be chivied into smaller and smaller canyons until finally the press of the herd immobilized them. Then they sent out a distress call, the ranchers slid in electro-gates behind the stragglers, and an entire herd would be captured that way. Now here is the observation that Qui-Gon made: the herd-beasts were capable of self-sacrifice. The leaders at the smaller end of the canyon, where none could escape without scrambling half-way up the cliff and over the wider part of the gap, something that their bodies could not do, knelt. It took perhaps three leaders, all kneeling together, all offering themselves to be ramps of escape for their charges, to effect most of one herd's freedom. The leaders died quickly from crushing, of course. Qui-Gon later asked the ranchers if they had ever observed this. The ranchers had, rarely, and shrugged it off. But Qui-Gon didn't. He took a holovid of the sacrifice and showed it to Gronullo Two's media. They mentioned "accidentally" broadcasting it if the meat-packers didn't agree to stop harvesting their herd-beasts completely. The ranchers lobbied for partial recovery of loss, the meat-packers took it on the chin, and the younglings were out of a job."
"That's a mixed blessing."
"Indeed. We heard that most of them ended up on the dole for a while. Nearly all of them moved on into other livelihoods when they finished growing up."
"So did Qui-Gon learn from this?"
Obi-Wan looked askance at Anakin. "Learn what?"
"That interfering with cultures is problematical."
"He knew that going in. He was a complex man, don't think he wasn't. It was all worth it to him to change those attitudes. He himself contributed to developing Gronullo Two's tourist economy, slightly less profitable than ranching, but with less scarring of natural resources."
"How did he do that?"
"His holovid got shown to Senator Valorum, who showed it to his friends, some of whom became investors in inns and limited hunting preserves. Much of Gronullo Two is breathtaking. It's a sparse landscape filled with xerophilous species, some of whom are now harvested because they aren't semi-sentient like the herd-beasts are."
Anakin spent a moment scratching under his earlobe where the orange mold shrank in circumference each day. "Xerophilous. Trow doesn't have any xerophilous species, does it, Master?"
"Mace didn't tell us, Anakin."
"Master Windu's emphasis on politics got us in trouble."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Mace's gift is not the Living Force, Anakin. That was Qui-Gon's talent. He would be here on this flatboat, dipping his hand in the wake, sensing life beneath us, feeling the muddy bottom of the river with its specks of crustaceans, maybe even diatoms ... his control was that fine."
It was going on for midday. "Master Qui-Gon loved the Living Force, didn't he, Master?" Anakin recalled Qui-Gon's patience with Jar-Jar at Shmi's dinner table. Jar-Jar was fully sentient, although at the far end of the spectrum. I'll be kinder to Jar-Jar when I see him again. If Master Qui-Gon could tolerate him, so can I. It wasn't Jar-Jar's fault he was in over his head in Propaganda committees. Anakin heard the water slap-slapping at the low gunwales of the flatboat and knew that he would not be able to last until they reached Nepsa.
"You're squirming, Padawan. I'll engage Kuki in conversation, shall I?"
I'm partial to the Living Force. I'm part of the Living Force. I can surmount this problem. "I can handle this, Master. At least, I think I can." Wind is coming from behind us, need to go to the bow end. Kuki seems a good sort. Qui-Gon could talk to her about this if he had the same problem. I can, too.
The river rippled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty
Obi-Wan lay prone in the mid-afternoon sun, cheek on folded arms.
"Temporary insanity, it was. Forgiven, Padawan Skywalker is. His trials, postponed until peace resumes. In your custody, Obi-Wan, your Padawan remains. Know him better, you must."
"Know him, Master Yoda? As in carnally?"
Whump! The flatboat hit something, jarring Obi-Wan out of his after-lunch nap. He opened one blurry eye. Anakin and Kuki were tying off the flatboat to a broken-down naynabo tree trunk on a small gravel spit. He put off getting up, willing his mind to emerge from its sun-drenched fugue.
Telling Anakin a Qui-Gon story reminded him of something: Padme had concealed her identity many times before; therefore, she was no stranger to duplicity. And she was a politician, after all. Had Anakin confided in her, freshly grieving for his mother as he was? The Tusken camp story would have shocked her. Her political training could not have helped in this wrenching personal crisis. Obi-Wan could see her in his mind's eye: velvet brown eyes widening, warrior's heart understanding, politician's mind spinning the story if it should leak out. Master Kenobi, esteemed Council. Padawan Skywalker informed me of his actions immediately. As a member of the Senate, I granted him political asylum pro tem on Tatooine and following that, on Geonosis. After our horrendous ordeal in the beast arena and your Order's tragic losses in the field, informing you of his predicament just sort of slipped my little old mind. Obi-Wan still wanted to like her.
Kuki wiped sweat from her brow, yanked off her clothing and sandals, and splashed into the river, wading until a glory hole by some gnarled roots swallowed her. She emerged spitting, treading water as she shouted, "Come on! It's deeper over here!"
Obi-Wan supposed that their shared Festival of Plenitude experiences made for a certain closeness. He was modest about his accomplishments, not his body. "All right." He removed his own clothing, folding it in a neat pile with sandals on top. He made a running jump with a somersault and half-twist to bypass the shallows and splashed down next to Kuki. As Anakin watched, Obi-Wan dove, the bottoms of his feet flashing pale in the scorching sun. A moment later, he shot up in front of Kuki, his wake washing over her head. She spluttered, splashing his face with strong sweeps of her arms. They bobbed together, laughing. The reddish sunlight caught Obi-Wan's hair that shone auburn even though it was shorter than it had been in a Padawan-cut. Suddenly he seemed quite beautiful to Anakin, a beautiful Master who had done all that a Master could do to fulfill roles to a Padawan: he'd protected his life from the river, he'd protected his person from Qikal, and he'd protected his soul from himself. Obi-Wan shouted, "Look!" as he practiced the stroke that Bant Eerin taught him last year, the Cerean River Dolphin, she called it. A ripple of the spine, legs and arms pressed tight to his torso to lessen resistance, head emerging at each flexing of backbone to take a gasping breath.
"I'm watching!" Shmi's axiom about males, the one that she told Amee's mother when she thought Anakin wasn't listening, made him smile: At any age, they all like to strut. Anakin turned away from the pair to shuck his uniform and sandals, slipping into the water at the stern, where the river's sharp slant to depths unknown began. He dove under the flatboat, climbed aboard, raced across its width, and slid in again. He repeated this six times. After his sixth immersion, he opened his eyes in the still-murky water, hoping to see another yellow-eyed fish. It was such a pleasant change not to be in deadly danger on the river as he enjoyed the flowing expanse of water supporting him, caressing him. He saw not one fish.
Kuki finished her cooling off and redonned her dry clothes. She crunched through the gravel, prying up one or two of the few larger rocks that were there. She whooped. "Stoneslugs! Ten, twelve, no, sixteen of them, five for each of us! What a find!" The small box that served as a bench in the lean-to proved to contain a fileting knife and some more of that mushy vegetable. This might be more interesting than their traveler's lunch of purple mucilage, Obi-Wan thought as he laced his leggings.
Anakin contented himself with floating on his back, pinwheeling his arms to revolve in small circles. He regarded the clouds overhead, some resembling letters in Aurebesh. He could make out an Aurek and an Osk with no problem, a wispy Peth struggling to hold its integrity against some high-flown gale. A Mern, Yirt, and Qek faded as he watched. A Senth flared into being and then vanished. He hauled out on the flatboat to dry off.
"Snack time, Padawan!" Obi-Wan waved the fileting knife at Anakin. "Come on, they're delicious!"
Anakin arranged his tunic to cover his hickey as much as possible. Some still showed, he knew. He joined the others. Kuki had fileted each two decimeter-long stoneslug, laying them on a flattish rock in the sun. After fifteen minutes, they were no longer translucent, but a creamy shade of pink. She rolled them in the mushy vegetable first before filling her mouth with one. "Mmmmm, 's good."
After a few false starts, Anakin tried one and agreed. There might not be spices here, but Trow had some fascinating things to offer. As the three sat on the gunwales, dangling their feet overboard, Kuki said, "My baby will be born in this next spring's Plenitude. I feel that it will happen, this time." She grew uncharacteristically somber. "The Mother must grant my request this year. I have tried for seven seasons to be a mother, like Her. Do you think She is testing me?"
The river stilled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-One
Anakin didn't know what to say.
"So your Festival has not, um, brought you Plenitude, Kuki?" asked Obi-Wan softly. "There must be others like you."
"There are. And when they get old, they are a burden to us," Kuki said harshly. She kicked the water. "We try to adopt them out to families who have lost an elder. It is still hard to accept one."
Anakin found his voice. "Kuki, there are emdees and procedures to help you conceive."
Kuki shook her head. "If the Mother wills me not to emulate Her, I will accept that." She looked away to the far shore a long time. "I must." She arose to ready her craft for departure.
It was a philosophical answer to a heartrending question. Obi-Wan flinched when Anakin touched his shoulder lightly, whispering, "Master, in the Force this morning, there were conceptions nearby. I couldn't sense anything so minute as individual essences, but maybe as a Master, you could, and you could tell Kuki if ... "
Obi-Wan remembered Kuki's shiver this morning and looked to the far shore himself. "No, Padawan, I won't tell her. It's not my place to."
Something about the reply told Anakin that Obi-Wan knew. He withdrew his hand from his Master's shoulder, wondering if when Obi-Wan or even the Force itself indicated that the time was right to end the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, whether he would be able to do it. Right now, he decided that he could. Decisions like telling Kuki or not telling Kuki swamped his morals. He didn't want the responsibility. "Master, you're sunburned. Here, right on your neck."
"It's on my back, too. It's nothing."
"Let's go sit in the lean-to."
It was stifling inside until they got going again. As the hours passed, the river narrowed greatly, but did not gain in speed. It was a leisurely float now, ushering in views of a few outlying farmsteads, another trail that paralleled the water and some aloas wallowing in the coolness with a teen herdsman watching. Finally Nepsa hove into sight. It was directly on the water, Obi-Wan saw; apparently Nepsa had drainage systems or places to scramble in abundance if any flood occurred this far down the course of the river. The quay attracted his interest, because on a pillar next to the one where Kuki tied up, a weathered poster bore an image of President Strenghis. His strong features were more lined than in the holovid briefing file, but Obi-Wan saw that his position as President suited him. It was the look of power thoroughly enjoyed that marked his bold gaze. Obi-Wan wanted to learn if enjoyed power meant corrupting power. He'd soon find out. He couldn't read the script beneath the picture. Probably it said something like A Vote For Strenghis Is A Vote For Progress or Strenghis Stands For Tradition, or something else equally opposite.
"Kuki, many thanks for your help. And for those delicious stoneslugs. I don't know what we'll do when we get back to Coruscant and can't have our daily stoneslug snack."
"You're welcome, Master Kenobi. You, too, Padawan Skywalker." Kuki became expansive. "I'll think of you two when next spring comes bringing my baby. I'm going to ask for another home from Leader Qikal, something with two rooms, nearer the water. The river soothes me."
Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "It does, that."
"Where are you staying, Kuki?" Anakin asked. There were no buildings that looked like hotels. Most of the structures were half-timbered two-story buildings with shutters instead of glazed windows. The streets were cobblestone and both Anakin and Obi-Wan were grateful for their too-small sandals.
"I'm not. Don't like the big city. I'll start back and camp out at the outermost farmstead. I've got friends there."
"Kuki, you say Leader Qikal issues housing?"
Kuki began to put up the sail to go upriver. She answered as she kept busy. "That's right. None of our Leaders got involved that closely with the electorate before. He started to when he returned from being confirmed with Strenghis." She snugged a line to its lanyard and clipped it to a recessed cleat in the smooth deck. She was sailing away before darkness if it were at all possible. Obi-Wan had to hurry.
"Kuki, why do you think that is? And why does only Qikal have a glowrod and force pike?"
Kuki stayed her hand from casting off the mooring rope. "I think," she said slowly, "that Qikal loves his position. He likes having something important to do, something to honor the Mother. His knee keeps him from doing my job, for instance. Strenghis gave him those things because he is his childhood friend, and of course was happy to confirm him. And I think I've answered enough of your questions, Master. Now you answer one of mine."
Anakin felt sick. She knew or guessed the full extent of their abilities. She was going to ask the question that meant the most to her, the one that might kill her hope.
The river devoured.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Two
"You may ask," Obi-Wan said serenely. There was nothing more serene than a serene Obi-Wan, thought Anakin, running his fingers nervously under the neckline of his tunic, next to the hickey. You don't want to know, Kuki. I'd try to trick you for your own good with the Force, but you're too strong-minded for that. And if I tried anyway, I wouldn't like myself afterwards.
"Did I conceive last night?" Kuki asked bluntly. She looked across the small distance separating them, one foot on the dock and one on the gunwale, as the sun descended even further. "I know that Jedi can sense many things. The thing that I want to know shouldn't be beyond your ability, you, a Master."
"But it is. I don't know if you conceived, Kuki."
"I don't believe you."
"That's as may be, but it is the truth." He offered no further balm.
Why did Anakin not believe his Master? Was it that the Respect-For-Master's-Authority release released him from his usual deference to Obi-Wan's judgment? He ran over the words of the release in his mind. I release myself from your authority, my Master, temporarily and for your greater good ... He didn't know himself if Kuki had conceived, only that an indeterminate number of women had. He would have told Kuki if he knew, would have told her to make her smile, or upset her before her long arduous trip home on the dangerous river that needed all her concentration, home to another year of waiting. Obi-Wan was gazing coolly at Kuki now, the cool compassionate gaze of the Jedi Council member. There was nothing that Anakin could call empathy in his blue-green eyes. It was almost inhuman.
Kuki undid the mooring rope and kicked off from the dock as the current edged the flatboat away. The wind blew back her parting words. "Keep the sandals."
Anakin trudged after Obi-Wan on the cobblestones. It was nearly dark and most sensible Billaqori were indoors. There were few glowglobes here on the waterfront, although up the rising street he could see strings of them depending from the second story of one building across the road to another building on the opposite side. As they climbed the gentle sloping street, they noticed more posters fluttering in the evening breeze and it took a moment to realize that all of them were of President Strenghis, the same as the one on the dock, repeated with no variation in pose. Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy could have used some glowglobes, Anakin thought, and then checked himself. No, he didn't want more illumination on the commons. That had been too revealing by half.
What passed for an inn blazed with light but not much noise. The Billaqori spurned intoxicants, so that accounted for the low noise level, Anakin thought. He passed through the double doors of the cozy inn, entering what looked like a cafe with a combination hotel registry/maitre d' station at the far end.
"We'd like a room, please." Obi-Wan's sunburn tingled and he hoped there was a Healer around or perhaps a pharmacy open. He had his doubts.
The clerk was lighter in color than any Billaqori they'd yet seen. He reached behind himself without looking and handed them a piece of etched metal, a key, Obi-Wan supposed. "Thirty credits."
"We're Jedi, here for the Congress tomorrow. You don't need payment now." There was not a hint of Force-suggestion in his reply. He was too weary for it.
"Sorry, I do need payment now. My boss wouldn't like me giving rooms away." Oh, he was going to give them grief. Why was this pimply-faced teen so tense? Shouldn't he be more relaxed from honoring the Mother last night? Obi-Wan gathered himself for an argument.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi!" a familiar voice boomed.
The river echoed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Three
Obi-Wan spun. It was Ry-Gaul coming down the stairs, striding his long stride to greet them with a smile in his pale eyes, their Jedi extraction team. "Ry-Gaul, don't take this the wrong way, but you're the team?"
Ry-Gaul ignored the comment. "You're safe? No injuries? I tracked your signal to the bottom of a river early this afternoon and was asking the locals if they'd seen you. I am pleased not to have to use the midichlorian sensor to locate your soggy remains." It was probably the most words the taciturn Ry-Gaul had spoken in a week. "I'll vouch for them, innkeeper. And here's forty-five credits. I don't want to stay on the cruiser tonight."
Ry-Gaul wasn't a friend, but he was a fellow Jedi of longstanding acquaintance. Obi-Wan gestured to a table, and the three sat. "Are you well, you two? You look ... different." Ry-Gaul peered into each of their faces more closely now.
Obi-Wan managed a rueful grin. "Just sunburn. We knew it was a risk leaving the crash site, but we were able to move along to accomplish the trip to Nepsa." And that was his preliminary report in a nutshell. What else could he add? "We lost our boots during the flood just after nearly drowning in mud prior to being forced to cohabit, but following the fiery crash." "Say that again? Didn't quite get it all."
Ry-Gaul signaled for a drink, any drink. A server arrived with a pitcher of something juicy and Ry-Gaul paid her. She gave him a slightly dippy smile at the size of the tip and departed. The tall Master leaned in closer. "Do you feel something odd in the Force, Obi-Wan? I can't put my finger on it, but nearly everyone in town I interviewed is overwhelmingly mellow."
Obi-Wan knew what Ry-Gaul was talking about. Now. "It's likely to do with their Festival of Plenitude last night, Ry-Gaul," he waffled. "Everyone would seem relaxed the day after."
Anakin put in, "It's their annual fertility festival, Master Ry-Gaul. By the way, is Tru with you?"
"Poor lad, he has Togorian measles. The furry patches won't fall off for a few more days, and he is self-conscious about them. He really shouldn't be outside Temple." Was it the influence of remaining Festival effervescence in the Force, or did Ry-Gaul seem almost garrulous? Obi-Wan had never seen a garrulous Ry-Gaul. Usually the man relied upon intimidation to effect peaceful resolutions to strained situations. If that failed, his white lightsaber's work was a wonder to behold.
"I'm sorry to hear that. You had no backup for your search, then?" Obi-Wan finished his drink, feeling the distressing dialogue with Kuki pull his mood downward.
"No. And Mace briefed me prior to departure on the Billaqori situation, in case I needed to step in. I'm glad that I don't have to, and for more than the obvious reason. This is going to take some fancy talking, and we both know you are the Negotiator, not me." Ry-Gaul leaned backwards in his chair, teetering it back and forth on its balance point. He motioned to the clerk/maitre d'. "Three dinners of your best offering. We'll have them up in our room. More privacy there."
Obi-Wan's fatigue increased to sleepiness as he surveyed their second-floor room. The one double and one single bed suited the more compact Billaqori; Anakin and Ry-Gaul would have no room to truly stretch out. Obi-Wan nearly nodded off over dinner, a fish stew without much flavor. He wanted Kuki's good cooking for them during their stay on Trow. Kuki. He sighed. She didn't believe me. I only knew that she wasn't pregnant at the time of the Force revelation early this morning. That was twelve hours after the Festival. Conception can take place a number of hours after that. The whole farewell scene dulled his mind. And Anakin gave me a funny look, too. Maybe it's time he was under my authority again. He relaxed more deeply against the headboard.
Ry-Gaul's deep voice rumbled from his place on the lone chair in the room as Obi-Wan jerked his head up from Anakin's shoulder. "I said, Obi-Wan, that President Strenghis' personality over the holocommunication when I arrived this morning matches his image exactly. It will take a lot of demonstrations of Republic benevolence and practical gains in protection before he'll decide to repulse the Separatists' overtures and allow us to establish an equatorial base. But you're exhausted," Ry-Gaul added kindly. "Let's rest and arise early to discuss the situation with clear minds. I'll take the single."
