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All I want is to stand under a hot stream of water. Wash away this day's work. Qui-Gon knew he wouldn't relax until he had an update from Alee on her dealings with the Agrarians. The door to the salon pod flashed open and he stood at the entrance. Alee sat curled up in a chair, studying a data pad. Her cloak was missing, as were her boots; she was clad in tunic, leggings and russet slippers. Qui-Gon arched a brow. Shimmersilk slippers? Adds a unique touch to the Jedi uniform. Alee's hair was still a cap of interlocking braids, with escaped tendrils steamed into curls that framed her face and softened her features, making her look younger than her 26 years. Her fresh-scrubbed face attested to her own session in the refresher and added to her youthful appearance. As he observed her, the weight of his years settled on his shoulders like the dust and grime of the day had done earlier. What is it about this woman that makes me want to forget how old I am? How young she is? The Force has always been enough - being a Jedi has always been enough. But still, I find myself wondering, what it would be like if we... Qui-Gon frowned and slowly rotated his shoulder, quieting the tiny throbs that emanated from his laser wound. This is ridiculous. There is no 'we'. It isn't even an issue - and it detracts from the mission. He exhaled slowly.
"Are you coming in or just holding the door open?" Alee asked, without looking up.
Qui-Gon strode across the room. Alee set her pad down and gave him a sparkling smile. Whatever he was going to say got caught in his throat. He swallowed hard and gave her a little nod.
"I was studying awards of valor for the Fondorian military," she said. "It's very interesting. One of the prisoners is a military attache that has almost every medal a pilot can have. Yet here he is, stuck babysitting some spoiled core family member they've assigned as commander of the garrison. Why wouldn't they utilize his military expertise and put him in charge of a ship, or a fleet?"
Qui-Gon sat down. "What does this have to do with our mission, Alee?"
"I'm not sure." Furrows creased her brow. "I feel drawn toward him, somehow."
A small surge of irritation pumped through Qui-Gon. "Let's stay focused on the mission. No detours, please." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Alee. That was harsh, and uncalled for. What were you able to accomplish today?"
Alee eyed him curiously. "We dealt with the Fondorian prisoners." She paused and watched him for a micron, then continued with more enthusiasm. "They were in this freezing hole that was buried three floors down. I convinced Falk to move them. That stubborn man would only agree to it when he realized that his prisoners were safer from a retaliation by the Fondor military than he was. They now reside in the gymnasium on the main floor," she finished with a smile.
"That's it?"
"What do you mean, that's it?" Alee crossed her arms. "That's a lot."
"You didn't even talk about the broader situation? About meeting with the Trium? About reaching peaceful settlement?" Qui-Gon struggled to keep the frustration out of his voice.
Alee stood and planted her hands on her hips. "What comet swung too close and singed you? I helped get better living conditions for 192 men being held hostage and you're upset with me? Blast it, Qui-Gon, something is bothering you. Out with it."
Am I that transparent? He scowled. "Falk didn't mention how the blockade of the city is going?"
"He only mentioned the, ah, Technicks in passing." Alee dropped to her knees in front of Qui-Gon. "What is it? What's happening in the city?"
Her concern weakened his barriers - a barrage of images assaulted him and an overwhelming sadness threatened to lay siege to his mind. Qui-Gon took a moment to center himself and met Alee's steady gaze. "The Agrarians are starving the city into submission."
Alee took his hands and squeezed. "You mean they're just rationing them, don't you? Like many occupying forces, they are limiting access to goods, right?"
"No. They have completely cut off the whole city. No food. No fresh water. No medical supplies. Nothing is getting through. The Technicks, as you called them, have seen a few ships land over the past weeks, but whatever they carried was spirited away." Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "Gaunt adults drag hollow-cheeked children to plead outside the Trium Assembly for some relief. The Trium placates them with empty promises that Fondor will wing to their rescue any day."
Qui-Gon sensed Alee choke back her emotions. Her grip tightened, but her voice remained calm. "Deaths?"
