. Bonds of Choice #17 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 4 of 5) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Obi-Wan put his lightslate down and rubbed his eyes. He'd made a 'to-do' list for himself, as he would have done on a regular mission. It made the whole thing a little easier to deal with, having each task laid out in a neat line, one following another. In a moment he would pull up the files on the San Saloor Temple again and make up a 'to-don't' list, though Qui-Gon wouldn't be around to read it. Old habits die hard. That done, he'd be ready to help with re-cataloging the Temple's contents for comparison against the records left by the evacuation team. It was from these two lists that the Establishment crew would draw their supply requisitions, so the job could not be shoddily done. He idly wondered what his friends were doing, briefly hoped they wouldn't be talking to Qui-Gon much. *Wishful thinking. Jenji's probably telling him all about that time I slept with Mera'hen-no-meda just to keep her off Qui-Gon while he was trying to prevent interplanetary warfare. Again.* He shivered briefly, remembering the strange sensation of tentacles and fur. *Not that it was ALL bad ... * Still, it was probably best that Qui-Gon learn this stuff as amusing anecdotes rather than potential relationship-bombs and rumormongering. *Did I just say 'relationship' without gagging?* Obi-Wan sighed. *Well, you did get a pretty good jolt tonight, you know.* He yawned and stretched again, mindful of the subtle shift the transport's computer was doing on his circadian rhythms, striking a balance between Temple at Coruscant time and Temple at San Saloor time. He would appreciate the lack of space-lag when he got home, but for now his eyes itched and his back ached from letting himself work too long under artificial light. *I'll just finish up that other report and think about it afterwards,* he promised himself. "Sure you will." Obi-Wan sat up quickly and looked around the room. Nothing. No one. "Over here." Obi-Wan's eyes fell on the desk chair and widened in a deep and abiding surprise. *Be calm, Kenobi. Force-ghosts can't hurt you any more than a regular person. Okay, be cool. Let go your anxieties.* "Good. You frighten easily, but you recover well. I don't believe we've been introduced. My name is Darth Maul." The blue spirit came more sharply into focus and Obi-Wan recognized the visage of the Sith Lord he had ... "I killed you," Obi-Wan managed to stammer. "Indeed you did, and a good job of it, too. Don't worry, I'm not here to return the favor," Maul grinned. Obi-Wan did battle with his stomach and came out the victor once more. "Why are you here?" "Why are any of us here?" Maul replied, toning the grin down a bit. "I'm here to do the will of the Force." Obi-Wan sighed. "How may I help you?" "Um, well ... It turns out you Jedi were right. There is no death, there is only the Force. And right now, the Force doesn't much want me. I've been offered an opportunity to rectify that situation, but ... " Maul shrugged. "I can't do it on my own. I need your help." "Why me?" Obi-Wan demanded. "Well, there are only a few ways to become a Force-Spirit. I'm lucky, I have points for all of them. You, however ... not so lucky I guess. You're the only person alive that I can talk to just now. Well, the only one alive I'm not gunning for, anyway," Maul shrugged again. "Being dead gives one a very strange perspective on the living." "I can imagine," Obi-Wan murmured. "No you can't," Maul contradicted. The door slid open and Scratch put his head in. "Your comm link is malfunctioning. Dinner's ready." Obi-Wan's head whipped around in surprise. "I-okay. Be right there." Scratch gave him an odd look and retreated. When Obi-Wan glanced back at the desk, the ghost was gone. Obi-Wan sighed. *Well shit. How do I enter this in the mission log? 'After severe emotional upheaval and mild sleep deprivation, visited by expired Sith?'* And the comm link was NOT malfunctioning. He'd turned it off. *I think I'd better keep a lid on this for now. Maybe dinner would help ... eating can only make things better.* He recalled that bit of wisdom from somewhere, hopefully his master. *First, a mission with my ex-boyfriend. Then a very personal conversation with Destiny. Now a visit from a dead Sith Lord. Things have GOT to get better. It never rains but it pours.