.                      Bonds of Choice #14
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 1 of 4)
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Obi-Wan pulled his microgoggles off and wiped his forehead one last time. 
"Well, that's it," he announced to the other Padawans.  "If there's any
more information to be gotten from this corpse, I don't know how to get at
it."

A round of sarcastic applause arose from the others.  "At last!" Jenji
groaned.

The four of them had been locked up with Darth Maul for the better part of
three days.  It was Corubia and Obi-Wan's introduction to the nitty-gritty
work Kourt Crowe led in researching the Dark Side.  *More like the 'really
foul-smelling, disgusting side,* Obi-Wan grimaced.  He pulled his
pseudoskin gloves off and picked up a lightslate, checking their report. 
Body fluid analysis, genetic makeup, short treatise on possible methods of
genetic tampering and/or cloning, best guess at Maul's last meal ... it was
all there.  No stone unturned.  

"Now what do we do with him?" Swed asked.  "I mean, you put him back
together so neatly, maybe we should put him on display somewhere."

Obi-Wan looked down at the faint line of suture, a frown of worry knitting
his brow.  "I suppose we ought to give him a funeral," he said.

The others groaned.  "I'm not taking a Sith up umpteen-million stairs to
the West Tower just so he can have a proper funeral," Corubia growled.  "I
say we throw him out with the medical waste."

Obi-Wan glanced at his friend, surprised at the spitefulness in her tone. 
"That's rather uncharitable, don't you think?  I'd carry *you* up those
stairs, skies forbid I ever need to.  Besides, I don't like to just ...
dump him like he's garbage.  He's a person, or was.  No need to be nasty
just because ... "  he stopped himself.  Corubia had every reason to be
nasty about Darth Maul.  "I guess I just feel like I owe him, seeing as how
I killed him and all ... "

Corubia sighed.  "And I helped you.  Okay, we'll give him a funeral.  Um
... should we try to dress him, do you think?"

They all stood back and surveyed the corpse.  The black clothing had been
destroyed over the course of events.  Obi-Wan didn't much like the idea of
putting him in any of their Jedi uniforms.  "I've got some black workout
pants," he offered.

"There's that black poet shirt I got on Niversa," Swed put in.  "It might
work."

"Well, it doesn't have to be a perfect fit," Jenji pointed out.

"Sounds like a plan, then," Obi-Wan announced.  "I'll go get the pants and
talk to Qui-Gon about it."

Obi-Wan secured the workout pants before coming to Qui-Gon's side.  His
master was sitting at the desk doing something on the dataset.  "Pantreti?"
he murmured.

To his delight, Qui-Gon responded to the name.  "Hmm?"

"What would I have to do to use the pyre up in the West Tower?" Obi-Wan
asked.

Qui-Gon looked up from the dataset, studied his student for a long moment. 
"Done with the post-mortem on the Sith then?"

Obi-Wan nodded mutely.

"Only you have enough charity of heart to want to give him a funeral,
Koateleu," Qui-Gon said.  "It's not being used for anything today, so I
doubt anyone will notice if you go up there.  Just don't wait until after
dark.  EVERYONE will notice if West Tower is lit then."

Obi-Wan nodded.  "I wasn't going to give him the Evening Watch, just ...
well, I couldn't throw him out with the trash, now, could I?"

"No.  No one should be treated like that.  I'm glad to see you taking
responsibility like this, Obi-Wan.  It makes me proud."

Obi-Wan blushed and bowed, honoring his master's words.  "Thank you,
Master."

"Quite welcome.  I assume you and your friends will be watching the
points?" 

"Yeah, I kinda bullied them into it ... " Obi-Wan admitted.

"Well, best to get started if you're to be done by sunset."  Qui-Gon cocked
his head to one side.  "Are you feeling well today, Obi-Wan?  Nothing ... 
odd happening to you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.  "No, Master."

"Well, good.  Off you go, then," Qui-Gon turned back to the dataset.  

