Reading Time: 94 Minutes

Title: Cub
Series: OB-1
Series Order: 2
Author: Sunryder
Fandom: Star Wars
Genre: Crime Drama, Kid!fic, Science Fiction
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Violence-Graphic, Violence-Against Children/Child Abuse. Discussion-War, Melida/Daan
Author Note: The Clone Wars moral of the story: It is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
Word Count: 65,090
Summary: Temple under attack! Artifacts vanished, lightsabers stolen, and a virus turning their technology on the Jedi inside these hallowed walls. But the Council has no idea how, or who might be responsible. Meanwhile, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi has been busy helping his Master resolve the Grand Council to secure the future of his fellow Initiates. But now they have a new problem, and Obi-Wan wonders if he’ll ever get to be a proper Padawan and not just his Master’s aide…
Artist: Spennig
Artist Appreciation: It’s a joy to work with an artist for the second time. Spennig, you’re the best! I love every single piece.

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Chapter One

“I believe that’s everything for today?” Young Mace said more like a plea than a statement. The poor man had been on the High Council for a handful of months before the Grand Council was called, and out of the Temple on a mission for a month of that. Tyvokka was struggling to juggle the workload and he’d been on the Council for over fifty years. He couldn’t imagine the weight on T’ra’s padawan.

The councilors rumbled their agreement and began gathering up padds and comms, ready to disperse. By the time Yoda said, “Ah, one update have I,” several were halfway out the door.

“Oh, the new hydroponics system?” Oppo Rancisis asked.

“No, ready that is not for installation. Missed three check-ins has Master Tahl. Sent Qui-Gon, I have, to retrieve her.”

Shuffling fabric and chattering voices all thunked to a stop. Tyvokka turned to Yaddle across the room, half-convinced his ears had betrayed him. But no, her forehead was a mess of wrinkles where her eyebrows had climbed.

Blessed Adi Gallia stepped up. “I’m sorry, Master Yoda. Could… could you repeat that?”

In his own winding, yet devoid of details way, Yoda reminded then that Tahl had been dispatched to Melida/Daan for peace talks. Tyvokka brought up the mission synopsis, which said the Melida and Daan shared a planet and had been at war for at least two centuries, but no one knew the official start date, or the inciting event. According to the last Jedi who’d gone to try and broker peace twenty-three years ago, they just hated one another and didn’t care about why.

“Sent Tahl, we did, because peace, we believed, could not be achieved without understanding. As a Lore Keeper, believed, we did, that perhaps Tahl could determine what caused their war to, in the first place, begin.”

“How long has she been out of contact?” Mace asked.

“Three check-ins.”

“Yes, but how often were the—”

“Three days.” Tyvokka said, face buried in his paw. “Three days, alone on a war-torn planet, amongst humanoids, as a humanoid female.”

“Tahl has a history of missing check-ins.” Yaddle said. As Head of the Librarian’s Assembly, Yaddle was probably the one who put that note in Tahl’s file.

“Three days.” Adi repeated. “In a warzone.” It meant something different from the room’s only humanoid female.

Yaddle raised a hand. “Agree with you, I do.”

“Which is why, sent, I did, help, as soon as I heard.”

“Master Yoda,” Tyvokka could hear the strain in Adi’s voice not to talk to the Grandmaster like he was an addled old man. “Qui-Gon hasn’t been approved for missions outside of the Temple. He’s still on psych leave.”

“It’s not about the psych leave.” Even Piell snapped. “He and Tahl have been darting around one another since they were Initiates.” Yoda scoffed.

“It is about the psych leave, but not just the psych leave.” Eeth Koth argued. “Qui-Gon is on leave for mental health reasons. Those reasons will be amplified by the emotional attachment to Tahl that he has not processed. If Qui-Gon was going to be sent on a practice mission, it shouldn’t have been alone, and it shouldn’t have been something so emotionally fraught.”

“An emergency, it was.”

“And you’ve sent a negotiator!” Even shouted. “Qui-Gon is alone on a war-torn planet that, to the best of our knowledge, has already take one Jedi Master hostage and we have no idea what kind of condition she’s in.”

“Further, we don’t know about the status of her mission.” Eeth was trying to hard to keep them calm. “Qui-Gon can’t help her and handle the mission at the same time. By sending him alone on a rescue mission outside of his skill set, you’ve set him up for a failure he is not mentally, emotionally, or practically prepared for.”

“This is why we have assignment protocols: to give our people the tools they need to accomplish their missions, not just send them off half-cocked with fears for their lover.”

“Lovers, they are not, Even. Betray the Code, Qui-Gon never would.”

Eeth waved Even off before they can have another argument about Yoda’s strict constructionist views on relationships. “Master Yoda. You understand that the problem is that Qui-Gon is alone. He doesn’t have a healer, or a slicer, or even another saber as backup. The procedure would’ve give him a team to handle this high-risk situation.”

“And if you’re going to send someone in alone, you send in someone who knows how to fucking sneak.” Even snarled.

“Or who’s cleared to leave the Temple.” Adi added.

Yoda stamped his gimmer stick. “Know, I do, that overreached I did with young Kenobi. A good padawan he will be, and believe I still do that brilliant together he and Qui-Gon would have been. But happy he is now, and still brilliant he will be.” Yoda gave a nod to Tyvokka, but there was no point the that since Tyvokka still had his face in his paw. “Recognize, I do, that protect Qui-Gon I did not by letting him avoid the mind healers. Old, I am. But a fool, I am not.

“An emergency assignment this was. Tense Qui-Gon has been, not because respond Tahl did not, but because feel though their bond he could, that something was wrong. Sent him, I did, because go anyway he would have. And track her, he will be able to, due to their bond.

“Also, peace Tahl was trying to bring to the planet. Hesitant the Senate was to send one Jedi to Melida/Daan. An entire team they would not approve, protocol or not. A Shadow, protocol might require, but better equipped to find Master Tahl, no one is than Qui-Gon. And better equipped to determine if negotiation is lost, no one is than Qui-Gon. Grandmaster I am. Within my purview this was.”

Eeth released a long, slow breath, but Adi did the talking. “This is within your authority, Grandmaster. We understand that. But you understand why we are worried that you sent Qui-Gon off alone, without seeking the advice of your fellow Councilors, or the advice of Qui-Gon’s mind healer. Protocol can be sacrificed when there is an emergency, but given Tahl’s track record of not checking in, we cannot say for certain that this was a life and death emergency. We only have Qui-Gon’s worries to go on, and that is not enough reason to not take the extra hour or two to respect protocol. Especially when we’re in the middle of a Grand Council.”

“A Grand Council triggered by you going off and doing whatever the hell you feel like.”

Adi might kill Even before Yoda at this point. But Yoda’s ears went down, not in penitence, but irritation. “Even is being rude, but you can see the correlation that concerns us?”

Damnit. She’d used her ‘stubborn child in the Creche’ voice.

“Time we did not have for a mental health review.” Yoda gnashed his little fangs a way Tyvokka hadn’t seen in the last 200 years. Probably the last time someone recommended he visit a mind healer instead of relying on the Force as a cure all. “A bond they have. In peril, Qui-Gon said she was. Find her, no can as quickly.”

“Faster doesn’t mean better.” Eeth tried to soothe.

“Faster, or better, or whatever the Force else: this is not something Yoda or the Council would do for anyone else. You have bent the rules for your Grandpadawan once again and it’s going to get him and Tahl killed.”

And now Even had overreached, which led to Yarael Poof soothing that they could know the future, and Saesee Tiin snapping that even impaired, Qui-Gon was a brilliant Jedi who would bring Tahl home, and Ki-Adi saying this was why they should require people to check in on time and get grounded if they couldn’t. Tyvokka dragged his face up his paw, taking in the predictable chaos of the room.

He should strum the Force to feel the peril of the path Qui-Gon was walking down. Or check if sending along another ship might lead to a brighter place.

But Tyvokka couldn’t ask.

He was… furious.

What a strange sensation.

He felt apart from it. From the roiling in his chest that compelled him to…

He doesn’t quite know.

Tyvokka didn’t think he’d been this angry in a decade.

It wasn’t the anger of his youth, where the rage bubbled in him like a cauldron and he all he wanted was to roar until the building shook – and sometimes it did, his fury used to fling the Force like fists.

No, it was… disappointment?

In though, Tyvokka stroked the fur bracketing his mouth, what Obi has taken to calling his moustache. No, it wasn’t disappointment. It was that flavor, but disappointment wasn’t enough.

Tyvokka didn’t want to roar. And he didn’t want to snap bones, or rip off arms, or toss the little toad in a stew until he came to his senses.

Ah.

That was it.

Yoda wouldn’t come to his senses. The rage curdled in Tyvokka’s chest as he named the strange feeling.

Tyvokka had lost faith.

For all Eeth tried to cajole Yoda like a grumpy grandfather, and Even scolded like an affronted colleague, Tyvokka wanted to say, ‘Have you learned nothing from the last three months? Nothing from your sincere apologies to numerous children for doing the same thing you are doing right now? The same thing to the peril of two lives? Once of which you love more than any other in the worlds?’ But Tyvokka did not believe Yoda would hear.

“Enough!” Yoda stamped his gimmer stick and the Force sang with his power. This morning, even after everything, Tyvokka would have called Yoda the wisest and best of them. But now…

“Trust in the Force I do. Trust in me, you do. Felt right the decision did, and within my authority it was to send Qui-Gon. Grandmaster, I still am—”

“Perhaps it’s time for you to step down.” Tyvokka’s snapped words slammed into Yoda’s surety and echoed to a ringing, cataclysmic silence.

Tyvokka was not one for doubt, but he did feel small and uncertain as he watched a dozen pairs of eyes widen like he was a Crecheling who’d just cursed like a sailor in front of his teacher for the first time. Even Even looked at him with disbelief.

But Tyvokka was not a Crecheling. Nor did he want to be the sort of person who spoke out of rage. (As he’d said to every Padawan and over a hundred Shadows: he couldn’t control the feeling, but he could control the action.)

“I apologize, Grandmaster. I spoke in anger and haste.” Tyvokka drew a deep breath. “But, I didn’t speak falsely.”

Mace puffed out a pinch-lipped breath beside him, and that summed up the tension in the room. Tyvokka clocked the different expressions and reactions of his fellow Council members, logging them all away for study later like he would trace at a crime scene.

Some were hesitant, too thrown by Tyvokka’s words to have an opinion at all. Others uncomfortable at the thought of change, others with a different discomfort at calling Yoda out. One or two angry were on Yoda’s behalf at the disrespect. Even was on tenterhooks, watching the other reactions the way he’d watch a sparring partner to see if he needed to step in a save Tyvokka from a beating.

But most were receptive. Like Tyvokka had presented them with a new path through the forest they had never seen before and were curious about where it might lead.

But before the seed of curiosity could take root and lead to discussion: “Perhaps this is a matter for the future.”

Good old Poli Dapatian. He could always be relied upon to take the safest path through the wood. “As has already been mentioned,” he gave a polite nod to Eeth, “we are in the middle of a Grand Council. To me, this does not feel like the right time for this discussion. We are experiencing so much upheaval that inviting invite more over something so small seems extreme.”

Tyvokka wanted to snarl that it wasn’t small. It was a pattern of behavior that no amount of apologies and lectures had retrained. At this point, Yoda was making a choice.

But Poli sat on the High Council for a reason. “Not small. I apologize; I spoke in haste.” Tyvokka clenched his jaw to keep from flashing fang. Did Poli think Tyvokka didn’t recognize his own words being parroted back to him? “But as Yaddle said, we don’t know what this is. Master Tahl has a history of missing check ins. Master Jinn has a history of worrying over her when he doesn’t need to.” Poli said it with that charming half smile, like this wasn’t a breach of protocol, it was Yoda letting his Grandpadawan take a few days off to fuss. “Perhaps we can send word to Qui-Gon that he should operate as an advance scout. If he gets to Melida/Daan and there is a real problem, he can send word and we’ll scramble a team to our fastest ship. In the meantime, while we navigate the Grand Council, every master here can agree to get a second opinion before they send someone on assignment.”

The Council nodded along before Poli even finished his speech. What a lovely compromise: pretend they solved it all with one conversation and the barest bit of action. Action so sparse it would be easy to put it off when Qui-Gon didn’t call in, or when Yoda sent someone else on a mission without checking because it was the middle of the night and he didn’t think it was worth waking someone. In another six months, they’d all have forgotten they ever had this argument. Lulled back to complacency.

Tyvokka might have been too. Force knew that he’d done it a hundred times before. But he knew what Obi-Wan looked like when he cried about being sent away. He knew the nightmares his Padawan still had, not-quite visions of a collar rubbing sores on his throat, trapped in a mine where the air tasted like fireworks and ocean.

No, Tyvokka’s easy, complacent trust in Yoda had been broken for months. And today, he knew it would never be repaired. Forgiveness required change.

The curdled rage of permanent disappointment pulled Tyvokka to his feet. He didn’t storm out of the room, but he was a Wookie, and they never went subtle.

Somewhere beyond the beat of his own heartbeat, Tyvokka could hear his name called from half a dozen different voices. Somewhere beyond the gnashing of his own fangs he could hear a dozen different futures calling for him to taste their song. But Tyvokka didn’t have the space to hear either.

Chapter Two

Obi-Wan Kenobi knew three things:

1) His master was furious.

2) He didn’t know why.

3) He hadn’t caught a single word on his padd in the last twenty minutes, but he knew about how long it took him to read a page, so he’d been tapping to the ‘next’ button at regular intervals so he could pretend to be unbothered about the roiling emotion he felt leaking from behind his Master’s shields.

Based on the way the Shadow on a balcony across the way was grinning at him like he was an adorable puppy, Obi-Wan wasn’t doing great at pretend. But really, how calm did they all expect Obi-Wan to be when Shadows started hovering?

Obi-Wan had been in the middle of a homework assignment in the small lounge just off the foyer outside the High Council chamber. He was still young enough not be on what Depa Billaba called ‘Council Padawan’ rotation, which meant taking a shift monitoring the comm line that went straight to the High Councilors and sitting behind the desk outside the Council chamber because at least once a month people thought their affairs were important enough to storm in mid-meeting.

“You’ll get better at figuring out what interruptions and worth it, and who just likes to feel important, and who you need to let in anyway because they are that important.” Depa had explained when she gave Obi-Wan a lecture on the basics and a tour around the different rooms he’d be using.

