Master & Apprentice (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

  Rael laughed so loud that Jocasta Nu gave him a stern look.

  Someday, Rahara Wick told her younger self, you’ll be guiding two Jedi Knights around the most backwater moon in the galaxy.

  Her younger self couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t have been able to believe just about anything that had happened in her life in the past fifteen years, beginning with her escape from slavery. Yet Rahara repeated the mental exercise often, because trying to convince her past self was one of the few ways she could get her present self to believe anything about her life.

  The older Jedi, called Qui-Gon, was a tall man with long brown hair and wise eyes. Qui-Gon sat at her shoulder, nodding as she input his suggested flight path. Meanwhile Obi-Wan, the “Padawan” or whatever you called it, had gotten stuck arguing with Pax.

  “But if you can extend your scan-blocking field to cover your whole ship,” asked Obi-Wan, “why don’t you?”

  “Let me enumerate our reasons.” Pax began counting them off on his fingers. “First, it taxes our power unnecessarily. We usually have enough power for it, but possessing enough of a thing is no excuse for wasting it. One never knows when an emergency will occur. Second, we do not seek to completely disguise our voyages, only their true purpose. If we are found attempting to conceal our travel entirely, then we have created a presumption of wrongdoing. If, however, we travel openly while only acting clandestinely, no one has any particular reason to suspect us of anything. Furthermore—”

  “Pax.” Rahara shot him a look over her shoulder. “The point’s been made.”

  Although Pax would’ve liked to continue putting the younger Jedi in his place, he folded his arms and went silent, his expression suggesting great forbearance with Rahara’s whims. She resisted the urge to sigh and simply hit the ignition.

  The Meryx rose through the swaying trees into the cloudy morning. Winds buffeted the ship, which made Rahara itch to take them higher—but the Jedi needed them lower. Rahara needed not to be arrested. So, motion sickness it was.

  “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?”

  Wisely, Qui-Gon didn’t reply to this—but he didn’t ignore it, either. To her he said, “We don’t want to put either of you in danger. But the situation is growing more threatening for the crown princess, among others.”

  Pax scoffed. “Oh, has it become slightly inconvenient, being a monarch and living in a castle?”

  That irritated the younger Jedi, Obi-Wan. “Someone tried to assassinate her in her own bedroom.”

  Time to speak up before Pax went from acting like a jerk to acting like an irredeemable jerk. “She’s a kid,” Rahara said, giving him a sharp look. “Yeah, she’s an absurdly overprivileged kid, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to kill her.”

  “I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon said, “how much of a privilege it is to have one’s entire future predetermined—in this case, by an accident of birth.”

  Okay, she needed to be more diplomatic with the Jedi—but Rahara couldn’t help it. She snorted.

  Pax gave her an appreciative look, probably pleased she’d helped him meet today’s sarcasm quotient. That much she expected. What she didn’t expect was Obi-Wan frowning at his Master. “It matters what that future is, doesn’t it? Fanry was born a princess. That’s a privilege.”

  “It’s still something chosen for her,” Qui-Gon insisted. “Not what she herself chose.”

  “Nobody chooses how they’re born.” Rahara input a few more lines of the search parameters, mostly to give herself something to do with her hands, so they wouldn’t shake. “We all get what we get. And most of us don’t get thrones and crowns and—and—forget it.”

  A few moments of silence followed, during which she pointedly stared down at the screen. This would be a great time to find some terrorists. No such luck.

  The Jedi seemed to have all kinds of Force powers, but “tact” wasn’t one of them. “So you were born into enslavement,” Qui-Gon said.

  Pax stiffened. The only thing meaner than Pax in a cranky mood was Pax in a protective mood. She’d have to keep him quiet, even if the only way to do so was by speaking up. “Yeah,” she said. “I was. On Hosnian Prime.”

  “But”—Obi-Wan looked confused—“there’s no slavery on Hosnian Prime.”

