Master & Apprentice (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

  If Fanry had been crown princess in those days, Obi-Wan thought, she would’ve fared just fine. Only a handful of riders had made it this far yet, and Fanry was the first among them. She urged her beast forward, toward the faint lights of the crab droid flickering among the high grasses. Finding the prey was only the first part of the hunt—outwitting the droid was the next, more difficult step, but he felt sure the “kill” would be hers, not because of a ceremony, but by right. Obi-Wan was impressed. Nothing stood between Fanry and victory—

  —until the dark underbrush lit up with blaster bolts, firing at the princess.

  Qui-Gon’s varactyl faltered at the second trench, rearing back. Only by clinging tightly to the saddle did Qui-Gon prevent being thrown off. I was a good rider, once, he thought as he straightened himself, remembering a race he’d had with Dooku long ago.

  The memories shattered with the sound of Fanry’s scream.

  “The princess!” Deren shouted, and he turned his own beast into the trench, forcing it to run down and through. Qui-Gon followed along with the pack, or tried to; he was blocked by Minister Orth, who had lost control of her varactyl entirely. Its feathers had fanned out into a ruff around its head as it hissed angrily. Orth, white-faced, simply clung to the saddle, apparently unable to manage anything else.

  Blast it! Qui-Gon stood in the stirrups to get a better view of the fray. In the meadow, he saw blaster bolts being fired from the underbrush that grew more thickly upon the hills of the hunting grounds. In the murk of nighttime he couldn’t make out who or what was firing. Each bolt illuminated another split second of the scene:

  Rael streaking toward the princess at top speed.

  Fanry ducking low over her ride, protecting herself.

  Obi-Wan charging toward the underbrush, his lightsaber shining in the night.

  Despite his fear, Qui-Gon felt a flush of pride. That was the apprentice he knew Obi-Wan could be—and the shadow of the great Jedi Knight he would yet become.

  Assuming you don’t both die here first. Now move!

  When his mount balked again, Qui-Gon stopped fighting it, dropped the reins, and called on the Force to execute a jump that far exceeded anything a human could’ve done under his own strength. His boots thudded on the ground, but he sprang up instantly. His leap had brought him well over the trench, halfway to Fanry.

  As he landed, a flash of blasterfire from within the underbrush illuminated the attacker—and it was the prey. The crab droid had turned the ritual of the hunt upside down.

  The princess huddled behind her varactyl, but she had taken up her energy bow and fired over the beast’s shoulder. The princess’s spirit was stronger than her aim, though; the crab droid remained untouched. She was still in danger. Qui-Gon ran at top speed toward the fray that had ignited in the underbrush.

  Two lightsabers now shone in the night, both Obi-Wan’s and Rael’s. Rael’s blade spun around like a windmill, blocking nearly every bolt fired. He was fighting defensively, protecting Fanry rather than going on the offensive. A wise move, given that Obi-Wan was already two meters ahead, slicing underbrush out of the way with every swing of his blade, clearing the way to the attacker. Qui-Gon reached out, sensing the patterns of Force and fire, so he could run as quickly as possible to his Padawan’s side.

  “About time you got here, Master!” Obi-Wan called, never looking away from the assault.

  “Thought I might lend a hand.” With that, Qui-Gon ducked low, igniting his own lightsaber to slash through the brush almost at ground level. At least the droid couldn’t fly. Destroy the legs, and the fight was over.

  Together they pushed deeper into the brush. By now Qui-Gon could peer through the brambles and see the prey droid with his own eyes. It didn’t register him at all. This droid had been programmed with a ruthless single-mindedness; even as he and Obi-Wan got closer, it fired directly at them no more than a handful of times.

  Whoever did this wanted the droid to complete one task, Qui-Gon thought. Kill the princess.

