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Family Portrait
A Jedi Quest Novella
Go to Part 2.
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Drop FernWithy a note...FernWithy@aol.com.
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Back to Fan Fiction.
Star Wars belongs to LFL.
Chapter 1

Anakin Skywalker pressed his advantage.

He pushed his enemy across the catwalk that extended over the lake, countering her quick and graceful style with simple and economical movements.  A duel is not a performance, as Obi-Wan told him frequently.  Extraneous movement will only show your weakness.

A surge of energy in the Force and a flash of light almost too quick to see were his only warnings when his enemy suddenly took the initiative.  She was up and driving him backward before he could respond with more than a clumsy block.  His heel hit the edge of the catwalk, and he fell backward, the rough steel digging into his elbows as he caught himself with a jarring thud.

A violet lightsaber was pointed at his throat and his enemy stood calmly above him, her hood hiding her face.  "Will you surrender?" she asked quietly.

"Never."  Anakin swiped at the blade with his own and managed to roll further back, but a blur of yellow light on his right side blocked off his escape.  He felt a wrench in his right hand as the energy of the beams caught and locked, then the powerful tug as his lightsaber was pulled from his hand, leaving him prone and disarmed.

"Surrender, Anakin.  You're beaten."

Anakin closed his eyes, blocking her from his sight and his mind, and reaching out into the Force around him.  As always, it seemed to reach back in a welcoming way.  He let it flow into him.  When he felt strong again, he reached out his right hand, and called his lightsaber to him.  It flew from her hand and landed in his as he flipped upward and landed on the rail of the catwalk.

"Impressive!"

"I'm just getting started."

He swung at her, and she had to turn away to block it.  He took the opportunity to jump down from the rail and find surer footing.  But she was quick.  She swung her saber in a sharp arc.  He barely had time to fall to his knees and raise his lightsaber over his head to block it.  Again, she used her blade to wrench his weapon from his hands, this time ripping it into thin air.

He heard it clatter against the rail, and lunged for it -- too late.  He watched it fall, end over end, into the shrubbery at the lake's manufactured shore.  He sighed, and turned around.  "Fine, you win."

She laughed aloud, and pushed her hood back, revealing the silky blonde hair and fine, kind face that Anakin had secretly admired since meeting her.  Siri Tachi put her lightsaber away, then reached a hand down to him to help him up.  "Sorry about your elbows."

He examined them.  The skin was split in a couple of places from their scrape against the catwalk, and he bet he'd get good sized bruises out of it, but there was no real harm done.  "I've done worse."  He stood up and dusted himself off.  "You should have seen me after a few pod crashes."

"I'm going to get you to Malastare someday and see this business for myself."

"You'd love it.  It's really rugged.  I'll get you to Tatooine someday, and show you a real podrace."

Siri rolled her eyes, then lowered herself down to sit on the edge of the catwalk and look over the lake.  She reached out casually and Anakin's lightsaber jumped up into her hand.  She gave it to him.  "You're good for me, Anakin.  Better for Obi-Wan, but very good for me."

"Good for him?"

She smiled and ruffled his hair, which annoyed him, but didn't entirely surprise him.  Siri had spent several years undercover, trying to bring down a slaver, and she had picked up some habits that often seemed out of place among the Jedi.  She certainly tended to be more affectionate than Obi-Wan, or even Bant, if also still quicker to fight than either.  "He needs to be challenged sometimes."

"Well, I guess I'm pretty good at that."

"And speaking of challenges," she said, picking up her lightsaber, "shall we have another go at this?"

Anakin was usually eager for lightsaber practice -- he actually enjoyed it, in its own way -- but he shook his head.  "No.  Obi-Wan will want to practice after his meeting.  He'll let me win if he thinks you've been beating me all day."

"I'm astounded.  Obi-Wan Kenobi lets you win?"

"Sometimes."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure. I want to beat him fair. Then he gets this funny look on his face and all the sudden something opens up."

"You should spite him and not take the opening."

"I tried that once.  I got in trouble for it."

Siri looked fascinated.  "Really?  I wonder what he's trying to teach you."

"I guess to take a window of opportunity, if it happens to open."

"Somehow I doubt it.  That's not particularly good Jedi philosophy.  We examine the window thoroughly before going through it.  Otherwise, it might be a trap."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know.  I suppose you're not meant to realize that he's letting you win.  Maybe he means to teach you how to win a duel without entirely destroying your opponent.  You do tend to do that."

Anakin looked down.  Siri had seen him fight, and he suspected that she knew -- in a way Obi-Wan simply couldn't -- how it was with him once he got started.  Sometimes, trying to stop fighting was like trying to stop a sandstorm that was bearing down on him, only harder.  "Maybe," he muttered.

Siri's hand touched his shoulder.  "I'm sorry, Anakin.  It isn't my place to try and interpret your Master's teachings, and his reasoning may be quite different.  He may simply enjoy seeing you succeed."

"It's all right," he said, patting her hand.  It felt good to be able to do that sometimes.  "Are you going to take a padawan of your own?"

Her eyes grew far away.  "I'd like to.  I look around, I see the children.  But I'm not ready.  I don't know how to be a master.  I watch Obi-Wan, and I'm frequently somewhat mystified about what he's doing."

