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themikeymonster · 8 years

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ad verecundiam - p4

continuing adventures from the timetraveling rots!vader au, or the actual chapter that would never end, i hope u liek scrolling

in which obi-wan regains his balance and learns to love the darkside has to deal with cranky grandmasters who are wrong previously | presently | i guess im committed to writing this, look forward to part formatting

" - and with what information I was able to confirm, the planet should be approximately here, in this system," Obi-Wan says, pointing out the appropriate spot on the holomap. His palms feel slightly damp, and he resists the urge to try drying them on his robes. He feels more like an initiate giving a report before the class than a Knight standing before the Council, giving his report.

That said, he turns and folds his hands together before his belt, observing the masters. With many long practiced years, he sees the tension and displeasure on their faces, and holds his breath for a no more than a second. He'd narrowed the results again and again, running the math so many times. He'd checked it against every known model of system gravitational dynamics. He'd asked Master Folen to bring the equation before her students, to have them all work it backwards and determine what could create a similar gravitational pull. By all accounts, a completely normal planet should be there, but isn't. If he weren't certain of this, he would have never brought it before the Council.

"Disturbing this is," Yoda says at last. He looks troubled. He's looked troubled since a Sith tumbled out of thin air and through violent Force on their very doorstep. "That removed from the Archive, this information has been."

"Disturbing, but not impossible," Mace murmurs.

"No, not impossible at least," another master says. Despite the number of times Obi-Wan has come before the Council with Qui-Gon, he doesn't recognize the man. "It's not as though the information on places beyond the Republic's reach are safe-guarded - or indeed, any of the information in the Archive, at all."

Yoda glances down the line of masters toward him but says nothing. The master's claims are a bit of an exaggeration, Obi-Wan thinks, but not incorrect: many parts of the Archive are protected from alteration. Things like planet locations and hyperspace lanes don't tend to be, because any incorrect information would be quickly corrected. Perhaps no one had planned for information on obscure planets outside the Republic to be removed.

It would seem to be on a whim, except for the dire warnings of Darth Vader.

"Dangerous, it will be, to go beyond Republic space, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Prepared, are you? To go on the word of a Sith?" Yoda asks, looking back to Obi-Wan with a stern expression.

Obi-Wan inclines his head. "I am, Master Yoda."

"I disagree," Adi Gallia says. "I think it would be foolish to send one very young knight out into unclaimed space on the word of a Sith - if that is what we're calling Vader."

By the atmosphere of the Council, she isn't the only one with doubts. Obi-Wan hardly expected Master Windu to be alone in his opinions that Vader couldn't be trusted, but after he's been giving so much leeway in the matter, it surprises him to suddenly encounter resistance from the Council.

Windu folds his hands, looking across the room toward Adi. "He is young, yes, but Knight Kenobi has had previous experience with Darksiders. More than many Knights."

"Perhaps," Adi allows skeptically, "but winning a thousand battles does not change the outcome of losing only one."

Obi-Wan feels the way the Force's flow is subtly changing. The Councilors are already uneasy about Darth Vader, as they should be, their concerns barely laid to rest by Yoda and Mace Windu's investigations. It isn't precisely fear that he feels, but something like it, something strange and unpleasant hiding in the shadows of the round room, clinging. He's not sure he has ever noticed it before the heavy and unpleasant grasping of Vader's energies. For a split second, he entertains the idea that it still sticks to him, leaving residue wherever he walks.

"With respect, Master Gallia," Obi-Wan says, bending to show his sincerity, "even if it were a trap, it still bares investigation. We may not trust the source, but so far the information itself seems accurate; if we allow our fears and concerns to prevent us from searching for the truth of the matter, is that not already a battle we've lost to the Dark?"

Adi Gallia folds her hands across her stomach, leveling a stoic look at him. "You misunderstand my concerns, Knight Kenobi," she says. "I agree that it bares investigation, I merely question the wisdom of sending you and you alone."

The second bow that he lowers himself into is partially to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. "Of course. My apologies, Master Gallia." Despite his embarrassment, he can feel the flow of the Force begin to tip the other direction, back in his favor, and his face cools as he straightens once more, leveling his shoulders. "I submit myself to the wisdom of the Council, and am prepared to meet whatever standards or conditions the Masters see fit."

"Well said, Knight Kenobi," the master from before rumbles. "Master Gallia, would it put your concerns to rest if an experienced master were to accompany our ambitious young knight here?"

She turns to level a cool, skeptical look at him. "And who would you suggest for such an endeavour? Surely not yourself, when you've just arrived back from your extended mission."

He arches one brow quite high. "Indeed. Who better? If your concerns are for Knight Kenobi's wisdom, then surely there are few better options. Or do you feel that my place is better served here, within the Temple?"

"Good, it would do you, to be back at the Temple for a while more," Yoda says. "Gone for many years you have. Time to remember your roots, you need. Remember peace."

"I would argue that only a very foolish old man would pretend that this is the time to ruminate on peace, Master Yoda," the old master says, "when we have a Darksider with a level of strength I have not felt in all my years dropped on our doorstep, and a Sith that would have claimed the lives of Jedi were it not for Qui-Gon's stubborn insistence on battle readiness, which he thankfully passed on to his padawan."

If Obi-Wan weren't already so discomfited by the oddly personal level of discussion going on here, he'd protest that he'd contributed very little to the battle against the Sith on Naboo. It had been Tholme, after all, who had removed the Sith's head from his body with Quinlan's aid. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been hardpressed to keep up with the Sith's strength and skill; they'd battled against the Sith for so long that Qui-Gon had collapsed in exhaustion afterwards, and Obi-Wan himself had slept for nearly sixteen hours afterwards.

