Reading Time: 76 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 Seven

It wasn’t a Shadow who ventured out to Coruscant to interrupt their lunch plans and recall Tyvokka of the Temple. It was on of Cin’s off-duty Guardians who swore with complete honesty that he didn’t know why he’d been sent.

Worrisome.

Then, Ruzry met them at the door to one of the Initiate training salles.

Not at the taxi stand. Not the door to the Temple. Not inside the turbolift. And neither Tera, Tholme, Eriad, nor any of his other Shadows met him on the way.

One of Cin’s faceless guardians escorted them from the Temple entrance and led the way.

Layers of worry.

Tyvokka’s attention was not drawn to Ruzry, who said nothing when the arrived. Or the bundle of every Council member currently in the building, along with T’ra and a few Grand Councilors for formality’s sake. Or to more security personnel lurking at the edges of the room, all their training requiring them to be here though they didn’t know what to do.

No, Tyvokka’s gaze went straight to where it was intended to go: “COME YOUR TIME WILL. BEWARE YOU MUST, TROUBLE I AM” painted on the wall.

“Sitrep.” Tyvokka demanded before anyone could prevaricate.

Eriad barreled over the top of Cin. “This is the Senior Initiate group training salle. At 13:02, Knight Coljor arrived at to get set up for his class immediately after lunch.” Eriad nodded to the poor Knight who looked more in need of a chair than Yoda. “He saw the wall and immediately hit the alarm for Guard assistance. They arrived,” Eriad didn’t indicate which one, likely because he didn’t know, “and passed the word to Master Drallig. He called for a security check on Master Yoda, which hit the High Council system, who informed several members of the Grand Council, for various reasons.” Some out of due diligence, others because they were probably eating lunch together.

“While the Council was assembling, the Guardians checked the security footage, which was glitching at the time and has nothing to offer. Master T’ra thought that sounded suspicious and word should be passed to the Shadows.” Which meant Tholme thought it was suspicious. “We sent Knight Caul to retrieve you.”

“Also, the Senior Initiate training sabers have been stolen.” Cin added, not to be petty.

There. Yoda was seated on one of the benches at the side of the room, as though putting him at an angle where he couldn’t clearly see the words would make a difference.

Before Tyvokka could reach him, Yoda raised his small hands. “Fine, I am. Made, no attempt was.” Dooku, standing guard next to his old master’s shoulder, looked ready to object.

Tyvokka recognized the tension behind him as he took a knee for Yoda. But for all he and Yoda hadn’t been in the same room since he accidentally called for a vote of No Confidence, no one wanted a threat to his life. “Master Yoda.”

“Fine, I am. Truly.” Yoda reached out and patted Tyvokka’s paw. “Tell the others, help, fussing will not.” Centuries together, and centuries of fussing meant Tyvokka understood. Yoda was unsettled, but not worried. And would prefer if the children calmed down.

“As I said.” Cin directed at Eriad.

Tyvokka didn’t need to turn to know Cin’s arms were crossed as he glared Eriad down. An effective technique for winning arguments with anyone who wasn’t likely to walk away from an argument and then poison Cin in his sleep.

“You can say all you like: this isn’t a security matter, it’s an investigative one.”

“Boys.” Yaddle sighed, so tired even Yoda flinched.

Yaddle turned to Tera, a good choice for middle ground between the two factions Tyvokka could feel had formed while they waited for him to arrive. Why the room seemed split down the middle between Yoda’s former padawans and their department and Tyvokka’s Shadows, he didn’t want to think about. The only problem was: “The criminal underworld of Coruscant is not the same thing as being inside the Temple.” Tera explained. “I will help if the investigation turns outside the Temple—”

“If?” Poor Cin.

“But I have little to offer inside.”

On another day, another investigation, they would all turn to Tholme next, but given his association with T’ra and his service to the Grand Council he was a little too middle ground for the taste of Yoda’s padawans.

“Investigation inside the Temple has the same principles, doesn’t it?” Dooku demanded.

“The criminal underworld and a crime scene are not the same thing.” Eriad snapped. Mistake. He should’ve let Tera handle it. (You had to survive long enough to leave the room if you wanted to poison someone.)

Yoda rolled his eyes at the drama, and Tyvokka gave his little knee a squeeze in gratitude. He wanted to believe he’d handle such a vote so well. “Have we pulled camera footage for the room?”

Blessed Ruzry answered like there wasn’t posturing to interrupt them. “The system glitch scrambled the feed.”

‘System glitch’ was not the same thing as deliberately tampered footage. “Glitch?”

All the little Shadows and Guardians curled in on themselves. (Tyvokka tried not be proud he could scold as well as Yaddle.)

“We’ve been having a problem with the security feeds over the last two weeks, Master. Nothing specific, with no real pattern, and nothing of note has happened at the locations when the feeds have been out.” Cin explained.

“Well, that’s not quite true.” A new voice interrupted. Tyvokka assumed a Guardian from the way he looked at Cin. The only one currently not on duty so the only one who according to tradition was permitted to speak. Based on the comm in his hand and the state of his hair, someone had been messaging endlessly until he got out of bed to confess on behalf of all of them.

“We’ve had a few things go missing when the cameras were out, but nothing worth stealing. Just, the standard misplacement of small objects.”

Cin could’ve killed the boy with the power of his glare. The poor fool kept talking. “I mean, the glitching cameras and missing objects didn’t correlate one-to-one. Think about how many little things people misplace throughout the Temple every day. They were things that if we hadn’t asked, they never would’ve been reported.”

“But you did ask.” Eriad over-enunciated. “So, they were reported. And what was done?” He was enjoying Cin’s irritation too much.

The boy looked to Cin, who didn’t flinch in the face of such stupidity. Although, whatever Tyvokka expected, it was not for Yoda to declare that Cin had told him about the security problems over their weekly tea. “Thought, we did, that unrelated the two problems were.”

Ah. Tyvokka had thought Cin’s irritation was from finding out in front of witnesses that his department had kept this from him. Not that he’d gambled with Temple security and been wrong. How unlike him.

“So, you ignored them?” Eriad asked.

“Simple the matter seemed, so assigned it to Qui-Gon to ‘investigate’ we did.”

Twice in four days, Tyvokka tossed up the great, leafy barriers around his soul. Like wrapping himself in the living layers of a tree: heartwood to bark. He could tell from Obi’s flinch that he hadn’t quite outpaced the swell of rage, but close. Obi looked to him, all big, scared eyes. The little cub was unsure what about the conversation had his master so furious. Ruzry put her hands on Obi’s shoulders and tugged him back against her body, ready to take his cub and leave if things went the way of the High Council meeting. (How to explain the pain of recurring disappointment in a friend you still wanted to believe?)

But Obi was all right for now, and would listen to Tyvokka’s explanation later – with sad eyes that understood too well, before he called Feemor to ‘drop by for a chat.’ For now, Tyvokka brought himself back to the moment to hear Yoda explaining without a care that they seemed like misplaced items of no consequence, and Qui-Gon was getting tetchy without a task to complete.

“He’s struggling with the gardens.” Eriad said, tone dangerously level. (He respected Cin enough to get irritated.) Jinn’s troubles were something Tyvokka didn’t know and he chose compassion for how terrible that must’ve been for a Jedi so rooted in the Living Force.

“Master Yoda didn’t know about the glitching cameras.” Cin defended. “I presented them as two separate, unconnected issues.”

“Because they are.” The only speaking Guardian argued.

“They just happened to go out when a death threat was being written on the wall?” Eriad snapped.

“Correlation does not equal causation.” Obi piped up from his safe corner. The tension drained like a poked balloon at the reminder of a child in the room. Obi blushed at the attention, but the clever boy had done what he set out to do.

“You would be surprised at how often coincidences really are just coincidences.” Tera added. “And yes, that’s true both inside and outside the Temple,” he teased Dooku, a universal realignment between the Shadows and Guardians, for all Dooku wasn’t either.

“And we must verify which is which.” Tyvokka declared. “I need all the uncontaminated camera footage. We can fill in the rest from the last time we can confirm the room was clear, to when the threat was discovered.” Ruzry gave Obi a pat/nudge, sending him over to Tyvokka, already on her comm to head out the door and begin.

“Is there a lock on the door?” Tyvokka directed to Cin.

“No. We want students to have a safe space to practice. There were a few incidents of after-hours fighting, so the Guard assigned to this area of the Temple will get a notification if the door opens at night.” Cin explained. Obi didn’t pink at all, even though he’d probably been one of the reasons for the new rules.

MO zigged his way around the bundle of people by the door, beeping that he could check the door log. <<If it tracks after hours, it tracks regular hours too and just doesn’t tell them.>> Honestly, now that he thought about it, Tyvokka wasn’t surprised that MO had gotten word and come to joint them, and more surprised he hadn’t been the one to meet them at the door and spill all the secrets he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Are you sure?”

MO flicked loose his electroprod hand and gave it a little spark. The door would tell him what he wanted to know if it knew what was good for it.

“Excellent. We’ll start there.” Tyvokka gave the room a nod that he was on the case and turned to his padawan. “The basic questions that begin any investigation are ‘who, what, when, where, why, and how.’ The door, the footage, and the testimony should give us ‘when.’” Obi reached for his notebook and MO gave the click that meant he was recording.

“Do we always start with ‘when’?” Obi asked. Tyvokka was tempted to say yes, just so the boy could be irritated that the words were out of order.

“We start with the question that seems easiest to answer.”

“Like crossing off the answer you know is wrong on a multiple-choice test.”

“Precisely.” Tyvokka knelt down beside Obi. Partly so he could point at the words he’d written in his notebook, but mostly as a pointed statement that he had work to do. The entire bundle of Councilors, Guards, Shadows, and eavesdroppers were all standing there watching him give Obi the basic principles of investigation.

Yoda was the one to slip off his bench and start tapping shins towards the door. “Keep us updated, Tyvokka will.”

“Forgive me, Master Yoda, but your life was threatened.” Shneezrol said, ever so politely. “This is a matter for the entire Grand Council.”

“You can consider me well informed enough to miss the meeting.” Tyvokka said. “And I might have the answer by the time you get everyone together. A most efficient use of time.”

“Do we even need a meeting? Can’t this just been a comm message until we actually know something?” Even said.

“Is this not precisely the complaint from a few days ago? Not telling the High Council when things were going on and they should be?” Saesee argued.

Obi leaned against Tyvokka’s side, the tension in his shoulders climbing as he watched the conversation devolve. It wasn’t the arguing. His little padawan was surprisingly fine with conflict. No, it was the confusion. Obi didn’t like it when he didn’t know what was going on. Worse still when he knew there was something going on and he didn’t understand.

“We have almost every member of the High Council here!” Even snapped. “Micah is the only one off world, Poli and Mace are working the Senate, and we all decided not to wake Oppo.”

“Further, we are following current protocol.” Ki-Adi added.

“Right! We needed someone who knows how to investigate crimes, we got someone who knows how to investigate crimes.”

“Is that Tyvokka’s specialty?” Adi Gallia asked. Tyvokka tried not to be offended. But really, he’d spent too long on the Council if the younger members didn’t know what he did.

“The others seemed perfectly willing to say when it wasn’t theirs.” Even snapped.

“I am an investigator. It’s how I started all those centuries ago and I keep my hand in. If you are uncomfortable with me handling it, there are others who can do the investigation just as well.”

Adi tensed at the ‘uncomfortable.’ That was a heavy word to use for a High Councilor, especially after the accidental upheaval of the last week, and no one wanted to do the same again.

“However, I thought that since I am already here, and already familiar with the nuances of the situation, and already an investigator, I thought I might take the case. Further,” Tyvokka glanced around the room at his colleagues and got several nods, “we High Councilors have agreed to give the Grand Council room to breathe while they do their work.”