* Obi-Wan had the odd sensation of understanding how a beach felt when faced with a tidal wave. ************************ Qui-Gon entered the Group's lab, vyol in hand and good spirits within. Swed's trials had been passed with flying colors and Jayden was now ranked amongst the Jedi Masters. If that wasn't cause for celebration in their little clan, nothing was. He was dressed for the party, a sapphire blue vest over loose shirt with his best jeans and freshly-polished boots. A silver clasp held his hair back from his face. He poked around the lab for a long moment, following the noise through its chambers. From the sound of things, he'd arrived to the party somewhat late. Jayden came reeling up to Qui-Gon's side, pushed a drink into his empty hand and dragged him through the warren of rooms to the balcony they had appropriated for their own private use. The others were already there, and Qui-Gon suddenly felt very alone without his own Padawan. Still, it was good to be free of the strictures his student's presence would put upon him. He plunked down on the end of a sofa and took a sip of his beer. Before he could swallow he was bracketed by Corubia and Jenji. "Swed says you can play that thing," Corubia pointed to his case. "Well, yes, a little," he demurred. "Bullshit. If Swed says you can play, you can *play*. He's gone to get his keyboards. You gonna play with him?" Jenji demanded. Qui-Gon cast about for a source of rescue. It came from Jenji's own master. "Padawan, you should be aware that he's only brought that beat-up thing because of tradition. There's a song that must be played," Teril raised her eyebrow at Kourt. "Right, Master Crowe?" Kourt's eyes went wide with feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Liar!" Jayden accused. "I made it finally. You owe me a song!" Kourt waved his hand in negation. "Later. It'll only slow the party down if I do it now." "Nope. Later Quigs'll be too far in his cups to play it. Swed can fire up any party, once he gets going. Do it!" Jayden perched on the balcony railing and crossed his arms with finality. Qui-Gon popped his case open and brought his instrument out. "We'd better, or they won't give us a moment's peace." "Quigs, I'm not drunk enough yet," Kourt was near to whining. "Then you'd better summon up some Jedi courage, because you're gonna need it. So will the rest of you, if you're going to listen," Qui-Gon winked. "Look, would one of you like to fill me in on what's going on here?" Corubia demanded. Kourt raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon, who chuckled and turned to the Padawans. "Once upon a time ... " "Don't you DARE," Kourt growled, but was shushed by the others. "Don't he dare what?" Swed demanded, finally making his entrance. "Don't he DARE tell that story!" Kourt replied. "I think they're old enough to hear it," Qui-Gon grinned. "They're old enough to do autopsies, so I think they can handle a sordid story from your past." "Oh, do what you want. You always have, anyway," Kourt settled lower into his chair. Qui-Gon resumed his tale. "Once upon a time, when I was still a Knight and working partner to our venerated leader ... " The rest of the group chanted "Hail Kourt! King of the Shadows!" The three youngest of the group glanced around at their elders as if they'd just sprouted daisies from their ears, then returned their attention to Qui-Gon. "We were sent on a very dangerous mission to the peaceful planet of Gabreon." The impromptu chorus joined in "Gabreon! Land of Iniquity!" "Now, it should be known that Kourt and I were more-or-less an item at the time, but given to ... experimentation, being the randy men that we continue to be." "Love! True love!" "It should also be known that, in the far distant past, I was something of a practical joker, and given to vexing our fearless leader." "Foolish Kourt! Trusting Kourt!" "And it came to pass that Gabreon had a lady at court who was rather given to seducing handsome men who happened to catch her eye." "Elise the Fair! Elise the horny old tart!" "Her specialty was to work her wiles on men who were ... attached, as they say. Apparently she'd made her fortune through blackmail and liked to keep in practice. Well, dear Kourt caught her eye, in that we were undercover and playing at the wealthy merchant types. I, apparently, wasn't to her liking, so she merely pumped me for information. She particularly wanted to know what our rings were for. Well, obviously I couldn't tell her the truth, so I said they were wedding rings. I thought she would think we were married to each other, but ... well ... it simply never occurred to her." "Elise the Thickheaded! Elise the Oblivious!" "And so she set out to capture our fair leader. Now, it is important to realize that Lady Elise was somewhat in the favor of the King, and His Majesty was not much in the habit of sharing those he favored. So when she