Depa had been a Council padawan for two months before she was Knighted, an overlap in her education and Master Windu’s duties that he tried to avoid, but Master T’un had needed replacement. Depa said Master Windu had been planning on a vacation between Padawan and High Council, but she joked that now he probably wouldn’t get a vacation until he was Yoda’s age.

Obi-Wan had told her that Master Tyvokka said it was all a matter of scheduling. And as soon as this Grand Council business was over, he and Obi were going to Kashyyyk. Depa gave him a hug and said she hoped so, which wasn’t as comforting as he wanted it to be.

Master Tyvokka was constantly on call. Summoned into meetings, answering comm calls, and sought out for his opinion at pretty much every hour of the day. Tyvokka said that things were usually busy, but the Grand Council had made them hectic. Apparently, Councilors were usually busy enough that they didn’t take Padawans, which was why, despite being a Knight, Depa had been the most recent Council Padawan and the only one who could teach Obi the secrets of their position. (She’d had to learn from Master Drallig, who’d been Yoda’s padawan twenty-ish years before. Obi was grateful for her. Having Master Drallig tell him about how to bribe Council members with their favorite sweets seemed awkward.)

One of Depa’s favorite tips had been the little lounge behind the reception desk. It was more for hiding those treats and teas, letting whoever was on duty come back with drinks for Senators who’d dropped by or for Jedi scheduled to debrief but stuck waiting while the Council meeting ran long. The room came with snacks, which were excellent, and with a couch, which was even better. Depa said she’d done half her backlog of astronavigation homework sprawled out there while she kept an ear out for the turbolift.

Obi-Wan had been on that couch when Master Tyvokka stepped from the High Council chamber on silent paws, but his Force presence like a thundercloud. Obi-Wan froze at the feel of him, and it wasn’t until the door to the stairs slid shut that Obi realized no one had followed Tyvokka out. Obi-Wan shoved his padd into his pack and scrambled down the stairs after him. Master Tyvokka’s long legs ate up the levels, but Obi couldn’t follow him in the lift or he’d never know where his Master was going.

That was how the chase went: Obi sprinting along in Tyvokka’s wake, trying to catch up to his Master who wasn’t rushing, just striding like he had places to be. Obi-Wan caught Tyvokka in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, up the single Great Wroshyr tree that had come the Temple with the first Wookie Jedi to call Coruscant home.

Obi didn’t so much ‘catch’ Tyvokka as the Wookiee went up the tree and Obi-Wan assumed Tyvokka had climbed to his preferred thinking spot since Obi could feel his Master’s emotions settle from maelstrom to regular storm. Which was when Tyvokka shored up his shields. The storm didn’t so much go away as Obi felt the window close. (The storm had always been outside while he was inside, but now there was glass between him and it.)

Of course, despite being Tyvokka’s padawan, Obi didn’t get there first. As per usual, by the time he climbed up ladder to Wroshyr’s highest platform, there was already a Shadow typing away an update on their comm.

On day two of their apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had looked up from a joint meditation with his Master right here on this platform and found a Shadow lurking in the doorway back to the Temple proper. He’d asked Tyvokka if a Shadow was always following him around. Tyvokka laughed and said they liked to fuss.

Thus, had begun Obi’s quest to get to Tyvokka first.

He was losing.

It didn’t help Obi’s spite that this particular Shadow was Master Arkill, who managed to say Obi-Wan’s name with this sigh that sounded just like Master Yoda’s whenever he heard Tyvokka call him Padawan. (Obi-Wan couldn’t sass the Grandmaster of the Order, but he could sass Arkill.)

But still, Crechemaster Hoowrirl had raised Obi-Wan to be polite, so he greeted the Shadow by name before he settled on the platform’s only bench, placed in prime jumping position to help someone shorter than a Wookiee reach the next branch to keep climbing.

“Do you know what happened?”

The Shadows could fuss and stalk all they wanted, but Obi-Wan was the padawan. That was different.

Obi settled in cross-legged on the only place to sit and pointedly plopped his pack onto his lap.

“Cub…” Shadow Arkill sighed, like Obi-Wan was the one being difficult.

“What I do or do not know is my business.”

“The sooner we know what happened, the sooner we can take steps to handle it. Master Tyvokka—”

“Has a right to privacy. If and when he wants you to know something, he will tell you.” That had been one of their first conversations, supervised by Feemor as Obi’s mind healer: when you’re upset, would you like me to track you down or wait until you come to me?

Tyvokka had said he wanted Obi to have the space and privacy he was due. “But I never want that space to mean you doubt that I care.”

Obi needed some time to cool down before Tyvokka came to him, while Tyvokka needed space until he was ready to talk. But if he took too long, Obi was free to approach him and express his worries. Tyvokka hadn’t yet taken too long. He’d barely been up the tree five minutes. Which meant Master Arkill was prying and Obi-Wan would protect Tyvokka’s privacy like Tyvokka protected his.

Master Arkill opened his mouth – to sigh, Obi was sure – but another Shadow interrupted with a whistle from the balcony across the way. Arkill sighed, but left Obi alone on the bench. (Well, ‘alone,’ because the other Shadow stayed right where they were, feet kicked up on the balcony railing while they laughed at messages on their comm.)

Obi-Wan didn’t know what had driven Master Tyvokka out of the High Council chamber and up his favorite tree, but Obi-Wan knew he deserved the space to work it out. The storm on the other side of the glass rose and sank like the tide, calming and raging in turn as Tyvokka worked through whatever had happened.

At the rate the storm was calming, Obi expected another twenty minutes before Master Tyvokka came down the tree – with only nineteen minutes before a Shadow turned up on the platform. But he hadn’t expected to see most of the High Council trudging up the ramp that wound up and around the tree from one of the doors halfway up the Room’s wall.

Obi scrambled for his bag and grabbed – and dropped, and grabbed again – his padd and leaned back against the tree like he’d been casually reading this whole time, not staring into space and fretting. He got into position just as the Councilors came around the last bend, and pointedly tapped to another page.

Several of the Councilors paused to look around, like they’d never been up here before – Obi understood. He hadn’t until he met Tyvokka – while Master Yaddle took advantage of being the only one small enough to fit and hopped up next to him on the bench. Master Gallia touched a hand to Master Windu’s wrist to stop him from speaking and approached Obi with a soft smile. (The Shadow still on the balcony should take lessons from her. She still looked at him like a puppy, but her smile made him blush. She was, as Master Tyvokka said, the High Council’s best conciliator.)

“I’m afraid we need to speak with your Master, Padawan Kenobi.”

Master Gallia understood. She’d been a Council padawan too. (Depa said she’d snuck off to Master Gallia questions when Master Tiin was being particularly terrifying. Though, Depa spent her spare time with Master Windu, and Obi didn’t understand how anyone could be more terrifying than that.)

“Master Tyvokka is…” Obi-Wan didn’t know how to say that the storm was battering the windows again. Not that he would say something so private, but, “Busy,” didn’t really encompass it.

Obi didn’t know what the Councilors got from whatever bonds they shared with Master Tyvokka, but they were getting enough that it made Master Gallia give him a commiserating smile.

“He’ss throwing a tantrum like he did when he wass a cub, is what he’ss doing.” Master Rancisis said, the coils of his body churning over one another in with the extra snap on his S’s, almost like Z’s.

“Leave him be, Oppo. He’s young.” Only that’s not what Master Poof said. He said an allegory about different kinds of plants had different kinds of growth patterns, which Obi was pretty sure Tyvokka was still young in comparison, but so was Obi-Wan. He only understood what Master Poof meant about a third of the time, but he didn’t need a direct translation of metaphor to Basic know Master Poof wasn’t just calling Master Tyvokka young enough to throw a tantrum.

Obi-Wan would not be humored. He was the padawan. Protecting Master Tyvokka was part of his job. Obi slouched back against the tree and flicked on his padd.

“Padawan…” Master Gallia tried, and Obi gave a pointed tap to the screen to move to the next page.

“Kenobi.” Master Rancisis somehow managed to snap despite the roundness of Obi’s name.

Obi tapped again while he said, “Master Tyvokka can’t come to the comm right now but if you leave a message, he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.”

Master Piell snorted. Out of the corner of his eye Obi saw Master Piell poke his cane to the tip of Master Rancisis’ tail, almost spearing it to the platform. Obi thought that must be their version of Obi tugging on one of Quin’s locs. The snake-like lower half of Master Rancisis’ body unclenched, the knotted coils loosening as he sank from almost Master Tyvokka’s height down to meet Master Piell. The Lannik Master was even shorter than Obi, and virtually every Initiate went through a phase where they thought Master Piell was a crossbreed of Human and whatever Master Yoda’s secret species was called. (Though, the scars disfiguring the left side of his face meant no one ever asked.)

Now that Master Rancisis was done, the rest of the High Council seemed content to wait. Obi-Wan didn’t know for what, but he could guess since Master Gallia and Master Windu were having a silent conversation (him with his eyebrows, her with flicks of her speckled, white head tendrils). At least, Master Piell seemed happy to keep poking at Master Rancisis’ tail, which he kept flicking away like Master Piell was a tooka he was toying with. Master Poof settled at the far side of the platform with his eyes closed, his long neck undulating. Obi used to wonder if that was the rhythm of the Force, but now he thought might be a song stuck in his head – Obi was also beginning to think that Master Poof liked messing with people. Masters Mundi and Koth looked tense. Not like they were unhappy to be here, but like Obi’s friends did when they had a homework assignment due tomorrow.

Master Tiin was—lurking outside of Obi’s easy line of sight where he could spy on everyone over his padd. The Iktotchi Master looked like he was mapping a route up the tree without the springboard of the bench Obi-Wan was defending.

“I wouldn’t do that Master Tiin.”

The master didn’t bother looking caught at his sneaking. “We are on a bit of a time crunch, padawan. I trust Tyvokka will forgive the interruption.”

Master Tiin was a grownup and a High Councilor, so Obi-Wan didn’t say anything else as he took a Force-assisted leap to the branch above Obi’s head and bounded like a rabbit to the next. Soon he was swallowed up in the dense leaves and Obi-Wan mentally counted down from ten.

He only made it to four when Master Tiin came back down in a straight line, at a higher velocity than he’d gone up. Use of the Force and the tree not actually being mean kept him from smacking into the platform like a gravball to the mat.

“It’s a Force sensitive tree, Master Tiin,” Obi said, eyes on his padd rather than the pancaked Jedi Master. “And Master Tyvokka is its favorite person in all the worlds. It’s not going to let anyone go up without his permission right now.”

Master Koth came over to haul Master Tiin to his feet, who looked like he was taking the Wroshyr’s rejection as a challenge.

That was the moment Master Yaddle leaned over and propped her chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

… he’d forgotten she was there.

He tapped on the screen, but there was no point in pretending to read when she’d been right next to him, watching him not turn the pages.

“We do need to talk to him, Cub.”

“He’s busy.” Obi-Wan choked on the words.

“Is he?”

Obi-Wan nodded rather than telling another half truth. Master Yaddle would understand. Master Yaddle would respect Tyvokka’s privacy. But they weren’t alone.

“Well, if he’s busy, then he’s busy.” Obi-Wan nodded. “But tell me true, Cub. How is he?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say ‘fine,’ but Master Yaddle knew better.

“I’m not asking you to betray his confidence. But Tyvokka is my friend, and when last I saw him, he was upset. I want to know that he’s not up there alone and hurting when I can make it better.”

“Can’t you tell?”

“I have a general sense of him through our bond, but that’s nothing compared to his Padawan.”

Master Yaddle always understood. With a deep breath, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pressed his hand against the window. The storm on the other side had cleared to nothing but cloudy sky, but with his hand against the glass he could feel the vibrations of it, something like the rhythm of the storm, the song of the Force playing in Tyvokka.

Obi-Wan yanked his hand away from the window like he’d been burned. “Obi?” Master Yaddle asked, but the aching pain of it was too much. It settled in Obi-Wan’s heart and he gripped at the fabric of his tunic, twisting it between his fingers like he could pluck out the pain he didn’t have the right words to express. Yaddle put her small, clawed hand on his and breathed with him, in and out. Obi let the feeling slip from his fingers, to her, so Master Yaddle could feel the echo of what Obi-Wan caught from the far side of the window.

“It’s grief, Cub.”

“I know grief.” Obi-Wan choked out. “This is different.”

“This is grief when you’re 400 years old and don’t think you can save something in your care.”

“Healing is a matter association, not isolation.” Obi-Wan was pretty sure Master Poof meant they could make Tyvokka feel better, but they had to talk to him to do that. Master Poof’s words echoed across the platform, through the awkward silence that Obi-Wan wanted to pretend wasn’t the High Council watching him try not to cry.

Mortified, Obi kept his head down, but glanced at Master Yaddle out of the corner of his eye. She nodded, and Obi-Wan riffled through his pack for his climbing belt. Most of the masters at least had the grace not to watch Obi buckle it on, but with that same smile, Master Gallia asked what it was for.

“Master Tyvokka says I’m not big enough to climb the tree on my own. I use the Force to help my jumps,” he clarified, not wanting her to think he couldn’t, “but Master Tyvokka likes me to have backup.” Obi-Wan explained the safety harness, and how when he built up his strength he could have a grapple that attached to his utility belt, and in the future, something attached to his wrist, but right now the tugging might hurt his tendons. “But this is a special kind of grapple.” Obi-Wan held it up and showed Masters Gallia and Yaddle the lack of hook. It was magnetized in a way that it would stick to regular metal, or when climbing trees, it would wrap around the branch and cling to the metal filaments in the wire. “You don’t want a regular grapple because it will dig in and hurt the tree.”

Both women just hummed with the right level of interest, but they weren’t going to ask any questions. Obi-Wan let his shoulders drop. Right. They weren’t going to help him delay going up any longer.

But still, he and Master Tyvokka had talked about this. They’d talked about it with a mind healer. Master Tyvokka had asked Obi to give him time to process unless Obi was hurting, and he didn’t think this would count!

“Maybe we can give him another minute.”