Far too many people in this room – his fellow High Councilors included – looked at him in surprise.

They hadn’t an official meeting discussing it. Just several lunches, and teas, and walks where the different factions, age ranges, and service brackets had discussed their approach to the High Council reshuffling. Over an evening drink, Tyvokka and his fellow old guard who’d held their seats for years all agreed to step back. Poor Yaddle probably wouldn’t be allowed to move back a hair, but Tyvokka could. It was one thing to announce to the Grand Council that he agreed a padawan-master shouldn’t hold a position on any Council. It was another to start deliberately transferring his duties in preparation. Talk was cheap and actions were louder. So, Tyvokka had done both. He didn’t know how much clearer he could get about his plans to step down. He’d do it now, if it wouldn’t make an even bigger mess of the High Council restructuring.

But stuck waiting to resign didn’t mean he couldn’t move forward. “Also, I have been remiss that I haven’t worked a single investigation with my padawan since our apprenticeship began. This would be an excellent place to start.”

Tyvokka scrubbed a furry paw through Obi’s hair. His pretend offense would’ve been more effective if he hadn’t leaned into the touch. With all his Force-enhanced reflexes, Tyvokka did the same to MO, a tap of claws to the top of his box, chased away by affronted beeping.

He shouldn’t have.

Not because the droid was going to take lessons from Eriad on how to poison him in his sleep, but because he hadn’t been watching.

Silence met his pronouncement. But not the silence of resolution. The silence of communication. Of long, shared looks across the room while they tried to find the words to say.

Adi cleared her throat. “Why don’t you have Eriad handle the investigation with Obi-Wan?”

Tyvokka stilled. The suggestion was ludicrous. Eriad was a Shadow in the oldest sense of the word. He wanted to excuse it as the same ignorance that meant she didn’t know he was an investigator, but… it wasn’t.

“There’s so much going on with the High Council and the Grand Council, there’s no telling what else might crop up while you’re working on this. It would be better to transfer the case now, instead of worry about it later.”

Adi nudged Eeth in the Force, like that was any subtler than using her foot. “And! This case.” Eeth scrambled to catch up. “It’s about saving Yoda’s life. That’s a big task. You wouldn’t want your attention split.”

“And…” Adi was about to say something else complimentary about Eriad taking Tyvokka’s padawan, but she had the sense to glance at him. He and Eriad had shared a mission once. Tyvokka the negotiator, Eriad undercover as a Senator’s aide. They’d spent two weeks negotiating a peace deal, only for it to nearly collapse at the last moment because the king ‘complimented’ the rebel leader for doing so well in life despite being so pretty.

Eriad had looked at the old man with the same look of baffled fascination he had now.

(Tyvokka did not like the analogy. Especially used against two members of his Council.)

“And Master Dooku could do it! He’s… done investigating, and he could have help. And he’s on the Grand Council, but not on the Grand Council, which means he’s informed, but it won’t slow things down. And no one would want to save Master Yoda’s life more. And I’m sure he would like to spend time with his—your apprentice.”

Tyvokka slowly rose to his feet, Adi stilling like the prey she was.

Dooku’s grandpadawan. She was about to call Tyvokka’s padawan, Dooku’s grandpadawan.

He’d told them he was stepping down. He’d agreed that one couldn’t be both Grandmaster and Master. They’d been passive-aggressively trying to lure him into defaulting into Grandmaster since Yoda stepped down. Tyvokka thought they just needed time to adapt. They would catch up.

This was not catching up.

This was assuming Tyvokka just needed time to adapt before he’d willingly give up his padawan.

“My life, it is.” Master Yoda interrupted with a stomp of his gimmer stick. “My life it is, and trust Tyvokka with it, I do.”

Adi bobbled her head along, and more than a few others did too. Like Yoda’s word was law. Though, Tyvokka… didn’t know what Yoda meant. Yes, the words were clear and were about the investigation before them. But there wasn’t the metaphor Yoda liked to use when he was talking about the subtextual argument. He was telling them to let Tyvokka work the case, but not telling them to leave him alone.

“It’s not a matter of trust,” Eriad stepped across the room and spoke, ever so quietly. “Master Gallia does have a point.”

Eriad wouldn’t. Not in front of people he didn’t trust. That was the only reason Tyvokka didn’t growl.

“Not that, but the point you’ve been making. Too few people doing too much. Someone else can investigate this, but someone else can’t—right now, someone else can’t brief the Grand Council. You’re the only one on the Council with any investigatory experience.”

“Tholme—”

“Is T’ra’s and the old guard, the ones that we’re having trouble getting onside, will not regarding him as impartial.”

“But they will me?”

Eriad didn’t lean in to whisper in Tyvokka’s ear. He stepped in front where Tyvokka could follow his lips as he spoke with barely a breath of sound. “You cannot step down while this is going on. You knew that was true yesterday before they started to panic about Yoda. It is truer today. If you are not in the room to press forward, they will reverse.”

Tyvokka hated it, but Eriad was right. No matter the mistakes, they all had affection for Yoda and no one wanted a threat to his life. There was already a vacuum at the top that Yaddle refused to fill alone. Anyone with sense knew that the Grand Council would end with a recommendation they return to three Grandmasters, and Yoda would be one of them. But this new worry for Yoda could easily turn back into their habitual blind faith.

But they were adults, and if he warned T’ra they could handle themselves. Tyvokka turned to Obi, and the little spark didn’t know the details, hadn’t understood Eriad’s murmur, but he knew what was coming. Obi straightened up and nodded his agreement. Every inch of him screaming that he wasn’t actually fine.

“Apologies, Masters.” One of the logistically-minded Knights announced from the door. “The summons has gone out for the Grand Council briefing. That… as of right now, that will involve the entire High Council. I apologize that we haven’t hammered out how to handle irregular situations during this transition period. If I had to guess, that’s going to be part of today’s project. In the gaps between the briefing, figuring out procedure that none of us thought we’d need because this was all supposed to be resolved.” Yaddle reached out and gave the girl a pat, stopping her ramble before she went too far.

Tyvokka sighed near a growl and put his hands on Obi’s shoulders. “I don’t like this.”

Obi-wan wrapped his two, small hands around one of Tyvokka’s wrists. “It’s fine.” The sweet boy didn’t understand why Tyvokka was so upset, but he wanted to soothe anyway. Things like this were why Tyvokka needed to be more careful. The cub would just go on pretending things were fine forever.

Ruzry, dear Ruzry, stepped up behind Obi and put her hands atop Tyvokka’s. “If you would permit me, I would happily show your cub the basics of an investigation.”

“Aren’t you already on assignment for the Grand Council?” Adi interrupted. Half the room turned to look at her like she was either the bravest Jedi they’d ever met, or a madwoman. “I just… I mean, there must be someone who doesn’t have an assignment?”

Someone who could take on Obi as an apprentice when they thought Tyvokka would come around. Ruzry didn’t waste her time on glares. Instead, she put on a bright smile and informed Adi and the others that she was in between active investigations. “After all, it would be better to have someone fully informed of all the Grand Council details, just in case the investigation overlaps with their work in some way. This is, after all, Master Yoda’s life. Would you entrust it to someone without my experience?”

Yes, they would’ve. Because, no, no one was really worried that Yoda would get taken down by someone stupid enough to leave a warning in bright, red paint on the Temple walls.

But Tyvokka was no longer in the mood.

“Thank you, Master Gallia.” He said it with a growl, clear that if they kept pushing, he would go right off the edge and they could take care of themselves.

Ruzry gave him a deep nod and turned to face the group with Obi still safely under her hands. “Everyone who doesn’t have information for me, get out of my crime scene.” Shadow and Guardian alike started ushering people out the door.

Tyvokka wrapped Obi into a hug and hefted him into the air. “I hope the meeting goes well.”

“Learn from her. I’ll be quizzing you later.”

Obi leaned back. “I am excellent at quizzes.” Obi gave a tug to the long edge of Tyvokka’s moustache, silently reminding Tyvokka that he was the most important thing too.

Tyvokka was tempted, ever so tempted, to take it back. To tell them no and walk away with his padawan. They could take care of themselves, and if they couldn’t, they got what they got. But Tyvokka’s feelings did not make his decisions, he did. And he’d decided to see this through.

 

Chapter Eight

Master Arkill waited for Master Tyvokka at the door, already leaning in to whisper something. Obi tried to give him a glare, to tell him to take care of Obi’s master while he had to be here. And Arkill nodded, but Obi didn’t know if he believed him.

Obi… didn’t know anything about today.

He went to lean against the wall, but maybe not? Should he not do that? It was a crime scene and Obi had snuck enough holo dramas to know you weren’t supposed to touch stuff. So he stood right there, with MO parked between his feet, neither of them knowing what they were and weren’t allowed to do.

The silence was good though. It meant they could hear Ruzry telling certain people to wait in the hall and others to get back to their lives. Knight Coljor didn’t like that much. “Don’t misunderstand,” Ruzry hissed at him through her mask. “I care about this case, and I will solve it. But Master Tyvokka left his padawan in my care and told me to teach him. You can wait in hall until we’re ready.”

“Knight—”

“If Master Tyvokka told you to teach his padawan the basics of temple security, would you talk to me first?”

Knight Coljor pressed his lips together and nodded, shutting the door behind him as he went.

“Right.” Ruzry paused and stared at the door for a minute before she removed her face mask and turned around to face Obi. “So—”

“What’s going on?”

Ruzry didn’t do him the disrespect of pretending like she didn’t understand. “I’m not sure, but I’ve got a suspicion.”

“That you don’t want to tell me.” That meant it was something bad. Obi wasn’t upset with Master Tyvokka for going. He understood Tyvokka had a reason why. But Obi felt something he wanted to call ‘unhappy,’ but he couldn’t put a word to it and Master Feemor said that was important. ‘Don’t say sad when you mean mad. You deserve honesty, even from yourself.’ Obi felt uncomfortable and… squeamish.

But they had work to do. And as soon as they got that done, Obi could… figure it out.

“So: who, what, when, where, why, and how.”

Ruzry nodded, and Obi appreciated that she’d taken the mask off so he could see her smile.

“Interestingly, also the questions a journalist is supposed to ask when they put together a story.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I had an affair with one once and she told me all about it.

Obi-Wan… had no idea what to do with that.

“But we don’t need to talk about that now.” Ruzry sped on. And that was the most uncomfortable he’d ever seen Ruzry. (He didn’t think she got to be uncomfortable. She was the one talking about sex.)

“Personally, I don’t like to start with those questions. I like to start with: what can tell me something?”

Obi glanced down at MO, who had his light-pixel eyes up as high on his face as they could go. “Tell you something?”

“About the crime.”

“Oh! The door?”

MO beeped a, “Right!” and ran off to talk to it.

“Tyvokka said the door might have a log of openings and closings so we could get a time when this happened.”

“Great. What else?”

“Well… the cameras are broken.”

“Yes.” It was a statement without hint or encouragement. Obi felt the same twisting uncertainty he got in botany classes. Which didn’t help the squeamish discomfort he already had in his stomach.

“The people in the hall?”

Ruzry still didn’t talk but the silence was expectant. “They’re people, so they can tell you things?”

“Right.” But not right. Obi could tell Ruzry wasn’t actually happy with that answer. Obi had never given her a wrong answer before. Never had her look uncomfortable at him before. Obi-Wan hated it.

He felt so small.

“MO, lock the door for me.” Ruzry didn’t want anyone to see him fail. “You know how eavesdroppers are.” Ruzry smiled without her eyes. She didn’t know how to make him good at this.

