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 Posted: Thu Aug 06, 2009 8:32 pm
Across the Universe
A Star Wars fanfiction by Cathartic Denouement
DISCLAIMER
Star Wars (c) Lucasfilm, Ltd.
All I own are Tepeu and her bouncing baby boy.
SYNOPSIS
+ Coruscant; 26 BBY - A criminal has finally been apprehended after years on the run, and is about to pay dearly for her crimes. But not before she gives a few choice words to a particular Jedi Knight.
+ Tatooine; 12 BBY - A young man speeds across the Dune Sea in search for clues as to the identity of the father he never knew.
RATING
PG-13 - just to be safe.
+ Implied sexual content.
+ Mild language.
+ Drug and alcohol use.
PAIRINGS
I'm not going to tell you.
That would ruin the ending.
NOTES
+ The time-line in Star Wars goes backward -- their Before the Battle of Yavin (BBY) is the equivalent of our BC; After the Battle of Yavin (ABY) is the equivalent of our AD. For a bit of reference --
___; Episode I - 32 BBY
___; Episode II - 22 BBY
___; Episode III - 19 BBY
___; Episode IV - 0 BBY/ABY (the Battle of Yavin takes place during this film)
+ I know this is a little hard to follow; but I'm happy with the way it's written. Think of it like a puzzle and you have to put the pieces together.
+ This fanfiction goes along with the assumption that, like the Vulcans in Star Trek, there are particular races of near-humans that are closely enough related to humans to interbreed.
+ Yes, the OC in this is a bit of a slut; she gets around. It's probably one of the few remaining traits she has since her creation six years ago.
+ Something you might not realize from only watching the movies, it takes a while to get places, even when you're traveling through hyperspace. A bee-line from Tatooine to Coruscant is a trip that lasts twenty-two days (however, if you go Tatooine-Corellia-Coruscant and avoid having to navigate through the Deep Core, it only takes eight hours).
+ If you come across any term you're unfamiliar with, I recommend checking the Wookieepedia.
Enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. ;3
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Posted: Thu Aug 06, 2009 8:36 pm
Coruscant, 26 BBY
“I wish you had gotten to meet him.”
Obi-Wan looked at the woman seated on the floor of the prison cell. Her knees were pulled into her chest; her grey eyes were unfocused, staring absently at the floor in front of her. Was this really the same woman he and Qui-Gon had chased across the galaxy seven years ago? It couldn’t have been – that woman had been reckless and proud, holding her head high even through the shame of defeat; this woman was broken, her vitality sapped. She had always had the pallid, sickly appearance common amongst the Balosar people, and she had always looked a bit underfed, but now she looked positively gaunt – her eyes were sunken, her cheeks were hollow.
“Meet whom?”
“My son.”
A son? She had a child? This once proud woman had been confined by the responsibilities of motherhood? It seemed impossible; he had seen her off and on over the past seven years – meeting as friends and as adversaries – and never had she once mentioned having had a child.
“I had always hoped the two of you would meet,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall behind her, turning her absent gaze to the ceiling. “I had hoped that one day he could train to become a Jedi. I had wanted to ask you to train him.”
“Tepeu…” She should know damn well the reasons why he couldn’t do that. Had she learned nothing about the Jedi order through all their time spent together? For one, it was ultimately the council’s decision; for another, even if he wanted to train the boy, regardless of the council’s decision, he already had a Padawan. And, of course, he didn’t even know if the boy was Force-sensitive.
“He’s five years old,” she said, more to herself than to him. She closed her eyes. “He looks like me, but – but he has his father’s eyes.”
Obi-Wan swore he saw the faintest of smiles tug at the corners of the Balosar woman’s mouth as she thought of her son – or was she thinking of his father?
Abruptly, she looked up at him. “Obi-Wan, please, train him. He’ll be a great Jedi if you’ll just – ”
“Tepeu, listen to me. It isn’t up to me to decide if he can be trained as a Jedi; you don’t even know if he’s sensitive to the Force.”
“But he is!” she said, and her voice was suddenly filled with more emotion than he had heard from her since her most recent arrest. “He – he can sense changes in emotions, and – and can sense the energy in people, and – ”
“So can you,” he reminded her gently, kneeling in front of her. “That’s not uncommon for a Balosar; you of all people should know that.”
“Obi-Wan – Ben, please. Please, as the last request of an old friend – ” She took one of his hands in hers, looking at him beseechingly.
“Tepeu, you know why I can’t promise you that,” he said. “I can find someone to look after the boy, but I can’t promise you that I will train him; I can’t promise you that he can be trained at all.” He heard footsteps approaching in the corridor outside the cell and stood. Her hands fell limply beside her on the floor; she seemed almost dazed, as though unable to believe that she was being denied her wish.
“Master Kenobi, your meeting with the council – ?”
Obi-Wan waved the young Jedi away with a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there shortly.” Once the young knight had gone, he turned back to the broken woman in front of him. He stooped and gently kissed one of her cheeks; her gaze remained absent as she made no move to acknowledge the kiss.
“Why is this happening?” she asked quietly as he stood.
“I don’t know,” he lied. “But I’m sorry that it is.” It was obvious why it was happening; she had taken a gamble, and she had lost. Had she expected a life of crime to end in any other way? Surely not. He crossed the prison cell without another word, pausing at the door to look back at her again. “I truly am sorry, Tepeu,” he said, and he meant it. He waited for any signal to indicate she had heard him, but was only rewarded with silence, as he knew he would be. “Good-bye,” he said softly, and exited the cell, knowing it would be the last time he would speak with the Balosar.
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Posted: Fri Aug 07, 2009 2:11 pm
Space, Senex Juvex Sectors, 32 BBY
Obi-Wan was fuming at the woman seated across from him. One of her arms was thrown easily over the back of her chair; her other hand was resting on the table, a lit death stick between her fingers.
“Why should I tell you anything?” she asked.
“You aren’t in a position to argue,” he said. “You’re under arrest by order of the senate, charged with an attempt to – ”
“Yeah, I know what I’ve been arrested for,” she said, interrupting him with a wave of her hand. “I’m asking you why I have to tell you anything.”
“Because we’re prepared to ask for the maximum sentence – for an attempt to assassinate a senator, that could very well be spending the rest of your worthless life in prison.” What’s left of it, anyway, he added mentally, glancing at the death stick in her hand as she brought it to her lips to take another drag. “Do you really feel the need to smoke in here?”
She exhaled a stream of smoke at him. “Bite me.”
He rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back from the table, standing. He gave her a dark look as she smirked at him, and then turned to leave. She didn’t want to talk? Fine; he wasn’t going to put up with her. It was bad enough he and Qui-Gon were being sent to speak with the Viceroy of the Trade Federation – he had never trusted Neomoidians, and there was something he sensed about Viceroy Gunray that just didn’t rest well with him – but now he had to deal with lesser criminals with inflated egos and reputations in the process; would the injustice never end?
The door slid open as he walked toward it, before he even entered the area covered by the motion detector. Qui-Gon strode through the doorway, took one glance at the stormy expression on his Padawan’s face, and said mildly, “You seem troubled, Obi-Wan.”
“Master, it’s hardly fair that we have to put up with this,” he said, indicating the Balosar woman. “The Chancellor has already sent us to negotiate with the Trade Federation; why should we have to take care of scum like her at the same time?”
The elder Jedi put a hand on his apprentice’s shoulder. “Remember, Obi-Wan, a Jedi is a servant to the people above all else. We are called upon to defend the peace, whatever that may entail. We do what is required of us, and nothing less. Now,” he said, dropping the hand from the younger man’s shoulder and turning to the table, seating himself in the chair Obi-Wan had so recently vacated. “I gather from my Padawan’s expression you don’t want to talk with us?”
“Why should I?” she asked. “You don’t want to talk to me.”
“On the contrary, we’d very much like to speak to you. Why else would we be here?” He glanced at the carcinogen in her hand as she shook some embers into an ashtray. “That will kill you, you know.”
“According to your golden boy over there, my life’s worthless anyway, so why should I care?”
“Any life is worth living, isn’t it?”
“Tell that to him,” she said, but it didn’t escape either Jedi’s notice that she allowed what was left of the death stick to fall into the ashtray. She leaned back in her chair, rocking it onto its back legs. “So, Master Jedi, why don’t you remind me one more time why I’m here? I don’t think I’ve heard it enough today.”
Obi-Wan stepped forward. “Master, you don’t have to put up with this – ”
Qui-Gon silenced his Padawan with a dismissive wave of his hand. “There is evidence to support, Miss Geyumaz, that you’re the one behind a recent attempt to assassinate the senator from the planet Naboo. Whether these allegations against you are true… we believe in the philosophy ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ We assume nothing; it’s up to the courts, not us, to decide your fate.”
