Star Wars: Rogue Planet (6 page)

In truth, Obi-Wan Kenobi had never quite gotten the range of Mace Windu. Many declared that Yoda was the most enigmatic of the Jedi Knights, habitually teaching by trick rather than example, conundrum rather than pointed fact. Mace Windu, in Obi-Wan’s experience, seemed to lead by rigorous example, using concrete guidelines and steady discipline rather than startled revelation. Yet of all the Jedi, he was quickest to appreciate a joke, and often to spring a devious philosophical trap during debates.

In physical training, he was among the toughest to best, because his moves could be so unexpected. Whatever he seemed to propose, or to oppose, might in fact be a ploy to encourage quite a different result.

There was a creative whimsy to the man that defied
intellectual analysis. And that was one reason why Mace Windu was ranked a Jedi Master.

Decadent cynics in the Senate District who knew little about the Jedi regarded them as somber, stuffy preservers of a fusty old religion, like shreds of an aging fabric soon to give way to a gleaming new garment, an age of surgical precision and cold, hard facts. Mace Windu reminded all who came in contact with him that the Jedi Knights were a vibrant, living order, rich in contradictions, possessing a vitality very difficult—some said impossible—to extinguish.

Obi-Wan and Anakin, as soon as they had scrubbed and showered away the silicone and stench, climbed the steps and took an ancient but beautifully maintained turbolift to the heights of the gleaming Council Tower. Late-afternoon sun poured through the broad windows in the Council chamber. The circular room was suffused by an antique golden glow, but this glow did not fall upon Anakin, whose slight form was obscured by the shadow of a tall and vacant chair.

The Padawan looked more than a little bewildered.

Obi-Wan stood beside him, as a Master must when his apprentice is in peril of dismissal.

Four Masters were present. The other chairs were empty. Mace Windu presided. Obi-Wan remembered several disciplinary hearings for his own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, yet none had been held in such a charged atmosphere as this, no matter Mace Windu’s amused expression.

“Anakin Skywalker has been with us three years now, and has shown himself a capable student,” Mace began. “More than capable. Brilliant, with abilities and strengths we have all hoped to see developed and controlled.”

Mace rose and walked around the pair, his robes swishing faintly with the movement of his long legs.
“Strength of character is a challenge to be overcome by a Padawan, for it may be a mask for careless will lacking center and purpose. What seems bright in youth tarnishes in maturity, and crumbles in age. A Jedi is allowed no such weakness.” He stopped in front of the boy. “Anakin Skywalker, what is your error?”

Obi-Wan stepped forward to speak, but Mace’s hand shot up, and his eyes sparked with warning. Though a Master must defend his Padawan, it was clear the Council was beyond that here.

Obi-Wan suspected the worst: that a judgment had already been rendered, and that Anakin was to be released from the Temple.

Anakin watched Mace with large eyes, uncharacteristically subdued.

Mace was unrelenting. “I ask again, what was your error?”

“I brought shame upon the order and the Temple,” Anakin responded quickly now, his voice high and soft.

“That is hardly precise. Again, your error?”

“To break the laws of the municipality, and … and …”

“No!” Mace declared, and his smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression, like the dark underside of a cloud heretofore painted by sun.

Anakin flinched.

“Obi-Wan, explain to your Padawan his error. It does, after all, arise from the same roots as your own.” Mace regarded Obi-Wan with a lifted brow.

Obi-Wan considered this intently for a long moment before answering. Nobody tried to rush him. Inner truth was a perilous journey, even for a Jedi.

“I see it,” he said. “We both want certainty.”

Anakin stared at his master with a puzzled frown.

“Explain to us all how you have failed your Padawan,”
Mace said, gently enough, considering the turnabout in the proceedings.

“He and I are far too young for the luxury of certainty,” Obi-Wan began. “Our experience is insufficient to earn us even momentary peace. As well, I have been more concerned with his growth than my own, distracted by his obvious flaws, rather than using his mirror to guide me, so that I may in turn guide him.”

“A good beginning,” Mace allowed. “Now, young Skywalker, explain to the Council how you can find peace by seeking cheap thrills among the most deluded occupants of this planet.”

Anakin’s frown deepened.

“You are defensive,” Mace warned.

“What I did, I did to fill a lack in my training,” Anakin shot back testily.

