Chapter Text
“Kenobi.” Obi-Wan was sitting in the lotus position under Qui-Gon’s favorite tree, working with his padawan on her mental shielding, when his comm chirped. Messages from Master Windu usually meant mission assignments.
“Master Yoda and the Supreme Chancellor have convinced themselves that it’s time to gather the ancient sacred texts and holocrons and bring them to the Temple, and that you and your padawan are ideal for the job. They seem to be rather shaken up still by the resurgence of Sith activity in recent years, and now Master Yoda is worried about the sacred texts falling into the wrong hands. How did he put it—I believe he said we’re living in dark times in which forces that are greedy, lustful, murderous, and quarrelsome are rising in prominence. I hear that you yourself have been having visions about Sith ghosts getting a hold of the sacred texts and holocrons to reanimate themselves. I agreed that it seemed like a good task for the Chosen One.”
Although Darth Sidious was now dead, there was no guarantee that there were no more Sith hiding in the shadows. Obi-Wan chuckled at the air quotes in the way that Master Windu referred to him as the Chosen One. “Can I take Anakin, too?”
“If you must. Why you would want him along is a mystery to me, but go ahead, be my guest. That is, if the Supreme Chancellor gives her permission.”
That was a big “if.” The young woman who was Padme Naberrie-Skywalker in private was also Supreme Chancellor Amidala, and both versions of this august personage had a vested interest in the survival of a certain Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker-Naberrie. She was usually good about sharing her eighteen-year-old husband with the galaxy, but extended or dangerous missions required some convincing before she let Anakin go. On the other hand, if Anakin was to be added to the Kenobi-Tano master-padawan pair for their missions, things were different.
By the time Obi-Wan ended the call, Ahsoka was grinning, clearly excited about going on a treasure hunt of galactic proportions. “When are we leaving, Master?”
“Not right away. We have some research to do in the Archives first, and you have some tests coming up in your junior padawan coursework. Master Obath tells me you’re likely to pass them this time.”
Ahsoka had struggled with her schoolwork when her first master was relapsing into drunkenness and when she was subsequently killed on a mission, but the stability of having Obi-Wan Kenobi as her new master had allowed her to catch up—for the most part. She was still behind what a fourteen-year-old junior padawan should know in a few courses. Her teacher, Knight Rissy Obath, had secretly relished the opportunity to coordinate the remedial work with Obi-Wan, since she had had a crush on him when they were junior padawans twenty years ago.
“But we also have some research to do at Dex’s Diner.” Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkled mischievously. He still went there sometimes, generally with Ahsoka in tow, but not as often as in the past, now that he was two-and-a-half years sober. Anakin would want to tag along to Dex’s, though not the Archives so much. He might insist on bringing Garen for good measure, since the pilot was now Anakin’s best friend as well, especially since Anakin had been knighted.
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were just minding their own business inside the access-restricted part of the Archives when Madam Jocasta Nu approached from behind. Even now, as a Jedi master aged thirty-four, training his second padawan, he was still somewhat afraid of her. She had not struck him for probably fifteen years, while Master Yoda’s gimmer stick came in rather more frequent contact with Obi-Wan’s person, and yet he found her somehow more terrifying. “You requested permission to borrow some restricted texts. As a master you have that right, but I still have a duty to confirm.”
“Ah yes, of course. It’s for our next mission. Here, let me show you the briefing.” So far no raps to the knuckles, even though some of the reference texts had been authored by known heretic masters from other eras. There were, after all, some holobooks about Sith holocrons and reanimation techniques, not to mention works about Dathomiri black magic. The library of works about the Sith and Nightsisters had greatly expanded since Maul Kenobi, formerly Sith lord Darth Maul, had so kindly added to it and overseen its curation. Really Obi-Wan would have wanted his adopted brother along, too, but Maul was too busy working as a hospital orderly on Stewjon and raising two of Obi-Wan’s nieces as their stepfather, having married the widow of Obi-Wan’s second brother. Maybe Master Dooku or Master Ventress was free.