*****************************  

*Maybe Corubia was right about the stairs,* Obi-Wan mused as he attained
the last landing. *Oh well, it's done now.*  He thumbed the door open and
angled the stretcher through the archway and into the darkened room. 
"Okay, somebody get the coals," he called.

Jenji went to fetch the supplies while Obi-Wan and Swed positioned the Sith
on the black stone pyre.  He was dressed in the only black clothes the
Padawans had between them, plus his own boots.  Jenji and Corubia made
short work of stacking the coals and they went around the chamber opening
the many curtains that shrouded the windows.  Sunlight flooded in,
something that might not have touched the inside of this room in many
years.  Traditionally, funerals were begun at sunset so that the pyre might
glow more brightly in the night sky.  It was by the glow in this Tower that
the Evening Watch was measured, but no Watch would be given for a Sith. 
That he was burned here was honor enough.

Obi-Wan looked out of the eastern window, considering their position.  The
Jedi Temple at Coruscant had five towers.  The central tower was the domain
of the Jedi Council.  Even now, Obi-Wan could see them there, endlessly
debating the future of the Order.  To the south was the Tower of
Confirmation, where prospective were taken to be tested and made Trainees
of the Order, where Padawans sat their Vigil before the Trials.  To the
North was the Knighting Tower, where a Padawan was made a formal member of
the Jedi, should the Padawan be lucky enough to get a formal Knighting at
this particular Temple.  To the East was the Tower of the Rising Sun, a
strange chamber with oddling properties, rarely used even in the purpose
for which it was created.  Obi-Wan had only the faintest of ideas as to
what that purpose might be and almost no inclination to find out the
particulars.  And Obi-Wan stood here in the West, The Tower of the Setting
Sun.

Obi-Wan shuddered and turned back to the task at hand.  Swed stood at the
foot of the pyre, Jenji and Corubia to either side.  Obi-Wan took his place
at the head and picked up the long match that waited for him.  As one, they
looked upwards to the flower-shaped skylight above them.  Reaching through
the Force they opened the panes, making an elegant smoke-hole for the
funeral fires.  Obi-Wan struck his match and laid it to the tinder.  Around
him, the others did the same.

"Let us consider what we are, who we are and what there is yet to do.  Let
us consider this one who has passed from us," Obi-Wan set the vigil as they
settled onto the floor, waiting for the flame to reduce Darth Maul to less
than ash.  Long moments of silence passed between them all as the snap and
crackle of the flames informed them the work had begun.  

Obi-Wan opened himself to the moment, the Force and focused himself on the
words he had set for the others.  He knew it was common for words to be
spoken over the pyre, words to remember the dead ... but what could he say
about the one he now honored in this sacred place?  Well, honesty seemed a
good option.  He drew a breath and began.  "I killed Darth Maul.  I didn't
strike at him in anger, but to preserve the lives of other Jedi, and
myself.  I wish he hadn't died.  I wish I hadn't been forced to kill him. 
I don't think I much care for killing.  It seems like I've had to kill a
lot of people lately, and it doesn't get any easier.  I'd be pretty worried
if it did get easy, so maybe it's a good thing it stays so hard.  I'm not
proud to have killed a Sith.  I'm not proud to be a murderer."  Obi-Wan
stopped, breathed to calm himself.  "Go into the Force, Darth Maul."

Jenji cleared her throat after a moment, then whispered "I don't believe he
even knew what he was fighting for, just as we don't know what's going on
half the time.  I bet he didn't want to kill anyone, either."

Corubia picked up the thread.  "I was there.  I saw what he could do.  He
was strong in the Force, but dark.  He was just as strong as some of the
Padawans I've seen around here.  It was just the fact that there were lots
of us there to fight him ... " she stopped and cleared her throat.  "It
wasn't a fair fight."

Swed spoke last.  "If he'd come to the Temple, instead of being a Sith,
he'd probably be a Padawan now.  He wasn't any older than we are, you
know."

