Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

1.

The thing is that Nield meant to turn left. There is a cut-through to the main square just along the street there and he intends to confront the Elders no matter what Obi-Wan and Cerasi say about it.

Instead, something nudges him right. He will never admit that it is Obi-Wan’s Force nonsense, but something, some instinct, insists that he turn right.

He turns right.

Ahead of him, one of Mawat’s team, Alv is walking ahead of him with a sniper rifle.

The sight of it arrests Nield’s own hurried walk.

Mawat is one of the most sceptical of the Young about the agreement. He’s one of the oldest too. He knows just as Nield does that it is foolish to trust the Elders. He’s sided with Nield on every argument.

Obi-Wan once said that peace does not require an assumption of trust, it just requires effort to not assume the worst of the other side and to talk before raising arms again. Standing watching Alv disappear into one of the old abandoned buildings which overlook the square Nield is assuming the worst of his own. He remembers all too well how Cerasi’s father killed Mawat’s brother; he remembers Mawat’s grief and pain at the loss.

He follows Alv.

Fifteen minutes later, he is struggling with Alv on top of the roof, trying to wrestle the gun away from him.

Somehow, Obi-Wan is just there and between them they subdue him. In the square below them Cerasi has somehow managed to step between the Elders and the Young, her arms outstretched in either direction. She’s stopped their fighting.

Nield has the sudden image of Alv shooting Cerasi, of her dying down in the street during the confrontation. He meets Obi-Wan’s tired blue gaze across Alv’s defeated bowed head. For the first time in days they both seem to just know what the other is thinking.

They’ve dodged a blaster shot for sure.

He’s suddenly glad that he turned right.

The incident doesn’t automatically bring peace to Melida/Daan, but it is the beginning. Mawat is subdued in the aftermath and they all agree to Obi-Wan’s suggestion to call back the Jedi to help. Nield admires him for stepping up with the idea even though it clearly hurts him. Nield considers Master Qui-Gon Jinn just as much an Elder as any adult. For that reason, Nield insists that the Jedi send someone other than Jinn. The masked lizard man who arrives seems sensible.

Indeed, once Master Koon understands the situation, he is quick to reassure Obi-Wan that he still has a place with the Jedi. Nield and Cerasi both tell Obi-Wan that he has a home with them, but they see his decision writ in the determined lines across his brow; he will return to the Jedi.

Nield manages to corner the masked lizard before they leave. Someone in the Jedi should know of their concerns for Obi-Wan, for his being raised by someone like Jinn who could abandon him.

The lizard man nods slowly. “It seems the Force agrees with you. I promise I will keep watch on their partnership from here.” A clawed hand settles on Nield’s shoulder carefully. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I’m not trusting you,” Nield says pointedly, “I’m asking you not to blindly trust Jinn with Obi-Wan.”

As the Jedi ship lifts into the air, Nield hopes that the promise the lizard man made to him will be kept. Obi-Wan has helped them gain peace. His friend deserves better than to return to the care of an Elder.

2.

Jango really does not know what makes him turn right instead of left leaving the Governor’s building.

To his left is a straight road back to the Haat Mando’ade camp, to the people he leads as a young and reluctant Mand’alor. It has been three years since his guardian and the former Mand’alor, Jaster Mereel, died on Korda VI. Three years of growing up and growing into a role he never wished to take up.

None of this is in his mind as he turns right. He’s thinking about the contract, about what a slimy di’kut the governor appeared to be, and how best to deal with the violent rebellion the governor claims is happening when there appears to be very little evidence of anything but some reasonable and peaceful opposition to the governor’s corruption.

Jango is thinking about the likelihood of the governor actually paying them when he listens to a sudden urgent feeling which tells him to turn right and he makes the step.

He stops at the sight of a figure disappearing around a corner. It was quick but there was a flash of weak sunlight on their painted beskar’gam; the colours shining blue and black, the colours of Kry’tsad, Death Watch.

Death Watch are on Galidraan.

“Was that…” Kal Skirata growls the question beside him.

“I think it was,” Jango says grimly.

He remembers the last time Death Watch turned up unexpectedly where they were not meant to be – Korda VI. Jaster had been betrayed – they had all been betrayed by Montross conspiring with Death Watch. He’d set up the ambush which had killed Jaster and just like then this mission…this was a trap.

“Let’s get back to camp,” Jango orders. “We need to regroup.”

“Elek A’lor,” Kal says crisply. He shoots another look towards where they’d caught sight of Kry’tsad but he turns back around and falls into step beside an already moving Jango.

Less than a day later, the Haat Mando’ade are leaving the planet, ships lifting off in the agreed formation. They know the former governor has conspired with Death Watch to bring a Jedi squad to hunt down the Haat Mando’ade. They’ve seen the evidence the governor sent; the horrifying pictures of the atrocities which Death Watch had inflicted upon the populace including the murder of young children. It is imperative they are not on Galidraan when the Jedi arrive.

Jango’s ship is one of the last to leave. His co-pilot Myles is his best friend and his sometimes bed partner. Jango feels the satisfaction of a job well done even if they’ve been paid nothing.

The Darksabre hangs by a clip to his belt.

Tor Vizsla had not been expecting Jango to find his camp; hadn’t expected Jango to challenge him. Vizsla’s defeat hadn’t stopped the rest of Kry’tsad from attacking them. Not surprising, Jango considers grimly; they are all dar’manda, demagolka.

He has left those few who survived alive with the new governor. They can punish them how they wish or leave them to the mercy of the Jedi. Jango does not care which. All he cares about is that the Haat Mando’ade have survived the trap.

As he orders the fleet into hyperspace, he wonders at what prompted him to go right. Perhaps it was the Jedi’s magic, protecting them from being fooled. Perhaps it was all the former Mand’alors marching ahead who had prompted the feeling in the Manda.

Jango doesn’t know and in many ways he doesn’t care anymore than he cares about the fate of the Death Watch survivors he has left behind; he’s just grateful that he and his people are alive.

3.

Rattatak is a nest of slavers and corruption.

Dooku steps out of the small ship he’s been assigned for the mission and is grateful for its battered exterior which hides just how well-armed it is. They’ve managed to land without detection and the first part of their mission is complete.