"So am I," Anakin said.

"Ah, but you're the padawan.  You're supposed to be mystified and trying to understand your Master's mind.  I'm a Knight.  I'm supposed to know."

"I think Obi-Wan doesn't know half the time."

He'd meant it to reassure her, but it seemed to annoy her instead.  She frowned.  "Obi-Wan is giving a great deal to your training, and fights battles in your defense quite frequently.  It is not the place of a padawan to --"

Anakin waved a surrender.  "Okay, all right.  I know.  I just think you ought to take a padawan, is all.  I think you'd be just as good at it."

"Maybe so.  My expectations are rather high."  She winked.  "Besides, how could I ever hope to compete with Obi-Wan?  Not everyone can train the Chosen One."

She tilted her head back reverently and affected such an exaggerated attitude of piety that even Anakin had to laugh at her joke, though he usually found the prophecy more frightening than amusing.  It was sometimes overwhelming to have people think he was destined to do something he didn't even understand.

He was trying to think of something to say when the comm-link hooked to his belt let out a sharp beep.  He picked it up.  "Skywalker."

Obi-Wan, as usual, didn't bother with preliminaries.  "Anakin, where are you?"

"The Lake.  Remember, I was practicing with Siri?"

A brief sigh.  Obi-Wan didn't seem to like it particularly well when Anakin practiced with Siri, but he hadn't prohibited it.  "Yes.  Of course.  Is Siri still with you?"

Siri leaned over the comm-link.  "No, she's long gone."

"Amusing," Obi-Wan said, though he didn't sound the least bit amused.  "But my Padawan was due outside the Council room ten minutes ago."

Siri arched an eyebrow at him.  "You neglected to mention that you were expected."

Anakin hadn't noticed how late it was -- he'd been having fun with Siri -- but he knew that either they wouldn't believe him or that it would be the cause of a lecture about being aware of one's surroundings at all times.  So he just said, "I apologize for being late.  I'll come immediately."

"It's as well you're with Siri," Obi-Wan said.  "Yoda would like to speak to all three of us."


Chapter 2

"Impatient you are, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan looked across the Council Chamber at Yoda.  "Is it that obvious, Master?"

"Try to hide your feelings, you should not.  Control them instead, you should."

"Yes, Master."

Yoda gave him a rare smile. He almost never offered advice on training Anakin directly, but he often offered it in the form of critiques of Obi-Wan's own behavior.  "Concerned about his friendship with Siri, you are?"

"No, Master, of course not."

The smile twisted into a frown.  "You are, yes you are.  Worry so much, you do not, when he is running freely on Coruscant."

Obi-Wan chose not to answer that accusation.  He had become stricter about Anakin's outside activities since the disaster with the garbage pit racing, but he was not as strict as the Council would have him be.  Yoda was determined to stop the unauthorized visits around Coruscant; Mace Windu wanted his droids and gadgets taken away.  Obi-Wan had tried both, but Anakin had become desperately unhappy.  He'd tried to cover it up, but Obi-Wan could feel it through their bond, and see it in the disorientation and malaise that suddenly pervaded Anakin's work.  Normally voraciously curious -- almost frighteningly so -- and able to grasp intellectual concepts on a single hearing, Anakin was stumbling over even the simplest things.

This had seemed to Obi-Wan to be counterproductive, so, after much soul-searching and a very uncomfortable closed conference with the Council, he had returned all of Anakin's droids, most of his gadgets, and one free afternoon a week to explore the more respectable areas of Coruscant.  Obi-Wan had half-feared that his apprentice would see the limitation only, but Anakin had been overjoyed, and -- despite Yoda's fears -- had spent nearly half his free afternoons in museums and libraries.  He had as vast an appetite for high culture as he had for low, and, like everything else to which he applied himself, he absorbed it with astonishing speed.  It had surprised Obi-Wan the first time Anakin sat across from him at dinner talking about the split between Classical Gigantism and Neobrutalism in Naboo art and architecture -- in the same enthusiastic tone he used to describe a particularly attractive new starship model -- but it had become routine rather quickly, and now Obi-Wan took as a matter of course that Anakin knew more about those subjects than he did.

"Coming, they are," Yoda said, pointing his gimer stick toward the window.  Obi-Wan could see Anakin and Siri moving out into a glass-ceilinged walkway below, headed for the turbolift.  They were speaking with one another in an animated way.

When he spoke to Siri, Anakin still used words like "wizard" and "rugged."  His hands moved a great deal and his face was lively.  Obi-Wan recognized this for what it was -- one of Anakin's weirdly sincere forms of flirtation (that was a weakness that would have to be dealt with before long) -- but it still stabbed him.  Anakin never seemed quite so happy to see him.

"Jealous, you are?" Yoda asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Perhaps a bit.  I recall being more glad of my Master's company than Anakin often seems to be of mine."

"The right word, is 'seems.'  Loves you, the boy does." Yoda sniffed.

Obi-Wan was gratified by Yoda's sense of Anakin's feelings -- he supposed he knew, when he was not being petulant in his own mind -- but didn't care for the tone of disdain that accompanied it.  "As I loved Qui-Gon."

