| Swings & Roundabouts |
| ***** "Come on, Majav," Li pleaded. "You've always said your life was written by an overenthusiastic teenager with too much bloodlust and too little imagination. This will be a refreshingly different chapter." Ana Majav toyed with the spoon sticking out of her cup of tea, frowning intensely at it. She was a Jedi, so therefore, she hated no lifeforms, but she felt free to take out her disgust and anger on inanimate objects instead. If looks were made of tangible substances, the apartment she shared with Master Khil would have already been dissolved in acid. "Right," she snorted. "A chapter where I tempt fate. I get in enough trouble obeying the code, working hard, and paying attention to my Master. I don't even want to consider what would happen if I played hooky tomorrow. I'll end up looking for my head across the lower levels of Coruscant with my remaining arm and what's left of my splattered brains." To her credit, Liara flinched, but the grin didn't disappear. "Then, perhaps, if you take a chance on this, the tide will turn." Something about the entire idea was just wrong. Not just because it was breaking about twelve Temple codes, or because it was dishonest, or because she'd be betraying her Master's trust, but there was something else. "I have a bad feeling about this," she intoned solemnly. "Oh, for the love of the Force," Li sighed. "I'm just asking you to come have some fun for a single day and you act like we've just won round-trip tickets for a voyage on the deathyacht." Perhaps she was overreacting, but she couldn't shake the sense of suffocating, of every nerve on fire, that kept nagging at her senses when the subject was mentioned. "I'm not," she protested. "And what is your problem? You defy your Master once by leaving the temple and all of a sudden, you think you're Obi-Wan Kenobi." The grin turned into a definite smirk. "I don't think you'd mind that too much," she teased, "if the betabeet color in your cheeks is any indicator. Just think, if it becomes too frightening, you could always swoon into his arms." "And hit the callgirl he's currently snogging?" Ana laughed. "I don't think so. I don't fear the Force, but Jemmiah Gleshan is a force to be reckoned with herself and I reckon I'd rather not force the issue." It took a moment for Liara to work through the first part, then decide it wasn't worth the effort. "So, you're coming?" "NO!" Liara sighed and slumped in her chair, fingers drumming impatiently. "You know I won't leave here until you agree," she insisted, "even if I have to be here until Master Yoda turns to the Dark Side." "If he finds out that half the Padawans above the age of 18 are planning to skip out tomorrow, it won't be a very long wait," she countered. There was a moment of silence as they both tried to drive the image of a sithly Yoda on the rampage from their mind and fought the grins threatening to overtake their faces. "Whatever happens," Li interrupted the thought, sensing a weak moment, "it'll be a day for the archives. If nothing else you should come along to make it into the list." And in that moment, she was defeated. "All right," she sighed. "As long as the list doesn't have the 'casualty' heading to it." ***** "Master," Obi-Wan sighed as he watched Qui-Gon lean against the balcony rail, looking out into the night sky, "have I upset you at all?" Qui-Gon remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. He was upset - there was no denying it, but it had very little to do with his padawan. The young man remained a few paces back, his eyes burning a concerned path to the back of Qui-Gon's head, uncertain of how best to continue the dialogue between them. It was during occasions such as this one that Jinn suddenly got an insight into how other people regarded him: aloof, unapproachable…frosty, as some even dared to call him. Yet it wasn't true, even if appearances did seem to give credence to their opinions. What must he look like to Obi-Wan at that moment as he stood unmoving with his back to his apprentice? What was he thinking? He's wary. Qui-Gon thought, picking up on his padawan's apprehension. He doesn't want to intrude on my privacy but he wants - needs - to understand. And I cannot fault him for that. Slowly Qui-Gon turned around to face Obi-Wan, watching him step out of the shadows and into the artificial light from the traffic above. Like glow worms weaving in some incredibly complex dance, the air cabs wound their merry way around the highest buildings, casting a lava like trail of light wherever they went. All around Qui-Gon life went on; with no heed to his or anyone else's silent musings, and not for the first time did he recognise that there was something very satisfying about being