Luke Skywalker's First Rain

Title: Luke Skywalker’s First Rain
Author: Arwen Skywalker
Rating: G
Summary: Luke feels rain for the first time, and deals with his emotions following the Battle of Yavin.
Disclaimer: I don’t own SW. Duh. ☺
Warning: Does not contain any romance, sorry. (lols)
Author's Note: Going through my fanfic, and I found this. Read it again, changed a few things, and thought I'd offer it up for criticism. The title is sorta dumb, but I can't think of something deep and appropriate. Yeah. I wrote this going on two years ago. *shrugs* And I don't think I've posted this here yet.......I don't think. If you recognize it, go ahead and call me stupid, and give me some crit anyway. :)
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Luke Skywalker, new hero of the rebellion, fledgling Jedi, and farmboy, awoke and stretched. His internal chrono was going off insistently; even though his brain insisted there was no reason to get up since the farm and its chores were light-years away.

Luke sighed. This was only his fourth day away from Tatooine, his second morning waking up in the Great Temple on Yavin 4. It was just after waking that the homesickness hit so badly. Luke was still a boy. A farmboy at that. Yesterday upon waking, he’d cried for an hour as it had really hit home, all that he’d lost. Luke hadn’t really had time to grieve before, too busy rescuing princesses and listening to a Jedi, and blowing up battle stations. And then of course there was the huge celebration after the battle. It hadn’t stopped at nightfall; it had just carried on and on, not stopping until the last drunk reveler keeled over. Luke hadn’t drunk much. It had been his first time touching alcohol, since that kind of thing never crossed the threshold of the farmstead.

Luke was a very alone farmboy. His father and mother had died when he was tiny. His Aunt and Uncle had been brutally slaughtered just yesterday, and that monster Darth Vader had killed the old Jedi Master, Ben. The tears had come, and there just was no stopping them. Luke couldn’t even remember the last time he’d cried, let along cried his heart out. His family wasn’t the only thing he’d lost. He’d found his childhood’s best friend, moments from climbing in his ship, and lost him out in space. Luke cried for Biggs, for all the stories they’d never share. And finally Luke cried for all the people he’d slaughtered yesterday when his torpedoes hit the target. Knowing that all the people around him would otherwise be dead didn’t help in the slightest. He was a murderer, plain and simple, and there was no going back.

Today was a new day, and that was good Luke thought. He was also grateful to whoever decided that he needed his own room. It would have been too embarrassing to have broken down in front of someone yesterday. Leia had known, thought Luke, and she had assigned him this room. His thoughts turned toward the petite princess. She must be grieving too, her whole world was gone, all her friends and family, and she’d had to watch it happen. They were both alone.

Luke sighed again as he remembered what today was. The last day before the rebellion found a new hiding place, and the day of the commemoration and medal services. He’d be receiving a medal, as would Han. He didn’t want it, and he’d tried to explain that to several officials and Leia. Leia had understood why, but insisted he accept it.

“Good for morale,” she’d said.

Luke grimaced and swung himself out of bed, then got dressed and left his room hoping to make it outside without being noticed. Most of the others wouldn’t be stirring for a least a half hour, and he thought that would give him enough time to practice feeling the Force out in the natural air.

The guard on duty at the front door nodded and let Luke pass, after hearing his stated business. Luke stepped out into the gray of the morning, the air was heavy and thick, the sky filled with rain clouds. The wind ruffled his sandy hair as he lifted his face to the sky.

Plop!

Luke opened his eyes.

Plip! Plop! Plip!

Water was dripping on his face.

Faster the drops fell, until it seemed as if the tears from yesterday were covering his face again. Confused for a few minutes, Luke just stood there. Suddenly his face broke into a wide and decidedly goofy smile.

Rain! That’s what it was! It was raining!

Luke Skywalker, new hero of the rebellion, stood in the middle of his first rain shower and laughed. As he had thought he’d probably never laugh again. The rain seemed to cleanse all his tiredness and sorrow away. It smelled and sounded so wonderful! It was so amazing! It was more water then he’d ever seen in his life, and it felt so good. His hair and clothes were soaking wet, but Luke didn’t care. He wanted to stay in this wonderful thing called rain forever.

Luke spun around and around. He caught the rain in his mouth and smiled at the taste. He walked around the Temple, marveling at the way the water ran down the stones and formed little puddles on the ground. He watched water pour off of trees and plants. He smelled the smell of growing things receiving their nutrients.

And then he slipped in his first puddle. He lay where he fell, stunned, and then laughed, and laughed. After getting up, he looked around cautiously, but seeing no one, he jumped. Luke Skywalker jumped in the puddles like any small child would, and had just as much fun.

Time passed, and the rain subsided. Luke trudged the rest of the way back to the Temple entrance, where he again presented himself to the guard, sopping wet and covered in mud. The guard looked at him and laughed.

Luke ginned a bit sheepishly and tried to explain that it was his first rain shower.

“First?” The guard was confused.

“Ever hear of Tatooine?” Luke asked.

“Oh, yeah. Biggest sandbox in the galaxy.”

“That’s where I’ve lived my whole life.”

“Well, that explains it,” the guard chuckled again. “You’d better clean up and get something to eat. Breakfast must be nearly over.”

“I must have been out there a long time,” Luke said in surprise. He headed for his room.

************************

“Did you enjoy it?”

Luke spun around, still dripping. Princess Leia stood at the entrance to another hallway, smiling.

“Yes,” Luke said, ginning awkwardly. “I’ve never seen so much water in my life. It’s amazing.”

“Yes, it is.” Leia’s eyes had tears in them of a sudden. “Come eat as soon as you are dry. The memorial starts in an hour.”

“Yes Princess,” replied Luke, turning to go.

“It’s Leia. Just Leia.” She said, catching his eyes in hers.

“All right” Luke said softly. “See you in a bit, Leia.”

Leia smiled and turned down another hallway, and Luke made it the rest of the way to his quarters. Once inside he was amazed to see he’d been out for over two hours. He changed quickly and made his way to the dining hall.


**********************

Luke thought the memorial service was beautiful. The names of the fallen, (or in this case blown to bits) rebel pilots were read, and their accomplishments made known. Luke was surprised to learn that Biggs had been busy in the rebellion for nearly 6 standard months, and had been heavily involved in several missions, performing admirably in all.

After the reading of the names, followed by several minutes of silence, rebel musicians played a beautiful dirge, to lament and honor the fallen.

The next part of the service commemorated Alderaan. Princess Leia and several other Alderaanian rebels spoke of its natural beauty, the beauty of its art and culture, and the beauty of the Alderaanian people. Their voices trembled and faltered; even the Princess’s, and tears filled the eyes of the room. After the speaking, what were identified to Luke by another rebel as Alderaanian laments were played, and their sadness made Luke want to break down completely again.

Luke kept his eyes on the princess, her eyes full of tears that she refused to let fall. She never looked at him though. Luke glanced at Han, standing a few feet away with his Wookiee. Han’s face was a study, and Luke wondered what the pirate was thinking.

After the last song died away, there was more silence, and then General Dodonna came to the front and spoke of the victims aboard the Death Star, of their family’s loss, and of how many of them were conscripts, there by no fault of their own. He reminded the gathered freedom fighters of what they were fighting for, and to not forget the seriousness of war and its consequences.

Luke kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, holding back his tears with all his might. It hurt to think of all those people, dead because of him.

After Dodonna finished, there was again several minutes of silence, and then the rebels were dismissed for lunch and more packing of the base before the medal ceremony.

**************************

The rebels were assembled in the great room again; it was time for the medal ceremony. Luke stood outside the big door with Han and Chewbacca, wishing to be anywhere but waiting to walk through a room packed with beings, all in order to receive a medal he really didn’t think he deserved. Luke glanced over at Han, who was fidgeting next to the still-as-stone Chewbacca. Han caught his eye and broke the silence.

“You aren’t happy about this, are you?”

Luke grimaced. “No.”

“I don’t have much use for ceremonies, especially ones I gotta dress up for,” the smuggler declared.

“I liked the memorial,” Luke said, “but I don’t think I deserve a medal. It was just a lucky shot.”

“Lucky shot?” Han scoffed, “the most amazing lucky shot I’ve ever seen.” He looked more closely at the young man, who was looking at his shoes again. Chewie chuffed his agreement.

“One in a million, right?” Luke raised his head and gave a half grin, and Han grinned back.

“You’ve got it!” Han exclaimed as he looked at the younger man. He had been feeling a bit big brotherish toward the kid ever since the old man had been cut down. He had noticed how much more grown up the kid seemed since the battle, more serious.

Han hesitated a minute, then said what he was thinking. “Hey kid, I’m proud of you, you know that?” He said, complete with the Solo lopsided grin.

Luke looked up, a real smile on his face. “I’m proud of you, too, old man.”

“Hey!”

“If you can call me kid, then I can call you old!”

The Wookiee laughed, and the two men joined in as triumphal music began to play inside the Great Hall.

The door slide open, and Luke began to walk. His last glance at Han showed Han rolling his eyes. Luke smiled again, and marched what seemed the interminable length of the Hall, followed by Han and Chewie. He finally reached the podium, and the princess. She looked gorgeous up close, with her hair out of the buns and in a thick braid down her back. Leia’s face was all seriousness as she took the first medal from the general and placed it around Luke’s neck. Luke swallowed hard and smiled up at her. She smiled back at him as she turned to get Han’s medal. She put it around Han’s neck and he grinned and winked at her. She shook her head slightly, but grinned back.

Luke heard whistles and looked over to see R2 rocking excitedly next to 3PO. He grinned at the little droid, who deserved a medal for all he’d done during the last few days. Leia looked over and grinned at the droid, too and then she motioned to Han and Luke to turn and face the audience. Luke squared his shoulders as he and Han swiveled to face their fellow rebels. The hall erupted into thunderous applause as the two faced front and looked out over the assembly.

Luke smiled again.

He wasn’t alone, not by a long shot. He had new friends, new responsibilities, and something to fight for.

He was ready to face tomorrow as Luke Skywalker, hero of the rebellion, farmboy, and freedom fighter.

It was a good day.

PASSAGE (working title)

OK friends, I'm letting this one out of the bag since it has been so long since I have been able to get to it. The idea still sparks my interest and I do hope to continue so if you like this tiny piece let me know. This has sat for a year now untouched.
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PROLOGUE

"Anakin, stay close to me....."

The unexpected memory fragment, like a physical blow, caused the misshappen head to jerk involuntarily and rebound off the high black collar that ringed Vader's head. He sat confused for a moment before the familiar white walls of the hyperbaric meditation chamber reasserted their place in his world. He was unaccustomed to being snapped out of his meditations by anything short of a summons from his Master.

"He will be a Jedi..."

...came the ghostly echo of another memory.

After all these years he could not fathom what had dragged Qui-Gon's voice up from the darkness within nor why he seemed to feel his presence. With a rush of anger at the wastefulness of sentimentality Vader triggered the mechanism that lowered his breath mask back into place. An impromptu inspection of his troops would lift his spirits. There was always a lackey, or two, who could benefit from his special form of encouragement.

Rising from his chair he activated the release on his chamber and let his thoughts turn to more immediate events......

Another surviving jedi story

This is a long one...

“But it doesn’t seem in any way creepy to you?”, asked the young imperial officer to his superior, who was sitting at a makeshift station monitoring the sealed cabin in back of them that held the prisoner., “all she does is stare out the window as we go by things she cannot see.”

“What makes you so sure that she cannot see them?” asked the commander, “and besides, she is probably enjoying her last days, as we all know what will happen to her when we arrive. I am actually a little surprised that no attempts to escape have happened yet.”

