| Should As Strangers We Meet |
| Qui-Gon Jinn sat comfortably on the large pillow, sipping a cup of molta root tea prepared by his former master. No, that wasn't quite right, this really wasn't his master, and yet it was. A smile crossed his face in wonder at the apparent ease with which his mind accepted the idea of traveling to an alternate reality. One in which was identical in many ways to his own, but where decisions along the way had changed some circumstances quite dramatically. It seemed a much easier transition for him then those around him, but then he wasn't the one confronted by the appearance of someone long dead. So much appeared identical here. Well, almost everything, a frown darkened his deep blue eyes. Obi-Wan, he thought. Yoda had related to him the narrative of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a promising yet headstrong initiate. "Quick to anger, impulsive was he," Yoda described, "yet great potential I saw in him. A powerful Jedi would he would be if instructed by a suitable Master." "Chosen he was not," Yoda said mournfully, "and at required age reassigned to Bandomeer he was." "A farmer, Qui-Gon reflected sadly on what had almost not been, at least in his reality. "Even after countless refusals on my part the boy's self-less heart shone through. He was willing to sacrifice himself for me.." Qui-Gon paused, the memory taking hold, "it was on Bandomeer that I took him as my apprentice, though still I questioned." he hung head shamefully. "The will of the Force it was," Yoda replied, "but gone were you here and harsh was Bandomeer for a boy so uncertain of himself. After a standard year destroyed the Agri-corps facility was, industrial sabotage was suspected but proven not. Injured Obi-Wan was and returned to Coruscant. Reassigned upon recovery, refused he did. Not meant to be a Jedi he told me, could not bear the humiliation of failure. "Told him I did, not failure this was, but listen he would not. Left the Jedi he did." Qui-Gon had found this harder to accept then alternate universes, Obi-Wan not his apprentice, not a Jedi. Explaining to the Council his need to find the young man, they had hesitated at allowing him to locate Obi-Wan, even knowing that without his assistance Qui-Gon would be trapped in their world. They had argued security issues in involving a non-Jedi with knowledge they preferred being kept within the Order. It was Mace Windu that spoke up in his defense. "We worry what consequence would result from the knowledge of one man, so we deny Qui-Gon the ability to return to his own world. We must remember the greater risks involved in his remaining in a world that no longer has a place for him." Before continuing their discussion, Master Yoda offered Qui-Gon the disposal of his quarters to rest in. He politely accepted, understanding the Council's desire to consider the matter without his presence. Escorted by the two security guards, now told he was a guest, he led them to Yoda's apartment. They watched in a rather bemused state as the guest keyed in the security code to open the door, thanked them for their assistance and shut the door behind him. Inside, Qui-Gon found his former Master's dwellings to be the same as in his dimension. A strong touch of nostalgia gripped him and he found himself standing at the doorway of what had once been his bedroom, or at least his alternate's bedroom. Looking into the room, which now only had a bed and work desk beside the window, he remembered it once overflowing with plants of all types and the occasional animal he had managed to convince Yoda needed his care. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to go back to that time. Hadn't there been some special pet, a small animal kept since childhood? A grin spread on his face. A worm, that was it, a Force-sensitive worm. Heeding a sudden whim, he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. An hour later he was still fast asleep when Yoda retuned home. Without waking him, the diminutive master used the Force to pull a blanket from a shelf and cover the tall man with it. Qui-Gon woke to the warm, savory aroma of roast bantha wafting thought the room. Smiling, he indulged in a lingering stretch, causing tight muscles to pop and creak in protest. Seemed to be more of those age-betraying noises with each passing year, he thought disparagingly as he rose. In the kitchen, Qui-Gon found Yoda in the middle of preparing what would be for the Dagoban Master an elaborate meal. If left in charge of meals Yoda was infamously known for his gruel. Rare was the occasion when his former Master did more then puree a handful of vegetables into a runny paste. Such