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Title: Seat C By Judy Marchman

by: Judy M.

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Rating: G

Disclaimer: Obi-Wan is owned by George Lucas, so on and so forth.

Archive: Feel free.

I would like to thank Obi-Wan for allowing me to use him to vent a little.

“Seat C”

‘Could this day get any worse?’ Obi-Wan thought glumly. This was turning out to be the trip from hell. Just then, a voice blared over the intercom: “Due to a severe solar storm in the system, all flights are currently on hold. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

‘Inconvenience, my ass,’ thought Obi-Wan as he watched angry and frustrated travellers quickly form a line at the ticket counter. He sighed. These were trying circumstances even for a Jedi. He shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable. Even if he had had the Marauder here, she would have been grounded too, he considered, but... at least he wouldn’t have been stuck in the crowded gate area. He could have been on board with a semblance of comfort.

But nooo...Qui-Gon had been called back early from their mission to do some Masterly thing, and Obi-Wan had been left to finish the mission. The apprentice had been pleased to do so since it afforded him a chance to prove to Qui-Gon that he could handle a mission alone (well, even though his Master had laid the groundwork before leaving, but still...). And indeed the mission had gone well.

They had been on the planet Sudar which was in a dispute with its neighboring world Iliskal. The Sudari raised a rare fish that apparently had great religious importance to the planet’s humanoid population. The fish were not eaten and in fact, were considered almost family (that was the best translation from the Sudari word).

Unfortunately for the Sudari the fish were considered a great delicacy on Iliskal and illegal fish smuggling had been taking place. Being a very tradition-bound people, the Sudari had called in the Jedi to help. And help they had although it hadn’t been easy to convince the Sudari that the fish *were* being worshipped by the Iliskal, just in a different manner.

Obi-Wan had been pleased (and truthfully, relieved) when a conciliatory trade agreement had been struck. So, he had prepared to return to Coruscant via public transport (an apprentice didn’t rate a personal transport, he reflected. Naturally) in good spirits. But the three-hour delay getting off Sudar had dampened them. The ship had to be blessed by a Sudari priest before it could take off and the priest had run behind schedule. At least that’s what Obi-Wan had been told by the gate agents.

Whatever.

Then the public transport ship had experienced a malfunction in the hyperdrive requiring another two-hour wait to fix that. By the time, Obi-Wan had finally gotten to the transfer station on Cincinnatus, his connection to Coruscant was long gone. He had begun to resign himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get home anytime in the near future, especially upon finding out that there were no other direct flights to Coruscant that day. But using his charming smile and a little mental coaxing, he had managed to book a seat on a flight with just one stop before Coruscant.

Finally, things were looking up. He’d rechecked his bag, gone to the appropriate gate, double-checked to make sure the ship was actually there--it was on time? Good. Everything on schedule. That had been five hours ago. Another frickin’ mechanical problem. And now, stupid solar storms. He wasn’t even sure what day it was, his inner clock was so screwed up. Gods! Public transport was a bitch and he’d certainly let Qui-Gon know that too and anybody else who would listen!

An even darker thought formed: ‘Master Qui-Gon probably did this to me on purpose. Some lesson on patience or something. Let him go through this and see how patient his is!’ Obi-Wan sat and sulked for a bit, then caught himself. ‘No, no. I must not get angry about this.’

He breathed deeply. ‘There is nothing they can do. Nothing I can do. Must center, must focus.’ Obi-Wan closed his eyes and went within himself. He did breathing exercises. He felt himself calming. He had acceptance of the situation. He opened his eyes as he felt someone sit down next to him.

He smiled politely at the young woman in the seat. She looked tired and harried. “Are you on the flight to Coruscant?” he asked. “Oh yes and glad to be on it. We’ve been trying to get there all day or, well, it’s probably been longer than that by now.”

“I know what you mean,” Obi-Wan commiserated. “Are you travelling alone?”

“Oh no, I’m with my family. Here they come now,” she nodded towards a young man, looking equally tired and harried, who was walking their way carrying a baby and dragging a screaming toddler. Suddenly Obi-Wan paled. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’ “Umm...by chance, what seats are you in?” Obi-Wan asked almost grimacing. “We’re in...let’s see...row 18, seats A, B, D, and E. Crazy booking isn’t it?” she mused.

“Why?” Obi-Wan didn’t answer, but the ticket in his hand suddenly was crushed in his grasp.

It read “Row 18, Seat C.”