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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
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As Clear As Mud

Chapter 4

A/N: These are parts fifty-three through its conclusion in one hundred-eight of this story.
Part Fifty-Three
With Beebar and Dimmie settled in the waiting room of the Council chambers with an escorting Junior Padawan who had private orders to consider them "adventurous," Obi-Wan gave the mission report that he and Anakin had fashioned. It was to-the-point, glossing over their life-threatening Gitchy adventures and concentrating on the meetings with Grunbi, Strenghis, and Qikal. The whole thing took nearly an hour.
"Fortuitous, the meeting with Leader Qikal was. A power behind the power, he will be. Ready for theocracy, Trow is?" Yoda's leathery skin was bathed in the afternoon's sunlight slanting through the enormous windows. He pricked up his ears while the question reverberated in the tower room. Seven Councilmembers were in their seats, the others being at various other meetings or on missions. Obi-Wan eyed his own seat longingly. His headache increased as he blinked in the dazzling rays of light. Even the dust motes' lazy motion induced a slight nausea. He swallowed a few times, and continued.
"Yes, Master. Qikal is able, Strenghis is able. Their plan for Trow needn't affect our base placement and other considerations. W-we actually impressed the leaders, both secular and religious, of the planet. I can say that negotiations were short, but intense. After meeting for two days, P-President Strenghis, with the counsel of Qikal, agreed to have the Republic's protection and offered a base in return. The less important concessions will be in our written report."
Yoda narrowed his eyes, a small frown wrinkling his brow further. "Tired, are you, Obi-Wan? Strenuous beyond many's endurance, this past week has been. Tomorrow, soon enough your report in writing, it is. Leave for your quarters, you and your Padawan shall, unless healers you wish to consult. Good work, young Jedi." Who doesn't he call young at some point? Obi-Wan smiled faintly. Yoda tapped his gimer stick once in dismissal.
"Thank you, Master Yoda. It's only a headache." Obi-Wan led the way out the large doors, not noticing Master Plo eyeing his exit more than the others. Beebar and Dimmie leaped up excitedly. Their escort looked capable enough to prevent major diplomatic blunders. All Jedi were trained in the art of conciliation, which came in handy with ushering politicians about. These rambunctious kids from Trow should be fine in her care.
"Are we staying with you here?" "Can we taste real liquor tonight? I've heard it called 'rocket juice' by some travelers at the inn, why is that, Knight Kenobi?" "Knight Kenobi, I'm cold. Me folks said you were springing for all expenses, so when can we go shopping?" "Let's take the elevator to the top of this spire and look out over everything!"
Obi-Wan massaged his temples. "Padawan Kris will be your Jedi and Republic liaison as long as you stay in Coruscant. She will escort you to the Jedi Hostel nearby, which is for non-Jedi visiting friends. As to liquor, I don't think so." The thought of liquor made his stomach roil the more. He might even give up drinking. "Padawan Kris will live with you for a few days until you become acclimated, which includes buying new clothing. Anakin or Padawan Kris may take you up to the spire if they wish, and I'll be happy to visit with you tomorrow, or,or, perhaps the next day, to see how you are. Welcome to Coruscant," he ended formally, sketching a brief bow. It made his head ache more.
Anakin said, "Padawan Kris, do with them what you will. May The Force Be With You." The three young people waved farewell and started for the elevator. "I'm going to the infirmary to see Tru. I think you should come, too, Master." Master's pale.
"Of course I will. Tru's had a difficult time of it." Obi-Wan's stride became a tired shuffle as he followed Anakin's lead down the hall. No one was around to see that his Padawan was not following him in the proper Padawan manner. The infirmary was on the bottom floor. "We're going to cheer him up."
"I sense that you're not cheerful, Master. And I think that Master Luminara should look at you. What's wrong?"
"I was anticipating with great pleasure immersing myself in the Force back in our quarters, Padawan, when this headache came upon me. Luminara can help it, I'm sure." Why aren't pain control techniques working? Am I getting old?
Tru's cot held an irritable Tru, arching his spine, twining both arms around his body to dig at his reddened back. "Anakin. How did you survive this itching? I want to scratch everywhere all at once." Tru was a Teevan and had multiple joints in his limbs. He was under strict orders not to use his nails to further inflame his usually silvery skin and so had to rub when he wanted to rake.
"Master spread nasty stuff on me. I don't recall what it was." Anakin remembered holing up in his quarters, unwilling to allow anyone other than Master to see him. The nasty stuff was only nasty in odor, because being soothed by strong fingers was pleasant.
"Tru, you're coming along in your recovery, but Master Luminara will scold if you don't help yourself get better. Anakin, tell Tru about our mission, and I'll consult with Luminara a moment." You know how to be discreet, young one. The light from the afternoon sun streamed in here, too, following him from the Council chambers and he raised a hand to shade his eyes.
Master Luminara Unduli sat as upright at her console as she generally did, stirring a glass of something pink. She rose when Obi-Wan entered her office. He shut the door behind him. "So, Lu, what do you have for a headache?"
"Obs, you look worn out."
Luminara smiled her welcome, a smile that stretched and lightened her lip and chin tattoos even as her healer's hands took Obi-Wan's in a preliminary exam. She stilled a moment, and Obi-Wan knew intimately her Force-perception of his condition because his headache not so much faded as winked out of existence. It made his efforts at self-healing shrink to insignificance. What she and I would have done to honor the Mother beggars description. "Thanks. I needed that." The nausea receded, too, and the light from outdoors was bearable. He sat on the exam table, resisting the urge to swing his legs.
"Tough mission? Or is that redundant?" Luminara had not been in the field for some months. She was due to staff New Holstice very soon and Obi-Wan was grateful that she was still here to visit with, as well as treat him.
"Tough, unusual, but rewarding. I'll tell you more at dinner tomorrow night."
"Occasion?"
"In gracious thanks for your sinus lessons. You'll never know how much I appreciated them when I was dunked into a flood, had my mouth and ears filled with watery mud --- "
"Stop. It's over with, Obi-Wan, for good or for bad. You're home now." In Luminara's steady gaze, he saw all that was good about the Order.
The river relaxed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-Four
"You're home."
"I'm home." Their private audio-only comm channel gave a flirp! sound unlike any Anakin had heard before. He'd run a diagnostic on its innards when he had a chance. "Are you eating something?"
"A protein bar. New brand called Bulkfast; it's so-so." Padme's voice stayed in its Senatorial tone for a moment, then warmed. "Ani. When can we see each other?"
"Where are you?"
"In my office."
"So late?"
"It's been hectic here. There's bad news. Another world's neutrality has been compromised. Orto's coup is as yet a rumor, but there are allegations of a traitor very high up in the Ortolan government, possibly a Minister ... it's a lost cause to send forces there, a lost cause ... "
Her voice was strained with need. "I'll get away late tomorrow afternoon after submitting our written report. I promise, Angel." After his and Obi-Wan's successful mission, he had comforting to spare.
'When exactly?"
Unlike her to be this particular, but she was under stress. "Just before dinnertime. Meet you in the Maze?"
"In the Maze, our spot, just before dinnertime. Don't be late. Amidala out." A hurried click, an interruption, most likely. Anakin secreted the comm in his room and returned to the common room. Now to the mission report. In writing.
First Day Out:Unedited version.
First time I wanted to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, I was fifteen and saw Master combing his beard before our mirror prior to an Ando embassy ball. His hair needed a trim because it hung to the middle of his shoulder blades and he did not like it quite that long. I wanted to be his barber, because then I could snuggle up to his back, press against it as I reached over his shoulders to draw the top auburn lengths of his hair into my fingers. His skull would press against my midriff as our eyes met in the mirror that he held to check on my work. "That's fine, Padawan," he would say, and he'd close his eyes, relaxing to the snip! snip! sounds.
Anakin read what he'd entered. He pushed 'erase' and began anew.
First Day Out: Routine.
Second Day Out: Routine. Remembered second time I wanted to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release. I was seventeen. Master was recovering from heatstroke incurred on Sugnid. He was pale and clammy in the transport's medbay, with a hint of pink returning to his lips. Semi-conscious, he gave a thumbs-up to me before his eyes drifted shut. He sighed before falling back asleep. I remembered giving him the kiss-of-life hours before and wanted to kiss him goodnight.
Third Day Out: Reviewed Trow briefing.
Fourth Day Out: Upon entry into realspace, fire began in engines, reached into the cabin despite safety firewall. [Note to salvage team: append cause of fire data to this report post-haste.] Crashed into Gitchy River, Master Obi-Wan injured slightly. Rafted through night to
Fifth Day Out: Raft, routine day
Sixth Day Out: Encountered dam, which failed in flood conditions. Escaped immersion in mud. Found shelter in deserted barn.
Seventh Day Out: Met Billaqori leader of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy. Qikal welcomed us to observe local festival. [Note to self: "Observe" could mean "visually experience" or it could mean "participate in as observant Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy tribesmembers."] Anakin rationalized his choice of words and hurried on.
"The report can be completed tomorrow, Anakin. Come to bed."
Anakin turned in his seat. "I'm nearly done so I can turn it in early, Maaassssttttt --- uh." Obi-Wan looked as he always did at night, sensible blue bathrobe over sensible undergarments-as-sleepwear ... and the Trow sandals. The ones that fit wonderfully well. Anakin edited the partial report, saved his work and shut down the console. Its fading green glow was the only light in their quarters as he navigated to Obi-Wan, who waited in the pitch-black Master bedroom, called that for a reason. It was slightly larger than Anakin's room with a minimally larger bed, the Order's way of showing Padawans what they had to look forward to. It was mostly encouraging.
The river retired.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-Five
Anakin flung his tunics and leggings over Obi-Wan's blue bathrobe on the room's occasional chair, tossing his slippers next to the Trow sandals. He needed no light to find his Master, because in the shuttle's cockpit during the trip back to Coruscant, he had Force-imprinted on Obi-Wan, mapping his outline, his skin, his heart, his midichlorians upon Anakin's own psyche, until now he felt as if he could never lose this man again. Obi-Wan had done the same, tracing Anakin's braid lovingly, running his hands down Anakin's sides in shaping motions, ending at his throat as he felt the life pulsing beneath the nearly-invisible hickey. So immersed in their proceedings had they been that they didn't notice Beebar and Dimmie peek around the troop seating area into the cockpit and then retreat in confusion. "Jedi," Dimmie whispered. "Me mother said they were strange."
Beebar placed his lips near Dimmie's pierced earlobe. "They're something, aren't they? I don't understand why they do half of what they do. I'm just glad they do it."
Their two young friends were the last thing on Obi-Wan's mind as he flipped back the comforter. The bed dipped beneath Anakin's weight and they were silent a moment before hugging fiercely. I did not know we would see home again. Crashing, drowning, suffocating in mud ... home, Obi-Wan, you're home. He tasted Anakin's lips strong and sure as he savored the generous mouth with sweeps of tongue and clicks of teeth. In harmony with the familiar surroundings, he slowly opened his Padawan's fly, brushing lightly what he found there until its progress matched his own excitement. Side by side, with legs crosshatched and erections bumping together, they grew breathless. First Obi-Wan rolled on top, then Anakin, until finally they settled into a position of Anakin pressing all his weight on the underside of Obi-Wan's legs. Obi-Wan hooked his ankles on Anakin's shoulders, skewing around the sheets. Obi-Wan felt Anakin move apart the dropseat's flap on his onesy, too impatient to peel the suit off. The Force shimmered in the room as Anakin called the pot of sunburn cream from the nightstand to his hand, only it wasn't sunburn cream. It was lubricant with a spicy fragrance that Obi-Wan had bought at a Glitannai Esplanade sex shop not far from the Jedi Temple while Anakin had been at the Teevan deli across the walkway, buying Tru a special treat to break the monotony of infirmary food. All during the chatter-filled meal at Tru's bedside, Obi-Wan had anticipated the upcoming evening in the Temple's quietude with unquiet thoughts of his own. How To Lay It On Thick, the Padawan's nickname for an especially oily style of diplomacy taught by Master Lingus, took on a new meaning as Obi-Wan smiled in the absolute darkness of his most private place in the Temple.
What's this stuff? Master, you conniver, you! Anakin dipped three fingers in the lube and threw the pot on the floor. He stuck his tongue in the slickness; the material tasted bland as nutrient paste. Good. Spicy odor, not spicy burn. He must have gotten it at Zeltron's Zest-4-Life while I was in Taste O'Teevan this afternoon. He laughed in delight as he smeared it roughly on himself and more gently on Obi-Wan, hearing the Force's murmur in the way that ringed muscles relaxed in nothing flat with Obi-Wan's use of Masterly internal dilation techniques. Anakin waited no longer than he had to to enter Obi-Wan, steadily pushing, waiting a timeless moment, pushing some more. At last. I'm home.
They slewed sideways in the bed only when Obi-Wan's skull bumped the headboard, continuing until the luxurious two hundred-count sheets became drenched with sweat. As fastidious as he was, what began to bother Obi-Wan was not their sodden bed, but the fact that Anakin wasn't quite reaching the sweet spot that he had on Trow with his agile fingers. Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin's upper arms to still him.
Guhh---wha--huh? It took more control than Anakin had in him to stop immediately and for a minute they tussled. Anakin at last stopped rocking, gasping in confusion as Obi-Wan pulled away. Quick as thought, Obi-Wan repositioned himself, kneeling with his cheek flat on the mattress, arms poised as in a pushup, scuttling backwards until Anakin processed the change. Oh! It was like diving into warm velvet all over again and Anakin almost cried as he kissed Obi-Wan's right elbow.
Exquisite. Almost there. After six pushes, Obi-Wan fumbled with one hand at his fly, grabbing and tensing as violently as he had in Supairp Prime's wrestling matches, when he was weaker by the second from ritual desanguination, but still committed to win, win ... in this more intimate battle, both combatants were winners.
When Obi-Wan flopped on his side, Anakin followed him down, pressing his Master's quivering, unresisting body along the bed that was one large wet spot. Obi-Wan slid until he was flush against the headboard and in danger of being shoved face first into it, when he rallied his strength, stiff-arming and -kneeing against the smooth lammaswood until Anakin bit Obi-Wan's arched trapezius muscle and came with a muffled scream. "Biting, lots of biting, you said," Anakin mumbled a moment later.
xxxxx
"Master?"
"Darling, you were incredible."
"Thanks. So were you."
"Thank you."
"Aren't you cold out here?"
"No. The breeze stopped some time ago, while you were asleep."
"Thinking?"
"A little."
"What about?"
"The Unifying Force."
"It can wait, though, can't it? Till morning?"
"I suppose."
"Your hand is cold."
"It's also numb. Maybe it is too chilly out here."
"I brought your bathrobe. Let's go in."
"You've talked me into it. Lead on, Padawan."
"That's poetry."
"Never."
The river rhymed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-Six
"Now onto Form VI."
"All right. We haven't sparred in two weeks. After Form II this morning, it's good to continue with a nice, quiet session such as Form VI." Anakin squat-thrust and twisted as he had before their previous practice, afterwards bending each foot backwards with same-side and then diagonal hands. He dropped forward into a handstand, "walked" around the salle, ending in a tight tuck-and-roll in midair to regain his feet, lightsaber extended. It was dialed down as before to almost the lowest traceable power.
"Someone's feeling rather chipper this afternoon."
"I do, Master. We're home." Anakin grinned. "And my dream proves correct: I am ready for a fresh start, on practically anything. Aren't y---"
Obi-Wan attacked in the middle of Anakin's question, lunging directly full on, lightsaber spearing forward to balance his free hand's dramatic pointing backwards. With a bent knee, he lowered his body's midpoint to present a smaller target. But Anakin evaded the blow that was aimed at his gut, swinging a foot to the side to whirl long enough for Obi-Wan's lunge to set him at the perfect position for a thwack! across the small of his back. Obi-Wan flattened with the blow, rolling to his feet a moment later. Anakin backflipped away, gesturing playfully with his mechno-hand in a "bring it on" ploy. Obi-Wan took him up on it, switching to something Cin Drallig had emphasized when training Obi-Wan that Obi-Wan knew Drallig had dropped from his curriculum by Anakin's time of instruction with him. Obi-Wan Force-leaped over Anakin, tucking into a roll directly over Anakin's head. He ignited his lightsaber in mid-roll, ready to tap Anakin on the neck in a winning touch, when Anakin flourished a weaving bar of blue, welting his Master on each leg, his right arm and his throat in quick succession. Obi-Wan's breath wheezed out painfully and he came to rest in an undignified heap at Anakin's feet. Now he knew why Master Drallig had stopped teaching this move. At the midpoint of the leap, even though the body was rotating in its spin, a fast enough sword arm could reach in and do considerable damage. Anakin's sword arm, mechno- or flesh, was fast enough. I wondered on Festival Night who would win if we ever fought seriously. I'm relieved that I will never know.
"Improvisation?" Anakin disengaged his lightsaber and crossed his arms jauntily.
Obi-Wan breathed in and out in a regular fashion, all that he could manage to do for a few minutes. "N-no. Something I learned once long ago and wanted to try again." He leaned on his right hand to push himself into a sitting position, but it buckled beneath his weight. He used his left one instead, sitting cross-legged. "I think it's something better left in the p-past."
"What's wrong with your hand?"
Obi-Wan rubbed it briskly. "It's gone numb, just like last night. Maybe I pinched a nerve at some point."
Anakin lowered his head. "I've hurt you. I was too rough. I'm sorry." He sat by Obi-Wan. "Let me see." He took Obi-Wan's hand after a glance into the observation gallery. It was empty. "Your hand is icy cold, Master. Make a fist for me."
Obi-Wan made a fist, barely feeling the impress of his digits against his palm. The cold feeling ended just above his elbow and reminded him of his treatment with Barriss, just after Geonosis when his injured arm and leg had not yet regenerated perfect nerve endings. He had been unable to return to the field in fighting form for longer than he had liked. "I'm seeing Luminara tonight for dinner. It should be all right by --- hic! --- then, but if it isn't, she can look into it. Come on, Padawan, let's --- hic! --- shower and get out of here."
"Yes, I want to catch up with friends on the comm tonight." The part about lying was to make part of a lie come true, then it didn't color your aura so blatantly, and if no one were looking at your aura, it didn't show up at all. With a twinge of guilt, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was not looking. Anakin would indeed comm Tru or perhaps Serra to chat, then he would head out for Padme in the Maze. Their special spot, the nook with smooth green hedges that had shade-tolerant flameflowers growing between the trunks. How their conversation would go he hadn't a clue, although he had certain hopes. The upshot would be that he and Obi-Wan would live together permanently, even after Knighthood. Padme was a supporter of the Jedi, the benefactress of their protection and goodwill for many years now. She would support his decision. The fine tuning of it all she would work out. She had always been resourceful, just like Obi-Wan.
"Fine. I'll sign the mission report, you may comm it on over, and we'll see each other later. --- hic! --- Bother. --- hic! --- Bother. Pesky hic! cups." Anakin pressed a hand to Obi-Wan's diaphragm, adding his strength to Obi-Wan's to smooth the spasming tissues. It took less than a minute, but in that minute Anakin sensed that Obi-Wan had changed from the Force-imprinted Master of only four days ago. The technique was new to him and he'd ask Obi-Wan about how he felt to him later. Master Yoda would know the reason if Obi-Wan didn't.
The river trusted.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-Seven
The rhythmic creaking of the sofa's frame and the noises of flesh slapping on flesh sounded louder than it should have in the elegantly-appointed Senatorial office. "Oooooh. You're very good at this. Oooooh. Yes, right there, Ommane. No, lower now. Yes. Oooooh. Your hands are so warm." Anything to take my mind off this mess. "Rub --- uhnn --- harder. Please."
Ommane Retbax obliged with more cupped-hand claps on stressed back muscles. Padme winced. "Milady. There's a swelling lump here, under your hairline."
Padme sat upright and worked her shoulders. "I feel it."
"It wasn't there last night." Last night I didn't need to face the Supreme Chancellor. "You work too hard, Milady, if you don't mind me saying so," Ommane offered spontaneously. "Senator Binks needs to grow into his responsibilities more, in my opinion." The most junior of Padme's handmaidens was also the least like her mistress in appearance, with dark honey waves of shoulder-length hair, icy blue eyes and a pouting lower lip. Sometimes Padme didn't know why she confided more in this seventeen year-old than in her seasoned staff. Maybe it was because of all Padme's handmaidens, Ommane's background most resembled her own: political aspirations and public service from an early age. Ommane was lighter in the defensive and offensive fighting skills end of the spectrum, but made up for the deficiency in plotting elaborate ways to avoid paparazzi using the other handmaidens. She had a way of tilting her head down and then looking upwards through her curling lashes that suggested her mind whirled its gears both day and night. All in her mistress' service, it went without saying.
"I was brought up to work, Ommane. Senator Binks is contributing to the war effort to his capacity." If Jar-Jar comes up with any more slogans like, "Gungans Rule!" or "Scratch A Gungan, Find A Patriot," I'll send him on a goodwill tour around the Outer Rim. And let him try out his piloting skills on the way. "There is no harm in him," she said, almost to herself.
As Ommane refastened the hooks in the bodice of Padme's grass green foulard, the Senator didn't see the handmaiden purse her lips doubtfully before replying, "As you say, Milady. Will you need the Torpedo this evening as well as this afternoon?" Padme's most recent vehicle was a Storm IV Uni-Pod Cloud Car manufactured by Bespin Motors. She had had it customized to a single pilot's pod, nicknaming it Torpedo when she ordered the elimination of the gunner's pod and attachment strut, unnecessary in Coruscant's peaceful skies. She had also had it painted pearly white, an opalescent shade that made it glow softly from the glaring billboards onplanet when she ventured out in nocturnal expeditions to various clubs. With her husband's increasingly long absences, Padme often felt like she was not in a real relationship at all. But tonight would be different --- pleasantly different, Padme hoped.
"No, thank you. I may go for a stroll this evening before dinner. I want to be alone for a while."
"Milady, I pro--- "
"I'll take my comm. And my shockstick. And I know that you'll be on duty tonight." Padme looped her arm around Ommane's slim waist and they walked to the door together. "That makes me feel protected."
xxxxx
As an expressionless Red Guard ushered her into the Supreme Chancellor's office, Padme reflected that due to his recent actions, Palpatine was no longer a trusted colleague, despite his declarations of devotion to her. She wondered how Palpatine had obtained the vid portraying in excrutiating detail Ommane's and her innocent gossipy dinner at The Elfin Sprite. She was even more at a loss to know how he had extrapolated their intense friendship from a simple shared meal. Not a mystery at all was the meaning behind his raised eyebrows, unctuous voice and smile that never cleared his teeth. He knows and he thinks that the knowledge going public will harm me or our cause somehow. Months ago, Sola stopped asking me why I hadn't anyone "special" in my life. Sola is a good sister. Her parents Padme could keep up with. Her mother clung to the habit of sending food packages from home, each with its accompanying datapad recipe in elaborate fonts, decorated with scrollwork along the borders, lovingly signed and dated. Mama also loaded the postal service with table linens, similarly appended with homey notes. "For your trousseau, dear," she'd write each time. Her father mentioned eligible young men-about-town in his weekly comms. They seemed substantive, committed individuals and Padme always thanked him for the recommendations with a small, positive comment about each one to avoid questions. It's only a matter of time before one shows up at my doorstep, communique of introduction in hand. Dear Papa.
"My dear, please sit." Palpatine adjusted his brocaded robes around his ankles as he leaned forward on the loveseat, spreading his hands disarmingly on his knees. "Your privacy concerns as stated in our initial interoffice comm yesterday are needless, let me assure you first of all. My only issue is the dignity of the Senate and of our home world in these troubled times."
"You've spied on me. How did you do it?" With results gained through years of schooling her expression, Padme's anger did not evince itself in a frown or downturned mouth. Her voice flattened further. "My dignity is my own affair. I've been Queen and never lost it; as a Senator, I am allowed more leeway." Bribing one of the servers? A cambot in the overhead sprinklers? A spychip in the bitterleaf garnishes?
"Spying is an ugly word. I merely want us to work together as productively as before. Nothing comes between me and my duty to the Republic. I'm sure we agree on this ideal?" The Supreme Chancellor looked supremely smug. The afternoon sun gave a warm, avuncular cast to his features, but Padme knew better. The man was a self-righteous pillar of rectitude with no family, no intimate relationships to soften him.
The implications were plain: Be more discreet. Lose your social life. Nighttime is for recouping your strength. Alone. "We do. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Your Excellency. I'll take your suggestions under advisement. As one Nubian to another." She rose to leave, but he did not see her to the door. She had the uncomfortable sense of losing any advantage she may have had with him before this.
Does he know about Ani, too? And how does he find out about things? Stepping into the Torpedo, Padme did her breathing exercises before starting the vehicle. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. She turned to look into Threepio's photoreceptors, a courtesy to high-functioning droids on Naboo. "Threepio, please comm whichever handmaiden is on duty that I will not be returning home until extremely late. And instruct Artoo to find another powering down location than my bedroom immediately after I drop you off home." Ommane was on duty, as Padme well knew, but it wouldn't do to give even Threepio too much personal data to upload. Or download publicly. He blurted things out sometimes. Maybe she'd program him to speak only Huttese to her, leaving his Basic algorithms set to "understand" only. It would create comment, but she could live a lie much better than she had thought she could last year. In fact, it was a little fun.
The river plotted.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Fifty-Eight
Padme's handmaidens or Threepio generally did all the shopping. At the display counter of the Coruscanti Comestibles Customizer, Padme incurred the glares of five humans, two Quarren and one unidentifiable semi-transparent species before she realized her error and took a number. When her turn came, she handled the plastoid replicas of their offerings and chose some picnicking delicacies with care. The Ando baguette had small red flakes in it that she knew from experience lent too much spice to a simple sandwich and the round Alderaani flatbread contained no crevices for condiments. She picked out two Para-rolls instead and debated over barbecued doiseybird slices or plain, deciding on the plain to be garnished with Byss cheese. A large container of chilled Kopi tea, two juicy zogs and snickerdoodles for dessert took less deliberating. After grabbing plastoid dinnerware and stuffing all her purchases into the carryall she'd brought with her from the Torpedo, she put everything on the Senatorial tab and shooed away the police droid who was beginning to give her a docking ticket. I can't get another ticket. That would add fuel to Palpatine's fire. Palpatine. Padme hit the turbos viciously as soon as she could get into the express lane. Speeding back to 500 Republica, her mind spinning and her heart thumping anxiously, she hoped that Ani could sense her distraction and would not demand too much intimacy tonight. At this point, hugs and soothing words sounded much more appealing than anything invasive. Although if I could really get into it, the release would knock me out for a while. Even five minutes' rest might recharge my brain. Padme didn't notice her speed creeping up until she nearly hit the vehicle ahead, a flashier speeder than hers. She punched the emergency overtake button on the console and glimpsed a Duros gaping in shock up at her as her navigational skills overcame his. The Torpedo dropped neatly down in front of the Duros' pretentious, oversized, overpriced, UNNECESSARY ... whoa, Padme. Breathe. She left the Torpedo with a valet and made her way to the Maze behind the enormous building, feeling the knots in her muscles work themselves out as she walked.
The slight breeze promised a chillier night than last. It was nicer to snuggle under a duvet with someone when the weather was cooler. Small leaves whirled by her as she slowed her pace. She was early for their appointment and Anakin was nothing if not punctual. He was punctual, she was early. Most of their outings began like that, she mused, as she focused her thoughts away from Palpatine and onto her husband. She had not had time to miss him. Their mission couldn't have been too complex if it were over in one week. Probably some treaty signing duty, with Obi-Wan having made a perfectly functional speech that Anakin would mimic if he were asked to say anything. Mirror speech. Useful as a learning tool, but Ani soon would be a Knight and would be expressing his own original thoughts in such circumstances. Padme clutched her carryall tighter. Her Ani, without Obi-Wan? Anakin's career should depend on his bravery, his sword arm, his kindness. His words would come raggedly ... but surely the Council knew that about him after all these years. They would assign missions where speech would only be a handicap, but other than something involving aquata rebreathers underwater, Padme couldn't think of any situations like those. She pushed between two trees, snagging her foulard, and entered their special spot. The flameflowers still bloomed, good. She had forgotten to bring something to sit on, bad. Good thing my gown matches the grass. Padme sat down to wait.
Anakin ran over the things he wanted to say in his head. After kissing her soft lips and pressing her petite form to his, getting the greetings out of the way, he'd start by asking her about her day. She had sounded discouraged over the comm the other afternoon. It had been near the end of the day, though, when anyone's energy might flag. She had endurance, he'd give that to her. Anyone who could keep up with him in the bedroom deserved that accolade. And she was mostly sweet in their year of togetherness. Each time they reunited, she was truly interested in talking about his work, relating it to hers, presenting them as a team to the Galaxy. It was reassuring to be part of a team.
"Ohhh, Angel, mmmm .... " Anakin stooped over his wife, wrapping his long arms totally around her after a short kiss. How soft she was, and how pretty in her lowcut gown. Perfectly proportioned. He tightened the hug briefly and then released her. They sank to the grass, lying on their sides. Anakin pushed away after a time to study her face. There was worry under the smile. "I'm all right. Our Courier failed reentry, though, and, and, other things happened, but our mission was successful. The Council is pleased." And I am pleased. And I hope that you will be, eventually. May The Force Be With Me.
"Anakin." If his presence did not overwhelm her as it had in the first hot months, neither did it repel her. "How good to see you, I, I mean, I've missed you." She squeezed his bicep. "You look well."
"I am better than well, I'm as happy as I was by Lake Varykino."
"Stars, and after a whole year of marriage, too! It's flattering." Keep it light. She sat up to prepare their meal and to keep busy. It was her natural state.
He'd not intended to imply anything to do with the two of them. He'd wanted to communicate his state of mind as simply as he always did with her. He watched her bustle, unwrap, slice. How to do this, how to do this. Anakin wanted to consult Obi-Wan, who was well-acquainted with Padme, if not precisely a close friend. He might give some insights that Anakin could use. But he wouldn't gather any feedback from his Master unless he told Obi-Wan about his legal relationship with Padme and the Force whispered that the timing was not right. Two steps forward, one step back. There, it could almost be a kata! Yes, a kata. He could create his very own Telling-Upsetting-News Kata, just like when you told your scramball mates that you couldn't play on the team anymore because you needed extra tutoring time in Galactic History 2C: The Ruusan Reformation's Resounding Republicanism. He had begun by missing a practice here and there. He continued breaking things off by recruiting a replacement for his position. He finished quitting the team by at last telling Coach. As a final gesture, he promised to cheer them on at the finals. It had all worked out in the end. Few feathers were ruffled.
Step One. "Padme, I can't spend the night. I'm sorry." He rolled over and propped himself up with his flesh arm as his mechno-hand twirled her side curls. He watched them spring back into position under her elaborate headpiece. She was his angel, she would understand.
"Oh?" Padme frowned slightly, continuing to slice the Byss cheese for their sandwiches. She prided herself on her sandwich-making skills. Sandwiches were nutritious and fast. Padme liked fast.
Hey, that was easy! "Yes, Obi-Wan says he's feeling better, but I still need to hang around our quarters for a while. The mission took a lot out of him. It's nothing too serious, though, don't worry."
Padme spread the cheese on the two Para-rolls, slopped on some relish that her mother had sent her, and surveyed her work. She poured iced Kopi tea for them both into one glass and stuck in two straws. There. Romantic, but not too. "Let's eat," she said.
The river thought.
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Part Fifty-Nine
Despite their Senator Yudrish Sedran's stance against the Military Creation Act, the Chalactan Embassy put on a good spread of food and Palpatine wasn't one to hold grudges. Tonight the scent-markings of kurets imported for the finicky Kubaz reminded him that as Supreme Chancellor he was expected to ingest and imbibe all manner of strange things. As he eyed a succulent Klatooine paddy frog, judging the precise place to strangle it before it wriggled free and embarrassed him, he caught sight of Mon Mothma daintily adding land shrimp to her plate nearly filled with crunchbugs and roast kroyie. He didn't know where she put it all. He had to think of fruit, a repast he detested, in order not to load up and later suffer for it. After he gained more influence, such alien delicacies might become scarce. Because aliens themselves would become scarce, at least on Coruscant. Humans should and would come into their proper inheritance.
The Force sent visions in the strangest places and times, Palpatine thought as he greedily surveyed the rest of the reception's buffet, spearing just one more zog out of its briny sea. He froze in midstep by the aurodium-plated tureen. Shortly prior to the pleasure jaunt with Anakin Skywalker two weeks ago, there was a directive from a meditation to slip in a black market delayed-timer fire accelerant --- Undetectotane, sweetest little flamer on Coruscant, mate, want to liquidate some unprofitable drags on your property portfolio, grab that lovely insurance, this is the baby that'll do it and none the wiser, eh, eight thousand credits, two, three, four, thanks, there you go, mate ... mate ... uck ...urggggh ... wha ... THUD --- into their vehicle. One week later, there arose his vision of gathering some truly juicy blackmail on prissy Miss Naberrie via subverting her simpleminded protocol droid's subroutines. It took an unguarded comment in the fool's hearing about Senator Amidala being in danger of a Senate-rocking scandal that might end her career to spur the cogs in the thing's skullcasing. When he assumed his rightful position, Palpatine would reduce such uppity droids to hauling garbage or pumping out cesspits. The camaraderie he'd observed between the two metal ninnies only furthered his disdain. With soothing squeals and whistles, abetted by Palpatine's commed instructions and the immediate erasure of certain memories, the gibbering moron adjusted Curlytop's trusted astromech to "spy" mode, which had paid off nicely this afternoon. A modification of a certain audio-only specific-frequency comm unit only took seconds. Whatever else the little trash barrel gathered would surely be secondary to the knowledge that Senator Amidala and Miss Retbax shared a heady employer/employee rapport.
Palpatine stared down into the zog brine, seeing an extended version of the results of his arson: the dejarik table whose bolts he'd loosened did hit Kenobi's shaggy cranium as before, but this amended vision went further than the moment of impact. Instead of seeing bloody bone fragments as he'd hoped, he perceived that Kenobi lived on, to an end Palpatine could not see. So. Still pestering. Pah. The vision got more interesting when a sublimely nude Anakin sprawled prone on misty ground near a babbling brook somewhere. His apprentice-to-be glared over his shoulder at Kenobi, who emerged from the mist and then pounced on the boy and ... and ... Palpatine dropped his pickle. A dimwit buffet attendant with a dippy smile and a spotless new smock said, "Here y'are, sir, no harm done, sir," and handed it back to him. He clutched at it automatically.
Palpatine knew the vision advanced in time somehow when the brine shimmered a new, darker shade. In the fog behind Obi-Molester-Kenobi and The Vacuous One, on the other side of a queerly-shaped bridge, there floated two tiny human figures, one in the foreground firm and true, the background one unshaped, but exuding a powerful potential if ever forged into a weapon. And Palpatine knew beyond doubt that these ephemera embodied weapons deadly to him, personally and ideologically. Kenobi being peripheral to the scheme of things as he surely must be, it was Anakin who was the source of the fog and who might produce the two threats to all Palpatine's dreams of a new, peaceful, secure empire. No. This would not happen.
Skywalker is an idiot savant in the Force. But what a savant. That insignificant twit, Kenobi, wants Anakin all to himself. After all the grooming I've done! Listening to the brat's sniveling for years with a gentle, concerned smile plastered on. My version of this vision is Anakin knocking Master-Dear into the stream and sitting on the puny git until he drowns. Sensing no courtier of importance looking in his direction, Palpatine allowed himself an unnaturally wide grin at his imagination's meanderings, seeing Kenobi's last bubble of air surface and hearing the splashing struggle. He paused. Yes, it was not the Force, but his own bile fueling this delectable sight. It wouldn't do to slip into a Plagueis-style megalomania at this stage of the game. Later on, he could relive each step, each calculation driving his plans to success. But always with an eye to the Force.
Palpatine blinked and shuffled along the buffet line. He gestured to a secluded bistro table near a noisy fountain that would discourage eavesdropping. "Let's eat," he said to Amedda.
The river drooled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixty
"That'll be fifteen credits for the Togorian Terrorizer and twenty for the Pink Wampa. Enjoy." The server wrapped its first tentacle around the delicate crystal flute of the frosted drink, oozed the second tentacle around the clear cylinder of Obi-Wan's blue cocktail and pocketed the credits with its third.
"I ordered drinks for us because I got away early. My treat, since you're taking on the dinner tab. Stars, Obi-Wan, the Elfin Sprite? This will devour your month's stipend and then some." Jedi stipends were more generous than most citizens thought.
"It's worth it, Lu. I've the need for Coruscanti civilization tonight. Trow had its charms, though." Stoneslugs, mmmm. "And you, how are you?"
"I'm fine, we're fine, thanks for asking. Barriss might be ready for her trials as soon as next year."
The server returned, whipping out a recording stylus for an order comm's central unit adhering deep in an interior fold of blubbery skin. Obi-Wan didn't want to think about where the stylus' retaining cord disappeared to. It was a retro touch in a place this upscale. "How's the soup?" he asked.
"Fresh cream of algae. Might I suggest an hors d'oeuvre also? The pan-fried crispics accompanied by Mutandan porf are my choices."
Luminara raised her eyebrows practically into her cowl. "My choice, too. Obs, how about you?"
"Fine. Appetizers and soup for two, then." The server undulated away.
"Back to me, Obi-Wan, I'm heading to New Holstice in three weeks. Barriss has her own assignment here at Temple and then she'll join me. My first Padawan, but not my last. I'm suited to having them, and Master Yoda is keeping an weather eye on the initiates for me. He'll help me choose a list to consider for next time." Luminara downed half her drink, smearing her finger around the rim and the sugar crystallized there. "Drink up. I'll get you another when you're through."