She regarded him for a moment silently, almost suspiciously. She let the chair fall back onto its four legs and leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. “All right, so what do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Don’t you have sources or something that have already told you everything?”
“We’ve heard one side of the story, yes; we’ve heard the evidence that condemns you. Now this is your chance to give us any information that could be used in your defense.”
“Why, so you can go find more evidence to prove I’m a liar?”
“Master, don’t put up with this – ”
Qui-Gon ignored his Padawan and folded his arms on the table in front of him, leaning forward to mimic her pose. “This is your chance to tell us whatever story you want us to hear; if you don’t tell us willingly, we have other methods of getting it – and whatever other information we deem as necessary – from you. You might accidentally let something slip you didn’t want us to hear.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “We’ll give you until morning to think it over.”
He took his apprentice by the arm and pulled the other man from the room, the door sliding shut with a pneumatic hiss behind them, locking itself electronically.
“Master, you’re letting her just sit there and think about it? So, what, she can perfect the lie she’s going to tell us?” Obi-Wan asked as they began to walk down the corridor of the starship.
“Have faith, Obi-Wan. You’ll find that gentler words prove more effective in getting what you want from criminals. If they’re argumentative, don’t give them anything to argue against; you’ll find that eventually they’ll settle down and speak to you on more or less reasonable terms.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t just persuade them – ”
“Patience. You must learn to deal with things without the use of the Force; remember, she’s a Balosar, but what if she were a Toydarian, or a Hutt? If that were the case, you wouldn’t be able to sway her opinion with the Force, even if it would be for the greater good to do so.”
“The greater good! And gaining information from a criminal about an assassination attempt isn’t for the greater good?”
“Be mindful of your temper, Obi-Wan; you must learn to keep your emotions under control.”
Obi-Wan frowned, but said nothing more, ducking into a room off the main corridor, eager to escape his Master’s lecture about keeping his emotions in check. If he had heard it once, he had heard it a thousand times; that didn’t make it any easier. And this Balosar woman wasn’t helping his already foul mood. Now she had decided she would speak with him, but she would speak with Qui-Gon? That was hardly fair – but, admittedly, it leant merit to what he had said about trying not to argue. The sooner they dropped her off with some provincial Outer Rim police force, the better; he was more than a little fed up with the cancerous smoke from her death sticks filling the interior of the ship. Even if she was confined to what more or less constituted a prison cell, albeit a comfortable one, the smoke still managed to filter through the air each time the door opened, slowly but steadily diffusing throughout the ship. And at the rate she smoked those things, the two Jedi and the two-man crew would all be dead within the month if she and her drugs weren’t gotten rid of soon. With any luck, Qui-Gon’s “any life is worth living” statement had convinced her to kick the habit – she had put the death stick down, hadn’t she? – but he doubted it.
One thing he was sure of, though, was that she would be gone before the negotiations with Viceroy Gunray took place.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2009 7:05 am
Tatooine, Jundland Wastes, 12 BBY
Elan leaned casually over the handlebars of his swoop bike, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead to survey the barren landscape of Tatooine without the interference of the dust-covered lenses. The bike wasn’t precisely his, but as far as he was concerned, finders were keepers. He raised a hand and brushed some sand from his dark hair, wondering absently how anyone could stand to live on so arid a planet. Even his native Balosar with its toxic atmosphere was preferable to this.
He pulled a pair of electrobinoculars from the bag slung over his shoulder and peered through them, sweeping the horizon. A dark smudge rose up, and for a moment he thought he had finally come within sight of the homestead he was looking for – but then the smudge moved, and he realized it was nothing more than a bantha, no doubt the mount of some Tusken scout; banthas weren’t solitary creatures, and to be this far out in the Jundland Wastes – nearly at the western edge of the Dune Sea – alone was nearly suicide for any sentient creature, even one as hardy as a bantha.
Great. Just what he needed: a raiding party of Sand People interfering with his search for – blast, what was the man’s name again? His mother had spoken of him so often when she was alive – but that had been nearly fifteen years ago; he had been only five years old when she had been put to death, leaving him, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. His memories of her were dim; he felt very little attachment to her or to what he remembered of her, but she was all he had had. He had never known his father, though he remembered his mother telling him he had his father’s blue, blue eyes.
Before she had been arrested, his mother had told him a very dear old friend was going to take care of him – who this friend was, he never learned; he never met the man, though in retrospect, he suspected the man had been his father. His mother had told him fantastic stories about the man, how he had saved a queen and was a wizard, able to use some sort of magic called the Force. As a child, he hadn’t fully known what she had meant; older, now, he understood. Her friend had been a Jedi, and she had meant for the man to train him, Elan, her only son, in the Jedi arts.
That hadn’t happened.
As he grew older, this surprised him less and less; everyone seemed to have known his mother in some way or another. Most, she owed money or favours; others, she had wronged, and they were seeking blood; a few had fond memories of her, even going so far as to call her their friend. All of them agreed that they wouldn’t have trusted Tepeu Geyumaz as far as they could spit and that she rarely followed through with promises, though they conceded that she had genuinely cared about her son, and had even managed to kick her drug habit for the sake of her child.
The people Elan had met throughout his life, though, weren’t precisely trustworthy themselves. Raised by a woman his mother had met and befriended some years previously while carrying out some unspecified job on Telos, he had been surrounded by brigands and outlaws as far back as he could remember – if his mother had been alive, he doubted it would have been any different; she had been one of them, or so he had heard. She had collected her fair share of bounties and smuggled her fair share of balo mushrooms and ryll. Her ultimate undoing, though, had been the assassination of the Andaran senator Berm Tarturi; she had been caught fleeing the scene, though not because of lack of discretion on her part. It had simply been a bad job – some of Elan’s guardian’s friends suspected the man who hired his mother had set her up, had known she would be caught. Elan’s guardian doubted this; no one, she claimed, had hated his mother so much as to intentionally set her up to be arrested, condemned, and executed – there was at least some honour among thieves.
But for whatever the reason, a set-up or a slip-up, Elan was on his own, riding across the Jundland Wastes in search of his mother’s mysterious friend. Ben, as she had named him all those years ago; it had been an endearment, a pet-name. Elan had searched from one corner of the galaxy to the other, looking through countless databases and records until his eyes ached, searching for a Jedi Knight called Ben that matched the rough description he had managed to pull together from his dim memories of his mother’s stories. As far as he had been able to find, there hadn’t been any Ben in the Jedi Order during his mother’s lifetime – and if there had been, he would probably have been killed with the others during the Holocaust seven years previously.
Through some miracle, he had managed to locate this man – Obi-Wan – out here in the middle of the Tatooine desert, in self-imposed exile. Whether this was the same man his mother had known, Elan had no way of knowing, but he was intent to find out.
He replaced the electrobinoculars into his bag and continued on his way across the Jundland Wastes, eager to reach the Dune Sea and locate Obi-Wan’s homestead before nightfall.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2009 3:26 pm
Space, Outer Rim, 32 BBY
“What the– who let her out of the holding cell?”
“I don’t think that’s the most pressing issue, here,” Captain Panaka said, ducking behind a console and drawing out his own blaster as shots of energy hit the wall of the ship where his head had been moments before. “The question you should be asking is who gave her a gun?”
“Well I’m sure no one gave it to her!”
If Obi-Wan hadn’t been amused by the Balosar’s presence before the failed negotiations with the Trade Federation, now that he and his master were onboard a royal Naboo cruiser with the queen and her entourage, he was thoroughly put-out. Upon seeing the Radiant VII destroyed in the docking bay of the Trade Federation’s ship, he had caught himself hoping for the briefest of moments that she had been killed in the blast; by some “miraculous” turn of fate, she had managed to get off the ship after “negotiating” her release with the two-man crew. How she had managed to get out of her holding cell on the consular-class ship, he didn’t know, nor did he particularly care; now, her release from the cell was, without a doubt, thanks to the infuriating Gungan that had joined their group, owing a life-debt to Qui-Gon.
Damn it all, the man was too soft-hearted. They should have left the Gungan to the mercy of his water-dwelling people.
Obi-Wan halted his train of thought, knowing that his master would have been most displeased to know he had been thinking such things. And besides that, the Gungan was hardly the most important thing right now. What was important was that Tepeu Geyumaz, would-be assassin of Bail Antilles, was out of her holding cell, had a blaster in her hand, and was, to be blunt, pissed off. And who could blame her?
