by Timothy Zahn
“Not at all,” Ma’Ning assured him. “Pressor, you’re free to return to your station.”
“Thank you,” Pressor said.
“And in the future we’ll try to be more considerate of the various work schedules,” Ma’Ning added to Uliar.
“Fine,” Uliar said, a little less truculently. “Come on, Pressor. Let’s try to get this done before the next shift comes on.”
He headed back down the corridor at a fast walk. “See you later,” Pressor said, touching his wife’s arm and then hurrying after him.
“Good-bye, Jedi Lorana,” Jorad said gravely, looking up at her. “I hope we’ll see you again.”
“I’m sure you will, Jorad,” Lorana said, smiling at the boy. “You take good care of your little sister, okay?”
“I will.” Holding his mother’s hand tightly, he headed the other direction down the corridor.
“Sounds like an irritable sort,” Lorana commented to Ma’Ning.
“Who, Uliar?” The Master shrugged. “A bit. Still, he’s got a point about us changing things around with no notice. You might want to speak to Master C’baoth about that.”
“I thought he said you’d called for the coolant-leak drill.”
“Under Master C’baoth’s orders.” Ma’Ning smiled wryly. “And he’s right—we do have an escape pod drill scheduled for later this week.”
Lorana nodded. “I’ll talk to him,” she promised.
They were six standard days out of Yaga Minor and had stopped for a routine navigational check in Lonnaw system when the trouble started.
A crowd had already gathered in the Dreadnaught-2 aft passenger section when Obi-Wan arrived. “Let me through, please,” he said, starting to ease his way through the mass of people.
“Look—there’s another one,” a Rodian voice muttered.
“Another one what?” Obi-Wan asked, turning in that direction.
“Another Jedi,” the Rodian said, looking him square in the face.
“Easy, Feeven,” a man nearby cautioned. “Don’t start pointing blame.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” Obi-Wan asked.
“What happened is thieves in the night,” the Rodian bit out. “Thieves with robes and lightsabers.”
“Feeven, shut up,” the man said. He looked at Obi-Wan, lowered his eyes. “They came for someone’s kid, that’s all.”
“In the middle of the night,” Feeven insisted.
“What night?” the man scoffed. “This is space. It’s always night here.”
“The family was sleeping,” Feeven countered. “That makes it night.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, easing away from them and continuing on through the crowd. Middle of ship’s night or not, perhaps he ought to give C’baoth a call.
There was no need. He reached the open area in the center of the crowd to find that C’baoth was already there. “Master C’baoth,” he said, taking in the rest of the scene with a glance. Standing in the doorway to one of the rooms was a hulking figure of a man, his hands gripping the sides of the doorway as if daring anyone to pass. Behind him in the room was a frantic-eyed woman kneeling on the floor clutching a young boy tightly to her. The child himself looked frightened but also oddly intent.
C’baoth half turned to frown at him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You should be sleeping.”
“I heard there was some commotion,” Obi-Wan said, crossing to the doorway. “Hello,” he said to the man.
“You’re not taking him,” the other said flatly. “I don’t care how many of you there are, you’re not taking him.”
“You have no choice,” C’baoth said flatly. “As Jedi Master Evrios explained to you nearly a week ago. Your son is a potential Jedi, and he’s agreed to enter training. That means he comes with us.”
“Says who?” the man retorted. “Ship’s law says decisions about children are made by their parents. I looked it up.”
“Ship’s law wasn’t written to cover this situation,” C’baoth said. “It therefore doesn’t apply.”
“So now you just throw out the law when it doesn’t suit you?”
“Of course we don’t throw it out,” C’baoth said. “We merely rewrite it.”
“Who does?” the man demanded. “You Jedi?”
“Captain Pakmillu is the final legal authority aboard Outbound Flight,” Obi-Wan put in. “We’ll call him and ask—”
“He may be the final legal authority,” C’baoth said, cutting him off with a warning glare. “That remains to be seen.”