“Master,” Komari steps up to stand beside him.

They both survey the mountainous terrain with distaste.

“Here, Master,” Komari points to their left. “There is a path.”

Dooku frowns. He breathes in deeply and focuses on the Force. It is telling him to turn right. He gestures to Komari to follow him as he starts to pick his way down, grateful for the dry ground and the cloudy sky which dilutes the strong sun.

“Are we certain Knight Narec is actually here?” asks Komari, her scepticism thickly coating her tone.

“No,” Dooku concedes, “but Master Koon believes that the padawan’s vision which was reported to him definitely indicated that he is here and in some danger.”

Komari sighs.

Dooku inwardly grimaces. He had hoped that Komari would have learned to keep such sighs from physically manifesting at this point in her learning. She is still adjusting after mind-healing, he reminds himself briskly. Her behaviour at being denied a battle with Mandalorians at Galidraan had disturbed him enough to consult with the Healers. They’d found evidence in her mind that she had come into contact with a Sith artefact which had twisted her thinking.

Dooku still has not worked out where and when that had happened. His own interest in Sith history is well-known and it is true that they had explored the ruins of Sith temples before, but he is certain that Komari had never touched anything – certainly not in his presence. The only other place where she might have come into contact with something was at Senator Palpatine’s abode. The senator is an Old Republic history buff and he collects old artefacts from the period. Dooku had taken Komari to a few soirees at the senator’s house, but Dooku is certain that none of the artefacts Palpatine showed were Sith.

He shakes the nagging worry about how Komari got injured away. She’s undertaken extensive Healing and has been declared fit for duty. They just need to focus on the mission at hand.

They walk for several minutes before a sound catches their attention.

A blaster.

Dooku runs, careful to keep his footing on the steep hill even as he increases his speed.

They dart around a boulder and immediately see the fight playing out in front of them.

To the left, a gang of pirates is shooting at Narec. The Knight stands firm batting the blaster shots back with his lightsabre, all the while keeping a young girl behind him, protecting her.

“Let’s give Knight Narec a hand here, Padawan,” Dooku drawls as he ignites his own lightsabre.

“Yes, Master,” Komari says grimly, drawing both her lightsabres.

Against one Jedi, the pirates might have stood a chance, but with three Jedi fighting them, they are quickly dispatched.

Dooku nods at Narec who looks desperately relieved at the sight of them. “Knight Narec, it is good to see you alive.”

“Yes, Master Dooku,” Narec says brightly. “And may I say how good it is to see you and your Padawan.” He nods towards Komari. “Thank you for the save with that Weequay, Padawan.”

Komari blushes bright red.

Dooku regards the exchange with narrowed eyes. Narec is not an ugly human and Komari is at the right age for a crush. He is tempted to sigh but he represses the urge. Better Narec than him.

“This is my Padawan, Asajj,” Narec nudges the girl forward.

She cannot be more than six years of age, Dooku realises, but she is strong in the Force and her markings give away her origin as a Nightsister. Well, Narec can argue his case to teach her in front of the Council; it is not Dooku’s concern.

His concern is to get them back to Coruscant.

“Master Narec’s hurt,” Asajj states bluntly.

Dooku raises one eyebrow at the Knight.

Narec grimaces and turns so Dooku can see his back. A wide bright red spot on his clothing says everything about the bloody wound Narec has taken.

“I’m alright, just a bad hit,” Narec says calmly.

It was a bad hit and if they hadn’t turned up to rescue him, Dooku could imagine that the wound might have festered or caused Narec some ongoing issues but since they are rescuing him…

Dooku nods decisively. “Let’s get back to our ship. We can treat you there and get off this Force-forsaken rock.” He doesn’t wait for Narec to agree but simply starts back the way they came.

Behind him, he hears Komari greet Asajj and offer to carry her and the youngling’s blunt dismissal of the help. Narec chides his charge.

He has a feeling it is going to be an interesting journey home.    

4.

Tahl turns right on a mission to the Halva Archives, does not sense the step, falls and badly breaks her ankle.  She inwardly curses her blindness even as she accepts her padawan’s help to get back to their ship.

Bant gives Tahl very competent first aid before she sets course to Coruscant. Tahl knows her padawan’s interests are in the medical field rather than in Tahl’s own research and historical profession as an archivist. She doesn’t regret offering to take the Mon Calamari as her padawan – Bant has all the qualities of an outstanding Jedi and she is a warm and intelligent girl, but as more and more time passes, the more Tahl knows they are not well-suited. Tahl is determined to keep her promise and see Bant to Knighthood, and perhaps a Mastery in Healing, but sometimes she wonders if that is the best way forward.

Still, they are not the first Master and padawan to muddle through. Her mind immediately slips to Qui-Gon and his red-haired shadow, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon had actually been censured for his actions towards Obi-Wan on Melida/Daan (rightly in Tahl’s view, although Qui-Gon will never admit it stubborn old fool that he is) and where their partnership remains under the watchful oversight of Master Koon.

The call from the twins on New Apsolon comes through as Tahl recovers from surgery to repair her shattered bones. She is tempted – so tempted – to return and help them. She had always hated leaving before things had completely stabilised, and she has left Bant alone before to pursue dangerous missions on her own.

But her ankle is barely healed. She feels weak and drained from the injury in a way she hasn’t felt since she’d first woken in the Halls of Healing without her sight.

She feels cared for as Bant carefully helps Vokara Che with the aftercare checks. She’s anticipating a visit from Qui-Gon later and already planning to accept the fuss he will make of her. Oh, she’ll pretend not to, of course, but she has always perhaps not-so-secretly enjoyed his attention.

Her hand hovers over her comm unit as she considers the twins’ request for her to return, for her help.

She sighs.

She really is not fit for duty.

Damn that step.

Why had she turned right?