extravagant culinary doings were reserved for special occasions. A much younger Qui-Gon had been bestowed such an honor every year on his birthday, the last time being the particularly celebratory event of his knighting, some thirty odd years ago. After setting the table Yoda updated him on the Council's ruling while they ate. "Agreed they are that return you should. Contacted Jedi Intelligence has been to learn whereabouts of Kenobi," Yoda told him. Qui-Gon nodded. Jedi Intelligence with its immeasurable network of data collection was the quintessential military operation. Under the direction of the Thisspian Council member Oppo Rancisis, it easily rivaled that of the Republic's own intelligence division, yet remained striking covert. Still, the galaxy was a vast place, easy to get lost in. Especially if one didn't want to be found. "Imperative it is that existence of this device remains guarded," Yoda said, looking up from his plate pensively, one long ear bent a forward angle. Yoda's face held no emotions, but over his years as apprentice, Qui-Gon had learned to read the subtle language of his master's ears. Their positions, twitches, ticks and even lack of movement spoke volumes in relaying the sentiment behind the words. Qui-Gon stopped; waiting patiently for what he was sure was bad news. "Involvement of the Council at a minimum will be." So that was it. After pointing me in the right direction, I'm on my own. “I understand," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, "I'm sure I can manage a modicum of discretion in this matter." the tall man said facetiously. "Hmmph, obedience to the Code still learned you have not," Yoda countered sadly. Qui-Gon frowned at the sound of disappointment he heard from in his Master's tone. "Always have I followed the will of the Force if not the letter of the Jedi Code." he said in defense. "Mistake not an old man's sense of loss for disappointment." Yoda said kindly, patting the big man's arms. "Even that defiance a welcomed thing would be." Qui-Gon was at a loss of words for Yoda's unusual expression of regret and grief. "Worry not," Yoda told him, "Good it is to see you unbound by despair and anger." "Is that what happened, Master, to me I mean?" Qui-Gon inquired about his other self. "Hurt you were by your Padawan's betrayal. Blame yourself you did. Unwilling to listen to reason. Try I and Master Windu did. Hear us you would not. When captured Mace was, angry did you become, full of rage and vengeance. Blindly did you cross to the dark side." Yoda trailed off. Qui-Gon could see how much this pained his Master yet it wasn't just curiosity he wanted to satisfy, there was a lesson for him as well. "And what of Mace...the scars?" "Xanatos doings they are. Critical his injuries were, but recover he did though angry he was for a long time." Yoda said. "Angry, Master?" "Angry that sacrifice your life you did. Believe that no longer alive did you want to be." Qui-Gon said nothing, unable to deny that those same feelings had coursed through him. At that time anger, despair and thoughts of suicide had consumed him, filling him with darkness. **It events had unfolded in a similar fashion in his own reality, would he now be dead? Would he too have been unable to find strength in the Force, succumbing to the dark side?** “Changed the past cannot be,” Yoda reminded him, “but learn from it we can.” Later, the two Jedi were in the common area enjoying tea when they were joined by a hesitant Mace Windu. In his arms he carried a parcel and on top of it lay Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. “These are yours,” he said passing the bundle to Qui-Gon. “Can’t have you running around the galaxy in hospital johnnies.” he stated with strained humor. “Thank you.” Qui-Gon said, then grew silent, unsure of the latter’s frame of mind. “News you have for us?” Yoda broke the awkward silence. “Jedi intelligence has secured the last known whereabouts of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Apparently he’s taken up with a group of space gypsies that are currently residing on the planet Nestor. The Council has arranged transportation to the planet.” “When can they be ready?” Qui-Gon inquired anxiously. “I’ve requested the pilot be ready in hand a standard hour,” Mace answered, “I thought you might want to get underway immediately.” “Thank you for your consideration,” Qui-Gon examined the parcel. A change of clothes, though not the Jedi attire he’d come in. “Ummm.. the Council has requested that you..ah..” Mace broke off, not finding the right words. “Be discreet? I’ve already given my assurance to Master Yoda,” Qui-Gon said with a smirk. For the first time