Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Covalent Bonds ❯ Chapter 46
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: pronker 
Non Anime: Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Action | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 10.16.2008 | Updated On: 10.17.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 124 | Status: Completed
Non Anime: Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Action | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 10.16.2008 | Updated On: 10.17.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 124 | Status: Completed
The morning sits outside afraid
Until my Master draws the shade;
Then it bursts in like a ball,
Splashing sun all up the wall.
And the evening is not night
Until he's tucked me in just right
And kissed me and turned out the light.
Oh, if my Master went away
Who would start the night and day?
"What have you got there, Obi-Wan?" Anakin brushed his bushy beard against Obi-Wan's neck, bracing one arm on Obi-Wan's shoulder before kneeling behind the sofa. He read the datapad's screen before Obi-Wan could switch it off.
Obi-Wan slid up his shields. It wouldn't do for Anakin to think him soppy. But this piece was charming. And you used to be, or maybe it's the four months we've spent apart. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Something you wrote right after you got here."
"Ha, yeah, Master Tobin made us study poetry and write pieces. I worked for a week on that one. Want a bite of this?" Anakin's smacking lips got on Obi-Wan's last nerve. The smell of the ripe blumfruit turned his stomach.
"No, thanks."
"So, how's the list coming?"
"All right. You haven't made any input to it, I see."
He's anxious about this and something else, too, I Sense. "Nah. I'll know its name when I see its face."
"'It'?"
"Well, together they're about the size of a scramball. Hard to think of them as "hims" or "hers.'" Anakin sucked his flesh thumb and first finger. His mechno-hand squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder affectionately, but Obi-Wan drew forward, away from the touch.
"What?"
"If there is a girl, I'm naming her 'Petunia,' like the flower. It's euphonious."
"You can't be serious. 'Petunia Kenobi.' Sounds like 'ptooey, here comes Kenobi,' like some youngling might say to make fun of her in Initiates' Hall." Anakin headed for the 'fresher.
Obi-Wan followed him. "You're poking fun at my choice, but why don't you contribute to the list, then? If you can write sentimental poetry like you did at ten and fall in love at nine, you can push yourself to think up an appropriate name or two. I'm doing all the work here, taking all the responsibility, like I don't have enough already." It came out whinier than Anakin had ever been. Obi-Wan heard himself and winced.
Anakin rinsed his fingers and didn't say anything. He went back into the common room and sat in the recliner, pointedly not looking at Obi-Wan. I've only been home two days. "That wasn't sentimental."
"Yes, it was. As if the sun on Coruscant rose and set on me. Come on, now. I'm hardly a world unto myself." Stupid discussion. Unworthy of a Master. I'm not letting it pass, though.
You are my world. Will these babies change our lives very much? "When the younglings get here, I'll think of names. Before then, they're an abstraction and until you are big as the Temple, and maybe not even then, I'll deal with what I have to deal with and not worry about what hasn't happened yet." Change the subject. "What are the HoloNet sites you wanted to show me?"
Just wait until you see this. Obi-Wan thrust himself into the comm station's seat and punched up a site so fast that Anakin knew it was on the station's HotList. "Here."
"'JediDom'? Sounds innocuous."
"Not 'Jedidom.' Jedi ... Dom ... you know --- "
"Oh." Anakin grabbed a datapad from the sliding stack on the station's counter, added the sites indicated to its screen and settled onto the sofa nearby. The heightened waves of emotion coming off Obi-Wan reminded him of the Corellian teens and he didn't want to be too close to him. Obi-Wan obtained the same sites on another datapad and pressed himself next to Anakin. The waves of disturbance increased as Obi-Wan began to read aloud.