“Mace.” Master Piell interrupted. “Track down Jinn and see if he’s left already or if he’s still on planet.” Obi-Wan froze at the mention of Master Jinn. People didn’t—he and Master Jinn were fine, and Obi-Wan didn’t care that the man hadn’t wanted him because he didn’t want Master Jinn either – he’d asked the Force if they’d be happy together and the Force said yes, but the happy would hurt. And even if the Force hadn’t said all that, Obi-Wan was with Master Tyvokka now and there was no one better in the worlds.

“If Jinn is still on planet, sit on him and keep him here. If he’s left, find out what kind of ship he took and get one that’s faster. Eeth, go through the roster and get a team together that can get off planet as soon as possible. Make sure to take a medic.”

“We’ll need to be sure to take someone Jinn will listen to.” Master Koth pointed out.

“Mace?” Master Piell asked.

Master Windu shrugged. “Qui-Gon will listen to me as much as he listens to anyone.”

“You must also be sure to pack the Force with you.” Master Poof said, in maybe the clearest statement Obi-Wan had ever heard. And if he understood it, the grownups certainly would too. But Obi-Wan had no idea what could be going on to make Master Piell close his eye and let out a slow breath like he needed a break. “Consult with the Force about who and what to bring. Tahl might need a spy or she might need a healer.”

Master Tahl? What was she—a healer? What was going on?

“Tahl isn’t the only child of the Force on that planet. She went there with a mission that might need completing.” Master Yaddle pointed out.

Master Koth argued that any negotiations might be done by Master Jinn, who was absolutely going along no matter who sat on him. Master Piell turned his gaze to Obi-Wan and raised the tips of his long, pointed ears the way a baseline human might raise their eyebrows.

Oh. That was… right.

Master Tahl might need a healer, Master Jinn was trying to escape the Temple to help her, and they needed to send a whole team after them, and the Master of Shadows would probably be able to help with that. If someone had just said that at the beginning. Honestly. Grownups. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at all of them – which Master Piell smirked at, thank the Force – and bounded off the bench and up to the first branch.

His next leap was shorter and across, then up three like climbing stairs. Obi-Wan caught Master Yaddle telling someone to spread the word to the Grand Council to prepare for a meeting at short notice as he took another jump, then midair, the world went quiet behind him. He’d never had someone to listen to as he climbed before. It felt like the volume had been turned down from one branch to the next, or that he’d passed through a barrier he could neither see nor feel. Obi-Wan gave the great Wroshyr tree a pat in thanks, and made a mental note to run an experiment later to see if that’s where the silence always came.

But for now, safely out of the Council’s sightline, Obi flipped up to another branch, backtracked to a little limb that hadn’t been there the first time he climbed the tree with his master, and unfurled his grappler. He could keep going: jumping from branch to branch, or climbing up the knotty handholds the tree sprouted long ago. But the shortest route from A to B was to stand on this nubby little branch and shoot his grapple straight up.

The first time Tyvokka had been scheduled for a long Council meeting after gifting Obi his grapple, Obi had come out to practice. He must’ve spent enough time looking for shortcuts that the next time they came, the tree had started on the perfectly placed nub that now functioned as Obi-Wan’s starting point. It had grown from foothold, to branch, to limb, and now was widening. Obi-Wan suspected that it would be a little platform before long.

Someday, Obi-Wan would leap just as fast as a Wookiee. But right now, he was content to sit in his harness and let the grapple slowly rewind, pulling him to the top of the tree. Cranking the grapple up to high speed resulted in filament burns. But even if it didn’t, Obi-Wan rather enjoyed the quiet stretch of time where he couldn’t do anything but watch the trees go by. (He’d tried messaging someone once while he was going up. A branch had come of out nowhere and only a Force catch had kept the comm from dropping.)

This was a dwarf Wroshyr – yes, dwarf. Obi-Wan thought that meant the tiny trees in the Coruscant’s squares, but apparently ‘dwarf’ was applied relative to the original tree’s height. That kept this tree small enough to fit in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but still… not small. The branches were densely-packed, but there were always places to see through the foliage at the room spread out below them. The higher he got, the strangely less natural it felt. Oh, not the tree itself. (Obi had gotten smacked with a dropped seed cone the last time he tried to explain the feeling to Tyvokka.) But the view.

Between the branches, Obi-Wan could see the curve of the dome over the Room, opening it up to sunlight. Down below it was easy to believe you were open to the blue sky, but not when you were high enough to see the city out there in the distance.

Master Tyokkva said there were a thousand different varieties of Wroshyr on Kashyyyk. This one wasn’t just small, it had branches that grew close to the tree’s body to conserve space, which made them both more and less densely packed. Tyvokka said his parent’s tree had been near one of the planet’s massive oceans on his home world. Those trees were wider than this one, but only a little taller – the sandy soil wasn’t able to hold them when they got top heavy. He said they almost looked upside down compared to the pretty, flowering trees of more domesticated planets. Just a few massive branches that almost stretched out like bushy roots. But the soil quickly changed as you got away from the water, and within a few short klicks everything got bigger.

As soon as the Grand Council was settled, they were going to Kashyyyk to meet Tyvokka’s clan. (His brother had already sent Obi a comm thrilled that Tyvokka had taken on another cub. He’d won twenty credits in a bet about it.) Tvyokka would show him how to swim in the safety of the bay where he’d been born, then they’d take an air catamaran out to the islands and look for whales – and maybe Obi would learn to fly one. Then they’d head inland, to Great Worshyr trees, where the canopies were so thick there were whole Wookiee colonies who couldn’t see the sun.

And maybe, just maybe Obi would have a Wookiee coming of age ceremony. Tyvokka couldn’t promise that. It had to be offered by the Chieftain and the Matriarch, but Obi would study, just in case.

But when he would study was up in the air. He’d put together list of things to research the night after Tyvokka told him, but ‘as soon as the Grand Council was finished,’ was a deadline that looked further and further away.

Obi-Wan had been present for the first Grand Council meeting, and though Master Saa said it would take months and months before they could make a plan, that first meeting had gone so smoothly that Obi-Wan got his hopes up that everything would be smooth. While the grownups were researching, Obi had started grilling Quin on what to pack for assignments, and what classes he should prioritize for field work. (He asked Depa what he should take advantage of the long stretch at the Temple to get done now.)

But as the months went on and Grand Council meetings became briefings on what they’d learned, and a new, longer list of questions for what else they needed to know. Research for Kashyyyk, and field assignments, and taking advantage of rare time in the Temple became less important.

The block Obi had placed on the filament thunked against the grapple and Obi tapped to a stop, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Right.

Master Tahl may or may not need a healer. Master Windu was trying to sit on Master Jinn. A team needed be put together. And apparently the Grand Council needed to be called. Obi-Wan shook off the ennui. They had work to do, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to do it.

With a few practiced moves, Obi swung himself over to the nearest branch and got the grapple tucked away. The empty space between Obi’s grapple point and Master Tyvokka’s nest was taller than the Wookiee, and too large for Obi to jump right now. (They were working on it, but jumping that distance from the ground to a ledge was different than jumping from one branch to another a few hundred meters in the sky.) Tyvokka said the tree had grown more handholds since Obi had joined them – he was shorter than any of Tyvokka’s padawans before – and shrunk them all to fit Obi-Wan’s hands to keep him from falling. (There was also a nub growing right beneath the route, like the tree was thinking about giving Obi a platform to land on if he fell. Obi tried to be insulted, but he couldn’t when he got dizzy looking down, down, down to the smear of grass ages below.)

The climbing route was two Tyvokka’s tall, and ended in the joint between two massive branches. They came together in a V that would have been big enough to sit on anyway, but the branch roots had grown together and spread out, making a not-quite platform big enough for one large Tyvokka and two full-sized padawans to meditate. (Obi suspected the space would get bigger only after he and Master Tyvokka’s other living padawans came up here together.)

It wasn’t the same flat as the platform below where everyone was waiting. The platforms that sprouted out from the Wroshyr looked almost like wide, flat mushrooms. While this was the tree cupping a hollow for its most-beloved Wookiee to have a place where he could hide. (Obi had come up once and sprawled out in the massive space and told the Wroshyr all about his little cave between the scraggly trees near the top of the waterfalls. He didn’t know how, but a Wroshyr seed cone had been waiting for him there the next time he visited.)

The storm on the other side of the glass had given way to sunshine, but Obi-Wan still settled into his own sieza so he didn’t interrupt. Tyvokka would be done soon, and a few extra minutes of waiting wouldn’t hurt. Master Tyvokka knew he was there. Obi-Wan took advantage of probably today’s last moment of quiet and closed his eyes.

Meditation wasn’t going to come, not with the dozen questions about what was going on with Master Jinn, or what about all this had made Master Tyvokka into a storm. (And maybe now that he was sitting still. Obi-Wan could feel the worry that came up whenever Master Jinn got mentioned. The first reason that popped into Obi’s mind for why Master Tyvokka might be angry about Master Jinn was Obi-Wan. And if Tyvokka was angry about something, that meant Obi-Wan should be terrified, because if Tyvokka couldn’t think his way out of something, then Obi-Wan definitely couldn’t, and maybe there was a loophole? Maybe the High Council had figured something out and they were sending Obi off with Master Jinn? Maybe that’s why he was trying to run away? And maybe—

A Wroshyr cone dropped onto his head with a sharp jab. “Ow!” Obi rubbed the stinging spot and glared up at the tree. “You know, for a tree that’s only supposed to seed every hundred years, you’re pretty free with those cones.” But the tree had accomplished its plan.

Master Feemor wasn’t a big fan of using pain to interrupt a panic spiral, but needs must. He said Obi was young enough and the habit not entrenched enough that he could learn to catch the thoughts and pull himself out without shocks or stubbed toes or ice cubes (two of those three had been directed at MO, who’d rolled along and pretended like he couldn’t understand Basic.) But a tree was a tree, and it used what it could to jolt Obi from listing off a hundred different ways everything could go wrong.

Instead, like Master Feemor taught him, Obi-Wan stretched. He’d just ridden his harness up a tree, so he laid flat on the nook, left leg straight, right thigh straight, and the right ankle tucked up against his heel, stretching the front of his thigh. He did the other side, then back to the right, bending his left knee up, crossing the right ankle over the knee and tucking up to stretch his bum, and repeat.

The whole time he breathed, and when the worries about Master Tahl, and healers, and Master Jinn came up, he told his brain thank you for worries, but we’re stretching right now. Obi could hear Master Feemor’s voice just like it was the first time he told Obi, “You and your thoughts aren’t the same thing.” Obi had been baffled. He’d spent the whole rest of the day experimenting, just to understand. And then Master Feemor had Trion send Obi random reminders for a whole week until he got comfortable acknowledging the thoughts, then stretching to remember he didn’t have to listen, and sending them on their way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was in charge of himself. Not his thoughts, and not his feelings. The bit of him that was separate from both: the luminous being at the heart of him.

Here and now, sprawled out on the Wroshyr and looking up through the painted green leaves, it was easy to slip into meditation. Just a shallow one. For all Master Tyvokka said it was okay to meditate in ways that weren’t sitting upright on a mat, it still made Obi feel like he wasn’t meditating seriously enough.

But, on his back made it a little easier to visualize himself floating in one of the Room’s lakes. Looking up at the same dappled blue sky on the other side of his eyelids. When thoughts popped up, he imaged them lapping away with the little waves that rolled against his skin. The water would take them away, almost scrubbing as with every ripple it cleaned away a little more of the thoughts, until they were washed away in the water, dissipated into a thousand, million particles until even a test couldn’t tell they were there.

Tyvokka was covered in fur. To him, it was a strange, almost overwhelming sensation to feel the water tracing over exposed skin, rising high then sinking low, leaving goose-bumps behind. To dip your head beneath the water and not be able to hear the strange echoes of pipes and purification running beneath the artificial lake. Not to know, on a bone deep, every sense level, this was not nature: it was a facsimile.

For him, it was better out of the water. To sit on one of the little islands and hear the lake lapping on the rocks, to feel the green and growing things, even if their roots could only reach so deep. The breeze brushing over the thousand hairs felt nearly the same as water lapping on Obi’s skin.

Obi could feel both the chill of the breeze and the shudder of water-chilled skin, not quite floating in the water by himself, but not quite sitting on a rock. He slouched back against Tyvokka and the ever-present heat that seeped through his tunics. Obi-Wan was thirteen, practically an adult, so he wasn’t going to curl up and fall asleep in the snuggly warmth of his Master, but his head did bob a little.

Obi felt the rumble of his master’s laugh behind him as Tyvokka propped his chin on Obi’s head, curving around him like the Wroshyr curved around them both.

Oh! The tree!

Obi jolted out of the meditation. He had to blink hard to put his mind back in his body, up a tree and sitting by himself instead of in the water and on the island, sharing space with his master.

“The High Council asked me to come up and tell you they need to talk to you. They’re downstairs. … Down tree? On the platform.” Obi-Wan scrambled out, still not quite awake.

“Yes, cub. I heard them.”

Wait, “How?”

“One part Wookiee, two parts bonds.”

“So ‘heard.’”

Tyvokka rumbled a laugh, but agreed.

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, expecting… something. But after a long moment of his master just smiling at him, Obi rocked forward like he meant to get up and asked, “Are… we going?”

“You were having a moment in the Force, Cub. I was appreciating it before we went.”

“But they’ve got something important to tell you.”

“You’re more important.” Obi-Wan’s face heated, as per usual when Tyvokka said things like that. Master Feemor would be proud that Obi-Wan just blushed and didn’t say anything when Master Tyvokka chuffed in pleasure and cradled Obi-Wan’s flushed face in one paw. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do with the feeling. It was wonderful, but overwhelming, and a little uncomfortable to have someone tell him he was important, let alone more important than the High Council who were downstairs waiting.

Obi-Wan held out as long as he could, certain that Master Tyvokka would’ve sat there saying nice things about Obi all day, if he could stand it. But he couldn’t, so Obi didn’t so much shrug the hand away as he started talking and let the moment pass. “They don’t seem upset.”

Obi-Wan didn’t ask why that would be when Tyvokka had come up here so upset.

“No, they’re not.”

“Were they before?”

“Not as much as I would’ve liked them to be.”

“And they’re not upset now, but you don’t seem disappointed.”

Tyvokka scrubbed his paw through Obi’s hair. “Because they skipped over anger and went to what comes after.”

“What’s that?”

“Resolution.”