since encountering this alternate Qui-Gon, a smile graced Mace’ face. “I’d like to escort you to the transport, if you’d permit?” “I’d appreciate that,” Qui-Gon answered, returning the smile before leaving the room to change. In less then ten minutes Qui-Gon looked quite conventional in causal brown slacks and cream-colored shirt. Mace had also supplied a long, thin jacket with a number of pockets in which to conceal his lightsaber as well as most of the items from his utility belt. All in all, very un-Jedi like, which of course was the point. After exchanging farewells with Master Yoda, Qui-Gon was soon on his way to the docking bay accompanied by his friend. Feeling that Mace wished to say something he wondered should he try to draw him out or give him time. “So you’ve taken another apprentice?” Mace finally said, “What’s he like?” It was a surprising question until Qui-Gon remembered that Mace had not participated in the Force-meld. “Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan is a fine young man.” Qui- said as they walked down the corridor. “Perhaps a bit impulsive but that will change with age and experience.” “Are you close?” “At first I fought against the bond,” Qui-Gon didn’t need to explain why, “but the will of the Force proved stronger and now he is like my son.” Mace stopped outside the hatch to the docking bay and turned toward Qui-Gon. “I never anticipated being given this opportunity,” he said with a revealing hitch in his voice. “My injuries were such that two weeks had passed before I even learned what happened.” “Mace, you don’t have to...” Qui-Gon interjected. “Yes...yes I do,” Mace held up a staying hand, swallowed hard then continued. “For a long time I was angry. Angry at you for dying, angry at myself for not being a better friend. With time I learned to release my anger and move on but there was never a sense of closure...so many things left unsaid. Then you appear and I find myself reacting with emotions I thought long under control. For that I owe you an apology but more then that I owe you my thanks for what you did so long ago.” Mace held out his hand. Qui-Gon wanted to tell his friend he owed no apology and certainly no thanks. It wasn’t exactly him that had given his life. Yet those words would only diminish the feelings of his friend. Instead he took the hand offered and pulling the man into an embrace, sent comforting waves through the Force. Mace hugged him tightly then pulled back. “Goodbye Qui-Gon Jinn, take care of yourself and your Padawan.” “May the Force be with you my friend.” Qui-Gon returned. “And also with you.” Mace stated before turning and quickly striding away. Aboard the transport, Qui-Gon had gone over the file on Obi-Wan provided by the Council. It was small and without much detail, consisting mostly of dates spread out over the last five years and short summaries. After leaving the Temple, Obi-Wan had returned to his family who were with a farming colony on a small moon in the Alderaan system. At sixteen, for reasons unknown, he left his family and seemingly began to wander aimlessly from one planet to the next. Almost two years ago, he was arrested on Yavin IV. Accused of assault and battery in a barroom brawl, he was able to dissuade the local constabulary from any legal action after convincing those apprehended with him, a band of roaming Terrian gypsies, it was in their best interests to depart Yavin IV. Since that time he had remained in the company of the nomadic group as they crossed the galaxy. The brevity of the reports and the inactivity of the file pleased Qui-Gon. It was an indication that the Jedi Order considered the possibility of this former initiate turning to the dark side negligible. Records were kept on Jedi personnel from the time a child was brought to the Temple until their deaths. The watchful eye of Jedi Intelligence then tracked those who left the Order. Most integrated themselves into the society of whatever culture they chose to live in, living quiet lives of anonymity. Few, thankfully so, incapable of controlling their more base emotions would in varying degrees turn to the dark side. These Force-sensitive individuals, having been given the utmost training in the Jedi Order, held the potential of unleashing incredible destruction on the worlds they live and some did. The Order took it upon themselves to seek out these dark Jedi, who used their knowledge and power of the Force in contradiction to the light side. Qui-Gon directed the pilot to land in the rural city of Mitivon and disembarked to begin his search. After discreet inquiries he was able to learn the Terrian’s camp was located on the outskirts of town. Deciding