"The Council will consider your request to be allowed on the mission, Master Dooku," Mace Windu says; it may just be Obi-Wan's imagination, but he feels as though Windu is equally put off by this oddly personal argument. "Knight Kenobi, we'll review the information you have brought to our attention."

He hears the dismissal and quickly dips into one final bow before folding away the portable holo display. Clearly, despite the concerns of the rest of the Council, Yoda and Windu support his efforts. Overall, Obi-Wan feels largely confident about his report to the Council; he has been heard, and the chances are good that someone - if not himself - will be dispatched to investigate Vader's claim to the existence of some kind of cloning facility on the planet of Kamino... all mention of which had been wiped from the Archive.

Without Vader's help, Obi-Wan can't imagine that he would have ever been able to divine its existence himself. The Republic doesn't keep the hyperlanes that extend beyond its authority maintained, and without reason to look for it, the mathematically improbable structure of the system would have likely gone unnoticed for - years. Decades, even, until some hapless Jedi happened across a planet that according to Republic knowledge didn't exist.

Hopefully the Council will consider it wisest to send Obi-Wan himself off to investigate - if nothing else than to remove him from Darth Vader. While he understands their concerns about Vader, especially given how much trouble Obi-Wan has proven to be during his entire padawanship, he finds it laughable to think that he would choose now of all times to Fall to the darkside. The chances of Darth Vader being able to convince him to turn are minimal, indeed, when the man himself is an excellent example of how the Dark twists those who succumb to it.

After he has returned the portable holo projector back to its rightful place and has made a visit down to the Quarter Master's panel, where he assured that there was a knight's kit set aside for his use, Obi-Wan makes his way back to Qui-Gon's quarters. They were once his and Qui-Gon's quarters, but as a knight, Obi-Wan is expected to relocate himself down to the Knight's Wing when convenient. He - has. Somewhat. He's spent more nights down in the Knight's Wing than he has in his old quarters, given the situation, but Qui-Gon has yet to indicate that he's unwelcomed, so Obi-Wan feels no hesitation in making his way back there now.

He's hardly surprised by what he finds inside: Qui-Gon and young Anakin. Given that Anakin has not been accepted as an initiate, or padawan for that matter, Obi-Wan supposes it's only logical that Qui-Gon remain responsible for his young ward. The fact that Anakin has made his home in Obi-Wan's old room is - something he feels less ambivalent about.

Obi-Wan takes one look at the arrangement of cups and kettles on the table before them and holds back an impertinent smile. Qui-Gon seems to be trying to teach the fine art of tea to his young ward. By the desperate feel of the look Anakin cuts toward Obi-Wan, it isn't going well. Qui-Gon's brow has a particular wrinkle to it.

"Obi-Wan. How did the meeting with the Council go?" Qui-Gon inquires, barely glancing up from his fixed stare. Anakin may think his exasperated look is subtle, turned down as his face is, but he has much to learn about the acuity of Jedi.

"Well, for once," Obi-Wan says cheerfully, taking himself to the kitchen to fetch the finer teas that even Qui-Gon would not attempt to inflicted on a taste-blind child. "No truly outrageous claims were made, nor any rebukes attempted; I feel I was fairly successful. Strange how that worked out."

Qui-Gon doesn't react to the ribbing other than giving Obi-Wan a tight-lipped look as he joins them at the table. Anakin looks with some interest at the canisters that he's brought, but immediately loses that interest when he realizes it's only more tea. Obi-Wan wonders if he'll ever learn to appreciate them. He remembers that he struggled for a long time as a young padawan to appreciate the bitter tastes.

"What'dya go an' speak with them for?" Anakin asks, only pretending to give the arrangement of teas the attention that Qui-Gon would like from him. Obi-Wan sympathizes; with the benefit of hindsight, he understands Qui-Gon uses different cultural etiquettes around the drinking of tea as a study in small habitual differences that should be paid attention. It still makes for an incredibly boring lesson that seems entirely pointless at the time.

"I'm afraid I can't be specific," he says, spooning the dried leaves into the free cup Qui-Gon shifted his way. "But Darth has shared some of what he knows. I've been trying to convince the Council to listen to at least some of his warnings."

Anakin huffs, and the scowl that settles over his face is alarmingly familiar, even as young as he is. "I've been trying to make him listen to me," he says. "It's like he doesn't want to help anyone at all! What's the use of knowing what's gonna happen if you don't use that to help anyone?"

Only with long practice does Obi-Wan not hesitate in his actions as he remembers, vividly, Darth Vader's claims to power and what he claims to intend that power for. It's a sobering - and uncomfortable - thought that he hasn't actually changed at all from the boy he once was. He meets Qui-Gon's eyes over the kettle of hot water he pours down his overturned spoon, flooding the tea leaves.

"Sometimes, no matter how much we want to help others, there are reasons that we can't," Qui-Gon says to Anakin. "Vader knows many things that we do not - perhaps things that prevent him from helping us as much as we think he could."

Anakin clearly finds the explanation incredibly inadequate; if his face wasn't clear enough, the ripple of discontent that shakes through his unshielded presence would be. "I'm worried about a lot of things, too," he says unhappily. "Thanks to him, everyone thinks I'm dangerous! Or that I'm gonna do something bad. Or turn bad! They don't want to train me, and they're mad at you, too! But I'm still trying!"

Qui-Gon smiles thinly, but not without warmth. "Ani," he says, "you let me worry about them. I'm capable of making people unhappy with me all by myself, as Obi-Wan can tell you. Even he gets angry with me at times, and with good reason."