The river waited.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Four
As a Junior Padawan, Anakin had had his bell rung the third time that he played scramball. As he lay supine on the Jedi playing field, head clamoring like a gong from Ferus' body check, an epiphany swept over him: He wasn't always going to win. He knew most of the rules of the popular game at this point, but not all. He knew the basics, the plays, the layups, and he was beginning to know the idiosyncrasies of his teammates, but he had an x-factor to consider. That was Ferus Olin. Ferus was two years beyond him in classes. Ferus was likeable all of the time. Anakin knew that he was not. Ferus absorbed rules the way he did lessons, by osmosis. Anakin struggled with nearly all his lessons, except those involving the Force. Those he skated ahead on, unsure if he should hold back or not to avoid seeming too different. Sometimes he did hold back. Ferus knew it when he did. Anakin didn't want to think about how Ferus knew, he simply realized that he couldn't win the times when Ferus had something over him like that. It didn't stop Anakin from playing scramball.
Another epiphany permeated Anakin's very essence the night that he and Obi-Wan shared a double bed in overcrowded Nepsa. Anakin's most vivid dream about Obi-Wan that night, the one that he would remember the next morning, involved a deserted Room of a Thousand Fountains, an unlikely occurrence. The Room was a favorite and at any odd hour, Jedi could be seen meditating, strolling, or swimming. Even Master Yoda could be found there with various Clans at times, wading with the water-shy or diving with the bold from the highest waterfall feature, clad in his thin brown maillot. Anakin moaned in his sleep at the memory. In his dream, however, the Room's cool mist thickened to a fog, obscuring Obi-Wan's outline. All but his hands. Those cool, strong hands reached out of the fog for Anakin, who stood nude atop the apex of an arched bridge. Obi-Wan's hands prodded Anakin forward, almost making him trip, forcing him to descend the sharply-canted steps too quickly. Anakin finally fell, putting his hands before him to prevent a face-plant, and turned from where he lay on the ground to glare angrily back at Obi-Wan's shrouded figure. Anakin knew that he didn't want to be on this side of the bridge, that he wanted most desperately to cross back to be on the other side. He surged to his knees. Obi-Wan's hands restrained him from rising as he unbraided Anakin's plait roughly, yanking his hair, this time throwing all his Merit Beads into the water. "Hey!" Anakin scrambled for his Beads, but they had disappeared, camouflaged among all the little pebbles lining the streambed. Just before the dream ended, Anakin felt Obi-Wan's hands around his waist, but this time they were gentle and warm. Anakin woke up.
It was still pitch-black in the room. Ry-Gaul made a small rustle as he turned over in his sleep, his Force aura dimming to a dark blue again immediately. Anakin opened his eyes widely. What a weird dream. Whenever Obi-Wan has touched me, even in training, it has been for a purpose. In the dream there was no purpose, it was something outside the Force, better than the F-- ... no, not exactly better, but having its own purpose. What could that purpose be? And what is Obi-Wan doing, grunting like that? It must be his sinuses again. Poor Master. Before relaxing enough to go back to sleep, Anakin's epiphany showed him that he and Obi-Wan were meant to discover the mysterious dream-purpose together. It was some time before Anakin slept again.
Unfamiliar birdsong twittered in the dawn, the trills entering the room easily through the closed shutters. Obi-Wan stretched, beginning the Morning Wood kata by opening his arms and legs as widely as he could, only to stop when he felt Anakin's leg touch his. He didn't complete the exercise; he also didn't recall the dream that had given him sticky undergarments. He sensed that Anakin still lingered in the deepest slumber, but that Ry-Gaul was close to waking. He lifted up the light covering just enough to slide out from underneath it, taking care not to jostle the bed, and tiptoed into the 'fresher. Bother. The washcloth could only do so much, and Obi-Wan resigned himself to requesting laundry service this morning before he met with President Strenghis and addressed the Congress of Billaqori Tribes. He needed to feel his freshest, most competent self. The orange mold under the incandescent glowglobe was a mere speck now. So they had become acclimated, after all. The Billaqori of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy had not. Obi-Wan considered the fact that Jedi midichlorian levels were the cause of the difference, and dropped the matter from his thoughts in relief.
Ry-Gaul was up and dressed when Obi-Wan exited the 'fresher. It looked to be a pleasant day, judging by the amount of daylight coming through the slits in the still-shuttered windows. The twittering birds and the soft light made for a slow waking for them all. His pale eyes almost squinted shut, Ry-Gaul leaned over the double bed and observed Anakin's throat where the slitted neckline of the one-piece undergarment had strained apart sometime in the night. "I thought you said there were no injuries, Obi-Wan?" the tall Master whispered.
"Tell you later. Come on downstairs, let's allow the boy some more sleep." He'd need to negotiate himself out of this one. And he wanted Anakin to be in on the necessary deception. He'd protect their bond, their relationship, their reputation, their future. It was his job.
The river angled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Five
"So how'd it happen?" Ry-Gaul helped himself to some passable grain mush from the buffet, sprinkling it with enough sweesonberry look-alike to allow a berry in each bite. He chose an upholstered booth near a window, freshly unshuttered to let in early breezes. The red tones of a summer morning sun gave a pinkish cast to his eyes.
"His neck? During the crash, I think, yes, the webbing restrained us, but the jolt was terrific, you understand that I was unconscious during part of his rescue, he was superb during the whole thing, and I didn't actually see it occur. It's greatly faded today, from yesterday, anyway. Have a Para-roll?"
"Mmmmmmmhm." They had finished their food and washed it down with some pulpy juice when Anakin joined them, slipping in next to Obi-Wan in the booth, opposite Ry-Gaul. Obi-Wan was relieved to note that Anakin had tugged his collar together firmly. If time permitted, he'd ask the laundry service to quickstitch a fastener of some type on the gap. Anakin ate ravenously, excusing himself when he saw Ry-Gaul's and Obi-Wan's amused looks.
"Masters, this is far above purple goo and I need to keep up my energy for the negotiations. And I don't think I've stopped growing yet. At least, I'm hungrier at breakfast than ever before." Anakin popped the last Almond-kwevvu Crisp-munchy on the table into his mouth. "Onward. Master Obi-Wan, what can I do to help you today?"
Obi-Wan tented his fingers. "You can start by telling me your observations of force pikes and glowrods. Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's Leader had them, Ry-Gaul, but not the populace. Impressions?"
"Master, one is a weapon and the other brings light; classic examples of sophistication to simple people like the outlying tribes. Those emblems would cement his position as Leader, since he has been in office only a little over one year. His constituents would respect his ties to President Strenghis even more. Add to that his obvious veneration of the Mother, and he could stay in his current position for many years."
"Well done, excellent analysis, Padawan! I am impressed. And under difficult conditions, too."
Ry-Gaul didn't miss Anakin's blush and the slight sideways nudge into his Master. Obi-Wan stiffened, but said smoothly, "And the posters?"
"There are the same posters all over town, I noticed yesterday," Ry-Gaul put in. "Same pose. Stern. Radiating control. People say he's the best President ever. They say it again and again, whether you ask them or not."
"Any sign of Separatists?"
"At the spaceport, yes. Kappa-class shuttle, all the bells and whistles. I didn't spot any guards or anyone else."
Obi-Wan frowned. "They feel secure here, then. That's bad. We must be cautious."
"I think so, too. It's two hours until the meeting with President Strenghis. Why don't we separate to gather more interviews with citizens?" Ry-Gaul waved to the street outside. "We could ask them what happened to Strenghis' opposition in the last election, for instance. I don't feel malice here, Obi-Wan, nothing dark like that, but I do sense craftiness, plotting ... along with that odd feeling that I mentioned last night. It's an unusual mix."
Last night, last night. "Yes, fine idea. Take Anakin with you, please. I have something I need to correct before meeting Strenghis, no, it's a minor matter, Padawan, you go along with Master Ry-Gaul. I'll meet you both in the Green Room of the Presidential Villa in two hours, or whatever passes for the Green Room."
"How is your sunburn today, Master?"
"Still tingles, but better, thank you. That's one of the minor matters, getting some cream on it so that it isn't a distraction. See you in two. May The Force Be With You."
"May The Force Be With You." As Ry-Gaul led the way outdoors, Anakin turned for a final grab at the buffet table, stopping abruptly when he saw Obi-Wan pointedly draw his own neckline tighter together while gesturing at Anakin's. Anakin gave a thumbs up, snagged a handful of Algae-bread croutons, and left.
Obi-Wan signaled to the same pimply-faced teen as last night. The boy was all smiles this morning. Maybe his sweetie got into Nepsa too late for Festival. Maybe they celebrated last night instead. "Please direct me to the nearest, fastest laundry service, and to a local pharmacy. In that order."
The river oozed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Six
Once, when Amee and Kitster and he played behind the municipal barn in Mos Espa, old Jira found them debating about fate. Kitster said that it was his fate to remain a slave, happy and cared for on Tatooine forever, valued for his skills which he was learning at his owner's knee. He lived simply, provided with shelter and food at no cost to himself. Freedom meant nothing to him. Happiness and security meant everything. Steady meals meant everything.
"But you never know when you might be sold away downplanet, or offplanet, or to someone really, really, really mean!" Amee argued. Each of them had overheard horror stories, or in Amee's case, experienced one directly. Amee never talked about it, though. She just warned others not to ever, ever go into a barn alone with someone you didn't know.
"Yeah, Kitster. If my head or hand or something wouldn't blow up, I'd run away right now. Old Watto could go jump for someone to help him." Anakin had recently done all that he could do for a severely damaged droid, but it had expired anyway. Watto had taken away Shmi's and Anakin's small pallie allotment for a week. Fruits, such as pallies, on a desert planet cost a prohibitive amount of water to produce and Watto considered himself magnanimous to offer them to slaves at all. At times he was glad he was so poor as to have only two. Anakin tried harder the next time there was a nearly-terminal droid and didn't succeed then, either. Watto didn't eliminate their fruit allotment that time. He knew that this droid's loss was fate. Watto was a mean owner, not a stupid one.
Jira looked at each of them in turn. "Kids, I'm here to tell you that security isn't everything, but it's something. Freedom is everything." Jira gave them each a pallie, on credit. She couldn't afford to do otherwise.
Anakin thought about Kitster's security attachment as he and Ry-Gaul encountered the fourth Nepsan who wouldn't venture an opinion on whether or not Trow's last planetwide election had been fair. Each citizen had been a shopowner or food vendor, someone with something to lose if he or she rocked the boat with an unpopular opinion. Or any opinion.
"Master Ry-Gaul, I have an idea."
"I'm listening." They had one hour left before rendezvousing with Obi-Wan.
"Let's go to the docks. People there aren't so upscale. We might overhear something, or find an opponent's old poster, maybe."
"You do your Master proud, Anakin." Anakin floated on that until they reached the docks. Mere meters from the water, a small naynabo tree with a circular table surrounding its main trunk and seats bolted to sturdy enough roots to support weight provided a quaint area for gaming. At midmorning, only two citizens enjoyed the not-yet-hot sunshine: two oldsters with time on their hands and opinions in their heads. Getting those opinions out was the hard part. After nodding genially at them, the two players continued their unfamiliar game, allowing Ry-Gaul and Anakin to sit next to them in silent observation. One flatboat was unloaded in the short time it took to finish the game, although the oldsters didn't look up from their joyous, fierce concentration.
"Ahah! Got you!" One old man beamed as his opponent scowled in defeat, tipped over his last piece, and left. "Tomorrow?"
The departing man snarled over his shoulder, "Naturally!"
"Good game. Teach us?" Ry-Gaul made himself comfortable as if the answer could never be a 'no.' Anakin did the same.
"Sure. Name's Grunbi. It's dejarik. Surprised you never played it. Where you from?"
"Coruscant." Ry-Gaul cracked his knuckles. "I'm Ry-Gaul, this is my friend Anakin. We're visiting. Have you lived here long, Grunbi?"
"All my life, Mother knows. It's a good life here on Gitchy, and what I hear of other places makes me like it all the more. Things have changed here since I was young, but what hasn't?" He coughed an old man's rasping cough, and Anakin was pleased to see that he carried a handkerchief tucked in the waistband of his lavalava. And that he used it. "Board goes this way: Fight from the middle to get to the outside, fight from the outside to get to the middle." He pointed a gnarled finger to the inside concentric ring. "That's the fight zone. That's where you separate the merps from the crinks." Anakin stopped listening. He hadn't ever seen a real-time dejarik set like this one. You had to physically move the pieces? And how did you keep score if one player's piece couldn't kill the other? He remembered his lessons in observing-without-looking and surveyed the surrounding docks. He saw the poster that they had seen upon arriving at Nepsa, fluttering in the freshening breeze.
"Excuse me. Gotta go ... someplace." Ry-Gaul nodded at him as he pretended to have no knowledge of dejarik's rules. Ry-Gaul was a fair actor, Anakin thought. Anakin strode to an out-of-sight spot under the dock and looked about surreptitiously. He really did have to go.
The river squirted.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Seven
Anakin scrutinized the poster. Underneath Strenghis' somewhat sour looks was a faded, thin sheet of another image. Anakin removed Strenghis' thick poster stock and uncovered a more cheaply-produced broadside. The first thing that he noticed was hair, lots of curling black hair, and then a hooked nose on a thin, ascetic face. The writing was again illegible, and so he had to rely on his own first impressions: idealistic, perhaps born to ease and wealth, or antithetically into genteel poverty. Strenghis' face had the hard look of a self-made man, tough because he had to be. Anakin rolled the fragile paper carefully. He walked back to the charming naynabo scene. He found an upset Grunbi and a Ry-Gaul who was losing ground in his interview. They had half an hour until meeting Obi-Wan.
Grunbi's wattles shook in fear. "Why are you asking me, Ry-Gaul? I didn't even vote last election. Didn't like either of them." The elderly Nepsan swept the carved dejarik pieces into their box held up to the table's edge. The old man half-stood, grabbing his cane in one tea-colored hand. Two gamepieces clattered to the ground and Anakin picked them up.
"Here, sir. We're sorry to bother you. We are strangers and need to get some background on your political situation before addressing the Congress of Tribes, that's all." He flashed his most winning smile, and it seemed to work. The elderly man sat back down. Anakin placed the roll onto the cleared table. Ry-Gaul presented a calm front, a soothing front with more than a little Force suggestion that Grunbi could go in peace after he answered some questions. Anakin felt the intimidation through the Force himself.
"Yes, that's the other candidate, Rondil Murt. Old Mother's Pet, we called him. Never did a day's work; his family didn't believe in it and had enough shares in Nepsan Amalgamated Shipping to indulge themselves. But they loved Trow, and their family produced president after president. Murt was just like the rest of them, believing that Trow and her traditions should never change. He didn't think a Murt would ever lose an election."
Even seated, Ry-Gaul towered over the shrunken old man, imbuing his words and presence with a slight Force enhancement. Anakin caught a glimpse of his quiet power. He didn't think that he could emulate it, and wasn't sure that he wanted to. "Rondil Murt offered something different than Strenghis, didn't he?" Ry-Gaul held out the tattered bit of poster. "Could you translate this for us, please?"
Grunbi smoothed the image. "'Don't change your aloas in midstream.' See, Murt ran things a long time his way --- people were stagnating in the cities, yet the countryside has its traditions and lots of work for food producers. That means everyone in the backcountry gets into a groove of observing the Mother's calendar, not just the Festival of Plenitude, the favorite one, by the way, but the rhythm of the river, the way the years pass so smoothly, so peacefully ... " Grunbi's eyes grew distant. "And before you know it, you're on your funeral barge, given to Gitchy, who takes you to her source, the Mother. Well." He came back to the present from his past and his future. "Ry-Gaul, Murt was the past, and we of Trow, but especially Nepsa, wanted change. And we got it. Oh, yes, we got it."
"You sound like change is a bad thing." Anakin recalled the Boonta Eve races and the parties during Boonta Eve Advent. He wouldn't have wanted those to change, even though he never attended any of the parties. It had been fun to peek through the gathering crowds at the celebrities arriving at the races prior to his being in one, even though now he was nostalgic about what he thought then was a celebrity.
"Sometimes it is, young Anakin. Separatists visited right after the war started; it was no big secret. They were nice people. They gave presents and said they would bring more than force pikes to everyone if Strenghis agreed to join them. He's kept them at bay for a little over a year now; he's got support among the Leaders of backcountry villages, especially one old friend, Qikal."
"We've heard of him." Ry-Gaul's voice was as bland as Trow's cuisine.
xxxxxx
"Mememememe, momomomomo, maymaymaymaymay, mymymymymy, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, OOOOH, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooooh. Ptui." The Negotiator cleared his pipes, loosening his vocal cords. Through the years, Obi-Wan's voice had developed an unfortunate tendency to squeak under stress. Before any public speaking, he centered himself, visualizing his cords relaxing, thickening for bass tones, though his would never be a true bass. He wondered how Ithorians kept their vocal abilities in trim as he worked his highest range, visualizing the cords symmetrical and perfect, no uneven stretches and certainly none that would produce embarrassing squeaks. The exercise worked nearly all the time.
"Mr. President, venerable members of Congress. May the Mother grant that we all reach the next Festival season in good health," he practiced diligently. Also though the years, Obi-Wan had invoked deities both benevolent and fiercely protective. That he wanted to remain in good health for another year was true enough. Another Festival of Plenitude was anathema, however. Far too embarrassing, too revealing, too ... confusing. Why had his body reacted ecstatically to Anakin's presence? He didn't know. It was more than pity, it was more like ...
"Master." Anakin burst in the door, remembering at the last minute to defer to Ry-Gaul's report before his own. Yes, his Padawan needed to recite the Respect-for-Master's-Authority and soon.
"News?"
The river cascaded.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Twenty-Eight
Anakin lowered his head respectfully when Ry-Gaul began his report. "Strenghis' last rival, the incumbent for twenty years, took a long 'vacation' after the election. He claims that his health was damaged by the strains of politicking and now he doesn't speak publicly. This, from someone whose entire family history is one of public service. Sounds like intimidation to me."
And you would know about that, wouldn't you, Master Ry-Gaul? Anakin knelt to adjust his sandals. Maybe Master Ry-Gaul had spare footgear on the cruiser? His toes and heels were taking a beating. Ry-Gaul sat rigidly on one of the Green Room's benches. The Presidential Villa's decor emphasized solid wood furniture, cunningly carved with not a metal fastening in view. All the joints were dovetailed in fine craftsmanship.
Obi-Wan turned in his seat back to regarding his appearance in the modest dressing table's mirror. He twisted his head and shrugged his shoulders. Ouch.
Ry-Gaul winced in sympathy. "The Separatists have been here sporadically for over one year, distributing a few pieces of higher technology to various authorities. The citizen we interviewed was an elderly man, Grunbi, with plenty opinions as to why Strenghis changed things. First the facts: Strenghis is registering everyone from young adulthood to late middle age for a draft into a three-year national service, not just here in the southern region, but planetwide. Grunbi thought I was an agent for Strenghis, prying for dissenters. It has not gone as far as detainment camps, nothing like we saw on Nington, Obi-Wan, but the seeds are here. It helps that Trow's population is small and that there are so many rural citizens. Strenghis has held off committing for a year. Something has to pop soon. Strenghis doesn't have to have the Force to realize that."
Ry-Gaul watched in silence as Anakin anticipated his Master's next movements and stood behind his chair, lifting both inner and outer tunics away from Obi-Wan's sunburned neck. Obi-Wan flicked Anakin a grateful glance in the mirror as he opened the pot of soothing cream and smeared a thin line on his neck where the tunic would irritate the still-rosy skin. He took a few minutes to think as he rubbed his hands to dissipate the cream. "Strenghis is mobilizing his forces, and if Qikal has a small stash of weapons, he's in on it. Could Strenghis be fool enough to play both ends against the middle? Use the Separatists' bribes, because that is what the 'gifts' were, back on them in a show of arms, and even on us if we try to sway them?"
The same thought flashed on all three Jedi's minds.
"You're going to have to show the Ohma-D'un vid, Master," Anakin voiced. "Trow doesn't realize the full scope of this war."