an observer amidst a planet that bristled with energy and life…with the force. I am but a small cog in this particular wheel. Qui-Gon contemplated with a smile. Sometimes it is good to remind oneself of our place in the galaxy. "Are you disappointed with me?" Obi-Wan continued hesitantly. Always so quick to knock yourself down or do yourself an injustice, padawan, sighed Qui-Gon inwardly. There's still an uncertainty that lies deep inside your mind, always questioning your worthiness. And it seems that I have done little to counter it… "I am not upset with you." Qui-Gon answered, folding his arms within his long sleeves, amused to find his padawan subconsciously mimicking his every gesture. "And I meant what I said earlier this evening. You are doing well in your training: more than well if the truth be known. You have worked hard. I even," his voice sounded surprisingly neutral, "agree that you have probably earned some time to yourself, even if only for a day." "Thank you, master." Obi-Wan gave a small nod of gratitude to his master. "I trust you, padawan." Qui-Gon clapped the young man lightly on the shoulder. "Most of the time. By that I simply mean that you sometimes let yourself get caught up too much in the bigger picture…" Somehow, Obi-Wan thought with a frown, Qui-Gon was no longer talking about him - at least not directly. "You mean Jemmiah." He guessed, feeling slightly disappointed. "Yes, well you know the way that I feel about that. I cannot readily change my opinions - but I am trying!" He tried to offer Obi-Wan a little encouragement on seeing the unhappiness reflected in his eyes. "Trying at least to understand. And to an extent I do…because you are both very important to me. I understand that you have feelings for Jemmiah, even if I cannot bring myself to wish that they were anything other than platonic. So," he finished with an embarrassed series of coughs to hide the profound discomfort he felt at having to compromise on his attitude to training his padawan, "you may have your day out with Jemmiah. Go out - enjoy yourself. Be a jedi at all times, but be Obi-Wan Kenobi too. Who knows, you may learn something about yourself that you had no prior awareness of. I've said it before - I trust you. So don't let me down." He added with a melancholy smile. "I have no intention of doing so." Obi-Wan's face couldn't help but brighten at the unexpected gift of freedom that Qui-Gon had so kindly bestowed upon him. He'd been well aware that many of the padawans who had requested permission to attend the outing to amusement park would stand no chance in obtaining the consent of their masters. Junine, for one - not that Obi-Wan was heartbroken at that. Simeon might have a hard time convincing An-Paj of the necessity of his attendance, although knowing the younger man's plausible tongue anything was possible. Letina almost stood no chance of being allowed out, Sybelle either for that matter, whilst the likes of Thom Capella and Jasmyn Perris were both unavailable. Jay Abran of course would be there. He always was whenever there was mischief in the offing. "Good," Qui-Gon paused, gathering his thoughts, "because I am afraid there is a condition to my agreement. Something you aren't much going to like." The frown that had momentarily been replaced by unbridled delight slid automatically back into place as if it had never been away. Something in Qui-Gon's posture - the stiff backed and unyielding way he stood - alerted the padawan to the fact that he was not about to be gainsaid under any circumstances. This was Qui-Gon's word and law: Obi-Wan could take it or leave it. There had to be a downside to the master's gracious and generous ruling: of course there did! He was applying his own form of security written in invisible ink within the unspoken words of the contract. You may have your freedom, padawan, he was saying, but you dance to MY tune… "Master?" Obi-Wan queried politely, hoping that it wasn't going to be something too unacceptable. It wasn't so much for himself that he minded but rather for Jemmiah, who tended to build up such visions and pictures in her mind of how a thing should be, and was rarely content with what she ended up with. He hoped her perfect day wasn't about to be ruined before it started. "I don't want you going to the amusement park." Qui-Gon said somewhat bluntly. "Or Jemmiah, or Rela…is that understood? Go where you like, visit where you please with my blessing. I hope you have an enjoyable time. But you will not be going to that place, is that understood?" "No…" Obi-Wan blurted out, surprising both himself and Qui-Gon in the process. "I mean, if that is your decision then of course I accept it but I don't really understand your reasons…" "You do