Reading Time: 84 Minutes

Title: Pathfinder
Author: Jilly James
Fandom: Star Wars
Genre: Angst, Drama, Pre-Relationship, Science Fiction
Relationship(s): Gen, Pre-Obi-Wan Kenobi/Nield, OC/OC, background pairings
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Discussion-Slavery, Discussion-Graphic Violence, Discussion-Violence Against Children, Discussion-War, Discussion-Children engaged in warfare, Discussion-Child Murder, Discussion-Attempted Genocide, Discussion-Suicide, Discussion-Self-Harm, Dark Themes, Discussion-Major/Permanent Injury, Mild Character Bashing, implied trauma.
Author Note: Star Wars has a lot of darkness in it. Melida/Daan was a particularly ugly arc in Jedi Apprentice, and though this is post-war, all children-at-war themes may apply. Everything mentioned in the warnings will be actually discussed but it’s also present in the Star Wars canon in spades. Please be sure to read the author notes tab in summary post, and particularly the tab about language in this verse.
Word Count: 87,410
Summary: After being exiled from the Young and returning to the temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi goes through the motions of healing and re-establishing his place in the Order. Yet he knows there’s a far-reaching threat still facing the Young—there are risks of starvation, illness, and the greater threat of attacks from shadowy forces he sees only in vision. He has little faith in the Order residing within the walls of the temple, so he seeks help from without, sending petitions for aid to the service corps branches. After all, no one told him he couldn’t, and he’ll do anything to protect the Young.
Beta: Keira Marcos, desertpoet
Artist: Spennig

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Chapter One

“Admiral Wodij, we’re approaching Taanab.”

Rin turned away from her contemplation of the vastness of space. She hadn’t been this far into the Core in years and already felt the itch to return to the fringes of Wild Space.

“Shall we send a com to the AgriCorps station, sir?”

“No.” She considered for a moment. “I’ll send Master Ebé a com and have him rendezvous with us here.” She’d left her flagship in the outer rim, and very few sentients knew about the meeting about to take place. She was commanding a moderate-to-large-sized but otherwise unremarkable ExplorCorps vessel, the type that should be unremarkable in the Core. However, her setting foot in an AgriCorps facility would be gossip-worthy, something she needed to avoid.

“Yes, sir. We’ll request an orbital slot. Shall I say that we’re conducting routine checks on the holorepeaters in the sector?”

“Mm. Yes. And you might as well actually do so while we wait for Master Ebé to tear himself away from his experiments.”

“Certainly, sir. Your other guests have finished earlymeal, completed their review of the briefing packet, and have requested your presence.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

She sent a com to Lodha Ebé, head of Agricultural Corps, asking him to rendezvous with the Guiding Star as soon as possible. She added Lodha’s second on the com. Lodha knew they were coming, and his second had been informed as well, so hopefully the delay wouldn’t be too great. However, his preoccupation with his plants was a thing of legend.

Her two other guests were waiting in the conference room, and she was keenly aware of one of her infiltration specialists shadowing her on the way to the meeting. Dagher slipped into the room behind her, taking up a position leaning against the wall.

Four others were already waiting in the room. Master Healer Reloth Kan, head of the Medical Corps, and Master Professor Thee Ohri, head of the Education Corps. The final two were the Corps leaders’ seconds, diligently reviewing the information data packets she’d provided. She commed the captain in charge of ExplorCorps research to join them.

Rin slouched into the chair they’d thoughtfully left available for her. Kan was an Iktotchi female, which was every bit as large as the males, while Thee Ohri was a Kel Dor who projected no gender in their force presence. Neither was a small species, and yet both were a bit smaller than her own.

She was of unusual height at well over 2.3 meters, and oddly broad in the shoulders for a female HON, but her species was known for being the largest of the human-appearing in the galaxy. She’d heard there was a Jedi in the Diplomacy Corps of her species, but Jinn was on the small side for their race; he barely passed two meters.

“Are we waiting for Ebé?” Thee Ohri asked, not looking up from their datapad.

“His second will probably have to pry him away from his greenhouse, and who knows how long that will take. Ebé’s voice matters, of course, as a member of the Grand Convocation, but AgriCorps has perhaps the least investment in the matter before us.” She leaned forward and steepled her hands in front of her. “Well? What is your conclusion, Professor?”

Thee shook their head, the gesture one of dismay. “It’d be too easy to dismiss the data and conclusions because they came from what amounts to a child—a traumatized child at that. He’s not even fifteen yet.”

“He’s now a battle-hardened veteran,” Dagher said quietly from his position on the wall. “His childhood and his innocence are gone.”

Thee grimaced, the expression distorted by their respirator and goggles, but Rin had plenty of experience reading Kel Dor expressions over the many decades.

Ohri dipped their head in acknowledgment. “As I said, it’d be easy to dismiss this due to their age, but I can find no fault with the conclusions they’ve drawn. Only with the source data itself, as we have no way of validating it at this time. If he interpreted the data correctly, I…” they trailed off and gestured vaguely. “Well, we have a very severe problem.”

Rin nodded and looked to Reloth Kan, the master healer. “Re?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I certainly agree with Thee in terms of the overall picture. As a healer, certainly, the MedCorps should have been approached to make a temporary base on the planet. That there was no petition made to us by the Senate or the Diplomacy Corps was an egregious oversight. The population is more than seventy percent under the age of fifteen, and no one on that planet has ever known anything but war. One of the questions raised is if they have a viable population, and I can’t answer that. Strictly the numbers, the answer would be yes, of course.”

“And not by the numbers?”

“Multi-generational, massive, long-term exposure to tibanna gas—or, Force help us, something worse if they were using cheaper weapons. Or possibly even exposure to other chemical weapons. The effects of poor nutrition and possibly tainted water supply on fertility. The short and long-term medical consequences are numerous. All that’s been provided to these people was that a Republic Mission set up an aid station for a month, providing medical care and the type of food and medical supplies we send refugees. These people need intensive, on-the-ground help and long-term recovery plans, not ration bars.

“And that doesn’t even begin to address the question of long-term exposure to,” she made a vague gesture toward the datapads. “We don’t allow children around those sorts of things for a reason. It affects their cognitive functioning and possibly their actual brain development.”

“So, the MedCorps petition on its own would have merit?”

“Yes, of course, and I’d approve it without reservation, but I can see why it was left to your discretion whether to send the petitions to myself and to AgriCorps. And also why the Grand Convocation was called before we were shown any of it. Kenobi was savvy enough to send this to you, and secondarily through Thee.”

“What’s the next step?” Professor Ohri asked. “Or do we need Ebé’s input?”

“We definitely need Ebé’s input,” Rin confirmed. “But that doesn’t define our next step. We need a full Convocation, and that means Master Yoda must be involved as well.”

Ohri drummed their claws against the straps of their goggles. “I hate Coruscant.”

The door opened, and the ExplorCorps captain in charge of esoteric research entered. She was already familiar with the material, so Rin waved for her to join the other seconds, who were still reading.

Rin’s com went off, and she read the message from the Guiding Star’s captain, who was on the bridge. “Ebé’s shuttle is inbound. That was quick; his wings must have been burning.”

Kan had her eyes closed, head tilted to the side. “He’s so strong in the Living Force, he felt us all in orbit. The Convocation doesn’t usually gather without warning; it was probably enough to jar him away from whatever plants he was experimenting with.”

They returned to discussing the reports, which included answering questions from their seconds, until Lodha Ebé swept into the room, his black wings taking up more than their fair share of space.

He was every bit as tall as her, his skin a medium brown with swirls of pure black, the meaning of which he’d never disclosed. He had pitch black hair that would have been to the floor if it wasn’t always confined in a braid. Lodha had told her years ago that despite his avian features, his species was actually a cousin to the Neti, and that he was more plant than animal. He was also extremely long-lived.

Ebé perched on a stool, his wings stretching out as he peered at the three of them. “Is the Convocation gathering without Yoda, or are we going in search of my favorite little bog troll?”

“We’ll need to go get him,” Rin answered.

“Then let’s be on our way.” Ebé flashed sharp teeth.

“Do you ever tire of annoying him?” Thee asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“No.”

“You’re older than he is, Lodha,” they chided. “You should be the bigger person.”

“I’ll always be the bigger person. It’s genetic.”

Rin rolled her eyes.

Lodha propped his chin in his hand and glanced at where Dagher was still propping up the wall. “Interesting addition to the meeting.” He slid his gaze back to Rin. “How bad is it?”

Rin passed over the datapad.

There was a lot to review, but Rin knew when Lodha had gotten to the point she had a major question about based on how furious his Force presence was. “Can you tell me, Master Ebé, if it’s possible for a Jedi Master to miss what this child is reporting?”

Lodha sighed. “Possible? Yes. It’s not relevant to him leaving a thirteen-year-old alone and weaponless in the middle of a civil war, but it would explain why the child and the master had different perceptions of the planet itself. Qui-Gon Jinn is listed as a master of the Living Force, and that would explain him missing the Force tone of the planet. It doesn’t explain him not listening to his padawan, however.”

“I think attachment of the romantic sort explains that,” Dagher said from his place on the wall.

Rin had never cared for the Diplomacy Corps’ rules about attachment, finding them unreasonable and stifling; however, she did require her corps members to be able to put their duty first. If Jinn’s issue leading him to abandon a child in a war zone was romantic love, that was a serious problem.

Lodha Ebé cocked his head. “Was this Master Tahl’s main alignment the Living Force as well?”

Healer Kan nodded. “According to her file, yes. Though, as we all know, that could be artificial. The Diplomacy Corps fosters attachment to the Living Force to an untold degree.”

Ebé made a face and went back to reading. When he was done, he tossed the pad on the table and his wings fluttered a bit in his agitation, which resonated strongly in the Force.

“What do you think of Kenobi’s conclusions?” Rin prodded.

“I think we’re the proof of it,” Lodha said, sounding tired.

“What do you mean by that?” Thee Ohri asked.

“We’ve all agreed the darkness is growing; our answer to that has been to turn more into our individual branches and away from the main part of the Order. Even our thinking is a problem—that the Diplomacy Corps is the main branch of the Order. It’s only main due to its alignment with the Senate and our profound lack of desire to be attached to that body.”

“To be fair,” Rin interjected, “there was careful wording added to the Ruusan Reformation to only align the Knights of the Order with the Senate, which was later refined to be the Diplomacy Corps, thus allowing some knights to move into the service branches without ongoing obligation to Judicial. That was to protect the bulk of the Order from the unknown that was the Senate.”

“The Senate was more known than you think,” Ebé said softly, then shook his head. “Regardless, two hundred years ago, we’d get a fair number of younglings who chose to come to one of the service corps rather than attend the Academy. Now we get so few who haven’t aged out. And those who do age out into the corps practically have to be deprogrammed out of thinking they’re failures.

“Fifty years ago, I’d have kicked Yoda’s little green arse all over Coruscant for the schism that’s developed between the branches of the Order, but I’ve turned more and more toward my plants, and it’s seemed more and more reasonable to do so.”

Ebé rubbed his hands over his face. “I think this darkness affects the thinking of those aligned with the Living Force more than it does the other alignments. Probably causing those aligned with the Unifying to have more visions, which, under the current Order leadership—”

Rin grimaced. “Would lead to them being told to ground themselves in the Living Force. A terrible vicious cycle of blindness.” She glanced at the name on the various applications that had been sent to the services corps of the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan Kenobi. “The Force uses the messenger it can find who is willing to carry the burden.”

Ebé glared. “No pyres of children, Rin.”

She drew her finger over the planet in question on the map of the galaxy. “We may be too late for that.”

He sighed and rose from his stool, looking to Dagher. “I assume you’re headed for the Cadavine sector?”

Dagher looked to Rin. “Am I, Admiral?”

She inclined her head. “Pick your team. Make no contact but begin gathering intelligence. I’ll set my AI’s mission parameters to high threat, so you’ll have to check in with her every six hours once you reach the sector or I’ll get an alert.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, Dagher pushed off the wall and left the room.

“And we’re for Coruscant,” Lodha muttered. “Dagher and his infiltration experts certainly have the more pleasant task. Why do all these supposed masters aligned with the Living Force desire to live on a dead world?”

Thee Ohri’s respirator gave the distinctive distortion of Kel Dor laughter. “They built the temple on top of a Sith shrine, Lodha. It could be argued that the Diplomacy Corps has been a circuit board short for a few centuries now.”

***

Rin rose from a shallow meditation when her door chime softly rang. She could sense Lodha’s presence, and only his presence.

Once on her feet, she palmed open the door lock and stepped back, allowing him to enter. “Ebé.”

