| Should As Strangers We Meet |
| From the shadows Qui-Gon watched as a rotund Tunzi barked orders to several men loading the only ship in the docking bay. "Come on, now. Get those crates on the ship. I don't want to spend more time than I have to on this trip!" Waiting until the last of the cargo was loaded; the Jedi Master carefully approached the man. "Is this your ship?" he inquired casually. "What's it to you?" the heavyset man eyed him warily. "I need passage to Coruscant," Qui-Gon stated, dispensing with introductions. "I don't take passengers," the Tunzi replied rudely. "I can compensate you." "You haven't enough to get me within twenty parsecs of the place," the man sneered hostilely. "If I didn't need to make a living you wouldn't catch me going off world at all!" Sighing inwardly, Qui-Gon weighed his options. "You could take me as far as you're going," the Jedi Master suggested, passing his hand in front of the pilot. "I can take you as far as Seti Three," the Tunzi said, his disposition reformed by the Force. "You can find a transport to Coruscant from there." It was a short trip to Seti Three, only four hours, which Qui-Gon spent in the cargo hold as the Tunzi pilot had made it part of the agreement. Though not well heated, the cargo hold was quiet and the Jedi Master passed the time in deep meditation. Once on Seti Three arranging passage to Coruscant had proven inordinately simple. The captain of a large freighter had been delighted with the prospect of transporting the Jedi Master home. "It's not often we're honored with the presence of such a distinguished emissary," he'd told Qui-Gon beaming with pride. "We'll arrange one of the officer's quarters to be put at your disposal." "That won't be necessary." Qui-Gon said. "Nonsense," the captain blustered good-naturedly, "you look in need of a fresher and a good night's sleep. I would be personally insulted if you didn't allow me to make your stay as comfortable as possible." Qui-Gon considered the offer and accepted. It wasn't like it was first class on the Chancellor’s Luxury Liner and he had to agree he was in sore need of both a shower and rest. "Outstanding!" the captain stated, greatly pleased with himself. Within the hour the captain had shown him to his quarters, requesting him to join the officers at late meal in the dining hall. Qui-Gon had tried to beg off, but the look of disappointment on the captain's face had been one of such extreme despondency, the Jedi Master couldn't find it in his heart to refuse. It was the least he could do for the warm hospitality being shown him and was certainly contrary to the attitude he had most recently experienced on Dolari Tunz. "I would be happy to join you but first I should like to make use of the refresher, I'm afraid my recent mission has left me in a rather pungent state," Qui-Gon said with a smile. "Quite so, quite so," the captain laughed, "I would dare say it smells as though you've been through some deep poodoo. I'll send a boy around with a change of clothes for you. I'm sure we can find something to fit you while your clothes are cleansed." "Again, I am in your debt,." Qui-Gon thanked the man and retired to the room shown him. The room though sparse, was quite comfortable, a definite step above the crew bunks he knew most of the men aboard the freighter occupied. Stripping out of his aromatic clothes he left them in a pile on the floor and stepped into the refresher. Turning on the shower, the hot water pelted his skin with a relaxing effect. It loosened tired, aching muscles, allowing his mind to freely focus on the tasks ahead. By the time he had finished the shower and left the refresher his pile of soiled clothes were gone. In their place a large tech jumpsuit lay on the bed amid miscellaneous undergarments. Qui-Gon smiled appreciatively, noting his boots had also been cleaned and shined. His host had certainly made good on his statements of making his guest comfortable. Dinner had been a pleasant affair, with a meal the Jedi Master had been sure far exceeded the usual fare this freighter crew was accustomed to. After eating, he spent some time exchanging anecdotes and stories with the officers, the most embarrassing of these dealing with raising a headstrong apprentice. All in all a highly enjoyable evening marred only by the absence of this Padawan at his side, though as he thought about it, he decided it was better for his own image that Obi-Wan was not here. The young man took particular delight in repeating stories he had heard of his Master's younger, more impulsive days. Toward the end of the evening a young crewman interrupted the captain, whispering in his ear. After listening a few seconds the captain frowned, nodding to the crewman in dismissal. "Master Jinn," he stated, turning his attention back to the Jedi, "earlier I took the liberty in contacting Coruscant to notify them of our change in flight plans. Jedi security then hailed us inquiring as to our intention. We, of course, explained that we had been beseeched by you for transportation to Coruscant and requested clearance to land at a Temple dock." The captain shifted uncomfortably in his chair before continuing. "They became quite