“Right.” Ruzry took a seat right where she was standing. That was… Obi stood there until Ruzry waved him down in front of her. “Cards on the table: I’ve never taught a junior padawan about casework before.” That didn’t make Obi feel better, but he appreciated Ruzry trying to make it her problem instead of his.

“I think the easiest thing to do would be for me to do the investigating while you go the lab and get taught the lab basics first.” Obi bit the back of his lip to keep his face from moving. “Or, if you wanted, you could hang out in Brair’s hanger and take the 101 course on criminal procedure. You don’t strike me as a kid who reads crime novels.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t open his mouth or he’d start to cry, so he shook his head.

“That just means there’s all kinds of basics you haven’t been exposed to. And the basics are the easiest way to start.”

Obi-Wan tried to be all right with that. He really did. But he opened his mouth to say, ‘Whatever you think is best,’ but what came out was, “No.” Obi-Wan was the padawan and he wasn’t going to let his master down.

“Okay.” Ruzry licked her lips. “Then how do you think we should handle this?”

“Just start.”

“Just–”

“Just get started and I’ll catch up.”

“Obi—”

“I’m smart.”

“I know that.”

“I can do this.” Obi’s voice broke.

“Okay. Then let’s do this.” Ruzry popped up and looked away while Obi scrubbed his sleeves over his cheeks. “The most basic foundation of investigation is asking questions. Never assume you know the answer, even if all the signs point to something. Start with questions and just keep asking until you have incontrovertible proof.”

“What counts as incontrovertible?” MO beeped from the door. A good question that Obi couldn’t ask for sniffing.

“That will vary from case to case. Vid recordings can be altered, DNA samples can be fabricated, witness testimony can be false. You keep going until there are no more questions to ask. Usually by then, you have your proof. The ability to ask questions instead of make assumptions is how you know the difference between an actual investigator and some who just thinks they are.”

“The security personnel…”

“Some are investigators. Most jedi have taken a class or two and think that makes them investigators. They can do well enough, but they are not the genuine article.”

“They aren’t incontrovertible.” Obi teased, proud that his voice had gone back to normal.

“Exactly. Of the High Council, only Tyvokka and Micah Giiett are real investigators. If Micah were on-planet, he would be the one leading this investigation, as he should. See, step one is to keep asking questions. Step two comes from Micah. Lots of our fellow Jedi just rely on the force to guide them where they’re supposed to go next, but common sense is a better guide. Or as Tyvokka says–”

“Begin by not being an idiot.” Obi finished.

“Exactly.” Ruzry smiled at him, her real smile. They could do this.

“So. Take a look around this room and tell me about what questions I might have, and what can tell me something?”

“The message on the wall tells me that someone is mad at Yoda.”

“Does it? Remember, question everything.”

‘COME YOUR TIME WILL. BEWARE YOU MUST, TROUBLE I AM’ rather looked like someone was mad at Yoda, but it didn’t say his name, just used the way he talked. Which meant the only thing they knew what this it looked like someone was threatening Yoda, but they didn’t know who, or the emotion behind it.

Ruzry agreed. “What else?”

Okay. Who? They didn’t know. As for what? Obi checked with Ruzry then tucked his hands behind his back and got up close to the paint to examine it. “It’s red. And it’s paint.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s got the edge to it.”

“Edge?”

Obi pointed out the little ridge along the edge of the color. “That looks like of like what happens when you push one of the paint sticks in the Creche down too hard. Someone could steal one from the Creche and walk around with that in their pocket and not get caught.”

“They could. But remember, we don’t want to assume until we know for sure.”

“Incontrovertibly.”

Ruzry stuck her head out the door and asked someone to hand her the evidence kit they’d dropped off while she and Obi were talking. She popped open the little case, then paused. “Evidence collection is an entire class unto itself.”

“We can cover that on a different day.”

Ruzry laughed, but explained the basics of basics while she swabbed some paint from the wall and ran a scanner over it. (“Scans are faster, but you want to keep a sample in case you need to double-check.”) Then she pulled out a small tower, about half the length of a lightsaber but the same width, and set it in the center of the room. (“You want a 3D impression of the whole space, if you can get it, then another one closer to the actual scene of the crime.”) MO nudged the tower over half a meter one direction and a few centimeters another – <<The actual center of the room,>> he beeped.

Then there were door logs – eight openings during the camera blackout. Obi wanted to guess it would be the last, but Ruzry said you never knew when people just weren’t paying attention. Especially children sneaking into a room when they weren’t supposed to be there. Obi thought that would make someone pay more attention, but he got the point.

Ruzry commed security to pull the footage from the surroundings hallways.

“But there was a glitch?”

“In the hallway right outside. But if they were sloppy, they didn’t hit the surrounding hallways and we can see who was in the neighborhood at the right times.”

“Oh! We could ask the mouse droids!”

“We could. Even if the footage doesn’t show us anything—”

“It can give us more questions.”

Ruzry explained that she preferred to review footage before talking to witnesses because altering footage required skill and time. “Usually, in the immediate aftermath of a crime, the footage is reliable.”

“So, if you had the footage you wouldn’t need to ask them questions at all?”

“I still would, there’s just something impartial about footage that makes it a good starting place.”

Ruzry gave Obi a speech on questioning witnesses was different than questioning suspects. He must’ve asked the right questions, because Ruzry rambled for a bit about not asking suspects questions you didn’t don’t already know the answer to. And even then, there were friendly witnesses and unfriendly witnesses, and you never really knew which one was which until they started talking. (That… made sense? But Obi was still grateful he had MO there recording so he could listen to it later.)

Questioning the teachers didn’t tell them much. At least, not things Obi didn’t already know. But he and MO followed Ruzry diligently through the conversation. They had multiple saber classes—Obi was still in one. Everyone was supposed to put the training sabers back on its assigned hook when they left, but people forgot all the time. The trainers practically never noticed until someone started complaining that their favorite training saber wasn’t there. And at the end of every week, they’d send out a message to the classes listing every saber missing by number and they had to be returned before dessert.

Ruzry let them all go with a bow. Obi had been through enough courtesy lessons to wait until they were around the corner before he leaned in and asked, “Did I… I mean…”

“No, that wasn’t particularly useful, but you have to ask questions anyway. We would’ve felt silly if we hadn’t asked and it turned out it was a common prank for students to steal a bunch of training sabers.”

“It’s not.”

“Not anymore.”

“Did you used to steal sabers?”

“A person doesn’t end up as a Shadow by being obedient.”

That… Obi-Wan was obedient all the time. Teachers had told him it was the best part about him. “Off to the Creche next?” Obi cleared his throat. “To ask about the paint stick?”

Ruzry agreed, and thankfully didn’t try telling Obi he’d be a good Shadow anyway. What she did do was even better. They got to the Creche, said hello to Crechemaster Hoowrirl, and Ruzry nudged Obi-Wan forward to ask the questions.

“But–”

“You watched me at the salle. Now it’s your turn.”

“Ruzry–”

“Go.” She shoved him that time, and Obi stumbled to a stop in front of Crechemaster Hoowrirl, the Wookiee crechemaster who’d raised them both and wouldn’t let him sneak out.

“Crechemaster Hoowrirl.” Obi-Wan bowed.

“Padawan Kenobi.”

Obi opened his mouth and paused. Everyone Ruzry had talked to already knew what happened and they just started talking when she looked at them. Obi didn’t even know what he was allowed to say, but the Younglings on the other side of the room practicing float-feather meant probably not a lot.

“Do you have any missing paint sticks? Red paint sticks?” Obi rushed out.

Master Hoowrirl bit back the same smile she’d been giving the Younglings when they came it. “I’m sure we do. Paint sticks go missing all the time.”

Question. Ask a question. “Missing?”

“Not quite missing, but more rolling under tables, or getting put away in a different bin. As you know, there are certain things we are very careful to keep track of during the day, but paint sticks are low on that list.”

“Right. Would you have any idea how many paint sticks are missing?”

“Not for certain.”

“Right, well–” Ruzry had said to take a sample along with the scan, just in case you needed it later. “Can we have one of the red paint sticks to compare?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

Obi-Wan was a professional and an investigator. He did not roll his eyes. “May we?”

“You may.” Master Hoowrirl floated one of the paint sticks out of the bin, and Obi-Wan tucked his hands behind his back and looked to Ruzry to collect the evidence.

From there, Ruzry took him to the lab for introductions and to drop off the samples. Then, they went to the technological security office to see what they’d found on the hallway footage.

Temple security was the most stressful place Obi-Wan had ever been. The circular room was covered with screens. And not in orderly rectangles that only went from the desk up. No, they covered the whole wall, ceiling to floor, like a patchwork blanket, some little, some big. At the center was a computer pillar, with four chairs and a circular desk that did the spinning while the chairs stayed in place. The humming beneath the floor was the same as in Trion’s office, so Obi assumed the computer expanded out of sight

At the desk was a tall, thin droid with more fingers than Obi could count running over the console desk, and tall, bald, translucent Jedi Knight who started talking the moment they entered. “I haven’t found anything useful. The immediately surrounding halls were hit by the glitch, and the closest visible halls for your timeframe are too many intersections away.”

“Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, meet Jedi Knight Miro Daroon.”

“Oh.” The Knight startled up from his typing. “Hello.” He paused long enough for Obi-Wan to see the round, almost-goggle glasses which were tinted to block the room’s light. Then with a flick – of sensor or Force, Obi-Wan couldn’t tell – the chairs whirred around and the desktop followed.

“The boys in masks said that until today, they thought the glitch was just a glitch.” Ruzry stepped into the room just enough to see Knight Daroon.

“I told them that was improbable.”

“Why?”

“Because the system remained homeostatic.”

Obi-Wan swore he didn’t make any noise, but Knight Daroon paused in his typing, curled up his hands the way Obi did when he was trying to psych himself up for something, and twisted his chair to look them in the eye.

“No computer system is perfectly steady. At the very least, they ebb and flow. When there’s a problem in a system that’s allowed to persist, the problem will start to compound. Here, the glitches in our system have increased, but haven’t compounded. The fact that this has held steady for…” Knight Daroon looked to his droid companion, “three weeks?”

“More than two, less than four.” The droid beeped without a pause in its typing.

“The fact that I cannot tell you for sure is even more impressive. This is an expensive, impressive piece of malware. It’s like everything in the system immediately got 1% worse and then stayed there. I told them that was a strong sign the glitches were artificially induced.”

“Is there a pattern to the glitches? Can we trace them?”

“They’re reading to the system as naturally occurring.”

“It seems unlikely that the cameras just happened to glitch when the suspect was in the training salle and covering his escape.”

“Oh, it was deliberate. The malware is simply too sophisticated for me to be able to track what glitches in our system are naturally occurring, and which are the 1% malfeasance. It really is an impressive piece of coding.”

“So, he’s just glitching certain cameras?” Obi-Wan asked. That seemed like something they should be able to tell, somehow.

“Ah, I understand your confusion. No. The malware is causing entirely new glitches in the system. But some of those glitches are covering up bad behavior. Presumably. At least, it covered up today’s bad behavior.”

“So… he did something that caused 1% more glitches in the Temple’s computer systems. But only one-tenth of that 1% are glitches he’s using to hide.”

“I cannot provide you with a specific ratio of usable glitches, but the principle is sound.”

“How can you tell? If I’ll understand.”

“It is statistically unlikely that a humanoid could create a perfectly random a glitch. There are species who are better at it, but sentience as a whole renders us uncomfortable with true randomness. I have examined the computer system around the time and place where today’s incident took place, and nothing about it registers as deliberate.”

<<Nine-tenths of the 1% make the chosen one-tenth of 1% look random.>> MO explains.

The glasses meant Obi-Wan couldn’t see Knight Daroon blinking, but he was familiar with that pause. “Yes. It is a very sophisticated piece of malware.”