She sends the request to the Council. They will appoint someone else, perhaps Qui-Gon. They had done the original mission together after all. She hopes it is someone else. She’s been looking forward to Qui-Gon’s visit, to spending time with him. But if duty calls…

Hours later, Tahl is pleased when Qui-Gon sails into her recovery room, Obi-Wan in his wake. He had been offered New Apsolon but had requested the Council send another team. She doesn’t doubt that he was truthful in claiming a fresh pair of eyes would be good for the mission, but inwardly, as Qui-Gon gently takes her hand and asks how she is, she knows that is not why Qui-Gon insisted on staying in the temple.

Perhaps, Tahl considers, it is time they admit their attachment and face the consequences of embracing it rather than resisting it.  

Maybe turning right was the better direction for their future.

5.

Satine doesn’t so much step right as she gets yanked right.

She shoots Obi-Wan a sharp look to ensure that he gets to experience the fullness of her ire and scowls when he does nothing more than roll his eyes at her.

“We should have gone left,” Satine mutters lowly.

“I had a bad feeling about left,” Obi-Wan states in the same low tone.

Neither of them want to draw attention as they hurry along the street so Satine stews in her ire rather than continuing to argue – which she really, really wants to do.

She just hopes her father and sister are doing well with the kind Kel Dor Jedi who introduced himself as Obi-Wan’s Master.

There was some kind of story there given the looks the pair had exchanged with the introduction, but Satine had obeyed her father’s directive not to poke at it given the diplomatic sensitivities.

Diplomatically, Satine isn’t sure that her father’s decision to invite the Jedi to mediate their discussions with the True Mandalorians is the best move. Rumour has it that there had been some kind of skirmish between Fett and the Jedi a few years before. Not that they had made it as far as having the Jedi and Fett in the same room.

Damn Pre Vizsla!

If there was one thing Satine agrees with the True Mandalorians about, it is that Death Watch is a scourge on the face of Mandalore. They’d attacked the palace at Sundari where the peace talks were meant to have taken place before the True Mandalorians had even arrived.

Probably that was part of the plan, Satine muses. If they had killed the New Mandalorians before the talks and taken over Sundari…they would have been in prime position to ambush the True Mandalorians. Instead, Obi-Wan had suddenly told the older Jedi he had a bad feeling and that they needed to evacuate immediately. Fortunately, the Kel Dor had listened to him.

Satine had not.

She flushes a little as she remembers just how obstructionist she had been; how she had stubbornly wanted to stay in the palace. It is her fault that she and Obi-Wan have been on the run with Death Watch after them for almost fifteen days, rather than safely away in an evacuation ship with the rest of her family.

“This way,” Obi-Wan tugs her around a corner.

They both stop abruptly at the sight of an armoured Mandalorian. They’re not in Death Watch colours but Satine’s heart is pounding at the sight of them anyway. There are another two warriors further down the street but still close enough to help the one in front of Satine and Obi-Wan.

Satine is not surprised when Obi-Wan immediately pushes her behind him, and his hand strays to his side where his lightsaber is hidden. She’s watched him take down enough of their attackers over the past days to know he’s gearing up for a fight.

She hates how violent he can be but she cannot deny that his fighting skills are the reason they are alive.

“Su cuy’gar, jetii, Duchess,” the Mandalorian speaks, their helmet distorting their voice. “Your father and teacher requested we divert to retrieve you.” He taps his pauldron and the painted mythosaur there. “I am Jango Fett of the Haat Mando’ade. You are safe with us.”

Obi-Wan performs a perfect Mandalorian salute – fist against his chest exactly where it should go. Satine wonders when he’d learned it.

“Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan says, “thank you for the rescue.”

Fett tilts his helmet in acknowledgement.

Satine gives a brisk nod and no more. Fett is not her Mand’alor. A part of Satine wants to protest at following him at all, but she knows he is their best chance of getting off the streets.

They move quickly through the labyrinth of tall buildings until they reach an ancient factory on the far side of town. It had once made ammunition but the New Mandalorians had outlawed the industry within the bounds of Sundari.

Fett’s ship is parked on the roof.

Satine allows herself a small sigh of relief as the ship takes off with them safely within its walls.

Fett takes off his helmet and turns to them. She’s surprised at how young he looks but then her father had said that Fett has been leading his faction since he’d turned sixteen.

“We should rendezvous with the Duke at my camp on Concord Dawn in a few hours,” Fett says. “We’ll get you something to eat or you can use the krylor.”

Satine wrinkles her nose at her own smell and is about to bluntly opt for the latter – bathing sounds wonderful – when Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“Thank you for your hospitality. It is very appreciated. Perhaps once Satine and I are clean, you could talk about your various viewpoints over our meal,” Obi-Wan suggests. “It would speed up our talks once we get to Concord Dawn.”

To her surprise, Fett agrees.

Perhaps, Satine thinks as she heads into the small bathroom with its sonic shower and hears Obi-Wan continuing to question Fett, she should thank Obi-Wan for keeping her alive through a barrage of Death Watch attacks at some point; at leading them to Fett and safety.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Perhaps if they had been on the run together longer she’d be less irritated with the young Jedi, maybe she would have softened in the face of his cute dimples and freckles, but as cute as he was, she wasn’t going to forget how argumentative and downright infuriating he could be when he thought he was right.

No.

Obi-Wan disagrees with her as a matter of sport. She definitely isn’t thanking him.

Well.

Unless this idea of his about talking over their viewpoints actually helps them win some ground with Fett. Maybe she will thank him then.

6.

Anakin giggles as he lurches right instead of the left they need to take to avoid Gardulla’s guests.

Shmi hurries after him. At three years of age, Anakin is fast on his feet and seems unafraid to simply charge ahead. Shmi has already had too many warnings from the slug to “control her brat” and she’s only too well that Gardulla’s punishment might even be Anakin’s death. He lives only by Gardulla’s grace.

Shmi’s eyes widen in horror as she realises Anakin is about to enter a corridor which leads straight to the main receiving room of the palace. Her heart is in her mouth as he turns and…

A hooded figure steps out of the shadows and into Anakin’s path.

Anakin screeches to a halt so quickly he wobbles on his toddling legs. It gives Shmi a chance to scoop him up and into her arms as the figure flips his hood back.

Shmi keeps her gaze lowered as she bows her head. She’s already clocked that the being is male-presenting; a bald dark-skinned man with black eyes, dressed in the garb of a bounty hunter; leather-hooded jacket, workman’s pants, and thick boots.