"'Obi-Wann had not the Force, but he had Annakin. Would that be enough? And why was he always hyper in hyperspace?'" After selecting a recently updated multi-chapter story entitled The Sweetest Tears, Obi-Wan slapped his datapad to scroll past the story's summary and read further. "Oh, get this: 'Obi-Wann cries prettily, Annakin thought as he gathered his petite Councilor' --- that's 'Master' in this bit of fiction, by the way --- 'into his embrace and comforted him. The strongly-built Paladin took care not to chafe his own razor-spiked Force-inhibiting collar against Obi-Wann's abraded skin. Their fellow prisoners gave them as much privacy as they could, huddling against magnasteel bars in the far corner as all inmates alike dreaded the return of the Trimdoshan Jailor with the slashing whip. Dawn broke just outside the crowded cell, but no hopes rose with it.'" Obi-Wan lurched to his feet, a little slower than he might have done last month. He paced. "'Petite?' 'Councilor?' 'Cries prettily?' These authors have made me into a complete ninny. I'm not competent enough to be human, let alone a Jedi Knight, let alone a Councilmember. I'm going to sue. These writers hate me. It's libel." He paced further, getting a little out of breath.
"They hate me more. Here's something incredible on this archive: 'Annakin stabbed the droid's braincase, then flew backwards as Dookuu's Force-push missed him and toppled instead the Duke's own crack squad of IF-69 Terminator Droids. The Pilot With No Fear floated near the cracked cave ceiling, pulling down the nearby stonework arch where the aged Duke stood with his arms outstretched, black cloak flapping with the air displacement. The keystone hit Dookuu squarely atop his silvered head, causing a satisfying splat that made the young Paladin break into a bloodthirsty smile. Dookuu brushed off the killing blow with impunity granted by a Shith's legendary fortitude and sprinted to his Solar .'" Anakin chuckled. "So Jedi can fly, Sith can't be killed and Masters 'cry prettily.' And I am bloodthirsty. Hoo boy." Anakin thumbed placeholders in his datapad and switched it off. "I thought Jedi didn't sue, though."
"The Code is changed, we stand up for ourselves more now, and with you back in action, the war will be over soon. I think we would have a case."
No pressure. Riiight. "But Obi-Wan, where's the harm? Can't you laugh it off?" This was Obi-Wan in full Masterly mode, flaring into fierceness for small blobs of baby that couldn't know how much they were loved all the more for being unresponsive.
"Could Pierpont laugh it off? Or little Jerusha?" The two latest names on their list weren't Anakin's favorites, but he indulged Obi-Wan in this, as in most other things now. When their twins were born, Anakin intended to look into their faces, red and wrinkled as they would likely be, and ask the Force for names. "They will possibly have a tough row to hoe as it is, even though the revised Code is much less restrictive. And younglings, even Jedi younglings, can be thoughtless. Changing our names and titles slightly in this fiction doesn't make it right to publish such untruths. Think of the little tear-filled eyes, Anakin, how can we as parents bear it, just considering it makes me ... makes me ... " Obi-Wan called on the Force to continue. "If I can prevent heartbreak, I will. I'll speak to Master Orzo tomorrow. I won't take this lying down."
"Speaking of lying down ... you should."
"Don't patronize me. This is serious."
"I'd never patronize you. I don't like to see you this upset, particularly when it's years before little Jerusha or Pierpont could read, and we as parents certainly would censor them reading this. Likely all those archives will be forgotten by then. Here, have some muja juice."
"It doesn't taste good to me anymore. I want some koi-broth." Substituting synthesized koi-broth for the natural hoi-broth assuaged Obi-Wan's inexplicable craving for the stuff without risking reawakening his allergies. It was an endurable compromise, perhaps even a life-saving one. Merely the smell of the real item gave him hives, an unhappy pregnancy side-effect of his enhanced midichlorian count. "And only look at the dates on this archive. Nine years old. That's saying a lot for the misguided loyalties of this archive's contributors, or followers, or sycophants, or toadies, or corrup--- "
"I'm going to shut you down, Obi-Wan. Here." It was Threepio's weekend with the Jedi. His protocol algorithms kept him quiet in a corner while the dispute was ongoing, but at a wave from his Maker, he tilted his golden head to indicate receptiveness to any order. "Threepio, koi-broth for Master Obi-Wan. Make sure it's chilled properly."
