The Chosen Apprentice/Chapter 4

Far removed from the grittiness of the Corporate Sector and the criminal elements it attracted, was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was well aware that was where Anakin was as they had spoken a few days earlier. Yet even then he had felt a tinge of pain when he had spoken with his former Padawan learner. Anakin seemed…distant and had been for the better part of a standard year. While it was a marked improvement from what Anakin had been like in the months following Padmé’s death, there still seemed to be something…missing.

Obi-Wan shook his head and dismissed his thoughts, sooner or later Anakin would report he had Viceroy Gunray and he would be returning to Coruscant. And while he hadn't told Anakin this, his stay was very likely to be a long one, given the nature Gunray’s trial would prove to be.

Yet now, to the task at hand. While not perhaps as exhilarating or dangerous as what Anakin was probably doing, Obi-Wan considered it to be just as important or perhaps even more so. For several months now he had been teaching young Jedi initiates in swordplay, something that he took a private pleasure in seeing the skills of his initiates develop.

It was a consequence of the Clone Wars really, that and what Dooku and Nju had done in the Temple on that unforgettable night three years ago. As Yoda had said more than once, there were far too many problems and too few Jedi. There was even growing talk of being more lenient in accepting potential Jedi for training, either way something would have to be done as there was enough strain on the existing Jedi as there was.

Even so, Obi-Wan had been somewhat surprised when Yoda had first approached him with the offer of teaching the young initiates in swordplay. Obi-Wan was quick to point out how someone else would be better until the little Jedi Master reminded him that Obi-Wan was revered in his own right for his prowess with a lightsaber, particularly his mastery of Form III.

The full extent of this hadn’t hit Obi-Wan fully until the first day of his teaching and a young Togruta walked up to him and asked if it was true that he killed General Grievous in the Clone Wars. When Obi-Wan confessed that this was true most of the other younglings had heard him and he was forced to spend a portion of his first lesson outlining the encounter on the Invisible Hand and later on Utapau. And somehow, when he noticed how impressed they were with the story, he managed to incorporate the beginning of his instruction to them even though things hadn’t gone exactly as he had planned.

Yet there had been some unexpected effects. There were times when he was constantly reminded of when he had first begun to train Anakin, particularly when some of the younglings just wouldn’t sit still. And more than once he caught himself repeating something that Qui-Gon or even Yoda had said to him and he had to force back the laughter.

There were also moments where he felt a certain satisfaction, somewhat akin to what he had felt when Anakin had passed his trials. Like the other day when the entire class was able to move through all the katas they knew in complete unison, and that was without him standing to one side calling them all out by name.

They were starting to come in now, Obi-Wan greeted a few before he took up his position at the front of the room and sat cross-legged on the floor. When they had all arrived he would guide them through a short meditation before beginning the lesson, and then the day could begin properly.



“Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to say that?” Bail Organa asked Mon Mothma.

The Chandrillan senator raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who started this whole thing Bail and now you’re holding back?”

Organa examined her for a long moment, she did have a point. It was a little over three years since the end of the Clone Wars, since then the Senate had formed a caretaker government headed by the former Vice-Chair and now Supreme Chancellor Mas Amedda. Bail had been reluctant to accept this at first, he had had suspicions that Amedda had long been in Palpatine’s camp. However, as Danta Pela pointed out quite bluntly, someone had to do it or they would be arguing until who knew when.

Amedda’s chief role as head of the caretaker government was to oversee the drafting of the new constitution which, after much bickering and factionalism, was now in its last stages. And when that was done, Mothma argued, Amedda’s purpose of being Chancellor should cease and they should propose to elect a new one. But Bail wasn’t so sure.

“I’m not holding back,” Bail argued, eying Danta and hoping the Gungan would back him up. “But we have to admit that not even we could anticipate the changes that are taking place. We’ve succeeded in urging for a less centralised government, something I never thought would have happened so soon. The question is,” Bail paused for a moment to find the right words, “is we have no indication that the new constitution will hold together. There’s already dissent about some of the clauses and it may be a while yet before we finally see it approved.”