a little reconnaissance was in order, he stealthily made his way from the space port to the city limits. Cloaking himself in the Force, he made a wide circle around the camp. There appeared to be a clan of thirty to forty people living in a make-shift commune. Their ages ranging from the small children playing in the dirt-worn spaces between the structures, to an elderly woman who sat in the center of the dwellings by a fire. She was hunched over busy concentrating on an object she held in her lap. From a good distance away, watching from a small overgrown woodland area, Qui-Gon gathered the Force. Releasing himself into the flow he sent out unseen fingers that lit upon the warm, thrumming waves of Living Force he sensed. The Jedi Master was surprised when the elderly woman suddenly startled, lifting her head and turning in his direction. Pulling up shields, he almost physically back away from her, which would have revealed his hidden presence. Force-sensitive, he thought, Interesting , remaining perfectly still until the woman returned to her precious work. Retreating from the camp, Qui-Gon followed the promptings of the Force as it guided him to what appeared to be the town's somewhat seedy entertainment district. It led him to a nameless establishment that advertised Food&Drink. Maintaining his raised shields, Qui-Gon walked through the swinging door that announced 'Open for Business'. A quick glance around the room afforded the Jedi enough insight as to what his next move should be. Spying a small table in a near corner, he availed himself to a seat that provided a view of the entire room. Taking what would looked like no more than a casual glance, Qui-Gon using the Force-enhanced technique of seeing without looking, committed to memory every detail in the saloon around him. With Jedi perception, he noted the crowded bar lined with men and women, most of these humanoid with a pair of Rodian's, a Kel Dodder and a number of Twi'leks. Behind the bar an open grill sizzled and spat flames cooking whatever passed for food here, though Qui-Gon got the idea that it was the drink that brought most of the patrons here. In an adjacent corner a loud, raucous laugh could be heard from a group of rather roguish beings seated at a large table. Surrounding the table were three humans, a blue-skinned Chagrian, and a Wookiee, all focused on the game of chance they were engaged in. For the first time since landing in this alternate dimension Qui-Gon felt a sense of unreality wash over him. Seated at the table was Obi-Wan...or at least this world's version of him. Clad in a concealing black leather duster, the young man in question reached across the table, his sand-colored, shoulder length hair falling in strands into his face. Scooping up the five cubes, he placed them in a cup, shook them vigorously and slammed the cup down on the table, releasing the five cubes. "Daktar!" he called out with enthusiasm, tossing a hand up as the intricately carved cubes slowly rolled across the table landing on four of five matching sides. "Arrgghh!" grunted the large Chagrian angrily, throwing more currency into the pile in the middle of the table. Others around him erupted into laughter as a grinning Obi-Wan pulled the winnings from the center into a pile in front of him. "It's been a while since Tod Cenne’tah has had such bad luck." the human seated beside Obi-Wan chuckled, clapping him on the back roughly. "And I've never seen anyone with such a streak of luck," the Chagrian growled, frustrated at his turn of misfortune. "Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose," the young man taunted boldly. "Hmmm.." came the throaty response as the horned alien grabbed for the dice and shook his turn. Tossing the cubes as the other players fed the pot, they clunked across the table haphazardly, coming to rest on five distinctly different sides. The Wookie roared with obvious amusement, causing all but the Chagrian to join in. "You cheat!" he bellowed, pushing forcibly away from the table, in annoyance. "Now tell me friend," Obi-Wan inquired condescendingly, "how is it that I cheat when the roll was yours?" The loudness of the game had attracted a crowd and the onlookers laughter only added to the embarrassment of the Chagrian. "I don't know how you're doing it but I know you're cheating," Tod Cenneda intoned viscously. Qui-Gon watched the exchange from across the room. Had the boy no sense? Was he deliberately trying to provoke the Chagrian into a fight. The others seated at the table sensed the air grow charged and pulled back from the two adversaries. "You'd better be able to back those words with proof," Obi-Wan glowered