They both looked at the screens. There, inside the cabin to the hover train, sat quietly a young woman, no older that twenty five, for in fact they had no idea how old she really was. She had kept it hidden from them, even her name through every interrogation technique they could think of. The only thing she could not keep from them, as it was obvious and not something she was trying to hide anymore, was the fact the she was, for their purposes, a Jedi.

“Isn’t it about time to send in the midday meal?” Asked the commander?

“I am NOT doing that again,” stated the officer next to him. “She makes me feel strange. Send a recruit.”

“Then I suggest you go and find one yourself.” His commander shot back.

The young man got up, saluted, and left the station and headed for the mess car.
When he arrived there were plenty of soldiers eating in squad groups conversing in high spirits, despite the knowledge of whom and what they were escorting. However, the officer noticed that one man, obviously older than he was, happened to be sitting by himself. Brooding over his meal and looking nothing short of livid.

“You there, soldier,” said the officer, and walked over the man, trying to look as intimidating as he could, “I have an assignment for you. Seeing as you appear to be done with your meal, I need you to take a tray to the prisoner.” He then waited to see what sort of excuse this one came up with.

To his surprise, a rather menacing smile came over the soldier’s face. A calm and smoothly calculating voice said, “yes sir,” and got up, put his own tray away, and started to take a full one over to the station.

Behind this smooth talker calm visage laid a calculating man by the name of Caltran Yonfen. Nothing ran through his head but the thought of revenge. He had not gotten a chance to look at this Jedi’s face, and now that he had the opportunity, he was going to do the Empire a favor. He was going to kill her.

About twenty three years ago...

“Come Caltran, and meet your baby sister,” Caltran’s father had come to collect him from school early that day, he knew his mother was going to have a baby, but, being only seven, he did not really understand.

Bouncing through the door and into his parent’s bedroom, Caltran climbed up onto his parent’s bed and for the first time, looked into the face of his sister, Taiyra Yonfen. She had his mother’s dirty blonde hair, which grew darker as the months went on. Her little round face stared at him for a moment, just long enough to show him the dark, green thoughtful eyes that then closed in sleep.

“Look at this dear,” his mother said, and turned his sister over so he could see her right hear. Along the back of Taiyra ear, was a swirling birthmark. It gave the effect of shifting water, as the sun reflected off the surface. Young Caltran reached out to touch the birthmark. When he did, something happened that he could not explain. Some sort of ‘connection’ as he would later call it, left him somehow always able to tell where his sister was, or at least how she felt.

As the months went by, Caltran tried very hard to be a very good big brother. He did not yell when she was sleeping, he held her for his mother; he played with her, and went to bed when he was told so that she could sleep. However, he would hear his parents talking when they thought he was asleep.

“She is so much easier than Caltran ever was.”

“She never seems to cry for very long.”

“Have you noticed how everything she wants is always in reach?”

“I turned around for five seconds and the bottle was in her hands. I could have sworn it had been on the table before that. And she cannot reach up there.”

By the time Taiyra was eight months old; his parents’ questions were answered. One day while Caltran was at school, Jedi had come to his house, and had convinced his parents to give up his sister to their care.

“Why did you let them take her? She was my sister too! Did they ask if I said it was okay?”

“Dear,” his mother tried to console him; “she will learn to be a great person. You should be proud to have a Jedi sister-“

“I DON”T CARE! I HATE THEM! THEY TOOK HER AWAY AND I HATE THEM!”
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As Caltran grew older and older, he continued to take the loss of his sister very hard. He was bitter and never forgave his parents. He would spend hours in his room, looking at a picture of her, trying to feel that sense he got every time her touched her ear in order to try and get her back. However, by the time he was sixteen, he had finally given up. The feeling was completely gone. There as no way he could get her back and he was going to make sure that someday, somebody paid for her loss to him.

When the war broke out, Caltran was twenty four. He followed the action as closely as possible, in hopes that he might see his sister, but as she was still in her teens he never did figure out if she was off fighting somewhere. After order 66, there was a bit of panic in Caltran’s mind. However, later, when he had heard of all the horrible things the Jedi had done from the emperor, Caltran was ashamed of his obsession over Taiyra. She had obviously been poisoned beyond hope, and was better off dead. However, a lingering feeling still held in his heart.
Present time

He eventually joined the academy and became know as one of the best there was, in the early years, he could rival a clone in accuracy, speed and unfeeling. He was especially known for his ruthlessness toward anybody he suspected of being an escaped Jedi. Rumors went around about why. Caltran smirked as he remembered some of the ridiculous ideas. He had escaped training, been the illegitimate child of two Jedi, and so on and so forth.

“Hold up there soldier,” said the commander at the station. “You need to give up all your weapons here.” He held up his hand.

“Sir?” Caltran asked even though he knew the answer.

“If the Jedi finds any weapon in there, she can get a hold of it even restrained as she is. We have no way to counter her mental abilities…yet.”

Caltran set down the tray and began to remove his weapons that were standard issue. He however, left the small vibro knife that was his little secret. The commander said nothing as he counted the number of standard issue weapons before him. "Go ahead soldier," he said with out another glance, and returned to monitoring the video feed from inside the cabin.

Picking the tray back up, Caltran went inside.

As he stood in the doorway, Caltran saw the Jedi for the first time. What he saw surprised him. The long brown hair was carefully plaited and tied in a practical knot at the back of her head. Small wisps of hair had fallen out of place, he guessed from the capture, and they lined her tanned face, which, to his even greater surprise, held a long scar running down her left cheek. She was doing what she had been doing the whole trip; staring out the window at the landscape as it passed by.
Caltran was still staring when the Jedi spoke. “If you’re going to stare at me can I at least eat while you do so?”

Caltran was taken aback. Most prisoners never talked, let alone tried to be funny. But he brushed it aside, he was here for a reason, and nothing would stop him. Setting the tray down in front of the Jedi, Caltran took up a standing position in front of her. Her demeanor was not that of a condemned person. She seemed to accept everything for what it was. Even the food, which she ate with calmness and seemed to be thinking about nothing else. She reminded him so much of Taiyra, who even as a baby, explored her food with such care that he nearly broke out in a chuckle.

“What happened to her?” The Jedi asked all of a sudden.

Caltran jumped. A sensation had run through his thoughts and body just before the Jedi spoke. That sensation that he got any time he had touched his sister’s ear. It must have been a Jedi thing she had even as a baby. Caltran thought. “What’s it to you?” he spat, “you Jedi ruined her anyway.”

The Jedi put down her food. She seemed upset, but he could not tell for sure. Her face was blank, something he had seen from a lot from other Jedi he had ‘taken care of’. She then moved and put her fly-away hair back into place. When she pulled her hand away from her right ear, Caltran nearly fell on the floor in shock.
Staring at him was the grown-up version of his sister Taiyra. She was of medium height, slender, but Caltran knew she would be fast and strong. Her hair, he now saw, was just like his and those eyes; he finally saw her green eyes that pierced him, brought him back to the day that she had been born, the day he had touched…

When he came to his senses, Taiyra was crouched in front of him, her eyes level with his own. It made him want to jump back, but all he could do was flinch. She had him completely restrained in the cuffs she had been wearing earlier.

“So you’re that feeling,” Taiyra whispered to his face, “I had always wondered, but I mostly ignored it, my master said it was nothing, but I guess he was wrong about that. So,” she sat down and crossed her legs as if settling down for a conversation, “my brother eh? Interesting. We of course know nothing of our real family; it only gets in the way…”

“Is that what they tell you?” Caltran managed to blurt out, “along with teaching you to take over a galaxy?”

“Oh dear brother,” Taiyra shook her head, “is that what they teach you now? Well, you are sorely mistaken. We were slaughtered, slaughtered for seeing what was really going on, slaughtered by one of our own, who turned. He nearly killed me you know, but I had learned how to hide my life force, and appear to be dead, even to other Jedi, or Sith in this case. Why do you think it took so long to find me?”

“I guess it didn’t work on us though,” Caltran added, “because we did catch you.”

“I was distracted,” Taiyra retorted, “distracted by that feeling I got from you. You obviously have some connection I did not know about, until now.”

She got up. “I hope you take this as a learning experience, brother, and take the time to look again at the history they teach you. And maybe use that little feeling of yours to find out the truth, because it will do you no good in finding me again, that I guarantee. Oh, and thanks for the knife.”

And with that, Taiyra kicked open the back door of the train, and jumped.

“Would you care to explain this to me again soldier?” It had been a week since the Jedi had escaped with nothing, although Caltran did not mention that his sister had taken his knife.

“I have deemed myself a hazard to this mission, and wish to be reassigned, sir.”

“Why, after just one failure, which happens in these cases, would you just quit? You know we don’t report escapes. We understand it happens, even of others do not,” his commander added.

“It’s personal.”

“Well, as much as I hate to see my best man go, I have nothing to hold against you, and you are one of the best. Where would you like to go? I can make just about anything happen.”

“Put me wherever you think I would be helpful sir.”

Two days later, Caltran was on a transport for the planet of Naboo. Instead of reassigning him right away, his commander had told him that he most likely needed a little rest and relaxation. “With the high stress mission and all, you could use it.” His commander had pointed out.

So, here he was, on a planet that was not exactly known for its hospitality towards the Empire. But Caltran was here for himself, not the Empire. With a plain civilian jumpsuit and his personal sidearm on his hip, Caltran got off the transport, handed over his ID for a check and was off and hailed transport.

“Where to sir?” Asked the driver.

Where to indeed. Caltran was not much of a partier, what was he going to do?

“The Yonfen Summerhouse…you do know where that is don’t you?”

"Yes sir."

As he pulled up to the house, Caltran saw his mother, open the door, then, turn around and close it again. While Caltran was not entirely sure why, he had a feeling his presence was a bit of a surprise. He had not seen them since he had joined the Imperial Navy.

When he got to the door, his mother opened it before he could knock. For an older woman, she still nearly knocked him off his feet.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you dear! I just went to tell your father that you were here. He’s in the garden trying to fix the hydrator for the plants. You know he was never very good at fixing things. Anyway, I think the girl we hired is doing a better job than he is. Maybe you could help them after dinner?”

Caltran gave off a small smile. His mother had not changed very much. Still the talkative person. “What girl are you talking about?”

“Well, we found that this summer we needed help with some of the heavy lifting and such. And she came to the door asking for a job. We hired her right then and there. She has been wonderful help and is great company. It’s almost like having a child in the house. Anyway, dinner is almost ready. Would you mind going out back and calling them in?”

“Alright.” Caltran went to the back door and went into the garden. There, on the ground was his father, rummaging through a tool box while a pair of legs stuck out from under the hydrator. The girl they had hired was on her stomach, attempting to reach some unknown thing in order to fix the machine.

“Mr. Yonfen, I need the lever again if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Actually Dad, you might want to take a break and come have dinner.”

Caltran’s father looked up in surprise. But his expression soon changed to a big smile as he got up. “Caltran my boy! Good to see you. Telesa, my son is here come on out and greet him and then we need to go to dinner.”

Caltran watched as Telesa’s hand stuck out from under the machine and stabbed a knife into the ground. Soon the rest of her wiggled out from under the hydrator. She was not what Caltran expected. Her face was greasy and had a tattoo running down the side if her face. Her very short hair was tied to her head by a head cloth that she had wrapped like a very thin turban. She had a small, but strong build, and green eyes.

“Son huh,” she said with a heavy accent. “Good to meet you. Your parents talk about you almost non-stop.” She gave a slight bow.

