Star Wars: A Galaxy Not Their Own (7/33)
Star Wars: A Galaxy Not Their Own (7/33)
Rating: T for teen, involves canon level of violence
Spoilers: Spoilers for the movies and some minor EU references.
Summary: Stranded in the future, Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon struggle to work together to complete a mission for the New Republic.
[Included pairings]Obi-Wan/OFC, if you squint hints of Anakin/Obi-Wan pre-slash
Disclaimer: Most of the Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas, Twentieth Century Fox and Disney - I'm not quite sure but it's definitely not me. This author uses these works without permission and for non-profit purposes.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
Qui-Gon awoke and was instantly alert and ready. Something had awoken him and his hand automatically sought the lightsaber he kept by his side at all times. Laughter sounded again from the nearby cargo bay and he relaxed - nothing more disturbing than his companions had awoken him. With no reason to rise immediately, he rolled onto his back before remembering that the end of the bunk preventing him from fully straightening his legs. He only just managed to squeeze into the bunks, which were obviously designed for the shorter Ekash people. After five months of sleeping in cramped positions, even Qui-Gon’s legendary patience was starting to fray.
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the cabin. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he was able to see his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, still sleeping on his bunk in the middle column. Anakin’s bunk was empty. Qui-Gon swung his legs to the floor, the rustling of blankets noisy in the silence. His Padawan muttered in his sleep, rolling over without opening his eyes. As Qui-Gon tied his long, greying hair back from his face, he regarded his sleeping student. Obi-Wan was dead to the world. His mouth was open and the blanket was wrapped tightly around him. Qui-Gon believed in early rising but they had only recently arrived from another time zone, so he was inclined to let the young man sleep. The change in times seemed to affect Obi-Wan the most, by some unknown quirk of metabolism.
While pondering the strange habits of young padawans, Qui-Gon walked barefoot towards the door. He paused at the threshold to look back at a still-sleeping Obi-Wan. It was at that point that he realised that Anakin was asleep on the floor - strange habits of padawans, indeed. Shaking his head, Qui-Gon walked out the door into the cargo bay and was greeted by another burst of laughter. Emalda and Ben sat together in their improvised dining room, chuckling.
“Good morning,” said Qui-Gon.
Emalda froze, startled, but Ben smiled warmly in greeting. Emalda took another moment before she turned to Qui-Gon with a strained smile, her posture stiff and unwelcoming. He had seen her without her contacts in before but he had learned the hard way not to mention it aloud. It was still hard to not be offended when she was so obviously hostile. He knew she couldn’t help it and that it was a product of her previous experiences. Qui-Gon simply acknowledged his own feelings of offence and released it to the Force.
“Good evening, I believe,” said Ben, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Emalda’s response.
“Is it dark out?” asked Qui-Gon.
“If it’s not already, it will be soon,” said Ben lightly. “Juice?”
Ben held out a jug and an empty cup. Qui-Gon nodded and pulled up another crate to use as a chair. As he sat down, Emalda shot to her feet.
“I was thinking,” said Emalda quickly. “That it would be a good idea if I went and purchased more food supplies.”
“Don’t forget to take a commlink with you,” Ben reminded her. “You know where the credits are.”
Emalda smiled at him and moved to the only lockable crate they had. She rummaged through it for the sacks of New Republic credits they kept for purchases. They had an electronic account provided by the Senate for their mission but it had proved difficult to access on some of the more remote planets, such as Wefhuk. Qui-Gon took the cup of juice that Ben handed him, watching as Emalda retreated into the fresher to change. When he looked back, Ben was refilling the jug of juice with a self-satisfied smile.
“Ben,” said Qui-Gon.
There was an edge of warning in Qui-Gon’s tone that registered and Ben looked up warily.
“Is something wrong?” asked Ben.
“Not wrong exactly,” said Qui-Gon cautiously. “I just regret that Emalda and I do not get along as well as I should like.”
Ben nodded and poured a cup of juice for himself. Qui-Gon suspected it was mostly to occupy his hands.
“It is hard for her to trust people,” said Ben. “She did not trust me at first.”
“She did not get along well with Leia either,” Qui-Gon pointed out.
“Leia means well but she can be very forceful with her opinion,” said Ben.