"No.  This boy..." Yoda shook his head.  "Confused are love and hate and joy and anger with him.  All things, he feels...all too large for him."  He sighed.  "Think, you do, that I do not care for the boy.  I do, as do all the Council members.  Kind, he is, and generous.  That he is talented, there is no doubt, and intelligent.  But control, he must learn."

"I am trying to teach him to control his feelings."

"Mmm.  A hard lesson it is for him.  Impossible, I fear, for see, he does not, where the danger lies."

"I think you underestimate Anakin's self-understanding."

"Bold, you have grown, Obi-Wan."

"I'm sorry, Master.  It was not my place to question you."

"Your Padawan, your place is.  But underestimate the danger he is in, you must not."

A soft electronic tone broke the conversation, and Yoda keyed the control to open the door.  Siri swept in, her long robes swaying importantly.  Anakin stayed a few steps behind her, as he would if he were her padawan, but as soon as he saw Obi-Wan, he quietly stepped away to stand at his Master's side.

"I am sorry, Master," he said quietly.  "I'll I will make an effort to..."  He searched for a formal sounding phrase. "...to be more alert to my schedule."

"That is all I can ask, Padawan."  Had they been alone, Obi-Wan would have begun asking him about his practice session and trying to make him more at ease, since the lesson had been learned, but clearly, the Council Chamber was not the place for such a thing.

Anakin recognized it, and simply moved to stand closer.

Yoda dimmed the lights, and a holoprojector rose up from beside his chair.  Blank pixels floated in midair for a moment, then resolved themselves into a grainy broadcast from a woodland world.  Some solemn gathering was being held. T here was no sound.

"Malkiri, this is," Yoda said quietly.  "A Mid-Rim world, royalist for seven hundred years.  But royalist, it can no longer be."

Siri looked up.  "This is a funeral for the monarch?"

Yoda nodded.  "Destroyed, was the royal family.  Murdered were the king, his wife, and four children."

"Who is in line for succession?" Obi-Wan asked.  "Are we to go and defend...?"

Yoda looked at him levelly, not answering the interruption, then went on.  "No line was there, beyond the children who are burned with their parents today.  Pass, the world will, into the hands of all its local chieftains."

After interrupting Yoda once, Obi-Wan chose not to break the silence this time.  Siri also appeared to have learned that lesson.  But Anakin couldn't bear silence, so when it had spun out for longer than seemed natural to him, he bent his head respectfully and asked, "Are they any good?"

Yoda looked at him gravely.  "While existed the monarchy, mainly concerned with trade were the local governments.  When weak was the economy, invited were experts."

Understanding dawned.  "The Trade Federation," Obi-Wan whispered.

Just as he said it, the pixels resolved to a closer shot of an overweight Neimoidian in shimmering red robes.  He was standing at the head of the gathered crowd, speaking.

"Mayor of the capitol, he is," Yoda said.  "And now, essentially, leader of Malkiri."

"Do you suppose the Trade Federation assassinated the royal family?" Siri asked.

"Guesses, I do not make, Siri Tachi.  But our interest here, it is not, to oppose the Trade Federation.  Warn you only, I do, that they will be present, and in command of this world, when you arrive."

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow.  "Master, what is our interest?"

The holo cleared, and a new one formed, a sharper one -- a young human male in padawan dress, his long braid draped over one shoulder.  "Zio Shapoi," Yoda said.  "Knighted, he was, shortly before you became Padawan to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan."

"I see..."

"Born on Malkiri, he was, and chose to visit, he did, when he learned his past."

"Was he also killed?" Siri asked.

"Killed, he was not.  Arrested, he was."

"Arrested?"

Yoda turned off the holo altogether and sighed deeply.  "With a lightsaber was the royal family killed."

"There must be a mistake," Siri said.

"Agree with you, I do.  But tried he must be."

"Then we're not rescuing him?" Anakin asked.

"That limitation, the Council does not impose."  Yoda squared his shoulder.  "Violent, has the response been.  Poison, it is, and spread, it has, from Shapoi to all Jedi."

"What?"

Yoda nodded.  "Yes.  Not wanted, are the Jedi on Malkiri.  Think, I do, that such things have been said and felt there before this.  The murder has kindled a flame, but dry are the woods of Malkiri, and burn quickly they will."

The holo came back on, this time with sound.  It was Malkiri again, and a crowd again, but this crowd was not somber -- it was enraged.  An effigy of a Jedi was hanging from a wooden pole, and it was burning.  A banner read, "Malkiri, break free from Jedi mind control."  The crowd was throwing stones at the burning effigy and chanting a slogan that Obi-Wan couldn't quite make out.

He could think of nothing to say.  He'd known that there were people who disliked or envied the Jedi, and of course there had been worlds that associated them with an unpopular negotiation, but this kind of violent rhetoric was new to him.

"He's not going to get a fair trial there," Siri commented dryly.

"That is why go there, you must," Yoda said.  "Watch the trial.  If unfair it becomes, bring Shapoi to Coruscant you must."

Anakin's eyes were glued to the holo.  "We're going there?"