Caltran was puzzled. While he was sure he had never met Telesa before, something did not seem right. But, he was on leave, and he did not worry about it, at least, not with his father standing right there.

“Let’s go in for dinner,” his father said, breaking the silence.

Dinner was relatively quiet. At least, Caltran did not say much. He let his mother do most of the talking. She seemed to feel it necessary to give Telesa his whole life story.

“And then, of course he became very upset, he didn’t want to give her up to the j¬—“

“Mother!” Caltran was standing. He had nearly upset the table. “Do NOT start in on this again! We do not need to hear my life story, or this family’s shame.”

“Son,” his father said, “there is no need to talk to your mother that way. And Taiyra was most certainly not a shame to this family.”

“That may be your opinion father, but it is not mine.”

“What would you have had us do?” His father protested? “We could not very well hide her from the Jedi, and eventually she would have been more than we could handle. What would you do; kill her?”

Caltran opened his mouth but no sound came out. He had no answer. Instead, Caltran left and went out back.

His parents watched him as he stormed outside.

“We apologize for that,” said Caltran’s mother, “I probably should have picked a different subject.”

Outside Caltran collapsed on the ground. He had never thought about what it might have been like if his sister had stayed. Would there have been a problem; would they have had to give her up anyway? What if the Jedi had just stolen her instead? At least they had asked.

Staring at the hydrator all taken apart in the garden, Caltran noticed that the knife Telesa had been using was still stuck in the ground. Caltran stretched over and yanked it out of the ground to examine it. Mulling it around, he realized why he was so comfortable with the knife. Caltran quickly turned the knife so he could see the blade. Etched on the blade in very small laser-precise writing, was exactly what he thought was there; the inscription he had put on his own knife. ‘No matter what, everyone will come home’

Caltran burst through the door with his sidearm pointed directly at Telesa. His mother gasped and ran to his father. Telesa stood up and moved away from the table and Caltran’s parents.

“Caltran what are you doing?” His father pleaded.

“Stay out of this,” Caltran snapped, “this has nothing to do with you.” Holding up the knife, Caltran pointed his sidearm directly at Telesa’s Chest.

“Where did you get this?”

“From you.” There was no accent anymore.

Caltran fired.

Part 9 - The Tooth of the Gundark

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV - PART V - PART VI - PART VII - PART VIII


THREE YEARS LATER

"We fell into a nest of gundarks," Obi-Wan said, wincing as Togaron removed the sticky bacta bandages from his back.

"We?" Anakin said from the next bed.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "All right, I fell in. Anakin jumped in to save me!" He smiled with pride at his apprentice.

"Well, the Force is with you today, we have a Jedi Healer on board." He finished hooking up Obi-Wan's medinfuser line and punched in a code on the regulator to administer a painkiller.

Obi-Wan eased his mental hold on his pain as the drug took effect, and felt around in the Force. "Traelyn?" He asked hopefully.

"Why, yes it is Traelyn," Togaron replied.

"Oh, no," Anakin groaned.

Togaron looked over at the boy. "Are you injured, Anakin?"

"No!" He said rather quickly.

"Yes, he is," Obi-Wan replied at the same time. "He's got scratches on his..."

"Master!" Anakin interrupted, "It's nothing, I don't need a doctor!"

"I'm afraid that's not up to you, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied.

He squirmed uncomfortably. "Really, Obi-Wan, it doesn't hurt."

"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Togaron asked. "I feel as if I already know you. I'm Togaron Deljuur. I went to University with Traelyn!"

"Oh, of course, I know who you are! It's nice to actually meet you," Obi-Wan replied.

* * *

Traelyn was aboard the Republic Medical Relief Ship Dayden Star as a volunteer. A plague had broken out on Stlyuss, a small planet on the mid-rim, and doctors from all the Core Worlds had come to lend medical aid.

She was in the doctors' lounge, having a cup of stimcaf with Togaron's wife Baleen, another friend from medical school. She stopped talking in mid-sentence and looked off into the Force. "Obi-Wan?" She said quietly. Her commlink went off.

"Traelyn, there's a friend of yours on board, and he's injured. Can you come to Bay 12?"

"I'll be right there!" She said.

* * *

Approaching the medbay, she paused at the door as she heard Obi-Wan and Anakin arguing.

"Master, I don't want her to see my butt!"

"Anakin, she's a doctor, she's seen a lot of bare bottoms in her life."

"Well, she doesn't need to see mine. She's your friend; we're around her all the time. If you let her see yours, the next time we're having dinner with her she'll be thinking about it!"

Traelyn covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. She entered the room. "I heard there were a couple of Jedi in here causing trouble!"

"Come along, young man, we'll go into the next room," Togaron said. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan.

"Go ahead, Padawan, do as the doctor orders. And behave yourself!"

"Yes, Master." Anakin hopped off the bed and followed Togaron out of the room.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Sorry he's so difficult," he said. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

"Adolescence," Traelyn said wryly. "You look terrible!" She leaned over and kissed his forehead. She began to sponge off Obi-Wan's wounds, gently cleaning the dirt, dried blood and bacta away. She sent soothing, healing waves of the Force into his mind, and he sighed.

"Oh, that's nice," he murmured.

Togaron returned with a smile on his face. "The boy is fine, I bandaged him up and sent him off for a hot dinner. He can bunk with the younglings tonight."

"Obi-Wan, this is my friend Togaron from the University. Togaron, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my oldest and dearest friend."

"We met," Togaron replied. "It's nice to put a face to a name."

Obi-Wan was growing drowsy from his medication. "You're not the man who tried to marry her, are you?" He asked.

"Obi-Wan! That painkiller is causing your tongue to work faster than your brain!"

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Togaron chuckled. "Don't be, it's the drugs talking, and no, it wasn't me, but I'm glad my wife didn't hear that question!"

Traelyn lifted the sheet and caught site of a nasty bite on Obi-Wan's hip and buttock. "Oh, my goodness!" She exclaimed.

"Be careful," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin thinks if see my bare bottom you'll have nightmares."

Traelyn laughed. "I'll be dreaming of nothing else. Togaron, have you ever seen a gundark bite before?"

"Not many gundarks on Coruscant, you know, or Alderaan either, for that matter. Oh, I see, nasty." He peered in closer. "There's something in there!"

Traelyn reached her hand out and a pair of tweezers flew into it. "How's the pain, Obi-Wan? I need to poke around down here!"

He sighed. "It's all right, I don't want any more medication. Do what you have to do."

Gently, she touched the edge of the bite and extracted a small, hard object from the wound. "It's a tooth!" She exclaimed.

Obi-Wan groaned. "No wonder it didn't want to let go!"

Togaron showed the tooth to Obi-Wan. "I think, my new friend, that you were fortunate to have had your back to the gundark!"

Obi-Wan chuckled and winked at Traelyn, and she flushed. "Men!" She muttered.

* * *

"You're not going to put me into a tank, are you?" Obi-Wan asked when she'd finished cleaning and suturing his wounds.

"You really should," she said.

"The tub is open," Togaron said.

"It won't be so bad, Obi-Wan, it's got an open top."

"All right," he said sleepily.

Traelyn accompanied him to the tank room, where two medics settled him into the bacta tub, securing his head above the surface with padded restraints. He sighed as the cool fluid bubbled into his wounds, and nodded off to sleep.

Traelyn put her hands on his forehead and eased him into a healing trance.

* * *

"Sorry to bother you, doctor, but your patient's vital signs are very low," Jennaea, the on-duty nurse, told Traelyn as she entered the tank room.

Traelyn took a look at the datapad. "No, that's normal. He's in a Jedi healing trance."

"Oh, I didn't know! I wouldn't have called you!"

"That's all right, I should have made a note of it. It's time for me to check him anyway," she yawned.

"I thought you were off the night shift," Jennaea commented.

"I was, but I was delivering a baby," she said with a smile.

Obi-Wan felt a tremble in the Force as she approached him, and he opened his eyes sleepily. She was wearing white surgical scrubs and ankle high athletic shoes, the type they wore in the Temple training rooms, except that these were bright pink.

He had a sudden flash of memory and he saw a tiny red haired girl, dressed in white overalls and pink booties, toddling across the nursery floor to fall into his lap, giggling. He chuckled.

"Obi-Wan?" She smiled at him. "What's so funny?"

Traelyn had only been two years old when he'd left the nursery, and she had no memory of them having lived there together. He was about to share the flashback with her when he decided to keep it to himself as his own private treasure.

"Your shoes," he said instead. "They're pink!"

"You like them?" She asked, as she sat down beside the tub and placed her feet up on the edge. "They're Talusian humbaba hide. I was thinking of getting some field boots made, maybe a matching utility belt!" She grinned at her own facetiousness.

He snickered. "I can't wait until you go before the council wearing those!" He closed his eyes for a few moments. "I'm still a little muddle-headed, I can't sense Anakin. Is he all right?"

"He's asleep. It's night, ship's time. He's bunking in with the younglings."

"Younglings?"

"We evacuated children and pregnant women from the planet. There's a terrible plague down there. The inoculation didn't work on me, so I can't go down to the surface. I spend my time up here treating runny noses and delivering babies."

"It's an important contribution," Jennaea said, as she fussed with Obi-Wan's monitor. "They're going to need all the healthy younglings they can get."

"May I get out of here?" He asked.

Traelyn released the restraints and he stood up, the sticky bacta fluid running down his body. He shuddered. "I hate this stuff!"

"I know, but your scratches are all but healed, and the bite is much better."

She handled him a towel, thinking he would cover himself with it, but he merely asked, "A shower?"

She nodded, and pointed to the nearby refreshers. "Go ahead, I'll get your bed ready. Jennaea, would you please find him a gown and a robe?"

Jennaea looked him over, admiringly, as he walked away towards the showers. "That's one fine specimen of a Jedi," she said with a smile.

Traelyn grinned. "The finest!"

* * *

Early the next morning, after a few more hours in a healing trance, Obi-Wan's wounds were nearly healed. But the deep puncture wounds of the gundark bite still concerned Traelyn.

As Obi-Wan dozed, she placed her hands on his bare hip and began channeling the healing powers of the Force through herself and into his body. She focused the Force waves into the depths of the wound, and slowly the cells began to knit together. It took all of her concentration, and she was not aware that Anakin had entered the room until she heard the snap-hiss of his lightsaber.

"Get your hands off my Master!" He said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan said. "What do you think you're doing? Put your lightsaber away!"

'Master, she's got her hands on your..."

Traelyn looked up in a daze and blinked at the Padawan. "Anakin," she said calmly, "Be a dear one and go get me a cup of stimcaf, would you please? The doctors' lounge at the end of the hall."

"Go on," Obi-Wan said. 'You can apologize to Master Traelyn later!"

Anakin made a face, and turned and left the room, and the door slid closed behind him.

Traelyn and Obi-Wan laughed until their sides hurt.

* * *

Beamer, not BMW

Hey all, this is the short story my group wrote in Creative Writing in August. It's Sci-Fi, so I feel no compunction about forcing it on you. It's not fantastic or anything, but it is mildly amusing. The screenplay is even funnier, but it's really long. Written by me, my roomie, and another guy.


The first thing Todd noticed when he woke was that the floor was cold. The second he noticed was that the air was alive with the hum and whir of machinery. The third thing he noticed was that somebody’s elbow was shoved into his cheek.

He cried out and shoved the elbow out of his way, yelling, “Get off me!” He kicked forward, shoving himself out into the middle of the room, and there lay for a moment, his mind a whirl of confusion and mild disgust.

