Javascript is either disabled or not supported by this browser. This page may not appear properly.
Go to Part 1.
Let the author know what you thought of this story!
Drop FernWithy a note...FernWithy@aol.com.
Join the Family Portrait Discussion on the Feedback Board.
Go to Part 3.
Back to Fan Fiction.
Family Portrait
(Part 2)
Family Portrait
(Part 2)
Back to Fan Fiction.
Star Wars belongs to LFL.
Go to Part 3.
Let the author know what you thought of this story!
Drop FernWithy a note...FernWithy@aol.com.
Join the Family Portrait Discussion on the Feedback Board.
Go to Part 1.
Chapter Five

Neither Obi-Wan nor Siri seemed in a rush to open the door, so Anakin got up from his stair and did it himself, reminding himself of Mom's directive to always welcome a guest with a smile.

"Hi."

The Neimoidian woman attempted a smile.  Unlike Daj Orti on board the transport, she had clearly not mastered this human expression, but she was trying.  That she succeeded only in making her upper lip curl uncomfortably over her oddly shaped teeth wasn't the point.  When she spoke, her accent was even more pronounced than Nute Gunray's had been.  "I am Thama Bercha," she said.  "I live next door.  May I have the pleasure of making your fine acquaintance?"

"Come on in," Anakin said with a shrug.  He'd felt his guard go up right away, but he cursed himself for it and covered it with a kind of bored hospitality.  Just because she was Neimoidian didn't mean she was a spy.  He took the small tin she was carrying.  Some good smell was wafting up from it.

Obi-Wan came forward.  "I am Baklee Tachi," he said, then presented Siri.  "This is my wife, Siri.  And you have already made the acquaintance of our charge, Siri's brother Kit."

Thama Bercha dipped her head in a brief nod.  "I have not been here long myself," she confided.  "My lord Ilb is a trader in woodwork.  There is much fine wood on Malkiri."

Anakin wondered idly if there would be time to find some of it and carve something.  He had not done so since he'd finished the pendant he'd made for Padmé.  She had been kind enough to wear that during the time he'd been in Theed.  He thought he might like to make her something better and send it along.  A Queen shouldn't have to be seen wearing a nine-year-old's tinkering.

Of course, she'd probably stopped wearing it, and the Council wouldn't let him send anything new, but it was a nice daydream.

"My husband is covering the trial."  Siri had taken Thama's coat and hung it in a small closet by the door.  She smiled in a winning way.  "Madam Bercha," she said, "I'm afraid I don't know my way around the house yet.  We'd been talking here in the entrance since we came inside."

Thama laughed. "Oh, yes.  Don't worry.  All the houses here are the same.  I will show you the kitchen."  She moved in front of Siri and led them into the darkened rooms, which lit up by motion sensors as they moved through.  The kitchen was in a back corner.  Its slanted wall was entirely transparisteel, and looked out on a large, sloping yard.  A stream and a small fence marked the end of the property.  Beyond it, Anakin could see several people -- Neimoidian and human -- moving around.

This was easily the best house Anakin had seen, save for Theed Palace.

"What's over there?" he asked, looking down the yard.  "Someplace to shop?"

Thama craned her neck to see what he was looking at, then shook her head fondly.  "No, that is the home of a local friend to the children.  I don't remember his name.  My husband and I do not have children to play there."  She took the tin from Siri.  "This will warm slowly," she said.  "It is Neimoidian.  I don't know much Malkiri cooking yet, but I will learn.  We could perhaps talk while it heats?  Most wives among the houses here speak to one another."

"Well," Obi-Wan said, "I'm sure that Siri will want to be part of your group.  She's always been very sociable."

"Good.  She is very pretty and very nice."

"Thank you," Siri managed.  "Would you care to sit down?  I'm sure Baklee would enjoy staying with us as well.  After all, we're both new here."

"Your...husband...would care to speak with me?" Thama's eyes widened.  "Truly?"

Obi-Wan pulled out a chair for her.  "If such a conversation would not be offensive to you," he said.  "I realize that human and Neimoidian customs differ somewhat, and neither Siri nor I would want to make you uncomfortable in any way."

Thama sat down, her face darkening to a deep blue.  Her lips worked in an attempted smile, and she stumbled for something to say.

And Obi-Wan thinks I flirt?

"I would be...quite honored," Thama said.  "Quite, quite honored, if your husband does not find it too low, to speak to a woman not his wife."

"Not at all," Obi-Wan said easily.  "There are many things I would like to know, and a fellow newcomer might be able to tell me things I haven't realized I need to know.  But I think Kit might be a bit bored by all this adult talk.  Would it bother you if he went to meet the other young people?  I think he wants to."  Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at Anakin, both asking if he was right and suggesting that he should be.

Anakin nodded.  "Yeah, sure, Baklee.  I'll grab my scoot."

"Be careful," Siri said.  "Those things are dangerous."

"Oh, you know how careful I am, Siri." Anakin smiled widely.

"That's what I mean."

Listening to the stilted beginnings of their conversation, Anakin was glad of a chance to escape it.  He grabbed the hover-scoot and went outside.

The device was simple enough to operate.  Its thrusters were pressure sensitive, and it was just a question of using shifts body weight to steer.  Sensors attached themselves to the rider's feet in a configuration that served the secondary purpose of helping secure the footing.

Anakin placed his feet on it and started it, taking a few practice swoops across the back porch to get a feel for it.  Simple.  It would take a little bit of practice to judge exactly what the pressure points were, but he didn't think he'd be taking any spills.  He guided it down the stairs, and across the lawn.  Grass was too soft to really get any speed over, but it did give him an opportunity to practice rises and dives, and by the time he got to the back fence, he was able to swing himself over it with no difficulty.  To add a bit of challenge, he drew himself up into a ball and flipped over in midair.  Before he straightened, he pushed his legs out and repelled against a tree, sending himself into a wider arc.

The scoot picked up speed, and Anakin went with it, pushing the edge of the arc and shifting his weight to pull himself upright again.  He laughed for the sheer pleasure of it.

Someone was clapping.

He slowed his movement and turned toward the sound.

A small group of children was gathered on the grass watching him.  The biggest was a girl; she was clapping enthusiastically.

Not exactly average, he chided himself.  But he hadn't really been doing anything any more complicated than the boys on Coruscant had been doing, and these kids didn't know that he'd never tried this particular amusement before.  He decided it would be best to play along, though he'd need to remember not to improve too quickly.  He bowed expansively and leapt off the scoot with a dramatic flourish.

He felt like a bantha's backside, so he supposed he was doing something right.

The girl -- human, with hair exactly the color of wet sand -- clapped again.  "Are you new?" she asked enthusiastically.  "I'm Sephi Liss.  And this is Lyclar Nez" -- she pulled a Neimoidian girl forward -- "and my sister Chary" -- she produced a smaller girl, with blond hair and blue eyes.  "We were watching you."