rude, all but accused us of deceit. Without acknowledgement or refusal they ended that communication. Now they've contacted us demanding visual confirmation from you." Odd, Qui-Gon thought, surely by now Obi-Wan had informed the Council on the state of our mission. And for anyone at the Temple to act so discourteously was highly irregular. That little rodent was on the move again, gnawing at his complacency. It wasn't concern for his Padawan, unfortunately that link was still a dead line in the Force. He offered the captain his apologies and started he would clear any misunderstandings with the Jedi Temple. Accompanying the captain to his private quarters for privacy, Qui-Gon stood in front of a video monitor that showed a man in traditional Jedi security uniform. "You are Jinn?" the man asked brusquely. "Yes, I am Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn," he answered in a neutral tone, surprised at the disrespectful way the man addressed him. "I am returning from a mission on Dolari Tunz and wish to meet with the High Council at their earliest convenience." Without turning his head, the man's eyes inadvertently looked away for a few seconds, then back, staring wordlessly at the monitor. There was someone else with the security officer. Though the man tried to hide this fact, Qui-Gon was suddenly certain that there was someone standing off screen. Someone whose higher rank was controlling this transmission. Finally the man spoke, "You have clearance to land at dock three niner alpha," the security officer answered curtly and after a moment added "and keep us informed of your ETA." before abruptly ending the communiqué. Qui-Gon stood a moment longer before the darkened screen wishing he had asked after his apprentice before turning toward the captain who offered a sympathetic smile. "Seems like trouble's brewing" the captain commiserated, "probably a common state for the galaxy's defenders of peace." Qui-Gon merely nodded in assent, refraining from voicing the concerns that plagued his mind. "We should be on Coruscant by midday tomorrow." the captain said, understanding the Jedi would offer no more explanation as to the unsettling communication. "I shall take my leave for the evening then." Qui-Gon said graciously moving to the door. "Let me direct you to your quarters." the captain suggested. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary, I remember the way,” Qui-Gon declined politely and left the room, leaving the freighter’s captain to stare after him in bewilderment. Upon returning to his quarters he was pleased to discover his clothes clean and odorless, laid out on the bed. Thanking the captain silently for his expedience, Qui-Gon removed his lightsaber from the long pocket in the jumpsuit. Placing it on the bed, he changed into his loose fitted underpants and tunic. Extinguishing the light, he took a position of meditation on the floor, allowing himself to join consciously with the Force. Feeling it fill him, pulsing to his core, he released himself into its stream, searching thought its threads for the source of his disquiet. It both strengthened him and humbled him, its vast power connecting all living things and beyond. It was a continued reaffirmation to his dedication and service to the Force. Two hours later he opened his eyes, pulling himself from the Force. His meditations had provided little solace and no insight to the mysterious loss of the Master/Padawan bond or the numerous small shifts he felt in the Force. There was a vague intensity in the threads, like a spider’s web pulled taut. He would be at the Jedi Temple soon and would find his answers there and if not, he’d have the greatest minds in the galaxy helping him. Resigning himself to the continuing lesson of patience, he stretched out on the bed, pulled his freshly laundered cloak around him and fell into a fitful sleep. By the time the freighter’s captain came knocking on the door, Qui-Gon had already been up over an hour. Putting himself through a vigorous workout of mind and body, then refreshing himself with s shower, he felt alert and ready to face today’s tests. Announcing that they’d be landing shortly, the captain led the way to the ship’s exit hatch where the able pilot would dock with an eight foot tube that would lead to the Jedi Temple. It was an odd choice to dock at this end of the Temple when the High Council chambers resided in the further most recesses from here. Giving his final leave to the captain, Qui-Gon thanked him again and proceed down the thick transparisteel tube. Standing in front of the still closed connecting entrance, Qui-Gon could feel a tremor in the Force, radiating from the Temple itself. In the silence of the transparent walkway he heard the unseen mechanisms of the hatch disengage and the door slid open. The Force wave that poured from the open doorway shocked the master Jedi with its intense current of enmity. At the far end of the cargo bay a tall, dark figure, clad in standard Jedi attire stood stiffly, flanked by an accompaniment of similarly imposing uniformed men. The strained and openly hostile emotions that streamed from these men perplexed Qui-Gon greatly, especially upon recognizing