The others murmured their agreement and fell silent again.  Obi-Wan sighed
and stood, pressing his hands down on the warm stone.  He didn't want to
look, didn't want to remember the smell, but there was work to be done and
only these hands to do it.  He focused his thoughts on the fire so close to
his own body and channeled energy into it, urging the fire to consume more
swiftly, more efficiently, leaving nothing untouched.  He felt the others
join him in the effort, heat-prickles dancing up his arms, heating the air
inside his sleeves until they began to puff slightly from the expansion. 
He took his hands away from the pyre, tucking them safely across his
stomach.  Obi-Wan looked across the flames, watching the expressions on his
friends' faces.  All were calm, serene, composed, unruffled and utterly
relaxed about their duty.  *We'll all be fine Knights, someday.* He
suddenly realized how close they all were to that goal.  Perhaps there was
more going on here than just a funeral for a Sith.

Perhaps it was a funeral for childhood, as well.

Obi-Wan shook those thoughts from him and put his energy back into the
pyre.  Fire was dancing across mere ash and stone now, whispers fueled
almost entirely by will.  Obi-Wan gathered the ash up and directed it out
through the windows above, scattering them in the high-altitude breezes. 
He felt Jenji close the windows behind him and Corubia pull the drapes
closed once more.  A collective sigh of relief and the task was done. 
"Thank you, my friends."

"Sure, Obi-Wan.  No problem," Swed assured him.

***************************  

They exited the stairwell onto the upper concourse, bickering over lunch. 
Obi-Wan wanted to head to the dining hall.  The others wanted him to cook. 
He was unsuccessfully pleading for mercy when a voice brought all
conversation to a close.  "Padawans! Hold!"  The sharp tone in
Ki-Adi-Mundi's voice brooked no argument.

As a unit they froze, instinctively drawing closer to Obi-Wan.  If anyone
could talk them out of trouble with a Councilor, it was their fearless
leader.  As one, they turned on their heels and bowed.  With perfect
composure, Obi-Wan knelt upon his left knee and leaned forward, right arm
crossing upraised right knee.  From the corner of his eye he saw the others
copy his formal stance.   Keeping his head down, Obi-Wan murmured, "How my
I help you, Councilor?"  He counted no less than six pairs of feet.  Not a
good sign.

"Where are you coming from, Padawan?" Master Windu inquired.

Obi-Wan rested his left fist on the floor and answered "The Western Tower,
Master."

"And were these others with you as well?"  Windu pressed.

"As it please you, Master, yes they were."  Obi-Wan bowed lower.  "If
you'll forgive me, Master, Master Jinn knew of our whereabouts and actions,
as did my companion's masters.  We asked permission and were given it."  He
stayed where he was, keeping perfectly still.  There was nothing to be
afraid of, they had done nothing wrong.  But until the Council *said*
they'd done nothing wrong, it was best to behave as if they'd been caught
playing handball in the crystal vaults.  There were times for defiance and
times for deferral.  Any Padawan caught under the scrutiny of the Council
did best to defer for all they were worth.  The Towers were no laughing
matter, as Obi-Wan well knew.

"What were you doing in that tower, Padawan?" Ki-Adi-Mundi's voice was hard
as honed steel.  Obi-Wan couldn't blame him.  There were no rules about
going into the towers without permission.  Their sanctity was so
universally acknowledged that no one would dare to fool around in them. 
Ever.

"As it please you, we had need of a funeral pyre," Obi-Wan ducked his head
down once more and resolutely ignored the ache growing between his
shoulderblades.  He'd lay face-down on the deck for a week if that's what
it took to protect his friends.  They'd come at his request.  The
responsibility was Obi-Wan's and no one else's. "There was nowhere else
appropriate for such a thing."

"What need had you for a pyre, Padawan?" Master Yoda tapped the floor with
his stick, demanding attention.

"A thousand pardons, Master, but we had the corpse of the Sith to dispose
of.  It didn't seem appropriate to simply throw him out with the medical
waste," Obi-Wan explained, well aware of the gimmer stick not two inches
away from his head.

"You gave the Sith a funeral?  Here in the Jedi Temple?"  Master Windu's
tone was dangerously even.

