.                      Bonds of Choice #4
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 1 of 7)
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A clawed scratching at the outer door to his quarters drew
Qui-Gon out of
his shower early, far too early to be anything good.  On reflex
he checked
for his Padawan's presence.  He found Obi-Wan's mind naturally
asleep and
apparently untroubled in his tiny quarters in the north wing.

"Nice," an appreciative growl with a matching mild desire flicker
in the
Force greeted him from the vicinity of the kitchenette when he
stepped into
the main room, still naked and wet.  "Master Qui-Gon Jinn?"

"Yes, who are you?"  Qui-Gon came up short on better ideas faced
with a
dark cinnamon, humanoid feline female with darker hair tied back
in a
ponytail, standing in his quarters like she had every right to be
there and
wearing nothing but a deep purple loincloth and loose sash,
tapping away on
a lightslate.  "And why didn't you ask to come in?"

"I'm Lrakin Jackee Rilka, Head of Allocations."  She gave him
another
appraising glance, lingering on his crotch, before turning to her
lightslate.  "And I did ask, twice in fact, then waited some more
_and_ I
warned you I was coming about now.  I take it you didn't read
your mail
before getting wet?"

Qui-Gon took a breath to center himself in the face of the first
creature
in the Temple since Yoda to treat him with such casual
disregard.  "No, I
did not."

"Then it's your own fault I surprised you in the shower, not like
you're
hard on the eyes like that."  Rilka dragged her attention back to
her
lightslate.  "How long has the water tasted like this?"

"Since I was assigned these quarters," he replied.  "Taste like
what?"

"Sythroclorine and Comran impurities mostly."  She cocked her
head, "you
can't taste them?"

"No.  The water tastes no different here from anywhere else in
the Temple."

She nodded and made a note.  "When were you assigned these
quarters?"

He searched his memory several moments before giving up on a true
date. 
"Twelve years ago, isn't that in your records?"

"The records are a cuth mitaki brabin mess.  Worthless."  Her
triangular
ears flattened for a moment before flicking up to face him again
with the
next question.  "Your Padawan is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Yes," he took a casual step backwards, towards the bedroom, and
his
lightsaber.

"Good, they've got *something* in here correctly at least." 
Rilka's
long-furred tail snapped against a cupboard before she stalked
out of the
kitchenette, aiming for the bedroom.  "Just one?"

"Bedroom?  No, there is a spare one," he waved in the direction
of his
store/ spare room, where Obi-Wan occasionally slept when they
worked too
late into the night.  "What is the purpose of this?"  Qui-Gon
finally
demanded as she slipped by him again and into the bathroom.

"I'm the new Head of Allocations."  Rilka called back with the
echo of the
small tiled room distorting her voice.  "My mission statement is
to
eliminate waste and confusion regarding and in my unit."  She
cocked her
head at him over her shoulder.  "I'm surprised the entire Temple
doesn't
know _exactly_ what I've been ordered to do.  The scuttlebutt's
rife around
here.  But then, it's also said that you and your Padawan don't
keep up on
the gossip much, so I shouldn't be surprised you don't know."

*I must get Corubia to explain that bit and what she knows about
this
Jackee Rilka.  That girl knows far too much of the Temple gossip.
Force
only knows how a Padawan gets that kind of info.*  "And what does
this," he
gave a general motion encompassing his quarters and her presence
there,
"have to do with the Allocations Office?"

Rilka leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom and started at
the Jedi
Master for a long moment before answering.  "Everything.  Through
my office
comes the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the power to light
and heat
your rooms, the water for the gardens, your shower, your
drinking.  The
money to pay the civilians that make everything happen that a
Jedi is too
important to do."  She held up one clawed hand when he opened his
mouth to
protest.  "Beneath you, is not what I said.  Too important for
you to do. 
It's a waste of your training, a quarter century on average from
what I
understand, to have a Jedi keep the books or deliver clothing to
a room. 
That's what the noncoms and civilians are for, to make those
better trained
available for important missions."  She flicked her eyes down to
the
lightslate.  "Now, back to business.  Are you in a relationship
aside from
your Padawan?"

Qui-Gon slammed down the shock before answering truthfully.  "No,
I am
not."