Obi-Wan swirled his Terrorizer, inhaling its biting bouquet. He put it down rapidly. "I don't want to drink tonight."
"Whoo, whooooo. Good one." Luminara's throaty laugh didn't reach beyond their section, but some diners nearby looked shocked, as if they thought that Jedi never laughed at all. "Hahaha! Haha! Ha ... ha ... heee ... Obi-Wan? You're serious?"
The blue stuff in the crystal cylinder might have been speeder coolant for all Obi-Wan cared. His frown crinkled his brow and he squeezed his right bicep unthinkingly. "It's not appealing tonight, and maybe any other night, don't know why."
Luminara slid the newly-arrived appetizers at him. "Put something inside you first, man. I'll be your common sense." She wolfed down a crispic and tried the soup. "Mmmm, nice and salty."
Obi-Wan ate heartily, still pensive. He didn't speak until they each had mostly finished. "Lu, Trow has changed me."
The Healer snorted. "Must have, if you've quit drinking. Maybe you've been around Anakin's abstemious habits too much. How were things on Trow with you two? Any clashes?" She waved the server over.
Obi-Wan sat stunned. "Cl-Clashes? No. Just the opposite." Too much. He picked up his last crispic. "Let's eat," he said.
The river chewed.
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Part Sixty-One
The freshening breeze stirred the flameflowers into nodding before they closed their petals for the night. Lying peacefully on his back after their picnic, Anakin felt the prickle of grass beneath his neck and on the backs of his hands. The Living Force was strong in their spot. The hedges, woven through expert gardening techniques into a matted barrier, proffered one tiny entrance into their haven. It made Anakin wonder how many other couples had found this nook, rolled on its grassy carpet, moaned aloud in bliss, unheeding of strollers on the opposite side of the verdant wall. Coruscant had numerous places like the Maze scattered about, but the most peaceful in the Force were the ones within Galactic City. Anakin thought that it might have to do with the contrast between ultra-bustling lifestyles and bucolic languor. Not that there were eopies or banthas here, although the Zoo nearby had specimens. No, this bit of Force vibration was on a lower plane: insects' humming, leaves furling, birds winging home for the night. Other than sentients, predation stopped at the reptavian class in Coruscant's upper levels like this one. There were hawk-bats and others as top predators, keeping pylat birds and insects' populations at reasonable levels. Scavenger droids recycled any corpses or leftover carrion. Everything was neatly balanced here by sentient minds imitating Nature. Anakin gathered strength for the time he would unbalance the scheme of things in his life.
Padme stirred beside him. "Time to go, Ani," she whispered a bit impatiently. Profoundly respectful of Jedi methods as she was, they left non-Force types such as herself out in the cold. "I'm leaving now." She gathered her carryall and placed their soiled dinnerware inside. She looked about for any stray garbage. As she knelt before rising, her foulard rippled in Coruscant's manufactured evening zephyr.
Step Two. "I'm sorry I won't be staying tonight," Anakin said without opening his eyes. "Are you very lonely, Padme?" Suddenly it was important that she was not. Some loneliness was unavoidable, such was life, but she was an outgoing person and shouldn't suffer for her marriage to a Jedi.
Padme brushed his reaching fingertips with hers, but didn't take his hand. She sat back on her heels. "No, Ani. I'm" --- content? --- "content. I walked into this life with eyes wide open. I have a life without you, don't worry. I was invited to a Chalactan reception tonight, for instance."
"Can you still make it?"
"No, it's winding down now. You know those early-riser Chalactans. Now, if it had been Corellians ... "
"Ha. Yeah. Just like the Gungans, party-hearties, all of 'em. They'd just be getting going about now. Say, speaking of Gungans, how is Jar-Jar?" Please say he is off slogan-making detail.
Padme wrapped her arms about herself. "He's all right. I took him off Propaganda; his last slogan was outrageous. I helped him start a synchronized swimming group for overstressed Senators, not just from our Chommell Sector but Galaxy-wide. Gorothin Vagger of the Andoan Free Colonies takes his mind off Ando's defection by swimming and he particularly enjoys partnering with Jar-Jar. I do, too. You should come see us sometime."
Stressed. She's saying she's stressed. I can help with that. "I'd rather go out dancing with you, Padme. You're wonderful on the dance floor."
"Mmmmhm, dancing sounds lovely. Remember the first Corellian Ball you escorted me to?"
"Do I ever. Danced my feet off that night: you, Mon Mothma, you, Sheltay, you, you, some tonedeaf Whiphid, you, Jar-Jar ... "
"What did you do, memorize your dance card?"
"Yes. It's part of our training, you know. I've had to work at my memory since I'm not gifted with an eidetic one." He'd memorized flight manuals much more easily. Circuits he could feel in his mind, chips' precious metals, the way power conduits connected, the physics of flight. Names meant beings, slithery beings, shading off part of their essences so that others couldn't truly see them. All except Obi-Wan. He smiled and opened his eyes. Padme was smiling back fondly at him. But only fondly. He cleared his throat. "Erm, what I mean to say is, Padme, if you have needs, uh, need to get out of the house at night and I'm not there, it's all right to comm somebody, like Jar-Jar or Bail when he's free, or someone you may know that I don't, and go to these functions without me. I don't mind." He sat up beside her. "Really."
He's in earnest. Oh, Ani, I, I, "I'll think about it. And thank you."
They clasped hands and helped each other up. Anakin took her carryall. "I'll walk you back to the apartment."
"Uh, no, no, that's not necessary."
"I want to, Angel." She was so sweet to keep their marriage under wraps this way. It must be difficult. "I'll be your escort. No one would suspect a Jedi of wrongdoing." Dooku's image left a nasty taste in his mouth, but he pushed down the thought. Half the kata done. The easier half, I bet, but still ...
Did Ommane take everything away with her last time? Could Ani sense anything? I'm sure I could hold a straight face, but now there's Palpatine's spying to think of. "I'm fine, Ani. Go back to Obi-Wan. If he's not yet well, you can meditate him out of it, maybe. Or do something practical like rub his back. Give him my best, now won't you." Little sharper tone than she'd meant, but Anakin couldn't accompany her home. "I'll see you again. Soon." She kissed goodbye as passionately as she was able and left.
The river whisked.
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Part Sixty-Two
Luminara tapped her selection on the datapad. "Filet of saberjowl, complete meal. Heavy on the hoi-sauce."
"And you, sir?"
"The same," Obi-Wan parrotted. He could hardly think. Closer?
"Good choice, sir." Their server's appendages collected the used dishes, straightened the chargers, adjusted the bowtie encircling its jowls and lit their table's candelabra before Luminara interrupted. "Hold it, please; no hoi-sauce for my friend's order." The server clacked its beak in affirmation as it rippled towards the kitchen. "Trow has changed you, Obi-Wan. I have no desire to treat you as your Healer tonight. Hoi-sauce, remember?"
A banquet three years previously had led to an intersystem incident, with only Anakin's burgeoning diplomatic skills holding down the fort while Obi-Wan recovered from his newly-discovered allergy to anything hoi-based. The stains he'd left on the Ualaq princess' gown had looked permanent. Anakin had negotiated the Republic's donation of a new summer wardrobe for the princess, whose wrath had cooled appreciatively then. Obi-Wan had been immensely proud of his Padawan and had told him so when the swelling had abated and he was again able to speak. Anakin. "Thanks for your care, Lu. I was distracted."
"You. And Anakin. No problems, you say? Are you certain?" She wasn't a soul Healer, but came close enough.
"Yes. Some new developments, though. He's getting more independent. Wouldn't say the Request-for-Master's-Authority after I asked him to." He could talk about this with her. They were both Masters living with their first learners.
Luminara started, then studied the nails on her lightsaber hand. "So he released it for some critical reason due to the mission and refused to reinstate it. How do you feel about that?" she asked neutrally.
Typical Healer's response. Obi-Wan shifted his weight. "We're ... closer, as I said earlier, and I comprehend why he didn't say it again given the circumstances" --- What circumstances? Oh, circumstances like him knowing better than his Master about some things and collapsing a table and me wanting to bathe him in clotted cream and toss, uh, towel, him off with my tongueurp. Off-topic, Obi-Wan. --- "so since he'll be a Knight soon, this won't be an issue at all anymore." But he's not going to be ready for Knighthood even next year. "Should probably forget it. He's a good Padawan." Closer. Maybe we're too close. "Here's our meal." He picked up his fish fork. His hand had recovered completely by the time he left Anakin.
The saberjowl proved delicately moist, and Obi-Wan confessed a certain sense of rightness in the Force that he was eating the thing that tried to eat him on Kamino. He stabbed the last bite with his fish fork, rolled it around in his mouth and washed it down with pure water.
Luminara watched him amusedly. "Good, wasn't it?"
"Yes. I'll live on this for a month. Can't hold dessert, can you?"
"No, I'm through, thanks. Obi-Wan, come by tomorrow. I'm prescribing memory vitamins for you."
Pills, bleah. "If you say so." This dinner had posed some questions. Tonight should answer a few. Obi-Wan paid the dinner tab while Luminara hailed an air-taxi. She held off on any more inquiries about Anakin, Trow, or absentmindedness. He was grateful. She outlined her plans to establish a combat-readiness course for Healer Junior Padawans and as she went further into it, Obi-wan pondered how the war aged the young Jedi and sobered the older ones. He himself found his current happy state an absolute joy and had Anakin to thank for it. Whatever happened next, this unexpected, unlooked-for closeness would sustain him for a very long time. And he would not give it up easily, should anyone ask.
The river firmed.
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Part Sixty-Three
Obi-Wan loosened the laces on his leggings atop his full stomach. He sat on the floor in front of their battered sofa. Better exercise some of that dinner off. He touched clenched fists between his widespread legs, stretching to the right and left ankles. At least fifteen reps. He stopped after a dozen. Anakin came in from the kitchen, dusting his hands of cookie crumbs and swung a leg over his Master's shoulders to plump down on the sofa behind him. He kneaded Obi-Wan's neck and placed a palm on each temple and pressed inwards lightly, repeating the pressure with hands on forehead and occiput. Obi-Wan lolled backwards as Anakin commenced rubbing his palms over Obi-Wan's short, fine hair. "Brilliantine would look good on your hair, Master."
"Brilliantine." The things he came up with. Anakin rubbed back and forth, back and forth. Obi-Wan could be more content, he supposed, but he couldn't figure out how.
"Not now, but when it's longer. It grew fast before."
"Perhaps. It's not a prime consideration right now."
That sounded ominous. Anakin wanted to lighten the mood. "Brilliantine's not too oily or lacquery, it's shiny and nice. And it's fragrant, too. And deceptive."
Other than fixing one's hair in place, it didn't register how hair pomade could be deceptive. Obi-Wan waited. He knew his Padawan had small tolerance for mysteries and at times jumped to conclusions. Obi-Wan wanted to be a good example. He waited some more. Anakin continued rubbing back and forth. The silence lengthened. "Anakin."
"Hmm?"
"I'm your Master."
"Without a doubt." Of all things in the Galaxy, I am sure of that.
"I can ensure that you have a long gray beard before recommending you for Knighthood."
"I know." Anakin continued rubbing back to front, smiling at the image. A beard, like Master's. No, I'm not that much like him.
"I can assign Initiates' Hall duty."
Not so bad. By the time they left Master Ali-Anann's nursery, they made few potty mistakes and most of them were socialized enough not to bite. "Yes."
"So tell me, how is brilliantine deceptive? It's too clear for camouflaging one's face." Obi-Wan's mind had been working on the poser non-stop.
Anakin rubbed side to side. "Its innocent use covers for its lubricious one. It would be convenient just to run your hand through your hair and ... "
"Innocent? Implying its opposite, guilty? Do you feel guilty over our evolved Master/Padawan relationship?" He feels guilt over the Tusken incident, and now this? How can I help him?
Anakin rolled his fingers down where Obi-Wan's long sideburns used to be. "Yes. I do." And not because of Padme, though perhaps I should. "Sometimes I think I could train and study harder and be Knighted sooner. But I know that I'm not ready. I'm having you all to myself" --- and I love it --- "but the Order and the Republic need you, too, to make more Knights out of Padawans. Some Padawan with Temple training, and not as much trouble as I was in the beginning."
Obi-Wan reached up and grabbed both Anakin's hands, thankful that his own right one was recovered and could appreciate Anakin's supple right glove. He pulled the arms down around his neck to feel Anakin's cheek against his. He nestled his growing beard against the shaved smoothness and tugged the braid dangling against it. "Anakin, you've spoiled me for other Padawans. And we are officers in a war, we don't know how long it will last. Already the Jedi Order is changing. The Council goes on missions; it never used to. When protocol changes so much, it doesn't go back to what it was before. What I'm trying to say is, this is a time of transition, and you are my constant." He kissed Anakin's crossed thumbs and rose. "Ugh, I'm getting out of this uniform."
Anakin's eyes filled with tears and he couldn't move. My constant.
The river blinked.
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Part Sixty-Four
Obi-Wan surveyed his profile in the narrow mirror on the back of the closet door in his bedroom --- our bedroom, now --- and placed both hands in a vee over his stomach.. Greater effort, Obi-Wan. Shifting his legs apart, moving to arms akimbo, he leaned far to the left and then to the right before bobbing down in the middle and belching. There, I feel better. He assayed five more and was about to quit for the night when he sensed Anakin sneaking up behind him. He pretended he didn't. Down front, left bob, right bob, stre-e-e-e-e-e-etch. Farther this time. And again. He blanked his mind to all but physical effort, gliding from one form to the other. Dancing? Why am I thinking of dancing when I'm trying to blank? He started to hum a marching song from initiate days intended to move recalcitrant younglings from the beach or playground back into regimentation. The cadence rolled him along smoothly. He was bobbing down when Anakin stepped up behind him sometime later with no pretence at subtlety, close enough to let him feel his arousal.
Instead of bending to touch his toes submissively at Anakin's affectionate squeeze at his waist and silent demand, Obi-Wan heaved to the right while still bending forward, clearing his left leg from the ground until parallel to the floor while bracing both forearms on his right thigh. He continued whirling to the right, staggering Anakin into an off-balance stumble that left him open for Obi-Wan's stiffened left leg to clip the back of his Padawan's knees. Anakin laughed as he fell, rolling on the carpet, and Obi-Wan laughed, too, as he took his advantage into a headlock where they remained supine for a moment until Anakin regrouped enough to rotate his left shoulder partway free and slam his left arm across Obi-Wan's chest. The blow bounced off Obi-Wan's ribs ineffectively, but a leglock succeeded when Anakin worked his left leg under Obi-Wan's ankles, bracing his strength with a stiffened right leg until he whipped said leg over to lock his own ankles around Obi-Wan's calves. Now it was a question of superior endurance that led to a stasis, Anakin's head close enough to his Master's chest to hear the thumping of his heart and feel the warm breath riffling the top of his head. They strained together, not breaking a sweat. Good thing we're wearing night clothes, otherwise we'd have rug rash. Obi-Wan caught sight of his face in the elongated mirror. Lips parted, eyes wide, an anticipatory gleam in them. The picture of excitement. He met his own eyes, while still straining to maintain his position. You naughty Master. You've shown your Padawan delights that none of the other Masters have shown their learners, but he's shown me things, too. We're training each other. Is that wise?
Anakin picked up on Obi-Wan's hesitation without knowing its reason and pushed for advantage, going limp. When Obi-Wan's grip didn't follow this new attitude, there was some wiggle room. Anakin wiggled. He whipped his head out from the headlock, uncrossed his ankles and rolled onto his side. When Obi-Wan didn't pursue, Anakin propped himself up on one elbow. "Give?"
"Always."
Anakin smiled and leaned in to kiss Obi-Wan's ear. "Let's get off the floor."
Obi-Wan pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Let's." He stood, offering a hand up to Anakin. They looped arms around each other's shoulders as they walked five steps to the bed, never breaking touch as they faced each other at the footboard. I'm ordering a larger bed. I can say that, that ... I'll think of a reason later. Obi-Wan sighed as he slid his fingers across Anakin's taut chest, taking the lead as he undid the fastenings from underarm seam to pants' midthigh hem. He pushed Anakin's head down through the neckline slit and out the side opening, tugging the stretchy material down the long glory of his Padawan's golden form until the garment pooled at Anakin's feet. He knelt to lift one foot out of its rumpled covering and then the other. While he was down there, the throbbing organ at eye level deserved attention. He ran his lips from frenum to base and back again, breathing heavily, shivering himself as Anakin shivered once violently.
Anakin's mechno-hand braced Obi-Wan's head above the ear to guide the moving moist tongue to the most pleasing stretches of sensitivity. He flattened the flesh of his palm against the flesh of his cock, leaving room for the talented mouth to continue. When the arc of his arousal bumped his lower abdomen, he groaned and thrust frantically until Obi-Wan was forced to leave one hand on the floor to keep from being knocked over. MMMMuhhhhh, he's big, but I think I can take the important part in and leave the rest, there, watch the teeth, lips cover them on the outstroke as well as the in, I taste salt, and now is the time ... yesss ..
As he came, Anakin dug his nails into Obi-Wan's scalp, which would need a minor healing of three minutes, tops. He staggered back until he sat down heavily. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, savoring the release from intense feeling as much as he had savored its relentless onslaught. Padme had some things to learn on their next night together. We've never done this, why? She likes hands well enough, but mouths are more intimate. And softer. And wetter.
Obi-Wan rose and swiped the back of his hand against his lips, looking at the resulting smear of foamy white. He dipped his tongue in the residue curiously. It's an acquired taste. He stripped off his undergarments and wiped the rest of the come on them before tossing the wad in the far corner of the room. Anakin remained seated as Obi-Wan pulled the covers back on the clean bed and lay down. Giving the man time to recover from being undone, Obi-Wan found himself thinking of someone --- Jira? --- who had said freedom was everything. He didn't ever recall meeting her or hearing anyone speak of her. Maybe I do need memory vitamins.
The river anticipated.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixty-Five
This is the something athletic I was thinking of by Gitchy, Obi-Wan thought as his Padawan's energy level flagged. I'll do the work. Anakin slumped briefly, then sat up against the headboard. At this point, Anakin was nose and lips and tongue and teeth --- ow, watch it, Padawan --- as Obi-Wan stood on the bed, legs wide, hands braced against the wall as he thrust. The leverage wasn't the best and this slowed him down. Until he closed his eyes, the framed print of Qui-Gon and himself on Master's thirtieth Knighting anniversary hanging on the wall smiled back at him from stomach level. Obi-Wan didn't want to think about anything except Anakin and was rapidly becoming unable to think at all. He was jolted from his rhythm when Anakin moved his lovely mouth away from its absorbing task and sneezed. "Your hair tickled, sorry, Master," he snuffled. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the bed and smeared his cock and both hands with the spicy-scented lube while Anakin retrieved a handkerchief and blew his nose. After a few thoughtful moments, Obi-Wan fluffed the pillows into one pile and added two sofa cushions underneath. Anakin looked on quizzically until Obi-Wan sat on the pillows and pulled Anakin face down over his lap, rounding the muscular asscheeks with squeezes and pinches. After giggling and squirming, the position relaxed the already-relaxed Padawan further and he became a pliant lump. Obi-Wan sent a long pulse of comfort through their bond and was rewarded by a deep sigh and a murmured "I trust you, Master." He looked down into Anakin's cleft and slid the side of his hand up and down it. Anakin was so limp that he sprawled even more and nestled his cheek on his mechno-hand. He breathed slowly out when Obi-Wan prepared him by tapping an insistent finger against Anakin's opening until it pouted and the finger slipped in. He waited patiently until the moment was right and slid in two more, twisting slowly until Anakin sighed again and came minimally more awake.
Don't stop! Oh. You're shifting me off the pillows. Am I too heavy for you? This is all soooo gooood. Sooooo gooooood. Hmmm. Hmmmmm .... zzzz ... zzz ... zz ... huh. Don't doze off and insult Master, don't do it... don't f-fall ...f-f-fall ... asleeEEP. Anakin snapped wide awake when a bewhiskered pair of lips nuzzled his cleft, followed by a wet warmth that shot all the sleepiness out of him. His hands scrabbled on the sheets, but there was no purchase. The devastating warmth piercing sensitive spots rolled over him in drowning waves until he heard his voice whine, "More?" in as high-pitched a tone as Leader Qikal's. Some shuffling and then he was being spread and tipped head downwards while Obi-Wan knelt to enter him with one long stroke. The blood that had shunted to Anakin's head reversed course as best it could, but the position, added to his general fatigue, resulted in a half-hard cock. Anakin was satisfied, though, because there would be many more exciting exchanges in their future. He anticipated Obi-Wan's moves in a give-and-take rhythm that he was getting used to. All comparison to Padme's talents returned as Anakin felt himself sliding along to the foot of the bed. A four-poster at this point would be nice, something to grip. Padme could never do this, not even if we stocked our toybox with all those things she mentioned. In a split second, he remarked that Obi-Wan's inventiveness exceeded Padme's, although this was not necessarily a reason for preferring one lover to the other. He didn't think the Force had anything to do with inventiveness in this arena.
For several minutes Obi-Wan's senses blurred into one, with no distinction between touching and seeing and hearing and tasting and smelling. It was the white noise technique, really; nothing stood out as distinctive and everything in the galaxy redshifted along while time slowed most pleasantly. Then an echoing sense of someone else in their room impinged on his mind and he nearly stopped to ask Anakin if he sensed it, too, but the echoes dopplered out and it was just the two of them again. What was that? In the background of the mostly sleeping Temple inhabitants, striations of consciousness made themselves known: three someones were ill, someone was talking in its sleep, someone could not quiet her mind and tossed ceaselessly despite meditation techniques, and a baby needed its formula. Obi-Wan nearly lifted Anakin's weight off the bed as the bedsprings creaked with their movements. Even while he noticed Anakin's palms guiding his grinding hips, the analysis of the echoes continued in a small, a very small, back room in his mind. Whimpers of pleasure and exciting locales tickled the analyzing lobe of his brain, some images of an mountain-cold lake with a boat docking at an ancient rustic villa, or perhaps it was a resort, or a fort, something large. Inside the villa/resort/fort were perhaps a half-dozen pips of sentient life, one outstandingly powerful in the Force intimately connected to one other. The something that Obi-Wan was familiar with now permeated their connection, but in a different way. This way involved tiny variations of responses, different methods of play, in fact, different shapes to play with. It was outside Obi-Wan's experience, yet not outside the realm of his imaginings. The analysis room turned off its console and shut its door, shortly after deciding that the other pip connected to the powerful one was not a Jedi.
Anakin had never felt this passive, this willing to let someone else take over for the greater good of their relationship. If this had been a kata similar to the one he had earned his yellow Merit Bead for, the Self-Control In Meditation arduous one, he would have practiced and trained for years before finally achieving success. Had he been practicing all the days since Trow, since the humiliating sting of Festival Night? In that case, this Submission Kata was one of the shorter ones to conquer; it had only been nine days since his humbling performance on the commons. In some ways, it felt like a lifetime. As he was pushed forward in a series of powerful lunges followed by a trembling halt in the proceedings, followed by another slam, Anakin grabbed the footboard's rounded top to brace himself. It was time to stop thinking.
When Obi-Wan reached the point of no return, he whispered, "Darling," but Anakin had no matching endearment other than the one he always used. "Master," he said quietly.
The river responded.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixty-Six
If duty as a Councilmember hadn't led Obi-Wan to visit the sick in the infirmary the next morning, compassion would have. He nodded cheerfully to convalescents, winked at bashful initiates and made funny faces at toddlers. At the one psych ward patient's silence, though, he was at a loss. Even through great pain, a fellow Jedi in full mental control could still be sensed struggling to shield, sublimate discomfort, or with Luminara's guidance and the aid of the Force, coursing through their own body to help with recovery or, at the least, containment of illness. Jedi without full mental control couldn't be supported other than physically, yet if they could speak, Luminara and her fellows had a fighting chance to reach them. Luminara occasionally asked the help of the telepath she was most familiar with, Plo Koon, although daring to invade another Jedi's mind even to receive simple impressions presented risks of the defensive patient hurling up powerful shields and injuring themselves further. Mental patients most often stayed one month or less; Depa Billaba's insanity was not temporary.
"She's never come around?" Obi-Wan took Depa's hand in his. It was warm and pliant, like an artist's mannequin's hand that stayed posed where you put it but couldn't move on its own. Life thumped at its radial pulse point. Life, but not a glimmer of personality. In the Force, her mind from forebrain to midbrain resembled space without any stars or even stray bits of cosmic dust. There was no life for midichlorians to spring from. Unless he could consider her tireless hindbrain as sentient, which he could not, he hadn't a hope of reaching her essence. But he would try anyway.
"Talk to her, Obi-Wan. As if she needs catching up, as if she's been offplanet and needs Temple gossip to connect again. I'll fetch your vitamins and check my calendar for this afternoon if you want to talk to me instead of Healer Regork about your latest mission." Luminara's robes swished down the hall and the ambient lighting shaded to "midmorning, rainy day." Obi-Wan heard her talking to Ry-Gaul, outlining Tru's post-release care when he left the infirmary this afternoon. He tuned out everything but Depa.
"How do you like beige, Depa? I've had your seat reupholstered. It was too soft for me, and it looks better next to Ki's leather one when they match. I've been on the Council for six months now. It's hard. We haven't experience in full-out war and some of us are showing the strain. The clones are remarkably adaptive; their vigor makes them the perfect fighting machines and my poor efforts have been only aided by their ingrown tactical abilities. I'm glad it's just you that hears me say this, but they know more than I do about putting an army into the field. They seem to have been inculcated with a respect, almost a reverence, for Jedi that could go to one's head, so maybe it's good that I'm on the Council. Being on the Council is humbling, because there is day-to-day contact with beings that know much about many things, not a little about a lot of things. It's not just my age, it's things like Master Rancisis' ploys that have led us to what small victories we can claim, and Master Yoda's overall caring for the Order, and Master Gallia's superb piloting. You know that I care little for flying, yet here I am every day thinking about how I can improve my abilities. Sometimes I tire of learning, you know? A breather from input would be nice, or a trip to Ragoon-6. I could live there, meditate endlessly, breathe in the Force ... uh, let's get back to you. Can you hear me? Whatever your cri--- actions, if you wake up, I'll negotiate for you. You'll not face things alone. You're never alone when you're a Jedi, Depa." Obi-Wan squeezed the limp hand and smoothed a wrinkle on her muslin gown. "I'm going, but I'll be back again, soon. Anakin's waiting for me, and" --- I'm stupidly grinning right now, can you sense that? Never mind. --- "on my next visit, I'll have something else to share. Goodnight, Depa."
e!UoP
Depa Billaba, that's my name. That's who I am. Maybe for only a split second, I have myself back. Not in good mental or physical shape, am I? If only the nurses could make me walk. Ohhhhh. Most times I see the ward in outline, like when you get up close to a two-way mirror and see phantoms watching you from a darkened back room behind it. And now someone's turned on a bright light in that observation room. Keep the light on back there so I can see more of you! I miss being on the other side of this mirror; if only the dark hadn't seemed so right, so warm ... Now I'm not light, not dark. I'm used to living, or rather existing, in black nothingness. It's quiet in between the screams. Sometimes they're mine. Hello, what's this? Visitors! Familiar scents, familiar steps, not my closest friends but that's all right, I'll take any visitor I can get. It's ... It's ... Luminara? And a male ... Obi-Wan! I saw you both grow up in your classes, each of you a standout. If only I could open my eyes or talk or even smile to say, "I know you, I'm in here, get me out." Mace was here yesterday; now how do I know that? Luminara, bright one, tell your staff I need someone to sing to me, that singing reaches me in here ... oh, there goes the light, someone's dimming it ... oh ... oh ... no ... Obi-Wan, you look different, my brother Jedi ... and I see the reason for it ... and I can't tell you ... be careful. I really don't want any company in here ... black nothingness suits me now ... goodnight, all ... goodnight ...
The river closed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixty-Seven
"Master, how are you feeling?" They were the only occupants of Luminara's waiting room and the Temple seemed even more echoing than usual. Almost inaudibly, a nalargon tootled a series of sonorous notes in the piped-in background music.
The chairs outside Luminara's office were comfortable, but Obi-Wan squirmed anyway. "All right. I know that we need to talk about many things with Luminara. I'm sorting them through." The music was supposed to relax patients, but Obi-Wan found it more grating than relaxing.
Anakin pressed on. "When you and I Force-imprinted, I had one impression of you and then when we sparred and you got hiccups, I touched you and your impression was different, a tiny bit, is all. Do you know why?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "No. I haven't Force-imprinted with anyone other than you. It's something to ask Luminara about, if you're concerned. Or maybe Master Koon; it was his technique we used. But Anakin, let's gather ourselves and think about possible repercussions of our session today." Plan, Obi-Wan. It's what you're good at.
Unifying Force time. Ugh. "I'll tell everything about the Tusken camp and she'll listen and prescribe meditation." It would be clear-cut and straightforward. He was better at meditating than ever before in his life. And he knew his actions were wrong, always a help when seeking self-improvement.
The nalargon player changed keys in its ongoing melody. My simpleton. "I hope so, but we must prepare for situations like Master Yoda and the Council becoming involved, punishment details, no, forget I said that, uh ... my being rebuked for thinking your dreams would pass --- "
"It's nothing to do with your advice, Master. It was unforeseeable by you that Mom's ... Mom's ... d-de ... " It hit him all over again. Torture. Tatooine. He never wanted to see the place again. The Lars household would keep up Mom's grave.
Obi-Wan dared to drop a kiss on Anakin's bowed head. "If you had only told Senator Amidala of your trauma, we could have started helping you a year ago." A frisson of dislike shook him and he quashed it.
Anakin lifted his head, gaze still downwards. He straightened in his seat. "She was nice to me afterwards."
"She knew?" Obi-Wan's stomach churned. Now he did have reason to dislike her. What could have possessed her not to tell Anakin's superiors, tell his Master, that he had committed these actions and obviously needed a helping hand? It was unconscionable. Why Anakin did not now have complete contempt for her he could not imagine. It was a slap in the face of decency not to help a nineteen year-old boy, Jedi or Falleen or Bothan or Mayor of Galactic City or --- Obi-Wan shut down his rant. "And she didn't tell us, Padawan? Why could that be?"
Stars' end, not now. "She was nice to me, and she didn't want to make trouble for me. She was in touch with what I was going through, and she helped me by listening, Master. She was my friend. Please don't malign her character. She does respect Jedi ways even if she doesn't know a lot about them. Maybe she thought you'd sense it through our bond. She doesn't know how it only tells location and general emotional state and then only when you access it --- " But our bond has changed, too. I'm dealing all right with that, but is Master?
--- "no excuse, she's an adult --- "
--- "please, Master, not now. Let's handle one thing at a time, all right? Padme's peripheral to what I did."
What you did. You used your lightsaber, the one I trained you to swing, and I'm sure you were swift in dealing out your r-r-revenge, but it was revenge. I can't overlook that. "Padawan, I'm here to help."
"I'm a Senior Padawan, Master. Whatever comes, I can handle it. But you're right, I do need help." The nalargon riffed up and down three octaves. Anakin searched for and found the off switch to the overhead speaker. Some minutes of silence later, Luminara's office door opened and Knight Tachi emerged, flicking a glance in their direction before stalking away. Obi-Wan ignored the brushoff and stood up along with Anakin, touching shoulders.
Luminara smiled her professional smile at them from the doorway. "Please come in," she said pleasantly.
The river strode.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixty-Eight
"You're certain they all died?" Children, women, pets? The aquarium in the corner bubbled as usual while Luminara took in what Anakin had just confessed. Noncombatants? Violent, savage, unpleasant noncombatants, but even so, no one to offer any real resistance to a Jedi. The dark side had touched Anakin. Luminara's heart ached for Obi-Wan and for Anakin, too. Ever since Ansion, she had been fond of Obi-Wan in a teasing, affectionate way, a way garnered by imprisonment together for days in close quarters. Barriss had befriended Anakin in a prickly, occasional-scramball-match attending kind of friendship. Barriss said that a little of Anakin went a long way. Luminara sensed Anakin's glad acceptance of Obi-Wan's support.
"Yes, Master." Anakin hadn't spared the pet massifs who sprang to defend their masters, he hadn't spared the masters or the master's families. At the moment he couldn't weep for any of them. He knew he'd feel better if he could.
"Luminara, sandpeople are sentient and they have a culture. It's a barbaric culture, preying on the unwary, the soft, the unfortunate. This doesn't excuse Anakin's actions; I merely want to point out that his dear mother was a victim like countless other victims of a savage people."
Negotiating as always, my friend. "Restitution could be made." Perhaps Healer Regork would approach this case differently; Luminara tended towards the pragmatic.
Anakin gaped. "Credits for what I did? Credits?"
Luminara was as dispassionate as her training in this field of the mind had prepared her to be. "They're savage, you say. What customs do they have for righting wrongs? What if you hadn't been an individual redressing your mother's passing, but a warring tribe raiding the camp to avenge its kidnapped member?"
Obi-Wan had prepared for this kind of question with cultural databases imported to his datapad. He fished it out of his robes' pocket and held it up so all could see. He blinked rapidly as if the room's lighting and even the datapad's glow were too bright for him. "The tribe to which the camp belonged roams the Jundland Wastes near Gafsa canyon and accepts skins of water, casks of preserved hubba melons and dried vaporator mushrooms in trade for wrongs."
"I won't hear this," Anakin choked out. "They were people, sandpeople and I killed every one of them. I know that I, I, wasn't myself, that I was out of my mind with grief, but you can't seriously suggest I find their kinsmen and shove a load of water and vegetables off a landspeeder and say, 'Here. Payment in full.'"
Anakin had a gift for drama, Luminara observed. "Their belief system requires it, Anakin. Even a lifestyle such as theirs realizes that endless feuding results in annihilation. They cling to life in a hostile environment and have found a way to end eternal vengeance. Would you deny them their small comfort because you don't have the same beliefs?" She stared but looked away quickly when Obi-Wan placed a Masterly arm around his Padawan's shaking shoulders and fondled the base of his braid. "It's the same concept in life insurance, Anakin," she continued. "A payment for things that can never be bought. A necessary conundrum, if you will. As long as you do realize that life is the ultimate value and cannot really be purchased?" As Anakin tearily nodded, Luminara remembered with a jolt that Anakin had been a slave, had been bought and sold. She regretted her misstep and was relieved when neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin took note of it. "I'll leave you to think it over while I discharge Tru." She rose rather quickly and headed for the door.
Anakin brightened. "He's going home?"
"He is, itching salve and all. Ry-Gaul says it's far too quiet in his quarters without Tru. He says his ears ring from the silence."
Obi-Wan forced a small smile. "And what does Tru say?"
"Too much." Luminara shut the door. Twenty minutes later, she blinked twice at what she saw through the glass top half of her door. She froze her hand above the palm plate a split-second before it would activate. In her darkened office, the aquarium lamp's soft glow outlined Anakin's tall form sitting on Obi-Wan's lap, the Master rocking his learner slightly. She made a show of saying loudly, "Now, who shut off my music?" and stood on a chair to switch the speaker back on, scraping the chair's legs on the floor. By the time her head came back in line with the glass door, the office lights were back on and Anakin and Obi-Wan sat in their respective chairs once more.
"Back again. Anakin, how are you, my boy? Any thoughts, questions?" He didn't look quite as woebegone; more like a young man coming to terms with his flaws.
Anakin heaved a sigh. "Master Lu, if you think reparations can be made and will satisfy Jedi honor and sandpeoples', too, I'll, I'll do it. But I need time, I ha-- strongly dislike that planet."
Progress. And so fast! "I think that it's a good first step, Anakin. Let's end with a meditation and we're done for this session, unless there are any more things to bring up?"
Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. Anakin cleared his throat. "Only a, a peeing problem, but I seem to have gotten over it lately."
"Urinary tract infection? While you were on Trow? You needed to have told me sooner; let me look. Obi-Wan, wait outside if he's bash--- "
"No, Master Lu, I mean to say that I did have a small, um, shyness problem, but that it's gone away."
"I see. Well. Good, Anakin. A breakthrough on your own, Padawan. I'm encouraged about everything else, and you can be, too. Let's meditate now." The Force was a welcome break from conversation.
The river covered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Sixty-Nine
Padme forced down the Torpedo's yoke, diving through five lanes to the place where she'd first realized Ommane was her most valuable handmaiden. The others currently in her employ cared for her and she for them. They had been in rough predicaments from even before the Trade Federation's invasion of Naboo acted as cement to their camaraderie. When each handmaiden joined her service, Padme awarded her with a shared time on Varykino as long as Padme herself or her family didn't need the beautiful villa. The offer was good still when each retired, on average after two years. One handmaiden after the other took her up on her offer. All except Ommane. Whether the timing was off or not, or the seasons Ommane was available for a leave weren't her favorite for a vacation, Padme didn't know. At risk of seeming too nobly condescending, she broached the subject one morning when Ommane had collected her the night before from a club whose name she couldn't remember. Padme had been married for six months and had welcomed her husband into her bed with joy and tenderness the few times they had spent the night together. Twice she and Anakin had found a linen closet unlocked in the bowels of the Senate and had made use of it for twenty-minute trysts. That had been fun and fast, just way Padme liked it. The night that Ommane had collected her from the anonymous club, Ommane had paid the bar tab, elbowed her way through the crowd while clinging to Padme's wavering arm and made it out the door. Ommane strapped her employer into the Torpedo with sure hands and had kept her head. The handmaiden had switched controls to the rear seat; even under those stressful conditions, she saved Padme's reputation by making it look like the Naboo Senior Senator was sober enough to pilot. The ride home was a sick blur. Padme clearly recalled only Ommane's square-tipped hands undoing her robes and hairpiece, slithering a stiff nightgown of pristine white over her nauseated body. Ever since that night six months ago, Padme relied on Ommane's slyness and discretion to bring her home safely. Anakin is a complicating factor. My work comes first and I'm afraid he can sense it. Jedi and their powers. He says he can't ever read my mind, but what if he suggests things and I think that they're my own ideas?
