. Bonds of Choice #10 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 1 of 4) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The journey home from Reptha seemed to take forever. The Fortnight Gannet limped along at a fraction of its capabilities, hampered as it was by the Sith Infiltrator it towed in its wake. Obi-Wan had remained at the controls, maximizing flight time as best he could, anxious to get his passengers to the safety of the Jedi Temple at Coruscant. Corubia had improved with rest and meditation and Qui-Gon had begun to get a handle on his battle wounds, for which Obi-Wan offered repeated thanks to any deity who might be interested. Master Rue Torlamin, though…her situation was no less ugly and worrying for the passage of time. Though Obi-Wan had devoted the hours in transit to thought and study of his situation, he had arrived at no new revelations. He had dumped more stimulants into his system than was strictly healthy. The hyper energy that buzzed through his body had not been conducive to ordered reasoning, much less constructive planning for the immediate issues onboard the Gannet, both living and dead. The fact that a Sith corpse was in the cargo hold and was the least of his problems struck Obi-Wan as surreal in the extreme. It was late afternoon, dirtside, when Obi-Wan finally made it to Coruscant. He was given clearance to land in one of the smaller hangars at the Temple. He lowered the entryramp and rubbed his eyes. His head ached from too much thought and too little sleep. There was a collection of techs headed towards the Sith craft. A small parade of healers came in to collect Corubia and Qui-Gon. He checked that Qui-Gon was comfortable and went to meet the trio of Masters who waited in the hangar. He bowed low to them. "Good day, Master Windu, Master Crowe, Master Gallia. I am afraid Master Torlamin is in rather a bad state. It is quite beyond me." He handed them a datachip of his written mission report. "Take us to her," Master Windu commanded. Obi-Wan turned to obey, leading the way to her quarters onboard. He released the lock and stood aside. The door slid open and Master Torlamin leapt out in a fury, having long since freed herself of her bonds. She turned on him, reached and froze in her tracks. Obi-Wan could clearly perceive the other Masters holding her with the Force. "I see what you mean, Padawan. Why don't you go see to your Master, get some rest? I'll come speak to you about this later." Master Crowe smiled at Obi-Wan. "Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bowed low once more and went to collect his and Qui-Gon's things. Obi-Wan carted everything down to the shared quarters and cast about for something to do. Qui-Gon would still be with the medics and Obi-Wan was way too buzzed from the stimulants to try and sleep yet. He decided to take a walk down to the mid-level indoor gardens to see what trouble he could stir up. Although he had lived with artificially created and/or severely restricted gardens his whole life, Obi-Wan could never quite get used to them. In his early days as a trainee, it had just been a fiddly sense of something not right about the situation. Then, when he was thirteen and a newly-made Padawan and coming into a closer relationship with the living Force, Qui-Gon had taken him into the palace gardens on some mission or another. He had fallen to his knees in wonder, feeling the life of all the plants around him sinking down into the earth and weaving into the Force. He only realized he was weeping when he felt Qui-Gon wipe the tears away. The memory of that moment burned like a living thing within him every time he came into any garden of any sort. Mid-Garden was the one he most often frequented when he needed to think. The Lower Gardens, where the Trainees ruled, was no place for rest. The Abrath Gardens, while full of music and light, was a place for joy, not contemplation. Of the dozens of gardens, this one was the least artificial. That was by virtue of the fact that every plant here was a creation of artifice, a little bit of irony that appealed to Obi-Wan. The 'garden' was actually a massive chamber that had been given an extreme makeover in the way of interior decorating. Everything was done in miniature. Trees were dwarfed in small clay trays, tiny flowers made carpets of color, sweet grasses were often the tallest thing about. Above him the sky-dome was at perpetual twilight to prevent the plants from growing too quickly and ruining the illusion. Everything here was forced into a space too small, a shape unnatural, struggled to be free and was beautiful because of it. Mid-Garden suited Obi-Wan just fine. The only sounds were that of tiny streams rushing over small stones. The footpath wandered back and forth, leading a meandering path through knee-high forests and delicate-looking footbridges. Here and there a particularly elegant example of plant life was given a sort of display, crammed into a picturesque rock crag or perched on a ledge. Some trees were in bloom, others in fruit or torpor. Each was a work of art created from restrictions and training of the most rigorous sort. Obi-Wan had once