Master & Apprentice (Star Wars) Page 23

  Qui-Gon felt as though he’d said those words half a lifetime ago. “Obi-Wan, I was wrong. A true vision of the future is more than a simple dream, or a figment of the imagination. It’s the simultaneous perception of two points in time—beyond anything my mind, or yours, had previously encountered. So it’s no surprise that I didn’t understand it before, and that you don’t now.”

  “So now you believe that ‘she who was born to darkness will give birth to darkness’?” Obi-Wan asked. “That a Chosen One will come and restore balance to the Force? Are you going to take every single one of these hazy mystical prophecies literally from now on?”

  It took Qui-Gon a moment to admit it, not to Obi-Wan but to himself. “Yes. I think I have to. Now that I stand where the prophets have stood, I must listen to them in humility, not in judgment. When I was younger, I was capable of that. I only hope I can find the strength to believe again.”

  Some Jedi would’ve begun to listen at this point, but not Obi-Wan Kenobi. His apprentice’s thinking remained as rule-bound as ever. “Wanting to see the future, to predict it and change our behaviors accordingly—that’s a kind of control we’re not meant to have, Qui-Gon. You’re reaching for a power that others cannot have. That path can lead to darkness.”

  “I’m not turning to the dark side,” Qui-Gon snapped. “Not every disagreement with Jedi orthodoxy turns you into a Sith Lord overnight.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” Obi-Wan sighed. “If you won’t listen to me about the visions, will you at least listen to me about our mission? Our mandate on Pijal comes straight from Chancellor Kaj herself, and she was very clear. We’re here to protect Princess Fanry and witness the treaty, so the hyperspace corridor can be opened. If we have to push for the treaty to be amended and made fair, then that’s what we will do. But you can’t refuse to sign on behalf of the Republic. You don’t have the authority to make that choice.”

  His apprentice wasn’t wrong. But when facts collided with ideals, Qui-Gon preferred to change the facts.

  “I may have the authority to sign a treaty that condemns people to servitude and slavery,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I have the right to do so.”

  “So you’re turning your back on Averross and Fanry, instead of working to convince them?” Obi-Wan said. “We can still succeed on this mission, and do what’s fair for the people of Pijal. If you persist in quoting mysticism and refusing to compromise, however—”

  “I will persist,” Qui-Gon replied. “Rael Averross is beyond listening to reason. His dedication to protecting Fanry has turned into a mania. We’ll get nowhere with him. Fanry is a child, who must look up to Rael as something like a father. If he won’t budge, I doubt she will, either. This is not a matter for negotiation, Obi-Wan. It is a matter of principle, and we must stand firm.”

  Obi-Wan lifted his chin. “Yes. It’s a matter of principle. The principle being that we as Jedi must not go beyond our mandate, that we must work within that mandate to do what is right.”

  That was the second time in the past half day that Qui-Gon had been lectured about the limits of the Jedi mandate. His conscience twinged him slightly; it was important for Jedi not to become arrogant, not to impose their wishes and values on all others around them.

  But this situation was different. It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real. He said, “In this case, my Padawan, we cannot both work within our mandate and do what is right. I’ve chosen the latter.”

  Obi-Wan walked toward the door, obviously outdone. “At the beginning of my apprenticeship, I couldn’t understand you,” he said. “Unfortunately, that’s just as true here at the end.”

  Only yesterday they had worked together as never before. How did Qui-Gon manage to get closer to Obi-Wan at the same time he was moving further away?

  Just before Obi-Wan would leave the room, Qui-Gon said, “Once, you asked me about the basic lightsaber cadences. Why I’d kept you there, instead of training you in more advanced forms of combat.”

  Obi-Wan turned reluctantly to face him again. “I suppose you thought I wasn’t ready for more. The same way I’m not ready to believe in all this mystical—”

  “That’s not why.”

  After a long pause, Obi-Wan calmed to the point where he would listen. “Then why, Qui-Gon?”

