. Bonds of Choice #4 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 4 of 7) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Lrakin Rilka, may I have a few moments of your time?" A marginally familiar male voice drew her attention from locking the Allocations office main door four hours after the battle. It had taken that long to get what *couldn't* wait another day done. Her crew ... her family now ... where long since released to their quarters. She wanted nothing more than to join them and finalize it, having long forgotten what this limbo felt like. *Goddess, what a halfweek.* "Master Qui-Gon, right?" She eyed the huge but graceful human with only a fraction of her normal interest, but still *Goddess, he's even more beautiful dressed* wandered through her thoughts. "Yes." She regarded him, took a deep breath to assess his condition and found and odd mix of guilt, arousal and something akin to hope. "Is it about Allocations in some way?" "Yes, Lrakin." She let her ears slip down with the disappointment she felt. "I'll answer to Rilka or Jackee as well, this is home ... you are part of my Trinah -- my extended family now." She palmed the office open again. "Please come in," half a step in and she hit the lights on, then lead him back to her office and almost collapsed in her chair behind the desk. "Please sit, and what is this about?" She kept her voice impeccably neutral. "If this is a ..." "Just say it and let's deal with it, okay? I'm here. Tomorrow will be no better." *An outright lie, but he'll never know. Duty first, and always, as it must be.* She closed her eyes for a moment before focusing on him and her job completely. "I wish to have Obi-Wan moved into my Padawan Room." Qui-Gon accepted her choice of duty over whatever she felt she needed. "That's it?" Her ears flicked forwarded as disbelief crept into her voice. "Umm, yes Lrakin Jackee." He opted to mimic her treatment of his name and title. It earned him a smile -- or what passed for one from a Kat -- and a small flicker in the Force around her he identified as relief. "Is there a problem?" "Goddess, no," can out a breathy sigh. "But I do need to ask a few questions." "I understand," Qui-Gon nodded slightly. *I doubt it, but cooperation is cooperation.* She tapped several keys on her desk lightslate in rapid succession, scanned what popped up on her screen and began. "Okay, are you requesting this to avoid being forced to accepted it?" "No. Why would I?" "To save face. If it's your idea ..." "I see," he nodded slightly. "No, I want Obi-Wan to join me. He is at a critical stage of his training that would be hindered by being so far away. I have encouraged his independence this long, it is now no longer an option." "Okay," she tapped lightly. "Have you discussed this with him?" "No." "Is a week from yesterday too long? I have him scheduled for a move then. If you need it sooner ..." "A week is fine, Lrakin Jackee. The situation is not _that_ dire. Merely important." Qui-Gon rose easily. "I thank you for your time and understanding." "You're welcome, it's my job ... and you _are_ family now. Now sit back down a minute. As long as I've got you here ..." she swiveled her chair around and rapidly shuffled through her collection of cards in ordered boxes behind the shelves muttering "Jinn, Jinn, Qui-Gon Jinn; Master. Got it." "More of your changes?" "You could say that. The old system was giving me headaches just sorting though it. I really don't want to think about running it. Frankly, it's probably a good thing the disorganized, shortsighted kulag that built it is long dead, or I'd be calling a BloodHunt. 'mazing that the Jedi have done so well with such a mangled support structure." She tossed him the card. "This is an Allocation's Card, your Padawan has one as well. Give me a few months and so will the rest of the Temple. It works much like your accommodations number, actually, it works exactly like it from what I've translated. If your spending becomes unusual in comparison to your apparent needs and missions, you will be called into this office to explain. It will all be tracked by the new software we finally got installed. Once you memorize the number, you won't have to use the card. The biggest changes will likely take a few months for me to kick everyone's tails into gear in the sub-offices ... but when all is said and done you should be able to walk into Clothing and walk out with what you need." She smiled slightly at what she had planned for them. "They'll have it in stock." "I see." Qui-Gon slipped the card into a small inner pocket of his cloak. "In time." She grinned back. "Oh, and are you going on a mission? I'd like to get the pipes fixed in your quarters and it's easiest on everyone if you're off planet." "We have a mission scheduled in three weeks, but it is not a reliable date." He offered without giving any unnecessary information. "Oh, yah, that Daego thing." Rilka tapped away at her desk's lightslate and studiously ignored the surprise that crept into his scent, though not his expression. "Let's see, medical's normal on both of you, so it's probably not doing much damage. I can probably just put you on Alpha Standby. The first time you're off planet and expected to stay there for at least 48 hours, a crew will do the repairs. I'll just keep an eye on the assignments, you don't have to worry about it." "All right." "One last thing, any pets?" "Not often." Qui-Gon answered somewhat truthfully. They rarely stayed for long, and these days Obi-Wan insured they had a place and care in the Aviary. "But Obi-Wan has a turtle." She smiled again, the tip of her pink tongue remained sticking out between sharp white front teeth. "Yes, the infamous Dauhge." *I don't want to know. No. I want to know how she knows but I really don't _ need_ to know the answer. She's worse than Corubia.