suggested to Qui-Gon that this should be called the Padawan Garden, but his master hadn't seemed to understand. Just as well. It had taken Obi-Wan a long time to really begin exploring that thought anyway. He followed the path around, trying to walk off some of the jittery energy that had brought him home. He paused to examine an evergreen of particular elegance when a sound caught his attention. It took him a moment, but he finally realized he was listening to the low rhythmic cadence of inexperienced swearing. He set off to investigate. Obi-Wan was surprised to find it was one of the Trainees with whom he'd had some association. Sayjil Mrakul was one of the more promising students in the ranks. Her specialty was ecology, particularly in regards to plant life. Obi-Wan helped her with her language studies as his schedule permitted, with an eye towards her probable future as a Padawan. The artificial twilight gave an odd cast to her silvery skin, highlighted her frustrated expression and the energy with which she swayed upon the bench swing. She was pounding on her lightslate and muttering scatological references as to its probable origin. Suddenly she thumped the slate down and began another line of muttering. "Anger leads to hate. Calm, still water. Breathe. Calm, still water." "Hi Sayjil," Obi-Wan said. She whipped around on the seat, nearly tipping herself off the swing. "Padawan Kenobi! I didn't hear you come up!" "And I didn't hear anything I shouldn't have. What's got you so worked up?" She handed him the lightslate. "I can't work this stupid thing out. Is it a poem or what? Maybe I'm translating it wrong." Obi-Wan took a look at it. There was an original text of verses in Jegardish, which Sayjil had been trying to translate into Standard. "Oh, already studying for Level Ten finals? I don't think it's going to work like that, Sayjil. The Jegardians are very … poetic folk. This isn't a poem per say, but it isn't going to translate directly. Plus, you need the right tune to make it work out." "Why do so many cultures insist on SINGING everything?" she groused. "I don't know. Why do we insist on speaking? It's just a difference in communication. Actually, you've come pretty close to the meaning here, you just need to re-arrange things a bit." He typed one-handed as he spoke. "We'll just make a line break here, add a syllable there, hmm. Okay, let's try this." He sat down next to her and drew her onto his lap. She almost protested, but didn't quite. It was an intimacy she eschewed in most other people, seeing herself as too old for such treatment. At the ripe old age of nine standards, she only allowed Obi-Wan to hold or carry her as she had been in years past. Perhaps this was because he accepted and respected her intelligence and maturity in other ways. She read over his re-work and nodded. "Okay, I'll buy that for now. Show me how it's supposed to work." "Not now. I'm too tired. Come find me some other time and I'll help you. Come on, walk with me and I'll show you a thing…" They stood and Obi-Wan took the lead. "What brings you to the Mid-Garden this late at night?" "I'm hiding, of course. Same as you." *I must be more tired than I thought if a Trainee can read me that easily.* Obi-Wan mused. "Of course. Well, I'll show you a better hiding place than the swings. I know a place where no one goes." He led her down a tiny side path that he had spent most of a day sculpting into the layout of the Mid-Garden. At the end of it was a minuscule clearing where resided a large stone. Upon the stone were three trays in which resided a trio of fruit trees. One, a crabapple, stood as proud and full as an ancient forest grandfather. The small apples were in perfect scale with the size and shape of the tree, creating the illusion of a regular sized apple tree in fruition. The second was a mesocherry in a more extreme style. A single branch, gnarled and angled, gave the appearance of a lone survivor upon some storm-lashed cliff side. The blossoms were palest cream, with brilliant red and purple edges. The third was still rooting, not yet shaped by the tools of dwarfing and soil deprivation. Obi-Wan ran his fingers lightly over it's leaves, studied it from all angles. He still could not decide what shape to give it. Time still to decide. No need to rush forward and make mistakes. "Obi-Wan, this isn't a secret place. Everyone knows about these," Sayjil said. "What?" Obi-Wan turned back to her. "You must be mistaken, Jil." "No, really. Master Tega brought the botany class down here two weeks ago, to see how plant modification is done without the Force. He showed us these, particularly." She pointed at the mesocherry. "He said this one was important, because it shouldn't be able to survive dwarfing without help, yet it flourished and gave fruit." Obi-Wan gave the cherry tree a good, hard stare. True, he had never seen a mesocherry used in this manner before, but it wasn't all that difficult to see what problems it would have and how to fix them. He'd just liked the flowers. *Maybe this is something special…or…* "Is there anything wrong with them?" he asked. "No. I think they're beautiful. I wanted to try to