From the club came muted Kloo horns, at least two of them, and a vioflute played amateurishly. A chidinkali flute joined in to make it a quartet. Good. ColdCuts is playing tonight. Ommane's a fan. The gaiety surrounded and filled her with lightheadedness, a sense of youth, and relaxation all at once. Not even the bite of ryll in the air spoiled the mood. I'll be blasted out an airlock if Palpatine is going to intimidate me away from this. After the valet parked the Torpedo, Padme swept through the usual crowd without missing a greeting. Ommane was waiting at their favorite booth, frowning. Oh, she's upset. I'm not late, it's one of her favorite groups playing wonderful dance tunes, what could be wrong? Padme had hoped for a respite from upsetting news this evening.
"It's your wedding anniversary tomorrow, Milady."
Ommane knew about Ani, all her handmaidens knew. Briefly Padme wondered if any one of them could be a spy for Palpatine. She sank deeper into the booth and floundered helplessly with no thought to saving face. Ommane had seen her many ways these past months. Padme had gotten over being embarrassed in front of her. "I forgot. I forgot. What with Naboo time and Coruscant time, I forgot, Ommane. What is the use of having a protocol droid if it won't remind you of things like that? Threepio's due for an overhaul. I was telling him last night about Anakin's latest mission and he called him 'Master Anapkin.' If Anakin is too busy, I'll drop Artoo off along with Threepio at the Lipartian Way shop." Fond of the the two droids as she was, they were machines and needed attention like the Torpedo did..
Ommane shifted closer to her employer; she was able to do that since Padme had stopped off home and removed today's Senatorial headgear, the last truly extravagant piece that Padme owned. Now and again Padme liked to remind herself that she had been a Queen of Naboo. "I've purchased a gift, Milady."
That's out of bounds, young lady. "Thanks for the thought, Ommane, but I'll have enough time to shop for something. What did you select for him?" Ommane had only a nodding acquaintance with Anakin.
"An inscribed crystal Ebla beer mug. It says, "First In My Heart, Always. It could be one of a series of gift mugs, that way you could re-order far in advance and always have something timely inscribed for each anniversary: 'Second To None,' um, 'Third Time's The Charm,' ah ... ah... "
"'Foreplay Should Be Legislated ...' " Padme deadpanned. Ommane snickered in a teen's sudden explosive mirth, and Padme saw that her handmaiden could show her lighthearted side in public. She had wondered. "But Ommane, I do know him better than you do. Anakin isn't a drinker. Not one bit of liquor has passed his lips in the time that I've known him, as an adult, I mean." Did Tatooiners allow their children to drink? It would take the edge off the pain of living in slavery. She couldn't picture Shmi allowing it, however short a time she had known the woman. It would make him unfit to work for Watto, too. If I could plan your childhood, Anakin ... "On Varykino, it was a bit awkward. Paddy Accu tried to induce him to try some wines and beers, but Anakin wouldn't take a sip. He said that he was afraid of himself losing control." It's that Jedi Chosen One prophecy again. Ani's always waiting for whatever he was Chosen to do to crop up and he wants to be unimpaired.
"Beg pardon, Milady, but isn't that a bit boring?" Ommane downed a shot of whatever she was having as if to make her point. "Liquor can make some things so much more enjoyable." She looked up from under her lashes in that way that she had. It didn't impress Padme.
Overstepping again. "Ommane, Anakin is not boring. He's my husband and I'll pick out his present." Crystal does appeal ... maybe a crystal water goblet? She waved to the server. "Two shots of Namana liquor. Hold the umbrella."
The river dripped.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy
"Anakin, do I seem different to you?" Obi-Wan ran lazy fingers through Anakin's undone braid.
Anakin frowned. "I said earlier that you did, Master. Don't you remember?"
"Uh, that's right, that's right. Guh. Today has drained me and if I feel this way, you must feel even more enervated." They lay comfortably reading together, Obi-Wan sitting against the headboard of their bed in his blue bathrobe and slippersox, Anakin sprawled prone in his undergarments on what he was beginning to claim as his side of the bed. Obi-Wan put down his datapad, marking his place in the selection of short horror stories he'd begun for relaxation. Rancors, sarlaacs, and the angels on Iego's moons figured prominently in one story. The angels sounded the most fearsome of the lot. Obi-Wan was ready for a thrilling haunted house story where there was a logical explanation for the phantoms in the end. Even an ambiguous ending left him uncomfortable.
Anakin put down the Delta-7 Aethersprite technical manual that he was considering writing an addendum to, thumbing in a bookmark over the blinking page number. "It brought back memories of my Mom," he said soberly. "Cliegg said she was happy in our last comm; he's sent me some vids of them together. He's been able to move on, but his health is beginning to fold. To me, he seems resigned. Life in a repulsor chair is getting to him."
"I'd like to see the vids." Obi-Wan craned his neck to see what Anakin had flipped to on his datapad until Anakin straightened up and sat beside him.
"Here's a party at the Boonta Eve Advent-a-Rama at the Moisture Farmers' Grange eight seasons ago." Obi-Wan watched a woman, who bore no resemblance to Anakin except for her nose, dance with a rough-hewn man with a big smile on his face. They clomped in a line dance, doing about as well as their friends in keeping in step. Then the slow dancing began and the couples paired off in a back-pressed-to-front writhing maneuver that exuded sensuality even through their thick plain clothing. Anakin pressed on through two more ten-minute vids, regretting they were not formatted for holograms so that he could see his mother happy in three dimensions. Married, Mom and Cliegg. Happy all those years. Working hard while I was working hard. Mom was Owen's mom for longer than his own birth mother. My mom was the best mom. Married. With anniversaries ... my anniversary! Tomorrow!
Obi-Wan noted the dancing in the last vid, a step-slide-slide-step similar to the one Depa had shown him long years ago. He was four and she let him stand on her boots while she slid him around the playroom in the Initiates' Hall. Today's visit had been painful; her blankness unnerved him like few things. He smiled for Anakin's sake. "Lovely couple, Anakin. She looks quite happy. They seem very close." Close. Was he too close to Anakin? Today, holding him tightly in his arms while he wept, Obi-Wan had wept in his heart. If he weren't so blast-door-solid happy, he'd be worried for himself. "I would have flown you to see her, Anakin, if it were allowed," he blurted. "I'm glad Cliegg has kept up the relationship with you. And Owen and Beru, too."
Anakin nudged Obi-Wan lightly in the ribs. "I know you would have. I know you. Even detesting flying as much as you do, you'd have done it."
Obi-Wan considered. "Thank you for saying that, Padawan." It was true. Tonight, however, he thought of flying as more of a chore than anathema. A chore that you did the quickest, best, most effective way possible so the enjoyable things could begin. He marveled at the change in himself. It was similar to the change he felt when he was loving Anakin last night. Things he had never before considered doing sounded reasonable and even exciting to him to further his pleasure and Anakin's, too. He wondered if this was the answer to the question he'd asked himself at the Elfin Sprite. He supposed it was. He was too close. He didn't care, though.
The river adhered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-One
In their first-but-not-their-last club of the night, the Frozen Ozone Hotspot, Ommane and Padme clung together in a slow dance before separating. They held Ommane's left and Padme's right hands together for one of ColdCuts' standards, the Coruscanti Gavotte, offering their other hands out to partners that materialized swiftly for the lively circle dance. With a whoop and a yell, the quickly-forming group skipped to the left for the regular ten skips, then reversed direction, all the while giggling and trying not to trip over their clothing. Padme had changed more than her hairpiece at home; she had donned a lightweight suit consisting of a tailored red-orange jacket and trousers with low white pumps. Some partners hadn't come prepared for the high steps and almost fell, which added to the merriment of the informal crowd. Most beings looked as if they had stopped here directly after work, which in this venue could mean a banker's sedentary position or a sculptor's studio. A few practical ones backed away after the first two sets, including some who had had too much Namana liquor to drink, but not too much to know that they were uncoordinated and in danger of injuring themselves. This left six couples swirling, laughing, and swinging their arms high with each "Whoop!" Ommane's red stiletto pumps caught Padme's eye in the part of the dance that involved touching one's heel to one's opposite knee, kicking outwards and hopping towards the center of the circle. She didn't see how Ommane could balance on the heels and kick at the same time. It was all part of being seventeen and an amateur scramball player, she supposed. Padme's sport of synchronized swimming flowed leisurely from one pose to another, the one spot of calm activity in her hurried days. Jar-Jar helped immensely with his relaxed, close-to-Nature quality of living in the moment. She treasured him for that reason, if for few others.
Ommane's red stilettoes happily pranced as only a seventeen year-old could prance when the skipping part ended and the hopping sequence began. Hop-hop-click heels-hop-skip. And so on, until Padme grew breathless. "Let's stop before ... I ... get a ... stitch," she gasped. "Ommane. Ommane!" But Ommane urged her on.
"Exercise ... good ... for you ... Milady ... " And so Padme persevered until an opening skip made her stumble. Ommane caught her. "All ... right, Milady?"
"Y-yes ... but now ... let's sit." They backed out of the circle of happy gavotters, grabbing the laughing dancers on either side of them by the wrists and smacking their hands together to bridge the gap that they had made.
"Hah ... good crowd tonight." Ommane was hardly out of breath.
Padme agreed. "ColdCuts brings them in each time."
Ommane nodded sagely. "Versatile, they are, Milady, yes, yes, mmmmm?"
Padme laughed at the girl's Yoda impression. "Ommane, Ommane, call me 'Padme.'"
"Hmmmm?"
It was getting louder in here. "I said, you may call me 'Padme.' We've gone beyond 'Milady,' don't you think?
Ommane blinked and Padme could almost hear her mind spinning in calculation. "Yes, but --- "
"No 'buts.' It's Padme when we're ... together. Like this, or at 500 Republica."
"But not the Senate."
Padme met her gaze directly. "No."
Ommane ordered another drink before replying. "All right, Padme."
"If Elle or the others say anything, tell them that you may be going undercover for my protection and you want to practice calling me by my first name and thinking of me less formally."
Padme noticed the way Ommane lit up at this notion. The girl had ambitions and maybe wanted Padme's job someday. If she did, she'd be the first handmaiden to climb that particular ladder. Padme swirled the Nemana liquor that some server had automatically freshened. It was said to be addictive. I'm allowed, Padme mused. It's not spice, she told her conscience.
Ommane boldly took Padme's hand, sliding a stiff finger down its palm. Padme felt the response more slowly than if she'd been sober, but she still felt it. "Would you join me at Varykino some holiday, Mi-- Padme? It wouldn't be the same without you."
"So you've told me, Ommane." The silence lengthened as ColdCuts commenced a slow, burning ballad sung hoarsely by their vocalist, Teragram Gingwit.
"Dance?" Ommane held out her hand as she rose.
Padme was feeling her liquor, but wasn't yet drunk. "All right. Just one more."
"Certainly, Milady." Three times they ground their way around the dance floor, and when management doused the lights and turned on the glitterball, Ommane hoisted Padme into the air before running her hands around her employer's back to support her while Padme squealed in delight. She's been working out more if she can do this in stilettoes. Padme wrapped her thighs around Ommane's waist and hooked her ankles tightly. She's changed.
The river speculated.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Two
"--- flirp --- crackle --- CRACKLE --- hmmmNNNNA Amidala here. Anakin, ... -ou get away?"
Anakin squeezed the amplifier button on the small comm, leaning forward from his seat on his own bed. "Say again?" He cupped his hand around the annoying scrap of technology.
" --an you get away tonight? Happy Anniversary, by the way. The flowers are lovely. Thank you."
Looking out the window of his room at the late afternoon sun, Anakin smiled. Flowers. Always get by with flowers. "Happy Anniversary, Angel. What kind were they?" Oooops. The florist droid had said, "Whatever we have, since it's so late, it'll be something in season, Mister Jed I. Walker. Do you wish 'Mister Jed I. Walker' on the vid card?" "No, just 'Ana--' uh, uh, 'An Admirer.'" He covered quickly. "Erm, I said, 'One dozen of your best.' So, uh, what sort are they?"
Good save. "Flameflowers. Same shade as the ones in our spot. Only a little past their prime, but that's all right" --- chuzzle --- "---akin. Soooo. Shall we say dinnertime, here?" I've checked the entire apartment. Nothing incriminating for him to spy. 'Spy,' hmmmm. Anakin couldn't be spying for Palpatine, could he? Editing himself out of my life, leaving Ommane in. Nooo, Padme. He's not clev--- he's not, uh, not like that.
"Fine! More than fine! I'll be there with bells on!"
"Please. See you later. Amid--- chissszzz --- floop --- out." Anakin scowled at his end of their dedicated comm and lay out a small set of tools alongside it to take with him.
"All ready for your night out?" Obi-Wan appeared in Anakin's half-open doorway.
Anakin sat down on the tools and the comm. "Yes, thanks. I'll be very late, Master. I'm designated flyer for us all." The mini-SoroSuub F-187 fusion cutter probed a very uncomfortable spot. Anakin squirmed. "I m-might stay in someone's quarters, or we might get a room somewhere, you never know. Don't worry about me."
"Never." The bed creaked as Obi-Wan sat down very close to Anakin. We'll have plenty of time later, Master. Don't get up to something now. Not now! Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's cheek. "Have fun, Padawan. I'm going to finish my short stories. There's a Jedi-themed holovid tie-in, I Saw What You Did Last Mission, that might prove amusing." Anakin squirmed again and Obi-Wan chuckled. "Now, I know that you don't like the horror genre, but I find it tame and nicely predictable. I've seen enough horror on our missions to find the vid studio's version of it anticlimactic." Obi-Wan launched into a retelling of a plot of unendurable banality, while Anakin induced a small Force-push from his buttocks to cushion them from the metal tools. He'd never initiated a push from that part of his anatomy before and it took most of his concentration to maintain it. " --- so wasn't that entertaining, Padawan?"
"Mmmmmmhm. Gotta go, Master. Darra and the rest are waiting in the hangar." He'd spend Happy Hour with them, program the speeder for wherever their next stops were, plead space-lag, and be on his way to 500 Republica. Another time he'd not have to lie. A large part of him hated it more and more. "Enjoy your vid." He smacked a farewell peck on Obi-Wan's jaw. "Bye."
On cue, Obi-Wan left with a backwards wink. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He sidled out the half-open door and palmed it completely shut behind him. Boy needs to unwind with his agemates. Yesterday's session with Luminara calls for layering over with some fun. I felt when he used the Force in there; probably shielding some residual distress to protect me. He's just twenty, after all. Obi-Wan flipped open the slot on the holoemitter, setting it for 'black-and-white.' Good mood enhancer. Lots of shadows.
The river coalesced.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Three
"Anakin, Ani .... mmmmm .... " Not wanting to topple onto the sofa or knock any of Padme's knickknacks over on her --- their --- caf table, Anakin braced himself against his wife's onslaught of lips and hands. She is wonderful. So passionate today! A change from day before yesterday. She must have released her stress somehow. Anakin swept into her delicate mouth with wide, panting kisses that she eagerly returned. He ran his hands down her back to cup her perfect buttocks through her thin pink evening ensemble and lifted her against him. She groaned into his mouth before squeezing a hand in between their bodies, traveling inexorably downwards. He flinched away, a little tender from sitting on his tools. "Ow."
"I'm sorry, does Little Anakin have an owwie?"
He didn't like it when she pulled her difference in age into their relationship. "Padme, don't. Obi-Wan and I sparred a lot this morning, starting at dawn. I'm a bit sore yet. I'll take a bath later on and stretch things out."
She grinned predatorily at his choice of words. "Come open your gift." She padded to the endtable in her brocaded house shoes and retrieved a box tied with several gaily-frizzed ribbons. "Open it."
It was more of a command than an invitation, but he smiled gamely and undid the ribbons. Inside were small pearlescent support beads cradling two crystal water goblets. "It's something Mama sent last week. She's been posting me items for my hope chest, the dear. Until we can live together openly, I thought we might have one here and you can take one with you to the Temple so that we can think of each other when we see them." I am a married woman. Sometimes I need something to remind me about that fact.
xxxxx
Palpatine sniggered to himself when Amedda's massive form withdrew from his office in his usual ponderous steps. He had already informed his staff that he would spend the night on his office sofa after reviewing a security protocol's installment. Part lie, part truth. The best kind. The kind the Negotiator excels at. He heaved a longsuffering sigh. My vision showed Kenobi being struck by the gaming table, and Anakin's rescue by the Billaqori. Why didn't the Force show me that they both were succored? Granted, my eyes aren't what they used to be ... Force, don't desert me now. Palpatine paced before the great window without seeing the wondrous city outside. After a while he sat down, rocking for a few minutes in his ergonomic chair. He palmed the Republic's emblem on the side of his tasteful desk and the glossy surface flipped over, revealing a large holoemitter the size of a regulation scramball. Time to update my files on Missy Prissy and her predilection for juveniles. First a nineteen and then a seventeen. What next? Are you trying to recapture your overprivileged, overscheduled youth with bouncing baby boys and girls? He rubbed red-rimmed eyes weary from plotting campaigns with the Jedi in early morning strategy meetings, midmorning public relations brunches, explaining the course of the war to the Senate in the afternoons amid funding appeals and holding late night meetings with the dark side of the Force to further his own agenda. He was an elderly man, he thought to himself, whose legacy was nearly ready to unfurl. A peaceful, secure, righteous Galaxy, human-dominated. Lately he'd even been thinking of banning humanoids and near-humans on Coruscant so he wouldn't have to even look at them. Amedda he'd fire without a second thought. Why, I trusted a Zabrak to be my apprentice, and look what happened. All flash, no substance. He'd become artistic in his old age, he supposed, because at times the thought of a pleasing uniformity of skin color appealed to him. It was a half-formed notion as yet. Monochromatic white skins around him would soothe nerves jangling from the demands of leadership. But how to implement it, how to implement it ... Eh, onward to my 'special' time. I'll review the audio comm files later.
Palpatine blinked his eyes rapidly to disperse the redness and felt them turn color into a sickly harvest gold tone. Enraptured by the process as always, he wrung his hands and cackled. Depraved old git. Get on with it. You could use some relaxation. Last time was mind-boggling, the permutations those two lovelies engaged in, what acrobatics! Wiping spittle from his lips and rustling his moistened right hand inside his purple veda-cloth robes through a tailored hole in one pocket, he palpated his withered organ. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of the Republic, Lord Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, leaned forward lasciviously towards the enhanced top-of-the-line holoemitter and flicked its switch with a bony finger.
xxxxx
Anakin had some time to spare before the takeout arrived, and when he used his mechanical talents it meant that he didn't have to talk. Third part of my Breaking-Upsetting-News Kata. I think that will be the most difficult. Should I attempt it tonight, or tomorrow morning? He broke open the casing on both comms, peering inside the tangled works. Could it be something physical, or something in its programming making the annoying flirp! sounds and occasional clicks? He pulled out the works and spilled them on the caf table. After degaussing the entire pile, the static, if that were the cause of the problem, should be erased. He set about degaussing. He heard Padme in the bedroom saying something to Artoo. He finished degaussing and measured the comms' electrical state, satisfied that it was correct. Artoo trundled up behind him, Padme following closely.
"Ani, if you have the time, could you also look at Artoo? If you do have the time, that is; if you don't, I'll have him and Threepio go to the Lipartian Way shop." It was their anniversary after all, and Padme couldn't monopolize the talents he'd displayed the first time they'd met on Tatooine on this particular evening without feeling a little guilt. She looked forward to monopolizing the conversation at dinner more. From what he had said in the Maze, Trow sounded like a thoroughly banal place, and she'd prefer not to hear more about it.
"Sure. Come here, Artoo. How's it going?" Padme rolled her eyes when Artoo tweedled out a string of notes. Her music appreciation course told her that they were slightly off-key from his usual range, but that was all. Anakin squinted into Artoo's systems diagnostic input receptor.
"Padme?"
"Yes, Ani?"
"Hold this light closer, please. He's got something jammed in here, all right. Looks like he's been trying to work it loose on his own, poor little guy." Anakin patted Artoo's tilted dome with his flesh hand.
"Let's see, he was in the bedroom these last few nights for powering down. I instructed Threepio to direct him somewhere else, but I haven't paid much attention to either droid lately. Life's been ... well, you know, and Artoo can be sneaky when he wants to."
Anakin poked his expandable tweezing tool into Artoo's slot, careful to set its magnetization lever to zero. He'd not want to affect Artoo's memory in any way. "It's a chip," he said, sliding the wafer the last few centimeters with the Force. He held it up so that she could see. "No manufacturer's imprint, nothing remarkable other than that."
Threepio's servomotors made their high-pitched sneezee-thump rhythm as he came down the steps from an upper room. "Master Anapkin! Whatever are you doing? My little friend needs tender touches, not poking with rough unsterilized tools! Thank the Ma--- uh, thank you that he isn't damaged. He isn't, is he? Artoo, say something!" Threepio's coverings would be dripping nervous perspiration if he were an organic, Padme thought.
"Flirp, flirp, flup, ptuuuuuuiiiiieeeee!" Artoo swiveled his dome back and forth, giving the impression of an organic shaking off dizziness after a near-faint. "Toooodle-redoOOOoo!"
"Master Anapkin, I feel my subroutines shifting, it's so v-very strange, please ... help ... meeeeeeeeee ... Makerrrrr ...... Anapkkkkiinnn ..." Threepio's photoreceptors flickered and blackened. His servomotors froze.
"Threepio!" Already leaning over Artoo with great concern, Padme and Anakin shifted their attention to Threepio for a split second, then back to Artoo as his round eye analog flared brightly. Their heads pressed together, the couple saw reflected in Artoo's orb not their own images, but a convex view of a hideous yellow-eyed face also leaning in, leering at them from seeming inches away. The rheumy eyes looked older than old, with an evil glowing deep within them, like rotting phosphorescent fish eyes. Anakin reacted with Jedi reflexes, thrusting out a hand to block the disturbing view, and a blue flash of feedback hit his Force-protected flesh palm and traveled back to Artoo's eye, disappearing soundlessly into the little droid's dome. Artoo went dead, equally soundlessly. Padme and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief at their near escape from electrocution and embraced each other.
xxxxx
Caught with one hand inside his secret pocket and the other too weak to fend off the focused blue lightning alone, Sidious shot back in his seat as if poleaxed, his back arching orgasmically. Anakin and Padme? They are my doom? Did Plagueis feel this sick betrayal as I do? Sidious' eyes smoked and exploded as his brain cooked through and through, but not quick enough to prevent agonized thought. Failed. Failed. Dooku won't be able to hold my Sithly dream empire together. Grievous will look to Dooku for strength, find self-indulgence instead, and rise up against him. For a machine, he's not very loyal. It was Sidious' only unequivocal failure interpreting a Force-vision to have devastating consequences. As blue bolts pierced him through in his office, Sidious cursed all sides of the Force as he died in a coruscating arc of blue-white. Not even the Dark Jedi adepts that he had discreetly approached as Palpatine could help him reincarnate now, as he had thought they might. Blast, he thought, expiring. I was almost sure Kenobi would die on Trow, almost!
xxxxx
Mace Windu wasn't one to experience boredom as others did. He had the vast Republic to admire, even though her Senatorial ditherings over the past few years frustrated him. To his almost shame, the war had improved the ruling body's alacrity in only minimal ways. He did not include Senators such as Amidala in his critiques; his meetings with her impressed him greatly with her speed in getting to the point. He approved of her and her fellows. As he entered the nearest meditation chamber to his quarters and settled in his favored kneeling position, Mace could see where non-Jedi might find the repetitiveness of his life boring. As he left his surroundings to bathe in the Force's supporting warmth, he pitied those non-Jedi without a trace of condescension. The Force was with him. Mere minutes into a meditation that others might call routine, Mace suddenly felt as if he were standing under a waterfall of rainbows, hearing choirs, tasting Whyren's Reserve #12 Special Limited Distillation, smelling Haruun Kal's homey, ripe jungle odor, and seeing the violet speeder that he'd modded when he was seventeen. The biggest, widest grin that he could recall ever having split his face and he whooped inside himself, no, out loud it was, he thought wonderingly. From a normal meditation to an experience approaching ecstasy, the Force sang around him. Slipping sideways into the Force's lens of shatterpoints, he discerned a lack of Sith that was disturbing, but in a good way. Only a ripple of Sithly presence disturbed the Force's ebb and flow, a ripple centering upon one not nearly as powerful as the one malicious being who had created the nauseating whirl of blackness that had occluded his perception for years. It would seem an apprentice had lost his master. If the anonymous master has been destroyed, and Dooku is left, it would be a struggle to end the war --- such an awful war that 'winning' was the wrong term --- yet with Dooku, a former Jedi, the Republic had an edge to knowing his mind. No, ecstasy is the wrong term. The right term is YEEEHAAAAAA!!!!!
The river came.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Four
Master Ali-Anann retied Initiate Mimo's hair ribbon for the third time that day. The Mirialan toddler switched from babbling about her new best friend to describing in detail how pudding was her dessert of choice because you could eat it with a spoon or a straw. The burly Jedi's large fingers double-knotted the white ribbons just to be on the safe side, setting her off his knee onto the floor again. She grinned up at him. "Fank oo, Mastuw."
"You're very welcome, Miss Mimo." He rose from the bench outside Meditation Room Thirty-Seven in one smooth movement despite his large frame. He leaned down to pick up his end of the leading rope that each youngling clan member clasped or sucked or wound its primary tail around whenever he led them from the nursery to the Room of One Thousand Fountains or any other destination in their enormous shared home. Suddenly, the door to the meditation chamber whished open and out shot his old clan mate, Mace Windu. Mace looked neither left nor right, letting the Force guide his precipitous progress as it sailed him over the line of younglings in one enormous hurdle. Mace didn't break stride until he approached the nearest corner. Then he stopped, shouted, "Feel the Force!" and continued his mad dash. Mace had the most amazing grin on his face. Not even as a youngling had Ali-Anann seen Mace with such a smile, though Mace was prone to explosive bouts of laughter when something was funny enough. Ali-Anann paused to access the Force.
"Mastuw, ice cweam!"
"Mastuw, slippy slides!"
"Lookie, a new belt!"
"Math-tuh, I need to toidy!"
Ali-Anann shook himself out of a vision of an uninterrupted night's sleep and tended to his charges.
xxxxx
"Sensed it, too, I did, Mace." Yoda's ears straightened enough to give the impression of grave thought; if they had been perked, Mace would have known that Yoda had not a clue as to what had just happened. He couldn't recall the last time the fuzzy ears had been perked. "A lessening of the darkness, it was. Something greatly affecting the Jedi has occurred. Time we will need to perceive in what manner."
Mace couldn't stop smiling. "But a good thing, don't you agree, Master Yoda? Whatever it was, something monumentally good has taken place, wouldn't you say?" Mace could live with his ignorance of the details; it was important to him to receive Yoda's affirmation of his beneficial vision.
"Good, undeniably. Farther than that, see I cannot." And Yoda would not commit himself further.
"What should we do next, Master?" Mace wanted to declare a general Jedi holiday, although the Jedi observed only the Republic's days of commemoration of past political events. Mace still wanted to acknowledge this marvelous moment in some way.
Yoda spared his fellow Councilmember a glance with slitted eyes. "Calm yourself, my friend. And join me for tea. When the event becomes known, have need for wide-awake minds, I think."
Mace could not calm. "Rejoicing comes from the Force, Master. Let me rejoice first, and then I will fulfill my duties with you." And Mace excused himself from the august Councilmember's presence, trailing in a dazed way back to Ali-Anann's nursery. The infants napped, the toddlers lay down on their blankets for late afternoon quiet time, and Ali-Anann had put up his feet on a hassock. He gestured to Mace to pull over the nearest rocking chair. They gazed at the future of the Jedi Order in silence. "So what was it, Ali?" Mace asked after a time.
"Big. And good. And that's all I'm sensing. Why, what did you perceive?" Ali-Anann smoothed his dark brown beard in a way that told Mace the nursery Master was content to wait for others to interpret, and that all that really mattered to him slept or dozed under his watchful eye. Mace took a moment to relax and study each quiet little face. For the first time since Depa's trouble, he thought about taking on another Padawan, and the thought brought him joy.
"Rebirth," he said quietly.
The river propulgated.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Five
Padme and Anakin collapsed onto the sofa, still shaking. "What was that?" Padme gasped. "Do you think --- could it have been another assassination attempt? There's nothing absolutely critical going on right now with my committees, but ... Artoo and Threepio gone? And that --- face, those eyes, I feel sick --- "
Anakin shielded his wife by turning away from her as he cupped his mechno-hand around the chip. It didn't detonate, but is it boobytrapped? He held it to his ear, enhancing his hearing. Nothing. I didn't crush it, I didn't ... no. There it lay, innocuous as it was deadly to his --- their --- treasured droid friends. Its plain ceramic surface held his interest. "No marks, none." He patted Padme's knee comfortingly and took up his light, adjusting it to 'infrared.' "Nothing." 'Ultraviolet.' "Nothing." 'Microscopic magnification.' "Nothing, down to the molecular level'." An anomaly? A synergy between the two droids, sparked by something Threepio had downloaded, such as a horror vid similar to the ones Obi-Wan adored, with its special effects filter eradicated? He didn't know.
Padme leaned over his shoulder. "That is a clue in itself, isn't it? Manufacturers always want something on their products."
"Not black market manufacturers. Someone on Nar Shaddaa could make these up and use nearly non-traceable materials." His --- their --- droids remained as immobile as a traditional-but-basically-useless Chommell Minor windgong, which only rang when hurricanes approached, generally too late for anyone to get underground. Too late for them. Anakin didn't know if Artoo or Threepio would ever move again and since analyzing this chip was beyond his capacity, he would need the Jedi Analysis Room and its SP-4 droids. "I'll take this chip to the Temple Analysis Room. We'll make something of it." He looked glumly at Threepio's blackened eyes and remembered the effort, the months, it had taken to build the fussbudget. It had all been for Mom. He'd not let this go. The ghoulish face still chilled him. "Padme, what were the droids' malfunctions?" It might be a long road to their repair, but he could take a first step.
Padme considered. "About three weeks ago, Artoo began showing up in my bedroom for powering down, every night, not just occasionally. And Threepio seemed to become even more dithery, if possible. I told him about your mission to Nepsa" --- boring --- "and out of nowhere he called you 'Master Anapkin.' He didn't process my corrections at all." She started when the door chimed the arrival of their takeout. "And Artoo acted the same as always," she said over her shoulder, "only now that I think of it, he positioned himself closer to the bed those ... three ... weeks" --- Ommane --- "um, yes, every night." Padme slid the door only open enough to take the dinners. "Thank you, Lance. Here's a tip for Pietro for last time. Got the Deltron Spice Wine and the Anoat Malted ... yes, I see you did. See you tomorrow night. No, tonight's not convenient, Lance. Goodbye." With a small smile for their tarnished celebration, Padme flourished two boxed meals that smelled divinely of terratta. "Dinner is served."
xxxxx
Padme isn't saying much. Anakin's flameflower-scented bath water was delightfully relaxing in the oversized tub that was shaped like a Solleu River duck. He floated on his stomach in a wide sprawl, pushing himself along the safety-roughened bottom with his stump, much like Kuki had poled their flatboat along the shallower stretches of Gitchy. He bumped into the head end of the duck and flipped over to float on his back. All the aches in his body left him; it was his mind that would not still. Yellow eyes ... not like the yellow-eyed fish on Trow, whose unblinking gaze led him to the surface and to life, the eyes harbored by Artoo spoke of death and perhaps something worse. He sat up to wash his hair, no longer awkward with doing so one-handed. After a plunge to rinse and a brisk toweling, he wrapped his outer robe about himself as a bathrobe substitute. This night isn't right for telling Padme about my future living arrangements. Tomorrow morning, before I leave ... I know, it will be a doorknob moment ... It would be the third step of his kata. Would it be better to tell her right before leaving, or set up a date to tell her ... the further off the announcement, the more Anakin liked it. But Obi-Wan and the Force, they deserved better. Padme would just have to learn new things. Maybe the things that Obi-Wan had done for him the other night, Padme could learn to do. It wouldn't be difficult, and of course he would oblige her in the same fashion. But we've never even talked about it, and something about tonight is telling me 'no' ... Placing his mechno-arm in the cabinet under the sink for the night after wrapping it in a plush towel, Anakin opened the fresher door.
Padme sat before her vanity, undoing her coif. She had no expression on her face at all as she mechanically brushed her hair, stroke after stroke. The curls shone in the soft glowglobe's illumination from the torchiere in the corner. It was the only light in the room. The pink stretchy material of her evening ensemble outlined her breasts enticingly. Anakin grinned and stood behind her elegantly-carved stool. He planted a hand on one breast, seeking her eyes in the mirror. She looked down at his hand, but otherwise didn't react. She continued brushing her hair worriedly. Anakin squeezed her breast, flicking at its tip beneath the thin material. The rosy tip that he had laved happily for many minutes at a time remained as flaccid as his cock. Anakin glanced at his hand and back again to Padme in the mirror; her head was canted far to the side as she continued brushing. She squinched her eyes as her hairbrush snagged a mat of curls, but the pain was shortlived. By the time she opened her eyes, Anakin had gone to bed.
The river mused.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Six
"You. And Obi-Wan."
Anakin drank the last of his caf. He wiped his lips on her elegant napkin and placed it beside her elegant table setting. He steepled his hands. How to explain this to a non-Force sensitive? Padme had not a whit of truly understanding the sense of surety he enjoyed with every breath. "Yes. Trow showed me so much. If you could only know the Force, Padme, you'd know this is real and true. My vision showed me how Master and I are meant to be together always, or something terrible will take place." He was no closer to discerning the meaning of the fog and the bridge and the meanness of Obi-Wan, but that didn't bother him. The pervading feel of a sick occurrence just over the event horizon in his vision had not left him.
Padme only stared. "You. And Obi-Wan."
"Yes. I know this is a shock, but it's for the best. Won't you think about it? We'll work something out, I'm sure of it." It was important that he not sweat.
Padme rose and clasped her elbows in her hands, prowling into the sitting room. "What do you expect me to say, Anakin? My husband loves his Master more than he loves me --- "
"Not true! Padme, I love both of you. I, I follow the will of the Force in this --- "
" --- which told you all those years ago that you and I would marry. Or rather that you would marry me. Some difference, I think."
Anakin moved from the doorway of the kitchen into the sitting room and spread his mechno-hand out to her, but she wrenched away, her morning robe falling open. He dropped his hand to his side, wishing he could switch percentages of natural body to mechno-body, so that ninety per cent of him could be unfeeling circuits and ten per cent could be liable to heartbreak. "I'm n-not certain it was the Force when I was nine. I think it was simply me. You were lovely and rare and precious on Tatooine." My kata is so difficult. "I love you both now. I want you both in my life. Tell me how I can have that. Padme, please." I bought both pairs of shoes in the mirage I saw by Gitchy. The vendor had red stiletto pumps and Jedi boots ... white boots, soft, sueded things I've never seen at the Quartermaster's ... "Please."
"Anakin! It's not easy being married, and now you want to make it worse?" Is Palpatine spying right now? Padme regarded her vase filled with flameflowers. Tampered with? Spychips in their pistils, their stamens? She laughed harshly. Get a grip. You knew they loved each other. They are always together, except when Ani --- Anakin --- is with you. And how rare that is. And how you do like your breathing room. "Anakin, if this is what you want, all right. I'll give it ... six months' trial. After that, we'll see." Mama and Papa and Sola, I do have 'someone special' in my life. A special pain.
"You'll see. It will work out." Anakin couldn't bear the ensuing hurtful silence. He switched on the holocomm to audio only, the Diurnal Dron's Drive Time Download show and was startled to hear sobbing from ever-giggling Dron.
"He - He w-was the only Chancellor some of us have ever known, so dedicated to us all ... it's not right, he was so young ... " Anakin switched over to a visual feed, Coruscant Today. An image of Chancellor Palpatine filled the holocomm's screen along with the date of his birth and this year's date? Palpatine is dead? His friend, mentor to all non-Jedi aspects of life? He sat down, crushed. Padme sank into the sofa beside him.
"Chancellor Palpatine, our dedicated leader, died some time last night in a freak power surge accident. He was discovered this morning by his oldest staffmember, also a confidant from Naboo. She called for emergency aid immediately and tried herself to resuscitate him, but he had perished." Professional attitudes deserted the announcer and her voice hitched. "Our Supreme Chancellor was, as many times before, spending the night alone" --- Padme looked down guiltily --- "working in his office reviewing a security protocol. Protecting us, in his l-last conscious deed. Palpatine of Naboo, we will miss you."
Tears coursing down his cheeks, Anakin sobbed, "I gave him a ride around the city in our Courier th-three weeks ago. He needed a break, he said. He was so worn out, Padme --- "
Padme pressed Anakin's head on her shoulder. "Yes. Worn out. He was old, Anakin. It's the same with all of us. It's the war that's worn us out." She lay her cheek on his silky spikes.
"How will we go on?" My friend, my selfless friend ...
She cleared her throat. "We will go on, Anakin. Procedures are in place to transfer power in these situations." My colleague. Not that I trusted him lately, but ... an old Naboo colleague. She held Palpatine's friend gently, spying the droid-destroying chip on the caf table and thinking hard.