steadily, his hand lowering to his side. Seeing the human’s move, the Chagrian's eyes narrowed, a sly smile coming to his lips. "You'd best be prepared to go there," he warned icily. Everyone in the bar seemed to hold their breath as the two men stared each other down, the tension between them palpable. Racked with fear, the Wookie suddenly sprinted for the exit, both men catching the movement. Instinct betrayed the brain and they reacted in reflex, without input of thought. Both men reached for weapons, pulling them out of conveniently placed carriers and threw their arms outstretched over the table. In less then a milli-second each man was facing down the barrel of a blaster aimed dead center their head. “Gentlemen, might I suggest a compromise,” a soft yet demanding voice offered as a tall, powerfully built man stepped deftly through the gaping crowd. “If you could both just relax a bit,” The man waved his hand nonchalantly. Before either realized it, fingers visibly eased off the triggers, their blasters wavered in the air, feeling too weighted to hold up. This gave each man a chance to reconsider. Confused by the brief fugue and losing the heat of the moment, the Chagrian snapped, “What’s this compromise?” “What if my young friend here were to return your loses as sign of good faith and honesty?” Qui-Gon proposed. “Hey! I won that money!” Obi-Wan protested. Lowering his voice to a pitch only the young man could hear, Qui-Gon said with distaste, “Is this the best use you’ve found for the skills you’ve been taught?” Realizing this stranger knew not only had he been cheating, but how he accomplished it, the young man grudgingly relented. Were it known, he would be facing the ire of a mob. Many of those present were acquaintances he made at the games tables he frequented since setting ‘temps’ as he came to know it, on this planet a year ago. And most of those had lost to him. “Go ahead,” the young human lowered his weapon, waving it over the pile of credits he had acquired. “Take what’s yours.” The crowd, sensing the excitement was over, dispersed, making their way back to the bar and their previous conversations. Without ceremony, the Chagrian quickly picked through the credits, filling his fists. “Only what’s yours,” Qui-Gon Force-spoke, causing him to drop a number of chips before beating a hasty retreat. “I needed that money,” the young man said with anger, gathering what was left into a small tie-string purse. “But not enough to avoid conflict and allow the man to win even once,” the tall man admonished, automatically falling into teacher mode. “He was arrogant” the younger cracked derisively, “and he’s done his share of cheating.” “So to teach him a lesson in humility and honesty you saw fit to cheat him out of all his money?” the Qui-Gon asked sarcastically, folding his arms over his broad chest in reproof. “I told you I needed that money.” Obi-Wan looked up at the large man without restraint, “What’s it to you Jedi?” So, the boy knows I’m a Jedi. Qui-Gon had expected as much. It only meant one less thing to conceal. The problem would be if he would actually remember and recognize who his counterpart in this world was. Obi-Wan would have been a boy of eight or nine the last time Qui-Gon had returned to the Temple. One of hundreds of Knights the boy may have seen during those long ago days. “Well?” Obi-Wan asked. The young man’s tone was not lost on the Jedi Master and he found himself biting back an angry reprimand. This isn’t my Padawan, he reminded himself, his gaze boring into the identical green-blue eyes that held a subtle defiance unseen in the apprentice he mentored. The young man watched the Jedi, unblinking, waiting for a response. The man seemed to consider him then the hard stare softened and he answered. “My name is Jinn” he introduced himself, “and I’m in need of your assistance Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Obi-Wan intently studied the tall man before him. Jinn, he had said. Had he known a Jedi Jinn at the Temple. He didn't remember and it had been many years ago, yet there was a nagging pull at the back of his mind. The Jedi's statement had somewhat caught him off guard. He expected a berating for exhibiting such unJedi-like behavior, like the many Knights and Masters at the Temple had habit to do. It seemed so many memories of his life in the Jedi Temple consisted of an robed adult standing over him lecturing on the finer points of patience, temper control and proper behavior. Except for his few close friends, he had always felt held out at arms length with the scores of caretakers, teachers and instructors that passed through his young life in rapid succession. Even