He noticed, distantly, that he was in a box-like room, maybe ten feet on all sides, with blank, stainless steel walls. A frosted glass door was straight across from him.
He got to his feet and turned, finding himself facing two men still tangled in a heap on the other side of the room. One of them he recognized as Kenneth, the thirty-something gymnastics coach at the local high school; the other figure was the scrawny twenty-odd town baker whose name Todd could not bother to remember. He turned away to survey the room.

From behind, he heard a jumble of cries of confusion and pain and Todd decided it would be best not to bother turning around. He exhaled deeply, trying to make sense of the tumult, and finally the voices behind him stopped jumbling into one another.
Todd turned to see Kenneth glaring at the baker, who was standing with his arms folded over his chest.

“You calm now?” Kenneth said.

“No,” the baker growled, “but I’ll live.”

“Good.” Kenneth looked up to Todd and waved broadly. “Hey, you’re—you’re the kid from the ice cream parlor, right?”

Todd frowned. “Name’s Todd. And you’re the high school gym coach, Ken, right?”
The man’s expression darkened. “Kenneth.”

They glared at each other for a long moment, an electric silence filling the room. The baker slid forward, looking from Todd to Kenneth and back. Finally, he said, irritably, “Eugene.”

Oh. The baker did have a name.

The tension melted immediately, and Todd turned back to the door, pushing against it. The door swung out, and he held it open, looking over his shoulder to the others. “C’mon,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”

Without waiting for the adults to follow, Todd slipped out into the hallway and moved a few feet down to a two-way intersection. He looked to the right and was immediately hit by a bout of vertigo, staggering back and grabbing the wall to keep his balance. The entire hallway curved downward and dropped away, floor and ceiling melting into each other and forming a far-too-close horizon line. The effect left Todd dizzy and somewhat nauseous. As his stomach settled, he leaned forward and looked to the left; same deal. It was as though he were standing on a massive sphere.

“Hey,” Kenneth called, approaching from behind, with Eugene just behind him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Todd said, righting himself and swallowing. “Just a little dizzy. It’s trippy down here. Look.”

Kenneth did so and was sent reeling back as Todd had been. Eugene approached with slightly more caution, having seen the others react, but was left none the better for it. He pulled away, heaving, and muttered, “I don’t like this place.”

“Could be worse,” Todd said with a shrug. “This isn’t a gang thing, at least. Way too clean.”
Kenneth stared at him, jaw dropped. “What?”

Todd shrugged and rounded the corner. “Well, no good just standing here,” he said, taking off down the slowing hallway. Kenneth called after him, but he ignored the coach’s pleas and made his way down the corridor.

Within a few minutes Eugene and Kenneth were behind him again. “You don’t know where this will lead!” Eugene hissed.

Todd smiled to himself. “Better than being stuck in a storage closet or something.”

Eugene could not argue with that, and fell mostly quiet save for the occasional grumbling that escaped him. Kenneth glared at him, and the baker stopped. After traveling for several minutes in silence, a door appeared from the crest of the hallway. Todd stopped for a moment, somewhat stunned—he had grown accustomed to the infinite sloping corridor—but recovered quickly and moved on. He stopped outside of the door and hesitated, then reached out for the door.
The door vanished and opened into a dark room.

Todd squinted, trying to peer through the gloom. He could see nothing but shadows and the occasional flare of oddly colored light. Kenneth slipped past him and toward the room. “This is…”

The lights flared on, blinding Todd. He shut his eyes, waiting for the pain to fade. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, and saw a mass of shadowy creatures in front of him, set apart by slits of glowing green eyes.

“They are awake.”

The voice was a hiss, and behind it, a new cacophony of hisses arose in agreement, the mass of shadows twisting as it spoke. One of them let loose a high-pitched hiss, and the group fell silent. The one in the lead leaned forward and looked over to another, twitching its head, and the other slipped forward, interposing its body between its kind and the three in the hallway. It sucked in a deep, rasping breath, then spoke.

“Hello my homies! How does it hang?”

"It speaks outdated slang!" Wailed Eugene, "what sort of awful place is this?"

"Get a hold of yourself" Kenneth said scornfully, while Todd grinned.

"I feel like I understand him, man."

“Thank you, Zon, I think we’ve established communications,” the first said, and the one that had approached—Zon—melted into the mass of shadow. The leader moved forward and nodded. “Welcome, residents of—“ He stopped and glanced at one of the others. They exchanged words, and then he looked toward the three. “Earth.”

Todd blinked. “Aliens?”

“I believe that’s your word for it,” the primary figure said. “I apologize for any disorientation you may have experience, but I’m afraid we are in dire need of your help.”

None of the humans responded. The primary alien interpreted this as an invitation to continue speaking.

“We have a device that is very important to us,” he explained, “and we believe you can fix it. Our beamer has been malfunctioning, and—“

“I’m not terribly good with machines,” Eugene said suddenly. “Ken?”

Kenneth glared at Eugene for a moment, then turned back to the aliens. “I might take a look at it, but auto repair is hardly my specialty…”

The aliens stared at him.

“Beamer,” he repeated. “A BMW, right?”

“A… a what?” one of the aliens murmured.

“Earth humor,” another said, and the congregation of dark shadowy things promptly broke into a chorus of nervous laughter. The laughter stopped abruptly and the leader of the group shook his shadowy head. “No. What we want fixed is—“

“A beamer!” a high-pitched voice suddenly cried, and the entire room turned to look at the speaker. Sitting on the floor, several feet behind the aliens, was what could best be called a pile of pink gelatin, sporting three eye stalks and a wide, grinning mouth. One of the aliens sighed heavily at the sight, but the pile of gelatin looked up at the congregation expectantly and continued. “It’s a transportation device, something you use to get from one place to another real fast!”

“A teleporter?” Eugene asked.

Somehow, the pile of gelatin nodded.

“Yes, thank you, Fred,” the primary alien said, waving the gelatinous creature off.
“Yes. We believe you can fix our beamer.”

“We really can’t,” Kenneth said. The aliens stared at him, anticipating the rest of his sentence. He shrugged uselessly. “Well, we can’t. Never dealt with a… beamer…. before.” He looked over to Eugene and Todd, and the two nodded.

“But you were discussing such advanced technology when we took you,” the primary alien cried.

“We were discussing science fiction,” Kenneth explained. “Fiction.”

The aliens fidgeted amongst themselves, then re-congregated into their imposing formation, and this time the leader’s voice took on a sharper tone, more commanding.

“We are afraid you have no choice. We will not be able to return you to Earth without fixing the beamer.”

“Not re—“ Eugene cut himself off, then glared at the aliens. “Why don’t you fix it? It’s your advanced technology!”

“We lost the owner’s manual.”

He stared at the aliens for a moment, and then simply turned around and walked away.

The alien shrugged and looked at the two remaining in front of them. “Can you fix the beamer, then?”

Kenneth shrugged. “We can try.”

Todd shrugged. “Eh.”

“Excellent.” The prime looked over his shoulder again. “Fred! Escort them to—“

The gelatinous creature was gone. The prime blinked.

“He always does that… Zon, then.”

“Yo!”

“Escort our guests to the beamer.”

The alien saluted, and slipped forward, into the hallway. “Follow me,” he said, and began to move through the ship. Todd and Kenneth followed.
* * *

Their assumption had been correct; between the two of them, they had no idea how to fix the device. Todd saw it as nothing more than a tangle of wires and metal fixtures, and retreated. Kenneth stood at it much longer, but eventually he had to pull back, shaking his head.

“I can’t figure it out,” he said. “Sorry.” He paused, and then said, somewhat anxiously, “Do you suppose you could just let us return to earth, or…”

“Ain’t happening, my man,” Zon said. “If we can’t get the beamer to work, you ain’t getting sent back.”

“Of course…”

“Hey,” Todd said. “If the beamer’s broken, how did you get us up here in the first place?”

Zon’s eye twitched, and his voice dropped. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Todd took him at his word.

“Well,” he said, stepping further away from the control panel. “I’ve done everything I can. I’m looking around the ship.”

Kenneth tilted his head. “Are you going to try and track down Eugene?”

Of course not. “Sure, I’ll see if I can find him.”

Kenneth nodded. “Be careful. You don’t want to get lost in this place.”

Zon gave him a thumbs-up. “Sweet. Have fun.”

Todd left the room and took to the curving corridor again. Zon had mentioned that it was the way the ship was constructed, with a gravitational core that pulled everything toward it, making it easier to deal with just building things like a massive sphere around it. Todd could not have cared less about why the hallway sloped; all he knew what that it was disorienting yet cool, and the more he wandered through the hallway the more comfortable he felt navigating through the ship.

He took a few minutes to wonder which way Eugene might have wandered off in and began walking in the opposite direction. After a few minutes, he came to a side hallway, and turned to travel down it, curious where it would lead.

He stopped a little ways down as the ceiling seemed to disappear. Disoriented again, Todd took a moment to get his bearings again, and then crept forward slowly, using the wall to keep himself balanced. As he neared the swath where the ceiling seemed to be missing, he realized it was a window, built on the outside of the station and opening into a view of space.

An expanse of blackness, pockmarked by stars, met his view. A little off to the side and partially obscured by the ship’s hull was a blue-green-white ball. Earth.

He stared at it for a long moment, enraptured by the sight, and felt a trembling run through his limbs. It was gorgeous. So small, and so distant, and so meaningless, now that he was out here, hanging over it in the sky. His home was down there.

His home. Where Mother and Father would argue into the night, screaming at each other across the room. Where the gang kids would single him out and beat him up because he was smaller and easy to take on. Where his father neglected him. Where he had to quite school just so he could his family from going under. Where people always referred to him as ‘kid’, never game the respect he deserved, never noticed him except when he got in the way or they needed to use him for something.

Out here, where he could see the big picture of the planet and ignore the problems back at his home, his insignificant piece of life on an insignificant blue orb.

A thought whipped through his mind, and he blinked, almost shocked by it.

The aliens would not return them to Earth if they could not fix the beamer. They could not return them without the beamer. If they failed to fix the beamer, they would be trapped on this alien spaceship, skirting the cosmos until the beamer could be fixed. A smile stretched across his face. And even if they could find somebody to fix it, the beamer could always be broken again. That was what happened to advanced technology; it snapped in half at every possible opportunity, it constantly malfunctioned.

He would never have to deal with the frustration and pain of Earth again. He could be an interstellar traveler, not worrying about how bread would get on the table night after night.

“I’m not going back.”

He felt the conviction in his voice, and laughed. That was it. He was not going back.

He continued laughing at his private joke and made his way down the hallway, looking out for another window to break up the view of the stainless-steel ceiling. Unfortunately, he did not find any more before he ran across Eugene, apparently lost in the hallways.

“Hey you!” Todd yelled, and the baker perked up and whirled to face him, exhaling deeply.

“Ah, Todd,” he said, walking forward. “Good thing I found somebody. This place is a tangle of confusion… why’re you so happy?” Eugene looked out the window and clenched his teeth and shook his head. “Home,” he mumbled. “Yeah… hey, did you and Ken really take up the alien’s offer and look at their beamer. Thing.”

Todd nodded. “Can’t do anything about it, man,” he said, shrugging. “Wires and stuff are too crazy. Can’t even figure out where to start.”

Eugene grunted. “I’d have figured as much. Advanced alien technology and all that… you give up, then?”

“Yeah.”

“And Ken’s still…”

“Yeah.”

The baker sighed heavily and looked down the corridor. “This place is bizarre,” he said finally. “I mean, it’s… interesting, but I really don’t want to hang around here any longer than necessary. Got stuff to do back home.”