“My deepest apologies, good Ser,” she says in Huttese.

“Peace. You need not apologise for a youngster’s natural exuberance,” the being answers. “But I fear this is not a safe place for him to run ahead.”

“Mama, shiny!” Anakin burbles, reaching forward, leaning out of her arms.

Shmi steps back, grabbing Anakin’s outstretched arm with her own and nods an acknowledgement belatedly. “I must return to my duties.” She turns and hurries away before they can stop her. She can’t shake the feeling of being watched, but she refuses to look back.

The day slips by and Shmi forgets about the man as she focuses on her work and the endless list of tasks she is expected to do. At least Anakin is safely corralled in a make-shift playpen in the corner of the small room in the living quarters she shares with five other women.

She’s scrubbing pots from the late-meal in the kitchen when she hears whispers from the servers that Gardulla is losing at sabaac.

“A bounty hunter is winning,” murmurs one of the Twi’leks as they hurriedly fix a strap on their shoe. “He’s already seen off that grimy Toydarian, Watto. Gardulla is displeased.”

A shiver skittles down Shmi’s spine. If Gardulla is displeased, it will not bode well for any of her slaves.

It is late when she returns to her quarters with the small portion of food which must feed her and her son. She’s barely finished getting Anakin fed when Gardulla’s slave overseer, a Besilisk called Prak barges in.

“Skywalker! Gather your things including the brat!” they bark. “You have a new owner.”

Shmi’s heart stutters, but she swiftly packs up her things. The other women do not look at her as she tugs the strap of the bag with her meagre belongs onto her shoulder and picks up a sleepy Anakin.

She follows Prak through the labyrinth of the palace corridors until they exit through a side-entrance.

The bounty hunter from the corridor earlier that day stands in front of a speeder-car.

Prak plucks two detonators from his pocket and throws them at the hunter. “They’re all yours!” they sneer. The Besilisk ambles away, back into the palace; the door shuts with an audible thud.

Shmi swallows her fear as she is directed into the vehicle. She holds Anakin tightly. She is slightly disturbed as they head into the wastes rather than for the city. Finally, they park in front of a rocky formation far from civilisation.

Shmi tries not to think about the hunter’s motives in bringing her and her son to such a remote spot. She follows him dutifully even though her eyes scan the surroundings worriedly.

They turn the corner on the rocky cliff and her steps slow at the sight of the spaceship.

“Come,” the being beckons as the ship’s ramp lowers.

Shmi walks up the ramp and into a brightly lit corridor, her arms aching from carrying a sleeping Anakin. She follows her new master into a small galley where a weird green troll with hair sits drinking caf and reading a datapad.

“Problems they were, young Mace?” the troll says. Her gaze lands on Shmi and Anakin, her eyes widening a touch.

“None, Master Yaddle,” the hunter Shmi now knows as Mace places the detonators on the galley table. “This is Shmi Skywalker and her son, Anakin. I think it’s best we depart quickly. Gardulla was displeased at her loss.”

Master Yaddle inclines her head, her large ears waggling. “Fly, you will. Take care of our guests, I will.”

Guests? Shmi blinks at the description even as she is parsing the troll’s odd way of speaking.

Mace departs and Yaddle slides out of the bench. She waves her hand and the detonators slide across the table to Shmi. “Yours these are, Lady Skywalker. Free, you and your son are. Take care of the chips, once we are in hyperspace, our medic droid will.”

Shmi follows the troll’s silent urging to sit. She shifts Anakin to lie in her lap, her eyes affixed to the detonators. “I’m sorry, Master, I don’t understand.”

“Of the Jedi Order, I being,” Master Yaddle says gently. “Not a slave master, not your master.”  

Jedi.

Jedi are myths.

Yaddle climbs back onto the bench as the ship’s engines rumble into being below them.

“A vision of your son to a padawan came,” Master Yaddle continues. “To investigate, myself and Knight Windu were tasked.”

Shmi’s arms tighten around her son.

“Gifted he is, hmmm?” Master Yaddle says softly.

Shmi nods jerkily. Anakin has always been able to do things which cannot be explained. “Will you take him from me?”

The troll shakes her head. “Not our way, that is. Strong in the Force, the little one is; control he must be taught, yet for you to decide, his and your fate it is. Life of duty a Jedi’s life is; service to all, yet if given to us, love and treasure him as we do all our younglings, we will.”

The ship vibrates a little as it lifts off.

Shmi takes a breath and reaches to bring the detonators closer to her and scoop them into her bag. Maybe, just maybe the troll speaks the truth. She’ll know for certain once the chips are removed and then…

And then she will think about what a free life might mean for her and Anakin, but one thing she knows in her soul; Anakin has a great destiny ahea dof him.

7.

Padmé Amidala, Queen of Naboo, hesitates at the junction. She can hear the sound of the droids closing in on them. Logic says to go left, to get onto the streets and make their way to a safe house.

 But something tells her to go right.

Her planet is being invaded, her people threatened.

She is desperate.

She is furious.

The delegation follows her despite Sio Bibble questioning why they aren’t going left. She’s grateful that Sabe’s brisk answer of ‘because it is too obvious’ is enough to render him mute again and eases the worry lines criss-crossing over Captain Panaka’s face. Sabe is in the Queen garb and playing decoy because Padmé cannot be captured.

The Trade Federation need her and her signature if their invasion is to be successful and Padmé is very determined that their invasion will fail.

They turn a corner and almost collide with an off-worlder and a Mandalorian.

Or at least she assumes they are Mandalorian because they have brightly painted armour and are firing at droids with blasters. She admires their skills as they and the other, a red-haired woman in worn leathers, dispatch the droids.

“Your Majesty,” the armoured one salutes Sabe in the Mandalorian fashion.

The civilian bows just enough to be respectful.

Sabe acknowledges it with a bow of her head, impressive given the heavy headpiece she wears. Her painted visage remains uncracked. “My thanks to you both for your defence of Naboo.”

