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Free Will.
That was Master Kall-toff’s focus for today’s class. He and his fifteen young learners sat ruminatively in a circle together in the center of the classroom as he lectured them on the importance of self autonomy.
“A Master’s job is to guide the Padawan. However, when it comes down to it, the Padawan is ultimately the one in control of his or her actions,” he said, and finally opened his eyes to gaze upon his audience. “Now, I have an assignment for you. The next time you are given a task by your master that you would prefer not to do, simply refuse outright, offering no excuse or explanation, and see what happens. Simple enough, yes?”
The classroom full of junior padawans was filled with confused silence. Master Kall-toff, the temple’s esteemed philosophical instructor, was favored among masters and students alike. However, the elderly Zabrack was notorious for his rather idiosyncratic mindset when it came to creating assignments.
“I don’t understand, Master Kall-toff,” Veg Kakca, a young Nautolan, spoke up for himself and the rest of the confused students. “Could you explain the assignment once more?”
“Certainly. I would like for you to tell your masters ‘no,’ the next time you are told to do something that you genuinely don’t want to do.”
“You want us to intentionally disobey our Masters?”
“I want you to practice free will, Padawan Tachi, not disobedience. I think that once you complete this assignment, you will find that there is a fine difference between the two.”
Siri looked rather dubious, but she refrained from asking any more questions.
“Furthermore, I would like you to write a reflection, once you have completed the task. Of course, you could always practice free will and refuse my assignment altogether, but I do plan to grade it as an exam.” Master Kall-toff continued jovially. “I don’t care about the trivial aspects such as mechanics or length. I’m more interested in heartfelt reflection.”
Had the class been full of puerile initiates and not well-behaved padawans, there might have been a collective groan at the thought of writing a reflection. Instead, Master Kall-toff was met with stony yet determined faces.
“Now, it’s important to ensure authenticity,” the instructor reminded them. “Try not to reveal to your master that you are completing a class assignment. See how your master responds to you first. After you’ve gathered enough observations, of course, I encourage you to then explain the assignment to your masters. It might even cause them to reflect upon their actions, if their response to your refusal ends up being less than ideal.”
“What if we get in trouble?”
“Then I suggest you include that in your reflection. I’ll even tack on some extra points out of sympathy,” Master Kall-toff said, rumbling with laughter to himself, though not one other person in his class appeared amused. Noticing this, he cleared his throat. “However, I shall accept sole responsibility for any true disruptions in your apprenticeship if things go awry. This assignment is merely meant to be eye-opening, not a cause of distress.”
With the promise of safety, the class began to murmur to one another in excitement at the rather unusual assignment. All except one.
To Obi-Wan Kenobi, there could not be a worse class assignment than this.
Obi-Wan had said no to his master before, not long ago, and it had nearly cost him his apprenticeship. He was still bearing the consequences of that ‘no’ right now, in the form of being on probation. In fact, he was lucky to even be enrolled in padawan-level classes to begin with, seeing as the rank was temporarily taken away from him.
How in the galaxy’s name was he supposed to complete this assignment?
“Well, that’s all I have for you. Off you go, now; I’ve been invited to tea with my former padawan!” Master Kall-toff said, shooing them away. “We’ll meet here at the same time next week. Don’t forget to bring your reflections. May the force be with you all.”
“I can’t think of a better exam!” Garen expressed his excitement to Obi-Wan as they stood in line at the dining hall to grab an early lunch together. “I admit that I was expecting to regret my choice of taking a philosophy elective, but so far it’s been nothing but entertaining! And thought-provoking, I suppose.”
The most beneficial aspect of Master Kall-toff’s class was the fact that Garen Mulin, Obi-Wan’s close friend since early childhood, happened to share it with him. It was the only time that Obi-Wan was able to see Garen these days, seeing as he was kept busy with his piloting tutorials.
Obi-Wan smiled halfheartedly. “Master Kall-toff is eccentric, I’ll give him that.”
As Garen began to select various items for himself from the buffet-style counter, Obi-Wan’s path was interrupted by one of the serving droids.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your meal: one cup of lightly seasoned zuccii, half a cup of butter roasted tubers, two standard slices of spiceloaf, one oi-oi puff, and one liter of vitamin-enhanced water.”
“Thanks,” Obi-Wan said dully, taking the offered tray.
Since his return from Melida/Daan, aside from the Council and Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had been under Master Che’s scrutiny in particular. He had lost close to ten pounds during his time among the Young, due to the stress of warfare as well as a severe lack of food and resources. When Qui-Gon had brought him to the healers after Telos, Master Che was livid with the results from his standard check-up.