“Wodij,” he acknowledged, glancing around her quarters. “What do you feel we’re flying into?”

She shook her head. “Something momentous. The Cosmic Force has been oddly turbulent of late.”

“Turbulent? In what way?”

“I’m not sure how to articulate the feeling. It’s almost as if there have been odd pulls and ripples in what should be a steady landscape. It shouldn’t…” She blew out a breath. “I know you don’t often touch the other aspects…”

“I can’t touch them.”

“Can’t?” she echoed, not sure what to do with that.

He shook his head. “I’ll explain in a moment. You were saying about the Cosmic Force?”

“Of the Living, Unifying, and Cosmic… Think of it like one of those Hoth globes. The ones with the holographic bits inside of an orb made of some sort of transparent material?”

“You shake them up and the bits float around in some clear liquid? I’m familiar.” Ebé confirmed that he’d seen one.

“Think of the Living Force as the little bits and the Unifying Force as the clear stuff the bits are floating around in. Both can be calm and still, but it’s also in their nature to be shaken up and swirl in and around one another.”

He tilted his head to the side and considered for a moment. “Very well. I see the analogy. And by extension, I gather the orb itself is the Cosmic Force?”

“Yes, and not really designed for routine fluctuations the way the other two are. Because it’s the vessel, ripples tend to be very noticeable.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing these ripples?”

“Ripples may not even be the right word?” She rubbed her temples. “It’s just something, and it’s been going on for a while now. Of the three, it’s the least common alignment. True affinity for the Physical Force is hard to quantify as so many of us use the physical aspects in our Force calling, though some in the Order are clearly aligned to the Physical Force, like Jaro Tapal and Master Tyvokka. Regardless, only those truly in touch with the Cosmic Force, actually aligned to it, are feeling these eddies.”

“Which explains why none of the rest of us noticed it. Had you been investigating the source?”

“Yes, and with no conclusions, though I’d sent some subtle inquiries to the temple and the Green Jedi asking if anyone had reported anything anomalous. Nothing had seemed promising as the cause until I received young Kenobi’s report and request for aid on behalf of the people of Melidaan.”

“Hmm.”

“Now, what were you saying about being unable to touch other aspects of the Force? I know one of the reasons you ascended to your position is that no one has quite the depth of affinity that you do, but even those with a singular alignment, such as myself, can still interact with other aspects of the Force when needed.”

“I’m actually born of the Living Force. It’s a quirk of my species. I have more in common with Master Yoda in the sense that we’re both a byproduct of the Force, after a fashion. Yoda isn’t as constrained as me because his species is actually a byproduct of a major outpouring of Force energy on his native planet.

“My species, on the other hand, when we’re ready to have children, engage in a deep communion with the Force, and a child is the result.”

Rin blinked. “Wait. You’re literally the Force’s baby?”

He smiled. “As a result, we are aligned only to the aspect of the Force to which our bearer communed.”

“I have so many questions.”

“I would have answered them years before now; the answers were yours for the asking, Rin.”

“Lodha,” she said softly, patiently waiting as he took her measure. Then, he slowly walked toward her, continuing to advance until she was pressed against the wall of her temporary quarters.

Reaching up, he framed her face with his large, graceful hands. “It’s been too long, Rinnea.”

She curled her fingers around his wrists, simply holding on. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, old friend.”

His hands slid to her shoulders, and then their foreheads pressed together. “We’re four hours from Coruscant.”

“Four hours, eight minutes.”

“Be with me?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she whispered in reply.

***

Rin collapsed back on her bunk, pleasantly worn out from their exertions, and encouraged Lodha to curl up on her chest. His wings fell to rest against the wall on one side and draped onto the floor on the other.

She rubbed between his wings, getting an appreciative moan for her efforts. “About this Force baby thing…”

He chuckled against her skin. “I’m not due to have a child yet.”

She blinked. “Good to know, but that’s not what I meant. You’re going to have an actual child someday?”

“When the Force calls, yes. It’s the nature of my species.”

“Are there many of you?”

“No, very few, in fact. There are eight. When one dies, one is called.”

“Eight.”

“We’re not particularly called to be a society, so it’s no hardship that there are so few of us. Once we’re adults, we follow the will of the Force, wherever it leads us.”

“Where did it lead you?”

“It led me to Yoda, in point of fact.”

“Pardon?” She paused up on one elbow to look down at him.

“I was his finder, after a fashion, though I was not a member of the Order at the time, so that term isn’t exactly correct. Regardless, I was following the Force, and it led me to him.” Lodha looked up and gave her a mischievous little grin. “Never repeat this, but his linguistic quirk is my fault.”

“You mean the weird sentence construction?”

“Yes.”

“How is that your fault?”

“The first language I spoke was constructed to, in general terms, put the main subject and predicate at the end of the sentence. As it happens, Yoda’s species has a linguistic imprint. When he was so small that he fit in the palm of my hand, I spoke to him in my native language rather than Galactic Basic.”

Rin broke into peals of laughter. “So he’s forever stuck because of you? That’s glorious.”

“I also brought Yaddle to the temple. I made sure to speak to her in Basic, however. Yoda might be a little salty about it.”

“So, you know where they’re from?”

“Mm. It’s information I’ve sworn to keep secret. The Force will prod me there when needed. I’ve sensed another has come into being, but they’re too young to leave their world yet. Soon, I think. The Force will let me know when.”

She grinned, delighted. “There’s going to be a baby version of Yoda in my lifetime?”

“Yes, I rather think so.”

“My world is absolutely complete.”

“You are entirely too easy to please, my love.”

She snorted at that sentiment, then looked at her chrono, aware of how their little bubble of time was passing. “I know you and Yoda take particular delight in annoying one another, but go easy on him this time, okay?”

“Perhaps.”

“This will be harder for him than any of the rest of us.”

“I think that statement is true. Regardless, more so than the rest of us, he needs to wake up and see, Rin. His influence is too vast.”

“Well, he’s less likely to see if you’re tweaking his ear tips.”

“I’ll concede to let you and Thee handle him.”

“Not Kan?”

“Re Kan would happily punt him off the Grand Convocation and see him replaced with Yaddle, so no. Not Kan.”

“Yeah, all right.” She curled her arm tightly around him. “Stay a few more minutes and then we’ll attend to our duty.”

***

They were granted priority access to the temple hangar using their Grand Convocation access codes. There were more sentinels around the hangar than there should be, and she had to think it was because of how long it had been since the Convocation had actually been on Coruscant, not to mention their surprise arrival.

There was no attempt to impede their progress, however. Reloth Kan and Thee Ohri were both typical species in the Order, but a female HON of Rin’s size with spiky white hair was pretty unusual. That said, Lodha Ebé was completely unique, and there was no mistaking the AgriCorps master’s 2.3-meter height, expansive black wings, and swirling black tattoo-like Force markings.

Unimpeded, they headed straight for the High Council chambers.

Rin raised one brow at the senior padawan, who seemed to want to deny their entry. “You actually can’t deny us entry, muffin, since we sit higher in this Order than your High Council. Our fifth member is behind those doors, and we cannot attend to our most serious business without his little green butt, so either go get him or let us in.” She glanced at Thee Ohri. “What are they teaching padawans these days? One of our apprentices would be repairing droids for a tenday if they tried to interfere with the business of the Grand Convocation.”

Thee shrugged. “The EduCorps agreed to let the DipCorps manage the Academy’s curriculum. Clearly, we need to perform an audit; that’s definitely within my mandate.”

“You can go in,” the padawan stated, more quailing under Lodha’s intense frown than from anything she’d said.

“We’re in a high-priority session!” Poli Dapatian’s voice came from the room as they entered.

“You always think all your sessions are high priority, Poli,” Reloth replied tartly.

“Sorry to disturb you; we need Yoda,” Rin said without fanfare.

“A meeting we have?”

Rin bit her lip and glanced at the Coruscant skyline, releasing her amusement to the Force, which turned into more sharing it with the Force, which tinkled like bells in return.

“There’s a matter of grave importance that has come to the attention of the Convocation,” Thee Ohri replied.

“On the Convocation, I believe I am. Heard of this, I have not.”

“Telling you now, we are,” Rin snipped back.

“Admiral Wodij,” Yoda acknowledged in a flat tone.

Rin was distracted by Lodha crossing towards the council. Yaddle was waving him over from where she was standing on her little chair. He dropped down to one knee and accepted the exuberant hug from her, letting their foreheads rest together.

“Hello, little one. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be seen, Master Lodha. You’ve been missed.”

He pulled back and smiled at her, capturing her chin between two big fingers and squeezing affectionately. “I hope we have time for tea. I brought you a new plant.”

She smiled and settled into her seat. “How can the council help you?”

“An urgent matter crossed our coms recently that we must attend to.” He looked to Yoda. “Hello, bog troll.”

Yoda harrumphed. “Feathered harpy.”

“Well met.”

Yoda pointed his gimer stick at Lodha. “Crossed my com, an urgent matter has not. Be here without warning, you should not be.”

“In point of fact, it came to you first,” Lodha countered.

Rin cocked her head to the side. From a certain point of view, that was certainly true.

With a rumbling sigh, Tyvokka asked in Shyriiwook, “What can the High Council do for the Grand Convocation?”

The four of them exchanged a look.

It was Thee Ohri who stepped forward and evenly said, “We need to speak to Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Chapter Two

“Pada—”

Obi-Wan’s hand froze over the bit of scrap flimsi, hand tight about his stylus, as he waited to see how the messenger would handle the matter of his address. Was he technically still a padawan? At fourteen, he was too old to be an initiate, but how could one be a padawan without a master? Yes, Master Jinn had brought him back from Melida/Daan, and he was technically accepted back into the Order, but Jinn hadn’t decided to take Obi-Wan back as an apprentice, so what was he? Padawan? Initiate? When his three months of probation were up without a master, would he then be an exile?

A throat cleared, and the messenger tried again. “Padawan Kenobi, pardon the interruption, but the council has requested your presence.”

Obi-Wan finally looked up from the table in the archives where he’d been studying all day. He recognized one of the senior padawans who often staffed the desk in the high council chambers, but he kept his expression blank.

“Which council and when?”

The HON padawan’s eyebrows shot up. “The High Council, and right now. Please gather your things; they’re waiting for you.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head and began to collect his belongings. Most of the references he needed these days were able to be sent to his pad, but there were a few more archaic texts that he’d needed to be in the archives to review the physical copy. The one he was looking at today was an actual book made of some substance he couldn’t readily identify. It was similar to a wood pulp product but not exactly the same. Regardless, it had to be handled carefully and under the watchful circuits of one of the archive droids.

He made sure to surrender it personally to Sixty-Six, despite the council padawan waiting for him and leaking impatience in the Force.

“I’m aware of the location of the council chambers; you needn’t have wasted your time waiting.”

“I was asked to escort you to the chambers.”

Keeping any reaction off his face and behind his shields, Obi-Wan dipped his head again and followed the padawan out of the archives.

He idly wondered if Master Jinn had been summoned as well. He could think of two reasons the High Council might wish to speak with him. One was to press either or both of them about the status of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship and his probationary period, especially since his probationary period was almost at an end. The other was related to some requests and reports Obi-Wan had sent to the various service corps following his return from Melidaan.

He hoped it was the former. Despite the fact that he wasn’t ready to have a conversation about his future with the Order, he was less prepared, on this day, to discuss anything about his recent past.

As soon as they reached the council antechamber, Obi-Wan noticed more beings in the waiting area than was typical. Oddly dressed beings. There were maybe ten beings milling about in small groups having hushed conversations, and none of them were in typical Jedi garb. Several of them shot him curious looks, but Obi-Wan couldn’t take the time to get a sense of things in the Force because he was immediately taken into the council chambers.

He had an answer to the nature of his summons the minute he was in the room because the layout was changed from anything he had ever experienced in the past.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath through his teeth and released an immediate swell of anxiety. This was not the reaction he’d expected.

The typical twelve council seats were arranged in two rows off to the left side of the room. On the right were five seats, one for the grandmaster of each branch of the Order. Master Yoda was seated in one of the five, leaving his normal chair on the left empty.

So many in the Defense and Diplomacy Corps, sometimes called the Diplomatic or Knight Corps, forgot that the true leading council of the Jedi Order was the Grand Convocation of the Jedi Order. The High Council was, in fact, simply the head of the Diplomacy Corps.

Each branch of the Order had its own governing body and, therefore, its own representative on the Convocation. That true governing council had the ultimate power over the Order.