not need to understand them, just accept them. I'm sorry if that sounds high-handed." Qui-Gon gave the appearance of a man who knew he was on somewhat shaky ground and feeling a little uncomfortable at the severity of his edict. "The truth is that I have objections to that place. You do not need to know what they are, except to say that I do not feel that amusement parks and padawans are a healthy combination…" "But the amusement park only comes to Coruscant every five years or so." Obi-Wan made a half-hearted protest. "Jemmiah will be disappointed…" "Better disappointed and safe than…the alternative." Qui-Gon finished, hoping that he didn’t appear to be sulking. "I mean it, Obi-Wan. I will not have my padawan attending such a place." For a moment Qui-Gon wondered if Obi-Wan would openly defy him, or argue…perhaps play on Jemmiah's disappointment. As the Corellian's stand-in father figure it was sometimes difficult not to give in to her many and varied wishes, although in this respect he felt he had done a better job than Evla. Still, this time he would certainly stand his ground: Jemmiah could stamp about and growl and shout and shed artificial tears - it would be to no avail this time. "Then your padawan will not." Replied Obi-Wan obligingly, if a little reluctant at first. "An apprentice's duty is to listen to his master's advice." Qui-Gon felt surprised at how easily Obi-Wan had acquiesced to his demands, and a little suspicious to begin with…but it was hardly surprising that he had chosen to give in. A little freedom or none at all? Which would any sane man choose? No doubt the padawan would find some way of expressing these selfsame sentiments to Jemmiah who, whilst demanding on occasions, was far from unreasonable or indeed without intelligence. She would soon get over the initial disappointment. "Good." Qui-Gon allowed himself to relax, guiding Obi-Wan away from the balcony. "In that case I suggest you get some sleep. As the day is yours tomorrow no doubt you'll be making the most of it and having an early start." "I wouldn't go that far!" Obi-Wan laughed self-deprecatingly, acknowledging the fact that he could be a bit of a slug first thing in the morning if given the chance to sleep in. "But all the same I will bid you good night. I have a big day ahead of me and I need to make sure that everything goes according to plan." "Good night, padawan." Qui-Gon found himself puzzling over Obi-Wan's words as he exited the living quarters in search of his bed, the unmistakable feeling of having missed something obvious assailing him through the force, nagging at the back of his mind with all the pleasantry of a persistent itch. A big day? Well, he supposed in a way it was, but still it seemed a little over-dramatic… Whilst Qui-Gon's thumbs were left to prickle inexorably it was left to his padawan to brood over the rather tall tale he had just told - or at least his very grand stretching of the truth to suit his own wretched purposes. One thing was for sure, however much he could justify the white lie in his own mind he knew that Qui-Gon would not see it the same way. It would seem like a betrayal of trust…a deliberate attempt to mislead. Which was because, Obi-Wan reflected wryly, that was exactly what it was. 'Your padawan will not go'; he'd as good as said. Tomorrow Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan would not exist. Obi-Wan Kenobi would not exist, and neither would Jemmiah Angeline Gleshan. Tomorrow there would be only Ben and Jemmy, and the rest of the amusement park… ***** “C’mon people! Nothing to see here!” A small redhead pushed her way through the crowd doing her best to herd them wither back in the bar or on their way. It was slow going, but the presence of Security as well as the covered body of a deceased Rodian didn’t seem to be helping matters much. “Are you the one in charge here?” a uniformed officer asked her. Looking around she noticed that everyone’s attention suddenly seemed to be on their feet or lower extremities. “I guess so,” she answered him with a shrug hoping this would all be over quick. You’d think they’d get a clue. It wasn’t like security hadn’t ever been here before. “Your name please.” “Could we leave names out of this one?” she asked. What was it about her name? Rela Quinn couldn’t be that hard of a name to remember! Then again if he actually took the time to look at some of the previous reports he would know! Sighing to herself Rela decided to get everything over with so he would go away. “Listen, I don’t know anything. I was in the back when it all went down, and by the looks of the crowd no one else knows anything either.” “Thanks for your time miss. I’ll let you get back to work now.” Rela blinked as she watched the