I exist to serve. And to point out inconsistencies. "Right away, Maker. There is some excellent last year's vintage left. Just the thing for ... reflection." Threepio's upgrade after his mindwipe two years ago left his server's protocols intact and had removed most of his ditheriness. Emotional readings for humans came much more easily, and his knowledge of human physiology had been expanded. Master Obi-Wan's bloated condition yesterday morning had taken Anakin one full half-hour to explain to the protocol droid. Surprisingly, Artoo had needed no such expansion pack. Threepio would not admit it to him, but he had been impressed with Artoo's almost intuitive grasp of the Jedi's gravid state. After Anakin's lecture, Artoo tootled to Threepio in Bocce, as if the two Jedi could have overheard and understood any more forthright code, that Obi-Wan's hair was curlier and thicker than ever before, a benefit of the middle trimester of a human pregnancy. Threepio had asked how he noticed this minute fact, and Artoo admitted shamedly that he had a leftover bit of code from when he was Palpatine's spy. He had been searching their trash for clues of anything suspicious when he found hairbrush leavings in the garbage. Artoo had noticed the wavy strands right away.
"Did you report it to Spymaster Tholme?" Threepio tootled in a subdued tone, glancing around.
"No. Tholme is not my master. Besides, he seems distracted lately. I think it is called 'losing one's center'."
Threepio had ruminated for a full minute. "You did well."
"Boootweeeet!"
"You do, occasionally. Don't act so surprised that I said it." Threepio had continued inventorying the spice chest.
When Anakin woke up the third day after his return from Cularin, Obi-Wan had already left, leaving a snippy note about ensuring his offspring's future mental health. Anakin shrugged it off and went for a swim.
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO
The Jedi such as the three Praci who nearly lived their entire lives in the Council of First Knowledge spire, studying ancient texts and expounding superannuated theories, delegated such few laundry and cooking chores to Padawans too awestruck by their Masters' intellect to protest. It seemed such Masters were paired with unassuming Padawans, the ones who were not on the warrior-diplomat career paths, the ones who would be Temple-based. It was nigh impossible to become angry with such learned Jedi; their obscurity, their appreciation of and devotion to learning was such that Yoda and other Councilmembers thought of them seldom, and when they did, it was with a bemused smile and dismissive, "If we ever need their arcane knowledge, we know where to go." Adi had not approached them for recruitment purposes at all; the new Code seemed like something they would despise, but their special needs would overwhelm her small resources and so she rationalized away gathering their personal opinions. It would simply be too much trouble to provide for Praci needs. It was satisfactory to Adi that Siri agreed fully with this opinion. "They're here if you ever need them," Siri shrugged. "Master Yoda would loan them out to you." Adi had stopped asking Siri if she would accompany Adi in the longterm; it was enough to have her help in the move out.
Tyler Orzo was a case in point. He was the most approachable of the Praci, a blob of Jedi in his usual plasticine-lined unisuit that oozed out of the Council of First Knowledge spire for the Jedi Annual Picnic and Open Temple Tour, which the Order had not put on in three years now. Many beings treated Praci like they were not sentient at all; Orzo was extremely good-natured about it. When Obi-Wan approached him about a possible lawsuit against the maintainers of the JediDom archive, Tyler bubbled enthusiastically about being considered for a Councilmember's opinion. He formed hands and wrung them, he molded large lashless blue eyes and opened them to an inhuman degree after hearing Obi-Wan's complaint before crinkling them at the corners shrewdly.
"So you don't think that I have a case?" Obi-Wan had stopped pacing when Tyler rippled out a 'not exactly' in his unique burbling tones.
"Mmmm, I wouldn't say that. I would say that it borders on the frivolous. Who reads these spurious stories?"
"Sedentary beings with too much time on their hands. Beings curious about Jedi lives in this Temple and our lives, my partner's and mine, in particular." And what will they put on the 'Net after the twins arrive? What speculation will they make about my babies' training and personal day-to-day goings-on? Nip it in the bud, nip it in the bud. "This isn't widely known, Tyler, but when my younglings are born, there is bound to be HoloNet gossip about their ancestry, their genesis and I --- and naturally, Knight Skywalker, too --- want to forestall any trouble for the littles. A successful lawsuit would make beings think twice."
"'Born'? You'll not bud, mmmm?" A third eye appeared on the Praci's idea of a well-shaped head and stared at Obi-Wan's pregnant shape. "You look ripe enough."