Mace’s expression turned stolid, and his eyes became heavy lidded, languid, as he placed his arms behind his back. “And who is responsible for this lack?”

“I am, Master.”

Mace nodded, his rugged face like ancient hewn stone. No trickster here, no humor now. Behind that face, if one knew how to sense it, burned an unbearably brilliant flame of concentration, easily worthy of the legendary Masters of past millennia.

“I seek to escape pain,” Anakin said. “My mother—”

Mace lifted his hand, and Anakin instantly fell silent. “Pain can be our greatest teacher,” Mace said, barely above a whisper. “Why turn away from pain?”

“It … it is my strength. This I see.”

“That is not correct,” Obi-Wan said, placing his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. The boy looked between them, confused.

“How is it wrong, teacher?” Mace asked Obi-Wan.

“Lean upon pain like a crutch and you create anger
and a dark fear of truth,” Obi-Wan said. “Pain guides, but it does not support.”

Anakin cocked his head to one side. He seemed slight and even insubstantial among these Jedi Knights, all this overwhelming experience. His face collapsed in misery. “My most useful talents are not those of a Jedi.”

“Indeed, you throw your spirit and your anguish into machines and useless competitions, rather than directly confronting your feelings,” Mace said. “You have cluttered our Temple halls with droids. I stumble over them. But we are away from the crux of our present matter. Try again to explain your error.”

Anakin shook his head, caught between stubbornness and tears. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Mace took a shallow breath and closed his eyes. “Look inward, Anakin.”

“I don’t want to,” Anakin said breathlessly, his voice jerking. “I don’t like what I see.”

“Is it possible you see nothing more than the tensions of approaching adulthood?” Mace asked.

“No!” Anakin cried. “I see … too much, too much.”

“Too much what?”

“I burn like a sun inside!” The boy’s voice rang out in the chamber like a bell.

A moment of silence.

“Remarkable,” Mace Windu admitted. Curiously, a smile flickered on his lips. “And?”

“And I don’t know what to do with it. I want to run. It makes me reckless, so I seek sensation. I don’t blame any of you for—” He could not finish that sentence.

Obi-Wan felt the boy’s anguish like a small knife in his own gut.

“My own mother didn’t know what to do with me,” Anakin murmured.

The door in the far wall swung open slowly. Mace and Obi-Wan looked up to see who was there.

A small female figure clad in Temple robes stepped into the circle, and a clear voice sang through the chamber. “Just as I thought. A little inquisition going on here, eh?”

Mace got to his feet, smiling broadly at the sarcasm. “Welcome, Thracia.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head in respect.

“Anakin, may I stand beside you?” Thracia Cho Leem walked slowly toward the center of the chamber where Obi-Wan and Anakin stood. Her gray hair was cut to a close cap on her long skull, and her aquiline nose sniffed at the cool air as if she judged all by their scent. Her eyes, large and bright, irises like ultramarine beads, swept the empty seats. She gathered her long dark robes and pulled up her sleeves to reveal strong, thin arms. Then she thrust out her chin. “I should have warned you I’d return, Mace,” she said.

“It is always an honor, Thracia,” Mace said.

“You seem to be ganging up on this boy.”

“It could be worse,” Mace said. “Most of the Council are away today. Yoda would be much harsher—”

“That big-eared tree stump knows nothing about human children. And for that matter, neither do you. You’ve never married, Mace! I have. I have many sons and daughters, on many worlds. Sometimes I think you should all take a break, as I did, and sniff the real air, see how the Force manifests in everyday life, rather than mope around learning how to swing lightsabers.”

Mace’s smile became one of delight. “It is wonderful to have you with us, Thracia, after so many years.” There was not a hint of irony in his tone. He was, in fact, pleased to have her in the room, and seemed even more pleased that she had surprised them. “What do you suggest for young Skywalker?”

“There’s something wrong with me,” Anakin interrupted, and then clamped his mouth shut, glancing around the chamber.

“Nonsense!” Thracia cried, her face wrinkled in irritation. She was about Anakin’s height, and looked him straight in the eyes. “None of us can see into another’s heart. Mercifully, the Force does not do that for us. I ask you, boy, what do you want to prove?”

“You know what happened?” Obi-Wan inquired of her.

“You came back this afternoon covered with slime and smelling of garbage. It’s the talk of the staff in the Temple,” Thracia said. “Anakin amuses them. He’s brought more energy and spark to this gloomy old pile than anyone in recent memory, including Qui-Gon Jinn. Now, boy, what do you want to prove?”

