.                      Bonds of Choice #15
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 3 of 4)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Qui-Gon had taken the news of his acceptance with perfect composure, as he
had always accepted everything.  He had gone to arrange for the retraction
of his injuncture against Knight Trydal and to finish the paperwork for
Obi-Wan's first quasi-solo mission, telling his student to spend time on
something he wouldn't be able to do on the mission. Obi-Wan was perfectly
satisfied with that.  He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea
of going out in the company of that ... person.  He sighed.  *Wonder if
he's still as good an operative as he used to be?  Wonder what we'll be
doing, really?  'Survey mission' could be anything!*  He shook his head and
re-focused on the task before him, bringing all his concentration to bear.

There was just something satisfying about working with your hands, Obi-Wan
decided. Well, not his hands, as such ... but manual labor ... okay, that
wasn't much better.  Anyway, there was a great deal of satisfaction to be
found in making something.  Even if the inspiration had a questionable side
to it.  He laid the last of the circuitry in, gentle strands of the Force
smoothing them into place.  The delicate webwork of hair-fine wires was
finally finished.  He let go the Force and relaxed his breathing patterns.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, stood and stretched.  Well, that did it for the
wiring.  Now he'd just have to seat the crystals and make sure the power
sources were working to specification.  But first, a stretch, some cav ...
maybe a little holovid ... arrgh.  Dealing with the Group so much was
beginning to alter his work habits.  Many such breaks had been called for,
over the course of dealing with Darth Maul.  Oh well…

Swed was lounging on the front room sofa, idly surfing the indy networks
for some decent daytime programming.  "It's an exercise in futility,"
Obi-Wan reminded him.

"I'm trying to hone my sense of hope in the face of doom," Swed replied.  

"Hmm.  Cav?"

"Yeah, thanks. How's the project going?"  Swed sat up to make room for
Obi-Wan on the sofa.

"Better. I'm going to have to file the brackets for the crystals AGAIN, but
I think I've got the wiring done. Finally.  Wanna give it a check for me?" 
Obi-Wan handed his friend a mug of lukewarm cav, extra cream.  "I'm still a
little shaky on my fine motor skills, Forcewise."

"Sure, no prob," Swed got up and headed towards the lab.  

Obi-Wan picked up the remote and began his own exercise in futility. 
Either  Swed would tell him exactly what he'd done wrong and how to correct
it or he would pronounce the project a 'go'.  Obi-Wan hoped he'd finally
worked all the bugs out of the system.  It had seemed like such a SIMPLE
idea, in the beginning.

"Looks good, Kenobi.  Want me to get the testing crystals for you?" Swed
knew all the best shortcuts in the Temple.  He could probably get to the
vaults faster than anyone.  

"Sure.  I want to take another look at the prototype before I start on the
brackets, so take your time," Obi-Wan accepted gratefully.  "You might want
to bring a few different types of stones.  I haven't done the resonance
testing."

"I still think you're the freak of the week for doing this, you know," Swed
reminded him for what seemed like the billionth time.

"Yeah, I know.  I'm starting to agree."  Obi-Wan tossed back the rest of
the cav and went through the lab, through the bunk room, through the
security-laden whiteroom and into the storage unit.  Stored here were most
of the artifacts brought back from Reptha.  The lightsaber crystals he and
Qui-Gon had pulled out of the ice-pillars were stored here, as were the
Chendries.  As was one other rather intriguing item.  He unlocked one of
the cabinets and took out Darth Maul's lightsaber.  

He'd taken the thing apart and put it back together several times before
embarking on his own experiment.  He'd even tried the thing, under his
Master's careful supervision, to see exactly what was going on with it.  It
was a fine weapon, carefully crafted to serve the strengths and weaknesses
of the particular wielder.  Shaped and designed to account for the use of
the Force in combat.  Special failsafes were included in it to prevent
short-outs, loss of power due to any number of stresses and breakaway
points such as Obi-Wan had seen during combat. There was counterweighting
so that either blade could be used singly, or both together, depending on
the warrior's mood.  It also radiated a hatred and bloodlust so strong it
quite turned Obi-Wan's stomach to be near it.  But like a moth to a flame,
he returned again and again.  It was a fascinating weapon, a creative and
versatile design.  He had a grudging admiration for whatever dark and angry
beast had created it, even as the thought of such a person repulsed him. 
But it was the idea of that person that drew him back over the days since
returning from Renal Sejon.  He thought this was a really magnificent
weapon, replete with innovation and versatile design.

