The Rising Force (2 page)

Bruck hoped to become Qui-Gon‘s Padawan! And the only way to do it was to make sure that Obi-Wan failed. He‘d tried to keep him from preparing, and now he was trying to make him mad. Obi-Wan‘s anger, his

impatience, had been his downfall often enough in the past Bruck hoped to

fill his mind with rage and despair so that he would not be open to the

Force.

Obi-Wan had been raised in the Jedi Temple since he was a baby. He hadn‘t seen much of greed or hatred or true evil. The Masters shielded the children from such things, the keep them from turning to the dark

side of the Force.

Yet now Obi-Wan saw into the heart of ruthlessness. Bruck was plotting to steal his dreams.

He could not let him know how important Qui-Gon‘s visit was to him. He could not let Bruck know how he‘d caused the fear to rise in him, fear that he would never be a Padawan.

Obi-Wan smiled. ―Bruck, three months from now, when you turn thirteen, I hope you‘ll make a great farmer.‖ It was the single worst insult that he could muster, to suggest that Bruck‘s mastery of the Force

was so small that he would be fit only for the Agricultural Corps.

Bruck leaped toward him with a snarl, his lightsaber held high.

Obi-Wan spun to meet him with a cry on his lips. Flashing blades clashed in a burst of light and buzzing sound as the boys met in the room‘s center.

Weary as they were, the boys fought until they could hardly move. By the time they crept from the training room, both boys were badly burned and bruised.

Neither had won, and both had lost.

As Obi-Wan headed to his chamber, Bruck took a lift to the upper rooms of the Temple, where the healers practiced their arts. He limped

into the medic‘s chambers, pretending to be more hurt than he was. His

clothes were slashed and singed from the practice sabers, and blood ran

from his nose.

When the medic saw him, their first question was, ―What happened?‖ Bruck gasped, ―Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . ― and then pretended to faint.

One of the healers looked at him, then said brusquely to a droid,

―Go notify the Masters.‖

Obi-Wan Kenobi was bandaging his burns in his room when he got the bad news. He was trying to imagine ways to impress Qui-Gon in the

morning. He considered ways to improve his fighting skills – anything he

might say or do to convince the Knight that he was worthy to become a Jedi‘s Padawan Learner. But then Docent Vant brought a data pad and showed him his orders.

Suddenly all his plans and dreams were shattered.

―Here now, it isn‘t that horrible.‖ Docent Vant said. She was a

tall blue-skinned woman with an elegant headtail that twitched nervously.

Obi-Wan stared at the orders in shock. The data pad told him that he would ship out of the Temple in the morning. He needed to pack his bags.

He was to report to the world of Bandomeer -- some planet he‘d never even heard of , out on the Galactic Rim. There he would join the Agricultural Corps.

―But I don‘t understand,‖ he said numbly. ―I still have four weeks until my birthday.‖

―I know,‖ Docent Vant said. ―But your ship, the Monument, leaves tomorrow, with a thousand miners aboard. It can‘t wait just because you have a birthday.‖

In shock, Obi-Wan looked around at his room. Overhead, three model Verpine fighters droned near the ceiling. He‘d made them himself. Repulsorlift fields held them aloft, and their running lights flashed

purple and green as they hummed about. Miniature insectoid pilots swiveled their heads, as if to look around. Books and charts were piled on his study table. His lightsaber hung in its usual place on the wall.

He couldn‘t imagine leaving here. It was his home. But he would leave it

all gladly for the hard life of an apprentice. Not a farmer!

He would never be a Knight now. Bruck had been right, Obi-Wan thought bitterly.

Yoda had been trying to make him feel better.

The shock and despair made him feel sick He raised his gaze to

Docent Vant. ―I could still be a Jedi Knight.‖

Docent Vant touched Obi-Wan‘s hand tenderly. She smiled, revealing pointed teeth. She shook her head. ―Not every one is meant to be a warrior. The Republic needs healers and farmers, too. With your Force

skills, you will be able to treat sick crops. Your talent will help feed

whole worlds.‖

―But –― Obi-Wan wanted to say that he felt cheated. He deserved four more weeks. ―It‘s a job for rejects, initiates too weak to be knights. Besides, tomorrow Qui-Gon Jinn will be looking for a Padawan. Master Yoda said that I should fight for him.‖

Docent Vant shook her head. ―That was before the Masters heard of the beating you gave initiate Bruck. Did you really think the healers would not tell what you had done?"