"Perhaps. Let's hope it doesn't come to it, but if that is what it will take ... "
A gong sounded nearby. "I'm ready. Padawan, you may observe with Master Ry-Gaul in the gallery this morning; perhaps in the afternoon session, you and he will speak your impressions firsthand. I shall open with a joke after the invocation, I think, perhaps an amusing anecdote about our Supreme Chancellor to show his more fallible side to them, compare him to a father-figure whose only wish is to protect his supplicants ... "
"No, please don't, Obi-Wan." "Erm, humor isn't your strong point, Master." Ry-Gaul and Anakin spoke together.
Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow.
"Remember the Yimpian incident, Obi-Wan," Ry-Gaul intoned solemnly.
Obi-Wan nodded. "Perhaps you're right. A straightforward presentation, then." He rose and nearly tripped over his sandals. "Ry-Gaul, is there any way to ... "
"I'll see what I can do at lunchtime, Obi-Wan. May The Force Be With You."
Anakin echoed the farewell.
The river descended.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Chapter Twenty-Nine
This is an almighty small Congress. Fifty-three representatives of the Congress of Billaqori Tribes sat in seven spacious rows of seamless, backless benches, with a narrow walkway cutting through for access to the speaker's platform, which was one meter above the highly polished wooden floor. The seven rows climbed two steps each to a circular promenade about the Congressional seating area. Light from clerestories made the wood gleam amber. Master looks good, even without his full length of hair and beard. More like he did when we first met. Anakin's and Ry-Gaul's seats were in the first row of the crowded gallery and they leaned over the railing when Obi-Wan began to speak.
"Mr. President, venerable members of Congress. May the Mother grant that we all reach the next Festival season in good health. My name is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and I represent the Galactic Republic. I bring warmest greetings from her Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and from our Senate to your Congress." Obi-Wan sought Strenghis' familiar face from the poster and Mace's briefing and found it not in the nearest row, but in the highest, clustered with three other Congressmembers. Obi-Wan assumed these were his Cabinet. He continued building up to the main thrust of his address. "In recent times, Trow has seen change to ready her for a more active role in her sector's politics. Trow has now reached a point where her allegiance is being sought by both the Republic and the Separatists." Obi-Wan's circling glance at his audience centered on Strenghis mere seconds longer than on the rest. "The Separatists have a dispute with their parent, the Galactic Republic, that they have been unable to resolve peacefully. They have seen fit to form their own Confederacy of Independent Systems, which we refuse to legitimize in the hopes that reconciliation will still be possible. It is the desire of the CIS that ten thousand systems will eventually join their cause. I am here, along with my colleagues, to prevent Trow from taking that misstep." That was the warning. Now here comes the alternative. "We of the Republic offer Trow our protection in the form of the Grand Army of the Republic. Its fine Clone troops will respond to any call to arms for you. For your sector's protection, we ask in return permission to build a base near your equator. It will contain a small maintenance force that can be augmented by battalions at a moment's notice." Finally, an offer of hope. "At the war's successful end, Trow will remain in good standing with the Republic and will be offered one extra seat in the Senate, should she care to join. I am open for questions at this time."
Obi-Wan heard someone cracking nuts in the ensuing silence. He knew it couldn't be Anakin. In contrast to other governing groups, the Senate most egregiously, this body thought before it spoke. Three minutes later the first question came. "If we join the Separatists, they offer the same things, plus upgrades on our spaceport here at Nepsa. Can you match?" It seemed the custom for each inquirer to stand.
A dialogue established. Good. "I can. And I will offer a pre-owned but entirely spaceworthy SoroSuub V-35 Courier also." She will be, when she is dredged from Gitchy, viewport repaired, systems rewired, dejarik table replaced, water pumped out ...
"What of the gifts that the Separatists made? Do you have something comparable?" The sun had moved and Obi-Wan couldn't see the shadowed faces in the upper seats, but from the point of origin it was a Cabinet member.
"Supreme Chancellor Palpatine asks us to implore you to think carefully on your allegiance. If you grant us the privilege of aligning with you and constructing a base near Gitchy's upper reaches, we will bring instructors to teach you to read Basic as well as speak it. We will impact your inspiring natural beauty as little as possible, while providing local employment."
We will open cantinas with liquor and exotic food, food with fiery spices in it to ameliorate your blandness. Will Qikal approve? Anakin didn't think so. Ry-Gaul sat, all attention, at his side on the unending bench accommodations. The lack of back support did not faze him at all. Anakin straightened in his seat. Go for the aurodium, Master.
"We have heard that a fallen Jedi is the political head of the Confederacy. What do you have to say about that?" It was President Strenghis' first question. He remained in his seat. His voice was low and firm, a quietly powerful instrument.
Obi-Wan did not falter. "True. Count Dooku leads the Confederacy, insinuating that the Republic is a lost cause to reforming bureaucracy's inaction. He proposes an alternative galactic power, yes. He enforces his ideals with the aid of one of the most merciless military minds the galaxy has ever known, General Grievous."
"What if --- "
"Tell me, Master Jedi, are there any neutrals in this war?" Strenghis again. The interrupted Congressmember sat down.
The Negotiator hesitated.
The river meandered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty
During the unending night when Obi-Wan's fate seemed to be permanent assignment to the AgriCorps the following morning, he accessed one or two files on gardening before sinking into a funk. Gardening used the Living Force aspect to an alarming degree. He would be expected to aid in providing food for the galaxy, which appealed to his altruism; it was the down and dirty part that took him aback. Matching crops to the correct soil conditions ascertained through the Force's display of finely graded ratios of nutrients and minerals, combined with climatology divination, seemed like laboratory work to him. He hadn't expected that to be in his life to such a degree. He would rather rely on the Jedi Analysis room droids, SP4 and the like. He hadn't wanted to become a droid himself. They were programmed to be neutral.
Then Qui-Gon burst in on his life. In one way, Qui-Gon was the essence of neutrality. He would have communed with the stoneslugs to their capacity, maybe apologized to them before relishing their pink flesh. Had situations been reversed and the stoneslugs feasted on him, Qui-Gon would have accepted the situation with his usual grace. When Tahl joined the Force, Qui-Gon's neutrality deserted him temporarily, but returned after a long, sad while. In those days years ago, neutrality was possible in the galaxy. These were not those days.
"There are. Bothawui began as neutral and still is. Orto began as neutral, but latest reports are of a coup and Intel doesn't yet know the outcome. Neutrality is possible, Mr. President, but I would be dissembling if I did not inform you that this war is escalating and the chances are that neutrality will not be respected by the Separatists." So Strenghis thinks he can stay neutral. And have sophisticated weapons. And outwit the Separatists. Mother.
"Thank you, Master Jedi, for your report. We here have much to discuss, but first, some refreshment. Please join me for lunch outside on this lovely day."
Mmmmmm, maybe there'll be stoneslugs. I'm hungry. A buffet set up on trestles in a flagstoned courtyard held the usual things at these functions: two or three complex dishes to show off Cook's talents, along with staples for the finicky. Obi-Wan, Ry-Gaul, and Anakin bypassed the staples, large steam tubs of purple mucilage, for the adequately presented grain mush dotted with chopped stoneslugs, also choosing tumblers of a clear juice. Anakin couldn't look at the steamed whole fish which had yellow eyes.
President Strenghis sought them out. The duly elected leader of Trow projected an aura of purpose tinged with deceit. Within his scope, he ruled Trow with all his might. It was the lack of scope in the broad meshes of the President's mind that alerted Obi-Wan that here was someone to instruct. Obi-Wan determined to instruct him, but Strenghis got in the first word. "An honor to embrace you, Master Jedi." Obi-Wan put down his plate and they exhanged the hearty embrace of the Billaqori. It lingered long after it should have, Strenghis' stocky form giving a squeeze that lifted Obi-Wan from his feet. Obi-Wan used Jedi breath control to avoid heaving his chest in an attempt to breathe, and grinned as he looked Strenghis in the eye. He returned the clasp harder and harder until Strenghis' grip loosened. They both stepped back. Strenghis settled on a bench and gestured. "Gentlemen, keep me company, please." The Congress paid attention to their meals, rarely speaking. It made for a nice break from trying to converse, balancing a full plate on one's lap, and laughing at questionably funny jokes that the Jedi routinely endured. The three of them relaxed.
Half an hour later, Congressmembers straddled benches or lounged informally on the ground around the President and his guests. One elderly woman nodded in the almost-hot sun. This was new, this was disarming. Obi-Wan tensed.
"We have one question."
"I shall do my best."
A Cabinet member stood tall, her lavalava cinched with a raffia belt interwoven with liana blossoms. "And the Jedi leading the army? We have heard of your extraordinary abilities. As a Master, can you give a demonstration?"
This should never enter the equation, but it usually did. It didn't matter that the Force was real and true and fueled his heart; Obi-Wan always felt like a charlatan when asked to demonstrate its power. In the middle of the courtyard, a naynabo tree, the largest one the Jedi had seen, bloomed in full summer glory. It had no seats secured to it; nothing occluded its natural beauty. Obi-Wan would need Anakin's help and their bond for this. He spoke in a low voice to the young man. "Anakin, a small assist, please. Follow my lead." In a graceful gesture, the two Jedi placed their hands at waist-level and opened their fingers as if cupping something in their palms. Nothing happened for many minutes. The Force operated quietly and with its own agenda, as it usually did. Then the remaining unopened small red blossoms unfolded in slow motion, twitching as if in a tiny breeze. As everyone watched, these newest blooms stopped developing at their peak. The three Jedi gasped along with the small crowd. The others couldn't read it, but to Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ry-Gaul, a distinct Osk and Aurek appeared, contrasting with the older, slightly faded blooms. "It's an optical illusion, Padawan. It's chance," Obi-Wan said and turned to address the group.
The river stammered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-One
"Yes, we are Jedi and we represent the Republic, but we are a very small part of the Republic," Obi-Wan began, putting the flowers out of his mind. "Our Order is involved with the Republic's fate, but has its separate governing body, just like your Congress. The relationship is ... complex. Both the Jedi and the Republic stand together in this: we are for democracy, rules by elected leaders. We hope you will join us."
The Council isn't elected, Master. It's all who you know, in this case, the Force, if it can be characterized as a "who." But I don't think it can. Anakin stood when Ry-Gaul did. "Obi-Wan, I'll hotfoot it back to the cruiser for your --- "
ching-wheep! ching-wheep!
Ry-Gaul turned aside. "Excuse me." He plucked his comm from a pocket inside his right boot. "Present. Yes. Bad? How high? Fairly well. I'll see. Put him on ... oh, he can't. Ah, ah, Ry-Gaul out." Ry-Gaul lost whatever bonhomie had graced him these last few days. "Tru's had a relapse. He's feverish, calling for me." Ry-Gaul's strong features more resembled his reserved nature from their other missions together. Obi-Wan had considered him a bit cold before Trow, but now he thought that Ry-Gaul was as deep as Gitchy.
Tru's worse? "You should return, Master Ry-Gaul. Master and I have things under control here."
Ry-Gaul looked startled at Anakin's speaking first. He spoke only to Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan. I'll give my statement on a holovid. It ought to add some weight to your argument."
"Certainly you may go. And Ry-Gaul, thank you for everything. Padawan, I want you to go over your speech in your mind. Use a holovid to record yourself to see how you sound, if need be. And get Ry-Gaul's copy of the Ohma-D'un vid ready, just in case. Bring it back here."
"Do you expect to have to use it? Makes me sick to watch it."
Another clue to Ry-Gaul's character. "No, I don't. It's a last ditch strategy. Oh, and Ry-Gaul, do you have any spare boots, clogs, anything that could possibly fit us on board?"
"Yes, I recollect there's a bin for lost and found. Sometimes when we transport delegations without their entourages the pols get a little groggy and forget things. I'll see." Ry-Gaul was already striding his long strides out of the courtyard and down the block, forgetting the Jedi farewell to Obi-Wan. Anakin hurried after him.
At the spaceport, fewer than thirty ships were docked. Ry-Gaul slapped the ramp control and he and Anakin boarded, getting directly to business. The cruiser was a non-descript forty-two meter long nonentity, something that Anakin could have modded in his sleep. "Ahem," he said into the holorecorder. "Padawan Skywalker here. I support whatever my Master and Master Ry-Gaul say. The End." He played it back. His voice was as nondescript as the cruiser, but he was all right with the notion that he would never have his Master's mellifluous tones. At Congress, he would be the last to speak, possibly only answering a few questions. These Trow people didn't seem the garrulous sort. Good. Tru's the only talkative one I want to be around. Tru. He saw that Ry-Gaul had finished his deposition and was rummaging in a cubic meter-sized bin, throwing belts and a cluster of tiaras onto the floor. "Master Ry-Gaul, is Tru bad off?"
"It's not fatal, it's just unexpected. He's never been this ill before. I want to be there, and as you said, it's under control here." At the bottom were extra sets of human/humanoid size underwear, some unmatched socks, a dinner jacket fitted for someone the size of a Phlog, and three pairs of soft boots. Two looked decently fitting, one pair slightly too large for Obi-Wan, but smaller than comfortable for Anakin, and the other too large for Anakin. But workable. Ry-Gaul placed the Ohma-D'un vid and his holorecording into Anakin's hands with alacrity as he walked him down the ramp. The two paused at its foot.
"Privacy is allowed, Anakin," Ry-Gaul said. "Keep your private things private."
"Wh-What do you mean?" Anakin could barely speak. Ry-Gaul was being kind, but he suspected something.
"I mean that touching your Master twice today without a thought for the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, almost speaking out of turn in the Green Room --- "
--- yeah, that's real rebellious, that is ---
" --- and the flowers --- Anakin, don't do anything that you'll regret."
Ry-Gaul wasn't accessing the Force for intimidation, but Anakin remembered Grunbi's interview that morning and it was enough to compress his voice, his heart into watchfulness. Am I giving off signals? Would he pick them up, Force or not?
"Think about your Master. Think about yourself. You are important just as you are."
Master needs me just as I am.
"You need Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan, from what I know of him through the years" --- Ry-Gaul smoothed the liquid sheen of the Jedi cruiser's outer skin and did not look at Anakin --- "needs to be needed." The tall master's lips curved in a tiny smile. "So take care. I can't imagine what's gotten into me on Trow. I'll be back to normal on Coruscant." He looked sideways at Anakin. "And I'll be quiet again. About everything. May The Force Be With You."
"Tell Tru to get well soon. May The Force Be With You." Anakin took the spare boots, each pair of which wouldn't quite fit, and returned to the Presidential Villa.
The river sank.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Two
Obi-Wan knew that he was going to have to show the Ohma-D'un holovid today when Anakin handed him the boots and said, "Master, I'm sensing that their minds are closing fast." Obi-Wan knew that he had failed today and perhaps for good in this mission when, back in the Congressional chambers, the Ohma-D'un holovid of unspeakable atrocities did not make a single Congressmember lose his lunch. Throughout scenes of Gungans gasping for a final breath or gurgling even more unintelligible speech than usual, when eyestalks imploded and viscid tongues melted from sagging lips, when kneecaps separated from twitching thighs, the Billaqori observed in silence. As the recording finished, President Strenghis asked one question. "What did your Republic do to provoke this?"
Obi-Wan masked his surprise at their bland attitude. He himself had almost fainted when opening to the Living Force on Ohma-D'un and perceiving the pernicious blot of the Separatists' new level of outrage. "Ohma-D'un had done nothing but be in the Galaxy at a time of supreme warfare." He felt almost as dizzy now as on that sickening day. This was heading in the wrong direction, this was escalating out of control.
"I see." Strenghis said nothing more and the silence lengthened. The clerestories admitted a late afternoon glow that turned the smooth wood in the chamber from amber to a dark honey color, similar to Anakin's hair. Anakin plucked the holoprojector from its place on the speaker's platform, switched it off, and stood in rigid amazement at his Master's side. How can they not be affected? Only by breathing deeply had he soothed his nausea, layering his mind with pleasant memories of Naboo and of sweet Padme. Naboo's grandeur should not have to exist in close proximity to her soiled moon, Ohma-D'un. It was beneath her dignity.
"Mr. President, I stand upon the Republic's integrity, and my own since I have seen firsthand these awful things, in saying that the Gungans and the spice miners on this moon did no wrong. But perhaps you need to hear someone else. Padawan."
Anakin stepped on the platform and blurted out the first thing on his mind. "Don't be afraid of the Republic. Be afraid of the Separatists." Fear and withdrawal, that's what they're doing. Plus their leader has a lot of gall. "I was on Ohma-D'un, also, sirs, and madams, too, of course, and in many other encounters with the Separatists since then, and well, the Republic may not be perfect --- "
Padawan!
" --- but it's the right way to go here. You can ask me questions, if you want to."
Will charm succeed where debate has not? Obi-Wan still didn't know as he and Anakin headed to their inn after dismissal an hour later. Tomorrow's session could be disastrous. He had not one idea left to persuade them. Strenghis was the keystone and his misguided protection of his home could doom his planet. The two Jedi avoided eye contact with the inn's staff and with each other as they clumped up the stairs and entered the room. The shutters were closed and the beds made neatly enough. They both had no appetite for dinner beyond the single piece of sweesonberry-lookalike candy left on each pillow and plumped down wearily on each of the beds.
Guess I'll take the single now. No need to crowd Master. I wish it were a longer bed, though. Of all the events in the past week, Anakin found himself pondering his dream. And the mysterious dream-purpose. Talking about it would take Obi-Wan's mind off today's proceedings.
"Master."
"Mmmmm?"
"Did you sleep well last night?"
"I slept exceptionally well, thank you. And you?"
"Not quite. I can only remember one dream out of it, though."
It must be a dilly for him to recall it. "Tell me about it, Anakin."
The river paused.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Three
Anakin whispered, "You hurt me, Master." It was a muggy night and the two had stripped to skivvies. They had opened the shutters to let in stray breezes and two or three annoying flitterbugs that butted now and then against the puny glowglobe on the nightstand.
"Only in a dream, my Padawan. You'll never be hurt by me intentionally." Whatever did Anakin think? "I am your teacher. When I cut, not unravel, your braid in real life, I will not be hurting you, I will be fulfilling the Force's will." And Qui-Gon's will, that you become a Jedi Knight, wherever that may lead you as our Chosen One. "When I pushed you down the steps too fast and you fell, that was your resentment talking. And when I threw your Merit Beads into the water, that was your projection of my resentment. We've been together too much at times. It's natural for unexpressed feelings to bubble over into dreams."
Unexpressed. "And your hands that changed from mean and cold to soft and warm on my waist?"
Obi-Wan looked away. "I don't know. Maybe a holdover from our, our, detour to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy."
"There was a reason I said that I wanted to be closer to you, Master." Anakin placed his hand on Obi-Wan's bare knee. "I think the reason was that my --- our --- intimacy could help this mission."
"This mission will fail or succeed by the will of the Force, Anakin. Of course, we as Jedi and representatives of the Republic want it to succeed."
"I think --- I feel that the Force wants it to succeed, too, Master. What if I'm right and you're wr-wrong?" All the signs pointed to him being right: the recalling of Ry-Gaul to give them privacy, the half-remembered dreams since puberty, the bouquet with their initials, for kriff's sake. He couldn't quite work in Tru's illness as a factor, but he wouldn't be at all surprised if the Force could. Anakin jumped happily ahead to a vision of two lovers entwined face-to-face, seeing their mutual desires in each other's eyes, nothing like that shamed affair on Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's dark commons.