  “Because many Padawans—and full Jedi Knights, for that matter—forget that the most basic technique is the most important technique. The purest. The most likely to protect you in battle, and the foundation of all knowledge that is to come,” Qui-Gon said. “Most apprentices want to rush ahead to styles of fighting that are flashier or more esoteric. Most Masters let them, because we must all find our preferred form eventually. But I wanted you to be grounded in your technique. I wanted you to understand the basic cadences so well that they would become instinct, so that you would be almost untouchable. Above all, I wanted to give you the training you needed to accomplish anything you set your mind to later on.”

  Obi-Wan remained quiet for so long that Qui-Gon wondered if he were too angry to really hear any of what he’d said. But finally, his Padawan nodded. “Thank you, Qui-Gon. I appreciate that. But—”

  “But what?”

  “You could’ve said so,” Obi-Wan replied, and then he left.

  * * *

  —

  The lump in Obi-Wan’s throat wouldn’t go away for several minutes, no matter how many times he swallowed, or how hard he tried to turn his mind to other things.

  He was trying to help me this whole time, he thought. Qui-Gon cared about me more than I knew. He does even now.

  Knowing this soothed something deep in Obi-Wan’s soul, an ache and an uncertainty that had dwelled within him for many years. He wondered how much of his apprenticeship would look different to him when he reexamined his memories through this new perspective.

  But none of that came any closer to resolving the problems on Pijal.

  Only one solution came to mind. It was a major violation of protocol—beyond the proper boundaries of any Padawan. Obi-Wan rejected it for that reason alone, but when every other idea he had failed, this came to him again. This time he couldn’t shake it.

  There are rules for what Padawans can do, and what Masters can do, he told himself. If I do this, I will break almost all of those rules.

  After a few hours of consideration, however, Obi-Wan knew he had no choice.

  It was time to go over Qui-Gon’s head.

  He went back to the palace library, which was still completely empty, and activated one of the comm terminals. When its screen lit up, an artificial voice said, “State location and identity of recipient.”

  “Coruscant, the Jedi Temple.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “The message is for the Jedi Council.”

  It wasn’t as though Obi-Wan had never spoken to the Jedi Council before. But he’d never done so alone, without Qui-Gon beside him—and had never had anything to say that would shock the Council so much.

  “Qui-Gon’s gone rogue before,” Saesee Tiin said, “but he’s never deviated from his mandate so greatly, or in such a serious matter.”

  Poli Dapatian shook his head, disbelief apparent even through the hologram. “Of course the treaty must somehow be changed to protect the people of Pijal. But disrupting the entire diplomatic process is dangerous, especially when multiple armed forces threaten the rule of law on Pijal and its moon.”

  Nearly the entire Council was arrayed, via holo, in a circle around Obi-Wan. Full projection was best for a meeting of this seriousness, he knew—but it felt eerily as though he were in the Council Chamber itself. Only the occasional flicker revealed the palace library around him.

  He gathered his courage. “I would argue that Czerka’s undue influence on this planet, and on Averross in particular, already threatens the rule of law. But I fear my Master’s
extreme stance makes change less likely, not more. There’s no room for negotiation between them.”

  The Council members exchanged troubled glances. Eeth Koth said, “We cannot allow this to stand. Both Jinn and Averross should be recalled, immediately.”

  Obi-Wan didn’t like saying this, but he had to: “Averross has been the de facto ruler of this planet for nearly a decade. He and the crown princess appear to be inseparable. If he’s pulled offplanet just before the ceremony, the public mood could turn ugly—possibly winning converts to both the Opposition and the blackguards, whoever they may be. I also suspect that any power vacuum would quickly be filled by Czerka. They’re entrenched here.”

  “What a mess,” said Koth, his irritation evident. “I fear, Master Yoda, that the rest of us should’ve listened to you. Inviting Qui-Gon Jinn to the Council—”

  “Has been done,” Yoda said. “Undone, it shall not be.”