Obi-Wan felt an uncomfortable tingling across his skin. “What do you mean?”
“Outbound Flight is first and foremost a Jedi project,” C’baoth reminded him. “Jedi requirements therefore supersede all other authority.”
Obi-Wan took a careful breath, suddenly aware of the people silently pressing around them. “May I see you for a moment, Master C’baoth? In private?”
“Later,” C’baoth said, craning his neck over the crowd. “Captain Pakmillu has arrived.”
Obi-Wan turned to see the crowd opening up to let Pakmillu through. Even dragged out of bed as he must have been, the Mon Cal’s uniform was still immaculate. “Master C’baoth,” he said, his voice even more gravelly than usual. “Master Kenobi. What is the problem?”
“They want to take my son away from me,” the man in the door bit out.
“The boy is to enter Jedi training,” C’baoth said calmly. “His father seeks to deny him that right.”
“What right?” the man snapped. “His right? Our right? Your right?”
“The Jedi are the guardians of peace,” C’baoth reminded him. “As such—”
“Maybe in the Republic you are,” the man cut in. “But that’s why we’re leaving the Republic, isn’t it? To get away from arbitrary rules and capricious justice and—”
“Perhaps we should wait until morning to discuss this,” Obi-Wan interrupted. “I think we’ll all be calmer and clearer of mind then.”
“There’s no need for that,” C’baoth insisted.
“Master Kenobi speaks wisdom,” Pakmillu said. “We’ll meet tomorrow after morning meal in Dreadnaught-Two’s forward command conference room.” His eyes rolled to first the man and then C’baoth. “There you’ll both have an opportunity to present your arguments, as well as relevant articles of Republic law.”
C’baoth exhaled loudly. “Very well, Captain,” he said. “Until tomorrow.” With a final look at the man and boy, he strode off, the crowd opening up even faster for him than it had for Pakmillu. Obi-Wan followed, making it through the gap before it closed again.
For the first hundred meters they walked in silence. Obi-Wan was starting to wonder if C’baoth even knew he had tagged along when the other finally spoke. “You shouldn’t have done that, Master Kenobi,” C’baoth rumbled. “Jedi should never argue in public.”
“I was unaware that trying to clarify a situation qualified as arguing,” Obi-Wan said, stretching to the Force for patience. “Though if it comes to that, a Jedi should never deliberately antagonize the people he’s supposed to be serving, either.”
“Taking a child into Jedi training is not antagonism.”
“Doing so in the middle of the night is,” Obi-Wan countered. “There’s no reason that couldn’t have waited until morning.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you were deliberately trying to force the issue of control.”
He’d hoped the other would instantly and hotly deny it. But C’baoth merely looked sideways at him. “And why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said. “Particularly since the Code specifically forbids Jedi to rule over others.”
“Does it? Does it really?”
Obi-Wan felt a tingling at the back of his neck. “We’ve already had this discussion,” he reminded the other.
“And my position remains the same as it was then,” C’baoth said. “The Jedi Order has accumulated many rules over the centuries that are clearly erro
neous. Why should this not be one of them?”
“Because Jedi aren’t equipped to rule,” Obi-Wan said. “Because seeking power is the dark side.”
“How do you know?” C’baoth demanded. “When was the last time we were ever given the opportunity to try?”
“I know because the Code says so,” Obi-Wan said flatly. “We’re here to guide, not become dictators.”
“And what is the purpose of rules and regulations if not to guide people into the behavior that will best serve them and their society?” C’baoth countered.
“Now you’re playing with semantics.”
“No, I’m speaking of intent,” C’baoth corrected. “Rule is of the dark side because it seeks personal gain and the satisfaction of one’s own desires over the rights and desires of others. Guidance, in any form, seeks the other person’s best interests.”
“Is that truly what you’re seeking here?”
“That’s what all of us seek,” C’baoth said. “Come now, Master Kenobi. Can you truly say that Master Yoda and Master Windu couldn’t run the Republic with more wisdom and efficiency than Palpatine and the government bureaucrats?”