“Don’t Jedi have psychic powers or something?” Panaka asked, raising himself a bit to fire a few shots over the console. “Can’t you manipulate her into putting the gun down?”
“Qui-Gon told me not to,” he said. “He said I need to learn to deal with these things without the Force, in case something like this ever happened with a Toydarian, and besides, we’re discouraged – ”
“I don’t care what the old man said; just do something before she does any real damage!”
Obi-Wan frowned at Panaka, but knew it wasn’t the time to argue. He raised his head above the console to see where, exactly, the Balosar was standing, and saw that her attention was diverted by one of Panaka’s officers, who was brandishing his blaster at her as she did likewise at him. They were shouting at each other loud enough for their words to be unintelligible, but the Jedi didn’t care; it hardly mattered.
He reached out with the Force and hauled her from her feet just as she let loose a blaster shot – what would no doubt have been a fatal blast grazed the officer’s shoulder – the gun went flying from her hands as she gyrated her arms through the air, trying in futility to maintain her balance as the Force brought her crashing onto the floor of the ship. Panaka dove for the gun; Obi-Wan dove for Tepeu, clapping a pair of stun cuffs around her wrists before she could regain her feet.
Panaka was examining the gun, frowning. “This is one of ours,” he said, more to himself than to the Jedi. He looked down at Tepeu and gave her a decent kick in the side. “Who did you take this from?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He pointed the blaster at her meaningfully. “Who did you take this from?” he repeated. “Which one of my men?”
“Which one do you think? The one that was guarding my door. You can ask him about it, if you’d like,” she said. “But I doubt you’d get much of an answer from him.”
“You piece of filth, I ought to just – ”
“Captain, that’s enough.” As one, the Jedi, the soldier, and the criminal all turned their heads to the doorway. Qui-Gon stood there, his habitually serene expression in place, his brow creased with the slightest of disapproving looks. “One death on Her Majesty’s ship is enough for one day. Now, if you’re quite through, I’ve been asked to inform you that we’ll be making an emergency stop on Tatooine; we need a new hyperdrive. The Trade Federation has no presence there.”
“Tatooine?” Panaka looked troubled. “You can’t take the Queen there; it’s ruled by the Hutts – if they knew she was there…”
“If they knew the Queen were there, how would it be any different than landing on a planet under the influence of the Trade Federation? Besides, the Hutts aren’t looking for her. That gives us the advantage.”
Panaka still looked troubled.
“The Queen has already given her consent that we should land there,” Qui-Gon continued, waving a hand dismissively. “Olié has identified a spaceport where we may be able to purchase the parts we need; we’ll land just on the outskirts to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.”
“A spaceport? It’ll be crawling with bounty hunters.”
From her place on the floor, Tepeu let out a strangled sort of noise.
Panaka silenced her with another nudge from his boot. “What are you sniveling about? You’ll be staying here on the ship. Unless we decide to see what kind of price we could get for turning you in.”
“That won’t be necessary, Captain.”
Obi-Wan looked down at the Balosar, then up at his master. It was against the Jedi way to turn a criminal over to bounty hunters instead of delivering him – or her, as the case may be – to the proper authorities, but the idea was nevertheless enticing to the young Jedi.
“We’ll be landing shortly.” With that said, Qui-Gon turned on his heel and exited, Obi-Wan following.
Once they had gone, Panaka kneeled beside Tepeu. “Your Jedi protectors won’t be around forever,” he said. “Once we get to Corsucant, you’ll be handed over to the authorities there, and from what I hear, they aren’t merciful. If I had it my way, you’d have been left on Naboo for the Trade Federation to deal with; count your blessings that your sorry hide is still in one piece.”
“Go to hell,” she said, and was rewarded with another kick as Panaka stood and followed the Jedi out.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 7:23 am
Coruscant, 26 BBY
“Master, is something troubling you?”
Obi-Wan turned his eyes from the observation window to look at his apprentice. The boy – well, nearly a young man now – was fifteen, and was becoming a stronger Jedi day by day; it was obvious that it was only a matter of time before his abilities surpassed Obi-Wan’s own. He studied his Padawan for a moment before turning back to the transparisteel window.
The boy followed his master’s gaze. Several meters below them, bound to what more or less constituted an electric chair, was Tepeu Geyumaz. The once proud woman had been stripped of the last vestiges of her dignity, but still she held her head high. The implication of her expression was clear: if she was to be executed, it was because she allowed herself to be, not because her fate was forced upon her. She wasn’t looking at the officer overseeing her execution as he read the charges against her; her expression was haughtily vacant, one of refined boredom. It was clear to the two Jedi that she had resigned herself to her fate, and had fully accepted what was happening.
“Master – ?”
“She had a son,” Obi-Wan said, interrupting his apprentice. “She asked me to train him in the Jedi arts.”
“She… she can’t have been serious. And even if she had been, you wouldn’t seriously consider – ”
“No, she was serious when she asked me to do it. I may have considered looking into it if there weren’t… other factors involved. You, for one,” he added in response to the sideways look Anakin gave him. “And for another… the council would never approve, I’m sure. There would be too many problems with it.” She had, after all, been a friend, for what it was worth; the council would no doubt fear that he would become too emotionally attached to the child of an old friend.
But wasn’t emotional attachment what made life worth living? Periodically, Obi-Wan would wonder if the Jedi path was truly the right choice; so many of its practices contradicted the very essence of human nature.
“What did you say to her?” Anakin asked. “Surely you didn’t tell her you would train him.”
“I told her I would find someone to care for the child, but I told her I could promise no more than that.”
Even that had been a stretch; he didn’t know the child’s name. He would search through whatever census records he could find, trying to locate any surviving members of Tepeu’s family to see if they knew anything of the child, or would be willing to raise him. Balosar would be the logical place to begin his search, but beyond that…. There was no way of knowing where she and her son had lived for the past several years, or whose care he had been placed in when she went on this final, ill-fated mission.
He put the palm of his hand against the transparisteel barrier and closed his eyes in silent thought, resting his forehead on the glass.
“Master…”
Obi-Wan opened his eyes in time to see the Balosar’s executioner throw the switch, sending her body rigid as the first jolts of electricity coursed through her. He dropped his hand from the transparisteel and turned away. As well-deserved as her fate may have been, he couldn’t bring himself to watch.
* * *
Over the next several weeks, Obi-Wan began looking for Tepeu’s son. He searched in every database he could for any of her relatives, her son or otherwise. He searched for the surname Geyumaz, which yielded only a few results; one result was drastically outdated information about Tepeu herself, the others were members of another Balosar family which claimed to have no relation to her when he contacted them directly. He searched for G’maz, remembering she had once mentioned shortening her surname in some circles – she had never been the most creative when it came to making aliases – and found nothing.
He tried to remember if she had ever mentioned anything else about her family, or had ever mentioned any friends that might know something. He contacted old acquaintances who had known her – or at least known of her – hoping to produce some sort of result, but his efforts failed to reach fruition.
He began to wonder if the child had been a lie, if she had ever had a son at all. Inventing a child would serve no purpose for her; her life wouldn’t have been spared. And if the child had been made-up, why make a point of mentioning her son had his father’s eyes…?
On a whim, without any further ideas of where or for what to search, he entered his own surname into the database.
He found nothing.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 11:15 am
Naboo, 32 BBY
Obi-Wan couldn’t place it, but something had changed. The status quo had undeniably shifted. Something had happened on Tatooine, but he had no way of knowing precisely what; to sum up what he did know, Qui-Gon had found a junk dealer with a spare hyperdrive – a Toydarian that didn’t accept credits. A stroke of bad luck; fortunately, his master had finally, reluctantly, given into Panaka’s suggestion of bartering the Balosar for payment from some bounty hunter that would no doubt be found skulking about in the spaceport. She wasn’t happy about this, as would be expected, but Obi-Wan had half-heartedly assured her that Qui-Gon would never hand her life, worthless as it may have been, over to criminals; it wasn’t the Jedi way, even if she wasn’t deserving of such mercy. He had watched as one of Panaka’s men led her away from the ship and toward the spaceport, but that was the last he had seen of her before his master, the Gungan, and the queen’s handmaiden had returned to the ship – the Skywalker boy in tow, and the Balosar following – with a new hyperdrive.
With the hyperdrive installed, the Naboo refugees had left the sandy planet and headed for Coruscant. It didn’t escape Obi-Wan’s notice that the Balosar was more subdued; an around-the-clock watch was no longer set outside her holding cell, and the door was rarely locked, even when the guard was absent. Reluctantly, she would speak to Obi-Wan now, and she kept a civil tongue in her head even when he was being deliberately argumentative with her.