"Cool, that makes things easier."  Rilka smiled as she pushed
herself off
the doorframe and strode for the outer door with another
appreciative
glance lingering over Qui-Gon's muscular body.  "Be prepared for
a change
in living arrangements if Obi-Wan isn't amounting to engaged. 
Jedi
Tradition may be strange to me, but this facility was built with
it in
mind, so in the name of efficiency, it'll be followed.  At least
until I
can fix the building."

He watched her disappear behind the outer door before returning
to finish
his morning routine with a bemused shake of his head for this
newest
resident.  She knew how to make an impression, even if it wasn't
the best
kind.  He tried not to think about her traipsing into Master
Yoda's rooms
like this.

It wasn't until Qui-Gon was nearly dressed that it sank in that
she'd meant
the tradition of a Padawan moving into their Master's quarters.

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

Obi-Wan settled into his seat on the window and watched his
students wreak
havoc on the lower levels of the poetry library.  He was teaching
a crash
course in Drekan while Qui-Gon finished an assignment with the
older
trainees.  His students were of a wide range of ages, from
trainees to one
Master with some free time.  Obi-Wan loved teaching languages
more than any
other subject and had offered this service during his downtime. 
The
Council had assigned them to duty Daego, but the Daegians were
being even
more difficult than usual about accepting help from the Jedi. 
Once the
mission got underway, it would take next to no time for
completion.  It had
been given them in deference to Obi-Wan's recent injury, a
courtesy he
could not truly understand.

Obi-Wan looked down to the lightslate on his lap.  Orian, one of
the
younger trainees, had a surprisingly firm grasp on the subject. 
His
translations were perfection itself, taking account of nuance and
full
meaning inherent in the vocabulary of the language.  Obi-Wan was
in the
process of writing a report for the boy's records.  He hoped the
teaching
Masters would direct his learning into the area of language and
communication.  Not that Obi-Wan was any expert, but he did know
more
languages than any other Padawan currently in training.

The crono chimed the end of the hour and Obi-Wan looked up to
wave goodbye
to his students for the day.  He strolled out of the library and
up a level
to find Corubia just ending her Poses class with the
nine-year-olds.  She
was scratching her red Padawan buzz cut, rubbing sweat out in
droplets as
the last of them filed out.  "Hey Kenobi!  Wow.  You'd think a
Wookie would
have better balance than that.  Maybe he's just in a clumsy
stage.  So,
what are we up to for the afternoon?  I've got another 'special
training
class' later."

"Me too.  Wanna go for lunch?"  Obi-Wan asked.

"Yeah, lemme pop in the quick-fresher for a second.  I'll be
right back." 
She picked up her bag and headed for the gymnasium changing
rooms.  Obi-Wan
just watched her.  He loved the way her skin glistened in green
and yellow
patterns.  He remembered the day when, as kids, she had first
shown him
that she had thin, flexible scales and that it made her sort of
shimmery
when she was damp.  He had been equally amazed when later her
finger and
toe webbing had thinned and receded, becoming less noticeable as
her body
matured.  'Throwback adaptation' she had explained and perfectly
normal to
her kind.  Her bright blue hair would be a thick, heavy shock
when she was
allowed to let it grow out, but for now it was trimmed short and
tame, like
Obi-Wan's.

She came out of the changing room in fresh robes and they set out
towards
the dining court.

They waited in line to reach the catering units.  Corubia dialed
in her
accommodations number and made her order while Obi-Wan fished up
his
credits card.  He slipped the ID into the slot and called up a
meal he
could afford with the meager credit left to him.  Corubia gave
the card a
derisive snort as they collected their food and hunted a table. 
"Pure
foolishness."

"Shut it, Cor.  I don't feel like having this conversation
again."  Obi-Wan
plopped down at a small table.

"Mark my words, Kenobi.  Your days are numbered.  I heard they
got a new
department head down in Allocations and she's redesigning the
system like a
being possessed.  She just booted Oruban out of her digs and
harassed
Master Melik until he extended an invitation for Oruban to move
into the
Padawan quarters in his suite.  Guess Melik lost his library!" 
Corubia
laughed.  She always had the latest news around the temple.  It
just seemed
to make it's way to her.