  “Of course not. The Republic doesn’t allow slavery.” Pax held up one finger. “They do allow Czerka Corporation to do business, though, and naturally Czerka can bring in whatever workers it wants. If those workers are owned instead of paid—well, that’s an internal corporate matter, isn’t it? Nothing to do with the governments of the planets their ‘sentient property’ is sent to work on.”

  “It could’ve been worse,” Rahara said. She always reminded herself of this. The alternative was forgetting so many of the people she’d grown up with. “As a little kid I had pretty low-level work to do—sorting minerals brought to Hosnian facilities for processing. Then they taught me more about mineralogy, more than I bet most students learn at universities. But that just meant I had to go into worse and worse mines. Deeper and deeper underground. And the lower you go, the more dangerous it gets.”

  Cave-ins. Lava spurts. Poisonous gases. There were a lot of ways to die underground, and Rahara had witnessed them all. When she was thirteen, the Czerka mining vessel she was assigned to caught fire on Ord Mantell. Chaos had erupted throughout the spaceport. Rahara had taken advantage of that to slip away, and to steal a small knife from a fried-nuna vendor.

  Cutting the tag out had hurt so much, but she hadn’t flinched once. The minute it fell to the ground, stained with her blood, Rahara had started running. She didn’t look back.

  “You weren’t talking about the princess at all, were you?” Pax said, jolting her out of her reverie. The silence had lasted longer than she’d realized. Pax’s stare was fixed on Qui-Gon. “You were talking about yourself. Because it’s not a choice for Jedi, either, is it? I mean, supposedly they allow you to leave, make your own decisions, blah blah blah, but they steal you when you’re babies and train your minds thereafter. What kind of freedom is that?”

  Obi-Wan looked like he’d swallowed a gundark. “Being a Jedi is an honor. A responsibility. A—a noble calling—”

  “Yes, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “It’s all those things. But it’s very hard for most of us to determine whether we chose it freely, being raised as we were. That said, I did have a choice. Dooku helped me to see that. And I chose the Order.”

  “Just as Dooku chose otherwise,” Obi-Wan said stiffly. By this time, Rahara knew, the level of tension in the Meryx had risen sharply, but Obi-Wan Kenobi looked more uncomfortable than anyone else as he asked, “When did you decide knowing the future was a bad thing, Master?”

  Qui-Gon didn’t respond.

  Pax, meanwhile, was starting to have fun. “This unfortunately named ‘Dooku’ actually quit being a Jedi? He sounds worth knowing. I don’t suppose we’ll be enjoying the pleasure of this person’s company anytime—”

  “We’ve got something.” Rahara pointed to a glimmer at the edge of their sensors, then began zooming in on it. “Energy levels that suggest sentient presence, even though there’s no Czerka presence around for kilometers. Let’s see what else we can figure out when we get closer.”

  “Getting closer?” Pax said. “It sounds dangerous. I don’t like it.”

  Rahara wanted to roll her eyes but resisted the urge. “What part of this have you ever liked? We know you’re upset, Pax. So stop being redundant.”

  The droids who’d raised Pax didn’t know anything about the finer points of human behavior—but they all knew, down deep in their programming, that “redundant” was a terrible thing to be. Sure enough, that shut Pax
up.

  In a conciliatory tone, Qui-Gon added, “We’re not landing today. Just mapping areas worth investigation, for Obi-Wan and I to pursue on foot later.”

  “Check this out,” Rahara said as their sensor readings gained detail. “The energy readings look like—well, like weapons signatures.”

  Obi-Wan peered over her shoulder. “I agree, Master. We should take a very close look.”

  “Carefully,” Pax insisted.

  Qui-Gon took the controls, guiding the Meryx so skillfully that even Pax couldn’t protest. He stayed on sensors as they came in low over the trees. The Meryx remained distant enough not to tip anyone off to their presence, but close enough to gather intel.

  “No buildings,” Rahara said, squinting down at the scans. “Some life signs, but they’re…blurry, somehow. Maybe in the caves, or underground.”

  “Underground?” asked Obi-Wan.