Obi-Wan, caught at a low moment, sighed. "You keep on saying 'closer,' Anakin. There's only one more way for us to be closer, and ... and ... "
Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan's knee, sliding his thumb in the crease behind it firmly. He drew his thumb back and forth. He looked at Obi-Wan and knew why the Force had allowed the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release to run this long. There was no outward physical emergency in this quiet room. There was a Force-driven one, though, even if he couldn't see it.
"Now wait a moment, Anakin. We've never --- I've never given you cause --- stop that, Anakin, I can't think --- " Starting to tickle; must not laugh.
"The Force doesn't want you to think, Master, not here, not now." His old dreams, his latest dream, the Mother's interference, it all made sense now. The Force meant Anakin to be Obi-Wan's, just as it meant Obi-Wan to be Anakin's. This night would prove it. And there were the flowers. What else could the Force mean? The ominous presence of the fog in the always serene, always beautiful Room of a Thousand Fountains shielded some event dark and terrible, and Anakin was afraid to try to discern more about it. He would rather think about the flowers.
Obi-Wan considered the same events less passionately, never realizing that he was the cause of so much work for the Temple's washing machines when Anakin was fifteen and started laundering his own sheets. He caught sight of Anakin's hickey as Anakin leaned forward and the undergarment's neckline widened. The mottled bruise showed and surely it was his imagination that the red marks interposed on tanned skin formed an Osk. He blinked and the illusion was gone. He got to his feet in record time, Anakin matching his speed so that they both stood in the narrow space between the beds.
"Haven't you ever been tempted, Master?" The flitterbugs pounded madly against the weak glowglobe's luminance.
"No," Obi-Wan said stoutly. "Not like that, anyway. I've been tempted by the Dark Side, Anakin, and I gave in when the Sith hurt Qui-Gon enough to kill him and I planned to pull out the Zabrak's horns one by one and cram them into his eyes. I gave in to temptation and suffered for it, because it nearly worked, I nearly Fell on Naboo because of temptation and I shall not do so on Trow."
Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan never ranted once. He stated these soul-clenching events calmly, in a clear teaching voice, the one that he always used. Oh, Anakin, stop judging. He's had nights of brooding to think about the events. Qui-Gon has been in the Force for eleven years. Master's not going to tear up over it now. More rationalizing, more maturity. He was going to have to watch out or he'd grow up. "What I want from you isn't Dark. Not even close."
The river approached.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Four
Obi-Wan stood his ground when Anakin stepped up toe-to-toe, but blocked his Padawan's arm from touching his chest. "You know what 'no attachments' means. You're not stupid. And I don't love you that way, Anakin."
"You don't know how good it can be." Anakin knew that he could love Obi-Wan the same way that he loved Padme, the same sweet obsession that told him he could never share Obi-Wan with anyone, just like he could never share Padme with anyone. It was the dream-purpose that told him differently. The dream-purpose said, Love nourishes, it doesn't consume either the lover or the loved one. Stay on the Light side of the bridge, Jedi. Don't you let Obi-Wan push you to the Dark. It's for his greater good.
At that statement, Obi-Wan did lose his composure. "And you do? Who were you with? And when? We are together nearly all the time, except for ... for ... the Zone of Self-Containment! That's when it happened! Was it Zan Arbor? Did she experi--- "
"Stars and galaxies, Ob--- Master! I'm talking about fucking in general!"
"Ohhhh." Obi-Wan didn't use that word at all, and Anakin did only when pushed to extremes. Which he was now. Obi-Wan changed tactics, and stepped back. He turned away from Anakin's intent gaze that made him so uncomfortable. He felt like he was the one being trained. Am I? The Force isn't done with me yet, is that it? He had failed today in convincing Strenghis to join the Republic's cause. Strenghis thought naively that neutrality was possible, that he could gather force pikes or maybe even artillery from the Seps --- Obi-Wan knew he was upset when he resorted to epithets --- to have a show of arms to discourage Republic involvement, and then turn around to threaten the Seps into leaving Trow alone. Strenghis' love for his home touched Obi-Wan, but his ignorance of the conflict's scope depressed him. To protect Trow from Strenghis' misguided leadership, Obi-Wan might have to defend his Negotiator title. Maybe Anakin could help him do it. Maybe, just maybe, Anakin was right.
"Anakin, let's talk."
Here it comes. A teachable moment. "Let's not." Anakin pinned Obi-Wan's arms to his body with a bear hug from the side. He took advantage of the moment to fumble a kiss into Obi-Wan's ear, but kissed bristly hair instead. It was gratifying and relieving when Obi-Wan snorted humorously and turned sideways into a full embrace. They looked each other in the eyes before they both closed their eyes and leaned into a kiss that deepened briefly. Anakin took the lead a second later. Almost blinded by excitement, he nearly dropped them both on Ry-Gaul's old bed, but angled their fall at the last moment onto the double. This time he had no trouble getting hard. He pushed images of the Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy commons onto their bond and shoved them through. Through their undergarments, he could feel Obi-Wan getting hard, too.
There are those shields again, Padawan, what other secrets do you hide, mmmmm? Scents, sounds of Billaqori festivities, Qikal's glowrod coming closer, watch out Anakin, help me to help you Anakin, don't move Anakin, no I mean to say Move! Anakin murmured a "Sorry!" when he rubbed Obi-Wan's sunburned neck with his glove and Obi-Wan hissed into his mouth. They only lightly touched lips as their hands roamed downwards together to free each other's erections before drifting to the garment's dropseat and placing each a bracing hand within. As they pressed together, not moving at all in a tantalizing stasis, Anakin Force-called the last piece of candy, the one left on Ry-Gaul's pillow, unwrapped it in midair, and caught it in his teeth. He bit down slightly on his half to hold it. He rubbed it over Obi-Wan's stubbled cheek, getting it closer and closer to his mouth, when Obi-Wan snapped his head to the side and bit the confection in half.
Sweet, so sweet. Obi-Wan used the Force frivolously himself and found one end of Anakin's braid tie, looping it around to undo it from the glossy hair. He removed one-by-one the three Merit Beads, the yellow Perfect Attendance one that nearly everyone received, the blue Most Improved In Swordsmanship: Junior Division one, and the green Self-Control In Meditation one that had taken Anakin years to earn. He placed them reverentially and safely in the cup next to the complimentary juice carafe behind the glowglobe. The braid unraveled next, three silky brown strands feathering into one wavy length that Obi-Wan yearned to slide his fingers through, but both his hands were occupied now. I'm looking forward to it.
Anakin removed his hands regretfully from tender skin fore and back, having decided that they both were overclothed, and pulled apart the fastenings on the side of the thin garment. He sat up to wriggle out of it impatiently, tearing the underarm seams but not caring in the least. It was the work of a moment to unfasten Obi-Wan's, too, and as he skinned his Master out of his last bit of clothing, he flashed back to his own attack of Togorian measles when he was eleven. Anakin couldn't bear any clothing to touch the itching, furry patches and Obi-Wan had allowed him to lay about their quarters in nothing but his skin. Obi-Wan had pushed up the room temperature to nearly Tatooine-like levels, but had only disrobed to his inner set of tunics. Anakin had thought the man inhuman at that time and since, but now he was revising his opinion.
The river flowed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Five
Anakin pushed things along when he rolled Obi-Wan on top of him, his weight supported on one of Anakin's hips and their bodies at an angle so that their cocks weren't crushed, merely springing upwards to an even greater height, if possible. Obi-Wan leaned up on one elbow and looked downwards to watch themselves rub together, but the elbow slipped on sweating skin and smacked into Anakin's throat on the bruised side. " ... mmmunngh ... " Obi-Wan kissed it better, slipping once again to Anakin's side. Anakin whimpered when he felt Obi-Wan drag his lips downwards and twist his compact body around, never breaking contact, ending up with his head next to Anakin's waist. Obi-Wan broke off the lick long enough to slide one warm hand underneath the small of Anakin's back, curling the fingers upward into a grip on the far side. Hands ... warm ... waist ... dream ... yes. Anakin thought that he could join the Force right then and there, but if he did, then he would have missed the inexpressible sensation of Obi-Wan's tongue spiralling inwards from Anakin's hipbone with lapping loops until Obi-Wan reached Anakin's left ball. Obi-Wan probed it gently, trailing upwards to where the sac joined it to its mate in a puckered seam. "Stop ... won't last ... please ... "
Master Yoda could not have stopped faster than Obi-Wan, sticking his tongue back into his mouth, spitting out a few hairs in the process. He panted excitedly, running a hand along Anakin's flank as they both wondered what to do now. Anakin, thinking guiltily about what Padme liked, sat up, grabbed a pillow and put it on his lap. He placed the other pillow against the headboard, scootching around until he was directly in the center of the bed and the pillow was supporting his shoulders. He reached to the side, took Obi-Wan's right knee and pulled it across his body so that Anakin had one knee on either side of his hips. He rubbed a soothing hand over Obi-Wan's ass, poking his fingers into the tense cheeks until they relaxed. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at him questioningly, saw Anakin smile, and raised himself up on both elbows between Anakin's legs to wait for whatever Anakin was going to do next.
Anakin began kneading Obi-Wan's ass, marveling at the little line of hair trailing down his spine, waist to cheeks. It was as auburn as the hair on Obi-Wan's head, and in the pinkish light of the glowglobe it looked like aurodium dust. He trailed a flesh finger between the cheeks, down the divide to the perineum and back up again. He did this eight times, and each time Obi-Wan huffed a breath when his opening was brushed. On the ninth time, Anakin spat on his finger and pushed in a little before resuming the routine.
Obi-Wan slumped bonelessly forward off his elbows' support, turned his cheek to one side against the mattress. Anakin was his Padawan. Anakin would not hurt him. This was new, this was strange. Obi-Wan relaxed completely. He put one hand on each of Anakin's ankles and rubbed his thumbs over the anklebones rhythmically. He couldn't access the Force right now, but he didn't need to. This was the same situation as existed on Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's commons, an other sense unlike the real galaxy. The only difference was that there was no urgency to prove anything to a proctor. At thirty-six, Obi-Wan felt sometimes that he had nothing left to prove; although some would call that egotism, he called it realism. He was the Sithkiller, a Jedi Master, on the Council, and Master of the Chosen One in his Order. Short of joining the Force in his due time, he had few ambitions. Whoever his Padawan was after Anakin's departure for Knighthood, Obi-Wan felt like he had conquered whatever mysteries of childhood's and adolescence's behavior existed. The next kid could pull no fast ones at all. Obi-Wan felt somewhat sorry for his future Padawans. Ouch.
"Master ... kiss ...sorry ... kiss ... " Anakin corkscrewed forward until he could kiss Obi-Wan's vertebrae somewhere midway along his tense back. He had taken advantage of Obi-Wan's reverie to try a prostate massage, inching forward bit by bit in the same fashion that he used with Padme when they did other things, although of course with Padme he had no such target. When Master Luminara had done Anakin's prostate exam, the entire atmosphere reeked unromantically of proper physical hygiene and good health. She was in and out in less than a minute; then again, she had the advantage of micron gloves and blobs of lube. Anakin tried to remember the proper procedure, resuming his stilled finger's activity when Obi-Wan stopped clenching. There, a little forward and up top ...
Goodgoodgood betterbetterbetterbetter Obi-Wan shoved hard into the pillow, squeezing Anakin's ankles. He barely noticed when Anakin slid his mechno-hand under the pillow to provide a pressuring groove of sorts. Obi-Wan did notice when the finger inside stepped up the action into a soft, fast tapping and then the galaxy turned to white noise, everything turned to white noise with not a single outstanding feature except pleasure. betterbetterbest. Obi-Wan arched his back, came and collapsed.
Anakin removed his finger, flexing his ankles to loosen his Master's painful grip. He noted abstractedly that the orgasmic flush turned Obi-Wan's sunburn into a shade of rose the same hue of the blooms on the naynabo tree, but did not match their intensity. He waited thoughtfully until some minutes passed before pulling the handy pillow from beneath Obi-Wan and tossing it to a far corner. Impressive again, Master, and this time without the Force.
The mating pheromones sizzled so thick that even the flitterbugs noticed. "Let's go," signaled one chemically. "Same way we came in." They batted a final time against the hypnotic glowglobe, then broke free of its allure and departed through a slit in the shutters. Even they recognized a need for privacy when they sensed it.
The river sputtered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Six
Anakin lost his momentum when Obi-Wan came. It no longer mattered if he lasted or not; suddenly it mattered very much what Obi-Wan thought of him and he wanted to talk. He ached deeply, though, and some of that came through the Master/Padawan bond. Obi-Wan's breathing returned to normal. He sat trembling by Anakin's side, back pushed up against the headboard until Anakin put his arm around his shoulders to ease the strain. "Mmmuhh," Obi-Wan said. "Help you, wanna ... " He gestured in the general direction of Anakin's groin, where absolutely nothing was happening.
"I'm all right, Master."
"So'm I. More'n all right. Wanna --- Want to do something f'r you ... be fair to you ... "
"Later. I want to talk now."
Now he opens up. Something about the matters he's shielding? Obi-Wan wasn't ready for a long conversation. He'd negotiate out of one. "Anakin, shhhometimesh we talk too much, don't mean 'we' as in you and I, I mean 'we' as, as, in Jedi. Qui-Gon used t' say 'Live in the moment' and at this moment we need to resht." He tried to frown in a Masterly way, but couldn't. The frowny muscles were too relaxed.
Anakin attempted to recall the precise things that Qui-Gon had said. He remembered more the Force-presence of strength and a large quantity of kindness in a shoulder ride for a fatherless boy who had never had one. He demurred. "No, it's important that we talk about things. That's what lovers do." It's what Padme always liked to do, sometimes to Anakin's dismay and general grumpiness. Talking after sex used up an entire lobe of his brain to keep track of the conversation. Padme. Oh. He shunted her image away. "Master, please."
"All right. What we've done can't be ignored, after all. It'll stay out of the Mission Report draft, though, much less the final version."
"Was that humor, Master?"
"You said I'm not good at humor."
"You might be catching it from me."
"I'm not empathetic that way; Master Qui-Gon tried to teach me to love the Living Force, but I only ever managed to like it." Obi-Wan's lassitude was similar to that of one following a moving meditation. Meditation did not cause his heart to hammer, however, or his mind to drift to adventuresome thoughts regarding other acts with Anakin. Something more athletic, perhaps ...
" ... and it seems to me that the reason the Billaqori didn't react more to the vid is because ... Master, are you listening?"
" ... is because they are closer to the Living Force than we --- than I --- am and see such things more fatalistically; they need more solid reasons to join the Republic's cause than we gave them before, not emotional appeals. They are, ah, pragmatic about disgus-- putr--- visceral subjects. I'll come up with something tomorrow morning, Padawan. We've got a good start here, but I literally cannot see straight."
Anakin heaved a sigh. "That's talking about the mission, all well and good. Now I want to talk about us."
"As long as I can get horizontal."
Anakin startled Obi-Wan by standing and pulling Obi-Wan shakily up along with him. "What -- "
"I'm sleeping with you tonight. I don't want to crowd either of us. Let's do this." Anakin yanked off the double's mattress and the single's, pushed them together on the floor, and spread the bedding haphazardly on top. "There. I'm too tall for either of these two beds. At least now my feet won't lop off into thin air." He lay beside Obi-Wan, who had curled into a fetal ball, breathing deeply.
"Go on, Padawan. I'll last a little longer."
"We're closer. Just like I wanted us to be. I like that. Do you?"
"Yes. Next question."
Anakin wanted to ruffle Obi-Wan's bristles, but compromised by rolling onto his side and caressing Obi-Wan's uppermost arm. He poked the arm after a time. "Master. Don't fall asleep yet."
"'M not."
"I love you."
"I love you, too." Obi-Wan qualified it in his head, as was his way. I love you for your grace, your gifts in the Force, your dedication to the Republic, your laugh ... He fell asleep, but not before thinking that his Padawan was not ready to hear those reasons yet.
The river hushed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Seven
Squawk! Sq-sq-squawk! Screech! Rustle, flutter, flutter, ruffle, screech-SQUAWK!
"Housekeeping!" Knock-KnockKNOCK! --- blessed silence --- KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
An obnoxious flock of psittacines seemed to have perched on the eaves outside their still-shuttered window this morning of their seventh day on Trow, and an equally obnoxious staffer from the inn commanded attention from the hallway. Obi-Wan checked his internal time sense --- late --- but the Chosen One remained asleep, so Obi-Wan padded to the door and stage-whispered, "Come back later, please!"
"But I'll lose me position, sir! It's ever so late and I have to serve downstairs in the diner what with the extra people in town, we're full up here in Nepsa, you know, and you're me last duty on this floor, have a heart, sir?" Yes, this girl could whine with the best of them. Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder at Anakin, who was getting to his feet, scratching idly. Anakin waved an 'all right' sign and headed into the 'fresher.
Obi-Wan said to the girl, "Hold on, hold on," wrapped a sheet about himself and opened the door. It was the server from their first night in Trow, the dippy one with the vacuous smile at Ry-Gaul's generous tip. She had another smile from the same vintage on her pleasant face. Obi-Wan replaced his own answering smile with a noncommittal straight face and inquired, "Breakfast room service still available?"
"Of course, sir, anytime." She set down her replacement pile of bedding, towels, and toiletries on the single chair, took in the mattresses on the floor without expression and gathered up the soiled sheets and pillows. She cast about the room, then dived for the pillow in the corner, tossing it on top of the growing pile. "Shall you be requiring extra hand lotion, sir? No further charge."
Obi-Wan was in time to prevent a blush, using a Jedi technique to lessen heat exhaustion. "Not necessary, thank you."
Anakin emerged from the 'fresher with a clean hand towel draped in front and she entered with the replacement necessities, straightening up rapidly. She left the door open as she scrubbed with their used towels from yesterday morning, wiping down the small mirror, shower stall, and finally 'fresher seat. She replaced soaps and shower caps, and Obi-Wan, glancing up from where he sat next to Anakin on the mattresses, saw her grin saucily in his direction. She had an extra container of lotion ready in her hand, then spotted the pot of sunburn cream on the counter. She palmed the lotion economically. "I'll be right back with what we have left over from breakfast, plus fresh pillows. Shan't be a minute." She rolled everything dirty up, knotted it into an efficient bundle, and secured it with one hand on top of her head.
"Another day, another credit," Anakin said when Obi-Wan had been quiet for too long. Obi-Wan had been thinking about their shared past and about how, when he saw Anakin come out of the 'fresher just then in that skimpy towel, he would never again see his Padawan in an innocent light. It took some adjusting to the small stab of pain this caused. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was content to simply use the word 'love' and have that cure whatever deeper issues arose. Analysis about glowglobes and force pikes was one thing, analysis about life-changing events was something else. He envied Anakin's mostly sunny nature for a moment, allowed the envy to burn off in the warming mid-morning sun, then answered the door with relief. It was their meal. Obi-Wan turned off his musings the same way he would turn off a tap and opened another discussion about their mission.
"I'll ask for a private session today, just the Cabinet and Strenghis. If it's granted, you and I will find out more about Murt and his 'vacation,' I think, and I know we'll discuss Strenghis' conscription plan. He won't be able to resist expounding on that. Maybe the force pike and glowrod question will be answered further, and I'd like to know where the Separatist contingent is hiding. Questions, comments?" Obi-Wan waved a Para-roll dripping with berry sauce in Anakin's direction.
"Yes. I want to know how you feel this morning, Master."
"Excellent, thanks. And you?"