officer pocket his datapad and walk away to his speeder. She couldn’t believe it. He’d bought it! Now to get her customers back to doing what they do best. “Two for one drinks for the next ten minutes!” she shouted. Loiterers scrambled their way back inside. Too bad they didn’t know the drinks would be served in the smallest possible container as well as mixed weak. Either that or they didn’t care. She hadn’t been back inside five minutes serving drinks when Security walked his way inside. This did not bode well. “I thought you said you didn’t want to come back here tonight,” Rela joked. “I never left,” he deadpanned. “Ah.” She was screwed. She watched as he puffed himself up trying to look as important as he possibly could. “I’m going to have to shut you down for the night. Time to close up.” “Why? For that little fight? Hell’s Chance loses at least two or three customers a week!” “Just be thankful that it’s not tomorrow too.” Rela gave herself some credit that she at least waited until his back was turned before sticking her tongue out at him. She quickly jumped up on the bar and began shouting. “They’re closing us up. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” It was thirty minutes later that Rela and the wookiee bouncer Mus finally had the bar cleared out. They sat down at the bar together and Rela fixed herself a cup of caff while trying to avoid Mus’ gaze. “What?” she finally asked exasperated. {See where your temper gets you. You’ll get more profits if you stay nice.} “Nice ends at midnight! I warned him three times to stop slapping my bottom. Besides it’s not my fault his ‘buddy’ hit him over the head with a chair! He shouldn’t have been cheating his crew out on their profits.” Mus wuffed in laughter. Somehow this tiny human always made him rethink things as well as laugh at others. {Drinking that caff will stunt your growth. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?} Rela gave him an evil look that told him to stop meddling. “I think your warning is a bit late. I’ too wired right now, but I guess I can try and squeeze a couple of hours sleep in before tomorrow.” {What’s to- that’s right the amusement park is tomorrow. Why would you want to go there? I wouldn’t think they would let you on the rides.} “Ha ha. Very funny, but I plan on riding the Screaming Snake of Death or die trying.” Mus stood up and began to walk to the door to head home. {You are clinically insane you know that?} “Who told?” ***** "SIX!" Berlingside yelped delightedly, punching the air in triumph! "A six!" Mace watched as Dex retrieved the dice from underneath the sofa in his living room, shaking his head as the fair haired master got down on his hands and knees to squint underneath the gap between the couch and the floor. The man would never change. No matter how trivial or how important things might be, Dex Berlingside would treat them with equal eagerness. Infact over the years Mace had come to the conclusion that the more trivial matters were the more Dex threw his heart into it. "Got it!" The master crooked his index and middle fingers together, tweaking them from their hiding place with a force-twitch so slight as to be almost unnoticeable. He straightened up, golden blonde hair plastered against a forehead pink from bending over. "Sorry about that!" Dex apologised. "Got a bit carried away…" "You said that the last time." Mace pointed out reasonably. "And the time before that. And the time before that…" "I know." Dex nodded with childish glee, eyes wild and alive. "Its called enthusiasm. You should try it sometime." He blew on the dice as if to clear any remaining trace of fluff that might be lingering on the cube before handing it over to a clearly disgruntled Mace, dropping it into the councilman's open palm. There was really nothing to beat a late night game of chance with a friend, but as most of Dex's friends had long since gone to bed he'd had to make do with Mace instead. Still, even the bald-headed one could be good company when the mood took him. And there were so many things a person could learn from a high-ranking member of the jedi council when sharing a convivial evening and a jar of Coruscant's finest ale… "I confess I find it a little difficult to summon up the same boundless energy for a game of chance the way that you seem to." Mace made a point of inspecting the dice, holding it between his thumb and forefinger so that he might make certain it hadn't been tampered with. "That's because you lose all the time." Replied Dex, leaning back in his seat, the picture of perfect relaxation and contentment. "It's because I have more important things to think about." Mace retorted with a frown, his brow collapsing with sustained concentration. His right eye narrowed