"I'm Kit.  Kit Tachi."  He picked up the scoot.  "I just moved into the house uphill.  Is this where you live?"

They giggled, for no reason Anakin could guess at -- it had seemed like a normal question to him.  Lyclar, the Neimoidian girl, finished the giggle first.  "No," she said.  "Sephi and Chary live uphill, too, and I live next door to them.  This is his place," she said, pointing beyond the area beside the fence.

An adult Neimoidian was bending over a speeder bike, making adjustment to the stabilizer while a human boy Anakin's own age looked on in a concerned way.  As Anakin looked over, he straightened up and looked over.  He waved enthusiastically, his hydrospanner catching the murky light.

It was Daj Orti.

Anakin waved back.  Maybe he could get some information out of this.

**********

Obi-Wan could see Anakin from the back window, first going back and forth across the porch, then flying gracefully over the lawn.  He was amused to find himself half-expecting a spill and worrying about it, though he knew that this was child's play to Anakin.  It was something about that big window -- it was built for worry-prone parents, and it did its job well.

But he didn't dare let his attention wander too much from Thama Bercha.  She already suspected that he didn't wish to share her company, and it would be rude to confirm the suspicion.  He didn't dislike her.  She wasn't the sort of person he would choose to associate with over shared interests, because as far as he could tell, there were none, but she seemed friendly and good-natured.

Siri had found that someone had kindly stocked the cupboards with basic supplies, and had made all of them mugs of hot tainleaf tea.  She was actually jumping into her role with a zeal that disturbed Obi-Wan, reminding him of seeing her for the first time in her fierce pirate's garb.  She had convinced him then, and he should have known better.

"It's really so very good to get away from Coruscant," she was saying, stirring her tea.  "I worry about Kit, never seeing nature.  And of course, all the political intrigue...that can't be healthy.  Though Baklee wouldn't have much of a career without it!"  She finished with a wink.

"Indeed," Obi-Wan agreed, not sure where she was going and not wanting to impede her.  "And I don't think it harms him to see how the galaxy works."

"Or doesn't work," Siri scoffed.  "Come now, Baklee, even you must admit that the Senate has become corrupt and thoroughly inconsistent.  The new Chancellor tries, but..."

"But it is too late!" Thama interjected.  "You have seen this, you remember how the girl queen and the Jedi turned the Senate against a perfectly legal protest!"

"Well," Obi-Wan said, "there was the matter of the invasion of Theed..."

There was a sharp pain in his foot as Siri stomped on it, smiling serenely as she did so.

"There is no proof of such thing!" Thama said, her voice emphatic.  "It was a dirty lie told by a little girl and a Jedi.  The Jedi used mind tricks to convince the Senate, you know.  The Naboo hate the Neimoidians."

"Why do you suppose that is?" Siri asked her, sounding perfectly innocent.  Obi-Wan didn't trust his own voice.

"They don't even like the others on their own world.  They hate anyone who is not Naboo."

"But the Gungans sided with the Naboo --"  He felt Siri's foot move again, and moved his own before she could strike.

"Jedi brainwashing," Thama sniffed.  "The Federation obeys the law, and does nothing without approval from the Senate.  It was not fair for them to withdraw such permission."

"Of course not," Siri said, in a comforting voice.  "Baklee, didn't I say at the time that something seemed to be very wrong there?"

Siri had, in fact, said something of the sort.  It had been in reference to the Sith warrior who had murdered Qui-Gon, and the strange behavior of Nute Gunray under questioning, but she had said it.  "Yes, you did.  You spoke of it at length."

"Well, things are very different here," Thama said, obviously at least partly mollified.  "You can see that we get along very nicely.  The children play together, and we are all friends here in this neighborhood.  We are
neighbors here," she finished with a touch of pride.

The pride had some justification.  It was an unusual setup.  For such a recent integration, the Neimoidians and humans on Malkiri seemed to get along remarkably well, though Siri's old acquaintance seemed to suggest that there were tensions under the surface.  But what was the secret?  How had the tensions been transferred?  And why to the Jedi, of all people?

"The Federation was invited here by the monarchy, wasn't it?" Siri asked.

"Yes.  King Rithnati was a generous man, and many of our people have been made wealthy here, and we have brought wealth to Malkiri."

"That's what I'd heard," Siri said.  "I didn't believe it when someone told me he'd been blocking trade agreements."

"Oh, he had started to.  There are people here...the Jedi's family, you know.  They didn't like us.  The king was pushed to respond to them."

"How?"

"Who knows?" Thama said, though her voice said that she had some very definite ideas, all of which were pronounced, "mind trick."  Obi-Wan considered challenging her to explain why Shapoi would have both mind-tricked the king and killed him, but Siri was clearly trying to work her way into this odd mindset, and it could prove useful to do so.  He held his tongue, and went back to looking out the window.  Anakin was now over the fence and talking to three girls.  Judging by their body language, they were quite taken with him.

Obi-Wan decided that he needed to have a lengthy talk with his Padawan at some point in the near future.

There was a soft bell, and the motion of lights caught Obi-Wan's eye.  A plastic tube that was wrapped decoratively around Thama's wrist was swirling with red and gold light.  It was emitting the sound.  "Oh, dear," Thama said.  "I really must be going.  That's my lord, and he seems to be home early."

"Oh, but he would be welcome to come eat with us..." Siri said.

Thama was already getting up and reaching for the overcloak she had removed.  "No, no...I will come for the dish tomorrow and we can speak more.  I enjoy you and think we shall be great friends.  I hope you enjoy the stew." Her eyes shifted to Baklee.  "I am honored to have spoken with Sir, and hope he also finds the food and the world to his liking."  But her voice was a bit colder on that.

She started to scurry out, and Siri had to jump to her feet to walk her to the door.  Obi-Wan heard her call out, "I'll see you tomorrow, Thama!" then the door shut, and they were alone.

When Siri came back to the kitchen, her arms were crossed tightly over her chest.  "We are trying to fit in, Obi-Wan.  We want to know what they think.  They will not be open if they think we're in on the grand conspiracy."

"You have already shown her that you disagree.  I will need to have the freedom of an objective viewpoint to function in the press."

"Or you may have limited your access, if word gets out."

"Siri, you weren't on Naboo.  You didn't see what the Federation did to them, to the world.  And you didn't see the --"

"The Sith lord. I know.  I am not stupid, Obi-Wan, and I know where your mind is.  Tell me what you sense here.  Do you sense the Sith?"

"I sense anger, and fear.  Baseless hatred.  Certainly things I associate with the Sith."

"But I sense no locus for it, no point for it to emanate from," Siri said.  "I don't think they're here."

"They don't have to be here.  I just want to know if they're involved."

Siri frowned and sat down, steepling her fingers in front of her chin.  "If they are, Obi-Wan...I think they are newcomers.  And I think this hatred predates them."