Obi-Wan put a calming hand on his Padawan's arm.  "Perhaps we can use the opportunity to teach..."

"Teach, you will not," Yoda said firmly.  "One Jedi, we may lose.  Care, we do not, to lose others.  Go, you will, posing as a family."

"To what end?" Siri asked.

"To observe, to rescue if necessary," Yoda said.  Then he turned, an intense look in his eyes.  "And to learn from where they have learned this hate.  An enemy of the Jedi, we know there is in the galaxy."

"You think the Sith are behind this?"

"Make guesses, I will not," Yoda repeated.  "But observe them, you will, from within.  Siri's own name, may she keep, but Anakin and Obi-Wan are known to the Trade Federation, though changed are both your faces.  Names, you will be given."

"How will we fit into this society?" Siri asked.  "It looks...small."

"News for the Republic this will be.  Obi-Wan will pose as one gathering it for broadcast."

Obi-Wan looked nervously at the rioting crowd, and, though he knew his Padawan would resent it, said, "Perhaps Anakin should stay here."

He saw Anakin's jaw clench, but the boy did nothing.  He was gaining some control.

It hardly mattered.  Yoda was shaking his head energetically.  "Undercover you will be.  Siri knows how, and you can learn, but home life, neither of you has familiarity with."

Anakin straightened up.  "You want me to...help them?"

Yoda nodded solemnly.  "Know, you do, of the rhythms of the home."

Anakin looked at him incredulously. "And you...I mean, Master Yoda, do you believe I am properly suited to this mission?"

"Otherwise, suggested it, I would not have."

Anakin just stood blinking in the sunlight for a moment, clearly not daring to believe that Yoda had believed him capable of any responsibility.  It frankly startled Obi-Wan as well, but then, Yoda had always had that capacity.  "Thank you," Anakin said at last, stepping back into Obi-Wan's shadow.

Yoda raised the lights again, and hobbled over to his chair to sit down.  "Go, you will, tomorrow morning."

He dismissed them.

They rode down in the turbolift in confused silence, and were walking slowly through the glass walkway when Anakin finally spoke.  "So...mostly, we're just pretending to be a family.  Then we get this Shapoi."

Obi-Wan nodded.  "If it is necessary.  There is a slight possibility that he will receive a fair trial on Malkiri."

"Not likely," Siri muttered.  "I say we skip the preliminaries and pull him out."

"We can't do that," Anakin said unexpectedly.

"I happen to agree," Obi-Wan said.  "But why do you say so?"

"Well..." Anakin shrugged.  "I guess I just wonder, what if he actually did it?"


Chapter 3

The Jedi did not make a habit to complete missions undercover, or at least hadn't for many centuries.  It was becoming more common, a practice that Anakin gathered many in the Order didn't much like.  In addition to his apprenticeship, he also studied under history, humanities, and science tutors -- most young knights, like Siri, who hadn't taken padawans yet.  His history tutor had denigrated the strategy as "behaving like common spies."

Anakin hadn't made up his mind yet.  Well, he sort of had -- he agreed with his tutor.  Jedi should be respected everywhere, and they should always look like Jedi.  No one had any business not letting them.

But, at the same time, it had been fun to meet a secret Jedi in Mos Espa, and turning into a secret Jedi was also...well, kind of fun.

Siri, who had little patience with the tutors -- she used the same disdainful sniff that they did, but usually with a snide comment about their "vast experience working in the field" -- was enjoying herself quite freely, and had attempted "looks" from four different human cultures so far.  Anakin had liked all of them.  The fifth one, the one she was working her way into now, was the best -- a kind of wrapped around draped fabric that made her look like the big statues in front of Theed palace.

"Is that Naboo?" he asked.

She shrugged.  "Naboo-inspired.  Very fashionable in the upper echelons of Coruscant society right now."

"And very foolish to wear on a mission to a world controlled by the Trade Federation," Obi-Wan cut in, inspecting her.

"Oh.  Good point."  She looked dubiously at the others.  "Oh, all right, then.  I'll go Alderaanian."

"No, not Alderaanian, either.  The Alderaanians have consistently sided with the Naboo, and furthermore, if I'm to be a journalist, it should be from a world whose press is not considered deeply political."  Obi-Wan smirked.  "Furthermore, you look like you're on your deathbed in that white dress."

Anakin laughed.  "So, where are we going to be from?"

"Watch out," Siri said, "Obi-Wan is about to be dull."

"A cover story really ought to be dull," Obi-Wan told her patiently, but in a pointed tone of voice.  "We don't necessarily want people asking a lot of curious questions.  And, Siri, if it's all the same to you, the Code forbids me to take more than one padawan at a time, and it is more productive for me to be instructing Anakin than instructing you."

Siri recognized the insult well enough, and fell silent.  Anakin didn't know exactly what to do; Siri was his friend and he knew he should defend her honor, but Obi-Wan was his Master, and it would be as big an insult to correct him.

The moment passed.  "So we will be middle class Coruscantians," Obi-Wan said.  "The light blue gown you wore second will be quite adequate, and we need not discuss our origins any further back."