Master Yoda, who had always shone special favor on him, had still seen it necessary to send him away after proving himself inadequate apprentice material by his thirteenth birthday. With an inward frown, he brushed the long repressed insecurities back into the far recesses of his mind, along with the memories that provoked them. Refocusing his attention, Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, propped a well-worn boot on the edge of the table and leaned back in the chair. "Let me see if I've got this straight," he stated with feigned confusion. "First you intervene uninvited. You insult me and cause the loss of a good deal of money, money incidentally I was myself in need of. Then you state you need my help?" Obi-Wan paused for dramatic effect, "Not quite the legendary Jedi diplomacy one would come to expect," he added smugly. Qui-Gon eyed the flippant young man with discretion. Only with his help could he return to his own dimension, so he dismissed the disrespectful manner. He had to quickly decide the best course of action in attaining his goal. "From my perspective I negotiated a treaty between two hostile factions to a mutually advantageous end," the Jedi Master replied in earnest. "Your perspective?" Obi-Wan snickered. "And what advantage did I gain with this so-called treaty?" "You still have your head." Qui-Gon answered with a smirk. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed in irritation at not being able to instantly gage the large man's mood. "Are you trying to tell me you saved my life?" he asked. "I didn't say that," Jinn answered dead-pan. "No, I suppose you wouldn't, would you. That would be boastful," Obi-Wan chortled, intrigued by the Jedi's presence. Normally he tended to avoid Jedi as much as possible, having as much to say to them as they did to him. They weren't big on associating with former members which was perfectly fine with him. He didn't need reminder of the failures of his childhood. Still, his curiosity was certainly piqued. Here was a Jedi, probably a Master from the looks of him, attired as though incognito looking for his help. Then there was also the strange sense he felt in the Force that this man would be of benefit to his own needy cause. Taking heed to his instincts, he lowered his foot to the floor and entreated the man, "Sit, Jedi Jinn, join me in a drink and explain to me how I can be of service to you?" Qui-Gon hesitated briefly, suspect of the change in attitude he felt from this Obi-Wan. Reaching out with the Force to read his intentions, he was met by a mental wall wrapped around the young man's mind. "Ahh ahh ahh...none of that now," Obi-Wan responded knowingly to the light prying fingers he felt in his mind. "Let's just sit and discuss as normal men. I'm sure a friendly drink isn't forbidden by the Code." "It's not," Qui-Gon agreed as he took a seat at the table. He would play the young man's game, at least for now. "Bar keep," Obi-Wan called to the man behind the counter, "two Transparent Hutts." In a matter of moments a scantily clad waitress brought two large mugs filled with a foaming clear liquid. Paying the woman, Obi-Wan immediately reached for his and lifted it towards the Jedi. "To acquaintances well met," he toasted formally as Jinn raised his own. Obi-Wan threw his head back and drank the mug half empty. "Ahhh... " he expressed loudly, wiping the residual foam off his face as a child would. He watched as Jinn raised the mug to his lips. His eyes screwed up as he swallowed a mouthful of the strong bitter ale. "Potent," he said after a clearing cough. "Ugly is the word," Obi-Wan laughed and after a moment prompted, "So then..?" "I require that your accompany me to Dolari Tunz." Qui-Gon began, carefully choosing his words. "There I need your assistance with a certain transport," "That's it?" Obi-Wan inquired, sensing more then the Jedi let on. "A ride and repairs?" "Basically yes," Qui-Gon nodded. "And the reason you haven't gone to the Jedi Council for help?" Obi-Wan bluntly tried drawing more out of the tight-lipped man. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. He expected questions of course, but there was something other then curiosity behind the young man's questions. He was fishing for something that remained elusive to the Jedi Master. "My mission is of a personal nature," he said, revealing no more. A satisfied smile came to Obi-Wan. Good, he thought. Secrets, everyone had secrets they wished left uncovered. This was something he could understand, something he could respect, something he could use. "And for this personal matter you need my help?", his grin grew wider. Qui-Gon only nodded, watching the young man grow considerably more pleased with himself. "Should I say...assist you, what could I expect in compensation?" Obi-Wan asked with relish. He was well aware that the Jedi lived in relative poverty with the understanding that they do not seek material gain, and he was hoping this one was the same. "I have no money if that's what you're seeking," Qui-Gon said, though he already sensed that was not what was wanted. "My gratitude is all I could give." "Ahh, perhaps an exchange of favors then?" Obi-Wan gleamed "which I'm not adverse to." Hmmm, here it comes, Qui-Gon thought with little amusement. "In fact I find myself in need of a favor, one that a man with your particular talents could be of quite use." "Go on." Qui-Gon said, taking another drink of the foul liquid. *I think I'm going to need it.* Sitting forward, his demeanor changing to one of all seriousness, Obi-Wan related his problem. "I have a...a friend being held against her will. The money you so obligingly gave away was meant to secure her release, so in effect you are now partly responsible for my not being able to help her." "Your friend's been kidnapped?" Qui-Gon's brow knitted. 'Not exactly," the young man muttered quietly. "She's been arrested." "I cannot be accomplice in such an illegal activity. You of all people should know that," Qui-Gon's voice was soft but adamant. "If your friend committed a crime than she must suffer the consequences of her actions." “She didn’t do anything!” Obi-Wan explained, “A group of us were scouring the city in search of parts for our transports. You’d be surprised what people throw away when they can afford to replace instead of repair. We were at Flight-Tech, the city’s largest private transport company when a small shuttle landed. Curious we went to check it out and saw a large number of local police meet the shuttle and assist in unloading several large crates. Unfortunately, my friend was spotted trying to get a closer look at the cargo.” “So you were trespassing,” Qui-Gon interrupted, “and your friend got caught.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in exasperation. Were all Jedi Knights so straight-laced? “Yes, we were trespassing, but that hardly warrants being locked away without any charges being issued.” “Then what was the money for if not for bail?” “When we contacted the local law office to inquire on our friend they denied any knowledge of her at all. I know she’s there, I’ve felt her. We figured if we’d get enough money together we could buy her release. There’s something going on, something wrong there...I feel it.” Obi-Wan insisted with certainty. Releasing a sigh, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and embraced the Force close to him. Though he didn’t try reaching out for Obi-Wan, for there was no need. He projected strong concern for his ‘friend’. Other aspects of what he felt in the Force were not as clear. There were tremors in the constant waves that flowed but he was unsure if they were true disturbances or just the natural stream of this alternate world. Allowing himself a short meditation, he knew he had no other option. If he didn’t assist this Obi-Wan, the young man would simply refuse his own request. And there was no question that he would not compel him with a Force-command. That would be a moral transgression of his Jedi powers...one did not use the Force for personal gain. Obi-Wan waited quietly, drinking his ale while Jedi Jinn considered his decision. All around him he could feel the tingling essence of the Force as the Jedi drew it to him. It was a feeling not felt by him in many years. Not since being a boy in the Temple had there been such raw power and utter contentment. A longing began to stir in him, a desire to reach out and tap into the unbridled energy as he had once done so long ago. A frown crossed his face as the longing brought thoughts of resentment. Who was he fooling. He had no more right now laying claim to the Force then he had six years ago. He was a failed Jedi and all the desires in the world wouldn’t change that fact. Becoming impatient, he stared solemnly into his mug, brooding. The Jedi would have no other choice but to help him. He would eventually come to the conclusion that without granting a favor he would not gain one. What was that ancient saying ...one hand washes the other? Obi-Wan looked up after sensing the weight of eyes boring into him. “You use anger to conceal pain,” the Jedi said with sadness. “I don’t need your sympathy, stay out of my head!” Obi-Wan said caustically. “What have you decided?” “As you so eloquently put it, one hand washes the other.” |
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