Qui-Gon should know. Obi-Wan feels the low roil of resentment right now; it should be beneath a Jedi Knight to feel jealous of a child, or to resent their old master for performing much more adequately with another padawan than with them. Now, more than ever, Obi-Wan must conduct himself as a Jedi, and so he sheds the unwanted emotion with a few stirs of his tea.

"Master Jinn is correct," he says mildly, twisting the slotted spoon to capture the swirling leaves with it. "I have many stories as his padawan that I could share with you. Besides, every Jedi is dangerous; that's why we train our entire lives, Anakin: so we don't hurt others. I'm afraid Darth's previous master failed him in many ways. Hopefully the Jedi will do better for you, this time."

"Thanks," Anakin says, biting and insincere, "but I think he's just a selfish sleemo."

Obi-Wan lowers the spoon to level a look at the boy, whose expression is challenging and unrepentant. He's not the man that was Vader's Jedi master, but he still has a strange moment of offense. He thinks about the Sith trapped down in the lower levels behind an energy field that will burn flesh from bone at the slightest touch - for weeks now, with no friends and only Obi-Wan to call an ally. And knowing, or suspecting, or fearing that ally does not trust him.

"You are welcome to that opinion," he says, "but I think Darth is trying. In a manner of speaking."

The boy continues to look skeptical. Obi-Wan gives a pass on convincing him of his elder self's better nature and moves to turn his attention back to his tea. He instead catches Qui-Gon's gaze, who is looking entirely too amused. Obi-Wan arches an interrogative brow, but his former master declines comment, instead returning to what is clearly an arduous task of convincing Anakin to learn the first thing about the etiquette of tea.

Obi-Wan drinks his own as he watches; it's difficult to tell if Anakin - a very clever boy - truly fails to understand the finer points of the social graces, or simply fails to see the point in learning them. Were all people born equal, then they would all be talented musicians and diplomats and warriors. It would be interesting to see which of the stubborn duo would give up first - Obi-Wan himself would have called an end to the attempt much earlier. All that's happening right now is the two of them getting frustrated with one another. It's a bit like an unmovable object meeting an unstoppable force.

In the end, Qui-Gon is nothing if not determined. Their stalemate is only ended some hours later when Obi-Wan returns from the commissary with hotboxes of food.

"Your foresight does you credit, my former padawan," Qui-Gon says when he notices.

"Necessity makes geniuses of fools," he counters dryly. If pressed, Qui-Gon can make a satisfactory meal, but left to his own devices, he's more likely to subsist entirely off a handful of nuts and tubers. On more than one occasion, Obi-Wan has found himself having to do much the same, if someone with more capable providing skills and a soft enough heart can't be found nearby.

He loathes the idea of trying to learn how to cook adequate meals for himself as a knight; it's a skill his fellow padawans perfected early in their training, building on top of what they learned as initiates. Obi-Wan can feed himself, but it would be a far from happy experience.

"Wizard," is Anakin's only contribution to the situation, triggering the mechanism to unfold the hotbox with ease. He falls upon the food inside as if he hasn't eaten in days.

Obi-Wan sets the second hotbox on the table and opens the one he brought for himself. Qui-Gon joins them once he's done putting the cups and canisters away, and takes the second hotbox. They eat mostly in silence. Anakin finishes first, slowing down only toward the end of his meal and kicking his feet.

"You think that the Council will send you on a mission?" Qui-Gon queries after a moment.

"I don't presume to know what the Council will decide," Obi-Wan demurs.

"But you think they will. This is the first time you've joined us, and I do not sense you have any concerns you wish to speak of with me," his former master points out. Arching a brow, he ventures: "if I know you at all, you've already checked to assure you have a mission kit waiting for you."

"Where are you going?" Anakin demands, coming to attention and flickering his gaze between the two of them. Since when Anakin became so very concerned with Obi-Wan's coming and going, the knight isn't sure. Up until the last few days, they've had very little to say to one another.

"No where," he says, and then amends: "Yet. It's part of what I was discussing with the Council. I am hoping that they'll send me to follow up on Darth's information since I'll understand better what it is that I should be looking for."

"Will you be gone long?" the boy asks with concern.

"If they decide to send me, I may be gone a while," he allows. "The destination is far from the Temple - but as long as everything goes as expected, we should know more about the situation in a month or so."

"That is quite the distance," Qui-Gon murmurs thoughtfully, and then seems to remember Anakin. He smiles at Anakin's shrewd eyes, far too knowledgeable to rest in such a young face. "There's nothing to worry about, of course. Obi-Wan is nearly as good as getting out of trouble as he is at getting into it."

Obi-Wan glances toward his former master, a look that promises timely retribution when it's least suspected. The best time to strike at a Jedi is when one is unaware; a task best suited for another Jedi, who knew the first's habits quite well, as Obi-Wan did Qui-Gon. No one would say he didn't have it coming.

It takes a few days for the Council to argue it out among themselves. Obi-Wan has spent a great deal of those days in meditation and busying himself whatever odds and ends there were to be found around the Temple. He mostly dodges any sly hints from Qui-Gon that he should aid his former master in young Anakin's illicit education in the Force. It's clear to Obi-Wan at least that Anakin has somehow decided to seek his favor, and while he understands the boy's motivations, it would hardly be appropriate, nor would it help Anakin.

And because it wouldn't be appropriate, Obi-Wan makes no further visits to Darth Vader. It isn't the first time that Obi-Wan has been separated from an agent whose information he is dependant upon, or on whose behalf he was acting for, but it is the first time that it's happened while he's home at the Temple. He is mindful of the masters' concerns, however, and refrains from venturing anywhere near the lift that would take him down to the stairs that would take him down even further. He has already made his vows that he would do everything in his power to see that Vader's information is being put to use - mostly because there are moments when Vader looks fit to dash himself against the energy field in his desire to escape and 'save everyone'... however it was he meant to do that.

