Master and Apprentice (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

Whoever wrote the Jedi Code, thought Qui-Gon Jinn, never had to deal with the Hutts.

Is he winded already? Qui-Gon thought as they dashed down a staircase that would lead to the outer, more modern area of the Hutt compound. Their escape thus far had included no more than a three-minute run—and of course, scaling a twenty-meter wall. But in the proper meditative state that shouldn’t have been difficult.

But Qui-Gon tailored his tactics to his opponents. Against the Hutts—whose massive wealth had been derived solely through the misery of other beings—he felt free to do whatever it took to survive.

I must keep my mind on the present. The future does not exist; the past has ceased to be. Only the present is real.

“Master? Are you going to your cabin?” “I wish to meditate,” Qui-Gon replied. “Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. I won’t leave you to fly the ship the entire time. I know how you dislike it.” Obi-Wan laughed at his Master’s sarcasm. As Qui-Gon well knew, Obi-Wan loved flying. “I believe I can bear the burden.”

Yet possessing the crystals is not illegal on any world I’ve ever heard of. This might have been simply because Pax never much bothered finding out what was “legal” or “illegal” on every single world, details details, blah blah blah.

Sentients’ behavior was rarely clear-cut, often complex, and invariably nothing like the simulations.

“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?”

“One of these prophecies says something about ‘She who will be born to darkness will give birth to darkness.’

‘When the kyber that is not kyber shines forth, the time of prophecy will be at hand.’

“The answer to your question is…complex. Give me a moment to gather my thoughts, so I can give you the reply you deserve.”

“They could only predict the future through the prism of their own experience. So by studying their words, their warnings, we learn more about their ways than any history holo could ever teach us.

Master Dooku had shaken his head ruefully and said, “Darkness is a part of nature, too, Qui-Gon. Equally as fundamental as the light. Always remember this.”)

But Rael was an extreme latecomer to the Temple, fully five years old before he was identified on Ringo Vinda—the oldest youngling ever brought in, so far as Qui-Gon knew.

Never assume your friends are above wrongdoing.

Millennia ago, according to local legend, Pijal had been one of the first worlds to adopt planetary shield technology. Qui-Gon suspected the equipment had not been updated since.

As was often the case, Obi-Wan noted, Qui-Gon managed to sound very reassuring while actually saying very little.

“Surrender?” Pax said. “Give up before the battle’s even begun? Why would I do that?” “Because you’re not holding a blaster in your hand, only a shovel,” Qui-Gon said patiently. “Also, we have lightsabers.” A short pause followed before Pax said, “Your point is well taken. Allow me to congratulate you on your persuasive rhetoric.” “I can’t believe you tried to bluff two Jedi Knights with a shovel.” The woman appeared, hands raised. “We surrender.”

“People are more than their worst act,” Obi-Wan recited. It was something Qui-Gon had said to him many times, which at last seemed to be sinking in. “At least, most people. And they are also more than the worst thing ever done to them.”

For instance, Dooku would never, in a thousand years, help Qui-Gon with his homework. He would, however, let Qui-Gon do that homework in the main room of his Jedi Knight’s quarters, where he could munch on leftovers.

Only through sacrifice of many Jedi will the Order cleanse the sin done to the nameless. The danger of the past is not past, but sleeps in an egg. When the egg cracks, it will threaten the galaxy entire. When the Force itself sickens, past and future must split and combine. A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored.

“The kyber crystals do determine the color of the blade, but they only take on their colors after their bond with the Jedi who’ve chosen them.”

“The ancient Sith used lightsabers,” Obi-Wan said. “But they’ve been extinct for a millennium. So, no. A Jedi just wouldn’t be involved in a lightsaber duel to the death. It couldn’t happen.” Fanry seemed to realize she was being a bit bloodthirsty, because she smiled impishly and made the next question a joke. “Never?” He smiled back as he shook his head. “Not ever.”

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.

A tree nearby was very old and dry, already dying. Qui-Gon dived into a roll that took him to its trunk; with a thought of apology, he slashed his lightsaber through the trunk.

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.

Some Jedi become complacent—even arrogant—about the power the Force gives us. That power is great and profound, but it is not absolute. Never forget that.”

Rahara wiped her cheek roughly, with the back of one hand. “If the Republic can’t do something as decent and basic as attack slavery, why do we have a Republic to begin with?” Qui-Gon repeated, “I have no good answer.”

Qui-Gon had not yet shared his vision with the Council, nor did he intend to. They would spend all their time bickering about the viability of the hyperspace corridor. They were too bound to Coruscant. Too bound to the chancellor. Too far from the living Force. They were no longer the sort of Jedi who could trust in a pure vision. It shocked him that he was that Jedi. That he could still find it in him to believe so profoundly, so unshakably, in pure mysticism. Qui-Gon had often felt out of step with the Order as a whole, but never to this degree. He had also never felt this close to the Force.

“They’re wonderful,” Rahara said hoarsely. She gave him a watery smile. “You have your moments, Pax.” “Bosh,” he said. “I’m marvelous all the time. This is simply one of those occasions when you’ve noticed.”

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

“So,” Pax called from the ship’s hatch, “ready to endanger our lives again today?” “Looking forward to it,” Qui-Gon replied.

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.”

“I think we can get Rahara out,” said Qui-Gon Jinn. “Unofficially, that is.” Pax reviewed what he thought he’d just heard. “Let me make sure I’ve understood you. Are you, a so-called guardian of peace and justice in the galaxy, suggesting an illegal raid?” “Precisely.”

Rael nodded at the person who brought his drink, a small wizened creature who wore goggles and a strand of beads.

“If I’m getting out of here,” she said, “so are they.” “You mean instead of sneaking out safely, we’re going to lead a slave uprising?” Pax considered this, then smiled. “Excellent.”

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!”

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.” “You’re only shaken up,” Qui-Gon said. “That feeling will pass.” “No, it won’t.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan began to smile. “You know, Master, I’ve realized—I wouldn’t learn nearly as much from someone who always agreed with me.” Qui-Gon grinned back, and they clasped hands, more truly partners than ever before.

“We don’t choose the light because we want to win.” Averross smiled sadly. “We choose it because it is the light.”