Obi-Wan didn’t want to ask if he should be worried, but now that he was back from his mental lake, the voices had started up again. Tyvokka leaned in and bumped his cheek against Obi’s – as close as he could get to the Wookie version of a kiss with someone who didn’t have whiskers.

“The Grand Council just got exponentially longer.”

Oh. Obi-Wan swallowed down the surge of disappointment before he could even feel it properly. “You know what they’re here for.”

“I will not know until they say it, but yes.”

“What happened upstairs?” Somehow, it didn’t take any courage to ask.

“Yoda and I had an argument.” Despite everything he’d been through in the last few months, Obi-Wan still found the thought of arguing with Grandmaster Yoda uncomfortable. Which must’ve been all over Obi’s face and his Force presence. “The other Council members felt like you.”

Obi waited a moment, and Tyvokka left it at that. They’d had a long conversation explaining that there were some things Master Tyvokka couldn’t tell Obi because he was too inexperienced, some things weren’t appropriate, some things weren’t his secrets to tell, and some things he wanted Obi to figure out for himself. If Tyvokka wasn’t Obi to know the details of the fight, he would’ve told him. And if Obi asked, Tyvokka would say why he couldn’t say. But it didn’t feel like the why mattered much right now. “So, the other Council members didn’t get mad with you. They agreed with Yoda’s side of the argument.”

“They did.”

“But not anymore, because they’re here and Master Yoda isn’t. What happened?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to go ask them.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but Tyvokka probably didn’t catch it because he had Obi scooped up and on his back before Obi finished. Obi grabbed on tight and whooped with joy as Tyvokka jumped from the nook and caught one of the branches below, swinging to another, and bouncing off like gravity didn’t matter. They plummeted and swung and bounded. It was more like falling than anything Obi had learned in class, but he felt like the safest being in the whole galaxy because he was with Tyvokka in their tree.

Coming down was always faster than going up.

They landed lightly on the platform. Obi gave Tyvokka squeeze in thanks before he slipped from his back, fighting the urge to ask him to do it again. Obi wasn’t a little kid. But he certainly felt like one when he realized they’d landed right in the empty spot in the circle made by Masters Yaddle, Rancisis, Poof, and Piell. Minus Master Yoda, the group of them made the senior members of the High Council.

The Force felt… heavy. Not heavy with disappointment, or displeasure. Just… heavy. Obi-Wan didn’t like it. He didn’t like that they’d sent him up the tree only to bring his master down to this.

“Padawan Kenobi, may we speak with your master in private?” Master Yaddle asked.

Obi-Wan glanced to Master Tyvokka to be sure, only to be interrupted by Master Piell. “The boy should stay.”

“Even.” Master Rancisis sighed.

“If you think that droid isn’t going to eavesdrop and play the whole thing for him, then you’re a fool.”

MO beeped like, ‘who me?’ but it wasn’t believable. Especially since he hadn’t been there when Obi went up the tree. (Obi didn’t mind Trion eavesdropping on everything like he minded it with the Shadows.)

“MO wouldn’t. If I asked him to.”

“Yes, he would. And that’s okay,” Master Piell continued over Master Rancisis’ objections. “And even if that droid doesn’t, the one in the basement is and he’s going to play it back for Ty’s Shadows and you’re not going to be left out. So, save us all the trouble of miscommunication and go sit in the corner where you can see it in person.”

Master Rancisis sighed, but the others didn’t object. Master Tyvokka gave him a small nod and nudged Obi back to the same bench where he began, outside of the circle they’d formed.

Something in the Force clicked into place when Tyvokka took his place in the circle. But despite that, the silence lingered for a moment, the Councilors glancing at one another like none of them knew quite sure how to begin.

Obi had been expecting Master Piell to start, or Master Yaddle, but it was Master Poof of all people. “Micah is off planet.” He said, with the same tone he imparted his parables.

Obi-Wan’s brain scrambled to piece together what he was implying, but Master Piell snorted. “Just tell him. Don’t dance around it. Adi wanted Yoda to send someone after Jinn, but Micah is off planet, which means Ki-Adi said we couldn’t move on to Jinn until after we resolved the issue you’d raised.”

Oh. Master Micah Giiett was a member of the High Council – and good friends with Master Jinn – but he was off planet for Grand Council work. Master Giiett mostly worked with Judicial, so the Grand Council had him out talking with the former initiates whose Educorps assignments ended up with the various branches of Judicial. But Master Giiett was often off planet on Judicial business, and he hated to hologram in for Council meetings because that would interrupt the case.

Master Giiett refused to leave his Council seat empty while he was gone –when Obi asked why Master Giiett didn’t step down from the Council entirely, Tyvokka said Micah had too much common sense for them to let him go. But he did have a permanent substitute: Ki-Adi Mundi. Who Master Tyvokka sometimes called ‘structured,’ and other times called a word Obi wasn’t allowed to repeat.

“Wasn’t it resolved by my storming out like a cub?”

“You’d think, but according to Ki-Adi…” Despite his words to the contrary, Master Piell trailed off too. After a long moment, Piell shook his head and broke into a baffled smile. “Ki-Adi, the ears on that one.”

Master Poof quirked his wide mouth. “The hands.”

Master Piell grinned back at the Quermian for playing along. With a different, younger grin he poked his cane at Master Rancisis, who rolled his eyes so hard his long eyebrows moved with it. “The tail.”

“The balls.” Master Yaddle drolled, and oh, that’s not quite what Obi—he didn’t know other species had an equivalent to that. His brain fritzed, scrambling to not think about what Master Piell’s ears might have to do with anything.

But Master Piell refused to be embarrassed. He winked at Yaddle and continued. “Ki-Adi said we couldn’t discuss anything else until we’d resolved your vote of No Confidence in Yoda’s leadership.”

“My what?” Tyvokka’s low, rumbling voice cracked, and Obi’s brain did too.

Chapter Three

“Yup.” Master Piell looked far too pleased with this. “According to Ki-Adi and the Procedural Proclamation of 4 ATC, your call for Yoda to step down constitutes a vote of No Confidence in his leadership and we were required to vote on that before we proceeded with any further business.”

Tyvokka growled in a way that didn’t translate to Basic, but Obi-Wan was pretty sure meant, ‘what?’ plus a curse word. (No one would tell him which curse word, but Masters Piell and Yaddle had two very different smiles at the noise.)

Master Rancisis sighed and answered. “The codified procedure required that we stop what we were doing and commune with the Force individually. When we’d completed our communion, each of us was to place our anonymous vote into the system, where the Master of the Order would tally them.”

“Ki-Adi quoted it for us by article and section.” Master Piell added.

“Chapter and verse.” Master Poof said, with an undulation of his neck. That cut through some of Master Piell’s amusement, though Obi-Wan didn’t understand why.

“Needless to say, Master Yoda has stepped down from his position as Grandmaster.”

“How?” Tyvokka asked. That one, Obi-Wan did understand. Master Yoda had been Grandmaster for Obi’s entire life. For Tyvokka’s entire life. The thought of anyone voting him out was impossible.

“The communion.” Master Rancisis said, like it was a weighty thing.

“He’s right.” Master Yaddle said. “I imagine the vote would’ve been different if the procedure hadn’t specifically called for communion with the Force before we voted. I don’t think mere meditation would’ve done it. But after communion… there was only one way to vote.”

Tyvokka buried his face in his paws. “I wasn’t calling for a vote against him. I just wanted Yoda to admit he’d overstepped.”

“We know.” Yaddle consoled. “But he did overstep.”

“Dramatically.” Master Piell added. “And possibly fatally. And he refused to see.”

“We have to tell people.” Master Rancisis said, taking them off the subject. “I think we should tell people Yoda stepped down of his choice, to make things smoother for the Grand Council.”

“Queen’s lace is only beautiful because of its location.”

Obi-Wan caught none of that, but Master Rancisis agreed with Master Poof about the potential damage if people found out Yoda had been forced out. “We’re already unbalanced from all the changes we’re going through. We don’t need to risk undermining their faith even more with a vote of No Confidence.”

“Who is with Yoda? Tyvokka interrupted, his face still between his paws.

“Adi and Poli went with him.” Yaddle answered. “He sent them away and retreated to his rooms. Adi joined us here for a conference, then returned to Poli, to help him process.”

“And how did Poli vote?” Tyvokka dragged himself upright, his entire presence radiating exhaustion and it was only lunchtime.

“Full of confidence.” Piell said.

Master Yaddle clarified. “Ki-Adi joined Adi to help with Poli. Ki-Adi and I are both keeping a watch on Yoda through the Force, close as we are to him. I plan to tell at least one of Yoda’s padawans the depth of today.”

“Tell Qui-Gon when he returns. He ought to be good at the comforting.” Master Piell said.

“Qui-Gon has left then?” Tyvokka asked.

“No. Qui had the sense to anticipate he’d need a ship with medical capabilities. But when he got to the hangar, all of the small medical ships were either down for repairs, refueling, or scheduled for another mission. Mace found Qui-Gon in the landing bay, trying to talk Knight Gael into switching ships with him since it would take another two hours for Qui’s assigned ship to refuel.”

“Let me guess: he’d almost talked the Knight into it.”

“Mere seconds.” Yaddle smiled. “Thankfully, Yoda got the notification about Tahl right before our Council meeting and sending Qui-Gon after her was his last act before joining us. If our meeting had run long or if Qui-Gon had chosen the first ship he saw, he would’ve been on the way to Melida/Daan already.”

“Has Mace left with him?”

“Even told Mace to sit on Qui-Gon and I think he might have. Qui-Gon agreed to wait another three hours to get an actual team together.”

“If you look, I assume you’ll see part of the negotiations were an upgrade to a faster ship so they’ll make up the time in travel.”

Master Piell flipped open his comm to check and gave a little snort of amusement. “How could you tell?”

“Jinn isn’t a stupid man, even when he’s being rash. Who is on the team?”

“Kennbre is leading the mission.” Piell said, reading the information off his comm.

“Not Mace?”

“He’s willing to accompany, but given how the rest of this day is likely going to go, he thought he should remain on planet.” Yaddle explained.

“Healer Patoj was assigned, and then Tera turned up in the docking bay with Knights Heve and Mramah and roamed off again before anyone could ask him questions.” Master Piell implied a question in that, which Obi-Wan assumed had something to do with how he could recognize their names as Shadows.

“At least Tera is listening to the Force.” Master Rancisis sighed.

“Kennbre said he’s getting worried, because now that they have a chance to actually pack, the Force just keeps guiding them back to the ration bars and emergency medical supplies. Healer Patoj is field and battle certified, but he’s poking at the Halls to see if they have anyone else with those qualifications to spare.”

“Rations and medical supplies?” Master Yaddle checked with Piell.

“Yes. I told him we’ll be actively monitoring the comms and have ships properly fueled this time.”

“Should we be discussing this?” Tyvokka asked.

“Why not?”

“‘Given how the rest of the day is going to go,’ you said. You’ve called the Grand Council.”

“Yes?” Piell said, the ‘so?’ implied.

“Should we be making any decisions when we not might be the people making decisions after that meeting?”

The four of them looked baffled. “You think they’re going to place a vote of No Confidence in all of us?” Piell asked.

“Wait.” Master Rancisis waved his tail like others waved their hands. “I thought we were ssimply informing the Grand Council that Master Yoda had sstepped down.”

“And I thought we were telling them because if we’re going to make change, we’d better damn well make change.” Piell snapped.

“Yes, of course, but I assumed—”

“What? That we’d fix the problem ourselves? After we made it?”

“How much fixing will it really take?”

“We can’t just ask Yoda to step down and assume that will make everything better.”

“We followed him. Blindly.” Master Tyvokka added.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean the whole High Council needs to be upended.” Rancisis argued.

“Maybe it does.” Master Yaddle said, her eyes on the leaves overhead. “Maybe that would be for the best.”

“Right now? When we’re already changing the entire ssystem for our youth?”

“Wouldn’t this be the perfect time? We’re already making changes.” Master Piell argued.

“Or this is precisely the wrong time to have more distrust in our leadership.”

“A tree must be able to both bend to a hurricane and withstand it.”

“Perhaps ssomething small and ssustainable.” Rancisis conceded to Master Poof. “The changess need not be dramatic, and they need not know about the vote.”

“Perhaps we can learn from Ki-Adi and his knowledge of procedure and adhere to term limits.” Master Yaddle let him have the win. “We have council members who have sat in the same chair for twenty years when they were only to occupy it for five.”

“Like me.” Master Piell said, and for the first time Master Yaddle looked surprised.

“That wasn’t a slight.”

“I know. I brought it up halfway through my fourth year and was told that the Force would direct me when it was time to step down.”

“Told by who?” Rancisis asked.

“You know who. From what I remember of the actual bylaws, Yoda, Tyvokka, and, fuck, T’un—” Obi-Wan bit back a squeak “—I think were the only people who should have lifetime appointments because they’re heads of other department in the Order. The rest of us should be willing to step down.”

“But sstability.” Rancisis hissed. “T’un only recently left the High Council and there is value in the wisdom of experience.”

“There is wisdom to be gained, both in the beginning of a story, and the end.” Master Poof said while looking at Obi-Wan. The other Council members turned to look at him like they expected Obi to say something, but he had no idea what Master Poof had meant to ask.

“Master Poof would like your opinion.” Tyvokka translated.

“I don’t have an opinion.”

Even Master Rancisis snorted.

“I mean, I just…”

“You made a noise.”

“I was shocked about Master Piell swearing.”

“Two things can be true at once.” Master Poof said.

Yeah, that was true. But… “I’m just listening. Learning.”

“Out with it.”

“I’m just… uh, surprised.” That was a nice, vague word.

“At what?” If anyone other than Tyvokka would’ve asked, Obi-Wan would’ve kept dancing around the question and told him later in the privacy of their rooms. But Master Tyvokka would always rather have the truth from him. If Obi was too uncomfortable to speak, he’d rather Obi just say. But he wasn’t quite there yet.

“Master T’un was on the High Council.”

Yaddle held up her hand to stop Master Rancisis from whatever he was about to say. “Why is that surprising?”

“Well, um, in all the conversations people had with me about the Ras Council, they talked about how Master T’un was…” Master Rancisis’ long eyebrows started to rise like his tail, “tired.”

“Too damn old to do his job properly.” Master Piell translated.

“Yes.”

“That’s part of why he sstepped down from the High Council. ‘To devote more time to the Younglings.’” Master Rancisis said it like he believed it.