Obi-Wan uneasily feels like while he's not keeping an eye on Vader, the man will get himself into some kind of terrible trouble.

It is during one of Obi-Wan's visits to the Room of a Thousand Fountains that he senses a purposeful approach. It's not precisely somewhere one goes when wishing to be left alone, but it is better than the Knight's Wing or Qui-Gon's room. There's nothing restful about the Knight's Wing and Anakin has no patience in leaving Obi-Wan alone long enough for Obi-Wan to get any true meditating done.

"Meditation, Knight Kenobi?"

"Master Dooku," Obi-Wan says, not opening his eyes. He only barely recognizes the unfamiliar master from the meeting with the Council; Dooku's presence is deceptively quiet, stony and still. Wryly, he thinks that he would have been impressed before he met Darth Vader. "I suspect most Jedi aware of the circumstances have done quite a lot of meditation."

"And you yourself at the center of the storm. Funny how that happens," Dooku drawls; his deep voice is made for holodramas, upper class and sonorous. Obi-Wan slumps out of his meditative lotus, and looks down the small knoll to where Dooku stands on the paved path. Despite the humble Jedi robes, Dooku reminds him greatly of the diplomatics and aristocrats that he's encountered on several missions.

The old master takes note of his attention and gestures Obi-Wan down to the path. "The Council has reached a decision regarding the information that was brought to their attention."

And a master on the Council was sent to fetch Obi-Wan? He reigns in his brow, rising to his feet. The wobbly rock atop the knoll shifts threateningly beneath his weight, but he hops down from it with long familiarity. It feels a lot longer ago than it actually was when he and Quinlan Vos used to shift it to rest more precariously on another rock, then sit on either end of it and try to tip one another off without falling themselves.

"My apologies, master," he says as he joins Dooku on the path. "I hope I wasn't difficult to find. I thought the Council would summon me by comm." He falls in step with the older master, though it feels slightly strange to walk abreast of him and not the half-step behind that would have been appropriate when he was a senior padawan.

"They likely meant to," Dooku says, unperturbed. He folds his arms behind his back; the manner with which he angles his body toward Obi-Wan affords him much more respect than he deserves - as if they were equals, both masters. He mirrors the angle of Dooku's shoulders politely, but fixes his eyes on the path before them to avoid examining the master any closer.

Obi-Wan hadn't sought out an isolated corner of the Room when he'd come here to examine his thoughts and feelings on the situation. The angle of their bodies already isolates the conversation from any onlookers, though he's aware that the other Jedi in the room are giving them their due respect. A cluster of younglings with their Creche Master are gathered several meters away, bright and curious; at least two are watching them.

"It only happened that they contacted me first," Dooku continues, at ease, "and I sensed you nearby. I took the initiative to gather you for the debriefing."

"I see," Obi-Wan says. He feels faintly uneasy on many levels and does not speculate that the Council decided to commit both he and Master Dooku to the mission, though it seems certain given the circumstances.

"Yes," Dooku says mildly. "You have quite the distinctive presence."

"Pardon?" Obi-Wan says, so startled that he looks up from the path and at the master walking beside him.

"The security footage from the duel on Naboo is quite interesting," Dooku continues, as if Obi-Wan hadn't responded. "Many masters have reviewed it, again and again. The focus was on learning more about the Sith, of course - as it should be. The Zabrak was the first Sith caught on footage in a millennia. If they've been hiding in secret this long, there are many things that may have changed in their traditions. Few things are more dangerous than an enemy you do not know."

"Yes, master," Obi-Wan agrees cautiously. He and Qui-Gon both had been thoroughly debriefed after coming home - for many hours, and over several days. There is nothing that Dooku is saying that surprises him - he had known, or at least assumed these things.

"And yet you performed admirably against your enemy. You made mistakes, yes," Dooku says, "but nothing that couldn't be fixed with enough training. I admit, Ataru suits your energy and ferocity, but it's a waste of your talents. You may wish to look into a more refined form, one that would make use of your precision and desire for control."

"I - will take that under advisory, master," he says, which is politer than what had instinctively come to mind. "I still have a great deal more to learn. I mean to use my time here at the Temple wisely, to the fullest, in order to find my path as a Jedi Knight."

It is what he should be doing, or perhaps would be, should the Council have decided to withhold missions from him for a while after his Trials. Instead, he is entirely caught up in the mystery of their time traveling Sith, and it's just as well that this is the mission assigned to him rather than any other; Obi-Wan fears what might have happened otherwise, should his curiosity have gotten the better of him.

"A pretty answer," Dooku says as they arrive at the lifts, but not as if he disapproves. He gestures Obi-Wan in before him, and follows him inside. "You have a way with words your predecessor does not," he continues, pressing their destination into the display with precise, deliberate movements.

Obi-Wan's shoulders level out and he straightens his posture. "Respectfully, Master Dooku," he says, "I disagree. Qui-Gon Jinn is a masterful Jedi. He can certainly talk circles around the best of them."

Dooku regards him with a patient eye, his brows curving into a permissive arch. "Your loyalty does you credit," he says, "but there is a powerful difference between frustrating and obfuscating one's opponents and appearing to agree with them when one does not." He pauses to draw himself upright; he isn't mirroring Obi-Wan's posture, but aping it, casually continuing, "luckily, sincerity is not a necessary trait for a Jedi."