"Yes, Master.  He was strong in the Force and fought honorably, for all
that he was my enemy.  I struck him down.  He was my responsibility,"
Obi-Wan evened his breath and took the plunge.  "He was an apprentice, same
as us."

An infinite moment passed while Obi-Wan and company bowed and knelt in the
hallway.  Obi-Wan realized that traffic had stopped on this part of the
concourse.  It would seem that no one wanted to be caught up in the small
troupe's plight.  Obi-Wan couldn't blame them, even if he was certain the
Council would simply send them about their business.

"Up, Padawans," Master Windu intoned.

They got up slowly, putting their hands in sleeves and keeping heads down. 
Master Yoda tapped his stick again.  "Compassionate, you are.  Hmmm. 
Strong-hearted, and a credit to your training.  Rewarded you should be. 
Speak to your masters about this I will."

"Thank you, Master," the four murmured, trying to hide their shock.

The Council returned the way they had come, probably retiring to the
Central Tower once more.  Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Laying it on a little thick there, weren't you?"  Swed elbowed him in the
ribs.

"I didn't see you coming up with any bright plans," Obi-Wan replied.  "Come
on back to my place.  I guess I can make something up for you bunch of
beggars."

"Ugh.  I don't think I could eat a bite after that," Jenji groaned.  "I
thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest!"

"I thought I was going to faint right there, when I heard Knight Mundi,"
Corubia commiserated. "What I want to know is how you could be so calm,
Obi."

Obi-Wan shrugged, "Master says it's not so important to feel calm as to
seem calm.  I guess I get a lot of practice, trying to outcalm him."

The other three considered the idea of someone being more cool and
collected than Master Jinn.  Swed summed it up for them all.  "You'd have
to be Dead Jedi Walking to be more calm than that."

Obi-Wan nodded miserably.  "I think I lost my appetite too.  Why don't I
see if one of the training rooms is free.  We could work on The Cascade."

"Yeah!" Jenji enthused.  "It's been months!"

"Just don't wear me out too bad and I'll cook for us tonight," Obi-Wan
promised.  "Let's go get changed and I'll get us a space."

********************  

Obi-Wan pulled his workout clothes on and stepped into a pair of soft
shoes.  The Cascade was a routine he and his friends had begun working on
when they were still Trainees living in the Crèche.  They had continued
their efforts over the years, adding new elements as their training
progressed and expanded their capabilities.  Although it had been months
since their last session, Obi-Wan doubted he or his friends would have
trouble with it.  It was neither advanced nor particularly challenging,
simply an exercise in maintaining harmony and balance with one another.  If
all else fell away, Obi-Wan was certain of his harmony and balance within
their little circle.

He settled down at his desk to check his lightsaber, a practice that had
been beaten into him by long years of Qui-Gon's purposeful vandalism of
Obi-Wan's weapon.  It wasn't enough for a Jedi to be able to build a
lightsaber.  In the field one had to be an expert in maintenance and
repair, must be able to fix a saber with any items that came to hand, and
keep it in perfect working order under the most trying conditions.  He
ranged his tools before him, grateful for their presence.  The files,
spanners and spare parts he now had were a huge step up from some of the
'exercises' Qui-Gon had set him in the past, exercises that had saved their
lives more than once.   He'd been nearly reduced to tears on one occasion
when his master had drained the power source, burred the crystal brackets,
miscalibrated the connector points, snapped the insulation bands and locked
him in a transport shuttle with no tools, no supplies and a time limit
representing a radiation leak.  He'd eventually dismantled the pilot's
chair, part of the catering unit and stripped the power generator for the
items he needed, but his saber had worked perfectly when he freed himself
and took out the remotes that waited for him in the shuttle bay.

Obi-Wan had earned a hearty respect for paper clips and rubber bands in
much the same way.

Satisfied that his lightsaber was in good repair, he gathered up his
workout gear and headed for the practice chamber.  Qui-Gon looked up from
his video game and smiled, then returned to his protection of a
computer-generated universe.

