Playback

He’d been walking for hours and still no one had come to find him.

Kerge was of a couple different minds about that. On one hand, it just proved to him the fact that there wasn’t anyone who really cared about him anyway, and he was better off without the miserable help in the first place. Not that he needed it. On the other, what kind of master was Qui-Gon that he would let a padawan under his care storm out of his apartment and not even com him? On still the other—which was an okay analogy considering the Jesivans who had three arms—he could care less if someone came to find him or not.

Whatever.

Rumors were already bouncing off the very walls of the Temple. Kerge had heard bits and pieces of nearly every conceivable variation. Xanatos had come back for vengeance, for forgiveness, to be taught again. He’d walked in on his own, he’d been dropped off anonymously by a kind stranger, he’d been sent in a ‘fridge already dead. They had fought; they’d spoken over tea; Qui-Gon was forced to cut off his arm to protect Obi-Wan. His favorite, the most imaginative by far, was that Xanatos had placed himself in storage and mailed himself to Qui-Gon as a show of his penance. It was enough to make Kerge almost laugh. At least the different stories would help protect his master, if that was possible.

His feet finally slowed and it took him a moment to realize that he’d come to stop at Dar’s door. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he was really in any mood for company, even company as welcome as Dar’s or if even his best friend had deserted him in this darkest hour. And then, the decision was taken from him.

The door to the apartment she shared with her master slid open and she pulled him inside.

“Where have you been? I’ve been tring to reach you for hours.” Her face was serious, a strange contrast to her orange hair. “Did you have your com turned off?”>{? Kerge looked down at the device as he pulled it from a pocket. “Oh, I guess I never turned it back on after class.”

“Honestly.” She rolled her eyes and didn’t let go of his arm until he was well inside the apartment, as though their voices might carry through the closed door to the hallway littered with plants and empty spaces. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?” He shook his head. “Listen, I’ve got bigger problems than anything that’s running through the padawan rumor mill.”

“You’re going to want to hear this—it’s about Master Jinn. Xanatos is back and I heard that he came storming into Master Jinn’s apartment screaming and waving his lightsaber and Master Jinn had to fight—“

Kerge held up a hand, and then walked into her kitchen, getting himself something to drink. Dar followed him as he took a long drink, surprising himself at how thirsty he was.

“What? Yours can’t possibly be worse than that.”

“Your news is hours old. I thought you kept up on these things. It’s also really wrong. First off, Xanatos did no walking. He got sent here in a ‘fridge and who knows if he’s dead already. There was no confrontation, no fight, he doesn’t even have a ‘saber anymore.” He sat, thinking of the expression on Qui-Gon’s face, the deep hurt in his eyes that Kerge couldn’t begin to understand. A moment later he shook it off, he didn’t want to feel sympathy for anyone right now. “Mine’s way worse, because it’s my master that sent him here. I don’t know what he’s thinking. He knows that kind of contact can be traced, no matter how careful you are. I can’t imagine what would make him think that something like that would be okay.” He set his glass down harder than he meant to, but the sound and the impact against his hand felt oddly good, so he did it again.

Dar took the glass from his hand, her eyes gentle and concerned. “I thought, you said when he left he was going into deep cover.”

Kerge shrugged, knowing he wasn’t really supposed to tell anyone about it, but Dar wasn’t just anyone. Besides, Payter had told Qui-Gon. It was only fair that Kerge get to tell one person as well. “Apparently that doesn’t quite mean as much as it should. Apparently, deep cover means you should send a dark, ex-padawan home to your friend in a fucking box that could be easily traced by a four-year-old. With a message.” He felt like throwing something, mostly his master, even though he knew the act would not bring him sense.

“What did he say?”

Kerge shrugged, using the motion to cover his intense wave of bitterness and hurt. “Nothing important, really.”

Dar sighed. “Nothing for you?”

It was easy to forget, with her easy manner and fast conversation that Dar was training to be a mind healer. While he appreciated it when it was directed at others in their age group, Kerge was not so fond of her burgeoning skills when applied to him. “It’s like he didn’t even think about it. How easy it would be to trace something like that. I don’t get why he didn’t just leave things alone.”

“They’re friends. If it had been you and you found something like that for me, could you have let it go? You’ve heard the rumors, they’ve been looking for him for years. Do you think you could have walked away?”

“He should have just killed him.”

He heard Dar gasp and looked up to her suddenly pale face. “You don’t mean that. Xanatos has done wrong, there’s no doubt about that, but Jedi are not in a position to pass judgment of this kind.” She shook her head, obviously still distressed. “No, your master did the right thing. You’re just angry right now.”