"On what grounds?"

"The conclusions were simply leapt to -- Thama is not the first Neimoidian I've heard advance the theory that we manipulated the truth on Naboo.  And the anti-Jedi sentiment on Malkiri...how shall I put this?"

"It's being used, not created."

"Yes, that's exactly it.  And that's what puzzles me.  That the Sith or the Federation would manipulate the populace is hardly surprising.  But why should they have hated us in the first place?  We were never even here."

Obi-Wan went to the window and looked out across the darkening lawn toward where Anakin and the other children were playing.  He now appeared to have joined another group.  There were no fights going on at the moment, but if one started...

Obi-Wan shook his head.  Anakin knew better than to get into pointless fights.  Unfortunately, knowing better didn't always stop him from doing it anyway.

Siri came and stood beside him.  "You should go down to the courthouse first thing tomorrow.  See if you can find Shapoi.  And a good escape route."

"That won't help our standing here, if we help one of our own escape trial."

Siri closed her eyes.  "I don't know if there's anything we can do about our standing here.  And Yoda did say that teaching was not our mission.  And I'd like to get home as soon as we can."

Obi-Wan smiled at her.  "Back to the lack of nature and the terrible political intrigue?  That can't be healthy."

She opened her eyes and returned his smile in a tired way.  "Well, we don't have much of a career without it."


Chapter Six

Thama Bercha hadn't been lying...Daj Orti really was a friend to what seemed like every child on Malkiri.  Aside from the three girls he'd spoken to and the boy whose speeder bike was being repaired, Anakin guessed that there were at least fifteen kids over for long stays, and others occasionally flew by and shouted greetings.  Daj asked after merchandise he'd apparently sold them, and if any problems were reported, he called out, "Bring it to my shop!  I'll fix that, no charge!"

Watto would have keeled over dead if he'd seen all the free service Daj Orti gave out.  And Daj did it himself, rather than assigning it to a nine-year-old slave.

It occurred to Anakin that he might ask Daj for a job -- it would be good to have a little income -- but he decided to ask Obi-Wan first.  It might not be normal.  And it might not be allowed.

"You're very good on that scoot, Kit," Daj said, coming over and perching himself on a low wall.  The long Neimoidian robes seemed unsuited to the casual pose.  "Is it better than the last model?"

"Hmmm?" Anakin swooped back and forth.  "I don't know.  I mean, it's pretty good."

"That's a new model.  You didn't have an older one?"

Oops.

"Well, I..."

"Because if that was the first time you've flown..."

That struck Anakin as genuinely funny, and he laughed.  "No, it's not the first time I've flown.  It's a good model," he said.  "Nice response.  I had to adjust a servomotor, though."

"Yes, that's shipping damage.  I have spoken with the company, but they claim it is unavoidable.  I unpack the scoots when they come and make the adjustment before I put them out."

Anakin wanted to start talking about the scoot, and Daj's shop, and engines and thrusters, but he stopped himself. The servomotor he could pass off as being well-educated about a hobby, but if he wandered off on a tangent and started talking about taking machines apart or building new components from junk...

Well, that would bring up questions about how a nice, well-bred boy from Coruscant happened to have spent his childhood.

"So, you are enjoying Malkiri?" Daj asked.

"I only just got here.  Smells good, though."

Daj took a deep sniff of the air . "You're right.  I hadn't noticed.  It does smell pleasant."  His head turned, and he suddenly stood up from the wall.  "Hey, boys!"

Anakin followed his gaze.  Several of the boys were playing something rough over near the tree line.  Many had picked up branches, and a smaller boy was crouched in the middle of the group.  Anakin couldn't tell whether or not they were playing the same game that he'd seen at the school.

"What are you doing?  I told you, no rough stuff here."

One of the human boys turned and gave him a good-natured smile.  "Oh, we're not hurting him."

"Yeah," the little one who'd been the focus of the rough play called.  "I'm okay."

"I don't want your parents saying you can't visit.  Or shop."

"They don't mind."

"You're sure?"

"Sure.  Hey, who's the new guy?"

"This is Kit."  He shoved Anakin forward playfully.  "You'll like him."

Anakin hadn't decided how to approach them yet, but he knew he wasn't here to talk to Daj and listen to the girls giggle.  He was supposed to be getting on the inside.

He started to do an elaborate routine on the scoot, then changed his mind.  If he wanted them to talk to him as freely as he talked to Kitster, he couldn't afford to get into competitions with them.  So he just looped a little, and finally kicked off the scoot and tucked it into a pocket he'd discovered in the jacket that was made for the purpose.  "Hey," he said.

The smallest boy waved.  The others just looked at him frankly.  The one who'd spoken to Daj appeared to be the leader, or anyway, the one the others all looked at for a cue.  Anakin observed their poses and adopted a similar one, with an uncomfortable smile on his face.  The temptation to start talking was strong, but he managed to check it.

The head boy came over.  He was dressed much as Anakin was, though the silks weren't as bright.  "I'm Tomik Cral.  Can I see that thing?  That's the new one, right?"

Anakin pulled the scoot out of his jacket and handed it over, willing himself not to fight against it.  Kitster always handed him whatever he asked for.  He hoped that it hadn't felt quite this bad, and guessed that Kitster wouldn't have gone along with it so often if it had.

Tomik put himself on the scoot, flew for a few meters (to Anakin's relief, he wasn't a clumsy oaf likely to break it -- he did seem to know what he was doing), then hopped off.  "Great.  They fixed that problem with the balance."  He examined it.  "Thanks, man.  I gotta get one.  Hey, Daj, when are you getting these?"

"Soon!"

"You've been saying that for three months!"

"Is shipping slow out here?" Anakin asked.

"Where are you used to?"

"Coruscant."

The group got quiet.  "Really?" the smallest one asked.  "You're actually from Coruscant?"

"Sure."

"That's gotta be really rugged, with all the --"

"Aw, shut up, Brinje."

"No, it's okay," Anakin said.  "Really, Brinje, you can ask me anything you want."

Tomik glared at him.

Damn.  Challenged him.  Didn't mean to do that.

Brinje glanced around among the bigger boys, seemed to draw a conclusion, and backed away.  "I, um, ought to get home."  He backed a few more steps then turned and ran into the woods.

Tomik rolled his eyes, and handed the scoot back to Anakin.  "What a little Force-fart," he muttered after Brinje.

Anakin had no idea what to say to that, which, he reflected, was probably just as well if he was going to stay in his persona.

Tomik shrugged.  "Anyway, yeah, if you're used to being on Coruscant, it takes awhile for stuff to get here.  But mostly it's not bad."

"At least you don't have to worry about the Temple eunuchs," a Neimoidian boy snorted.  "Is it true they grab kids off the street in Coruscant and brainwash them?"