Unfortunately, the Master Healer saw fit to put Obi-Wan on a strict diet to help him gain some essential body weight back. That came in the form of a carefully constructed meal plan that consisted of various foods high in calories and nutrients. These meals were prepared ahead of time, and the worker-droids and dining hall assistants always had pre-made meals set aside for him. Not only was it embarrassing, but it was also quite demeaning since he had no choice in what was given to him.
“I’m going to say no to meditation tonight. My master insists on a one hour session every evening. I’d like to do something else before bed for a change,” Garen decided immediately as he and Obi-Wan sat down at a table together. Their friend Reeft, who had opted to take culinary arts over philosophy for his humanity elective, was already seated and happily devouring his full tray of food.
Obi-Wan frowned. Qui-Gon insisted on evening meditations as well, but Obi-Wan enjoyed the activity immensely. It seemed that with every new session, his bond with Qui-Gon grew stronger. It also helped him wind down for the night and sleep easier. Sometimes it even curbed the nightmares altogether.
“I can already imagine the look on my master’s face,” Garen continued, crunching on a crispy tuber. “Well, sort of. I mean, I’ve complained about meditation before- but never outright refused. That’s why it’s the perfect thing to use for this assignment. What about you, Obi, any ideas?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he murmured, picking at his food. “I’m not exactly in the Council or my master’s good graces right now. This assignment will be a challenging one.”
“Oh, right,” said Garen, eyes widening in realization. “But it’s an exam grade, Obi. And Master Kall-toff said he’d take the blame for any repercussions.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan replied, though he didn’t feel any better.
Reeft nodded toward his tray. “Are you going to eat that?”
Obi-Wan shrugged, shoving it across the table toward his friend. “Have at it. I’m not very hungry right now.”
“What’s the point of a special diet if you aren’t going to follow it?” Garen had to ask. Obi-Wan glared at his friend, despite the fact that Garen did happen to have a point. Besides, lunch was usually okay; it was dinner that was the most cumbersome to get through.
The worst part about the diet was without a doubt the absolutely disgusting protein shake that he was supposed to consume every night as part of his dinner. It looked curdled, was thick in texture, and tasted close to what Obi-Wan imagined Bantha dung would be like. It took every fiber of his self-control not to gag as he choked it down.
But, as gruesome as the new diet and protein shakes were, Obi-Wan never complained. He was lucky to have been taken back as Qui-Gon’s padawan in the first place, and it just wouldn’t do to complain about something as trivial as food consumption.
Well, perhaps that could change, for just this once.
“I think I have an idea for my assignment,” Obi-Wan announced.
Obi-Wan arrived back at he and his master’s quarters not long after the sun had set. After lunch, he had spent a great deal of time in the archives, and then he had met his master in the mid-level gardens to help reconstruct the plots for an incoming horticulture shipment that contained several delicate floras. The project would take them several days, but Obi-Wan was happy to be outdoors and working side by side with his master. Even if it was garden work, it still left him with a small sense of accomplishment.
After washing up thoroughly, Obi-Wan came out to their small kitchenette. His stomach dropped when he saw what was on the table.
Qui-Gon nodded towards their meals. “A server droid delivered our dinner just a few minutes ago. Let’s eat and discuss the layout for the new section of the garden - tomorrow we’ll be finished clearing and moving onto actual construction.”
Neither meal looked very appetizing, but the large cup that contained Obi-Wan’s shake stood out like a heaping pile of bantha dung amidst the dessert.
This was it.
All he had to do was say it.
Well, this was an exam grade, so he would do what he must.
“No,” Obi-Wan said bluntly, staring at his master with a slight frown. He found the word much easier to say that he had been anticipating. That was likely because, as were the conditions of his philosophy assignment, he was being completely honest with his master. He hated drinking the shakes, and not having one tonight would be a true gift.
But then, the more difficult part of the assignment began: His master’s reaction.
“No?” Qui-Gon looked taken aback. He had a right to be; Obi-Wan had been on this diet for almost two weeks now, and not once had he rejected it - until now.
Obi-Wan felt his heart rate increase, and he took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself.
“No,” he repeated himself. “With respect, Master, I don’t want to have this for dinner tonight.”
Obi-Wan wondered what his master would do. He might order him to drink the meal shake, using his rank to express authority. Or even worse, he might discipline Obi-Wan for his blatant disrespect first, and then still make him drink it. Qui-Gon was more of the strong and silent type rather than a shouter, but perhaps he would even feel inclined to raise his voice.
While it felt as though minutes might have passed, it was instead only seconds. Obi-Wan focused on the wall behind his master as Qui-Gon studied him closely, his arms folded loosely against his chest.