He couldn’t help but wonder what had caused so drastic a change – had she realized how gentle her imprisonment with the Jedi was compared to a life of villainy? Had Qui-Gon saved her from a well-deserved fate at the hands of the Hutts, and did she now feel that her quiet acquiescence was the least she owed him? Had she simply given up? He wanted to ask his master about her sudden change, but the opportunity eluded him; Qui-Gon seemed forever to be speaking with the queen and her protectors about the situation on Naboo, or else discussing strategies for the queen’s protection with Panaka.
Once they had landed on Coruscant, he had hoped to speak to the elder Jedi, but other matters took precedence. The matter of the Skywalker boy’s potential training absorbed the elder Jedi’s attention; the Balosar was more or less forgotten as the queen met with the Senate, and she was left under the watchful eyes of Panaka’s men until the courts could accommodate her.
But, as fate would have it, she had become associated with their group, just as Anakin had become Qui-Gon’s ward, and she returned to Naboo with them, with no small amount of protest from Obi-Wan. And after Qui-Gon had reasoned with Panaka, saying that she was one more pair of eyes and another gun at their disposal, it was agreed she should accompany them to regain the palace; if she happened to die in the fight, well, it was one less criminal for the government to worry about. Panaka and Obi-Wan had their doubts about giving a blaster to a convicted criminal, but they conceded it was better to have her with them than alone on a ship where she could potentially do more lasting damage.
And so she barreled right along with them through the streets of Theed, shooting down droids as easily and as readily as any of Panaka’s men – almost as though she were eager to prove she was on the right side of the law. Obi-Wan didn’t have time to wonder at this; his attention was suddenly taken by the appearance of the Sith in a corridor off the main hangar. Without hesitation, he and Qui-Gon rushed forward and engaged the Zabrak in battle.
Beyond that, everything was a blur of flashing lightsabers, and everything was moving at least three times its normal speed until – everything came to a stand-still as Obi-Wan, trapped behind a wall of pulsing electrons, watched as his master fell to the Sith Lord.
* * *
That evening, the battle was over; Obi-Wan had avenged his master’s death; the blockade was destroyed; the Trade Federation had lost its power. Peace had returned to Naboo, but at a price; Obi-Wan stood on the steps of the funeral temple, looking at his master’s body, his gaze absent, his thoughts elsewhere. The Balosar was standing several steps below him, also looking at Qui-Gon’s body. He walked down to stand beside her and was silent for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said.
She didn’t look at him. “He asked me to help,” she said quietly. “He trusted me. He… he was my friend.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. She spoke the words as though the notion were foreign to her, as though she hardly dared to believe what she herself was saying.
“He talked to me like I was a real person. He didn’t act like I was just another piece of trash off the street.” She looked down. “I don’t know, maybe it was just to get me to talk. Maybe he was only so kind so that I’d give you the information you wanted about the people that hired me.”
He didn’t know how to respond. He settled for a question. “On Tatooine,” he said, “what happened? You came back to the ship… different. You didn’t try to fight us any more.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Some Chiss wanted to buy me off of him and turn me over to Jabba for a reward. Qui-Gon didn’t let him. I know he agreed to Panaka’s plan to use my bounty to pay for the hyperdrive, but I don’t think he ever really meant it…”
“I told you he didn’t,” Obi-Wan said.
“You didn’t mean it.”
He closed his mouth. She had a point. He had been rather unconvincing when he had told her a Jedi would never sell a living being for money. “The queen’s guard said they would try to acquire a pardon for you,” he said. “As thanks for your help.”
“Whatever, it’s not like I won’t get arrested for something else sooner or later.” She shivered as a cool breeze blew past.
“Why do you do it?” he asked. “Live the way you do, I mean.”
“It’s the only way I know how.” Without so much as a good-bye, she turned and began to make her way up the stairs back toward the temple.
“Where will you go?”
She threw her arms up over her head in a sort of shrug and kept walking without giving him a verbal reply.
He noticed she was absent from the funeral.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 7:05 pm
Tatooine, Dune Sea, 12 BBY
Night had fallen on the Dune Sea. Elan was at least moderately sheltered from the ferocity of the desert wind by the wall of the dwelling. There was little doubt in his mind he had found the right place, but he hesitated before knocking on the door. Suppose his mother had exaggerated and this Obi-Wan hadn’t been a friend at all? What if he was turned away, the exiled Jedi preferring to leave old memories buried?
He heard a throaty cry across the expanse of desert, and decided it was best to go ahead and knock; he didn’t fancy being caught in the dark when Sand People were prowling about. No sooner had his knuckles rapped on the door than the portal was opened by a middle-aged, bearded man. His ginger hair was greying, but his eyes still gleamed with a youthful defiance. He ushered Elan inside with hardly a glance at the boy, his eyes trained on the sandy dunes behind him as more Sand People began to yell at each other across the dusty expanse.
After he had closed the door behind the boy, the man turned to look at his unexpected guest. “My God, you look just like your mother,” he said, apparently startled.
“You must be Obi-Wan.”
“It’s Ben, these days,” the man corrected. “Your mother’s the one that used to call me that.” He gestured that Elan follow him further into his abode. It was a small dwelling, but comfortable, the proper size for a man living on his own in an inhospitable landscape. Obi-Wan drew a storage chest across the floor to the small table with an absent wave of his hand, and indicated for the boy to sit as he pulled a pot of stew from the stove and served up two bowls. “You’ll have to excuse my lack of introduction,” he added. “I never expected to meet you; I couldn’t find any records of you anywhere.”
“You were looking for me?”
“I had promised your mother I would find someone to care for you,” he said. “I had hoped to find some family member with a decent background to keep you, but I had to find you first. Obviously, I was unsuccessful. Even if I had found you, I don’t know what I would have done; I couldn’t find any relatives of your mother that weren’t in jail or dead.”
“That sounds like Mom.”
Obi-Wan set down his bowl of stew and looked at the boy in front of him. “Do you have any memories of her? You were very young when she died.”
“I remember her telling me about you,” he said. “She didn’t tell me much; she told me you were a Jedi, but not much else. I think she wanted you to train me.”
“I was a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, nodding. “I still am, I suppose, though the Order is long gone. And she did mean for me to train you; I remember the day she asked me. That was the last time I spoke to her.” His gaze shifted from the Balosar boy in front of him to the rug on the stone floor and became absent. “It was the first time she ever mentioned you to me, and the last; she was spot-on with her description, though. She said you looked like her, but had your father’s eyes.”
Elan sat up abruptly. “Did you know him?”
The Jedi’s eyes turned back to the Balosar. “I… I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I can’t tell you with any certainty who your father is; if that’s why you came looking for me, I’m sorry. But I can tell you that your eyes certainly aren’t your mother’s.”
The boy looked down. “I came to you looking for my father,” he admitted, “or at least looking for someone who could point me in the right direction.”
“I’m afraid I can do neither,” Obi-Wan said with an apologetic shrug. “But I can tell you that I cared for your mother very much by the end of things; I would have done anything to get them to spare her life, if only for your sake. But that’s in the past; as it is, I don’t know what I can offer you. I can give you a place to stay as long as you need it, but I can’t help you find your father. I’ve thought it over for years, who he might be; your mother made a point of telling me you had his eyes, and I couldn’t help but think that there was meant to be some hidden meaning in that – ”
“What if she was saying you were my father?”
“Don’t think the thought hasn’t occurred to me,” he said. “It’s haunted me for years, the thought that I might have a son somewhere in the galaxy. I was terrified that if the Council ever found out I had fathered a child….”
“Did you love my mother?”
Obi-Wan hesitated. “No,” he said. “I’ll admit I never loved her; she became a very dear friend, but nothing more.”
“But if you are my father, that means you – ”
“I’m well aware of what it means,” the Jedi interrupted. “But love had nothing to do with it.”
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Posted: Mon Aug 10, 2009 9:55 am
Coruscant, 32 BBY
It was raining. This was unusual for Coruscant, but not unheard of; typically the carefully controlled atmosphere provided the planet’s inhabitants with a sunny, mild climate, but not today. And how appropriate – it had been less than a week since Qui-Gon’s funeral, and returning to Coruscant truly hit home for the newly-knighted Obi-Wan that his former master was dead. Anakin had been sent to the Jedi Temple to speak with the Council – it seemed they had still more tests for him to pass – and so, for the first time in a long while, Obi-Wan was left alone with his thoughts without fear of interruption.