What?  And actually get involved with a kid who needs them without a prophecy to tip the scales?

"No," Anakin said, then remembered that he was supposed to be getting information about this.  "Well, I never heard of it, anyway.  Where'd you hear that?"

"Everyone knows it," Tomik said, surprised.  "That's how they get new people.  They just steal them."

"Yeah!"  An enthusiastic female voice joined in, and Anakin saw Sephi on the edges of the group.  "I heard they take babies, right away from their mothers."

"And never let them come home!" Lyclar said behind her.

Their voices stabbed Anakin through the chest, cutting off his breath in a harsh and painful gasp.  Mom's face rose up in his mind, and the stern faces of the Council.  No, Anakin, you may not return to Tatooine.  No, Anakin, you may not write.  No.  No.  No...

"You okay, man?" Tomik asked.  He looked honestly concerned.

Stop it.  You can't do this, you can't feel this, not right now.  You're not Anakin Skywalker.  You're Kit Tachi, and your guardians are only a handful of meters away.  He covered the gasp with a cough and said, "Sorry.  Breathed wrong."  He pulled Kit Tachi around him like a long cloak, and the pain dulled.  His breath came more easily.  "I thought Sha--  Well, that one who killed the king and stuff... I thought he was here visiting his parents."

"Yeah, but he was a grown-up, and it was the first time he ever came back..."

They went on talking about the case, and Anakin absorbed what he could, falling into Kit's quiet mode of listening.  That was the secret, then... just sit back, and let the persona do the work.

As far as he could tell, the idea they had about Shapoi (the fact that it was formless and illogical seemed not to bother them) was that he had been wandering around looking for someplace to maneuver into a position of power, and he had stumbled across his dissident parents and decided to take up their cause, so that he could control Malkiri.  He didn't really care about Malkiri, of course, or about his parents -- it was agreed that such things were trained out of Jedi at a young age -- but they didn't care about Malkiri either, or about their son, or they wouldn't have let him go with the Jedi in the first place

(not true, never true)

and besides, maybe they'd planned it all along.

Half of their beliefs contradicted the other half, and Anakin still had no idea why they had started believing them, but apparently, once they'd accepted the idea that the Jedi were capable of anything, such minor problems were easily surmountable.

Some time while they were talking, the sun went down. Daj came over to shoo them home -- "Before your parents start thinking I stole you" -- and they left in a clump.  Anakin found a place three or four people behind Tomik.  They went around Daj's house and up the hill along a moving walkway.  The girls went on across the street where Anakin lived, and two boys turned left while Anakin and the others turned right.  By the time they reached the house Siri had rented, they'd lost another, but there was still a group of seven or eight.  Anakin turned up toward his door.

"So, we'll see you in school tomorrow, Kit?" Tomik called after him.

"Sure," Anakin said blandly.  He went inside.

Obi-Wan was sitting in the parlor, watching him with a smile.  "Looks like you made a few friends already," he said.  "You're much better at this than I am."

Anakin nodded.  "Sure.  Thanks.  I have to get cleaned up before we meditate.  We're meditating, right?"

Obi-Wan had stood up, and the smile had faded.  "Anakin, are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  I just want to get cleaned up."

Anakin didn't look at him as he went up the stairs.  Of course he was all right.  He'd just been talking to people and playing his part.

He grabbed his plain pajamas, then went to the 'fresher to peel Kit off for the evening.

**********

Obi-Wan watched Anakin go up the stairs, not certain why he was worried.  Oh, true, it was odd that Anakin asked to meditate -- Anakin avoided meditation whenever he was allowed to get away with it -- but that was just something on the surface.

He was distant.

That was essence of the problem.  Anakin's presence in the Force was usually vibrant to the point of being distracting to any sensitive in the vicinity, but tonight, that presence was muted, coming through with the distorted quality of sound traveling under deep water.

"Obi-Wan?"

Concentrating on his Padawan, he hadn't noticed Siri's approach.  She was frowning.  "I sense some worry."

"Anakin was acting oddly when he came in."

"Mmm."

"I will take that to mean you have a theory?"

She shrugged, then sat down on the deep window seat that looked out over the front lawn.  She pasted a smile on her face (the neighbors could see her there), and said, "Did he look like he'd been in a fight?"

"No."

"Do you suppose the children think differently from Thama Bercha, or that they are more tactful about it?"

"Highly unlikely."

She stretched and tossed her hair flirtatiously.  "And you know Anakin.  How deep did he have to make his cover to avoid responding to it as Anakin -- by taking a swing at someone?"

"That's not fair, Siri.  Anakin resorts to fighting sooner than I would like but --"

"And when he does not resort to fighting, he has fought a hard battle with himself and won.  And he fights that battle because he wants to please you."  She turned off the light, and her face took on its normal, settled look.  "To not defend the Jedi in general and you in particular, if the children were being cruel, must have taken a real effort for him."

"I'm glad to be in the company of such an expert on my Padawan."

"It's a guess.  Do you think it's wrong?"

"I don't know."

"I guessed it because it's how I felt when I began my assignment with Krayn.  The temptation to get out my lightsaber and cut his miserable head off was hard to fight.  And I was considerably older than Anakin, and somewhat more levelheaded."

Obi-Wan thought the second was debatable, but he didn't want to spend time having an argument with Siri.  He turned away from her.  "Well, I thank you for your insight, Siri."

"I will take that to mean that you have a theory of your own?"

"No.  No theories."  He glanced over his shoulder at her.  Standing in the shadows of the alcove, he could clearly see only the bluish white glow of the stars reflecting in her hair, looking like an aura.  Something about it gave him a chill.  "I'll check on him, Siri.  And I do thank you for sharing your experience.  I didn't intend that to come out...sharply."

"Yes, you did."  She turned and sat down again without turning on the light, and looked quietly out over the neighborhood.

Obi-Wan left her there and went upstairs to check on Anakin.

The boy was already in his room, but the door was open, and Obi-Wan went inside.  Anakin was sitting on his own window seat in an unknowing mimicry, but unlike Siri, he smiled when Obi-Wan came in.  He'd obviously been trying to meditate on his own, but hadn't gotten very far.  His presence was as it had always been, as though someone had pulled it up from a swamp and dried it off.  He had tied back his hair and unfolded his padawan braid to its full length (it was on the room side, but Obi-Wan turned down the window light anyway, to avoid any chance of its being seen).

Obi-Wan sat down across from him, on the other end of the window seat.  "You really should keep the braid hidden, Anakin, even in our home."

"I know.  I'll put it back.  It's pretty simple."

"And meditating in a window is possibly not our best approach."

He looked pained.  "I didn't think about that.  It's just so quiet and pretty.  And these guys wouldn't know meditating if they tripped over it."  He took a quick, guilty glance out the window, and folded his braid up to tuck into the ponytail.  "No one's out back.  It's just Daj's back there, and I don't see anyone left outside."

