The Chosen Apprentice/Chapter 10

In a sleazy tapcaf in a section of Coruscant no one ever went willingly, Shinai Stel-Ardak met his contact. He sat in a booth at the back, his eyeless visage hidden by a pair of reflecting goggles. Yet Shinai wore them not for any aesthetic reasons, he just didn’t want to be noticed and even on Coruscant seeing a Miralukan like himself was apt to stay in a few memories.

It had been five years since he had been on the Capital world. Five years since the wound and fall on Avingnon that had almost meant his death. And would have been his death if it were not for the selfless actions of the woman who now called herself his wife. Martreyea Kittern. She had risked much treating him, had lost her job in the field hospital in the process. Martreyea was more than his wife, she was the mother of his son Arrin, and it was for their sake that Shinai had not revealed to the Jedi Order that he had in fact survived.

Shinai’s his return to Coruscant was strictly business. Ever since Shinai had taken on ‘jobs’ that were within his capabilities. He still had his lightsaber, more out of consequence than anything. He still used the Force, but more out of habit than choice. Yet he no longer considered himself a Jedi, and he was generally known as a bounty hunter, or perhaps a mercenary or Jedi-for-hire.

Yet Shinai no longer considered the motives or ideas behind what he did. He merely did what needed to be done and got paid for his work which meant he could support his family. It was the pleas of Martreyea that had made him take on this job, and he had left her with his son in their cramped apartment while he negotiated with the contact.

Shinai knew his contact, he recognised him when he entered the room yet he had no idea who he represented. He was a Zabrak, his black hair was cut short about his ears and one of his cranial horns was missing. Shinai still did not know his name but that was unimportant, if the Zabrak wished to remain unnamed that was his business.

“You were not followed?” the Zabrak asked, sinking into the booth opposite Shinai.

“Of course not,” Shinai spat.

The arrival of the waiter droid prohibited conversation for several minutes, when the droid returned with their drinks the Zabrak spoke again.

“I have here your target,” the Zabrak said, leaving his Corellian ale untouched. “He’s a senator.”

“That won’t be easy,” Shinai told him, dipping his finger in the blue liquid of his drink.

“My employer understands that,” the Zabrak replied. “He is willing to pay half now and half later.”

“How much?” Shinai asked.

The Zabrak named an amount, Shinai considered it for a moment.

“Your employer must be very keen to get my services,” he said at last.

“He has heard of your exploits, and is willing to pay for the privilege of you working for him,” the Zabrak explained.

Shinai considered the offer for a moment longer.

“You have a deal,” he said finally. “I need the information on the target.”

The Zabrak slipped a datacard across the table. “My employer insists that I tell you that this is not a kill or capture.”

Shinai stared at him. “So what does he want me to do then?”

“All you need is to scare the senator,” the Zabrak replied. “Kill a few of the guards if you have to but the senator must remain alive, only then will you get the remainder of your fee.”

“I understand.” Shinai stood up and placed the datacard in his pocket. “And my pay now?”

“It will be transferred into your account,” the Zabrak said, picking up his drink. “Unless there is a change, I will not be seeing you again. Everything else you need to know is on there.”

Shinai didn’t reply as he left the tapcaf.



Master Kenobi was late, yet those in his class seemed not to worry. Sooner or later the Jedi Master would be along and the lesson would begin. For now they sat on the padded floor and talked amongst themselves.

The display of the lambent poppies had been several nights ago, yet it was still a worn topic of conversation, especially given Master Yoda’s lecture on the morning following the event. Yet while she joined in the discussion with her friends, Sona Cantari had something else in her mind as well: Anakin Skywalker. The Jedi who had caught her eye during the show which was why she had spoken to him afterwards. She knew his name, almost everyone did. He was known also as ‘the Chosen One’, though she didn’t know what that meant.

“I thought it was sad how there was no one else there but us,” said Sona’s friend Jenai Yana, she was a gold-skinned humanoid with eyes of a bright purple.

“Master Yoda said that quite a lot of Jedi had already seen it,” pointed out Drell Ven, a young Togruta. “There should really be no surprise.”

There was a murmur of agreement yet Sona felt she just had to protest.

“There was someone else there,” she said, she had spoken very quietly yet they all turned to look at her.

“Who?” Jenai asked. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“I did,” Sona replied, wishing she hadn’t spoken. “It was Jedi Skywalker, he was hiding.”

“Hiding?” Drell stared at her. “Why would he need to hide for? Do you think it’s true he killed a Sith Lord?”

“I don’t know,” Jenai confessed, “perhaps we should ask Master Kenobi, he ought to know.”

“Sorry I am late,” Obi-Wan’s voice floated into the room as he entered, the class rose and bowed to him. He waved them to sit on the floor and he did the same. “No time for anything else today,” he said, “we’ll get started. Who wants to lead?”

Sona crossed her legs and closed her eyes, stilling her mind to let the Force fill her. Yet she would not forget the name Anakin Skywalker.



A droid on a mission, R2-D2 trundled through the Jedi Temple, his dome rotating as he inspected each room in turn. Finally he stopped in the map room, tottering slowly up to a figure seated on the floor and whined softly.