Heat curls around Obi-Wan's neck, below his ears, and in his chest around his heart. He turns his moment of silence into a sharp smile. "I'm afraid we have very different ideas of what it takes to be a Jedi," he says, lighter than light, carefully shearing off any sharp edges to his words before letting them pass his lips. He waits a beat, and inclines his head. "Respectfully speaking, of course."

"Of course," Dooku intones. He sounds amused. He doesn't look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan does not look at him, but he still sees the thin, strange smile on the old master's face. "I look forward to discussing it with you further then, Knight Kenobi."

"As you wish, master," he says.

The rest of the ride on the lift is passed in utter and complete silence.

Much as Obi-Wan had expected when Master Dooku came to retrieve him from the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the Council decides to send them both out to investigate Darth Vader's claims of a cloning facility on Kamino. Obi-Wan had expected some level of oversight after Windu's words to him the last time they spoke, so the addition of a master to the mission doesn't trouble him - that the master is Dooku does.

To cap off his bout of ill luck, the two of them are directed to a light courier style craft to take. Obi-Wan had so been looking forward to a chance to pilot a Delta-6 for once, instead of finding himself piloting yet another courier for some master who can't be bothered himself. He can only hope that Dooku will prove to be a less tense co-pilot than Qui-Gon has.

It ends up being a fairly quiet trip to Kamino, however; Dooku seems to be a master of some composure, despite his unwelcome overtures and slights. He focuses on the task of navigating wholeheartedly, and doesn't even attempt to side-seat pilot or second guess Obi-Wan's speed or maneuvers. With his guidance, they quickly locate the missing system, and the planet of Kamino in particular.

"How much do you trust you pet Darksider, Knight Kenobi?" Dooku asks as they enter normal space above the planet.

Obi-Wan cuts a narrow look toward the old master; it's wasted, given Dooku seems much more invested in closely observing the scanners. They would be the first place a warning of incoming weaponry would show up. Obi-Wan thinks they're not nearly as reliable as his gut feeling, but he reluctantly approves of the measure either way.

"I don't actually make a habit of taking in things that will bite my head off," he says shortly, almost unable to help himself. Shifting to the topic at hand, he continues. "Darth said they consider the Jedi their clients. The Kaminoans themselves are neutral." He pauses for one moment longer, searching his feelings. "I do not sense danger from the planet."

Dooku hums, low and ominous. "Nevertheless, stay on your guard, Kenobi. Things are rarely simple outside of Republic space."

"A pity," he says, "I was hoping to work on a tan, master."

Dooku doesn't respond, silently working over the controls to find an open commline. Once he does, the Kaminoans prove to be just as helpful as Vader had implied them to be; they're swiftly given the coordinates to the particular base they want, and once in contact with them, directed to a landing pad.

"This is going suspiciously well," Dooku says as Obi-Wan powers down the courier. "You realize that this could be a trap."

"Have you met our Sith?" Obi-Wan asks, drawing his hood up as he opens the hatch. "He isn't exactly the sort to whom deception comes easily. But yes, the thought has occurred."

"How entertaining," Dooku says, only narrowly missing getting rained directly upon.

Obi-Wan wastes no time in leaving the courier, gripping his cloak tightly about his body as the storm rages, slapping his face with sheets of hard-driven water and ripping at his robes with icy fingers of wind. He arrives just ahead of Dooku and Dooku's annoyingly long stride, a wash of water chasing them inside the base.

Obi-Wan hadn't thought to ask what the Kaminoans would look like when he was getting information from Vader. He only momentarily stalls at the sight of the one that greets them at the door: tall and pale like long grasses or dried reeds, with large, bulbous dark eyes. They seem ill suited to life above the choppy waves of Kamino. Perhaps a species more suited for the darkness below it? Were they even native to the planet?

"Greeting, Jedi," the Kaminoan says. Their voice is faint and melodic, and matches the loose, almost boneless manner with which they move. "Welcome to Tipoca. I'm afraid your arrival has come as a bit of a surprise to us. But come, the Prime Minister awaits."

"Indeed? We look forward to meeting them," Dooku says. Despite his sodden robes, he looks dignified and unbothered by the surprise greeting, and the rather striking appearance of the Kaminoan themself. Obi-Wan is reminded strongly of Qui-Gon and is immediately annoyed with himself. He feels far less dignified, dripping water in a puddle at his feet.

He slogs after their unexpected host and the old master, thinking direly that he'll know to request a waterproof set should the need to come back ever arise. The city - for lack of a better term - seems barren to his eyes, though his senses in the Force indicate otherwise. He keeps one ear to the polite small talk Dooku and their guide are having, and the other to the Force. It seems strange here - not bad, but... brooding. Brewing, like the storms outside.

But not like Vader does, he acknowledges wryly. There is nothing sinister here that makes itself known to his senses. Despite -

They sweep into a room that appears entirely empty other than for a chair attached to the ceiling. There are patterns of light on the floor. It doesn't look much like any kind of politician or political aid's room that Obi-Wan has ever seen, and he's seen a great many over his 'regrettable pastime' of snooping through papertrails and overthrowing established authorities. The Kaminoan sitting in the single chair does not appear any more or less distinguished than the one that met them at the door - and yet, there is something about him that Obi-Wan would pick out of a line up as a figure of Kaminoan authority.

Over the years, Obi-Wan has developed quite a sense for these things.

The Kaminoan rises with dignity. Out of the corner of Obi-Wan's eye, he sees Dooku shift to hold himself a bit more like the Kaminoans do - as much as the human body allows, anyway. Smiling does not appear to come naturally to the Kaminoans, but they try anyway.

"May I present to you the Prime Minister, Lama Su," their guide says, making some kind of complicated gesture at waist height - or close enough. "Prime Minister, these are Jedi..."