There was no point in belaboring the issue; Anakin understood what was wrong.  "You seemed upset when you came home."

"I'm okay."

"What was troubling you?  Siri thought perhaps you were having difficulty with some of the sentiments expressed here..."

Anakin made a comical face.  "You're conferring with Siri about me?"

"Not deliberately.  Was she right?"

"Sort of.  I mean, sure.  Yeah."

"You said 'sort of' first, Anakin.  What is it more precisely?"

Anakin stood up and crossed his arms, as though he had caught a chill, though the room was quite warm (when given the option, Anakin turned up the heat in any room he inhabited).  He looked toward the wall.  "Obi-Wan..."

"What?"

"It was just that...well, they weren't wrong."  He turned, looking ashamed and apologetic.  "I mean well, that's not what I mean.  They were mostly wrong about stuff they think they know.  But some of the stuff is true.  They just, you know, see it differently that you do.  I mean, than we do."

I caught the first phrasing, Anakin.  Obi-Wan reached out and touched Anakin's shoulder.  He had always seemed to need more physical contact than other padawans to feel connected to the world and valued by his Master.  "It is permissible for you to see things differently than I do."

"I don't mean just you and me.  I mean they see things differently than the way the Order does.  You know, taking babies and stuff.  We really do that, you know."

"I'm aware.  And I'm aware that some people disapprove."

"I guess they don't know how hard it is.  You know, the discipline and everything."

"That would be my assumption."

Anakin gave him a guarded look.  "A couple of the girls were talking about never getting to see the babies.  They sounded like they didn't like that.  I well, I mean, I couldn't answer them, since I was Kit.  But..."

"But as Anakin, you also have no answer?"

"Kind of."

"I see."  Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder and briefly considered embracing him, but decided that even Anakin Skywalker would eventually reach an age where such things would be uncomfortable, and nearly fourteen was probably past it.  Instead, he just patted the shoulder he was already touching, then let go.  "It is a difficult life, Anakin, made more difficult for you because you remember another.  But it's a life to which you are suited.  Someday, you will be a great Jedi, among the greatest, I think."

This didn't bring a smile, as Obi-Wan had hoped.  Instead, Anakin shivered again.  "I know.  The Chosen One."

"No.  I have consciously avoided discussing the prophecy with you, Anakin, because I know it disturbs you, and because I do not know how to guide you in regards to it.  I mean you will be a great Jedi knight, specifically because of your compassion.  It is a trait I fear I lack sometimes, despite having Qui-Gon as a Master."

Anakin did not correct him on this, though he did manufacture a puzzled expression.

"Well, perhaps we had better do our evening meditations," Obi-Wan said.  "You should get some sleep before school."

Anakin feigned a look of horror, then sat down across from Obi-Wan, and went into his usual restless meditations.  Obi-Wan guided him silently until he was in a safe place, then simply stayed to watch over him.


Chapter Seven

On Tatooine, the suns came up in an ostentatious display, shading the never-ending sky in jewel tones -- first deep indigo, then violet, then bright orange, then finally the brilliant blue that broke Anakin's heart to remember.

On Coruscant, in the Temple, morning came softly, with the lights rising, bringing in the gentle morning routine.  It was like being enfolded in a soft robe -- the building itself seemed to cherish the people inside of it.

Here on Malkiri, dawn was a gray thing, as the sun lit up the night's fog.  Anakin sat in his window, watching the world come into focus, a few meters at a time.  First, he saw the patch of grass that marked the back yard, then a row of flowers that a previous occupant had put in.  Then the shadows rolled back to the creek, fuzzy at first, then clear.  Then he could see Daj's house, and the shadows of the woods beyond.  In those shadows, he thought, anything could be waiting -- monsters to slay, criminals to chase down...maybe even whatever evil thing was spreading lies around here.  In the early morning, Anakin let himself be Ani again, let himself imagine being a hero, vanquishing all the galaxy's villains (his imagination conjured an endless supply of these).

His alarm bell sounded shortly after the day was fully light, and he cleaned up and got dressed before going down to breakfast.  For school, he decided on something a little less bright, a moss green version of the scoot fashion.  He started to put on his lightsaber, to find a place to conceal it, then decided to ask Obi-Wan's opinion first, just putting it into one of the deep pockets of the long jacket to avoid any unintentional sightings.

He tried not to think about the fact that he'd be in school in less than an hour.  He couldn't imagine it.  He'd never had anything resembling school when he was a slave, and classes in the Temple were all taught by gentle Masters who moved students at their own pace, so he'd never been forced to sit through a lesson he'd already learned, or pushed past one that he hadn't mastered yet.  Lessons were also interspersed with a great deal of meditation and exercise, and integrated into life, rather than separated from it in a walled off area away from adults.

Anakin didn't know what to expect in a normal school, and the thought of it made him nervous.

Obi-Wan and Siri were already in the kitchen.  He was dressed; she was still in her nightclothes, with a long, soft robe...a clingy one that really showed what she looked like.  Anakin blushed and looked away.  "Morning," he said.

"Good morning," Siri turned over some kind of egg in the pan she was working at, then slid it out onto a plate.  She put it in front of him and -- to his astonishment -- kissed his cheek.  "Neighbors are out," she whispered.

Anakin looked unobtrusively over his shoulder, out the window, and saw a few people in their back yards, doing some kind of morning exercises.  They probably had no interest in looking in other people's windows, but Siri was right -- they would need to put on the show anyway.  Anakin started in on his egg, feeling disappointed for no reason he could place.  He glanced at Obi-Wan.  "So...you're going to start today?"

Obi-Wan was using a hand held scanner to read the morning news, also quite studiously not looking at Siri.  "Yes.  I've made arrangements to go to the courthouse and interview Shapoi.  I'll at least get a feel for how he is, and how he's being treated."

Siri broke another egg into the pan.  "Check for escape routes while you're there."

"I planned to."  He tipped down the scanner and winked at her, then glanced back at the news.  "And what are your plans?"

"I will join Thama for lunch.  Then I'll slip away and see what is available in terms of, shall we say, short-notice transport off planet.  Are you ready for school?" she asked casually.

"I guess I'll find out when I get there."  He opened his jacket casually to show Obi-Wan the lightsaber hilt in the pocket.  "Just wondering about what I should bring."

Obi-Wan frowned.  "I think," he said after awhile, "that a datapad should be sufficient.  Perhaps a stylus."

Siri sat down with her own breakfast.  Anakin kept his eyes averted.  Her nightdress was awfully low cut.  "When I registered him from Coruscant, they sent a text list.  I downloaded them all to this."  She pulled a datapad from the counter and handed it to him.  "I think you had most of the material in here memorized before you joined us," she muttered.  "Ridiculous curriculum, but at least you won't be behind."

"Thanks.  What do you want me to do there?"