Siri picked up the dress in question from the back of the chair she'd draped it over, and left with only a very cold glare toward Obi-Wan.

"That was kind of mean," Anakin said, as soon as she was gone.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Siri does not bring out my best qualities, I'm afraid.  But you are quite correct, and I owe her an apology.  I will tender it in private at a later time."

"Okay."

"Now, if we are to be middle class Coruscantians, you should take some time to find some of the interests of your age mates."  He tugged at Anakin's braid.  "And I'm afraid that this will have to be disguised."

"Disguised," Anakin said quickly.  "Please.  I don't want to...well, you know."

"Yes, I do.  You know this area of Coruscant well enough to find what you need."

Anakin pulled on his long robe to go out, hooking his lightsaber onto his belt by habit.  "Are we going to be armed there?"

"I'm not sure."

"I mean, if we are, I better find something I can hide my lightsaber in."

"I see.  Well, make the consideration, and we will discuss the need for it later."

"Okay.  What will you choose?"

"I have appropriate attire."

"Maybe I should start keeping some stuff..."

"By the time we move on to our next mission, you'll have outgrown it."  Obi-Wan grinned.  "For that matter, by the time we finish this one, you will have."

Anakin smiled back, but he felt a little self-conscious.  He thought he might end up taller than Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan didn't seem to like the idea very much.  "Well, I'll go find something, then.  Bye."

Obi-Wan said goodbye, and Anakin felt his Master's eyes on him all the way down the corridor leading from their quarters.  It was a comfortable kind of feeling, and he knew that Obi-Wan was smiling.

He swept around the corner, enjoying the feel of the full brown robe swaying with the motion, and followed his accustomed path down to the main entrance and out into the bustling Coruscant afternoon.  The day was murky with pollution and it smelled bad, but there was always a moment of wild joy when he went into the world.  People gave him strange looks sometimes, but the shopkeepers were used to him and always welcomed him.  Some of the regular customers knew him as well.  But he was not going to be a shopkeeper or an adult, so he couldn't very well waste his afternoon talking to them.

He'd seen the kids in the plaza before, riding and doing simple tricks on hover-scoots.  They wore brightly colored silks and high leather boots, and quite a few of them wore knee-length silk jackets.  It would be as good a disguise as any other, and he could conceal his lightsaber easily.

The scoots were about half a meter long and a decimeter wide.  They flew quickly and had a range of several meters into the air. A nakin had thought it looked mildly amusing, but he hadn't tried it yet.  He slipped quietly into the crowd watching them.

Three of the boys were flying about three meters up, using the scoots' thrusters to repel one another into stunts.  They called one another names that Anakin probably would have hit someone for in his former life, but they laughed while they did it, so he guessed it was their normal practice.

"Hey!" someone shouted.  "Look who's come to visit!"

The three scoots dove on him in sequence, half-play, half-threat.  He squared his shoulders and didn't react.

The leader of the three circled around in front of him and hovered, crouched on the scoot.  "What, are we in trouble with the Jedi now?  Too much fun in sight of the Temple?"

Anakin shrugged elaborately, giving himself time to swallow his temper.  "Just thought it was good flying up there, is all."

The boys didn't seem to know what to do with a compliment.  They just went back to idly circling Anakin.  He watched the way their ankles moved to control the scoots.  It wouldn't be very hard to do, and he could probably out fly them on an hour's practice.

"Where do you get your stuff?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Looks like fun."

"Thought that was against the rules for the braid-boys."

Do not answer him.  Yoda himself has entrusted you with a mission.  Do not destroy it before you start by losing your temper at a thoughtless, spoiled, careless, brainless...

"You've been misinformed," he said, as coldly as he could.  "So, where do you get your stuff?"

The lead boy shrugged, apparently deciding that he wasn't going to be able to go home and brag about getting into a fight with a Jedi.  "Jumanadel's," he said.  "Good a place as any."

"Thank you."  Anakin started off.

"Hey, braid-boy."

"What?"

"We're mostly here every day."

Anakin turned.  The boys with the scoots were on the ground, and the leader was smiling in a friendly enough way.  Anakin smiled back.

They'd only been joking.  Good thing he hadn't lost his temper.

Again.

He went to Jumanadel's, a block or so away, and bought several outfits like the ones the boys were wearing.  As an afterthought, he picked up a scoot as well.

By the time he came back through, the boys were gone, which was just as well.  He didn't have time to waste today -- he still had to go back to the Temple, and find some way to hide his braid.

**********

"What do you suppose is taking so long?"

Siri went to cross her ankles on the table, then moved them quickly when she realized the straight skirt she was wearing left little to the imagination.  She cursed under her breath.  Obi-Wan pretended not to notice.  Siri had picked up any number of odd behaviors in her years undercover.  She was trying to break most of these habits.  "You know Anakin.  He's trying to get it right."

"I suppose so.  And the hair may take some work.  They'll have to use growth solution and possibly add extensions."

"Mmm."

"Siri, I owe you an apology for my comment earlier."

"Really."

"It was...inappropriate.  And I am sorry."

She looked at him coolly for a long time, then shrugged in a disinterested way.  "All right."  Her eyes moved up and down over his disguise.  "Are you planning on wearing that sort of thing the whole time?"