But Obi-Wan was certain he could do better.

He'd first taken the idea to Master Crowe, knowing he would need to use the
Group's little playground to do it right.  There was NO way he was taking
that Sith thing down to the workshop, where Trainees might be exposed to
it.  Then he'd checked with Swed, enlisted the help of the finest
mechanical mind available to assist with production.  Only after he was
ready to embark on the project had he checked with Qui-Gon.  

His master hadn't been overjoyed at the idea, but had allowed Obi-Wan the
project anyway.  He'd seemed interested in Obi-Wan's ideas, which was a
boon as far as the Padawan was concerned.  Qui-Gon had asked about the new
weapon.  Twice.  Not in connection to training or Obi-Wan's ongoing
education.  Simply inquired because he knew it was something Obi-Wan cared
about.  That thought warmed Obi-Wan clear through.  That he'd ordered
Obi-Wan to work on it now reflected his continued interest in the project,
if nothing else.

He finished his inspection of the crystal brackets and returned to his own
project.  Selecting a delicate file, he began the slow process of shaping
the settings that would hold and protect the twin hearts of the new saber. 
Any roughness could damage the crystals, make for an imperfect focus of
energy, which would be potentially lethal in any number of ways.  Improper
shape and angles could cause the crystal to slip off plumb, shake loose or
come free altogether.  A lightsaber with no energy focus was essentially a
very short stick, not all that useful in a pitched battle.  So Obi-Wan
steadied his breathing, fixed the shape he desired in his mind and set in
for the long haul.

The first thing he had changed for this project was the size.  He'd taken
saber designs that had been refined over centuries of experimentation and
miniaturized it all.  His first efforts had produced a saber too small to
be useful, in fact.  His lightsaber was nearly as thick as his wrist.  The
first mini-saber had been about an inch thick.  This one was barely three
fingers wide.  His lightsaber used a power source that had been created in
the middle of the last millennium.  Swed had suggested something new, one
of the power cells from an M9 droid.  They were light, strong, small, had a
half-life of 70 years and were readily available in most parts of the
galaxy.  The only problem ... well, the biggest of many problems was going
to be the focus stones.  They would have to be rather fine, very hard and
very, very tiny.  His preferred stone, Orilian sapphire, would be right
out, he was almost certain of that.  Though he had designed the casing with
his sapphires in mind, he was beginning to doubt they would suit at all.

This second attempt at making a smaller saber was about to drive him
crazy.  The first one he'd made was quite a bit smaller.  The casing sat
ready for completion, but Obi-Wan couldn't imagine using it for anything
resembling real combat.  He doubted he could make it produce a stable blade
of more than twelve inches or so. He'd realized that when he took the
resonances of it and discovered he'd made the whole thing too small.  By
expanding that design somewhat, he'd arrived at the model now nearing
completion.

Finally the brackets were properly smooth, ready to receive the focus
crystals.  Obi-Wan took up the resonance scanner, wired it up and hit the
power switch.  Perfect. Sort of.  The power signature was definitely off
the scale for his sapphires.  He'd have to find something to suit this
higher pitch.  Perhaps a topaz of some sort ... 

"Obi-Wan!  How's it going?"

Obi-Wan turned to see his master standing in the doorway of the workroom. 
"Just taking the resonances,"  Obi-Wan explained.  "I was about to take a
break.  Swed went to get some test crystals for it."

"Hmm.  Let me see ... " Qui-Gon leaned over his shoulder.  "You're going to
be looking at a high-grade topaz or any of the Sefaradian emeralds.  Well,
maybe any emerald at all, if you can make those fluctuations drop out."

Obi-Wan sighed and pushed the project away.  "I don't think I'm going to
try.  I was trying to improve on that Sith design, but all I got was a pair
of teensy sabers."

Qui-Gon looked at the two casings, then at his Padawan.  "So, because you
didn't get what you wanted, what you have is worthless?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, inwardly cringing from whatever lesson was about
to be dumped on him.

"Do you mind if I try?" Qui-Gon quietly requested.

"No, of course not, Master," Obi-Wan stood and relinquished his chair at
the workbench.

"Look over your manifest then and see if it will suit for your trip," 
Qui-Gon handed him a lightslate and took his place over the miniature
lightsabers.