“May I ask who you are and why you here?” Panaka interrupts the exchange. His body language is tense and Padmé can see the suspicion on his face as can the visitors to their planet.

“We were both attending the lecture series on rebuilding agriculture at the University,” the woman states briskly. “I’m Governor Cerasi of Melidaan.”

“Prelov Skirata. We are Haat Mando’ade,” the mostly yellow painted one states. “We knew about the tension but we did not expect an invasion.”   

“Neither did we,” Panaka says darkly.

“We need to decide what to do,” Bibble babbles, gesturing in a flustered way which irritates Padmé. “We could surrender…”

“No,” Sabe doesn’t have to look at Padmé to know her mind in this, “we will not surrender.”

“We should evacuate, ma’am,” Panaka states firmly. “They need you to concede to their demands. If you are not here…”

“Senator Palpatine has been advocating for you to speak to the Senate, Your Majesty,” Bibble reminds them. “He believes a direct plea may work to bring us aide.”

Padmé is tempted to snort in the way the Mandalorian does.

“You’d be better off staying here and fighting,” Skirata said.

Panaka scowls furiously at him. “The Queen’s safety has to be our priority.”

“On the contrary,” Sabe says, “our people’s safety is the most important priority in what we determine to do next.”

Padmé could not have said it better.

Sabe shoots Padmé a look and Padmé nods. The fake Queen keeps the Mandalorian’s gaze held firmly in hers. “My people are not warriors but yours are. Will you help us?”

Skirata shifts awkwardly. “If we can find a way to get a comms out, I can contact my Uncle. He is a senior adviser to the Mand’alor and will be able to help you.”

“What about you, Governor Cerasi?” asks Sabe. “If I remember rightly, you led your people in war when you were a similar age to the Queen. Will you advise Us now?”

Padmé blinks. Bless Sabe for her iron-trap of a memory.

“I’ll help,” Governor Cerasi says, although her displeasure and dismay are evident in every tense line of her body, “and my first advice is to get off the streets. We had sewers. Do you have anything similar?”

Padmé lets herself feel a flicker of relief. “We have tunnels.” She can’t help blurting the answer out even though it should be Sabe who speaks.

Panaka frowns. “Your Majesty,” his gaze flickers briefly from Sabe to Padmé, “I feel this is a mistake. We should wait for the Jedi the Chancellor sent to discuss matters with the Trade Federation.”

“I fear they have met with trouble or they would be here and we would not be facing an invasion,” Sabe responds calmly.

“If they’re still alive and as good as the Jedi who helped us, they’ll catch us up,” Cerasi says crisply. “We should move.”

Skirata nods in agreement.

Sabe signs to Padmé and she signs hurriedly back. “We will head to the tunnels.”

Padmé feels so many things as they start back down the street that she doesn’t know what she is feeling really. But there is a sense deep down that this feels right in more ways than a simple turn in the opposite direction of where they should have walked.

8.

The Lothal sun shines down on Anakin as he pauses outside of the temple. The temple spire has been raised and there are two doorways visible. There is one to the left and one to the right.

His blue eyes flicker to the Jedi transport ship parked over to the side. There is no sign of the Jedi themselves.

For the past ten years, Anakin has met with Master Yaddle or Master Windu every summer to train and learn how to control his Force powers. They usually bring someone else with them to help round out his training.

It is a lot of meditation mostly and mental shield work. He had nagged them to teach him katas but without a lightsaber, the movements are simply another form of exercise.   

Anakin shuffles.

As a child, he’d found the time with the Jedi to be special and exciting. Now as a teenager, he slightly resents having to spend the time with the Jedi rather than being allowed to tinker in his workshop or hang out with his friends. But he’s also torn because the Jedi are a break in what is becoming a fairly boring routine life. He knows he’s meant for more than keeping up a small cottage farm on a planet in the middle of nowhere.

There is also the fact that for the past two years, his mother has also stopped attending the sessions with him, deeming him old enough and the Jedi safe enough for Anakin to attend alone. He suspects that his mother is going to spend the time Anakin is gone with Elijah Baker, a Lothal councillor. Elijah has been courting his mother for the past two years after buying some jam from her at the annual harvest celebration in the capital. Anakin is not sure about how he feels about his mother marrying someone. He’s kind of used to having her to himself.

He sighs heavily as he contemplates whether to wait outside for the Jedi or to enter the temple in search of them. He quickly dumps his bag by the ship and heads towards the temple.

Anakin pauses outside remembering how Master Yaddle had said not to enter without a Jedi. He shrugs. There are Jedi inside.

He takes a step towards the left door but there is a firm tug in the Force for him to use the right.

He grins. Who is he to deny the Force? His teachers always say he’s supposed to listen to it.

He hurries inside through the open door and into a narrow corridor. He startles as the door rumbles to a close behind him and he wonders whether he really should have waited.

He is a little more cautious as he walks forward.

He ends up in an empty circular room arrayed with a number of doors.

A Jedi he has never met before is meditating in the centre in a crossed-legged position, hands on his knees. An old man with white hair cut into a short style, tanned skin, and a trim beard. He wears the usual Jedi garb including a dark brown hooded robe, but all the clothing looks much more rough-hewn than those Anakin has seen before as though it has been torn and mended several times.

The Jedi slowly opens their eyes. They are a startling pale blue. Their gaze lands unerringly on Anakin. “Hello there.”     

Anakin clears his throat awkwardly. “Hello, I’m Anakin Skywalker. I think you’re here to teach me.”

Truth, the Force whispers.

“Am I?” The old Jedi blinks. “Perhaps I am.” He invites Anakin to sit beside him. “You may call me Ben.”

Anakin scrambles into a similar position as the old Master.

“You are unsettled and out of balance, young one,” Master Ben says kindly. “Will you share with me why?”

He doesn’t really know why he begins talking, just that there is something that makes him trust in the old Master in a way that he only really trusts one other, his mother. He talks and talks; about the farm, about feeling as though he is destined for more, his increasing sense of frustration and unhappiness because he cannot openly act with the Force as though he was a Jedi.

“You remind me of another youngling,” Ben says with so much fondness that Anakin envies the youngling. “He wanted to do nothing but leave his dusty planet behind and fly to the stars; to be a part of something greater; just as his father before him.”

