. Bonds of Choice #4 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 2 of 7) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ _"Seven your desires are and seven wishes too, Da da da,"_ Corubia was bopping down the hall singing an upbeat version of a meditation poem. Obi-Wan grabbed her by the arm. "Come on, Cor. That's funny when we're playing, but not in here." She glanced around and gave him a startled look, but stopped singing. "Come on, or we're going to be late." Obi-Wan steered her through the door and into the exercise room. They had both been assigned to a special training class, the nature of which remained unknown to him. One wall was lined with blasters of all varieties. In the middle of the room the other students were seated in a small circle around an arrangement of supplies. They took seats next to each other on the cushions just as a Master came into the room. He made a quick head count and sat down with them. "My name is Master Kourt Crowe. You may have heard of me." He turned his gaze to the floor. Obi-Wan had indeed heard of Master Crowe. Had seen him before, in fact. He was an infamous, often denied member of the Jedi Order. His location was rarely known and his missions went firmly undiscussed. The ones that did make it into public knowledge were those that were meant as object lessons to certain powerful individuals or organizations. Despite all that, or perhaps because of it, Qui-Gon had often spoken well of Master Crowe. "Okay, we're going to start with some meditations. Then we will begin learning mantras that will draw your mind to a particular way of thinking. Let's warm up. Begin with the Single Sand meditation." Kourt Crowe was relaxed, smiling and utterly at ease. Obi-Wan was surprised but relieved. He closed his eyes and began. When Obi-Wan finished his meditation he stood to stretch. He saw the others begin to rouse themselves in a similar fashion. Master Crowe was arranging the equipment on the floor. "Please gather round as soon as you are ready." Obi-Wan smiled, feeling the rush of joy and peace that always came from the Single Sand meditation. He took his time arranging himself on the cushion again and looked his supplies over. They consisted of a high powered lightchip, a glass marble and a pair of dark glasses. "This is an exercise you have probably done before. Control, containment, will and the Force. Put your glasses on and activate your lights." Master Crowe leaned against the back wall. "Good. Now gather up the light and concentrate it in the marble." Obi-Wan took the marble in his hand and did as he was commanded. The radiant light from the chip constricted into a tight beam and fed into the marble which soon glowed as brightly as the chiplight. "Good. Now allow it to dissipate and deactivate your chiplights." Master Crowe flopped down on one of the unoccupied cushions. "So you are all familiar with the mechanics of this type of control. Now we will begin to hone your speed and skill. A laser beam is nothing more than light. Just concentrated controlled light. A blaster's shot is little more than that, but at a very high power and of rather short duration. With your Jedi reflexes and your skill with the Force, you can and will use this otherwise unwieldy and crude device with all the skill you wield your lightsaber." "But why, Master Crowe? If we have our lightsaber we will not need a blaster to defend ourselves or protect our charges." Obi-Wan turned toward the speaker. It was the unmitigated prude, Nijra. A more by-the-book, annoying goody-goody had never walked this or any planet. Leave it to her to ask the obvious. Master Crowe turned his gaze on Obi-Wan. "Padawan Kenobi. Answer her." Obi-Wan bowed over his crossed legs and ordered his thoughts. "The blaster is not a proper Jedi weapon, that is true. The Lightsaber is the weapon of the honorable warrior of the Order. It is used in self-defense and the defense of others who are unable to protect themselves. It would logically follow that we are being taught to be proficient with a less than honorable weapon so that we may perform well in less than honorable duties." Obi-Wan looked at Master Crowe, who gestured for him to continue. "Also, there are times when, for security or diplomatic reasons, a lightsaber might not be present. Suppose your 'saber was damaged at a time when you could not repair it. Do you just call 'time out' and run back to the Temple for parts? That's not usually possible, in the field." "Well put, Padawan Kenobi. You should try your hand at poetry, if you have not already. Write that down and send it to me later." Master Crowe stood and went to the racks of blasters. "Yes, Master Crowe." "Now, put less prettily but more to the point, a Jedi with a blaster has only two concerns. Those concerns are combined so that among us there is one law. We aim to please, we shoot to kill. There is no other reason for you to take up this weapon. Coupling its power with your abilities should be nothing less than precise and lethal in all circumstances. You will learn to concentrate the fire into a cluster the size of your thumb. Later you may learn to warp it into a sheet of cutting energy. This skill can be expanded from the hand-held blasters like these. You will be able to use ship's weapons with the same accuracy and devastation. Now come and take your weapons and let us go to the practice range." Master Crowe took up his lightslate and began making assignments. Obi-Wan lay on his belly, blaster balanced in his hands, mind focused on the tiny target some fifty yards away. A grape. *Of all the things to be using a blaster on.