Finally, the maverick Jedi took a deep breath, and Obi-Wan dreaded what was to come.
“Yes, I’m a bit sick of the temple’s meal selections as well,” Qui-Gon said empathetically, as if it were perfectly normal for a padawan to refuse his prescribed dinner like a bratty crecheling. “I’d much rather be eating one of Dex’s Brualki briskets. Tell me, what is it that you are craving the most right now?”
Had Obi-Wan not been a well-mannered padawan raised in the temple, his mouth might have dropped open like a gaping Burra fish. Was this some sort of test, or was Qui-Gon merely humoring him? Still, the master’s question wasn’t exactly difficult to answer.
“A nerfburger,” Obi-Wan said. “And a different kind of shake. An ice cream one, Master.” Much better than those horrid meal shakes.
“Hmm,” Qui-Gon nodded seriously. “Yes, that sounds about right. And perhaps a piece of zoochberry cobbler…”
Obi-Wan found himself smiling, now, as it was clear that Qui-Gon wasn’t even remotely irritated with him.
“Alright, let’s be on our way. Put your cloak on, Padawan.”
As Qui-Gon made his way toward the door, Obi-Wan blinked. This was really happening. He had refused his ‘prescribed’ dinner, and instead of facing any repercussions, he was instead about to be treated to a tasty dinner. As delightful as this assignment was turning out to be, Obi-Wan knew he had to explain himself, otherwise he would feel guilty about it.
Obi-Wan caught his master just outside their door. “Master, wait! We don’t really have to go. This was an experiment - well, more like a test.”
Qui-Gon looked down at him in bewilderment. “Oh?”
“I was completing one of my assignments,” he explained. “I was supposed to tell you ‘no,’ and then observe your reaction. We’re covering the notion of free will for Master Kall-Toff’s philosophy lecture.”
Qui-Gon took a quick moment to process this news.
“I see,” he finally said, and then shrugged. “Well, why don’t we discuss your assignment over dinner. Come, I’d like to get there before dark, and the recreational transport dock is all the way across the temple.”
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said. It seemed that Qui-Gon truly wasn’t bothered. This left Obi-Wan remarkably relieved, and so he was in a considerably good mood as he picked up his pace in order to catch up to his master.
Not long later, master and apprentice found themselves comfortably tucked into a corner table at Dex’s Diner. Dex, who Obi-Wan was quickly warming up to the more that he got to know him, had ruffled Obi-Wan’s hair with one of his many arms and promised him ‘the best nerfburger of his life.’
It turned out that Dex wasn’t a liar. He had cooked up Obi-Wan quite possible the actual best nerfburger of his life. It was everything he’d hoped it would be: delightfully greasy, and not a meal shake.
Once they had both begun digging vigorously into their meals, Qui-Gon addressed the reason they were at Dex’s to begin with.
“Tell me, Padawan, were you truly expecting me to be upset with you, just because you didn’t want to drink that bland, nauseating mealshake?”
Obi-Wan swallowed his bite of nurfburger. “Well, under normal circumstances I don’t think I would have, but right now I’m supposed to be following very strict procedures, Master.”
“You mean your probation? Obi-Wan, disliking a meal is hardly a punishable offense. If anything, both Master Che and the Council would be pleased to hear that you’re eating a heavy, hardy meal tonight. That was the point of those shakes to begin with.”
“I know that, Master, but- but saying ‘no’ like that is disrespectful. I mean- well, the last time I said no outright…”
Qui-Gon tensed. “That was a very, very different situation. What happened on Melida/Daan was the result of a unique set of circumstances. Even though you did tell me no, it wasn’t entirely your fault. Had Tahl not been in need of immediate medical care and I was not blinded by my past mistakes with Xanatos, then I might have handled the situation very differently. I should have...I know that now.”
For a moment, Qui-Gon had an expression of self-loathing. Then, he quickly composed his face to look at Obi-Wan with a compassionate yet stern expression.
“I don’t ever want you to be afraid of saying no, even if you think it might be disrespectful. I am your master, and you oughtn’t fear expressing yourself to me, especially if it’s something as trivial as food. Do you understand?”
“I- Yes, Master, I do.”
“Good. Now finish your dinner; you still have dessert coming, in the form of a large chocolate milkshake topped with Jogan fruit drizzle.” Qui-Gon said, and then his eyes crinkled. “Or, if you’d like, you are welcome to say ‘no’ to it.”
“I can assure you, Master, I would never say no to a milkshake. Well, unless it was prescribed by Master Che.”
At that moment, despite the fact that he was still only in the beginning of a lengthy probation period, Obi-Wan felt full - both with food, and contentment. And, from the look on his master’s face, Qui-Gon did too.