There is a small enough pause as the guide realizes they had never introduced themselves. Dooku speaks into it: "Jedi Master Yan Dooku. This is my compatriot, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Lama Su makes a gesture, and from the ceiling drops two more chairs. They join them, and they all sit together. Despite the unusual style of the chairs, they're almost comfortable - perhaps more so for Dooku and Obi-Wan than Lama Su, whose knees bend awkwardly in it.

"Your interest in the project is heartily appreciated, Master Jedi," Lama Su says. "We are working diligently on it, and will soon have tangible results. The patronage of the Order and the Republic is of the utmost importance to us, and your order has commanded many of our greatest minds."

"Please, Prime Minister," Dooku says, "We trust the efforts of Kamino. This visit is merely to inform my compatriot; he will be taking over one day. We thought it wisest to have him fully prepared for the position should it be unexpectedly thrust upon him."

Lama Su's strange eyes look between the two of them. Obi-Wan does his best to project interest and assurance rather than his baseline level of incredulity and indignation over Dooku's claims. "I see," Lama Su says, and stands. "Very well. We would be happy to show you the progress we have made so far."

Lama Su gathers the two of them and with the other Kaminoan in tow, proceeds to give them a tour of the cloning facility. "This is our first time working with a Mandalorian genome," Lama Su explains, "and so we are still working out minor complications, I am afraid. Trying to find the right balance between a temperament appropriate for a soldier and the aggression of the original template has proven difficult."

"I imagine so," Obi-Wan says dryly. Dooku doesn't so much as glance his way, but he radiates blunt disapproval in Obi-Wan's direction. Obi-Wan blithely ignores it.

"We are prepared to rise to the challenge," Lama Su assures him with a slow blink. Perhaps they don't have sarcasm on planets as wet as Kamino. A pity. "Several small batches have already been produced as we refine the template," the Prime Minister continued. "Come. I believe we currently have a live batch."

"A live batch?" Dooku inquires as they follow Lama Su down another corridor. The white-lit walls give way to glass, revealing a massive empty space in which some upright structures with glass discs attached to them. The effect was oddly fungal, oddly oceanic, like mushrooms or some types of shelf coral. Yet more of those structures were clearly still being constructed by droids. The massive dark space, and the structures seem strangely ominous; there's a tickle at the back of Obi-Wan's neck, like the Force warning him of a blow falling upon it.

"We've been making them in batches," Lama Su explains, not slowing their pace. "The first batch we didn't modify greatly, as we were testing for unexpected reactions to the cloning process. Some species react - poorly to the process, and it takes additional time to discover the issue. There were minimal difficulties easily overcome this time. All batches after that are when modifications are tested for unexpected results. You'll be happy to hear we've nearly perfected the template. Soon, we will be able to produce millions of units - although they will, of course, take time to grow."

"They react poorly, you say," Obi-Wan says. "How so?"

Dooku cuts him a quelling look, but Lama Su doesn't seem perturbed by the question. "Defects arise, of course - both physically and temperamentally. The defects are properly disposed at this time, but we have plans in later stages to make use of such defects, to lessen the loss created. Rest assured that we will be most efficient with the funds we have been allocated."

"We are glad to hear it," Dooku says before Obi-Wan can say anything else.

He simmers with discontent, but for the moment clenches his jaw shut. There is no place for his feelings here, and he should not disturb the Kaminoans by showing them. He knew what he was walking into, and there is no point in making the situation difficult or muddying it with personal bias. What is done, is done.

They arrive at a lift, which the Prime Minister gestures them into. "As I said before, I believe we have a live batch currently. They're being used to test our current curriculum, to make sure there are no unforeseen difficulties when the first viable batches are ready."

Once on the ground floor, they're lead to a smaller part of the facility. There are more Kaminoans there, discussing things over datapads. The presence of the Prime Minister and the Jedi is ignored. Obi-Wan reaches for the Force and finds it strange and cold and still here.

They're finally lead into a room designed like an audience chamber, but in reverse. There are easily a hundred seats in it, all facing away from the center floor, with screens. Many of the chairs are taken up by children. Boys, with dark hair and russet skin, with a narrow variation of age. They don't look up at the interruption. They're younger than newly braided padawans - younger than most initiates. Even senior padawans don't get put in charge of helping with the initiates this young.

Since the last time Obi-Wan interjected himself into the conversation, Dooku has kept Lama Su tied in talk, and is especially persistent about it now. He barely allows the Prime Minister to finish one answer before a new question is posed. Obi-Wan feels far from stymied; he tucks his hands behind his back and turns to the first Kaminoan with a smile he knows is too sharp.

"If I could?" he asks, inclining his head toward the children.

"Please," says the Kaminoan, apparently caught off guard, and perhaps not thinking clearly.

Obi-Wan pivots on his heel and takes a second to sense out the direction of Dooku and the Prime Minister's attention. Then he calmly steps into their blindspot, wandering closer to a nearby cluster of children. Over their shoulders, he could see dozens of their screens, and the simulations on them. Battle simulations. They are too young to even hold training 'sabers, and here they sit honing their reflexes and strategies on battle simulations.

His gaze shifts to the children themselves, skirting over the rows. They look nearly uniform, but Obi-Wan's eye is keen; he sees a twisted foot, an arm ending in a nub or missing entirely. A jaw that doesn't match up with the line of his brothers'. The child nearest to him shifts uneasily. His shoulders are much too small and narrow for the blue shirt he wears, and all it means.

The boy's fingers hesitate over the controls, and then he risks a quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes are clear and hazel and bright; he startles to meet Obi-Wan's gaze and quickly turns around. The boy next to him frowns, brows screwed up in an unhappy twist, but he doesn't look up.