  Finally, Qui-Gon got close enough to stab his lightsaber blade beyond the final layer of brambles, through two of the crab droid’s legs, straight into its base. It made a screeching sound, harsh with electronic interference, before sending out a spray of sparks and then going dead. Toppling sideways, it fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

  Some people cheered, but most of them were still screaming and weeping. Fanry had already stumbled out from behind her varactyl, alive and well, to be comforted by Rael. In the distance, Minister Orth was still struggling to get her varactyl under control.

  Obi-Wan wasn’t even winded. “So, Master,” he said, putting away his lightsaber. “Are any more of the upcoming coronation events this exciting?”

  “I doubt it.” Qui-Gon didn’t approve of his Padawan’s cockiness, but let him enjoy the moment while he could.

  It hardly mattered. Had any of those blasts hit the princess, she would now be dead.

  * * *

  —

  Animals. Monsters.

  Averross made himself think in those terms, because he’d worked hard to break his habit of swearing when he’d come to help six-year-old Fanry. But the profanities of a dozen worlds threatened to burst through at any moment.

  What about the treaty, the coronation, anything about Fanry could make the Opposition want to murder a young girl?

  Averross put his hands on Fanry’s shoulders and gentled his voice as much as he could. “Hey. Kid. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Bravely, she nodded. “I only scraped my knee when I slid off my varactyl.”

  “Wasn’t talking about your skin.” He meant her soul, though he was grateful not to have to say it out loud. Fanry probably knew more about Averross’s soft side than anyone else living, but he didn’t like to broadcast it even to her.

  Sure enough, she understood. “I’m fine. I think we all ought to have expected this.”

  “You shouldn’t have to expect people comin’ at you in the middle of a sacred ritual,” Averross said, but he knew she was right. They couldn’t afford to take anything for granted now. There was nothing the Opposition wouldn’t stoop to. No moment he could ever relax and assume Fanry was safe.

  Qui-Gon joined them, his expression grave. “I take it you’re well, Your Serene Highness.” When Fanry nodded, he continued, “This is far worse than we knew.”

  “Yeah, because these lowlifes will stop at nothing—” Averross stopped himself before he swore words that would fry Fanry’s innocent ears.

  “Yes, they’re ruthless,” Qui-Gon agreed, “but that’s not what I meant. I reviewed the security measures alongside you, Rael. The stables and hunting ground had been extensively secured by droids, autosentries, and human guards.”

  “We even hired a few Rodian mercenaries, put ’em out in the far woodlands,” Rael said. “But somebody got to the prey droid anyway.”

  Qui-Gon lowered his voice. “Therefore, the droid could only have been sabotaged by someone within the palace.”

  The truth struck Rael with the force of a blow. He couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t move. Because the greatest danger to Fanry came from one of her own courtiers or guards.

  From a traitor.

  “You think it’s one of my people?” Fanry said to Qui-Gon, shaking her head in disbelief. “They’ve all been with me my entire life. None of them would try to kill me, not ever.”

  “They sent a slicer dart after you,” Rael said. “Whoever did that knew what that weapon meant to me. I don’t like it any better than you do, Princess, but we’ve gotta face facts. There’s a traitor among us.”

  A traitor who was going to be very, very sorry for the brief remainder of his or her life.

  Fanry looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Cady slipped a thick shawl over the princess’s shoulders and led her away, no doubt
for some water, quiet, and rest.

  Which left Averross to stare at the group around him, wondering which individual could be cold enough to betray a little girl who’d put her trust in them all.

  The scene was almost pathetically comic. Orth was still flopping around atop her varactyl like the terrible rider she was. A nobleman was whining about his torn doublet, which revealed the entire gold satin lining and was now too gaudy to be worn anyplace, how gauche. Captain Deren, at least, was proving himself useful by swiftly disassembling the droid down to its component gears, wiring, and panels. But the rest of the Pijal court was distinguishing itself mostly through its utter silliness.

  At least there are two people here I know didn’t betray her, Averross thought as he followed Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan’s side.