He was hesitating outside the door of his apartment, dreading going in. How many times had he seen Qui-Gon standing at the windows, looking out across the city in thought? How many times had he come home to see Qui-Gon sitting on the couch, legs folded under him, meditating? How many times had he been greeted by Qui-Gon saying nothing more than “you seem troubled”?
But there would be none of that today; Qui-Gon was gone. Obi-Wan had to accept that.
He opened the door to the apartment and slowly walked in, willing himself not to look around. The grief was still too potent; he couldn’t face the prospect of living without his master yet. A sniffling noise caught his attention, and forced him to look around the room for the source of the sound, his hand already clutching at the hilt of his lightsaber.
The Balosar was by the window, in Qui-Gon’s customary place, one hand resting on the glass as she stared out at the city as his master had done so many times.
Obi-Wan relaxed his grip on his weapon and crossed to her. “How did you get in here?” he asked.
“The door.” But Tepeu’s tone didn’t have its usual bite; he looked at her more closely and saw her face was glistening in the light from the city below them – the rain? Or – surely, she hadn’t been crying?
“Why did you come here?”
She was silent for a moment, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the glass. “You knew him better than anyone,” she said. “I guess he was my friend; I wanted to know more about him, and figured you were my best bet.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I know we haven’t really gotten along very well,” she said, “but… but you loved him, I think, and you need to talk to someone about him.”
Well, she was insightful for a criminal; he’d give her that. He had loved Qui-Gon; his master had been a father figure to him, and the two had developed a relationship of mutual respect. But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk to her about it.
“When you lose someone you love,” she said, turning to face him, “it’s only natural to want to talk – ”
“What would you know about love?”
“Not much,” she admitted. She looked away from him.
Obi-Wan had surprised himself with the bitterness of his own words; it wasn’t like him to be so harsh. It was obvious she was hurting; Qui-Gon had meant something to her. On Naboo, she had said he had been kind to her, spoken to her like she was a real person; was being treated decently really such a rare thing for her? Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter; for one reason or another, the loss of Qui-Gon had affected her just as it had him. “I’m sorry,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know it isn’t easy to lose someone.”
And then she did something he would never have expected; she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She kissed him fiercely and fervidly, her fingers clawing at the back of his robes as she struggled to maintain her hold on him as he fought against her grip. He could taste the residue of chemical smoke on her breath; she had been smoking deathsticks again. How long had it been since she had smoked? He hadn’t seen her with a deathstick since before they spoke with the Trade Federation, when Qui-Gon had told her any life was worth living; that had been weeks ago.
He forced her away from him and looked at her, unnerved by her sudden advance.
“I’m – I’m sorry,” she said.
He fought with himself mentally for a moment; he couldn’t bring himself to force her back out onto the streets – or wherever it was she had come from – but knew that no good could possibly come from her being in the apartment. “Here,” he said at last, “let’s sit, and I’ll tell you what you want to know about – about Qui-Gon.”
He led her to the sofa and sat her in Qui-Gon’s usual place, carefully seating himself on the opposite end. Her eyes were fixed on the carpet as he began to speak, telling her about being Qui-Gon’s apprentice. He told her about how he had helped his former master defend a group of Arcona from Offworld Corporation, about their time in the Stark Hyperspace War, about how Qui-Gon had been tortured by Zan Arbor, and about Qui-Gon’s close brush with the Dark Side. She listened in silence, making no move to show she comprehended the words; gradually, her tears dried and she had soon stopped crying, though her expression remained distant.
“…and that was when we picked you up, and you know the rest from there,” he finished. “He was a great mentor, and a better friend. He was like a father to me.”
He waited to see if she would make any move to acknowledge the statement, but she continued her stoic silence. He moved down the sofa and sat next to her, gently touching her arm. She flinched at the touch, but didn’t turn to him immediately. She let her head rest on his shoulder.
He didn’t move away; the weight of her leaning against him, the slow, rhythmic pattern of her breathing – it was comforting. He thought briefly of Siri Tachi; they had agreed to set aside their feelings for each other, but he couldn’t deny he thought of her frequently. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the Balosar’s, and for a moment, he imagined it was Siri leaning against him, grieving alongside him. The smell of smoke that clung to the Balosar was the only erroneous piece of the vision; Siri had never smoked.
She sat up and looked at him for a moment, her grey eyes red from her crying, which had begun afresh. She leaned forward and kissed him again, gently, this time, tenderly. And this time, images of Siri and his memories of their love drifting through his mind, he didn’t resist. He let his hand finds its place on her waist, and he held her to him, giving himself up to the moment.
As his hands ran across her body, now stretched out on the sofa beneath him, he could tell she wasn’t Siri – she was far too underfed for that – but he no longer cared. His carnal instincts had overtaken reason; nothing mattered but the Balosar woman below him.
* * *
“What happened on Tatooine?” Obi-Wan wasn’t looking at Tepeu as he asked the question. He was staring at the ceiling of the apartment, one hand behind his head, the other gently rubbing her bare back.
He felt her heave a sigh. “I told you,” she said. “A Chiss tried to buy me off of him, but he didn’t give me up – even for enough money to buy the hyperdrive.”
“What really happened?”
“Does it matter?” She pulled herself up so her head was resting on his shoulder rather than his chest. She tilted her head upward and kissed along his jaw. “It’s the past; it’s over.”
He frowned slightly, but didn’t press the matter; he recalled that Qui-Gon had told him not to be argumentative with her – it would only make her less willing to speak. He was silent for a time, and gradually felt her breathing slow as she drifted off to sleep. Their time together would never – could never – be spoken of; he knew that, but didn’t know that she knew it. He pushed it from his mind; that was to be dealt with in the morning. He closed his eyes and slowly began to drift off into slumber.
When he awoke the next morning, the Balosar was gone.
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Posted: Mon Aug 10, 2009 2:16 pm
Coruscant, 29 BBY
That was not the last time Obi-Wan saw the Balosar. She came and went, never staying on Coruscant for more than a few weeks at a time but often disappearing for several months. They never spoke of what had happened between them on her first return to Coruscant after the Naboo crisis. He couldn’t deny that it had brought them – well, not closer, precisely, but it had brought about a distinct change in their relationship. Tepeu rarely confided anything in him, but it seemed understood – by her, at least – that they were inseparable as long as she was on the planet. She would arrive at his apartment, unannounced – although he did note with something not unlike relief that she hadn’t let herself in since that first night – and would expect to be allowed a place to stay.
He had learned to be wary of her seemingly casual suggestions that they should go out for a drink. Her favourite bars were in the worst parts of town, and she, more often than not, was going to collect on some debt or make some illicit bargain. There was little doubt in his mind that he was brought along on these excursions as backup, in case her “business partners” needed persuasion. But even knowing he was willingly going to be witness to undoubtedly less-than-legal business practices, he never turned her down. He was, after all, her friend.
Anakin knew of their friendship, but whether he knew of – or guessed – what had once passed between them, he never let on. If he knew, he didn’t seem to care. Occasionally, he would ask to accompany his master and the Balosar on their errands, but Obi-Wan always said no, that Anakin was too young. The apprentice would sometimes look disappointed, but would never argue, trusting his master’s judgment.
Obi-Wan was not sorry to tell his Padawan to stay behind. He was still interested in what had happened on Tatooine to spark Tepeu’s change in attitude toward the Jedi, and knew that unlikely as it was that she would tell him at all, it was unlikelier still that she would do so with Anakin present. Periodically, she would seem on the verge of telling him – or at least letting slip – what had happened.
“I haven’t had a Gardulla this good since last time I was in Mos Espa,” she would say.
“Oh really?” he would ask, prompting her to continue.
“Yeah, the bartender there’s really great. He’s an old friend; makes drinks just the way I like them.”
And that would be the end of that: she would say nothing further about any sort of misadventure she had ever had at the Mos Espa spaceport. Obi-Wan was no closer than he had ever been to discovering what had truly happened on Tatooine.
And then one night, sitting at the bar of the Outlander, she started talking – not to him, but she was talking. Another Balosar had seated himself beside her.
“So, Geyumaz,” he said, holding out a yellow death stick to her, “how’s our old buddy Lev?”
She frowned at him, but took the death stick and emptied the contents into her drink, ignoring a disapproving look from the Jedi on her left. &#******** you, Elan,” she said after gulping down a mouthful of her drink.
The Balosar on her right smirked and took a sip of his own. “Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing at Obi-Wan. “Already given up on that other bloke you were hobnobbing around with on – where was it? Tatooine?”
Obi-Wan noticed Tepeu’s jaw tightened a bit and her lips pressed themselves into a very thin line before she said, rather forcedly, “Elan, this is Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, this is Elan Sel’sebagno. He’s a – business associate.”