Obi-Wan shifts his weight casually, as he would as if peering around the room, but he only glances once more toward the Prime Minister and Dooku. They're still distracted - Dooku has one arm cross across his chest, the other hand to his chin. He's looking thoughtful at whatever it is the Prime Minister is saying. The other Kaminoans doesn't seem alarmed by Obi-Wan's proximity, and he discards them as a threat. Turning back around, Obi-Wan moves closer to the boy that had looked up.

"Hello," he says, pitching his voice gentle and soft the way he's learned from working with initiates. The boy shifts and then freezes for a moment before twisting his head warily to look back up at him. Mandalorian or not, he is a child. Obi-Wan smiles, mindful not to allow any teeth into it. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. What do you have there?" He inclines his head toward the simulation.

The boy regards him warily for a moment longer before glancing back at the screen like he expects it to have changed. "Sim'lation, sir," he murmurs, low and quiet like he's not sure what to make of Obi-Wan.

"Is that right?" Obi-Wan asks. Somehow he had expected a Kaminoan accent, if not the neutral Core accent commonly heard on holo - not a pure Mandalorian one fitting in a mouth not yet nimble enough to slot the more complex syllables together. "What kind of simulation?"

The boy is losing interest in both simulation and pretending to pay attention to it; Obi-Wan is providing a much more interesting distraction for such a young mind. "Ba'le, sir," he says, shifting in his seat to face Obi-Wan more directly, studying him with careful eyes.

"A battle simulation," he echoes lightly. "Do you like it?"

The boy hesitates and glances towards the other children; they're no help to him in answering the question. "Yes, sir?" he offers tentatively. Impulsive and uncertain, he adds:"'m getting better at it."

"That's good news," Obi-Wan says warmly. He senses the weight of Dooku's attention but ignores it, smiling down at the boy. "And what is your name, young one?"

"B5-99, sir," the boy chirps.

Something awful swoops in Obi-Wan's stomach. "B5-99?" he echoes, and the boy nods. The other children are taking notice of their conversation, though only one or two dare to look around at them. They all have identical faces and identical curious bright eyes, but though they have the same simple, bright presences all children have in the Force, Obi-Wan senses slight variations. Contrasted against each other in a tight group like this, the small differences are made more obvious; they'll grow even more so with experience. B5-99 is a bit dimmer than his brothers, a bit warier and more conscious of his surroundings.

Dooku's boots snap against the floor behind him. "Knight Kenobi," he drawls forbiddingly, a distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. Strange. "Is everything well?"

The breath in his lungs sticks for one moment. Then he turn and arches his brow at the old master, coming to a stop nearby with the Prime Minister. "Hm? Oh, yes, of course, Master Dooku," he says. "I was merely admiring the Kaminoans'... craftsmanship." This time when he smiles, it's all teeth. "I've just met this remarkable youngling. His name is B5-99."

Dooku barely even looks down at the child, giving Obi-Wan a hard stare and a stony expression; the steely walls of his Force presence seems to tower. If he means to shame or humble Obi-Wan by looking down on him as if he were merely a misbehaving initiate, he's going about it all wrong.

Goaded, feeling like he's chewing lightning or glass, Obi-Wan turns toward Prime Minister Lama Su and says: "As a matter of fact, I would be interested in taking this clone back to the Council, as a sample of his work."

His rash words shock the Kaminoans. Lama Su blinks at him, then blinks more, fruitlessly flexing his hands in the air; their guide and the attendant Kaminoans overseeing the boys' studies exchanged gormless glances with goggling eyes. They may be more astute at human emotional displays than Obi-Wan gave them for: his smile feels fit to shear his own head off his shoulders, it's so wide and sharp.

"Perhaps," Lama Su says delicately, in a clear attempt to be diplomatic, "a different unit would be a wiser choice, Knight Kenobi? One with fewer defects. In a few month's time, the first of the perfected template will be ready for their first treatment in the growth acceleration pods."

"Thank you, Prime Minister," Obi-Wan says, bowing, "but I really think that B5-99 would be perfect for the job. Don't worry - I will report everything you've told us here. They'll understand that you don't consider B5-99 the final, finished product." He cocks his head, arching one brow high. "Unless he is too vital to the program to part with?"

Lama Su shifted uneasily. "It is highly unusual, Knight Kenobi. Defective product is usually repurposed for the programs."

With a sour glance toward Obi-Wan, Dooku turns on them, slow and deliberate. "Surely other clients have requested samples of your work," he says, stony but reasonable. "We have paid you handsomely for their creation, have we not? Surely one would not be all that missed."

"I'm afraid you underestimate our records, Master Jedi," Lama Su says. After one more searching look between the two Jedi, they come to a decision. "Very well. Kuon Gi, please make the appropriate changes to the records. The Jedi have taken custody of the unit B5-99."

"Yes, Prime Minister," the other Kaminoan says.

Obi-Wan is aware that he has won a battle, but the war is still before him. He turns away from the Kaminoans and Dooku, dropping down to the boy's level. The boy's eyes are bright and wary, but not afraid. Obi-Wan wonders if the Kaminoans somehow stole that from him.

"Master Dooku and I are taking you with us," he says. "To another planet in another system. But we'll keep you safe, so don't worry."

"Yes, sir," the boy says promptly, and seriously, and then glances around toward the Kaminoans for instruction. Better could hardly be expected; Obi-Wan's seen younglings who flatly refused to listen to anyone but their creche master. He straightens as the third Kaminoan approaches and gestures the boy out of his chair.