"A few elderly. A few very young. Amongst the poorest families, of course."
"Of course," she whispered. Qui-Gon sensed Alee struggling with anger, pushing it away, reaching for her center of calm. She pressed his hand against her cheek and asked, "So how did you spend your day?"
"We convinced the Trium to set an example amongst the wealthiest families by pooling what food they have left for distribution to the neediest."
"Did you have to plant the suggestion?"
"Logic sufficed. Greed is wavering in the face of fear - fear that the Agrarians might be successful, fear that their own people might revolt. Once we convinced the three leaders, the rest of the wealthy followed suit. So we spent the remainder of the day gathering the food, setting up a distribution point and establishing the method of distribution." Weariness washed over Qui-Gon again, and he closed his eyes. He welcomed the Force's refreshing tide.
He felt Alee go suddenly still. "How many days will the food hold out?"
Qui-Gon sighed. "Two days. So many had nothing at all..."
Alee jumped to her feet and marched to the viewscreen. She brought up the image of the garrison and stared at it. Qui-Gon scrutinized her, sensing the anger building again. She started to shake. He monitored her inner battle, wanting to go to her, wanting to fight it for her, but knowing he needed to let her win alone. He moved to stand behind her, letting her sense his presence. Her anguished voice cried out in his mind, 'Why?' Before his surprise could dissipate, he felt Alee's anger wane and a soft whisper breezed through his thoughts. 'Hold me.'
Alee turned and stepped into his embrace. She pressed herself against him and he wrapped his arms around her. He brushed his cheek against the top of her head, closed his eyes and let her sweet clean smell envelop him.
Her voice was muffled. "As often as I see how cruel one sentient being or group can be to another, I am still overcome by the unfairness of it all. I want to charge in and force them to change. But then, would I be any better than the cruelest of them?"
"Forced change is rarely real or effective change," replied Qui-Gon. "You found that out when you were three and railed against your father to no avail. You can't force someone to change any more than you can force someone to love you."
"Can you force yourself to stop loving someone?" Alee whispered.
"I don't think he ever allowed himself to love you. Knowing you would leave, he refused to open himself to that pain, refused to let himself be part of your life." Qui-Gon felt the Force swirling around them. "Before you ever stepped inside the Temple, your father unwittingly forged you into a Jedi with an unquenchable desire to see justice done, to see wrongs made right. Yoda says, 'Luminous beings are we.' And when your desire for justice reduces your anger to ashes, your eyes burn with such incredible luminosity..." His voice trailed off as the Force swelled.
Radiance and warmth wrapped around the two Jedi. Qui-Gon felt it glimmering between them and through them. He opened his senses outward, and for one brief moment he couldn't tell where he left off and Alee began. He reached to hold on to the sensation, but it was gone. Alee stepped back, puzzlement creasing her features. She felt it, too. He swept a wayward hair behind her ear. We are being woven together by the Force. But why? It's not the right time. Obi-Wan. The mission. It's not the right time.
Alee searched his face and turned away. "I am so confused, Qui-Gon. Sometimes I can't help but have very un-Jedi-like thoughts about you, about us. Everything about you draws me to you ..."
"Even my age?" asked Qui-Gon.
Alee sighed. "Age matters not. Sometimes, just for a micron, I get the sense that we ... fit. I, I know it's foolish."
Qui-Gon clasped her shoulders. "It's not foolish." Tell her you feel the same way. "It's very touching." Tell her how soul-searing deeply it touches you. "I'm just not sure I can allow myself..." Alee tensed under his fingers. Tell her that after the mission you want to spend time... "I don't think it's the right time..."
Alee pulled away, her back still to Qui-Gon. "No, you're right," she said. "The time ... the time is never right for something that should never be."
Six long strides and she was out of the room. In the corridor, Obi-Wan flattened himself against the wall as she swept past. He watched her go, then turned and stepped into the salon pod and into Qui-Gon's line of sight. He met Qui-Gon's gaze with open curiosity.