Obi-Wan had learned more about the Convocation and the structure of the Order as a whole over the last three months of his probation than he had in his entire term at the Academy. Yes, the Academy acknowledged the other branches of the Order and that they had their own councils, but they failed to really discuss the power the five grandmasters together had as a whole and that it was only the Knight Corps that was beholden to the whims of the Senate. Perhaps that was one of the reasons the other Corps branches were so absent from the goings on within the temple—they wished to avoid interference or scrutiny from senatorial busybodies.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Master Dapatian, head of the Diplomatic Corps’ High Council, intoned immediately, “what was your understanding about your probationary period after we provisionally accepted you back into the Order?”

The ripples of annoyance from several of the members of the Convocation had to be deliberate since beings of that level of power and control didn’t let their emotions slip so easily. Clearly, they hadn’t expected this start.

Obi-Wan folded his hands behind his back and tilted his head as he considered the question. “I was to use the time to reflect on mistakes that had been made and on my place in the Order, attend to my healing, and make inroads on my missed assignments at the Academy.”

“And under what portion of those guidelines would contacting the other branches of the Order fall?”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and tilted his head the other direction. “All but the last, I’d think, Master Dapatian.”

Before Master Dapatian could reply, Master Plo Koon leaned forward and asked, “Would you elucidate, Obi-Wan?” His tone and his feel in the Force were gentle and encouraging.

“Of course, Master Koon. I assumed the council’s directive that I attend to my healing was beyond my physical health, no? While I was quite underweight when I returned to the temple, I assume the directive was more about mind healing. The nature of the medical facilities at the temple easily corrected everything wrong with me except the actual starvation.” He delivered the recitation without inflection.

“Yes,” Master Plo said kindly. “Body first and then we wished for you to see mind healers. And we were already aware that you were diligent about seeking out mind healers, though we had some concerns as we were informed that they had difficulty finding you a good match.” He held up a hand, claws tilted in the way to indicate no-threat amongst the Kel Dor. “Your privacy, of course, was respected by the healing staff, and nothing else was revealed to us.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “There was some difficulty finding a mind healer who wasn’t…put off by my circumstances,” he said carefully.

“Mean, what do you?” Master Yoda asked from the right side of the room.

“For instance, at first, I was having persistent nightmares of my first battlefield amputation of a seven-year-old girl’s leg. My first mind healer left the room, and then Master Che came and sat with me, stating they’d need to find a more suitable match so that I could discuss my experiences. We went through this several times until I started speaking with a retired guardian who had also studied mind healing. Master Soren has been out of the field for many years, so he dedicates his time serving the Force now strictly as a mind healer.”

The ripple of disquiet that flowed through the room was interesting.

“You first battlefield amputation?” a new voice from the right said. The Force presence indicated female. Obi-Wan glanced at her to find she was HON, but a variant of HON he’d never seen before because she had to be taller than Master Jinn. Easily 2.3 meters and broader than a Wookiee. She was dressed nothing like a Jedi… More like a pirate. He’d bet every credit he’d ever managed to hide away that she was Admiral Rinnea Wodij, the head of the Exploration Corps.

“There were several,” Obi-Wan said flatly. “Aside from infected blaster injuries as a cause, the warring factions were rather too fond of bombs and mines.” Deciding to keep the questioning on track, he continued, “So, I did find a good match with Master Soren, and though discussing the events and ramifications of the war itself were vital to the mind healing, I also felt that completeness and closure were an important aspect of the healing process, and Master Soren agreed. Which was part of the reason I began my research, which led to my contact with the other branches of the Order.

“In terms of the directive that I reflect on my place in the Order, I took that in several ways, not the least of which was I felt I needed to better understand the Order. So, I took it upon myself to better understand the structural interplay between the branches. I realize much of this is learned in one’s padawanship, though I’m not sure why. I think initiates would be less terrified of not being chosen as a padawan if they better understood the foundational structure of the Order as a whole and the interplay and opportunities in the other branches of the corps, but I digress.”

Obi-Wan plowed on, not giving anyone a chance to ask a question. “I also felt there was a distinct possibility that I would find myself with no master and, therefore, no place in the Diplomacy Corps. With that in mind, and under the directive to consider my place in the Order, I felt it prudent to better inform myself of the mandate and structure of the other branches in the event that I should need to apply to one or be forced to choose to leave.

“Fortunately, with my new understanding of the Order’s structure, I’d likely ask for assignment to ExplorCorps or EduCorps, as I think they’re a better fit for my skills and Force alignment than my assignment when I was twelve to the AgriCorps. Alderaanian singing orchards actually hide from me, right up to going back into the soil, so I don’t think I’m suited to life around plants that are needed to feed other beings.”

He paused to consider. “In summary, I felt my contact with the other branches of the Order met the council’s directive as it pertained to my mind healing, my reflection of my errors, reflection on my future, and place in the Order.”

There was a beat of silence before Master Dapatian asked, “How does any of that indicate to you that you should be writing reports and submitting requests to the other branches of the Jedi Order?”

Obi-Wan arched a brow. “I checked the regulations, Master Dapatian, and there was nothing indicating that a possibly-padawan couldn’t send reports or requests to other branches of the Order.”

Dapatian’s jaw muscles flexed briefly. “You’re on probation.”

“I understood my probationary period to be a time of reflection and healing, not something punitive.” Obi-Wan knew his tone was void of emotion, but his Force sense was probably getting a little snarky. The way the Force had been moving in him for over a year now made interacting with the council in a serene fashion something of a chore.

“It’s not punitive,” Master Plo interjected sternly over Master Dapatian. “Obi-Wan, though the council does have some questions about how we got to this point, because I personally feel under-informed about your situation, where I previously had not, it was actually the Grand Convocation that called you before us. The heads of the four corps branches not stationed here on Coruscant arrived this morning and requested to meet with you.” He gestured to the chairs.

“You, of course, already know Grandmaster Yoda. Grandmaster Rin Wodij of the Exploration Corps, though she’s properly addressed as Admiral Wodij.” The tall HON pirate inclined her head. “Then there’s Grandmaster Lodha Ebé of the Agricultural Corps.”

The male in question was a species Obi-Wan had never seen before. He was easily as tall as Admiral Wodij but with huge black wings spreading out on either side of his chair. He had long black hair in a braid that dropped down to curl on the floor. His skin was dark with striking swirls of pure black that reminded him in places of vines.

Grandmaster Ebé inclined his head and smiled, his Force presence open and welcoming. “Well met, Kenobi. And you’re correct that you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near plants. You make my wings itch.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched, and he inclined his head in return.

Master Plo gestured to an Iktotchi female. “Master Healer Reloth Kan of the Medical Corps.” She nodded tersely, but he could feel her gently assess him in the Force.

“And finally, Grandmaster Thee Ohri of the Education Corps.” Thee Ohri was another Kel Dor, slightly shorter than Master Plo but otherwise similar in coloring and probably age. They had a non-gendered sense in the Force. Some species had dozens of genders, but the ability to perceive a gender was somewhat based on what was typical in one’s own species, so Obi-Wan’s perception was limited to about four or five. He mentally put Master Ohri in the non-gendered ‘they’ unless he was provided a more precise pronoun appropriate to the species by them.

“Grandmasters,” Obi-Wan bowed deeply. “It’s my honor, though I certainly hadn’t anticipated meeting any of you directly.”

It was Admiral Wodij who replied, “Once my crew did an assessment of the report you submitted, you had to know we’d follow the suggestions you laid out.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I simply asked that my requests to AgriCorps and MedCorps be held until it was determined if my findings had merit. And that if they had merit that it be determined what the ramifications would be for the people of Melidaan. But whatever the result of your review of my report, I didn’t anticipate meeting you in person, Admiral.”

Admiral Wodij cocked her head. “If the matter is as grave as you suspected, you didn’t think we’d act?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth and then promptly shut it. He considered for a moment. “Honestly, no. I certainly hoped you would take action, but I didn’t expect it.” He bit his lip, a nervous habit he kept trying to train himself out of. “You’re here, so my concerns must have had a foundation…?”

She made a so-so motion with her oversized hands. “We won’t know until we set foot on the planet. Well, all but Master Ebé are going, assuming we’re granted permission by the planetary leaders. If your suspicions are correct, setting foot on Melidaan could be damaging to him.”

Obi-Wan winced. “So, AgriCorps couldn’t…?”

Master Ebé shook his head. “If the planet is becoming a dark vergence, particularly one tied to a piece of Sith alchemy, we would have to have that taint purged before AgriCorps methods would be fruitful on that world, and many of our corps members could not set foot on the planet until the vergence was at least neutral. There are some agricultural methods that could be beneficial even if it’s a dark vergence, simply not as useful as our normal protocols, but we’d need to know the effect of the vergence on those strong in the Living Force before making any determination.”

Master Yoda shot Master Ebé an alarmed look. “Dark vergence? Sith alchemy? Hear of this, we have not.” He looked pointedly at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stared back without flinching.

After a long moment, Master Ohri interjected into the stare-off, “There are clearly other issues here…?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked to Master Ohri. “The High Council of the Diplomacy Corps has been disinterested in my experiences or my interpretations of Melidaan.”

Master Yoda pointed his gimer stick in Obi-Wan’s direction. “Left the Order, you did. Reflect on your decisions you should have been.”

“What decision, Master Yoda? To follow the will of the Force?”

“Bah?” Yoda folded his hands over the top of the stick. “Young you are, excuses you make.”

“The Force screams in pain on Melidaan, Master Yoda.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let the memory of first breaking atmo on that planet wash over his senses. “It screams. It’s a constant wail of agony. The Force showed me that leaving, that letting whatever was at work continue, would be a grave error. That the children had to win the war. I saw—” he broke off and shook his head.

“Always in motion the future is,” Yoda intoned in his usual way. “Pay attention to visions, you should not. Know this, you do.”

Obi-Wan glanced away, refusing to engage in an argument about the council’s disregard for the gifts of the Force.

“One thing that has been unclear to us,” Master Ohri said, their voice slightly distorted by their breathing mask, “was how exactly the situation came to be on the planet. Can you step us back to the beginning and explain what happened and how you interpreted the instructions from the Force?”

“I assume you know the basics of our initial mission to then-named Melida/Daan, now Melidaan, to investigate a missing Jedi Master, Tahl, who had been sent to negotiate either a treaty or a cease-fire.”

The four corps masters nodded, but Yoda narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan, though Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong.

“As soon as we broke atmosphere, I could feel the wrongness in the Force.”

“Could it have just been the misery of war?” Admiral Wodij asked.

“No. And please don’t take my answer for arrogance. Long-term misery does have a certain Force presence.” He hesitated before adding. “I began my apprenticeship with Master Jinn after being enslaved in a deep sea mine. The only thing I can say that’s good about being cut off from the Force by a bomb collar is that it blunted the overwhelming misery of the dozens of sentients dying by the day down there.

“I’d think even stretching it out to as long as hundreds of years of war, it’d feel more like anger and misery and despair than…” He scrunched up his nose, trying to find a descriptor. “Than like a pit trying to suck in all the light in the universe.”

“Okay, please continue.”

“There was a third faction in the war we hadn’t been briefed about: the children of the Melida and the Daan. Two of the oldest, Nield and Cerasi—later joined by another Daan boy named Mawat—had met and decided they were tired of the war. Tired of no one being able to remember why they were fighting. They started their own army, calling themselves the Young, children of both sides who were committed to ending the fighting, even at the cost of their families, their parents, and any life they’d ever known.

“Though you had to be at least five to join the Army, they’d smuggle out those who were younger to be raised in the forest by those who attempted to hunt and forage in the wilds.”

“Five,” Admiral Wodij repeated. “Five-year-old soldiers?” She took a breath. “How did you feel about that?”

Obi-Wan shook his head and looked at the floor. “Aside from the gaping wound in the Force, every new horror I found was like another bleeding wound. We told them we’d help if they’d assist us in finding Master Tahl.” He hesitated. “We didn’t.”

“Retrieve Master Tahl and return to the temple, your mission was,” Master Yoda reminded.

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, though the Force screamed louder than our temple bureaucracy.” He could feel the offense radiating in the Force from several of the council members.

Yoda made a little huffy noise.

Obi-Wan looked out at the Coruscant skyline, seeing it for the dark cesspool that it was. “We were separated when the Young were helping us find Tahl, and on our way to reconnoiter—the Young wanted to use our ship to take out a com array of the Daan’s. It was one of the last functioning on the planet, and we assumed how they were continuing to get weapons. I encountered a body…” He bit his lip. He hadn’t even discussed this with Master Soren. “He was little…four years old. His brother had left the Melida to fight with the Young, and his parents had killed the four-year-old as a message to the brother. They’d killed him in a horrible, horrible way that I pray you don’t ask me to burden you with.