"These are the Jedi," they say; their voice is higher in pitch than Lama Su or Kuon Gi. "You are to listen to their orders now."

The word has a strange ripple effect - all around the room, Obi-Wan senses the boys coming to attention. They feign attention to their battle simulators, but screens show missed hits and restarts. At Obi-Wan's hip, B5-99 visibile perks up and gawks at the two of them. It's not an uncommon reaction, but something about the bright light in the boy's eyes as he looks up at Obi-Wan sends some kind of terrible premonition trembling through him. He gets the terrible feeling that the young child is exceedingly dangerous.

You thought that of Anakin, too, Obi-Wan reminds himself, and - he wasn't wrong. Darth Vader is many things, several of them variations of dangerous. But they're working to put an end to that. It's the same for this child, too.

And so Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yan Dooku leave Tipoca City with a very young child in tow.

---

The moment they're aboard the cruiser and the door shuts behind them, Dooku flings his dripping hood from his head and turns on Obi-Wan. "You are a far worse Jedi than Qui-Gon Jinn has ever dreamed of being," he says scathingly, as if it's the worse insult he can think of giving.

"I'll take that as a compliment, master," Obi-Wan says lightly, as soon as he's finished biting the sharp edges off the words. If Obi-Wan can be half the Jedi that Qui-Gon is, he'll count himself in good company.

Ignoring the master for the moment, he unwraps his robe, freeing the small child stuck to his hip. While the boy gazed about the interior of the ship with undisguised curiosity, Obi-Wan focuses on the mess of his robes. They hadn't been at Tipoca City long enough for the thick cloth to begin drying, and it's completely soaked through now. He sheds it, dropping it to the floor with a wet slap and shaking excess water from his hands. His hair is thankfully still cropped short enough that it'll dry quickly.

Taking another moment to test the extent to which the rain had penetrated his clothing, Obi-Wan mildly says, "If the Kaminoans had anything even approaching ethics and morality, that place would be a cesspool of Dark forces."

Dooku stands in the doorway to the cockpit, arms folded forebodingly across his chest. The water dripping from his dark robe and beard ruin the look somewhat. "You mean human ethics and morality," he says sternly. "Which the Kaminoans, notably, are not."

"Mandalorians are," he shoots back. The courier is only a two-seater, but it comes equipped with an adjustable medical evacuation bed. The boy has found it, and is currently trying to get himself situated on it; with only two seats, it is the only place to secure him until they escape Kamino's turbulent atmosphere. Obi-Wan tries for a reassuring smile as he steps over to help strap him in. "Or near-human, anyway. Are we - as Jedi - ignoring what's being done to these children?"

"And you are so certain you are right about this," Dooku says, unimpressed. "You're making an emotional appeal. Are you so certain that your actions are not purely based on emotions, rather than rationality?" He doesn't let Obi-Wan answer to the accusation, continuing: "We came here on Council orders for proof that your pet Darksider was telling the truth - and as he seems to be, we will need soldiers to fight that war."

Obi-Wan straightens and pivots sharply. "Respectfully, master, it seems to be more wise to me if we head off that war, rather than committing to fighting it," he says coolly, eyeing the old master. Dooku remains stalwart, and the cold begins to bite at Obi-Wan, his damp clothes sticking. He steps forward, moving toward the cockpit that Dooku is blocking, and for a moment it seems as though Dooku won't give way.

Obi-Wan is forced to come to a halt well within reach of Dooku, as the master refuses to move; he looks up at the old master and arches his brow as high as it can go. Dooku looks down his nose at him, and only then, and slowly, does he shift to the side. Obi-Wan brushes by him and seats himself in the pilot's seat.

Dooku moves to sit in the other. "And you're so confident you can stop this war that you would discard the only army the Republic has," he says.

The dispassionate, pragmatic tone of the words stings Obi-Wan - perhaps all the worse because in the future, the children of Tipoca did become their army, and the Jedi did lead it. Was the decision made then dispassionate and pragmatic, too? Jedi are, after all, taught to organize, and taught to strategize - not with the intent of making them leaders, or generals, but so they can successfully navigate civil wars of sovereign planets, to guide leaders in making more level-headed decisions and de-escalate fraught situations.

In retrospect, it is an entirely perfect education to make them Generals themselves.

"It's not that I am confident of it, master," Obi-Wan says, "but that it must be avoided at all costs. We can not allow the Republic to go to war."

"Indeed? And yet the groundwork has already been laid," Dooku points out. "Tensions are on the rise. The Senate has proven weak; the Crisis of Naboo has seen to it that everyone is aware of that. The people are questioning if preserving the Republic is the correct choice to make."

Obi-Wan turns in his seat; Dooku has busied himself with the scanners and the navigation systems and doesn't given him the dignity of his full attention. "Nothing you've said requires an army to fix it," he says, "and certainly not the creation of one in this manner. The Senate will have to give audience to those who no longer believe in it, but civil war is not the answer."

"Clearly, the people of these systems feel differently," Dooku says. "But that is a discussion for a later time. We should report back to the Council - swiftly." His attention flickers briefly back to the child they have strapped into the medical evacuation bed.

He feels as though the discussion is far from over, but Obi-Wan inclines his head. "Point taken," he acknowledges, glancing over his shoulder. B5-99 looks comfortable, still peering curiously around the interior of the craft. Returning his attention to the controls, Obi-Wan starts the engines up and tries to find his center again.

Whether his emotions have gotten the best of him or not, he does know that the Clone Army must not be allowed to come to fruition - the Force itself assures him of that.

---

#timetraveling rots!vader au #better bonding through tea #small children!!!! small children everywhere OH GOD THEY'RE INVADING!!

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