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka made a stop at the creche once Obi-Wan was satisfied with their haul from the Archives. Ahsoka did not question it anymore when her master took her to see his four-year-old biological daughter in the creche. She was even picking up some Mando’a words from exposure to little Deltine Kryze-Kenobi. Attachments were forbidden, but Obi-Wan showed affection to all of the younglings, arguing that nurturing love was not the same as jealous attachment.
Neither master nor padawan were surprised to find Anakin there already, sitting on the floor, letting Deltine play with his blond curls that had grown considerably in half a year. The smell of Qui-Gon’s hair oil filled the air, which Anakin had recently started using on his curls, probably on Padme’s advice. He had already declared his intention to take Deltine as his padawan once she was the right age. For her part, little Deltine was already firmly bonded to her ori’vod.
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka joined the pair on the floor, enjoying the little family moment. If Satine and Korkie came to visit from Mandalore, their family would be complete. Perhaps when Korkie got some time off from his university studies at the Royal Academy of Mandalore he could come to see his father and sister.
“We’ve got a mission, Anakin, that I’d like you to join—if that’s all right with Padme. It’s a treasure hunt of sorts, across the galaxy, and I think your strength in the Force would help us to find the holocrons and ancient sacred texts and objects.”
“Wizard!” Anakin graced them with his lopsided grin. He knew any such enterprise would involve a trip to Dex’s Diner. He had not been there since he was knighted. Old Uncle Dex would certainly fuss over him and his change in status. For an old Besalisk former outlaw, he was certainly on old softie when it came to his Jedi friends.
As soon as the three of them entered the establishment, Dex himself noticed them and lumbered over, spreading out his four arms to envelop Obi-Wan in a bone-shattering hug. “What have we got here, Obi-Wan and his Jedi kids, eh? Anakin’s missing a braid, I see. When did that happen? And the little lady is growing up.”
“Skyguy’s been a knight now for about half a year.” Ahsoka lightly boxed Anakin’s arm. She loved these occasions in which they went places as a trio.
When they sat down, Flo came to take their orders. “Anybody here interested in Jawa Juice? No, not you, missy. You’re not old enough.”
“No, no thanks.” Anakin was not terribly fond of the taste of alcohol, and did not feel in the least bit embarrassed about being a lightweight. At eighteen he was legally old enough to drink on Coruscant, but was not especially interested. He knew all too well what alcohol could do to a person, having been a child during his master’s active addiction and a teenager when Obi-Wan got sober.
“No, none for me, either. I don’t drink alcohol.” Flo was not gauche enough to point out that Obi-Wan did drink truly impressive quantities of alcohol two and a half years ago; as a robot she had no real framework to understand the concept of a recovering alcoholic, but she was willing to respect Obi-Wan’s reframing of himself as a teetotaler. She also used to play a game in which she pretended not to recognize Obi-Wan, which started when he was a growing padawan brought to the diner by Qui-Gon, but his appearance had not changed now for several years. Short, well-trimmed beard, clean-looking cream-colored robes, close-cropped copper hair, those dimples and that mischievous sparkle in his eyes that had an effect even on a non-organic such as herself—he was one of those people who would stay the same for years.
When they had settled in to their meal and the conversation naturally died down, Obi-Wan produced his datapad from the folds of his robe. “Master Yoda gave me a list of holy texts. He said he didn’t remember where the Rammahgon was.”
Anakin frowned. “I don’t remember ever hearing that title before.”
“I do.” Dex approached their table. “You’re being sent to look for the old books? I would think that Antron Bach would have some idea. You know, the dealer of Jedi antiques. He’s a human like you. Master Vos knows him quite well. I’m surprised your paths never crossed before, since he’s often found in cantinas here on Coruscant. The last time I saw him, we commiserated about our growing girth around the middle, how that doesn’t always correspond to a growing girth of our wallets.”
“Antron Bach. I think I may have heard the name before. Or maybe it was in a footnote in a holobook, recounting how the Chronicles of Med’eeth were found. My memory isn’t what it used to be.” Obi-Wan gave his sad little smile, the one he really should get trademarked.
“Maybe you heard about him from Master Vos.” Dex was actually on a first-name basis with Quinlan Vos, but seemed to feel a duty to observe some formalities around Ahsoka, although his attempts were rather misguided. “Anyway, you’re supposed to find these old books. Any other titles?”