“If they could resist the pull of the dark side, yes,” Obi-Wan said. “But that pull would always be there.”
“As it is in whatever we do,” C’baoth said. “That’s why we seek the guidance of the Force for ourselves as well as for those we serve.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “It’s a dangerous course, Master C’baoth,” he warned. “You risk bringing chaos and confusion.”
“The confusion will be minimal, and it will end,” C’baoth promised. “Whatever authority we’re granted, rest assured that it will be with the support of the people.” He lifted a finger. “But never forget why most of them are here in the first place. You heard that man: they joined Outbound Flight to escape the corruption of the worlds we’re leaving behind. Why shouldn’t we offer something better?”
“Because this is skirting perilously close to the edge,” Obi-Wan said. “I can’t believe that the Code could be as wrong as you seem to believe.”
“Not wrong, but merely misinterpreted,” C’baoth said. “Perhaps you should focus your meditation on this question. As of course I will myself,” he added. “Together, I’m sure we’ll obtain the insight to find the proper path.”
“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said. “I’d like to come to the meeting tomorrow morning.”
“No need,” C’baoth said. “Jedi Master Evrios and I will handle things. Besides, I believe you’re scheduled to help with the shielding of Dreadnaught-One’s new auxiliary navigation room at that time.”
“I’m sure that could wait.”
“And now you’ll want to return to your rest,” C’baoth said as they reached the pylon turbolift lobby. “You have a busy day tomorrow.”
“As do we all,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. “And you?”
C’baoth gazed thoughtfully down the corridor. “I believe I’ll wait for Captain Pakmillu,” he said. “Sleep well, Master Kenobi. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
At the meeting the next morning, after all the various arguments had been presented and the discussion had wound down, Captain Pakmillu sided with C’baoth.
“They took the boy away three hours later,” Uliar said, scowling across the table at his friends.
“What do you expect?” Tarkosa asked reasonably from across the table. “Jedi are as rare as dewback feathers. I can understand why they wouldn’t want anyone with the talent to slip through their fingers.”
“But before it was always just infants,” Jobe Keely reminded him, his face puckered with uncertainty. “Kids who don’t even know they’re alive yet, much less knowing who Mom and Dad are. These kids have all been much older.”
“But they’ve all been willing to go, haven’t they?” Tarkosa countered. “Even the boy this morning. He was scared, sure, but he was also pretty excited. Face it, Jobe: most kids think it would be really cool to be a Jedi.”
“My question is what they’re going to do with all of them,” Uliar put in. “They going to throw everyone off one of the Dreadnaughts and build their own little Jedi Temple there?”
“I’m sure C’baoth has some ideas,” Tarkosa said firmly. “Seems to me he’s pretty much on top of things.”
“Yeah,” Uliar grunted. “Right.”
For a few minutes none of them spoke. Uliar let his eyes drift around the number three messroom, as sterile and military looking as everything else aboard Outbound Flight. The people eating their dinners looked sterile and military, too, in their jumpsuits and other operational garb.
What the place needed was some character, he decided. Maybe he should get some people together and see if Commander Omano would let them redecorate the messrooms with different themes. Maybe a nice upscale Coruscant dinner club for one, a MidRim tapcaf for another, something really sleazy looking for a third, with people encouraged to dress the parts when they went to cat or drink.
“What do you know?” Keely said into his thoughts, nodding behind Uliar. “There’s one now.”
Uliar turned. Sure enough, there was that Jinzler woman who’d dragged Dillian Pressor to a meeting when the man was supposed to be working. She was standing just inside the mess-room doorway, her head moving slowly as she scanned the occupants. A couple of the diners looked up at her, but most didn’t even seem to notice she was there. “Trolling for more Jedi?” he suggested.
“Don’t seem to be many kids here,” Keely pointed out, looking around. “You suppose they’re going to go after the adults next?”
“Maybe C’baoth’s given them a quota to fill,” Uliar said. “You know, like CorSec and traffic tickets.”