"Did I interrupt something?" he asked. "Alee seemed tense. Almost like she was in pain."
Qui-Gon blinked. Obi-Wan shrugged and added, "I just wanted to let you know that the refresher is all yours. Thanks for letting me go first."
Mind blank, Qui-Gon pivoted and stared at the viewscreen. Two minutes later a billowing shadow swept through a pool of cast light and melted into the dark edges of the spaceport. Qui-Gon blinked and kept his eyes glued to the last spot he'd seen Alee. What have I done?
Obi-Wan prodded him gently with the Force. "Master? What is it? I sense confusion, tension. And something else. Sorrow? Pain, even? It's very hazy."
The concerned tone of his Padawan touched Qui-Gon. He let out his breath slowly. "I feel ... I feel as if I just threw away something precious and there is no way to get it back. A part of me I didn't know I had has torn away, leaving a raw open wound."
"What can I do, Master?" Devotion and love filled Obi-Wan's words, and, amplified by the Force, soothed Qui-Gon's disquiet.
"You've already done it, Padawan. I need time alone - with the Force. I will retire to our stateroom to meditate." Qui-Gon took two steps, returned and looked deep into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Thank you."
Qui-Gon spun and left, emotions swirling around him like his cloak.
Rustling in the grass alerted Alee to the coming dawn. The day creatures were beginning to stir. She flipped her focus from inward to outward and eased out of her meditative state. She sat cross-legged in a grassy meadow 200 meters from the spaceport wall - as far as her legs had been able to carry her last night before they suffered meltdown. Leaving had been foolish, perhaps, but it had seemed the only way to find space, to find somewhere that wasn't permeated by Qui-Gon's presence.
She had dared to speak of her growing affection and he had thrown it back in her face. He had made himself abundantly clear. He wouldn't allow himself to become involved with her, didn't want to be part of her life. Our minds touched. Our souls touched. I know he felt it, too. But still, he chose to reject the gift the Force was giving us. Alee sighed. I have to respect his decision, even though I know I will never feel complete again. The Force give me strength, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I am beginning to love him, I truly am. But can I make myself stop? Why do the people I love the most always leave me? I loved my mother and she let me go. I loved my father and he never accepted me. I love Qui-Gon and he rejected me. Which is worse? To be rejected or never accepted? Rejection, I think, because you have tasted what might have been and the flavor lingers in your mind. The Force give me strength.
Sweeping all thought from her mind, Alee stretched out with her senses. Beads of dew decorated her cloak, and began sinking into the rough brown cloth as the sun rose over the horizon, leaving dark circles to mark their passing. The smell of damp earth and grass filled her nostrils, flaring them with cloying richness. The breeze picked up and swept her gaze across the grassland to the rocky hills and jagged mountains that hid the riches of the planet deep within their folds and crevices, and revealed them to men only reluctantly and after much coaxing. The sun's rays painted the pinnacles with broad strokes of multi-hued browns and golds, and shadows retreated into hidden valleys.
Alee sat unmoving, as light and life and color returned to the land. The flow of the Force caught her up and carried her along, making her aware of every insect, every creature, every ripple of grass around her. She knew he was coming long before he reached her. It was too early in the morning to deal with this. She expelled her frustration in one long, even breath. She did not acknowledge him until he squatted beside her and began talking.
"Why be ya here, Jedi?" asked Falk. "Good thing ya had the hood down, or the patrols might've thought ya be a rock and might've used ya for target practice." He paused. "How did ya get here, anyway? No patrol saw ya go by."
Alee squinted as the sun formed a halo behind the Agrarian's head, bleaching his blond hair white. "I went over the wall."
He frowned. "That be a mighty high wall, Jedi."
"High enough. But I've always loved falling and the Force always catches me."
"Ya be a strange one, all right." Falk stood. "Time to eat. Come, Jedi."
Alee unfolded her legs and rose in one fluid motion. "I will come, Falk. But I will not eat."
Falk started striding away. "Why not, Jedi?"