“Yes, actually. The two known volumes of the Aionomica, as well. I heard there was thought to be a third volume for a time, but it turned out to be a forgery. And the Chronicles of Brus-Bu.”
“This is so exciting, Master.” Ahsoka was grinning. This was hardly her first offworld mission, since she had been to Ilum for her crystals and had had a number of missions with her dead master, but it would be her first as Obi-Wan’s padawan. She had even been on several missions with him before, but always in the context of two master-padawan pairs. In fact, Master Obi-Wan was there when her first master, Knight Argorria Motigora, was fatally injured during their mission to Merisee.
Obi-Wan patted her on the shoulder. “You like adventure, don’t you. So does Anakin. We’re going to have plenty of chances for that on this wild mynock chase.”
Dex grinned and shook his head. “Your whole lineage are crazy, starting from Qui-Gon. That’s what I love about you guys. Hey, miss, eat up. You’re going to need some energy for those adventures you have waiting for you.”
Back at the Temple, Obi-Wan found Aayla Secura in the hall. “Long time no see! I’m glad to see you looking well, Aayla. Can you tell me where I might find Quin?”
“Quin? I’m sorry, I have no idea. Maybe Tatooine, since he seems to like it there. Or maybe he’s spending some quality time with pirates. Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“That’s all right. Thanks.”
Obi-Wan rubbed his right temple. Now what. Quinlan Vos was a veritable treasure trove of contacts and information, but it was well-nigh impossible to get a hold of him. He went wherever he saw fit to do who knew what. Oh yes, speaking of Quin and his shady missions, perhaps Siri would know. She’d been undercover with the same sort of sketchy characters, and she was easier to track.
Obi-Wan brought Ahsoka when he knocked on Siri’s door. It was Ferus Olin who answered, looking rather glum. Oh yes, that’s right. He was hit hard by what happened on Korriban and still needed some time to sort himself out. There were rumors that he would leave the Order without being knighted. Be that as it may, for now, anyway, he was still living with his master.
“Oh, hello, Ferus. Is your master home?”
“No. She’s offworld on a solo mission.” Ferus Olin fixed his gaze on Obi-Wan’s boots, unable to look him in the eye. Obi-Wan did not need a clear view to guess that the intense, intelligent brown eyes were red-rimmed from tears that were now completely spent. The boy blamed himself for the death of a fellow padawan on Korriban.
“I’m sorry about what happened. I know it’s never easy. I went through something similar during the civil war on Melida/ Daan when I couldn’t save my comrade. It’s not really your fault. These things happen, it’s part of our job.”
Ferus Olin finally looked up, confirming Obi-Wan’s theory about his tears. “I feel stupid now about some of the things I said to Anakin. He’s much more worthy of the status of Jedi knight than I’ll ever be, even with his Code violations.”
“I wouldn’t say that. We all have our individual paths as Jedi. Yours is different from his, different from mine, different from your master’s. You should talk to her, she’s been through a lot herself. Your grand-master, Master Gallia, is a good resource. Or talk to Anakin, even. Or me. You have a whole community to draw on.”
“Thank you for trying to make me feel better.” Ferus Olin had a sad little smile of his own to rival Obi-Wan’s.
“Do or do not, there is no try.” Obi-Wan did his best impression of Master Yoda, and was rewarded with a bitter laugh. Imitation was never his best trick—that was Reeft’s specialty—but he was usually able to get a laugh.
“That’s so bad it’s good. Wow, I actually do feel a bit better. Thank you.”
Unable to find any of the people he had hoped to consult, Obi-Wan dropped Ahsoka off at Bant’s apartment and headed to his recovery meeting. Maybe Master Dooku would be able to help. Obi-Wan usually sat next to his grand-master, who was also his sponsor. Oh yes, that’s right. Obi-Wan needed to get a cake to present to him for his upcoming thirtieth sober anniversary.
“Yan, alcoholic.” Master Dooku was generally the first person to introduce himself in the ritual manner, as the oldest of the old-timers.
“Yan.” The attendees repeated the name in chorus in the traditional manner.
“Obi-Wan, alcoholic.”
“Obi-Wan.”