* Obi-Wan lay perfectly still and waited for the command to fire. "We aim to please, we shoot to kill." Obi-Wan put his finger on the trigger, focused his awareness on the grape and squeezed the trigger. Using the Force like a funnel, he channeled the beam to touch nothing but the grape and vaporize it. He shuddered to think what he could do to a sentient life form with this skill. The targets were set up again, the exercise repeated over and over. At long last, Kourt Crowe called a halt. He checked the weapons back in, inspecting them carefully before putting them away. "Okay, Padawans, your attention please." Obi-Wan turned to face him. "You have all mastered this technique. Well, I expected no less than that of you. There's a reason I scheduled you all last," Crowe gave a lopsided grin and the others laughed. Obi-Wan let his confusion pass. "As usual, this skill is a closely guarded secret of the Order, do not discuss it with anyone. Most importantly, don't use it unless you're really trying to destroy something. You probably noticed the conditioning here, to begin the focus with a particular phrase. Make it a rule of thumb to keep it that way. Never forget that there is no defense against what you can now do. It means death to whomever or whatever you turn it against. This is not for covering fire, warning shots or any such thing. You can cut through force fields, armor, a row of beings ten deep, if you need to. If you ever receive an order to use it, you will more than likely be killing in cold blood. Any questions? Good. Report to your Masters that you have gained Blaster Proficiency level 10." *************** Obi-Wan and Corubia left the room together. Obi-Wan stepped away to make a comm call to his master. "Jinn." "Master, I have gained Blaster Proficiency level 10." Qui-Gon laughed. "Already? Moving right along there, aren't you Obi-Wan?" "As it pleases you, Master." "What do you have plans for, today?" Obi-Wan looked at Corubia and raised an eyebrow. She made kneading motions with her hands. "Corubia wants to spend the some time with the Trainees." "If you two keep feeding them sugar like this, the Training Masters are going to skin _you_ and scale _her_," Qui-Gon's words were stern, but his tone was laughing. "Tradition, Master. Padawans must spoil the life out of Trainees so as to exact revenge on the evil oppressors who raised us all." Obi-Wan was laughing outright. "Oh. Well, far be it from me to prevent an uprising of the oppressed. Dinner in my rooms at the usual hour. Oh, and keep your commlink active. There's a riot in the Segrave sector. They may call on us to help put it down." "A riot this close to the Temple? What happened?" "Some bill failed to pass in the Planetary Council and the backers are in an uproar. Don't worry. If the violence gets this close, we can handle it. We always have before and we always will." Obi-Wan felt something … a knowing, brush across his senses. "The Council is expecting it to come here, aren't they?" Qui-Gon was silent for a moment. "Are you with Corubia?" "Yes, Master." "Do not repeat this to her. I'm not certain she would keep it to herself and this is not general knowledge. Torlamin will tell her if she needs to know. Is that understood?" "Yes, Master." "They should be here some time this evening. I will be telling Central Defenses that you and she will be with the Trainees. You know your duty." "Of course, Master. I'll see you at dinner, then." Obi-Wan knew better than to behave as if doom were on the horizon. Only the future was coming, nothing more. "Come on, Cor. Let's go get your stuff. Master wants me at his place for dinner." Obi-Wan linked his arm through hers and headed for the lift to her room. ************** Qui-Gon switched off his comm link and looked down at the desk, trying to re-order his thoughts. He had been digesting information for the better part of two hours. Some forty datachips stood at his elbow, with another dozen to go. He cast about for something to do, rather than begin on the next chunk. Just then, the doorchime sounded. Kourt Crowe was propped up against Qui-Gon's doorframe, not a whit changed from the first time Qui-Gon had met him all those many years ago. His hair hung in a long mass of curls, falling across his face and covering one eye. The eye that could be seen was a rich green, and glittered with good humor. From old habit, Qui-Gon reached out and brushed the brown locks back. "I heard you had Obi-Wan in your marksmanship class today." "Yes, I did. He seems to be progressing nicely." Kourt brushed past Qui-Gon and made for the catering unit. "Tea?" "None for me. I'm memorizing, just now. Stimulants will only give me a headache." Qui-Gon resumed his seat at his desk and put a datachip in the reader. He struck a chime on the desk that was tuned to a particular tone and let the file scroll past him on the vidscreen. Although he did not see the individual words, the information was stored away. When the file