* He settled for a slight nod. "Is that an issue?" "No, but they change what I expect to see on your Allocation and some of them need to be warned about -- either in general or to certain species." Rilka interlaced her fingers and stretched up, barely suppressing a yawn. "Do you have any questions?" She gestured him up. "I do not believe so." "Good. If any arise, do contact this office, or me personally. Normally, there would be someone on duty 24-7, but tonight is special." Rilka walked him out of the office, clicking off the lights as they went. "Special how? If you don't mind." Qui-Gon asked softly just inside the outer door. Rilka regarded him for a long moment before leaning against the wall. "If I explain it, will you grant me a small favor?" "What do you want?" "Just to smell you, thoroughly," she locked eyes. *What harm can come of that?* "All right." "Thank you," was barely whispered as she covered the arms-length between them in a single motion, draped both hands on his shoulders and slipped her muzzle between his neck and loose hair with an open mouthed sigh. After her first deep breath, Qui-Gon relaxed his stance to ease the pressure on his shoulders and allow her to reach without stretching quite as much. All he accomplished was to draw her closer, and bring her breath and rough tongue further along his neck. Jackee relaxed completely to allow her mind to catalog and accurately translate the information it was rapidly being given. *There will be no second chance at this.* Breath in to gather his scent, lick several times to gather his taste, breath out to ruffle his hair and clear the air for the next breath. She let it all wash over her at this most ancient of rites. Human. Male. Strong. Certain. Paired!? Different. Powerful. Alpha. Alone. Obi-Wan. Fresh desire. Herbal mixture -- sort later, cleanser. Arousal? Animal-Healer, Ancient-Kin. Kimandr. Accept. Respect. No Threat. 'Obey' was spoken weakly by the part of her mind not yet accepting her new rank. She shifted slightly to bring her right fangs against a small patch of skin licked nearly numb and sliced a small cut, hurriedly licking the blood away before the small wound sealed. As the rich metallic rolled across her tongue and down her throat, it confirmed what she smelled. All of it. "You did more than smell, Rilka." He didn't quite reprimand as she pulled away. "I ... know." She let herself nearly collapsed against the wall. "I need ... confirmation of what I smelled. I am sorry, but I ..." "Why?" She pushed her face though spread finders. "I need to know how dangerous you are to me." "By biting me?" He started at her unblinkingly for a long moment. "Why?" "Not by biting you," Rilka shook her head. "It was just a convenient way to taste your blood. I needed to know how much control you could exert over my Clan." "And?" "More than I would like." "I have no interest in interfering with your Clan." He touched her chin lightly to get to her face him again and saw both resignation and exhaustion there, but little else. "If you can tell so much, surely you know that." He projected calm and sincerity towards here almost without thinking. "I know, not like it really matters. You are what you are, as are we." She took a deep breath and leaned back to relax. "Now, you wanted to know about why tonight's special. Remember I said you are Trinah -- family now?" She dropped her head to stare at the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes and continuing. "I didn't believe you could turn the mob without violence. I don't believe all of what I've heard of Jedi combat abilities. To protect what is here, to do what I have sworn my life to, I ... claimed ... this temple as my territory. I called on the rights of a Queen Mother. My sisters lent me power, enough to quell the mob if need be. I would have killed them all on the first injury to one here. In claiming the right, I have also claimed those that serve here as my Clan ... my family, my responsibility. The four other Kats here are my Ashara ... my inner family, the core of the new Clan. Everyone else are my Trinah -- extended family. On a level, I am responsible for all Jedi now, for as Jedi belong to the Temple, all that belongs to the Temple belongs to me." Qui-Gon watched her silently for a long moment, feeling the ebb and flow for Force around her and the