The others were waiting for him when he arrived, stretching out and warming
up for their session.  Swed, of course, had brought music.  There was very
little the senior of their group would do without music, if he could get
away with having it near him.  Jenji tossed Obi-Wan a practice saber and he
caught it, giving her a quizzical look.

"Swed's still waiting for approval on his Trials.  No chances, no
accidents, no mistakes." Her tone was final.

Obi-Wan was more than happy to agree.  He flicked the practice saber on and
was pleased to note she had chosen one that projected a blue holo.  He
flicked it back off and put his gear aside, clipped the glorified
flashlight to his belt and ran through his warm-ups with the others.  He
looked up in surprise when a comm link chirped from the pile of gear at the
side of the room.  

Cor grinned.  "That's me.  I'll get it."

She went to do so, a tinge of pleased surprise coloring her voice when the
caller gave their name.  Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at Jenji, who shrugged
and continued her exercises.  Corubia called to them.  "Guys, do you mind
if someone comes to watch?"

A round of glances to the others and Swed replied, "No, of course not. 
Who?"

"He's ...  someone I've been meaning to introduce to you," she hedged.

"Okay ... " Jenji smiled.  "Sure, the more the merrier."

Corubia delivered the invitation and returned to their circle, squaring off
with Obi-Wan for the partnered stretches.  "Remember, I said I wanted you
to meet someone?" she asked him.

"Yes, on the way to Reptha," he replied.

"This is him.  He's one of the new people working in Resources.  His name's
Rigger," she blushed, surprising Obi-Wan anew.

"I met him before," he supplied.  "He seemed a nice fellow."

"He is," she assured him.  "Very nice."

They sat on the floor and Obi-Wan stretched his legs apart, gripping
Corubia's wrists as she braced her feet against his calves.  He leaned into
the pressure as she pushed, letting his body take the stretch slowly. 
After a long moment, he returned the favor.  When everyone was ready, they
stood, shook themselves out and kicked their shoes off.  Obi-Wan took his
place on the edge of the springy tumbling floor while they waited for Swed
to cue up their music.

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose at the selection but said nothing.  Everyone had
their area of expertise, and Swed's was music.  If he said this was the
right music for this routine on this day, it was.  There could be no
alternative.  When Obi-Wan stepped out for his first tumbling pass, he
understood what his friend had done.  The wailing pipes and rumbling drums
combined in a dirge full of grief and sorrow at the unstoppable motions of
life itself.  The vocals spoke of everything they had not been able to find
words for in the West Tower.  It was benediction and catharsis, turning
their initial lines into a last goodbye for the dead.  Then the music
seemed to ... twist ...  and became something full of life and energy, the
suffering giving way to acceptance of the inevitable and hope for the
future.  The drumbeat picked up, the pipes became joyful and the singer
called all peoples to the dance.  Obi-Wan hit his last mark in the middle
of the floor and turned to the left, cupping his hands.  A heartbeat later
and Jenji stepped into them and he launched her upwards into a long series
of twists and flips, caught her easily matched her in a pair of handsprings
that carried them in opposite directions and cleared the space for Swed and
Corubia's paired section.  When Corubia was safe in Swed's arms, Obi-Wan
and Jenji came in from the sides to form the last section of the tumbling
movement.  It was the first of several 'sculptures' in their routine.

Jenji knelt down and bent forward, putting her hands firmly on the floor. 
Corubia arched backwards and planted her hands on Jenji's shoulders, feet
solidly gripping the floor, knees bent and ready to receive weight.  Swed
stepped quickly onto her thighs, bent forwards to place his hands on
Obi-Wan's hips and held himself in place with the Force.  Without that
solid support, Obi-Wan could not have shifted into the handstand that ended
with his feet under Swed's chest and his arms supporting the graduated
weight of their construction.  They held this pose, muscles screaming,
bodies quivering, for five heartbeats, then fell away in perfectly
synchronized, Force-enhanced tumbles that ended them in a long row of
cast-away poses, the first 'Cascade' complete.  The music drew to an end
and Obi-Wan rose to walk the edges of the tumbling floor.  His body was
warmed up and it wouldn't do to stiffen for want of a little care.

