A Wet, Pretentious Story ch. 52 - 53

[pronker]

 

Part Fifty-Two

Four and-a-half days seemed like four and-a-half decades in hyperspace.

Beebar and Dimmie graciously did all the galley work, using the onboard stores and some items that they had brought from home. There was no actual galley and only self-heating meals, ready to eat, to satisfy hunger. Volunteering was nice of them, Obi-Wan supposed, but they were as curious as toddlers about the shuttle's technology. He and Anakin stayed mainly in the cockpit writing their mission report for three days, regretting their lack of privacy. There was a minimal 'fresher --- too small for us both, and it's a 'fresher, Anakin, really! --- and the repulsorlift vehicles --- turn the two on their sides, Master, to improvise a visual barrier, and we could be very, very quiet ... No? --- but the shuttle's utilitarian open design had no nooks and they made the best of things for sleeptime. Simple cuddling under spread-out lavalavas was nice, too. Cuddling even became necessary, because space was cold, though the ambient temperature had been turned up to accommodate Dimmie's and Beebar's tropic attire. The Trow citizens were due for some serious shopping upon debarkation, unless they wanted to wear the ecru-and-tan suits of clothing that the Temple would offer them freely. Obi-Wan and Anakin had reverted to wearing their uniforms, which made it easier to scold the two teens when on day three, Beebar flipped one repulsorlift vehicle control lever to 'hover, one-half meter' and persuaded Dimmie to sit on it. He adjusted the other vehicle to 'forward, slow' to push her around the aisles of the vacant troop compartment.

Anakin hovered himself between admiration that Beebar put his free time to good use by studying Aurebesh markings while asking seemingly innocent questions of himself and his Master, and condemnation of Beebar's audacity in operating a vehicle while inside another vehicle. In hyperspace. He supposed such get-up-and-go was the reason that Beebar advanced to maitre d' of the inn's staff. "You could have accidentally pushed the 'forward, emergency pursuit' lever, and we would have had to deal with an atmosphere breach, no little matter in a craft this small. Or Dimmie could have been crushed between your vehicle and the bulkhead, did you think of that?"

Obi-Wan stood back to allow Anakin to berate Beebar, who was at most two years younger. Yes, Padawan. This is what supervising teens is all about. When Beebar hung his head and Dimmie's lower lip quivered, he intervened. "Lesson learned, Anakin. Dimmie, Beebar, no more adventuring, r-right?" The two teens nodded and sat on the troop seating, uncomfortable plastoid as they were. They stared at the solid bulkhead as if it had windows to show the stars, although hyperspace was featureless.

After breakfast on the fourth day, Dimmie and Beebar at least asked before firing the ventral blaster. Anakin launched into an almost-Masterly lecture, including some reasons that Obi-Wan hadn't even thought of. "We don't waste power charges. We don't know who is around us and who may think that firing weapons for fun is firing for destructive purposes. Space is big, and we don't know the future, even the next ten minutes, so the answer is no." The teens took this in stride; at least they were beyond the pouting stage. They packed and repacked their little bundles a few times, and asked Anakin repeatedly about arrival time. He answered with as much patience as was in his nature.

"Honestly, Master, was I this bad?" Anakin and Obi-Wan finished brainstorming their version of the mission half an hour ago and were sipping denatured tea.

"Far worse, far worse. You were a Jedi Padawan with remarkable powers of evasion, rationalizing, covering up, and inventive bookkeeping."

"Bookkeeping?" Anakin didn't recall altering any books.

"Resetting the laundry's list of sheets issued to our quarters? Specifically the amount of fresh sheets needed during your fifteenth, sixteenth and even your sev--- "

"All right. I remember now." It had been a piece of sweesonberry cake to redo the counters. The hard part had been entering the mainframe area of the Records room. Barriss had helped him by staging a slip-and-fall outside the door, and in the confusion Anakin eased away, did the deed, and reordered both Master's and his own sheets to two hundred-count extra-fine-grade sheets. He owed Barriss one.

Five hours later, Beebar and Dimmie bounced on their feet when the navcomp pinged their arrival. The atmosphere reentry occurred without incident. An unfamiliar voice cleared their arrival at the Temple's south hangar. Anakin set the shuttle down next to the Jedi cruiser that Ry-Gaul had used. Tru. Surely he had passed the danger point and was merely awaiting the end of the most irritating stage, the sloughing of the scratchy furry patches. They itched intolerably and shed bits of fur that got on everything.

Obi-Wan gathered their lavalavas, sandals, and the very last of the nutrient paste that Dimmie had brought along for nourishment. He would share it with the rest of his peers of the Masters' table as a curiosity, the way that returning travelers often did in the refectory. That way it would disappear even quicker. The teens charged through the lowering ramp, not apprehensive at all, and Obi-Wan saw Anakin shake his head in amusement as if he were far older and wiser than they. Obi-Wan found the gloom of the hangar soothing to his eyes as he recognized the beginnings of a headache, and followed Anakin down the ramp that dropped them back into their old life.

The river adapted.

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Part Fifty-Three

With Beebar and Dimmie settled in the waiting room of the Council chambers with an escorting Junior Padawan who had private orders to consider them "adventurous," Obi-Wan gave the mission report that he and Anakin had fashioned. It was to-the-point, glossing over their life-threatening Gitchy adventures and concentrating on the meetings with Grunbi, Strenghis, and Qikal. The whole thing took nearly an hour.