“Yeah?” Todd tilted his head, confused. “You got family or something?”

“I got baking to do,” Eugene said, flashing him a smile that implied he was only halfway joking. His smile faltered after a few seconds. “Employees to take care of, too. Nice people, but between the lot of them they have the business sense of a gnat. The bakery would go under in a week if I couldn’t get back.”

“No family stuff, though?”

Eugene shrugged. He was silent for a minute, and then began, “Hey, ah, where is the room, anyway? I can’t do much, but I might as well see what it is I can’t do much about.”

Todd jerked his hand over his shoulder. “Down the hall, hang a left, first hallway you reach leads into it. You also have to kick the door down to get in.”

Eugene stared at him. Todd gave no indication that he had said anything strange.

“R-right,” Eugene murmured. “Well, I’ll go off and… yeah. Thanks. See you.”

He took off down the hallway. Todd watched him for a few seconds, and then turned back to where he had been wandering. Back to that enviable, beautiful solitude. To wandering freely. To—

The fresh scent of strawberries?

“Hey guys!”

Todd turned and saw the gelatinous pink thing sitting behind him sprawled on the floor, looking up at him and smiling. Todd blinked a few times, trying to recall his name.

“Hey, you’re the—the jelly-blob man.” He continued searching for the name. “Fred?”

“Hey, yeah!” the jelly blob named Fred said, somehow beaming yet brighter. “You remember my name?”

“It’s so normal,” Todd said. “And you don’t look anything like the other aliens.
What’s up?”


“You guys gotta fix the beamer to go home, right?”

“Yeah.” You were there doing the conversation, jelly-man, you know that.

Fred seemed to consider his next words carefully, his stalk eyes contracting and giving him an air of deep thought, and he said after length, “I can fix the beamer.”

Todd stared at him.

“You can what?”

“Fix the beamer,” Fred said. “I’m a certified beamer-fixer-upper guy.”

Todd stared at him, sputtering, “Why haven’t you mentioned that the aliens?”

“Them big guys?” Fred seemed to deflate—or liquefy—slightly. “They never listen to me. I told them a bunch of times that I can fix the beamer, but nobody will hear me out. Nobody up here takes me seriously.”

Todd shifted where he stood, staring down at the floor. How familiar that sounded.

“But!” Fred said, brightening up immediately. “I can fix the beamer! Real fast too. If you…” He stalled for a moment, looking at the opposite wall, his eyes glazing over. “If you want my help, that is. I can do it.”

Todd turned away for a moment. “Thanks for the offer, Fred,” he said. “But I’m not sure I want the beamer to be fixed. I—I like it up here. I want to stay up here, hang out, explore space. There’s not much waiting for me back home. This is a dream. This is—“

He turned to face Fred and fond nothing there to face. He blinked, recoiling slightly, and stared at the floor, where a few specks of bright pink jelly were clinging to the steel.

How did he do that?

Todd circled the ship for hours, looking over the displays and through the windows he occasionally ran across before he inevitably came back to the room with the beamer. Kenneth was still there, alone and scratching his head as he stared at the panel, his eyes glazed as though he were staring through it.

“You still here?” Todd asked.

Kenneth looked up. “Oh, hey, kid,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to get this thing to work for a while, but…”

“No go?”

“No go.”

They fell silent, and after a few moments Kenneth looked back to the panel. “I don’t think I can do anything about it,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve got to keep trying, but—“

“Why bother?” Todd said suddenly. Kenneth turned to him, alarmed.

“Why bother? Why should I give up? You’ve got a home and a family just as much as I do, did you give up on that?”

Todd snorted. “Whatever,” he growled. “I don’t want to go back there. It’s better up here.”

“How can you say that!”

Todd fixed Kenneth’s gaze, and said coolly, “Nobody beats me up here.”

Kenneth tried to mouth something, but his words could not escape him. He turned around again, keeping his eyes away from Todd, and said, his voice hardly above a whisper, “I’ve got a son, Todd. He’s not yet six months old. I—” His voice faltered, and his shoulder slumped. “I have things to take care of at home. I guess… I guess you do, too. But, Todd.” He turned to face the boy again. “You can’t just ignore everything bad back on earth. You still have responsibilities back home.”

Todd folded his arms over his chest and glowered at Kenneth. The man stepped back as though hurt by Todd’s gaze. “I got responsibility because nobody else will take it,” he said acidly. “I can’t live my own life back home.”

“Then at least let us live ours.”

He stared at Kenneth for a moment, and Kenneth continued. “If you—if you’re really willing to abandon everybody back home, I can’t stop you. But kid—Todd. Eugene and I… we’ve got to go back. Please. If not for yourself, then at least for us.”

Todd stared at him for a long moment, and then once again turned his attention elsewhere, his jaw clenched and his mind aflame. He mulled over the possibilities, mulled over the responsibilities, considered the situation. Would he be allowed to stay here if the others went home, or did the aliens not want to bother with taking care of humans? And if they let him stay, what would happen back home? His job covered a lot of his family’s finances. Without him…

“Fred can fix the beamer.”

Kenneth blinked. “What?”

“Fred,” Todd repeated. “Fred told me he knows how to fix the beamer.”

Rather suddenly, Eugene appeared from the other side of the console, wires wrapped over his shoulders and a wrench in hand. “Fred?” he said. “Fred doesn’t have any limbs. How can he fix this thing?”

“How long have you been there?” Todd asked, taken aback.

“Long enough to hear that Fred can fix this stupid thing,” Eugene grumbled. “I’ve been crawling under floorboards for the past half hour because somebody seemed to think it would help.” He sent a glare at Kenneth, but Kenneth completely ignored him.

“Well,” Kenneth said, still shocked. “If Fred can fix it, then I guess we best find him—“

“Hey guys!”

The blob in question dropped from above and landed on the control console. Kenneth and Eugene both cried out and pulled back in shock.

“Fred?” Todd asked. “Where did you come from?”

Fred waved a stalk eye at the ceiling. “The ventilation grate,” he said. “I—I accidentally fell through.” He grinned and bounced happily. “But if you want the beamer fixed, I’m your man!”

“So we’ve been told,” Eugene said. “How, though?”

“A magician never gives away his secrets,” Fred said happily. “You want me to fix the beamer?”

Eugene nodded vigorously. Kenneth looked over to Todd, giving him a sideways glance, waiting for the young man’s approval. Todd considered for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

“Yes,” Kenneth said. “Please do.”

“Then out of the room!” Fred ordered. “I can’t work with your constant distractions!”

They bolted, and the door shut behind them. They exchanged glances, not entirely sure how to react to what had just happened. And then they waited.

Ten minutes later, Fred popped out of the ventilation shaft behind them. “Finished!”


The shadowy forms of the aliens congregated at the door as Eugene and Kenneth stood at the opposite end, once more in a cube room, surrounded by stainless steel walls, a window dividing them from the aliens.

“Here we go,” the primary alien said, leaning over the panel. “Are you prepared?”

Eugene shrugged. “I suppose,” he murmured, looking over to Kenneth. “Is the kid not coming with us?”

Kenneth shook his head. “I suppose not,” he murmured. “I don’t know why I figured he would be, but…”

The door into the room slid open, and Todd walked in. Kenneth looked up, smiling broadly, and Eugene exhaled and rolled his eyes, muttering a half-unheard “Figures” under his breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Kenneth said.

Todd smirked. “I got stuff to do back home,” he said. “Thanks.”

Eugene coughed. “If you guys are done having your moment,” he said, “we’d best be shot back to earth.” He looked through the window. “Beam me down, Zon!”

“Wrong name,” the alien said. “But well enough. Brace yourselves!”

Todd frowned. “Against what?”

The alien activated the beamer. The air was filled with a hum of energy, and then light began to spill around them, heating the room. The hum rose to a scream as it collected energy, and then—

—the ice cream shop appeared around them.

“We’re… back?” Eugene said, glancing around the parlor as though waiting for something to break.

“Looks like,” Kenneth said. He looked to Todd. “You all right, Todd?”

Todd smiled. “Yeah. I’m all right.”

Someday... -- Part I: Dooku and Cerulian

My second, more abitious undertaking, is a 6-part saga covering the apprenticeship of several generations of Jedi, whose experiences during the early stages of their lives will someday influence the balance of the Force...and the destiny of a galaxy. Enjoy!


Somewhere, in a vast universe, in the center of a galaxy, near the heart of a world, a large, thin, domed structure stood overlooking the cradle of a civilization. Its architecture was relatively simple, disclosing a certain, nearly obsessive infatuation with functionality. The casual pedestrian might say that the structure was attractive, perhaps beautiful, depending upon the rays of light reflecting and refracting on the translucent surface of the building. The more observant citizen might even indicate that the beauty was not in the structure itself, but in its obvious sense of purpose. It looked as if it was meant to rest there, as if it was engraved in the soil. But those who called the structure home, who lived there, who learned there, who loved there, and, in some cases, who died there, knew exactly where the beauty of this structure lay.

It was alive.

The silent figure quickly strode through the hallways of the Jedi Temple, his stride barely containing a touch of impatience. His right hand, calloused from years of combat with the weapon of a Jedi Knight, rested instinctively near the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

The halls were not quite dark, but not fully illuminated, pulsated glow-rods imbedded in the walls and ceiling. Glowing a slight, pale blue, the polished walls were painted with subtle curves and flowing lines. The effect was one of peace, of gentle strength. The intricate threads of the Force flowed freely in this place.

Pausing suddenly in front of two large doors leading to a training room, the Jedi Master closed his eyes, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and apprehension. Breathing deeply in order to embrace the fullness of the Force, he rested one hand lightly on his lightsaber for comfort, the other hooked loosely in his tattered leather belt.

Waving his fingers slightly, he watched as the doors responded to his mild exertion through the Force. As they parted smoothly through a diagonal perforation, the Jedi Master strode into the room.

He was ambushed instantly by the formidable effects of a large number of low voices in a relatively small area. In the furthest corner of the training room, a cluster of younglings stood knotted together in obvious tension. A few attempted to meditate, sitting cross-legged on the smooth floor, their small hands clutching their lightsabers or resting lightly on their thighs. Some stood near the sides, passing their lightsabers from hand to hand behind their backs, or tossing them lightly in the air, and catching them in one fist. But most chatted in low voices, chuckling nervously, their fingers winding around and around their padawan braids.

A large, illuminated ring had been painted in the center of the room to create a simulation of a combat arena. Various instruments used in training, such as punching bags, balance beams, training remotes, and materials for obstacle courses, had been pushed to the rear of the room. To Thame’s right stood a fairly large assortment of Jedi Masters, speaking softly to one another or intently observing the prospective padawans near the edge of the room.

“Master Cerulian. Late are you.”

Thame Cerulian glanced downward distractedly, glimpsing the inevitable presence of Master Yoda.

“I’m sorry, my Master,” he said, again directing his gaze toward the younglings. “I was occupied with some work. But I did want to come to the exhibition this time. I feel that the Force is with me this day.”

“Ahhh, find a padawan you will, then, Master Cerulian. Very strong in the Force, these younglings are.” Yoda cast his large, unblinking eyes knowingly at the throngs of small children. “Powerful Jedi, they will become.”

Thame lowered his head sharply, seeing Master Yoda’s appearance soften to an unusual neutrality as he cast his inner gaze toward the strands of the Force.

“Hmmm, strange, this vision of the Force is…” he mumbled under his breath.

“You received a vision, Master?” asked Thame.

Yoda looked up as if just realizing that there were other beings present in the room. He blinked slowly, then leaned heavily on his small, twisted cane.