"Embarrassed. The maid knew everything, I had only that tiny towel between her and me, and now I have to rush around gobbling food and hoping no one gets offended by my grimy self in its musty uniform. Plus I sense that you are regretting something. Please say that last night, all of it, won't give you second thoughts." Anakin didn't touch Obi-Wan. He knew from the 'fresher mirror that his hickey had turned to an ugly green, although his heart felt complete now. He reflected that Obi-Wan's complexity would most likely make him over-think and analyze what should be simple truths. Anakin wanted to finish this mission in the way that the Force had provided. This morning in the 'fresher he had pondered the way that the dream-purpose seemed outside the Force and how that was possible. He came to another epiphany, that the Force meant Jedi to take a break from its contemplation now and then, all the more to return to their studies refreshed. It was meant that he and Obi-Wan teach this to their Order, all in good time. He stopped there. He could leave the details of instruction up to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was good at that. Meanwhile, there was an unsettled Master to deal with. Anakin felt more capable than ever at dealing. Why, in the 'fresher this morning, he felt capable of overcoming his bladder problem completely. All in good time, however.
"No second thoughts about us, my Padawan. It's going to need a period of adjustment, that's all. I'm your teacher and now your l-lover, lover, that is, and it's strange, but not unsurmountable." Obi-Wan licked up the last of the berry sauce from his pinky. "I feel dirty also, and we have just an hour before our session starts, not enough time to finish eating and go back to that laundry service I used yesterday. Why not shower together with our uniforms on, Force-enhanced jog for twenty minutes to dry them in this heat, and report directly to Congress? We ought to wind up decently clean that way. I'll stop us before we get too sweaty."
He's more chipper now. "Done." No time for anything else. I'll survive, though.
The river cleansed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Eight
I release myself from your authority, my Master, temporarily and for your greater good. I'm my own man now, for a little while longer at least, Anakin thought, and men think for themselves. Anakin and Obi-Wan jogged side-by-side along the rutted road that ran mostly straight along Gitchy, relieved that the rare and expensive cobblestones extended to the docks and no further. The river flowed, its noise a constant low hissing with an occasional slap! of a fish reentering the water after leaping for a flitterbug. There were no others on the thoroughfare, due probably to the lateness of the hour --- I made Obi-Wan oversleep this morning --- so Anakin had the hunch that, in summer, Billaqori did most of their strenuous activities, such as travel, once the sun first made its appearance and finished their efforts early in the day. The Festival of Plenitude pilgrimages would be the exception. He turned away from Festival memories and concentrated on finding new approaches to persuading Strenghis to join their cause. Strenghis had the look of a no-nonsense type, someone who would not allow his sympathy for the Gungans' plight to turn into empathy. The vid, gruesome though it was, may indeed have been seen as manipulative and pushed him further into isolationism. He might reject any overtures now from either side. His elected position as protector of Trow was the primary thing in his life, Anakin decided, just as Qikal's devotion to the Mother was the foremost motivator in his life and devotion to the Force was the first thing Jedi thought of every morning. Now, as to benefits of the Republic's side ... clones. Yes, re-emphasize the ever-renewing clone armies, coming as they did from one father, but no mother ... no. Um. Spices? He could see the incomprehension on Strenghis' face, the sheer inability to find those food enhancers attractive. No. Improved opportunities for travel? Fewer than one per cent of Trow's population had traveled offplanet, he recalled from Mace's briefing. They didn't seem adventurous beyond their own world. Anakin wondered why they even wanted an improved spaceport facility. Anakin looked at the good rich riparian soil beneath his bounding feet. That, along with Gitchy and other rivers like her, provided for physical needs, the Mother provided for spiritual ones, and if it hadn't been for Grunbi's exposure of urban stagnation, Anakin could see no foothold to argue for change. It wasn't until they reached the end of the road at Kuki's friends' farm and turned to head back that an idea was born.
Obi-Wan effortlessly matched his shorter stride to Anakin's. For some reason, his mind felt clearer about their mission than ever and he was filled with enthusiasm for it. Yesterday's blunder was merely a misstep, a first impression upon Strenghis and his Congress that Obi-Wan could change with today's session. No more appealing to emotions. Strictly business. Defense and protection of Trow's sovereignty, these points were key. Looming over these issues was the appeal of the CIS, not lost on Obi-Wan, whose observations of the Republic Senate procedures through the years made him, too, think of ways to overcome government by committee. Derailing the CIS's appeal, pushing the Republic's appeal ... hmmm. A moving meditation seemed in order. Obi-Wan glanced at Gitchy, noted her rate of flow and their own speed and used those factors to regulate his internal time sense, setting it to arrive at the Villa with enough time for their breathing to return to normal. He pounded the trail, simply running, freeing his brain to be rather than do. An idea arose in his consciousness as he and Anakin did a joyous simultaneous flip with a twist at the halfway mark of their jog, reversing their direction neatly. He flashed a grin silently at his Padawan, seeing the same grin on Anakin's face.
After relaying his request to President Strenghis via a page, Obi-Wan waited with Anakin in the same courtyard as yesterday, standing next to the magnificent naynabo tree whose blossoms now were undifferentiated. Fifty Congressmembers lounged about near the Villa's entrance, nibbling on pastries, drinking juice or an urban watery version of Kopi tea that Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't much care for. Some politicians smiled, a few bowed, but most eyed them curiously and then went back to chewing or conversing quietly. Trow is as far away culturally from Coruscant as it is physically. Obi-Wan knew that at this point at a power breakfast on Coruscant, he and Anakin would have been gladhanded by beings smiling falsely and brightly, clapped on their backs, or clandestinely offered ryll as a bribe. Here on Trow, plain goodwill radiated from the group in the Force, a strong-minded independence combined with service to their world. He bowed in their general direction as did Anakin.
There was one clear ringing ping! of a handheld bell. "This way, Master Jedi." A different page who was Anakin's agemate stilled the bell's reverberations against her chest as she led the two into the Presidential Villa proper. The promenade circling the seating area had a passage heading off at right angles through an arched doorway that led to a hall with no doors except one at the far end. They clattered in their boots on the hardwood floor while the page walked silently in her sandals towards the door. Obi-Wan felt the need to brief Anakin on the new approach so that it wouldn't be a complete surprise. Perhaps, too, Anakin would bring insights to the new tack of the argument. His Padawan was maturing into a true partner. It wouldn't be long before the braid that he had used as a handle occasionally in irritation would lie in his palm as he looked deep into Anakin's eyes after he severed it. This morning as Anakin sat between his outstretched legs, he had finger-combed it three times before placing each bead in its proper strand and retying the strings. He finished with a kiss to the spiky tail end, making sure that Anakin didn't notice the sentimentality. There wasn't time to do anything else. I'll survive, though. The page motioned to them to have a seat before she opened the door with an etched key and left them to wait.
"The Billaqori have some security, Master," Anakin said as he settled on the richly carved bench and indicated the locked door. "They aren't as naive as we might think. I sense a strong will for self-preservation and a stout ability for battle."
"If they have weapons, that is, and if they do have weapons, they will be tempted to use them, and you know as well as I do how long they will last in pitched battle with droids."
The river mourned.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Thirty-Nine
Anakin thought of Kuki, Dormin, and the rest, Qikal limping into battle to lead them in guerilla warfare against droids, trying to hide behind naynabo trees that the droids would incinerate ... "Not long," he said solemnly.
"I have an idea, a new approach. The emotional appeal of the Ohma D'un atrocities vid was vitiated by the fact that they as a people are inured to seeing butchering, dismembering, disem--- "
"Please, Master, don't ... " Anakin twitched his tunic higher on his neck to hide the discoloration there.
"--- I'm sorry, I must continue, terrible things such as those mentioned. I am reluctant to say it, but their lack of interspecies contact may have led them to consider the Gungans as less sentient and therefore more difficult to relate to than humans or humanoids." And am I ever going to have a private debriefing with Mace about suggesting that tactic with a provincial populace like Trow's.
"Racism."
Obi-Wan rubbed his sunburn. It was tolerable today. "Isolationism."
"We've seen it before, Master, even on Naboo. It was under the surface, but it was there. Queen Amidala broke through old prejudices when she knelt in the forest that day to ask for the Gungans' aid." My wonderful Padme. When I see you again, will you hate me?
"Before the page comes for us, Padawan, you need to know that I shall mention the army but briefly and move on to my main point: Count Dooku."
Anakin snugged his glove, fingering its clasps. "So you've decided to sell personalities to Strenghis. I came to the same conclusion today, but it's the Supreme Chancellor's character which should be emphasized. His integrity and personal sacrifices for the Republic are positive. Dooku's abandonment of Jedi principles and alignment with that Grievous thing are negative. I'm surprised at you, Master."
Obi-Wan pursued his logic. "Anakin, Dooku's betrayal of our Order's training will resonate with a leader who yearns to train his own conscripted forces. As Trow's President is one leader expected to kowtow to another, Dooku will not appeal to Strenghis. And while I, I, respect our Supreme Chancellor's integrity" --- but not so much since Geonosis --- "what exactly has he sacrificed?" Anakin's closeness to Palpatine grated on Obi-Wan at times, although he tolerated it. Anakin always seemed more self-confident when he returned from their meetings. Obi-Wan shared Anakin's mentoring with Master Yoda, Master Drallig, and Anakin's other teachers. He only had to stretch a little to include a commoner, no, a non-Force sensitive, he corrected himself, like Palpatine.
"He lives simply, he has no family, he exists and breathes for the Republic, Master. And he is a good friend, a, a, good example of loyalty." I am the closest thing he has to a family. They had discussed Palpatine before; it had never gotten rancorous. Anakin didn't want to have to balance one relationship against the other.
You are a good example of loyalty, young one. But I will prevail here. I must. I refuse to allow our new status to change our standards. "I'm sorry, Anakin. I will negotiate as explained. The Republic needs that base and Trow needs protection. You're still learning, my dar--Padawan; it's all right, no one expects you to put a thirty-six year-old head on twenty year-old shoulders."
"Yes, Master." It was the tone that belied the words. Obi-Wan heard low voices from within the chamber. Surely Strenghis was not malicious, but that didn't amount to much in the galaxy's scheme of things. Innocent intentions could get this planet blown apart as much as if a planet-destroying blaster has blown it into oblivion, if such a weapon were possible. A new beginning to this mission, that's what he and Anakin needed. All the aberrent events placed into context, into safe history where they could be examined when mellow evenings allowed time for reflection, safe at home in Temple's hush. Safe at home. Obi-Wan didn't feel reflective when he and Anakin crowded together in a snap-up regulation tent.
Time to get this show on the road. "Padawan, before we must go in, there's time to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority." And then things will approach normal. The way that they should be.
"No, Master, I will not."
"What?" Now? He pulled this now? The crux of their mission was now. The Billaqori's impression of the justice of the Republic's cause superseded any power struggle between Padawan and Master, between adult and --- near-adult. "We'll discuss this later. After you've said the Respect-for-Master's-Authority, long version, short version, I don't care." The Respect-for-Master's-Authority, like its release, had been crafted for formal and urgent situations. Since they were in no dire circumstances, Obi-Wan wouldn't have minded hearing Anakin verbalize the longer, formal version. It would have soothed his ruminations on their future.
"No, Master. For your greater good, I refuse." Serenely.
"My greater good doesn't apply here, but if you want to put it in those terms, my greater good would be best served by completing this mission successfully. Say it, Padawan, now."
Anakin pleaded, his dignity undiminished. "Master, hear me out." He didn't say 'please.' "After last night, I had an epiphany."
Kriff. He's had another epiphany. "Anakin, I don't want to hear it until we are back at Temple, inside our own quarters, which you will be seeing a great deal more of in the near future, I assure you. If you choose not to comply, given all that we've gone through to reach this point, I will refrain from disciplining you until after the Council's debriefing. I recognize that this mission, especially the detour that neither of us wanted --- "
--- but I dreamed of wanting it, Master, or something like it ---
" --- has been trying for us. For both of us. We'll need to see the soul Healers, we'll need to --- "
"I don't want to see the soul Healers."
"Not even for the Tusken incident?" I like the new direction in our relationship, but we have some issues to iron out.
Anakin faltered. "Yes. I do. For that, of course I do." He firmed his jaw. "But not for the detour. And not for last night, and all the other nights that we will share. And not for refusing your authority now, because I know better than you. The Force sent a dream to show me that we are together as equals, or something will happen ... s-s-something ... We're meant to be together. All the time." Padme could cope, he had confidence in her. She knew all about compromising. It was in her job description.
The door opened.
The river simmered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty
Anakin deferred to Obi-Wan when it came to receiving the Presidential embrace. He stepped back to his Padawan's place, one long step behind, one to the left, and allowed Strenghis to squeeze his Master until he heard a vertebra pop. Obi-Wan returned the greeting briefly in the same vein. This time it did not turn into a show of strength. The two sat as old comrades of the loyal opposition might, side by side on a bench up against the wall, foregoing the usual desk-between-potentate-and-visitor dominance game. Anakin stood to one side in what a clone would call 'parade rest.' He held his peace as the parley began.
Strenghis' voice was an octave below Obi-Wan's. "Good idea to meet privately. I tire of a large audience myself, and for this complex issue especially." The Cabinet stood arranged to his left near the largest window in the modest chamber as he leaned in close to the Jedi, and Obi-Wan wondered if they doubled as bodyguards. They had no visible weapons. "No doubt you have more evidence against the Separatists, Master Jedi."
"Actually, Mr. President, I have evidence against you." Bold might work here.
Strenghis huffed. "You're serious." The Cabinet/bodyguard closed ranks. The woman with the flower-festooned raffia belt touched it as if to cinch it tighter around her lavalava. She looked particularly wary.
"I am, Mr. President. But I've mostly presented my side. I want to hear more about your cunning plan to defend your world. Sources say that you are drafting a planetary service corps. For what purpose, if not defense?"
Now that he could spend more time with the President, Obi-Wan saw the strain on the man's face, covered by a blunt professional manner. There was caring on that face, though, when he stated, "I love Trow, Master Jedi, as much as Murt did. In today's galaxy, Trow needs to change, at least Nepsa does; a trained force in these troubled times is reasonable. Did your source say anything about the demonstrators who are pushing for the Republic taking over our defense?"
Obi-Wan was put in a delicate place. He wanted the Republic to be the victor in this battle of wills. "We saw them on our briefing vid, but haven't seen any demonstrations, no. We arrived just day before yesterday."
"I thought Jedi would give us the respect of spending some time here observing instead of hastily presenting their arguments. The demonstrators' last public gathering was only three days ago." Strenghis' voice remained level.
Obi-Wan hedged. "We had mechanical difficulties, crashed into Gitchy, survived long enough for an Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy search party to rescue us."
"What day was this?"
Obi-Wan hoped this news would reflect in their favor. "Festival of Plenitude."
Strenghis folded his hands. "Dear Qikal must have been hard put to be generous with his resources when you refused to join in. His faith is even stronger since he became crippled. It's made my old friend hard-headed." Now Strenghis resembled the face in the poster, powerful, no-nonsense, someone who would push to win at dejarik every time and who would go all out to do so. But honestly.
Obi-Wan met his gaze. Anakin found the view out the window fascinating. "We did not refuse." On the word 'not,' Obi-Wan's voice squeaked. He had neglected his vocal exercises in this morning's rush.
There was a world of doubt in the President's eyes. "You ... that's not what our sources say about the Jedi. They left this before being called three days ago to some rainy planet." Strenghis fished in the carrying fold of his monochrome lavalava's waistband and pulled out a flimsi covered in Trow's unreadable script. "'Ascetic ... removed from ordinary desires ... incomprehensibly humorless ... ' That is what my briefing said."
"Let me see that, please." Obi-Wan couldn't read the closely-spaced script, but he recognized the flimsi stock as of Sienar Intelligence Systems origin; their hardcopy communiques contained water-proofing elements, anti-crumpling reinforcement, and should discovery be imminent were entirely edible. He returned it, deciding to reiterate the clones' fighting ability, but Strenghis would not let the subject lie.
"Master Jedi, may the Mother grant a plenitude of offspring from your joining in the Festival. Of course, you and your strapping apprentice may visit the young ones anytime." An actual smile graced the President, a small relief from a leader's burdens. He placed a fraternal hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
Anakin made a choked sound, while Obi-Wan couldn't prevent a blush, Jedi techniques or no. "Mr. President, the speaking drums will give full details should you wish to contact Upper-Gitchy-on-Cremba, but let us move along to exactly where the base may be placed and how you will contact our combat-hardened troops for support." Get off this topic, please.
Change the subject, change the subject. Anakin perceived a bored frisson emanating from Strenghis in the Force and broke in on the conversation. "Master, before discussing those" --- nitpicky --- "details, shouldn't you inform Mr. President how and to whom he will surrender his planet's rule?" Anakin gave in to Obi-Wan's choice of attack, but wanted a toehold in the debate. A wave of disapproval washed over his head through their bond. The gritting of teeth would come next.
"Thank you, Padawan. Mr. President, you mentioned yesterday that Dooku is a fallen Jedi. This is true. He disgraced himself, not when he left our Order, for we do not demand slavery to us, but when he betrayed his former comrades by fashioning a trap on Geonosis to lure Jedi forces there for slaughter from overwhelming numbers, when he allowed a death-by-beast-rending to begin as entertainment, our deaths, Mr. President, mine and my Padawan's, and when he mutilated a boy. Anakin, remove your glove, please." Will this personalizing work? Can I change my negotiating style?
Well, he had wanted to be more involved than ever in negotiations, Anakin thought as he undid the clasps and pulled the glove off by its fingers. He stood stoically as Cabinetmembers and President alike hissed in sympathy. Anakin was closer to them in likeness, not alien-appearing at all, and that fact made a difference in their ability to commiserate with his previous agony. He kept secret from them and from Obi-Wan, too, that he experienced phantom pain in his head from the vanished limb at times. He had felt like a boy when Dooku had committed mayhem upon his body and so did not rankle at the term.
"Mr. President, Cabinetmembers, you will pledge allegiance to Count Dooku, a disgraced Jedi, a Sith Lord. It may not mean much to you. The Sith's evil resurfaced some years ago from a distant past. I have killed one Sith Lord. The way of the Sith is treachery. I submit that the Republic will suit you better as an ally." Forget the pikes, forget Murt's silencing. It hadn't been a murder, after all.
The river compromised.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-One
Anakin slicked his glove back on, grateful not to be the center of attention any more. He had made his mark on the conference and needed time to gather his thoughts while listening to his Master's improved skills. It must have been the Force's doing; the man had taken Master Lingus' training in How To Lay It On Thick and developed it into How To Lay It On With A Trowel, and it was paying off. Anakin, pleased to have helped the Force help his Master change, listened in.
"Well put, Master Jedi. After adjourning, the Cabinet and I will consult with the rest of the Congress, but that's not until this afternoon. For now, let's discuss this 'evidence' against me." They would still be characterized as going at it head to head, Obi-Wan thought, but he still had loads of energy to burn. He began.
"Our source, documented by my Padawan and another Master who left his statement before returning to Coruscant, says that your conscripts will serve for three years without any family contact except speaking drums in case of emergency."
"True. Family ties need to be broken in wartime. I can't have everyone returning home if there is a bad harvest or fishing season. Our government will step in to provide the basics if that occurs. There happens to be a surplus of our good nourishing nutrient paste, enough for five years' needs of half our total population."
I wouldn't wish that purple sludge on anyone. "I see you've thought of many immediate things, Mr. President, but have you thought about long-range repercussions? Your civilian population may become dependent on government support, while the servicemembers could become accustomed to a continuing state of hyper-readiness and look about for means of venting that excess energy. A coup is not unheard-of when military personnel have too much time and too many weapons. Vigor without outlet can make tiny slights into outsized injustices. It's happened before." Back to the Unifying Force, looking ahead, seeing complicating factors ... my specialty. Better.