“Now that you’ve got one incident for sure, can you look for anything similar in the system?”

“If I had month.”

“How did they get this malware into the system?” Ruzry asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How would you usually get it into the system?”

“This room.”

“No other way?”

“If there is, the galaxy has a problem because I can’t conceive of another method.”

“You haven’t had a break in?” Knight Daroon blinked again. “Apologies. I have to ask.”

“I checked the logs and footage. No one not on the schedule has been here, and PK-3 is always here.”

“Can you backtrack it somehow and figure out where they might have been?”

“That is a priority, but it will take considerable time due to the priority of tracking its current location and effects.”

<<Trion will find it.>> MO beeped.

“Pardon?” Obi-Wan was starting to feel bad for the Knight

MO beeped off Trion’s official designation.

“That’s a great idea. I mean, if you don’t have enough time–”

<<Or processing power.>> MO added and Obi poked him for the insult.

“– to sort through the source, Trion could it. He could even help with figuring out which blanks in the system are the 1%.”

“It is too many variables.”

“To… sort through?”

“For a droid to sort through.”

“…why?”

“Droids must be given specific parameters when tracking like this. It is still math, but it is, as my <aster would’ve said, an art and not a science, and requires an Organic’s touch. Presently, it would be too many variables. If I could name them all.”

MO… well MO growled, which Obi-Wan would be lecturing Tyvokka for.

Obi put his hand on MO’s head and kept the little droid from vibrating the whole room to ruins. “It can’t hurt to try.”

Knight Daroon looked to Ruzry, who told him it sounded like an excellent idea, but in that tone adults liked to use. “I will find the time to sketch some parameters. I’m sure doing some of the groundwork—”

MO beeped at the insult.

“—legwork—”

<<That’s worse!>> MO sizzled.

“–the preliminary research! Would help.”

“Excellent!” Ruzry interrupted before MO could start a droid war with the Temple’s security center. “I’ll need a list of everyone who came in here from two to six weeks ago.”

“… why?”

“Some things are an art, and this is mine.” Knight Daroon nodded, and with a few taps, Ruzry’s comm beeped with the incoming message.

While Ruzry reviewed the names, Obi-Wan tapped MO to stay put and stepped up to the desk – far enough back not to accidentally hit something. “Thank for all your help, Knight Daroon. And for explaining things to me. I appreciate it.”

“You are… welcome.”

“Do you enjoy your work here?”

“Yes. It is fulfilling.”

“Good.” This was usually the part where the adult asked him a question back, but Knight Daroon was staring at Obi-Wan in the way that he was pretty sure meant confused blinking.

Obi-Wan was torn about asking Knight Daroon if he’d feel comfortable about him and Bant turning up to ask him questions about what the Force felt like when Ruzry finished.

“One more question. You had some class tours?”

“Yes, the Senior Initiates have been broadening their exposure to Temple functions.”

“Thank you, Miro.”

“My privilege, Knight Ruzry, Padawan Kenobi. Droid…”

“MO.”

“MO.”

Obi tapped MO with his foot and got a rumble of thanks for his trouble. Obi-Wan looked to Knight Daroon and sighed, and liked to think they shared a moment of commiseration.

It was a whiplash to come back to the stable walls of the real world, and Obi took a moment to stand there and reorient. “Usually, we do the sorting ourselves in regular office. But Miro is faster.” Ruzry patted him on the shoulder and nudged him away from the wall before he got too comfortable. “Come along. I need you for one more set of interviews and then you and MO can go get Trion started on hunting the malware.”

“What interview?”

“We need to talk with the last senior Initiate class to use those lightsabers.”

“Why?” The instructors said that none had been missing at last count, and that was totally within their norms.

“Like I told Miro: sometimes you just have to ask.”

They went back up to the Creche. It seemed a little silly to Obi that they hadn’t done this when they were up here already, but Ruzry must’ve had a reason for the delay. Ruzry poked her head around the corner, saw the room full of Initiates getting ready for their break time before dinner, then came back to brief Obi.

“Usually, I’d do like we did with the instructors and speak with them individually, but it’s been a while since class and they’ve had plenty of time to talk, so the individual details in their accounts are no longer individual.”

“What do we do?”

“We go in there and ask the group. With a bunch like this, they’re going to say, ‘so and so saw this’ and then we’ll ask them follow up questions. The most important part isn’t going to be the words. So, we’ll look with our eyes, and my nose, and the Force to see who feels out of sorts.”

“Out of sorts?”

“Are they too excited? Are they uncomfortable? Are they too quiet? You’re looking for anyone who isn’t behaving normally.”

“What do you do if you don’t know what ‘normal’ is?”

“It’s surprising how even with people you’ve never met before, you can tell they aren’t quite being themselves. Also, you’ll learn how to use your own… skills to change their responses.”

Obi narrowed his eyes. That was the tone grownups used when they didn’t mean ‘skills.’ “People tend to get a little more agreeable when I’m talking to them, so when they don’t, that might be a sign of something. And Tyvokka, he’s a Wookiee. Everyone gets a little under pressure when there’s a Wookie. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

No, he hadn’t. When people got nervous around Tyvokka was because of him being Tyvokka, not because of being a Wookiee, but he got what Ruzry was saying. They waited a moment for Ruzry to send a text comm warning that they’d be ready for debrief shortly, then headed in.

Talking to the Senior Initiates was much easier than getting started with Master Hoowirl. Bant popped up for a hug the moment Obi stepped through the door, and Obi introduced Ruzry to everyone. She didn’t make Obi do the talking again. Just took off her mask – with the color-changed skin that meant the other filter was on – and dropped into one of the short chairs with a bright smile and asked how their last lightsaber class went.

She was right, everyone talked over everyone and told other people’s stories. But the basics were: class was normal. Nothing interesting happened. They all put their lightsabers back, even Reeft, because he was the only who always forgot and they had to remind him. (The last time they didn’t remind him, he kept a saber for three days and forgot to return it before dessert, so they all were punished with a week of saber-less kata repetition. They weren’t doing that again.)

Everyone was friendly – some because Obi was there, and others that stressed kind of friendly that came from being around a Knight who didn’t have a padawan. Everyone but Bruck, which was normal. But Bruck was quiet, which wasn’t.

He didn’t brag about being the best in the class – now that Obi wasn’t there, which Bant would say, and Bruck would call her fish-face. He didn’t say Reeft only remembered food, not lightsabers. And he didn’t even pretend he had homework to do and that’s why he was ignoring them. Bruck just sat in the corner, shoulders up to his ears, looking like he wanted to say something but his tongue didn’t work.

Obi was trying to figure out how to tell Ruzry that Bruck was being the weird one when she must’ve gotten a buzz from her comm and started to laugh. “He lasted longer than I expected.”

“What?” Ruzry titled the screen so Obi could see a short message from Tyvokka making sure Ruzry wasn’t teaching his Padawan sloppy techniques.

“He waited almost two hours exactly before he started fussing.”

Obi felt himself pink in pleasure. “He doesn’t need to fuss.”

“Everyone has to fuss over you, Oafy.” Bruck spat. Obi twisted around in surprise at the venom in Bruck’s voice. “If they didn’t, you’d get left behind.”

Against his will, Obi-Wan’s eyes welled up and all the squeamish discomfort he put away to work the case came bubbling back.

“Kenobi.” Ruzry stopped Obi-Wan as he snapped to his feet. It took everything Obi had not to start yelling, because if he wasn’t going to yell, he was going to cry, and that was worse. “MO, put the prod away. Sit, both of you.” Obi didn’t. “Cub, sit.”

“No.”

Bruck looked sickly smug, but like he wanted to cry too but he didn’t deserve being sad when he was the one—

“Initiate Chun,” Ruzry cut Obi off before the words could leave his mouth. “Join me.” Ruzry left the room, tugging Bruck along in her wake with nothing but her will.

Obi didn’t sit, but Bant glommed onto him and took him down. Garen and Reeft joined her in a cuddle pile, while the rest of the Senior Initiates shared quick hugs before leaving Obi with his friends.

“I’m sorry, Obi. No one would ever leave you behind. You do need fussing though. Everyone does.” Bant consoled him.

“But—”

“Hey.” Garen flicked him in the ear. “We don’t listen to Bruck.”

“Sure, we do.” Obi said, sadder than he meant it.

Reeft handed Obi-Wan a snack. (He’d stopped asking where Reeft kept them all.) “Listening to Bruck leads us to secret fights that get us kicked out of the Temple. We don’t listen to Bruck anymore.” Obi-Wan snorted out a wet laugh, but listened that time.

They stayed like that, quiet and together for a long minute before Garen murmured that it wasn’t only Obi that Bruck had been extra short with. “He’s snapping at grownups and even his friends. He’s all… twitchy.”

“He’s been not okay for longer than today.” Bant added.

“Everyone knows it. But Docent Vant transferred to the library and our new Docent hasn’t been babying him like Vant did.”

As usual, Bant was nicer about it. “I think our new Docent just thinks Bruck is like that, not that he’s being weird.”

“But he is?” Obi asked.

“Yeah.” Bant leaned in to keep the secret. “We’re worried about him.”

“All of us.” Reeft added, and it meant more from him.

 

Chapter Nine

“I hate to be the one to say it, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And, I think several us here don’t.”

Tyvokka didn’t know why anyone thought a meeting with the modified High Council could possibly be efficient. (Poor Mace looked like he was regretting every life choice that led him to accept a Council position. At least the rest of them were old, or politicians.)

Bless them, Master Nyven – Educorps Technical Division – had been wrangled to sit on the modified High Council and the poor Jedi had been reduced to explaining what a system glitch was to these great Jedi Masters like they were Younglings in their first computer class.

They’d all banked on the High Council changes being minor – and they would be, in the end – but even getting to those minor changes was taking bureaucratically longer than they’d hoped. The High Council remained as previously constituted, but supplemented by several people from the Grand Council to address the Council’s immediate shortcomings. (Thank the Force T’ra had the sense to keep the modified High Council separate from the Grand Council, or they’d be in meetings until the end of time.) But the attempt to maintain consistency between the High Council as it was and the High Council as it might be, meant boundaries were a mess and no one really knew who was supposed to be doing what.

But bless their hearts, they tried.

“So, every computer system has glitches that happen all the time, like a computer having a bad day.” Master Julfra asked.

“Yes.”

Tyvokka sent a pleading look across the room to Yaddle, who rippled the Force back at him with her laughter. “I would also like to verify that we are certain the malware hasn’t accessed any files.”

“Insofar as Knight Daroon and the security personnel can tell.” Master Nyven sounded relieved at Yaddle’s question.

“To what end? You explained that the malware doing this is sophisticated and expensive to have tailored to our system. It seems to me it would be easier to just avoid the cameras.”

“We only know that they have glitched the cameras thus far.” Tyvokka answered. “But system glitches can be exploited other ways, especially in a system as vast as ours.”

“Forgive me again.” Julfra implied her question.

Tyvokka waved to Master Nyven. “Unlike most viruses, they haven’t just released it into our system to do whatever they need it to do. Part of what makes this dangerous is that they’ve retained control over the malware.”

Julfra was a retired healer who’d spent the last ten years providing medical care to the lower levels of Coruscant. She knew basic information was important, but computer systems were as far beyond her as the respiratory system was to Tyvokka. But she was the healer least-swamped by Jedi, and research projects, and the Grand Council, so they’d shuffled her off to supplement the High Council and she didn’t deserve the punishment.

“Think about it like this: right now, they have the malware turned up to a 1, and it’s causing these little, exploitable problems with our camera system. That we know of,” Nyven nodded his agreement with Tyvokka. “There could have been problems with turbolifts, or lights, or doors, and we haven’t noticed because those aren’t as clear as camera problems. But if they turn the malware up to a 10…”

Understanding dawned over her lined face. “The problems become massive.”