"Yes."

"It's about ten years out of date."

"My persona will be unconcerned."

"Convenient for you both."

Obi-Wan considered the wisdom of continuing in this vein, decided he was likely to comport himself badly if they did, and chose to change the subject.  "Have you been to Malkiri before?"

"No.  I met a woman from Malkiri while I was working for Krayn, but I suspect she wasn't typical."

"Why?"

"She left, for one thing.  Malkiri's citizens tend to stay put."

"Then your impression was that the planet, with the exception of Krayn's associate, was stable."

Siri leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and looking thoughtful.  "I don't know that I could say that on such short acquaintance with only one person."

"What was your impression?"

"That she was unusual...but maybe not as unusual as she thought.  She spoke of a rather unchanging society and how she resented it, but when she spoke more honestly...or, shall we say, with fewer inhibitions..she seemed to resent the Neimoidian intrusion more, and the changes that made the local culture feel in some way different."

"A not atypical reaction to social change.  How did she view the royal family?"

"As anachronistic.  She complained that they were the ones who invited the Neimoidians, but then got in the way of -- and I quote -- 'the one thing Neimoidians know how to do.'"

"They blocked trade agreements."

"I would think so."

Obi-Wan sighed.  If Siri's perceptions were correct, it only added to the obvious argument that the Neimoidians were behind the murder of the royal family.  But how did the hatred of the Jedi become involved?  Why the Jedi?  Why not frame someone local?

"Did she mention anything about Jedi?"

"None of Krayn's people thought much of us," Siri said.  "So at the time, I just let it pass without comment.  But I wonder now."

"So do I."

"Obi-Wan -- what do you make of it?"

Obi-Wan had been turning to go back to his personal quarters and pack, but when Siri spoke, her voice was too troubled to ignore.  She was staring at her hands on the table, her face set in an overstudied expression of serenity.

"I don't know.  It's new to me."

"Do you think it's going to be like Kegan?  All the lies and brainwashing and so on?"

Obi-Wan hadn't thought of Kegan for years.  It had been the first time he'd worked with Siri, and they had ended up captured in a school that taught hatred for the rest of the galaxy, including the Jedi.  Siri had gotten both of them into trouble several times because she couldn't stifle her desire to correct the lies. Surely, several years undercover would have cured her of that...but still she looked and sounded apprehensive.

"I don't know what to expect, Siri.  But we have both grown since Kegan."

"It makes no sense.  Why build a society on hateful lies about other people?"

"Hate can be a powerful feeling.  It covers fear and uncertainty."  He thought of the surge of hate that had burned up through him when he'd attacked the Sith Lord who had killed Qui-Gon, and closed his eyes against the memory.  It burned away any fear he felt, and left him with only madness, no responsibility.  There was no future, only the horrible past that required vengeance.

It had been self-destructive and foolish, but that moment of feeling that he held all the destructive power in the galaxy...letting go of that had been one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

He was trying to sort the thought out to explain it to Siri without delving into matters he still considered private when the door slid open.

Anakin stepped inside gingerly.  His long robe was pulled closed, and his hood was up, hiding his head entirely.  Obi-Wan could only see the very bottom of his chin.  Something about it gave Obi-Wan a chill.

"Very inconspicuous, Ani," Siri said cheerfully.

"It must be difficult to see like that," Obi-Wan prodded.

Anakin turned toward him slowly.  "Okay," he said.  "Don't laugh."

"I won't.  I promise.  And so does Siri."

Anakin let go of his robe, and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of bright blue.  Then he moved his hands up to the hood, paused, then pushed it back with a single, decisive motion.

His face was red with embarrassment, but Obi-Wan wasn't certain why.  It really wasn't that bad.  The cosmetologist had extended Anakin's blonde hair down to shoulder length.  His padawan braid was folded neatly in half, and looked like a decorative touch of some kind.  Obi-Wan was not an expert on youth culture, but he had seen such a hairstyle in one advertisement or another recently.  "Why the hesitation?"

"I feel like I should be wearing one of Siri's dresses."

Obi-Wan willed himself not to smile.  "I see."

Anakin shucked the robe off the rest of the way, then folded it neatly over the edge of a chair.  The outfit was loose fitting silk, made to catch the wind, and Anakin looked acutely uncomfortable in it.  Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever seen his Padawan in anything but shades of brown and beige.

"I think it looks fine," Siri said.

"Yeah.  Pretty."  Anakin ran an uneasy hand over his hair.

"You know," Obi-Wan said, an idea dawning on him, "I think Qui-Gon might have been surprised at that assessment."

It worked.  Anakin's eyes widened, going from dejection to delight.  "Oh, yeah...I almost forgot...I mean, I didn't forget but...Well, you know."

"I have a box of his things.  There are some leather straps and so on that he used to keep his hair out of his face.  Would you like them for the duration of this mission?"

"If it's not...you know, disrespectful or anything..."

"I think Qui-Gon would be quite happy to make the loan.  You'll find the box behind my mirror."

Anakin smiled and went into Obi-Wan's private room.

Siri raised an eyebrow.  "That was a good strategy."