“Did he ever do it?” asks Anakin eagerly.

“He did,” the Jedi says, “but not without losing the people who raised him, not without the pain of understanding how cruel the galaxy can truly be.”

Anakin swallows because he feels the truth of the old Jedi’s words in the Force. If he is to leave Lothal, Anakin would learn the same lessons; leaving his mother behind, being exposed to the hard realities of a life outside of Lothal.

“His father, you see, was once a great Jedi, a boy who wanted nothing more than to help others, who grew into a man who became focused only on his own desires, seduced by lies spoken by a Sith,” Ben continues. “This is the danger which awaits you when you take your first steps away from your home.”

Anakin’s breath catches as behind the Jedi he sees a vision of a dark figure in a mechanical suit, the breathing harsh and discordant, a red lightsabre cutting down children…

“That won’t be me,” Anakin says strongly and the vision abruptly disappears. “I won’t become like him.”

“Perhaps not,” the Jedi says. “The Force says that there are two paths ahead of you. One will lead you to staying here on Lothal, on becoming a member of your community, using your power to help them; to grow their crops, fix their machines, and to keep this planet as a safe haven in this galaxy.”

“And the other?” asks Anakin curious.

“A teacher awaits you,” the old man smiles gently. “He will become your brother and you will save each other as you help many across the galaxy find peace and freedom. But there will come a moment when you will have to make a choice, between your brother and the Dark, between saving all, and the promise of only saving someone you love. This choice is always before you when you walk this path with him. Just as my brother faced such a choice when he walked the path with me.”

And if Anakin chose the Dark…perhaps he would be like the figure he had Seen.

Anakin bites his lip. “I don’t want to become that. I won’t become that.” He pauses. “But I don’t think I’m meant to be a Jedi either.”

“No, the path of a Jedi is not one open to you, Anakin,” Ben says with a touch of sadness. “To be a Jedi is a way of life, a calling. It is to believe in the tenets of the Jedi view of the Force.”

“But if I go with this teacher, won’t he expect me to be a Jedi?” asks Anakin.

“All he will want is your happiness,” Ben says. “It is all he has ever wanted for you.”

Anakin stills. The Force whispers around him and the path he should take is clear in his mind.

The old Master smiles. “May the Force be with you, Anakin Skywalker.”  

Anakin gasps as Ben fades away as though he is a ghost, disappearing into nothing as though he was never there. He swallows hard around a sudden lump in this throat.

The door rumbles open and Anakin runs outside the temple. He bends over to catch his breath.

“There you are, young Skywalker,” Master Yaddle calls out to him.

Anakin straightens. The first thing he notices is that the temple spire is not raised. The temple lies dormant again. He shakes away his surprise to focus on the Jedi Master who is being followed down the ramp of the Jedi ship by another.

Yaddle beckons him over. “Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The young man behind Yaddle must be in his mid-twenties; he has bright copper hair cut close to his head and a matching trim beard. His freckled face is warm and friendly. His pale blue eyes though…Anakin recognises them immediately; they are Ben’s eyes.

“Hello there!” Kenobi greets him cheerfully. “It is good to finally meet you!” He holds out his hand.

“Vision of you as a child, Obi-Wan saw he did,” Yaddle says, patting Obi-Wan’s side. “Reason why Master Windu and I go to Tatooine and meet your mother and you, he is.”

Anakin reaches for Obi-Wan’s outstretched hand and shakes it firmly. “In that case, I’m doubly pleased to meet you, Master Kenobi.”

“Just a Knight,” Kenobi laughs, “and you can call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin repeats.

He barely listens as Yaddle begins to layout plans for the week.

Taking the right door has shown him his path, the choices ahead…he’s really looking forward to getting to know his brother.

9.

“Stay close to me, Padawan.”

Ahsoka nods her agreement as she follows her new Master through the throngs of people who are gathered outside on the driveway of the Coruscant mansion. She recognises the Coruscant Security Force and a few senators as Master Kenobi weaves his way through the crowd, acknowledging a few people with a nod, but not stopping.

Ahsoka breathes deeply and evenly trying to maintain her balance. She knows they have been tasked to assist Master Vosa and her padawan in investigating a murder of a prominent figure in Coruscanti politics. It is a serious situation and Ahsoka is determined to perform well and assist her Master.

She still cannot quite believe Master Kenobi has chosen her. She was certain she was going to age out but then Master Koon introduced her to his former padawan and they just clicked in the Force.

She knows she’s not the first padawan Master Kenobi has taught. Anakin Skywalker is something of a legend among the initiates. A strong Force sensitive who was raised outside of the Order; who was taken as a padawan at the age of thirteen by Master Kenobi, only to leave shortly before he was due to be knighted when he fell in love with the former Queen of Naboo on a relief mission to Tatooine. They had apparently started a slave revolt and killed Jabba the Hutt. It was all very romantic.

Ahsoka drags her mind back to the present as they duck under a tape which has been placed around the house and enter the open front door into a wide foyer.

There is a human CSF guard at the stairs and her Master makes for them.  

“I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my padawan, Ahsoka Tano. We are expected,” Master Kenobi states firmly.

The guard, a dark-skinned female with tightly braided hair caught in a low bun nods. “Master Vosa said to expect you.” She steps aside to allow them up the stairs.

The winding staircase takes them to the first floor of the mansion.

Ahsoka can hear voices to their left but something pulls her to the right. She finds herself taking a step in that direction without thinking.

“Padawan?” Master Kenobi is suddenly next to her, his hand lying gently on her arm.

Ahsoka takes a breath. “I’m sorry, Master, I just…something pulled me in this direction.”

Master Kenobi pauses and looks down the corridor, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

There are footsteps behind them and they turn to greet Master Vosa and her padawan, a Lasat named Malli. Malli was a senior padawan and Ahsoka figured it wouldn’t be long before her trials.

They all bow to each other briefly.

“Obi-Wan,” Vosa greets him crisply. “The body of the Muun is this way.” She points behind her. “Apparently Magister Hego Damask was a big deal in Muunist banking. He donated to a lot of the senators including our Chancellor-elect from Naboo hence all the interest and the request for us to take a look by the outgoing Chancellor. Chancellor Kor wants to make sure this isn’t politically motivated.”