The other attendees introduced themselves in the same manner, although everyone knew everyone else. After an awkward pause, an unfamiliar voice spoke up. “Antron, alcoholic.” The voice sounded close to tears. Obi-Wan remembered the feeling well. This person must be new. Obi-Wan made a mental note of it and resolved to approach him after the meeting to try to make him feel welcome. Hey, wait a minute. Antron? Was it possible that this was the same Antron whom Obi-Wan wanted to see?
Obi-Wan was the speaker today, so he got up, took a position behind the podium, and began. Looking out on the faces assembled, he noticed that there was only one person who seemed unfamiliar; this must be Antron, the new person. Obi-Wan told the story of his rock bottom yet again, how he had insisted on taking Anakin to Tatooine for his sixteenth lifeday and ended by drunkenly striking him in the market square in Mos Eisley, the pallies he made Anakin buy but never actually ate, hearing Qui-Gon’s voice when he was in a drunken haze on the ship home, then finally being found by Master Dooku and making his first step, admitting to himself and to Master Dooku that his life was unmanageable and that he needed help. No matter how many times he told the story, he always felt awestruck and grateful afterward that he had survived.
After the meeting, when the members congregated around the samovar for tea, Obi-Wan filled two cups and presented one to the new person. It was lucky that he was the speaker today, because that almost assured that Antron would recognize him. “Antron, right? I’m Obi-Wan. Thank you for coming today.”
The man ran a hand through his short grey hair and laughed nervously. His clothes were fairly plain and he did not have a lightsaber. He was clearly not a Jedi. “Yes, Antron. Thank you for not kicking me out. I’m not even a Jedi.”
“You don’t have to be a Jedi to join our group. Many of us are Jedi, but there are also Temple staff. All you need is a desire to stop drinking.”
“Yes, I do have that. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, though, because so much of my business involves going to cantinas and diners. I’m an antiques dealer of sorts, mostly Jedi antiques.”
“Ah, maybe you’re the man I’m looking for. Are you Antron Bach, by any chance? I’m tasked with finding and bringing back some old sacred texts.”
“Yes, I am. Wow, I never thought I might make some business contacts here. You’re Obi-Wan, you said?”
“Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Strictly speaking, we’re not supposed to be treating this meeting as a business mixer, but the meeting is finished. I’m looking for the Rammahgon. Master Yoda doesn’t remember where it is, and Dex told me you would know.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t really remember either. My memory of the last few years is rather hazy. You understand.”
“Yes, all too well.”
“But I do remember that the planet name started with the letter ‘osk,’ and that it was on one of the moons of that planet. I think there were four moons, with a lot of hostile wildlife.”
“Thank you. That’s more than I knew. Perhaps the planet was Ord Mantell, or Onderon, or Ordo, or Ojom, or Ossus. Those are the only planets starting with ‘osk’ I can think of right now. If it was Ordo, it would be easy for me to investigate, since I have family ties to Mandalore and I speak the language.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a planet in the Mandalorian system. I have a strong feeling that it was either Onderon or Ossus.”
“Well, thank you.”
Master Dooku approached them and introduced himself as Obi-Wan’s sponsor, asking Antron Bach if he had a sponsor.
“No, not yet. How do I choose someone?”
“Well, stick with the winners, that’s what we say. I can help you find someone if you like. You probably don’t know anyone yet.”
“I just met Obi-Wan, here.”
“Ah. Well, I can say that he’s stable in his recovery because he puts in the work, but I don’t recommend getting a Jedi sponsor if you’re not a Jedi yourself, because we travel a lot for our missions, and because our alcoholism interacts with our Force-sensitivity in specific ways. Come on, I can introduce you to some of the non-Jedi members. As we say, keep coming back, it works if you work it. You’ll get used to the slogans.”
When Obi-Wan showed up at Bant’s door later that day, he was very pleased to find Ahsoka’s homework done. “Thanks, Bant. I know you worked with her.” What he did not say, but still got across to Bant loud and clear, was his relief that Ahsoka still had female mentors in her life as a fourteen-year-old girl navigating the tricky waters of puberty as a padawan, handling the aspects of being a teenage girl that women like Bant were best equipped to provide guidance for, especially since Ahsoka’s dead master had been a little too obvious about her inappropriate desires regarding Obi-Wan himself. There was nothing wrong with having those feelings, to be sure, but Jedi needed to keep those under control, especially when those desires were centered on mission partners. Argorria had gotten more and more obvious about them after her relapse. Young Ahsoka did not need to see her father figure in that light, at least, not until she was old enough and mature enough to understand his relationship with his no-longer-so-secret wife. Force, Ahsoka had not even met Satine yet.