“CorSec patrollers don’t have quotas,” Tarkosa said scornfully. “That’s a myth.”
“Well, if she’s got one, she’s not going to fill it tonight,” Keely commented as Jinzler turned and left the room. “C’baoth’s not going to be happy with her.”
“If you ask me, I don’t think C’baoth’s ever happy with anything,” Uliar said, picking up his mug. “I’ve never met anyone so full of himself.”
“I had an instructor at the institute just like him,” Tarkosa said. “One night some of the students sneaked into his office, disassembled his desk, and reassembled it in the refresher station down the hall. I thought he was going to pop every blood vessel in his face when he saw it.”
“But I’ll bet it didn’t solve anything,” Keely commented. “People like that never learn.” He turned to Uliar. “Speaking of solving things, Chas, did you ever figure out that line fluctuation problem you were having yesterday? We had to shut down the whole portside turbolaser system.”
“Oh, yeah, we got it sorted it out,” Uliar told him, dragging his mind away from Jedi and dull dining rooms. “This’ll kill you. You know b’Crevnis, that big terminally cheerful Pho Ph’eahian who’s supposed to be in charge of fluid-flow maintenance? It seems he managed to mislabel one of his own gauges…”
It took until the fourth D-4 messroom she visited, but Lorana finally found the Pressor family. “Hello,” she said, smiling as she walked up to their table. “How are you all doing tonight?”
“We’re fine,” Pressor said, his eyes suddenly wary as he looked up at her. “Is anything wrong?”
“That depends on how you look at it,” Lorana said, kneeling down between Jorad and his mother. “I wanted to tell you, Jorad, that your retest again came up negative. I’m sorry.”
The boy made a face. “That’s okay,” he said, clearly disappointed. “Mom and Dad said it probably wouldn’t change.”
“Moms and dads are smart that way,” Lorana said. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” the boy’s mother said, a note of relief in her voice. “There are lots of other things he can do with his life.”
“Yes,” Lorana murmured, her brother’s face flickering across her memory “We all have to accept our strengths and talents,
and go on from there.”
“Though sometimes with a little push,” Pressor said grimly. “I hear you Jedi had some sort of standoff over on D-Two yesterday.”
“I heard something about that,” Lorana confirmed. “I wasn’t there, so I can’t say whether it was a standoff or not. I understand it was resolved peaceably, though.”
“I heard the boy was hustled off to Jedi school,” Pressor countered.
“Yet if that’s his birthright, how can anyone deny it to him?” Lorana asked. “The life of a Jedi can be hard—and, yes, it requires sacrifice, from the parents as well as from the child. But anything that’s worthwhile does.”
“I suppose,” Pressor said, clearly not convinced.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your meal now,” Lorana said, getting to her feet again. “Thank you for your time.”
“Thank you for stopping by,” Pressor said.
“Good-bye, Jedi Lorana,” Jorad added. For a moment his eyes seemed to linger on her lightsaber before he returned to his meal.
Lorana made her way back through the messroom, trying to get a sense of the people around her. Most of those along her path looked up casually as she passed, then turned back to their food and conversations without any detectable change in their mood. Most of the ones seated farther away didn’t even notice her. Everyone seemed more or less content, aside from the inevitable few working through annoyances from their shift work. If there was any growing resentment toward the Jedi, she couldn’t detect it.
So perhaps her fears were for nothing. After all, they would all be aboard Outbound Flight for a long time yet, and even those who were upset at the way the children had been taken would eventually realize that more Jedi translated into a smoother and safer voyage.
But for now, it was time to get back to work. Some of the last-minute equipment that had been packed into the storage core needed to be shifted around to other areas. The crewers had enough hands and lifters for the job, but there was always the chance that one of the stacks of crates would shift unexpectedly, and it would be safer if a Jedi was present to keep that from happening. There would undoubtedly be injuries and deaths along the way, but Lorana had no intention of letting such incidents begin this soon. Not if she could help it.