“Yes.”

“Why keep it at a 1?” Julfra asked.

“We had reports of a similar malware being used in the Ersatz Gallery robbery here on Coruscant last year.” Tyvokka said.

“Judicial believes they’re probably used more often than we give them credit for because they’re so subtle. But that subtlety is its strength because you think it’s just a glitch in the system.” Nyven pointed out.

“Just so. In the Ersatz robbery, they realized the malware had been operating for at least half a year before the thieves moved. Keeping the malware at level 1 causes just a few more glitches than naturally occur in a system, and those can be exploited without raising an alarm.”

“This article says the thieves came in and out through the same fire vent that had mistakenly triggered three times in the last month.” Adi was reading off the comm in her armchair. “The security staff thought it was the same glitch as before and just turned it off while the thieves were out in under a minute.”

“If works so well, why doesn’t every robbery use them?” Julfra asked.

“Because half a year is a long time to wait.” Tyvokka said.

“And a smaller system doesn’t have as many naturally occurring glitches.” Yaddle pointed out.

“For this malware to work, you also need a system where glitches are part of the process. If you were to implement this malware in the Qel Droma Gallery here on Coruscant, it wouldn’t work. They have five levels, droids and organics watching every camera, every minute of every day. Any time there is a naturally-occurring glitch in the system, they chase it down to verify. But here, our systems ignore natural glitches because that’s just part of such a massive system.” Nyven was doing wonderfully.

“So, someone could only use this malware on a large computer system.”

“A large system that they’re willing to spend time waiting to get into. You spend the money for malware like this so you can get in and out undetected.”

“Isn’t that the goal of every crime?”

Tyvokka caught Ruzry slipping in the door and nodded at her while he finished explaining. “The goal is to not get caught, with a secondary goal of getting out with what you’re stealing. Avoiding detection depends on the crime.”

“Knight Ruzry,” Yaddle announced and waved her over. “Knight Ruzry has been conducting the investigation into the threat against Master Yoda’s life found this afternoon. Just so you are aware, Ruzry, Knight Daroon sent up a report on the malware in our system. I believe we understand the basics of that.”

Ruzry gave her first acknowledgement to Mace, a good way to split the difference, and jumped right in. “We do not know who uploaded the malware, how they entered the Temple, or how they managed to get into the IT room to upload the malware.”

“A very prosperous beginning.” Dooku said.

“What do you know?” Yaddle asked, time in the library making her much more understanding about the perils of research.

Ruzry paused. In her whole career, Ruzry had never given a report to the High Council. If Tyvokka asked her what she knew, he was legitimately asking her to list off the facts of the case. But the High Council was different. “Jump to the end.” Tyvokka clarified.

One of the Initiates has been helping the saboteur.”

“Damnit.” Tyvokka growled, in time with several shocked gasps. “The same?”

“The same what?” Julfra asked.

“Ruzry caught the taste of Dark on one of the Initiates while they were waiting outside our last Grand Council meeting.” Yaddle explained. She naturally was spending more time around the Initiates, and the same exposure she’d had to the Dark that would’ve defaulted the Shadow branch to her care meant she could be relied upon to check.

“Plenty of Initiates were skulking around looking for information.” Dooku objected.

“The child being there wasn’t Dark, and he’s not Dark yet himself, but he’s touched.” Ruzry explained.

“It’s not embedded. He can take it off with a good scrubbing, but it’s there.” Yaddle agreed.

“These have been difficult times.” Poof intoned.

“You think just because the boy has been touched, he helped ssomeone threaten Yoda’s life?”

“I imagine attempted murder would be more than touched.” Adi said.

“Have you simply assumed the Initiate was involved because the message was left in the senior initiate training room?” From Poli, who clearly hated the notion.

Ruzry tried to answer, but the Council carried on before she could.

“That makes sense. Why else would you pick it? It’s not a particularly terrifying place.” Even said.

“And there’s no reason to steal the senior initiates lightsabers. There are 10,000 Jedi in this building with lightsabers, why steal the ones from that class? It is the sort of poor planning that a child would do.” One of the Grand Councilors added.

“An over assumption of their own importance.”

“Is this what it’s like all the time?” Ruzry asked.

“No.” Yaddle laughed. “They do better with mission reports when things are all over. As Tyvokka said, we’re not investigators. We are here to discuss, and postulate questions your investigation might answer.”

“The Initiate is involved. I could provide you with my investigation notes, but…”

“Investigation notes are not the same thing as a mission report. They are full of questions, with very little answers. If Ruzry says he is involved, he is involved.” Tyvokka said.

“Have you read them yet? The notes?” Dooku asked.

“No, I have been here. But I trust Ruzry’s judgment.”

“I don’t know–”

“If you wanted me to conduct the investigation, you should’ve let me. We chose Knight Ruzry. There’s no need to doubt her now.”

“Agreed.” Even said. “So, if you believe this Initiate is involved in the matter, I assume they are in… interrogation? I have no idea.”

“You spoke to them already?” Yaddle clarified

“Yes. And they’re still in the creche.”

“But if the child knows who did this, if they helped—”

“I questioned the child and they’re not talking. I have made the choice not to press any further because the child is hurting right now. They’re sensitive, not just because of the damage the Dark is doing, but from before. It is my professional opinion that if we press too hard, they child will break in a way that will not repair.” The room took her words with uncomfortable shifting. “Master Yoda is powerful and well guarded, so it is my ’opinion that the potential for damage to Yoda is less than the potential for damage to the child.”

“Agree, I do, that at less risk I am.”

“And the damage to all of us if the malware does something worse than security camera glitches?”

“I hate to agree, but this child knows who is orchestrating this.”

“They do, but the child doesn’t know anything about the malware.” Ruzry carried on defending her perfectly rational choices, and Tyvokka buried his face in his paws.

“How can you be ssure?”

“I pretended to get a message when I was talking to him and I complained about the damn system glitching. The child had no recognition.”

“But they know who did it.”

“Knowing who did it will make it easier to catch them, but not easy.”

“True. A name alone, or even a location, would not resolve the problem of the malware or catch the perpetrator.”

“But the child can tell us the name and location.”

“Maybe.”

“According to the creche, the child hasn’t left the Temple in months. Which means whoever gave the instructions either got around all our security protocols to speak with an underage children, or they’ve snuck into the Temple.”

“That seems like a very important distinction. One, we should know the answer to.”

“Again, if you press him, he will break.”

“But—”

“I will not break a child.” Ruzry snapped.

Yaddle finally stepped in and raised her hands. “We would never ask you to. Nor would we want it.”

“I assume there is some terribly practical way to get the name and location without actually asking the child?” Dooku asked.

“Put a bug on the child’s devices.”

“That assumes you know all their devices.”

“And wouldn’t the malware be coded to protect the child from being caught?”

“So, what do you do?”

“Track him.” Tyvokka answered, now that they’d finally talked themselves out. Poor Ruzry looked winded and Tyvokka felt a little bad about letting her carry on so long.

“Track him?”

“The assumption is that the child is going to interact again with our saboteur. Usually, we’d ask the computer to track them through the Temple, but that’s more difficult than usual because of the glitching computer systems. Any trace we do on might blank out.”

“If I were the sort of coward who used a child to do my dirty work, I would be terrified about getting discovered. Presumably, they’re on the lookout for any tracking, and we can assume they’re clever about it because of the malware.” Even said.

“A good assumption. We don’t want to risk of spooking them. Especially when that might put the child at risk.”

“Should we not track them, to avoid the risk?” Julfra asked.

“I want to say yes,” Ruzry admitted, “but right now, tracking the malware and tracking the child are our only leads, and Knight Daroon warned me backtracking the malware might take weeks.”

“Ask security, we shall, to keep an eye on the child. Ever-present, they are, and not suspicious.”

“We should also encourage the adults around this child to be a safe place in the hope that they’ll come forward.” Yaddle added.

The meeting broke up from there, though there was a brief moment where Ki-Adi raised the valid point that they should talk about future security concerns to stop something like this from ever happening again. Yaddle countered that they’d need to ask Knight Daroon and Master Drallig for their recommendations, and they were both rather busy right now.

For just a moment, Tyvokka let his head thunk against this high-back chair, breathing deep. He would so dearly love it if Cin’s Guardians had a bit of luck and followed the boy into some room in the basement and capture their saboteur inside the next twenty minutes. Let it all be easy now that they knew what they were looking for.

But he doubted it. Tyvokka brushed his fingers over the strands of the Force and they all felt… tight. Like a string wound so tight it couldn’t vibrate and give a real note. Just a thunk of one.

Tyvokka didn’t like it. He wasn’t worried, because he was tired and frustrated, which cut down on what he could sense of the future. Also, sometimes the Force just didn’t want to talk to him. But sometimes, he couldn’t sense the feel of the future because every decision let to a different future.

Yes, that was the way the future always worked. But often, there was one major decision that shaped all the others. People were fairly predictable, especially to the Force. A Jedi might go on a mission and make a hundred different decisions in the field, but often if you knew the Jedi, you could predict the decisions they would make. Only one decision had to be made to secure a certain outcome.

But this… this was the Force saying there were too many decisions that might impact how things would turn out. How the Force of the future might feel tomorrow.

“You’re fussing.” Yaddle interrupted.

Tyvokka rolled his head over without picking it up. Yaddle had taken his melancholy to cross the room and settle in at Mace’s vacated seat, too big for her tiny body.

“Leave him be. Tired, the younglings are.” Yoda teased from his own chair on Yaddle’s other side.

“Tired, you think everyone is, who is not you.”

“When 800 years old you reach—”

“Oh, shush, you old troll.”

“A troll, you are, as well. Such a sweet baby you were. So happy to listen to my stories.”

“I was never happy to listen to your stories, Yoda. You just brought me frogs when everyone else thought it was gross.”

Tvyokka broke into barking laughter. Which, based on their little smirks, was the point.

“An adorable Youngling, you were, as well. Brought you to the Temple early, King Grakchawwaa, the Wookiees did. Carried you around the Creche, the other Younglings did, like a stuffie you were. Had to make them stop, the Crechemaster did, because refused to learn to walk, you did.”

Tvyokka knew about the stuffy. And he didn’t blame them. He had the holos and knew how cute he’d been, and if he didn’t, his few crechemates had been happy to tease him for it as they grew. But the walking… “You’re making that up.”

“He’s not.” Yaddle grinned. “She had to outright threaten the adults because you’d cry, these big, sad whines that made everyone feel like the worst person in the worlds.”

Tvyokka humphed, but… that sounded like him. He’d gotten away with all kinds of things before he had his final growth spurt and went from fussy and adorable to towering and terrifying.

Yoda reached out and poke Yaddle with his gimmer stick. “Think, do you…”

“Oh! Yes, we should make sure little Kenobi has seen the holos of his Master as a Youngling.”

“Do I get holos of my padawan as a Youngling in exchange?”

“Join us, Kenobi did, as a toddler, so baby holos we do not have. But remember him I do, small he was, for a near-Human. Stick up, his hair did, like apply gravity did not. Kind, he was, even then.” Yoda sank into his chair, curling up on himself just a little. “Happy, I am, for the two of you. Happy together, you have been. Lectured me, Feemor has, on my errors.”

“Gifted at that, he is.” Tvyokka had been the object of more than a few of Feemor’s lectures. The worst part was that usually you didn’t know you were the target until halfway through.

“Tell you, Feemor would have me, that support you I do. Your padawan he is.” Yoda said the words to him, but his eyes were on the room. Tvyokka turned and found the object of Yoda’s attention: Ruzry and Eriad having an argument via posture.