The river planned.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Seven
"Terrible news, Padawan Skywalker." The SP-4 droid's vocoder held no inflection. "Our sympathies on the loss of your friend."
Anakin figured his puffed eyes and downturned mouth alerted the droid's empathy-interface chip. He'd not had the inclination to self-heal this morning. It seemed to diminish the Chancellor somehow. "Thanks. It was a loss for the galaxy." He gathered himself a moment. "This chip I need to have analyzed: material, origin, purpose. It was found on Coruscant, but could be from illegal manufacturing, possibly from Nar Shaddaa. I'll wait." What a night on the town. Sometime today I need to see Obi-Wan and tell him ... tell him what? Not about Padme, not about my lies. Tell him I need to talk about Palpatine, I guess.
"Understood." The SP-4 went into total droid mode, retrieving the chip from the input slot, bathing it in a stasis light that would hold clean all evidence touching the chip, while allowing analyzing techniques to envelop it. Anakin watched the SP-4 walk away to the bowels of the Analysis Room. He sat down to wait, placing the parcel containing his anniversary gift under his seat. He grimaced sourly as he kicked it further out of sight. My kata might never be completed.
"Padawan Skywalker, your requested fire damage investigation is ready to be appended to your Trow mission report." Another SP-4, identical to the first, addressed him in the same flat voice.
Anakin rubbed his jaw. "My what --- oh, the cause of the fire. Yeah, sure." So much had happened since Trow; the agreement with Strenghis had been nine days ago. Long enough for the Republic's teachers to have arrived, and Dimmie and Beebar to have returned home with them, if they so chose. Time enough for the retrieval team to locate the Courier in Gitchy's cold depths and begin to analyze the cause of the unusually tenacious fire that pierced the bulkheads of their craft. He shook his head, having trouble focusing, but he soldiered on. "All right. Give me a copy and a datapad." The slot produced the necessary items and Anakin sat down again to read. After ten minutes, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "SP-4, when did this report come to you?"
"0800 today."
"You've analyzed it?"
"Affirmative."
"There was an accelerant used?"
"Affirmative."
"It's a common one, most often used for insurance fraud arson?" I need Obi-Wan's detecting skills on this one.
"Affirmative. There were remnants of a delayed-action timer attached to the melted container, which was labeled in an obscure Huttese code 'Undetectotane.' 'Undetectotane' is mostly undetectable. What was inside the container were not 'Undetectotane' traces; it was a more common accelerant called 'Flame-On.'"
Cheated. Whoever sabotaged our Courier was cheated. The throbbing dull pain that had begun with a stiff neck spread to his tired eyes. Why would someone sabotage their Courier? Was the damage even meant for them and/or their mission? The Courier was a generic vehicle, used by Jedi for all ranges of security, from delivering foodstuffs to groundquake victims to ferrying small groups of visiting dignitaries. It made little sense for Black Sun or the Separatists to target this one. Something more personal? Well, Obi-Wan and I did almost die in it. And I am the Chosen One. Was I the target of the CIS or specifically, Dooku? Could some agent of the Sith be after Master in revenge for the Zabrak who killed Master Qui-Gon? His brain dulled by grief, Anakin thumbed his signature on the report. Twenty minutes of apathy followed. He's skipped his dawn meditation this morning and it showed.
"Report on the chip complete, Padawan Skywalker. You look fatigued; would you care for some water?" This droid had a fussing subroutine similar to Threepio's.
Water. Water goblets. Anakin shook his head as he trudged up to the window. "Go ahead."
"Analysis: Incomplete. Origin: Unknown, possibly Hutt world or colony due to Huttese codes. Material: Standard from any manufacturer, no significant variation in method of production. Purpose: Implant Huttese coding for conversion of standard droid programming to 'spy' mode upon input of chip in conjunction with subversion of partner droid's subroutines, to act in collusion with as implementer/enabler of transmission of information in the form of visual/audio clips upon triggering mechanism of key words and/or actions."
Artoo and Threepio, spies in Padme's --- and his --- household. "What key words or actions?" It couldn't be anything too obvious, such as "My committee had a meeting with the Chancellor today and he funded all our requests" or "I hear Orto's minister is taking bribes." It would be something more subtle than "bribes," or "Chancellor," or "funded." Was Padme right in thinking this was another assassination attempt, using the droids as spies to discover her travel plans or daily habits? Adrenaline chased away part of his headache. "What key words or actions?" he repeated.
The SP-4's vocoder spewed in a relentless monotone "darling, beloved, honeybunch, honey, sweetheart, no do it this way, sugarlips, angel, stud, big boy, sugardaddy, playtime, fuck me, harder, don't stop now, to the right, to the left, down front, faster, rub it, kiss it, kiss me, ooooooh, softer, I'm coming, oh Mama, more, baby, that's so good, wow, what are you doing, are you nearly there, my big man, my little man, my own sweetiepie, my you're big, suck it, put in the power converters first before you switch it on --- "
"Stop!" Anakin choked out hoarsely. "And --- the actions?"
"I shall verbally produce the Huttese binary code translations: sheets rustling, creaking bedsprings, in conjunction with room lights on or room lights off, tapping of furniture against wall structure or flooring, indistinct thumping from neighboring dwelling accompanied by muffled shouting. There are some obscure references to actions outside my database. Would you care to translate them for me?"
If only I could Force-suggest that you forget all this. This day could only get worse if I discovered that the droids had been spying when I last had sex with Padme, ummmm, oh yeah, the same day that I gave the Chancellor his ride around Galactic City ... oh, Chancellor, sir ... "No. I would not. And give me that chip. Place your findings under my security code, my eyes only. Top priority. Oh, and thanks." I need Obi-Wan.
The river blushed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Eight
There was nothing in Yoda's eight hundred-year-plus existence that had been more worth waiting for than this council meeting. He had insisted upon the complete group. He looked around the council chamber at his assembled fellows, actual attendance seven out of twelve with five flickers of blue from holo-emitters, each locked in a brief meditation for calm before beginning the session in the wake of this morning's shocking news. Good, this death was. Why? And why is young Obi-Wan exuding happiness in such amounts? Solemn, too solemn, his character always has been. Something has changed inside for him. As one, the council looked to Yoda, meditations complete. Yoda passed a small holo-emitter along to Plo Koon on his right. It displayed the latest holonews on the death, including the autopsy report placing its time within minutes. For a meeting of this import, it was imperative that all members have access to the same pertinent data. The off-planet members held their own holo-emitters with individual feeds, giving an odd double effect of a hologram observing a hologram. Plo Koon shifted his gaze one time to Obi-Wan, then jerked his attention back to Yoda. It was almost unseemly. "Felt yesterday, I did, a tremendous event in the Force," Yoda began. This morning we know what it was." The council nodded, serious expressions on each face or emanating from their Force signature if faces weren't visible. Yoda lifted his gimer stick and lay it across his knees, rubbing the width of it with one hand in a polishing motion. "Good, this event was."
"Master?" Mace was the first to speak coherently. "Are you well?"
"Well, I am. Mostly lifted, the cloud from the dark side is. Palpatine's death has done this. Gathered together, we are, to understand." Yoda heard his own voice say the words and knew he had to lead today's discussion personally. "Begin with the positive about the departed, we shall, by saying that Palpatine was friendly to the Jedi, always. His politics and himself, overstretching his authority. Gone badly for the Republic in general, despite the clones, despite Palpatine's extra powers, the war has." All in the room thought of crechemates, clanmates and even friends whom they would never again pass in the Temple hallways.
Oppo Rancisis concurred. "Our victories have been few and hard-won. The speed of the CIS' production of droids has been a factor I have learned not to ignore. We could be overwhelmed." It was a humid day in Coruscant's manufactured climate and the hirsute Thisspiasian clawed at his frizzy beard.
"Your strategies are all that have saved us, Master Rancisis," Mace avowed, glancing once at the holo-emitter and passing it along. "Without you, we would have relied on outdated ploys even more."
Rancisis bowed gracefully, sinuously. The end of his tail twitched in that way that he had of showing pleasure. "My thanks. But returning to our main discussion, Palpatine's emergency powers could have led to abuses." Yoda snorted. "Even more abuses, I mean. If I were in a battle to control the Senate and by extension our galaxy, this is a tactic I would use." Rancisis folded his long-nailed hands.
Obi-Wan spoke up. "Master Windu and Master Yoda, the Sith Zabrak on Naboo inspired no such ecstasy as you described when he died, although I was only a Padawan and may not have been able to sense it." He left me happy when I bisected him; that is, until I sensed Qui-Gon's fading Force signature. Then I thought that I would never be happy again, but I was wrong.
Yoda pointed one ear in Obi-Wan's direction. "Underrate yourself you do, young Obi-Wan. Greater your connection to the Living Force lately, I sense" --- why? and how? --- "yet even back then, witnessing a Sith master's taint passing you would have perceived." Yoda paused to give his next words the import they demanded. "The Zabrak, the Sith apprentice must have been. Yesterday the Sith master was no more. Yesterday Palpatine died. Coincidence?" He turned his ears downwards to protect them from the tumult which followed.
"Master!"
"Think what you are saying!" The cerulean Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned so far back in his seat that the holo-transmitter aboard his transport deleted the top of his head.
"I know that I distrust politicians, but --- "
// Kel Dor flare of disbelief // Plo Koon covered his tri-ox mask with his hand in embarrassment at his lapse in telepathic shielding.
Even the sizzling blue of the holograms surged in an analog of dismay. Yoda gave his colleagues' consternation the respect it deserved. "Shocking, such a notion. Return to our meditations for calm, we must." The room hushed, its occupants' quest for understanding leading them down unused paths to seek a united conclusion. "Time of Palpatine's demise matches," said Yoda carefully.
"He'd always shown a great interest in Anakin," muttered Obi-Wan.
"The Chosen One would make a prime target for a Sith," agreed Adi Gallia in staticky blue resolution. She twirled one of the tendrils in her Tholoth headdress thoughtfully.
"I never liked him," stated Plo Koon. The others turned in their seats. "But then, I don't like most beings. Don't dislike them either," he mumbled.
Mace's face wore its heartfelt smile no longer. "Could this be? We're not dark-sighted as we were This might be the Council's epiphany today" --- he looked each member directly --- "that pierces the last few shrouding shadows."
"Count Dooku's black character veils my sight to a degree," sighed Yoda. "Yet now shot through with the Light my vision is. Disappointed, Dooku will be to learn his evil is not all-enveloping. Always wanted the best, he did."
Obi-Wan pushed the robes from his shoulders and stood up. "Master Yoda, everyone, given these circumstances, I believe we ought to consult my Pa--- " Obi-Wan broke off and clutched his right arm to his chest, dropping the holo-emitter. He closed his lips upon a cry as tightly as he closed his end of the training bond.
The river gasped.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Seventy-Nine
Anakin slumped into the most uncomfortable seat he could find in the map room. He had chosen the hard plasticine deliberately. The holo-emitter had taken only a few minutes to reconfigure into displaying the ongoing Holonews coverage of Palpatine's death. All news feeds showcased his political career, if they didn't highlight his early life or his committed patronage of the arts. A musical play even now was in the early stages of discussion. Based upon his coming to prominence during the Naboo crisis, a tentative working title was Power's Purity of Purpose. Anakin thought the word 'purity' implied a morally cleaner meaning than the rest of the words in the title, and that on the whole it needed more work. One-word titles like Naboo! were easier to remember. He supposed an opera would be commissioned next.
Palpatine had listened to opera on their last ride together, in the soon-to-be-refurbished Courier fished out of Gitchy. "Let's just listen to music and fly, Anakin. We'll talk another time." But there had been no more time afterwards for their leisurely conversations filled with reminiscences and projections for Anakin's future, Anakin reflected sadly. Palpatine had wanted Anakin to be sophisticated about music after giving up on nurturing his acting talent when Anakin was fourteen. "Acting is simply not your forte, Anakin." The Padawan Follies in his thirteenth year convinced Anakin of that fact; he had started out with a one-line part, but the Master directing the production quickly sought his aid in lighting and on the soundboard and claimed on opening night that Anakin was more valuable behind the scrim than in front of it. Secretly pleased not to be center of attention, Anakin told Obi-Wan that he was more interested in the mechanical aspects of drama and Obi-Wan dropped his plans to speak to the Master director about the change in cast. He made certain that Anakin was included in the holopics of the event, however.
The afternoon wore on and when the coloratura sopranos and baritenors reached their thrilling peak of perfection in the twenty-second act, Palpatine broke his silence. "Anakin, I don't feel well. Would you be a good lad and fetch me a drink of water?"
"Of course, sir. I'll amp up the inertial dampers, too; we'll smooth out our flight pattern soon."
When Anakin returned to the cockpit with the water, Palpatine suddenly put a hand to his mouth and dashed to the rear of the craft towards the 'fresher. He spent some time in there, and when Anakin sympathetically asked through the door if he could help in any way, there was a mysterious drilling sound before Palpatine emerged, blowing his nose and smiling self-deprecatingly. "Too many banquets, my boy, too much rich food. What I wouldn't give for some simple Naboo cuisine at some of those tedious functions." Anakin flew slowly back to the Senate district, engendering countless angry klaxons and frustrated looks from their fellow travelers. Palpatine put his indisposition nobly aside and for the rest of the ride listened quietly to the thunderous finale, smiling intently at Anakin in a musical reverie while he placed both hands in his pockets and moved rhythmically in place to the composer's lively beat. At the crescendo, he appeared transported to an intellectual plane far beyond Anakin's ken, then relaxed as if the entire experience had drained him. Anakin had to help him stand when they reached their destination. He had never been in awe of the Chancellor more in his life than he had been on that ride. Where will I meet another friend with his cosmopolitan tastes who has the patience to mentor me? Anakin promised himself not to forget any of the Chancellor's lessons and to teach his own apprentice someday about the complexities of life in a galaxy that could produce a Palpatine.
One feed had a simple display of Palpatine's bust and dates only. Anakin surveyed his friend's features and washed away all subtext from his perception with the Force. What was left was a plain face, slightly on the homely side. Hours of soothing companionship in the man's company made him blink back tears and swallow hard. When he had left his scramball team in midseason, Palpatine had comforted him. "Save your strength for the academic side of your studies, young Anakin," he'd advised warmly. "Your team will get along without you well enough." In retrospect, it didn't sound as compassionate as he remembered. Generally, the people of Naboo impressed him with their warm-heartedness.
Naboo. Padme came from that gorgeous, water-drenched place. What was the meaning of the droids' objective in their spying attempts? Why hadn't she been as supportive of his plans with Obi-Wan as he'd anticipated her to be? She had received nothing but the Jedi Order's great regard since Naboo. More than regard, he snorted. She's gotten their --- our --- ever-present help with her very existence. After Anakin had dispatched the kouhuns, Obi-Wan had leaped out a window to apprehend her attackers. What a moment that was. I hadn't an inkling that he'd do that. But their bond was different now. Would he know his Master's intentions better? He sighed at the turns his life had taken this morning and opened a section of his training bond. A little taste of Obi-Wan, that's what I need. Nothing. He opened a wider port, still hoping to slip in under Obi-Wan's notice without alarming him with his neediness. Nothing. Alarmed himself now, he rose, gathering his robes tightly in his hands. Frowning and closing his eyes, he opened their bond fully. There. A thread of it appeared, tarnished with pain. Anakin sprang through Palpatine's rotating image to the door and vanished down the hall. He Force-leaped down the steps, bounding past the bank of windows, following the Force-imprint of Obi-Wan to the infirmary. Inside the maproom, Palpatine played to an audience that had fled.
The river stormed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty
Pain control technique number one: The pain exists. Obi-Wan hadn't any doubt that his right fingers, palm, wrist, forearm, elbow and part of his upper arm twitched in spasming jerks, synapses aflame with no relief. Pain control technique number two: The pain can be conquered. Obi-Wan visualized his arm as it was in the salle yesterday at dawn, swinging his lightsaber in paraphs and jagged zigzags, partly to get a rise out of Anakin over his flowery technique. Anakin had been distracted, however, and only gave a twisted half-grin in his direction. Obi-Wan tucked away the memory of even that small smile as he waited for the pain medicine to take effect. Like his efforts to reduce his headache upon arrival from Trow, his pain control techniques were in need of a helping hand. Luminara knew about helping.
"Obi-Wan, I sense nothing similar to a pinched nerve or muscle damage in your arm. When the medicine takes you out of your immediate distress, I will drift deeper into the source of your pain along your neural pathways. Relax now. We've put your usual hypoallergenic analgesic mix into the drip. You'll feel better soon." Luminara placed Obi-Wan's tunics and boots into a small locker at the end of the cot. She squeezed his foot through the blankets. "Let's try something holistic until the stuff works." Peeling back the bedclothes from one corner, she rubbed his bare right foot before squeezing the ball of the foot with her strong fingers. He almost flinched from the power of it. He knew that foot pressure on the same side of the body as the affliction helped soothe the nerve endings along the pained area.
"It's some better, Lu. Not burning so much." She creased the corners of her eyes in sympathy.
"More. I can do more." She rolled the knuckles of one hand back and forth along the instep while pressing firmly on the top of his foot, creating a distracting pressure. Whether it was from this or from the beginning of a response to the drugs, Obi-Wan's face relaxed and he lay deeper into his pillow. His spacer's tan contrasted sharply with the short white smock that Luminara made all her human patients wear and also with the crisp white sheets of the cot. His eyelids drooped to half-shut and he barely reacted when Anakin burst into the room.
"Master! What's happened? Our bond, you shut it down almost all the way, did you think I'd not notice" --- they're dripping orange stuff into him with that shunt on his hand, not the numb one from the other day, no, the good one --- "speak to me, say something, please" --- is it possible for this day to get worse?
"'Shomethin', darlin'." The corners of Obi-Wan's mouth lifted in a weak grin. He closed his eyes all the way.
"You, ah, you don't know what you're saying, Master. Um, Master Lu, what's wrong with him?" Anakin had said these words more often than he ever wanted to or expected to. Allergies, freckling, prone to sunburn, bad sinuses, Master was extremely high-maintenance, yet entirely worth the trouble.
"He had a sudden onset of severe arm pain in the council chambers, Master Yoda said when he escorted him in. It was directly after a particularly important decision had been reached, I don't know what. I couldn't find anything wrong immediately and started a drip to relieve the pain. He's not out all the way; he can hear us. How did you know where to find him so quickly? This happened only ten minutes ago." Luminara turned her blue eyes on Anakin in her usual perceptive manner, the same one from their session the other day. Anakin thought quickly.
"We Force-imprinted on each other on the way back from Trow because Master thought it wise to use Master Koon's technique because we might get into another survival situation sometime and be split up and of course it would be good to locate each other if necessary and why are you looking at me like that?" To a non-Force sensitive, she hadn't changed expression, but to Anakin, her eyes widened slightly and her jaw dipped almost imperceptibly. Still regarding him steadily, she took a moment to reply.
"Master Koon's technique calls for physical closeness, a caressing, if you will, and supreme confidence in one's partner. Anyone conducting such an imprinting in the Force becomes almost bound physically to the partner for life. It's, well, controversial." She didn't say so, but Anakin caught the undercurrent of disapproval in her manner.
We were bored on the trip. There wasn't much else to do, since Dimmie and Beebar were in our pockets day and night. "Master thought it was a good idea." He gazed back at her almost defiantly.
"Baby," Obi-Wan whispered. "Shweet baaaayyybeeeee." He kissed the air five times in Anakin's direction without opening his eyes. "Closher. Wan' closher. Don' be tease, baaayyybeeee." He moved his right arm a few centimeters. "Owww."
"I'll up the dosage. He's still in pain." Luminara adjusted the drip with a small twist of a dial. She placed two fingers on Obi-Wan's right wrist so lightly that only the hairs were pressed to the skin. "Better now. I'll give him a while longer to adjust. No need to stress him." She turned to Anakin. "This procedure works best if no one else is nearby, particularly someone emotionally close" --- did she emphasize the word 'close' slightly --- "so please wait outside, Anakin. He's out all the way now." She had been their Healer for so many years that Anakin had complete confidence in her. He couldn't stop himself from babbling, however.
"Eh, about babies, Master must have been thinking about Trow. We stayed at a village with lots of babies, in fact during a time when everyone was concerned with making more babies and Master likes younglings, you know that, Master Lu, so it's natural that he would be thinking about them subconsciously since we just left Trow a few days ago and" --- clear away this speeder wreck now, Anakin --- "erm, that's why he said the word 'baby.' I guess. I don't know, though."
Luminara tilted her head and placed a hand on his flesh elbow in an ushering-along gesture. "Go now. You need to take care of yourself, too, Anakin. I'm sorry to hear about your friend Palpatine. It must have been a blow."
For a second, Anakin lost his center. Dealing with Padme this morning, Palpatine soon after that, and now Obi-Wan lying so still in front of him, swamped his control and his lower lip quivered. He drew a deep breath before speaking. "Thank you. It's been a rough day. I'll wait in your office." I can commune with the fish. They're safe to be with, because I don't care about them.
The river dissembled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-One
Yoda activated his hoverchair's double kickstand and parked it in its usual recharging slot outside the council chamber. He stretched out his back again with a grunt and shuffled through the large doors, clacking his gimer stick more than usual against the marble slabs. There was an uproar going on inside completely unlike the council's usual deliberations. He blanked his mind to it and paced back and forth in front of his seat. Eventually the voices stilled and he sensed that all were observing his unusual display of nerves. Look, they shall. Not see me like this again for another century, at least. If live that long, I do. He waited until their minds were as still as they could be, given the galaxy-shaking circumstances.
As Yoda had expected, Mace was the first to speak. "Master, how is Obi-Wan?"
"Unknown. In good care, he is. None better than our Healer Unduli. Wait until she contacts us, we shall." He pounded his stick upon the floor to focus their attention, making Adi Gallia jump even though she was far away on Corellia. Her holotransmitter was having trouble following her agitated movements as she, too, paced.
"Not a Dark Side attack?" Gallia was off-planet and so had to rely on the attendees' local Force-perceptions and not her own. It said much about her that she overlooked mundane physical causes of distress and thought first of the Force. She recouped her strength in her great talents of piloting and intuition while visiting her homeworld on leave, but her intuition was off today. Ever since she had learned that her friend, Qui-Gon Jinn, succumbed to a practitioner of the Dark Side's arts, she saw the Dark Side in many more things than were realistic. Her friends became aware of this and had steered her gently to soul Healer Regork. She had standing monthly appointments with him and claimed that he had helped her tremendously. It was nearly the end of the month and time again for her appointment. After this council session concluded, Yoda meant to remind her privately about it. Most likely, she could handle it by hologram. Regork's disposition and vocation made him extremely flexible that way.
"No, Master Gallia. Far away from home you are and perhaps this great event seems remote. Continue your leave, you shall." Need one, you do. Yoda saw that he needed to stand in for Regork. "Sit down, please. Nervous, you make me." He knew enough about soul Healing to deflect commenting on the patient and take on any blame himself. It worked. Gallia sat, twiddling her tendrils again. Yoda harrumphed. "Back to our conclusions. Make use of your meditations, did you all, and think as I do in this?" He looked around the chamber; each aura was a flat gray, a mixture of disbelief at their own blindness and confusion for the future of the Republic. Yoda wondered how he looked to them.
Mace had changed his firm stance in his personal views that had bordered on stubbornness. This revelation would impact his revered Republic in ways yet unknown. Yoda thought he almost looked sick. "That we, that the entire Republic, trusted this, this, huchup" --- Yoda assumed this was an unflattering Korunnal term --- "to lead us, years upon years without anyone the wiser, who knows what long-term programs he's embedded in our government, the Sith have enormous patience, although I wouldn't call anything a virtue with them --- "
"To think that I voted for him!" Plo Koon shook his head. "Couldn't stand him, but his political talents wouldn't be denied, Master Yoda, the way he brought us all together with his masterly, I mean modest, dealings, an alliance here, a handclasp there ... " Plo abruptly realized that he had broken the unwritten rule about revealing one's personal voting record and slapped his mask into his palm. Not one of his fellows could blame him. They were remembering how many times Palpatine had visited the Temple with his security retinue mapping entrances and exits, for protection purposes only, and how many times he had appeared on the Holonews, reasonably explaining that he was a hands-on leader who disliked delegating and so would the Senate consider it fit to allow him access to the top committees, merely to observe ...
"Move on, we shall. Obi-Wan's suggestion, good it was. Skywalker we will interview when his Master's condition stabilizes and he can stand before us with his Padawan, as is proper. For now, within these walls let the knowledge of Sidious' identity remain. Not even fellow Jedi will we tell." Yoda had been taken aback by the number of Jedi either openly sympathetic to Dooku's rhetoric about secession from the Republic or actually turning their backs on their loyalties to the Temple, the symbol of their upbringing. Far from the Light Side, some of us are. All of us with the same schooling, the same ideals, for countless years! Worked hard, I did, to influence young minds without warping them. Centuries of work. The Chosen One, now. Influenced by his parentage, his harsh environment, he still managed to become a loyal Padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Troubled and rebellious at times, he lacked the conniving quality of a Xanatos DeCrion whose Fall had broken Qui-Gon Jinn's spirit for so long. Royalty, Xanatos was. Humble bastard, Skywalker is. Of Skywalker's paternal origins, Yoda couldn't tell. It didn't seem relevant eleven years ago, and it didn't seem relevant now. The young man who had struggled in his academic lessons while gliding sublimely along in his Force abilities training might hold a key to unlocking Palpatine's --- no, Sidious' --- black heart. If Palpatine/Sidious had lived, Yoda realized, it might have taken a platoon of Jedi to arrest him, drugs to subdue him, and a planetoid to imprison him on. With an eternal guard. Want that job, I would not.
As a tactician supreme, Oppo Rancisis knew the value of ending a meeting on a less serious note. "Are we having our Republic Day Annual Picnic in the gardens again? It's coming up in five weeks, beings. The groundskeepers protested last year that their newly-planted trees were trampled by our visitors enjoying the Open Temple Tour we have that same day. There were two fruit trees in the very heart of the garden that were extremely rare. One particularly long-lived tree will not bear fruit until the next decade because of its damage. I was looking forward to offering some of its fruit to the tertiary wife of the new Blood Monarch of Thisspias, who will be visiting us with his entourage for the Open Temple Tour even though he and I have agreed to disagree on issues. His tertiary wife, who is my second cousin once removed, is a botanist and she has been posting me some charming paintings of swamp apples that she renders herself in pastels which I have decorated my terrarium walls with ... " Even Yoda looked bored at the end of Rancisis' story, but at least he, along with the others, had something else to think about other than the Dark Side.
The river adjourned.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Two
This was bad, this was bad. Luminara skimmed Obi-Wan's ganglia, synapses, and neurons all the way down to the dendrites and there was not a thing organically wrong with him. Could the pain be psychosomatic? Delicate as he was physically --- she never used the word 'delicate' to Obi-Wan or to Anakin or even to Barriss in confidence; 'hypersensitive' was the correct Healer's term --- her friend had one of the strongest psyches she'd ever seen in her practice. Healer Regork was more the expert, however; Luminara found the ephemeral nature of soul Healing unsatisfying, though she admitted it only to herself. Regork had cured eleven year-old Barriss of her aversion to swimming in two twenty-minute sessions involving blaster-soakers and the game of tag. Surfing Obi-Wan's brain, but avoiding his consciousness because she was not telepathic, she tested the pain center for misfires. There were none. His pain center signaled steady waves of pain like solar flares, twisting and leaping. But what is the stimuli? Obi-Wan whimpered, coming out of his stupor entirely too soon. This is bad. It's bad that I've not found the source of his pain. It will be that much harder to treat. She withdrew slowly, augmenting her retreat with as much balm as she could, settling on the diagnosis of post-traumatic psychosomatic disorder, going over her findings for surety. Could Trow have affected him this much? A survival situation, his Padawan as well as his mission in danger, might impress Obi-Wan subconsciously into a pain reaction. He and Anakin became closer on Trow, Obi-Wan had said. Could his Padawan's missing arm and the trauma causing it be somehow mapped onto him, now that they had Force-imprinted? Obi-Wan, you're due for some soul Healer sessions with me. If they fail, Master Plo Koon's telepathic help might be called for. Luminara hoped not, though. Plo could be an ass at times.
"Uhhhh, mmmmnnnowwwtch ... huh ... 's gone? No hurts ... good work, Lu ... thanks ... " Obi-Wan spoke without opening his eyes. Luminara held his hands in hers to comfort him as he roused and to give herself the illusion that she had accomplished more than she had. She leaned her head close to Obi-Wan's to speak softly into his ear, her cowl acting as a megaphone. This state of limbo-awareness was tricky; he may not remember what he said or what she said when he returned to full consciousness.
"The pain is better?" Simply by holding hands, she could access his level of tension. It was non-existent; the man was loose as a lantern bird. When she had withdrawn, the pain still marked his aura with red lightning streaks. In the seconds since then, the pain had vanished. Yes, psychosomatic. Another addition to his file. I'll need to add more memory to it now.
He was rapidly coming out of it. "'S gone, gone, gone. R'mind me t' be y'r slave at th' Picnic, bring you plate of nerfburgers, carry y'r 'mbrella, refill y'r glass w'bubblezap, 'n lose to you 'n Barriss 'n the three-appendage race, 'nkin will go 'long with it ... " Obi-Wan slurred, "'nkin, whaaa ... wherrrr 's he, luvvim, y'know ... " An absurdly wide smile appeared on his face. "Luvvim, luvvim, luvLUVluvvimm ... "
It was as Luminara had feared could happen. Force-imprinting nearly melded the two of them into one. Love? Naturally, Obi-Wan loved his Padawan, as Luminara loved Barriss. Training them, living in the same quarters, year after year, mindful of their health, their food intake, their immunizations, their studies, their habit of comming their friends minutes after seeing them in the refectory, all conditions of the Master-Padawan relationship led into a lifelong affection. She squeezed his hands and waited for him to awaken fully.
"So I can go back to the Council meeting?" Obi-Wan said twenty minutes later. He wanted to bring Anakin and stand with him in the questioning Yoda and the others would surely conduct. He stripped off the white smock and pulled on his undergarments, no hitching of pain evident in his arm as the Healer watched his smooth movements.
Luminara saw the black rings under her friend's eyes and the strain of his pain attack still evident in his twisting hands as he pulled on his calf-molding boots. "An important meeting, I gather?"
"Yes. I can't tell you more, I'm sorry, Lu. One thing is paramount, that Anakin and I return there today." Palpatine's death, Sidious' disclosure, what could there be more important than that? Despite his bone-deep fatigue that nothing but sleep would cure, he had to follow through with this. Prolonging it would only enable Anakin's illusions of friendship with the Sith to continue. He'll be hurt, no doubt of it. Obi-Wan called on all his training in dispassion to release his fury over Sidious' deception to the Republic, but most personally, to his Anakin. He pulled his outer tunic closed and refastened his belt. A hand to smooth his short hair back and he was ready.
Luminara patted the bed beside her. "Sit down, Obs. I'm releasing you to your quarters, not the Council chambers." At his raised eyebrows and beginning protest, she interrupted, "No. That's the way it will be. Your diagnosis is post-traumatic psychosomatic disorder, and I'd be a poor Healer if I let you return to the site of your attack, right away at least. You can comm any information in, if it's that vital." Something to do with the war, she supposed. She was needed at New Holstice to treat the growing numbers of wounded and began to dread what she would find there. The database on treating wounded Jedi grew with each day. That's because there are more wounded Jedi than ever before.
"You mean, I'm a mental? Is that what it was? Never."
She became perturbed. "Do you doubt me?" I'm going to request leave for him from the Council, important business or no.
Obi-Wan stared at her for a long time. "No. I feel foolish, though." He looked down at his right hand. Maybe he did need a rest. "Never had anything like this happen. Even when Qui-Gon passed into the Force before my eyes. Why now?"
"Our bodies are mysteries and the mind the most mysterious part of all." This always sounded good, even though it was a platitude, and true. "I'm releasing you to Anakin's care and your quarters, and I need you to practice something for your ... condition." Reaffirm his own identity, that's the first step. "Repeat this after me: 'I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, Councilmember, Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Anakin Skywalker,'" she said clearly and slowly, embuing her words with the lightest touch of the Force. "'I am the Negotiator. These things are all that I need be in the Force. I do not need to feel any deeper than I must to be effective, and if I do, I will not be effective. For my own sake, my Padawan's, the Order's and the Force's, I scale down my body's reaction to any outside stressor" --- Anakin, thought Luminara with a little frown --- "until I ... can ... be ... wholly ... myself ... again.'" Obi-Wan looked her in the face as he repeated it, until the part about being wholly himself again. Then his eyes crinkled in an amused way. She needed to impress upon him the seriousness of his changed state.
"What? It's nothing physical, Obs, but it could be serious."
"Who else could I possibly be?" he asked, looking to her to elaborate, but she said nothing.
The river hesitated.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Three
"Kenobi and Padawan leave is granted. I trust your judgment, Healer Unduli. Next on agenda?"
Master Windu waited until Master Unduli completed her graceful bows and exited the chamber. "Medical leave for them now, Master Yoda?"
"The Sith's identity will be kept quiet. What good will be served for our cause by allowing Dooku and Grievous to know that we know? Isn't it better to leave Dooku floundering for strength to guide his forces without Sidious' help in spinning webs into plots?" Yoda had not slept since the momentous clearing of his Force-sight. This is like old times. I will sleep later. My work comes first. Extreme fatigue warped Yoda's speech centers and he hoped his syntax did not confuse any being. Much meditation about the length of the galaxy-wide conflict had brought him to the sad conclusion that at least two years remained. Sidious' plans for mass confusion will take time to root out. When he sought visions of his Order, viewing their greatly diminished ranks through the long months ahead added to his sleeplessness.
Mace refrained from commenting further about the sidelining of one of their number. Even a layperson could see that Obi-Wan's white face and spasming arm indicated more than any pulled muscle during a sparring match. He pushed for a solid piece of data to begin their work with. He couldn't seem to help himself. "Can we at least obtain a statement from Skywalker? What if his knowledge of Sidious" --- Mace spat the word with great venom --- "is crucial to us?"
Yoda remained firm. "Sidious is dead. What was crucial was that we recognized his true nature. Now we can move secretly to investigate his comms, his files. I have good relations with someone in his inner circle." The small Master slitted his eyes until he looked half-asleep.
This was news to the Council. "How?" Shaak Ti leaned forward, dark fathomless eyes ablaze through her blue outline. Her mondrals flared slightly as if she could ultrasonically sense them through the intervening parsecs.
"Do you remember when Senator Amidala met with us last year in the Chancellor's office?" How good it had been to see Amidala still alive. He approved of her style of politicking as he did few other Senators. She was on his short list for revealing Palpatine as Sidious, and if she moved up in her career path due to the Chancellor's death, the Republic could only benefit.
Shaak Ti smiled her slow smile. "No, Master. I was not yet on the Council."
I am tired. "Hmm, yes. Indeed. Palpatine's executive assistant, Dar Wac, presided over the outer office and with an eye to future needs, I Suggested during our brief wait to be admitted that personal loyalty to the Jedi, myself in particular, could best serve his own interests." Yoda lifted one shoulder as if in apology for his actions. "He is one Rodian with confused loyalties, to the Chancellor, to Rodian senators, and last but most of all, to himself. I merely added one more loyalty to the mix. And placed it in first position." He tapped his claws on the arm of his seat. "He will help us."
Mace eyed the diminutive Master with more respect than he thought possible. So far-ranging was Yoda's mind, even with the darkness that had veiled it one year ago, that he had planted a spy in the Supreme Chancellor's office. "Have you ever been told you're a great sneak?" There was a telepathic snicker from Plo Koon and a gasp from Ki-Adi-Mundi, right before he subsided with a twinkle in his eye.
"Once, five centuries ago. It was, and is, true."
Though he might regret it, Mace asked, "And do you see changes to the Order in your visions?" There was one in particular he was of two minds about, which was appropriate, since the thought had been planted by the Chosen One during Skywalker's class, Debate 301: Taking Unpopular Stances: Gaining Attention, Or Stating One's Principles? In a lightly-populated lecture hall during Skywalker's portion of the debate ("RESOLVED: That Attachments Lead To Greater Effectiveness As A Jedi"), the fifteen year-old had set Mace to thinking. With many looks for reinforcement in the beginning at his Master in the front row, Skywalker grew into his subject by the end of his speech, looking not at his Master but at each attendee full on with a confidence beyond his years. He was the last debater, and in the way of the Jedi, there was little applause at its conclusion. Skywalker made a single jerky bow and rejoined his Master as they filed out of the hall. Mace noticed at the time how well they walked together.
Yoda slid onto the floor and gimped over to Mace's seat, knocking his gimer stick on the Korun Master's ankles, but not too hard. "Dooku led the Annual Temple Tours for a number of years," he said, relevant to nothing.
"Master?" The sooner Master Yoda got some rest, the better. Mace's brain grew tired of processing his convoluted language. It was one more change than he could comfortably handle, these days.
"He always, always wanted the Council chambers themselves opened to the public to show them that the Jedi Council was approachable and that we did not chant in ancient Myneyrsh all day long, and burn ryll incense while whirling in midair. Some have strange notions about Jedi abilities and practices." Yoda sobered. "Perhaps Dooku was right. My vision is clearer now. We should not appear disconnected from the rest of the galaxy. Though we work in this spire" --- he looked up at the frescoes above his head --- "this is just an upper room."
Changed, the river did.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Four
Threepio's photoreceptors remained as black as Artoo's single orb. Now ensconced in a corner of Anakin's room, their delivery had been a thorny issue this morning.