"I can't believe we could do that in the crèche," Corubia groaned, popping
her neck.

"It was easier then, remember?" Jenji piped up.  "We were much more
flexible."

Obi-Wan just groaned.  "We must have been insane."

"Well, I for one was impressed," a new voice offered.

They all turned to regard the Kat in the doorway.  He wore nothing but a
lightly embroidered, emerald green loincloth and sash, but his charcoal
gray fur made him seem somewhat less nude.  *Well, sort of.  If you're
rather open minded,* Obi-Wan smiled.  Corubia made introductions between
their little group and her friend.  Obi-Wan shook his hand, mindful of the
claws that Rigger kept politely sheathed.  Corubia shot him a look, which
he considered ignoring, but chose not to.  He knew what she was asking for,
and he was honor bound to provide.  She wanted him to check Rigger's
intentions, make sure he was not seeking her company for any nefarious
purposes that she had not sensed.  They had all long ago promised such
protection to one another, and he was glad to provide it to her. He drew a
deep breath and said "So, I hear you're seeing my sister, there."

The Kat's eyes narrowed in confusion.  "Yes," he hazarded.

"You realize I'm going to have to check you out, right?"  Obi-Wan hated
doing this, but promises were for keeping.  He intended to keep it, not
only for Corubia's sake, but because he intended others to keep them to
him.

Rigger seemed to consider this for a long moment. "I expected a Lady's ... 
sibling to do so," was the eventual reply.

"Okay, just so you understand.  You may, of course, assume I will hold to
Jedi honor," Obi-Wan assured him.

"I do so hold you," Rigger replied evenly.  "And I will request a similar
inspection of you."

It was Obi-Wan's turn to shoot a look at Corubia.  "Of course," he agreed,
wondering what that actually meant.  He took a deep breath, centered
himself and brushed the thin layer of a probe through Rigger's mind. 
Nothing complicated, nothing deep or intrusive, just a little deeper than
the surface-scan that he got off everyone anyway.  Looking for a hidden
agenda, danger, threat to Corubia in this person's intentions.  Rigger came
up clean.  Obi-Wan nodded once and held his thumb out to the Kat.  Bemused,
Rigger extended his own thumb, which Obi-Wan clenched.  "You may call on
us, if you've the need," he said, tacitly bringing Rigger under the
umbrella of their friendship.  A stir in his head made him pause, breathing
slowly.  Something ...  like a ...  pulse in his Force-sense had pushed him
off-center for a split second.  He took a deep breath and let it go,
slowly.  A heartbeat later, and a second pulse came to him.  For a moment,
it felt as if his whole body and soul were expanding.  Another breath and
it faded away.  He looked at Rigger once more, but was dead certain the Kat
had not been the source of the eddy.

Rigger took that moment to stepped forward.  "If you will but hold still
for a moment."

Obi-Wan did as requested, felt hot breath on his neck and cheek, a sharp
prick and rough scrape of tongue, then Rigger stepped back.  "You may call
upon me and mine as well, Jedi."

"Obi-Wan.  Please, we hold no rank among us worth mentioning.  So, what did
you REALLY think of our little show?" he asked, changing the tone of their
meeting.

"Delightful, though I hoped you would be using your lightsabers.  I've
never seen them used, really," Rigger replied, rocking back on his toes and
smiling. 

Obi-Wan shrugged.  "Not today.  At least, not the live ones.  Extenuating
circumstances prevail.  But we could do one with the practice sabers ... "

Rigger simply stepped back out of there way, excitement and curiosity
radiating from him like a beacon.

The Padawans exchanged smiles.  There were few opportunities to exercise
their skills for an appreciative audience.  Usually, they were working
under the ever-correcting trainers or under attack.  Would-be assassins
were known for being underappreciative of their target's gymnastic
abilities.  Swed started a new track and they stepped into place for the
first lightsaber section.