Qui-Gon wanted to respond to that but Emalda’s re-emergence into the cargo bay effectively ended the conversation. She drew herself up to her full height when she caught Qui-Gon’s gaze and smiled when she caught Ben’s.
“If we are not here when you return,” said Ben. “We have gone to chase up more leads. We will have our commlinks with us.”
“You say that every time,” she reminded him.
“Makes it easier to remember,” said Ben.
“Have a good evening.”
“Good evening,” said Ben.
“Good evening,” echoed Qui-Gon, wondering if Emalda had even noticed him speaking.
She wrapped her green jacket around her, extended the ramp and disappeared into the darkness. Ben watched her leave before starting to clear the makeshift table.
“Would you like some soup?” he asked Qui-Gon as he stood.
Qui-Gon nodded and took a sip of his juice. Ben placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him. The soup was a little creamier than he preferred but it was warm. Qui-Gon ate in silence while Ben retrieved a ration bar for himself.
“These bars are about to expire,” explained Ben, in response to Qui-Gon’s questioning look. “We have to eat them soon and Emalda will replace them with fresh ones from the markets.”
They ate in silence for a while. Qui-Gon had much he wanted to say but there seemed no need to rush. There was little urgency in their lives these days.
“We need to discuss the progress of our mission,” said Qui-Gon finally.
Ben swallowed his mouthful, looking unsurprised.
“Has the New Republic Senate contacted us?” asked Ben.
“Not since the last time,” said Qui-Gon. “But our funding will not last us forever.”
“And by the time all the Senate’s sub-committees and sub-sub-committees decide to approve continuing our mission,” said Ben. “We’d all have starved to death anyway.”
“The price we pay for democracy,” agreed Qui-Gon.
Ben was silent, crumbling the end of his ration bar. He tilted his head to the side in a gesture so typical of the young, eager boy he'd trained that it made Qui-Gon’s stomach lurch. It was sometimes hard to remember that this reserved Jedi with the same blue eyes had served for a decade as a Jedi Knight in his own right.
“Do you have a suggestion?” asked Ben finally.
“After five months of investigation, we have not yet located the scientist Rivea Colash,” said Qui-Gon. “We have simply followed one vague lead after another - and while our mission is important, I am worried that we are losing our focus. We are forgetting what it means to be Jedi."
"My first impulse is to suggest that we find a place to be alone for a few months to reconnect," admitted Ben, fiddling with the wrapping from his ration bar. "The apprentices would certainly benefit from it.”
"Obi-Wan seems tired more than anything, possibly also homesick for a Jedi Temple that no longer exists," said Qui-Gon. "We also need to be more firm with Anakin. He is far too impulsive and we need to deal with it.”
“We?” asked Ben.
His tone was mildly questioning but Qui-Gon thought a hurt expression might have crossed Ben’s face but it was too brief to be sure.
"I'm still not sure that we can justify abandoning the mission yet," said Ben quickly, not looking Qui-Gon in the eye. "Emalda is depending on our assistance."
Ben's fingers stilled and he stood up and walked across the room to drop the wrapper in a disposal unit. Qui-Gon waited for Ben to sit down again before answering.
"Emalda has her own reasons for joining this mission," Qui-Gon reminded him. "Dr Colash is her mother. We should not get too attached - to her or the mission."
“I understand that, Qui-Gon,” said Ben, looking a little defensive. “But we must also keep in mind that the Fahren belongs to Emalda. If we choose to leave the mission, we must first find alternative transport. And where would we go, if we decided to cease following the trail?"
“Why go anywhere? This planet is in a relatively calm region of space. It’s pleasant and out of the way.”
Ben turned his gaze to the wall, “How would we support ourselves?”
Qui-Gon had the distinct feeling that Ben was avoiding a discussion of Anakin’s training. Qui-Gon decided to let him do so for now.
“When researching this planet, I noticed that there is a labour shortage in many of the farming communities,” offered Qui-Gon.
Ben stroked his beard as he considered this possibility. He gazed off into the middle-distance, perhaps imagining life as a farmer. He didn’t seem happy about the prospect.
“There is a lot of seasonal work around,” said Qui-Gon. “We wouldn’t have to commit to any form of contract or long-term employment.”
Ben’s gaze flicked to Qui-Gon and then back to the wall.
“How about we give it two more days?” suggested Qui-Gon. “If we do not find another lead here within two days, we shall go into the countryside and find work."