In dawning horror, Obi-Wan realized what had happened. Bruck had set the trap, and he had walked straight into it. He wanted to protest, to say that he was innocent. It had been a fair fight. And healers?

Surely Bruck had not needed healers – except to back up whatever story he

had told.

―This is not the first time you have let your anger get the best of you,‖ Docent Vant said. ―But let us hope it is the last.‖ She nodded briskly. ―Now, try not to look so sad. You will need to pack your bags

and say good-bye to your friends tonight. The galaxy is a big place. They

will want to see you before you go.‖

She left, closing the door softly behind her. Obi-Wan was left alone with only the sound of the model fighter flying overhead.

There was nothing else to do but pack his bags. Obi-Wan felt to devastated and ashamed to say good-bye. Not to Garen Muln or Reeft, or even to his best friend, Bant. They would feel angry and hurt if he left

quietly, but he couldn‘t face them. His friends would want to know where

he was going. Once he had told them that he had been ordered to report to

the Agricultural Corps, word would get around. He could imagine how some

of the others would laugh, There was nothing he could say or do to clear his name.

Because the truth was that if Bruck had set the trap, he had walked into it willingly. Blindly and without though, perhaps. But it was his

own will that led him there. What kind of Jedi would he make if he could fall for the tricks of a bully like Bruck?

Obi-Wan threw himself back on his sleep-couch. He had let Master Yoda down. He had thrown away his one last chance by letting anger cloud his mind. Now his worst fear had come true. After all his years of training, he was not good enough to be a Jedi Knight.

Yoda had always told him that anger and fear drove him too hard, that if he didn‘t learn to control them, they would lead him down a path he didn‘t want to follow. ―Befriend them, you should,‖ Yoda had advised.

―Look them in the eye without blinking. Use faults as teachers, you

should. Then, rule you, they will not. Rule them, you shall.‖

Yoda‘s wisdom was engraved on his heart. How could he have failed

to follow it?

Outside his door, he heard the rest of the initiates prepare for sleep.

Goodnights were exchanged, shouted from chamber to chamber. Finally, the lights powered down, and the halls were silent.

Obi-Wan felt surrounded by the peaceful energy of the sleeping students. It did not sooth his raging heart. His fellow initiates could rest. They did not have thoughts that tormented them. Obi-Wan tossed and

turned, unable to stop imagining the sight of Bruck‘s triumphant face

when he learned of Obi-Wan‘s fate.

There was a soft knock at his door. Hesitantly, Obi-Wan rose and opened it.

Bant stood, not saying a word, just looking at him. The young

Calamarian girl wore a green robe that set off her salmon colored skin. Her clothes smelled moist and salty, for she‘d just come from her room, which was always kept as steamy as the air off a warm sea. She was small

for her ten years of age, and she watched him steadily with her huge silver eyes.

She took in his bruises and burns, all with an expression that said, You‘ve been fighting again. Then she looked past him, to his bags packed on the floor.

―You weren‘t going to say goodbye?‖ she asked, blinking back huge tears. ―You were just going to leave?‖

―I‘ve been assigned to the Agricultural Corps,‖ he said, hoping she‘d understand hoe humiliating it was for him. ―I wanted to say good- bye, but . . . ―

She shook her head. ―I heard you were going to a planet called

Bandomeer.‖

So everyone knew already. Obi-Wan nodded dully just as Bant lurched forward to give him a clumsy hug.

―Yes, that‘s where I‘m going,‖ he said. He hugged her. So, my fate is decided, he realized in despair. I will be a farmer. Because this first good-bye would be followed by others. He couldn‘t avoid them.

Bant frowned and stepped back. ―It will be dangerous. Did they tell you it would be dangerous?‖

Obi-Wan shook his head. ―It‘s just the Agricultural Corps. How dangerous could it get?‖

―We are not to know,‖ Bant said.