  “Perhaps we should examine the droid’s workings,” Obi-Wan was saying to Qui-Gon, when he broke off at Averross’s approach. “How is the princess?”

  Averross breathed out heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his grimy hand. “She acts brave, but that shook her up.”

  “And no wonder,” Qui-Gon said. “We’ll have to go through security footage immediately.”

  “Anybody smart enough to reprogram the prey droid’s smart enough to reprogram the security terminals,” Averross muttered. “But we’re going through them anyway. We see one shadow, I swear by the Temple I’ll follow that shadow straight to the scumbag that tried to hurt her.”

  Qui-Gon remained almost damnably calm. Easy to be calm when you didn’t really care about anyone involved. “Were you able to see anyone whose presence you can’t explain? Maybe someone you thought was a sentry but wasn’t in a preapproved location?”

  “You think I wouldn’t have mentioned that by now if I had? I was too busy saving Fanry to count heads.”

  Averross saw Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchange a look. Most Jedi Knights would see it as their duty to remember every possible detail of an important battle or skirmish, so as to analyze it and extract maximum information.

  But when Rael Averross was in a fight, he was fighting. He wasn’t going to let any Padawan sneer at him for it, either. To Obi-Wan he said, “That okay with you?”

  Obi-Wan’s blue eyes widened. “I—well, I only meant—you obviously protected the princess very ably.”

  It used to be fun to shake the Padawans up like that, he remembered. There’d been a time when he could joke with Nim that way.

  Maybe that wasn’t a kind of fun he needed to revisit.

  He called out to the entire gathering, “The Grand Hunt is over! Now get yourselves back to your rooms and remain available for questioning. Nobody leaves the palace compound without my express permission. Got it?”

  The various nobles all nodded, murmuring among themselves as they began shuffling back to their varactyls, obviously shaken and disappointed in equal measure. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were walking back already, talking to each other. And in the distance, Captain Deren was trying valiantly to get Minister Orth down from the saddle.

  * * *

  —

  “Are you sure you’re uninjured, Your Serene Highness?” Cady asked.

  Fanry nodded, though one of her ankles twinged every time she stepped on it. Whatever was wrong there, it wasn’t bad enough to require a medical droid’s help, and besides—she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

  The look on Rael Averross’s face—that would stay with her for a while. She’d seen hints of that kind of guilt and sorrow before, but only when he talked about Nim Pianna, the Padawan who had died. Fanry had never expected to see him that scared for her.

  But there was nothing to be afraid of. Fanry refused to give in to distractions or doubts now. The ceremony would take place so very soon. Deren would be there to protect her; Orth and Col would be there to watch her; and even Cady would be there to help her. Everything would proceed according to plan.

  A small quiver of uncertainty shivered through her, but Fanry squelched it. Timidity might be all right for little princesses who still covered their hair.

  Not for a queen.

  * * *

  —

  Qui-Gon helped settle the various riders after the hunt, losing track of Obi-Wan during the process. At the end, he found Obi-Wan in the stables, standing in his varactyl’s stall and absently scratching the beast on its neck.

  “I think you’re turning into a rider,” Qui-Gon said.

  “Master?” Obi-Wan looked up hurriedly. “I don’t think—I mean, yes, I like riding a lot more than I expected to, but—you need to see this.”

  He let Rael rattle him, Qui-Gon thought as he stepped into the varactyl’s stall. Obi-Wan needs to stand up better than that.

  Then he saw that his apprentice was holding a datapad. On its screen were images of the sabotaged crab droid, or what remained of it; this was what had shaken Obi-Wan. “You’ve learned something?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. But I wanted you to see this.” Obi-Wan expanded one area to reveal a sort of shield device—one totally unfamiliar to Qui-Gon. “Do you know of any shields like this?”

  “No, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m no weapons expert, but this is definitely unusual.” Qui-Gon took the datapad into his own hands. “The shield doesn’t connect to the main power supply. What was in its cell?”