Obi-Wan looked over, noticed that he was looking straight at Siri, and started fidgeting with his food.  Anakin suppressed a smile; it was good to know that Obi-Wan was human sometimes.  "Find out what is being taught formally.  And it is very important for you to tell us what sources they are using to teach it."

"Maybe it's not anything they're teaching in school..."

"That's possible.  We would need to know that as well."

"What do we do, once we know?"

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile, the same one Qui-Gon had given him on board the Queen's starship.  Anakin waited for We will be patient, but instead, Obi-Wan said, "We will return to the Temple and ask the Council for guidance."  He stood up and tucked the news scanner into a belt pouch.  Anakin could see the end of his lightsaber hilt under his shirt.

"Um..."  He moved his jacket to indicate his own.

Obi-Wan nodded and pulled on a poncho.  "I'm aware, Anakin."

"You're going?" Siri asked.  She glanced over at the window above the sink.  A woman in her front yard waved at her, and Siri, looking dazed, waved back.  "Good thing we're keeping the act up."

"Mmm," Obi-Wan said.

The whim came over Anakin quite suddenly.  "Better kiss her goodbye," he suggested.  "The neighbors are watching."

Obi-Wan glared at him, but Siri laughed.  "You heard our mission expert."

With a frozen smile that promised later retaliation, Obi-Wan leaned over Siri, and planted a kiss on her forehead.  She responded with a peck to his cheek, then he stalked out of the room.

Siri raised an eyebrow at Anakin.  "Don't do that again."

Anakin looked up from his egg, surprised.

"As much as I enjoy tweaking Obi-Wan, I can't let you do it.  You're his Padawan.  You owe him respect."

"I didn't mean to...I don't know.  I just thought it would be funny."

"It was.  And it was also a good idea for our roles.  I suppose it did look somewhat normal."

"It did.  It looked really good."

"The best chaste and bloodless kiss I've ever had," she said, giving him a warm smile.

"And how many kisses have you had?"

The smile faltered.  "I was in deep cover for a long time, Anakin."  Without giving him a chance to consider this, she stood up and pulled out his chair playfully, taking his lightsaber and tucking it under her robe.  "You need to get going," she said.  "You'll be late.  Shoo."

Anakin found a boxed lunch shoved into his hand, and was out the door with another kiss on the cheek before he knew what was happening.  Siri stood on the porch and waved to him as he went down the street, making him think of Mom.  He waved back, then pulled the scoot out of his pocket to ride for the rest of the trip.

**********

Obi-Wan chose to walk to the courthouse rather than calling for a taxi.  The walk was only a kilometer or two, some of it on moving walkways, certainly a less strenuous walk than was common on Coruscant.  Judging from the looks he got from people in speeders on the streets, it was decidedly uncommon here.

Well, "Baklee" was supposed to be from Coruscant.  He could have this eccentricity without awkward questions.  Obi-Wan wanted the time to think.  He would have to develop some retaliation for Anakin's little prank, perhaps something involving his persona at school; Anakin would be expecting it, and would be disappointed if it didn't come.  He wasn't angry at Anakin, any more than Anakin was actually disrespectful toward him.  He hoped Siri wouldn't lecture him on that count; Anakin understood perfectly well what their roles were, and having a bit of fun didn't change that.

Much of Anakin's apprenticeship was difficult and filled with angst, but there was also a kind of wild joy in it, and Obi-Wan had come to value his Padawan's occasional playful moods as much as his great skill and vast potential.  It was no wonder he and Qui-Gon had gotten along as well as they had.

He was not quite as entertained by Siri's mood.  The nightdress had been donned after he'd retired last night, and it had been something of a shock when he'd come into the kitchen that morning to find her cooking.  She explained it as "a leftover from Zora" -- part of her previous assignment -- but that didn't, to Obi-Wan's mind, explain why she had kept it, or brought it along.  And it certainly wasn't healthy for her to wear that around a fourteen-year-old boy who was quite impressionable where women were concerned.

And, he had to admit, it was distracting to him as well.  He had not struggled with his commitment to the Jedi Order -- it always seemed a natural way for him to live -- but he was not immune to the sight of a beautiful woman, and Siri was beautiful.

More to the point, she seemed to need something from him.  He didn't think it was what she was apparently hinting at -- Siri was no more likely to waver in her commitment than he was -- but he'd dreamed of her last night, sitting in the window, the blue glow of the stars spreading over her until she glowed like a ghost in a child's picture book.  We're all ghosts, she'd said, then laughed horribly and reached out her glowing arms to him.  He'd planned to speak to her about the dream, to see if she had shared it, or what it meant to her, but the nightdress had...distracted him.

He let the thoughts circle idly in his mind as he walked, hoping they would coalesce on their own.  They didn't.  As he approached the bustling street outside the courthouse, he brought his consciousness closer to the surface.  He couldn't be Baklee while musing on Obi-Wan's private concerns.

The courthouse, like so many buildings on Malkiri, was pyramidal, made of dark brown stone and covered with leafy vines.  The bailiff stopped him at the door and demanded identification.  Obi-Wan flashed his press badge quickly and swept on by as soon as the hand-scanner approved it.

"Ah, Tachi," a law enforcement officer said, standing up from his desk.  "You were to interview the prisoner?"  He preened.  "My name is Terja Kritol.  I made the arrest."

"Really."

"Is this for galactic broadcast?"

Obi-Wan smiled in a way that he hoped said, I am asked this too frequently, and I am only answering out of polite duty.  "I'm afraid I'm not quite that far along in my career yet.  I am merely collecting information for a reporter to work with at a later time."

"Oh," Kritol said, clearly losing interest.  "Well, I'll take you back there.  He's not very friendly.  And you have to be careful.  Don't listen to him talk too long, or he'll brainwash you.  But I guess you know that part, being from Coruscant.  You've probably talked to the brain-bangers before."

Brain-bangers?

"Yes," Obi-Wan said.  "I have spoken to many Jedi in the course of my career."

Kritol led him down a flight of stairs into a basement area, where a narrow corridor led between the cells.  Something tugged at Obi-Wan's Force sense, and he looked up to see a man slightly older than himself standing at the door of a cell near the end, waiting patiently for him.

"This is him," Kritol said.

"So I gathered."

"I'll just be right out here."  Kritol pulled a chair over from across the hall and started to sit down.

"I believe the interview will go more smoothly if I speak to Shapoi alone," Obi-Wan said.

"I don't know if I ought to..."

Obi-Wan pushed the Force at him.  "You have no need to stand guard, Terja Kritol.  There is no danger in this interview."

Kritol blinked a few times, then stood up.  "You know, probably it'll be fine.  I got work to do anyway."  He shuffled back down the hall and disappeared up the stairs.

"Brilliant," Shapoi said dryly.  "Nothing like a mind trick to get things settled down on Malkiri."