"Someone actually harassed Melik into doing something?  I thought
he was as
unflappable as a stone."  Obi-Wan considered the new situation. 
"I guess
I'll find out today for myself.  I've got to get my card
updated."

"Good luck.  I'm laying deep and involved plans to avoid Jackee
Rilka at
all costs!"  She giggled behind a hand.  "Oh, and it gets
better.  Nijra
was sent to escort them to their rooms and show them around when
they first
showed up ..."

"Them?"  Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Rilka's brought four assistants, all her species.  Anyway, you
know how
much a prude Nijra is?  Well, these guys don't wear anything but
a belt and
sash they use to clip stuff onto."  She brushed a hand lightly
over her
breasts and crotch. "Completely nude as a matter of course."

Obi-Wan tried very hard not to collapse laughing at the mental
image that
brought up.  "She must have freaked."

"Oh, more than that, three of them are male, one of them's named
Rigger. 
Apparently she stared at his balls so long that Rilka had to ask
someone at
the hanger for directions here.  So he spent the next four hours
she was
with them making passes at her.  Greig said that Rigger said he
was trying
to be friendly since she had such an interest in him.  He said he
was
obliged to help her out as he wasn't bonded and that he really
didn't mind,
even if she looked rather strange, being furless and all."

"So we have five folks walking around the Temple naked?"

"Well, not any more," Corubia shrugged.  "There was a big hooya
with the
Council and some Masters and they consented to wearing
loincloths, but
nothing up top, so the two females are still barebreasted.  It'll
still
cause havoc for a while."  She grinned.

"No kidding.  How'd they get away with it?"

"Religious freedom.  I hear that Rilka says that anything more
than what
they are wearing now in peacetime is an offense to the tenants of
their
code and they aren't happy about what they've agreed to, but
they'll live
with it as long as necessary."

"Maybe they'll leave soon, then."

"Not likely.  Rilka's here for thirty years before a transfer is
even
discussed.  I heard she wanted a challenge on a settled world and
we're
it."

"Great."

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

"Ah, Master Mace Windu.  It's good to finally meet you in my
primary
capacity."  Rilka smiled as she looked up from her lightslate,
paper, pen
and datachip strewn desk.  "Have a seat."

"Yes, better than the last time."  He inclined his head, hoping
to avoid
the rant he could all but feel rumbling under her calm exterior
and sat as
indicated.  "How are you settling?"

A dark pink tongue flicked across her chocolate nose.  "I haven't
seen the
inside of my quarters yet, but I'm made a lot of progress on the
job. 
Three more interviews and I crash for the day, barring an
emergency."

"So what did you need to see me about?"  Mace steepled his
fingers and
opened up to the Force, trying to read her temperament.  Mostly
professional disgust echoed through to him, strongly laced with
something
close to anger.

"You are a permanent Council Member?"

"Yes."  He refused to give any credence to the slowly growing
knot in his
stomach about how upset she had been at him earlier.

"And it is true that you do not intend to take on Padawan."

"That is correct."

"And the room you currently inhabit is not one designed for a
Council
Member, but one meant for a Master-Padawan pairing."

"That is correct, I had no reason to..."

Rilka raised her hand, claws unsheathed.  "I know, that has
changed.  Step
one in efficiency and organization is getting everyone to sleep
where they
are supposed to be.  You are inhabiting quarters meant for
something
else."  Rilka smiled slightly, a not all the reassuring look
given her
sharp teeth.  "You are now assigned to room 1C-502."

"What?"

"I expect quarters 3B-983 to be vacated by zero seven hundred
tomorrow. 
That's when the coding will be changed.  You are already coded
into your
new rooms."

He flicked across her mind more directly, checking if this was a
vengeance.  Somewhat to his disappointment, it showed that she
firmly
believed this was in the best interest of running the Temple and
acquiesced.  "I see.  I will relocate tonight."

"Thank you, Master Windu," she regard him levelly.  "There is no
need for
us to be opponents."

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

Obi-Wan entered the Allocations Office with his completed
requisition in
hand, sparing just enough attention to recognize Master Windu as
the large
body he had to avoid as it stalked out.