massive jumble of contradicting emotions emanating from her. Then, without warning, it stilled as she regained control. "It is nothing to worry about. It brings no demands on you, as a Trinah, only on the Ashara." Rilka leaned against the door, quietly trying not to think about everything she hadn't said about it. "Even though I am ..." "Kimandr," she quickly supplied. "Yes, even though. Your innate abilities give you the right to petition for Ashara status if you want, but nothing more." She bit back the part that Obi-Wan probably could as well, and her gratitude at fate that they were both male. "And there is now a ritual of some kind I have kept you from in my curiosity. Truly my request could have been dealt with later." Qui-Gon bowed to her, "I will leave you to your Clan duties now, and I thank you for your time and knowledge." Rilka watched him depart, bemused by the raw confusion in his scent over the entire Trinah issue. He would definitely bear watching, for so many reasons. A final check on the door and she all but bolting to the lift that would reach her quarters before someone else stopped her. "Lrakin Rilka, may I have a word with you?" Another man asked calmly as she entered the lift. "Is this about an allocation?" She tried to keep her voice even. "No, it ..." "Then you have until I get to my door, Master Windu. **************** Obi-Wan had just dismissed his class in Drekan for the last time. He had nothing on his schedule for a couple of days and was planning on spending some time with the trainees. He was still in a haze of peace and serenity left over from the 'battle' on the walls last week. Everyone was. He wondered if it was possible for anything to bring him down. Corubia had not missed the kiss Qui-Gon had given him, though it seemed that everyone else had. She had drawn the logical conclusion but said nothing to anyone, a minor miracle in itself. Obi-Wan was glad. He was in too good of a mood lately to try to explain something he had yet to put much thought into. He was in too good of a mood for anything even remotely that annoying. As he neared the door to his room, he saw there was something taped to it. "Oh no. Nonononononono." Obi-Wan looked at the thin yellow envelope with something like terror. *Fear is the path to the Dark Side,* he reminded himself. *It's just paper. It can't hurt you.* He opened the envelope with some trepidation, read the notice and put it away. Arrgh. *A Padawan is obedient. A Jedi overcomes adversity,* he reminded himself, thumbing the lock on his door. Okay, not so much HIS door anymore, considering that he only had three hours to clear the milk crate they called apprentice quarters. But still, for the moment, it was the door that led to the area that housed his stuff. Not that he had a lot of stuff. But still. Well, so much for his good mood. Obi-Wan began gathering his things, folding, packing, and removing himself from the space formerly known as his. He glanced over at the aquarium where Dauhge paddled, all unknowing. The turtle was Obi-Wan's responsibility but now it now seemed he was unable to provide proper housing for the little creature. Indeed, he was unprepared to even provide storage for the now-also-homeless reptile. *I will NOT move in with Qui-Gon. By all that is holy, I WILL take care of myself.* He had all of his possessions packed in a matter of minutes. The rounds of housing musical chairs had bumped him right out of his space on numerous occasions before this. When it came to supplying the needs of Padawans, Obi-Wan was now just three pecks from the bottom of the list. His Master had spacious quarters. His master was an active Jedi Field Operative, often away from Coruscant on Council Missions. His master would see to it that he had all that he needed, be it education, food, medical attention or a sofa to crash out on until a room came free. And if he didn't, Rilka would likely be on him in a flash for causing her extra work. Curse it all to any place sufficiently disgusting and uncomfortable. Oh, Obi-Wan knew he was being unreasonable. His life was exciting, interesting, a challenge. It was spiritually fulfilling, emotionally balanced, physically exhilarating, everything a young human male needs. Of course, he spent three quarters of his time in the public eye, another eighth in peril and the last shred mostly in eating, sleeping and training. Sure there was plenty of downtime, plenty of self-days in that plan. Plenty of privacy and quiet space. Right. Pull the other one. He took Dauhge's smaller, more portable bowl from the low shelf, filled it with water from the aquarium, transferred the turtle and switched off the pump. He put the turtle food packet into his sleeve. His meager luggage sat in the center of the floor, accusing him. 'We've only been here six months! We just got settled in,' it seemed to exude. 'Who do you think is going to take us in this time?' *I will NOT move in with Qui-Gon.