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Obi-Wan swooped down over the door controls and stabbed them with his lightsaber, heat melting the controls from within. Blast it! Qui-Gon thought. “I meant, take care of the guards at the door!” “You could’ve said so!” Obi-Wan shouted. Which was true. Always with the specific instructions! Must he be so literal?
Qui-Gon believed in dealing with each situation on its own merits; Obi-Wan wanted procedures to follow. Qui-Gon valued flexibility, which Obi-Wan seemed to think of as sloppiness. Qui-Gon had learned to get on better with the Council over time, but had always retained his independence. Obi-Wan still thought he had to obey the Council in every particular, at all times, and was horrified every time Qui-Gon deviated from standard protocols in the slightest.
Obi-Wan forced his attention back to the Rainhawk’s controls. At least nobody could criticize his flying; there, the tasks were concrete, predictable, known.
See? He’s joking around with you. He wouldn’t joke around if he was truly disappointed in your performance on Teth.
Rules are rules for a reason, Obi-Wan thought as he stared out at the wavering, electric-blue light of hyperspace. They’re not arbitrary. The Jedi rules exist to steer us toward the greater good, and to reduce uncertainty.
Nobody puts much stock in the old prophecies any longer, Obi-Wan thought sullenly as he looked over yet more Old Alderaanian. These are only things that may never happen. If they ever do come to pass, then they were truly foretold, and none of our actions can influence them in any way.
“What use are ideals if we cannot fit them to the universe as we find it?” Qui-Gon had once asked him. “If our beliefs tell us one thing, and the needs of real people tell us another, can there be any question of which we should listen to?” This all sounded very lofty when Qui-Gon said it, but in actuality it meant things like, It’s okay to “borrow” a spaceship from criminals if you really need it, or If I can win this tribe’s independence in a game of chance, then it’s worth selling my Padawan’s best robe for chips to get into the game.
Obi-Wan tugged nervously at his Padawan braid, then stopped as he caught himself at it. It was a bad habit he hoped to break.
He wouldn’t even tell me he’d no longer be my Master? I wasn’t even worth informing?
“Concerns you wouldn’t dream of discussing with me.” That comment finally pierced Qui-Gon’s damnable calm. There was an edge to his voice as he said, “I suspected you would be too upset to discuss this rationally. Apparently I was correct.” “I thought you said my reaction was understandable,” Obi-Wan shot back. “So why does it disqualify me from hearing the truth?”
He shifted his voice into an imitation of Yoda’s. “Up the hell, he should shut.” Qui-Gon tried not to laugh, but failed, which only made Averross grin wider.
His Master was being cryptic again. By now, Obi-Wan ought to have been used to it. He had been used to it. But the abrupt, unannounced end to his apprenticeship had scoured his feelings raw. He wanted to snap, Just tell me what you’re thinking, can’t you for once just—
You can’t have missed his devotion to the princess.” “I didn’t,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “But perhaps we should evaluate Jedi by criteria other than their dedication to the younger people they protect.” The jab pierced Qui-Gon, all the more painful for the element of surprise. It wasn’t that Obi-Wan had never tried to say anything hurtful before; he’d just never hit the target so squarely. Worst of all—Qui-Gon wasn’t sure Obi-Wan had even meant to hurt him. He simply meant what he said. That was what really stung.
The varactyl ruffled its feathers, then crouched low on the ground, until its belly lay in the grass. That let Obi-Wan easily swing up into the saddle and take the reins. Rising to its feet, the varactyl chirruped happily. They were friends now, Obi-Wan realized—friends who were about to have a lot of fun together.
Obi-Wan charging toward the underbrush, his lightsaber shining in the night. Despite his fear, Qui-Gon felt a flush of pride. That was the apprentice he knew Obi-Wan could be—and the shadow of the great Jedi Knight he would yet become.
“I’d like your opinion,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan looked up from the Meryx’s scanners. “Well, that’s a first.” The look Qui-Gon gave him made Obi-Wan realize, I don’t think I should’ve said that out loud, even if it’s true.
When Obi-Wan saw him, his blue eyes widened. “Master!” he called. “No! Save yourself!” This is the boy who believed I found him unworthy as an apprentice. The one I failed to tell about the most significant change in my life, and maybe his. I don’t deserve him. I never have.
Pax sighed. “Oh, so now we’re forced to be advisers to the mission?” Apparently protocol droids complained every other sentence, which she figured was the reason Pax did the same, but that didn’t mean Rahara had to like it. “Pax, you literally just asked the man for information.”
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.
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.
I am one with the Force, Obi-Wan thought, recalling an old saying of the Guardians of the Whills. The Force is with me.
“It matters,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “It matters which side we choose. Even if there will never be more light than darkness. Even if there can be no more joy in the galaxy than there is pain. For every action we undertake, for every word we speak, for every life we touch—it matters. I don’t turn toward the light because it means someday I’ll ‘win’ some sort of cosmic game. I turn toward it because it is the light.”
“Am I nuts,” he asked the WA-2G, “or do I look great?” “The terms are not mutually exclusive.”
Inwardly, he thought, I hope Obi-Wan’s all right. — As the Facet plunged through the twisting corridors at intense speed, Obi-Wan had given up trying to come up with any coherent thoughts. It made more sense to just yell, “AAAAAAUUUGHHHH!”
“How many more times must I tell you?” Col asked. “They will always be slaves.” “The situation has changed, Supervisor Col, as you would know if you were better versed in Republic jurisprudence. ‘During extreme political upheaval, any group found to be imprisoned against their will, without having been convicted or accused of any offense against the law, shall be liberated. Anyone responsible for imprisoning these people is committing a criminal act.’ ”
Obi-Wan still appeared to be in shock. “It was terrible,” he said, his eyes staring fixedly ahead. “I don’t ever want to fly again. Ever.” “Oh, come now, Padawan.” “I hate flying.”
If she would’ve confided in more of us, she might have realized how much support there was for standing up to the company. But of course, Czerka wasn’t the point. Only the excuse that let her feel righteous about seizing absolute power.”
Instead, when Obi-Wan thought on his time as Qui-Gon’s Padawan, he always thought of the years after that mission to Pijal—the years when they had become both partners and friends. He’d expected to go through the trials, to be knighted in the proper ceremony with Qui-Gon at his side, and for the two of them to remain friends for the rest of their lives.
Still, Obi-Wan would never have guessed that Qui-Gon would confidently identify the Chosen One as a small enslaved boy. Less would he have expected to be abruptly cast aside in favor of that same boy—a wound in his relationship with Qui-Gon that had only just begun to heal before his Master had died.