  Pleased to know more than the Jedi, Pax interjected, “Czerka drills all over this moon, and with very little interest in maintaining geological stability. At least they’ve had the relative decency to steer clear of populated areas, thus far. But out here? You’ll find all sorts of tunnels and chambers you wouldn’t expect.” In a lower voice, he added, “But not a single kyber crystal. Oh, no indeed.”

  Wisely, Qui-Gon ignored this last. He checked her readings for himself. “To me this looks like—twenty, maybe thirty individuals. Do you agree?”

  Rahara nodded. “But weren’t you looking for a larger group?”

  “Yes,” Qui-Gon said distantly. “And there are no remnants of space or even air traffic in this area for days.”

  “Does that mean they couldn’t have been behind the—behind what happened in the palace last night?” Obi-Wan said.

  That sounds interesting, Rahara thought.

  Qui-Gon shook his head. “No. The Opposition could have operatives permanently stationed on Pijal.” He then sat upright to face Rahara and Pax. “It would help if you both understood the dangers we’re dealing with. I sense that I can trust you both, but I must emphasize—this is in the strictest confidence.”

  “Of course,” Rahara said.

  “Palace intrigues,” Pax said with relish. “This is more fun than I thought.”

  * * *

  —

  That afternoon, Obi-Wan would’ve liked to prepare for the Grand Hunt. He’d be riding, not flying, which he’d rarely done before; he trusted he could manage, but it might’ve been nice to at least see the animals more than a few minutes before he was expected to get atop one. As an alternative, he’d have liked to nap. (Already he’d shrugged off the late interruption the night before, but he understood that the Grand Hunt often lasted until well after sunrise, and wanted to be at his best throughout.) Third choice—sit down and talk with Qui-Gon about what he meant when he’d said the Jedi had no choices, or whether Rael Averross was worth trusting, or any of the myriad subjects about which his Master was behaving strangely. Obi-Wan had ceased to believe he’d ever understand Qui-Gon, much less in the short time remaining to them as Master and apprentice, but he couldn’t dull the urge to at least try.

  Instead, Averross had whisked Qui-Gon away to discuss the Opposition’s bizarre prank and what it might mean. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan was assigned to help Captain Deren protect Princess Fanry.

  Which sounded very exciting, but in practice actually meant entertain Princess Fanry. Mostly, she just wanted to talk.

  “I can’t believe they kept singing after that,” she said, grinning like a child even younger than her age. “I thought they’d jump in the ocean and swim for shore, but they stayed.”

  Minister Orth practically gleamed with pride, as though she’d personally kept the singers in place. “The ceremonies and traditions of the monarchy still hold tremendous meaning for our people. None of this constitutional nonsense can stop them from paying their future queen due tribute. And none of the Opposition’s nonsense will prevent her coronation.”

  Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he was in a position to speak up, but he decided to err on the side of curiosity. “It struck me as strange that the slogan wasn’t about Her Serene Highness or the treaty. Only Czerka Corporation.”

  “A cheap ploy for sympathy,” sniffed Minister Orth. “The crown princess is a popular figure, and this ‘representative government’ fad hasn’t faded yet. Czerka, however, is not so well liked.” Her tone of voice made it clear she didn’t like Czerka, either.

  “I’ve heard that Czerka has drilled extensively on the moon,” Obi-Wan said, “to the point of causing geological damage. Is that one of the reasons people are angry with Czerka?”

  Captain Deren, who’d been standing by the door in solemn vigilance, spoke for the first time in many minutes. “Where did you hear that?”

  “It’s commonly known, up there.” Obi-Wan shrugged, as though he weren’t covering for two jewel thieves. His casual demeanor apparently proved reassuring, because Deren resumed his former position.

  Orth, however, seemed alarmed. “Why are you conducting interviews with lunar citizens? It would be just like the Opposition to plant someone who could convince you how evil everyone is down here. At least a few of them are actors.”

  Best, Obi-Wan thought, to sidestep this. “We’re not conducting in-depth interviews, just learning more about the terrain we must search. Master Jinn and I would need to be prepared for any confrontation that might lie ahead.”

  The diversion worked. “But you’re Jedi,” Fanry said. “How could you not be victorious? You have your lightsabers, don’t you?”