his friend, Mace Windu at their lead. “Mace.” he called out as he neared the group. “Stop where you are!” the dark-skinned Jedi commanded with severity. The men around him raised their weapons in unison to punctuate the order. Not being able to fathom this display, Qui-Gon proceeded another two steps before comprehension set in that this was no joke, these men were poised to kill him if he didn’t cooperate immediately. Taken back by the dark waves that emanated from his friend, Qui-Gon halted, allowing them to make the next move. “Who are you?” Mace demanded viciously, raw anger almost totally uncontrolled. Qui-Gon’s mind raced trying to discern the seething hatred he felt directed at him. What could possibly have happen to create such a transformation in the man advancing on him. Against better judgment, he extended his arms out stating, “Qui-Gon Jinn” in his most non-threatening tone. “I should kill you for this vile masquerade.” Mace replied cold-bloodedly as he closed on the intruder. Shock spread across Qui-Gon’s face as Mace stepped closer. Where once his face was smooth and unmarred, there now was a deep, gnarled scar that ran from the top of Mace’ domed head to just below the jaw. “I watched Qui-Gon Jinn struck down over ten years ago.” With that, Mace raised his own weapon and pulled the trigger. Before he could react, Qui-Gon felt the dart strike his chest, flooding his body with a rapid paralyzing agent. Falling to his knees as his brain clouded with the drug, the last thing he heard was his friend. “Take this creature to An-Paj!” There had been vague images and muffled voices long before his mind could register cognitive thought. Drifting slowly into consciousness, he could grasp snippets of conversations. "...he's perfectly human..." "...midi-chlorians in his blood..." Were the voices familiar, he wasn't sure, they seemed to be coming from miles away, or directly beside him. He was aware of movement, ghostly shadows that came into view, only to recede into the white mists that clouded his mind. A pinprick at his neck. Doesn't hurt, Qui-Gon thought disjointedly. The mist thickened and he felt as though swallowed by it, loosing his tenuous hold to reality. Sometime later his mind virtually snapped awake, awake but still muddled from the drug they used. Trying to move he found his body would not respond, not even his head. As his mind gradually cleared, he became aware of his surroundings. He was lying on some sort of table or cart, its surface was hard and cold against his back. A slight breeze stirred causing the hair on his body to stand on end, he was unclothed except for the weight of material he felt draped over his hips. And most disturbingly, he was strapped to the cart. Not just the light restraints used to prevent one from further injury. These were the heavy steel binders meant to prevent escape. At his ankles, his wrists, forearms and around his neck he felt the unyielding coolness of metal against bare skin, holding him firmly in place. Out of his peripheral vision Qui-Gon caught movement as a figure crossed the room to stand beside him. "Ah, you're awake," Master Healer An-Paj stated, "how are you feeling?" "Like I've been drugged and bound," Qui-Gon answered dryly. "Hmmph," was the healer's only reply as he peeled back a bandage on Qui-Gon's thigh, inspecting it closely . "Healing nicely," he reapplied the bacta soaked pad, "the surgery will leave no ill effects." An-Paj proclaimed, entering the prognosis into his datapad. "Surgery?" Qui-Gon queried anxiously, what were they doing to him. "Just a simple procedure. An extraction of bone marrow tissue from the femur, shouldn't even be painful after today," An-Paj explained coolly. "An-Paj, what's happened?" Qui-Gon asked with concern, sensing the healer's aloofness. An-Paj paused, scrutinizing the large man's all too familiar face. He almost marveled at the strong character lines the last ten years had put there, had it not been for the fact the last time he had attended Qui-Gon Jinn was on a funeral pyre a decade ago. "Who are you?" sincere interest reflected in the healer's question. First Mace and now An-Paj? Qui-Gon cast out with the Force in effort to read him. Mental shields were slammed into place as he touched the healer's mind. An-Paj took a nervous step backward. "We did a standard midi-chlorian count. We're aware you’re Force-sensitive and possibly well trained." "Has everyone gone mad?" Qui-Gon's calm began to crack. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn. I've been in here more times then I care to remember, almost as much as Obi-Wan." The healer shrugged at the unfamiliar name. "I know who you appear to be," he stated flatly. Qui-Gon sighed with frustration. Loosing control and raising his voice was no way to convince the healer of his identity. Closing his eyes he took a cleansing breath, reaching for his calm center. With effortless focus he released his negative energies into the Force. Frustration, anger and the growing fear flowed freely from him, dissipating into the Force. Satisfied at accomplishing his goal, he lingered a moment longer, gathering strength. Upon opening his eyes he saw the Master Healer staring at him with wide eyes. "Where did you learn that, who taught you?" surprised by the power he felt flow from this stranger. "I was raised here in the Temple and was apprenticed by Master Yoda," Qui-Gon stated simply, "An-Paj, I've known you over thirty years, I've taken dinner with you. I've met your six wives." A surge of hope went through Qui-Gon when he thought he saw a flicker of recognition on the healer's face. An-Paj's eyebrow raised and he snorted lightly. "You may have been well informed on Master Jinn but your information is not without its flaws. I have but four wives." he commented derisively. The conversation was cut short by the arrival of Mace Windu and two security guards. Qui-Gon could feel the room fill with hostility from his once closest friend. "The Council is anxious for your report," Mace directed at An-Paj "and they wish his presence.” Qui-Gon winced at the sound of Mace' voice. He had never before heard so much distaste, hatred and pain carried on so few words. Not from Mace and most certainly never directed at him. There had been times when his friend had shown anger at him, both justified and not, but never with such powerful conviction. He didn't even attempt to reach his friend through the Force; his emotions were very evident by the furrowed eyes and the scowl on his face. An-Paj walked across the room, pushing a button on the console on the wall. The metal binders that held Qui-Gon in place snapped open with a clank. Qui-Gon tried to raise his arm, finding it difficult even without the restraints. "How long have I been here," he asked, working muscles that were stiff and weak. "Three days," the healer answered, pulling the binder away from his neck. With An-Paj's assistance, Qui-Gon swung his long legs over the side of the cart and pushed himself up to a sitting position with some effort. He was handed a cup from An-Paj, "Drink this." Qui-Gon glanced at the healer suspiciously, not moving. "It's not drugged," the healer explained, "only water with some chemical electrolytes added to aid your body's metabolism." Nodding in thanks, he took the cup and downed its contents without reservation, feeling the cool liquid being accepted gratefully by his parched throat. "Can he walk on his own?" Mace asked brusquely. The healer looked at Qui-Gon uncertainly. Qui-Gon scooted to the end of the cart, his feet touching the floor. Sliding off, he placed his weight on the floor, only to have his knees buckle beneath him. An-Paj was at his side, "Not so fast, Qui-Gon.", the name slipping from his lips without thought. "Don't call him that!" Mace said coldly, while the healer helped him stand. "Try a few steps," An-Paj suggested, offering support. Behind Mace one of the guards stepped forward, raising his weapon as a precaution. Underused muscles strained in protest as Qui-Gon slowly made his way across the room, his bare feet audibly slapping at the floor. "Good," Mace grunted, motioning another guard forward. This one carried another set of binders. "Are those necessary?" An-Paj asked, "I don't think this man is in any shape to cause a problem." "The health of those in the Temple is your concern," Mace countered angrily, "security is mine." The healer glance at Qui-Gon with a shrug. ‘I tried’ it seemed to say. "Am I to be paraded before the Council naked?" Qui-Gon asked neutrally, as the man advanced on him. Mace glared at his, finally acknowledging his presence. Qui-Gon held his gaze sedately, waiting for an answer. "Get him some clothes," Mace spat disgustedly, storming to the exit. With An-Paj's help, Qui-Gon put on a loose pair of infirmary pants that ended just below his knees and a gown over that. Security placed the binders on his ankles, a short chain between them, allowing for only short steps. Not that he would be capable of more than short, slow steps the way he felt. The healer argued that his wrist be bound in front, not back. “His balance may be precarious at best. At least allow him the dignity of being able to stand on his own before the Council.” Once underway, Mace led the group down the hallways, followed by Qui-Gon and An-Paj, the two armed security guards bringing up the rear. They traveled a seldom used route that led to a secured turbolift. This lift was one only used in the transfer of prisoners, one that Qui-Gon had used on occasion though not quite in this fashion. Silently, the troop walked down the corridor without meeting a soul. They halted before the tall double doors of the Council chamber, only Mace going through them. After a few minutes the doors swung open with use of the Force and they were ushered in. Qui-Gon and An-Paj padded to the center of the circular audience chamber, both bowing respectfully to the twelve Jedi Masters seated around them. "Master Healer," Ki-Adi-Mundi, the high-head Jedi from Cerea, addressed An-Paj, "you have run your tests?" An-Paj nodded. "And your conclusion?" An-Paj stepped forward; casting a glance at the now controlled Mace Windu. "Masters, before I give my conclusion, allow me to expound on the examination itself, which included blood tests, scans and DNA verification. Of course first we looked at the obvious, surgical alteration and