“Ahsoka, we have two possible leads for our treasure hunt. Do you want to go to Onderon first, or Ossus?”
“Onderon. I like the way the name sounds.” Ah, truly wonderful, the mind of a child is, and all that.
“All right, Onderon it is, then. Can you show me on the charts where it is?” Obi-Wan could not help himself. Teacher mode came so naturally to him that he had often considered volunteering to teach junior padawan courses if he ever had a break between apprentices. Even though geography, particularly astronavigation, had never been his best subject, the natural history of each system was an aspect that he had almost enjoyed—almost—thanks to Qui-Gon and his pathetic lifeforms.
Ahsoka scanned the maps for a few moments until she found it. It was a major system, so that it was well-marked. “And can you name some of the horrible creatures that live there? Aside from humans, that is.” Obi-Wan had a mischievous gleam in his eye. He was well aware of the galactic reputation of humans as a species.
“Aw, master, humans are the worst.” Ahsoka responded playfully. “In terms of non-sentient beasts, maybe the dalgo.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Had Ahsoka paid attention in class? The dalgo was not unlike the eopies of Tatooine, a four-legged herbivore useful as a pack animal, just the right size, perhaps a little small, for a humanoid being to ride. There was nothing horrible about it at all.
“Aside from useful beasts, I should have said. Although, if you’re going to argue that the fambaa smells terrible when you try to ride it, I’m inclined to agree.”
“Ruping? But those are tame now. People can ride them to fly.”
“Good, you were paying attention.”
“Hey, Master! That was a trick question, wasn’t it!”
“Your master is Obi-Wan Kenobi. What did you expect? The king of things being true from a certain point of view.” Bant entered the fray with a sly grin, enjoying the chance to expose her friend’s true nature to his padawan.
Anakin was already at Obi-Wan’s apartment, sitting in Ahsoka’s room, when his former master and his new apprentice came home. The room had been Anakin’s for nine years, and Obi-Wan’s for twelve years before that. Now it was unmistakably a teenage girl’s room. Ahsoka also had holobooks and droid parts, but these were a bit less chaotic than Anakin’s had been, although Ahsoka was nowhere near the neat-freak their master was. Ahsoka’s cold-weather cloak actually hung in the closet instead of covering droid parts on the floor that were painful to step on. On the other hand, she had fewer cloaks and blankets and cold-weather items in her room, since she was more cold-resistant than Anakin. He was always cold, unless he was in an environment that was as hot as Tatooine during the daytime.
“Where are we going, Master?” Anakin stuck his head into the common room as soon as he heard the master-padawan pair come home.
“Onderon. I hope you like jungles.” Obi-Wan remembered how Anakin felt about the mud swamps of Mimban.
“Aw, Master, better a jungle than a desert. Nothing is worse than sand.”
“Famous last words, Skyguy.” Ahsoka smirked at her big brother.
“Well, you try growing up a slave on a desert planet and see how big of a fan of sand you end up, Snips.” Anakin did not like to talk about his early life in general, only discussing it with people he truly trusted, so the fact that he could joke about his background with Ahsoka said a lot. It always made Obi-Wan smile to see them together, the crazy brother-sister pair, even though they managed to get into more than double the trouble.
Obi-Wan let them banter as he packed for their mission. Really Anakin should go home to tell Padme and pack, too. He had better bring old clothes that he would not mind throwing away after a romp through the jungle. That boy had gotten more stylish after his marriage, opting for dark robes to set off his golden hair, perhaps inspired by Master Dooku’s look. On the other hand, dark colors hid dirt better, too. Classic Anakin. As long as Padme was happy with how Anakin looked, Obi-Wan saw no reason to say anything, although Master Dooku was full of opinions about what Anakin should wear or what he should do with his curls. Let the boy experiment and enjoy being eighteen without having to follow grooming rules for padawans anymore.