Obi-Wan felt the withdraw of Qui-Gon's scrutiny as he began looking through
the supply list.  Any number of questions sprang to mind, but he knew
better than to interrupt *anyone* who was working on a lightsaber.  It
looked like Knight Trydal had been assigned to literally survey the site of
what used to be a Jedi Temple.  The target in question was within the
borders of the Perrys sector, an area nominally within the borders of the
Republic, but so given to civil war and infighting that the Jedi had
eventually withdrawn their presence.  As he recalled, the move had been one
of self-preservation.  The situation in Perrys had apparently calmed to the
point that the Council might consider re-opening operations there.  The
Jedi Temple at San Saloor needed to be inspected, preliminary to any such
decision.  Obi-Wan and Knight Trydal would undertake that inspection.  He
opened his mouth to ask about logistics, but stopped when he saw a frown of
concentration twist the edges of Qui-Gon's mouth down.

Instead of speaking, he scrolled down to check his operation parameters. 
Passport approved, complete diplomatic immunity had been extended,  *Well,
that's a boon.*  As a general rule, Jedi traveled without citizenship to
any political entity, which lost them a lot of protection but freed them
significantly when it came to more difficult situations. He'd be given a
diplomatic voice in the Senate, representing the Order if he really felt
the urge to play the fool with this privilege.  Good.  Now he officially
outranked the local ruling class in his own right.  That would give him a
leg to stand on if hostilities broke out during his stay and they had to
fight their way free.

A definitive stipulation that one Obi-Wan Kenobi was a member of the Jedi
Order, that he was a political nonperson and held responsible by the Jedi
Order alone, was plastered across the top of his credentials.  Good.  Now
he couldn't get involved in local politics even if he wanted to.  An
outside party, merely an observer as far as the Jedi and the Republic were
concerned.  

There was a shockingly high credit balance in his name now, as well.  Handy
if he had to get his own passage back home.  But if all went as planned, he
might be able to pick up a souvenir or two from his visit.  That might be
worthwhile.

His reverie was interrupted when Swed entered the room bearing a large,
flat box.  He threw Obi-Wan a surprised glance, set the box down and
retreated to the front room.  Qui-Gon looked up as he exited and noticed
that the crystals had arrived.  "Hmm.  See what we have ... " he told
Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan flipped the case lid open and perused the contents.  "Umm, we have
the Orillian sapphire, a perennial favorite of course.  Here's the last of
that jade from Perdu.  Jenji absolutely swears by it.  Uh, topaz, lemme
see, blue, yellow and white.  I think Corubia uses a yellow like this," he
held it up for Qui-Gon to inspect.

"No, far too soft," the master dismissed.

"Okay, well, we have some nice emeralds here. Uh, the purple Shaykda were
quite popular a year ago.  Let's see, there's the native Coruscantian,
quite rare, those.  Here's Plygos and Tradian ... "  Obi-Wan didn't even
look up before handing that one over.  "Oh! Look, here's a Syheliot.  They
make a lovely orange blade."

"Orange doesn't go with green," Qui-Gon murmured.

"Well, let us be fashionable or die," Obi-Wan smirked, returning to the
case.  "Ruby?"

"No."

Obi-Wan sighed.  "Look, just because Chendries make a red blade ... "

"No rubies.  Ever.  Not as long as you're my Padawan, anyway," Qui-Gon was
firm on this.

"You've really got a serious case of the willies about that, you know?"
Obi-Wan came to watch his master work.

"I keep having nightmares about it.  Leave it be, hmm?" Qui-Gon was
tightening down the brackets of the smaller saber, adjusting the set one
final time.  He snapped the casing closed and began bolting it on.  "What
else?"

"Opals, far too fragile.  Um, a luna sapphire, though I think they're
pretty weak, too.  That's the lot," Obi-Wan closed the case.

"I think, if not these emeralds, one of the white topaz might be best,"
Qui-Gon said, picking up the completed saber.  "Let's see how this does.

He switched on the smaller weapon, which gave a ten-inch blade and no
more.  Obi-Wan sighed.

"No, this is good, when you look at the whole picture," Qui-Gon assured
him.  The Master sat down and began working on the other blade, putting it
together with practiced ease.  It leapt to life with a thin, tightly
focused beam humming wickedly between them.  "See?  They're perfect."

"For what?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"Oh, well ... I suppose I'd better show you.  Ask Swed if he'd like to come
along to the Form room."

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

"Okay, I give.  What under the skies is your Master doing?"  Swed leaned
against the railing that ran along the observation balcony, watching
Qui-Gon with rapt fascination.

