Master and Apprentice (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

Of course, Obi-Wan could take care of himself. Or so Qui-Gon thought for the remaining two seconds before 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.

“Nothing remains static,” Qui-Gon said, “but sentient beings will always remain the same.”

“Changes come when we least expect them—but they do come.”

Rahara crossed her arms. “Yeah, but on Alderaan we couldn’t bribe our way out of it.” “They are appallingly moral, aren’t they? No place for you and me.” Pax smiled mischievously.

“Hey. You,” he said to the Chagrian. “Get out before I take you out.” The Chagrian’s chest swelled. If he couldn’t get himself a woman, he seemed to think a fight would be the next best thing. “Take me out, heh? And how do you think you’ll do that?” In a blink Averross’s hand went to his belt, seizing his weapon. His lightsaber blazed into life, its blue glow illuminating the entire room. The Chagrian froze as the cantina fell silent. Averross grinned. “Bet I could manage.” “Jedi,” muttered the Chagrian. Already he was shuffling backward toward the door, head bowed. “I didn’t know—you—you don’t look like a Jedi.”

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

“I salute both your courage and your compassion for my base nature. To the moon we go.”

“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.

“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.’

‘When the righteous lose the light, evil once dead shall return.’ That’s so vague it could refer to anything or anyone! And then the whole ‘Chosen One’ nonsense—”

“Yes, seeking to know the future can be a form of control, which can lead to the dark side,” Qui-Gon said in his deep, resonant voice. From his tone, Obi-Wan knew his Master had heard all this from Yoda many times before. “And learning the forms of lightsaber combat is a way of preparing for violence. Violence, too, can lead to the dark side. We are entrusted with great diplomatic power, which means we exert influence over entire systems—” “I understand what you mean,” Obi-Wan said. “Many paths can lead to the dark side.”

“Darkness is a part of nature, too, Qui-Gon. Equally as fundamental as the light. Always remember this.”)

Anger sometimes refused to leave the soul except through the body.

Her Master—the person she was supposed to be able to trust above all others in the galaxy—had killed her.

Instead, Rael said, “Master Dooku can seem stiff sometimes. Know why that is?” Qui-Gon shook his head no, and slowly Rael’s grin widened. “That’s because he is stiff. Like a plank. Even in his sleep. How does he do that?”

“C’mon, hang in there,” called Rael, who clung to the rigging just behind him. “You’ll be all right, kid. The first battle’s always the worst.” “It’s not the battle I’m afraid of!” Qui-Gon protested. “It’s the water.” “—the water?” Despite the chill of the seawater drenching his clothes and hair, Qui-Gon’s face flushed warm with embarrassment. “I can’t swim!” Now Rael Averross—the Padawan before him, the stronger one, the better one—would laugh at him, and no bravery in combat would ever eclipse Qui-Gon’s shame. Rael didn’t laugh. “Don’t worry,” he called over the roar of the waves. “You fall in, I’ll levitate you out. And after we’ve won this thing, tomorrow, I’ll teach you to swim.” He made the victory sound inevitable. Tonight, battle—and then came tomorrow. It erased Qui-Gon’s fear faster than anything else could’ve done—

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan ventured. “I mean, Master Jinn isn’t a rebel, not really. He can’t be, now that he’s joining the Jedi Council.” Qui-Gon wanted to wince, though it was hard to say why. Rael’s eyes widened as he sank back on the cushions in astonishment that didn’t seem to be exaggerated. “Is he joking? Or did the Jedi Council get more interesting all of a sudden?”

“We are most honored to welcome more Jedi Knights to our realm,” Fanry said, coolly and properly—then made a face. “I’m supposed to refer to myself in the plural when I’m speaking officially. No idea why. Makes me want to turn around and look for my clone.”

“Are we reliving our past triumphs?” Obi-Wan said. He was joking now, trying to leaven the mood between them. “If so, I’d like to ask that the Hutt palace on Teth be stricken from the record.”

Obi-Wan looked at the floor as he nodded. “Perhaps you should explain to our new friends—” Pax snorted. “Hostages, more like.” This earned him an elbow in the ribs from Rahara.

“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.”

“I’m coming to believe that we must all interpret the Code for ourselves,” Qui-Gon said, “or it ceases to be a living pact and becomes nothing but a prison cell.” Which sounded nice and all, but was a long way from letting Averross off the hook.

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 s...

A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored.

“Such a joyful way to spend a morning,” Pax said. He’d begun making some Chandrilan tea for her, pointedly not asking the Jedi if they wanted any. “Looking for terrorists. This afternoon, for fun, why don’t we set ourselves aflame?”

“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.”

A great deal, it seemed, but Pax didn’t intend to change himself to fit the universe. If the universe wanted him to blend more, well, then it could change to fit him.

“I beg your pardon?” Somehow Pax Maripher even sounded like a protocol droid. “You’re summoning us back toward the firefight? The one that apparently is too fierce to be handled by two Jedi Knights?” “We’re not leaving anyone, Pax,” Rahara Wick insisted. “Where do you need us?” “South of our drop point. As close as you can get without putting yourselves in jeopardy. Obi-Wan will rendezvous with you shortly.” Qui-Gon dropped his comm unit back in his robes, though it didn’t shut off before he overheard Pax: “I wasn’t saying we would leave them, only that we shouldn’t be expected to—”

“Oh, good,” Rahara said. “We were worried about you.” Pax chimed in, “You see, if the two of you were killed up here, we’d be the prime suspects.”

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.” “I didn’t ask to opine upon it,” Pax said haughtily as he steered the Meryx back toward their landing grounds. “Forgive me,” Qui-Gon said, “but I suspect you’d share your opinion on this or any other topic, whether we asked for it or not.” Slowly Pax began to smile. When people punctured his vanity, he began to respect them. “Rather perceptive of you.”

Rahara had pulled herself together somewhat. “So, am I right that you guys are going after Czerka?” “In terms of ending their undue influence on this planet,” Qui-Gon said, “yes.” “Then I want in.” Her smile was as sharp as any blade. “Because there is nothing in this world I’d enjoy more than making Czerka run scared.” Qui-Gon expected Pax to protest about his safety, or the difficulty of taking on a corporation of such size, or simply for protest’s sake. Instead, he grinned at Rahara. “Sounds like splendid fun to me.”

“I propose that we buy each other gifts,” he said, “when we see the other has a need that has not been met.” After some fishing around in the cluttered cockpit storage compartment, he withdrew a slim rectangular box and presented it to her. Rahara opened it, less curious than resigned, and saw—a pair of gloves.

“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.”

“Memory is, in the end, all we truly possess.”

He hoped she’d return to the cockpit beside him and take the helm; Pax was a perfectly adequate pilot, but he lacked Rahara’s magic touch. They stood a far better chance of getting away from here without being noticed if she was in the pilot’s seat. Besides, she’d been back in the mess, snacking, for some time now, and he was in the mood for more companionship and entertainment. (He had previously been instructed that it was not acceptable to interrupt her eating, sleeping, refresher time, or holovids for this reason alone. The crisis gave him the perfect excuse.)

“Rahara?” he called, as she took her seat. “Wear your gloves.” She grinned up at him for the split second before the Facet’s mirrored cockpit slid shut.

“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.”

“Don’t you see, Obi-Wan? They knew you’d rebel against any Master you worked with. So they made sure you wound up with a Jedi who almost never followed the rules. The only way for you to rebel was to become the perfect Jedi.”

Very, very deep down, he sometimes wondered whether anyone truly believed out of pure faith, or whether people believed whatever they had to, in order to keep going.