“Yousa saying,” Danta interjected, “that if thees not hold together then there are thosa who will break away.”

Bail nodded. “Exactly,” he agreed, “and we’ll be right back where we were ten years ago, and we all know what happened there.”

Yet Mon Mothma was not convinced. Organa was not surprised, while she possessed the clearest head out of the three of them, she still did not understand certain political realities. There were some compromises you just had to make in order to get things done even if it was only on a temporary basis.

“I can see what you mean,” Bail said after a long moment of silence, “but it’s not really an option yet.” He let the word hang in the air for a moment before he continued. “Amedda’s not yet at the end of his term, and after what happened I don’t think it’s likely that the Senate will approve of extending his term without an election. We showed them what happens if that takes place.” He paused again, remembering that morning in the Senate three years ago when Amedda had called them to order without Palpatine present and Bail had displayed the hologram for all to see. The hologram that had been sent to him from the Jedi Temple the previous night. At first there had been shouts and jeers until he stepped in to present the information he had been given only that morning, especially who had sent it and what had happened to them.

“All right, I understand now.” Mon’s voice dispersed his thoughts and brought him back to the present. “I still have my reservations though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Don’t we all,” Bail agreed.



They were almost at Coruscant when Anakin decided to check on the Viceroy. Gunray was secure in the hold and Anakin had had to sedate him as the Neimoidian insisted on shouting at the top of his lungs and then thrashing about trying to get out of his restraints.

When he returned from the hold, Han Solo was leaning against one of the bulkheads, watching him curiously.

“How much are you getting for the Neimoidian?”

Anakin started at the question. “What?”

“Well, whoever wanted him is going to pay up big, I reckon,” Han said with a lop-sided grin. “So really, how much are you getting for bringing him in alive?”

“I'm not getting paid,” Anakin replied shortly, the thought had never even occurred to him. “I had to find him and bring him to the Capital so he could be tried.”

“Tried?” Solo stared at him incredulously. “What kinda job is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you?” Han winked at him. “You find someone, you catch them and then you bring them to…wherever. And I never heard of a bounty hunter who didn’t want to be paid.”

“I’m no bounty hunter,” Anakin said shortly, wanting the conversation to end then and there.

“But why else could you be having him in the hold?” Han persisted, following Anakin back into the cockpit. “What are you? A Jedi?”

“Yes.” Anakin wanted no further conversation and wondered why he had brought the boy on the ship at all.

Han was silent, he stared at him open mouthed for a few moments. “You’re…you’re serious?” he managed to say at last.

More as an attempt to get him to shut up than make a sensation, Anakin proved his point with action rather than words. He flicked his hand at the pilot’s chair, it span around quickly and then span back once he was inside it.

But Han wasn't impressed. “How do I know you just didn’t rig the chair to do that?” He looked sceptically at Anakin. “Show me something real, like one of those light-sword things.”

“I don’t have to prove myself to you,” Anakin snapped.

“But you do have one, don’t you?” Han pressed. “One of those really long glow rods than hums and can cut anything?”

“Shut up,” Anakin said, wanting to be rid of him then and there. Fortunately they were emerging from hyperspace in a matter of seconds. “I’ll have to leave you here,” he explained to Han so as he knew where they stood. “You know what you’re going to do once we get planetside?”

“Get somewhere where I can pilot until I have enough to go to the academy,” Han replied promptly.

“Military?” Anakin asked disinterestedly.

Han looked as him as if he were stupid. “No, the Starfleet.”

This caught Anakin by surprise. “Really?” This time he was genuinely interested.

“Yeah, they still want pilots I heard,” Han replied, smiling smugly at himself.

“So you think you can fly then?” Anakin asked him.

“Think I can fly?” Han stared at him as if he had been done serious injury. “Hey, I’ve been doing this since before I could walk, they’ll be jumping out of their skulls to get me.”