“I don’t want to prove anything. I need to know who I am, as Obi-Wan tells me over and over.”

Thracia sniffed once more and regarded Obi-Wan with a mix of affection and sharp judgment. “Obi-Wan has forgotten ever being a child.”

Obi-Wan gave her a small grin. “Qui-Gon would have disagreed.”

“Qui-Gon! Now
there
was a child, all his life a child, and wiser than most! But enough banter. I sense there is real danger here.”

“There was an assassination attempt,” Obi-Wan said. “A Blood Carver.”

“We suspect involvement from dissident forces within the Republic,” Mace said.

“He knew all about me,” Anakin added.

“All?” Thracia inquired, arching a brow at Mace.

“I let him—” The boy’s eyes widened in realization. He stared at Obi-Wan. “Master, I realize my error!”

Thracia pressed her lips together and turned to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan folded his arms. He and Anakin might have been brothers, separated by only a double handful of years, yet Obi-Wan was the closest thing the boy could ever have to a father. “Yes?”

“I sought out personal peace and satisfaction in the pit race, rather than thinking of the greater goals of the Jedi.”

“And?” Obi-Wan encouraged.

“I mean, I know it was wrong to sneak out of the Temple, to mislead my master, to engage in illegal activity that could have brought disrepute on the order—”

“A long list,” Mace Windu said.

“But … I pursued personal goals even after it should have been obvious to me that the Temple was being threatened.”

“Very serious, indeed,” Thracia murmured. She took Anakin by the shoulders, then glanced at Obi-Wan to see if she could intervene. He assented, though with some misgivings. Thracia was renowned for training female Jedi, not for preparing young males.

“Anakin, your powers, someday, could surpass those of anyone in this room. But what happens when you push something harder?”

“It moves faster,” Anakin said.

She nodded. “You are propelled by an inheritance few can understand.” Thracia dropped her hands from his shoulders. “Obi-Wan?”

“Moving faster gives you little time to think,” Obi-Wan continued where she had left off. “You must temper your passions, but be less concerned, for now, with being free from your pain. Youth is a time of uncertainty and unrest.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Thracia said. “Anakin,
be a child
. Revel in it. Test your limits. Irritate and provoke. It is your way. Time enough for wisdom when you’ve worn more holes in your shoes. Run your
master ragged! It’ll be good for him. It’ll remind him of when he was a boy. And … tell us what you need,
now
, to go where you must finally go in your training.”

Mace Windu seemed about to violently disagree with this, but Thracia gave him a radiant smile, brows high on her wrinkled forehead, and his shoulders drooped. Thracia was one of the few who could outjape Mace Windu, and he knew it.

Anakin looked around the room, realizing that whatever the mood at the beginning of the meeting, there was little chance now of his being expelled from the Temple. Thracia had made her point, as only she could, by lightly stinging them all.

“I need a job, a mission,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I need something to do. Something real.”

“How can we give you our trust?” Mace asked, leaning forward and staring at the boy. Anakin did not avert his eyes. The power of his spirit, of his personality, was almost frighteningly apparent.

“Indeed, Padawan, how
can
we trust you, after all these errors?” Thracia asked, her voice level. “It is one thing to be what you are, quite another to drag others into danger.” Anakin stared at her for long seconds, searching her face as he might look over a map, trying to find his way home.

“I never make the same mistake twice,” he finally said, blinking slowly. He faced the other Council members. “I’m not stupid.”

“I agree,” Thracia said. “Mace, give these two something useful to do, rather than stewing in the Temple pot.”

“I was approaching that conclusion,” Mace said.

“Taking all day and terrifying the boy!” Thracia exclaimed.

“Anakin is not easily frightened, not by us,” Mace
said wryly. “Thracia, there must be another reason you honor us today.”

“How observant!” she said. “The danger grows daily, and our enemies, whoever they are, within the senate or without, may again try to target our students before they are ready to defend themselves.” Thracia flapped out her sleeves and sat in an empty Council seat beside Mace. “You sent my former apprentice, Vergere, on a mission, and we have heard nothing from her in a year. Vergere is self-reliant, as Jedi are trained to be. It is possible she has extended her mission, or found another. In any case, I request that Obi-Wan Kenobi be sent as backup.”