Strenghis paused for some time. Obi-Wan observed that the Cabinetmembers appeared watchful, absorbing their President's words more than his own. Was Strenghis revealing more in this meeting than he had told anyone close to him? "It's not likely, though naturally you have seen more than I in your many travels. The plan for after the emergency will be implemented in full in three years. That should contain any unrest, provide employment for our urban population, especially. The rurals will want to return to their roots. Qikal in particular will see to that."
Anakin pounced on Qikal's name. Isn't he simply an old friend of Strenghis'? He's not even high up enough to be a Congressmember, much less a Cabinetmember. What's going on? His Master would catch this, but if he didn't, Anakin was ready.
Obi-Wan was caught flat-footed. "Erm, Qikal? He's part of your plan? Our source did not mention him." Smooth response, Negotiator.
Strenghis had the look of finding someone who finally, finally, would understand him. He clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's knee, the same one that Anakin had stimulated last night. Obi-Wan shook off the memory and almost shook off the offending hand. "Master Jedi, your source fears change. I do not. I am not infallible, but the Mother is. I do Her will. Trokas Qikal helps me to see it." Strenghis' voice tightened. "Together we will keep Trow out of this unwinnable war." So pure, in a way. Purely blind. Meh.
"After the wartime emergency, your plan ... uh ... "
"Master, the plan looks to be turning Trow into a theocracy eventually, isn't that right, Mr. President?" Anakin, raised as he was on Tatooine's secular soil, had no love for theocracies, although he realized that some managed to work within the Republic. He'd indicated his distaste for any mission to those worlds to Obi-Wan once or twice. I'm looking ahead! Hello, Unifying Force!
Strenghis placed both his hands in his lap, folding them serenely. "I believe faith and worldly rule not to be incompatible, yes. Trokas and I want the best for Trow. He is more dogmatic than I, however; I will be a check for him."
Obi-Wan put the whole picture together. "Your defensive service will use weapons that the Separatists supplied one year ago against any incursions on your sovereignty, from Republic bases to Separatists' landing ships on your spaceport. And be in place after the war ends as, as ... " Bold as bronzium.
Strenghis beamed. "As a trained defense deterrent to further involvement in offworld politics, for one, and if that isn't needed, then maybe as a natural disaster response team, or extra help at harvest, wherever they're needed. I have plans."
Obi-Wan almost heard the door slam shut in Strenghis' mind to granting the Republic's presence on Trow, but still he persevered. You rule secularly and Qikal, uh, 'heeds the Mother's will.' So this accounts for the tinge of deceit. "Mr. President, our concerns are for the present alliance Trow will make, and your post-war schemes really don't come into play --- "
Raffia Belt broke in. "Mr. President, we request a stay in this meeting. We wish to question the Jedi at this point." She fiddled with her belt even more, and Anakin hoped that it would stay fastened. Raffia Belt and the other two Cabinetmembers stared Strenghis down by force of numbers. To his credit, he nodded graciously and stood by the window, withdrawing into silent observation.
The river swirled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Two
"Please sit, Master Padawan. You've been standing a good while." Raffia Belt hadn't gotten the titles or names right, but Anakin thought it inconsequential. He smiled a 'thanks' and settled beside Obi-Wan in Strenghis' spot. It was still warm.
Raffia Belt and Other Cabinetmember paced in front of the bench, showing more agitation than Obi-Wan had seen in a citizen of Trow before. Third Cabinetmember crossed her arms and waited in the background. Other Cabinetmember blew out his cheeks. "Jedi, getting back to the Festival" --- let's not go back there, let's not, let's not --- "you two, whom we have seen make flowers spring into bloom, joined in without duress?" Obi-Wan wanted Strenghis back.
Anakin couldn't speak. Obi-Wan's boots had gotten scuffed from their Force-enhanced jog, and he looked at them, counting their scratches instead. Sending reassurance touched with dominance through their bond, Obi-Wan answered. "It is not Jedi practice to antagonize unnecessarily any people that we visit, and the Festival's theme was innocent, Madam. If it were duress, we would tell you." Obi-Wan saw Qikal's thumb trace the force pike's barrel once more. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Raffia Belt took things up. "We know about your warrior leanings. Are you telling us you had no thought of refusing to honor the Mother, no inclination to slice your way out of your troubles and steal a raft to come to Nepsa?"
Her violent words spun into a possible sequence of events in Anakin's head: back to back battling through pitiful opposition towards Kuki's raft, slapping Kuki down with a Force-thrust, who knows, maybe even Dormin's mother would have gotten combative, push her down into Gitchy to quiet her screeches, and Dormin, too, if he'd tried to defend her. Anakin laughed at his overly dramatic scenario. "No. That would not have happened, Madam. That's not what Jedi are about. We are keepers of the peace." He turned his mildest gaze upon all four politicians. "You're imagining things."
"Erm, what my Padawan-learner, whose name is Anakin Skywalker, means to say, is: how would those actions have advanced the cause of Peace?" Obi-Wan capitalized the word in his head and voice. "And, logically speaking, wouldn't your speaking drums have alerted everyone to our nefarious doings and made Lower-Cremba-on-Gitchy come after us with all force pikes blazing?"
Other Cabinetmember and Raffia Belt conferred in low voices. "You restrained yourselves for our benefit? Even though you could have kept true to your, ah, 'ascetic' natures?" Other Cabinetmember looked askance at Raffia Belt, twisting to take in Third Cabinetmember behind him and Strenghis over by the window.
'Ascetic.' As good a name for our natures as any. "Yes," Obi-Wan and Anakin chorused. At that point in time, they were closer than ever before. The Force noticed.
Strenghis couldn't let this pass. He added excitedly, "And to think that their offspring will be born next spring! What will this do for our people! Consider the future, my colleagues! Their brief visit may have altered Trow's destiny forever --- it may be the Mother's will, I don't know, I will ask Trokas on this --- "
If he could have gotten away with staying mum, he would have, but Obi-Wan had had enough. "Mr. President, there will be no offspring."
The four hushed. "How do you know?" Raffia Belt blurted. "Are you precognitive, too?" Their regard approached awe.
"No, what my Master means is that he and I are lovers." Anakin found his voice, even though it might doom this mission. He thought of what the Unifying Force would guide him to say, and said it. "As in, we mated with no females, charming though yours are, on Festival Night. It was all right with Qikal, so it should be all right with you." He placed a loving arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and tilted his head against his.
Prior to the traumatizing events on Haruun Kal involving his fellow Councilmember and dear former Padawan, Depa Billaba, Mace Windu had invited Obi-Wan to accompany him to a high-end pet shop one day. Mace had wanted to show Obi-Wan the nearest thing to an akk-dog on Coruscant. The kind called ebabs came closest in Force-bonding ability, though they were mellower in temperament. The golden-scaled ebabs were thigh-high to a human, smaller than the smallest breed of akk-dog by at least a meter at the shoulder, but Mace envisioned them bigger when he patted one and asked for a demonstration of its abilities. The ebab looked to neither right nor left when herding some chittering Alderaani libregs, deliberately let loose by the indulgent shopowner to cultivate two Jedi. The four libregs scurried troublesomely under an aquarium table, huddling in a quivering ball. The ebab crawled on its scaly belly closer and closer to them, never breaking eye contact. Obi-Wan remembered when it pounced to gather all four libregs gently in its mouth, ushering them to safety as it dropped them back into their cage and looked fawningly up at the beaming shop proprietor. Obi-Wan wanted to shepherd Strenghis and his Cabinet as the ebab had the rodentia as he said, "The Force isn't a deity, so there is no conflict with the Mother. The Force is an energy field that binds the galaxy together. The Force is what we access when we do certain --- unusual --- things. We don't use it frivolously and we train for years to learn its ways." There was more, but not to say. There was more to feel, think, sense ... they wouldn't understand without knowing the Force. Obi-Wan tilted his head likewise against Anakin's. "The last thing I have to say today is to remind you that the Force makes blooms, Dooku and his Separatists make Gungans dissolve. We'll be going now. We're staying at the inn nearest the docks, the one with the double doors. Think as deep as Gitchy on this, good people."
The river pondered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Three
Anakin blamed himself for their blisters. He had forgotten to grab those mismatched socks from the Lost and Found bin in the Jedi cruiser, what with Ry-Gaul's rush to return home to Coruscant, and Billaqori wore none. This morning's jog left sore spots on top of sore spots. Once inside their room, he eased off the boots, wiggled his toes, and saw chafing on both his ankles and his little toes. They had time now to heal personal aches and pains. They sat on the pile of bedding with each other's feet in their laps, ghosting touches over the red skin. Some fifteen minutes later new pink skin replaced watery blisters. They looked at each other and smiled wearily. "I've an idea. Let's put on some of your sunburn cream on our feet and order in. What say?" Anakin didn't wait for an answer and was halfway to the 'fresher before Obi-Wan agreed.
"All right, if we talk afterwards."
I expected this. "Yes, Master." Anakin tossed the cream at Obi-Wan and scooted for the kitchen. He ordered more fish stew. It was the best they had. Coming back up the stairs, he saw the same overworked server/maid dusting industriously. He grinned cheekily at her, embarrassed no longer. Speaking the word 'lover' out loud to Strenghis and his colleagues emboldened him somehow. She blew an errant strand of pitch black hair out of her face and grinned back. Apparently she was a fast worker, because it was she who knocked on their door some minutes later with their lunches. She placed the tray on the floor next to them, nodding a greeting. They continued massaging big toes and nodded pleasantly in return.
Negotiating is exhausting. How does Master do it? Anakin blew out a breath. "Lunch?"
"Room service is wonderful, Padawan. The Temple should have it all the time, not just when we're ill." They ate quietly.
"So." Anakin was wary.
"So."
"So what do you think our babies would have looked like?" Anakin had never considered children, not even in dreams. Oddly enough, he and Padme hadn't discussed the issue; he wondered why now. He pictured their boy or girl around fifteen years old, with a rambunctious nature and curly hair a shade somewhere between his dark blond and Padme's rich brown. He had trouble getting the child to that age. One just appeared without all the nurturing, all the childhood illnesses and awkward questions. At fifteen they would be semi-civilized. He had no difficulty thinking of a half-Jedi, half-Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy baby, a squirmer that waved tiny brown fists at him when he visited. Obi-Wan's would have a worried frown from birth.
Obi-Wan considered all the babies in Master Ali-Anann's nursery that he had ever looked after on Temple assignments. He narrowed his search down to human/humanoid babies, discarded the farther ones from his phenotype, and centered on one, a Chalactan girl. "She has red hair, like mine almost. She doesn't wake up at night anymore, and she wears an adorable baby-sized lavalava, tan with small red blossoms on it. She knows the Force better than I do." This was pure sentimentality; later he would censure himself for it. The Force did not transmit genetically. Searching teams traveled far and wide to bring infants with varying degrees of Force-sensitivity to the Temple after identification by their parents. He cleared his throat. "Back to business. Anakin, you are my Padawan and until I cut your braid, I am your Master. We've got to concentrate on those facts before we discuss these past few days."
It's like nothing has changed for him. "Yes, Master."
"It's been tough, this mission, Anakin. I want you to think about that. We've done things, become different people on it. I admit you helped tremendously in negotiating. I am proud of you." That was easier to say than he had thought it would be. He touched Anakin's glove. "You provided more than words for our cause."
"Master, thank you. It's m-m-more than I deserve to hear. I know you disapproved of me speaking out --- "
"I was wrong." That was easy, too.
What? "Not for using Dooku, no, Master, you were right, I was wrong. Strenghis was revolted by Dooku, I could tell, and he's leaning away from any alliance with him. As for whether he agrees to our base, I can't see, but at least your example proved correct."
Obi-Wan said, "Well, as to that, I don't see them reaching an agreement before tomorrow morning. Let's roam around some. I'd like to see the spaceport." They pulled on boots. "And maybe we can order some sandals to fit us. The man at the pharmacy said most pairs can be done overnight and we could have the fittings done today and pick them up early."
"Fine with me."
The river hobbled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Four
The cobbler grumbled something about "huge feet, will take extra sole weaving to get that big galoot's finished, and they'd better not come here before breakfast tomorrow, in such a rush," but since it wasn't in Basic, Obi-Wan and Anakin didn't understand. They ordered extra-soft linings on both pairs, earning a muttered "Tenderfeet!" in Basic this time, paid him with nearly the last of Ry-Gaul's change and left. They were thankful that Ry-Gaul had paid the inn's bill for a full week day before yesterday. For good or bad, right or wrong, this mission hung on a cusp and for right now, neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin could further it. So they went sightseeing. The road out to the spaceport offered no sidewalks, so they had to dodge an aloas-cart or two. It was much easier than trying to dodge a speeder. Trow's technology seemed spotty: a spaceport, but no speeders; no sidewalks, a few half-timbered two-story buildings, but the two-story ones did have strings of glowglobes strung between them so traversing the cobblestoned streets at night shouldn't be hazardous, yet the Nepsans didn't go out much at night. Anakin supposed Trow's level on a good day approached Anchorhead's. Living on Coruscant has spoiled me.
The spaceport was as plain as any Obi-Wan had seen. There were no food stands there, no souvenir kiosks or even arrival/departure displays. One old man and his teen helper greeted them. "You missed the last outbound flight, gentlemen. Next one won't be until day after tomorrow, first light, local. Next inbound flight won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon this time, if you're looking to pick up freight or meet somebody." The old man glanced at the only chronometer the Jedi had seen on this planet. "We're closing in ten minutes, but if you'd like to make a reservation ... "
"No, thanks. What can you tell me about the Kappa-class shuttle over there?" Obi-Wan saw from here that it was a worn but stately beauty.
The teen rattled off, "She's unmodded, but she's a fully-functional 35-meter long racing aloas with two forward repeating blaster cannons with of course two gunners to man them, and she has two other crew. She can haul 50 metric tons and she can do 850 --- 850! --- in atmosphere. Forty troops can fit in her, and do you want to know about the repulsorlift vehicles she's got stowed aboard? I saw them when the other visitors showed old Stren --- uh, Mr. President --- and his Cabinet around before they had to leave right before Festival, they said Mr. President could use it for in-planet travel if he wanted and do you know that he hasn't used it once, even though they left the chip in it, what a waste --- "
The old man said gently, "Too much time on his hands, too many ambitions. Wait a while, my boy. Life will be simpler soon."
Anakin heard ambition in the boy and wished him well. This boy was him if he hadn't met Qui-Gon Jinn. "Master, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Obi-Wan shot him a look. "Later, Padawan. Thank you," he said to the man. "We'll look around your 'port, if you don't mind?"
"Sure thing. We'll be going now. It's almost dark. Want a glowrod? Just leave it wherever you're staying and it'll find its way back here." They were already closing the door to the comm room with its lone console and screen. Their only security seemed to be closing doors firmly with a little shake to make certain that they were closed and an equally firm faith in the Mother's protection of the facility. Obi-Wan was touched.
"Good night, and no thanks. We're curious where all these ships came from, that's all, and we'll leave when we can't see reg plates anymore. We don't get out much."
After the old man and his mechanical-minded helper had left and he and Obi-Wan strode briskly to the shuttle, Anakin remarked, "Master, you're getting better at lying."
"I'm astonished at you, Padawan. You and I don't get out much on Coruscant. We're either at Temple, or the Senate, or at Dex's" --- or at 500 Republica, Anakin thought with a twinge of guilt --- "and there are places that I could show you on lower levels that would curl your hair if it weren't already curly." It was good to see Obi-Wan's smirk.
The shuttle impressed them both. One like it had been at Geonosis, shuttling clones to secondary attack positions, and this particular example must have been stolen or appropriated by the Separatists to use as a bribe to indecisive planetary leaders of a certain unsophistication. Strenghis qualified. Obi-Wan thought the fact that Mr. President hadn't been joyriding in it yet spoke well for their hopes of eventual alliance with Trow. The chip rested temptingly near the control yoke. "I think we've found our way offplanet, Padawan. Even if things don't go our way."
"I can fly this, Master, with a minute's recon." Anakin swiveled the pilot's seat around and plopped himself down. "I don't mean to imply that you couldn't, not that, no, Master, um --- "
"Hush. Do what you do best. I'll stand here and think."
The river connived.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Five
"I could have hot-wired it, you know, if the chip weren't there."
"I know. We never had to teach you that at Temple."
"The old spacer pilot taught me how. The one who told me about the angels on Iego's moons."
There were no angels on the moons of Iego. There were some very odd beings living on the moons, but nothing like Anakin envisioned when he said the word 'angel.' Obi-Wan, Yoda and his other teachers never told him that there weren't his imagined angels there, wanting to leave him some comforting beliefs in his transitional period. Years passed. At age sixteen, some snip of a Padawan whom Obi-Wan had never liked teased Anakin about his beliefs. Anakin had investigated, found out his 'angels' were mostly malicious and wholly strange, and was miffed at Obi-Wan for one full week for not telling him sooner.
"It was a harmless omission, Anakin. You needed comforting. Sleeping with me until you were twelve told me that. Master Yoda agreed to the deception, since he didn't send you to live in Initiates' Hall."
"I feel foolish, Master."
"Time will lessen that. Time is to blame for many things, but easing mental or physical pain is not one of them. We simply forgot about it as you got older. After all, we're not infallible."
Anakin knew that. Anakin at sixteen was quite withdrawn, though, and could only scowl and splutter internally. All his friends were tactful about it. Only Tru made mention of the incident. "She's a twit, Anakin. Pay her no mind." Anakin hoped that Tru was on the road to recovery by now as he strolled with Obi-Wan to their inn. The glowglobes overhead attracted as many flitterbugs as possible, as well as a humming species of moth. They encountered only three pedestrians on their way back. Two were a Besalisk couple, rare offplanet visitors toting a large wicker basket as they peered into shop windows. Anakin assumed the basket held the couple's family, about to hatch. On a street like this on Coruscant, ethnic diversity would have been the norm; here on Nepsa, it was the exception. He wondered what growing up here would be like.
"It would make you provincial, Anakin. You would be the wide-eyed moisture farmer in a place like Coruscant."
"Yes, I guess I wo---did I ask that out loud?"
"Didn't you?"
"I, I suppose that I did. Huh. Daydreaming. Sorry, Master."
Obi-Wan smiled. "Nerve strain will do that to you." He would have enjoyed a Togorian Terrorizer right now himself, but nothing like that awaited him at their swiftly-approaching inn.
Yeah, Tru's probably better, Anakin consoled himself. Master Ry-Gaul would soon be with him. Masters made Padawans feel better. That was part of their job.
Anakin glanced at his own Master. Under Trow's weak double-moonlight and soft glowglobe's illumination, Obi-Wan's hair resembled the velvety nap in Senator Organa's dress cloak. At least Anakin assumed it was his dress cloak. It was the one that he wore to every Senatorial meeting and social function that Anakin had also attended and it could have been his everyday cloak for all Anakin knew. He wanted to pet the hair, rub it against the grain, do other things with it. How can I start things up with Master? He's thinking about the mission as he always does. Well, maybe not always anymore. Last night's activities flooded his mind and his groin. Down, groin, Anakin chastised it.
They heard the commotion before they rounded the last turn. Many more people than were staying there circulated outside the inn, an actual crowd. After dark? In Nepsa? Could demonstrators have found them? Even if they were on the Reps side and not the Seps side, it was a complication. Obi-Wan and Anakin slipped through the throng with Jedi efficiency, looking for the pimply-faced clerk/maitre d' to ask about the brouhaha, when they spotted Kuki slumped at a windowside table, looking weary. Together at a central table sat Strenghis, his Cabinet, and Trokas Qikal.
Obi-Wan wondered what had gone wrong.
The river muttered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Six
"Nothing's wrong, Master. It's just the opposite. Or it will be soon," Anakin said blithely. He scanned the crowd, spotting about thirty Congressmembers and their cobbler in the press.