"Um, he's programming a form, man." Obi-Wan spoke this as if he was
revealing that the sky was blue on Coruscant.

"Yeah, I *know* he's programming a form.  But what's that *music*?"  Swed
twitched, trying not to dance.

"I think it's a cover.  The band ... it kinda sounds like Shaybonee, but I
don't know anything about them," Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Huh.  I guess I'll have to look into it myself," Swed bobbed his head back
and forth.  "Pretty good."

"Yeah, I guess so," Obi-Wan shrugged again.

Below them Qui-Gon stopped his exercises and went over to the dataset.  He
spoke clearly into the microphone.  "Record for offensive.  Replay track
9."

Obi-Wan wanted to cover his eyes in embarrassment, but settled for
clenching the railing.  Qui-Gon was stripped to the waist, hair pulling
loose from the topknot.  He was dripping perspiration, breathing elevated,
eyes glittering with battle lust.  Obi-Wan had the sneaking suspicion that
his own eyes were glittering with a different kind of lust entirely. 
Swed's certainly were.  

The music started again, and Qui-Gon switched on the mini sabers.  The
larger one was in his right hand, the smaller in his left.  He moved in a
style radically different from the one Obi-Wan had trained to for so long. 
This one was all elegant lines, subtle baffles and escapes, almost pure
finesse.  And that music ... 

Obi-Wan snuck a look at his friend again.  "You're starting to drool, bro."

"Hey, sorry.  But that could really change your ... religion," Swed
blushed.

"Yeah, if it hadn't been changed years ago," Obi-Wan smiled.  "I was there,
remember?"

Swed got a nostalgic look in his eye.  "Yeah ... "

"But put your tongue away, buddy.  He's spoken for," Obi-Wan had no idea
why he was even making such a claim.  He and Qui-Gon had hardly made any
promises.  Still ... 

"Really?  Who's the lucky bastard?" Swed pried unsubtly.

"Moi."

Swed's head came around hard, mouth agape and eyes near popping from his
head.  Then a slow grin appeared.  "You lucky bastard!"

"Indeed, dearest brother," Obi-Wan waggled his eyebrows.

"And he didn't do too bad for himself," Swed put his grin away and turned
back to watching Qui-Gon.  "I didn't mean I'd try to ... you know ... "

"Yeah, I know.  Don't worry about it.  What I want to know is how he got so
good with those so fast,"  Obi-Wan nodded towards the person in question.

"He probably learned it during his exile."

The two Padawans turned towards the speaker, surprise in both pairs of
eyes.  Jayden Hunter had joined them on the observation balcony.

"Master Jinn was exiled?" Swed asked.

Jayden shrugged.  "It was right after ... Xanatos.  When Qui-Gon couldn't
find him, he came back and asked the Council for punishment.  I'm given to
understand they fought him on the point, quite strenuously.   Anyway, they
eventually gave in and set him some restrictions that effectively put him
in a position where he would either have to hide or die."

Obi-Wan's throat tightened at the words.  "What did they do?"

"Well, they forbade him to touch a lightsaber for the period of a year and
a day."

Obi-Wan looked down at his master, trying to get his mind around the idea
of Qui-Gon without his weapon.  It was just too foreign a concept.  Every
time he got close, his hand twitched towards his own saber, ready to defend
his teacher. "But ... "

Jayden waived a hand at his objections, putting them to rest.  "Master Yoda
called upon Master Sarafel to protect him.  He was in no danger as long as
he kept a low profile.  I believe they spent the year on Ebrant.  That's
where that style comes from, anyway."

Swed shook his head.  "But if he couldn't use a saber ... "

"That's not a lightsaber style.  The Ebrantians have a rather odd ...
sport, pastime, call it what you will, from their pre-space days.  They
call it 'dueling', but I very much doubt that means to them what it means
to us.  Very popular still, I believe.  Of course, they don't use
lightsabers.  Their weapons would be a sword and dagger," he nodded towards
the mini sabers by way of explanation.  "Impractical to think a Jedi would
use a sword, but he did.  When did he make those?"

Obi-Wan swallowed.  "He didn't.  I did.  I didn't mean to ... I was just
trying some new designs, seeing if I could do something with a couple of
ideas I got from that saber the Sith used.  I ... it was an accident."