"Well, we brain-bangers have a skill or two that come in handy."

"Heard that one, did you?"

"Mmm."

Shapoi ran his hands over his mouth, hiding it as he spoke.  "You know my name.  I think I remember you from the Temple.  Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, weren't you?"

"Yes.  Though the name you may use here is Baklee Tachi."

"Well, Baklee Tachi, did it occur to you that it may not be best to confirm their suspicions?  Sooner or later, someone will point out to him that it was a bad idea to leave his post."

"I wanted to speak freely.  I take it you are unmonitored?"

"Visual only."

"You are certain?"

"I asked."

"And I'm sure they told you the truth."

Shapoi grinned self-consciously.  "Well, let's say I gave them a bit of encouragement as well."

"Ah."  Obi-Wan took out his datapad and pretended to take notes.  "Are you ill treated?"

"They keep the rations down, but I can live without sufficient food for some time.  Have you spoken to my birth parents?  I am concerned about them."

"No.  Not yet."

"Please get them off this world.  Whatever happens to me.  They are decent people.  I was pleased to know them."

"All right."

Shapoi sighed, clearly relaxing somewhat.  "Beyond that," he said, "there is no reason for you to be here."

"We came to see that the trial is fair."

"There won't be a trial.  We both know that."

"Then we can get you out of here."

"That would be foolish.  It would be obvious if I disappeared at the same time you did.  They have enough questions about the Jedi as it is without giving them ammunition in the form of official aid from the Order in escaping their justice."

"Did you commit the crime of which you're accused?"

"No.  Nor do I have any information about whoever did."

"Then you will need to stand trial, and if a fair trial can't be obtained on Malkiri --"

"Do nothing."

"My instructions are --"

"Tell the Council that I declined assistance.  Help my family.  I can take care of myself."

"Shapoi..."

"Please.  I ask as a favor to me, and as a help to the Jedi Order.  They cannot be given proof that the Council would bend their laws to save one of our own."

"They don't appear to need proof of much."

"They aren't fools, however good an impression they do of it.  Many want confirmation.  Do not give it to them."

"Better to let them convict you of killing the king?"

"Better to convict Zio Shapoi of one crime than the Jedi Order of all the crimes they imagine."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath.  "I will consider your request, but I can't guarantee it."

Shapoi stepped back and looked down at his cell floor. "You must do what you feel is right," he intoned.

"I'm aware of that.  As you must."

"Of course."

Obi-Wan hesitated, then made a few fake notes on his datapad and arranged his features into a disinterested mask.  "Shapoi, have you any idea where this comes from?  Are there...I mean, other than the Neimoidians, are there others here?  Other newcomers?"

"Why assume it's newcomers?" Shapoi asked, then waved it off.  "I don't trust the mayor and have made no secret of it.  But don't mistrust the average shopkeeper more than is necessary.  Can't you sense it?  The worst thing about Malkiri is that nearly everyone is well-meaning.  There is some deceit somewhere, but I wasn't able to locate it."

"No nexus for the hatred."  It was exactly what Siri had said.  But Obi-Wan found that he didn't accept it from Shapoi any more easily.  He stood up.  "I'll return tomorrow," he said.  "Perhaps we will have found something worthwhile."

"Yeah.  Sure."  Shapoi shook his head and laughed softly.  "May the Force be with you, Baklee Tachi.  And may it get you off Malkiri as soon as possible."

**********

Anakin had found Tomik Cral and his friends in the schoolyard before the entry bell rang, and followed them as unobtrusively as he could, pretending that this wasn't one of the most alien environments he'd ever been in.  There were children everywhere.  The literature about the school that Siri had given him said that there were sometimes up to twenty-five children for each adult.  Anakin had known this in his mind, but actually seeing the result of that number was a shock to his system.  That the literature had given this statistic as though it were a glowing recommendation in comparison to other schools was utterly beyond comprehension.  It was one thing actually in the crèche, but the crèche babies were often brought into the main Temple to see and be spoken to by older children, padawans, knights, and masters.  It helped them see the paths of life and know what might be ahead.  Here, it looked like life stopped in the late teens, unless a student wanted to turn into a teacher.  How did they know what grownups did?

And Anakin had thought the Jedi were pretty insular, since they didn't let younger students compete with adults, as Watto had.  (He had accepted this as a good thing and a kindly meant thing, but he sometimes missed podracing against the best in the sport.)

He let Tomik's group lead him into a large entryway, then pulled out his datapad to find out where he was supposed to be.  Tomik grabbed his sleeve.  "We all start out in Exercise."

"I thought people did that at home," Anakin said, surprised.  "I saw them out on the lawns."

Tomik shrugged.  "Yeah, my mom does that.  But we do it here.  C'mon.  Gotta change down first."

Anakin followed Tomik into a large, vaulted room, painted a dismal shade of green.  It smelled of old sweat and dirty clothes.  A tall human man took his name, assigned him a small footlocker, and presented him with a strange (and ugly) yellow outfit.  It was one piece, with short sleeves and short pants, and plain, buttoned fastenings.  The other boys were all putting their own on.  The girls had all disappeared somewhere.  Anakin guessed they had their own changing room.

There was much shouting and name calling, and Anakin noticed that the smaller boys all hung together in the back, and looked like prey animals peeking out at a krayt dragon in their territory and wondering if it would be hungry.  Tomik and some of the others occasionally called them names and cursed at them.  Anakin had an urge to grab Tomik's arm, twist it behind his back, then slam his self-satisfied face into the row of footlockers.  But Kit wouldn't do that, so again, Anakin drew Kit around his mind, and let Kit close his eyes to it.

They met the girls in a larger room and went through a series of calisthenics that was dull, but relaxing in a mind-numbing way, then a teacher appeared from the girls' changing room.  She was a short human woman with a sharply triangular jaw and small dark eyes.  A nest of dark, curly hair sat uneasily on top of her head.  "Good morning!" she said, her voice falsely enthusiastic.  To Anakin, she sounded like she had a bad headache and would rather be just about anywhere else.

The younger children all answered "Good morning, Madam Dysto!"  Anakin took his cue from Tomik's group (and even most of the small boys his own age), and just gave her a disinterested stare.

"Well," Madam Dysto said, "it's a brand new week.  Are we all ready for it?"

The little ones all gave her an affirmative answer.  The older children rolled their eyes at each other.  One of Tomik's friends did so in Anakin's direction.  Anakin waggled his fingers in front of his eyes in a gesture that -- on Tatooine, anyway -- meant, "That guy's crazy."  It appeared to mean the same here, because the boy smiled and nodded.

Madam Dysto went on.  "Now, we all know that things are hard right now, and the bad time isn't finished quite yet.  But you know you're safe here.  The bad man is all locked up, and the grownups won't let him hurt you."