Ah.

“As I said. Tired, the Younglings are.”

Tvyokka nodded his thanks, then stood up to handle his subordinates before they got into a fight.

Tyvokka opened his mouth with a question about Obi-Wan on his lips – both the thing he actually cared about and a reminder to Eriad that he’d made his decision. But of course, Eriad gave him a sharp bow and complimented his handling of the meeting.

Tyvokka rolled his eyes. “It’s not hard to manage a conversation.”

“It’s not just a conversation. It’s everything.”

“It’s not everything. It’s just the problem currently in front of us.”

Eriad cast a pointed look around the room. “It seems an important problem to me.”

“I am still here, Eriad.” What more did they want from him? Tyvokka knew the current upheaval had made his position essential. He was the only person who sat in the center of the Venn diagram between the High and Grand Councils, to say nothing of apparently being the only person who could lead the Shadows. He was waiting to spare them all the trouble. The Councils would figure themselves out, but Tyvokka knew his Shadows needed time to offer up someone he could nominate in his stead. To say nothing of waiting until the Grand Council actually put down in a charter that a Council member needed to step down when they took a padawan, that way Tyvokka could have a rule he was following so in fifty years no one would be able to say the Council didn’t really mean it.

“And I respect that, Master. But you are only ‘still here’ for the moment.”

“Eriad—” Tyvokka paused, a ripple in the Force pulling his attention to the turbolift before the doors opened to reveal Tholme.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve heard back from Melida/Daan.”

 

Chapter Ten

Obi-Wan caught himself on the door outside the Grand Council room so he could slip inside instead of sprint. He needn’t have worried about interrupting. He joined the flow of latecomers who were all waiting on glitching holocall to stabilize at the holo station in the center of the room.

Obi-Wan tucked in to the side of his Master’s chair and let Tyvokka scan him with the Force. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Master. I was with Trion, seeing if he’d help us try to find the malware.”

“Any success?”

“He and MO are on it. But he still says it won’t be fast. Is the malware what’s going on there?” Obi nodded at the Council member tinkering with the bowels of the projector.

“We sent Yarael up to our satellite to make sure the malware hadn’t gotten up there, and to make sure any distress calls got properly passed down to personal comms outside our system.”

“So, the trouble is on their end?

Tyvokka nodded a yes. “We sent a ship capable of live communication, but—”

The message chose that moment to clear up, settling into the streaked blue of a clear hologram signal. But no one needed to ask if things went well.

Master Patoj was Master Drallig’s only padawan. A Temple Guardian and Battle Master who specialized in recuse missions. Tyvokka’s notes said they sent him because of the rescues, and because they hoped a lineage member would be able to keep Master Jinn from doing anything too reckless. The man was as still and put together as his master, which was why it was so jarring to see him look so exhausted.

“What happened?” Yoda asked.

“Masters…” Master Patoj closed his eyes and breathed deep in the way Master Drallig did before he had to spar Master Windu. “First: Qui, Tahl, and Healer Qarrild are on their way back to Coruscant.”

“How?” One of the Grand Council members asked.

“We sent them in two ships, a cruiser and medical ship.”

“Why?” Oh, the Grand Council hadn’t been called yet when the High Council was at the bottom of Tyvokka’s tree handing out orders.

“The Force suggested it.” Master Poof answered with clear words, but that same mythical tone.

“And thank the Force it did.” Kennbre cursed.

“Kennbre? What happened?” Yoda asked again.

The Battle Master scrubbed his hands over his face and straightened up. “Jinn, Tahl, and Healer Qarrild are on their way back. They should arrive in about 23 hours, provided Jinn doesn’t bend space and time. He might. Keep an eye on orbital docking and get them through fast. Tahl…” The Master covered his eyes again and tried to breathe.

Knight Mramah stepped into the holo and put her hands on Master Kennbre’s shoulders, guiding him off screen. “No, I can—”

“Let us. You’ve done all the hard work. Let us.” He hesitated, but the Mikkian’s soft, “Please,” let her soft hands guide him off screen. Their place was taken by the dirty, blaster-scarred Knight Heve, one of Tyvokka’s Shadows.

“Masters.” He bowed. “It’s… it’s bad.”

“What do you need?” Tyvokka asked. The Knight opened his mouth, but didn’t answer. Tyvokka twisted something on the comm panel on his chair and the holo angle changed, redirecting the Knight to face only Tyvokka. Obi assumed that the image had changed to look like a private conversation on the Knight’s end.

“Tell me. Just me.”

Knight Heve nodded to himself, and Obi could almost hear a silent pep talk that he could do this. He explained that they’d landed eight hours ago, tracked Master Tahl’s ship, and took a chance landing nearby because atmospheric contamination made it hard to get proper life scans. “The transponder was working, but the ship had been… torched.”

Master Dapatian opened his mouth to ask a question, but Master Yaddle held up her hand to preserve the illusion of privacy. She held up her padd, silently telling Master Dapatian he could send her a message while Tyvokka carried on.

“Someone definitely tried to set the ship on fire. But they also shot at it with plasma weapons, and what looks like hammers.” Tyvokka waited with interlaced fingers in front of his mouth. “We traced Tahl to their main government in one of the Melida sections, waited until dark, and snuck in to retrieve her.” Heve hesitated. Tyvokka brushed a finger over his forehead, where Knight Heve had a charcoal smudge of dirt and blaster fire.

“At the same time we were retrieving Tahl, there was an attack on the building. They keep their munitions in the basement. The attackers stole some and detonated the rest.” The Knight paused, then gestured forward like that would carry the words out of him.

“Heve, if you need it, the timeline can come later, and the thing you don’t want to say can come now.”

“They tortured her, Master. Master Tahl is… she’s blind. Neither Healer Patoj nor Healer Qarrild think they can do anything for her. They invited a Jedi here just to abduct them, torture them,” his voiced cracked, “and hope they could blackmail the Republic into destroying all the Daan to get their Jedi back. Or so they say.”

Tyvokka glanced to Master Windu, and then to Master Saa, waiting for head shakes from each of them. “We have not gotten a ransom demand.”

“Of course not.” His voice was wet. “They tortured her because they could.”

Master Yaddle tapped on her chair comm and Tyvokka’s flashed in reply. Obi-Wan assumed one of the questions she’d been filtering through was finally important enough to go to Tyvokka. Tyvokka casually shifted in his chair to put his hand out of camera range and flash the hand sign for, ‘no.’

“Heve. You can say it.”

“Master Tahl tried to explain to us what happened, but she was in a lot of pain. Had been for a few days. And the Force on this planet… it’s not a comfort. But what she did explain was that they got the jump on her because… she was trying to protect civilians.” He put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor as he puffed out a pursed-lip breath.

Knight Mramah came back on screen, wrapping her arms around Knight Heve’s shoulders from behind, up on her toes to see over his shoulder. “There’s a third faction, Master. There are the Melida, the Daan, and the Young.”

The room froze.

“The children have taken up arms to end the war. Tahl was shot down giving a group of children the chance to escape before their parents gunned them down in the street.”

“Oh, gods.” Master Yaddle breathed, loud enough that the two Shadows could hear it on screen. They straightened as the illusion of privacy shattered.

Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the rest of the update. At some point the comm call was transferred to a private comm station for a more traditional sitrep, but his brain was nothing but white noise. Until Master Tyvokka reached out and cradled both of Obi’s shaking hands in his paws.

“Take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cub—”

“I need to know.”

“We have to send a medical ship.” Master Yaddle took over the conversation. Obi nodded Master Tyvokka back to attention.

“We can’t send healers without someone to protect them. Especially if they’re gunning down children.” Master Piell said, choking on the words.

Obi hated the sound of it, but the pain was what drew Tyvokka back to the conversation.

“I take no pleasure in this,” Master Mundi said, “but we were called for to try and negotiate a peace settlement. If we do not reasonably believe they can negotiate peace, we do not have authorization from the Senate to be there.” Master Mundi raised his hands to the rumbling against his words. “Perhaps we can set up a med station or ask the Young if they’d like to put in their own request for aid, but the Jedi cannot fight this war for them.”

“There are exigent circumstances.” Healer Julfra objected.

“Exigent circumstances are only to be applied to the immediate preservation of life. We are likely still within those bounds, and the bounds can extend if the children ask us for aid, but we cannot stay and win their peace on the blade of a lightsaber. No peace won that way ever holds.” Master Mundi’s comments hurt, but the nods around the room said he wasn’t wrong.

Master Dapatian’s words weren’t as well received.

“We consulted the Force to know that we should send multiple ships and multiple healers. We must be open to the possibility that this war is the will of the Force.”

Master Piell snapped to his feet and poked his finger into Master Dapatian’s face. “I am going to that damn planet and I’m taking you with me.”

“Even!”

“No! A member of this council recently reminded me that we are all brothers, and sometimes you have to punch your brother in the face until he finds his empathy again.”

“Even—” Master Saa sighed.

“No, T’ra. You don’t need me for the Grand Council. I don’t understand children. And my High Council seat ought to have expired fifteen years ago. I am stepping down of my own free will and choice and I’m dragging Poli with me.”

“Even—”

“These are children. Being slaughtered by their parents. No, Ki-Adi, I cannot fight a war for them. But I can teach them to fight their own. If anyone asks, we will say I have chosen to be the Watchbeing of the Cadavine Sector, and I am setting my station up in the middle of the Melida/Daan warzone. If they want to kill their children, they’ll have to go through me.”

Obi didn’t know if he was shocked or uncomfortable. The room rang with… something. Obi-Wan believed Master Piell. And the Force believed him too. But all the adults looked like they didn’t know what to do.

“You might,” Yaddle began delicately, “also want to look into refugee resettlement, medical treatment, a small Educorps outpost to facilitate education, a few security personnel.”

 

Chapter Eleven

Obi-Wan had been sitting here staring at the wall for either a minute or an hour. He didn’t know which, but his bottom was going numb. He’d been okay, convinced Master Tyvokka to let him stay, then the Knights had come back with footage of the Young of Melida/Daan and… there was no staying.

Master Tyvokka pressed a paw to Obi’s back and led him outside while the High Council kept talking. At least he waited until they were outside before he went to pull Obi into a hug.

“No.” He’d burst out and pulled away.

“Cub?”

“If we hug, I’m going to start crying. And if I start, I won’t stop.” Master Tyvokka understood. He let Obi send him back in and Obi slid to the floor and been there for long enough to hurt.

“Someone fussing over you again, Oafy?” Bruck interrupted.

“Not today, Bruck.”

“…what?”

“Not today.” Obi-Wan was too tired to fight.

But Bruck just kept standing there. He didn’t ask if Obi was okay, because he might combust if he did, but Obi-Wan could feel him standing there like a bow string.

“What… happened? Did someone die?”

“Yes, but not…” Obi managed to explain that there was an army of children out there and their parents were killing them.

“What?” Bruck’s voice cracked.

“Master Tahl is on an emergency transport back after they tortured her, and the children are dying. How can they do that?” Obi snort sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve because he wasn’t crying. “Grownups shouldn’t hurt children. They shouldn’t…” Obi-Wan gulped back a sob. “And they asked for a Jedi just so they could torture her. They said it was to make the Republic get involved, but they didn’t even tell anyone. They just—they blinded her. She’s a librarian and they took her eyes!”

Bruck slid down the wall next to him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting.”

“Why? Aren’t you supposed to be lording it over me?”

“Lording what over you?”

“They’re dying and I wouldn’t have done anything. If I’d been Master Jinn’s padawan like I was supposed to, we just would’ve picked up Master Tahl and brought her home. I wouldn’t have done anything about them and then what kind of a Jedi would I have been?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan blinked away from the wall.