fractionally as he slowly shook the dice in his hand, casting it upon the table and watching it spin towards the end. It teetered for a split second before resting on one side, showing three white dots on its uppermost surface. "Three!" Dex whooped. "Thank you. I can count." deadpanned Mace, cursing his luck. It was always the same whenever he played against Dex: no matter how hard he tried or how much he attempted to explain Berlingside's luck away by his genetic Corellian ability to cheat - he always ended up losing. So why did he put himself through the taunting? Because he wanted to go one better than his friend? Or simply to prove that there was more to himself than the stuffy, lifeless councilman with the bypassed sense of humour that everybody took him for? Or maybe, oddly enough, he was genuinely enjoying himself? "It's my turn." Dex rubbed his hands together. "I haven't moved yet." Mace countered, his voice brimming with steely determination. Berlingside blinked in astonishment. "What's the point in waiting? It's not like you have a choice…" "You're spoiling my concentration." Warned Mace. "Oh, give me that…there! One, two, three!" His hand moved the counter forward, tapping on the board thrice with such weight that it threatened to topple the counters. "Now it's my turn." "It hardly takes much in the way of strategy, does it?" Mace opined between sips of his now lukewarm ale, waiting on Dex to roll the dice once again. "Not exactly highbrow, is it?" He felt his body automatically tensing as the Corellian prepared to toss the dice. "Why do I feel as if I should be taking cover? Or are you going to send it into orbit again?" Dex blithely ignored him, rattling the dice around within his cupped hands until he felt he'd built up enough forward momentum to justify releasing the cube - which typically skittered straight across the table and under Berlingside's living room chair. "Oh, I should have known." Mace tutted mockingly. "Do you know, you're a deadly shot with that thing…I'm going to suggest to the council that they implement a new law instructing every jedi to carry one instead of a lightsabre." On hands and knees once again Dex found his mind momentarily drifting from the game, hands once more sliding about on the floor. He hadn't realised that so much fluff seemed to have collected out of sight: he was pretty sure that the thing his fingers had come into contact with had been some kind of mint candy ball (which must have been there an awfully long time by his reckoning). Well, quite simply he would have to get Kryztan to do some cleaning; there was no getting away from the fact. Not that he can complain, Dex thought to himself, reaching further underneath. In my day a padawan would be expected to clean the floor with his tongue…these youngsters don't know they're born! "Hello?" Mace folded his arms, propping his feet on the seat of Dex's vacant chair opposite him. "Have you forgotten the game?" "No," Dex answered airily, "I just find the strains on the floor more interesting company than you, that's all." He sat up suddenly on his haunches, fixing Mace with an inquisitive look. "You know about this trip tomorrow? The one to the amusement park?" Mace's expression suddenly became a lot grimmer than before. "I had heard about it, yes." "Bad idea, don't you think?" Dex asked him earnestly, running a hand through his golden hair. "Bound to be a mistake. All manner of things could happen that would be detrimental to the temple…" "The council agreed." Answered Mace shortly, although plainly remaining unconvinced of his words. "For better or worse it was decided to let the whole sorry thing go ahead. It's not as if a half of the proposed number will get permission to go. At the end of the day we ruled that it was down to the discretion of the masters to decide if they allowed their padawans to rampage through the amusement park. It was no secret that although the majority ruled in favour there was a lot of dissent regarding the idea…" "You being the main protagonist." Dex guessed. "Yes?" "In my opinion," Mace put down the glass containing his ale, matching Dex stare for stare, "there are far better places to go than the amusement park. More appropriate locations where things of value can be learned. You tell me what you can learn at a place like that?" "Have you ever seen the female contortionists at work in the circus ring?" Grinned Dex impishly. "You can learn a lot from them…" "That's precisely the sort of thing we DON'T want the padawans to see." Windu grumbled, wondering if he could get away with moving Dex's counter whilst he wasn't paying full attention. "There are museums and space ports, galleries and places of historical relevance which surely would make a