Elan grinned and held out a hand for the Jedi to shake. Obi-Wan ignored it, knowing it was entirely possible that her so-called “associates” would be carrying around any number of diseases along with whatever illegal substances they crammed into their pockets. The Balosar frowned at the Jedi. “It’s not going to bite,” he said. “I was in med school; I do know how to take care of myself. I don’t have anything contagious, I swear.”
With evident reluctance, Obi-Wan took the hand and shook it briefly. “So, medical school,” he said. “I’m sure they didn’t approve of your—” he gestured at the drugs lying on the bar “—habit?”
“Of course not. That’s why I’m not there any more. They caught me stealing from the university, and then they chucked me out.” Elan paused to take another swig of his drink. “After that, things were quiet for a while until I got into some trouble with a Chiss. That was, ehh, two years ago.”
“Three,” Tepeu corrected.
“Whatever. So, I’m sitting there minding my own business in Mos Espa, and then Lev – that’s the Chiss – comes up to me and is all, ‘Where’s my money?’ and I told the b*****d that I didn’t owe him anything, but he kept asking where his damn money was, so then I freaked and pulled out a blaster. He shot first, but missed and nearly hit Tepeu, so then she got dragged into it and started fighting the guy tooth-and-claw until the bartender kicked them out into the street. So then it started getting really serious, and she tried to reach for her gun but realized she didn’t have one. Then she started panicking and Lev got the advantage, and he probably would have killed her if this old guy hadn’t stepped in and broken up the fight.”
There was little doubt in Obi-Wan’s mind that the “old guy” of whom Elan was speaking was Qui-Gon. “So if Tepeu and the Chiss were at each other’s throats in the street, where were you during all of this?”
“Covering his own a**, as always,” Tepeu interjected before Elan could respond.
“You know, if you’d act more like me, you wouldn’t have gotten arrested a few years back—”
“So you two knew each other before this incident on Tatooine?”
“Yeah, Tee and I go way back.” Elan threw an overly genial arm around her shoulders, grinning. “Don’t we?”
She frowned and folded her arms across her chest, choosing not to respond.
“Really? She’s never mentioned you.”
Elan adopted a hurt look. “And to think, Tee, I was going to ask you to come back home to Balosar with me. Now I’m offended, and I don’t think I will.” He dropped his arm from her shoulders and glanced down at the chrono on his wrist. “It is time I left, though,” he said. “You know, places to go, people to see, all that.” He downed the last of his drink and stood from his barstool.
“Oh, Elan, don’t go – I haven’t seen you in ages….”
But the slythmonger had already walked away, ignoring Tepeu’s plea for him to stay.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be right back, Obi-Wan. I need to go talk to him,” she said, and hurried off after the other Balosar, leaving the Jedi sitting at the bar alone.
Obi-Wan waited for several minutes, but after more than half an hour had passed and Tepeu hadn’t returned, he knew she didn’t plan to, and he admitted to himself that he hadn’t really expected her to come back. Paying the bartender for his drink, Tepeu’s, and the drink that Elan Sel’Sebagno had left unpaid, he stood and left the Outlander.
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Posted: Tue Aug 11, 2009 10:39 am
Tatooine, Dune Sea, 12 BBY
“You knew Uncle Elan?” The Balosar’s eyebrows raised.
“‘Uncle’ Elan?”
“Well, he isn’t really my uncle. I think he’s my godfather or something. Anyway, I’m named after him.” The boy paused. “He never mentioned meeting you.”
“I don’t see why he would,” Obi-Wan replied, shrugging. “We only met twice; the one time with your mother, and then again several years later. He didn’t recognize me the second time, nor I him at first. He tried to sell me death sticks.”
“And you made him kick the habit.” The boy grinned. “I remember him coming to visit us on Telos, and he told us someone had suggested that he rethink his life. But,” he went on, and the self-satisfied look that had come across the Jedi’s face faltered, “a few years later he went into weapons dealing. I don’t think he’s been arrested yet – at least, as far as I know. And that’s more than you can say for Mom.” He shrugged.
Obi-Wan frowned at this last statement. “I take it you weren’t close to your mother when she was alive?”
“I was only five when they killed her,” Elan said. “The only thing I remember about her is how she used to tell stories about you, and even those are hazy. I think I might have made about half of them up myself while I was trying to remember them.”
“Like which ones?”
The boy thought for a moment. “She told me you single-handedly saved an entire planet from an invasion by the Trade Federation’s droid army.”
Obi-Wan looked affronted. “It most certainly was not single-handed. The entire Gungan army fought against the droids as a diversion while the queen and her men captured the Viceroy.”
“So where were you during all of that?”
“I was battling a Sith Lord with Qui-Gon. Your mother was with the queen and her men. I assume she was, at any rate. Running down the streets of Theed, she shot more droids than the rest of them put together.” A distant look came to his face, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I do miss her. The last time I spoke to her was just days before her execution; she was completely unrecognizable as the woman we had arrested seven years before…. She was less than a shell of what she had once been. She was hollow, lifeless. Just looking at her, you would never have believed she would have been capable of assassinating a senator.”
Elan leaned back in the chair he was seated in, folding his arms across his chest. He looked at the Jedi silently for a long moment. “You’re wrong,” he said. “You said you never loved my mother. I think you did. You must have, to go through the trouble trying to find me and honour her last wish. And you said she was the one who called you Ben – why else would you keep the name she gave you if you didn’t love her?”
Obi-Wan was quiet for a time. “You don’t want me to have loved your mother,” he said at last. “You want a reason to be able to call me your father. And I’ll say this: if you truly want to believe I’m your father, I can’t stop you from doing so. At this point in your life, I don’t know what I could do for you as a parent. You’re a grown man now; I doubt there are many people who could have a strong influence on your opinions.”
Elan shifted in his chair. “Why did she call you Ben?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Your mother liked to go drinking, as I’m sure you know,” the Jedi said. “One night, she was in especially bad shape – I could hardly understand the words that were coming out of her mouth – and she slurred ‘Obi-Wan’ into something that sounded more or less like ‘Ben.’ After that, it stuck. It became her pet-name for me, I suppose; I don’t know what else you could call it. She only used it when she wasn’t physically able to say my full name or when she wanted a favor.”
The Balosar couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that’s her. I remember when she used to leave. She’d take me to stay with Uncle Elan or one of her other friends. Sometimes she’d just go out for a drink and be home in a few hours. Sometimes she’d be gone for weeks. She never told me how long she’d be gone; I think sometimes she didn’t know. And then I remember one time… she didn’t come back. That was when she got arrested. I kept waiting and waiting for her to come home, but she never did.”
“The only things you can remember about her are her stories about me and her leaving?” Obi-Wan gave the boy a pitying look. “Can you remember nothing else about her?”
Elan thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “I remember there was one night where she came home from… from I don’t know where. I was four, maybe. She was crying.”
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Posted: Mon Aug 17, 2009 5:44 am
Balosar, 27 BBY
The door slid open, and the dark-haired Balosar woman stumbled in, leaning heavily on the shoulder of the man supporting her. Her eyes were red from crying, and she was wailing spectacularly.
Her four-year-old son didn’t care that she was crying; all he knew was that his mother had been away for nearly a week and had finally come home. He ran across the room to her and threw his arms around her waist. His mother, released from the grip of the man supporting her, sank to her knees and pulled her son into a fierce hug, quieting her wailing but continuing to sniffle and whimper.
Tepeu’s wailing had drawn Elan Sel’Sabagno from the back room of the house, scratching at the base of one of his antennae and yawning. “Dear God, can’t a guy get some sleep around here?” He stopped short upon seeing her sitting on the floor, crying, and looked sharply at the man that had been supporting her. “What did you do to her, Zirk?”
The other Balosar held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t do anything to her,” he said. “She had a few drinks, got upset about something or other, and then decided to drown her sorrows with a few more drinks. And now she’s in this state. All I did was bring her here.”
Sel’Sabagno frowned at him. “Just take the kid for a minute while I try to get her calmed down, will you?”
Zirk knelt beside Tepeu and gently pried the boy out of her grip before taking the boy into the back room from which Sel’Sabagno had emerged. Sel’Sabagno helped Tepeu to her feet, and then led her to a rather beat-up piece of furniture that had perhaps once been a divan. She nearly collapsed onto it, and then began sobbing into Sel’Sabagno’s shoulder once he had sat down beside her.
“Okay, Tee, come on, what’s the matter?”
“Everyone I love is d-d-dying!” she wailed. “F-first Qui-G-G-Gon and now B-Ben!”