do this, but I have to finish my project in the lower gardens first," she explained. "Hmm. Are you still trying to get a pure strain of green saderias? Because I thought of something that might help you. I meant to send you the files before I left, but things got a little hectic," Obi-Wan explained. "Yeah, still getting that problem in the third generation. I'll figure it out, though. But any help you could give would be hot," she replied. "Okay, I'll send it to you. And when you get that done, come let me know. We'll start you on this little guy," he pointed to the unaltered tree. "It's a Buriberry. I don't know if you like benburi, but this is what you make it out of." "Benburi's my favorite! But won't we need permission from whoever owns these?" "Nah. They're mine. You can have that one if you want it. Come on. We'll go down to the Common Room and get some benburi. Then YOU are going back to the crèche. It's far too late for you to be out wandering around," Obi-Wan scolded. "Good thing I'm not unaccompanied then, huh?" she grinned. "One day, Sayjil, they're going to catch on that you need a tutor about as much as I do…then your night time excursions will come to an end." "Not if you show me how you used to sneak out of the crèche." Obi-Wan leaned down for her to get up onto his back. "If you can't figure out something that simple maybe you do need a tutor." "It has something to do with the skylights, doesn't it?" she badgered. "Not telling!" Obi-Wan set out for the Common Room, visions of benburi dancing in his head. ************************* "Seven your desires are and seven wishes too." Kourt Crowe had never been so wholeheartedly sick of a poem in his life. Rue Torlamin had been muttering that poem nonstop for the better part of an hour. He was sick of her. Sick of the sight, a Jedi Master being pulled apart slowly from within. More than that, he was sick of the feel, the struggle he could sense through the Force. She had touched the Dark, pulled back, but couldn't resist the urge to go back for more. Over and over he hauled her back, beat her down, imposed shields over her mind, sometimes battled physically with her, for her, trying to ground her in the Moment, the Light, the place she was needed and wanted by so many. Trying and failing. Not doing. He had to admit it. Nothing he had employed had helped in the slightest. Well, she wasn't lashing out at everyone anymore, but that had more to do with the reaction-inhibitors more than anything else. He had slowed her reflexes to the point that her movements were about six seconds slower than normal. It was enough. Now it was easy to get her down and keep her down. Now she wasn't attacking everyone around her with alternating use of the Light and the Dark. That was pretty much where the improvements ended. Corubia, however, was doing much, much better. He'd go spend some time with her. She, at least, was hanging on to her Center with both hands, working through tests and exercises with focused determination. Kourt thumbed the lock of the padded cell and stepped outside. "Cord, listen, try to start her on the Pearl Drop meditation. If she carries on with the Sevens for much longer, I'm going to have to sedate her further." The young knight nodded solemnly. He had been brought in on this little operation at the last moment. Kourt had wanted to test him further, give him a little more feel-out before bringing him into the Group, but then Torlamin had to go 'round the bend. Ah well, if not one thing, then another. Just then a mass of energy slammed into his left side, from behind. He whirled, expecting an attack. Instead, he got a sheepish look from a small, cute boy. He had a Padawan braid…sort of. Must be that Skywalker child he'd been trying to sneak a look at. He bowed solemnly to the boy. The boy returned the bow and continued past to Cord. "I'm done with my classes for the evening, Master. Is there something I should be doing?" Just then a strong wave of inky darkness washed over them, through them, sent them to their knees. Kourt was the first to recover. He helped Cord up. "Do you see what I mean? This has got to stop." Anakin stood closer to his Master. "What WAS that? It felt…" the boy gestured with one hand, at a loss for words. * As well he should be.* That was one part of this thing that usually surprised those unaccustomed to it. The Dark Side was just as seductive as the Light, but on different levels. While the Light encouraged peace, serenity, connection, calm, the Dark inspired voracious appetite, violence, frenzied longing, xenophobia, heated aggression. *The difference between lovemaking and rutting, * the analogy leapt to his mind once more. But powerful rutting, dominant and victorious. Glorious debasement of the self, one that was reducing a serene Jedi Master to an angry beast. A beast in the grip of drives and desires with which she had long parted ways. "We will speak of it later, Anakin. For tonight you may spend your time as you will. I have work here that must be seen to," Cord said. "Can I stay with you? I want to see what that was. It felt…almost good. Not really, but pretty close…" Anakin licked his lips once, eyes