“And there was a note that all of the survivor’s siblings would be killed as well if he didn’t surrender himself for war crimes against the Melida. He was prepared to do it, too, knowing his own parents planned to execute him in front of his whole family.” Obi-Wan shook his head, his voice catching. “Beyond the obvious horror, the Force was so wrong over the little boy—over his dead body. It was like the dark was a gleeful, sucking wound on the planet where his body lay.

“I asked the Force what it meant, what was happening. It showed me something that took me weeks to parse, but I think it was telling me that parents murdering their own children was the final step, that all that was required was for all the Young to die. But I wasn’t sure…required for what, exactly? At the time, I ran to Master Jinn. I told him there was something very wrong and that we had to help, that we couldn’t leave the planet, that the Force would break if the planet fell, but—” Obi-Wan stopped.

“What happened, child?” Admiral Wodij asked softly.

“He couldn’t feel it, and he didn’t believe me. Told me to stop listening to visions and to pay attention to the present, and the present was returning Master Tahl to the temple.” He shot her an imploring look. “I wasn’t apathetic to Master Tahl’s circumstances, truly I wasn’t, but it was like the Force was screaming at me, ‘can’t you see, this other wound is bigger.’”

“And perhaps it was,” the admiral conceded. She rose from her chair, to her shocking height, and crossed to Obi-Wan, dropping to one knee in front of him. Even on one knee, she was taller than him. “Can you show me, child? I’m strong in the Force the same way you are, and I’ll understand the visions the Force was trying to give you.”

“And we both know it’s not the Unifying?” he asked wryly.

She smiled. “No. When did you figure out you are aligned to the Cosmic aspect of the Force?”

“After my return when I began my studies into what I’d learned on Melidaan.” Obi-Wan was uncertain about letting someone in his head, but he eventually nodded his acquiescence. “Just you?”

“I think so. I can share with the others in a way they can understand through our councilor bond.” She offered him both her hands, which seemed ridiculously oversized and completely dwarfed his when he laid them in hers. “Just slip into a light meditation, and I’ll guide you.”

Obi-Wan nodded, though he was reluctant. Meditation had been difficult for him since returning from Melidaan, and visions were likely. Hopefully a memory regression would prevent him from falling into another vision.

He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the Force—and the past. A few seconds later, he felt the nudge against his shields, and it was the first time he’d had even a brief mental connection with a Force user similar to himself.

He took another deep breath, then let the memories of his early days on Melida/Daan rise, the time before Master Jinn left. Particularly his Force visions that overlaid the atrocities done by parents to their own children.

When she was done viewing what the Force had shown him, her withdrawal was gentle and almost healing.

He swam up from the meditation easily—one of the few times of late when leaving a meditation hadn’t been difficult—feeling less on edge than he had been. Blinking his eyes open, he stared into dark eyes that were infinitely sad.

She reached up and cupped his head with one hand. “I am so sorry, child. I’d like to think no one is old enough to have experienced such atrocities, but you were just thirteen. And despite what you’ve been through and were forced to endure, you remain dedicated to the Force, and your presence is as light as any I’ve touched. I barely know you, but I’m very proud of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He pressed his lips together, fighting down the odd swell of emotion. “Thank you, Admiral.”

She gently patted his cheek, then got to her feet and returned to her chair. “Young Kenobi is correct in his interpretation. I don’t feel I need to even step foot on the planet to confirm not only a dark vergence but Sith Alchemy.” She gave Obi-Wan a kind look as the High Council began whispering to one another. “I also believe one of the alchemy elements at play is hiding the vergence from those attuned to the Living Force.”

She leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees. “The Knight Corps has such a bias for the Living Force that even those who aren’t aligned naturally towards it are taught to ground themselves in it so thoroughly that it muddies their senses. It’s something we have to unteach those initiates who age out and come our way. We don’t need corps members with ill-fitting Force alignments.

“What Master Yoda continues to willfully ignore is that when the Cosmic Force or the Unifying Force wants your attention, it will get it. And the more you ignore it, the more painful it is. Visions shouldn’t be brutally painful and intrusive, outside of an emergency, if you just ground yourself properly and meditate with the Force.”

Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the floor. “Ground ourselves in the present, we should. Always in motion, the future is.”

“Many think,” Master Ebé began, “that your views are related to your age. But Fay and I are both older than you, and we’re both stronger in the Living Force, and we haven’t developed such odd ideas about the right way to—”

“Now is not the time,” Master Kan interjected, her voice having an interesting rumble to it. “We all bear the responsibility for letting the five branches run almost separately rather than as a unified Order over what amounted to differences of philosophy. History can be debated later; in the here and now, Sith alchemy is at work in the galaxy, and we were none the wiser. It’s possibly even why we allowed ourselves to move in such separate directions.”

She looked to the High Council of the Corps of Jedi Knights and said, “Whether you agree with us or not is somewhat immaterial. The Order’s charter is such that the Grand Convocation has the ultimate authority since these matters are not in any way tied to the Senate. We’ve been in our own corners for long enough. Now is the time to determine if there are actual Sith at large or if this is a remnant of a time long past.”

“And you think a child figured this out?” Master Dapatian objected.

“I think the Force will avail itself of those who will listen. One too strong in the Living Force could not hear the call of the Cosmic Force if it were screaming in your face. It’s a flaw in aligning yourselves away from your natural calling.”

“We cannot afford to have another failing like the Jedi Covenant,” Dapatian snapped.

Master Ohri looked to Obi-Wan. “Do you know of the failings of the Jedi Covenant, young Kenobi?”

“You mean when they killed all their padawans? Yes, I’m aware of it.”

“And what do you think the lesson we should take away from such a catastrophe?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “I would not presume—”

“There’s no wrong answer. I’m a teacher at heart, little one, and I’d like to know what someone who could have fallen victim, had you lived at that time, would tell others about such a thing?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure how to approach such a huge analysis with the head of the Education Corps.

“Some say this secret sect in the Order was the problem. Do you agree?” they prodded.

“Not necessarily,” he hedged. “We have secrecy at times within certain groups for a reason. Shadows operate in secrecy. I’d imagine even within the Shadows, they have groups that require more secrecy than others. The councils certainly keep secrets, and for good reason. Secrets aren’t inherently bad, but it seems like they were…” he floundered for a way to describe it. “Like a rogue secret. Operating outside the mandate of the Order and certainly outside the will of the Force.”

“How can you be sure they were outside the will of the Force?”

“They committed cold-blooded murder. They killed those under their protection. Even if the Force were to call us to war, would the Force ever call us to murder?”

“Is killing to prevent an atrocity acceptable?”

“I don’t think you can give an absolute answer to something like that. If there were a Sith who had killed millions and you could save a million future victims with a sniper shot from an amban rifle, should you? I’d think the answer would be yes.”

“That’s a forbidden weapon in the Republic,” Ebé commented, head cocked curiously. “Why that as the illustration?”

“I just don’t think the Force cares about our artificial constructs.”

Ebé laughed.

Master Ohri felt amused in the Force. “How can you tell if they were justified in their actions or not with nothing but a historical account?”

“Because they lacked any honor, and I don’t believe they consulted the Force about what their visions meant.”

“What’s your evidence for lack of honor other than the murders themselves?”

“If they believed they were right, they should have stood in the light under the power of their conviction and admitted what they’d done and why. Instead, they framed the one padawan who survived for the murders.”

“Well reasoned. And how can you know they didn’t consult the Force about the meaning of their visions?”

“If you have a vision of someone standing in the middle of a square and they’re shot with a blaster bolt from a distance, is the Force trying to say that standing in the middle of that square is dangerous? Is it trying to say this person is in danger? Is it trying to say this person should be protected? Is it saying that someone is cleaning their blaster and doesn’t know proper blaster maintenance?”

Amusement rippled through the room.

“In my readings of history, former adepts of the Unifying Force would meditate on visions and ask the Force to provide guidance about what a vision meant and usually receive either context or perhaps a clarifying vision. Our records of the Jedi Covenant show that they had their vision, talked to each other to wind one another up, and then tried to kill all their padawans to prevent the vision from occurring. Then, they framed the only survivor of the massacre for the massacre. It lacks personal honor, and it shows no respect for the Force itself.”

“Again,” Master Ohri offered, “well reasoned. I can see why you feel Exploration or Education Corps would be the better fit for you. I know which I would prefer you choose.”

Obi-Wan smiled at them and bowed his head.

“Now, if you would, walk us through the steps that led to the reports you sent.”

Chapter Three

Obi-Wan considered where to start the explanation. “The beginning of the reports was on Melida/Daan.”

Master Ohri inclined their head, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m not sure if it was important that the Young win the war or just that the parents not murder their own children, but once it was just us there on the planet, engaging in war was the only option.

“I noticed over time that some deaths felt worse in the Force than others. When one of us would die of infection or malnutrition, it was awful, of course, but the Force didn’t scream, and that darkness that permeated everything didn’t have that sucking, gleeful feeling about it. The Force would mourn, after a fashion, but it wasn’t the same horrid outcry of pain.” He took a steadying breath. “But when we’d engage in battle and one of us would fall at the hands of the Melida or the Daan, that awful feeling would rise up. Worse would be when one of the Elders would murder one of their own children preemptively to prevent them from defecting.

“Or if they caught one of us, they’d torture and murder us. The Force would bleed for days after those events.”

“You speak as if you’re one of them,” Master Ohri said gently.

“I’ll always be Young,” Obi-Wan said simply. “Just like I’ll always have been born on Stewjon, I’ll always have been raised on Coruscant.” He lifted one shoulder. “I spent a year fighting a war alongside children where I was the best trained—by far. I was thirteen for half of it, and I was the third oldest. The youngest of our fighters was five. I had no say in that age threshold, incidentally.”

He blew out a breath, wishing for the comfort of simply fidgeting. “I don’t say this arrogantly but, without me, the Young would have lost. Not because I’m a superior fighter—I was a slightly better fighter. Not because I had more battle experience—I had battle experience, but not that kind of experience. No, it was because one of my Force gifts lends toward prescience.”

Obi-Wan stared back at the carpet. “If I wanted to survive and help them win, to stop that awful gaping wound in the Force, I had to abandon the meditations on the Living Force I had learned since I was a toddler and embrace the guidance of the Cosmic and Unifying Force. I had to let it show me what was coming, where to position our people, where to strike, when to strike.” Obi-Wan took a breath. “Who to strike.”

“Child,” Master Kan began.

“I didn’t always get it right,” Obi-Wan plowed on. “We still lost. A lot. I’m sure you saw, Master Kan, that one of my requests was an evaluation of whether their population numbers are sufficient for them to rebuild.” He looked up and met her gaze. “They were a world that at one time was populous enough to qualify to join the Republic as a member state, and now the question has to be asked: will they have enough healthy fertile adults one day for true genetic diversity.”

He shook his head in dismay. “And that’s where my real questions began. Why had they been fighting for hundreds of years? And literally, none of them could tell me. No one could remember. One thing Nield told me was that every time they’d come up with a treaty or ceasefire, it would fall apart within months, and no one would know why. They’d just start killing each other again.

“I asked him how they had the resources to keep fighting, how did they manage to get new blasters and medical supplies? They barely remembered to tend to their fields, and even that fell apart toward the end.

“He said they used to make both medicines and weapons, but it started falling apart about fifty years ago. Yet the weapons and the supplies kept coming. Even food. At one point, they were well stocked with ration bars, unexpired rations. During one of the raids we conducted on the Daan supply lines, we found crates filled with the types of rations given out by Republic aid missions. Yet, there hadn’t been an official aid mission there in hundreds of years. No one knew where any of the weapons or supplies were coming from either. The only reason the planet was somewhat independent before the collapse at that fifty-year point I mentioned was that they were energy independent due to the cheap grain fuel they made with an abundant wild grain that grows on most of the planet.”

He clenched his hands around one another where they were folded together at the small of his back. “Nield, Cerasi, and I would talk a lot, late at night after our strategy planning sessions, and we’d ask the question… Where were the supplies coming from? It wasn’t trade; no one was interested in their one commodity: grain fuel.

“One night, Cerasi said, it’s like someone wants us at war. Someone wants us to kill each other. It’s not enough that the planet is without Melida or Daan; it has to be in this awful, drawn-out way where we suffer as long as possible.

“And that got me thinking and wondering about the circumstances on Melida/Daan. No one else in the entire galaxy seemed to care about that planet, and yet I was coming to the conclusion that it was deliberately being turned into a dark Force vergence.