"No, I'll not bud, Tyler. I am human. I'm going to give birth." I never, never thought I would utter those words.
"Where were you grafted? Was it painful?"
"I wasn't --- no, it wasn't painful. It was very pleasurable, if you must know. Try to focus, Tyler. This is real life, not something up in your spire. This is earnest for me. The details aren't important, the potential harm is. We are in agreement that younglings must be protected, isn't that right?" Establish common ground. Negotiating with a fellow negotiator, what a tiresome thing.
The Praci considered, slapping two pairs of hands together in an squelching, irritating manner. "Mmmm, you do not have standing in this case."
"What? 'Obi-Wann' and 'Annakin' are only slight variations on our given names. It's libel." Obi-Wan spat out the detested names.
All of Tyler's eyes disappeared and his head became a featureless balloon, larger than ever. His voice issued from nowhere and everywhere. "I have screened tomes from millenia ago with those names. They are not as rare as you think. If I can do it, other barristers can. That's our specialty. 'Obi-Wann' was the name of a dynasty of Jedi, back when Padawans took their Master's names in honor of their own training. Such dynasties lasted until the members passed into the Force with no issue of a living Knight who could become a Master. The rules then were one Padawan per Master's lifetime." Tyler, with no Padawan himself, managed to convey both his distaste for the practice of three millenia ago and a dollop of gratitude that it had been abandoned.
"And 'Annakin'?"
"Oh, mmmm, that is the name of a skilled conceptual artist from the last century. She was particularly adept at making holovids with little stories combined to make one larger narrative; she won awards for that."
"Quite, yes, I have seen one, now that you mention it. Jolly Juke-Jockeys Jinking Their Joysticks, funny, yes, but Tyler --- "
One eye reformed and a bulge of brow frowned deeply. "And you did not note the conceptual artist, given the similarity with your partner's name? Lackadaisical, don't you think?"
I watch holovids to relax, not create statistics, like you do. "Back on point, Tyler, I'll concede that I may be been slightly touchy about the subject. I'll follow your advice and move on." A thought burned itself into his consciousness. "Could you clear your schedule and work with me on a problem in the Analysis Room? There is a crystal being reverse engineered and I'd like to know if there is precedent in its construction." Flattery will get a Jedi everywhere. "The SP-4's have reached a dead end. You may have some helpful bit of ancient knowledge --- "
"Mmmm, me, work with a member of our Council?" Tyler's semi-solid osmotic body threatened to bubble out the head of his special container suit. "Mmmm, me?"
Are we that imposing? "Yes, I'd like it to be a priority."
"Of course! Right now!" The Praci's nucleus with its pulsing heart throbbed noticeably in its usual location beneath his left sleeve. Obi-Wan tried not to look at it as they headed down to the elevator.
Meanwhile, in the Council Chambers ...
"Mace, why am I here?"
"You're making Master Yoda concerned about your behavior, Tholme. I volunteered to speak with you in person since he is out of touch."
Tholme sank into a vacant seat, the one belonging to Obi-Wan, he thought. Perhaps I can absorb some of his balance. "Thanks for making it private, anyway."
"When you have someone who has gone wrong in your life, it leaves a mark, a stain. That never goes away, Tholme." I haven't been to see Depa yet this week. She doesn't recognize me anyway. "You and I have something in common."
"Why?"
"'Why' what?" I'm not getting through.
"Why was she bored, what would she have had with Dooku and not here, why everything."
"Saa was Neti, with a different perspective. Even Master Yoda hasn't her longrange view of life." I need you focused. I Sense that the war is coming to a tipping point.
"Is. She's still alive." In the dark and cold, waiting to become thinner and thinner in her spirit until it gutters out.
Now for the hard part of this conversation. Talk like you understand, because you do. "Let her go, Tholme. We need you to concentrate on what intel Yoda and Secura send us."
"I will. I must." Tholme straightened in Obi-Wan's seat. I need to work. "That's intel work, isn't it. So much information to wade through, figure out what is important, leave the dross behind ... "
TBC
a/n "Night and Morning" (1925) poem by Dorothy Keeley Aldis, www.oldpoetry.com, all rights to her estate. Two M-words and one pronoun were changed, the obvious ones.