Sel’Sabagno frowned but put an arm around her to comfort her. He had no idea who she was talking about; neither name rang a bell. “It’s all right, Tee, you’ve still got your kid, don’t you? And you’ve got me.”
She sat up abruptly and gave him an affronted, hurt look.
“Look, maybe Ben’s not dead, maybe he’ll be okay – ”
“No, Anakin called me on my comlink and told me some guy on Mawan tried to k-kill him.” This seemed to be too much for her, and she began wailing into his shoulder again.
Sel’Sabagno awkwardly patted her on the back. “See? Anakin didn’t say he was killed, he just said the guy tried to kill him. That means he’s okay, right? Here, where’s your comlink – we’ll call him and ask – ”
She sat up once more, her eyes wide. “You’re right. I have to go see him. I have to know he’s okay.” She scrambled up from the divan and was nearly at the door when the Balosar man caught her by the arm.
“What about your kid?” he asked. “He hasn’t seen you in a week, and now you’re just going to take off again?”
She chewed her lip, apparently in distress. “I… I have to know that Obi-Wan is okay,” she said, and wrenched her arm free from his grip before hurrying out the door.
“What’s up? Where’d Tee go?” Zirk asked, walking back into the main room after hearing the pneumatic hiss of the door. “Everything okay?”
Sel’Sabagno looked at him and frowned, but said nothing. He stooped and picked up the boy and balanced him on his hip, tapping the end of the child’s nose with a long finger.
“Where’s Mommy?” the boy asked.
“She had to go see one of her friends on Mawan,” he said. “She’ll be home soon, Elan.” He felt guilty telling the child his mother would return, but didn’t let it get to him. He knew that every time she left, there was no telling how long it would be before she returned, if she returned.
“Is there anything I can do?” Zirk asked. “I can take Elan off your hands for a while if you need me to. Tee wouldn’t mind.”
Sel’Sabagno shook his head and pointed at the door. “Just get out, Zirk.”
The man shrugged, made another placating gesture, and left without another word.
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Posted: Mon Aug 17, 2009 7:29 pm
Tatooine, Dune Sea, 12 BBY
“I remember her coming to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said, nodding. “It must have been just after that – it was, I’m sure of it. That was one of the few times I saw her cry, and I think the only time I saw her truly weep. I could hardly understand what she was saying – only half of it was coherent. From what I gathered she was saying, she had been under the impression I was killed by Granta Omega – and she would have been right, if Yaddle hadn’t sacrificed herself to save the people of Mawan. Apparently the misunderstanding came about when Anakin contacted her to explain what had happened; she didn’t listen to his whole message, and began making a scene. And that would be when – what did you say his name was? Zirk? – took her home.”
He paused for a moment and looked at the Balosar boy, watching his expression carefully. Elan’s face was distant; his brow was marked by the mildest of creases.
“I had been under the impression that you and your mother were very close,” he said. “But you make it sound as though she was hardly there for you.”
“Well, she wasn’t, was she? She went and got herself arrested and executed.”
Obi-Wan was surprised at the bitterness in the boy’s voice. “And do you really think that was in any way a fault of hers?” he asked quietly. “Your mother loved you. She would never have left you on your own by choice.”
“Really? Then why did she never tell you about me? If there was any chance that you could have been my father, why wouldn’t she tell you? Why would she keep doing jobs that she knew she might not ever come home from? I was an accident – I know that, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to hear lies about how much my mother loved me.”
“I would never presume to lie to you about your mother. But I promise you that she cared about you more than you could ever know – even if she didn’t always show it. She was careful about showing that she cared for people; she tried to keep herself emotionally detached. The last time I spoke to her, she didn’t try to save herself; she didn’t ask me to try to get her sentence lightened. All she asked was that I find someone to take care of you, to make sure you were trained in the Jedi Arts. I couldn’t promise her that you would be trained, but I promised her I would make sure you were taken care of.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Because I couldn’t, not for lack of trying.”
The two men regarded each other in silence for a moment. After a time, the Jedi’s expression softened.
“Elan, whether or not you’re my son, I promised your mother I would take care of you, and she would never forgive me if I didn’t honour her wish. My home is always open to you, whenever you need a place to stay.” He stood and cleared away the dirty dishes from the table.
* * *
The next morning, the light from Tatooine’s twin suns was streaming into the small hut long before Elan awoke. Obi-Wan, however, had already been awake for quite some time and had already laid steaming bowls of porridge onto the table. “You’ll want to eat that before it gets cold,” he said, gesturing at the second bowl with his spoon.
Elan sat and began absently stirring the porridge, not feeling particularly hungry. “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry about – ”
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Obi-Wan said, interrupting the boy with a wave of his hand. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I should have spent more time trying to find you.”
The Balosar frowned, looking down at his porridge. He didn’t feel that the Jedi needed to apologize for anything. “Would have been any different if you had found me? You said yourself you couldn’t have promised that I would be trained as a Jedi.”
“Even if I couldn’t train you,” he said, “I would have made sure you were in a good home, and safe. You would have gone to the best schools, I would have been able to keep an eye on you – ”
“No, really, it’s fine. You had more important things to worry about. Besides, I turned out all right, didn’t I?”
The Jedi nodded. “Yes, I suppose you did. Your mother would have been proud of you, at any rate.”
Elan gave him a wry smile. “And that’s all I can hope for, right?”
Obi-Wan gave a short nod. They finished their breakfast in silence, and as Obi-Wan cleared away the dishes, the Balosar muttered that it was time he left.
“Thank you,” he said, “for everything. I’m glad I was able to find you. And I think… I think I’m happy with you being my father. I mean, if you want to take me as a son. If that’s okay, I mean.”
Obi-Wan smiled and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You’re everything I could have asked for in a son,” he said, “and I’m proud to be called your father.” He dropped his hands from Elan’s shoulders, and the boy stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. “I’m glad to have met you, Elan Geyumaz,” he called as the boy slung his leg over his swoop bike.
“It isn’t Geyumaz,” he called back. “It’s Elan Jinn.”
And then the Balosar sped off across the desert, failing to notice the dumbstruck look on the Jedi’s face as he watched the boy disappear across the horizon.
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Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2009 6:33 am
Balosar, 27 BBY
As far as Tepeu was concerned, there was no finer boy in the galaxy than the one she held in her arms. He was three years old and babbling happily, testing out his rapidly expanding vocabulary as he reached up to grab at a few loose strands of her dark hair. She was seated cross-legged on the floor of Elan Sel’Sabagno’s living room, and the man was watching her and the toddler with mild interest from his place on the tattered sofa.
“So does your friend you were with at the Outlander know about the kid?” he asked.
“No, and he won’t,” she said, lifting her son into the air and cooing at him. “It’s none of his business.”
“So he’s not the dad?” When Tepeu shook her head in response, Sel’Sabagno continued, “Do you know who the kid’s dad is? I mean, no offense, Tee, but you can be pretty… loose.”
She gave him a dark look. “Of course I know,” she said. Her expression softened. “He has his father’s eyes.”
“I don’t guess you’ll tell me who it is?”
His question garnered no response, but not because Tepeu was outright ignoring him. Her attention was absorbed by her son, but her thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on the thought of her son’s father. Even in retrospect, she couldn’t explain to herself what had happened. She knew she had loved him – but how could she have? She had known him so briefly, and really, she hadn’t known him at all; she could admit that to herself now. Still, from time to time, she couldn’t help but look back on the brief period she had spent with him.
* * *
Tatooine, Mos Espa Slave Quarters, 32 BBY
The warm, dry breeze lightly stirred Tepeu’s hair as she sat on the low wall outside the Skywalkers’ hovel in the Mos Espa Slave Quarters. The sandstorm had subsided, and the small planet’s twin suns were beginning to sink below the horizon, streaking the sand with bands of orange light.
She heard the door behind her slide open and glanced over her shoulder. It was the Jedi – she should have known. What she would do once she was free to walk and didn’t have one of them constantly breathing down her neck, berating her for one thing or another, she didn’t know. At least the elder of the two treated her like a real person and would actually talk to her instead of just demanding information.
She heard him brush the sand off the wall to her right, but didn’t look at him as he seated himself. “If you’re looking for thanks, you aren’t going to get it,” she said. “I had the situation under control.”
“Did you?” The amusement was evident in his voice.
She gave him a sharp look and was incensed to see that a slightly bemused smile was in place on his lips. “Yes,” she snapped. “I did.”
He turned his eyes skyward, studying the cloudless heavens as the bright colours of the sunset began changing into the darker indigos of twilight. “Because it seemed to me that your friend – Lev, was it? – had the upper hand.”