  “We do,” Obi-Wan said, pointing at his blade where it hung at his belt, “but lightsabers aren’t that useful against bombs.”

  “Aren’t they?” Fanry wrinkled her nose. “After all these years, the lord regent has still never shown me the exact workings of his lightsaber. So I thought maybe there was some big secret about how they operate.”

  “Not at all, Your Serene Highness.” Should he have said that? Maybe Averross had lied about it, to keep her from treating his weapon like a toy. Fanry was old enough now to hear the truth. “The construction of lightsabers isn’t mysterious, though there are elements that ensure the weapons will always remain singular to the Jedi.”

  “What do you mean?” Fanry asked.

  “Well—” Obi-Wan considered for a second, then set his lightsaber on a small table near the princess and began to disassemble it. “I’ll show you the inner workings and explain from there.”

  Fanry bit her lower lip. “You won’t break it?”

  He stifled a laugh. “No, Your Serene Highness. We’re required to know how to disassemble and reassemble our lightsabers in the dark. A Jedi’s lightsaber is his life.”

  With Fanry and her ministers leaning in intently—and Deren suddenly at his side—Obi-Wan carefully unscrewed the pommel cap and hand grip, then revealed the lightsaber’s core. “Here you see the controls, and the main hilt—”

  “What’s that?” She pointed straight to the gleaming heart of his lightsaber. “Is it a jewel?”

  “In effect. It’s a kyber crystal, which focuses the power of the lightsaber’s beam.” Amid the metal workings surrounding it, the kyber crystal sparkled tantalizingly—while the rest was a machine, the crystal looked more like magic. He couldn’t blame Fanry for her fascination; he’d felt the same way when he first learned how to assemble a lightsaber.

  Still felt that way, sometimes.

  “It’s blue, isn’t it?” Fanry said curiously. “Are all lightsaber blades blue?”

  “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.”

  Fanry’s eyes widened. “Kyber crystals bond with Jedi? Does that mean you…communicate with them?”

  With a grin, he said, “No. Just—their particular properties ar
e affected by their proximity to a Force user. Very swiftly, the bond forms, and then the kyber crystals change. Most turn blue or green, which is why most Jedi’s lightsabers are those colors. A few crystals even turn purple.”

  “Purple?” Fanry laughed. “Is that what you wished for? Do any of the colors mean something?”

  Legend had it true darkness, such as that wielded by the ancient Sith, turned crystals red. But Obi-Wan had no intention of discussing ancient history with the princess. “I was just happy to have a kyber crystal bond with me at all, Your Serene Highness.”

  “Lightsabers are the sole weapon of the Jedi,” Minister Orth interjected. “Are they not?”

  Obi-Wan shook his head “They’re far from the only tool we have at our disposal—but in combat, a lightsaber is an unparalleled weapon for both attack and defense. And because using the blade requires immense concentration and keen reflexes, no one but a Force user can wield lightsabers skillfully or efficiently.”

  Fanry said, “Is a stronger Force user’s lightsaber stronger, too? What happens when two Jedi fight each other?”

  “The blade isn’t stronger. Only the Force user’s ability to wield it,” Obi-Wan said. “In ceremonial combat, of course, we’re displaying forms more than actually testing strength—”

  “But what about non-ceremonial combat?” Fanry persisted. “When two Jedi are on opposite sides of a conflict. What happens?”

  “It…it doesn’t happen.” The idea made so little sense that Obi-Wan could hardly parse it. “We are members of one Order. We serve the Jedi Council and, through the Council, the Republic. The Jedi are united in this way.”

  “Well, that’s boring.” Scowling, Fanry kicked her little feet beneath her throne. “And nobody but the Jedi ever uses lightsabers? You’d never fight anyone else who had one? For real, I mean. Not ‘ceremonially.’ ”

  “The ancient Sith used lightsabers,” Obi-Wan said. “But they’ve been extinct for a millennium. So, no. A Jedi just wouldn’t be involved in a lightsaber duel to the death. It couldn’t happen.”