Ahsoka grimaces at the reason for their investigation.

“What is in this direction?” asks Master Kenobi, gesturing behind himself to where Ahsoka had felt pulled.

“We haven’t been down there yet,” Master Vosa tilts her head. “Why?”

“Ahsoka was tugged right when we came up the stairs,” Master Kenobi says briskly.

Master Vosa frowns. “Aide Cuunu, the Muun’s assistant, says there is nothing down there but guest rooms.”

Master Kenobi hums. “How did Magister Damask die?”

“It looks like he was strangled but there are hardly any outside marks,” Master Vosa says.

A meaningful look passes between her and Ahsoka’s master.

“The assistant says he was told to leave before the last appointment of the day,” Master Vosa continues. “It wasn’t unusual and the visitor, a human named Sid, was a regular according to them.”

“Cuunu has never met them,” Malli adds. “He said he didn’t think it would be them though as they’d been friends with Magister Damask for years.”

“Do we have a description?” asks her Master.

Malli shakes her head. “Cuunu says all he knows is that Sid is an older male human.”

“Well, that definitely narrows it down,” Master Kenobi says with cheerful sarcasm.

“He also said that humans look all the same to him,” Master Vosa says dryly.

Ahsoka winces at the racism.

“I think we should investigate down there,” Master Kenobi continues cheerily. “Something tried to lure my padawan so clearly there is a trap.”

Master Vosa grins back at him. “And traps should definitely be sprung.”

Ahsoka frowns.

“I blame Master Yoda for teaching them that one,” Malli says under her breath.  

“After you,” Vosa says, gesturing generously down the hallway.

Her master bows theatrically. He motions at Ahsoka and Malli. “Stay behind us, padawans, but be prepared to be back-up.” He draws his lightsaber but does not ignite it as he heads down the corridor. Master Vosa follows behind him.

Malli motions to her and Ahsoka falls into step.

As they get closer to a door at the end, Ahsoka can feel the pull even more than before. She feels Master Kenobi wrap her in his shields and suddenly she’s back to normal. She gives him a grateful look and takes a deep breath to centre herself.

Master Kenobi examines the door carefully. “I think we should…”

Master Vosa rolls her eyes, reaches out with her hand, and yanks the door into the corridor.

There is an unholy screech which has them all ducking. It is followed by a strong metallic stench.

Ahsoka grimaces and wrinkles her nose. She wafts the air in front of her trying to clear it. “That is just nasty.”

“Sith!” Master Vosa hisses. She takes a step back. “I cannot be here.”

Master Kenobi nods grimly. “Return to the ground floor and contact the Council. We need a containment team from the Shadows to investigate this. Ahsoka and I will guard this place until they arrive.”

Master Vosa wastes no time in following Master Kenobi’s order.

Ahsoka follows her Master a few steps back down the corridor where they take up a guard position.

Ahsoka darts a glance behind her. “Shouldn’t we go in and take a look so the team knows more when they get here?”

“Not in this case, Padawan,” Master Kenobi says sternly. “The Sith may have laid any number of traps in that room. We do not have the specialist skills needed to navigate the space without harm. I fear the alarm we set off in removing the door may already have triggered something unknown so stay alert.”

“Yes, Master,” Ahsoka wonders whether they should have followed the pull to the right at all.

“We now know Damask was a Sith Master, Padawan,” her Master says gently. “That’s a good thing.”

She flushes as she realises she’d spoken out loud but takes advantage to ask another question. “You killed his apprentice though, right? During the Battle of Naboo?”

“I killed one apprentice,” her Master corrects. He looks up the corridor towards where the body of Damask lies in another room. “It would appear his last apprentice might have killed him.” He catches her gaze. “But now we know what he was, we have a better chance of finding his apprentice and that is a very good thing.”

Maybe, Ahsoka muses, it isn’t so bad that she had been lured right after all. She waits a beat and grins. At least that thought had stayed inside her head.

10.

Obi-Wan hates the pomp and lavishness of the Senate ceremonies, and the swearing in of the new Senator for Naboo, Padmé Amidala is set to be one of the most lavish ceremonies the Senate has ever enjoyed.

To Obi-Wan, it is indicative of the greed and corruption which has stealthily entered the Republic’s governing body. Chancellor Kor had tried their best to tackle some of the worst of it especially after their predecessor had failed to successfully prosecute the Trade Federation for their invasion of Naboo.

At least he knows Padmé is one of the good ones. They’ve been friends ever since the invasion when Obi-Wan and Master Dooku had gone to negotiate with the Trade Federation and ended up helping the Naboo people take back their planet. Master Dooku had been badly injured by a Zabrak, a Sith apprentice who had appeared late in the battle. Master Dooku had injured them enough though for Obi-Wan to make the killing blow, removing its head from its body.

Obi-Wan’s gut churns as he remembers that fight. He tries to put it out of his mind as he continues his search for Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, the man they are certain is Hego Damask’s Sith apprentice.

It has taken almost two years of investigation, but they finally have found the evidence they need buried in a cave on the remote planet of Bel’demnic.

Perhaps they should wait until the ceremony is over, Obi-Wan thinks as he darts around another group of gossiping senators. Across the hall he can see Cerasi talking with the Mand’alor. Fett is in town for trade discussion with the Chancellor and Cerasi is part of his advisory team. After Naboo, Cerasi had married a Mandalorian and Melidaan had quietly withdrawn from the Republic to become a Mandalorian protectorate.

Obi-Wan takes another moment to regret that he could not convince the Council to wait on their planned confrontation of Palpatine until after the ceremony.

Obi-Wan breathes deeply.

He is grateful that Ahsoka had agreed to stay behind and guard the temple with the other padawans and his own Master. They cannot risk a surprise counterattack. Master Koon and Master Yaddle will lead the defence of the temple if the need arises.

Obi-Wan sighs, getting his bearings.

To the left there is a staircase which leads to the Chancellor’s offices. That is where the majority of the team are headed. Others have started to spread through the rotunda, positioning themselves to help keep the peace in the aftermath.