ended, he shut the screen down and leaned back in his chair, waiting for his brain to digest it. "You always look so weird when you do that," Kourt opined. "I can't help it. My eyes have to move that fast to get it all," Qui-Gon shrugged. "Just think what it must be like when the ability first manifests. It's a lot worse to look at when it isn't under control." "And people wonder why I don't envy you High Potential types. Weird eye tricks, brains the size of suns, emotional problems that make most of us look like garden variety paranoids." Crowe came and sat on the floor next to Qui-Gon's desk. "Speaking of which, did you get a chance to assess Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon interrupted. "And I do not have emotional problems." "Denial, denial. It's the first sign, you know. And yes, I had a look at young Kenobi. It's every bit as bad as you reported, but no worse. I don't see any reason to involve the Council at all. We can handle this." Kourt twisted one of his curls around his index finger and tugged it thoughtfully. "That's what you said nine years ago. 'We can handle this.' You said it before that about a great many things," Qui-Gon reminded his friend. "And was I ever wrong?" Crowe returned. "Once. And that's what has me worried." Kourt looked deep into his teacup. "Don't be like that, Quigs. You knew the situation with Xanatos when you took him on." "You said I could handle him and I believed you. He started having problems, you said 'We can handle this'," Qui-Gon wasn't being fair and didn't care. "Point of order, Master Jinn. I said if anyone could handle it, it was us. I never said we were certain to succeed. I never even said the chances were good. Neither did you." "And you said you'd handle the fallout if we failed. Do you still think you can handle it?" "I haven't found him yet, Quigs. He's very good at hiding by now. He knows what will happen if I find him." Kourt's eyes went hard and dark. "I've handled worse." "And Obi-Wan? Can we really handle him?" "It won't come to that, Qui-Gon. You know he's a completely different case. It's a lack of self-confidence here, not an overabundance of one. You know that's easier to deal with than anything else he could have developed. Just take your time. Find the roots of the problem and undercut them. Starve the problem, root and branch. You CAN do this." Crowe gestured fluidly with one hand. "I can do this," Qui-Gon smiled. "I just wish it wouldn't hurt him so much to go through this. Why didn't we start on this sooner?" "Do not dwell on the past, Quigs. Use the events of now to shape the future. You can not change the past, or the necessity of what we chose to do. Now you must take up the burden and repair the damages. I'm sure you'll find they're not permanent. I am CERTAIN they are not insurmountable. I have great faith in you and your apprentice." Kourt drank off the last of his tea. "I think you were doing something when I came in?" "Just filling my head with another culture. Ho hum." Qui-Gon smiled and put another datachip in the reader. "It's good to see you again, Kourt." "I'll be on call any time you need me. I know this is going to be a difficult pass for you both. I am here for you, Qui-Gon Jinn." Kourt stood and came closer. He took Qui-Gon's hand and dropped a kiss into his palm. Then just as quickly as a breath, he was out the door and gone. *Oh, Kourt. I'm so sorry we never had the time to find out what might have been between us. But maybe it's for the best. I could never have given up my Koateleu for you.* ****************** The garden was filled with laughter today. Obi-Wan leaned back on his elbows in the grass, soaking up the sound of it. This wasn't the manicured meditation gardens, but the bit of earth created for use by the Trainees. They learned their first uses of the Living Force here, carefully encouraging the little plants out of the ground. Children from ages four through twelve dashed about like beings possessed, joy spilling off them and into the flow of the Force. Obi-Wan loved it here. "C'mon Obi! Just one more!" A small boy landed on Obi-Wan's stomach and bounced impatiently. "I've already done three for you. Ask Corubia. She's better at it than I am anyway." Obi-Wan set the boy aside. "You do a MUCH better bird than she does. Besides, you tell stories with yours." Obi-Wan sat up to discover that his fan club had not left his side. "Well, okay. Just a couple more, then I have to go to my Master." "Are you in trouble, Obi-Wan?" this from Sayjil, an older child with thoughtful eyes and silvery skin. "Am I breathing?" Obi-Wan returned. "Now, I think you wanted a bird, right Aeson?" A loud chorus of "A bird! A bird!" garnered attention from all over the garden. Even Corubia came over to the circle of children to watch him. Obi-Wan fought the blush reflex. She had taught him how to do this, as she had learned from her mother on visits home over the years. Her parents were candymakers on her home planet and had wanted Corubia to know something of their lives. He took up a wad of white taffy from the bowl at his side and kneaded it for a moment to make it pliable. He had told stories to himself while learning the different shapes, so he could remember the steps. Corubia had asked him to write them down and sent them home