It was enough to make Kerge laugh at what Dar—what most other Jedi for that matter—though was the Jedi way. Ideals were all well and good to sit on when you were safe inside the temple, or negotiating water rights, but when you were in the thick of things, running, fighting for your life and others, matters became a little more blurry. It also brought home to him why he wasn’t allowed to tell others the kind of work he did with his master. Most Jedi were simply unable to comprehend a path that was not guided by the Code and by clear, glowing Light.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just, he’s being stupid and careless and—“ Kerge didn’t want to finish his thoughts. Thinking something was one thing, but to say it aloud, to another person, it had the power to make it more real. “I’m worried.”

“Maybe-“ The chime to Dar’s apartment chirped across the room and she turned. “Who is it?”

“Healer Bel-San. I’m looking for Kerge.”

Kerge rolled his eyes. Qui-Gon was too good to come after him himself, he had to send one of his lackeys. Typical. “I’m not here.” Kerge mouthed to Dar then got up to go hide in the ‘fresher.

“Um, just a sec.” She waited with exasperated eyes until the door slid shut and Kerge was encased in her airy ‘fresher. He hopped up to sit in the sink, his back to the mirror and looked at the tile on the fresher walls, trying to imagine some pattern that wasn’t there.

The door to the fresher swished open. “Nice try, sport. Remember how you’re in a Temple full of people who can find you through the Force? This isn’t some space port you know.” Bel-San was grinning at him, though he looked tired and smelled of the Infirmary.

Kerge hopped off the counter. “I just didn’t think you were that good.” He glared at Dar around Bel-San’s shoulder, sure that she had given him up.

“Oh, good to see that Payter’s passing on his teeth, if not his good hygiene.” He latched onto Kerge’s shoulder, his grip stronger than Kerge remembered. “My thanks, Dar-El. I’ll see you around.”

“See you later, Bel-San.” As they passed, Dar reached out for him, though he wouldn’t look at her. “Be careful, okay.”

He nodded once in her direction, a plan already forming in his thoughts. “I’ll call later.” And then he was ushered out of the door, Bel-San steering him through the corridors. The silence between them was heavy, but strangely easy. Like they both had their own separate concerns other than the fact that they were in each other’s presence at the moment.

“Where are we going?” he asked finally, when the corridors didn’t seem to be leading back to Qui-Gon’s apartment.

“I thought you could use a little change of perspective, and Qui-Gon’s not really in a place to offer that now, without being mean or ineffective.” Ahead, the local Jedi dive Ssbobss loomed and Kerge snorted. “You think you’re too worldly for a place like this?”

“Don’t you think that the other people in there will ask us about what’s going on? I mean, everyone knows you’re Qui-Gon’s friend.”

“They might wonder, but they’ll be too polite to ask.” Bel-San gave him a small push through the doorway. “Come on, tough guy, sit with me for a couple minutes and humor an old man.”

“If you think I’m going to fall all over myself trying to pacify your ego, you’re sadly mistaken.” Kerge stalked through the darkened room, taking a seat in a booth on the far end of the room, his back to the wall and a clear view of the room. “If you’re going to tell me how I should go and apologize to Qui-Gon, you’re wasting your time.”

Bel-San raised his hands in surrender. “Far be it from me to try and get any of you stubborn, pig-headed Jedi to do anything you don’t want to do. And that’s not why I brought you here. I thought you might like to talk with someone who knows what’s going on. Who knows most, if not all the details and can be trusted not to pass it on.”

Kerge fought himself for almost a moment, while they sat in silence. “He’s being so stupid and I don’t know why. I can’t figure it out.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I don’t know why he didn’t just kill him.”

Taking a deep breath, Bel-San didn’t seem as perturbed by the notion as Dar had been. “I don’t think he could. I’m not saying that it was physically impossible, we all know Payter can take on just about anyone. The thing is, Xanatos has been the big, dark, cloudly thing that’s been following us all around for years now. Qui-Gon more than most, but the rest of us as well. And as good at Payter is at ending things, I think he knew that this was something Qui-Gon needed more resolution on, and it was too important to pass up.” He ran a hand over his face. “At least that’s what I’m hoping, or I’m going to have some very harsh words for our friend when he comes home. Personally, I was thinking along the same lines as you, and believe me when I tell you I was tempted to just knock Qui-Gon out, wipe his memory clear and push that fucking box right off the balcony, resolution be damned.” He sat back and heaved out a sigh. “But that would be terribly un-Jedilike, now wouldn’t it?”