Until my Master draws the shade;
Then it bursts in like a ball,
Splashing sun all up the wall.
And the evening is not night
Until he's tucked me in just right
And kissed me and turned out the light.
Oh, if my Master went away
Who would start the night and day?
"What have you got there, Obi-Wan?" Anakin brushed his bushy beard against Obi-Wan's neck, bracing one arm on Obi-Wan's shoulder before kneeling behind the sofa. He read the datapad's screen before Obi-Wan could switch it off.
Obi-Wan slid up his shields. It wouldn't do for Anakin to think him soppy. But this piece was charming. And you used to be, or maybe it's the four months we've spent apart. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Something you wrote right after you got here."
"Ha, yeah, Master Tobin made us study poetry and write pieces. I worked for a week on that one. Want a bite of this?" Anakin's smacking lips got on Obi-Wan's last nerve. The smell of the ripe blumfruit turned his stomach.
"No, thanks."
"So, how's the list coming?"
"All right. You haven't made any input to it, I see."
He's anxious about this and something else, too, I Sense. "Nah. I'll know its name when I see its face."
"'It'?"
"Well, together they're about the size of a scramball. Hard to think of them as "hims" or "hers.'" Anakin sucked his flesh thumb and first finger. His mechno-hand squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder affectionately, but Obi-Wan drew forward, away from the touch.
"What?"
"If there is a girl, I'm naming her 'Petunia,' like the flower. It's euphonious."
"You can't be serious. 'Petunia Kenobi.' Sounds like 'ptooey, here comes Kenobi,' like some youngling might say to make fun of her in Initiates' Hall." Anakin headed for the 'fresher.
Obi-Wan followed him. "You're poking fun at my choice, but why don't you contribute to the list, then? If you can write sentimental poetry like you did at ten and fall in love at nine, you can push yourself to think up an appropriate name or two. I'm doing all the work here, taking all the responsibility, like I don't have enough already." It came out whinier than Anakin had ever been. Obi-Wan heard himself and winced.
Anakin rinsed his fingers and didn't say anything. He went back into the common room and sat in the recliner, pointedly not looking at Obi-Wan. I've only been home two days. "That wasn't sentimental."
"Yes, it was. As if the sun on Coruscant rose and set on me. Come on, now. I'm hardly a world unto myself." Stupid discussion. Unworthy of a Master. I'm not letting it pass, though.
You are my world. Will these babies change our lives very much? "When the younglings get here, I'll think of names. Before then, they're an abstraction and until you are big as the Temple, and maybe not even then, I'll deal with what I have to deal with and not worry about what hasn't happened yet." Change the subject. "What are the HoloNet sites you wanted to show me?"
Just wait until you see this. Obi-Wan thrust himself into the comm station's seat and punched up a site so fast that Anakin knew it was on the station's HotList. "Here."
"'JediDom'? Sounds innocuous."
"Not 'Jedidom.' Jedi ... Dom ... you know --- "
"Oh." Anakin grabbed a datapad from the sliding stack on the station's counter, added the sites indicated to its screen and settled onto the sofa nearby. The heightened waves of emotion coming off Obi-Wan reminded him of the Corellian teens and he didn't want to be too close to him. Obi-Wan obtained the same sites on another datapad and pressed himself next to Anakin. The waves of disturbance increased as Obi-Wan began to read aloud.
"'Obi-Wann had not the Force, but he had Annakin. Would that be enough? And why was he always hyper in hyperspace?'" After selecting a recently updated multi-chapter story entitled The Sweetest Tears, Obi-Wan slapped his datapad to scroll past the story's summary and read further. "Oh, get this: 'Obi-Wann cries prettily, Annakin thought as he gathered his petite Councilor' --- that's 'Master' in this bit of fiction, by the way --- 'into his embrace and comforted him. The strongly-built Paladin took care not to chafe his own razor-spiked Force-inhibiting collar against Obi-Wann's abraded skin. Their fellow prisoners gave them as much privacy as they could, huddling against magnasteel bars in the far corner as all inmates alike dreaded the return of the Trimdoshan Jailor with the slashing whip. Dawn broke just outside the crowded cell, but no hopes rose with it.'" Obi-Wan lurched to his feet, a little slower than he might have done last month. He paced. "'Petite?' 'Councilor?' 'Cries prettily?' These authors have made me into a complete ninny. I'm not competent enough to be human, let alone a Jedi Knight, let alone a Councilmember. I'm going to sue. These writers hate me. It's libel." He paced further, getting a little out of breath.