"And why is Senator Amidala giving these broken droids to you, Padawan?"
"It's a gift."
"I see." There was an ocean of confusion in Obi-Wan's eyes. "Did --- Did you tell me that they were arriving and I was absent-minded?" He chuckled at himself. "I forgot to take my memory vitamins this morning."
Master Lu said I'd need to be proactive in his treatment, and I wasn't. Still thinking about Palpatine. Kriff. It would have been easy for Anakin to pin any awkwardness on Obi-Wan's condition, but he refused. "No. I didn't tell you before."
"And it's a gift because ... " He ran a hand over Artoo's frozen dome and didn't look at Anakin directly.
" ... because Padme knew I'd be at home for a while after our mission ended and thought I could use a project. Because she's my friend. I commed her the first night we got back, along with all my other friends." Because Artoo became my friend and I built Threepio to be my friend and Mom's helper and I want all my friends to be well, including you. Well, most of all you.
"Your friend." Anakin busied himself with his tools, surveying Artoo's barrel shape with the thrumming monitor function on his portable scanner. No activity, down to the tiniest circuit and fluidic artery. No carbon scoring, no burned wire detritus, not a thing to trace physically. This was worse than the near-terminal droids that Watto had assigned him to fix and had punished him when he could not. He was no child now, and he had developed his skills in later years and used up-to-date equipment. All right. Run diagnostics next. He programmed his portable scanner, wishing that the Jedi Analysis room could be called into service, but his and Padme's secret could not come out yet. He resented their double life in a burst of frustration, offered it up to the Force and waited for the effort to take effect. It took longer than it should have. Back to business. Those yellow eyes had to have come from somewhere.
Obi-Wan sat on Anakin's narrow bed to watch. He was supposed to rest, but it ran against the grain. "Can I do anything?" He could handle simple repairs; this one looked far beyond his scope. He was in awe of Anakin's talents and didn't mind being the support system to any of his projects. Anakin would keep him from touching anything important. There was the Yimpian incident to consider. Obi-Wan shiver
ed slightly.
"Nope. Maybe later." Anakin considered using the Force to diagnose Artoo, knowing there was no way to shield Obi-Wan from the knowledge of its use in such close quarters. He undid the mag-seals to Artoo's dome, placing it upside down on the carpet. He removed the clips from Artoo's primary photoreceptor and radar eye, loosening its lens, the round portal to the little droid's personality. Artoo did have a personality, Anakin told himself, just as Threepio did. By random absorption of stellar radiation when he drew extra-vehicular duty, by after-market tweaking of unnamed previous tinkerers, however the transformation from factory-issue heuristics into a personality occurred, Anakin would miss Artoo if he could not repair him. And so he would access the Force to repair him if the diagnostics strategy bombed out. He didn't think Obi-Wan would call that frivolous.
Am I up to dealing with Anakin's disillusion today? Palpatine/Sidious showed a side of life to him that I could never do. Palpatine/Sidious always made Anakin feel better, more confident. Obi-Wan knew that he himself did not. 'Watched his career with great interest,' my foot. That sleemo lured my Padawan --- my Anakin! --- into his clutches by preying on the boy's feeling out-of-place ... that ... that ... Obi-Wan called upon all his considerable discipline to guide his raging thoughts out of their red-tinged path and onto a grass-lined one beside a still pond. The Jedi path to discipline offered a good life, if a Padawan could stay on the narrow road; he so desired that Anakin could. The Jedi Service Corps offered different paths, less demanding, but less rewarding in Obi-Wan's opinion. He lay back on Anakin's narrow bed, tugging up his slippersox. How odd not to get dressed today. Wrapping his blue bathrobe around his chest and crossing his arms, he examined his right arm through the soft weave. In all ways, the limb felt normal.
Artoo's orb, separated from its housing, rested in Anakin's glove as a disjointed part of his little friend, a useless member of Padme's --- and his --- household. If he could restore Artoo and Threepio to her use, she might thaw in her acceptance of his and Obi-Wan's arrangement. For that reason, and his own fondness for the droids, he persevered. Nothing on the diagnostics. It's as if a damper on their circuits exists from an outside source. The droids can't communicate in binary what's wrong, much less move. Anakin knew to err on the side of caution. "Master, please shield your eyes. I'm going to try something." He cupped a protective mechno-hand around the lens and fished the unmarked chip out of his robe's inner pocket. He knelt on the floor in front of his bed's footboard, turning his back to hide the chip from Obi-Wan. He was in a corner facing a blank white wall, not only in his bedroom, but in parts of his life. Stupid. How long are you going to hold out from telling him about you and Padme? Shaking his head at himself, he shoved the thought away and drew upon the Force.
Obi-Wan didn't budge. "Padawan, that sounds dangerous. As much as I like Luminara, I don't want to see her again so soon for her services. What are you planning?" He needs the Force for this?
Kriff, kriff, double-kriff, triple-kriff ... if this chip interacts with Artoo's lens and produces images corresponding to what the SP-4 spouted ... or engages Threepio's vocabulator somehow ... For his Master's greater good, Anakin lied, "I'm going to kromitz the farkulator in Artoo's primary photoreceptor. It may make a flash, and you've been blinking your eyes a lot in bright light lately." He twisted around to look at Obi-Wan. "Please let me take care of you, Master."
"Very well. Is the flame retardant handy?"
"Yes, I recharged it after you prepared Muja Flambe and put it back in the kitchen. Bottom drawer below the oven this time, so you don't have to reach."
"Proceed, then." Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "I have all the faith in the galaxy in you, Padawan."
Anakin hurriedly reconfigured his portable scanner and aimed it at the silent Threepio, setting the scanner's range to collect any utterances by the protocol droid and store them without any outward sign. He propped it up on his toolkit to stabilize it. At Obi-Wan's words, he jerked a smile, not looking up as he turned his back again. He switched the chip to his mechno-hand and held the lens by its edges in his flesh hand, adjusting a small level of Force-protection over his hands as he brought the two slowly together.
The river sparked.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Five
It wasn't until the chip and Artoo's lens were one centimeter apart that anything happened. With the Force, Anakin sensed a discharge was about to occur and he braced himself against its power, sitting back on his heels rather than kneeling upright. He hunched over the lens and the chip to protect Obi-Wan, prepared for an arc, but none came. He was glad of his foresight in wearing a minuscule earbud from his portable scanner to monitor any pickups from either droid in realtime. The scanner's recordings he could study later; his first impressions might be priceless.
"OOOOooooowooooWOOOhooooahhh ... " moaned Threepio to Anakin only, a most distressing sound. Artoo's dome made a quarter-spin to the right from where it was upended by Anakin's bare left foot, Artoo's barrel body frozen before him. Anakin realized that an accelerated burst transmission was emanating from Artoo's dome and streaming to the lens, initialized by the chip in his mechno-hand in conjunction with Threepio's now-activated algorithms. He held his hand steadier with a bit more of the Force. From the lens bulged a sizzling blue outline of a lump that might have been a human form, no, it was two, and as the image coalesced poorly in only two dimensions on Anakin's own bedroom wall, he heard in his earbud the phrase, "what are you doing" followed by a whimpered "oh Mama." A profile of two partially-defined figures spread itself over the white wall.
Sick with dismay, he watched the half-meter in diameter offering in front of him. He forgot about Obi-Wan until his Master asked, "Are you nearly there?"
From unknown, untested strength, Anakin gained control of his voice. "No. A little while longer --- it's a bit tricky." Obi-Wan's words cued a vast shudder of resolution to the shivering images. Anakin made out the sounds from his earbud more clearly, too. Quiet kisses, soft moans and slick slurping sounds penetrated his stunned mind. Amid a tangle of upraised legs, he discerned a mop of curly hair, a lighter shade than dark brown or black, but not a lighter shade than medium blonde. If the being were human, that is; he could not tell. This was definitely not Padme's hair, and from the timing that she had mentioned, it could not be his. Besides, this is that thing that we never did. I wonder if we'll ever get a chance to, or if I even want to. He watched a moment more and turned away. The visual transmission from Artoo's dome ended when he put the lens in his toolkit and shut its lid with numb fingers. His earbud continued to whimper, but now an overarching voice intruded, building to a male's deeper timber. " ... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... marvelous ... " said the voice in a headache-inducing loop, and as Anakin rocked back on his heels to slump against the footboard, he recognized the voice as Palpatine's. It was the same tone and words the Chancellor had used to exclaim over the opera's finale during their last Courier ride around Galactic City. Anakin opened his legs at a wide angle and leaned his head back with a thump against the footboard, clenching the unmarked chip in his flesh hand, not daring to put it in his powerful right one.
xxxxx
"Are you nearly there?" Obi-Wan felt the need for a rest and reclined, laying his head on Anakin's pillow. Through his eyelids, he saw the afternoon sun's red power infiltrate the room's open but completely privacy-screened window. A surge of joy slipping through their bond had prompted Obi-Wan to ask his question, followed by what he thought he had heard Anakin mumble: "Just wait till I tell P--- ", but that part seemed to have been his imagination. Anakin slammed up shields as strongly as he had in Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's commons. They had nothing to do with him shielding his own physical pain from his Master and everything to do with privacy. At Anakin's response to his question, Obi-Wan turned onto his side, drawing up his knees. Still shielding so strongly, my own Padawan? Do you need for me to tell you that I love you for your smile, your dedication to the Order and to me? I think you are ready for me to tell you ... today. Yes, today. We have the leisure. Today would be good. Anakin needed something to cushion the blow of revelation about Palpatine. Obi-Wan figured that Anakin's shields just now involved protecting Obi-Wan in some way, from frustration over the progress on Artoo, or something to do with ... Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan huffed and rolled away from the sun to face the door, still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Since one year ago, Obi-Wan knew that his Padawan harbored deep reawakened feelings for the Senator. Even though she did not act responsibly. Even though she abandoned a nineteen year-old to his own efforts at self-healing his grief over his mother's death ... she abandoned him ... Obi-Wan left off before he started to blame Amidala for everything up to and including a rainy day.
He lay still, feeling a thump when Anakin lost his balance and slid into the footboard. He thought he heard teeth grinding. Frustrated. I know one way to relieve frustration, that is if he weren't grieving over Palpatine. On the veranda would be pleasant surroundings; Anakin decorated the space last year with a small touch of Nature involving hanging plants, potted palms and wicker furniture. Obi-Wan slitted his eyes open. Must be taking a break and forgot to tell me. He opened his mouth to ask, "Padawan, how about some tea?" when he heard Anakin retching. Obi-Wan leaped to the foot of the bed, fallling to his knees beside Anakin, holding his head efficiently as Anakin leaned to the side and lost his lunch, heaving until there was nothing left inside him. He is as helpless as he was at eleven with the Togorian measles and he needed me day and night for a week, Obi-Wan thought as he wiped Anakin's face with a clean sleeve of the Padawan's now-soiled robe. Obi-Wan folded the mess inside as he stripped the robe off, rolled it up and threw the voluminous material to one side. Anakin seemed stunned, staring glassy-eyed at the corner of his room, muttering, "Palpatine? Was it Palpatine?" Obi-Wan put his arm around his Padawan's shoulders, sitting beside him until he could speak again.
The river disbelieved.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Six
Was that Palpatine's, the Supreme Chancellor's, my friend's head lipping down Padme's thighs and then between? Palpatine's hair had been wavy when Anakin first knew him. Recently, it had thinned and been trimmed shorter than it ever had been in Anakin's memory. Was he vain enough to wear a 'piece' to appear youthful when acting the lover? Vanity was not --- had not been --- one of his qualities. He possessed a certain flair for dress, a fondness for rich fabrics perfectly in keeping with his noble heritage. If wigs were part of that heritage, Anakin had never heard of it. If it weren't Palpatine, then how did the voice overlay the visuals? Was it a handmaiden and her lover in Padme's --- and mine --- bedroom on a dare? No, the handmaidens have their code of conduct, just like the Jedi do. Anakin wiped his eyes on his tunic sleeve and blew his nose there as he had when he'd first come to live in the Temple, before he'd heard of handkerchiefs. He hung his head. Padme and Palpatine. They had similar backgrounds, the same planet of origin, they worked together, loved the Republic first, last, and always together. Why shouldn't they do this? Because Padme's married, that's why! She's my wife and even though I said she could go places at night without me, that doesn't make this right. The Force wouldn't suggest this, not any Force I want to be associated with.
After a few minutes more of grinding his teeth, Anakin registered that Obi-Wan sat beside him, patiently waiting for whatever would happen next. Serene. Unflappable. Uh-oh, Master's gonna kil-- kis-- do something to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid Chosen One.
"Something at lunch disagreed with you?"
"No. Something I saw ... and heard."
A gentle squeeze of the shoulders. "A vision?"
A nightmare. "No."
"Tell me, Padawan."
Might as well. Anakin slumped down further, almost out of Obi-Wan's grip. "I saw something about Padme that Artoo recorded and Threepio, um, accessorized. Just now, when I .. "
"Yes, I noticed." Droids. Living with the Senator full time. No sense of discretion. "I see how upset you are."
"It made me sick."
"Yes." Anakin needed to brush his teeth.
"It was about --- about her personal life." I can't tell him about our marriage. I'm too ashamed. I don't know what it means to be married anymore. I only know that I love him, and that he's not well yet.
"Show me, if it's something that you can duplicate." Obi-Wan glossed over the dislike he felt for her. Whatever this was, he would not judge until he'd seen what Anakin had, and perhaps not even then. He remembered wanting to like her, for Anakin's sake.
Anakin looked down at his glove. "All right, but later. First, I have to tell you something, Master."
Am I up to this? I suppose. "Go ahead."
"Padme and I are lovers, since Geonosis. She came to me when I was in the Healer's ward" --- and proposed marriage --- "and said that she loved me. We had just been through a lot together, and I wanted someone to be with, like family, Master, and I agreed." Practicing his Telling-Upsetting-News kata with Obi-Wan meant that he didn't know if he'd ever finish it. He'd shot straight to the most difficult part --- not at all the way he'd tutor his own Padawan someday. If he ever had one, he thought gloomily.
Lovers. An adult woman, in a responsible position, in public life, no less, and my little --- my almost grown-up --- Padawan. Kriff. "You. Said. 'Yes.'"
Anakin nodded, looking away. "I wanted to be close to someone, after Mom died. Padme was there; I was weak, I know it now." He sighed. "She was happy, I thought, until now. Until ..." He gestured at the wall, but Obi-Wan didn't follow the movement and stared at his Padawan's --- my lover's --- profile instead.
"Show me," Obi-Wan said. Anakin ducked from under Obi-Wan's arm, swaying a little as he leaned closer to his toolkit and gingerly retrieved Artoo's lens. To his surprise, Obi-Wan took it from him. "You're trembling. Tell me how to activate this."
Anakin quailed at the tone in his Master's voice. It was very, very stern. "B-Bring the lens close to this chip" --- he lifted the chip from the carpet where he'd dropped it --- "slowly, and point it like this" --- he held his shaking hands up in the correct position --- "and keep a small Force-cushion around your hands. It didn't arc before, but you can never tell. I'll activate Threepio's vocabulator so you can hear everything like, like, I d-did." Anakin did the necessary reprogramming with his portable scanner, wiping some vomitus from it first.
"Not on your sleeve, Padawan."
"Sorry. I forgot." They sat together on the floor as Obi-Wan held the two items, smoothly uniting them within a centimeter of each other. He is the Master. He doesn't even need the Force to steady his hands. As before, the blue staticky resolution nearly defied viewing until Anakin said tonelessly, "Are you nearly there." Then the image clarified; the figures writhed and heaved in and out of resolution. Anakin turned away at the first glimpse of Palpatine's head. Palpatine's smooth voice said once more, "... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... " until Anakin looked out his privacy-shielded window and wanted to hurl himself from it. But the protective shielding would only throw him back inside, where he didn't want to be.
The river defenestrated.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Seven
"It was Palpatine, wasn't it. Palpatine and Padme, together. I feel sick."
Obi-Wan swiftly rose to his feet, sitting once more on Anakin's bed. Anakin is taking this so hard, almost like he is the Senator's husband and has proprietary rights over her person. Obi-Wan shifted his weight. My arm. My headaches. I don't feel like dealing with another mystery. "Anakin, I don't think that was Palpatine. The being's hair was curly, Palpatine's" --- Sidious' --- "hair was very slightly wavy and gray. Given the difficulties in viewing and the lack of color, true, it may seem to resemble his head and hair, but I believe, I believe" --- Anakin looks pathetically eager to hear this --- "that not to be Palpatine. Whoever else it is, I do not know."
I'm nearly certain that was Padme's hip; the curve of her waist looked right. "Thank you, Master." Padme and ... someone else. I'll deal with the news later. "Master, please don't hate me."
"Hate you? Never." But I'm not telling you what I was going to, at least not tonight. And I want you to sleep in here. Forget about the veranda. He had to ask. "Anakin, are you in love with the Senator?" He also had to remind himself to breathe.
"I thought I was then. I don't know now." If ever a picture of misery were to be on the Holocomm, its subtitle would read 'Anakin Skywalker.'"
Obi-Wan nodded. "Fair enough answer." An entire year and he didn't tell me. On the commons in Upper-Gitchy-on-Cremba, he didn't tell me. When we returned home, when we were in bed together, he didn't tell me.
"I only know one thing, Master --- Obi-Wan. I love you right down to the ground." The Padawan and the Master faced each other, one sitting sideways on a narrow bed, one kneeling on the floor, arms crossed on the top of the same bed's smooth footboard.
"I know," the Master said. I'll tell you about Palpatine ... Sidious ... the best way that I know how. "Anakin, there's something else that you need to know about the Chancellor." Like the evening that Obi-Wan gave The Talk to his Padawan, he began with a soothing platitude. "'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.'" This time he didn't accompany the words with a gentle, embarrassed smile. It was too serious for that. This will hurt him. I'm about to hurt my Padawan. But like that uncomfortable conversation, it would be gotten through and survived. "Anakin, please listen to me." Refer to Palpatine as the Chancellor -- the more distancing, the better. "Anakin, the day after his ... passing, our meeting began with Master Yoda and Master Windu revealing their visions about a marvelous good occurring in the Force the evening before." Now for it. "Master Yoda shocked us all by saying that the good was the Chancellor's death."
Anakin's breath hitched as he said, "I hate this, Master. If this person" --- he gestured at the wall --- "was the Chancellor, then I hate him for it. But that doesn't take away the fact that he was our leader through very challenging times." He was my friend. I feel like shit right now, but he was my friend. And he's dead, so I can't thrash things out with him. Anakin rose and paced, his bare feet sliding across the carpet until he built up a charge of static electricity. He touched the same wall that the images had appeared on and the spark made Obi-Wan start in the room's tension. "The next thing you'll be saying is that he was a Sith Lord."
Obi-Wan's continuing silence made Anakin stop in his tracks. "Oh, my. Oh. My. That's what the Council --- you --- think?"
Obi-Wan rose, too, threading his hands through opposite underarms over his bathrobe, as if to clasp them together over his shoulderblades, an impossibility. "The Darkness has mostly lifted, Anakin. The timing of the passing of the Sith" --- Anakin turned away --- "coincided. I realize that this is difficult --- "
"Difficult? Difficult? He was my friend, he tutored me in things I'd never heard of" --- like oenology --- "and you all say he was a Sith?"
All right, all right. Give him room to breathe. In fact, get out of this room completely. Obi-Wan shuffled to the veranda, his slippersox making more sparks than Anakin's bare feet had. At first, he sat rigidly in the wicker settee, then leaned over the balcony's edge. There was no privacy screen or security safety screen on, and it was a straight drop to the almost unseen hard surfaces below. He hadn't turned to see if Anakin followed him, yet even without the Force he knew that he had. He heard Anakin's ragged breathing beside him after a time. This was too serious for Anakin's tears, he supposed. "Anakin," he said, "do you believe evil to be obvious? To wear black robes, a hideous mask, think evil thoughts that warp its Force-signature every single moment? Isn't it more reasonable to believe that evil is a sometimes thing" --- did the Zabrak apprentice ever have kind impulses? --- "that overwhelms a being's, uh, being, and leads him or her or it or them," --- stay on target, Negotiator --- "to evil actions, with that being's complicity?" Like Sidious befriending you, my own.
Anakin snorted. "This is Philosophy 301, The Evilness of Evildoers, Master. I've studied it." And nearly flunked out. "All I know is that on the Chancellor's last ride with me, the last time I saw him, he hadn't changed his nature. We listened to opera, he got speeder-sick --- he was an old man, Master! --- "
"We crashed in that same Courier, Padawan, one week later." I nearly drowned on Trow.
" ... and then when the opera ended, h-he seemed to be closer to me than ever before, like he wanted me to share his experiences and all the knowledge he'd built up over his long life --- "
"Was he absent from your sight at all?" The detective in Obi-Wan needed solid clues to present to his unbelieving client.
"Once. He needed the 'fresher, I told you he got speeder-sick ... and stayed a long time, naturally" --- and there was a weird drilling sound --- the 'fresher abuts the fuel compartment --- 'Undetectotane' label, 'Flame-On' contents, was someone fooled in a black ... market ... deal ... Huttese writing on the melted accelerant container ... Huttese codes in the unmarked ... black market ... chip ... in Artoo ... next to Padme's --- no, our --- no, her --- bed, night after night ... Oh.
Obi-Wan stepped closer to Anakin, who stopped talking and leaned far over the railing, staring blindly down into the depths of Coruscant's upper lebels. Anakin swayed. Obi-Wan grasped his arm and led him to the settee. He's put together the clues and had another epiphany. They are so hard on him.
The river knew.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Eight
"Anakin, who is Jira?" The comms were filled with news of the many tributes to Palpatine and plans for his memorial service. Obi-Wan had listened for only seconds before switching the unit off. Their morning habit of laughing to Diurnal Dron's Drive Time Download's jokes would have to wait until the Republic came to rest on an even keel and Dron resumed his routine, and the lack of entertainment left the kitchen oppressively quiet.
Anakin stirred his cereal listlessly. "An old friend on Tatooine. Probably dead by now." He poured more blue milk into his bowl of Cheeri-Osks. A few still floated. He mashed them down savagely with his spoon.
Obi-Wan fetched a small towel and wiped up the spill without comment. "Did you ever mention her to me before?" If he could get Anakin to think about his past that he had overcome, his Padawan might gain perspective.
Why the inquisition? I'll be before the Council soon enough, with their questions. Stupid Chosen One. Can't even tell friend from enemy. "I don't ... know. What about her?" The caf was too hot, but he drank it at one gulp, knowing his gullet would suffer. No self-healing for me. I deserve whatever I get. Not going to be Knighted, Qui-Gon's faith a big joke ... Obi-Wan's time wasted ...
"Anakin, stop it."
"Why? My whole life, a waste. Wasted your time, Obi-Wan." He won't be 'Master' much longer.
"Stop it right now!" Obi-Wan threw the towel in his Padawan's face. "You're not the only Jedi to have been deceived. You're young. It happens. Even to Knights, it happens."
Anakin surged up and his chair tipped backwards to the floor. "Years on end, Master. Friends with Padme, friends with the Chancellor, a Sith Lord, for kriff's sake! My judgment ... isn't."
The only way out of this is through. "My judgment on Melida/Daan brought me great grief." And Cerasi died. "My friend, Nield, turned on me after I'd given up the Jedi path. I thought my whole life as a Padawan was for nothing. And when I came back to the Temple under a cloud, my Jedi friends snubbed me." Siri, you bitch.
Anakin waved his hands in the air. "'Snubbed?' Snubbed?"
"Yes, 'snubbed.' I was barely a teen and being disciplined by the Order, on the outs with Qui-Gon for months, my friend Cerasi's death hurt every bit as much as finding out about the Chancellor and your ... other friend." Naboo? They were together on Naboo, someplace in a fort, or a villa, near a lake. She fucked him there. She was the one. It was his blazing Force-signature that I envisioned, somehow.
"Obi-Wan, did you take your memory vitamins this morning?"
"Yes, I did."
"Good, because I want you to remember this day. It'll be the day that I get thrown out of the Order." Anakin splashed his bowl and cup and saucer and spoon into the sink, breaking the cup and cracking the bowl. He stomped into the common room.
Obi-Wan wiped the table, smearing the blue milk all over it. He pressed down harder with his right hand, but it refused to grasp the towel tightly. He switched the towel to his left hand to complete the job. And my head aches, too. And I know that Anakin never mentioned Jira to me before this morning. Obi-Wan slogged into the common room. Anakin stared at the comm station, his jaw dropping. "A pallbearer. Amedda wants me to be a pallbearer at the funeral." He laughed and laughed. Obi-Wan grew alarmed. "I-I'm representing the Jedi Or-Order!" Tears rolled down Anakin's cheeks and he seemed to be having trouble drawing enough air. "And Padme's representing N-Naboo!" Obi-Wan jerked Anakin away from the station, shoving him onto the sofa while he snapped off the comm with the Force. "Oooh, frivolous, Mas- Obi-Wan!" Anakin rolled from side to side, holding his ribs tightly.
Obi-Wan slapped him hard. He drew back his hand again, but Anakin charged up from his seat, shouldering Obi-Wan's midriff in a full scramball tackle. "Whooof!" Obi-Wan tripped back over one of Anakin's discarded boots and sat down jarringly on its mate. He flung back a hand to break his fall, but the wrist buckled and his cheek smacked into the floor as he twisted to the side to avoid Anakin's grasp. Anakin kept up his momentum, however, and rolled Obi-Wan face down, straddling his waist while pulling up on his right wrist to crank it behind his Master's back, forcing it upwards.
How odd I don't feel his grip. Obi-Wan sniffed back blood from his nose. Time to be a Master. Using not one whit of the Force, he stiffened his right leg despite Anakin's weight on his back, tucked his left knee into the space thus created between his right knee and the floor, and twisted to the right. Anakin's head bobbled as he fell to the side, losing his grip on Obi-Wan's wrist, following the rollover until Obi-Wan's position changed to the superior one. I've got to end this fast. Since his right hand and wrist were numb but not his forearm on up to the shoulder, he leaned fiercely on Anakin's throat with his forearm, grabbing his numb wrist with his left hand, using the right forearm as a bar to press into Anakin's vulnerable jugular.
The river squeezed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Eighty-Nine
Obi-Wan pressed hard enough to block Anakin's jugular, hoping that the pressure would cut off either Anakin's air or suppress the artery enough to produce unconsciousness. His bathrobe snarled around him, but hadn't tangled his hands or his legs. Anakin fought to regain his freedom, twisting powerfully beneath Obi-Wan's body, not clear enough in his mind even to bring up a knee to Obi-Wan's crotch. Even a near blackout will do.
CRASH! Tinkle, grit, tinkle! The sound of glass breaking edged into Anakin's overloaded brain. He stopped resisting. Had a short-out arc in my head, was his first returning thought. I ... broke something and ... Master's bleeding. From Obi-Wan's face dripped gouts of blood, down Obi-Wan's chin and from there to Anakin's own. Anakin turned his head to the side as much as possible to avoid the drips trickling onto his lips. "'M all right, Master," he croaked through Obi-Wan's bruising squeeze on his throat. " ... blitzed out ... too much happening ... let me up. Please." He went limp in surrender.
Obi-Wan gauged his Padawan's state with a measuring eye. "All ... right," he gasped, breathing through his mouth. He sat up and slid off Anakin's midriff, coming to rest at a wide-legged sprawl, using Anakin's body as a backrest. They panted together.
"Did I break your nose?" Anakin asked. I hurt him. My true friend in all this mess.
Obi-Wan probed tenderly with his left hand. "No. It's just a bloody nose." It left splotches of crimson on his hands and bathrobe.
From his supine position, Anakin spotted a crushed box, myriads of pearlescent support beads and shards of crystal. My anniversary gift. I left it next to the sofa. There was nothing to conclude about that, and so he didn't. He sat up, twisting around until he supported Obi-Wan's back with his own. It was better not to look at each other. "What next?"
Obi-Wan analyzed the query. "Do you mean 'what do we do next,' 'what do I do next,' or 'whatever could possibly go wrong next?'"
Anakin would have laughed if he'd had the strength. Dearest Master and his analytical mind. I hope that he never changes. "What do we do next?"
"I don't know about you, but I need to see Luminara."
Anakin turned around quickly and Obi-Wan nearly toppled. "Kriff, Master, I've hurt you, I've really done it this time ... "
"My right hand and wrist are numb again. Please stay rational, Padawan. This happened before our tussle."
He's rubbing his head again. "Master, right now is the time to go. I'm going, too."
"All, all, right."
He's not fighting me about going there. Not good. Anakin took Obi-Wan's right hand to give him a boost up. It felt like space-cold durasteel in his grasp.
xxxxx
Anakin worked at his Living Force connection with Luminara's fish. They moved as one, each separate in the school, yet melded by their behavior into one unit. Up, down, and sideways, they flashed their silvery skins at him through the clear aquarium walls. "Master Lu, I'm going to tell Master Yoda about the Tuskens." He said it mostly to himself, thinking out loud. The Living Force surrounding them was filled with life and instinct and no thought at all.
Luminara finished treating Obi-Wan's nose with a final smoothing motion of deft fingertips. "Snort," she said. Obi-Wan snorted. "Any pain?"
"No. Thanks, Lu. My hand's better. Just tingles a little."
"Wrestling, you say?" Obi-Wan and Anakin nodded in unison. "I see. You're on medical leave, Obi-Wan."
"Yes." Obi-Wan and Anakin said as one. If only you knew what was going on, Lu.
"Eat regularly and well, no stress, take your memory vitamins every day, repeat your lesson twice daily."
"Yes," they chorused again.
Luminara turned her back on them to wash her hands, fairly hearing the looks sizzling between them. "Now then." She focused on Obi-Wan first. "Padawan, please wait outside. I'll talk to you, but I need to address any pain first."
"Yes, Master Lu." As he waited under the speaker outside the office, it played more nalargon music, soft riffs this time; they accompanied Anakin's review of his secrets. Him and Master: SECURE, although he was perplexed by Master Ry-Gaul's statements to him on Trow. Padme knew, and was trustworthy. For some reason, he'd had the impression that her pride was involved, so she would not let out their secret. Him and Padme: OUT TO OBI-WAN, SECURE TO REST OF GALAXY. Tusken Incident: OUT TO OBI-WAN, OUT TO MASTER LU, SOON OUT TO MASTER YODA AND BY EXTENSION, THE REST OF THE COUNCIL. The Chancellor: SECURE TO ALL. Sidious' identity rested within the Jedi Order's Council and with him. It could not be any safer. Dooku and Grievous were loose ion cannons. The latest intel had them on Alliga, a recent addition to the CIS. Dooku. He gloated a minute, briefly feeling on top of things, when lately so much had been on top of him. I'm coming for you, just as soon as I can. Master and I will take you down, and your droids, and your droid-android-cybernetic wonder of a General. It won't be long now. Anakin settled into a meditation, a little surprised at himself. He'd weathered a storm. It felt good.
xxxxx
Luminara spared a look at her aquarium. The small silvery fish swam endlessly, each one identical, but each one an individual. "Obi-Wan, tell me something."
She's smart. "Sure."
"I don't really need to know how you were hurt, but what do you think triggered your hand problem?"
Obi-Wan couldn't have liked her half so much if she weren't so smart. "There was a stressor. I recited my lesson at dawn."
"Want to go out for a drink tonight?" She tried for casual.
He grimaced. "No, thanks. Still doesn't appeal."
"Stressed. Maybe we can change your lesson. Start using this now." Obi-Wan listened. It was nearly the same. He said as much. "The important thing is to place yourself first, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You count for something." She tapped the end of his nose. "For a lot, as a matter of fact."
The river warmed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety
"I'll wait outside. Sure you won't reconsider?"
Anakin licked his lips. "No, thanks, Master Lu. You don't have to stand with me. You've done so much, more than enough. It's important to realize when you've had enough." He glanced at Obi-Wan. "I'm ready."
Luminara sat down to wait. "I'm here for backup, Padawan. Anytime."
Obi-Wan's morning had been poor thus far. Even with his new lessons that he'd practiced diligently for three days, his attention wandered. If this happens in battle, I can't go on as Anakin's Master. I won't be able to have his back. Perhaps being in the Council chambers would improve his focus. Being in Master Yoda's renewed clarified presence generally worked wonders on his moods, too. "Proceed, Padawan." There was an awkward moment when it looked like Obi-Wan expected Anakin to precede him into the chambers, then Anakin positioned himself at his usual spot while Obi-Wan led him inside, two steps ahead, one step to the right.
"Young Obi-Wan, better you look. Rest you did need." As did I. "Keep you two long, we will not." Yoda turned to Anakin. "Privileged, you are, to know what the Council knows and senses." His esrs drooped. "The Darkness has thinned, but at your personal cost, Padawan Skywalker. Sympathetic, we are, to your mixed feelings." Anakin merely nodded. "Begin with your reactions to your new knowledge, we shall."
So quiet. They're waiting for me to divulge --- what? "Masters, Sidious holds no power over me. Our friendship had a surface that I enjoyed greatly and a depth I never understood. He was nice to me. I came here at nine years old, right after Master Qui-Gon's death and with a new Master. Sidious listened to me. Eh, Master Obi-Wan did, too, but Sidious was outside the Order, more like folks I was used to." Padme was, too, but I didn't see her for ten years. "Sidious taught me to appreciate cultural aspects of life, mostly Nubian ones like good food and wines and music and art --- "
"Implying, are you, that Jedi refectory food lacks a certain something?" A few Councilmembers huffed and Anakin thought he saw a wink from Shaak Ti's holographic left eye.
Anakin relaxed a little more but didn't smile. "Master, refectory food speaks for itself."
"Go on, Padawan." Ki-Adi-Mundi had several children, Anakin remembered as he turned to address the Cerean's dignified blue shape. He'd never understood the ins and outs of why a Knight sat on the Council and was not a Master.
"That's about all I have to say. He was my friend. He was Sith. He didn't confide his Sithly plans to me, if that's what you all want to know. You can ask me questions. I'm ready." A warmth surrounded him, a feeling like being immersed in Gitchy, except that the water was septsilky, and was warm and he could breathe it in. The warmth left him suddenly and as there were genuine smiles on all faces, except the ones he couldn't see due to beards or masks, he assumed he had passed a test.
Yoda tapped his gimer stick once. "Details. Details I will tell you, young Skywalker, about the death of the Sith." Anakin braced himself. "Free to go, are the rest of you until tomorrow. Have heard these things you all have." Yoda's citrine eyes regarded Anakin sharply, "Privacy needed for the rest of our time together, I hear. I will speak first, and then you."
The rest strode or slithered or sparkled away. Obi-Wan drew upon the power of his fellows until only Yoda's smooth, steady flame was left. That sustained him even better. He took a deep breath to concentrate more.
Yoda didn't need the Holonews feed to state the facts. He knew them by rote. "At nineteen-thirty hours seven days ago, most everyone's dinnertime for our part of Coruscant, holoemitter failure occurred in Sidious' office due to unknown power surge. Scorch marks on desk, office walls, Sidious' clothing indicated enormous voltage involved, enough for killing human, near human, humanoid, or even larger species, such as Phlog. Residual fingerprints point to Sidious' position: at desk, leaning into holoemitter, he was, one hand on it and one hand caught in robe's pocket. State of sexual excitement, corpse was frozen in. Fairly common in his species for electrocution victims, I am told."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked away. Anakin's mind whirled out of its near-calm. Nineteen-thirty hours. Dinnertime. Terratta strips. Padme. With Palpatine ... no! Not with him! Spychip, it was! Overlay with other end of transmission, Sidious did! Anakin shook his head. I mean, Artoo and Threepio were spies for Palpatine/Sidious in Padme's household. To spy on her, or her playing around, maybe because of blackmail, maybe for Palpatine/Sidious' gratification, who knows? Anakin had been frightened at age ten in Madame Nu's library by an artist's hologram rendition of Obi-Wan's description of the Zabrak assassin and his yellow-tinged eyes ... Sith eyes? After all the revelations and disillusion lately, the fact that he himself had unknowingly killed Palpatine --- The Sith Chancellor --- left Anakin nonplused. His heart beat steadily, he felt not at all faint; this epiphany bred no tears, no disbelief. It simply was. Was I chosen for this? It doesn't matter. I did it. I am a Sith-Killer, like Master. "Master Yoda, please stop. I may know something after all." Obi-Wan and Yoda stared, Obi-Wan slightly disapproving at the interruption. "I may have killled the Sith, no, I know I did."
The river nodded.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-One
After explaining his actions leading to Sidious' death and following with the admission of guilt of his crime on Tatooine, Anakin had never felt so clean. All except for the marriage-divulging part, which he still kept in a shamed chamber of his heart. Can't hurt Obi-Wan, not now, not ever. I can live with secrets. Confessing the Tusken incident to Master Yoda a minute ago in twenty-two words still rang in his ears. I killed ... m-murdered the Tuskens who abducted my mother and killed her. The entire camp, down to their massifs. I was wrong.
Yoda stood at Anakin's feet, as close as possible to him without treading on toes. He looked up at Anakin a long time, almost drowning him with the warm Gitchy flood of sensation. Finally he turned and waddled back to his seat. "Hmmmph."
Obi-Wan's mind cleared and he took advantage of it to put pieces of the puzzle together. Anakin and Padme, Padme and Other, to be spied on like they were microbes under a portable scanner, all their little and not-so-little foibles and faults open to grinning salaciousness, playing on their lovers' stage for Sidious as he fumbled with himself and ... Artoo and Threepio, trusted as they were, perfectly innocent. Why, Artoo had even been trying to dislodge the chip, Anakin said! Even Amidala didn't deserve this. His esimation of her rose a notch. She'd endured a near-death experience and had gotten up the next morning and gone to work, speaking out on something or other despite the chaos of Palpatine/Sidious' death. He couldn't recall what she'd yammered on about, . Might double up on those memory vitamins.