“More time to nap behind his damn desk, more like.” Master Piell snapped.

“Exactly.” Obi-Wan interrupted before they got into a fight.

“Exactly, what?” Obi-Wan’s master was a Wookiee, he shouldn’t be nervous about a giant, hairy snake, but he was. Obi looked to Master Tyvokka to make it stop, but his Master just winked at him.

If Tyvokka wanted to be like that, fine.

“Master T’un was on two Councils overseeing the entire Order, making big decisions about everyone. I’d be tired too, and I’m not old. And, I mean, when I was doing my research, I saw that Master Yoda is on three of the four councils, and that sounds exhausting.” Obi dove into his pack and pulled out his special paper notebook and flipped through the pages to check his facts. “And Master Yoda wasn’t just a member of the Reconciliation Council – or an advisor like they have for the Ras council and don’t have on a flow chart anywhere – but the head of the Council. I’m only allowed to take so many courses at a time because if you take too many you’ll fail, or worse, you won’t remember important things when you need them. Being on three councils at a time… seems like that.”

Obi-Wan trailed to a stop, his brain catching up to his mouth. He’d blush, but the Councilors were nodding along like they understood. “What else did you find in your research?” Master Yaddle asked.

“I, uh…” Obi-Wan couldn’t un-catch his mouth and looked to Master Piell.

“You can say it.”

“No offense meant, but you…”

“Have served on the High Council for twenty years, and I have no knowledge of plants, or medicine, or teaching, even though I make decisions about them. And in all that time, I’ve never taken the time to learn. And I regularly serve on the Reconciliation Council, but I don’t know how to sit at a table and make peace. I know is bloodshed and justice, and the only reason they ask me to come back to that Council is when they need someone for the old ways.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t thought any of the Councilors realized how much they were doing. Obi hadn’t, not until he spent days and nights with Master Tyvokka, seeing how often he got dragged out of his rooms or away from meals to handle something.

“What is your opinion of the Council organization, Padawan?”

“Yaddle—” Master Rancisis snapped.

“The point of calling a Grand Council was to invite outside opinions we wouldn’t usually hear from. Obi-Wan has one.”

“He’ss a child.”

“Council padawans usually are. You can’t get a more intimate understanding of how the Council functions without actually sitting on it, but our opinions are not outside.”

Obi-Wan had plenty of opinions about the Councils, but most of them were feelings, not words. The Reassignment Council wasn’t even a council. They’d let Obi-Wan be sent away without asking any questions, even though they’d all known for years that Master T’un wasn’t doing his job properly. The Reconciliation Council he knew next to nothing about other what it said they did in books – and that Masters who weren’t negotiators liked to complain about special treatment. He didn’t dare saying anything about the Council of First Knowledge because librarians were terrifying.

But the High Council… that was a mess of feeling important for all the secrets he got to know but also feeling tired all the time because they’d all apparently missed Crechemaster Hoowrirl’s lectures on needing time to study as well as time to play.

Master Tyvokka purred the way he did when Obi needed comfort, an apology in his Force presence for all the time they were spending at work. He didn’t need to. Obi-Wan understood. If you could help others, wasn’t it your responsibility to do so? Wasn’t that what it meant to be a Jedi?

But that was a conversation for the two of them to have alone. The masters had been patiently waiting for Obi-Wan to say gather his thoughts and say something, and what he could say was this: “The first thing I learned about the High Council after I got released from the Order was that, as much as the drawings we got in the Creche showed the four councils as a square, all balanced and working together, in reality, they were more a like a pyramid. I don’t know if that’s what we want, but I’ve seen enough in the last few months to know it’s true.”

The silence lingered for a moment, and Obi-Wan wondered if maybe he’d said too much. But Master Rancisis gave him a nod and thanked him for speaking the truth. “You’re right,” he said to Master Piell. “We need to open this to the Grand Council for ssuggestions.”

“Perhaps they will see better in us than we see in ourselves.” Master Piell said, like an apology.

“But they will certainly have ideas we have never thought of. Perhaps it is time for the other branches to have a ssay.”

Chapter Four

The High Council met at the top of a spire on the southwestern corner of the Jedi Temple. It had taken three meetings for the Grand Council to accept that they weren’t going to fit everyone in with the space and grandeur Jedi Masters pretended not to require. A conference room on the first floor was foolishly repurposed for their needs.

The Grand Council only thought of choosing a room large and fancy enough to suit everyone, rather than some corner of the library or repurposed salle. No, they wanted marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and towering windows out to Coruscant so they could revel in their superiority even when they pretended to admit they’d been wrong.

All those flippant concerns meant the fools hadn’t factored in security.

The lofty Grand Council room overlooked the main hall where anyone and everyone could walk into the Temple. Passers by could stumble in with their library cards and through a group of Grand Knights discussing collecting Force-sensitive children from planets they shouldn’t be on. Or come for a tour and hear Masters whispering about rifts in the High Council, and secrets they were keeping from one another.

A smart man could make a fortune.

Or perhaps, if you wanted to stick around longer, to learn a little more than the treasure trove you could pick up roaming through the open corridors as a civilian, you might venture into the Coruscant underbelly, into one of the shops that sold authentic Jedi merchandise stolen from commoners allowed to treat with the beloved Temple, and put on some robes.

Why then, the fools never noticed you.

Even when the fools hated you, and failed you, and ruined your life, they still never noticed.

It was pure practicality that kept him downstairs until after Qui-Gon left the Temple. He was on a timeline, and Qui-Gon following him around, begging him to ‘come back to the light’ – to put his leash back on, more like – would just get in the way.

But Qui-Gon departed twenty minutes ago, chasing off after Master Tahl. Of course.

Hypocritical bastard that he was.

His confinement to the Temple had slowed down the plan exponentially, but nothing to worry about. There was never anything to worry about when dealing with Jedi. It was just years of training beaten into him that made him think that perhaps they’d discovered him. Perhaps anyone in this entire damn building had even the scarcest moment of common sense. But needless worry was all he got for trusting them to be even the slightest bit competent.

He swallowed down the stinging contempt for them and let it settle in his chest as a ball of rage at their incompetence. But the anger had to be swallowed. Not disbursed, but buried deep in his belly where he could feed on it later. Walking around the temple with any emotion at all made people to notice you. To look at you like there was something wrong with you. He remembered that lesson well.

No one knew he was here.

No one knew what was going on.

Across the room his foolish little padawan froze, slowly twisting around to meet his eyes from across the room, blood draining from his milk-pale face.

But no one noticed.

No one ever noticed.

All their care for children didn’t mean anything when they had an actual child in front of them. A short thing, near shaking in terror because he could feel the ball of rage burning in his chest.

But they didn’t.

Great and clever masters of the order, and they couldn’t sense a thing. Too bound up in their purity to bother learning anything useful. But the boy could. He could sense it. Little padawan terrified that he’d done something so wrong that his Master followed him upstairs.

The boy had done things wrong, of course. But that’s what children did. Made mistakes.

The boy should’ve realized he had all the information he needed ten minutes ago. But he didn’t. The boy also should’ve stayed out little Kenobi’s sightline, because a grudge from an angry child was more likely to get him caught than an adult who didn’t care, but he didn’t.

He understood the hatred of Kenobi. Little Kenobi got away from Qui-Gon. Got him hobbled and stuck at the temple.

He’d thought about killing the boy for it. Letting his little padawan be the one to strike the blow. (But he had bigger plans.)

And the punishment hadn’t even stuck. For all Qui-Gon should be ruined, he wasn’t. They’d sent him on his way to another planet, no care for his discipline. No, they only cared about other people’s punishments, not the great Master Jinn. He was allowed to betray, to abandon, to ruin lives, and all he got was a pat on the head and vacation until they needed him again. Until they needed to send him off with their sanction to see the woman he was fucking. All of them stinking in their hypocrisy.

Xanatos will be a better master to his padawan.

At least, while he needs him.

@@@@@

It seemed a call for an emergency meeting of the Grand Council was enough to get people to scramble back to the Temple. Two hours after they were sitting at the Wroshyr tree, the entire Grand Council was assembled for a private meeting.

Well, ‘private.’

It was just the Grand Councilors inside the room, but outside had at least a dozen people hovering, and a dozen more who just happened to be walking by over and over again looking for information. (If Obi-Wan had One. More. Adult come up to him and try to cajole him into talking like he was a Crecheling, he was going to start pretending he was Quinlan and tell each of them a different story to get them in trouble.)

Speak of the Sith and he shall appear. Quinlan popped up in front of the counter and slithered over to sprawl on the floor.

“Why are they bothering you?”

“Master Tholme is in with Master Saa. They think I know things.” Quin groaned and managed to pancake further onto the floor. “Make them stop.” Obi-Wan was unimpressed by the dramatics.

Obi-Wan glared at the next adult on approach, which just made them look at him like he was adorable. He had to work on that. “I would if I could.”

The friendly Bothan – Knight Fof’laro, reported to Rec Council, on track for a secondary law degree on Alderaan – “Padawan Kenobi, how are you today?”

Quinlan moaned from the floor. Obi-Wan almost felt bad when the poor Bothan went up on his toes to see what was going on.

With the Sith’s own timing, when Ruzry appeared. “Hey!” She said, just loud enough to pretend like it was a regular hello and not meant to startle the Bothan so much he crashed into the counter.

“Hey, Obi.” Brair said more sedately as he came up on the Bothan’s other side. Interesting. Briar and his normal greeting were what made the Bothan’s fur stand up and scurry away.

“What—”

“Brair’s ex.” Ruzry said with a particularly toothful smile.

“We’re not exes.” Briar said with the exhaustion of a man who’d had this conversation too many times before. “We were…” Brair glanced at Obi, then down at Quinlan, who was up on his elbows in interest. “Friends.”

“What kind of friends?” Quinlan asked, singsong.

Brair hesitated, and Obi could see him calculating age appropriateness in non-pheromone-communicating species. (It was a look he had a lot now that he had to spend time with Obi and his friends.)

“Where’s Master Feemor? I thought you were having lunch together today?” Obi asked, sparing Brair the inevitable conclusion that it was better to err on the side of caution when dealing with Quin.

The adults glanced at one another before Brair turned to face the room and Ruzry leaned forward, elbows on the counter. Obi-Wan appreciated that they didn’t violate the sanctity of the reception desk. If he let the two of them over, he’d have everyone trying it.

“We were. And then a few hours ago, Feemor set his fork down in the middle of a bite and just walked away.” Ruzry said it in the tone of, ‘oh, that silly man.’ A tone Obi-Wan was old enough to understand meant that adults were trying to make something odd sound harmless.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, tempted to spill a secret for the first time all afternoon. Feemor was a mind healer and Yoda’s great-grandpadawan. If anyone on the planet could feel that Master Yoda had a bad day, it would be Feemor. And he was the sort to go straight to him to try and help.

Obi-Wan leaned in to match Ruzry, while Brair tilted his head ever so slightly to catch Obi’s words. “He’s okay.”

Ruzry gave him a soft smile and patted his hands. “Thank you for the confirmation,” she murmured. “I followed him in case he needed help. I didn’t know why, but I knew where. And that place meant something might’ve been wrong.”

“Not for him.”

Ruzry’s eyes flashed, and Obi-Wan wanted to clarify, to explain that no one was dead or injured, just sad and stressed. But there were enough people he could see keeping an eye out and using better senses than his to eavesdrop. He was the padawan, and that meant he was sworn to keep some secrets.

Ruzry understood.

After all, she was the one who’d given Obi the special Shadow lecture after he became Tyvokka’s padawan. It had a surprisingly large overlap with the things Depa told him, with privacy being paramount. Which seemed to Obi-Wan to be common sense, but with the number of adults approaching him and Quin like they were the weak links in the chain who’d spill all their masters’ secrets, apparently not.

“You doing okay, kid?” Brair said to—

Oh, he was talking to Obi.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” Brair’s head tentacles wriggled while he looked for the words. “This is a lot.”

This was… Obi-Wan glanced around the room. Actually, not a lot. He wasn’t even taking notes. He was just standing here, ignoring conversations, and pretty much just making sure someone didn’t storm the door to the Council chamber. Obi narrowed his eyes at Brair, whose tentacles took on a decidedly guilty wiggle. “Master Feemor has been giving you lectures again, hasn’t he?”

“Not lectures. Just, valuable suggestions on non-pheromone-humanoid conversation.”

Obi stayed narrow.

“With children.”

Obi puffed up at the insult. “I’m not a child.”

“Right! Right. Not a child. Feemor talked about that.”

Obi-Wan squeaked in offense.

“Oh, look—a window.” And off went Brair towards the wall of windows.

Obi-Wan watched him go, utterly baffled. “What’s up with him?

“He doesn’t speak teenager.” Ruzry shrugged.

“He’s spoken it fine thus far?”

Obi-Wan had no idea what was going on, but Quinlan did. He popped off the floor to join their little lean. “Is Master Brair taking a padawan?”

“What?” Obi said far too loud.

“I know! The milk was purple!” Quin said without missing a beat. Obi caught a few people rolling their eyes and turning back to their conversations. Obi gave him a pat in thanks.

Ruzry didn’t lean in, that would be suspicious for a conversation supposedly about new colors of milk. But she did drop her voice. “He doesn’t have any specific plans right now, but there are so many children sticking around and Corpsfolk coming back that he wanted to up his skill level, just in case.”

“Tyvokka would say that whoever Brair picks should like him for himself, not for who he’s pretending to be.”

“And yet,” Ruzry poked his nose, “we still try.” Ruzry left them safely behind the desk and went to check on Brair.

Quinlan bumped shoulders with Obi. “You okay with that?”

“With… Brair thinking about a padawan? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, his dock has kind of been your hiding place.”

Obi-Wan didn’t much like the thought of not being able to drop by whenever he wanted, but if Master Brair found someone he wanted to keep as a padawan, Obi wasn’t going to complain about it. It would take some adjusting, and mean getting Master Brair assigned a new dock droid because MO wouldn’t like them spending less time together, and Obi said so.

Whatever snappy comeback Quin would’ve had about his droid archnemesis, it got lost in Quin’s groaned, “I should’ve stayed on the floor.”

“Wh—” Obi twisted to see what had claimed Quin’s attention, and—drat.

Bruck was here.