"They hate me more. Here's something incredible on this archive: 'Annakin stabbed the droid's braincase, then flew backwards as Dookuu's Force-push missed him and toppled instead the Duke's own crack squad of IF-69 Terminator Droids. The Pilot With No Fear floated near the cracked cave ceiling, pulling down the nearby stonework arch where the aged Duke stood with his arms outstretched, black cloak flapping with the air displacement. The keystone hit Dookuu squarely atop his silvered head, causing a satisfying splat that made the young Paladin break into a bloodthirsty smile. Dookuu brushed off the killing blow with impunity granted by a Shith's legendary fortitude and sprinted to his Solar .'" Anakin chuckled. "So Jedi can fly, Sith can't be killed and Masters 'cry prettily.' And I am bloodthirsty. Hoo boy." Anakin thumbed placeholders in his datapad and switched it off. "I thought Jedi didn't sue, though."
"The Code is changed, we stand up for ourselves more now, and with you back in action, the war will be over soon. I think we would have a case."
No pressure. Riiight. "But Obi-Wan, where's the harm? Can't you laugh it off?" This was Obi-Wan in full Masterly mode, flaring into fierceness for small blobs of baby that couldn't know how much they were loved all the more for being unresponsive.
"Could Pierpont laugh it off? Or little Jerusha?" The two latest names on their list weren't Anakin's favorites, but he indulged Obi-Wan in this, as in most other things now. When their twins were born, Anakin intended to look into their faces, red and wrinkled as they would likely be, and ask the Force for names. "They will possibly have a tough row to hoe as it is, even though the revised Code is much less restrictive. And younglings, even Jedi younglings, can be thoughtless. Changing our names and titles slightly in this fiction doesn't make it right to publish such untruths. Think of the little tear-filled eyes, Anakin, how can we as parents bear it, just considering it makes me ... makes me ... " Obi-Wan called on the Force to continue. "If I can prevent heartbreak, I will. I'll speak to Master Orzo tomorrow. I won't take this lying down."
"Speaking of lying down ... you should."
"Don't patronize me. This is serious."
"I'd never patronize you. I don't like to see you this upset, particularly when it's years before little Jerusha or Pierpont could read, and we as parents certainly would censor them reading this. Likely all those archives will be forgotten by then. Here, have some muja juice."
"It doesn't taste good to me anymore. I want some koi-broth." Substituting synthesized koi-broth for the natural hoi-broth assuaged Obi-Wan's inexplicable craving for the stuff without risking reawakening his allergies. It was an endurable compromise, perhaps even a life-saving one. Merely the smell of the real item gave him hives, an unhappy pregnancy side-effect of his enhanced midichlorian count. "And only look at the dates on this archive. Nine years old. That's saying a lot for the misguided loyalties of this archive's contributors, or followers, or sycophants, or toadies, or corrup--- "
"I'm going to shut you down, Obi-Wan. Here." It was Threepio's weekend with the Jedi. His protocol algorithms kept him quiet in a corner while the dispute was ongoing, but at a wave from his Maker, he tilted his golden head to indicate receptiveness to any order. "Threepio, koi-broth for Master Obi-Wan. Make sure it's chilled properly."