"Visiting with Senator Amidala, you were. Problems with droids, she was having, mmm?"
"Yes, Master. It had been over one full year ago that Geonosis, um, renewed our friendship. We remembered it for a drink together."
Obi-Wan shot him a look. Oooops. I don't drink. Obi-Wan's expression shaded into resignation at Anakin's lies about his whereabouts on the night of Sidious' demise. Lies, no, Master, just ... omissions. Please understand. He was starting to feel dirty again. Maybe I'll take up drinking.
Yoda pursued his timeline ferociously. "Nineteen-thirty death, blocked surge to protect yourself and the Senator, droids ceased functioning." Yoda's ears swiveled first one way, then reversed. "Repaired, are they?"
"No. Only this hyperburst I told you about came through, nothing more." If you need to view it, I'll bring it and the holoscanner's recording of it in. Does your species even have sex? "After all this is over, they'll need mindwipes, both of them." I can rebuild only so much of their traits. I'm not happy. I don't want them to change.
"Come closer, Padawan Skywalker."
Anakin gulped. He stepped away from his Master, not looking for a supporting glance. Just by being in the chamber with him, Obi-Wan was doing enough. My true friend lives. My friend who was not my friend is dead. Anakin stood before Master Yoda as repentant as he could possibly be. He'd been taken in by Sidious, he'd slaughtered thirty-two sentients undeservedly, plus their pets, he'd endangered his Master, his wife, his entire personal galaxy as well as the galaxy-at-large by his actions. And his non-actions. However Master Yoda judged, he knew it would hurt and he knew he deserved it.
One of the most difficult things that Obi-Wan had done in his life was not to send reinforcement of any kind through his training bond with Anakin. He clenched his fists with the effort to stand firm. A small tremor began in his right hand.
"Padawan Skywalker, destroyed the murderers of your mother, you have. Saved the Republic from continuing Sith leadership, you have, by destroying Sidious. Two kinds of results, one kind of destruction. Chosen for destruction, do you believe you are, Padawan?"
Anakin whispered, "No, I couldn't be, Master. The prophecy wouldn't be about only destruction from a Chosen One, it couldn't be! It must be about balance, about restoration as well as destruction." He firmed his voice. "I don't believe I am bad. I couldn't feel compassion" --- he glanced at Obi-Wan --- "or loyalty to the Order, or friendship, or, or anything else that is good if I were." He went on, softly, "But I made wrong steps. I'm willing to return to a planet that holds only pain to make amends to the Tuskens in their way, not mine. I will continue to pursue my Knighthood as heartily as I will pursue Count Dooku and Grievous, to end this war. And I will" --- his voice squeaked --- "be Padawan to the best Master ever, if he'll continue having me." He lowered his head so that he couldn't see Obi-Wan, but he felt his warm embrace almost physically through their bond. There followed a measured silence at least as long as Anakin's slaughter in the Tusken camp, but without the energizing charge of mind-numbing adrenaline. Anakin heard each of his heartbeats, felt each drop of cold sweat drip from his palms. Later, he couldn't honestly say what he thought about.
"Young Skywalker, come here." Anakin stumbled as he approached Yoda's seat. "Kneel." Anakin knelt. The wizened Master placed his gimer stick in Anakin's hands. "Know what this is, do you?"
"Your cane, Master."
"Hard, it is. Tough."
"Yes." Anakin had never touched it before. Its dark wood was filled with whorls, showing growth where shoots had sprouted long ago. A knobby handle displayed grooves where Yoda's claws found purchase. "It's ... a naynabo root?"
"Mmmm, yes ... good guess ... heeheee ... On Trow, I was, last century." Yoda snorted. "Not changed much in all that time, by your mission report. Gitchy runs wild there still."
Obi-Wan focused his mind with some effort on Yoda's words. His concentration was intermittent. "Bland. It's still bl-bland, Master Yoda. Landscape, food ... every-everything."
Yoda nodded at Obi-Wan's statement and seemed about to address him, but turned back to Anakin instead. "Good, bland is. Useful. Without bland, without something tying us to mundane reality, we soar too high." As he spoke, the gimer stick cooled in Anakin's hand from its prior Yoda-warmth. Yoda spread out his hands benevolently, rising to the ceiling of the chamber where the frescoes were lit by his unshielded light in the Force. Obi-Wan's tremor subsided and Anakin gaped as Yoda smiled down on the pair. He descended gently into his seat. "Temporary insanity with the Tuskens, it was. Forgiven, you are. Amends will you make to the ones you injured." Seeing Tatooine again, I can take it, I can and will take it. "Postponed, your Trials are, until peace resumes." I expected this part. "Remain in your care, Obi-Wan, young Skywalker will." And I am unworthy of this part. "Darkness, thinning, it is. And greatly to do with you, Anakin Skywalker. Keep the stick. Dozens more in my closet, I have. Use it for when you need blandness." Yoda touched the stick once as if to gather enough equanimity to reach his quarters to gather its replacement, and regarded Obi-Wan. "Resume leave, you both shall. Look to your health, young Jedi. Keep me informed."
Without asking, Obi-Wan knew that Yoda wouldn't really mind if he did not keep him informed of exact details in his problem. The aged Master would mind, though, if Obi-Wan didn't recover. Obi-Wan nodded. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered about Yoda and Yaddle's home world. No one knew it, and Obi-Wan was afraid to ask. He didn't object to a few mysteries in life.
The river intensified.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Two
"For the Force's, Anakin's, the Order's, and my own sake ... No, no, that's wrong." Luminara said that I must put myself first on the list. Obi-Wan started over breathlessly, "For my own sake Anakin's the Force's and the Order's I scale down my reaction ... down ... down .... until I can ... breathe ... without ... hyperventilating ... there ... " He heaved a breath. "Step one done." For step two, he first clenched all his voluntary muscles and then consciously relaxed them twenty times. It helped. It was the second time he'd needed the revised kata this morning. The first time was when he'd awakened to his bed without Anakin in it. It took a full minute to remember why they slept separately these days. His Padawan had sung in the 'fresher as Obi-Wan woke up, not his usual lusty, "Roll Me Over In The Clover," but a sweet tune involving Ewoks. He can't act, but he can sing, and spar a little. The comical title under Anakin's likeness in this season's holoyearbook popped into his head. More random thoughts like this and he'd comm Luminara. She hadn't wanted him to attend the Chancellor's funeral, anyway. He could beg off. No. Anakin will penetrate Sidious' office with Dar Wac under the guise of gathering quotes for Anakin's part of the eulogy. Dar Wac alerted us to this window of opportunity to gather Sidious' private files, and I will attend the Council meeting and the funeral. For Anakin's sake ...and my own. Anakin had left already to meet with Dar Wac and as Obi-Wan rolled out of his luxurious sheets, he berated himself for lying slug-abed while there was work to be done.
xxxxx
Dar Wac's usual musky smell permeated a five-meter ring around him. "Wait in lobby. Call you, I will, if need you I do." Dar Wac obeyed. The Rodian's glazed eyes added to Yoda's twinges of guilt, and he knew that Dar Wac would remember none of his part in the deception. Straighten out his loyalties, I would, if I did not put limits on my meddling. Mind wipes, sentients do not need.
After adjusting the Chamber's holoemitter to its largest display, Anakin set up it up in the middle of the room, first darkening the spire's large windows from the midmorning sun. The pilfered files came from a charred top-of-the-line model of holoemitter on Sidious' desk, undoubtedly loaded with extras and enhanced reception. He was not tempted to tinker with its repair. What it needed was being fired into a binary sun's corona, zapped into its constituent atoms. At a nod from Master Yoda, he inserted the files and activated the device.
Hmmmph. What mammals will get up to. Yoda squinted at a uncorrupted file of a full silhouette of Senator Amidala and an unfamiliar curly-headed ... female? ... err, yes, female perhaps-human, perhaps-something-close-enough. Too thin, they both are. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the Council chamber so that all the others could observe and comment on their trove, he traveled further into the folder of top secret files, a subfolder leading him into a series of orders from One to Sixty-Seven of varying interest ("NOTE FOR GLORIOUS EMPEROR," said one, in an elaborate flowery font --- Emperor? Emperor, he would be? --- designating Order Number Fifteen: Change colors of guards' uniforms to red) until he reached Order Sixty-Six: Initiate total purge of Jedi Order galaxy-wide by complete clone forces. After reading Order Sixty-Seven (Forceful sampling of blood or comparable tissue and/or fluid samples of all Empire citizens to identify fugitive Jedi or any other Force-sensitives targeted for elimination), he clicked off the holoemitter with an unsteady claw, dimly hearing Adi Gallia sobbing. Shaak Ti automatically tried to put a comforting blue arm around Adi's blue shoulders, but became frustrated by her holoemitter's limitations. Kit Fisto staggered near to the door and vomited. Close to Yoda's side, having risen from his seat in alarm to stare at the file, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and whispered, " ... the younglings ... the younglings ... " as he bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and lowering his head to prevent a faint. The bewildered look left Anakin's face and a justified expression took its place. The Padawan stood strong and tall in the middle of the circle of seats, more in control than any of the Councilmembers, Yoda included. Yoda approached Anakin and placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. "Leaving for Tatooine directly after funeral, you are. All the time you need there, take without counting. Small reimbursement for a debt the Order can never repay." Anakin thought he saw tears in Master Yoda's eyes, but it was hard to tell through the tears in his own.
xxxxx
Resembling a mechanical device himself, Anakin got through the day; the state funeral no longer said 'hypocritical' to him. He buried a friendship with a Sith the same day that he buried his ideals of marriage. Like that time when Ferus checked him on the green Temple scramball playing field, he knew he wasn't always going to win. Dredging up the child-like emotions during the Naboo Victory Parade when he was nine and putting them behind him in his growing awareness of his maturity, only the trappings of this afternoon were similar: enormous crowd, many speeches, Padme beside him. As he began his part of the eulogy after hefting the casket onto its bier along with Padme, Amedda, Dar Wac and two others, he glanced sideways at Padme's painted face and finery. Just like our takeout terratta strips and the best part of our marriage, let's get this over with fast. The dais seemed an island with a blinding view of a glary ocean. Anakin searched the crowd, talking all the while from his notes. He couldn't spot any Jedi, much less Obi-Wan. Still thumbing the scroller on his datapad, letting his voice stress or destress his words according to his practice thirty minutes earlier, he searched for Obi-Wan without stopping until he found him. We've imprinted; we won't lose each other. Anakin could not see his Master's face at all, nor his form. The beacon pointed him out anyway. Tatooine next. Sandpeople, Cliegg, Owen, Beru ... sand. Hang in there, Anakin.
The river filtered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Three
Space. Adventure, without the shooting-at-his-Z-95-Headhunter part, the being-a-target-for-droids mindset. Tatooine did have some CIS activity, but it was centered around Mos Osnoe, far from Mos Eisley. I could learn to like this, Obi-Wan thought, and then paused. We're on a somber mission for my Padawan. Enthusiasms later, Obi-Wan. "Tatooine tomorrow morning, Master. I'm meditating about it tonight."
"I'll join you, of course." Qui-Gon's face, red with the exhausting heat that curbed his performance against the Zabrak, Master's gasping, dusty body on the ship's ramp. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi." "Right after I do something about this shudder in the engines."
There crouched Obi-Wan, greased up adorably, but in the wrong kind of grease. Master's so much better today. I'm up for something, but how to interest him? Shower? Dropping towel 'accidentally'? Sonics only on this tub, a handheld applicator in the tiny 'fresher that would be like pointing a blaster at a lover and expecting them to get romantic. Their transport was another Courier, its dejarik table bolted firmly to the deck, double-checked for sabotage. No beds, just blow-up pneumatics that reminded him last night forcefully of Obi-Wan's lips in a similar shape, doing something delightful. Too bad there aren't any lavalavas to borrow from Beebar and Dimmie to play at being Trow natives. Both teens elected to stay on Coruscant indefinitely, finding work right away and having a steadying influence as well as a curfew in the Jedi Hostel.
A wild idea struck him like a meteorite. "Master, maybe the problem is in the morrin stabilizers. Derezz them, would you?"
"Sure." Obi-Wan deftly produced a tool from the onboard toolkit without asking Anakin to verify its usage. Anakin shook his head. Master, a techhead. Surprise. He smiled to himself as the gravity cut out. "Kriff!" swore Obi-Wan uncharacteristically from under the deck plates, his legs swinging free as his body and then finally his head appeared. He radiated embarrassment, his growing-out hair as well as the end of his nose darkened with grease. A smidgen of fluff was stuck to his nape by it. "I thought I had the hang of this, Anakin ... "
Anakin brushed away the fluff, lingering on the corded neck for eight seconds. The fluff floated away in slow motion. "Doesn't matter. I'll look at it later. Shudder's gone, see?"
"So it seems. Hard to tell, though, since we can't stand up. How did you know that?"
Anakin smiled ferally. "My ears are better than yours, I guess. But that's the only part of me that is." He angled downward very slowly to grab Obi-Wan's coveralls' belt, drawing them chest-to-chest. "All of you works just fine." The kiss left them both wanting more. Obi-Wan licked into Anakin's mouth as if he were attacking a Deneelian fizz-pudding, delving to find the hidden sweet in the midst of the goo. They pinwheeled in the zero gravity, bouncing, ricocheting with not a thought to any other being, any other ship, any other world. They were their own world.
"It's not working."
"The engines will be fine. I fooled you --- "
"No. My cock."
"I can fix that. Let the real mechanic go down and get dirty." Anakin lifted Obi-Wan's legs over his forearms so that their bodies pressed together more intimately. It didn't feel nearly as good when they were fully clothed. "Lean back, now." Obi-Wan did, locking his hands around Anakin's neck, bringing his ass to bear against Anakin's groin, squirming against it delightedly. They bobbed together gently in midair.
Anakin's head registered that this ought to be arousing, but his cock was having none of it. "Kriff."
"Padawan ... "
"Sorry."
Obi-Wan could think more clearly in space of late. It was very strange. "Gravity. No gravity."
"I know."
"It's affecting our blood pressure. Our blood that normally pools in the legs and lower, deliciously lower parts of the body collects in the upper part instead."
Anakin groaned. "I outsmarted myself."
My simpleton. "Possibly. But I" --- kiss --- "may" --- kiss --- "know" --- kiss --- "how" --- kiss --- "to" --- kiss --- "solve" --- kiss --- "this" --- kiss --- "particular" --- kiss --- "mechanical" --- lick --- "conundr--"
"Get on with it!" Anakin's mouth interrupted, but his body was enjoying the attention all too much.
Obi-Wan looked affronted. "Patience, Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Anakin counted to ten, and then again.
"We'll need to get closer."
That word again. "How?"
"We'll need the Force for this and there's only us two lifeforms available to draw upon."
Trow. Master had used the Force in Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy to honor the Mother respectably --- no, spectacularly --- against great odds. "I'm all ears."
Backflipping slowly away, Obi-Wan turned up the ambient temperature and slithered out of his coveralls and undergarments. Not even the sight of his Master's powerful body stirred Anakin's cock. "You do the same." Anakin disrobed, securing their clothing in an overhead cupboard, maneuvering in the zero gravity just like in Temple practice. On his return trip, he grabbed Obi-Wan in a crushing hug. They found a stasis in the middle of the troop compartment, suspended between deck and overhead. "You're excited."
"It's been a while."
Obi-Wan regarded him steadily. "And for me." Anakin couldn't reply except in a kiss. Their difficulties receded, their strengths advanced. "Do what I do," whispered Obi-Wan as he rammed the burst containing Luminara's instructions for clearing sinus cavities through their bond.
Anakin gasped with the impact. A Master's power is so ... big. "S-S-See what you're getting at."
"It's only for you, Anakin. Taken it in all the way?"
"Ohhh, yeah. Now what?"
"Now I'm going to pull it out and show you how to reverse everything."
"Nnnnnnngh."
"You all right there?"
"Uh-huh. Do it like this?" Our new bond, I love it, I love it ...
"Yes, Padawan." Anakin shunted five millimeter-wide strands of the Force into the triple spongy layers of his cock, blocking a tubule here, widening one there, so that blood flowed from his upper body down to where, as a human, it naturally would not go while he was in zero gravity. He could both feel and see the change in his cock. From a stir to a wiggle to a prominence, his length firmed until it was where he wanted it to be, and even a bit more.
Obi-Wan watched himself expand beyond his fondest hopes. Ohhh, a distraction for Anakin from his troubles. Goodie. He held Anakin's tense biceps as he swung himself slowly into the position they'd tried while clothed. It felt much better now. Lube. Kriff.
Anakin continued the same thought. Galley. Immediately. He kept the flesh hand on Obi-Wan's bare back, reaching up to inch along the rivetted overhead seam that fused each side of the Courier together, pulling them handhold-by-handhold to the galley.
Obi-Wan stayed motionless while thinking furiously. "Shortening," he said. Anakin continued pulling. They reached the galley and Obi-Wan slowly, slowly reached over for the cupboard and its shortening. The can floated away after he'd slicked his hands. "Both?"
"Yuh-huh." Anakin closed his eyes. "Mmmmmhm. There, too. Ohhh, yessss."
Obi-Wan's voice hadn't squeaked lately, but it did now. "You do me."
The river obliged.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Four
Obi-Wan whimpered, "More, more. I can take it. Don't be timid, Anakin, there, ahhhh ... " How did I ever ... no matter what he's done ... saved our Republic .. like me, a Sith-Killer, oh ... oh, my ...
Can't hurt him. Use the Force, Anakin ... Anakin closed his eyes and concentrated. It huffed the breath right out of him, like that first time he felt Obi-Wan's force inside him, impaled and penetrated while Gitchy's Living Force murmured nearby. When Master received the same treatment this evening, he was anxious to prove himself completely well again, Anakin could tell. I control how deep and how fast, Padawan Kenobi, Anakin thought as he cupped Obi-Wan's ass in his two strong hands and stopped mid-stroke.
Nooooooo. I'm well again, I can take it, let me distract you from our last week together. Don't baby me! Obi-Wan knew better than to fight in this situation, but he opened his eyes for a Masterly glare. The effect was ruined by the sight of his Padawan's focused features, perfectly in control as he stayed all motion. Is this one of those times when he knows better than me? Obi-Wan closed his eyes to self-diagnose for a pleasure check. Great sex? Great sex. Well. All right then. He could control himself. A list of aphorisms ran through his head. "Everything Proceeds According To Plan." Yes. "There Is No Passion, There Is Serenity." Piffle. "Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder." Very true. He hadn't realized how their troubles had frayed his strength until now.
// Now? Now? // The word came as a shriek through their bond. Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Anakin's face streamed sweat, his brow remained unfurrowed, his lips atremble as the tender pity Obi-Wan had felt for the boy --- man --- on the commons at Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy surged to the fore, mixed with profound respect. He doesn't want to risk hurting me ... or losing me ... "Never. You'll never lose me, Anakin." Oh, I'll join the Force one day, most likely before you, but even then I will wait for you. I won't be far.
"Now?" Anakin asked it aloud, Obi-Wan was sure of it.
"Now!" And then they were cartwheeling, spinning, bouncing in a frenzy of lust and love and all that went with it.
In the midst of his battery against Obi-Wan's thighs, Anakin spared a belated look around the troop compartment --- no sharp edges, shouldn't get more than a bruising from this --- before once again throwing himself whole-heartedly into the fray.
Obi-Wan clamped and clenched and did all he could think of. He didn't care anymore about finesse. Space, it's fascinating, he thought right before he came. Ropy strings of come shot between his fingers, not stopping until reaching the opposite wall over by the 'fresher. The equal and opposite reaction pushed the two lovers into the back of one of the clone's plasticine seats. A moment later, Anakin bit hard enough to make his own Aurek initial on Obi-Wan's bicep as he stiffened even more, if possible, and came. A timeless period began at that point and didn't end until Tatooine's approach chimed on the navicomputer panel.
"Gonna use the Force frivolously, Master."
"Go right ahead."
"No demerits? No refectory cleanup duty?"
"Nope."
"Since when do you say 'nope'?"
"Since last night."
"Gravity's coming back in a minute. Brace yourself."
"'Gravity' as in 'a natural force' or 'gravity' as in 'seriousness'?"
"Both, I'm afraid."
"Ah." Anakin Felt the derezzing tool, lifted it, reversed its frequency and slid it into the morrin stabilizer's field. The gravity generators hummed to life, their slow rejuvenation adjusted by a safety algorithm. Anakin pulled his and Obi-Wan's lazily entwined bodies over to the rows of the clones' seating area and they separated from their loose embrace, sinking onto abutting seats as gravity pulled them back into duties.
"Hello, Master."
"Hello, Padawan."
"Do I look as full as I feel?"
"You should. That last time was the best of all." Obi-Wan sighed. "Another dinner excursion to the Elfin Sprite is in store for Luminara. I'll go broke again this month."
"I'll bring Barriss and we could have a double date."
"Wonderful. I thought if anyone, though, you would prefer bringing the Senator."
"Oh, I don't think so."
After chasing each other with the portable sonic showerhead, Obi-Wan and Anakin dressed and prepared to meet Cliegg Lars and his family at their homestead as per prior arrangement. Never effusive, Cliegg had beamed wholeheartedly this morning at the sight of Anakin's face on their two-dimensional comm station while Owen nodded with pleasure and Beru waved her wedding band at Anakin from the background. Some parts of Tatooine are ... more than passable, thought Anakin twenty minutes later as he strode down the ramp to a hug from Beru and firm handshakes from Cliegg and Owen. "Lars family, Cliegg, Owen and Beru, may I present my Master, General Obi-Wan Kenobi." Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at Anakin's use of his title and bowed. The Lars family bowed back, Cliegg doing the best obeisance that he could manage from his hoverchair.
"So, why are you hunting the Tuskens?" Cliegg speared a jakrab chunk and chewed on it loudly. Obi-Wan noticed that Cliegg's eyes followed Beru as she rose awkwardly from the plain dinnertable, his gaze coming to rest on her slightly thickened waistline. Oh. New life. The Mother would be pleased. "They'd better not give us any more trouble. Last year was ... was ... "
"I know, Cliegg. With my Master's help, I may be able to pacify any problems before they start this season." Anakin had sought Obi-Wan's advice about how to broach the delicate subject of reparations with Shmi's widower. They had come up with a plan together, with Anakin doing nearly all the talking to the family. Obi-Wan contented himself with listening to Anakin's voice, with an eye to a later critique.
The river adjudicated.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Five
The next morning's not-yet-harsh sunslight slanted across Anakin and Cliegg and Shmi's grave. "You'll comm me when it's all over."
It wasn't a request. Anakin didn't bristle, however. "Yes."
"I can't look at them anymore, you know. We used to see them sometimes on the ridge over there" --- he pointed --- "right at sunsup. Shmi and I would get up before dawn like we always did, drink our caf on the top step of the compound and look around at the land. The land. Heh."
"Your land. Cliegg, Mom looked happy in the vids you sent. The land and you made her happy."
There was no need for thanks and Cliegg didn't offer any. "Tell them to stay away. Tell them the one-who-survived-the-Bloodrite-torture-the-longest's tomb will open and suck them in and the half-man in the saddle-that-floats will pursue them and never stop." Cliegg's breath hoarsened and he paused to cough. "Tell them they can have their Hubba melons and waterskins in reparation for their raid here, but do one thing for me, Anakin Skywalker: Don't give them any mushrooms, dried or uncured, vaporator or Gafsa well varieties. Do that much in honor of your Mom." He reached down to wipe grit from Shmi's weathered stone. "She was picking mushrooms for our breakfast that morning ... it was even earlier than usual. She'd wanted to surprise me, Beru figured out when it was all over with, when she was all over with ... "
"I know, Cliegg." After touching his mother's etched name, Anakin leaned on Cliegg's chair and rose from his knees. The chair bobbed under the extra weight. He clamped a hand on Cliegg's shoulder.
"You coming back?" Cliegg squeezed Anakin's hand and held on tight.
All the time you need there, take without counting. "I'll ... see, Cliegg. We need to do this for your farm and all the others in this area." Anakin had not told the Lars about his vengeance. It might reinforce hatreds, and he had had enough of hatred. "I'll comm you for sure. We'll go to look now for the water and Hubba melons."
"Don't let them cheat you, son. Five wupiupi apiece for melons, three truguts for waterskins ought to do it."
Sweet of him. Mom had picked a good man. "Thanks, Cliegg."
"Pick out something for Beru and the baby. Put it on my tab. We'll get it the next time we go to town, if you don't come back here."
"Huh?"
"Beru's pregnant. You didn't know?"
"No, I didn't." Living Force, you kept your mouth shut on this one. "Congratulate her for me, for us. And Owen, too." Owen was almost exactly Anakin's age and soon to be a father. Like Grunbi on Trow, Owen would lead a peaceful and steady life. Unlike Grunbi, Owen's existence would be bound by sand, not a river. There would be a few rough spots, some whirlwinds, and they would be dealt with until Owen's own end beneath the sand. "We need to go. I'll be in touch, Cliegg."
"Goodbye, son."
Anakin trotted up the Courier's ramp. Obi-Wan ran the preflight check industriously in the co-pilot's seat. "Guess what? Beru's pregnant!"
"Mmmmhm."
"Did you know?"
"Mmmmhm."
"Why doesn't anybody tell me these things?"
Obi-Wan finished the checklist. "That's all right, Anakin. You can't put a thirty-six --- "
" --- year-old head on twenty year-old shoulders, yeah, I realize that." Anakin input the calculations for the short hop to Mos Eisley. "I guess you are the Master, Master."
"And don't you forget it."
Two hours later, one hundred waterskins and six hundred Hubba melons richer and slightly less than two hundred credits poorer, Gafsa canyon's echoes hushed the two Jedi into silence. Anakin pointed his portable scanner to the water well. "They're over the next ridge, out of sight. Plan going into effect ... now," he whispered. From the rigged external sound system on the Courier groaned a reverberating rumble, reaching into subsonics. A mature wounded bantha call, blended with a youngling bantha's cry of distress, floated over the Jundland Wastes. Three hours later, two Tuskens, one marked with a shaman's blue goggles and the other, shorter one most likely its apprentice, approached Anakin. Anakin had brushed up on his Huttese.
"Kee chai chai cun kuta?" The shaman spoke first, probably warier than normal about an intrusion so near to their sacred well.
"Je killya um pasa doe beeska wumpa." It warned me off, and I brought up killing right away. Good, blunt negotiations. Two hundred words later, Anakin had explained the reparations. Accompanied by fingers drawing in the sand to clarify the number of items offered, Anakin completed the parley, knowing Obi-Wan had his eyes and the weapons on the Courier trained on the Tuskens in case things got out of hand. The Tuskens agreed to the conditions. They seemed thin to Anakin's eyes; perhaps a famine blighted their existence and they were here at the well to recoup their strength. Anakin couldn't summon the words to convey Cliegg's personal warning, and settled for looking as fierce as he imagined the Tuskens looked under their wrappings.
"Wa wanna coe moulee rah?"
"'When can you expect payment?' Right now."
Anakin raised his mechno-hand and waggled its thumb and pinkie and Obi-Wan opened the Courier's ramp in reply. Two hours later and Obi-Wan and Anakin joined the Lars for after-dinner Tatooni Junko in the homestead's pergola, although the two Jedi abstained from the strong ale themselves. Afterwards, Beru showed them their room with its stencils of baby banthas and dewbacks gamboling near the ceiling and trailing down to the wide bed. "It'll be the baby's room, but you can use it as long as you like," she said shyly.
The river acknowledged.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Six
In the four weeks that Obi-Wan and Anakin stayed on Tatooine, Beru's baby bump expanded to a bulge and Anakin freed his memories of his childhood more and more to the scrapbook section of his thoughts. Something to be opened and looked at occasionally, but not dwelled upon. It was too soon to put Shmi's tragedy into the scrapbook. Anakin thought about her every day, living here with Cliegg, befriending Beru, mothering Owen for all the years of his adolescence. He kept Shmi's memory alive. During their visits to Mos Espa, nearly everyone he knew had resettled with different owners or, like Jira, had died. Watto remained, obstreperous as ever. He hadn't bought any more slaves. The heat of the long days made for leisurely amorous early mornings. It was after a particularly athletic session between the sheets back at the Lars homestead that Anakin noticed Obi-Wan's right hand trembling longer than it should have after Obi-Wan had climaxed.
"Here." Anakin tossed the moistened cloth to Obi-Wan after using it. Obi-Wan wiped himself without saying a word. "How are you feeling, Master?"
"I'm feeling great, fantastic and marvelous all rolled up into one. The clear desert air, all this relaxation has done me so much good ... "
Obi-Wan nattered on. His smile is entirely too bright. The tremor didn't fully stop until Obi-Wan gathered the Force to him. "Excuse me, Anakin. Be right back, darling." He rose from their bed, swayed a little, said, "Got up too quick," and headed for the 'fresher next to the small closet.
He and Obi-Wan were pleasantly surprised to have their own 'fresher, something Owen recently installed for the Lars nursery. It saved revealing themselves post-lovemaking. Anakin didn't know what Cliegg and Owen and Beru thought, and the Lars were too polite to pry. All in all, it was the thick adobe walls of the compound that saved Obi-Wan and Anakin from enduring knowing looks or fits of giggling. Life here had a rhythm as old as time: up at dawn, meditation, make love, breakfast with the family. Most mornings, they joined Owen and Cliegg, heading to work in a landspeeder, crowded shoulder to shoulder, Cliegg's chair strapped onto the fender. Anakin increased vaporator production by eight per cent, Obi-Wan learned much at his side, and the Lars said little, but looked their thanks. Anakin rigged a vegetable steamer for Beru by rewiring an automatic Kopi tea brewer and Obi-Wan led her through some basic pain relieving exercises and meditations for the ongoing pregnancy, as well as for when labor began. He told her privately about a Calming-Down kata he had used with a ten year-old Anakin. She laughed a long time over it, and promised to use it when he had adapted it for a non-Force-sensitive child.
Obi-Wan closed the 'fresher door firmly after himself, something he had taken to doing lately. Anakin frowned at him when he emerged. "Master, we need to leave tomorrow." It came out more authoritative than he meant.
Obi-Wan agreed readily. "Yes. Dooku and Grievous have had their setbacks, but they aren't captured yet. I'm concerned about Jabiim. The environment would wreak havoc on our armor."
"I don't think we'll be sent to Jabiim." Keep on talking about the war. Keep it all business. "Maybe back to Muunilinst for a recon mission."
Obi-Wan held his right hand with his left one and nodded. He rose to dress, saying something under his breath that sounded like "need to be ... to be effective," but Anakin ignored it. They ate a usual solid breakfast of Beru's --- no stoneslugs here --- and finished the day uneventfully. Beru sucked in her breath at their dinnertime announcement of departure. Cliegg and Owen offered them a Tatooni Junko in a farewell toast and for once the two Jedi partook. It did nothing for them.
The next morning was, as usual, clear and warmer. "Goodbye, goodbye, take care, brother ... "
"Come back to see us, the war can't last forever ... "
Cliegg pulled Anakin's sleeve so that Anakin would need to lean down. "Keep the cooling duct closed next time you come, ah, for a visit. Embarrassed Owen a little." Cliegg remained straight-faced. "I don't care what you do as long as you don't do it in the compound and frighten the eopies. You're a good boy."
xxxxx
Two and-a-half days later, Luminara smoothed Obi-Wan's right thumb into his palm and folded the fingers on top of it. "How's that?"
"It's all right, Lulu. No shakes."
Lulu? "And you've been reciting your lesson twice daily? Taken your vitamins?"
"Yep."
Over a month of this. Time to call for help. "Obi-Wan, I'm calling in Master Koon. It's time" --- she smiled encouragingly --- "we got you well." If Koon's imprinting technique has caused this, I'll ... I'll ... ice up his mask.
Obi-Wan swung his legs as he squirmed on the exam table. "Tomorrow's the picnic, Lulu. I don't want to miss it. Can't it wait?"
She hadn't seen that pleading look on Obi-Wan's face in thirty years. "Very well. I'll go over your case with Master Koon in the meantime and we'll hypothesize its etiology."
"Big words, Lulu." Obi-Wan's lower lip protruded.
"We'll think about you and try to --- no, we will --- figure out why your body is doing this."
Obi-Wan whooped, jumped down from the exam table and ran out the door. It barely had time to open for him. At Luminara's bewildered look, Anakin shouted over his shoulder as he followed his Master at a gallop, "Delayed intoxication from a Tatooni Junko three days ago. You should have seen him in hyperspace this morning. Worse than the Yimpian incident!" He tore off down the hallway.
The river imbibed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Part Ninety-Seven
The morning of the Republic Day Jedi Annual Picnic and Open Temple Tour dawned with its usual golden and pink glory. Not only was Obi-Wan feeling better after recovering from his bout with intoxication, he was looking forward to seeing Quinlan Vos, who was returning for a brief leave before shipping out again. After completing his Morning Wood kata with a luxurious stretch, Obi-Wan found both hands trembling at the expectation of seeing his friend and so he accessed Luminara's revised directive, breathing deeply. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, Councilmember, Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Anakin Skywalker," he said aloud. "I am the Negotiator. These things are all that I need be in the Force. I do not need to feel any deeper than I must to be effective, and if I do, I will not be effective. For the Force's, Anakin's, my own, and the Order's sake ... " I like this sequence better
Anakin entered from the 'fresher, toweling his hair. "Hangover?" he asked in a considerate whisper. Obi-Wan had used the Force in some unusual ways yesterday.
"None."
Anakin sat on the edge of the bed, his weight pressing the blankets against his Master's outline. He continued to dry his hair to have something to do; it wasn't as if his bristles needed it. "Master, you Force-leaped from the mezzanine level of the Temple yesterday."
"I was under the influence of the Tatooni Junko ale, and the operative word here is 'Force'; I sustained no injury."
"Well, I did. Twisted my ankle while I was chasing you down the thoroughfare. What were you after, anyway?" Anakin dropped the towel on the bed in a soggy heap, but Obi-Wan didn't complain.
"I heard the frozen confection vendor's transport and I wanted something cold to suck on after sojourning in desert heat, that's all."
"Oh. Sorry you couldn't catch up to it."
"As am I, but the Phlog female kin-group with their prams got in my way." There are no ugly babies, there are no ugly babies ...
"I'll bring you some Herglic algae ice cream at the picnic today ... waaaaaiiiit a minute. How did you hear the transport's tinkling in the Temple, from inside Master Lu's office? I didn't hear it."
Yes, how did I? Obi-Wan's voice remained smug. "As a Master, there are a few things I haven't told you yet, Anakin. Something for you to look forward to."
Obi-Wan swung his legs around Anakin's bottom, sat up and pulled on his undergarments, having no trouble fastening the underarm seams with his right hand, Anakin noticed. Anakin stood up and retrieved the towel from the bed; he wasn't in the mood for another towel-snapping game. "What is that?" he asked, spying a parcel with Another Fine Custom-fitted Item From Eastport's Customizing Boutique, Located Inside The Spacers' Lounge, Which Customizes YOUR Shopping And Intoxicant Experience blaring from its otherwise tasteful white chipboard surface.
Obi-Wan clutched the large box to his chest protectively, then sighed. "It was a surprise for you. Close your eyes." Anakin closed his eyes, hearing provocative rustling, the sliding of cloth against something slicker, like nerf leather. His imagination danced overtime. "Open them." Anakin did. Fully clothed, arms akimbo, Obi-Wan had a sly grin on his face. "Like them?"
Boots. New white boots, made from something softer and thinner than the Quartermaster's issue, graced Obi-Wan's feet. Like in the vision, the cobbler's offering that looked in the beginning like Jedi standard-issue, but which I see now are flagrantly, outrageously non-standard. "Gorgeous!" Obi-Wan did a step-slide-slide-kick and the fringe folding over just below his knees swayed enticingly. Unifying Force, I'm getting better at perceiving you. "Shall we be off, then?"
"I'll bring our covered dish."
xxxxx
"Knight Kenobi!"
Dimmie and Beebar and some unfamiliar teens of varying species, one carrying a holocamera with its primary tail, trooped up to Obi-Wan and Anakin's blaket. To the Jedi's delight, the youthfully-dressed tourists smiled and bowed gracefully. Beebar's sporty cape flapped in the afternoon breeze. "I'm sorry we didn't visit sooner. Coruscant's busier than we thought. I get to park speeders at the Outlander. Some of them even have orbital capability, and they pay me for it!" He looked astounded at his good fortune.
"Coruscant's so big!" chirped Dimmie. "I found work right away. I even served at a banquet and guess who was there!" She didn't wait for an answer. "The Supreme Chancellor!"
Anakin looked away at the crowd. It was larger than he'd ever seen at one of these things, Jedi mixing with other Republic citizens freely. We're still here, Palpatine, sir. You didn't kill us. He summoned up a smile for Dimmie's enthusiasm, if nothing else. "That's nice."
"Y'see, he'd dropped his zog and I handed it back to him ever so nicely meself --- "
"Dimmie, what's that you have there?" Obi-Wan broke in. Some variety of comestibles would be welcome, because Jocasta Nu had misorganized their Masters' section of the potluck and everyone had brought the protato salad.
Dimmie squatted and placed a plasticine bowl on their blanket, nestling it in amidst the bags of cracknuts and puffpackets of muja juice. She thumbed open its seal and beamed with pride. "It's me mother's recipe, though I did have to substitute ingredients some."
It was nutrient paste, almost glowing in heaps of purple sludge. "Dive in!" Beebar said cheerfully. All the teens stuck a finger or tentacle into the goo, sucking lustily at the mucilaginous paste. Obi-Wan and Anakin followed suit. It was demolished in minutes.