"Fortuitous, the meeting with Leader Qikal was. A power behind the power, he will be. Ready for theocracy, Trow is?" Yoda's leathery skin was bathed in the afternoon's sunlight slanting through the enormous windows. He pricked up his ears while the question reverberated in the tower room. Seven Councilmembers were in their seats, the others being at various other meetings or on missions. Obi-Wan eyed his own seat longingly. His headache increased as he blinked in the dazzling rays of light. Even the dust motes' lazy motion induced a slight nausea. He swallowed a few times, and continued.

"Yes, Master. Qikal is able, Strenghis is able. Their plan for Trow needn't affect our base placement and other considerations. W-we actually impressed the leaders, both secular and religious, of the planet. I can say that negotiations were short, but intense. After meeting for two days, P-President Strenghis, with the counsel of Qikal, agreed to have the Republic's protection and offered a base in return. The less important concessions will be in our written report."

Yoda narrowed his eyes, a small frown wrinkling his brow further. "Tired, are you, Obi-Wan? Strenuous beyond many's endurance, this past week has been. Tomorrow, soon enough your report in writing, it is. Leave for your quarters, you and your Padawan shall, unless healers you wish to consult. Good work, young Jedi." Who doesn't he call young at some point? Obi-Wan smiled faintly. Yoda tapped his gimer stick once in dismissal.

"Thank you, Master Yoda. It's only a headache." Obi-Wan led the way out the large doors, not noticing Master Plo eyeing his exit more than the others. Beebar and Dimmie leaped up excitedly. Their escort looked capable enough to prevent major diplomatic blunders. All Jedi were trained in the art of conciliation, which came in handy with ushering politicians about. These rambunctious kids from Trow should be fine in her care.

"Are we staying with you here?" "Can we taste real liquor tonight? I've heard it called 'rocket juice' by some travelers at the inn, why is that, Knight Kenobi?" "Knight Kenobi, I'm cold. Me folks said you were springing for all expenses, so when can we go shopping?" "Let's take the elevator to the top of this spire and look out over everything!"

Obi-Wan massaged his temples. "Padawan Kris will be your Jedi and Republic liaison as long as you stay in Coruscant. She will escort you to the Jedi Hostel nearby, which is for non-Jedi visiting friends. As to liquor, I don't think so." The thought of liquor made his stomach roil the more. He might even give up drinking. "Padawan Kris will live with you for a few days until you become acclimated, which includes buying new clothing. Anakin or Padawan Kris may take you up to the spire if they wish, and I'll be happy to visit with you tomorrow, or,or, perhaps the next day, to see how you are. Welcome to Coruscant," he ended formally, sketching a brief bow. It made his head ache more.

Anakin said, "Padawan Kris, do with them what you will. May The Force Be With You." The three young people waved farewell and started for the elevator. "I'm going to the infirmary to see Tru. I think you should come, too, Master." Master's pale.

"Of course I will. Tru's had a difficult time of it." Obi-Wan's stride became a tired shuffle as he followed Anakin's lead down the hall. No one was around to see that his Padawan was not following him in the proper Padawan manner. The infirmary was on the bottom floor. "We're going to cheer him up."

"I sense that you're not cheerful, Master. And I think that Master Luminara should look at you. What's wrong?"

"I was anticipating with great pleasure immersing myself in the Force back in our quarters, Padawan, when this headache came upon me. Luminara can help it, I'm sure." Why aren't pain control techniques working? Am I getting old?

Tru's cot held an irritable Tru, arching his spine, twining both arms around his body to dig at his reddened back. "Anakin. How did you survive this itching? I want to scratch everywhere all at once." Tru was a Teevan and had multiple joints in his limbs. He was under strict orders not to use his nails to further inflame his usually silvery skin and so had to rub when he wanted to rake.

"Master spread nasty stuff on me. I don't recall what it was." Anakin remembered holing up in his quarters, unwilling to allow anyone other than Master to see him. The nasty stuff was only nasty in odor, because being soothed by strong fingers was pleasant.

"Tru, you're coming along in your recovery, but Master Luminara will scold if you don't help yourself get better. Anakin, tell Tru about our mission, and I'll consult with Luminara a moment." You know how to be discreet, young one. The light from the afternoon sun streamed in here, too, following him from the Council chambers and he raised a hand to shade his eyes.

Master Luminara Unduli sat as upright at her console as she generally did, stirring a glass of something pink. She rose when Obi-Wan entered her office. He shut the door behind him. "So, Lu, what do you have for a headache?"

"Obs, you look worn out."

Luminara smiled her welcome, a smile that stretched and lightened her lip and chin tattoos even as her healer's hands took Obi-Wan's in a preliminary exam. She stilled a moment, and Obi-Wan knew intimately her Force-perception of his condition because his headache not so much faded as winked out of existence. It made his efforts at self-healing shrink to insignificance. What she and I would have done to honor the Mother beggars description. "Thanks. I needed that." The nausea receded, too, and the light from outdoors was bearable. He sat on the exam table, resisting the urge to swing his legs.

"Tough mission? Or is that redundant?" Luminara had not been in the field for some months. She was due to staff New Holstice very soon and Obi-Wan was grateful that she was still here to visit with, as well as treat him.

"Tough, unusual, but rewarding. I'll tell you more at dinner tomorrow night."

"Occasion?"

"In gracious thanks for your sinus lessons. You'll never know how much I appreciated them when I was dunked into a flood, had my mouth and ears filled with watery mud --- "

"Stop. It's over with, Obi-Wan, for good or for bad. You're home now." In Luminara's steady gaze, he saw all that was good about the Order.

The river relaxed.

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