cloning. Surgical alteration was simple to rule out and the exacting procedure of cloning does leave minute tell tale signs, most specifically a chemical that is used to begin the initial cell replication..." Qui-Gon only half listened to the healer, his focus turned to the members of the Jedi High Council. This wasn't the first nor the hundredth time he stood before them but it certainly was a new thing to be barefoot and in chains. Glancing around, looking at each of them in turn, he felt many conflicting emotions; most strong among these was curiosity. "Are you stating this man is Qui-Gon Jinn?" a voice boomed angrily. "Masters, all I can tell you is that every test we've run cannot disprove that claim," An-Paj said matter of factly. "One scan even showed scarring of the lungs caused by Tholtol cholera." There were acknowledging nods around the room. Qui-Gon remembered that occasion well. He had only been knighted a year when he and another Jedi Knight had been dispatched to safeguard a shipment of vital medical supplies needed on the war torn planet of Oberon. Civil war had run rampant on the planet for years, neither side making much headway, until an extremist government group released Tholtol cholera into the planet's water supply, creating widespread devastation. By the time the Republic had been petitioned to intervene, over sixty percent of the planet's inhabitants had died. Qui-Gon Jinn and Luis Genrue had coordinated the distribution of medical supplies to both sides, but not before they themselves were stricken with the disease. Jedi Genrue died within a week. Qui-Gon was kept in isolation on Oberon, his immune system to weak to risk transfer back to Coruscant. It had taken more than a month before he was able to travel. "That proves nothing!" Mace sat forward in his chair as if in challenge. Master Yoda, who had until this time sat impassive turned his attention to Mace. "Known your feelings are," he said kindly, "understand we do." there was a pause, then Yoda's ears twitched slightly. "But belong here they do not and tolerate them we cannot at the expense of the truth." Yoda voice though not raised still carried with it a firm reprimand. It was a tone Qui-Gon was quite accustomed to, having heard it many times and had come to believe was reserved strictly for him and his incessant disregard of the Jedi Code. Mace sat back, closing his eyes, sighing heavily. Yoda was right of course, the Council was no place for such a display. Gathering the Force, he cleansed his mind quickly of his dark thoughts. There had been a moment, in the docking bay, where he had sincerely wished it was a blaster and not a tranquilizer gun he had used on this pretender. Anger was most certainly leading him to the dark side. "I sincerely apologize for my lack of control," he stated upon opening his eyes, "it will not happen again." "Hmmmph!" Yoda grunted in satisfaction and turned his attention to the tall, barefoot man before him. "Know you of our concern to your claim?" Yoda asked him. "No, Master, I do not." Qui-Gon answered. Ki-Adi-Mundi glanced at Yoda, who bade him to continue. "Ten years ago Master Windu was sent on a mission after reports reached us that a certain individual was known to be operating in the Corellian system. An individual known for his hatred of the Jedi and use of the dark side of the Force." "Xanatos," Qui-Gon stated quietly. "Yes, Xanatos." Ki-Adi-Mundi continued, unsurprised by his knowledge. "Unfortunately, too late we learned the reports were a trap aimed at his former master." Qui-Gon smiled at the diplomatic way the Cerean Jedi omitted use of his name. "Master Windu was injured and subsequently captured by Xanatos, who proceeded to use torture as a means of underlining his demands. While we sought a solution to the situation, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, expressly forbidden to take action, defied the Council, undertaking a quest of his own design. The ensuing confrontation resulted in the rescue of Master Windu but in assuring his escape, Master Jinn was killed. The body was brought back and positively identified." Qui-Gon gazed at Mace who sat slumped in his chair, his face resting in a large brown hand. So that's the reason for all the hatred directed at me, thought Qui-Gon. "Explain you can, how Qui-Gon Jinn can be standing before us?" Master Yoda asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. "No Master, I cannot." Qui-Gon answered honestly. "All I can relate are the facts. My Padawan and I were in the process of investigating a rumored time traveling device. During our examination the device was inadvertently activated and I was trapped inside..." "A time machine?" Yoda's ears perked up. "I've already ascertained that time has remained unchanged," Qui-Gon interjected. "Yet you expect us to believe that you are Qui-Gon Jinn, a Jedi Master who undisputedly died a decade ago?" the Zabraki Master Eeth Koth inquired gravely. "It is the truth," Qui-Gon was in a quandary, "I am unable to explain my...death." "Would you allow yourself subjected to a Force-meld by the Council?" came the question from the soft-spoken Master Yaddle, the Council's other Dagoban member. "A