“But why? Why that planet?” He cleared his throat. “After we won, by some measure of the word won.” He paused and lost his composure enough to rub his forehead. “It’s hard to consider it a victory when so many children died in my arms, but the Young were in control, we had a ceasefire and a treaty in place, and I returned to the temple. So, I used my study time to begin to research the known Force vergences in the galaxy. One day, it occurred to me to map them out.

“At first, nothing was clear in what I was seeing. I had the map of the galaxy up on a holoemitter, and then I realized I’d forgotten to include Melida/Daan since it’s not a known Force vergence of any sort. As soon as I added it, the pyramid shape popped right out. The pyramid was made up of only the darkest of vergences. There are stray vergences that are probably natural, but Melidaan completes some sort of bizarre pattern where the darkest Force vergences in the galaxy make a pyramid shape. These are the vergences where Jedi are forbidden to even set foot on-planet.

“I did some checking, and in order for the shape to be created properly, the pyramid has to be in the Cadavine sector, and there are only two known Force vergences in that sector. One is firmly light but on a world inhospitable to most life forms. It’s been visited and documented by Jedi from the ExplorCorps, who had special atmospheric equipment. I think ExplorCorps drops by the planet at least every five years.

“The other is at the edge of the Cadavine sector and considered a neutral vergence and also a rather weak one. It would make the pyramid a little misshapen. No one knew about Melida/Daan. Or, rather, if they did, the knowledge has since been removed from the archives.”

The Convocation members shared looks with each other, save for Master Yoda, who simply looked troubled, claws folded over his gimer stick as he stared at the floor.

“My plan up to that point was to submit petitions to the MedCorps and the AgriCorps to help the new planetary government get on their feet again. Seventy percent of the planet’s population are under fifteen; they need assistance from someone. Republic aid is always a token gesture. But once I realized that Sith alchemy might be at work, I realized that they might wind up fighting again once their brains spend enough time on that dark vergence. This is why I sent my request for the AgriCorps and MedCorps as attachments to the ExplorCorps and EduCorps. If Admiral Wodij and Master Ohri didn’t find merit in my report, I asked that the other requests for aid be forwarded to the other branches of the Order.”

Obi-Wan glanced at the assembled Convocation, which hadn’t all been on Coruscant in Obi-Wan’s lifetime for certain. “I assume there’s merit to my worries for the planet and the people of Melidaan?”

Master Ohri inclined their head. “It’s why we have come. What Admiral Wodij has shared with us through our bond tells us enough that we’ll be immediately investigating Melidaan, provided we can get permission from the planetary government.”

“Before we take those next steps,” Healer Kan interjected, “I should advise that I’d asked my apprentice to have Master Soren summoned. Though you’re handling this with remarkable poise, I would remind everyone in this room that you’re not yet fifteen, and you’ve been on the front lines of a war. I can’t begin to imagine the stress you’ve been under, but I’d be remiss in my duty as a healer not to have your mind healer present should you need someone to rely on in what must be an incredibly difficult time.”

Her expression was as gentle as he thought an Iktotchi was even capable of. “Would you like Master Soren to join us, even if just to stand with you?”

Obi-Wan bit at the inside of his lip but then nodded. As much as he accepted that his apprenticeship with Master Jinn was over, it hurt to stand before the council by himself without any support. He genuinely liked Master Soren and was coming to rely on him, though Obi-Wan was reluctant to become emotionally reliant on anyone.

Master Kan rose to her feet. “Please hold all further questions until we return.” With that, Master Kan swept from the room to retrieve Master Soren herself.

Despite Master Kan’s directive, as soon as she was out of the room, Master Dapatian said, “With all this, were you able to attend to any of your Academy assignments?”

There was a ripple of censure from three of the Convocation, with Master Yoda just twitching his ears curiously.

Obi-Wan folded his hands behind his back again and met Master Dapatian’s disapproving gaze. “I’ve certainly studied, though I completed fewer assignments than I would have normally in a three-month period of time.”

“Ignoring this council’s directive about the use of your probationary period,” Dapatian said flatly.

“Following the will of the Force,” Obi-Wan countered.

Before Master Dapatian could say anything else, Master Yaddle snapped out, “Leave the boy alone, Poli. This council has done enough. Or, rather, failed to do enough. We can discuss the matter later. Let Master Kan retrieve his healer.”

A moment later, Master Soren entered behind Healer Kan. Von-Re Soren was a Tarnab, every bit as tall as Master Wodij’s 2.3 meters, if not taller, though his stature was willowier in comparison. He’d served the Jedi for decades as a guardian before retiring to the temple, continuing to serve part-time as a mind healer and aiding in temple security when he was needed.

He stepped up to Obi-Wan and set a hand on his shoulder. Despite his height, the hands of a Tarnab were surprisingly delicate and graceful. He prodded gently in the Force, seeming to ask if Obi-Wan was well.

Obi-Wan lowered his shields enough for his healer to know that he was well enough, but the situation was difficult and stressful; he was grateful for Master Soren’s presence.

Master Soren squeezed his shoulder, then settled close to Obi-Wan, standing just behind and to the left of him, on the side with the High Council. Obi-Wan accepted the temporary Force tether they always established during mind-healing sessions.

“I’ve already mentioned to Healer Kan, but if these proceedings become detrimental to Obi-Wan, I’ll remove him under my authority as his mind healer.”

Master Kan gave an acknowledging dip of her head. “Of course, Master Soren.” She passed him a datapad. “If you’d quickly familiarize yourself with the report young Kenobi sent to the Exploration Corps for analysis, you’ll be as briefed as any of us. We’ll wait.”

After a beat, the hand on his shoulder fell away as Master Soren took the pad and began to read, his Force presence staying calm and steady until it suddenly spiked with alarm. A moment later, he’d leveled his Force presence back out.

“I see,” Master Soren said gravely, passing the pad back to Healer Kan. Then he stepped in front of Obi-Wan and dropped to one knee. “Do you remember when I told you that the Force does not deliberately seek to use children but that sometimes a child is all it has?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“We are all called to be servants of the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi, but I’m deeply saddened that the Force had no choice but to exact such a steep price from you, and at such a young age, in order for its will to be known—in order to shine a light on such darkness. You were so brave and wise when the galaxy was so blind. Though I’m saddened, I’m also grateful and proud of the young man you are. Know that you face no judgment from me, whatever your needs might be, or whatever direction you feel you need to go. You have my support, even if it’s as little as removing you from this room when needed. Understood?”

Struggling with feeling overwhelmed, Obi-Wan nodded.

“Good. We’ll talk privately later. Touch our healer bond if you need to leave.”

“Yes, Master Soren.” They resumed their position with Master Soren standing slightly behind him and between him and the High Council.

Obi-Wan looked to the Convocation of Grandmasters. “What would you ask of me?”

“We have plans and contingency plans,” Admiral Wodij said, taking up the reins, “depending upon what we find, but nothing can proceed until we speak with the government of Melidaan. We’ve exchanged coms; however, the governor of the planet has indicated he’ll only speak to you.”

“Me?!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, losing all composure. “I was exiled from Melidaan. I can’t— They don’t want to talk to me.”

Master Soren’s hand tightened reassuringly.

“Exiled?” Admiral Wodij asked.

Obi-Wan glanced away, unable to answer.

It was Master Soren who replied, “Obi-Wan was one of the three leaders of the resistance known as the Young. Towards the end of the peace process, one of the other leaders, the former Melida girl, Cerasi, was killed by Elders attempting to thwart the peace process. Nield, who is now Governor of Melidaan, exiled Obi-Wan after Master Jinn returned to the planet and oversaw their final peace talks.”

Master Soren stepped into his line of vision. “And as I’ve explained, we cannot know the reasons for Nield’s actions, though there are many possible reasons why a young man traumatized by war and newly struggling with grief would lash out in such a way, and most of those reasons have little to do with you. If he’s asking to speak with you, I think that’s telling.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan whispered brokenly.

Master Soren’s long finger tipped up Obi-Wan’s chin. “Is this the task that’s too much? Because if it is, that’s all right.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, brought to mind all his love and devotion to the Young, and then shared his anxiety and fears with the Force.

“Beautifully done,” Master Soren whispered.

“I’ll speak to him,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Would you like privacy?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “It’s an official communication. If he needs to speak to me privately…” Obi-Wan hesitated. “I assume that can be arranged?”

“Of course.” Master Soren kept their tether open and filled with his steady presence as he stepped further back.

“The com is secure? I can speak openly?”

“Yes,” Admiral Wodij assured. “The signal is being sent through ExplorCorps vessels rather than holonet repeaters. It’s as secure a transmission as we can arrange. And he has a right to know why we seek to evaluate his planet.”

A moment later, the holocapture dropped from the ceiling even as the holotable rose from the floor. Admiral Wodij stood in the frame.

Obi-Wan folded his arms behind him as he waited for the secure com to connect. They’d apparently been given the direct com of the governor’s residence.

A five-year-old girl appeared at half life-size, her face too close to the camera. “This is Melidaan. Are you a Jedi?”

The admiral smiled. “I am, young one; we had made arrangements to call your governor.”

She wrinkled up her nose. “He’s in the fresher, but we’re only talking to Ben! You’ll have to call back when it’s right! Bye!”

“I’m here, Runi.”

“Ben! Ben! I can’t see you!”

He stepped next to the admiral as she gave way to give him more space.

Runi’s eyes got big. “Whoa, that’s a big Elder. Are you okay? Do we need to save you?”

“I’m fine, Runi. No one here is going to hurt me. It’s good to see you, little one.”

“I missed you, Ben!” She tried to get closer to the holocapture, making it so they were mostly seeing the upper half of her face. “You weren’t supposed to go away forever.”

“It’s only been three months.”

“Yeah, forever!”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Are you supposed to be answering Nield’s com?”

“No, but he shouldn’t have left it unlocked…”

“But he’s a governor now, so you really can’t just go sneaking into his stuff like that.”

She made a raspberry sound, her lips fluttering extra large in the holo. “Come back, and I can go through your things instead. Oh, look! I got an arm.” She leaned back to wave an entry-level prosthetic at him. “Isn’t it great? I can do everything again.”

“That’s wonderful. Did the Republic Mission bring it?”

“Yep! They helped all the ones who lost our parts.” She kept waving her prosthetic hand at him. The fingers were almost robotic in nature. Definitely rudimentary by Republic standards, but a sight better than having no arm. “When you visit, you have to see it; you helped me survive losing the old one, so I want to celebrate with you about the new one.”

Obi-Wan swallowed down the emotions and smiled with everything he loved about Runi. “I’d love nothing more.”

“Runi! Are you on my com?!” Nield’s voice came from the background.

“It’s Ben!”

“What?” Nield skidded into view, hair in disarray, looking better than the last time Obi-Wan had seen him but still too thin. He hadn’t gained nearly enough weight for having three months to work at it. “Ben,” Nield breathed, his whole posture seeming to sigh along with his voice.

Something in Obi-Wan relaxed at Nield not looking at him with hate and derision. “Nield. How are you?”

“I’m…” He paused and then looked to Runi. “We’re great, aren’t we?”

Runi waved her prosthetic. “Yes! You’re going to come, right? You helped me when I lost the old one, so you have to be here.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m sure Ben will come,” Nield said firmly, staring straight at Obi-Wan, saying so much.

“I’ll do my best,” Obi-Wan promised.

Runi bounced against Nield. “Great!”

“Let me just hand her off to Tash, then we can talk.”

“I want to stay!” Runi insisted.

“Runi,” Nield said firmly, taking the tone he always pulled out to bring the youngest into line.

“Okay,” she said finally with an exaggerated pout. “Bye, Ben. I love you!”

Obi-Wan ignored what the council might think and smiled at Runi. “Love you, Runi. Say hi to the other little ones.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be right back,” Nield said, tucking Runi under his arm. “Don’t disconnect. I’ve been trying too hard to get ahold of you to risk you walking out of the room.”

Obi-Wan frowned at that, not sure what Nield meant.

Admiral Wodij muted the com as Master Soren stepped up in front of Obi-Wan and knelt down. “I sense so much grief from you, little one. Are you all right?”

“I never told you about Runi…”

“Not specifically, though you’d mentioned several of the children lost limbs.”

“She was early in my time there. Not yet four, not a combatant, of course. They were attempting to smuggle her to safety, but she and her sister were caught in a bomb blast. Her sister was killed.” He took a deep breath. “We had so few medical supplies, and amputations were…” He closed his eyes. “They were difficult. Runi was the first time I tried a force suggestion to put one of the children to sleep so they didn’t have to be awake through it. I thought I’d permanently damaged her in ways the bomb hadn’t.” He took a shuddery breath. “She slept for weeks. I was so terrified to use the Force on the children, but I hated to see them suffer, and—”

“Shh,” Master Soren whispered, sending soothing impulses down their bond. “You did so well. It’s likely being on any type of vergences amplified the Force suggestion, which is why the effect was so strong, but you saved that sweet child from a lifetime of mental trauma of having to be awake through limb amputation. How many others did you help in such a way?”