Anakin smiled quietly. “Let’s see then,” he said.

“What?”

Anakin still wasn't sure why he was doing this; a moment ago he was ready to strangle Solo. “We’ll be coming out of hyperspace in a moment,” he told him. “Let’s see you take her in.”

“You mean it?” Han sounded doubtful.

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn't,” Anakin replied, he glanced at the hyperspace counter. “Entering realspace in five,” he said, “get ready to cut the sublights.”

Han compiled and then Anakin let him take over the controls. He started slowly, gradually feeling his way and then moving more into the moment. It’s a strange feeling when you suddenly realise that not only that someone’s assertions about themselves are not only true, but that they understate what they actually are. Solo was a natural, watching him pilot the ship was something like seeing himself back at the controls of his podracer or in the midst of a space battle. Yet he chose to say nothing, instead he fired up the com unit.

“This is the Satyr,” he said to whoever happened to be monitoring that day, “I believe we have a Blue Code Clearance.”

There was a pause and then the crackle of static. “Acknowledged, you are clear to land Jedi Skywalker.”

“I’ll take over from here,” Anakin took the yoke without any further ceremony.

Han stared at him, his mouth agape with astonishment.

Anakin shrugged. “Well, you didn’t believe me.”



When he had got word that the Satyr was coming in, Obi-Wan immediately went to the docking bay where it was expected. It wasn't in the Temple; it would get there later once the Republic shocktroopers who were with him took Viceroy Gunray. Even though there was no official confirmation, Obi-Wan knew that the Neimoidian would be on board. After all, Anakin didn’t know how to fail.

His suspicions proved right when Anakin walked down the ramp with his prisoner in tow. In a way it was a familiar scene, Anakin returning to Coruscant with some fugitive and shortly thereafter setting off to find another one.

Not this time, Obi-Wan thought as he nodded to the troopers, this time I’ll be able to talk to him, but I don’t know if he’ll listen.

Coming after Anakin was someone else; a boy aged about fifteen that he did not recognise. Anakin had taken on a passenger? Yet should have expected anything else? The only time Anakin ever reached for the Jedi rule book was to throw it away.

Obi-Wan managed a smile as he greeted Anakin, but he noticed that it wasn't returned. There had been a time when Anakin would have greeted his former Master with some comment about how he was late, or that he hoped Obi-Wan had brought something to eat. But that belonged to an Anakin that no longer existed and sometimes Obi-Wan wondered if that person he had once known had died with Padmé. Anakin was still his friend, and the trust beyond all reason still existed between them. But it was different, made different by a loss Obi-Wan knew he probably could never completely understand.

He was clean shaven—he had shaved off the stubble on the way over so Obi-Wan couldn’t comment on it—and in his Jedi attire even though they were significantly darker than Obi-Wan’s clothing.

“You needed help, I see?” Obi-Wan nodded to the boy loitering behind Anakin.

“Oh, him,” Anakin said as if it was of no consequence, he turned back for a moment, “this is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he introduced, “he’s the Jedi to call if you want to get your boots shined.”

A remark that was characteristic of Anakin, yet made with a complete deadpan that was not intended to be taken as humorous.

Obi-Wan ignored this as he shook hands.

“Han Solo,” the boy said, “I…uh…helped him out a bit on Etti IV.” He examined Obi-Wan for a long moment. “I…I think I've heard about you, sir.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Well if it’s come from Anakin, it’s probably anything but good.” He gave a nod to his former apprentice. “We have to get going, you’re expected.”

Anakin sighed. “I know, I know,” he said in exasperation, he looked at Han. “Well, I hope it all goes well with you.”

“Yeah,” Han said, feeling a bit deflated. “Yeah thanks, and thanks for the ride out.”

“Don’t mention it,” Anakin said, then without a backward glance he followed Obi-Wan into the waiting airspeeder and they were gone.