"A happy one.  Those have a lot of possibilities.  Small enough to hide up
a sleeve or down the back of a tunic.  If you could use them like he does
... very effective.  Rather a nasty surprise if someone thought you were
unarmed.  I'd like to see your designs, Padawan Kenobi."  Jayden leaned
over the railings.  "Looks like he's done with the imaging."

The Padawans saw that this was true.  Qui-Gon had gone to the dataset and
was correcting the program for mistakes he'd made in his performance. 
After a moment he stepped away, turned the music off and returned to the
center of the fighting ring.

"Now we'll see if he's as good with those as we think he is," Jayden
grinned.

It was a necessity in a Jedi's life that, once one was knighted, individual
training halted completely.  Though one might learn from work-partners and
friends, one was pretty much left to one's own devices when it came to the
guidance of a personal instructor.  One of the many solutions to this
problem was the Form room.

The room was circular, the high walls fitted with low-powered
computer-controlled blaster-nodes.  The computer in question was programmed
with the particulars of most known training katas, Forms, routines, what
have you.  As the program began, the blasters came to sudden and
unrelenting life, firing upon the practitioner.  If one stayed true to the
parameters of the Form, one's blade would always be in the proper position
to deflect the blaster shots.  If one strayed from true, a pinprick of
laserfire would reach the unprotected body.  The intervals of fire could be
altered, from random fire to continuous feed or any setup one desired.  As
proficiency was gained, the intervals were shortened, demanding more
precision until perfection was achieved.

Qui-Gon had the interval set much lower than the one he used in his more
traditional saber practices.  Even with that, a couple of shots got
through.  Obi-Wan felt a little smile tug at his lips.  Even without a
blindfold, even at a low level, Qui-Gon was far from the perfection he
apparently desired.  Still ... "Well, he's a lot better at that than I
would be."

Swed nodded his agreement.  "It's just so ... different."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Padawan," Jayden smiled at his
student.  

"Oh no, Master.  I think it's beautiful," Swed hastened to reply.

"Indeed?  Well, perhaps one day you'll be able to study that style as
well.  For now, you need to work on the Honeyrose, so let's to our session
for today."  Jayden threw a companionable arm around his shoulders.  "See
you around, Obi."

"Yes, Knight Hunter," Obi-Wan bowed.  He turned back to the practice
session below him to find Qui-Gon looking up at him.

"How did that look?" his master inquired.

"You want the respectful answer or the honest one?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"Honesty, please.  I know you aren't familiar with this style, but you know
enough of technique to give a proper assessment," Qui-Gon encouraged.

Obi-Wan thought about it for a long moment before replying.  In the area of
combat training, niceties and politeness were potentially deadly.  Qui-Gon
was asking for information that might one day save his life.  "Looked like
shit, Master.  Your off hand is sloppy and I think maybe you're trying to
use your main as you would a regular saber.  The blade is much thinner. 
You'll have to be a lot more quick and precise to get the accuracy you're
looking for."

Qui-Gon nodded once and started the program again.  Obi-Wan leaned on the
railing and put all his concentration into analyzing Qui-Gon's form.  The
blasters could tell you a lot, but an observer could tell you more, if they
watched with care and mindfulness.  He was honored that his master would
ask for his help in this exercise.  It spoke well of his own abilities and
his master's confidence in them.  He did not wish to disappoint or give any
reason for that confidence to be withdrawn.

"Better, though I'd say you might want to do something with that off hand
at the soonest possible opportunity.  And your main is too short," Obi-Wan
called.

Qui-Gon tested the length against his arm.  "Is not," he contradicted.

"Is too.  Give it another two inches, try it again."  Obi-Wan turned his
back on Qui-Gon, a technique he'd often used with much success on the
younger trainees.  A challenge, really.  They could choose to do as they
pleased, but he would not be responsible for the result.  Obi-Wan engaged
in a detailed study of the door while his master ran through the form
again.  

"Thank you, Padawan," Qui-Gon called.  "I don't see how I managed to do
that."

"It's the hilt," Obi-Wan replied, turning back to his master.  "Single
handed, not hand and a half like yours."

"And my grip is always farther forward ... yes.  I see.  I think I'm done
here.  Would you care for tea?"  Qui-Gon went to the datapad and shut his
program down.

"Of course.  Meet you in our quarters?  I could make some of those cheesy
biscuits you like," Obi-Wan offered by way of apology.  Though he'd been
right in his suggestion, it was never good form to correct one's Master.

"As it please you, Padawan."

Obi-Wan bowed and went to make good on his promise.