Obi-Wan shaded his eyes and looked up at the sun. "You've got time to make the last tour, kids! Better hurry!" With laughs and grins and giggles, the group scurried off. The teen with the holocamera panned it widely over the crowd to preserve the memory of cavorting Jedi in this prestigious event that occurred only annually. Obi-Wan arranged their umbrella to shade him from a recurrence of sunburn.
The late afternoon sun warmed Anakin's mechno-hand as he reclined, nibbling on barbecued brot-rib whose sauce wouldn't quit burning his lips. Through the implants, its sensors registered the heat to the section of his awareness that controlled their input as 'temperate for humans, high for Mirialans, frigid for Mustafarians,' until he pressed 'reset' on the second knuckle of its middle finger with his thumb. He didn't need to think about traveling into the war zone yet. Obi-Wan's health came first. With Dooku establishing a staging area on Alliga and Grievous' droid supply problems, the war went at least the same before their leave on Tatooine. Perhaps a bit better. Kamino's new clones showed more initiative than the first batch.
"Time for your scramball exhibition, too, Anakin. Off with you."
"Aren't you going to watch?"
"I see enough of you in action. I'm going to take a nap."
The river snoozed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Eight
Before his Fall, Dooku gave the Temple Tour for many years. He always loved describing the history more than the ongoing life of the Temple. When his ideals led him to drop 'Master' before his name and substitute 'Count,' Jocasta Nu led the tours, using Dooku's speech nearly word for word. Twenty minutes ago, she had sprained an ankle in the three-appendage race and Healer Unduli instructed her to rest for the few hours it took until the swelling subsided completely. Yoda stepped in. "Constructed over four thousand years ago, this Temple was, but our first temple, it was not. A place of memory, it is. A place of change, it is. Events greatly affecting our Council's position on many things, large and small, taken place in only my lifetime, they have."
"How old are y--- " asked a dark-skinned female, barely post-pubescent, before her friend clamped a tentacle over her mouth and bared its beak in apology.
Yoda chuckled. "Not too old to learn. Depart from our usual speech, I shall, to spend more time in Jedi philosophy than in architecture." The same female groaned, along with her companions. Hmmph. Manners, they need. "Our ... faith, some call it, means studying and using the mystical ways of the Force. Know of the Force, some of you do." A very few beings in the crowd acknowledged the truth of the Force in the various ways of their native cultures. Yoda smiled nostalgically. "My own training, I can bring up at will on every subject I have been taught. Less sure I am of things I have learned in nearly nine hundred" --- the crowd gasped --- "standard years of existence. Some lessons, stand out, they do" --- swim on a full stomach, do not; fly without calculating hyperspace jumps first, do not --- "yet the lesson I want to teach the most, learned late in life, it was: Attachments can lend strength to a Jedi when the Jedi path, impossible to walk, it seems." The crowd gasped once more. Yoda waited for their recovery. "Steps on our path, taken one at a time, they are. Not hops, but gliding steps." The crowd stilled in that way that any classroom had when the lesson shot directly over their heads. Yoda's centuries of teaching experience came to his aid. Relate to what is known. "Question I have for friend of young female with propensity for nosy questions." The crowd tittered uncertainly.
"Yes, sir." The male fingered the edges of his up-to-the-minute fashionable cloak. "I, I mean, ask away."
"When flying your Incom T-16 skyhopper and suborbital you are, how change direction, do you?"
"I use the brakes."
"I see. Come to complete stop, turn your skyhopper manually in new direction, then accelerate until top velocity again you acquire?"
The young man said seriously, "No, sir, I fly speeders for a living. I'll be clearer. I brake going into a curve, glide around the curve, and accelerate out of it."
"This young being, free meal for himself and all his friends at the Manarai restaurant in Monument Plaza, has he won!" Yoda exclaimed. The man stepped back into his group. They gathered around him with subdued cheering. Yoda continued. "Seeing you all here brings warm feelings to my heart. Someone tell me why they came to see the Jedi today."
"Because my folks made me!" one clear voice piped up. The gathering chuckled.
"Honest, the mind of a child is. Honest, I shall be. Changes to the Jedi Order will be in our glide period, because braking to our way has already occurred." The clones, standing where I am, blasting, slaughtering, nursery babes dashed to the floor ...
"You mean, you won't wear your bathrobes to work anymore?"
... babes like you, youngling ... Yoda roused himself out of the scenes from his last nightmare and laughed along with his audience. "Perhaps. More along the lines of what goes on underneath our robes, I was thinking. Friendship that engenders thoughts of tender touches, more than comradely embraces, long hours devoted to discovering another's exact shape --- "
"Yes, we know what you mean, Master Yoda," chimed in an Ithorian's bass voice. "Will this change in, um, philosophy be involving Jedi only, or will it involve non-Jedi with Jedi as well?"
Yoda choked on his own words. He hadn't considered that. The Force would smooth the course of any Jedi-Jedi relationships. The Force being accessed by one partner only, well ... He frowned, adding another bump to his brow. "Not far enough along the curve, I see. Keep you posted, I will." The Ithorian subsided and Yoda had to wonder if an Ithorian press release were being written in its bulging cranium right now. Onward. "See the Room of One Thousand Fountains next, we will, and then the Menagerie. Mind your step when we get down there and tease my kybuck, do not. Feisty, he is today." Yoda's slow steps led the tour deeper into the bowels of the venerable Temple. He had been in the audience during Anakin's debate on attachments. Yoda didn't know whether or not his vision of a revised Jedi Code was planted by the Padawan's debate, but it would not have surprised him. Upset by "traitors" to the Order, like K'Kruhk, I have been, also. Traitors to the Force, they are not. Good to practice my speech before civilians, it is; the Council will be much tougher crowd. Yoda shuffled down the hallway to their next stop. And young Obi-Wan's newfound happiness illuminates the Force around him. Cause for that, I believe, wears darkest of dark brown robes and plays scramball.
The Dark Side, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Joining the tour at the last minute out of curiosity because Siri was a disagreeable companion today, Adi Gallia split off from the group and headed back outside. She told herself to calm down as soul Healer Regork had taught her. Qui-Gon, you dear, stubborn fool of a Jedi, if you can hear your old friend, give me a sign that it is or isn't the Dark Side involved in these changes! Adi waited. Qui-Gon remained at rest. Adi mumbled to herself as she went back to the picnic area for more barbecue.
The river angsted.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part Ninety-Nine
"Gooooal!"
Another score for the opposition, three minutes into the match. Anakin hunkered down for a time-out with two of his old scramball teammates. "Vos is the one to look out for."
"He's tough," agreed Ferus Olin. The six volunteers had rolled a chance cube for picking teams before they began the shortened version of the sport. With a half-strength team of three players, Olin, Veld and Skywalker made up the Astounding Accipipteros while Vos, Secura, and Shylar comprised the Bodacious Bogwings. To honor Master Yoda, both teams were named after reptavians from the planet Dagobah, a world with a mysterious appeal to the Order's Grandmaster. Anakin was pleased this was only a short demonstration match, because the Quartermaster's hastily-made-up sports uniforms with their logos did not fit well. His pinney was too loose while his shorts were too tight. He supposed he hadn't finished growing in some areas of his body and would need to update his measurements with the Uniform Replacement Department. His cleats were his own and being well-broken in, fitted perfectly. Anakin eyed Ferus' powerful build. With a quick mind and admirable reflexes, Olin had matured from a few years ago into a fine teammate and was Jedi to the core. Their teen-aged squabbles Anakin had placed in the scrapbook section of his memories. The gold streak in Olin's hair would make him easy to spot for a pass. Since their demo's rules were for touch scramball only, they needed no helmets.
"Veld, you and Skywalker double-team Shylar. I'll handle Vos and Secura. I know their moves. They always circle the goal. It's predictable, really." Team Captain Olin waggled his bushy eyebrows at Tru humorously, a habit he had consciously developed to make himself appear less stiff. Tru had recovered from his bout with Togorian measles, but only now was getting back into the swing of things and having some fun. He'll be a liability to a team, Anakin thought regretfully. I've got to shore up our offense.
Tru grinned his wide grin at Ferus and Anakin, for once not saying much. He knew the game well, though, and his limber doublejointed physique could do remarkable things, like going between human or humanoid opponents' legs with just a wiggle and ripple of his supple spine. "Look over there," he giggled. Without pointing rudely, he gestured with a jerk of his head. "Knight Fee is making sure we don't dig up too many divots with our cleats." Sure enough, the Temple gardener stood in an uncrowded part of the green, hands cupping his elbows. Anakin couldn't see from here, but he supposed there was a slight scowl marring the man's handsome face. For a Living Force type, he sure worries a lot. The whistle blew. Ferus, Tru and Anakin nodded a 'yes' to their gameplan, slapped each other's behinds and trotted back to the match.
From a twenty-minute demo, an amazingly intricate game grew until Obi-Wan awakened from his post-prandial nap at the hubbub. He meandered over to the playing field after a stop at the dessert table, selecting a slice of air cake to enjoy as he watched the last five minutes of the match. As he mingled with the onlookers, he spotted Luminara and Plo Koon in deep discussion.
"How did you come up with your technique, Plo?" Its purpose is very unlike your personality. "And thanks for the help. I put off going to New Holstice until Obi-Wan's return from Tatooine. It's discouraging that he isn't recovered by now."
Plo was as earnest as a physicist could be. "Purely scientific, Luminara. We've used the Force imprinting technique to find our way in untracked wilderness for a few decades now. It took some serious tweaking for mobile living beings to imprint on each other rather than on such things as mineral fractals in the soil, plant root diagrams or topography. Living flesh does contain minerals, though, and their proportions can be sensed and mapped onto a Jedi's mind so that a partner will always be able to find its mate." Plo scanned the game. Normally, he programmed his comm station to his favorite sports feed; All The Galaxy's Sports, All The Time statistics seeped into his consciousness without effort and were duly organized. Hmmm. Last night's pro scramball match didn't have anything on the Accipipteros. Look at Skywalker score!
Luminara followed his gaze. Anakin's golden body sidestepped Vos for another attempt on goal. She held her breath --- missed it! --- then focused again on Plo. "What did you first research when I commed you with his case file?" Please don't overdo the honesty and tell me that you picked someone's brain. I'd have to report you. Or at least I'd feel obligated to.
"My original notes, along with the updated comms from the eighteen successful imprinting couples" --- couples? odd term --- "and the two failures."
He's honest, anyway. "Yes, about those, Plo. How were they diagnosed?"
Plo folded his hands around his macrobinoculars to see a scrimmage at the far end of the field. "Hmmm? Oh. One partner of a Master/Padawan couple grew despondent over the failure of the technique and moped around the Temple for weeks before coming to see me. The other failure was of an imprinting couple who were long-time friends. Each partner showed different symptoms. Partner Aurek" --- Luminara knew who it was; the whole Temple knew, but Plo was being discreet in the mixed Jedi/non-Jedi throng --- "fixated on Partner Besh's safety. Commed her several times daily. Tasted her refectory food to smooth any lumps in her breakfast Ugorian spore-gruel. Partner Besh refused to allow Partner Aurek to pilot herself, took to escorting her everywhere, from outings with friends to appointments with me. They could not separate without psychic trauma. It took six weeks of intensive telepathic debriefing before the cure."
"So it was arduous, but you did secure a course of treatment?"
"Look at that! Look at that broken-field run! Go, Vos! Ruuunnnnn, Quinlan!"
"Plo."
"Noooo! He's checked, he's tagged out ... "
"Plo!"
The Kel Dor answered without lowering his macrobinoculars or turning to her, "Luminara, I constructed the technique purely as a scientific experiment. I, myself, never would choose to be that close to anyone. If your friend Obi-Wan displays similar symptoms and you have been treating them as purely psychosomatic, perhaps I can sense telepathically any complications. It can be with or without the patient's consent, if the situation is severe."
You're an ass, but I'll use your expertise anyway. Luminara watched the game. It was the final minutes of play. The Bodacious Bogwings were tied up with the Astounding Accipipteros. Suddenly the action was directly in front of them in a tackleless maneuver that nonetheless was thrilling to watch. Shylar's pinney was half-untied as she ran full out with the ball cradled in the curl of her right arm, long kinky hair streaming behind her. As arresting to view were Vos' flying dusky braids, whirling as he twirled deftly in and out of the wedge. A goal here would mean a tie, allowed in a demo match but not in regular competitive play. Vos defended his offensive teammate Shylar on one side, Secura on the other, her lekku seemingly with lives of their own as they bounced on her shoulders. Defending the Accipipteros' goal were Anakin and Ferus, twin towers of fortitude alike in stature, glaring almost Masterly glares at the incoming attack. Tru held the position of goalie, certainly an asset to defense because of his marvelous ability to bend and block a shot. Close-in-to-the-goal action, though, might prove problematical because his recent weakening illness might make him too pliable. His body could give in a sustained push on goal, allowing the thirty-centimeter diameter ball to touch the goal line inside the net and thus score.
The Astounding Accipipteros and Bodacious Bogwings teams were as serious at this demo as in any other endeavor they'd attempted as Jedi. Maybe it was the frustrating war, maybe it was the shouting crowd, whatever the reason, Anakin found he wanted to win. Or at least tie. He quashed all notion of using the Force --- though it would make a terrific demonstration to Push the opposition unexpectedly and make them fly like real bogwings --- as he planted his cleats and crouched in a classic defensive pose. Stand firm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ferus mirror his stance and sensed Tru, a jittery presence behind him, figuring any weak spots that their bulwark wouldn't cover.
On rolled Vos in a charge, his cleats pumping out divots behind him. Yoland Fee will take him to task. Vos brought up his left arm for a straight-arm shove that skirted the rules, while his right arm distracted Anakin in a 'come-on' gesture that could only mean 'Faster!' to his fellow Bogwings. Anakin planted his feet more widely, ducked Vos' straight arm and grabbed his waist as if in a forbidden tackle. Shocked at the supposed violation of rules, Vos slowed his momentum and clamped his right arm, tense with outrage, on Anakin's left shoulder. Vos' momentum and his stiffened right arm let Anakin bend backwards slightly away from the attack but into the direction of motion even more to hoist the Kiffar over his head, trusting that the man's Jedi reflexes would turn the headlong toss into a walkover, which the astonished Vos did. Walking over not only Anakin --- Anakin felt Vos' head do a skull-to-skull roll, parietal bone to occiput and then off, trailing the vines of his braids against Anakin's pinney --- but also the goal, with more impetus supplied by Anakin's grasp of Vos' left foot in a boosting step-up movement, Vos landed his unintended acrobatic display with only a slight wobble and bowed to the onlookers. Anakin recovered his equilibrium and the crowd roared in approval.
Anakin focused now on Tru and Ferus. Shylar's attempt on goal was imminent as Secura swarmed all over Ferus as roughly as the rules allowed and he stood his ground against her. Her lesser mass meant that he did not need to resort to Anakin's tactics. It was enough to absorb her charge. Secura kept Ferus occupied as Shylar homed in on the goal. Anakin reached for her, but she twisted and cocked her arm. Tru presented his best defense, locking all the joints in his strong arms for a handstand and cursing the demo rule that said a goalie could use only his lower limbs when in the crease. His agile legs windmilled, the cast was made, the ball hit his rippling right knees. The shot was blocked. The whistle blew. Secura stopped her squirming. Shylar stuck her tongue out at Tru and laughed merrily right before Vos scrambled around the goal, saw the situation, and relaxed in relief. "Whew! Great match!" He slapped Anakin's rump. That was when Anakin discovered his skin-tight shorts had not enough stretchability to accommodate his athleticism and had split at the back seam.
Physics, mused Plo Koon. Too much strain on a material and its integrity failed.
The river explained.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred
Quinlan Vos' braids had puzzled Anakin from the beginning. "Didn't Master Vos want to lose the braided look when he passed his Trials?"
"Quinlan has his own style, Padawan. Jedi may be individuals. You've been in the Order months now, long enough to realize that."
For himself, Anakin couldn't wait. At nine and-a-half, his smallish braid and Knight's tail prickled his cheek and arm when he lay his head down on them each night, curled into a ball next to Master's pillow in their wide bed. Anakin had never owned a pillow before and refused to use one. Master said there were fillets to keep hair smooth, but Anakin had been embarrassed to look "silly."
Obi-Wan came to realize that picking battles was an important part of living with a youngling in the 'tweens. "It's dark when you would need it, and at any rate, I'm the only one who would ever see you wear it," Obi-Wan went on stubbornly, despite himself. Anakin's tossing and turning at night needed some remedy, and his kicking was a Trial perhaps taking the place of Obi-Wan's curtailed official ones.
"No. Please."
But Master would see me in it. Obi-Wan read between the lines. Obi-Wan was learning to Master and after seven months understood better his bashful charge's sensibilities. A youngling who needed someone in the same bedroom to sleep through the night, not to mention the same bed, needed extra understanding. Master Ali-Anann spent one entire day with Anakin and said later to go along with whatever the youngling wanted; after a year, changes could be made. Ali-Anann was off by two years. At age twelve, one day from out of nowhere, Anakin announced that he wanted his own bed, complete with pillow. He was bigger in the bed then, though not as restless, and Obi-Wan was not sorry to see him go.
"Obi-Wan, I saw you with Anakin today."
Obi-Wan started. Leave the past, Obi-Wan. Quinlan is sitting next to you, remember? "Well, of course you did, Quinlan. We live together." Anakin, good Padawan that he was, was rummaging through the cooler at the dessert table for the Herglic algae ice cream he had promised to bring Obi-Wan.
"No .... oooooh!" Quinlan watched the fireworks along with his friend on their rumpled picnic blanket. The umbrella lay folded on the grass beside it.
"Ahhhhh!" Simple pleasures. Bright lights ... funny they don't hurt my eyes tonight. "Look, a krayt dragon!" Obi-Wan had seen them only on xenobiology specials on the HoloNet.
The breeze had freshened. Quinlan sat closer to his friend. "I mean, you and he are different together." I'm rusty at this. Been around gray Jedi, Turned Jedi, and spies too long. I miss my friends.
Obi-Wan played with the umbrella fringe. "He's more mature, twenty now, you know. Still growing, I think. You haven't seen him in a while."
"True. The war's eating me alive, Obi." Darkness was total now, the last indigo gone from the sky. A flash of blue-white turned Quinlan's yellow tattoo into a phosphorescent bifurcating brand on his face. "I ship out again day after tomorrow."
"We go a long way back, Quin. Care to unload on me?" Obi-Wan lay back on his elbows. "Ooooh! Flameflowers!"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
"Pish. I am on the Council."
Quinlan laughed boisterously. "Same old Obi. Literal, serious to a fault, dull" --- he eyed the aurodium medallions across the instep of the white boots as they gleamed in the fireworks' flare --- "or maybe not so dull. Care to unload on me?"
Not even with you. "I've felt different lately, yes."
Quinlan closed his eyes. The fireworks glowed a dull red against the inside of his eyelids. "You're ... happier. Concerned about something, but happier in general." He opened his eyes. "What about me?"
Obi-Wan didn't need to close his eyes. Surges of images swamped his Force-sense, too much to See; he shut them out to concentrate on tactile and auditory input. One set eclipsed all the others. "She's wiry, but soft in all the right places. She has scarification around her navel that you traced last week. She moans when you tickle her above her --- "
"Stop, Obi! Stop!" Quinlan shifted away from his friend, the dazzling firework grand finale forgotten. "How" --- BOOM! --- "-ctly can you" --- crackle! --- "-cking" --- blam! --- "-nse so specifica-" --- hss pop! pop! pop! pop! --- "what I did?"" The fireworks ended. The crowd rolled up blankets and put sleepy younglings on shoulders for the trek out of the Temple grounds. Some too-dutiful Jedi began cleaning up.
It isn't that big of a mystery. "We're old friends, you're broadcasting deliberately, we're physically close, I am a Master, after all ... "
Quinlan pulled his cloak around him. The breeze had grown to an unlikely bluster, a glitch in the master weather controls, he surmised. "It's unusual. It's almost frightening." What a spy he would make for Master Tholme!
"Never."
"I mean it. It's true that I have an attachment to someone. Now you know it. You're a member of the Council. What will you do?" He loves the Code so much, you'd think he'd written it. I'm in deep ---
"I don't tell them everything, Quin. It'll stay confidential." Obi-Wan sensed Quinlan's renewed ease and smiled. Speaking of confidential, I have a bit of news for Anakin tonight.
xxxxx
" --- gasp --- guhhh --- Stars' End, Anakin, you and your imagination --- "
"Liked that, did you?" Anakin reattached his mechno-arm and lay down on the sweaty sheets. Good thing my arm is protected against shorting out from moisture.
"An understatement." Obi-Wan rolled over to face Anakin toe-to-toe, face-to-face. "I love you."
"Why?"
Did he guess that I was going to tell him why tonight? Obi-Wan, shields up ... no, shields down. All the way down. "I'm going to tell you why now."
"You're just 'Master' to me, you don't need to ... "
"But I'm going to. I love you, Anakin Skywalker, for your grace, your gifts in the Force, your laugh, the way that you make me feel, and for your circumspection." There. He was ready to hear it.
"And I love you back, for your caring, and your freckles, and for the way that you stir your Kopi tea to make those tinkly sounds like bells ... Kriff, Master, I'm not good at this, you could negotiate your way into love with billions of words and I can't. But it really doesn't matter, does it?"
"No. And I know of a marvelous way to celebrate what, wh-what we just said."
"So do I, but it's too soon."
"Let's get tattooed! Quinlan got me to thinking. A little one, right here." Obi-Wan touched Anakin's nipple. "That way, it will look like a mole, only you and I will know that's not, and when I suck it I'll remember this night."
"You mentioned my imagination? What would you choose, if we go do it?"
Obi-Wan had thought for hours. "A naynabo flower."
Yeah. "Works for me."
The river inked.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred One
It wasn't until Obi-Wan woke up Anakin by calling brokenheartedly for his mother that Anakin truly began to worry. It happened directly after the picnic, before they generally awoke anyway, on the cusp of the day. Temple routines being what they were, dawn became the preferred awakening time for humans or humanoids or near-human Jedi. Yoda slept when he could, which was more, lately, now that the Dark Side shaded away from smothering black into chiaroscuro. Dooku's smaller blight on the Force would embarrass his considerable pride when the Count of Serenno was taken into custody. Yoda would sleep even better then.
"Mom! Mom!" Obi-Wan's mumble became a shout. "I'm not too late! I'm not!"
Anakin slept heavily in just-post-adolescent slumber, but not heavily enough to sleep through this. "Master, what ... "
"Mom! Don't die! I'm here! Nonononoooo ... "
"Master Obi-Wan, wake up!"
"Mom, I'm a Jedi! I came for you just like I said I would, please stay with me!"
Crack! The baseboard heater came on and the temperature change made its usual metal plate crack-hissss noises. Anakin jumped. "Obi-Wan! Wake up!" Birds twittered, a brook babbled. Scents of flameflowers tickled Anakin's nose. The Wake Up Naturally, Every Time! program got into full swing with a click! from the kitchen, the caf brewer going off. A moment later, caf's delicious aroma filtered through to their bedroom. Anakin's mod to the program, The Morning March's brass from the Jedi Drum and Bugle Corps, would come next. Anakin raised his hand and stopped every part of the program with the Force.
"Mmmmm. Padawan. Hi. 'Morning." Obi-Wan scrubbed drool from his beard with the back of his hand. "Mmmmmrggghhh. Our leftover protato salad gave me indigestion."
"Master, you were dreaming."
"Really?" Obi-Wan hacked his way into a more normal voice, sniffling as his sinuses dictated most mornings. "Sorry to wake you up. Was I snoring again, too?" Stayed out in the night air watching fireworks until late. Obi-Wan, you congested hedonist.
"I don't know, but you were having a nightmare, like, like" --- one of mine --- "your mother was dying."
Obi-Wan's eyes opened fully. He rubbed the sand out of their corners. "Anakin, I never knew my mother. I've not dreamed about her before."
Not even to dream about a mother's love ..."Never?"
"Never. I've wondered about my parents, like all initiates do at one time or another, nothing else." This is shocking you. You haven't the sweet memory of being rocked in the nursery by Tahl, on nursery duty before all her troubles began.
Anakin stayed calm. "Could you have been dreaming about mine? Master, do you think our imprinting could be causing this?"
Obi-Wan considered before replying, the way that he usually did. Anakin counted his own heartbeats until he reached twenty. "No. It's an proven imprinting technique Koon showed me on holovid. Its proponents claim that it works when they test it in crowded venues like the scramball finals matches or even simple shopping excursions at the Glitannai Esplanade. Jedi in the field have averted disastrous separations with it. It's a tool that the Force allows. I'm all for it." Don't ever want to risk separation from you for long. "Let's shower and eat and leave. It's that day again. I know I'm on leave, but this isn't strenuous."
"Take Your Padawan To Work Day," that's right. "What's left to show me? I've visited the highest spires and the sump pumps in the Menagerie in the basement, the refectory's water recycling processor and the cleaning bot dump, the Archives' holocron display and the Council chamber. I've been in battle at your side. I'm a Senior Padawan, nearing Knighthood, right?"
"Mmmmm." I don't know about that one. "We'll see. Since my appointment with Luminara is today and she requested to see you, too, I'll take you with me for my Visiting The Sick duty in the infirmary. The usual chatting up adult patients, playing dumbed-down pazaak with the younglings and giving any unfortunate ill infants new faces to look at. Show me your baby-smile face." Anakin smiled a wide toothy smile. "Should impress any Trandoshan younglings. Come on, up and about, as they say."
"Please wait. I don't think you're taking the dream-coincidence seriously enough. Why would you dream about my mother?"
"I don't know that I did, but if I did, let's let the Healers deal with it. Up, now." As Obi-Wan sunnily began his shower, Anakin clenched his mechno-hand, then unclenched it. Master Lu would know what to do next.
xxxxx
"Depa. Master Billaba. Depa." Anakin remembered a kind presence, spiritually aflame within the Force. Though no friend to him, she remained a familiar Temple presence, supplementing the powerhouse of the Force that was the Temple. Nothing. A black hole has movement, at least. She has nothing. A blank two-dimensional plane with infinite height and width loomed in front of his Force-sense. He stretched out with all his senses, hoping to come to the edge of the plane and slip behind it to the one hiding there, hoping for a whisper, a shout. Nothing. He wiped a string of drool from the corner of her mouth with the tissues at hand and walked away.
The river feared.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred Two
Not one Jedi truly believed that Depa Billaba would awaken from her coma anytime soon, yet she was cared for without anyone ever quite giving up hope. Jedi lived beyond hope many times in their careers, and Luminara put it away from herself resolutely this morning. She paced in her office, a Master in her realm of bodies, souls, and minds. Don't feel Masterly at the moment. Luminara dreaded telling Anakin of Obi-Wan's diagnosis, yet to tell the Padawan who was intimately involved in the diagnosis could spare her patient further trauma. She and Plo had spent the night here together, researching esoteric databases in unusual cultures, meditating on their findings, draining cup after cup of caf on Luminara's side, while Plo spritzed dozens of shots of the trace gas his species needed into his antiox mask until he talked extremely fast. As she suspected, even more than Plo did, that Anakin himself was "the complication" Plo had mentioned at the picnic, apprising Anakin of that fact was fair to Anakin and protective of her patient. She only wished herself and Plo to be fully, sublimely wrong about the whole thing. She put away her pride and opened her heart to the young man in her waiting area as widely as she opened her door. "Come in, Padawan."
When Anakin was seated, his spine did not touch the back of his chair. Can't be helped, it's a tense day. "Anakin, you're here because Master Koon and I have enumerated Obi-Wan's symptoms and come up with a partial diagnosis."
"Why aren't you telling Master Obi-Wan first?"
"Because I am your Healer as well as his and in this instance you're part" --- of the problem --- "of his cure. When Master Koon telepathically confirms this diagnosis, our first steps in treating your Master will be clearly laid out for us. It seems Obi-Wan's hypersensitivities aren't limited to hoi-broth and various allergens." Go easy now. "In many ways, he is mirroring your characteristics and he simply is not right for it. It might --- please wait till I finish --- be placing too great a strain on his entire system and I think the root of it is your imprinting."
"He's been having some things happening before that, things that started on Trow. Like stuttering and weird dreams and almost reading ... my ... mind ... " This would not happen. No.
"You see it, then."
I can't be the source of Master's illness. It's not possible. "Master Lu, he's sensitive, I know that, even 'hypersensitive,' as you term it, but, hypersensitive to his own Padawan?" Master had sensitive spots all over him: the places hidden by his modesty, the places inside that only Anakin had savored, the spot on his scalp where his Knight's tail used to be and where Anakin scratched with his ungloved fingers to make Obi-Wan almost purr. "It's something I want to ask Master Yoda about. You and Master Koon could be wr-- in error about this. It's too important not to ask Master Yoda." Master Yoda would know, if Master Lu and Master Koon failed in their attempt to vivisect his Master today. Vivisect. Just because it's his mind, doesn't mean that term doesn't apply.
Luminara knew that this morning wasn't going to go well. "Naturally, Master Yoda is the next necessary step, but even if we wind up consulting him, he will need research to base any conjecture upon, Anakin, and our diagnosis is based upon solid research. When you two were on Tatooine, I spent my spare time on this case." Obs, what would you say to your Padawan, if you were me? Go for the drama? "Master Koon is a telepath, a fellow Jedi, a scholar. If, as I believe, his Force-imprinting technique has gone awry in your case, he can fix it. This case would be one of three unsuccessful imprintings, if my surmise is correct. He has cured others. Let him do his job and help me help my friend."
She's putting things in a nice way, but this isn't a nice situation. Master's mind is, is, him. "Will Master Koon's methods hurt him? Make him ... different?" Like Depa?
"No, it's like a diagnostic on a droid. It changes nothing, merely shows a static picture of a point in time in the mind. Minds can change, minute by minute, but this will give us a baseline for our work." Don't fight me, Anakin. We're on the same side, like on Ansion.
"What will happen if he goes on as he is? New lessons, different, stronger medicine ... "
Luminara stood her ground. "I'll not treat him with drugs until I know the full diagnosis. It would be unethical to push anti-spastic drugs into him for a chronic illness. Then he would change, Padawan, and not to your liking." With Obi-Wan's sensitivities, these drugs' listed side effects of mood swings, loss of mental acuity, and possible psychosis would not be the "rare" side effects, they'd be "highly possible" side effects.
More. I want more data. Unifying Force, I need everything you can give me. "Tell me why I haven't any symptoms, then."
"How have you felt since your imprinting?" Plo said the one Master/Padawan imprinted, um, couple, had half of it affected, the other half not.
"Fine. Great." Except for finding out about my Sith friend Palpatine and my unfaithful friend Padme, who is also my wedded wife. "With Master Obi-Wan, I mean, I'm great. He's the best, the best ... I, I don't have the words to say it ... "
" ... he's being overcome by his hypersensitivities, Anakin, the blinking of his eyes because lights are too bright, you've told me about his broadcasting at times so that you can sense his memories, he's experiencing your level of Force-awareness without your shields or merely your everyday acclimatization to your abilities. In short, he is becoming you."
Luminara's words faded. Master would always be there for him. That would not change, ever, and with the cutting of his braid, they would be equals. Sharing quarters, going on missions separately or in tandem, attending Republic Day Annual Picnics together with their fellows, his planned life stretched before him in a broad stream, like Gitchy. Full of eddies and whirlpools, no doubt, a waterfall or two, some sluggish spots, yet continuing to flow indomitably to the end of their days. Padme was an undercurrent pulling unevenly at his construction, yet her presence added to its diversity and always would. With their married relationship in its current disjointed state, her undercurrent might flatten out to an attenuated layer of cool riptide --- Anakin was aware that riptides were oceanic, not riparian, as he struggled on with his metaphor, but continued anyway --- but he didn't see himself completely splitting up from his wife. His status with her would remain second to her work, as he had known almost from the beginning. With Obi-Wan, he was second to the Force. He could think about that more easily. When Anakin's nightmares showed Obi-Wan's death, the event came about through battle or accident or illness, and once in a bittersweet fading away from old age. Never did he dream of a fading away of all that consisted of Obi-Wan occurring in life, a relentless progression to nothingness with the body still present to mourn over endlessly. It was too much to take in, and he cringed. Insanity terrified him like nothing else did.
"No, you're wrong, Master Lu. Master isn't in danger of losing his sanity. It must be something else. Find it!" He was speaking to a Master, but he didn't care. She must be wrong.
Luminara noticed that the fish huddled in a corner of their tank, as far as they could get from Anakin. She rose as he did, standing as straight as could be while Anakin leaned over her desk, fists planted widely, brows drawn down. He glared at her, the Force gathered in a cloud about him, but he had not accessed it yet. It stood at the ready, though. "Padawan Skywalker, remember who and what you are."
I'm Obi-Wan's, is who, and what, well, we'll see soon enough. There was danger in her infirmary, not of illness of the usual sort, but illness of a soul should its owner's most heartfelt wish not be granted. Luminara would not tolerate tantrums of any sort, from any age Jedi. If she could withstand a Phlog initiate's breaking through her tile floor to the level below in a fit of pique, she could withstand this. She blazed in the Force in her determination to have order in her realm. The Force was with her, too. "Anakin, hear me. Master Koon will bear witness to this diagnosis."
"Master Lu, there must be better news than this. Find it for me. And for him. I'm not leaving here until you do."
This was her infirmary. "Boy, I'm throwing you out. He's my friend, too. I, however, am the Healer and I'm healing this situation. Get out, Anakin."
Anakin raised his flesh hand and Pushed. Luminara blocked it after a stumble backwards in shock. She Pushed down on Anakin's occiput none too gently and his neck bent forward until the rest of his body had to follow or risk injury. He dropped to one knee and gripped the edge of the desk, a flare of power beginning in his eyes.
Frantic to escape their rectangular prison, the fish leaped as one into the suffocating air.
The river trembled.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred Three
The fish did not flap even once when they hit the floor. Their small bodies fanned out in a ribbon of dull silver, blasted by a Chosen One's rage.
Luminara stood above the wide-eyed Padawan, ready to exert herself again, but Anakin held himself clenched in a sitting position, rigid with tension. He was still gasping for air, clutching the arms of the chair until the metal creaked. The aquarium bubbled away, no longer filled with life that didn't love, dream, or plan. Luminara thought that if Anakin had that kind of life, he might be more content walking the Jedi path. She realized some beings might consider her own life close to the fishes' and resolved to think about that later.
"Anakin, you are the Chosen One. We don't know what your full abilities are." And this result from Plo and my research is unsettling for me, for Obi-Wan, for the Order ... stop, Luminara. This is a Padawan before you, not a monster. You've known him since he was a child. He's difficult, emotional, and in love. These things aren't crimes. Luminara tucked a stray hair under her cowl, which was slightly askew from the tussle. She sat down.
You're afraid of me. Anakin portrayed earnestness in as mild a way that he could. He put everything he had into this acting attempt, although he knew that he was a poor thespian. The circumstances driving him made him better at it than he had ever been, and he stilled his worried face, turning large blue eyes on the Healer appealingly.
Luminara recognized the attempt and softened her manner. "Anakin, Obi-Wan isn't powerful enough to shield himself from your presence" --- she makes me sound like stellar radiation --- "when you two are so close together. It's as if the whole galaxy is rushing at him" --- yeah, that is what life feels like sometimes --- "and it's destroying his mind. I'm sorry to have to tell you this. First these nervous tics appeared, correct?"
"The hiccups and the stuttering, yes," he muttered. "His numb hand came later." And the way that he followed me down the hall like my Padawan. And how flying wasn't as jaw-droppingly repellent as before. Anakin glanced at his glove. He felt my phantom arm pain ... "But you're wrong! Master is stronger than anyone I know!"
Luminara modulated her tone further, though she was still upset with him. "His shields aren't as strong as before; he's let down his guard with you. The guard of his mind. You came inside the essence of him" --- in more ways than you know, Master Lu --- "when you got, ah, closer; if this condition continues, you will not be able to continue as a Master and Padawan pair." She locked eyes with Anakin and held herself taller in her seat as she told him, "As your and Obi-Wan's Healer, I couldn't allow it. I'm sorry." Luminara couldn't stop herself from apologizing again. She knew the depth of devotion that Obi-Wan was capable of, from his firm ties to Qui-Gon and his own friendship with her. She remembered their dinner together at the Elfin Sprite. And he didn't drink his cocktail, abstaining just like you do. "Um, Obi-Wan said there were no clashes with you on Trow, Anakin, and that you'd gotten even closer in some ways than before. I'm here to tell you that you need to back off whatever ways that you've changed your relationship" --- and I might know how you've been changing it, it's the sleeping together thing, right, Anakin? --- "if you want him to return to health. It's for his greater good and, of course, yours, too."
Greater good. That's why the timing was never right to reinstate the Respect-For-Master's-Authority. Anakin brushed tears from his cheeks with a trembling hand. "I can't stop loving him, Master Lu."
She handed him a tissue. "Certainly not. Compassion makes us Jedi; you couldn't be you without love in your life." I haven't his experiences. I don't know how difficult breaking off something like this is. The closest I can imagine is seeing Barriss walk away from me, braidless and free. She unbent. "We've settled on the 'what,' and now Plo and I are homing in on the 'why.' For your sake as well as his, be gentle with your Master. This is for his health, Anakin; it's as if you knew he craved hoi-broth for lunch and you wouldn't give that to him, would you, if it were your turn to cook?"