I exist to serve. And to point out inconsistencies. "Right away, Maker. There is some excellent last year's vintage left. Just the thing for ... reflection." Threepio's upgrade after his mindwipe two years ago left his server's protocols intact and had removed most of his ditheriness. Emotional readings for humans came much more easily, and his knowledge of human physiology had been expanded. Master Obi-Wan's bloated condition yesterday morning had taken Anakin one full half-hour to explain to the protocol droid. Surprisingly, Artoo had needed no such expansion pack. Threepio would not admit it to him, but he had been impressed with Artoo's almost intuitive grasp of the Jedi's gravid state. After Anakin's lecture, Artoo tootled to Threepio in Bocce, as if the two Jedi could have overheard and understood any more forthright code, that Obi-Wan's hair was curlier and thicker than ever before, a benefit of the middle trimester of a human pregnancy. Threepio had asked how he noticed this minute fact, and Artoo admitted shamedly that he had a leftover bit of code from when he was Palpatine's spy. He had been searching their trash for clues of anything suspicious when he found hairbrush leavings in the garbage. Artoo had noticed the wavy strands right away.
"Did you report it to Spymaster Tholme?" Threepio tootled in a subdued tone, glancing around.
"No. Tholme is not my master. Besides, he seems distracted lately. I think it is called 'losing one's center'."
Threepio had ruminated for a full minute. "You did well."
"Boootweeeet!"
"You do, occasionally. Don't act so surprised that I said it." Threepio had continued inventorying the spice chest.
When Anakin woke up the third day after his return from Cularin, Obi-Wan had already left, leaving a snippy note about ensuring his offspring's future mental health. Anakin shrugged it off and went for a swim.
IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO
The Jedi such as the three Praci who nearly lived their entire lives in the Council of First Knowledge spire, studying ancient texts and expounding superannuated theories, delegated such few laundry and cooking chores to Padawans too awestruck by their Masters' intellect to protest. It seemed such Masters were paired with unassuming Padawans, the ones who were not on the warrior-diplomat career paths, the ones who would be Temple-based. It was nigh impossible to become angry with such learned Jedi; their obscurity, their appreciation of and devotion to learning was such that Yoda and other Councilmembers thought of them seldom, and when they did, it was with a bemused smile and dismissive, "If we ever need their arcane knowledge, we know where to go." Adi had not approached them for recruitment purposes at all; the new Code seemed like something they would despise, but their special needs would overwhelm her small resources and so she rationalized away gathering their personal opinions. It would simply be too much trouble to provide for Praci needs. It was satisfactory to Adi that Siri agreed fully with this opinion. "They're here if you ever need them," Siri shrugged. "Master Yoda would loan them out to you." Adi had stopped asking Siri if she would accompany Adi in the longterm; it was enough to have her help in the move out.
Tyler Orzo was a case in point. He was the most approachable of the Praci, a blob of Jedi in his usual plasticine-lined unisuit that oozed out of the Council of First Knowledge spire for the Jedi Annual Picnic and Open Temple Tour, which the Order had not put on in three years now. Many beings treated Praci like they were not sentient at all; Orzo was extremely good-natured about it. When Obi-Wan approached him about a possible lawsuit against the maintainers of the JediDom archive, Tyler bubbled enthusiastically about being considered for a Councilmember's opinion. He formed hands and wrung them, he molded large lashless blue eyes and opened them to an inhuman degree after hearing Obi-Wan's complaint before crinkling them at the corners shrewdly.
"So you don't think that I have a case?" Obi-Wan had stopped pacing when Tyler rippled out a 'not exactly' in his unique burbling tones.
"Mmmm, I wouldn't say that. I would say that it borders on the frivolous. Who reads these spurious stories?"
"Sedentary beings with too much time on their hands. Beings curious about Jedi lives in this Temple and our lives, my partner's and mine, in particular." And what will they put on the 'Net after the twins arrive? What speculation will they make about my babies' training and personal day-to-day goings-on? Nip it in the bud, nip it in the bud. "This isn't widely known, Tyler, but when my younglings are born, there is bound to be HoloNet gossip about their ancestry, their genesis and I --- and naturally, Knight Skywalker, too --- want to forestall any trouble for the littles. A successful lawsuit would make beings think twice."
"'Born'? You'll not bud, mmmm?" A third eye appeared on the Praci's idea of a well-shaped head and stared at Obi-Wan's pregnant shape. "You look ripe enough."
"No, I'll not bud, Tyler. I am human. I'm going to give birth." I never, never thought I would utter those words.