As part of their first meeting, the Grand Council had put a hold on any Initiates leaving the Coruscant Temple. Obi-Wan had been so relieved he’d almost started to cry –he’d been chosen as Tyvokka’s padawan half an hour later, but still. Obi’s creche clan had thrown a party to celebrate no one else aging out.

Everyone, that is, except for Bruck Chun.

Somehow, knowing he wasn’t going to be sent away had just made Bruck meaner. He’d been yelling at people right and left, then going all weepy with the adults and claiming he was just nervous. Then he’d storm off again whenever the Crechemasters tried to give him hugs. They kept lecturing the rest of the Creche on compassion and repeating the lecture on puberty in baseline humans, but Garen was the clan’s only other Baseline, and he just had a bunch of spots. But Bruck got to be a jerk to everyone and they were just supposed to deal with it.

Even now, Bruck shouldn’t be here. None of the other Initiates got to break the rules and lurk outside the Grand Council chamber. But Bruck did. How he managed to look sheepish and innocent as he stepped away from some unclaimed Knight and made his way straight to Obi-Wan’s counter, Obi would never know.

“If you want to hide in the lounge, I’ll protect you.” Quin murmured.

“No.” This was Obi’s desk and he wasn’t going to give it up for Bruck.

Obi stuck out his chin and met Bruck’s eyes. And there was a moment – there was always a moment – where Bruck looked honest. It was the look Obi got when he’d won their second bout in front of just Qui-Gon and Yoda. It was the one where Obi got better marks in healing, even though they both were terrible at it. It was when Obi came back to the Creche to introduce Master Tyvokka to all his friends, and Bruck left the room instead of get introduced last. It was puckered, and pinched, and angry, but not quite. Obi didn’t have a word for it, but he hated that look most of all.

Obi braced himself for whatever terrible thing Bruck was about to say, and how Obi would have to pretend to be nice since there were witnesses, but Bruck… stopped. He slowly twisted away from Obi-Wan like a holo character who expected a mudhorn to come barreling down the landing. Or like Master Drallig had just caught him calling Bant a fishface and there was no way to hide.

Obi leaned over to the counter to try and see what master made Bruck look that terrified – they might be his new favorite person – but the Grand Council doors came swinging open.

Master Nu stood there blinking at the gaggle for a moment before she rolled her eyes and kept walking. “Since none of you will be able to sleep for questions, the Librarian’s Assembly will meet me in the large conference room in an hour. Bring your notebooks. I’ll brief you and hand out assignments.”

Master Healer Che called after her, “Your people are going to need dinner first, Jo!”

“Not in the library!”

“That’s why I said first!” Master Nu glanced over her shoulder with a glare that would’ve made Obi-Wan flinch, but Master Che glared right back and people stumbled out of the way. “The Healer’s Circle will be crammed into our only conference room in the Halls after evening rounds are done. Eat dinner first.”

The rest of the department heads came out in a flood, calling out locations and times, the last saying they’d meet tomorrow since all their people would need to be in other meetings tonight.

Well, the last save for Master Tyvokka, who didn’t call out a time or place, just swept down the hall as Shadows peeled away from lurking to follow him.

“Remember that we’re having a follow-up meeting in the morning, Ty!” Master Saa called from deep within the room. Tyvokka didn’t respond, but Obi waved back at her in confirmation as he scrambled after his master. Obi caught sight of Bruck ducking behind a pillar as they went, but Obi-Wan was too busy trying to catch up to care.

Ruzry caught Master Tyvokka before Obi did, her comm already out while she explained that it was looking like most everyone already in Temple could meet in twenty minutes. Ruzry knew nothing about what the Grand Council meeting had been about, but Obi had been bcc’d on her message warning them all that Tyvokka was in an emergency session and everyone should be ready for a recall. “I’m still waiting on confirmation from about a third, but I’ve sent anyone available after them to make sure they catch the message.”

Ruzry’s comm beeped again. “Those who qualify for two departmental meetings are wondering if they need to pick, of if you think they can manage both?”

“Jocasta asked that we go first. We’re trying to stagger the meetings for that overlap, but I can’t promise, and can’t tell them which meeting to prioritize.”

“They won’t be covering the same information?” Tyvokka gave Ruzry a speaking glance that didn’t answer the question, which answer enough.

They kept the talk to scheduling and nothing specific as they made their way straight to the lower levels of the Temple reserved for Shadows. As the rest of their ever-growing party filed into the basement’s largest briefing room, Tyvokka called to Master Arkill to join him. Obi-Wan went to step into the room, giving them the privacy that he knew Master Arkill would prefer, but Master Tyvokka caught him by the shoulder.

For one silly, brief moment, Obi thought they were going to talk about Master Arkill not sighing at Obi so much. “Sir?”

“I need you to get the meeting organized and started as soon as everyone arrives. Don’t bother waiting for me.”

Master Arkill was on the Grand Council for the Council of Reconciliation, though his whole file had been blacked out when Obi went to look at what exactly it was he’d done to earn being on Master Dooku’s shortlist of advisors. “Tyvokka –”

“Thank you, Eriad. We’ll join you when we’re ready.”

Master Arkill didn’t sight at Tyvokka. But sighing was a little hard as Tyvokka strode away, shortening his strides enough to keep Obi under his hand as he led them into the nearest unoccupied room.

It was such a rush that Obi didn’t have a chance to even think of any questions before Master Tyvokka flicked the lock behind them and sank into seiza before him, almost the right height to look Obi straight in the eyes while he held out his paws. With well-worn routine, Obi-Wan put his hands in Tyvokka’s.

Obi had been expecting a quick rundown of what was about to be discussed, so he could run around gathering files or something while the rest of the Shadows got all the details appropriate for adults. But instead, Tyvokka closed his eyes and breathed deep, settling his mind in that quiet, still place that came before meditation. Not quite meditation, just sharing space with the Force, like he’d invited it to tea but didn’t want to talk.

Obi’s mind whirred and worried about what had happened in the Grand Council. Master Yoda stepping down shouldn’t lead to the whole Order having follow-up meetings. It should be a comm message telling them who had accepted a call to the High Council. Was Tyvokka okay? Had something happened in there? Well, obviously something had happened in there, but had something happened? Was Tyvokka about to tell him something he shouldn’t be telling him? Or was he warning Obi because there really was something about Master Jinn?

Nope! Obi shut that down.

All Master Jinn worries were unfounded. Letting him off the planet to save his friend was different than taking Obi away from Master Tyvokka and giving him to Master Jinn. That would never happen. Master Tyvokka would take Obi and run away to Kashyyyk before he let that happen. Or, more likely, he’d pack up some Shadows and send Obi with them while he stayed here and got everything settled.

And now he was rambling to himself while a whole room of Shadows was getting briefed about the Grand Council meeting by someone other than their Master. Which was rude and meant and extra four thousand questions later because somehow, they all thought words didn’t count unless they came straight from Tyvokka’s mouth. And there were a bunch of other meetings that people had to get to that Obi was making everyone put off.

As much as Obi wanted to demand Master Tyvokka just tell him what was going on, Master Tyvokka wouldn’t move from this spot until he found what he was looking for. He’d make the whole building wait until Obi-Wan joined him in stillness – and then lie and tell everyone he’d been the one having troubles. (No one would believe him, but he’d say it so lightly they’d all believe he was doing something sneaky.)

Obi-Wan didn’t have a speck of stillness in him right now, but he stretched his neck side to side, then rolled his shoulders front and back, stretching like Feemor had taught him. Then he leaned into his Master. And like a tide, Master Tyvokka pulled him along. It was nothing more than a taste of that peaceful little island where Tyvokka sat, not enough for meditation, but quiet enough to hear the music playing between them.

Music off kilter.

Oh, the drums were there, as they always were between them, and the melody that gave Obi such comfort and strength. But there was a new line above the melody. Something high and… warbling? Not quite a flute, or a bird. Obi had been in music theory classes since the day after his apprenticeship began, trying to find the language to discuss how he felt the Force.

It was a descant, that high, second melody, the song that played when Tyvokka was following the strings into the future, but wrong. Not louder, but more insistent, like the song was tugging at Tyvokka to come and play. The future pulling him along to come and look. Stronger and sourer than Obi had ever heard it before.

“What’s wrong?” Obi asked, unnerved for the first time in their partnership.

If Obi could hear the future in sour notes, what could Tyvokka sense down those strings? “Breathe, Cub.” Tyvokka put his paws on Obi’s shoulders and almost tugged them in and out to guide his rib cage’s expansion.

Obi tried, but his eyes prickled at the song. He grabbed Tyvokka by the wrists to steady himself.

“I need you to listen with your ears and listen with the Force. I need you to hear me when I tell you that this is true. Are you listening?”

“Yes.” He choked.

“With the Force?”

Obi didn’t want to close his eyes. Didn’t want to listen to the sour melody he could still hear, trying to call his master away. But there were still drums, always drums, and Obi let himself breathe in time to their rhythm, touching just that part of the Force while Tyvokka waited.

“Ready?”

Obi gripped tight to his fur and nodded.

“You are my padawan.” Obi bit back a sob. “You are my cub. There is nothing more important to me than you.”

The sure, steady truth of it made him squirm. “The will of the Force is more important.”

“The will of the Force must hold space in all of our decisions, but the Force and I would argue if it told me I needed to sacrifice you for some greater good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you believe me?”

“I believe you.” He gave Tyvokka a little squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“This meeting will be difficult. I do not know how it will go, or what it will give rise to. But I need you to know deep in your bones, in the part of you that hears the music, the part of you that feels the Force, the truest, deepest part of you, that you are my cub, and you are the most important thing to me.”

Obi crashed forward into a hug he could drown in. Tyvokka wrapped around him, but gave him a little shake so Obi said, “I believe you.”

“Good. Now, I need you to repeat it for me.”

That was uncalled for. Obi buried his face in Tyvokka’s tunic, but they’d stay here all day and Tyvokka wouldn’t lie about making his padawan say nice things to himself. “I’m your padawan.”

“And?”

Obi said the rest more to Tyvokka’s tunic than the Jedi himself, but it was enough.

Tyvokka waited until Obi was ready to let go, a brush of his furred finger over Obi’s cheek to wipe away tear tracks. But before he could rise, Obi-Wan took his wrists again and tugged him back. “Cub?”

“You’re my Master.”

Wookiee smiles were surprisingly soft. “Thank you—”

“No.” If Obi had to endure uncomfortable conversations, so did Tyvokka. “You’re my Master. There is—” Obi choked on his tears, “nothing more important to me than you.”

“Cub.” Tyvokka rumbled.

“Now say it back to me.”

Tyvokka leaned in and pressed his forehead to Obi. “I am your Master and honored to be so. Learning is the most important thing to you,” he said over Obi’s objection. “But I am very important too.”

“I suppose that will do.”

“Someday you will give me a grandpadawan, and you’ll understand the difference.”

Obi bit back a smile and sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.”

“You suppose?” Tyvokka laughed and swept him up into a tickling hug that Obi was far too old for, but couldn’t make himself mind.

Chapter Five

Tyvokka led Obi-Wan in through a side door to the conference room, trying not to interrupt Eriad’s explanation, but he needn’t have bothered. The low hum of conversation was from chit-chat, not planning. Trained as they were, the room went silent with anticipation before the door closed behind him. “I told you; you could start without me.” Tyvokka said, nudging Obi-Wan to Quinlan and Tholme on his way to the front of the room.

Eriad straightened, hands behind his back. “You are my Master. I follow your light.” It was an old form of the oaths each Shadow made when they joined their ranks. Eriad meant it, re-giving his oath so the binding of it rang through the Force. Every Jedi who had thought they were there for simple things straightened at the feel.

The Force rang again, the strands to the future tugging on him like Crechelings tugging on his cloak to come and play. But those tugs were nothing compared to the sting left on his skin from the way Obi-Wan had clung to his fur.

“We follow the light, wherever it may lead.” Tyvokka’s wasn’t an oath, but a reminder.

Eriad stepped to the side and left the front of the room empty for him. Tyvokka had been looking forward to entering halfway. To letting Eriad bear the weight of basic explanations, and hopefully do it well enough that Tyvokka could answer a few questions and be on his way. The man ought to have seen it as a chance to set up, a willingness and ability to hold Tyvokka’s position, but he’d refused.

And it was a refusal. Eriad understood motivations and implications better than anyone Tyvokka ever had the pleasure to work with. Eriad had known what he was being offered – known what Tyvokka had planned – and said no. Had outright refused to even handle the explanations, to set things up for a smooth transition.

And it could be smooth. Every Shadow in the Temple had gotten themselves here in time, though in various states of sleep deprivation. One Knight was in the back passing out coffee, and others had their refectory meals bundled up for travel, while others had gone straight to meal bars. A few were sweaty from the training salles, and at least two had hair wet from the pools. They were half-settled, with the feel of a group who’d gotten the message and dropped everything to get there. A few had luggage, halfway out of the Temple for missions still waiting on them.

A room full of his Shadows. His lovely, loyal Shadows. They would follow the light, no matter where it led. They would walk through the dark, untouched by the night, ever-seeking light. That was their call, and they would keep it.

“Master Yoda has stepped down as Grandmaster.”

The statement landed with the same thud here that it had in the Grand Council meeting.

“Stepped?” One of the Knights had the gumption to ask.

“Stepped. The details of the conversation that led to his withdrawal are not my purview to share.”

“Whose are they?”

“Yoda’s.” Let the young ones decide if their need to gossip was worth that. “Yoda’s decision to step down led the High Council to agree that we should take this opportunity for reform. The problems that led to calling for the Grand Council in the first place persisted under our noses and only dramatic interference told us about them. We can only be served by a review, and what shape the High Council will take after, I do not know.”

“Wait, have you been removed?” Asked by one of the fresh Knights who’d been trained at the Senate, ready to see duplicity everywhere.

“No.” Tyvokka interrupted before there could be too many hisses of displeasure. “I have not been removed, but I have sat on the High Council for nearly 70 years, since Plo was Knighted. I am part of the problem.”

The grumbling took on a different tone, but Tyvokka raised a paw to calm them. “This is truth. I might become part of the solution, but the first step in that is accepting that I have been part of the problem. At this moment, we do not know what the future is for our High Council. And unlike the Ras Council, we cannot simply put a pause on all the Council’s activities while we sort things out.