Ben nodded, reluctantly, “Agreed. Two days.”
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
Rating: T for teen, involves canon level of violence
Spoilers: Spoilers for the movies and some minor EU references.
Summary: Stranded in the future, Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon struggle to work together to complete a mission for the New Republic.
[Included pairings]Obi-Wan/OFC, if you squint hints of Anakin/Obi-Wan pre-slash
Disclaimer: Most of the Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas, Twentieth Century Fox and Disney - I'm not quite sure but it's definitely not me. This author uses these works without permission and for non-profit purposes.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
Qui-Gon awoke and was instantly alert and ready. Something had awoken him and his hand automatically sought the lightsaber he kept by his side at all times. Laughter sounded again from the nearby cargo bay and he relaxed - nothing more disturbing than his companions had awoken him. With no reason to rise immediately, he rolled onto his back before remembering that the end of the bunk preventing him from fully straightening his legs. He only just managed to squeeze into the bunks, which were obviously designed for the shorter Ekash people. After five months of sleeping in cramped positions, even Qui-Gon’s legendary patience was starting to fray.
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the cabin. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he was able to see his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, still sleeping on his bunk in the middle column. Anakin’s bunk was empty. Qui-Gon swung his legs to the floor, the rustling of blankets noisy in the silence. His Padawan muttered in his sleep, rolling over without opening his eyes. As Qui-Gon tied his long, greying hair back from his face, he regarded his sleeping student. Obi-Wan was dead to the world. His mouth was open and the blanket was wrapped tightly around him. Qui-Gon believed in early rising but they had only recently arrived from another time zone, so he was inclined to let the young man sleep. The change in times seemed to affect Obi-Wan the most, by some unknown quirk of metabolism.
While pondering the strange habits of young padawans, Qui-Gon walked barefoot towards the door. He paused at the threshold to look back at a still-sleeping Obi-Wan. It was at that point that he realised that Anakin was asleep on the floor - strange habits of padawans, indeed. Shaking his head, Qui-Gon walked out the door into the cargo bay and was greeted by another burst of laughter. Emalda and Ben sat together in their improvised dining room, chuckling.
“Good morning,” said Qui-Gon.
Emalda froze, startled, but Ben smiled warmly in greeting. Emalda took another moment before she turned to Qui-Gon with a strained smile, her posture stiff and unwelcoming. He had seen her without her contacts in before but he had learned the hard way not to mention it aloud. It was still hard to not be offended when she was so obviously hostile. He knew she couldn’t help it and that it was a product of her previous experiences. Qui-Gon simply acknowledged his own feelings of offence and released it to the Force.
“Good evening, I believe,” said Ben, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Emalda’s response.
“Is it dark out?” asked Qui-Gon.
“If it’s not already, it will be soon,” said Ben lightly. “Juice?”
Ben held out a jug and an empty cup. Qui-Gon nodded and pulled up another crate to use as a chair. As he sat down, Emalda shot to her feet.
“I was thinking,” said Emalda quickly. “That it would be a good idea if I went and purchased more food supplies.”
“Don’t forget to take a commlink with you,” Ben reminded her. “You know where the credits are.”
Emalda smiled at him and moved to the only lockable crate they had. She rummaged through it for the sacks of New Republic credits they kept for purchases. They had an electronic account provided by the Senate for their mission but it had proved difficult to access on some of the more remote planets, such as Wefhuk. Qui-Gon took the cup of juice that Ben handed him, watching as Emalda retreated into the fresher to change. When he looked back, Ben was refilling the jug of juice with a self-satisfied smile.
“Ben,” said Qui-Gon.
There was an edge of warning in Qui-Gon’s tone that registered and Ben looked up warily.
“Is something wrong?” asked Ben.
“Not wrong exactly,” said Qui-Gon cautiously. “I just regret that Emalda and I do not get along as well as I should like.”
Ben nodded and poured a cup of juice for himself. Qui-Gon suspected it was mostly to occupy his hands.
“It is hard for her to trust people,” said Ben. “She did not trust me at first.”
“She did not get along well with Leia either,” Qui-Gon pointed out.
“Leia means well but she can be very forceful with her opinion,” said Ben.
Qui-Gon wanted to respond to that but Emalda’s re-emergence into the cargo bay effectively ended the conversation. She drew herself up to her full height when she caught Qui-Gon’s gaze and smiled when she caught Ben’s.