"I thought it would please him."

"Be careful.  Mace will say you're spoiling him."

"Again?"

Obi-Wan went to his door.  He could see Anakin from here.  Qui-Gon's box was open on the floor, and Anakin had taken out a thin leather band, worn about the forehead to keep the hair still, and put it on. He was standing in front of the mirror, his feet slightly apart, his hands resting easily at his sides.  His face had taken on a deliberate expression of thoughtfulness...

It was Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan realized.  It was the expression Qui-Gon had worn while watching something that interested him -- the expression Anakin had probably seen most in their days of acquaintance.  The recognition was both painful and kind.  They rarely spoke of Qui-Gon, of the years Obi-Wan had spent with him, or the days that had changed Anakin's life forever.

After awhile, Anakin sensed his presence and turned around, looking embarrassed.  Obi-Wan smiled at him and closed the door.

**********

Anakin folded his new clothes carefully into a traveling bag.  When he'd seen the boys in the square wearing them, they hadn't seemed quite so...

Well, Mom wouldn't like them.

And they were light.  Everything he'd ever worn had either been scratchy or heavy, substantial in some way.  With these things, he had to keep glancing down at himself to make sure he was actually wearing something other than air.

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind his sleeping couch and shook his head.  If he'd seen himself back in Mos Espa, his thought would have been, "Spoiled rich kid."

The scoot tucked easily into the bag with his clothes, but other than that, he had to be selective with his hobbies.  None of the talking droids could come, that was for sure -- their security wasn't very good.  Maybe the little mech droid he'd found on the sidewalk one morning.  Someone had tossed it out the window, but it was in good shape, and he'd just been repairing its --

"Anakin?"

Obi-Wan was at the door.  He was dressed in a non-descript way, in tan leggings and a rust-colored tunic.  His lightsaber was visible, but he was carrying a waist-length cape that would presumably cover it up when they got outside.

"Yes, Master."

"I'm sure you'll find a droid to rescue on Malkiri.  Right now, we need to move.  We're taking a commercial transport, and the schedule is a bit tight."

"Okay."  Anakin grabbed his lightsaber and tucked it into a loop he'd made on his cloth belt, then pulled on a knee-length blue jacket with rolled cuffs.  "Is Siri ready?"

"She's waiting outside."

"Oh."  Anakin slung his bag over his shoulder, then followed Obi-Wan out and locked the door.  Siri was standing beside a private transport near the main entrance to the Temple -- it would have been foolish to have an air taxi driver remember picking up Jedi in civilian clothes -- and the three of them loaded it with their baggage and climbed inside.  Obi-Wan flew.  Anakin didn't bother to ask.  The trip was too short to have much fun, anyway.

The transport was boarding when they got there, and they joined the queue.  Siri went in first, their verification chips in her hand.

The steward dropped the chips into the verifier.  "Tachi family?" he asked.

"Yes," Siri said.  "I am Siri Tachi.  This is my husband, Baklee Tachi, and our son."

"A bit young to be parents of such a big boy, aren't you?"

Obi-Wan smiled patiently, and spoke in a low, convincing voice.  "There is nothing at all odd about it."

"There's nothing at all odd about it," the steward repeated, looking dazed.  "Your son's name?"

There was a blank moment when Anakin realized that, unlike the two of them, he had not yet worked under an assumed name.  "Kitster," he said, grabbing for the first friendly name that came to mind.  "Well, Kit. Kit Tachi."

"Very well.  You may board.  Your cabin is portside, aft."

"We need to work on that," Obi-Wan said.  "I'd rather not spend the entire mission using mind tricks on the people we run across."

"Why didn't you give Anakin a name?" Siri hissed.

"You didn't bother to ask if I had. And I don't care for using the name I used posing as a slave trader."

"They shortened it for convenience, as it already existed, while they were getting your press papers ready.  I didn't choose it."

Anakin shook his head.  "We've got names, okay?  It's not a disaster.  I can be Kit.  No problem."

The attempt to stave off an argument was unsuccessful, because Siri and Obi-Wan were not acknowledging that they were arguing.  The low-key sniping continued all the way to the cabin, and Anakin left them to it.  He had no interest in watching two people he cared about fight one another, and besides, he hadn't ever been on this class of transport before.  He grabbed the scoot and went out to explore.  A few harsh looks from crew members told him not to attempt to use the scoot, so he just tucked it under his arm to carry.

Care had been taken in the hallways, which were arched prettily and decorated with red and gold accents.  Each cabin door was etched with designs.  Anakin doubted they'd been hand-produced, but at least some kind of effort had been made.  Passenger lounges were set every hundred meters or so, and people were gathered, drinking and watching holoproj programs or vids as the large ship took off.  Anakin wandered into one of these, but left quickly when he noticed that two of the girls, both roughly his own age, were watching him more closely than the Twi'lek dancers on the holoproj.  That hadn't happened when he wore his Jedi clothes, and he hadn't made up any way to answer it yet.