“That doesn’t even make sense! If I was going to yell at you for it would be for being out here thinking about how terrible you feel when you should still be in there helping them when they have real problems! But I’m not saying that because it’s stupid and no one would believe me.”

Obi-Wan usually understood where Bruck was coming from about things, but… nothing in his brain was working right and Bruck was being weird. “That… I shouldn’t be helping them?”

“No, that you would’ve made some centuries-long planetary war worse! You…” Bruck trailed off and stopped his gesturing, turning to face Obi’s wall. “You wouldn’t have run away, Kenobi. You and your stupid bleeding heart would’ve stayed like the stupid idiot you are.”

“What?”

Bruck slouched against the wall like he’d spent all his energy. “You would’ve stayed and helped them. You would’ve stayed. Even when Master Jinn packed Master Tahl up to bring her home, you would’ve stayed to keep everyone alive until he got back with help. Because that’s what you do. You help people. You’re kind. Not like me.” Bruck said ‘kind’ like a curse.

That… was the nicest thing Bruck had ever said to him. And Obi-Wan knew that if he pointed that out, Bruck would hit him and then vanish. And Obi couldn’t say, ‘you’re kind’ because that wasn’t true and Bruck didn’t deserve to be insulted right now.

“You’re smarter than me.”

“What?” Bruck whipped around.

“You wouldn’t have to be kind, or a stupid idiot. You would’ve talked everyone into giving up. Or you would’ve talked the kids into a rebellion because grown ups are stupid.”

“They are.” Bruck shrugged. “But you’re wrong. Not about me being smarter than you, because I am. But I wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. I would’ve ended the whole war because I’m just that good with my lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the subject change.

“I am!”

“Bruck, you don’t even like your lightsaber.”

“Yes, I do! I’m better than you. I’ve beaten you a bunch of times!”

“First off, the only times you’ve beaten me were when you cheated. That doesn’t count.”

“It does too! You lost!”

“And second, as someone who likes their lightsaber, I can tell that you don’t.” Bruck stopped himself from making a lightsaber/penis joke because last year all the Senior Initiates had decided those weren’t cool anymore, even though the boys still tried not to giggle.

“Yes, I do.”

“Yeah, you like it like everyone likes lightsabers because they’re cool, but you don’t like yours like I like mine. You don’t want to be a Guardian.” It wasn’t until Obi-Wan said it out loud that he understood it was true.

Bruck whistled like a tea kettle in offense. “Everyone wants to be a Guardian. You’re just an idiot.”

Bruck didn’t like his lightsaber. Yes, he was good at it, because lightsaber. But he didn’t practice like Obi did. He practiced like… like Bant did. But Bant didn’t really like her lightsaber because she just needed to pass the class. Bant was going to be a healer. Not even a healer who left the Temple a lot and might need to defend their patients. But if Bruck didn’t really like his lightsaber… did Obi-Wan know what Bruck wanted to do? Did Bruck know what he wanted to do?

Did Bruck know what made the Force sing for him?

Oh, Obi could do this.

He couldn’t…didn’t… couldn’t think about Melida/Dann right now. Something in the Force was still crying like Obi should’ve been there to help them, but he couldn’t.

But what he could do was help Bruck.

Obi-Wan hadn’t talked in while, but Bruck was still arguing that, ‘of course he wanted to be a Guardian.’ Obi scrambled to his feet and Bruck cut off with an, “Oh.” He bristled. “You can’t just insult people and walk away!”

Obi-Wan had to stop and look down at Bruck because he couldn’t believe those words had just come out of Bruck’s mouth. Bruck went bright red, even worse and blotchier than Obi-Wan did on skin an entirely different kind of pale.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on.” Obi-Wan grabbed Bruck by the arm and yanked until the other bot got to his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t like your lightsaber.”

“Yes, I do!” Bruck didn’t dig in his heels, just kept arguing they whole way down to Brair’s hangar.

@@@@@

Brair’s tentacles had come up off his shoulders the moment Obi and Bruck crashed into his hangar and hadn’t come down since. Brair was the one who first turned Obi-Wan onto finding what felt right and just doing that, so Obi-Wan figured Brair could do the same for Bruck. Not that Obi would say that out loud. And well, yelling wasn’t working.

“I thought you liked engineering! You used to brag about how you were better at the classes than me!”

“Because I wanted to beat you, not because I liked it!”

“Well, what do you actually like!” Obi-Wan could take him there.

“My lightsaber.” Bruck hissed.

“No, you don’t! You still just like beating me!”

Bruck still refused to answer the question, so Obi-Wan bullied him into helping Brair fix something. (Is this what it felt like to be Bruck? Just telling people they couldn’t do something and then watching them strip off their outer tunics and lightsaber to dump them all in pile to prove him wrong?) Obi-Wan hoped that Brair would get what Obi was looking for from his several pointed looks and leading comments, but… not yet. And Obi couldn’t just say it, and he couldn’t have Brair just say it, because Bruck would be a jerk about it and being a jerk to Brair was unacceptable.

“You call me up here for the strangest reasons, Brair.” Ruzry said instead of hello.

“Good!” Obi-Wan said, because Brair looked like he’d lost the use of words. “Bruck is having dinner with us.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” Whatever Bruck was about to snap back, Obi-Wan asked how the engine was coming and Bruck huffed and went back to it.

Good. That matter was resolved. He turned to the adults, who weren’t whispering as sneakily as they thought they were. “When is Feemor coming?”

“Was he planning on coming?”

“Wasn’t he?” Obi-Wan’s voice went high. Every time Obi-Wan sent Briar over to Bruck to say something useful, Brair just kept handing him snacks and walking away. Obi-Wan needed an adult who knew what they were doing.

“He’s been assigned to the ship heading to Melida/Daan. He speaks traumatized youngling.” Ruzry explained.

“That’s why I want him to dinner.”

“I’m not traumatized!”

“No, you’re just an idiot!”

“Obi—” Ruzry interrupted, but Obi-Wan wasn’t having it.

“He is.”

“And you’re a… stupid head!”

“At least I’m a stupid head who can fix an engine!”

Bruck shouted something inarticulate and just started banging the wrench against things.

“Why don’t I just comm Feemor and see if he hasn’t eaten yet?” Brair caved.

Ruzry agreed. After a day investigating a case together, Obi-Wan knew she was looking at him the same way she’d looked at the Guardian who said he didn’t know how to use security cameras.

“How is your day going, Cub?”

“Fine? Why wouldn’t it be?”

Obi-Wan didn’t have to look to hear Bruck popping up to yell again, but MO cocked his electroprod and Bruck got back to work. Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t Obi’s masterful manipulation skills keeping him here. Bruck hadn’t been hit with the electroprod yet and probably still found it threatening.

Which was great, until Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something back and MO just cocked his wrist at Obi. Obi-Wan huffed and went back to his stack of flimsiwork, deliberately ignoring Bruck sticking out his tongue. Obi was trying to help him here, but Bruck was a stubborn stupid head and Brair hadn’t put his tentacles down for the last half hour.

Bless him, Feemor was there within ten minutes, complete with a stack of food. Dinner was more important than hating each other, so Bruck and Obi both swarmed the containers, but Feemor told them to set the table.

“The what?”

“We can’t just eat sitting on starships. Get us a table together please.”

Don’t think Obi-Wan didn’t catch Ruzry pinching Brair to shut him up. He did. And he and Bruck sniped at one another the entire time, but they got two crates shoved together like a table, and scrounged every spare work stool Brair had stashed around the hangar and supplemented with two spare boxes to work as chairs.

Feemor laid out the food and set Bruck across from him – good – Ruzry next to Bruck – fine – and Obi-Wan at the end, far away as Feemor could get them, which wasn’t far. But Obi-Wan was grateful, because he’d sat across a table from Feemor before. Feemor was going to have Bruck spilling secrets in ten minutes, which meant Obi-Wan could eat his dinner in peace.

Only, Feemor had decided this was the night to be useless.

Feemor just kept asking Bruck things like, ‘how old are you,’ and ‘does Master Grril still make astronavigation class ten times harder than it needs to be?’

And then, every time Obi-Wan tried jump in and get them to the stuff that Feemor needed to be asking, Ruzry kicked him and Feemor just kept going.

One time, Feemor even stopped Obi and said, “Excuse me, but I asked Bruck.”

Turns out, Bruck didn’t need to stick out his tongue to stick out his tongue.

Eventually, Feemor just gave up and started talking about the departure they had scheduled for later, just enough time set aside to get a proper supply list from the team on the planet and stock up. “Thankfully, we have plenty of Exploracorps personnel in the Temple right now and they know all about the essential materials to set up a post somewhere. Did you know that we have prefab buildings that can be set up in fifteen minutes?” He asked Bruck, who just kept looking at his dinner. “Master Piell can have a whole outpost, with dorms, and a little school, and a med center, all set up in half a day.

“They should send extra medical stuff.” Bruck grumbled to his plate. “For outside the med center because sometimes you don’t want to tell the adults you’re injured.

Obi-Wan… maybe shouldn’t have gestured to Bruck at that, because Bruck saw it and puffed up like an offended bird. “You’re the one who kept getting treated in secret because you didn’t want to tell anyone! Why are you acting like this?”

“Because—”

“If you say I don’t like my lightsaber one more time—”

“What else do you think we should add?” Feemor interrupted, like they weren’t in the middle of a shouting match.

“What?”

“That was a good idea, making medical supplies available to the children. I wouldn’t have thought of it, but I remember sneaking bandages when I was an Initiate too, so I didn’t get a lecture. Can you think of anything else they might need?”

Obi-Wan did not need the press of Ruzry’s ankle against his, thank you very much. He could be still long enough for Bruck to answer. “You should take them little packs.”

“Little packs?”

“Little packs with the medical supplies, and some food, and a toy or something. And maybe a note from the rest of us to know the Jedi are trustworthy because Piell is old and if my adults were shooting at me, I wouldn’t trust any of you.”

“That’s a very good idea, Bruck.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know how he did it. He swore they were talking about coloring books and whether paints or markers were better, but somehow Feemor turned that into people liking different things with the Force.

Of course, Bruck glared at Obi-Wan and said he liked his lightsaber.

“Of course you do.” Feemor agreed. “It’s a lightsaber. Anyone who says they don’t like is lying or has some trauma they should work through. Even Force-blind civilians like lightsabers. But liking your lightsaber isn’t the same as being called to it. Master Piell is called for his lightsaber in a way we three adults aren’t. He’s a battle master and warrior. You can be great at something and not have it been what really brings you joy.”

Bruck scraped his tines along the and refused to look up.

“I think that’s one of the great parts about being a Jedi. Different callings in the Force, different feelings in the Force. I didn’t realize until I talked to Obi-Wan and discovered how little he knew about Force variations just how much has been left out of the Younglings’ education.”

Hey now, he didn’t need to drag Obi-Wan into this.

Bruck didn’t say anything, not even with Feemor giving him the chance to make fun of Obi-Wan. The chance to make it not his problem, because all of them didn’t know.

“I suppose that’s another traumatized youngling thing you’ll be in charge of.” Ruzry joked.

“We’re not traumatized.” Obi-Wan said, offended.

“Force variations are a project we’re going to have to postpone for a while I’m on Melida/Daan. Or at least, my involvement in it will be postponed while someone else takes charge.”

“Will…” Bruck paused. “Will whoever else does it, do what you did with Obi-Wan?”

That was almost like a compliment.

“I imagine they’ll focus more on education about different Force feelings. Obi-Wan and I spent a lot of time looking at his spreadsheets.”

Obi-Wan knew he was being teased, but he didn’t care. “Wait, you’re leaving and you don’t know for how long.”

“Yes.”