He looked at Bel-San, really looked at him and saw the strain etched on his face and in his hands. “Yeah, I guess.” He wanted to talk more about his master, but didn’t feel ready for it yet, and he was afraid that no one, not even Bel-San could understand his fears. “So how is he?”

“Xanatos? Bad. He’s still in the thawing process, which is never pretty, but this is worse than usual. Our earliest prognosis is that he probably won’t wake up. I don’t know that Payter did him any favors by sending him here on his death bed.”

“Exactly!” He slammed a hand down on the counter. Apparently his mouth didn’t know the time had passed to talk about his master. “It’s a sure sign he’d not thinking clearly.”

“Kerge, calm down.” Bel-San caught his eyes in a solid stare and refused to let him look away. “Listen to me. Payter is the very best at what he does, trust in that and be patient.”

He jerked his eyes away, scanning the room and noting the flickering glances sent in their direction. “It’s easy for you to say that, to be patient, trust in the Force. But my master isn’t here and I—“ He drew a breath, trying to put into words the things he was feeling. “It’s not the same. Your master didn’t leave you behind.”

Bel-San looked at him for a long time and Kerge couldn’t understand what it was that he’d said wrong. “You’re right, he didn’t. If you want someone who understands very well what it’s like to be left behind you’re talking to the wrong person. Try having a Council member for a master and see how much individual attention you get.” The kindness was back in Bel-San’s eyes. “Maybe you should go talk to him.”

“Nah. There’s no point in talking when I can’t do anything to fix it. And he’s got too much other stuff going on for me to bother him.”

“You’d be surprised how much other stuff Qui-Gon can have going on and still have time to listen. Besides, he’d probably welcome the distraction right now. We’re all sort of playing a bit of a waiting game as far as Xanatos is concerned, so really all he’s doing is worrying.”

Kerge nodded slowly, but it wasn’t in response to what Bel-San had said but more his own words. Talking didn’t solve anything, but action often did. He stood. “Thanks. Maybe I will.” And maybe he’d go have tea with Yoda too. But he kept that thought to himself and waited for Bel-San to stand.

The Healer studied him for a long moment. “Don’t do anything rash, okay?”

“Sure.” They headed to the door, but Kerge’s thoughts were already far ahead of the small room. He held himself together, showing none of his intentions on his face or in his Force signature, he managed a polite goodbye to Bel-San and headed in the general direction of Qui-Gon’s apartment until he was sure that the Jedi had stopped watching him. He continued a little further before changing his direction and racing through the corridors to the docking bay that held his master’s ship.

The Valeriant had been docked with the other Temple ships for long storage when Payter had left on his mission. His master had felt that his own ship was too high profile for the work he was doing and opted for some nondescript thing that had been lying around in the bowels of the Temple just waiting for such an unsavory mission to see the light of day again. When Payter had first prepped for the mission, Qui-Gon had nearly sat on Kerge to make sure he didn’t try and follow his Master. He’d not been able to dodge the Jedi for all his snooping and sneakiness. As time passed, though, Qui-Gon had let his guard slip, just enough for Kerge to make some discreet inquiries as to the ship’s location and the guard it was under.

He was positive that he would be able to break into the storage bay, crack the code to the ship and be on his way in under an hour. Well before he should be missed, especially with everything else that was going on. He didn’t know how he would find Payter, but being out looking was better than sitting on his ass in the Temple while he did nothing. Maybe he would be able to follow their bond, or hints from some of Payter’s contacts. It didn’t really matter how it worked out. He just needed to go.

As he neared one of the lower storage bays, Kerge slowed, checking his surroundings for anyone else in the Force. When he found nothing, he moved ahead to the door and accessed the screen. It asked for an eight-digit passcode, or the voice identification of a Jedi Knight. Kerge pulled out his personal datapad and keyed into the system. He quickly broke into the security grid and pulled up the code for the door. If only his agemates knew how easy it was to gain admittance to most restricted places in the Temple, there would be havoc in the halls. As it was, they remained blissfully ignorant and he had free reign of the Temple.

Crossing the threshold, Kerge drew a breath to steady himself. He was nearly shaking with nerves and released his anxiety to the Force, centering himself and clearing his mind to his task. It would be difficult enough without shaking hands and the distant ill feeling in his stomach. He shook himself out then set out across the wide expanse of the room, tracking down the Valeriant.