―We are to do,‖ Obi-Wan added softly. It was a phrase they had heard many times from the Masters, when they were asked to do tasks that they could not understand the significance of.

―Miss you, I will,‖ Bant said, echoing Yoda‘s strange way of

talking. She blinked back tears.

―So sorry, I am,‖ Obi-Wan answered. He tried to smile, but could not. In answer, Bant hugged him again swiftly, then hurried away to hide her tears.

With the help of Jedi healing techniques and the Temple‘s marvelous ointments, Obi-Wan Kenobi‘s burns and bruises were healed by morning. But the pain in his heart had not eased. He slept briefly, then rose well

before dawn.

He said good-bye to Garen Muln and Reeft, two boys from different sides of the galaxy who had become inseparable in their years in the Jedi Temple.

All through morning meal, Reeft, a Dresselian with an abnormally wrinkled face, kept saying to everyone at the table, ―I don‘t mean to be sound greedy, but may I have your meat?‖ or ―I don‘t mean to sound greedy, but . . .‖ as he looked pointedly at some puff cake or drink.

Though Obi-Wan had not had dinner the night before, he shared everything.

Bant kindly handed over half her puff cake.

With his leathery gray skin and all those wrinkles, the Dresselian could look awfully sad if he did not get everything he wanted to eat.

―It won‘t be so bad,‖ Garen Muln told Obi-Wan. ―At least you‘re going on an adventure.‖ Garen Muln had always been restless. Yoda had often given him extra stillness exercises.

―And you‘ll be around food,‖ Reeft added hopefully.

―Who knows where each of us will end up?‖ Bant added. ―The missions to come will be different for each of us.‖

―And unexpected,‖ Garen Muln agreed. ―That‘s what Yoda says. Not everyone is meant to be an apprentice.‖

Obi-Wan nodded. It was good that he had given Reeft most of his food. He couldn‘t eat. He knew his friends were trying to make him feel better. But they still had plenty of chances to become Jedi. That highest

honor was what they all wanted, all they worked for. No matter what they said, they all knew his lost chance was crushing disappointment.

Around him, Obi-Wan heard the swirl of conversations at the other tables.

Students looked over at him, then looked away. Most gazes were compassionate, and some tried to cheer him. But he sensed that the overwhelming feeling in the room was that everyone was glad that what had happened to Obi-Wan had not happened to them.

At Bruck‘s table, the voices were loud and reached their ears.

―Always knew he wouldn‘t make it,‖ Bruck‘s friend Aalto said loudly. Obi-

Wan‘s ears burned as he heard Bruck‘s high snicker. He turned, and Bruck

stared at him, daring him to pick another fight.

―Don‘t mind him,‖ Bant said. ―He‘s a fool.‖

Obi-Wan turned away and finished his meal, just as a huge black Barabel fruit plopped on the table near his tray. Juice from the fruit splattered on Bant and Garen Muln. Obi-Wan glared over at Bruck, who had come halfway across the room to throw it.

―Plant it, Oafy,‖ Bruck said. ―I hear they‘ll grow just about anywhere.‖

Obi-Wan started to rise from his chair, but Bant put a hand over his and held him down, trying to calm him.

Obi-Wan smiled at Bruck, keeping himself in control. He want to anger me, Obi-Wan knew. He hopes to anger me. How often in the past have others played me like this, making me lose the chance to become a Padawan?

Obi-Wan held his anger, and merely smiled at Bruck. Yet a white-hot fury was building inside him.

Just then, Reeft muttered, ―I don‘t mean to sound greedy, but are you going to eat that Barabel fruit?‖

Obi-Wan nearly burst out laughing. ―Thank you, Bruck,‖ he said, scraping the fruit off the table and placing it in a cup. ―The people of Bandomeer will be honored when I share with them your gift – the gift from one farmer to another.‖

In the upper room of the Jedi Temple, Master Yoda argued with the senior members of the Jedi Council. They were meditating in a huge greenhouse, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where fountains and waterfalls streamed through an emerald forest

Outside, the surface of Coruscant was hidden by black storm clouds.