“But… we need to know that the Force feels different and know how to do it.”

“And why do you need me for that?” Feemor asked between bites, like it wasn’t a massive deal. “I just gave you the idea and you did the rest.”

“Of course he did.” Bruck scoffed, smooshing something on his plate and not looking at Obi.

Feemor gave Obi-Wan a look that kept him from snapping back. “I just made a spreadsheet.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “MO did all the math. He could do the same for you?”

Bruck glanced up from his plate, partly hopeful, partly hurt.

Before he got the chance to say something mean, MO interrupted, and there was no getting in between MO and a spreadsheet. It was probably how they became such good friends.

Bless him, Bruck tried. “MO, we don’t need—MO!” But then MO broke out the sparking hand.

“Obi-Wan was complaining about how the Melida/Daan kids are more important, like ten minutes ago!

MO sizzle-popped. <<Such simple organics who can’t do both.>>

“Both what?”

Obi-Wan popped up from his seat. “Should we start with my spreadsheet, or should we make a new base?”

<<Your sheet. We can add.>> MO beeped.

“What spreadsheet?” Bruck demanded, following them to the door.

“And the care packages? What did Bruck say?”

“What did I say about what?”

<<Medical supplies, food, toy, note.>>

“Right, what medical supplies?” Obi walked backwards to look at Bruck, who had his pile of tunics spilling out of his arms.

“For what?”

<<For the care packages.>> MO beeped.

“We need a spreadsheet for the care packages?”

MO and Obi stopped. <<Yes.>>

“Probably. But we meant the spreadsheet about how the Force feels.”

“You can’t put something like that on a spreadsheet!”

“Oh, Bruck.” Obi-Wan patted his shoulder. “You can do a spreadsheet for anything.”

@@@@@

The large landing pad of the main Temple hangar was controlled chaos. People were gathered around the ship, loading crates of emergency medical supplies, shelf-stable food, and prefab essentials. An Exploracorps vessel was scheduled to reach Melida/Daan in a week with the essentials that weren’t kept in-Temple, but they needed enough to begin.

And off to the side, tucked away under the wings of a cruiser because everyone in their company was short enough for clearance, were the Senior Initiates and every Junior Padawan they could steal.

Obi-Wan had come upstairs to get a headcount on the children – at most two hundred, which led to an entirely new worry about whether the planet even had a big enough population to sustain life – and shouted to save room on the ship for care packages as he ran back out the door.

And now, there were 200 hundred little boxes lined up like planted seedling in rows ten long, and Initiates running up and down them to make sure every box had its supplies before snapping it closed and running it to the travel bin for flight storage. (Obi-Wan was manning the bin. Tucking each little box away like a puzzle piece to make sure every one could be included.)

Tyvokka’s wretched afternoon briefing on planetary war had been broken up with little bright spots of gossip about his own padawan.

The Initiates had raided storage for the good ration bars – what meant ‘good’ was apparently a matter of debate no child could answer. Then all the Younglings in the Creche were drafted to make at least one drawing for each box, and any child who could write made a note. (Then Feemor had been called to explain what was good, and bad, and appropriate to put on a note to a fellow child in a war zone.)

The children had been disappointed by the spare toys floating around the Creche, so they’d gathered together all their pocket money and sent one of the junior padawans out with their master to pick up cheap fidget toys.

Late in the process someone had pointed out that the children might like blankets, so they’d raided the quartermaster. They’d been happy to pack up the warmest blankets, then come upstairs to the hangar to teach the children how to imbue a Force feeling into an object. No child on Melida/Daan might have the Force, but they would feel the echoes of love and safety that the Initiates here hugged into the blankets.

The holo of tiny children all squeezing blankets tight was perhaps the best part of Tyvokka’s day. Only matched by the mental image of Obi-Wan herding the adults like sheep. The few who tried to send the children to bed, or tell them perhaps they ought not, were met with Obi-Wan Kenobi at his most charming. The boy was running on fumes, Tyvokka could tell, but several Jedi had come to Tyvokka giggling about his Padawan smiling brightly at the naysayers and deliberately misunderstanding them until they walked away.

But because his Cub couldn’t help himself, Obi-Wan also had a spreadsheet to work on. (And no, he couldn’t explain this evening’s dinner to Ruzry and Brair any better than they could explain it to themselves. He’d never been a young near-human. Feemor seemed to think it was normal, so Tyvokka would leave it until Obi inevitably started ranting.) Anytime an adult Jedi dropped by to ask questions or hand over pocket money to supplement the toy fund, Obi-Wan turned on the charm and shuffled them over to Bant and MO for interrogation about what the Force felt like for them.

The Guardian who’d been keeping an eye on the whole affair reported to Cin, who reported to Tyvokka, that the bundle of children doing the interrogation rotated, following the pull of the Force to certain adults in particular. (Trion said there was a new page spreadsheet about which child was feeling what, so that no one lost their inspiration in the shuffle.)

(The Guardian also mentioned that Bruck’s comm had been buzzing like mad at the beginning. When Bruck finally looked at it, he muted the comm and tucked it into the ever-growing pile of Initiate tunics, and there it stayed.)

Tyvokka felt the press of a landing on his shoulder, no heavier than a bird. “He’s doing well, your cub.”

Yaddle could perch on his shoulder all she wanted, so long as she kept not teasing him for lurking in a corner and spying on his Padawan. (Tera had already dropped by and pointed out he’d already taken Obi-Wan as a padawan. He didn’t need to lurk anymore.)

“Yes, he is.”

“We’re just waiting on the go/no go from Adi.”

They’d sent her to the Senate to ‘give notice’ without raising any red flags. Tyvokka would’ve stress-eaten a whole box of cookies at having to play politics that well. But Adi looked thrilled at the chance to do some real work.

For now, there was nothing to do but wait. The ships were packed – save for the last crate of care packages – and the team was assembled in the hangar bay. No one on board because Poli was surprisingly superstitious and didn’t want to jinx them before they even began.

It was Poli who got the message, and Even, leader of this mission, who approached them. “Masters. We have our approval.”

It was odd, how not odd it was.

Poli and Even had both been High Councilors less than three hours ago. He’d sat with them, fought with them, strove with them, communed with them for the last twenty-odd years. And here they were, seeking his permission to leave. A whole hangar full of Shadows, Techs, Corpsfolk, and Council members, all waiting on him and Yaddle to decide.

He looked up at Yaddle and found her looking down to him, crosschecking with her only fellow. One last time, Tyvokka balanced himself in the Force and reached out, not to the future in the Temple surrounding them – still thudding notes of too much change – but out. Even and Poli had made their choices and would not unmake them now, but the future waiting… Tyvokka strummed his fingers across the Force and it was…

“The path is fraught. I cannot hear the end. Hear the joy of it. But it is… grateful?”

Even tapped him in the shin with his cane. “I don’t need your visions to know when I’m doing the right thing.”

Yaddle laughed at them and told Even he had a go.

The team dispersed, grabbing their packs and saying their goodbyes as they climbed aboard the ship. One of the Knights grabbed Even’s duffle – which he accepted, only because duffle plus cane was rather difficult – and the two of them walked to the ship, side by side.

“I apologize that I won’t be here to have your back for all this bullshit. I won’t apologize for feeling the call to go, but I am sorry that I’ve left more work on your shoulders.”

“It will be done soon.”

“Sure, it will.”

Obi bounded over with all the hyper enthusiasm of a boy who should’ve been asleep an hour ago. “Good luck on your mission, Master Piell.”

“I don’t need luck, but I’ll take it. And well done on the boxes, cub.”

“They were Bruck’s idea.” Obi shrugged.

“But you made them happen.” Piell limped closer, and Tyvokka made a mental note to make sure the healers kept an eye on him. He’d need whatever rest he could get on the journey. There wouldn’t be much to come. “You’re a good little Jedi.”

“He really is.” Eriad said, inserting himself into the conversation, deliberately ignoring Even’s eye roll. (Obi caught it though, and bit back his giggles.) “You did an excellent job working with all those Jedi.”

“And Arkill did an excellent job helping Tyvokka in your absence.” Even cut off before Eriad could start implying a whole list of other masters for Obi.

“Did he now?” That glare was going to be impressive when Obi-Wan got older. Right now, it was like being threatened by a wet Tooka.

“There was a lot to be done today, Cub. And you were busy with a project of your own. This was a project for grownups.”

He was right, and Even scoffing didn’t help. “Keep to that, Cub. He’s your master, so look after him, and he’ll look after you.”

Obi-Wan took it for the goodbye it was and left with a deep bow and a bid for the Force to be with Master Piell. Eriad’s goodbye was the same, met with a warning cane smack to the shins.

Tyvokka went to bow, and got, “Don’t make me hit you too.”

“You’re too short to hit me anyplace that would hurt.”

“Knees can break; you damn tree.”

“They won’t break when I step on you.”

Even cackled, but he’d never been able to stand leaving without the last word. “I caught some of the Guardians doing a Rochambeau to divide my security work.”

“Did you catch anyone planning to have my back in Council meetings?”

“Not yet, but they will.”

Tyvokka gave a doubtful rumble.

“Ty.” He sank to his knees to look his old friend in the eyes. “Someone will pick up the slack.” Even wasn’t just talking about his own. “No one is going to steal something from a Wookiee’s hands. If you want to lose it, you’re going to have to give it up.”

Tyvokka accepted Even’s hug. And he stood beside Yaddle as she bid the team farewell, and wished the Force with them on their way. And he stood there on the landing pad with his hands on his padawan’s shoulders, watching Even Piell and Poli Dapatian fly away from their responsibilities, all for the call worth leaving for.

Yaddle could tell his mind was someplace else, and she handled thanking the children for all their hard work and kind hearts. “Now, perhaps they ought to get some dinner and have a good night’s sleep?”

The children dispersed in little groups, all shepherded by an adult back towards the Creche. All save for Bruck. Who riffled through his stack of tunics and pulled out his comm for the first time in hours. The boy had been mid-smile at Garen, laughing about something the sweet boy had said, then his whole tenor changed.

All the good feeling if a day spent in service withered away, replaced by Darkness. The adults who knew to be on the lookout – and others still, just with sense – stiffened at the dramatic change. Tyvokka waved them off and led over his yawning padawan. “My padawan tells me these kits were your idea, Initiate Chun.”

Bruck scrambled to shove his comm away, and only a gentle poke in the Force kept Obi-Wan from asking what was wrong. “I, uh… he did all the work, sir.”

“Are you okay?” Obi couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m fine!” The boy shrieked.

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you just gave me credit for something.”

The unkindness soothed away Bruck’s worries. “Well, I’m not going to make you look bad in front of your Master. That’s just mean.”

Obi-Wan shrieked this time.

“Either way.” Tyvokka sank to a knee so he could look the lost, scared boy in the eyes. “Thank you for your help, Bruck. And thank you for looking out for my padawan today.”

And then Tyvokka waited. The Force stretched between them like molasses while Bruck Chun decided which way to turn. He was tired and scared, but he had spent the day wrapped up in the Light of the Force, so Tyvokka hoped, but he wasn’t surprised when Bruck gave him a bow and ran off.

“Straight to the creche, Initiate Chun. Anything else can wait until morning.”

“I, um—”

Tyvokka nodded at one of the Guardians who’d been keeping watch all afternoon. To the boy, it must’ve seemed like the white-masked Jedi all but materialized at his shoulder. “No secret research projects tonight.”

The poor boy looked terribly confused. There was no research project, after all. But soon enough he nodded along, happy that the adults had mistaken his disappearances for research and he happily fled.

Obi-Wan leaned against Tyvokka’s side. “Something is wrong with Bruck.”

“Yes. But that is a conversation for tomorrow.”

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