“I lost count.”

“Mm. The Force blessed you to be there to help, and you helped as you were able. There is nothing to grieve about in that. Be at peace, child.”

Obi-Wan nodded and attempted to share his burdens with the Force under the guidance of his healer. He knew his eyes were wet when he looked up and found the holo of Nield watching him with a curious expression.

Master Soren stepped away, and Admiral Wodij unmuted the connection and gestured for Obi-Wan to continue. “I was explaining how Runi and I met.”

Nield nodded. “You did a good thing for her.” He cocked his head to the side. “You look like a Jedi again.”

“You look like a spacer.”

Nield finally smiled. “I’d rather be a spacer. Honestly, this is terrible, but I’m glad you finally called.”

“Finally?” Obi-Wan echoed.

“I’ve been leaving messages with that karker Jinn since a week after you left. I’m so sorry, Ben. It’s not rational, and I know that, but I expected you to be able to see what was going to happen to Cerasi and save her. I knew even as I was lashing out that I wasn’t being fair, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I rationalized it away that you were going back to the Jedi anyway, so what did it matter? But within a week, I hated how I’d left things. I had three good friends, and then you were gone too. I needed to mend fences with you, but you never called.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, fighting with his emotions. “I never got the messages, Nield.” There was a sharp sense of disapproval from Master Yoda. Perhaps he was expected to cover for Master Jinn, but what better explanation would there be? Should Obi-Wan lie and pretend to have been too busy?

Nield’s expression shifted to something tight and unhappy. “He took messages from me and didn’t pass them on?”

“I’ll figure out why, I promise.”

“And he’ll just tell you.”

“Well, the whole council and the Jedi Convocation of Grandmasters are sitting here, so I’m sure he’ll tell someone in this room why he didn’t pass on coms for me, especially since he never accepted me back as his padawan.”

Nield’s expression went even tighter. “He didn’t?”

“No.”

“So, what happened to you?”

“I’m on probation. I’m too old to be an initiate, and I’m no one’s padawan, so I’m not sure what’s next. My probation is up soon, though. I’m sure I’ll be presented with my options by the Council of Reconciliation at the end of it.”

Nield crossed his arms. “Any chance you’ll give them both middle fingers and come home? Help me run this mess?”

Obi-Wan barked a surprised laugh. “Nield.”

“I know you want to be a Jedi—”

“I’m a terrible Jedi.”

“I’m not sure their standards make any sense, but okay, if you say so. Come home, Ben.”

Obi-Wan glanced down, not sure how to reply to that. “Nield, the council needed to talk to you because there are some issues that—” He stopped, not sure how to phrase it. “Do you remember what we used to talk about…how the fighting made no sense?”

Nield nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“And you remember those old tomes we found and the ancient Daan traditions…”

“You mean how we thought there might have been something like Force traditions on this planet?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan blew out a breath. “Cerasi and I used to read through and work on figuring that out. I know you hated anything to do with your people’s legacy, but I—”

“You and Cerasi figured it out? The rumors of the Daan having special abilities were true?”

“We were going to discuss it with you after there’d been a peace treaty, but…” He shrugged. “It’s only relevant because— What I mean to say is…” Obi-Wan stopped and rubbed his forehead, struggling with his composure. “This is so hard, Nield. When I left, even though you told me to never come back—”

“I didn’t mean it, Ben—”

He held up his hand. “I didn’t stop being Young just because you told me to leave. I didn’t stop caring. Also, the path the Force had shown me was still open; there was still work to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when we discussed Force theory and I told you about Force vergences? I think Melidaan is a Force vergence. It probably started as a powerful neutral one.”

Nield’s brows shot up.

“And I think someone, though I don’t know who, has been long manipulating your planet and your people into a state of war to corrupt the vergence into darkness. A deep, deep darkness.”

Nield went very still. “Is this just a theory, or do you have proof?”

“I…” Obi-Wan took a careful breath. “Some beings have very specific Force gifts.”

“That sounded like you avoided my question, Ben, but that’s not like you.” Nield’s arms were crossed, and he drummed his fingers on his own shoulder cap. “You mean like the Kiffar and their affinity with psychometry?”

“Similar, yes. From what I was able to learn from your texts, the Daan had a very ancient tradition in which they taught their force sensitives. They called it pathfinding. There’s a similar, but very rare, skill amongst the Jedi; it’s called flow-walking.”

He felt a spike of some sort of heightened attention from several of the council members through the Force.

“My mother used to speak of pathfinding; is it the same as a type of Jedi tradition?”

“I don’t mean they’re the same. Flow-walking is incredibly difficult from everything I’ve read, and it seems like it involves almost stepping into the time stream. Whereas the Daan’s pathfinding is one direction, meaning that it only looks to the future—many possible futures. It involved what your ancestors called fate junctures. I think these are what we call shatterpoints.

“The skill is looking at key moments and following the possible outcomes to see where those paths will lead. I think, at one point in your history, your people came to rely too heavily on it until, one day, there suddenly were no fate junctures, and your people came to think fate had abandoned them in favor of the Melida.”

Nield leaned back, an expression of enlightenment on his face. “That’s…interesting. Could any force user learn this pathfinding?”

“Maybe. It’s a skill aligned to the Cosmic Force, though.”

“You?”

“Yes. Cerasi and I tried it…” He looked away. “I’d seen so many outcomes of that peace process. It was like an explosion of possibilities, and I didn’t know how to parse them out. I told Cerasi there was a problem.”

“You told me too,” Nield whispered.

“Yes.”

Nield rubbed his forehead. “But we had to go forward. Always forward. We never had the option to stop.”

“Cerasi was force sensitive… A little bit, anyway. I think she was using the techniques, refining them to her level of Force ability, even when I was struggling to understand what I was seeing. I was seeing so much that it overwhelmed and scared me. Opening myself up that way to what seemed like endless possibilities, would make my connection to the Force ache in ways that would affect my body. But nothing seemed to deter her. She could limit herself to looking at one path and examining it, finding the flaws and opportunities. She was such a master strategist that way.”

Nield blew out a breath. “That’s why she recorded the message. She knew at least one possibility was her death.”

“Any of our death was always a possibility,” Obi-Wan reminded, “but, yes, I think she knew.”

“I know you’re not telling me this so we can emotionally bleed over Cerasi again, so I’m left to conclude that you’ve kept teaching yourself…?”

Obi-Wan offered a sad smile. “You know me so well.”

“What do you see, Ben?”

“The end. All our sacrifice being for nothing. Whoever did this— I can’t see that. It’s a very old plan, and I don’t know if they set it in motion long ago, now they’re long dead, and have left it to just play out due to some evil inertia. The other possibility is that someone is actively feeding more into the system, keeping the plan alive. That the evil creator is still here.

“Whichever it is, I believe the planet itself is damaged—at a profound level. I think that’s why the fighting resumes for no reason. I believe your people are touched by the Force a little more than most and so more influenced by the vergence. By the time your brains are mature, you simply have to fight.”

Nield looked alarmed.

“That’s my theory anyway. But I didn’t want to abandon you and the others, so at a minimum, I wanted to put in a request for our Agricultural Corps and Medical Corps to evaluate your situation to see if we can help in any way. It would have more weight coming from you, but I’m allowed to at least make the first overture, and then you can finalize it.

“However, I think the state of the planet has to be evaluated first. If there’s a dark vergence affecting all of you, it has to be addressed. And so I contacted the Exploration Corps and sent them my theories about someone deliberately creating a dark vengeance out of your world.”

“But why would someone do that?”

“I think I, or rather, someone, would rather discuss that with you in person.”

Nield’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded sharply. “I’ll talk to whoever they send, except that nerf herder Jinn isn’t allowed on the planet. And I’d prefer—you can call it a demand if it helps—if whoever they send brings you with them.”

“I’m sure they’ll take that under advisement,” Obi-Wan offered with a tired smile.

Nield nodded. “Tell me what you saw, Ben.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “So many paths seem to lead to the same place… Slavers coming to Melidaan, killing many, taking the youngest. On some paths, it happens sooner. On others, it happens in a decade. I see the treaty like a bright spot in the galaxy that disappears into the Senate. It’s consumed by darkness, as if it were eaten. It’s hard to know…” he paused. “There are so many paths, and you have to know which path to look at to anticipate the decision. I tried to look at what I thought your choices might be or how my choices might affect you, and I kept seeing the same thing… that treaty is filed with the Senate, and it leads to slavers taking the Young and the planet dying and becoming a dark anchor in the galaxy.”

“Ben,” Nield whispered, sounding horrified.

“I knew we needed help, Nield, and I tried looking at the path of getting the Corps involved, but having that many Force users on Melidaan… It’s like throwing a boulder, not a pebble, into the pond. I couldn’t see anymore, but I still knew this was beyond me. It was making me sick trying to see. I’m so sorry.” It was suddenly like the universe of possibilities was laid open to him, and his mind felt pulled apart. He pressed his hands to his head.

“Obi-Wan, stop!” someone said, sounding shocked.

“I can’t see anymore, Nield. There’s so much, and I don’t know how to help you.”

“Why aren’t you helping him? Can’t you see he’s in pain?”

All the paths lit up like bright stars in his mind, too many of them spiraling off into darkness and agony for the whole of the galaxy.

“Ben!”

“Sleep, child. It’s time to sleep.”

Obi-Wan felt consciousness slip away.

Chapter Four

Rin stared down at the sleeping teen, a child to her, and continued to ignore Master Yoda. Right up until he prodded her with his gimer stick. “Poke me with that again, and I’m going to throw it down a lava tube on a moon in Wild Space.”

“Foul-tempered, you always were.” He hopped up on the bed next to Obi-Wan. “Leave him on Coruscant, we should have. In Master Che’s care, he should be.”

“Master Kan outranks Master Che.”

“Part of our corps, Obi-Wan is.”

She finally met his gaze. “Are you sure about that?” She held up a hand when he started to gear up to defend his methods. “I’m not ready to argue with you about your methods of training knights. It’s old and tiresome.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she added, “I don’t think Qui-Gon Jinn did any of this deliberately, but surely you see the man needs help. Maybe you should focus on that and let the rest of us deal with this.”

“My great-grandpadawan, Obi-Wan is.”

“He isn’t, though. Jinn didn’t accept him back.”

“He will!”

“Will isn’t has. We are dealing in the now.” She sighed. After Obi-Wan lost his tenuous grasp on the ripples of the Cosmic Force and Re Kan had to force him to sleep, they’d made the hasty decision to head for Melidaan and bring Kenobi with them. They’d left within the hour, having one of the temple sentinels gather everything from Obi-Wan’s dorm.

Even Lodha was with them, though he would likely go nowhere near breaking atmo when they reached the planet. Vex, her AI, had already informed her that Dagher had reached Melidaan and would commence with check-ins every six hours. They wouldn’t arrive for another two days.

“We have bigger problems than your disaster lineage,” Rin continued. “Kenobi goes with us. At least we now understand the ripples in the Cosmic Force of late. Force help us all, a barely trained child teaching himself a sister skill to flow-walking while evading blaster bolts and starving to death as he fought in a guerrilla war. I’m not sure when I’ve heard something worse.”

“Blame me, you do.”

“Blame is not the right word.” Rin tapped her fingers on the edge of the medical cot. In addition to a healing trance, Kan was keeping Obi-Wan lightly sedated to help heal psychic trauma. “He was there for a year.”

“Left the Order, he did.”

“That’s going to get really old really quick. We outnumber you in the Convocation, and we will get high-handed if that continues to be the answer to why we abandon our teenagers in war zones.”

Yoda scowled at her.

“Again, blame is a strong word, but a lot went wrong here. Rather than defending it, help us figure it out and correct it. Your corps’ dependency on the Living Force even contributed to this; I’m not saying it’s to blame, but the enemy clearly knows us much better than we know them. They know how to exploit our weaknesses when we didn’t even know the enemy still existed.”

“Know they exist, we still do not. Old plan this could be.”

“There’s one way to find out,” a new voice said from the doorway to the medical bay.

Rin spun around, surprised to have not heard or felt anyone entering. “Master Tapal, well met. You continue to be as sneaky as a Jawa.” Tapal’s handle on the Physical aspects of the Force was without any flaw.

