pronker

Part Forty-Three

Anakin blamed himself for their blisters.

He had forgotten to grab those mismatched socks from the Lost and Found bin in the Jedi cruiser, what with Ry-Gaul's rush to return home to Coruscant, and Billaqori wore none. This morning's jog left sore spots on top of sore spots. Once inside their room, he eased off the boots, wiggled his toes, and saw chafing on both his ankles and his little toes. They had time now to heal personal aches and pains. They sat on the pile of bedding with each other's feet in their laps, ghosting touches over the red skin. Some fifteen minutes later new pink skin replaced watery blisters. They looked at each other and smiled wearily. "I've an idea. Let's put on some of your sunburn cream on our feet and order in. What say?" Anakin didn't wait for an answer and was halfway to the 'fresher before Obi-Wan agreed.

"All right, if we talk afterwards."

I expected this. "Yes, Master." Anakin tossed the cream at Obi-Wan and scooted for the kitchen. He ordered more fish stew. It was the best they had. Coming back up the stairs, he saw the same overworked server/maid dusting industriously. He grinned cheekily at her, embarrassed no longer. Speaking the word 'lover' out loud to Strenghis and his colleagues emboldened him somehow. She blew an errant strand of pitch black hair out of her face and grinned back. Apparently she was a fast worker, because it was she who knocked on their door some minutes later with their lunches. She placed the tray on the floor next to them, nodding a greeting. They continued massaging big toes and nodded pleasantly in return.

Negotiating is exhausting. How does Master do it? Anakin blew out a breath. "Lunch?"

"Room service is wonderful, Padawan. The Temple should have it all the time, not just when we're ill." They ate quietly.

"So." Anakin was wary.

"So."

"So what do you think our babies would have looked like?" Anakin had never considered children, not even in dreams. Oddly enough, he and Padmé hadn't discussed the issue; he wondered why now. He pictured their boy or girl around fifteen years old, with a rambunctious nature and curly hair a shade somewhere between his dark blond and Padmé's rich brown. He had trouble getting the child to that age. One just appeared without all the nurturing, all the childhood illnesses and awkward questions. At fifteen they would be semi-civilized. He had no difficulty thinking of a half-Jedi, half-Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy baby, a squirmer that waved tiny brown fists at him when he visited. Obi-Wan's would have a worried frown from birth.

Obi-Wan considered all the babies in Master Ali-Anann's nursery that he had ever looked after on Temple assignments. He narrowed his search down to human/humanoid babies, discarded the farther ones from his phenotype, and centered on one, a Chalactan girl. "She has red hair, like mine almost. She doesn't wake up at night anymore, and she wears an adorable baby-sized lavalava, tan with small red blossoms on it. She knows the Force better than I do." This was pure sentimentality; later he would censure himself for it. The Force did not transmit genetically. Searching teams traveled far and wide to bring infants with varying degrees of Force-sensitivity to the Temple after identification by their parents. He cleared his throat. "Back to business. Anakin, you are my Padawan and until I cut your braid, I am your Master. We've got to concentrate on those facts before we discuss these past few days."

It's like nothing has changed for him. "Yes, Master."

"It's been tough, this mission, Anakin. I want you to think about that. We've done things, become different people on it. I admit you helped tremendously in negotiating. I am proud of you." That was easier to say than he had thought it would be. He touched Anakin's glove. "You provided more than words for our cause."

"Master, thank you. It's m-m-more than I deserve to hear. I know you disapproved of me speaking out --- "

"I was wrong." That was easy, too.

What? "Not for using Dooku, no, Master, you were right, I was wrong. Strenghis was revolted by Dooku, I could tell, and he's leaning away from any alliance with him. As for whether he agrees to our base, I can't see, but at least your example proved correct."

Obi-Wan said, "Well, as to that, I don't see them reaching an agreement before tomorrow morning. Let's roam around some. I'd like to see the spaceport." They pulled on boots. "And maybe we can order some sandals to fit us. The man at the pharmacy said most pairs can be done overnight and we could have the fittings done today and pick them up early."

"Fine with me."