Did I say that out loud? Or did he guess I was thinking it because he knows me so well? "Ooookaaayy." Obi-Wan took a moment to get his bearings. "Mr. President, Cabinetmembers." He bowed to Leader Qikal. "We're surprised to see you together. You must have traveled nonstop to make it here so soon." So that's why Kuki is exhausted. Traveling back and forth from Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy to Nepsa three times in as many days used all her reserves of strength. Couldn't drums communicate as well? Probably not. Subtleties would be lost in all the thumping.
Qikal gathered to himself the dignity of his office. "Master Jedi. Young Jedi. My advisor" --- he nodded at Kuki, who managed to nod back --- "and I consulted upon her return. We consider you fellow tribesmen, and once I explained it to her fully, we stand in agreement with President Strenghis' plan for neutrality, with some modifications, now and forever. As you two are naturalized citizens of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, however, I am your advocate and will mediate any disagreement between my superior and you. I bring appropriate dress for you both." He indicated two folded stacks of cloth on the table in front of him, formal lavalavas with at least a meter's more length of material than the simple ones of the late Dunri that they had donned in Kuki's home.
Obi-Wan addressed Strenghis only. "You agree to this mediation?" If it will help this mission, I will wear nothing but nutrient paste.
Strenghis obviously did not believe in closed-door negotiations. "I am agreeable to settling this issue tonight. I've debated with Congress all afternoon and when Qikal arrived a short time ago with this proposal, I told Congress to meet me here when they could. Some have family obligations, you know, but will show up later, I'm sure."
After they have dinner, make sure the children are down for the night, bed down the aloas with some liana-straw ... It was small-town thinking, transferred to small-planet circumstances. Anakin couldn't stand it. "Start this right now?" he asked.
"Yes. I've been mulling the situation over for a year. I'll decide tonight. Trokas has brought the Mother's point of view home to me," Strenghis gravely added, and the crowd stilled reverently at Her name. "Let's begin."
We're in litigation, sort of, and must dress respectably, but how do you tie this thing? Obi-Wan peeked out the door of the downstairs 'fresher, and gestured to the pimply-faced desk clerk who doubled as a maitre'-d. He augmented his whisper with the Force to penetrate the din. The youth jerked his head up from directing his staff at the "Pssst!" and came promptly to the cracked-open door.
"Help us with this?" Obi-Wan clutched the wad of flowered material about his waist, feeling that he was going to appear ridiculous wearing boots underneath it. The utility belt with lightsaber dangling from it would add even more ammunition for jollity. With the crowd growing more excited by the minute at the momentousness of the evening, he and Anakin might even be laughed at. Not good.
"The belt has to go, gentlemen," said the teen. "I'll help you fold carrying pockets like we all have." With five minutes' worth of dexterous twining and tucking, Anakin and Obi-Wan stood bare to the waist, a calf-length lavalava girdling each of them. The ingenious garment had a front carrying fold as well as a back one. The Jedi put the lightsaber bulge in the back fold to avoid comment.
The door opened as their cobbler poked his head in. "Here," he said gruffly in Basic. "Had 'em all ready for tomorrow morning early, like you asked. Might as well give 'em to you now." He thrust two pairs of sandals at them and shut the door. Their ensembles complete, the Jedi braved the gathering.
"Trokas, let everyone hear what these Jedi have done." Strenghis couldn't have gotten more dour since the last time Obi-Wan had seen him. It only looked that way. The worries that the Mother couldn't soothe and in fact added to showed in his unquiet hands as he rubbed his thinning temples.
Obi-Wan's and Anakin's mutual tidal waves of dismay crashed in the middle of their bond. The backlash made them gasp. Strenghis looked alarmed and gestured that they pull up some chairs and sit informally at his crowded table. They sat elbow-to-elbow as straight as they could on the finely-crafted rattan chairs.
"Mr. President, esteemed Congress, and good citizens all, let me begin by praising their conduct on our sacred Festival Night. Their response to our customs overwhelms me. We had some personal disharmony" --- here he may have sighed in regret, glancing sideways at Anakin --- "and not all was as usual" --- Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair from his upright posture, it was going to be all right, beyond all hope --- "but they honored the Mother when on the Mother's territory, and that is what counts. They honored Her spectacularly." Obi-Wan stared fixedly ahead.
"So they have a sense of propriety, well and good. And we have witnessed them doing incredible things with their power. Can they offer us force pikes, or something more powerful, or give us artillery to defend ourselves? What if their clone army, and what is a clone, exactly, is busy elsewhere? Your testimony, Trokas, makes me feel akin to them and their Republic and we certainly do not want to end up as puddles like the misbegotten Gungans" --- so the vid did make some impression, thank you, Mace of the Windu, Obi-Wan thought --- "but I need some hard assurances. What can you tell me, Master Jedi?"
So it's on to Stuff and can we offer more Stuff than the Separatists can. Mother.
The river overflowed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Seven
From respect, Anakin ignored the orange tinge of mold near Leader Qikal's right earlobe. This man of faith, this leader of a small village and it environs, was the lynchpin of the proposed alliance between Trow and the Republic. Anakin would make no faces, he would keep eyes front. He let Master speak. He was ready to step in and assist, however. They had come a long journey down Gitchy to this cataract and he wasn't about to jump ship now. He listened as hard as he had ever listened to anything in his life, including his wedding vows. Perhaps Obi-Wan's only need was to be needed, as Master Ry-Gaul said, but anyone could use a helping hand now and then. Even strong Masters.
To Anakin's surprise, Obi-Wan ordered a fizzy juice drink, saying nothing until it arrived after a lengthy preparation. He sipped it. He savored it. He waited until the room quietened before saying, "Mmmmm. Delicious. I may give up alcohol for these. My compliments to the barrista."
Way to dramatize, Master. You've got their attention now.
"Mr. President, as it stands, you want your world to change and you want it to be safely neutral while that happens. You want arms to ensure that safety." Obi-Wan put down his drink and folded his arms.
Strenghis nodded slowly. "A basic summary, yes. It may interest you to know that I didn't mention wanting to keep neutral with the Separatist envoys who left a few days ago for some terrible-sounding place called Jibbum."
Never heard of it. Onward. "And after the war ends, whenever that may be, you will not join the victor, but stay neutral."
"Correct."
"I am authorized to pledge that your neutrality would be respected during the war and after. Will the Separatists make that pledge?"
Qikal broke in. "Strenghis, my friend, the Separatists offer weapons that I have used to stun fish and goad an aloas or two, but they haven't offered me any weapons training to go along with them. These Jedi, who could have broken free of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy at any time, honored the Mother unreservedly. We keep true to Trow if we bend with Gitchy's flow a small bit and join with them." He rubbed his knee as if it ached from travel.
Obi-Wan played Ry-Gaul's statement holo as an embellishment. Old Grunbi's concerns about his world, added to Ry-Gaul's commentary, made some in the crowd regard their President doubtfully. He kept looking thoughtfully at Obi-Wan. By now nearly all the Congressmembers were present, some listening at the double doors if they couldn't set foot inside.
Obi-Wan sucked his teeth. "So. The Republic wants a base. We offer a well-trained army, a SoroSuub V-35 Courier, slightly used, training staff for your populace to learn to read Basic, a generous commitment of at least two years."
And a mentoring program for those who wish to emigrate from Trow, Anakin said to himself.
"I also offer a transfer system for all Nepsans or anyone from Trow's less populated areas to study in and/or visit Coruscant, all expenses subsidized." Obi-Wan saw their maid/server's eyes light up, and also the maitre-d's.
Anakin froze his expression. I only thought that. I'm sure that I did this time. What's going on? He hoisted Obi-Wan's tumbler to get the last of Obi-Wan's fizzy drink and to quiet his shaking hands. The drink was flat now.
Qikal leaned in. "My old friend, hear me. Our plan can stay the same, the national service, my upgraded role in the government, for after the war, at least. For this war's duration, I believe the Republic is the way to go. We won't be subsumed by any entity whose representatives can honor the Mother like they can."
"And another twenty thousand glowglobes," Obi-Wan added, flushing from the stuffiness of the closely-packed room.
"You see? They offer lights as an inducement. They are near the Mother's heart whether they know it or not." Qikal craned his neck to see Kuki, who made a tight nod of approval.
A long pause. "Very well then. You have persuaded me. Trow shall join the Republic." In the unrestrained cheers that erupted afterwards, Obi-Wan and Anakin found no need to use their bond at all to communicate.
The river danced.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Eight
"Reps! Reps! Reps Reps Reps!"
The impromptu party turned out to be heartwarming and jolly. Qikal's face creased in a few smiles and even Strenghis shook a leg in a vigorous, energizing everyone-hopping-in-a-circle dance that evolved into pairings of many kinds when the tunes turned slow. A quartet of males hummed and grunted songs in lieu of any instruments except drums. One enterprising sort filled a row of tumblers with varying levels of water and tapped out harmonies. At various points during the evening, Anakin and Obi-Wan danced with each other, with a whooping, revitalized Kuki, and finally with Qikal in a triple partnership, the Leader swaying to the beat while Obi-Wan and Anakin jigged around him. After one hour of the crowd's indulgence in fizzy juices, the downstairs 'fresher was in constant use. "Be back soon," Obi-Wan mouthed to Anakin from across their table during a break in the dancing. He waggled their room key and motioned with his eyes upstairs.
Anakin nodded as Obi-Wan left, the Master sticking his fingers in the communal nutrient paste bowl, the only food available. Obi-Wan licked off the purple blob as he went upstairs. "Mr. President, may Master and I borrow your shuttle to return home? It will save us some time and I would like to visit my sick friend."
Strenghis peered over Kuki's shoulder so that he could see Anakin better. She had wound up in his lap somehow. "I don't see a problem. Your teaching teams can return it."
"We'll leave when Master says, probably tomorrow morning. Eh, here he comes now." Obi-Wan's Force-presence frizzled with a something that Anakin recognized straight away. He continued, "Master, when are we leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning. We'll comm Coruscant from onboard ship so things will be in motion as soon as possible. Meanwhile, if the Separatists return or threaten in any way, Anakin will disconnect and reconfigure the shuttle's homing beacon to act as your emergency signal. Can do?" Obi-Wan turned to Anakin and winked when Anakin indicated affirmation. "Then we'll leave the beacon with you, sir. And now" --- Obi-Wan rose to his feet --- "we'll leave your party to stroll for a bit before retiring. We'll see you before we depart. Come, Padawan. Good night, sir. Kuki." Obi-Wan offered a warm, lingering smile at Kuki. He nodded once. Her delighted answering smile gleamed whitely. Obi-Wan took Anakin's hand and left the inn.
"Alliance Day, Master. Their first. And you did it."
"We did it together, Anakin."
Would Obi-Wan ask him to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority ever again? Anakin didn't think so. Perhaps he would volunteer it. The something grew stronger as they walked along slowly. A cool-but-not-unpleasant mist rolled in from Gitchy, not enough to chill them, even without their layers of tunics. Anakin gave in to impulse and ran his hand against the grain of Obi-Wan's hair.
Reasons to have sex with Master, now and in the future: just because he was there, because he needed comfort, because Anakin needed comfort, because Padme was out of town, because Padme was in town but unavailable, because Master looks incredible tonight without his long hair, his bare corded neck begging to be bitten, his strong hands waiting to tremble in release ... just because. Anakin ruminated upon his new sandals as a cooling off technique. They fit perfectly, as the borrowed Jedi boots had not. He was trying to make something of this when their stroll approached the deserted docks with the naynabo-tree gaming area. Their footsteps made no sound on the cobblestones. They paused by Grunbi's old seat, looking out through the hanging leaves on their whiplike branches at mutable Gitchy. The small yellow blossoms shone silver in the pale moonslight. Obi-Wan bent Anakin to him in a searching kiss.
Obi-Wan gave up being strong, strong, strong. His control would be imperfect if he couldn't surrender it to his own demand. And he demanded it tonight, by Gitchy's misty shores. The mist didn't cool like him like he thought it should; he felt heat building in his groin and in his mind. His fingers especially seemed hot and he let them wander from Anakin's neck to his hands, turning Anakin to face away from him as he seated himself on the sturdiest-appearing backless seat attached to the sturdiest-appearing naynabo root. The condensation-covered gaming table in front of Anakin girdled the main trunk of the stately tree.
I guess that I don't need to worry anymore about how to get up to something with Master Obi-Wan, Anakin thought as Obi-Wan drew him onto his lap in a wide straddle. "No more mold?"
"No. No more sunburn?"
"No. No more intestinal upse--"
"NO. No more second thoughts?"
"No." Quietly. "That means I can't think of a single reason why we shouldn't do this." Obi-Wan drew both hands up Anakin's thighs, starting on kneecaps and drawing inwards to trace sartorial muscles, landing with a feather's weight on Anakin's crotch. After a moment, he pressed harder there, but felt no response. He abjured using the Force this time as he folded back the top layer of the lavalava just enough to slide both hands inside, forming a nest of interlaced fingers to cradle Anakin's length. He bounced it, he tickled it, he compressed it until slowly it reacted the way that he wanted it to. Anakin sighed.
"Like that?"
"Like that." Anakin couldn't reach backwards to initiate a kiss this way, but decided to allow Obi-Wan to lead. They could trade off in the future, after all. He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the Force. Gitchy hissed as usual, and was the last thing he consciously heard. In the Force, the river was a velvet black cloak with little sparkles of starlight glimmering on it as decoration. There was no hint of aquatic life below, none above in the form of skittering flitterbugs dipping into it for a cautious drink or pursuing even smaller insects, themselves pursued by arching fish. Anakin had not felt this released from sensing life when planetbound, ever. Gitchy would swallow him if he fell into it when it was like this. There would be no yellow-eyed fish to guide him to the surface. It would take a while to get used to this absence of life; the Force was supposed to soothe him. It always had before in these circumstances, when he had accessed it to ensure privacy before meeting with Padme in the charming garden maze outside 500 Republica. The one time he had decided to let Artoo stay on guard outside their secluded nook, Artoo's swiveling dome had unnerved him; it seemed too much like a motion-tracking surveillance holorecorder. He had deactivated Artoo with a snap of his fingers without moving from his sprawl on their blanket, cast about the garden himself for observers, then continued their tryst. The recollection of outdoor dallying piqued his libido as he emerged from the Force quickly this time, feeling slightly unsettled. It took the memory of his wife's preferences to redirect his thoughts to his present activity.
Remembering Padme's squealed pleasure inspired Anakin to consider taking Obi-Wan inside him in the way that Padme did his own self. It would be but a small variation on a theme, after all; he got harder at the very thought. He moved rhythmically now, rubbing his back side to side against Obi-Wan's chest, feeling his Master's stubble of hair and beard rasp against his back. For his plans to continue, he would need an emollient ... the pot of sunburn cream would do, but it lay on the counter by the 'fresher sink. They could find a pharmacy ... not open at this hour. They could sneak into the inn's kitchen and steal some shortening ... maybe. He could change his plans ... certainly not. Something was poking his back now, not the aroused firmness he expected to feel, but a manufactured, unnatural round shape, something other than his lightsaber. "Obi-Wan, did you bring something?" He was getting to know this mutated Obi-Wan more than he thought possible. Obi-Wan didn't say anything, but Anakin felt him nod 'yes' against his spine as he stepped up the pace of rubbing. Anakin smiled a slow smile. Master, you're a fast learner.
Obi-Wan loosened Anakin's and his own lavalava enough for ease of access. He didn't want to disrobe completely. Some late night intrusion could occur --- well, it's possible! --- and he doubted whether Anakin or himself could rewrap the thing quickly. He'd had enough embarrassment on this mission to last a lifetime. He kept his lavalava skirting his thighs, but pulled far apart in a vee with the apex at his abated excitement. He rucked up Anakin's from the back to bare his ass completely, rolling the folds of material to hang down inside his thighs, framing his erection. Obi-Wan couldn't see it, but he could feel it. It was enough.
Anakin glanced downwards at Obi-Wan's hands, warm and strong, calloused to a titillating roughness. He walked his fingers down Obi-Wan's forearms to end on the backs of the moving fingers that kept his heart thumping and sighs coming. For me. He's put aside years of training in denial for me. Even if I didn't love him back, I would do this for him, if he wanted it. Obi-Wan gripped Anakin's cock firmly at its base, lightening the contact as he climbed its considerable height. "Oh, yeah. Ohhhhhh, yeahhhh. Ohhhhhhhhh, ye---eep."
Too enthusiastic, Obi-Wan. We want another method this time. Obi-Wan disengaged and pulled the pot of sunburn cream out of the carrying fold in the front of his waistband. With increased arousal came increased sensitivity --- he swore he could feel every etching, every ridge on his lightsaber snugged against his back. He placed it on the gaming table in front of him, finding an attitude so that it wouldn't roll. He felt Anakin's lightsaber pressed against the soft skin of his midriff.
"All right to take it out?" It was protocol to ask whenever possible before touching another's lightsaber. Obi-Wan loved protocol.
"Yuhhhh ... " It was all Anakin could manage of the Respect-for-Master's-Authority, short version.
Obi-Wan took that for a 'yes.' He withdrew Anakin's lightsaber, running its tip up Anakin's backbone teasingly before placing it crosswise atop his own. There, that would ensure it staying put.
The river proceeded.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Forty-Nine
Obi-Wan slicked up Anakin fore and aft, neither knowing nor caring to know how this evening would play out. He did the same thing to himself. The silver blossoms brushed his face as he leaned forward to set the pot of cream on the table with his left hand and with the reverse movement wrapped the arm around Anakin's waist. He flattened his right forearm against the small of Anakin's back, bending him forward gently to position him. When Obi-Wan made contact with Anakin's opening, Anakin moaned. Little jogging movements eased Obi-Wan inside.
Anakin gripped the gaming table's edges to brace his weight as he guided himself downward to control the slow entry. It burned. He knew of no healing techniques to make it not. He puffed with his eyes closed, grunting when Obi-Wan was fully seated. It still burned. So this is it.
So this is it. Obi-Wan flinched along with Anakin. He opened his side of their bond fully --- still shielding, darling, even now? --- and slid a Master's trick of muscle control used to loosen spasming diaphragms during coughing or sneezing fits when silent surveillance was necessary. Now was not the time to fret about the shields. He already knew certainly the worst of Anakin's secrets and had given the hurt of his Padawan's closed-mouthed attitude to the Force. The relaxing trick helped, he knew, because Anakin began to bounce.
This is as good as sex with Padme and I don't have to worry about hurting her delicate bones. I can go flat out now. After ten minutes of up-and-down vigor, Anakin squirmed in a circle, mouth open, panting. Every time that certain spot inside received a rub, he groaned deeply. He had always had sensual undertones to his nature. How anyone could have maintained platonic feelings for Obi-Wan after the Festival, after they had seen him backlit by dual moons on Kuki's front porch was beyond his grasp. He'd not need soul Healers for self-discovery about something as true as this. Before the blood drained from his forebrain completely, a mirage shimmered: the street around the Coruscant corner sporting kiosks with hawkers selling multitudes of wares, all crying for his dataries. He saw himself reaching into his utility belt and hauling out two coins. He took a coin in each hand and flipped it with his thumbs. The coins arced high into the air, coming to rest at a delighted cobbler's stand. The cobbler resembled Dormin's mother as she drew back withered lips in a smile over stumps of teeth and crowed, "Here! For you, dearie!" as she dangled two pairs of footwear at him, one pair white Jedi standard-issue boots, the other glossy red pumps with stiletto heels. Anakin thanked the vendor and tucked both pairs under his arms.