The next lounge was full of people older than he was.  This wasn't usually a problem; Anakin usually found himself more comfortable with adults than other children.  He was quite surprised when they looked at him disdainfully.  One Rodian woman, with no attempt at subtlety, picked up her handbag and clutched it to her as though it was about to run away.  The holoproj here was set to the news.  At first, Anakin was surprised to see that it was news from Malkiri, then he reminded himself that a transport that went to Malkiri was likely to have others on it interested in that news.  Zio Shapoi, the accused Jedi, was still being held.  The human journalist reported that the government was not forthcoming with the evidence against him.

Anakin watched quietly, trying to look nonchalant and unconcerned, since he guessed that he would draw too much attention if he actually looked interested in the news.  He was certainly the only person close to his age watching it at all.  But he couldn't make himself leave.

Had Zio Shapoi killed the royal family?  If so, why?  And if not, why wasn't he escaping?  Why hadn't he called for help?

Was he still really a Jedi?  Or had he left the path?

The question interested Anakin in a way that wasn't quite academic.

"Good model."

Something moved under Anakin's elbow, and he realized that someone was touching the hover-scoot.  He'd forgotten about it entirely.  He turned to see the newcomer.

He had expected perhaps a human boy his own age, maybe some other species.  What he had not expected, in any way, was a Neimoidian adult.

But that's what he found staring at him.  The Neimoidian was only a bit taller than he was, dressed in fashionable green robes.  His headpiece was simple, and his smile was passably friendly.  "Do they let you ride that in here?" he asked.  The longer sentence showed his accent, but it wasn't as pronounced as the Neimoidian accents Anakin had heard on Naboo.

"Um, no.  I thought they might, but they don't.  And I didn't feel like putting it back."

"Can I see it?"  He took it without waiting for an answer.  "Really nice.  This is the latest model.  I sell something like it, but we haven't got this version in yet.  Slow transports.  Is it as good as they say?"

"I haven't really tried it yet."

The Neimoidian finished inspecting it, then held out one hand in a surprisingly human gesture.  "I am Daj Orti," he said.  "I have a shop on Malkiri."

"Oh."  Anakin didn't know what to make of a friendly Neimoidian who mimicked human behaviors and smiled.  He knew that Obi-Wan would say, Act on the facts you see, Anakin, not the assumptions you may hold.  It seemed as good advice as any, so he said, "I'm Kit Tachi.  My family is going there for awhile."  He stopped himself from giving any more details, because he didn't want to take the chance of getting something wrong, and having to cover for it should he meet Orti later on.

"Oh, it's a nice planet.  You'll like it.  Come and see me while you're there."  Daj Orti handed back the scoot, and disappeared down the corridor.

Anakin watched after him for a moment, then just shook his head.  It was probably time to get back to Obi-Wan and Siri.


Chapter 4

A datapad slammed down on the table in front of Obi-Wan, then the chair beside him scraped out and Siri sat down in it.

"Details," she said.  "Little ones.  Like Anakin's name."

"I'd assumed the Council had assigned it, as it assigned mine."

"I made a miscalculation as well, but recriminations are pointless.  We've both done what undercover work we have alone, and we need practice working on the same story.  No more mistakes."

Obi-Wan nodded.  "Very well.  The name he chose will do.  It belongs to a friend of his from Tatooine, so he is unlikely to forget it."

"Right.  Now on the matter of his age..."

"What did the steward mean by that?"

"He means that we are only a bit more than ten years older than Anakin."

"I am fourteen years older than Anakin."

"Is fourteen a typical age for human males to become fathers?  Or twelve or thirteen for females to become mothers?"

"It's possible."

"But certainly not common, and as you reminded me, our cover story should not invite curious questions.  Clearly, our disguises aren't making our ages that vague."

Obi-Wan couldn't think of any argument with this, particularly since it was his own argument she was using.  "I am open to suggestions, Siri."

"As much as I know you were looking forward to parading him around and saying, 'This is my son --'"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"-- I think it would be better if we used a different familial relationship."

"As long as it remains clear that I am Anakin's guardian."

"I will not challenge you for that when we are alone.  But in the outside, we should both appear to be equal guardians.  I'll find a way to defer to you, should the need arise."

"That wasn't what I meant, Siri."

"Of course not," she said dryly.  "At any rate, I propose to be his joint guardians.  I would say that we could jointly be his older siblings, but it is a bit atypical for adult human siblings to set up housekeeping together."

"True."

"So I will be his sister.  You will be my husband, as planned, and we have raised him since my parents died six years ago."

"I would prefer to be the direct relative."

"Anakin looks more like me."

Again, there was no argument.  To Obi-Wan, Anakin and Siri looked nothing alike, but he recognized that their shared coloring, long legs, and slightly rounded features would seem to an outsider to suggest a relationship.  "Very well."

The door opened, and Anakin came in, looking considerably more comfortable than he had earlier.  He slid into the chair across from Siri and grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl provided by the transport crew.  "I met someone going to Malkiri," he said.  "A Neimoidian.  His name is Daj Orti."

Obi-Wan exchanged a quick glance with Siri, then leaned forward.  "Anakin, what did you tell him of our destination?"

"I said my family is going there for awhile, that's all.  I figured once the two of you finished fighting, you'd start working out the details.  I didn't want to trip us up."