Obi-Wan just knows that the Council members will not find Palpatine in his office. He glances to his right.

The corridor leads to the offices of the planets in the Chommell Sector. He takes a breath and heads down the corridor.

As he nears the Nabooian office he hears the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber fight, the clash hiss-and-hum of the blades striking each other.

He speeds up and enters the office at a run.

Obi-Wan pauses in the doorway to the senator’s office for a moment. Padmé is knocked out, lying prone on the floor by the sofa. Her handmaiden, Sabe, is dead, slumped against the wall of the office, eyes glassy and lifeless.

By the window, Anakin is fighting Palpatine who wields a red lightsabre.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds in his chest as he ignites his own and jumps into the fray as Palpatine strikes out taking Anakin’s hand in a brutal blow. The Sith turns and shoots lightning at him.

Obi-Wan catches the lightning with his blade grimacing as he is forced backwards a step.

Palpatine snarls. “You! You will die here, Master Kenobi!”

“The game is up, Palpatine!” Obi-Wan says, aware that Anakin is crawling over to his wife. “Or should I call you Sidious?”

Palpatine crackles with laughter. “Do you honestly think you can defeat me?”

He attacks and Obi-Wan defends and defends. His Soresu just keeps Palpatine at bay. Palpatine throws a desk at him and Obi-Wan is forced to disengage and throw himself behind a chair to avoid it. He lands hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs and he feels the jarring impact all the way down to his bones.

The sofa continues to sail across the room and crashes through the window.

A fierce wind blows through the office.

“What did you do to her?” demands Anakin, his remaining hand cradling Padmé’s cheek. “You were hurting her when I came in; you had your hands around her head and you were hurting her!”

“I can heal her, my boy,” Palpatine croons. “All you need to do is come to my side. Help me defeat this Jedi who seeks to remove me from my rightful office. Be my apprentice.”

Anakin stares at Palpatine.

“Don’t believe him, Anakin!” Obi-Wan calls out. “He’s a Sith! He’s lying to you!”

Palpatine sends a blast of lightning towards Obi-Wan and suddenly Anakin is there, stood between Obi-Wan and Palpatine, holding his lightsaber with his remaining hand to catch the lightning and return it to Palpatine who bats it away.

“I have seen what I become if I agree,” Anakin grimaces. “Padmé would never want me to become a monster to save her. My answer is no.”

“So be it,” Palpatine snarls.

He attacks.

Obi-Wan joins Anakin and they fight him side by side.

Suddenly, a blaster shot impacts Palpatine’s hand and knocks the lightsaber from it. Palpatine freezes momentarily in shock and…

Obi-Wan immediately decapitates him even as Anakin drives his lightsabre into Palpatine’s heart.

They both stagger back as the body falls to the ground in a bloody heap.

Padmé struggles into a sitting position, her hand at her throat. “He tried to mind-trick me!” she croaks.

Anakin slides across the floor to her and they huddle together.

Obi-Wan sits down hard on the carpet. “I think I’ll just rest here for a moment.”

A sudden movement by the door catches his attention.

Windu stands there looking grimly at the tableau. He raises his eyebrows as he directs his gaze to Obi-Wan. “How did you know he was here?”

“I just thought it best to turn right,” Obi-Wan says. He lifts a weary hand. “Not to press you, Mace, but perhaps some medical attention might not go amiss? My padawan is missing a hand, and Senator Amidala was mentally attacked by Palpatine.”

Windu hums but he turns away and starts calling for assistance even as Yoda and Adi Gallia hurry in to give first aid.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slide to Sabe’s body and away again. He was too late to save her but at least he wasn’t too late to save Anakin and Padmé, and that has to count for something.

Hope, whispers the Force. He has saved Hope.

Epilogue

“Are you hiding, Master?” Ahsoka’s voice is filled with far too much amusement for Obi-Wan’s liking.

“I am not hiding,” Obi-Wan denies.

“You’re in a closet,” Ahsoka points out.

“I was merely adjusting my clothing and…” Obi-Wan sighs and gives up his explanation. He steps out of the closet. “I really do not think this is necessary.”

“The Senate wants to give you and Skyguy a medal for defeating the Sith and preventing the downfall of the Republic,” Ahsoka says cheerfully. “They’re all waiting for you, Master.”

He refuses to heave a sigh even though he really, really wants to. He settles for striding forward to the area at the back of the stage as Ahsoka waves him goodbye, heading out to take her seat in the auditorium.

Anakin is already there, nervously hovering. He looks over at Obi-Wan. “Where have you been?”

“There was a thing,” Obi-Wan says defensively.

Beside Anakin, his favourite droid, R2D2, makes a series of beeps which Obi-Wan assumes is not flattering for Obi-Wan given how Anakin’s lips twitch.

“A thing,” Anakin repeats.

“A thing,” Obi-Wan tugs down his ceremonial tabards.

He glances to the left where there is a set of stairs to the stage. The voice of the interim Chancellor Mon Mothma echoes down; she is waxing lyrical about the importance of fighting for democracy. He feels she could be speaking some time; she had the tone of someone with a lot to say. And aren’t there speeches from other senators to follow? How long will they have to wait?

Obi-Wan glances to his right.

There is an emergency exit door.

Anakin follows his gaze.

They look at each other and away again, returning their gaze forward.

“We can’t, can we?” Anakin asks out loud. “I mean, Padmé will probably kill me if I bail on this thing with all the work she’s put into it.”

“Mace will kill me,” Obi-Wan says. Not to mention the rest of the Council. He thinks about everyone else who is sitting out front waiting to honour them both; Nield and Cerasi, Jango and Satine, Master Dooku and Komari, Master Plo and Ahsoka. Even Qui-Gon Jinn and Tahl are there since Mace invited them for some bizarre reason which Obi-Wan determines he should never try to learn given the smug grin on Mace’s face when he told Obi-Wan of their coming.

Obi-Wan darts another glance at the exit.

Anakin clears his throat. “Dex’s?”

“Dex’s,” Obi-Wan agrees.

They take the door to the right.

fin.

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