“Like I said, I had the situation under control. You didn’t need to butt in, and neither did that sleazebag Elan.”
“Well, I beg your forgiveness for the intrusion, then,” he said, the amused tone still plain in his voice. “How is your arm feeling? All right?”
She looked down at the bandage on her right arm and flinched as his fingers brushed the injury. The faintest traces of red had begun to soak through the bandage, hardly visible if one wasn’t looking closely. “It’s fine,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt any more.”
He dropped his hand from her arm. “It’ll need a new bandage shortly, but you’ll live.” He gave her an almost friendly pat on the back.
“Too bad for Panaka,” she muttered. “You know he’ll be disappointed you didn’t let Lev take me off your hands to pay for that hyperdrive.” She looked down for a moment. “Thank you for that, by the way. I’m sure Panaka won’t be the only one upset you let an opportunity like that pass.”
At this, he laughed. “You’re probably right, Miss Geyumaz,” he said. He stood from his place on the wall. “Now, let’s put a clean bandage on that cut.”
She watched over her shoulder as he walked back into the Skywalkers’ home. She could easily see why the younger Jedi admired him and respected him as a mentor and as a friend; the man was nearly old enough to be her grandfather, yet still retained aspects of his youth in his manner. His movements showed no signs of age; indeed, the only indicator that he was sixty was the greying of his brown hair – a youthful, almost rebellious glint was still evident in his blue, blue eyes despite his age.
She glanced down again at the bandaged cut on her arm, and then slid off her perch and followed him indoors.
* * *
Space, Outer Rim, 32 BBY
“Would you really have given us the money for the hyperdrive if Elan had paid his debt to you?”
Tepeu leaned back in her chair, watching her fingers as she traced lazy patterns on the table in front of her, considering the question. “When I said it,” she said, “no. I didn’t mean it. If I had the chance again now… yeah, I’d give you the money.”
Qui-Gon leaned back in his own chair, his arms folded across his own chest. “What makes now different from then?”
Her gaze remained fixed on her hand, but her fingers stopped moving. “I don’t know,” she lied.
“Look at me.”
Unwillingly, she looked up at the man seated across from her.
“Now, tell me what has changed. Why would you now give us the money?”
She forced her eyes away from his patient face and considered, chewing her bottom lip in thought, trying to come up with a satisfactory answer. “Because now I care what you think.” She glanced up at him and saw an expression of mild intrigue on his face. She looked away again and began tracing her fingers across the tabletop again. When she continued, her voice was quieter. “It’s nice, for once, to actually talk to someone instead of just shouting at them or arguing about how much money they owe. I don’t want that to go away.”
He was quiet for a moment, studying her. “Tepeu, if you would move on to a normal life, not live as a criminal, you could have that.”
“I can’t do that,” she said looking up at him abruptly. Her tone was so emphatic the Jedi was a bit taken aback by her certainty in the matter. “Even if I stopped what I was doing, the charges against me wouldn’t go away. Where would I go? I’m wanted for one thing or another in most half-way civilized systems.
“If you were able, would you give up this life for a new one?”
She hesitated, considering. This was the only life she knew – well, she could become a merchant, like her mother had been, she supposed. It wasn’t nearly as exciting, but it was stable, it was safe. “Yes,” she said. “I would.”
She swore she saw the faintest of smiles cross the Jedi’s face. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “I will speak to Captain Panaka about having all charges against you cleared on Naboo. Would you be satisfied with that?”
She gave a slight nod, and he turned to leave. “Qui-Gon – wait.”
He half turned back to her, his eyebrows raised, indicating she should continue.
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything you’ve done for me. It… it really means a lot. I know most people on this ship would have just locked me up and been done with it, but you’re different. I mean, even your apprentice wouldn’t – ”
“Obi-Wan would do no differently than I have done.”
“Obi-Wan wouldn’t do s**t for me.”
“He’s still young, and has much to learn, as do you.” He crossed back to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ll find your place,” he said. “You just aren’t quite there yet. Give yourself time.” He stooped and kissed her on the forehead, then turned and left, leaving her alone in her holding cell.
As she watched him leave, she knew – rather, she thought she knew – that she loved him, and that she wanted him to love her. But he was quite plainly not interested. She folded her arms across her chest and frowned, chewing on the inside on her cheek. He would come to love her; she would make sure of it.
* * *
Space, Senex Juvex Sectors, 32 BBY
The Balosar was seated on a table, her legs swinging over the edge. Qui-Gon was sitting in a nearby chair, his back to her, watching Anakin as he looked with interest at the astromech droids. Several times, Tepeu opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again without saying anything.
The door slid open and Obi-Wan entered. He threw a mistrusting look at Tepeu, obviously not in agreement that she should be allowed out of her holding cell, then turned to Qui-Gon. “Master, Ric Olié thought the boy might like to see the cockpit.”
“Really?” Anakin was instantly on his feet, the astromech droids forgotten. He looked at Qui-Gon. “Could I really see the cockpit?”
“If Commander Olié says so,” he said, and waved the boy off to follow Obi-Wan to the cockpit.
“Is the kid really going to be trained as a Jedi?” Tepeu asked once he and Obi-Wan had left.
“Yes. There’s no reason for him not to become one; his midi-chlorian count is higher than any I’ve seen – higher even than Master Yoda’s.”
Tepeu shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything to me,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter, then,” Qui-Gon said. “But yes, he will become a Jedi.” He hesitated for a moment. “He’s older than Padawans typically are when they begin training, but the Council will see that he’s the one that will bring balance to the Force. And if they don’t, I’ll make sure he’s trained all the same.”
“You don’t agree with the Council, then?”
“We don’t see eye-to-eye in some matters. The Council advocates the Unifying Force – that past, present, and future are all one.”
“And… you?”
“I believe in the Living Force. I have found that living in the moment and focusing on the present has given me a different perspective from the Council. Not to mention all the time they spend focused on the Republic. They can’t see it’s more important to be studying other aspects of the galaxy rather than just politics.”
“Master Jedi, is that a trace of annoyance in your voice? I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have emotions.”
“We’re taught that emotions must be understood and mastered. We must control them; they cannot control us.”
“And can you do that? Control all of your emotions?”
He was silent for a long moment. “There are times when it is difficult,” he admitted.
She slid off the table and crossed to where he was sitting. She put a hand on the side of his face, gently turning his head to look at her. “It doesn’t have to be difficult,” she said gently. She saw the shadow of a frown grace his lips for a moment and his brow furrowed for a moment, but she didn’t care – it was now or never. She leaned forward and kissed him, her heart pounding in her ears. She dropped her hand from the side of his face and let it slide down his shoulder, coming to rest with a loose grip just above his elbow. She felt his free arm come up to touch hers as he swiveled in his chair to face her – but he gently pushed her away.
“Tepeu, I don’t think – ”
“I love you,” she blurted out. She instantly regretted saying the rushed words; they sounded so childish, even to her own ears, and besides – this man was nearly old enough to be her grandfather. “Qui-Gon,” she said more slowly, “I love you.”
He took her hands in his and looked away from her for a moment, his frown still in place, his brow still creased in seeming anxiety. Absently, he stood, still looking away from her.
“Please, it’s okay. I’m not asking you to give up your life as a Jedi or anything, I just… I love you…”
He closed his eyes and the crease in his brow became more pronounced.
She removed her hands from his and put her arms around his neck and rose onto the balls of her feet to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t push her away.
* * *
Balosar, 27 BBY
“Hello? Tee?”
Tepeu was jerked out of her reverie and looked at the Balosar man on the sofa.
“You know, you don’t have to tell me who the kid’s dad is if you don’t want to, but that doesn’t mean you have to completely ignore me when I ask you a question.”
“Sorry, I was just… thinking.” She shook her head to further clear her thoughts. “His father was a great man. I didn’t deserve him. I was stupid. I thought I loved him, but I know now that I didn’t. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret anything, but…. I just wish things had been different.” She fell silent, frowning. “Oh, well. It’s all in the past, right?” She looked at the little boy on the floor. “Elan, would you like Mommy to tell you a story?”
Sel’Sabagno groaned and stood up from the sofa. “If you’re telling him that one about the wizards who save the queen again, I’m out of here,” he said.
As he left, she pulled her son onto her lap and began telling him once again about Ben’s adventures across the galaxy and his daring rescue of Queen Amidala. The boy listened with wide eyes, attentive as always. He had heard the story a dozen times, and would hear it many more, but it didn’t matter; little did he know that one day her story would take him on his own adventure across the galaxy.
THE END.
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