He found the ship in short order and keyed his personal code into the ship, surprised that it allowed him access. Another sign that his master hadn’t been thinking correctly. Patyer should have know that Kerge would make an attempt at the ship and set up some kind of system to keep him out. Not that Kerge though it would have kept him away from the controls for long, but there should have at least been an attempt.

The hatch closed behind his booted heels with a soft hiss and Kerge made his way to the cockpit, hitting controls and flipping switches as he went to put the ship in warm up mode. He couldn’t go anywhere until he broke into the docking bay grid to open the outside doors and give himself clearance for flight, but he wanted to be ready. He didn’t think he would be able to fool the Jedi who monitored the security grid for very long, but all he needed was to get into open air. His flying skills were good enough that he could evade anyone they sent after him and then all he would have to do was get into space. From there he could make further plans.

As he settled into the pilot’s chair in the cockpit, Kerge set the final controls to power and pulled up the Temple flight grid. All he had to do was fool the system into thinking he was another ship, one that was scheduled for take-off. When he accessed the system though, all the primary power for the ship shut down.

“Nice try, padawan.” Payter’s voice echoed through the ship and Kerge spun, looking for his master’s presence, even though everything told him the tall Jedi was nowhere near Coruscant.

“I thought you might try something like this. As soon as you accessed the Temple system to break into flight control a message went out to Qui-Gon that someone was on the ship. And in case you can manage to break through this block that I’ve set before Qui-Gon gets here, you should know there’s only enough fuel to get you to the departure bay, and no further.”

Kerge verified the validity of his master’s words, then slumped back in defeat, a tightness in his chest close to despair covering him. He thought that was all that his master had left for him, a stern warning, and then nothing to fill the gaping hole that was their bond, and for the first time Kerge felt himself close to tears.

Then, his master continued. “I trust you’re done checking my work? It’s a good attempt, a little obvious trying to steal your own ship, but you’re young still. I suspect you’ll grow into it. I don’t know how long it took you to try this out, I’m hoping I at least got off the planet, or Qui-Gon is more distractible than I thought.”

A weak smile crossed his face; some masters encouraged their padawans to be the most honest, the most forthcoming. Payter always had the kindest words when he figured out a way to break into something, or sneak past security.

“Now, you listen to me, my padawan. I don’t want you to come after me. This is extremely important. I know you don’t understand why I left you in the Temple, I’d like to think that you will, someday, but you have to know I have very good reasons. I don’t know what it is that made you make this attempt or what you think you know that I don’t but I don’t want you to leave this Temple. If you’ve ever listened to me for anything, listen to this. What I’m doing is more dangerous than anything we’ve faced together and I need you to be safe for my own peace of mind.”

Kerge sat up. “That’s why I should be with you. If it’s that dangerous I should be there to help.” He’d forgotten that there would be no direct answer to his words.

“You can worry about me if you want,” the bewilderment was evident in his tone. “But that’s all I want you to do about it. Go to class, learn your lessons, spend time with your friends. The time you have at the Temple will be limited and you should enjoy it while you can. And then, when I get back, you can yell at me all you want over sparring matches while I wipe the practice mats with you. Or, prove me wrong and win a match. Either way, I’ll see you when I get back, and not before.”

Kerge opened his mouth to argue, but Payter plowed over him, the recording preprogrammed. “And if I hear that you’ve tried this again with another ship, we’ll have words on my return. Until then, be safe, my padawan. And may the Force be with you.”

Kerge sat quietly letting the echo of his master’s voice rebound off the small walls of the cockpit. A light flashed on the consol and Kerge sat forward to examine it. He found it to be the recording he’d listened to and connected his datapad to the console to copy it. When the process was complete he hit the pad and let the message fill the room again. He was able to listen to it twice before the outer hatch hissed open and Qui-Gon came to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

They didn’t speak for a long while, both of them listening to the recording. When the playback had looped through for the fifth time, Kerge stayed his hand and finally met Qui-Gon’s eyes. Instead of the reproach or anger he expected that he could have easy dealt with, he found compassion and understanding. It was nearly enough to undo him.

“Are you ready to go, or should we listen to it again?”

Kerge shook his head, afraid to speak and stood. His fingers slid lightly over the panels, shutting the ship down, as he tried to remember the feel of their ship through the pressure in his fingers. Even the stale air smelled a little like his master, a scent that had long ago disappeared from their apartment.

Qui-Gon stood at his side, silent and strong when the last of the lights faded. The last thing he did before following Qui-Gon from the ship was slip his datapad with the message from his master into his pocket, clutching it tightly with his fingers.