Shoes? I need to purchase new shoes for someone? Who? Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. If this was part of their period of adjustment, he didn't know if he could take being adjusted. He loved Anakin as much as before, and for all the same reasons. What they were doing now was beyond reason. Their actions extended into the dream-purpose of Anakin's dream, he supposed, as he licked across Anakin's back to end in a probe at his armpit. Obi-Wan tasted the sweat there and flattened his tongue to gather what he could. When they were finished, they would return to the Force's realm of study renewed. But they weren't finished yet, and Obi-Wan was in no hurry to be. He reached around to Anakin's groin and firmed a grip on what he couldn't see. He partially rose from the seat, losing his rhythm a moment as half Anakin's weight was upon him despite Anakin's bracing arms. It was a dear weight, though; he had saved his Padawan's life in Gitchy. Of course, Anakin had saved his, as well.
"C-c-can't breathe," Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan mashed his torso just below his ribs. Obi-Wan registered that Anakin had spoken, that was all. The now-familiar something was building now, a tidal wave of feeling that made him cry out as he moved his right hand away from its prize --- don't squeeze now you'll hurt him or stop everything for him when you come soon soon almost ready --- and raised the activity a notch by snaking the freed hand underneath Anakin's thigh from the side, lifting the limb for deeper penetration. Obi-Wan shuddered helplessly and shoved as if he could push Anakin all the way back to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, where this new phase in their Master/Padawan relationship had begun. He climaxed as sparkles caromed behind his eyelids and his whimpers became a moan.
Anakin heaved a breath as his Master's warm arm relaxed from his waist and he felt Obi-Wan start to slip away, sliding across Anakin's prostate as he did so, enough to push Anakin over the edge. He hefted his slightly-raised leg higher to put a knee up on the table, clenching and coming with no overt friction as Obi-Wan collapsed on Anakin's back with an endearing cry. Anakin's mechno-hand shattered the table edge as he came and he lost his balance, all his weight and Obi-Wan's, too, shifting to the right as they both fell on their sides to the cool cobblestones. They did nothing consciously for many minutes.
Anakin rubbed his come thoughtfully around his abdomen after a time. The anti-moisture barriers in the glove's synthleather formula resisted any stains. That means the glove does stain, but it doesn't want to, Anakin thought, recalling the several sets of replacement gloves he had on backorder at the Quartermaster's. Not that he cared at the moment. The mist, combined with the stones and his declining adrenaline level, made Anakin shiver. He glanced over his shoulder at Obi-Wan, who looked serene and quite comfortable. "Let's go, Master."
Obi-Wan ran a hand over the dried semen. He scratched the flakes off Anakin's navel until Anakin pulled away. Obi-Wan said, "Well, this was ... okayyy, I guess ... sort of, ah, restful ... but I've heard real sex has mud wrestling and biting, lots of biting, did I mention biting?" Anakin slapped Obi-Wan's wrist lightly.
The river collapsed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty
Obi-Wan left the very last of Ry-Gaul's change with the inn's clerk to pay for "a defective dejarik table near the docks, terribly sorry we damaged it further," but the clerk was distracted by doodling a detailed drawing of a Jedi cruiser on the register, waving them off with no questions as he took the money. The party left overturned tumblers and sticky floors and since it was the very first Alliance Day celebration, the last thing Strenghis said to the clerk as he walked out arm-in-arm with Kuki past the returning Jedi was, "Leave it till tomorrow. It's not going anywhere!" Anakin gathered their uniforms from the downstairs 'fresher closet and they mounted the stairs. The room seemed a haven. Anakin removed his mechno-hand to examine it for splinters from the crushed gaming table. He dropped the hand on the chair after inspecting it and left it off for his shower.
After showering separately, the two reclined against the side of the bed, sitting amidst a nest of pillows and mattresses and ruched sheets. It was easy to slip into evening meditation with the glowglobe extinguished and sleep on their horizon. Anakin winced when he attempted a cross-legged pose and switched to a kneeling one. Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's fading hickey in apology. They looked into each other's eyes deeply and began their meditation. Moonslight filtered through cracks in the shutters and the inn was completely quiet.
For the longest time, alternating thoughts of past and present flooded Anakin: of satiation, of peaceful Temple nursery nights with someone crooning a melodic lullaby near a cradle, of naynabo branches brushing his brow, of befriending a shy, slight Bant Eerin ... These thoughts didn't bother him, even though he knew they came from Obi-Wan's memories. Anakin squeezed down his training bond until only a trickle of communion dribbled through. My shields are stronger than before because we made love without me leaking any other secrets, but we're in a bind if I can't control this on my end of our bond. Must be the 'closeness' I wanted, stars' end, I did want it, but this close? He was able to halt the stream of consciousness from an oblivious Master before actual words passed through their altered bond, if that's what it was. In the inn, Obi-Wan's voicing Anakin's ideas sounded ominous, but Anakin had put off examining the phenomenon. There were telepaths in the Order, Plo Koon in particular. Anakin found that being around them in the past year drained his mental fortitude. The Tusken incident, combined with his secret marriage, rested deep within his psyche as shameful secrets. He might deny it to himself, but in his darkest thoughts he was ashamed not only of his losing control on Tatooine, but of his marriage. I wanted a traditional family after Mom died. Not even Master or the Order was enough. I was weak, and Padme was so beautiful ... It was difficult to block out someone as powerful as Master Plo without the telepath noticing the masking. If this new closeness with Master Obi-Wan brought about a changed brand of training bond, how could he continue their physical intimacy without eventually leaking news of his secret wife? Padme would be devastated to leave her position as Senator due to scandal. It was her life, meaning even more than her marriage to him. Anakin knew that Padme placed him a close second to her career; close, but still second. She was his angel and she didn't compare at all to those sprites on Iego, viciously luring spacers into their orbit. He knew she didn't. And then Jar-Jar would become the senior representative from Naboo. Anakin shuddered.
Obi-Wan came laughing out of his meditation. "My Padawan-Darling, I had a strange time in the Force. It showed me you and I were bound by cords back to back and we were blindfolded. I could not peek out from the blindfold, but you could and you shuffled us upright from our seats on the floor. We were on an enemy destroyer, but I did not feel apprehensive at all. I knew you would save me. The gravity cut out and we floated, bouncing faster and faster between the brig's bulkheads until we hit the door and burst it open. That somehow loosened our bonds and we were able to wriggle free. The funny thing is, is that I was completely happy, absolutely giddy in fact, even though we were in mortal danger. I can't explain it. I feel happy even now."
For Master to say that, the experience must have been ecstatic. Anakin was nonplused. "That's good to know, Master. We've had some trying times on this mission."
Obi-Wan rubbed Anakin's knee and then pulled him into a hug. "The crash, the mold, the mud ... "
"... the Festival ... " They both looked away, even though they couldn't see each other's faces. "And now here we are. Where we haven't been before." Obi-Wan wrapped both arms around Anakin and lay them both down on the rumpled sheets, carefully drawing the coverings over Anakin's stump. "Young one, let's rest." He kissed Anakin's bristly hair and closed his eyes, enfolding Anakin's legs with his. The something's presence was no more. Obi-Wan began to fade, but Anakin pulled his hand free and rubbed Obi-Wan's hair, slicking it back from his forehead. It was still damp from his shower.
"Master, why did you grow your hair long?" If he had been told the reason before, he had forgotten.
"Why? Mmmm, bedtime story. You haven't wanted one of those in some years. All right." His rich voice stirred Anakin's heart. "I hadn't been a Knight for long when I had an epiphany --- you're not the only one to have them --- that said I should concentrate on my inner life and to eliminate everything that did not foster that inner life, that was a distraction. The time spent getting a haircut and shave could be used for a meditation on the Living Force, particularly. So I cut out trimming my hair and beard to a large degree and did just that."
"Why not cut out bathing, too?"
"Everything has limits, Padawan. Social contact with others precluded letting myself go completely."
Something tickled the back of Anakin's mind. "Not like Master Qui-Gon did sometimes."
"Um, yes, Master Qui-Gon went for weeks at a time without bathing, rapturously intent on some aspect of the Force that I'll never grasp." Obi-Wan laughed again. Anakin had never heard him this lighthearted. "I used to push him in the pool 'accidentally' or 'playfully' on purpose, you know. And rainstorms were a blessing a few times."
"And Master Qui-Gon let his hair grow long, too," Anakin said softly.
"I know." Obi-Wan tenderly touched the spot on Anakin's right arm where the interface to his mechno-hand was. Anakin felt a flutter from his implants. "I know," Obi-Wan repeated. "Good night, Anakin."
The river reflected.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-One
Obi-Wan woke up to a glorious sensation: Anakin's breath in his ear. His Padawan had explored the depths of the dream-purpose with him, just as Anakin had explained that they would. He does know more than I do, about some things anyway. And he's sensitive to the Force in ways that I am not. And he has remarkable lips. And he makes me happy. There didn't seem to be anymore to think, so Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and listened to Anakin's snuffles in his ear. He was nearly asleep when Anakin awoke, arose and reattached his arm. Obi-Wan heard the tssh of closing circuits in the hush of the room. Somewhere in the inn, a baby cried and was comforted. The clanging of breakfast preparation in the kitchen echoed in his head. The clamor of the Living Force was overwhelming this morning and he supposed the lowering of his shields was due to his new status with his powerful Padawan. He had heard that opening new sensual doors for Jedi could be as much a trial as any assigned to those seeking Knighthood. For some reason, Depa Billaba sprang to mind. Her status as Councilmember, Jedi Master, and Chalactan Adept had not saved her mind from shredding under her experiences on Haruun Kal six months ago. The last time Obi-Wan had seen her during his rounds of visiting the sick in the infirmary, he had gazed incomprehensibly at her catatonic form. How could her training have deserted her so? The Chalactan Adepts taught resistance to mental manipulation and the gold bead of their Greater Mark of Illumination that Depa had earned attested to her mastery of their teachings. But she had carved away her bead from her head, her permanent Merit Bead that was not so permanent after all. Was it that her sensitivity to aspects of the Living Force had been swamped by the Summertime War events on Mace's home world? The same sensitivity that had helped her earn her gold bead acted against her when war's crassness eroded her sanity. Obi-Wan, sitting in his seat on the Council one day last month and listening to one of Palpatine's speeches, wished that he had had in-depth training in overcoming mental manipulation. But he had never had it.
Anakin came out of the shower, wrapped himself in his lavalava and handed Obi-Wan's to him. They could play at being a citizen of Trow for a while longer. "Master, what do you think will happen on Trow after we leave?" He rebraided his plait while Obi-Wan watched, handing him his Merit Beads as needed.
"What with Strenghis' plan revealed to the Cabinet by Ry-Gaul's evidence and his conversation with us yesterday, the Congress most likely will keep him, but reprimand or censure him. He's guilty of non-disclosure to his advisors and of loving his world; Congress will not want to lose the goodwill he has engendered. He's going ahead with his plan, the only difference is that we will have Trow as an ally and a base for defending this sector. Perhaps Senator Amidala would have made a better envoy; if you had stayed on Coruscant to finish your exams as you would have if the galaxy were sane and I had escorted her here, for example, we would not have had to perform as we did for Qikal." Obi-Wan bent to don his sandals and so missed Anakin's speculative look.
"So you wouldn't have honored the Mother with h-her?" They gave each other some adjustments on the lavalavas' draping, accustomed to its intricacies by now.
Obi-Wan snorted. "She would never have agreed to it. We would have had a parley, Qikal would not have, not have p-pawed her visually or physically and he would have been intimidated by my lightsaber and her blaster. He would have shuffled us along to Nepsa for Strenghis to handle the whole thing. Granted, we would not have honored the Mother and he was adamant that everyone should on his watch, but I think that the good Senator could have talked him into special dispensation or something. She is remarkably persuasive."
Anakin thought about her proposing marriage to him as he lay in the Temple infirmary after Geonosis, with Master Luminara down the hallway and Master Obi-Wan due to visit after his own muscle-rebuilding therapy session with Barriss ended, and had to agree. What would Padme be like with the Force empowering her? Obi-Wan hesitated, then closed the door to the fresher a moment. After a minute, Anakin saw Obi-Wan give the 'fresher one last look for anything left behind, and smiled. "Master, you've forgotten one thing."
"Eh?"
"Qikal would have been interested in you."
"Pish, Anakin. You're the good-looking one, not me. We're through here; let's go say our farewells to Trow." Obi-Wan led the way out the door.
It's no use. Master will never value himself the way that I value him. Anakin hefted their folded uniforms and boots and followed.
xxxxx
As a President, Strenghis was accustomed to lobbyists, as the two Jedi discovered upon admittance to his office.
"You'll take us with you, then?" The inn's teen maitre d', Beebar Nek, blinked big aloas eyes at Obi-Wan, ignoring Anakin. "We've covered our jobs here with some friends' help," he added. "Please, Master? We can be helpful to you on the long trip. We're not afraid of work."
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "You've no attachments?"
"None, Master," Egdim "Dimmie" Reppiks stated. She was a cheerful maid/server on Trow, she should do well on Coruscant if she decided to stay and work. "Me folks have more kiddies than they can handle. They said I could be first one of theirs away offplanet, be a good example, y'see."
President Strenghis broke in. "There is room on the shuttle for four passengers. A four-day trip, long, I agree, but surely you can find it in your hearts to take them along, Master Jedi? The first Billaqori in your Republic's program."
Mr. President had a smug look on his usually stern face. Anakin rolled the pot of sunburn cream in his front waistline pocket and tapped a finger against it in a certain attention-getting rhythm. He was about to tap 'no' in Jedi cypher when Obi-Wan said, "Certainly you may come. Good example it is, too. The teachers will be coming to Trow in one week, approximately, and you may return with them if it suits you. Gather your things then and we'll meet you at the shuttle in one, no, make that two, hours."
Dimmie's and Beebar's auras glowed with delight. "We came prepared, Master," they chirped. They pointed to two bedrolls in one far corner. Anakin could see flowery lavalava material sticking up from where he stood in the Padawan's position. I came prepared, too, he thought as he tapped an annoyed "Masterrrr --- " on the ceramic container.
"Ah, I see. One thing, don't call me 'Master,'" Obi-Wan said to the teens. "On this trip, only my Padawan may call me that. I'd prefer you call me 'Knight Kenobi."
"Yes, Knight Kenobi."
Strenghis rose to embrace the two Jedi. He seems to lack vigor this morning. Obi-Wan considered. And do I detect a satisfied air about him? Kuki looked glowing last night, didn't she ... Kuki and Qikal, the entire Cabinet and one third of Congress, along with Trow's president, saw them off.
Anakin, put your actions where your principles are. You thought of this program, after all. At the spaceport, the old man allowed the teen helper to give them coordinates for takeoff, record their destination and time of arrival and smiled the while. Anakin presumed that the old man discerned that his helper would be on an outbound flight for Coruscant soon. The old man seemed too wise not to know. Trow faded from green scramball to atmosphere-covered marble to streaks of hyperspace. "We're off," Anakin said. "Coruscant in four and-a-half days."
The river groaned.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-Two
Four and-a-half days seemed like four and-a-half decades in hyperspace. Beebar and Dimmie graciously did all the galley work, using the onboard stores and some items that they had brought from home. There was no actual galley and only self-heating meals, ready to eat, to satisfy hunger. Volunteering was nice of them, Obi-Wan supposed, but they were as curious as toddlers about the shuttle's technology. He and Anakin stayed mainly in the cockpit writing their mission report for three days, regretting their lack of privacy. There was a minimal 'fresher --- too small for us both, and it's a 'fresher, Anakin, really! --- and the repulsorlift vehicles --- turn the two on their sides, Master, to improvise a visual barrier, and we could be very, very quiet ... No? --- but the shuttle's utilitarian open design had no nooks and they made the best of things for sleeptime. Simple cuddling under spread-out lavalavas was nice, too. Cuddling even became necessary, because space was cold, though the ambient temperature had been turned up to accommodate Dimmie's and Beebar's tropic attire. The Trow citizens were due for some serious shopping upon debarkation, unless they wanted to wear the ecru-and-tan suits of clothing that the Temple would offer them freely. Obi-Wan and Anakin had reverted to wearing their uniforms, which made it easier to scold the two teens when on day three, Beebar flipped one repulsorlift vehicle control lever to 'hover, one-half meter' and persuaded Dimmie to sit on it. He adjusted the other vehicle to 'forward, slow' to push her around the aisles of the vacant troop compartment.
Anakin hovered himself between admiration that Beebar put his free time to good use by studying Aurebesh markings while asking seemingly innocent questions of himself and his Master, and condemnation of Beebar's audacity in operating a vehicle while inside another vehicle. In hyperspace. He supposed such get-up-and-go was the reason that Beebar advanced to maitre d' of the inn's staff. "You could have accidentally pushed the 'forward, emergency pursuit' lever, and we would have had to deal with an atmosphere breach, no little matter in a craft this small. Or Dimmie could have been crushed between your vehicle and the bulkhead, did you think of that?"
Obi-Wan stood back to allow Anakin to berate Beebar, who was at most two years younger. Yes, Padawan. This is what supervising teens is all about. When Beebar hung his head and Dimmie's lower lip quivered, he intervened. "Lesson learned, Anakin. Dimmie, Beebar, no more adventuring, r-right?" The two teens nodded and sat on the troop seating, uncomfortable plastoid as they were. They stared at the solid bulkhead as if it had windows to show the stars, although hyperspace was featureless.
After breakfast on the fourth day, Dimmie and Beebar at least asked before firing the ventral blaster. Anakin launched into an almost-Masterly lecture, including some reasons that Obi-Wan hadn't even thought of. "We don't waste power charges. We don't know who is around us and who may think that firing weapons for fun is firing for destructive purposes. Space is big, and we don't know the future, even the next ten minutes, so the answer is no." The teens took this in stride; at least they were beyond the pouting stage. They packed and repacked their little bundles a few times, and asked Anakin repeatedly about arrival time. He answered with as much patience as was in his nature.
"Honestly, Master, was I this bad?" Anakin and Obi-Wan finished brainstorming their version of the mission half an hour ago and were sipping denatured tea.
"Far worse, far worse. You were a Jedi Padawan with remarkable powers of evasion, rationalizing, covering up, and inventive bookkeeping."
"Bookkeeping?" Anakin didn't recall altering any books.
"Resetting the laundry's list of sheets issued to our quarters? Specifically the amount of fresh sheets needed during your fifteenth, sixteenth and even your sev--- "
"All right. I remember now." It had been a piece of sweesonberry cake to redo the counters. The hard part had been entering the mainframe area of the Records room. Barriss had helped him by staging a slip-and-fall outside the door, and in the confusion Anakin eased away, did the deed, and reordered both Master's and his own sheets to two hundred-count extra-fine-grade sheets. He owed Barriss one.
Five hours later, Beebar and Dimmie bounced on their feet when the navcomp pinged their arrival. The atmosphere reentry occurred without incident. An unfamiliar voice cleared their arrival at the Temple's south hangar. Anakin set the shuttle down next to the Jedi cruiser that Ry-Gaul had used. Tru. Surely he had passed the danger point and was merely awaiting the end of the most irritating stage, the sloughing of the scratchy furry patches. They itched intolerably and shed bits of fur that got on everything.
Obi-Wan gathered their lavalavas, sandals, and the very last of the nutrient paste that Dimmie had brought along for nourishment. He would share it with the rest of his peers of the Masters' table as a curiosity, the way that returning travelers often did in the refectory. That way it would disappear even quicker. The teens charged through the lowering ramp, not apprehensive at all, and Obi-Wan saw Anakin shake his head in amusement as if he were far older and wiser than they. Obi-Wan found the gloom of the hangar soothing to his eyes as he recognized the beginnings of a headache, and followed Anakin down the ramp that dropped them back into their old life.
The river adapted.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
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As Clear As Mud

As Clear As Mud

Chapter 3