  “Destroyed, according to Deren. His team dug out nothing but ash.” Obi-Wan looked sheepish. “I, uh, may have swung my lightsaber directly into it as it fell.”

  Qui-Gon briefly touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.” The shielding must’ve been centered on the body of the droid, not the legs, where Qui-Gon had struck. Once systems failure began, the shield would have lost power—and of course a lightsaber could pierce any shield, in time.

  “There’s something else, too. Deren’s still going over the security footage, but they’ve found just one image of interest so far.” Obi-Wan brought it up on the screen.

  There, amid a thicket in a narrow ravine, was the outline of a human, crouched low, holding something that might’ve been a remote tether to the droid. The image revealed little. But Qui-Gon thought one element of the image wasn’t a trick of the night.

  All they knew about their attacker was that this person had been completely clothed in black.

  “I don’t see why we don’t just leave,” Pax complained as he stretched out on the long cushioned bench in the mess hold of the Meryx. “As of yesterday, thanks to my exemplary skill at negotiation, we’ve made a profit on our trip to Pijal. And if we’ve left the system, do you really think the Jedi are going to take time out from searching for terrorists to track down two jewel thieves?” From where she stood, pouring herself a cup of Chandrilan tea, Rahara gave him a withering look. He sighed. “Two ‘independent marketers of unregistered gemstones,’ then?”

  He was hoping to stoke a conversation of some length and fervor, which would fill the dull time they had to pass waiting for the Jedi. It might also bring a flush to Rahara’s cheeks, if she got wound up enough. (He knew this wasn’t a good enough reason to wind her up, but he seemed to do that whether he meant to or not, so he saw no reason not to enjoy the aesthetic effects.) Pax considered arguing a hobby.

  Rahara only shrugged. “We made a promise to the Jedi. I like to keep my promises. Besides, if Czerka’s on high alert, I’d rather stay put for now. Better to leave when they won’t be on their guard.” With this she took her steaming mug of tea and wandered back toward her corridors.

  Disappointing. His invitation for a vigorous row had been declined. Apparently “sulking” was a bad habit, one he was supposed to be breaking, so he resisted the urge. But he couldn’t help thinking fondly of the ship where he’d grown up, where everything had made so much more sense.

  * * *

  —

  “Oh, heavens,” Z-3PO had said when she foun
d five-year-old Pax hiding in the equipment locker. “A child! A human one, quite alive! Whatever are we to do?”

  Copper-plated G-3PO bent down to study Pax, who was too terrified to speak yet. “Are you sure it’s human? It’s rather pale.”

  Z-3PO swiveled on her jointed torso, revealing more of the coiled wires within. “Am I sure? I’m programmed to recognize more than thirty thousand sentient species, you know. Of course I can identify a human!”

  That made G-3PO totter back a few steps. “How rude! Is this the thanks I get for trying to help you identify a stowaway?”

  “Whatever are the two of you bickering about?” said blue-and-silver B-3PO, shuffling into the hold. “Oh, my. A human!”

  “I told you so,” Z-3PO said….

  * * *

  —

  …and that was more or less the way every day of Pax’s life had unfolded from the age of five until the age of twenty, when the ship had at last been found by a Republic cruiser. He’d been the center of the droids’ universe—the one human on board, amid eighty-three droids who had all been programmed to serve humans and other sentients—and was thrown off by the fact that now he didn’t seem to be the center of anyone else’s universe. (Except, of course, his own.) The droids had all been cheerful about their recovery, because they were ready to get back to work; this had convinced Pax he shouldn’t be sad, either. Really, in his opinion, all beings ought to behave more like protocol droids. What exactly was wrong with that?

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

  Rapping against the Meryx hatch startled Pax, then irritated him. He went to open the door, muttering, “If only someone had invented comlinks. Then nobody would have to knock, like some primitive—”