  Yoda voted against my Master? Obi-Wan felt the rejection as sharply as though he had been the one found wanting, not Qui-Gon. The divide between them had somehow made Obi-Wan treasure his Master more, not less. It was as though he’d had to stand farther back before he could see the man clearly.

  But seeing Qui-Gon clearly had not helped Obi-Wan get through to him.

  “So sure are all of you that Qui-Gon is wrong to put faith in his vision?” Yoda drew himself upright. “Certain, you are, that the Force does not speak to him?”

  The silence that followed went on for what seemed like a long time. Doubtfully, Depa Billaba said, “The future is always in motion. We cannot put our entire faith in such visions.”

  “No, we cannot. Qui-Gon errs in this. Yet also an error it is to say that such visions cannot have meaning.” Yoda turned to make eye contact with every Council member present in turn, then finally Obi-Wan. “What evidence is there that Qui-Gon’s dream may see true?”

  Obi-Wan admitted, “In the dream, Qui-Gon envisioned the entire Celestial Chalice—the chamber for the coronation and treaty signing—in great detail. When he saw the Chalice for himself, it was identical to his vision in every sense.”

  Poli Dapatian cocked his head, apparently impressed; he wasn’t the only Council member who reacted that way. But others remained skeptical. “Jinn may well have seen a holo or picture long ago,” Koth insisted. “The place may look the same as his dream, but that has no bearing over whether events will unfold as he says—and it’s a rather disjointed version of events, at that.”

  “Besides,” added Saesee Tiin, “seeking to know the future is a path to the dark side.”

  Obi-Wan had said the same, but it sounded harsher coming from Tiin.

  Yoda harrumphed. “Seeking to know, yes. But seek this vision, Qui-Gon did not. Came to him unbidden, it did. Such visions may be false—but not darkness in themselves.”

  “Can anything that leads to such temptation to control the future be said to be free of darkness?” Tiin said.

  Dapatian nodded sagely. “We cannot evaluate the tactical implications of these visions without also considering the ethical implications.”

  Are they truly going to waste time debating theoretical ethics instead of dealing with the crisis at hand? The thought shocked Obi-Wan—such criticism of the Council was something he would’ve expected from his Master, but had never really confronted in himself. Maybe Qui-Gon had a point about the Council’s tendency to bicker rather than lead…

  Don’t be childish, Obi-Wan told himself. They’re the Council. Of course they consider all aspects of every situation. And at any other time, he might’ve found this discussion interesting. Now, however, it was a distraction from the critical questions he needed the Council to answer. “Masters, please—I’m to return to the moon with Qui-Gon later today to monitor Czerka activity and hopefully find and identify the blackguards.” The summons from his Master had come up on Obi-Wan’s datapad as he briefed the Council; guilt had weighed heavily on him ever since. “What are you going to do?”

  “The question, this is not,” Yoda said. “Determine we will what you will do, young Padawan.”

  * * *

  —

  After a long, mostly silent trip with Obi-Wan to the rendezvous point, Qui-Gon was grateful to see the Meryx landing nearby. Even Pax Maripher’s attitude would be a welcome break from the awkwardness between him and his apprentice.

  “So,” Pax called from the ship’s hatch, “ready to endanger our lives again today?”

  “Looking forward to it,” Qui-Gon replied.

  Pax raised an eyebrow but simply gestured for them to get in for takeoff.

  “Okay,” Rahara Wick said, once they were in space again, “we got the coordinates you sent, but we haven’t done recon yet. After that blowup yesterday, we wanted some Jedi along for the ride before we got anywhere near people who are potentially armed.”

  “Understandable.” Qui-Gon leaned farther into the Meryx cockpit to study her readouts. “We’re headed to a Czerka mine—not one of their larger operations, but it’s close to areas the blackguards have attacked before. So whatever Czerka’s doing there seems to be of interest to the people we’re trying to find.”