“Changing, the Force always is. Expanding, moving, touching…constant, the ways of the Force never are. But such change…strange it is. Different. In motion, large events are in the galaxy, and altered, the basic strands of the Force will be.” Yoda turned toward the padawans.

“Meditate on this, I must.”

As Yoda assembled the younglings in three straight, silent lines, Thame Cerulian tried to observe each of them individually. Of course, all were perfectly disciplined, their faces as impassive as possible for Force-sensitive eleven and twelve-year-olds, some already resting their hands on the cylindrical training lightsabers on their belts.

In the front row, third from the left, stood a small, slight, but outwardly confident, female Togruta. Her outward appearance was nearly as calm as the others, but she practically brimmed with Force energy and the idealistic exhilaration of youth. When he caught her eye, she flashed a charming little smile at him, and he couldn’t help but smile in return.

“She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she? Ha, already she can rip two tons of steel out from under five tons of durracrete. And she’ll charm the vibro-knife right out of the hands of the meanest of Weequays!”

Thame turned sharply toward the voice of his friend and fellow master, T’yll Fraam, laughing faintly as he clapped him on the shoulder.

“T’yll! I should’ve known you’d have already picked your padawan.”

“Picked her? No, no, dear friend, she picked me! About a year ago, she saw me in the west gardens, and asked if she could have one of the Proon fruits, you know, way up in the branches of those huge trees.”

Thame’s brow furrowed. “What in the name of the Force could she want with one of those?”

“Are you joking? The taste is like nothing else! Don’t you remember when we tried them when we were younglings?”

“Yes, and spent three days in the med clinic spewing waste from every centimeter of our bowels and every deciliter of acid in our guts for our trouble.”

“Well, I asked her what she wanted the fruit for. She said she wanted it for Master Yoda.”

“Master Yoda?”

T’yll laughed, throwing his head back just as he had as a padawan.

“Yes, Master Yoda. I told her our story about what happened with the fruit, and she said Yoda needs some fiber!”

“Fiber?” Thame felt his face grow hot. “What for?”

“She said he was constipated, and he needed to loosen up for Master Yaddle!” T’yll threw his head back again, and laughed, probably a bit too loudly. Thame chuckled lightly, his chest constricted in embarrassment, until, suddenly, deep within his soul, the Force convulsed.

Thame’s hand immediately dropped to the hilt of his lightsaber as his dark eyes pierced his surroundings, layer by layer. Time seemed to slow with the beating of his heart as he analyzed a section of the room with each breath, as smoothly as if reading from a holo-chart, every movement enhanced by the enigmatic influence of the Force.

His eyes dropped to the rows of younglings, now preparing to break off into pairs for the beginning of the first duel. Each face was oddly familiar, perplexingly well-known, consistent through the Force. But there was one aura, burning tightly through the Force, that he simply had not noticed before now. The solid emotions he was receiving through the Force were that of a young boy, probably one of the older ones in the group, confident and tranquil. He clearly radiated a rigid sense of control, keeping the Force in check…no…keeping himself in check.

Thame slowly shut his eyes, giving himself fully to the warm embrace of the Force. This boy was powerful, that much was certain, yet possessing of an inner conflict as inherent as that of the light and the darkness within the Force. As Thame permitted his soul to slip deeper and deeper into the Force, he forged through the sheer complexity of this young boy, sweat beginning to bead upon his forehead.

Defiant…yet so willing to immerse himself in another being’s will. Powerful…yet weakening at a moment’s uncertainty. A true servant of the light, yet holding a morbid fascination with the dark side of the Force.

Thame’s eyes snapped open and rested upon the face of a young boy near the end of the third row. He was taller than average, his face long and pale, his hair golden-bronze and meticulously arranged. As he faced his dueling opponent, Thame was surprised to see the boy grasp his lightsaber in a skillful, one-handed Makashi grip, and salute in a flourish both impressive and intimidating.

The duel began.

Three hours later, the younglings began to file out of the room, their chatter and laughter now louder with exhaustion and a newfound sense of freedom. As the masters clustered gradually toward the entrance, leaning toward one another in intent discussion, or finding their prospective apprentices and discreetly congratulating them, Thame floated anonymously toward the end of the disheveled mass, earnestly seeking this conflicted young boy.

Thame found him walking silently at the very end of what remained of the third line of padawans. Approaching him uncertainly, Thame laid his hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder, stopping him as the other Jedi continued to exit the training room.

“What’s your name, padawan?”

“Dooku, Master,” he replied, his tone self-possessed, and accentuated by a slight Coruscanti accent.

“Well, Dooku Master,” said Thame, cracking a slight smile. He inwardly cursed himself when Dooku refused to smile at his dull joke, wondering if he sounded as bad a T’yll. “You appear to have been studying the arts of Makashi.”

“Yes, Master,” Dooku said, still impervious.

“Do you…enjoy being a member of the Jedi Order?” asked Thame, gesturing innocently with one hand, and tucking the other into the folds of his robe.

“My duty is to the balance of the Force, Master.”

“Really?” asked Thame, cocking an eyebrow. “Then do you know what it is to serve the balance of the Force?”

“To preserve peace and justice in the Republic,” he said, answering smoothly what every youngling was taught from birth. “What if that peace and justice was preserved at the cost of an innocent life, Dooku?”

“That life will be returned to existence through the power of the Force.”

He’s good, thought Thame, jostling for the right words.

“What if you’re forced to take an innocent life, and then you find out that this was not done in service to the Force? What would you say to that individual’s family? What would you do?”

Sensing Dooku’s discomfort, he leaned closer. “What if you had to take the life of your own master? Would you trust yourself to do such a thing?”

Trust. Apparently, Thame had struck a nerve. To his credit, Dooku recovered well, but Thame had sensed that momentary insecurity that was so dangerous in this boy. Suddenly feeling guilty, Thame placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders.

Dooku looked up at him, his eyes dark and penetrating, questioning, and coldly defiant.

“Dooku, with time, and with a greater understanding of the Force, you will learn, truly, what it is to be a Jedi Knight. Someday, my padawan, you will find yourself thrust in a position in which the mind refuses to function, and a Jedi must release his thoughts, and permit the Force to guide and transport him. When this happens, you will know what is right. But not now, young apprentice. Not today. Today, you are not alone. Someday. Someday…”

What Makes a Jedi

This is my first attempt at fan fiction! I really hope you like it, and it turned out much better than I expected. I'm an aspiring author, and I'm experimenting with different styles to try and find one that fits my preferences. The title has multiple meanings, by the way. Enjoy!



Qui-Gon Jinn lived the ways of the Force.

That didn’t merely imply that he was a Jedi, although he was supremely dedicated to the of the balance of the Force. That didn’t just suggest that he knew what it was to wield a lightsaber, although his own master had regarded him the most skilled swordmaster he had ever trained. That didn’t justly insinuate that he adhered to the Code of the Jedi with his every action, for Qui-Gon Jinn knew no code of direction but his heart.

And he listened to the Force.

The Force was flowing freely within him now. He heard it, felt it, quickening his heart, bringing renewed energy to his tired limbs, whispering softly through his soul.

Qui-Gon nervously paced the hall of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. His mind was troubled, although none of his hidden apprehension was betrayed by his tranquil features, nor by the mild, deliberately neutral aura he projected through the Force. The sounds of his boots resounding through the soft, pale blue of the floor was determined and sure, and his sharp, piercing blue eyes confidently penetrated his surroundings.

Instinctively seeking to quiet his mind, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and slowly permitted the Force to reveal to him his immediate surroundings. Through the multifaceted strands of the Force, he felt the slight, simply elegant tendrils of exotic plant life that surrounded the largest of the fountains, each of their tiniest of molecules both brilliantly effortless and strangely complex. The nourishing sweetness of the water gently begged to purify the harder stems of the Force.

His attention piqued, Qui-Gon allowed his heightened awareness to extend to the quiet confines of the Jedi Temple. The peaceful, dispassionate well of Force energy was sporadically punctuated by excitement, or tension, of dreams unanswered, or of destinies unfolding through themselves. The lively calm of a Jedi Master in deep meditation. The uneasy energies of a padawan about to embark on a mission.

And the Jedi Temple slept.

Qui-Gon remained perfectly still, his broad chest hardly rising and falling, caught in the embrace of the Force. He began to search for familiar presences that the Force chose to reveal to him. There was the sharp, precise presence of Master Yoda, as unbending and as filled with rigid certainty in sleep as he was in verbal debate. There was the sweet presence of his young padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, young and kind, idealistically caring, untouched by the evils of the galaxy. Qui-Gon felt his padawan stir slightly in the Force, his consciousness brushed by his master’s touch, but his aura relaxed completely, and returned a brief, warm reassurance.

A smile slowly played across Master Qui-Gon’s lips as he permitted the Force to guide him further away from the Temple. His eyes fluttered from behind hooded lids as he sensed a small shuttle, which had just touched ground near the edge of the Temple grounds. Three presences exited the shuttle, all brimming with energy and strong in the Force. An older Jedi, probably a master, a younger padawan, his excitement barely concealed by his exhaustion, and a female presence, strong and gentle, yet oddly memorable--

Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped open. Tahl. Of course. He had been so deeply engrossed in meditation that he hadn’t sensed her immediately. But it had to be Tahl. No other presence shone so brightly in the Force. No other presence resonated so deeply in his heart.
She’ll notice immediately. I can’t hide anything from her. Not even a matter of vanity--

I’m not vain. It’s more than that. It’s…

Qui-Gon’s mind clouded as Tahl’s presence grew near. Hesitantly, he sat on a cold, stone bench near one of the smaller fountains, willing his tattered senses to be distracted by the almost physical clamor of rushing water. He breathed in the cloying aroma of the gold Ty’renn flower, its sweetness undimmed in the gray darkness.

“Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon started, his composure suddenly ruffled by Tahl’s entrance. But only briefly.
She danced across the room and into his arms, resting her head on his broad shoulder and stroking his hair. Her soft cheek brushed against the thick fullness of his beard, and he pressed her closer, feeling her fit perfectly against his body. He reached down and took her hand into his. It was calloused from years of lightsaber training, but warm, and he closed his large, war-scarred fist tightly over hers.

Tightening her grip on his back, she leaned in and kissed him on his lips, full and sweet as she remembered. His Force aura enflamed, Qui-Gon breathed in the pleasant pureness of her hair, gently stroking it until she slowly pulled away.

“There’s something different about you.”

Oh no. Here it goes.

He forced a laugh. “What could that be, my sweet?”

“You broke it,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Broke it?” he asked, forming a shaky smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She laughed, a soft, melodious sound that warmed his heart. “Oh, Qui-Gon. You needn’t be so embarrassed, you know. It looks…becoming.”

“Becoming?” he asked, willing his face not to flush.

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling closer to him, and kissing him lightly on the nose. “It’s very becoming.”

Tahl stepped back lightly as Qui-Gon rubbed his nose, self-consciously remembering the day he returned from the mission to Yrrrl V with Obi-Wan.


“Master?” Obi-Wan asked, tentatively entering the Med Clinic.

“Come in, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, sitting erect on a blue sleep couch, barely large enough to contain his massive frame. Med droids silently buzzed around the couch and the adjoining bacta tanks, ministering to the needs of the clinic’s various patients.

That, of course, included Qui-Gon.

“Does it hurt, Master?” Obi-Wan asked, his small brow furrowed in concern. Qui-Gon’s padawan was nearly fifteen at the time, and somewhat small for his age. But he was quick, and agile, and extremely intelligent. And his heart contained such kindness that he could hardly suppress it. Nor did he have any desire to hamper this unusual care and sensitivity.