Alee threw her hands in the air and half ran after him. "I will not eat again until you feed the Technicks."
Falk stopped short and Alee almost bumped into him. He swung around and glared at her as if she were a rock that had just tripped him. "Ya mean nothing to me, Jedi. Ya will get mighty hungry before this be over."
Falk wheeled again and headed toward the outer gates of the garrison. Alee jogged beside him. "You've endured the cruelty of being treated like dirt all your life. Why would you purposely inflict cruelty on anyone else?"
Falk halted. Alee passed him and planted her foot, pivoting to face him. Falk's chest was heaving.
"They be our tormentors, Jedi," he rasped.
"You cannot pass judgment on a city of helpless women and children, Falk. They are dying."
"As we be dying for centuries."
"What do you mean?" Alee's features echoed her puzzlement.
"They be treating being born an Agri as a crime, Jedi. See this?" Falk extended his left arm. Midway between wrist and elbow, a tattoo of woven green grass encircled his arm. "This be the mark of an Agri. We must be branded before our first year be past, or the parents be sent to the mines. A sentence of five years, Jedi. So few be coming back that we be celebrating them in song. See this?" He pointed to a babyfinger-sized hole in his left ear. "This be given to any considered unfit to deal with the Technicks. We be forbidden entry to city, town or mine. Except the prison mine. We be there ten years if we break the forbidding. Not one be surviving that long. See that?" He pointed to the sky. "If a Technick dare to love an Agri, that be where she or he be sent - banned forever. It be death in the mines for the Agri."
Alee let her face reflect the distress resounding within. "Oh, Falk. So much pain. So much to forgive."
"We be willing still, but the Technicks be unbending." Falk crossed his arms. "They be bent or they break, but we will be equal. If it be taking a few Technick deaths, so be it. The time be long past, Jedi, for wrong to be made right."
"Yes. But there must be a better way, Falk. Injustice heaped upon injustice will not yield you the crop you want. Healing has to start somewhere. A bridge must be built." Alee closed her eyes for a moment. "Why did you speak only of monetary gain yesterday? Of sharing the riches?"
"That be the language the Technicks speak. They be far from the soil with all their machines and technologies - like ya. We be close. We be understanding that all of us be part of the life cycle of Gandeal. We all be important. For Technicks, only riches be important."
"True. And tied closely to their riches is the contract with Fondor." Alee raised one brow. "I think we need to carefully consider how you are treating your hostages, Falk. It will speak to both the Technicks and Fondor. Let's go see what we can do for them."
"They be not released, Jedi," Falk insisted.
"But they can be given more freedom, provided they don't abuse it," countered Alee.
"Let's be going. I be hungry." Falk lurched into fast motion.
Alee swept along behind him. "Falk, you must consider feeding the people at least enough to keep them alive. They will respect your show of mercy. Besides, I'm hungry, too."
The Agrarian grunted and picked up his pace.
After Falk had eaten enough to feed three men, he leaned back with fingers clasped behind his head. Alee rested her arms on the table and studied his face.
"Something is bothering me, Falk," Alee said.
Falk snorted. "Ya be full of bother, Jedi. What now?"
She picked up his mild tone of indulgence and smiled. "How did you come by your weapons? I can't imagine the Technicks selling them to you."
"That be the truth." Falk looked out the cafeteria window. "The seed of freedom be laying dormant for many, many years. It be watered the day a ship crash-landed far from any Technick settlement. We be helping this offworld stranger repair his ship. We only be wanting to be rid of him. Then we found him to be a smuggler. To be repaying our kindness, he be willing to flying in weapons. For a price, of course."
"Of course," echoed Alee.
Falk continued, "The seedling be growing until we be having enough weapons and a plan. Now we be harvesting our freedom."
"What was his name?" Alee asked.
A frown creased the Agrarian's brow. "To us, he be just Smuggler. His name be ... be Cray-ed, Cray-el, Cray-en, something like that. Be it important?"
"I was just curious."
"Ya Jedi be a curious lot. That can be getting a person
into trouble."