The river hobbled.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Part Forty-Four

The cobbler grumbled something about "huge feet, will take extra sole weaving to get that big galoot's finished, and they'd better not come here before breakfast tomorrow, in such a rush," but since it wasn't in Basic, Obi-Wan and Anakin didn't understand. They ordered extra-soft linings on both pairs, earning a muttered "Tenderfeet!" in Basic this time, paid him with nearly the last of Ry-Gaul's change and left. They were thankful that Ry-Gaul had paid the inn's bill for a full week day before yesterday. For good or bad, right or wrong, this mission hung on a cusp and for right now, neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin could further it. So they went sightseeing. The road out to the spaceport offered no sidewalks, so they had to dodge an aloas-cart or two. It was much easier than trying to dodge a speeder. Trow's technology seemed spotty: a spaceport, but no speeders; no sidewalks, a few half-timbered two-story buildings, but the two-story ones did have strings of glowglobes strung between them so traversing the cobblestoned streets at night shouldn't be hazardous, yet the Nepsans didn't go out much at night. Anakin supposed Trow's level on a good day approached Anchorhead's. Living on Coruscant has spoiled me.

The spaceport was as plain as any Obi-Wan had seen. There were no food stands there, no souvenir kiosks or even arrival/departure displays. One old man and his teen helper greeted them. "You missed the last outbound flight, gentlemen. Next one won't be until day after tomorrow, first light, local. Next inbound flight won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon this time, if you're looking to pick up freight or meet somebody." The old man glanced at the only chronometer the Jedi had seen on this planet. "We're closing in ten minutes, but if you'd like to make a reservation ... "

"No, thanks. What can you tell me about the Kappa-class shuttle over there?" Obi-Wan saw from here that it was a worn but stately beauty.

The teen rattled off, "She's unmodded, but she's a fully-functional 35-meter long racing aloas with two forward repeating blaster cannons with of course two gunners to man them, and she has two other crew. She weights 50 metric tons and she can do 850 --- 850! --- in atmosphere. Forty troops can fit in her, and do you want to know about the repulsorlift vehicles she's got stowed aboard? I saw them when the other visitors showed old Stren --- uh, Mr. President --- and his Cabinet around before they had to leave right before Festival, they said Mr. President could use it for in-planet travel if he wanted and do you know that he hasn't used it once, even though they left the chip in it, what a waste --- "

The old man said gently, "Too much time on his hands, too many ambitions. Wait a while, my boy. Life will be simpler soon."

Anakin heard ambition in the boy and wished him well. This boy was him if he hadn't met Qui-Gon Jinn. "Master, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Obi-Wan shot him a look. "Later, Padawan. Thank you," he said to the man. "We'll look around your 'port, if you don't mind?"

"Sure thing. We'll be going now. It's almost dark. Want a glowrod? Just leave it wherever you're staying and it'll find its way back here." They were already closing the door to the comm room with its lone console and screen. Their only security seemed to be closing doors firmly with a little shake to make certain that they were closed and a firm faith in the Mother's protection of the facility. Obi-Wan was touched.

"Good night, and no thanks. We're curious where all these ships came from, that's all, and we'll leave when we can't see reg plates anymore. We don't get out much."

After the old man and mechanical-minded helper had left and he and Obi-Wan strode briskly to the shuttle, Anakin remarked, "Master, you're getting better at lying."

"I'm astonished at you, Padawan. You and I don't get out much on Coruscant. We're either at Temple, or the Senate, or at Dex's" --- or at 500 Republica, Anakin thought with a twinge of guilt --- "and there are places that I could show you on lower levels that would curl your hair if it weren't already curly." It was good to see Obi-Wan's smirk.

The shuttle impressed them both. One like it had been at Geonosis, shuttling clones to secondary attack positions, and this particular example must have been stolen or appropriated by the Separatists to use as a bribe to indecisive planetary leaders of a certain unsophistication. Strenghis qualified. Obi-Wan thought the fact that Mr. President hadn't been joyriding in it yet spoke well for their hopes of eventual alliance with Trow. The chip rested temptingly near the control yoke. "I think we've found our way offplanet, Padawan. Even if things don't go our way."

"I can fly this, Master, with a minute's recon." Anakin swiveled the pilot's seat around and plopped himself down. "I don't mean to imply that you couldn't, not that, no, Master, um --- "

"Hush. Do what you do best. I'll stand here and think."

The river connived.