“A little, my young padawan, but it is better than yesterday.”

Obi-Wan struggled to tear his eyes away from the thick bacta patch attached to his master’s permanently misshapen nose. Yrrrl V was very far from Coruscant, and it had taken far too long for Obi-Wan and his master to reach the Jedi Temple, undetected by their attackers, as ordered. There had been numerous opportunities to stop at a nearby system and use a bacta tank, but Qui-Gon had refused to compromise the mission, deciding instead to rely upon Force healing and the Jedi’s standard issue of bacta patches. Obviously, it hadn’t been enough. Qui-Gon’s nose had simply been…smashed. Irrevocably, it seemed.

But as Obi-Wan glanced Qui-Gon’s nose, he couldn’t help but cock a slight smile, remembering his master’s exact words upon realizing that the Gamorrean had succeeded in smashing his meaty elbow into Qui-Gon’s ruggedly handsome features. He hadn’t realized it until after the rush of adrenaline and blinding sight of the Force had washed over him, and he turned to check on his apprentice.

Seeing the blood all over his master’s face, Obi-Wan had asked him what happened, and he had replied, “I boke by node!”

Obi-Wan laughed, forgetting where he was.

“And what is so funny, my young apprentice?” Qui-Gon asked.

Embarrassed, Obi-Wan was forced abruptly into the present.

“Ummm, nothing, Master. I was just thinking how well your nose goes with your…other attributes.”

“Other attributes, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon pressed. “Such as?”

“Your hair, for example, Master. I’m sort of glad you didn’t cut it.”

“I thought you considered it…oh, what was the word you used?…dysfunctional, Obi-Wan?”

“No, Master. I find the streaks of less-than-brown are probably most appealing.”

“Less-than-brown?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and shut it, just as rapidly, wondering why in the name of this Force-forsaken galaxy he had said that.

“Well, what I mean is, err, gray, Master,” Obi-Wan replied bravely.

“Gray?”

“Ummmm, more like silver, I suppose.”

“Silver?” Qui-Gon asked, cocking his head to one side.

Obi-Wan turned red.

“You know, Master, when things start, um, changing--”

“Changing?” Qui-Gon’s voice suddenly deepened as he arched his left eyebrow. “No, I don’t know, Obi-Wan. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“I mean, Master, you know, when things start to slow down--”

“Slow down, Obi-Wan? Perhaps we should take a trip to the training rooms later today, so we can see if this Jedi Master has slowed down.”

“No, Master, I don’t think--”



Qui-Gon grinned as he considered this, thinking suddenly of Tahl.

His eyes brushed over her uncertainly, taking in her slim, muscular form, her gentle beauty. The slightness of her features and thick, fullness of her hair was most attractive, and comfortably familiar.

Most becoming.

She chuckled.

“Taking inventory?” she asked, placing her hand firmly against his chest and shoving lightly.

“Ha, not so thoroughly this time, my love,” he teased. “I was wondering if you were alright. How was the mission?”

“Oh, Qui-Gon,” she said loudly, shoving him, this time more forcefully. “Why do you think of the Order at a time like this?”

“I once thought that the Order was my life,” he said, suddenly all business. His brow furrowed deeply as he began pacing the supple, reflective floor. “But I now know that my duty is to the Force, itself, not to any physical entity.”

“So the Force is your life,” Tahl replied flatly.

“Not tonight, my love,” he moved closer to her once more, and she was instantly in his arms. Tahl reached up, her thin arm lithe against his muscular form, and traced along the edge of his strong jaw. Her smooth finger followed the confines of his face, outlining his high, regal forehead, and resting on the tip of his twisted nose.

“You know, the nose doesn’t make the Jedi,” she laughed, swiftly pulling her hand away from his face. He caught it mechanically, reflexes enhanced by the Force, and kissed her index finger lightly.

“Of course not. The Force does,” he replied, blue eyes twinkling.

“No, you silly. Not the Force!”

His forehead crinkled in mock puzzlement.

“Not the Force?” he asked. “No! Never,” she giggled.

“Then the Temple makes the Jedi. In the sense that it molds them into a being in service to the will of the Force.”

“No, Qui-Gon, not the Temple,” she stepped away from him, her light, golden-bronze hair shimmering in the dim light.

“Alright, then the success of the Jedi’s padawan,” Qui-Gon suggested, now genuinely confused.

“Oh, Qui-Gon,” Tahl said in fake exasperation. “Do you give up?”

“My love, you know very well that I never give up,” he laughed, a touch of sadness in his voice. Qui-Gon’s dedication to justice was unshakable.

“Then can I give you a hint?”

He grinned.

“Of course.”
“Master Fisto has a green one, Queen Breha doesn’t have one, you have a larger one, and Yoda rarely uses his.”

Now Qui-Gon was sincerely confused. His face must have betrayed his surprise, because Tahl laughed.

“Why, you silly, a lightsaber!”

Qui-Gon laughed, long and hard, until tears filled his eyes and brimmed over onto his cheeks. Then, taking Tahl in his arms, the two Jedi strode swiftly from the illuminated confines of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, laughing with carefree ease as they went.


Twenty-three years later, silence had fallen upon the Room of a Thousand Fountains once more. A solitary figure stood near the largest of the fountains, now extinguished, the room unnaturally quiet and filled with a surreal darkness.

The figure was of a slightly shorter-than-average height, his hair sandy and cut short in a practical style, his beard rugged and full. Although he was undoubtedly young, his hair was tinged with patches of gray, and his eyes brimmed with a sense of deep, incurable sorrow, unquestionably haunted by visions invisible to other men.

He sat down heavily on of the benches near one of the smaller fountains, slumped over slightly, as if weighed down by some incredible burden. The bench was cracked and its exquisite, unpolished gray electrum scorched by blaster fire. The fountains were all but destroyed, the ornately decorated, reddish brown pillars fallen and smashed. The ostentatious trim surrounding the rather small entrances to the room, which this young Jedi used to joke that his master would never fit through, were crumbling and lay in pieces on the scorched and decimated floor, dulled and scuffed. Suddenly unable to contain his grief, the young Jedi balled his hands into fists, clutching futilely at his chest, and let out a muffled cry, the pale blue of his eyes blurred by a rapid rush of tears.

“Obi-Wan.”

Abruptly, the Jedi lifted his head, his face stricken in a grimace of pain, wondering if his sorrow had finally driven him to madness. If so, he would welcome it.

But there was something there. His grief suddenly driven into another existence, the Jedi cleared his mind and opened his heart.

What he saw nearly broke it once more.

It was his old master, his face betraying the same sincere, rugged kindness and profound wisdom. Obi-Wan sobbed, this time with joy.

“Master! Oh, Master, I’ve missed you! You left me, Master, and I wasn’t ready, and Anakin,” he stopped, suddenly confused by his own words, “Master, Anakin…he wasn’t the Chosen One.”

Qui-Gon smiled, that same, caring, lopsided grin that his apprentice remembered, greeting him, admonishing him, praising him, teaching him.

“No, my young padawan.”

By the Force. Even his voice is the same.

“He is the Chosen One.”

“Master, I don’t understand. He slaughtered Jedi! He used the Force to choke his own wife! He--” Obi-Wan broke off, his voice choked with emotion, “He…he killed…younglings--”

“The Force will be brought into balance, Obi-Wan. You must listen to what I will teach you.”

“Teach me?!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, suddenly as exasperated with his master as he had been as a young boy. “Master, the galaxy has been plunged in darkness! Anakin is of the dark side now, and he is not the Chosen One.”

Qui-Gon sighed, turned his head to one side and raised his eyes, just as he had done a lifetime ago.

“I see you are as headstrong as always, my young padawan. And you still have much to learn. But I can help you. I can teach you. And, I promise you, the Force will be brought into balance.”

Obi-Wan prepared to retort once more, but there was something about the manner of his old master that stopped him. He was as stubborn as a bantha, as always, but there was something else, something more, and he could see it but not quite accept it.

Then he felt it. The enveloping currents of the Force rippled around him, and, rather than resisting, he opened himself, closing his eyes, feeling the undercurrents ebb and flow around him. The Force was vibrant, alive, intricate and beautiful in its scope, and it filled him with purpose and being.

Yes, the Force could be brought into balance. For even the tiniest of candles, alone in the darkness, can penetrate the shadows. The Force would be brought into balance. But not after much pain, and much sacrifice, and much sorrow. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was used to that, and he could endure. He would endure.

“I am ready to learn, Master.”

And Obi-Wan listened.

For, even in death, Qui-Gon Jinn lived the ways of the Force.

And he knew how to love.

PART 8 - MISADVENTURES

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV - PART V - PART VI - PART VII

ONE YEAR LATER

It was cold and rainy, as it had been almost every day since she arrived, and inside her room the fire had gone out again. She sighed as she relit the ancient gas burner and tossed aside her wet cloak.

Locaria had a strange, ovoid shaped orbit, which gave it a long, wet winter and a short but wonderful summer. But the winter lasted longer than a standard year and Traelyn had barely seen the sun since she arrived.

Pausing at the tiny holoterminal, she checked for messages from Master Jeran, or from anyone, but found nothing. After sending many messages over the last quarter year, she was not even certain that her letters were going anywhere.

For the first half-year of her stay, things had gone as expected. The Locarians were mistrustful of her as a Jedi, but the doctors had promised to teach her and they tried, but after it became evident that she was not able to learn their empathic procedures their attitude towards her changed dramatically.

As quickly as she mentioned asking for reassignment, her flow of communications with Coruscant dwindled to nothing. It was almost as if they wanted to keep her there, even though they didn't want her. It was puzzling, as she could sense their feelings of animosity, and she also got a sense of betrayal from them, as if she'd let them down in some way. It's not my fault my empathy isn't strong enough, she thought. Many of you are not empathic at all, so there's no need to be ashamed of me.

* * *

With the fire warming up her room and changed into sleeping clothes and warm, dry socks, Traelyn curled up in her bed and reached into her night table drawer. Once again she pulled out the handwritten letter she'd received from Obi-Wan, hand delivered to her at the Medcenter by way of a diplomatic pouch.

Obi-Wan must have made a friend in the Senate, she thought. Clever of him, although I hope he isn't waiting for an answer.

A tear ran down her cheek. She wanted to go home. Not just because of Obi-Wan, but because she needed to go home for her own sanity. The Locarians were keeping her there against her will, although covertly, it had become obvious. She closed her eyes and sought the Force. Its soothing touch calmed her, cleared her mind, and made her decision easy.

She slipped from her warm bed and went to the tiny closet, where she rummaged through her travel bag, accessing the hidden compartment in the bottom. Pulling a small device from the pocket, she activated the distress call on her homing beacon.

* * *

Four days later, a sense of urgency from the Force compelled her to go out and head for the spaceport. A brief respite from the rain allowed her to stand near the exit where she could see everyone leaving the building.

Before she saw him, she felt his presence in the Force, and the sense of relief and joy that flooded through her brought a smile to her face. Obi-Wan. He strode out of the spaceport, his cloak flowing out behind, his lightsaber gleaming, he had the look of a man on a mission, and indeed he was. He was there to rescue the woman he loved.

She pictured herself standing beneath the trees, and sent a Force touch to brush the left side of his face. He turned towards her and his eyes lit up with happiness and relief. She gave the hand signal that meant they might be observed, and walked slowly towards him, her hands up her sleeves while picturing herself running to him and wrapping him up in a wampa hug.