“If we are not here when you return,” said Ben. “We have gone to chase up more leads. We will have our commlinks with us.”
“You say that every time,” she reminded him.
“Makes it easier to remember,” said Ben.
“Have a good evening.”
“Good evening,” said Ben.
“Good evening,” echoed Qui-Gon, wondering if Emalda had even noticed him speaking.
She wrapped her green jacket around her, extended the ramp and disappeared into the darkness. Ben watched her leave before starting to clear the makeshift table.
“Would you like some soup?” he asked Qui-Gon as he stood.
Qui-Gon nodded and took a sip of his juice. Ben placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him. The soup was a little creamier than he preferred but it was warm. Qui-Gon ate in silence while Ben retrieved a ration bar for himself.
“These bars are about to expire,” explained Ben, in response to Qui-Gon’s questioning look. “We have to eat them soon and Emalda will replace them with fresh ones from the markets.”
They ate in silence for a while. Qui-Gon had much he wanted to say but there seemed no need to rush. There was little urgency in their lives these days.
“We need to discuss the progress of our mission,” said Qui-Gon finally.
Ben swallowed his mouthful, looking unsurprised.
“Has the New Republic Senate contacted us?” asked Ben.
“Not since the last time,” said Qui-Gon. “But our funding will not last us forever.”
“And by the time all the Senate’s sub-committees and sub-sub-committees decide to approve continuing our mission,” said Ben. “We’d all have starved to death anyway.”
“The price we pay for democracy,” agreed Qui-Gon.
Ben was silent, crumbling the end of his ration bar. He tilted his head to the side in a gesture so typical of the young, eager boy he'd trained that it made Qui-Gon’s stomach lurch. It was sometimes hard to remember that this reserved Jedi with the same blue eyes had served for a decade as a Jedi Knight in his own right.
“Do you have a suggestion?” asked Ben finally.
“After five months of investigation, we have not yet located the scientist Rivea Colash,” said Qui-Gon. “We have simply followed one vague lead after another - and while our mission is important, I am worried that we are losing our focus. We are forgetting what it means to be Jedi."
"My first impulse is to suggest that we find a place to be alone for a few months to reconnect," admitted Ben, fiddling with the wrapping from his ration bar. "The apprentices would certainly benefit from it.”
"Obi-Wan seems tired more than anything, possibly also homesick for a Jedi Temple that no longer exists," said Qui-Gon. "We also need to be more firm with Anakin. He is far too impulsive and we need to deal with it.”
“We?” asked Ben.
His tone was mildly questioning but Qui-Gon thought a hurt expression might have crossed Ben’s face but it was too brief to be sure.
"I'm still not sure that we can justify abandoning the mission yet," said Ben quickly, not looking Qui-Gon in the eye. "Emalda is depending on our assistance."
Ben's fingers stilled and he stood up and walked across the room to drop the wrapper in a disposal unit. Qui-Gon waited for Ben to sit down again before answering.
"Emalda has her own reasons for joining this mission," Qui-Gon reminded him. "Dr Colash is her mother. We should not get too attached - to her or the mission."
“I understand that, Qui-Gon,” said Ben, looking a little defensive. “But we must also keep in mind that the Fahren belongs to Emalda. If we choose to leave the mission, we must first find alternative transport. And where would we go, if we decided to cease following the trail?"
“Why go anywhere? This planet is in a relatively calm region of space. It’s pleasant and out of the way.”
Ben turned his gaze to the wall, “How would we support ourselves?”
Qui-Gon had the distinct feeling that Ben was avoiding a discussion of Anakin’s training. Qui-Gon decided to let him do so for now.
“When researching this planet, I noticed that there is a labour shortage in many of the farming communities,” offered Qui-Gon.
Ben stroked his beard as he considered this possibility. He gazed off into the middle-distance, perhaps imagining life as a farmer. He didn’t seem happy about the prospect.
“There is a lot of seasonal work around,” said Qui-Gon. “We wouldn’t have to commit to any form of contract or long-term employment.”
Ben’s gaze flicked to Qui-Gon and then back to the wall.
“How about we give it two more days?” suggested Qui-Gon. “If we do not find another lead here within two days, we shall go into the countryside and find work."
Ben nodded, reluctantly, “Agreed. Two days.”
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |