.                      Bonds of Choice #12
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 5 of 5)
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Qui-Gon smiled, "At the beginning, of course.  Well, Corubia, you seem to
know something about the Crecarians.  You can perhaps confirm the idea that
few have ever made it through initial training and less than a handful into
knighthood."

Corubia nodded.

"Well, this story begins with a Crecarian who entered the Temple a bare
thirty years before the Sith wars." Qui-Gon said.

Corubia blinked at that.  "Okay, five thousand years ago, give or take
thirty."

"Indeed.  She is the oldest living Jedi, actually.  Her name in that time
is lost to us for various reasons, most of them to do with her continuing
longevity.  We know that she still lives, but not where or who she is.  It
was she who, towards the end of those wars, began the group Kourt heads. 
At the time, the Jedi were in a state of near-terror.  Though history will
not admit it, the Order resorted to the 'less than honorable' tactics that
we try not to use anymore.  It was discovered that, for many Jedi, killing
in cold blood was so traumatic that we were loosing them left and right. 
Some turned to the Dark and were hunted and killed.  Others simply took
their own lives, unable to reconcile their actions and their training. 
She, whatever she called herself then, realized that the best rate of
success came from those operatives who, like herself, had been trained as
High Potentials.  Our training puts us in a position such that
philosophical and moral dilemmas don't stop us cold.  Well, not
immediately, anyway."  Qui-Gon smiled ruefully.

"What he means is that we understand, really, truly, down in our guts that
the Code is just a guideline.  We know the difference between intent and
effect and can live with the inconsistencies that arise from them.   Most
Jedi are so bound up in strict interpretation that they'd sooner lay down
and die than break any of those rules.  They obey the Council, adhere to
orders and hold themselves in constant reserve, never wondering why it must
be so.  For most, this is the best path.  They represent all that is Light
and good about the Jedi, an unswerving devotion to our ideals and laws
without which our Republic could not continue to function.  This government
needs us to be steady, resolute, unshakable, wise, and utterly reliable. 
If all Jedi were as maverick and wishy-washy as dear Qui-Gon here, no one
would trust us any further than they could throw us," Kourt grinned.

"Topic, Kourt," Qui-Gon chided. "It was then decided that, since we had the
lifespan, the intelligence and the inclination to handle the grittier side
of the Order's works, it would be left to us to do so.  Our foremother
gathered up some of the High Potentials, laid out guidelines for their
operations and, as a side project, started the study of the Dark. That
byproduct was the key to ending the Sith wars, by the way.  Not long after,
the Council wanted to put a stop to her operation, saying it was
unnecessary, the Sith were gone and the threat was passed."

"Then she showed up in a Council meeting with a Sith," Kourt stood and went
to the kitchen for a knife.

"Ex-Sith," Qui-Gon corrected.  "She had captured and un-turned one Sith. 
Just one, out of countless hundreds who had been slaughtered in the wars. 
Out of hundreds of Jedi who had turned and been killed as a matter of
course.  He was very young, his contact with the Dark had been minimal, but
until that day the idea of bringing someone back was literally
unthought-of.  She believed she could have saved a full Sith, had one been
captured."

"Of course, there were none left to be captured at that point.  But the
theories were sound, and much-needed in the case of Jedi who embraced the
Dark.  There is nothing more difficult for us than to cut down one of our
own, no matter how evil he or she or it may have become.  So they continued
their study on the strict understanding that, should even one turn, the
whole lot of us would be killed out of hand.  That understanding is still
in place, though I doubt the Council has the stomach to take care of the
problem, should it happen.  Luckily for them, it never has."  Kourt picked
up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table and started peeling it
carefully.  "Though, unluckily for us, a stranger thing happened."

Obi-Wan spoke up "The Sith weren't really destroyed."

"Correct.  And they'd caught wind of our little operation.  I suppose, to
them, the answer to this problem seemed obvious.  Catch one of us, turn
just one of us, and we'd be gone forever.  They would be back to dealing
with just the Light Jedi, a considerably less difficult challenge, without
us and our understanding.  At the end of the war, the Shadow stood between
the Dark and the Light.  Remove the shield, and…" Kourt's knife snicked
through the apple peel, letting it fall in a limp coil on his knee.  "The
fruit is ripe for the picking."