He smiled faintly, the smile falling away as his gaze drifted toward the bed. “I just boarded the Guiding Star. A few more members of Master Yaddle’s lineage are still inbound. We’ll meet in orbit above Melidaan.”

“She summoned her whole lineage?” Rin asked in astonishment.

“Indeed. If there’s a Sith to be found, she’ll task all of us with the search. In some fashion, we’ll all contribute. Some were already on board.”

“What method do you propose to use to find out if there’s still a Sith?”

Tapal tilted his head toward the medical bed. “Ask. He’s been deeply immersed in the demands of the Cosmic Force for over a year. He knows deep in his calling within the Force if the Sith are still manipulating the situation. He may not have consciously recognized what he knows, but he knows.”

“Interesting. Do you have a proposal for how we ask that question?”

“Master Yaddle was always good at sneaking answers out of me…” Half of the High Council had been authorized to join them. Dooku, Sifo-Dyas, Eeth Koth, Yaddle, Mace Windu, and Plo Koon. Tyvokka had wanted to come as well, but the decision was made to have him remain on Coruscant to ride herd on Poli Dapatian, who had tried to obstruct their departure as much as possible. Tyvokka and Plo Koon were part of Yaddle’s lineage as well—Tyvokka being one of her oldest students.

“Yaddle it is,” Rin agreed.

“Always trust me, Obi-Wan has.”

Rin sighed. “Master Yoda, Obi-Wan has spent more than a year trusting nothing but his friends and the guidance of the Force. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. I don’t think I’m being hyperbolic when I say the fate of the galaxy may hang on the shoulders of a traumatized child.” She blew out a breath. “Jaro, make your suggestion to Master Yaddle. Master Yaddle and Master Yoda will both make their proposals for talking to Obi-Wan to both Master Kan and Master Soren.” Kan had been given charge of his medical care while the Convocation had decided Master Soren would stand in the stead of Master Jinn since Obi-Wan was technically a padawan of the Order without a Master.

Tapal inclined his head. “Admiral Wodij.” He slipped back out the door with an impressive amount of stealth.

“His mastery of the physical force is enviable,” she said with a sigh. They all learned to use the Physical Force, but a true alignment toward the Physical was startlingly different in the effect. Without looking, she added, “I’m serious about that stick. Poke me at your own peril.”

Yoda finally curled his claws around the top of the stick and slumped forward. “Know what to do, I do not.”

She sighed. “None of us do, but we have to figure this out together. Divide and conquer has clearly been the plan, and we must push back against the enemy’s design.”

“If an enemy there is,” Yoda huffed.

“You are so stubborn.”

After a beat, his ears drooped. “Meant to be, I thought they were. Saw it, I did.”

“I don’t doubt that. I also don’t doubt that there’s a possible path where they could have been good for one another, but surely you recognize that every choice we make creates a different possible outcome. Just because they could have been a good partnership doesn’t mean they will be.” She hesitated before adding, “And I don’t say this to be cruel, but why are you so attached to that vision? Is it because it was one that resulted in a good outcome for Jinn?

“Don’t look at me that way; I’ve made my inquiries, and I know how he avoided the mind healer after the fall of his last padawan. He repudiated his first padawan, who he had already raised to knighthood, in reaction to Xanatos’ fall, and the council let him get away with it. Knight Starr suffered because of the council’s failures at that time. What did you do to make up for it? The solution was mind healing and a lineage intervention, not another child thrown at Jinn’s head.”

Yoda wouldn’t meet her gaze and stubbornly shook his head. “Meant to be, they are.”

“The Force doesn’t compel our actions, Yoda. If it did, I’m sure this child wouldn’t have been abandoned in a war zone.” She gave a shallow bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.” With that, she left the infirmary. Master Kan had left explicit instructions regarding Obi-Wan’s care, so Master Yoda wouldn’t be allowed to stay long.

She had barely stepped into the corridor before she was joined by Plo Koon. “Master Koon.”

“Admiral Wodij. How is Obi-Wan?”

“Still resting. He’s not yet woken.”

He nodded, his Force presence somewhat pensive. “May I walk with you?”

“Of course. I was going to join the others to ascertain the progress on their research into Obi-Wan’s notes.” The Convocation had voted four-to-one to have Mater Soren, Obi-Wan’s mind healer, act in place of his master. Yoda had strongly felt that he should fill that role.

With Soren’s permission to access that portion of Obi-Wan’s datapad and Nield’s permission to review the information about the so-called pathfinder techniques, a team was working to ascertain what had happened with Obi-Wan in the council chambers.

“I was his finder,” Master Koon offered, startling her.

“Oh?” She slowed her steps, glancing at him curiously.

He dipped his head. “The Force screamed out in dismay from several sectors away. His home planet is quite unfriendly to Force sensitives.” Master Koon hesitated. “He was only six months old.” There was a pause. “I almost didn’t arrive in time.”

She paused and cocked her head. “Why did you share that with me?”

“The Force has always been very invested in Obi-Wan; that’s been my perception, for what it’s worth.”

“Invested?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s oddly focused on him when he’s in the room. Did you not feel it?”

She nodded slowly, letting her sense memory play out in her mind. “It’s a subtle thing for me, something I’d have to analyze in meditation. Kel Dor tend to be more sensitive in that way, no?”

“Yes, I believe so. Master Ohri noticed the same.” He paused. “Mace Windu, in his way, perceived much the same, in the sense that he sees many shatterpoints around young Kenobi.”

“Ah.” She resumed walking, albeit slowly. “Someone with his gifts would likely see shatterpoints around anyone with the attention of the Cosmic Force.”

Master Koon dipped his head. “Obi-Wan and Master Jinn also were assigned to the Stark Hyperspace conflict for a time.” He hesitated. “Obi-Wan’s disobedience saved my master’s life.”

Rin shot him a sharp look.

“Master Jinn discouraged any focus on Obi-Wan’s visions, but the child came to Tyvokka anyway and— Well, suffice it to say, the vision he shared saved my former master. We were both dismayed that he chose to leave the Order.” He took in a sharp breath through his mask. “I’m more dismayed that the information we were given about his departure was false.”

“Mm.” She considered her words carefully. “Tell me about Jinn.”

“A good diplomat.” He hesitated. “Damaged, I think. Master Yoda indulges him in a way that is detrimental. When Qui-Gon and Dooku struggled when Qui-Gon was a padawan, Yoda interceded to a degree that I would call…inappropriate.” He seemed conflicted. “I don’t believe Qui-Gon is a lost cause, but he needs help and firm boundaries, and Yoda seems to believe help comes in the form of indulgence.”

He stopped and stepped into a small alcove, close to the conference room they were headed to. “Several of us have discussed the matter, and we agree that reform in our corps is needed. There are many layers to the problems at hand, but we are constrained due to the Ruusan Reformation in ways the other branches of the Order are not. There will come a time soon when all we can do is withdraw back to Coruscant and attend to our own internal housekeeping while you will be left to attend to the fallout of this problem.”

“And you were chosen to deliver this message to me?”

“More on the council than not support change. We hope for a reasoned, peaceful transition, but if a Sith has been manipulating the Order, this could be more difficult than any of us anticipate. We simply wish you to know that you have the support of the High Council of the Diplomacy Corps, in a majority.

“Master Yaddle has made it clear that if there is a Sith at large, we must strike at any darkness within first, and so we shall.”

Rin gave a slow nod. There was a lot that could be implied with those statements up to and including breaking away from the Senate, but it wasn’t up to her to determine how the Diplomacy Corps functioned, as long as the Order as a whole was healthy. Right now, it wasn’t.

“We’ve all become complacent about being apart,” Rin offered. “The more time that passes, the more I believe the Sith is at large and that we’ve all fallen prey to their alchemy. The Grand Convocation will have to more assertively direct the future of the Order.” She decided to throw her cards on the table. “I have deep respect for Master Yoda, but my hope is that Master Yaddle is made grandmaster of your Corps, thereby placing her on the Convocation.”

He went very still.

“I realize this would be awkward, but we cannot allow awkwardness to interfere with our duty, Master Koon.”

After a beat, he inclined his head. “And Master Yoda?”

“I welcome Master Yoda’s counsel; he can advise us all, but I fear his time leading your branch of the order has come to an end. The clear sign was when he split his duties, giving the flimsiwork to poor Poli while maintaining the position on the Convocation for himself, which had almost no work since we rarely met for many years now.”

Master Koon chuckled. “That’s a fair assessment. Poli complains endlessly about the amount of work Yoda has dumped on his shoulders.”

She privately thought Poli Dapatian was a terrible fit for the council anyway.

“Any you would recommend any other than Master Yaddle? If I only put her forth, it might seem like I’m favoring my grandmaster.”

She arched a brow, then recalled that he was the newest member of the High Council, appointed just after the Stark Hyperspace Conflict, which ended just over a year ago, right before Kenobi was sent to Melida/Daan. “Have Tyvokka do it. It won’t lessen the impression of bias, but if anyone thinks Yaddle isn’t the best person to lead the Diplomacy Corps, they’re sniffing spice.”

He inclined his head, amusement leaking into the Force.

“Come. Let’s go see what they’ve learned from Obi-Wan’s notes.”

***

A few hours later, Rin returned to her quarters for some rest and meditation. She was somewhat unsurprised to find Lodha there, kneeling in her meditation area, the Living Force dancing about him the way it often did when he communed with the Force.

They’d been sharing space since he’d boarded the Guiding Star, but he’d been somewhat avoiding everything since they’d left Coruscant save for Convocation business where his input was required. She didn’t put much thought into his absence or take any offense. Much like her, he still had an entire Corps to run, regardless of what tasks they were currently embroiled in, and she had no insight into the demands of the AgriCorps.

Regardless, she had the sense that it was something else keeping him occupied rather than the demands of his duty.

She made a cup of caf, despite the fact that she intended to retire soon—stimulants had little effect on her HON variant—and began reading and replying to her coms while she waited.

Vex had sent her a new update from Dagher. His team had entered atmo over an unpopulated section of the planet. The initial reports were unsettling. Only the one team member with a specific affinity with the Living Force felt the planet was normal. The others were so unsettled that Dagher wasn’t sure they should try to land until there was an assessment from someone with authority to make decisions.

Rin issued orders for him to make orbit and wait.

A strong and singular affinity with the Living Force was unusual in the ExplorCorps. Rin’s corps members tended to align with almost any other aspect of the Force. The reality of the Sith plot was that the branches of the Order most likely to make contact with Melidaan were always going to be the ones with skills more aligned toward the Living Force.

The more time passed, the more the evidence grew that not only was this Sith Alchemy working against them, but that the Sith was alive and operating actively. The changes in the Diplomacy Corps’ focus on the Living Force was in the last hundred years, even if Yoda had always had a bias towards his own affinity.

She scowled and sent off another com, subtly redirecting a few of her captains a little closer. She didn’t want to draw the attention of any evil bastards who might be watching, but if she needed to move ExplorCorps vessels into position for an evacuation, shaving a day of travel off could be helpful.

The ebb and flow of the Force changed, receding to its normal steady state as Lodha surfaced from his meditation.

Without rising from his kneeling position, wings twitching minutely, he asked, “Have we learned anything new?”

She lifted one shoulder. “The best supposition right now is that before the alchemy spell, the vergence created a specific type of Force sensitivity in some of the population on the planet. It was one of the two factions who learned how to use this link to the Force. It’s a singular skill. We’re uncertain if the Force intended it that way or if it developed that way over generations. Regardless, much like the Kiffar and their psychometry, many have the talent of psychometry, but not many could be Jedi. Many of the Melidaan could learn the pathfinding technique, but what happened to young Kenobi was outside their natural facility.

“Or, perhaps, if any of them were strong enough in the Force, they could have been lost in the currents of the Force had they used this skill.”

“They feel like they understand the technique, then?”

“Eh.” She made a so-so motion. “Mace Windu and Sifo-Dyas felt as if they had a good handle on it. It definitely begins from a shatterpoint, but the technique is supposed to follow a single path to its eventual conclusion. And you can repeat and follow other paths. Windu actually called it a meditation on branching paths.

“It was Master Yaddle who had more insight into it. She said the way the currents of the Force around Kenobi felt it was as if the Unifying and Cosmic Force were playing tug-of-war. This led Sifo-Dyas to suggest that what he experienced in the Council chambers was a combination of the pathfinding of the path he was trying to see coupled with a simultaneous vision of the potential of all other paths.