Since he didn't live with Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan got all of his
provisions
through this office.  Clothes, food, accommodations, anything he
needed to
subsist while he was on Coruscant had to be cleared through the
filing and
updating of interminable information.  Every so often he came
down, cleared
up all the needed work and got his card replenished.

He gave his lightslate to a minimally dressed young charcoal-gray
feline
male he didn't recognize behind the desk, and waited as the forms
were
filed.  "Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Yes?"  Now that he was somewhat obliged to look, he realized
that this was
one of Jackee Rilka's Kats that Corubia had mentioned.  The
beautifully
designed black, burgundy and silver nametag attached to his cream
sash read
'Rigger' in standard phonetic.  *So this was the one that
embarrassed the
hell out of Nijra.  He sure seems mild enough.*

"Lrakin Rilka wants to interview you before she authorizes this. 
She's
ready to see you now."  The slender feline motioned towards the
back
office.

Inwardly Obi-Wan groaned and cursed in every language he knew. 
Outwardly,
he retrieved his lightslate and serenely advanced to the office
door Rigger
indicated.

Despite his instructions, Obi-Wan knocked politely as the door
was shut,
reading the centered inscription on the milky glass under his
knuckles
while he waited.

Lrakin Jackee Rilka
Commanding Officer
Resource Allocations
The Jedi Temple on Coruscant

On his right, blinds blocked any view through the large window,
so there
was no way to see inside.

"Cum'in," her slightly filtered voice growled.

*I'm dead.  Whatever she's pissed about, I'm dead.*  He palmed
the door
open and slipped in to face a dark furred and barechested female
feline
sitting at the large and heavily cluttered desk.

"Who?"  Rilka's irritated expression cleared quickly.  "Oh, hello
Padawan
Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Good, please sit down."  She waved at a
comfortable chair
across from her and put her work to the side.

"Yes, Ma'am."  He instinctively tried to make himself as non
threatening as
possible as he obeyed and tried to think of what he'd done that
_she_ could
be upset with.

"You are currently involved in a serious relationship?"  The
question was
delivered with perfect neutrality.

"What?"  He couldn't help the near-squeak that came out in shock.

"Are you sleeping with anyone you intend to stay with long term? 
A
relationship that would be hindered by your Master."  She
elaborated.

"Umm, no ma'am."  He sternly controlled his fidgeting that was
trying to
rise at this path of questioning.

"Any environmental needs different from Master Jinn?"  She cocked
her head,
nearly daring him to say yes.

"No, ma'am."

"Good," she locked eyes with him, "any problems?"

"No...no ma'am.  I just didn't expect ... that is, can I be of
help in any
other way?"

Rilka offered a friendly smile.  "Just answer truthfully and save
me the
paperwork.  Now, do you have a problem sharing standard
accommodations with
your master?"

"Well, we do on missions, but here at the Temple, things are
usually
different."  Obi-Wan sincerely hoped this would not get into
personal
history.

"Well, we'll see how long that lasts."  She dug through a pile of
datacards, muttering "Kenobi, Kenobi.  It should be right here."

"Ma'am, uh, Lrakin Rilka?  I uh, sort of like it this way," he
offered,
sincerely hoping that he'd understood correctly that the word on
her door
was her rank, an that using the same way her subordinate did was
not an
insult.

"Duly noted, Kenobi.  Aha!"  She pulled a small card out, much
like his
allotment card, and tossed it to him.  "There will be a general
announcement on this, but you need yours now.  The allocations
system as it
stands is just about dead, give me a few more months to catch the
off-worlders and it will be.  The number on the back is your ID. 
It works
much like the old accommodations number or your credits card. 
You can use
the card, or type in the number once you have it memorized to get
what you
need just like before.  The only real difference is that the
limit isn't
enforced.  Your usage will be tracked by the new software and if
it starts
to look strange you'll be called in to explain it.  It also means
that you
are on your own allotments, not your masters.  Questions?"

"No, Ma'am.  I understand."  Obi-Wan offered quickly, not really
ready to
digest everything that had happened, much less implied.

"Contact this office if any arise.  Problems are not anticipated,
but they
are usually inevitable when modifying a system this size."

"Yes Ma'am.  Thank you Ma'am."  Obi-Wan beat a hasty retreat from
her
unsettling domain.