darting back between the senior Jedi. "No, Anakin. You should not be here. What you felt was dangerous, something you needn't deal with. If you have nothing you would prefer to do, I can send you to be looked after by one of the senior Padawans. I believe Padawan Kenobi is unoccupied at the moment. Perhaps he needs some help with some translation or another." Cord made this sound like the threat it was. "Yuck, no. I'll find something to do," Anakin announced. "Keep your comm link with you. And don't be late for dinner," Cord called to the figure now dashing down the hall. Kourt chuckled, then sobered. "You really MUST keep him from this place. He's seen too much for one so young, as it is. Until he is further trained, he has no protection from…that. Promise me, now, Cord. You really haven't seen anything yet." Cord nodded his agreement and Kourt headed for the lifts. Corubia was with Master Teril Ar'thapa. Teril's Padawan, Jenji was seated outside the door, keeping watch. She stood and bowed as Kourt approached. "How's it going?" he asked. "Pretty well. They sent me for food about an hour ago, things were starting to look more or less stable. How's Master Torlamin?" Jenji inquired. "Well, she stopped trying to break things anyway. Stabilizing, I suppose might be the best way to put it. Too soon to tell, really." Jenji turned to unlock the door. "Good luck." Master Teril Ar'thapa looked up from her place on the floor when Kourt entered the room. "Hey. She's doing fine. A little confused, very shaken, but pretty much intact. She's doing Blue Star meditation just now. Everything looks good, almost normal. I guess it hasn't really hit her yet, what's happening." "Go on to bed, Ter. I'll take it from here." He leaned against the wall and folded his hands behind his back. "You need some sleep too, Kourt," she reminded him. "Yeah, I'll go when Jayden gets here. He came in a few hours ago, but I sent him to rest. Then I'll shift Corubia over to Cord and let Jayden deal with Rue. I don't want that Skywalker child anywhere near Rue at all. He felt the eddies of the Dark today and reacted…well, it wasn't good, anyway. Cord didn't seem to really register the dangers. It didn't scare him the way it should have," Kourt rubbed his eyes and sighed. "You think bringing him in was a mistake," Teril correctly assessed. "We didn't have a choice. Mistakes get made when there are no alternatives. He saw, actually fought, a Sith. How could we not explore that?" Kourt went to the side table for a cup of tea. "But he had nothing. Not even after that near-disaster with Anakin's coma," Teril pointed out. "We'll probably get more out of Padawan Kenobi." "I know for a solid fact that Quigs' Padawan will give us something more useful than that…Knight," Kourt censored himself. "I have my suspicions about that one. Did you read his reports from his doings on Naboo?" "Yes, of course. Several times," Teril assured him. "Didn't you notice a rather glaring omission from his details of the battle?" Kourt pressed. "Well, not the first time, no. But that was because I had no basis for comparison," Teril replied. "Now that I've seen Padawan Kenobi's reports, though…" "So I'm not the only one who finds it a little odd that there is no mention of the Sith's capabilities in psychic combat?" Kourt raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes, that is a bit odd, but that wasn't what I meant. There's a time discrepancy, for one thing. For another, he gives so much detail to the situation, almost a play-by-play. I've never been able to recall pitched battles that clearly. Padawan Kenobi mentions something in his report about using Cord's technique for splitting that double-bladed saber in two. It's strange that there would be enough detail in that kind of account for Kenobi to be able to learn and use a maneuver from it," Teril explained. "Yes. Very strange," Kourt agreed. "I think this situation bears much watching." "I heartily agree, Master Crowe. It isn't a good thing that he's working with us now. I'd sooner have Obi-Wan down there, to be honest. Cord's just too…Jedi. Far too Jedi to trust with this kind of work," Master Ar'thapa bluntly informed her peer. "Well, I didn't know that until it was too late, did I?" Kourt snapped. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. That was out of line." "Don't worry about it. You're too tired, getting cranky. If you keep fueling yourself with caffeine you're going to make yourself ill," she pointed to the cup. "It's not for the caffeine. I need the tannins." She nodded, not believing. "Cut this one short. She's getting tired, too. Like I said, she's okay. But listen, I think she's hiding something. Maybe she'll confide in you." Kourt waved one hand, which could have been agreement or negation and poured another cup. Teril left with a sigh. He sat down on the edge of the side table and waited for Corubia to come out of her trance. He monitored her progress through the Force, poked around for any signs of a secret, a place that might be hiding something. He found a particularly strong patch of shields but nothing else out of the ordinary. Finally her eyes fluttered open.