"I'm comforted," Tomik said out of the corner of his mouth.  "Dysto's on the job.  She can take a Jedi or two."

"Maybe even four," Anakin said.  Tomik laughed.

"For you older children," Dysto continued, "I need to remind you that school hours are school hours.  There's to be no more slipping the forcefield.  You belong on the grounds, and you need to stay on them."

"Even though the bad man is all locked up?" Anakin whispered.

"You never know," Tomik said.  "His Jedi friends might show up and decide to round up all the class-cutters, steal 'em off to Coruscant, and make them into Temple slaves."

Anakin's throat locked, and his breath stopped.  He could feel the cloth of his persona thinning, unraveling, tearing at the weak spots, leaving him exposed.  He kept the expression on his face still, though it felt like cracking clay, and the litany began inside his head.  Don't let it out, don't blow it, don't say anything, keep it down, it's just words, don't break...

It couldn't have been more than a second or two, because Tomik's expression didn't register any change at all, but for those seconds, the galaxy seemed to simply stop.  Anakin forced himself to swallow, pushed himself deep down, and pulled the tattered edges of Kit Tachi back together to be mended.

It was just words.

Only words.

And not true words.

He couldn't afford to let words -- even that word -- get under his skin.

He made himself breathe in without gasping, settled into a normal rhythm, then turned his attention back to Madam Dysto.

She gave a few more exhortations about rules, most of which were duly ignored by everyone in Anakin's vicinity, then released them to change back into regular clothes and go to classes.  Anakin checked the schedule that Siri had downloaded to his datapad and discovered that his first class was mathematics.  He found that finding his way through the poorly lit hallways to the right anonymous looking classroom was significantly more difficult than the subject matter being taught inside.  He spent math class composing a letter to the real Kitster (addressed by his family name, Binai, in case anyone confiscated the datapad), even though he was fairly certain Obi-Wan wouldn't let him transmit it.

After math, he moved on to literature, which was mildly interesting because they were trying to figure out what a novel meant.  Anakin had read the text in his run through Obi-Wan's collection last year, and he thought it was a good adventure about a water shortage, but it hadn't occurred to him to look at it as saying something about the decline of Mid-Rim culture, with the evaporation of a lunar reservoir standing for the disappearing folkways.  It was something like analyzing a vision, and once he understood that, he got along fine.  It even excited him a little, and made him want to re-read it, with that idea of the reservoir in his head as he went.  It was a whole new way to read, and he thought he might try it with some other books, too.  He should ask the teacher if it worked with any other book.  But he noticed that Tomik's bunch just sat around that class looking puzzled, so he kept his thoughts to himself, and -- again, unlike a Temple class -- no one noticed his unspoken interest and prodded him to participate.  The literature teacher seemed to favor girls anyway.

After literature came history, which was the first serious academic shock.  Obi-Wan insisted that Anakin learn history, and there was so much of it that it took up a lot of time.  He was deep into the spread of human colonies now, and had at first been delighted to find that the class was also studying that . But while Obi-Wan's history talked about how people, eager to see and learn and spread out, had settled new worlds and brought their various cultures with them, the teacher here talked about people being chased off their homeworlds and sent into exile.  They'd managed to create a life, but now, they were being pursued again, by people intent on subjugating them.

Anakin started out taking notes, but eventually just turned on the recording device on the datapad.  This was exactly what he was supposed to be looking for.

Malkiri had been settled, according to the teacher, by political dissidents from Coruscant, some nine hundred fifty years ago (the story Anakin knew said that it had been settled by a voluntary colonial team led by an eminent politician).  They had objected to the corruption that was rampant on the capitol, and when they had made their positions known, the Jedi had influenced the Supreme Chancellor to have them evicted to a distant world.

Anakin raised his hand, hoping he would find a non-suspicious way to ask this before the teacher called on him.

"Yes, Master...Tachi, is it?  Ah, yes.  Our visitor from Coruscant."

"Yes, Ma'am."  Anakin took a deep breath, and opted not to mention hearing a different story altogether.  "I was just wondering -- how do you know it wasn't the Chancellor doing it by himself?  How do you know it was the Jedi?"

"Ah.  You haven't studied this period on your homeworld?"

Anakin shook his head, and in this case it was true.  He'd read about the emigrations and explorations, but he'd just assumed that Coruscant was going about its normal business in the background.

"Very well.  I hadn't planned to teach Coruscantian history today, but it was asked, and it is a wise question.  Does anyone know why the Jedi disliked our Founder, Hunara Malkir?"

No one did.

The teacher sat on the edge of her desk.  "A thousand years ago," she said, "the Jedi had a bloody internal feud."

The Sith uprising! Anakin realized.  But what...

"They managed to quell the rebellion in their own ranks, but everyone around them saw the brutality that ensued when they fought one another, and there were many movements against Jedi power over the next century.  Malkir's was one of them.  The rebel Jedi were vicious and killed many innocent people.  What, he thought, was to stop another rebel faction from arising?  The answer, as long as they study the kind of power that they study, was nothing at all.  He wanted training stopped immediately, and laws created to prohibit the use of their powers among those who had already been trained."

"And the Council didn't like that much," Anakin guessed.

"No, indeed."  The teacher got up.  "We have preserved some of the arguments.  To answer your question, Kit, the Supreme Chancellor had no quarrel with Malkir, but the Jedi were unwilling to give up their power, and they had many quarrels with him.  So they saw to it that he was sent away, and his followers came with him."

"And now the Jedi murdered his descendents," a girl in the front row said quietly.

The teacher didn't argue with her.

The lights in the walls flashed to show that it was time for another class, and most of the students moved on.  Anakin remained in his seat.  It wasn't impossible.  That was the thing.  It really wasn't impossible.

But Obi-Wan didn't lie to him.  If the teacher's story were true, Anakin would have known it already.

"Kit?"

He looked up.  The teacher was looking at him steadily, some concern on her face.

"I'm okay. I better get to..."  He checked his schedule again, and was relieved to find an art class.  That would be relaxing.  "To art.  It's upstairs, I think."

"Yes.  One flight up, the third door on the left."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Kit, but it's important to know the truth."

"I agree.  The truth is the most important thing."  And I wonder if you've ever heard it.

He was late for art, but the teacher was a young Neimoidian woman who was free-spirited and said she didn't care about such arbitrary things.  She presented him with a block of clay and told him they were making busts.  He let his fingers fashion it, pinching out a nose here, an ear there...until he realized that he had two noses on the figure, one on each side, four eyes, and two mouths.  On one side, Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled benignly at him, but growing out of the back of Kenobi's head was the horned visage of the Sith who had killed Qui-Gon.

Anakin slammed the clay between his hands, turning it into a shapeless lump, then slowly -- attentively -- began to shape Padmé's face.  A part of his mind had liked the look of the double figure, so he shaped Mom's on the other side.  He didn't notice the teacher watching him as he worked.