Anakin opened his eyes, even though Danta Pela had given him the astromech droid he avoided Artoo as much as he avoided Threepio.

“What is it Artoo?” he asked impatiently.

The little droid gave a low moan, moved into Anakin’s line of vision and rotated his dome. Anakin sighed. “What do you want?” he demanded. “You know I can’t really understand you unless Threepio is here.”

Artoo made a soft whistle and then his holoprojector started to glow. On the floor he started to project a figure in a long white dress, her hair hidden by a hood.

Anakin paled. It looked like…it had to be….it was…

“Anakin, Obi-Wan sent this message to me from Geonosis,” the hologram said. “I thought you might want to take a look at it.”

A soft female voice…her dark eyes peering from beneath the hood…she was so close…he could almost touch…

“TURN IT OFF!” Anakin screamed, running from the room in a temper.

He kept running until he was at one of the outside balconies, ignoring the questioning stares of those he passed. He collapsed on the floor, pressing his hands against the cold tiles, screwing up his face so the tears wouldn’t come. Yet come they did.

Why had Artoo shown him that message? Why had Artoo even kept the recording? A part of him wanted to find the little droid and erase it from his databanks then and there. Maybe, with that small act he could erase some of the pain that still radiated through his body.

But he knew he couldn’t, for committing that message to oblivion would erase also all that was left of Padmé. The same reason why he still held onto the pain years after the event, he couldn’t let it go as he feared if he did he would forget Padmé and he could never, ever allow himself to forget her.

He paused, surprised at his thoughts. Is that really the reason? He considered it for a moment longer. Could he bring himself to put aside his pain? Let Padmé go? He knew that as a Jedi he had to accept change as it came, he had done so grudgingly in the past but he considered this to be different.

Is it? Anakin wondered if he had been right about this.

“Jedi Skywalker?”

A soft voice made Anakin turn his head. There was a crowd of small children gathered behind him, most of them look scared. Yet the one in front, a girl with dark eyes and her hair in a long braid did not. It was she who had spoken.

Suddenly he realised he was still lying on the floor; Anakin got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“Yes,” he said absently, avoiding the girl’s penetrating gaze. Where had he seen her before? “I am fine, thanks,” he told her. “Fine,” he repeated, yet he did not know what for.

“Move along now, nothing to see here,” said another voice, it was Obi-Wan. “Anakin, is there anything wrong?”

Anakin didn’t answer, avoiding Obi-Wan’s eye he watched the children go. The one who had spoken looked back at him and he remembered where he had seen her, the other night in the garden. What was her name? Sona, wasn't it?

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice interrupted his thoughts, he still didn’t answer. Down the corridor, a chrono struck the hour. “Come on,” he said, taking Anakin firmly by the arm and pulling him along. “We’ll get something to eat, and you can decide if you want to tell me why you look like something gundarks messed with.”

For once Anakin didn’t protest, he simply allowed Obi-Wan to lead him.



But whatever had been on Anakin’s mind, he had not revealed it to Obi-Wan. All he had learned that it somehow involved R2-D2, but Obi-Wan had not pressed him. He had merely said to Anakin that if he decided to tell him what had happened that he would be willing to listen. Anakin then made his excuses and Obi-Wan went off to the Jedi Council chamber.

In the turbolift up he met Bant Eerin.

“I heard Anakin was quite upset this morning,” the Mon Calamari said.

Obi-Wan stared at her. “You did? But how could you know?”

Bant laughed. “How could I not know, Obi-Wan? He ran so fast past me that he almost knocked me over! I hope you can tell me what it was about.”

“I am afraid I can’t,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Bant teased.

“Of course I know,” Obi-Wan replied impatiently. “But I don’t know what happened in that case.”

He was silent, Bant’s orange flipper gently touched Obi-Wan’s arm.

“Sometimes,” he said with a sigh as the doors opened, “I just don’t know what to do with him.”



Obi-Wan gave his report the Council on the meeting with Senator Stokra, if meeting was the word to use to describe the encounter. Yoda listened to the report without expression, yet when Obi-Wan had finished his face screwed up as if he had eaten something horrid.

“Cowardly this Senator Stokra is,” he murmured, “plot in the shadows he does yet meet us directly he will not.”

“I think that if Anakin had not been with me he may not have seen us at all,” Obi-Wan added.

Shaak Ti shook her head decidedly. “He knows that we cannot confront him, and our options are limited for any action that needs to be taken.”

Yet Yoda seemed not to agree with this. “Spoken I have with Chancellor Amedda,” he said, smiling softly. “Suggested he has a way for the Jedi to be seen doing good for the Republic.”

“In what way?” Saesee Tiin asked.

“Concerns it does the trial of Viceroy Gunray,” Yoda explained.

Obi-Wan looked confused. “But I thought that it was in the best interests of the Jedi not to intervene with this.”

“Interesting you ask, Obi-Wan,” Yoda observed dryly. “Asked for you he has.”

Obi-Wan blinked. Me?