Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Covalent Bonds ❯ Chapter 19
Covalent Bonds
Chapter 19
In between Obi-Wan and Siri in the back of the airtaxi, Anakin stared at the opulent scenery of Theed, thinking hard about this morning. Seeing Dormé and Ommané again rooted things up from his past he'd thought he could deal with more smoothly. If he'd handled things better in his marriage ... no.The dream-purpose had been real and true. The Order was changed and if he'd stayed in his marriage or somehow ignored the promptings of the Force, he had no clue how to include Padmé if he continued living at the Temple. That wasn't the Force's fault, he thought, it was mine. And since Padmé and Ommané had broken up, where would that leave Obi-Wan and himself? He would go to comfort Padmé and if Obi-Wan could have found it in his heart to consider her a friend, Obi-Wan would have, too. Assuming, of course, that neither one of them had fallen in the war. I don't think Obi-Wan would have understood or been able to handle Padmé's serial partners. Maybe I wouldn't have, either. The rainclouds that had gathered since their arrival threatened to drop their load of moisture soon. The scent filtered through to his senses, humid tastes of dirt and roots and impending ... something. It's this mission that Obi-Wan is going on. And my vision of him falling, this time without me to catch him ...
Anakin looks broody. This morning must have been nostalgic for him about his marriage. Obi-Wan's armor poked his shins through the duffel bag in the crowded back of the airtaxi. Their driver, an unusually subdued Gungan, kept his thoughts to himself about the arches and the little bridges over the Solleu River's ebb and flow and the undoubtedly fascinating beings living in the water. The planet was beautiful as he remembered. Qui-Gon had approved of the natural curves in the buildings, the patina on the roofs. Master, I miss you.
They passed from the downtown area to a suburban area, different than what Anakin had told him of the Naberries' neighborhood. Instead of brick homes and people living close by, this section of town could be called the outskirts. There were larger bits of property, some secluded with rows of privacy-giving trees where a visitor who did not know the occupants would have a difficult time discerning an address. This area would be perfect for raising younglings, Obi-Wan thought, looking at a field in front of a comfortable-looking one-story home. A mother shaak raced with her colt to the end of the paddock and then back, as graceful as a creature that size could get. Their airtaxi was the only vehicle for kilometers that he could see. Families. Marriage. Obi-Wan leaned forward to glance past Anakin at Siri, who seemed absorbed in observing a planet new to her. The gloomy sky turned her eyes the same shade as Anakin's as it stole the highlights from her aurodium-shaded hair. He wondered what it would be like to own a woman. To have had the experience that his Padawan had had, to wake up legally bound next to the one who would always be there, who had the capability to bring new life born of their love into the galaxy. Siri would be fiery in bed and prickly the rest of the time, he guessed, and as years passed would she mellow with a patina like the Theed Royal Palace's rooftop or would she toughen as she had been tough all those years between Qui-Gon's passing and Olanet? Siri was soft where Anakin was hard planed muscle --- sort of squishy --- but from their swims in the Room of One Thousand Fountains he knew there were some intriguing points with muscles flexing like anakkonas atop her arms. He could imagine today her white arms through her layers of robe and tunic and undertunic ... there would be only one layer if she'd worn her unisuit this mission ...
"Stop. Driver, this is it. Siri, do you mind walking onto the studio's property? Might be good to stretch and walk the land." Qui-Gon would have suggested that. Siri shrugged and Anakin muttered something. They walked through the recently-rained on soil past rows of slender trees interspersed with cloudflower patches. The bucolic scene entranced Siri, too, and the two of them pointed out plants whose names they could only wonder at. Obi-Wan wracked his memory for the names of the flowers whose blossoms went into the making of Naboo's famous blossom wine. Perhaps the awful thing that happened obliterated the details in the briefing on Naboo that Qui-Gon and I had, thirteen years ago. I'll bet Qui-Gon would have remembered them, if our positions were reversed today.
There was a beat-up speeder in the yard with its rain-shield activated and a Vote For Kylantha, The Apathetic's Choice! sticker near its twin exhausts. Anakin reached the front door of the sprawling home ahead of Siri and Obi-Wan. He paused there respectfully, watching them stroll along, as if they weren't about to head off into danger. Mfff. Like Padmé and me admiring flameflowers in the Maze behind 500 Republica. Anakin waited until they were reunited on the porch before knocking and allowing the sensor to sweep their images. He heard footsteps approach and then the door was flung wide.
"Right on time, Master Jedi. Welcome, and you too, Commander." Anakin saw a man in a unisuit similar to Siri's, except Siri's had never been covered in paint with glitter in it. The man made a halfhearted attempt at offering his hand, then bowed as much as his paunch would let him. "I'm working in children's statuary today, the My Little Gualaar series. How the kiddies do like shiny things." Anakin wondered at Master Yoda's instructions, because this was the least assertive being he could imagine. Dark curls framed a pudgy face carrying a pleasant expression free of guile. Anakin bowed politely and performed the introductions for Obi-Wan and Siri. They left their duffel bags on the porch as the artist gestured them to follow him through a cluttered home towards its back door. Anakin passed a comm station tuned to a continuous political feed as he lagged behind to gauge this home's occupants. The studio lay behind the home, along a path festooned with climbing plants bursting with springtime blooms. The bright flowers didn't lift his mood.
I hope this goes well. I've never met Jedi. "Palo of Naboo." There was a question in the bearded Jedi general's voice, though he was too polite to voice it.
"Yes, no surname. It's like Amidala, a regnal name but in my case it's an artist's name. My wife likes it." Palo gestured to a holofrieze on the double-doors leading into the studio and Dormé's face smiled at Anakin as Palo pushed open the door. Dormé. Of all people. Palo of Naboo. Palo, that's familiar. Palo? He groaned enough that Obi-Wan touched his elbow, a questioning look on his face, but Anakin brushed away any concerns with a flattened palm. It was unfair to face relics of his relationship with Padmé twice in one day. He knew Padmé who knew Dormé who had married Palo who had known Padmé. Is this a degrees of separation thing? Is it two or three, or any at all? And he knew of Palo from before, from Padmé's description. Curls, dark hair and eyes, artist after leaving the political arena. But he feeds a remnant interest in politics via the streaming political station.
Siri stared at the rows of modeled gualaars, some with shining horns, some with glittering braided tails. "People buy these for their younglings?" She picked one up. "They're ... appealing." She turned it upside down. "'Sixty-eight out of ninety? Limited edition?'"
"It's a series, as I said, Master Tachi." She needs something to occupy her. "Look around all you want. Pick out something for yourself or your ... um, I mean, this might take a while." The Jedi quirked an eyebrow at him and wandered away, hands clasped behind her. "Now then, General, Commander. The Vice-Chancellor and your own Master Yoda have enlisted me to help in the cause of peace. Just the other day, it came to me that the Negotiator and the Hero Without Fear team would make prime collectibles and this is the result." He picked up a packet about the size of a personal holoemitter and handed it to Obi-Wan. "The prototype, but when you approve you will sign each item and the attraction to the buyer will be that much greater, don't you see?"
Obi-Wan skimmed off the plasticine wrapping, opened the packet and inside were a multitude of holocards, each in its sleeve. He handed half to Anakin, expecting him to perk up as he usually did at things mechanical or electronic. He examined his half as the artist shifted his weight from foot to foot. His palmprint seemed to be the activator of the card as he removed the first one from its sleeve and lay his hand flat at eye-level.
"My eyes don't focus and my beard is too bushy. Why can't a hologram be true?"
"Artistic license or a flaw in the holocard. See here, I look like an Ansion grasshopper in this one. You can't see my saberwork for my legs jumping around like that." Master Antana's hologram looked better than this, but at least I'm modestly dressed. Nothing bouncing around. Anakin handed the cards back to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan replaced the holocards in their sleeves, slid them back carefully into the packet and handed it to Palo. "I'm sorry, Palo, but I don't believe Count Dooku will want to collect this piece of art, or whatever this is."
"I designed these pieces."
"Oh."
"Look, General Kenobi, I don't pretend to be an expert in the field of collectibles. Things like these sell well in my shop and I've been in touch with the Bottoms Holocard Cartel, the top in its line of business, and these items compare well in quality. My forte is sculpture, solid and holosculpture and friezes for buildings, but these things are popular and I am a businessman with a family now. I know my market."
Anakin spoke up. "And we are to sign these, why?" The impending rain made his stump ache a little and he wanted this to be over with.
"It's part of Yoda, sorry, Master Yoda's and Padmé's plan to entice Dooku to bid on a certain lot in an auction. He's been known to favor signed items. I'm not privy to many details, but I trust their sincere desire to end this war." Palo sobered. "I'm thinking galactically and not locally here. We Naboo are safe enough so far."
"And Count Dooku bids on Jedi items" --- like terentatek carpets--- "on the Holonet, yes, Master Yoda said so. How do we know? Does he use an obvious username?" Obi-Wan's detective nose sniffed the air. "Does he leave electronic footprints? I'd think not, he or his underlings are surely clever --- "
Palo had dealt with troublesome signers before, particularly in opera. He had not thought to run into any Jedi divas, but a firm hand was always best with any diva. "I've said the reasons why. I cannot force you to sign, General." Anakin saw a hint of durasteel under the man's soft appearance.