Force-meld?" Qui-Gon repeated. He knew or had at least heard of a Force-meld before. "Trained you are in the Jedi arts," Master Yoda commented, apparently agreeing with the idea. "Perhaps in the Force find the answers we may." Qui-Gon considered a moment. Though not unheard of, a Force-meld was usually something attempted with a life-bond, a mate and though not yet strictly forbidden, this attachment was highly frowned upon. The Force-meld was the most intimate of offerings for a Jedi. One opened oneself to the Force and allowed another being to enter one's mind. If successful, the guest would be able to behold the entire life of the host. Not just the specifics and actions relived through memories, but also the secret-most thoughts and intention that lay hidden in both mind and heart. One's soul was laid open with all its beauty and ugliness to behold, and could only be done with the active consent and participation of the Force-sensitive. As much as his human instinct repulsed the idea of such an invasion of privacy, Qui-Gon knew it may be the only way to convince the Council. And convince he must, unless he wished to be locked away for the rest of his life. “I give my word to cooperate to the best of my ability,” He swore, raising his shackled hands. He watched as Master Yoda glanced to each Council member, taking a silent consensus. Finishing with Master Windu, his gaze rested on him longer than the rest. Turning back to Qui-Gon, Yoda regarded him closely, then an eye twitched minutely and the heavy binders on his wrists and ankles popped open, falling to the floor. “Master An-Paj, our gratitude we give. May the Force be with you.” Yoda dismissed the healer. Bowing acknowledgement, An-Paj turned on his heels and walked to the door. Kneeling on the floor, Qui-Gon reached into the Force with practiced ease. Relaxing his mental shields, he waited for the first tenuous fingers to probe his mind. The familiar touch of his own Master Yoda was there, calm and reassuring as he pressed against the normal boundaries of the conscious mind. As the small Master pushed deeper, beyond thought, Qui-Gon battled a mental conflict as his shields automatically tried to assert themselves to protect his inner self from invading eyes Learned great power you have Padawan, came a soft mental stroke from Yoda. Did the Dagoban Master believe him or was he only offering appeasement as he pushed further into the man’s opposing mind. Other mental fingers entered the Force following Yoda’s lead, filling Qui-Gon with a disquieting sensation of crowding in his head. His conscious mind cried out in alarm at the onslaught of invaders surging to the deepest recesses of his subconscious. Qui-Gon was hard pressed to maintain the level of serenity needed to keep his shields lowered as the Council dissected his psyche. After what seemed like an eternity he felt the Masters withdraw, pulling back through the Force. Able to finally release his shields, they slammed painfully into place in protest to the unnerving invasion. It was only after he released himself from the Force that he realized that only eleven of the Masters had participated...Mace had declined. Around him he could feel a flurry of activity in the Force as the Council discussed their findings. Qui-Gon hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. He leaned forward, his hands resting heavily on his thighs. The Force-meld had exhausted him physically as well as mentally. “Qui-Gon Jinn, you are,” Yoda finally announced, “but belong here you do not.” Confusion spread across the tall Jedi’s face. “I don’t understand.:” he huffed tiredly. “Time machine the device was not. Perhaps into another dimension it brought you.” Yoda explained. “Is that possible?” Qui-Gon asked, his mind still reeling from the Force-meld. “As possible as it is for you to be here when in our reality you’ve been dead these ten years,” Ki-Adi-Mundi reminded. Time travel and interdimensional travel were studied by all Jedi in the Temple, thought the content of the classes were conjecture and theory. Study was loose and consisted more of debates over cause and affect of such possibilities and the overall consequences such travel could bring. This was one of the main reasons for the Jedi Order’s exacting decree on said device...the unknown possibilities. All this flitted through Qui-Gon’s mind as he regained his strength. “I must get back.” he determined solidly. “Agree the Council does and destroyed this device must be,” Yoda said to consenting nods from the others. “But I will need the help of my Padawan,” Qui-Gon requested. Rising slowly to his feet, he saw an exchange of furtive glances around the room, causing him pause. “Our... er.. Qui-Gon died ten years ago” Mace suddenly said, all traces of anger had left him and he spoke softly, almost apologetically, “he never took another apprentice after Xanatos.” “But what of Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon held his distress in check, “surely he’s not...dead?” His heart leapt into his throat when no answer came forth. “Alive Kenobi is,” Yoda answered with a small hint of regret, “but a Jedi he is not.” |
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