to her parents. She never used them herself, though. They were Obi-Wan's creation. "Once upon a time there was a lake," Obi-Wan said, putting a small amount of blue dye in the taffy and working it through. He stuck the wad onto a thin skewer and took up his knife. "There were two colonists that lived nearby. Every day they walked two crooked paths to get some water." Here Obi-Wan carved two strips of taffy away from the wad and twisted them into bird legs. He continued telling the story, drawing out the wings, the neck and head, the tail, then decorating the bird with brushstrokes of dye. He finished his story by putting dots of deeper blue on the tailfeathers. "And the old man said to his wife, 'Oh! Those are just fish trying to be tadpoles." The children laughed. Obi-Wan gave Aeson his bird and turned to Sayjil. "I'll do a special one for you. There's no story, but I think you'll like it anyway. How about a little song instead?" She nodded and he held out his hand to Corubia. She came and sat behind him to help sing and carve. She slipped her legs to either side of him and rested her chin on his shoulder. The Dragon in Flight was complicated, requiring more than two hands to create. "We'll call this one the Bad Ol' Dragon," Corubia declared. "Oh, not that one! The Masters will kill us for sure," Obi-Wan egged her on. The kids joined in. "Do the Bad Old Dragon! Make it really really bad!" So Corubia dyed the taffy black and Obi-Wan began the song. It was a meditation poem on the Dark Side, the one Corubia had been singing earlier. The kids knew the poem and some sang along. "Seven your deceptions are and seven falsehoods, too But only one misstep will bring you down. Seven your desires are and wishes to fulfill, But only one will answer for the need within your heart. Seven are the hopes you hold, and seven destinies Seek the one that lies upon the Solitary Path. Seven are the enemy and seven traitors come Justice is a single entity Seven are the scattered pieces, chaos is their rule Order is the law that you will wield Seven are the obstacles you easily perceive Evade the obstacle you can not see. Seven is the number by which we are overcome We make the strength of one the strength of ten." It wasn't supposed to make sense, Obi-Wan knew. It was really just to make you think in terms of battling the Dark Side, which was sevenfold stronger than any individual alone. The strength of the Jedi came not from their numbers, but from the individuals who made themselves ten times stronger, sometimes a hundred or a thousand times stronger than any one being could be. With the Force. Through the Light. He put the finishing touches on the dragon, making the scales glitter in reds and greens. Its head reared up menacingly, the tail twisted in armored splendor around the stick. The wings spread high and wide to catch the wind. He handed this to Sayjil. "I want to keep it forever. It's so beautiful!" the little girl whispered. "Ah, but that's the catch to Taffy Toys," Corubia reminded her. "They won't last no matter what you do. Better to enjoy it now while it's pretty than wait for it to crumble." Obi-Wan smiled when the girl obediently began licking her dragon away. A few moments later and she was sharing the wings with a friend. Obi-Wan and Corubia began packing up the candy, much to the displeasure of their company. "Now kids, come on! Obi-Wan has to go home. Master Jinn needs him," Corubia explained. "Master Jinn ALWAYS has him!" Aeson complained. "He never gets to come and play like you do." "Yes, but Master Torlamin is here at the Temple more often. The Padawan must obey." Obi-Wan snapped the locks closed on the paint box and slung the strap over his shoulder. He stood and dusted his knees off. Just then the incursion alarm sounded. Three hoots and a trill on every comm link in the Temple. The children in the garden froze. "Trainees, fall in on my rank!" Obi-Wan shouted. There were no other adults in the garden. Two Senior Padawans usually equaled a Knight when it came to monitoring the children. There were about two dozen trainees falling into perfect ranks of four by four. He turned to Corubia. "Lead or follow?" "I'll follow," she said. Obi-Wan went to the head of the file. "March!" They stepped out in perfect unison. Obi-Wan never failed to be amazed at the discipline the Jedi-raised children exhibited. The older children kept an eye on the younger, the Padawans watched the older kids and Obi-Wan led them to their emergency shelter. Up stairs and down corridors they trotted, making good time and causing no problems or confusion. Obi-Wan and Corubia reached out through the Force to add strength to their calm mental state. When they reached the training rooms, Obi-Wan called "Halt!" A training master stood at the door with her clipboard. "Report." "These are the Trainees from the Lower Garden. We were there watching them, heard the alarm and brought them here." Corubia said. "You were down there stuffing them full of sweets again, Padawan Nall. And you too, Kenobi. Don't think we're ignorant of your subversive activities. Get to the Upper Armory and find your masters." Obi-Wan slipped the dyebox strap off his shoulder and handed it to Sayjil. "Will you take care of this for me?" "I am ready to protect," she promptly replied.