"Our Foremother hadn't kept her operation a secret.  Everyone knew who was
working for her, with her, and what she had done.  They were living targets
for the Sith, as were their students and partners.  Over the next few
thousand years, they lived by hiding, running, keeping their heads down,
moving from Temple to Temple, changing their names and identities as often
as they changed clothes.  The Sith focused on them, ignoring the Order
proper to the point that they became near-mythical.  And the hunted died,
one by one.  Their Padawans and partners were hunted by agents of the Sith,
bounty hunters and mercenaries, assassins and greedy bastards, none of them
capable of taking a Jedi on their own, but they bided their time, waited to
corner an individual on some lonely mission or hideout, then killed by
sheer force of numbers.  Research came to a near-standstill, survival and
preservation of what was known became the sole focus of the Shadow for
thousands of years.  Destruction of the Shadow was the sole focus of the
Sith at the same time.  Foolish of them, really.  While they've been out
hunting us, the Order proper has been gathering strength, organizing to the
Nth degree, preparing for the day when it all comes to a head once more." 
Qui-Gon tugged at his beard. "And then, about three hundred years ago, the
hunting stopped."

"For lack of prey more than anything else," Kourt whispered.  "Nearly
everyone involved had died, as had their students and their student's
students…the High Potentials had long been excluded from the Shadow's
recruiting grounds.  They were needed elsewhere, not in the meat grinder of
preserving our knowledge of the Dark.  But reports became more steady, the
deaths dropped off and it seems that the Sith have lost interest in us at
last.  At long last.  The Shadow Knights and Masters came into the
Coruscant Temple, one at a time, using our secret paths and caches, to test
the theory.  A gathering of the Shadow occurred for the first time in
millennia.  There were a dozen left, none young, none in good health, all
risking their lives to meet.  Nothing happened.  Not even the Council
noticed they were all here until they came up to the Chamber to report."

"Whereas a decade before the Temple would have been firebombed at the mere
hint that one or two of them might be here," Qui-Gon explained.  "At least,
that was the belief.  The fact is, we don't know when we stopped being
hunted.  We only know when the killing slowed enough for our numbers to
stabilize.   Six Padawans were taken, trained and Knighted.  They were not
brought into the Shadow, but rather were trained up as your standard-issue
Jedi. Nothing happened.  The way was, apparently, clear.  Another six
students were taken, trained and this time, brought into the Group.  Then,
one by one, the Shadow elders began to disappear.  Perhaps the habit of
being hunted made it impossible for them to settle into life with the Order
again.  Perhaps they simply wished for some time off.  Not even their
students know where they go when they go, but go they do.  Every now and
then one will show up and take a Padawan, go through the motions of
training, being a Field Operative, the Knighting, shepherd the student into
the Shadow, then off they go again." 

Kourt stood up and began slowly pacing the room. "That is what happened
with everyone in the Group, except for you Padawans.  Qui-Gon came up with
this plan when his Master disappeared.  It is clear to us now, what is
happening.  The Elders are keeping enough new people trained to keep the
study going.  Every now and then, the eldest of us will disappear and a
Shadow Elder will show up and train a new Padawan.  Well, we'd like to have
a word with them, if we may.  I was given control of the Group almost a
hundred and fifty years ago.  For a hundred and thirty, I accepted into the
Group any student the Elders brought to me.  Our rings were our only mark,
the only assurance that I could successfully shepherd an individual into
the Group.  Then my master brought Qui-Gon to me.  I didn't even know Sara
had taken a Padawan."

"And I didn't know anything about him, other than that he was to teach me
new and interesting ways to not die, and to kill," Qui-Gon murmured.

"So we thought about this.  Qui-Gon suggested that we move towards
autonomy.  I agreed, did the research on the early days and targeted your
training group of High Potentials for our next generation.  Between there
and here some complications came up.  Xanatos nearly screwed the whole
setup beyond repair for you, young Kenobi.  And Torlamin did screw up our
plans for Corubia, though I have definite ideas on how to straighten that
out.  Jenji and Swed are doing well, coming along at a fast clip.  The lack
of disruption in their training have put them ahead of the two of you, as
far as the Group is concerned.  Now, hopefully, we'll be able to grow,
flourish, find a way to bring the Light into the Dark…maybe smack the Sith
a good one for all time.  That might be fun.  Well, then.  Any questions?"
Kourt boosted himself up on the desk and crossed his legs.

"Yes," Corubia said.  "Tell me why Torlamin did what she did, if I'm
supposed to be so special.   Did she really think she'd get away with it?"

Kourt frowned.  "To be honest, she did nothing in your training that she
could be reprimanded for.  Heavy-handed, yes.  Narrow-minded and possibly
dangerous in the long run, yes.  Against the Code or Protocol? Not really,
much to my ever-voiced chagrin."

"But why did she … why?" Corubia's lips were trembling, breath shortening
as she fought a battle with tears.

"Cor, Master and I, we found some things out about Torlamin.  It doesn't
explain everything, but it sparks some good questions," Obi-Wan offered. 
 
Qui-Gon nodded in agreement.  "It had nothing to do with you or your
potential.  In fact, I don't think she ever really understood what all of
that meant.  When Rue Torlamin was 16 she and her master were on a mission
to the home planet of the Kurasians. Her master was murdered and she was
kidnapped.  Months went by before she was rescued. The kidnapper was never
apprehended.  When she returned to the Temple her training was given over
Master Trevial."

"I never knew," Corubia whispered.

Obi-Wan moved to sit closer to her. "Most didn't, or forgot.  It's just one
little event among so many.  Anyway, when she got back, she evidenced some
serious curiosities about the Dark Side, studying it carefully.  It was
through this 'curiosity' that she learned about Kourt's research on the
Dark Side."

"She was firmly discouraged from trying to join the Group.  In fact, we hid
from her.  She was only seventeen, far too young to be involved in that
sort of research," Kourt explained.
 
"Her abductor was a Nurian who wanted to be a Jedi but couldn't. No Force
sensitivity at all. He kidnapped the closest thing to a Jedi that he could
find and badgered her for information while he had her.  He was not of the
Dark Side, just an evil, sadistic bastard.  Darth Maul had no memory of
him, so he's not a Sith.  But he got Torlamin thinking along some very
dangerous lines. He also got her thinking along the lines of Nes'Nurian
training, which I have personally seen.  It's pretty harsh," Obi-Wan
explained.  "She tried some of those training techniques out on us when we
were Trainees.  Her program included constant degradation and ridicule, as
well as physical displays of subservience.  I reacted badly to it, which
brought the whole thing to the Council's attention."

"That's putting it rather mildly, Padawan.  You scared the spit out of the
higher-ups around here.  And you're stretching the information we have
pretty thin," Qui-Gon interjected.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Anyway, that was a serious breach of training protocol,
and she was stopped from dealing with Trainees.  They watched us closely,
made sure we were okay, set me up with a Master who knew the situation. 
Somehow, Torlamin ended up with you.  Now, just after she lost her position
as a Councilor, she took a Padawan who's master had died.  He only had
another year and a half of training, so she was up and ready for another
when you came up for consideration.  She had proven herself as a teacher. 
Still, someone, somewhere pulled some strings to get you and her together."

"And that's where the trail ends.  We might never really know what happened
inside her head when she saw Darth Maul, felt the Dark.  Her work with the
Dark Side had been purely theoretical, though too in-depth to be anything
but dangerous.  Suddenly all the things she had been working with were
manifest before her… and it was too much.  None of it had anything to do
with you," Qui-Gon promised.

Kourt hopped down off the desk and went to his student, pulling her in for
a long hug.  "I think we'd better be going.  Obi-Wan, thank you for the
fine meal this morning.  I'll have to come up with a better excuse to stop
by sometime."

Obi-Wan stared at the floor. "I could have done better if I'd had a little
more time, Master Crowe." 

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon spoke the name in a firm tone.

His head came up.  "Thank you, Master.  I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The guests left and Obi-Wan went to clean up the breakfast mess.  Qui-Gon
was no more than two steps behind him.  "You felt it, didn't you?"

"Yes, Master.  Like I hadn't done well enough, or should have done better."

"How do we stop this, Obi-Wan?  I can't recommend you for the Trials until
you get beyond this.  I'll be honest with you, it's one of the few things
that's stopping me.  Even without your class work completed, I'd be ready
to set you before the Council if we could get a handle on it…" Qui-Gon let
his voice trail off.

Obi-Wan slowly turned to face his master.  "I'm ready for the Trials?"

"Nearly, except for this," Qui-Gon replied.

"And you think I would pass?"

"Obi-Wan!  I would never recommend you if you were not ready to pass.  I'd
keep you on as Padawan until you were fifty if that's what it took.  But
you're ready, or very nearly so.  And to be honest, you're progressing on
this point much better than I thought you would.  At least you can see it
now.  That's a good part of the battle right there," he explained.

Obi-Wan continued collecting the dishes from the table.  "How long?"

"Until what?"

"How long do you think it'll take to fix me?"

Qui-Gon slipped his arms around his waist, pulled him close.  "You're not
broken, Koateleu.  While we work on this, perhaps we should see into having
you shepherded onto some of your own missions.  It wouldn't be amiss to
work with Kourt for a while, too.  I want to be sure your training serves
you as well as I hope it does.  And if you're interested in matters
academic, I can think of no better place to spend your time."

Obi-Wan set the dishes down and turned to face his Master, his partner. 
"It would be the greatest honor, Master."

"Then if we continue at this rate with your training, I'll recommend you
quite soon.  Perhaps within the next year or so.  Why don't you go get
ready for lessons? I'll take care of all this.  Breakfast was fabulous, by
the way."  Qui-Gon landed a kiss on Obi-Wan's cheek.

Obi-Wan went into the bathroom and paused when he caught sight of himself
in the mirror.  He tugged his braid back over his shoulder and gave himself
an appraising look.  He was the picture of Jedi serenity and wisdom,
strength and honor, grace and…beauty.

*Yeah, Kenobi.  I guess you'll do. *