“As of this afternoon, the Grand Council has no specific plan for restructuring. They have simply asked each of us who head a division to tell our fellows about the call for change, and ask you to share your true opinions about the High Council with them. They will collate the information they receive and do immediate damage control with that information. They hope that some clear path will emerge and they will be able to implement it quickly.”

“And the non-hopeful reality?” Eriad asked, just as derisive with their hope here as he was in the Grand Council meeting.

“Your opinions will still be valuable, no matter how long the restructuring takes.”

That opened the door for a few questions covering the basics of procedure, who to pass their statements on to, and the like. The meeting was wrapped up rather more quickly than Tyvokka planned. He was prepared for his Shadows to dig in their heels, but they were nodding along, no upset stirring in the Force.

“Cub?” Tyvokka called after they finished passing around a temporary comm address one of the slicers would use to gather the messages and strip them of all personal information before passing them on. “Please head up to the library conference room and tell Jocasta that we’ll be done in another quarter of an hour, but I would appreciate it if she could put her meeting off for another half hour so my Shadows have space to sneak in rather than arrive in a wave.” Obi nodded and took off at dash.

His Shadows had enough skill to wait until the door closed behind him before the tenor the room changed. “Do we need to send the other Padawans out of the room as well?” Tholme asked, his hand on Quinlan’s shoulder.

“Only if they do not believe they can keep a secret from Obi-Wan.” Tholme looked over at his Padawan, who’d shot up to nearly his height.

“I can do it.” Tyvokka hesitated, but Quinlan gave him a sure nod, and Tyvokka trusted him not to say unless he felt it right.

“The Grand Council is going to expect you to express an opinion about me. I sit on the High Council, serve as Master of Shadows, consult with the Reconciliation Council, and have a padawan. A brand new, junior padawan. I will tell you in discretion that part of why Yoda stepped down was because he was doing too much. Someone on the Grand Council raised that the same applied to me.”

“Who?” Master Tru’rim snarled, like she could quell the objection with her teeth.

“He did.” Eriad drawled. Not helpful.

“The point stands.” A good number of his Shadows rolled their eyes at him for being fussy.

“You stopped him, right?” Another asked, directed at Eriad.

“Can anyone stop him?” Tholme asked.

Oh, Tyvokka hadn’t realized his former padawan was also against his plan. That would be more complicated to manage.

“I didn’t have to. Master Mundi said that, traditionally, every department head has also sat on the High Council. Technically, that held until Master Nu stepped down a few years ago. He never raised the point because Master Yaddle sits high in the Librarian’s Assembly. And… is Master Yaddle.”

“This isn’t why you asked Obi-Wan to leave.” Bless Tera for getting them back on track. Though, he said it with a depth that meant he’d figured out what was coming next.

“No. If the Grand Council has any sense, they will make it a rule that a High Councilor should not have a padawan. When they do, I will step down from High Council, which means I will also step back as Master of Shadows. I wanted you all to hear from me that I will not relinquish my padawan.”

Somehow, that was more stunning to them than Yoda stepping down.

Tyvokka didn’t know what that said about him.

He let the awkward shuffling linger as the children processed. Tyvokka appreciated that Eriad and Tholme kept the depth of their opinions for later. Tera, of course, was the one with the gumption to say Tyvokka’s real worry out loud. “We don’t have anyone who can take your place. Especially not if the Master of Shadows must sit on the High Council.” Tera was on the short list of potential candidates, the one his fellow Shadows with only a few decades under their skin probably all assumed would take the mantle. If he was saying there was no other, then there was no other.

Ruzry’s uncomfortable fidgeting with her comm pulled Tyvokka away from trying to console them without lying. “What is it?”

“I’m just—who would it have been?”

“What?”

“I’m just thinking, if Master Nu died tomorrow, Master Yaddle would become the head of the Librarian’s Assembly. She’s a librarian, and she’s already on the Council. But if you died tomorrow—” Ruzry waived off the hissed displeasure at the idea, “—and it had to be a Council member, who on the Council would take your place?”

“They would put Tera back on the Council.” Tyvokka knew for certain. He had discussed the matter with Yaddle and Even.

“Perhaps for a time, but not long enough.” Tera said. “My time on the High Council is done, and I can feel it. We have no other Shadow the High Council of this morning would’ve accepted. Yoda would’ve appointed Yaddle.”

“She’s not a real Shadow.” Eriad said without the tone that might’ve gotten him punched in the face.

“No, but she’s close enough for those who think they understand the path.”

“They’re right.” Tholme said, arm wrapped around his padawan’s shoulder and eyes on the floor as put that brilliant brain to use. “The Council wouldn’t have let us have a Master who didn’t sit in their circle, and we don’t have anyone they could’ve accepted. And honestly, we would’ve happily taken Yaddle in our grief. Master, if you died tomorrow, it would break our hearts.”

“For me, at least,” Ruzry hesitated. “You are a… lodestone. The bond we have is superficial, but it is enough to point me north.”

“Truth.” Tera said. “If we lost you unexpectedly, the impact would be crippling. I think we would’ve welcomed Yaddle’s familiarity, and made due with her endless faith in people.” He said people, but meant the High Council.

The Council as of this morning didn’t understand what they did. Oh, they valued it, but Tera was right: they didn’t understand it. They’d think Yaddle’s occasional dips into the Shadow were good enough, and so would she. Tyvokka had to fight with them to keep their department well funded and doing their work. Without that knowledge, they might disperse into other departments: Judicial with Shadow training, instead of Shadows first are foremost.

Tera could feel Tyvokka’s realization and tried to soothe. “I would do my best to lead our division, but that’s not the same as an actual Master of the Shadows.”

Tyvokka swallowed to keep his voice level. “I have time yet.” The children were not soothed. Only those who’d lived though the death of another Master understood his meaning. “Most of other Masters have gotten a warning from the Force when their time was coming to an end. My warnings are no different than any other Jedi nearing the last years of their life. I have time for a transition, and time to advise whoever takes my place.”

It was not enough. Even little Quinlan looked nervous and he ought to be the most in favor of all. “I will still be in comm range,” he teased. “Ready to advise whoever stands as my regent until Obi-Wan is Knighted. And perhaps by then you’ll want them to stay your Master.”

They still didn’t like it. All the calm they’d had before he sent Obi-Wan upstairs was gone. His little Shadows sharing glances like he couldn’t see their faces. It was a gift of trust rather than a lack of training. “I might be wrong.” He wasn’t. “Today, it is simply something to think about as you make your recommendations. And I could use the recommendations too. As I said, and as this conversation has proved, I have been part of the problem. Even here, with us.”

Chapter Six

“Everyone being weird would be less weird if I didn’t know that everyone but me knew why they were being weird. Does that make sense?” Obi-Wan tried to explain to the ceiling of Brair’s landing bay.

“Yes.”

Obi twisted atop the wings of one of Brair’s half-completed ships to look down at Feemor, who sat on one of Brair’s crates like it was just as comfortable as the couch in his office. “Does it make sense because it made sense, or did it make sense because you know why everyone is being weird?”

“Both.”

Obi rolled onto his belly to glare at Feemor properly.

“If it’s any consolation,” Brair interrupted from the work table where he and MO were reviewing schematics, “I don’t know why they’re being weird either.”

“You’re not a Shadow.”

“Neither are you.”

Obi returned to his back, to the glow of sunshine coming through the skylights. Feemor didn’t get it, but he’d let Obi be quiet until he found the words. But that meant Obi needed to actually find them. But they weren’t coming. Obi just stared up at the ceiling and drummed his fingers to the beat from the song they’d talked about this morning in music class.

Master Tyvokka enrolled Obi in music the day after his apprenticeship started. He thought it was important for Obi to cultivate the knowledge to understand and the language to discuss the way he felt the Force. Obi still couldn’t can’t play an instrument, but the teacher said his singing voice was quite good.

That still didn’t tell him how it explain it, though.

“May I ask, why does everyone else knowing make it worse?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

Feemor didn’t say anything, which meant he didn’t accept that as an answer.

Obi heaved out a great sigh that made him feel older than he was. “Something is wrong and no one will tell me what it is.”

“What did Tyvokka say when you asked him?”

“He said that after I left the room, he made sure the Shadows understood the changes to the High Council ought to also be applied to him as Master of Shadows, and they’re struggling to adjust to that.”

“Struggling?”

“Like,” Obi rolled over and propped his chin on his folded arms, “you think everyone should share their snacks equally, but then you get a snack you really want and think you should keep it. Changing the High Council is good, but changing Master Tyvokka is bad.”

“And you think…?” Feemor spread his hand to encompass half a dozen potential thoughts from Master Tyvokka lying to him, to Obi was just going crazy.

“I think…” Obi trailed off because he still didn’t have a word for it. “I think they’re calling me cub more, but also less.”

<<The average usage is the same, but the rate varies depending on person using.>> MO piped up, and Trion floated over one of his screens, complete with the labelled bar graph that had convinced Obi he wasn’t crazy.

“Right.” Feemor said hesitantly. Obi didn’t understand how a man who intended to grow plants struggled so much with math. “And that’s what’s weird?”

“No.” Obi sat up because this required hand gestures. “It would be weird – normal weird – if they were just being weird. What makes it upsetting is that I can tell there’s a reason everyone is being weird, and everyone but me knows why. Which means it’s not just weird, it’s organized weird. And organized weird is upsetting.”

“…why?”

Obi-Wan did not sigh at Feemor. He hated it when adults sighed at him – which he’d been getting a lot more the last few days – and he wasn’t going to do that to Feemor. Obi thought every adult in your life knowing something about you that you didn’t know was a pretty self-explanatory reason to be upset, but if Feemor was asking for more, there was a reason. So, Obi could try.

“Has Tyvokka ever told you about the Shadowlands?”

“No.” Feemor smiled.

“Kashyyyk’s land mass is covered by these massive trees.” Obi-Wan gestured his way through the explanation. “They’re big on the coast and get bigger as you get further onto the continent. Eventually, you get these trees that are as wide around as the whole Jedi Temple and probably as tall as from the top of the Temple down all the way to the actual ground of Coruscant. So, some Wookiee live near the coasts, in the smaller trees. And others live deeper in the forests. But even when you live deeper, you live up near the top of the trees. Enough to have a canopy covering you like a roof, but not so deep that you can’t find the sunlight.”

“Like Coruscant’s underbelly.”

“Exactly like the underbelly. Only, instead of thieves, the Shadowlands have creatures. These big, scary things that have never seen the sun. They’re actually the top of the Kashyyyk food chain. And if one day they figured it out, they could come up the trees and eat every Wookiee, and no amount of bowcasters and bombs would save them. They’re too dangerous. But as dangerous as it is: a Wookiee is a Wookiee. So, as part of their coming of age, Wookiee go down there. Or, as close as they can manage without getting eaten.”

Obi slid forward and dangled his legs over the edge of the ship’s wing. “Can you guess what Master Tyvokka says keeps a Wookiee alive down there in the dark?”

“The Force?”

“Nope. Not the Force, even though most Wookiees have it a little.”

“Luck.”

“No. Though that helps.” Feemor nodded at him to carry on. “It’s instinct. It’s that sixth sense that every prey species has that lets them know when something is trying to eat them.”

Master Feemor wanted to smile, Obi could tell. But like most pieces of advice from Master Tyvokka, it was funny right up until you thought about it.

“Now, I know I live on Coruscant. And I know I come from a terraformed planet with no natural predators.” Obi paused to lick his lips. “But I know when something is trying to eat me.”

“And that’s why it’s worse.”

“And that’s why it’s worse.” Obi repeated.

Feemor hmm-ed and leaned forward on the crate. “In my opinion, nothing is trying to eat you.” He raised a hand to stop Obi’s automatic objection. “Either literally or metaphorically. But if I was in the dark, and something was trying to eat me, I’d want Master Tyvokka watching my back.” That was true.

“Do you trust Master Tyvokka?”

“Of course.” Obi was insulted at the question.

“Then trust him now. Whatever – I hate to call it ‘threat,’ that you’re feeling—”

“Rkkrrkkrl.” Obi butchered the two glottal stops but managed to roll his R in the middle.

Feemor blinked, like his brain was trying to decide if Obi was saying a word or coughing up a hairball. “What?”

“Rkkrrkkrl. Big spiders that live in the Shadowlands and travel in packs. They use their bioluminescence to lure you into thinking you’ve almost made your way back up to the light, then they drop a net on you and the weight drags you down into a whole bunch of them.”

Feemor looked to Brair and MO, like they’d have any idea. Brair just shrugged. He’d heard Obi ramble about the flora and fauna of Kashyyyk and he was starting to think Obi was making things up. MO nodded though – both because he was tapped into the Temple intranet and checked, and because Obi could probably tell them that the bottom levels of Kashyyyk glowed with kyber and MO would back him up.

“Okay.” Feemor dragged himself back on track. “Somehow that feels worse than threat. But, whatever spiders—”

“Rkkrrkkrl.”

Feemor narrowed his eyes at Obi for deliberately teasing him. “Whatever spiders you’re feeling, you can trust Tyvokka to handle. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And maybe you can tell him some more about your instincts?”

Obi-Wan gave a kick of his feet, thinking about it before he nodded and gave a seated bow. “Thank you, Master Feemor.”

“Knight.” Feemor said with the sigh of a man who’d had the argument a bunch of times this week.

“What’s this now?” Brair asked.

Obi started talking before Feemor could brush it off. “Since they’re making other changes, the Grand Council has been talking about making it so the rank of Master doesn’t just come automatically after you’ve raised a padawan. Instead, you have to achieve some higher knowledge of Force or the self to show you’ve really got a mastery.” Obi looked pointedly down at Feemor. “Sounds accurate to me.”

“Off with you, trouble maker.” Feemor waived him away, but Brair laughed, which meant plenty of teasing from him and Ruzry to come.

Obi dropped from the ship and called out to MO to come on. They were going to be late to meet with Master Tyvokka for dinner. He was taking them out into the city for dinner at one of his favorite places.

<<I’m not going.>> MO beeped in insult.

“You’re… what?”

<<Why would I go someplace where you’re just consuming matter? Things are much more interesting here.>>

“You know, you’re going to have to get more comfortable with the world outside of the Temple when we start going on missions.”

<<Missions?>> MO stopped mid roll.

“Did you—did you not think you were coming? Because I always thought you were coming.” Wait… “Do you not want to?”