* Obi-Wan prided himself that his Master never need spare a second thought about his Padawan's well being while they stayed at the Temple. Obi-Wan had become a master of manipulating the system, arranging his housing, food allotments, clothing dole, all the things that got him through being alive, a Padawan, and not on some miserable little hole-in-the-wall planet for once. His friend Jenji had told him, in much detail, the luxury of training under Master Ar'thapa. Invitation to live in the Master's quarters, meals planned together, evenings doing nothing more than watching the threedy, munching snacks and talking about ... stuff. Obi-Wan tried to imagine doing any of these things with Qui-Gon. The best he could come up with was a memory related to the first time Obi-Wan had received and eviction notice. He had been about 13 at the time and had gone immediately to his master's quarters, ready to ask his advice, seek his council, get some HELP. When he entered, he'd found Qui-Gon face down and snoozing at his desk. It was clear that Qui-Gon had just pulled an all-nighter of some sort and needed his Padawan to look after his well being. Again. Having bundled Qui-Gon off to bed, using equal parts logical persuasion and the subtle mental suggestion that the body does indeed need rest, Obi-Wan had set about tidying the work area. He found stacks and stacks of datachips, all related to their next mission. Apparently Qui-Gon had been trying to swallow all the available information on a culture whole. He looked at the stakes, millions of lives, the governments of six planets, trade disputes that affected jobs and lives and real people who had no idea that the hope of their continued happiness was being seen to by a teenage boy. Obi-Wan realized that his rooming problems were just way too petty to bother Qui-Gon with. He'd gone down to the Allocations office, picked up a pamphlet and some forms, and dealt with it himself. Three weeks of sofa surfing with friends and acquaintances, the odd stranger, and two miserable nights on a bench in the gardens, and he'd had a new room all to himself. This little cycle repeated about once every two years. He'd never once asked to stay with Qui-Gon. And Qui-Gon had never suggested that he do so. So Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan, stuck his eviction notice in his teeth, hitched his 2 bags over his shoulder, picked up his turtle bowl in his left arm, got his small box of valuables (sundry, misc., not all that valuable really) and set out to deal with the situation. First stop, Corubia's place. She roomed with Master Torlamin and could probably find a spare ledge for Dauhge. When the door slid open, Corubia took the letter from between his teeth and looked it over. "Oh, man. They got you again? Must be part of that shakedown in Allocations." She took Dauhge and waved Obi-Wan into the room. "That sincerely bites. What are you going to do?" "I hate to impose on you like this, but I don't even have a shelf to put the poor boy on, this time. They caught me flat-footed. May I?" He gestured towards the vid unit. "Be my guest. You've got, what, sixteen days before you two go off saving a world again?" She headed to the caterer to dial up some tea. Obi-Wan shook his head. "This whole mess at Daego has sort of ground to a halt. We're just sitting here, twiddling our thumbs, waiting for them to decide for themselves that they could use our help. Been pushed back another seven days. They even assigned Qui-Gon some seminar for the littles." Obi-Wan pulled up the addressing roster for the Temple apartments. "Why don't you just stay here?" She asked, bringing him a steaming mug of liquid perk. "You know I can't. You live with Master Torlamin. If I move in with you, or even crash out here until we leave, Qui-Gon will hear about it. Then I'll catch nine different flavors of hell from him until I get the situation straightened out. Ooh, look. Swed got that nice room in the south wing. He still owes me a crash," Obi-Wan made a note of that and kept scrolling through the listings. The thought of staying with Master Torlamin was less appealing than sleeping in the gardens. She was a good enough Master, but there was something rather odd about her. Both he and Corubia had studied under her when they were Trainees and he had never heard anything but good report of her from Corubia … still, Obi-Wan could not shake his distrust of her. "Qui-Gon's your master. He's supposed to help you," Corubia pointed out. "Qui-Gon is my master. He's supposed to train me. I'm supposed to take care of things. First: him, his health and his mental well being. Then my physical health and fitness, to continue doing those things. Then my training. Somewhere below about twenty other things that we must see to, jointly, comes the question of where I put my head down to sleep. I have a system here. It works. Leave it." Obi-Wan knew he wasn't being fair to his friend but felt strangely unable to stop the bitter words. "Well, I'll look after Dauhge for as long as you want me to. And no sleeping in the garden this time. If you think anybody buys your story about communing with nature, you're daft," she warned him. "As long as Qui-Gon buys it, that's all I care about."