finally sprang her trap, Kourt was in a seriously compromising position. Pants about the ankles and backed out onto a balcony, as I recall ... " Kourt moaned at that. "And no one to save him but me." "Quigs the Valiant! Tell us More!" "So there he was, all but being ravished on a balcony overlooking the water gardens and me without a way to get him down. But I *did* have my trusty vyol, and a knack for breaking the mood. So I began to play the one song I knew our fearless leader just couldn't resist singing along with." "All Hail Quigs the Sneaky! Savior of our Leader!" "See, up until this time, he'd listen to this song and really feel like it was, you know, *about* him. Well, needless to say, his sudden and unexpected serenade did much to distract and distress his would-be paramour and he was able to make his escape. Though it should be noted he came to his quarters in just his cloak, undershorts and half a pair of slippers." "All Hail King Kourt, The Woefully Undershod!" The younger set of Jedi burst out laughing, and did their level best not to point. "You ruined a marvelous song that night, Quigs," Kourt insisted. "Well, I suppose that's true. But you know the His Maj came in ten minutes later. Better the loss of your song than the failure of the mission," Qui-Gon reminded him. "Or the loss of your head, which even you can't spare." "Might have been worth it," the elder Jedi grumbled. "Anyway," Qui-Gon continued, "this song has been used in the Group for years as one of our 'identifiers', like a codephrase. If you don't know it already you need to learn it, Corubia. If you meet someone who claims to be one of us, or to have information from or about the group, or something like that, they'll probably come bearing some bit of this song. So, it's not something our dear Master can really escape." Swed snapped his fingers. "I know which one you're talking about, now." He turned to set up his keyboards near the inner wall of the balcony. "Just give me a minute." "I can't escape it, but I do reserve its use for official ones," Kourt continued to defend himself. "Well, this is one of them," Jayden reminded him. "Make me official." Again the younger Jedi were thrown off by this comment. Kourt explained. "It's sort of a tradition that when one of us becomes a master in the Order, this song gets sung to remind them of their *other* oaths, as well." "Okay, so let's hear it," Corubia nudged Qui-Gon. "And I'm dying to hear you play." Qui-Gon looked to see that Swed was set up, played the opening music then stopped. "Ready?" Swed nodded and they began together. Kourt's surprisingly rich voice joined their song, though his eyes remained glued to the tiles of the balcony floor. We passed upon the stair We spoke of was and when Although I wasn't there He said I was his friend Which came as a surprise I spoke into his eyes - I thought you died alone A long long time ago *No wonder this appealed to our forefathers,* Qui-Gon mused, not for the first time. *By all rights, we should have been hunted to extinction ages ago.* Oh no, not me, We never lost control You're face to face With the man who sold the world *And we would, if it came to that. What a ruthless bunch of buggers we are!* Qui-Gon grinned and joined his voice to Kourt's for the next verse. I laughed and shook his hand I made my way back home I searched for form and land For years and years I roamed I gazed a gazely stare We walked a million hills - I must have died alone, A long long time ago. *Never again. We'll find the Elders soon, and be whole once more,* Qui-Gon remade his old oath. *We're going to need their strength soon. I can feel it.* Who knows? Not me, I never lost control You're face to face With the man who sold the world *Half the Order would pass out cold if they knew what we did. The other half would kill us outright. I hope it turns out to be worth it, this thing we do. I hope ... * He smiled at the others as they sang in chorus. Some well, some poorly, all with feeling and with unity of spirit. *I hope we all are happy one day. This is the only family I know.* Who knows? Not me, We never lost control You're face to face With the man who sold the world The song ended, leaving the group in a moment of silence. Then Swed's keyboards sizzled to life in a dangerously familiar tune. Qui-Gon swung around in surprise. "You know Shaybonee?" he asked, incredulous. "Learning it!" Swed replied. "Your form program inspired me!" Qui-Gon lifted his instrument once more and threw his music out to please his friends. His family. The Jedi most dear to his heart. *If only Obi-Wan could see me now. He might even like this side of me ... *