"Where were you grafted? Was it painful?"
"I wasn't --- no, it wasn't painful. It was very pleasurable, if you must know. Try to focus, Tyler. This is real life, not something up in your spire. This is earnest for me. The details aren't important, the potential harm is. We are in agreement that younglings must be protected, isn't that right?" Establish common ground. Negotiating with a fellow negotiator, what a tiresome thing.
The Praci considered, slapping two pairs of hands together in an squelching, irritating manner. "Mmmm, you do not have standing in this case."
"What? 'Obi-Wann' and 'Annakin' are only slight variations on our given names. It's libel." Obi-Wan spat out the detested names.
All of Tyler's eyes disappeared and his head became a featureless balloon, larger than ever. His voice issued from nowhere and everywhere. "I have screened tomes from millenia ago with those names. They are not as rare as you think. If I can do it, other barristers can. That's our specialty. 'Obi-Wann' was the name of a dynasty of Jedi, back when Padawans took their Master's names in honor of their own training. Such dynasties lasted until the members passed into the Force with no issue of a living Knight who could become a Master. The rules then were one Padawan per Master's lifetime." Tyler, with no Padawan himself, managed to convey both his distaste for the practice of three millenia ago and a dollop of gratitude that it had been abandoned.
"And 'Annakin'?"
"Oh, mmmm, that is the name of a skilled conceptual artist from the last century. She was particularly adept at making holovids with little stories combined to make one larger narrative; she won awards for that."
"Quite, yes, I have seen one, now that you mention it. Jolly Juke-Jockeys Jinking Their Joysticks, funny, yes, but Tyler --- "
One eye reformed and a bulge of brow frowned deeply. "And you did not note the conceptual artist, given the similarity with your partner's name? Lackadaisical, don't you think?"
I watch holovids to relax, not create statistics, like you do. "Back on point, Tyler, I'll concede that I may be been slightly touchy about the subject. I'll follow your advice and move on." A thought burned itself into his consciousness. "Could you clear your schedule and work with me on a problem in the Analysis Room? There is a crystal being reverse engineered and I'd like to know if there is precedent in its construction." Flattery will get a Jedi everywhere. "The SP-4's have reached a dead end. You may have some helpful bit of ancient knowledge --- "
"Mmmm, me, work with a member of our Council?" Tyler's semi-solid osmotic body threatened to bubble out the head of his special container suit. "Mmmm, me?"
Are we that imposing? "Yes, I'd like it to be a priority."
"Of course! Right now!" The Praci's nucleus with its pulsing heart throbbed noticeably in its usual location beneath his left sleeve. Obi-Wan tried not to look at it as they headed down to the elevator.
Meanwhile, in the Council Chambers ...
"Mace, why am I here?"
"You're making Master Yoda concerned about your behavior, Tholme. I volunteered to speak with you in person since he is out of touch."
Tholme sank into a vacant seat, the one belonging to Obi-Wan, he thought. Perhaps I can absorb some of his balance. "Thanks for making it private, anyway."
"When you have someone who has gone wrong in your life, it leaves a mark, a stain. That never goes away, Tholme." I haven't been to see Depa yet this week. She doesn't recognize me anyway. "You and I have something in common."
"Why?"
"'Why' what?" I'm not getting through.
"Why was she bored, what would she have had with Dooku and not here, why everything."
"Saa was Neti, with a different perspective. Even Master Yoda hasn't her longrange view of life." I need you focused. I Sense that the war is coming to a tipping point.
"Is. She's still alive." In the dark and cold, waiting to become thinner and thinner in her spirit until it gutters out.
Now for the hard part of this conversation. Talk like you understand, because you do. "Let her go, Tholme. We need you to concentrate on what intel Yoda and Secura send us."
"I will. I must." Tholme straightened in Obi-Wan's seat. I need to work. "That's intel work, isn't it. So much information to wade through, figure out what is important, leave the dross behind ... "
TBC
a/n "Night and Morning" (1925) poem by Dorothy Keeley Aldis, www.oldpoetry.com, all rights to her estate. Two M-words and one pronoun were changed, the obvious ones.