“She thinks it’s likely that’s the way it’s always worked for him; it’s an interesting interplay between the pathfinding with the Cosmic Force and visions sent by the Unifying Force. While he was on the planet, dealing with short-term consequences, relatively speaking, looking at shatterpoints related to their war effort, the visions didn’t overwhelm him. But when he’s looking at a galactic scale, it’s too much.”

Lodha nodded, looking thoughtful. “And because he’s only been trained in a Force aspect he has no affinity for, he had no ability to modulate his connection to the Cosmic Force.”

“I wouldn’t want to be wide open to the Cosmic Force when the Unifying Force decided to send me a vision,” Rin agreed.

Lodha’s expression briefly twisted in pained agreement.

“So, we have two major issues. I know we haven’t definitely concluded this yet. That said, first, the Sith seem to be out there and actively working against the Order. Second, We have a planet full of mostly children that are on such a probably dark vergence that my operative couldn’t even land.” She showed him the com she’d received from Dagher.

He stared pensively at the com for many long moments, and she left him to wherever his thoughts had gone.

“Third,” he said softly, “a traumatized child at the center of it all.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Has Kenobi been on your mind?”

Lodha passed her comlink back. “Yoda used the AgriCorps to terrorize that child into accepting Jinn as his master.”

Rin blinked.

“I’m furious,” he admitted, “and have had remarkably little success at releasing my anger. I can’t even blame Yoda or Jinn. There’s no one to blame. This spell has had me turning so intently toward my experiments that I accepted only seeing you during Convocations for the last decade, Rinnea.” He shook his head. “I’m older than Yoda, so if I could be affected by this alchemy, certainly Yoda could.”

“True, but we’ve had issues with how Yoda handles the Diplomacy Corps for a long time now. We’ve been fighting the battles with him since I was promoted to Admiral thirty years ago.”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “It’s hard for me to determine what’s justified anger and what’s not. All of us were affected, and yet his Corps seems more affected.

“You were the only one of us not to attend the Academy.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. Lodha went straight to the AgriCorps, showed up one day, and asked to join the Order. Each branch of the Order had its own standards for recruitment, and AgriCorps was certainly not going to turn down a Force-sensitive like Lodha Ebé, where plants would spring out of the ground just because he walked on it if he didn’t modulate his Force presence.

“When I was at the Academy, fully forty percent wound up in the Corps through one avenue or another, but seventy-five percent of that forty went of their own volition due to it being a better fit for their gifts. I asked for the ExplorCorps when I was nine. There was no shame in it.”

“But be honest,” he pressed, “how much of that was because of your firm alignment to the Cosmic Force and Yoda’s refusal to allow any training in it? Unlike most, you don’t even have a speck of minor affinity elsewhere.”

“Kriff you, I train with the Physical Force like a boss.”

He huffed at her. “You have to go after it like a boss because you have no natural affinity for it.”

“My point is that I didn’t leave the Academy because of Yoda or because I didn’t think I could be a knight; I left because I felt called to the Exploration Corps. My gifts in the Cosmic Force don’t lend themselves to visions or shatterpoints or whatever. It’s a specific type of micro prescience that makes me a really, really exceptional pilot.” She gave a wry smile. “When we can get a ship with enough legroom.”

He huffed a laugh, his first real one in days.

“We’ve known the perception of the service corps branches has been deteriorating, and we could have done something about it,” she continued.

With a sigh, he glanced away, rubbing his fingers together in a way she knew meant he was practically touching something living she couldn’t perceive. “And, yet, we did nothing.”

“The deterioration of the Order as a whole falls on all of us, mitigated perhaps by whatever alchemy the Sith has at play. We do not yet know how much of a mitigating factor that is. However, you have every right to be upset with Yoda for his actions. He’s always been a manipulative little sod. Regardless of the reason, he has to know the initiates are terrified of being sent from the temple, and he utilized your branch of service to terrorize a child. Perhaps he even knew AgriCorps was a detrimentally bad fit and chose it specifically to give Kenobi a push; I’m not sure he’ll ever admit it one way or the other since he’s convinced he was acting within the will of the Force.”

“It does me no good to be angry with Yoda.”

“Eh. It might do Kenobi some good, though. It’s worth pointing out that Yoda hates it when you’re upset with him. Regardless of what act he puts forward, you’re…special to him and Yaddle. The first Force user either of them ever connected with, and I suspect that connection resonates in them.”

“It does.” He blew out a breath. “How are we going to untangle this problem?”

“So many problems, and we’ll handle them as they come. Did you see Master Tapal?”

“Aye. I’ve known Jaro for many years; we briefly spoke after he boarded. He indicated Yaddle summoned as much of her lineage as she could slip past the radar, which is most of them; they’re good at getting past the Senate.”

“If there’s a Sith, it seems Yaddle will task her team to find them. Tapal will probably lead the hunt and determine who his task force is. I have assurances from Tyvokka via Plo Koon that there are enough council votes to remove Yoda as grandmaster, replacing him with Yaddle.”

Lodha winced. “Will they keep him on the council?”

“Should they?”

“I’m…conflicted.”

“I’ve discussed it with Thee and Reloth, and the idea has come up that Yoda should be asked to sit in an advisory capacity to the Convocation after Yaddle takes his seat. The coming months and years could be very difficult, and his insights could be needed.” Despite Lodha being older than Yoda, Yoda had been in a governing capacity in the Order for far longer.

Lodha nodded slowly. “Perhaps. What else?”

“I gather they feel Poli Dapatian hasn’t the disposition to sit on the council with the upcoming changes, and they plan to ask him to step down. That’s Diplomacy Corps business, but Yaddle will occupy the role of head of the Diplomacy Corps and Grandmaster to the Convocation rather than splitting the role.”

Lodha gave her a speaking look. “That was always just getting out of flimsiwork without giving up any power.”

“I guess if you can get away with it, you might as well. Regardless, I think the Diplomacy Corps will be in good hands. It will take time for them to straighten themselves out, but I feel like we’re all finally awake, so we’ll be available to help if they need it.”

“What would really help is if they weren’t raising our young on top of a Sith shrine.”

“I definitely think you should bring that up.”

He smiled faintly. “So, Yaddle’s lineage will pursue the Sith.”

“And the issue of Melidaan will somehow be settled in secret dealings unofficially since the Diplomacy Corps can’t be involved without Senate approval.”

“I loathe the vagueness of that.” He took a deep breath. “And that leaves Kenobi.”

“Lodha, if I thought for a second that he’d come with me to the edges of known space, I’d take him in a heartbeat.”

“But you think he won’t.”

“You heard what I heard. His people want him back. He nearly lost himself in the eddies of the Cosmic Force trying to protect them. While I don’t know where his future lies, I’m pretty sure it’s not with me or you.”

“Mm.” He blew out a breath and began straightening out some of the feathers on his wings.

“It’s really sitting wrongly with you, isn’t it? That your Force affinity and your Corps were used against that child?”

“It’s like a splinter.”

“He’s already asked you for what he needs; he asked that you evaluate Melidaan for agricultural renewal.”

“Simple and yet not at all.”

“That sums up the entire situation.” She cocked her head to the side. “What would you have done if the Bandomeer outpost had commed to tell you a twelve-year-old had been unwillingly transferred to them?” She’d reviewed the mission reports, and while there had been a report to the local team, Kenobi had disappeared, which was then reported to Jinn, long before Lodha’s administrative team on Taanab had been informed.

“Once word reached me, I’d have probably gone to Bandomeer myself. Once I’d seen the child, I’d have sent him to you.”

“Me? Not Thee?”

“The child would do well with Master Ohri’s educators, but the way the Cosmic Force is with him? No, I’d have sent him to you.”

“We’ll figure it out, Lodha. Have faith that the Force has brought us all where we need to be.”

***

After another unproductive meeting spent reviewing “pathfinding” and discussing Melidaan had broken up, Rin had somewhat reluctantly accepted Master Yaddle’s invitation to tea. Her reluctance was mostly because she knew Yaddle only ever served tea, and Rin didn’t particularly enjoy tea.

She folded her long limbs at the much too-small table. The ship guest quarters were standard size, which meant they were on the edge of uncomfortable for her, but Yaddle had somehow brought her own tea tiny table.

Yaddle put the teapot in the center of the table and pushed a cup in front of Rin.

“I really hate tea.”

“I remember, yet it’s good for focus and centering.”

Rin huffed, not wanting to fight this battle over bitter leaf juice.

Yaddle blew gently over her tiny cup. “You’ve probably inferred much of this, but I wish to be clear. Jaro will lead the search for the Sith. If there’s no Sith to be found, he’ll lead the search to deconstruct the traps the Sith of old may have left.”

“I concede Sith hunting is more your area than mine. What do you need from me?”

“We’ll coordinate with your teams to investigate the planet. We need more—a place to begin. We may have questions for Obi-Wan, but care will be taken.”

“All right. None of this is something I didn’t expect.”

Yaddle sipped her tea. “When the time comes, and we’ll know the moment, you’ll need to dismiss us. Claim any enrichment and repair of Melidaan under the auspices of the Exploration Corps. Jaro and I are planning his mission parameters and how to obscure his true purpose.”

Rin nodded slowly. “I assume Plo shared with you the Convocation’s desire that you be the one to replace Yoda…?”

She dipped her head. “I will remain on the council, but the changes that are coming may mean that it’s best if the grandmaster is Tyvokka.”

“Ah.” Rin leaned back, feeling like she’d properly inferred that Yaddle was the Master of Shadows. Tyvokka, Jaro Tapal, Plo Koon… All had excellent reputations, all members of her lineage. “I’ll trust you to determine who should sit in which seat to protect the Order as a whole. The Convocation would, of course, welcome Tyvokka unless you decide to keep it as Yoda…?”

“No. We must change, and we cannot fight Yoda every step. He and I will discuss it. Master Lodha is going to talk to him as well.”

Lodha had been dragging his wings about talking to Yoda. No doubt Yaddle had bent his feathers a bit about it. “Their bond is…interesting.”

“Yoda loves Lodha, as do I, but Yoda is more uncomfortable with any emotion, even the gentle warmth of the love from the being the Force sent to find us. But Yoda will eventually listen to reason. It’s easier to get him to see when we’re away from Coruscant.” She shook her head. “That is its own problem to deal with.”

“Plans within plans.”

“Being away from Coruscant is…good.” Yaddle frowned. “There was recently a dark plot to assassinate Yoda.”

“Oh?”

“A discontented member of the Academy was being seduced by a darksider… Jinn’s former apprentice, Xanatos. It’s all complicated, but the short of it is that Obi-Wan’s best friend was so angry at Jinn that we had to send him and his Master off-planet for several extended missions while Obi-Wan was on Melida/Daan to keep him from destroying Jinn’s quarters.”

Rin’s eyebrows shot up. “Destroying?”

“There may have been pranks with plumbing and furnishings that we couldn’t officially tie to young Vos, but we all knew since he would publicly deride Jinn anytime he saw him, no matter his Master’s discipline in the matter. I think the extended time away from Coruscant was good for Vos because, during one of his brief trips back to the temple, he suddenly appeared before the council, dragging another padawan with him. This young man was touching the dark side of the Force.”

Yaddle shook her head in dismay. “We were all so used to the dark shadows and influence that we couldn’t see it or even feel it easily because the child had been taught to hide it well. He’d been communicating with Xanatos and plotting on his behalf against Yoda and the Order.

“It’s a long tale but, in brief, Chun is currently in long-term mind healing. Padawan Vos said he intervened on behalf of Chun for Obi-Wan’s sake because Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted Xanatos to hurt anyone else. Shadows pursued Xanatos.” Yaddle pursed her lips. “He was unfortunately killed in the ensuing battle. Though most of these events occurred before Obi-Wan’s return to the temple, Xanatos died shortly after, though very few are aware of it.”

“Jinn knows.”

“He does, yes. And I fear it’s led to some irrational blame which Yoda has allowed to fester.”

“Blame towards Kenobi?”

“He blames Vos and, by extension, yes, I think he blames his former padawan.”

“Ah.” Rin blew out a breath. “Get that man some mind healing. I don’t care if he’s the best diplomat in your corps, it’s not helping him to let his mind rot.”

“It will be done. I fear, however, there is no future for Jinn and Kenobi as a partnership, no matter what Master Yoda might wish.”

Rin snorted. “I already knew that, Master Yaddle. It’s clear to me that Obi-Wan Kenobi’s first loyalty is to the Young, and Qui-Gon Jinn abandoned them. Obi-Wan is doing an admirable job of releasing his base emotions to the Force, but he’s not going to tie himself to the man he sees as having betrayed those children. That ship sailed.”

Yaddle cocked her head. “An interesting point. I shall have to factor that into my planning.”

Master of Schemes, Rin thought.

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