better place to visit than the amusement park? And the worst of it is that we cannot do anything about it…Yoda gave his permission, as did six others!" "Shouldn't have." Dex bit his lip in consternation. "It'll end in tears, I know it!" "But you know why he did it?" Berlingside sobered instantly, his eyes a lot less eager and bright. "Lydia?" he guessed. "Am I right?" "Because," Mace found himself thinking instantly of Qui-Gon, "if permission was refused there would still be one or two headstrong padawans who would disregard the rules and go anyway. Better to swallow your pride and know where the apprentices are than have them flout your edicts and pay the penalty for it later when they manage to sneak away…" "Like we did all those years back." Dex's face fell instantly, recalling the nightmare…not wanting to think about it for a moment and willing the memories to return to the back of his mind where they remained well and truly locked away. "What makes you think this group will be any better behaved than we were? Freedom can do strange things to a person, Mace. Look what happened to us…we got drunk on it. Filled ourselves with stupid emotions and silly ideas…allowed ourselves to run wild. And look what it did…" Mace offered a tiny grunt by way of an answer. He didn't like to think about it any more than his friend, but even he - who had been so opposed to the padawan trip - had been forced to see the logic in giving permission to go. The more freedom one granted the more responsible one was likely to act. And at least in the case of this particular group of padawans the vast majority of them were well into their final teen years: some like Obi-Wan had already surpassed twenty. They were not likely to misbehave. "They will behave." Mace's answer made Dex shiver inexplicably. "It's not as if they have a choice. We only rebelled because we had been forbidden to go. This time the council has at least shown an ability to be more flexible. Besides which if I hear of any unworthy behaviour I will personally come down on the individuals like a permacrete slab!" He finished with a flourish. "I will not have the past revisited because of the actions of a few out of control padawans." Dex saw the opportunity he had been waiting on and suddenly pounced. "If you need an adult to supervise… " He said hopefully. "No thank you. You have a habit of enjoying your work too well for the council's tastes." Mace muttered, ignoring the mock-look of hurt that had spread slowly, innocently across Berlingside's face. "But at least we know that Obi-Wan won't be going." "We do?" Dex frowned. "How?" "What are the chances of Qui-Gon letting Obi-Wan or Jemmiah go to the amusement park after what happened all those years ago? This solves the problem for you, doesn't it? Where Kryztan is concerned, I mean. If Padawan Kenobi doesn't go then young Harkley should be fine to attend. With your permission, of course." Mace added. Kryztan. Now there was another thing that Dex did not want to think about at that moment. There was too much bad blood floating around amongst the apprentices and all of it not surprisingly aimed at Kryztan. If Dex had any sense he should forbid Kryztan from even considering going, but the young man's friend Kylenn would be there and so it had seemed logical that Kryztan would accompany her. In thick and thin Kylenn had stood by him, catching the brunt of the vitriol that even now was still being aimed at Dex's padawan. Yes, she had proven to be a good friend… His fingers came into contact with something solid which this time was not covered in fluff. "Found it!" Dex held it up for Mace to see. "It was a five. Move my counter would you?" "What did your last slave die of?" Mace hissed, picking up Dex's token and sliding it forward five places. "Cheating." Answered Dex glibly. "Here, you go!" But Mace had stood up, knowing himself to be almost beaten. He pushed back the chair with a scraping noise, drained the dregs of the ale by tipping it back into his throat in one small move and then prepared to head for the door. "Hey, where are you going?" Berlingside demanded. "You're running scared!" "Maybe." Windu hung back, giving the room a last glance, looking at Dex as he sat plaintively in the centre of the floor holding the dice in his hand. "But you're going to have to forgive me because I just know that I'm going to throw a one next. And frankly, I've been down so many snakes and up so many ladders tonight that the old ego just won't take any more. Good evening…" And with that Mace made his strategic withdrawal just in the nick of time. "Good morning Mace." Sighed Dex, looking forlornly at the empty board he'd left behind. "It's not fair - I only had one snake left to negotiate…" |
 |
|
|