"Give them to me. I'll sign. I trust Padmé." Palo handed him a special inscriber and the young Commander sat at the worktable. The bearded Jedi gave his apprentice an indecipherable look and sat beside him. They passed each card to the other and signed not only the prototype batch, but the fifty duplicate batches that Palo had stayed up all night to complete. The blonde Jedi approached Palo with a gualaar held outstretched, as if it would gore her.
"This one. For me. Hold it, will you? I can't take it along."
Her choice had iridescent bows tied in its tail and gilded wings that Palo had added in an unrealistic touch of whimsy. "I'll forward it to the Temple, Master Tachi. Bring your things out back. The guesthouse is set up for you."
"We can't impose --- " Siri and Obi-Wan spoke at once, but Anakin wasn't surprised. Each Naboo citizen he'd known, even Palpatine, had been hospitable like this. But Palpatine had an agenda. And I fell for it. There was a thunderclap as the rain came through on its threat.
"We accept," they said as one.
The guesthouse cabin was a duplex, as rustic as their cabins on Olanet, stocked with enough comestibles so that they would not need to bother their hosts tonight. Obi-Wan used the rest of the afternoon to don his armor and check it redundantly, as he had seen his troops do countless times. Anakin watched him glumly. "Aren't you going to ask me about the Whyren's?"
A patter of rain against the window sounded louder to Obi-Wan than normal. "You said at home, 'now you knew what you'd been missing.' I assume you want to explore your tolerance. Wherever you do it, I trust you to take care of yourself. If you're 'of age,' Padawan, you can be responsible." He still could not force himself to wear a helmet, though if he changed his mind, he could pick up one on New Holstice. He finished the last systems check and undid everything. There was the usual skick noise as the armor magnetically disengaged from its black bodystocking's gription field. Obi-Wan let it all go at once, rather than his usual neat practice, a piece at a time, a vambrace here, a gauntlet there, pauldrons and greaves last of all. He scratched himself thoroughly and sighed. "Anakin, draw me a bath, please."
Anakin grumped, "Alone? Or with me, for a change?"
They might as well face off now. This morning had left a nasty taste on both their tongues. "Padawan, we must be more understanding of our needs, our limitations. I meant alone, of course."
It had been a rough morning for Anakin, too. "You mean I can touch you like a brother, like a brother fellow Knight or even your brother by birth, but bathing with you would be too much for weak little old me?" The words bubbled up and he seemed helpless to stop them. "I'm neither fifteen, nor eighteen, nor yet twenty, when we became lovers. Did I ever force myself on you, Master?" The term, once so sweet on his lips, soured after almost fourteen years of Padawanship. He made no move towards the 'fresher.
I shouldn't have to discipline you at twenty-two. I'm a bit tired of doing it. "Bathing alone is practical in our situation. We don't want to stir something into our daily mix that will complicate things, while we're here in the field, anyway. Communal showers are, well, different. More impersonal." Obi-Wan stowed the armor in the far corner of the cabin, near to a small hole that he supposed held a rodent. It wouldn't dare to stick its head out into an atmosphere like this, if it knew what was good for it. He wished he could have a burrow of his own at this moment.
"Draw your own bath. I'm checking the perimeter." Anakin had only to yank up his hood to be ready for the storm outdoors. "There's no lock on any door here, to the outside or to the kriffing wet bar, but you needn't be concerned. I respect boundaries." He left the latchstring inside as he marched outdoors.
"Anakin, you don't need to. This isn't a war zone --- " Obi-Wan offered, but Anakin had left.
Meanwhile, next door ...
Siri did her final crunch, scorning the rag rug for the hardwood floor as it ground into her lower back. As a cooldown, she grabbed an ankle in each hand and let her legs sprawl, feeling the pull, managing the pull to avoid those cracking sounds she had heard in her back lately. Something is going on with those two. Will I need to intervene? More disquieting waves of emotion rumbled through her center that she had just strengthened. She and Ferus had spent the last year of his Padawanship reviewing all his teachings, from the simplest katas to the most intricate ways to meditate. The final moment, when she had cut his braid, he smiled up at her and she had to remind herself that yes, this was the goal they had both wanted. She really did not want him to live with her anymore; she wanted the best for him and he had reached the mark. She had embraced him as a brother Knight with the tiniest of sobs against his neck, then poked him roughly in the chest. "Payback for being sick on me after Euceron, Knight Olin." He had gripped her upper arms and given her a little shake in newfound equality. But Skywalker is our Chosen One. Shouldn't I make myself available for him to talk if he needs it? She got to her feet, but just then a door slammed and the waves settled down into a ripple of discontent. I'll stay in here. Each of them knows where I am. Siri withdrew a protein bar from the cooling unit for a solitary dinner. She would be with Obi-Wan for some time; no use wearying of each other.
TBC
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