He nodded, and they began to walk away from the spaceport together. He pulled an electronic jammer from his utility belt, and activated it.

"That's good," she said, "But keep your shields up."

"It's good to see you safe," he said. "Why were you hiding in the trees?"

"I've been barred from the spaceport!"

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" He asked with a hint of amusement. "You only sent a level one distress call, so we thought it must be something diplomatic."

"You assumed that based on my record of diplomacy, no doubt," she chuckled. "Let's go to dinner, there's a place we can speak freely."

They walked several blocks before taking a series of detours through shops and alleys, until they came to a seedier part of the city and warm, inviting looking diner called Chez Charlee.

Charlee herself greeted them at the door with a cool, offhand look. "Ah, Doctor Jedi," she said. "And a friend. Take booth twenty." She walked away, and Traelyn led the way to the designated table.

"Is everyone here that unfriendly?" Obi-Wan asked.

"She actually likes me," Traelyn replied. "I delivered her granddaughter. I've been working at that free clinic across the street." He looked at her questioningly. "Since I was barred from the Medcenter," she finished with a grim smile.

"Perhaps you should tell me the whole story!"

"The short version? I don't understand these people, they don't want me here, but they won't let me leave. They won't let me work at the Medcenter, but I still have my room there. My credit chip is good anywhere except for a ticket off the planet, I can go anywhere in the city I like except the spaceport, my holoterminal works as long as I don't try to contact Coruscant."

"How long have you been trying to leave?" He asked.

"A few months. I tried to buy a ticket, I tried to sneak onto a liner, then a freighter, I tried mind tricks on the ticket agents. Finally I was barred from the spaceport. I just want to go home to the Temple."

She sat back and let a breath out. Obi-Wan sent soothing Force touches her way. A young woman with a datapad approached the table. "Charlee said to tell you we have the special tonight, roast duck. She saved you some."

"We'll have that," Traelyn replied, shooting Obi-Wan a look that said trust me. "And some melonberry wine."

The woman nodded and left. "What's a duck?" Obi-Wan asked.

"It's a bird that swims," she replied. "Although it must be taught how."

"Ah, a waterfowl," he said.

"It's a delicacy, don't worry, you'll like it."

Obi-Wan observed the crowd at the dimly lit bar while they waited for their dinner. The spicy wine warmed them and Traelyn began to relax. Obi-Wan looked thoughtful.

"I'll be right back," he said, rising from the table.

Traelyn watched as he approached the bar with a credit coin in his hand. Casually, he placed it on the bar while he spoke with the bartender, who nodded towards Albiee, the groundcab driver.

Obi-Wan and Albiee exchanged a hushed and brief conversation, including glances Traelyn's way, and then Albiee left the restaurant.

Obi-Wan returned to the table just as dinner arrived.

"Oh, this is good," he said, taking a bite of the roast fowl. Traelyn eyed him suspiciously, and waited for him to explain, but he said nothing.

Annoyed, Traelyn decided to wait him out. They finished their dinner while chatting about Temple matters and gossiping about their mutual friends. Traelyn told him of the latest holonovel she'd read, and he told her about his trip to Ryloth.

Traelyn was anxious to leave, anxious to get Obi-Wan back to her room and she wondered why he was stalling. But he ordered some more wine and a dessert, and sat back to savor them.

She sighed. "Be patient," he said with a smile.

Albiee approached the booth and sat down beside Traelyn. "Doc, you should have told me you were in trouble," he said. He placed a packet on the table and Obi-Wan slid its contents into his hand.

Incredibly, there were identification papers and travel documents in Traelyn's name, including two tickets to Coruscant. Obi-Wan passed a wad of credit bills to Albiee, who pocketed them discreetly.

Traelyn was stunned. "I had no idea," she said quietly. "Thank you, Albiee."

"I'm sorry to see you go, Doc, my neck has never felt better since you treated me. But I can see you want to go home, and I can't blame you. Take care." He smiled, nodded to Obi-Wan, and disappeared into the dimly lit bar.

* * *

"It's so cold and damp in here, how do you sleep here every night?" Obi-Wan shivered as his bare skin touched the sheets.

"Well, I'm not usually naked," she replied, slipping in beside him.

"And I usually don't pack sleeping clothes when I'm coming to see you," he said with a grin. "Traelyn, what's bothering you?"

She cuddled up closer to him. "I'm just tense," she said. "Distract me!"

* * *

As she lay curled in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her hair loose and her skin warm, her sexual tension eased, he still felt a disturbance in her mental presence.

"Traelyn, please tell me, what is it? You're annoyed with me?"

She sighed. "How did you know how to do that?"

He rose up on one elbow. "Excuse me?"

"Oh!" She flushed pinkly. "Not that!" She chuckled. "How did you know how to untangle this travel mess? You certainly didn't go through official channels."

"We tried official channels from Coruscant. Didn't work, so we thought someone on the ground would be more effective."

"But, how did you know..."

"Bartenders and cab drivers are the richest sort of information on almost every planet," he said with a yawn. "And they all appreciate a few extra credits coming their way."

She sighed. "I've known Albiee for months, I had no idea..."

"It's experience, Traelyn. You traveled the galaxy for a year. I spent twelve years with Qui-Gon, we got out of a lot of scrapes and sticky situations much more serious than this one!"

"That's the real reason a Healer needs an escort, isn't it?" She mused. She pulled him close. "I'm glad it was you who came to my rescue!"

"Hmmm, so am I. I'd hate to see you giving a hero's reward to anyone else!"

She laughed. "Oh, Obi-Wan, don't you know you're the only man in galaxy brave enough to take me to bed?"

* * *

The next day they boarded the small passenger liner without incident. Traelyn's forged travel documents zipped through the scanners and no one gave her a second look. She maintained a serene but haughty aura of calm, and strode through the spaceport like the Jedi she was.

Once the starliner left orbit however, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I still have so much to learn, she thought. I couldn't even get myself off a backwater planet!

After depositing their bags in their cabins, they headed for the public holoterminals and reported in. Obi-Wan filed a brief report and received an assignment on Chadrian.

Traelyn spoke directly with Master Jeran. "It's good to see you safe and well," he said with a smile.

"So," she said wryly, "How much trouble am I in?"

He laughed. "It's not you who is in trouble, my dear, it's the folks on Locaria. But that is business for the Council, not us. Take a few days off and go with Obi-Wan to Chadrian. It's lovely there, and you'll find it relaxing."

"Thank you, Master."

With the transmission ended, she turned to Obi-Wan. "He assumed that it's all right with you!"

He chuckled. "I'd never turn down your company, my love. It's just a brief investigation, and it's in the tropics. You can see the sun again."

* * *

"Come with me," Obi-Wan said as he dressed for his meeting with the local governmental council. "It'll be a lesson in diplomacy for you." He grinned.

"Ha! It's too late for that lesson!"

"Come anyway, another set of eyes and ears is always good to have on an investigation."

* * *

The seven council members welcomed them into their meeting chamber, and briefed them on the problem.

A group of off world miners had set up camp in an uninhabited area of the planet, and they were mining valuable resources without permission. Additionally, it was feared that their processes were polluting the air and water.

"We depend on tourism to support ourselves," the council leader said. "Our pristine environment is one of our strongest selling points. Animals in the immediate area are dying, and people may be next!"

Obi-Wan looked at Traelyn. "Is mining waste toxic to living things?"

"Sometimes, but I cannot be sure, not without a sample."

"We will take you to the site tomorrow," the leader said.

Suddenly, the sound of blaster fire erupted in the hallway. In an instant, Obi-Wan and Traelyn were on their feet, their lightsabers drawn and ignited. "Get down!" Obi-Wan ordered the council members, and they ducked behind the furniture.

The doors burst open, and a group of men armed with blasters rushed in, firing.

Their lightsabers were a whir of light and motion, as they deflected away the blaster bolts. Back to back they stood, fighting as a team.

"Just like practice," Obi-Wan remarked casually.

"Only easier," Traelyn replied as she deflected a blaster bolt into the hand of the man who had fired it. He dropped the blaster with a cry of pain. She sent two other men crashing into the wall with a Force push, and they went down, unconscious.

Obi-Wan knocked two of the others together, and pulled their weapons away. But the man Traelyn had disarmed pulled a vibroblade out of pocket and lunged towards her. She sliced through his hand, but he kept coming at her and with a quick jab she impaled him on her blade.

A brief shock came over her, and in that moment of distraction a blaster shot hit her in the upper arm. Yelping in pain, she turned on the man and relieved him of his shooting arm.

It was over in a matter of seconds, it seemed. Four were dead, and the rest unconscious or disabled. Local security arrived, and the councilmen came out of their hiding places.

"It's the miner's group," one of the councilmen said. "They've been terrorizing the city!"

Across the room, Traelyn was allowing one of the local medics to bandage her arm, and refusing transport to the MedCenter. "I'm a healer," she said, "I can handle this." In spite of her pain, she could sense Obi-Wan's anger.

"You should have told us about that," he said, keeping a lid on his temper. "This requires a deeper investigation than you led us to believe. I will have to consult with the Jedi Council."

* * *

Obi-Wan sent his transmission, and they returned to the hotel to await a response. They lunched on the patio of Traelyn's room, but she picked at her food without much appetite.

"Are you in pain, love?" He asked with concern.

She shook her head. "No, that's not it. I just.... well, I've never killed anyone before."

"Ah," he replied, knowingly. "They didn't give us much choice, you know that. But regret is a natural reaction, we all face it."

His commlink beeped, and went inside to answer it.

"There will be four Jedi here tomorrow," he commented as he returned to find her deep in thought. "Let's take a walk."

She nodded. "Obi-Wan? Tell me that it doesn't get easier!"

"No, it never does. And it shouldn't."

* * *

They left their Jedi clothes in the closet, and dressed like the locals. Simple clothes in light colors, perfect for the climate and very comfortable. They walked barefoot along the water's edge, and the soothing sounds of the waves and the birds overhead did much to ease their tension.

Back at the hotel, they shared a platter of shellfish and fresh fruit for dinner. "Where is Anakin?" Traelyn asked, as if she'd just noticed his absence. "You haven't had to check up on him once!"

"He's on survival training," Obi-Wan replied.

"Oh, the weekend on Hoth?"

He chuckled. "No, two weeks in the jungles of Yavin Four."

"Ah, another one of my favorites."

"Traelyn... what I said in my letter, about regretting my decision to train him, I was just frustrated when I said that."

She sighed. "Obi-Wan, you made a promise in the heat of a very emotional moment. No one would blame you for not wanting this responsibility for the next ten or twelve years of your life. As long as the boy is trained, I see no reason you have to do it personally."

"I gave Master Qui-Gon my word," he said firmly.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "You think I'm jealous!"

"Are you?"

"Possibly. But it's more than that, and you know it. I'm concerned for your welfare. And the truth is.... he annoys me."

"Well, that's a first, someone annoying you," he said with a laugh. She snickered as she popped a piece of starfruit into her mouth.

Music began to play, and he led her by the hand to the dance floor. Her long yellow dress trailed out behind her as her bare feet glided across the polished wood floor, her hair loose from its usual braids and falling down her back.

Dancing was very much like a lightsaber duel, only slower, and more sensual. It was easy to be graceful when one knew a moment beforehand what the other was about to do, and they waltzed about as if they'd done it everyday of their lives, no one knowing what a rare joy it was for them.

He pulled her into a shadowy doorway, and kissed her deeply. "We have until midday tomorrow to be alone," he whispered.

"Let's not waste a minute of it, then," she said breathlessly, taking him by the hand and leading him to the stairs.