Incipient hysteria choked Anakin. Hoi-broth. She's comparing our love to hoi-broth. He brayed a laugh, building to a spate of bellylaughs that doubled him over with dull knives of pain. His diaphragm ached by the time he was done and he needed a fistful of tissues. Finally he stilled, worn out. "You'll tell him first, then, if Master Koon confirms?"
"I will."
"Because I can't. I can do many things, but I can't deliberately hurt him."
"We might be wrong; I surely do hope so. Master Koon will do the procedure after lunch. Obi-Wan is continuing his Visiting The Sick in the war-injury ward and we'll all three have a meal together. He won't need any kind of prep." Sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind, young one. It's a Healer's credo. It's still difficult for me and I hope that doesn't ever change. "Pull yourself together, Padawan Skywalker. He'll know you've been crying."
Anakin allowed Luminara to ghost her fingertips over his face, soothing away redness and the congestion of tears. I'd rather keep them, like a badge of mourning. To commemorate these past months.
The river inverted.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred Four
Plo Koon thought it beneficial to treat Obi-Wan in the Council chambers in the late afternoon. Quiet, that time of day. No infirmary antiseptic smell. Force-permeated. Peaceful view. Familiar. Somewhat ... formal. Conducive to reason. Luminara allowed Plo to lead her in this direction after this morning's face-off with Anakin. She had released her concerns to the Force, cleaned up the pitiful silver bodies, and brought along a large supply of tissues. How I do hope we are wrong as wrong can be.
Obi-Wan hesitated outside the chamber's doors and Luminara had a hideous vision of a soon-to-be-trapped animal sensing its danger. Healer, heal yourself. Schooling her expression, she led the way inside to where Plo admired the afternoon view. Or studied the view, or counted skyhoppers in his scientific way. His character remained off-putting, but Luminara was nothing if not professional. "Obi-Wan, let's sit."
"Very well." Obi-Wan sat in his regular seat, Plo in his, while Luminara gave in to impulse and sat in Master Yoda's, adjusting its repulsors for her height.
"Obi-Wan," Luminara began, "while you were on leave, I had many Jedi to treat, and not one for being a 'mental,' as you put it; therefore, you had my entire attention. In the month since I've seen you, I've searched other Force-sensitives' databases, even the Dathomiri, whose uncatalogued mess I hope never to touch again. These populations use various methods of finding each other in crisis situations. Some are quite effective."
Plo Koon crossed his arms and his legs. Don't argue with a Healer in front of her patient. "Yes. Indubitably."
"I also installed a feed from the Republic teachers on Trow. They sent a probe droid along your journey, from point of entry into Gitchy to your last accommodations in the hotel near its shores." She showed her datapad's scroll to Obi-Wan. "Nothing inimical to you or to Anakin. No spores, toxins, miasmas, unusual radiation sources or water supply poisonings could it turn up. An indigenous mold came the closest to harm, but that was all."
Plo Koon tilted his head, folded his hands inside his robe sleeves and remembered his Kel Dor-human relations interview seminar that he attended as a Padawan. Maintain eye-to-mask contact. Use the human's name often. "Obi-Wan, we're fellow Councilmembers. Everything we do is for the common good of the Jedi, the peacekeepers of the Republic and the galaxy in general. So you, Obi-Wan, know that when I and Luminara suggest a telepathic diagnosis to confirm your condition, it is for the good of all concerned, Obi-Wan, especially for your Padawan." Make it personal. Pull out all the nalargon stops.
"What the fuck for?"
Oh, not good. Luminara showed her datapad to Obi-Wan again, but he brushed it aside, pushing her repulsor chair one meter away. "I mean, it's just a tremor," he argued. "Give me some stronger vitamins, or neuron blockers or something, but don't invade my mind!"
Luminara put down her datapad and Plo took over. "It's invasive, I can't lie to you. It doesn't hurt. I won't tell any secrets. As a responsible Kel Dor, your mental pathways and especially your motivations are simply data for my protocols. If it is my technique that harms anyone beyond a few behavioral changes, I have the responsibility to withdraw its use. If it is not" --- he regarded Luminara, but she could read no expression in his goggled eyes and he wasn't using body language at all --- "then further research into your case must be done. We can't have Jedi Councilmembers in jeopardy deciding crucial issues for the Order."
"In jeopardy of what?" Obi-Wan said his latest version of Luminara's lesson to himself. Don't feel so much. "Lu?"
"We don't know exactly, but it may involve Anakin's affecting you in his capacity as the Chosen One, though not intentionally," Luminara put in swiftly. "I am your primary care provider, and I've called in help, Obi-Wan. Please let me do my job." He was her special friend since Ansion. They forged a bond there, a firm friendship. It would weather this. It would.
What does my Padawan have to do with this? "What? What about Anakin?"
"Obi-Wan, this procedure may define a bit more what a Chosen One's abilities are! We as Jedi need to know this. Anakin needs to know about this." Shameless, Luminara.
Plo Koon reached inside himself and came up with empathy. "Obi-Wan, you and I are brother Jedi; not friends, more than acquaintances. I do what's best for the Order." Don't make me come over there and take what the Order needs.
In the end, Obi-Wan thought of the Force first, and then of Anakin, just like in his lesson. "All right. What do I do?" All three rose to their feet. It seemed better to commune in a three-sided huddle.
"Relax. Let me near. I don't need to touch you." Obi-Wan thought he could handle the approach of a near mind-rape, but stiffened at the last moment and pulled away, stumbling back three steps. Luminara and Plo steadied him with firm grips on his arms. He stiffened further, but didn't back away. Plo Koon wasn't like a psychometric Kiffar. He had merely to reach out with his mind to a receptive --- or not --- consciousness and dip inside for a 'statistical sample,' as he called it privately, of the being's self. He was a stern but not a cold Master. He was scientific, he told himself; others mostly agreed. "Obi-Wan, please!"
Luminara warned, "Obi-Wan, if you struggle and shield, you could harm yourself further. Please let Plo help me to help you. I'm, I'm at my wits' end here!" To Obi-Wan's ears, she was close to hysterics in her need to aid her friend. He didn't think it had to do with her wanting to finish diagnosing and be off to New Holstice after long weeks of delay, all on his behalf. He didn't want to think it, anyway.
"Hold yourself together, Obi-Wan, this will build your character --- " Plo shuffled along with Luminara as Obi-Wan twisted in their grip, Obi-Wan breaking free entirely of Luminara, who could think of nothing but Anakin's desperation earlier. They were more alike than they realized. It began to frighten her.
" --- I have character to burn --- I said let GO of me, Plo! --- I am loaded to the fucking gills with character, what I want is Anakin!" The part of Obi-Wan that was embarrassed by his lack of control submerged again and there was only the truth of his cry echoing in the chamber. This was his condition talking while the rest of him exploded as he pushed away from his fellow Councilmember. Luminara touched him with her Healer's hands, but he pushed away from her, too. She pursued him until they came to a stop in the middle of the chamber. Plo stepped up to Obi-Wan's other side, bracketing the distraught Master between Luminara and himself.
"I don't want to involve the others, Obi-Wan. You don't want me to, either. There, there, now, breathe. Let me in. I can help." Plo's telepathy oozed its way into Obi-Wan's brainpan, over each corrugation of his cerebrum, down the corpus callosum, straight to the brainstem. Obi-Wan had never felt invaded like this before and the fact that it came from a colleague only made it worse. He breathed shallowly in tiny puffs, fighting off the urge to shield mightily as he had never done previously, and didn't calm when Plo withdrew. Obi-Wan yanked away and paced in front of his own Council seat.
"Hmmm."
"What? What's 'hmmm'?"
"You're conflicted."
"No shit, Plo."
As a Kel Dor, Plo regarded anything other than black and white issues with distaste. It was his respect for Obi-Wan that kept it from appearing in his voice or manner. "More than psychically, I mean. It's like your midichlorians are responsible for it; some have changed their polarity." Physics were fascinating, always. And it wasn't my imprinting protocols. Whew. It has to do with Anakin's status as Chosen One defiling his Master somehow. I'm glad my part of this is over with.
"Polarity? Midichlorians can have polarity separate from the other parts of my cells?" Polarity meant negative and positive charges. And if they were changing, whatever would before have been attracted to him would switch to being repelled. Did this apply to beings' minds, or physicality, or magnetic fields or ...
"And the conflict is that you are fighting it. You are fighting to stay the same, but you're in danger of being overwhelmed by something stronger. The conflict is unbalancing your mind. It's nearly touching your soul." Physics may be fascinating in this case, but as a Jedi, Plo felt deep compassion for Obi-Wan and Anakin. The sentiment shocked him somewhat, and he backed off from it. He would examine it later. "Wanting" Anakin, what does that mean? Wanting him to do what? Plo himself wanted nothing so much as to retreat to his laboratory and update his protocols.
"You can't have Anakin the way you want without going insane," said Luminara softly. Not a psychosomatic, but a somatopsychic origin for his troubles. I'm here for you, Obs. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan; you're my own dear friend and I know that this hurts. I've researched for weeks and this is the news that I have for you ... I'm sorry."
Obi-Wan's legs shook and he sat down in his seat. Head in his hands, he felt tears building up and blinked them back. A sick fear lanced through him; different than battlefield nerves, different than fear for his Padawan's wellbeing. It would take time to work through and release this one. This was a primal fear of losing one's self, all that one could claim in meek acceptance of existence. This was real, this was true. Obi-Wan wanted to faint and make it all go away, but he couldn't. He had some planning to do.
The river disappeared.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Part One Hundred Five
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Soup's on."
"All right." Obi-Wan and Anakin sat stiffly through a light supper of runyip stew and scrimpi. Anakin couldn't muster up the appetite to add his favorite glockaw sauce to the dish. Afterwards, they watched an ongoing HoloNet series called The Gloom Walkers At A Gallop, portraying the The New Sith War as a historical drama with two especially involving leads, soldiers in a Dark Lord's army whose careers and private lives enthralled them. Or at least they used to, before this.
"Going to bed. I'm tired."
"You must be. How ... how was it?"
"Like having no air to breathe, right before you drown. Like how I felt on Sugnid, when you breathed for me and I couldn't help myself. Having Plo inside me was ... was ... "
Uh-oh. When the Negotiator runs out of words, it's bad. Anakin clapped both arms around him and pulled him down sideways until Obi-Wan's head lay in Anakin's lap. They stared at the emoting soldiers portraying long ago events with up-to-the-latest political attitudes and slang. It seemed disconcerting now. Obi-Wan pulled his knees up to fit on their sofa. It's almost a fetal position. Anakin rubbed his Master's head, the temples, the jawbone whose bristles chafed him delightfully, the tense sagittals like cables of durasteel. He said, "HoloNet off!" in a loud voice because Obi-Wan had chided him yesterday morning about using the Force frivolously too many times. It was a fine line to walk and Anakin usually allowed Obi-Wan to walk it for him. Yesterday. Things were different yesterday. They rested quietly for nearly an hour.
"I'm sorry."
"Master, no."
"Yes, I'm sorry. You didn't need this in your life. You're a Senior Padawan, you, you, ought to be taking your Trials right now. I changed my mind. You're ready."
"I'm not ready, you know I'm not, I know I'm not."
Obi-Wan's voice squeaked. "Yes, you are. What other trial do you need, anyway? Trial of the Flesh --- your arm. Check. Trial of Training With A Broken-down Master. Check." There were tears in Master's voice, but none soaking the front of Anakin's watching-HoloNet-outfit of almost worn-through sleep pants and the shirt with the holes in it. It's all right, Master. Or it will be all right. Master Lu said so.
"I know."
Huh?
"I said, 'I know.'"
// Master, we're, we're ... //
// We seem to have reached an unknown level of imprinting, Padawan. //
// H-How? //
// Don't know. Don't care. Just enjoy it. //
// How long will it last? //
// whirrrrr ... WHIRRRRRR... clonk. Perhaps until I start to recuperate. //
// What's that sound? //
// I was thinking. //
// I can hear it! I can hear you ... negotiate. //
// Ha. Thanks for the laugh. I needed it. //
// Master, you look clean and blue inside. //
// Blue? //
// No, wait, now you're Tatooine-summer sky blue. //
// When isn't it summer there? //
// 'Ha' back at you. This is ... wonderful. Our new bond. //
// Better than ever. //
// Yes. prrrrrrrrrr ..... //
// Anakin! I can hear how contented you are! More data for Plo's protocols. Won't he be surprised? //
// He's a telepath and he devised the imprinting. Would this development surprise him? //
// Food for thought. Literally. Ha. Hahaha. //
// snicker, snort //
//
Bwahahahahahha! //// Pppppbbbbllllheeheehee // "Ow."
"Yes, it's ... intense. Maybe too intense to sustain for long. My head hurts now."
Time to be a Padawan. "Let's go to bed." Slipping between their luxurious sheets beside Anakin, Obi-Wan added a slight hand tremor to his dull headache. It didn't bother him as much as it did. They cuddled dreamily. "Things are looking up. Even if we won't exactly be like we were. This, this new bond is good, Master." And Master Lu said that if we aren't close like we were anymore, Master's recovery will be complete.
"I agree. Please stop humping my leg, Anakin."
"Oh. Sorry, sweetheart."
'Sweetheart.' My. "Maybe we should separate our sleeping quarters for awhile until you and I get used to the idea. Perhaps you could visit your friend Senator Amidala for a night or two." It had to be said.
Silence. "Why do you say that?"
"She is your friend. She has her own spacious" --- bed --- "apartment. You're lovers." When you return to me, as I know you will now, our new bed will have arrived from Phlog-Train. Surprise, Baby.
"Not anymore, we're not."
Good. "Have you told her? Allowed her to move on?"
Anakin's scowl could be felt in the darkness. "No. Haven't commed her in weeks. She has not commed me, either."
Double good. "It's quite early. You and I could rest a bit now, and you could go out to see her later." Obi-Wan regulated his heartrate and breathing. "I wouldn't mind."
Even though they were merely touching physically, Obi-Wan knew it when Anakin's thoughts turned bleak once more. Obi-Wan snaked his twitching hand over to Anakin's flesh fist and held it as best he could under the blanket. "If Master Lu's mistaken about your prognosis" --- again --- "what'll we do, Master? I can't lose you, I can't." I lost Mom. I don't have any friends outside the Order; Cliegg and Owen and Beru and all the rest of the Tatooine crowd are far away. Well, Dex is in a category by himself. Padme isn't who I thought she was; she doesn't call me 'Ani' anymore. Suddenly Anakin thought it appropriate that he wasn't 'Ani' to anyone. Mom and Qui-Gon most likely would have stopped calling him that by now had they lived. His relationship with Padme was a link to their memories. Obi-Wan and the droids remained as reminders, too, but they never had called him 'Ani.' Another step towards maturity. Does it feel like this for everyone?
"Anakin, I won't lose you, I won't lose me, I won't lose us. We'll return to what we were before Trow." It will kill my heart to see you every day --- and night --- and not touch your lips with mine. How did I live without them? "I'll share your bed for companionship and you'll share mine, Padawan. But not all the time, and not in the way that we love."
Was it enough? Did the dream on Trow that seemed so true remain true? The Force's timetable should be clearer, Anakin grumbled. Were these months of togetherness long enough to prevent the bad event hidden by the fog? Together in every possible way in nearly every moment, planning their life together without interruption from anyone, even after Knighthood cut his braid. He remembered thinking in the hotel room in Nepsa that love nourishes, it doesn't consume either the lover or the loved one. 'One.' He admitted that he hadn't thought through the details about Padme's role; in one wild flight of fancy, he'd imagined the three of them all living together in her --- their --- apartment in grand style with epic nights of mutual love between the three of them involving cleverly-clued scavenger hunts and fully-polarized privacy curtains on the balcony. The classic balcony with its trickling water features, fountains whose wide, smooth edges were absolutely the right height for ... "It'll be difficult, Master."
"Anakin, we are Jedi. We knew it was a hard life going in. When Master Yoda cut my braid, I knew it. When I cut yours, you'll know it. Whoever you know so intimately as to call" --- 'wife'; it slipped through your shields this time, my own --- "friend will know it." Obi-Wan with all his might shielded Anakin's essence from his, allowing only the training bond's shining thread to remain, as it was before these last long months, before Trow, before their new bond that might be ephemeral. Their new life would not be too much of a burden to carry if they shared it. The Force would help, since they were Jedi. Kriffing visions!
By following both their deepest wishes and Anakin's vision set in a fearsomely foggy Room Of A Thousand Fountains, they succeeded in becoming closer. Obi-Wan had looked into a star up close without shading his eyes. He could not face being blinded, never, because even a quick glance at the star that was Anakin and then away was enough to leave spots soiling his vision. Full on viewing for a long time would blind him irreversibly. For his own sake and for Anakin's, for the Order's and in honor of Qui-Gon's dying wish, he wouldn't sacrifice himself to such a horrifying fate. It wasn't an option at all, though part of him would shrivel if he couldn't go beyond the fraternal pat on the shoulder or comradely hug with Anakin. He would suck it up and soldier on. He would grieve sometimes, though. Trow's legacy deserved that much. Starting with tonight.
"But what if you need me in the night?"
"I'm not that much under the weather. We've imprinted, we won't lose each other. I need some space tonight."
The river absconded.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred Six
"Late tonight, Anakin? I can only get away for dinner. Can't you make it for dinner?" This was disappointing to have their first meeting after many weeks on her busy night and Padme thought she knew why Anakin couldn't spend more time with her. He's fussing over Obi-Wan. If I were another sort of wife, I'd fume and pout. "Dinner will be glum without you, Anakin. I've missed you. We need to talk about our work the way that we used to, and of course, other things as well." But life is less and less glum as time goes by and I become more accustomed to takeout, and concerts, and handmaidens taking up my evenings. You were right; things did work out.
"Padme, what are you doing after dinner that you can't see me then?" I'm not beating around the bush with you ever again.
"I've been home just a little while, but I had plans for later on."
Not good enough. "What plans?"
"I was going out. You seemed concerned that I enjoy myself."
"I was." The more fool, I. "Please postpone your plans, Padme. I need to talk to you."
He can't put it any plainer than that. "All right, Anakin. Let's meet in the Maze, then."
"I'd rather not. Let's meet in our home."
Play it cool, Padme. "If you insist. About midnight?"
"A bit before, if it's convenient, sure. See you then. Skywalker out." Anakin placed the dedicated audio-only-comm that had replaced the one put to Sidious' nefarious use in the nightstand drawer in his own room. There was no need to hide it in his sock drawer anymore, or under the bed. That felt remarkably good. He adjusted his privacy earbud so as not to awaken Obi-Wan and went into the common room to watch a vid until it was time to leave.
xxxxx
"Ommane, Anakin's coming over. Tonight."
I heard. I wasn't asleep. "Yes, Milady. Will that be all, Milady?"
"Don't be that way. You'll leave bad ... emanations ... behind and he'll pick up on them." Am I paranoid after being spied upon in my own home? Yes, Padme, you are.
Ommane rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled the sleeveless orange sheath over her head, this season's handmaiden's uniform, and twisted to eye her employer disbelievingly. "He can do that?"
"Yes. Maybe. I don't know." When did her respect for the Jedi and their ways become tinged with fear? Since Master Yoda commed me two weeks ago for a midnight meeting at Dex's, that's when. Ommane had scanned the slumming after-theater crowd for papparazzi as she watched the meeting discreetly from the counter seating. She saw Master Yoda lean in confidentially from the height-enhancing seat provided gratuitously by Dex to patrons of shorter stature than Galactic-average. She saw her employer absorb the important secret and lose her studied poise. She saw Padme's mouth drop open. Ommane allowed WA-7 to run over her toes deliberately to create a diversion and in the confusion afterwards, there were no flashing holocams in action around Padme. Ommane had done her job well. Padme slid an arm around Ommane's waist before she could rise to leave and pulled her back into bed. She rubbed Ommane's left middle toes reminiscently.
xxxxx
"Senator Amidala."
"Master Yoda."
"A late meal, you want?" Warm feelings, galaxy-wide, they are. Immune, no being is.
What? "No, thank you for the thought. Your message sounded mysterious, disturbingly so."
Yoda's attempt at casualness eroded. On to business, we should get. A war on, there is. "Yes. For your ears and very few others, this news is. Whisper it, I shall."
Padme leaned over obligingly. Master Yoda smelled of damp fertile soil and a virile old age. His warm scaled palm was pleasant on her forearm as he steadied her to divulge the secret. "Senator, your colleague Palpatine, the Sith Lord Master, he was. Confidential, this must remain."
The crowd's chatter surged in and out of Padme's consciousness. Master Yoda isn't lying. She pulled back from his hand and they were head-to-head. His citrine eyes, hooded with great wisdom, held only truth. Was it the Force that told her this? Was it his small form, embodying power that put her upcoming likely Vice-Chancellorship-Pro-Tem appointment to shame? Chancellor-Pro-Tem Bail Organa thought she was ready for a more responsible position; she thought Ommane was; Jar-Jar assuredly was not. Meh. A problem for tomorrow. Now answer me a question, Grand Master. "Why are you telling me this, Master Yoda?"
He still spoke in a low, private voice. Its unusual tones rumbled through Padme's brain, as close as she was. "A warning, this is, as well as evidence of the trust that I --- that the Jedi --- place in you. Draw near to others" --- he leaned into her shoulder --- "without knowing their true nature, do not. One in your close confidence, beware of. One whom you trust, wants more than she is ready for." "She." "Using your needs to climb into seat of power, she is. Know this, you should." His gaze pierced her. "Power, reined in it must be to be controlled. Age only brings this control. Useful, it is. Desired by many, held by few." As clearly as decades ago, I see in the Force since the Dark Lord with his spying propensities is no more. Yoda withdrew from their huddle and Padme's arm tingled afterwards. A Force-manifestation, she surmised.
A closer alliance with Master Yoda would cement the Senate-Jedi connection into unheard-of solidarity. She eyed the small Master speculatively; a frisson of fear brought her back to herself. If a Palpatine could turn to the bad, why not a Yoda? Ommane wanted to be Senator someday. She had Padme's background nearly duplicated, so why shouldn't she be the first handmaiden to be Senator-Pro-Tem, or even a Senior Senator-Pro-Tem? Ommane flew the Torpedo exclusively now; Padme hadn't flown herself about in some time, and was relieved not to. She didn't need any more docking and reckless flying tickets on her record. Ommane did all the shopping, too, since Threepio remained inoperable for the near future. Little by little, Ommane made herself indispensable to Padme, demonstrating her breadth of abilities, with the other handmaidens' complicity. In the general shuffle-up, they might gain more influence than they had bargained for when accepting their positions, or they might simply be patriotic Nubians in seeking to subvert the logical promotion of Jar-Jar Binks to Senior Senator. Padme ended her ruminations and caressed Ommane's instep before allowing her to rise and leave. In a partially successful effort to turn Ommane's frown into a grudging smile, she sucked Ommane's middle toes. Ommane gathered her few scattered things and stuffed them into her carryall. "I see it's back to the Duty Quarters for me."
"I'm afraid so. He is my husband and has ... rights."
Ommane said pertly, "He has much to learn, though, I'm betting."
Padme stared her down. "Goodnight, Ommane."
You're ambitious. So was I. I can handle her, Master Yoda, but thanks for the tip anyway. I owe you another one, and I need to think of a way to pay you --- I mean, the Jedi --- back.
The river shrank.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred Seven
"Hello, Anakin."
"Good evening, Padme."
Padme, trying for sauciness, tossed her head. "You haven't talked to me since the funeral."
"You haven't commed me, either." Anakin didn't know he could keep this level-headed with her. Was Obi-Wan's thirty-six-year old head with its thirty-six-year old attitudes mapped onto him, now? If so, that would make him eleven years older than Padme. What a switch. "We must discuss the funeral first."
Padme melted a little. He might not know about Palpatine being Sith. To Anakin, Anakin's dear friend died. "You did eulogize him well. Everyone said so," she offered.
"I told the simple truth." The complex truth, now, that was something else, and it needed to come out tonight. I'll stay this one night with her. If Master needs more privacy, I'll stay at Dex's. Or Tru's. Or, or on my own, in Temple or out of it. I'm my own man. Master won't ask me to reinstate the Respect-for-Master's-Authority now, for kriff's sake.
Was Palpatine's Sith-Mastery on a need-to-know basis with Yoda's fellow Jedi? Yoda may not have told Anakin or Obi-Wan due to Anakin's closeness to Palpatine and Obi-Wan's closeness to Anakin. Go slow, Senator. On impulse, Padme led the way into the bedroom, kicked off her brocaded house shoes and pulled out a pillow from under the duvet. She sat on the pillow's spot, but clutched the pillow itself over her stomach, grabbing each elbow to rest her arms on it as she drew up her knees. "Sit down," she invited cordially.
"All right." This was unexpected. Anakin removed his boots and belt. The tabards slipped from his shoulders as they always did without the belt. He hesitated a moment and then placed the tabards on Padme's vanity stool and the boots neatly beneath. Now I've contracted Obi-Wan's fastidiousness. He climbed onto his side of the bed, leaning up against the headboard with a pillow against his back. He crossed his arms tightly, not wanting to slip into dangerous informality.
They sat remembering for a moment until Padme forged ahead out of their past. "The funeral, you said?"
Anakin cleared his throat. "I said all those nice things about Palpatine, Padme, because the Republic did not need to know that he was a Sith." He shot a look over at her, but beyond widening her warm brown eyes, she didn't react.
"Yes. Master Yoda told me. He thinks I need to 'beware of false friends.' He's a sweet, uh, a sweet --- "
"Jedi."
Where to begin. "Padme, Sidious spied on your bedroom, using Artoo and Threepio as agents, probably from right over there" --- he pointed to a spot on the carpet one meter away and Padme started --- "by scrambling the droids' algorithms with the spychip that I retrieved that night. It was Sidious' Sithly visage looking at us, his Sithly death that I caused when I blocked the power surge using the Force and it reversed itself into a killing charge at the other end of the transmission. He was sitting at his desk, leering at both of us when he died."
Padme paled. Palpatine's worse that I could have imagined. Ommane. Palpatine, no, Sidious, knew about Ommane and me and was watching us ... oh ... a Sith, in my bedroom ... uhh ... he was blackmailing me into 'good' behavior, the ... the ... "The Chosen One. You really are the Chosen One, why else would the Force have you be with me in that place and at that time to protect me, no, not just me, but the whole Republic from further Sithly influence. Anakin. You ... and I ... uh ..." Padme floundered for words.
Anakin seemed to have gained in loquacity, somehow. Different than her 'Ani.' "The Force isn't doing anything different than it generally does, Padme. It is an energy field, binding the Galaxy together, giving us our power. Whether or not I am the Chosen One" --- and I am weary of thinking of if I am or not, but never mind that now --- "is beside the point of why I came by tonight. The point is, is that Palpatine's death led me to discover his dishonorable plot to peer into your private life and it has shown me that you have a lover."
He doesn't know who it is. Worse and worse. I've cheated on a Chosen One with tremendous power. Padme never had lacked physical or moral courage, though, and spoke from her principles. "I'll not pretend otherwise. You'd probably divine it somehow. I will not volunteer any names." He'll rip it out of my mind.
Anakin studied her beauty. White-faced and breathing nervously in shallow gasps as she was, she was still beautiful to him. She is afraid of me. That he had wanted her at all seemed unlikely. But he had. He sighed. "Padme, I'll not hurt you. Believe it or not, the infidelity doesn't hurt the way it did when I first found it out. A lot has happened since then. Master Obi-Wan has been very ill, I've been back to Tatooine to come to terms with the Sandpeople, and the fact that you won't tell me who it is shows me your honor is remarkably adjustable." She didn't defend herself against this charge. He wondered about it for a few minutes, then decided to look beyond it to necessities. "I need a place to stay. Is it too much to ask to spend the night?" It's my home, too, but what a homecoming. Living Force, help me out here. Make this scene not quite so grim.
What would Mama do? "I won't turn you away, even though your name is not on the lease." Just like Obi-Wan would have, he didn't even grin.
"Thank you." Anakin stood and started to strip unselfconsciously. He folded himself into bed beside her after placing his mechno-arm carefully on the vanity stool under his tunics. Padme, too, needed rest after her lunchtime synchronized swimming session with Jar-Jar and Gorothin Vagger. They had gotten themselves into a competitive mood and when Padme had joined them for what she thought would be the usual slow graceful moves, they had induced her to tuck herself up into a ball and had tossed her back and forth between them. She had barely been able to dress herself in her street clothes again from fatigue and Ommane remarked when she picked Padme up in the Torpedo afterwards that Solleu River ducks at least groomed themselves after a swim. Padme grumped back that the ducks were fortunate not to have an enthusiastic Gungan and an Andoan with homesickness issues as their synchronized swimming partners.
Anakin sensed Padme's fatigue along with her general fugue. Revelations do that to you. I never want to live through another day like today, myself. They lay on their backs without touching, two young people who had beautiful exteriors and complicated interiors. It seemed a shame that they wouldn't fully exploit their proximity, but the Namana liquor was in the kitchen cupboard, Padme lacked the energy to fetch it, and besides, Anakin abstained. Or would he need to now, since he had fulfilled his Chosen One's duty? It was an intriguing thought, especially since Obi-Wan enjoyed his dram on occasion. Padme fell asleep wondering about it.
The river drowsed.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Part One Hundred Eight
"Marriage, thy name is
depression. White dresses bring
black thoughts as years pass."
"Stars, Padme, did you write this?" Anakin held the crumpled cocktail napkin in two fingers. The smeared writing was barely legible and the napkin was soaked with orange Namana liquor on one end and what might have been tears at the other.
Padme's stomach burbled at Anakin's too-loud voice. She hadn't had a male around her in the morning in quite some time, and their forcefulness now was unwelcome. She drew her hair over her eyes to shade them from the morning sun. Too early to talk. I need one of Ommane's Namana Neuronumb pick-me-ups. But she was not entirely without strength and managed to sit up in the bed, lowering her head to her drawn-up knees. "No. Ommane. She has a low opinion of the married state."
"I'm not surprised. She's only seventeen. Great commitments like marriage scare her. I know they did me when I was seventeen." Except commitments to Obi-Wan and the Order. The Force isn't a commitment; it's more like breathing regularly, no thought required at all. He refastened his mechno-arm, not noticing how the small tssh sound made Padme flinch or how she looked more nauseated than before when he flexed it to reseat the connections firmly. "Aren't you getting dressed? The sun has been up for half an hour already." His morning meditation had gone well. All things disturbing the Force around his own presence, so tumultuous lately, had smoothed considerably, like the eye of a storm had already passed him, and only the smaller outlying gusts remained.
Padme peered out through her hair and noticed that Anakin's expression wore a resemblance to Obi-Wan's more mature Jedi equanimity. He is more like Obi-Wan than he knows. And less like the boy I married. Padme forced herself to think of the changes coming up in her life. Palpatine's death, the revelation of his true Sith nature to a select few outside the Jedi, the opening of his Chancellor position to Bail and her own possible appointment by him to the Vice-Chancellorship would rock her personal speederboat, and anything not secured with lanyards of durasteel would fly overboard. She wondered which valuables she would secure and which she would allow to turn into jetsam. "Anakin, it's early. I've been going out at night, remember? My handmaidens and I" --- have a tremendous time listening to ColdCuts and getting to know the group much better by following their gigs --- "hit several nightspots nearly every outing and I'm, I'm having enjoyable evenings. You did say to have fun when you're not around. I have been."
Anakin usually pulled on the minimal amount of clothing for modesty when he meditated and left the rest for afterwards. The boots' fastenings gave him trouble this morning and Anakin sat on the bed and bent far over, his muscled back limned in curves of shadow that Padme remembered liking to trace. She reached out to touch his scapula, but he finished with the recalcitrant buckles and stood up, grabbing his tunics and belt from the vanity stool and donning them with the ease of over a decade's practice. The moment passed. I always did like fast. Even for something like this. Padme resigned herself to dragging along all day in fatigue and put on her foundation garment, wishing for Ommane's quick helping hands. By the time she had on her primary under-robe, her nerves jangled and by the time she sat at the vanity, ready for her makeup and jewelry, she was nearly trembling. She looked at herself in the mirror and didn't know or much like the woman who looked back.
My wife. I think I'll look her over. To remind myself of a marriage that's fading. It unnerved Anakin to see Padme in fear of her own husband. Didn't she know of the Jedi code? He knew she did. "There is no emotion, there is peace." While he had problems with it many times himself, Padme had proven remarkably strong and Jedi-like in the beast arena, while rescuing Obi-Wan, and surviving the kouhuns' sneak attack. It hadn't all been bravado, had it? No. She was truly strong, and now she was truly afraid. He caressed with his eyes the curves that were now covered by a septsilk sheath of flaming red, cut on the bias to form a clinging garment with a ruffled neckline. She was perfectly proportioned. It galled him to think of Palpatine's, or Organa's, or someone else's paws on her beauty. Hang on, Anakin. It must be someone she knows, at least; she wouldn't have joined one of those sex clubs, would she? New partner every time, chat each other up for three minutes, move along at the gong? Pick out the most promising partner? "Padme."
"What."
"I won't hurt you. I know you're unhappy with me." On Trow, he had wondered if she would hate him when she saw him again for what he and Obi-Wan had done to become closer. This didn't feel like hate, but what else could he call it? "You don't have to be afraid. Obi-Wan and I are together. I won't stand in your way if you want a divorce."
Padme's hands shook in relief and she dropped a suspensa earring, its tempered metal flexing enough to make it bounce far under the bed. "Kriff!" Talk, Padme, talk. You'll explode otherwise.
Anakin bent down on one knee to rummage under the bed. He swept his mechno-hand over the unseen space, thumbing his pinkie's first knuckle to activate the magnetization bar in it. After a moment, he pulled out his arm.
Living a lie isn't even a little fun anymore. Padme's husband held up her dropped earring in one hand and a red stiletto pump in the other. "Whose shoe?"
"Ommane's. She's been my closet, uh, closest, helper since you've been away so much." Anakin wasn't stupid; he knew she hadn't warmed to him as she had before his return from Trow. Kriff again.
Anakin put the shoe on the floor under the vanity and stood behind Padme, refastening her earring by driving the long coppery suspensa shank through the single hole in her lobe. He fingered a curl before seductively draping it to half-conceal her ear. Anakin adjusted the curl on the other side to match, not meeting Padme's eyes in the mirror, but sensing that she was regarding him apprehensively. And I was worried that she was lonely. This may be why she never went down on me. Or maybe not. "Ommane." That's the one with the haircolor like mine, looks around slyly even when there's nothing to look at.
Out with it. "Yes, Anakin, she sleeps here occasionally. Her quarters aren't as spacious and when I need her at night she's right there."
"We can't go on being married, Padme, it's, it's" --- "Breaking News: Forbidden Love Story Of Jedi Monk And Overachieving Politician Reaches Tawdry End! Both Parties Cheat In Same-Sex Scandal! Force Admits Nothing Despite Repeated Inquiries." But it isn't like that, it isn't, it isn't --- "about sex, isn't it. Is she better in bed than me?"
Yes. "No, but she's here and you're not, Anakin. We have similar backgrounds, similar goals, we enjoy scramball matches" --- but she doesn't ever attend my synchronized swimming competitions except in her professional capacity --- "she's a better match in height --- "
"What?" He had managed to complete three of the four parts of his invented Telling-Upsetting-News kata with her. He and Padme were breaking up, but the more she spoke, the more he knew he would not be able to cheer her on in her new endeavors as he had cheered on the scramball team he had left in midseason. This would be a kata he'd never complete, but he didn't care now. If there were a Merit Bead for this kata, he imagined it to be deepest black.
"Yes, well, with you sometimes I get a crick in my neck and --- "
"That's enough," Anakin said roughly. This wasn't his angel talking anymore; this was more like those angels on the moons of Iego who smiled but had pointed teeth to shred and maim.
"Anakin. I've grown in a different direction and so have you, with Obi-Wan. I'll admit the thought of you two together fascinates me, but I've had months to think about my place in all this and it's time for us both to move on. So you do what the Force wants and I'll do what I want. Threepio and Artoo can be mindwiped about our marriage if it's still in their circuits and it's over for us both." No kids. No home to break up, really. We'll go our separate ways. "I'm keeping the droids, by the way."
"And I suppose that I get visitation rights?" I made Threepio. To help Mom. This isn't over yet, Padme.
"Of course. And you can handle the wipes, too. You're the one to do it. And I never did thank you properly for uncovering Palpatine's dirty scheme. Shall we call things even with a farewell fuck?" Padme thought it was a generous offer. She might even miss having sex with him, for a while, anyway.
The word jolted the room, the Force whispered 'no' and Anakin agreed. That night as he lay achingly hard next to an exhausted, snoring Obi-Wan in their new four-poster Phlog-sized bed, Anakin stared through the darkness at their ceiling, which rolled back to show in flickering blue the steeply-arched bridge in his original dream on Trow. He'd shared a bed platonically with Master that night, too. From his firm stance on his and Obi-Wan's side of the babbling stream, he spied across the way two tiny amorphous possibilities of life before they winked out as if they had never been. The fog shrouding the necessity of their birth lifted, leaving the Room of One Thousand Fountains soothingly humid with a light mist, as it always had looked and now always would look. The bridge would have led him to the dark side through some desperate need to save ... dear ones ... he squinted, but couldn't see who ... and it was only Obi-Wan's forceful pushes down the canted steps keeping him in the Light. I was wrong the first time that I interpreted it; it's like my polarity has been reversed. All his anger, doubt, and disappointment over his and his Master's and even Padme's actions disappeared. Maturity, painful maturity, cracked his heart, and as he took himself in hand, he knew that he could live with infinite yearning.
THE RIVER FINISHED.
OOOOOOOOOO
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As Clear As Mud

As Clear As Mud

Chapter 4