  Pax folded his arms as he leaned against a wall. “Why are you only turning your attention to this now?”

  Obi-Wan spoke up. “Because before, it was difficult to detect meaningful patterns. But we’ve learned which acts were the work of the Opposition, and which were the work of the blackguards. Once we went through the record with that knowledge, the patterns became clearer. This place is important to the blackguards. That makes it important to us.”

  “Well put, Padawan.” Qui-Gon meant the praise sincerely. Why did it make Obi-Wan flinch?

  Soon they were descending into the moon’s atmosphere. Sooty haze on the horizon signaled the Czerka facility. At Qui-Gon’s signal, Rahara brought the Meryx down. Finding a landing spot proved tricky on this rockier, more uneven terrain, but she managed to settle the ship at the very border of scanner range. At this distance, only specifically targeted scans would pick up much. Pax and Rahara would be able to monitor the Jedi as they scouted out the Czerka facility, but Czerka was unlikely to detect the Meryx.

  Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan set out on foot, lightsabers in hand and blasters at their side. Anyone who wore one of those unusual shields today would be much less protected than before. They moved as quietly as possible, bending branches aside and slowly releasing them, placing their feet on grass or soft leaves instead of dead ones. The silence between them was not awkward but necessary, and they were united again by a shared purpose.

  We’ll get through this mission well enough, Qui-Gon noted. It had occurred to him that his invitation to the Council might not survive his defiance of the mission mandate on Pijal; if so, would Obi-Wan continue as his Padawan? The rest of their time on Pijal would provide the answer.

  The smell of smoke signaled that they were coming close. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon drew their cloaks around them and pulled up their hoods as a sort of camouflage. Obi-Wan, who held the scanner, motioned for Qui-Gon to take a closer look. “The ores they’re mining don’t appear to be particularly rare or precious.”

  “No,” Qui-Gon agreed, double-checking the mineralogy readouts. “Czerka’s not mining here because it’s necessary. Just because it’s possible. This is interesting, though—” He pointed to unusual spikes in the graphs from an area near one edge of the Czerka facility compound.

  “Kyber…no, of course, it’s kohlen crystals.” Thoughtfully, Obi-Wan tapped one finger on the edge of the scanner. “If Czerka’s actually looking for kohlen crystals—”

  Qui-Gon completed the thought. “They may be behind the blackguards after all. This may be how they gather the crystals to power those mysterious shields.”

  “We don’t even know the shields use kohlen,” Obi-Wan said, contradicting not Qui-Gon but his own train of thought. />
  Nodding, Qui-Gon answered, “Nor are we entirely certain our lightsabers are ineffective against these things. One battle can’t be absolute proof.”

  “We ought to make sure of that—though I don’t think it would be fun finding out.” A grin lit up Obi-Wan’s face, just for a moment.

  “Let’s see if we can find out what they’re doing with the kohlen crystals.” Qui-Gon motioned for Obi-Wan to follow him.

  Together they kept moving until they were almost at the perimeter of the compound. Only brief bluish sparks of light revealed the electronic fence that marked the boundary. Good, Qui-Gon thought. This way we can see everything.

  At first glimpse nothing about this facility looked any different from countless other mining operations Qui-Gon had seen over the years. Sifter droids mindlessly went through raw material, separating ore from dross, which was picked up by loader droids lumbering along the ground, taking the ore for initial processing. Enslaved humans were present, too, in their gray coveralls, doing maintenance on droids. More were probably inside, performing the more complex tasks that simple worker droids weren’t programmed to handle. It was dull, grueling labor—another example of the arduous work they were forced to perform throughout the galaxy.

  There has to be some end to this, Qui-Gon thought. Yoda’s correct—the Jedi cannot assume the authority for putting a stop to slavery throughout the galaxy, not without taking on more power than we should ever have. But somehow, this must change.

  Their scanner blinked faster as they moved quietly through the trees, approaching the area with the kohlen crystals. “Here, Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. “It should be coming into view now.”