MO whistle-beeped before Obi could panic. <<Of course I’m coming. I always knew I was coming. Why would OB-1 ever think such a thing?>> MO rocked back and forth on his wheel. That and the rambling made Obi wonder if MO had been silently worrying the entire time about getting stuck behind. And maybe that’s why MO had been spending so much time in Brair’s hangar instead of with him.

Obi sidled up to MO and poked him in the shoulder. MO answered by twisting around and dropping the crossbar of his hands onto Obi’s finger, almost like hooking pinkies.

<<I am still not going out tonight.>>

“You sure? We could get you some oil?” Obi tempted, giving MO’s bar a little shake. Somehow, he managed to static shock Obi instead of just saying no.

<<Trion says its important for organics to have private time for bonding purposes.>>

“We’ve been having plenty of private time.”

MO’s crackle was dubious.

“We have!”

<<For three day cycles.>> Trion sent out a floating screen with data to back him up. Obi didn’t push the screen away, that was rude. But he did lean back to glare in the door at Trion, who pretended like his photoreceptors were for decoration.

Yes, the last few days since Master Yoda stepped down had been different than the rest of Obi-Wan’s month-long padawanship. Obi had started right after the Grand Council, which meant there was a lot to do, and Obi didn’t mind him and Tyvokka doing it. Had Obi-Wan expected things to calm down after the High Council kind of blew up? No. But he wasn’t going to be upset about it, and he wasn’t going to let MO make him skittish that things might end.

Instead, Obi flicked the little droid on his wide forehead. “Well then, Tyvokka and I will have a great time without you.”

<<Eating.>> MO sizzle-popped, disgusted at the idea of food.

Obi laughed and after a poke, left the droid to terrorize other people. Though, just in case, Obi darted back and murmured, “Let me know if you need me.”

MO was one of the few droids Obi had ever met with a screen on his face. It was short and tucked at the bottom of his head, but MO made great use of it as the lit pixels of his two eyes ran a circle around the edge of the screen. It took Obi a long moment to realize MO was trying to roll his eyes.

“Hey!” Obi tried to object through the laughter.

<<Trion and I will take care of things for OB-1.>>

“This won’t interrupt Trion’s day?”

Trion didn’t like to use his vocoder, so he just shot the floating screen in between Obi and MO, the text on screen just, <<…>>

“You have things to do!” Obi backpedaled so he could look through the door. “It’s rude to shove all my work off on you!”

<<Nothing the Organics might require of OB-1 is capable of disrupting my productivity.>> The screen read.

“That doesn’t make it not rude.”

One of the mouse droids in Trion’s service came around the desk and out the door to bump into the toe of Obi’s boot. Obi assumed Trion was trying to give him an affectionate gesture, so he came all the way into the room and let one of the droid’s articulated arms reach down from the ceiling and give him three, precise pats.

“Thank you for offering to help, Trion.”

The screen followed Obi over and hesitated a moment before, <<You are welcome.>> They’d get there.

Obi left Trion’s office and gave Briar a pointed look to keep an eye out for Trion and not let him work too hard. He’d do the same for Brair, but Feemor was already leaning against Brair’s desk in the way that meant in twenty minutes he’d have Brair out the door to dinner without noticing it had happened.

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll keep a good lookout, and if we miss anything, we can blame it on the system problems.”

Obi asked, “What problems?” and MO screeched at Brair and the screen whipped over to face him with rolling text Obi couldn’t make out.

“What problems?” Obi repeated, poking the screen aside. “Do we need to–”

<<No!>> MO popped as he uncoupled his hands and sparked his electroprod at him.

“You are also not part of IT.” Feemor said.

“Are they looking into it?”

“Of course they are. Inefficiently because they’re understaffed, but they are looking into it.” Brair said.

“Does anyone on the Grand Council know that they’re understaffed?” Obi reached for his comm and MO sparked at him again.

“You know, that threat lost it’s power after the first time you hit me with it.”

MO narrowed his eyes and the spark got brighter.

“Okay!” Feemor interrupted. “Briar and I will check with Ruzry to make sure IT staffing is somewhere on the Grand Council to-do list. Trion and MO will keep an eye out for anything under your purview that needs to immediately get done while you’re out. And you and Tyvokka will go to dinner.”

“But–”

“Obi. Everything is not your responsibility.”

“Fine.” Obi sighed.

“Repeat it for me.”

“Everything is not my responsibility.” Obi said, full of sarcasm, but Feemor let it go.

“Now off with you, trouble maker.”

“It’s just–”

“You’re going to be late.”

“But–”

“And you’re going to have to tell Master Tyvokka that you were late leaving a scheduled meeting with me.”

“You don’t need–”

“And then he’ll worry.”

“Fine.” Obi stomped away. “I was just trying to help!” He called over his shoulder.

“Have fun eating dinner with an obligate carnivore!”

Obi tossed his hands and stormed out of the room before they could shout more things at him.

This is what he got for complaining that Tyvokka wouldn’t tell him where they were going to lunch so he could research the menu.

Yes, surprises were good. But not when you were going out to eat with your Master for the first time. Obi had only been to two restaurants in his entire life! He didn’t want to get it wrong. (Feemor said he couldn’t get it wrong. It was ordering food. And if he didn’t like it, he didn’t like it and that was nice to know. Sometimes Obi wondered how Feemor could be disavowed as Master Jinn’s padawan and still not get it. He could always do something wrong.)

No. Obi cut himself off.

Feemor asked Obi if he trusted Tyvokka, and he did. If Obi was ordering wrong at his favorite restaurant, Tyvokka would tell him.

Tyvokka had told him what he said to the Shadows and Obi knew that wasn’t a lie. And if Obi told Tyvokka he was worried about everyone being weird, Tyvokka would tell him. Or would tell him why he wasn’t telling him, which Obi didn’t love, but understood. Obi didn’t usually like the, ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ argument, but he figured if anyone was allowed to make that argument, it was Shadows. (Which would’ve been enough to calm Obi down if it was just the Shadows who were being weird.)

“Tag.” Came out of nowhere with a bop to Obi’s head.

Obi-Wan did not shriek. But maybe he jumped.

Definitely not enough for Tyvokka to be barking out a laugh like that. Obi grimaced and bit back a curse he wasn’t supposed to know. “That’s not fair! You keep sneaking up on me.”

“I didn’t have to sneak that time. Your head had all of your attention.” Tyvokka knew that Obi and Feemor had just finished one of their sessions, so there was a question in that statement, asking if there was anything Obi-Wan wanted to talk about.

“I’m fine, but you come out of nowhere, even when you think you’re not.”

Tyvokka reached out with one long, tree-climbing arm and poked Obi in the nose with a noise that sounded like ‘boop.’ Exactly what Tyvokka had done a dozen times during their first spar until Obi understood that for all Tyvokka would and could teach him, Obi would still need instruction from a like-sized humanoid.

Obi liked it just as much now as he did then. “You can be sneaky too.” That was a dig at Obi’s height. He just knew it.

Tyvokka did a terrible job biting back his smile. He kept walking while Obi stayed right where he was, feet planted on the ground until Tyvokka—didn’t take it back at all. Until Tyvokka flicked his fingers and Obi lifted off the ground to bob along beside him.

Obi tried to stay stick-straight and irritated, but it was impossible. The last time he floated like gravity didn’t count was when Master Yoda came to the creche and meditated with their class. He’d gone so deep he’d started floating cushions and children around him in a lazy circle, and all the giggling didn’t break his concentration.

“You’re not funny.” Obi tried to say it like Master Tholme, who was the only person Obi had seen scold Tyvokka properly. Though, it was hard to be stern when he was upside down.

“Your face says otherwise, padawan.”

“I have too much blood in my head.” Obi tucked his knees into a backflip he couldn’t do on the ground. (A little closer.)

“You pretend sitting with your legs over the sofa and your head on the ground will help you think.” Tyvokka gave him a spin and Obi leaned into it.

(Closer.)

“I learned that from Quin, who learned it from Tholme. I bet he learned it from you.”

(Almost there.)

“There isn’t a chair big enough.”

Tyvokka reached out to shift his fingers and stop Obi before he took off like a top. Obi struck.

“Tag!”

Obi bopped in the air with Tyvokka’s surprise, then his master bellowed a great, barking laugh. “You clever boy!” He swept Obi into his arms and spun him through the air. “You tricked me!”

“Well, not just me. I’m in a group chat with Masters Tholme and Koon. They told me the secret to winning.”

“Did they now?” If Tyvokka was surprised that Quinlan’s Master had started a chat with the three of them to pass on their information of being padawan to Tyvokka, he didn’t seem it. “And what’s the secret?”

“You think I’m a child. So, you’re going to underestimate me.”

Master Tyvokka pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. “And so, I did. Well done, Cub.”

“Thank you, Master.” Obi said primly. They got back on their way to the Temple’s main entrance and the taxi stand waiting outside. Obi didn’t know why he was surprised that someone came running across the room shouting for Master Tyvokka, but he was.

Knight Shneezrol was a Shani who was taking their appointment as head of the Corpsfolk research project seriously. She was in charge of tracking down every member of the Corps and having a qualified sentient ask them in person about the circumstances of their departure from the Temple and find out if they wanted to come back to the Temple and sort for something else. Her spreadsheets were a thing of beauty. They had to be, or else they’d be a nightmare.

But that didn’t meant Obi wanted to see her darting around groups of people, robe half off her shoulders and a bundle of padds in her arms. “Master Tyvokka, I know you’re scheduled off right now, but we have a problem.”

“Thank you for checking the schedule.” A quarter of the time, people apologized and walked away after that. (MO had tracked it.) Knight Shneezrol didn’t though.

“Of course.” She reached for the third padd of seven in her stack and Obi stepped forward to catch the rest before they turned into a cascade. “Oh, thank you. Master Tyvokka, we’re having a jurisdictional problem with the researchers on Ossus. They’re all technically part of the Educorps, but some of them say they report to the Librarian’s Assembly, and others to non-Jedi entities, even though they’re Corps.” She held up the padd and Tyvokka nodded along like that flash was enough to share the data. “But there’s this other cohort that are Educorps, they admit to it—oh, not this one.” She flicked through the padds in Obi’s hands like he was a shelf. “This one, thank you. They’re Educorps researchers, but say they report to the Shadows. Which, I’ve just—” the feathers that had been puffed out from her head went straight up. “I’ve never even heard of that before.”

Obi straightened the padds to hand them back to Knight Shneezrol before he took the one padd that actually mattered and ran downstairs and sort through the Shadow files and figure out who technically belonged to their ranks for the purposes of her questions. But like he had for the last several days, Master Tyvokka: empathized, “The old archaeological sites are always so complicated” encouraged, “Even Jocasta struggles with a poorly-thought-out org chart;” and then told Knight Shneezrol who she should be talking to instead of doing it himself.

Obi tried not to feel guilty that it would take her at least another hour to track down the person who was officially supposed to answer her question when Tyvokka could’ve done it in half the time – or looked at her padd to double-check that he could declare that for purposes of Grand Council questioning, they could just get interviewed by the Jedi already on site. But he didn’t. Instead, he took two minutes to soothe the Knight and pass the problem on to whoever was supposed to be in charge of it.

Tyvokka sent her on her way, feathers still up. “Apologies for the interruption, padawan. Shall we?”

“You’re very good at that.” Obi said, a little more suspicious than he’d meant.

“I’ve had lots of practice.”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“But those are the words you said. How am I to tell what you meant without them?”

Of course, before Obi could find the words, Ruzry and Quinlan turned up to interrupt. “Obi-Wan and I were headed out to lunch.” Tyvokka said.

“We know.” Ruzry didn’t look up from her comm, just typed away and shoved Quin and his backpack forward. “Obi doesn’t have any civilian clothes, so I had Quin raid his closet for the nearest sizes.”

“Is that necessary?”

Ruzry glanced up. “Yes.”

“Ah. Off with you padawan. Come back when you’ve changed.” Obi wanted to ask questions, but Quin already had him by the sleeve, dragging him to one of the visitor restrooms.

Quin tossed Obi the pack and proceeded to check all the stalls for eavesdroppers before he explained. “Ruzry isn’t worried about anything dangerous. But word has gotten out that the High Council was doing some ‘restructuring.’” Obi heard the air quotes as he stripped down to his undershirt. “Master Gallia is at the Senate and commed to warn that she’s been flooded by people trying to get her to gossip. If you want a quiet lunch, incognito is the way to go.”

Obi pulled Quin’s spare green tunic over his head while Quin rambled that it was good Obi hadn’t cut his hair yet. That little bit of shag meant he didn’t need to pin up his padawan braid, but it also meant he had enough hair to pin. “Padawan Ritrol went with the old-school cut, where he buzzed everything but his braid. He has to wear hats when they’re on assignment.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t grown his hair out.”

“He’s almost a Knight. I think he’s trying to prove he can make it.”

Quin tugged out an oversized vest that fit around Obi like tabards. “I’d have brought you some of my cool clothes, but we both know that would make you look even more out of place.”

“Quin.”

“You dress to blend in to the environment, and all my stuff is to look like a spacer.”

“Quin.”

“That doesn’t really work for Coruscant. I mean, it does, but I don’t think Master Tyvokka is taking you to a spacer bar—”

“Stop being weird.” Obi interrupted Quin tugging the vest down, straightening it like he did with Obi’s tabards when was worried.

“I’m not weird. You’re weird.”

“Quinlan. I know you know the thing that I don’t know.” Quin froze mid-tug and refused to look him in the eyes. “That’s okay. Master Tyvokka told me some of what’s going on, and I trust him. I trust him to tell me more, if I ask. I don’t mind you knowing what I don’t know, but I do mind you being weird.”

Quin ran his eyes over Obi’s face with all the care he used after a spar. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. And I know it will be your most difficult assignment yet, but I believe you can do it.”

Quin froze, scrambling to figure out how Obi-Wan had gotten things so wrong—or maybe Obi knew about an assignment Quinlan didn’t yet? He would’ve gone off to interrogate Master Tholme if Obi had kept a straight face.

“You little–” Obi slipped around Quin’s grabbing hands and out the door with a cackle, where Master Tyvokka was waiting. (He’d just changed tunics too. And lost his cloak. Obi-Wan supposed a Wookiee with sleeves was even more eye-catching than Wookiee generally.)

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