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Master Emion is concerned. Humans and near-humans generally begin vocalising at 3 months. At around 6 months, their muscles are developed enough to form distinct sounds. At 12 months, their Broca’s area is developed enough to allow for simple words and phrases. By 2 years old, they can speak in simple sentences, understand abstract concepts, and communicate clearly with a mixture of the Force and their words.
At 4 years old, Obi-Wan Kenobi should be talking like a train, yet Master Emion has never heard a word escape his mouth. According to the healer, Obi-Wan is physically capable of talking, with no evidence of injury, under-development, or atrophy in his mouth, neck, or thorax.
“You’re very healthy, aren’t you?” they’d cooed. “Yes, yes you are, little Obi.” Maja pokes him gently on the nose.
A feeling of profound annoyance ripples through the Force as Obi-Wan scowls at the Healer.
“Obi-Wan,” Maja says tonelessly, then straightens in surprise.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Emion scolds. “We do not use Force compulsions on our friends!”
The boy scowls, meeting the Pau’an crèche-master’s eyes with a glare. Emion glares right back, having learned early on not to show the child any signs of weakness. After a long moment, the boy looks away and huffs. A gentle apology brushes against Maja’s mind.
A giant smile spreads across the Healer’s face. “D’aww,” they burble, auxiliary intake valves fluttering. “It’s okay, little Obi-Wan. You’re so strong in the Force! You’re going to grow up to be a big, strong Knight, aren’t you?”
Emion pinches the bridge of his nose. “Healer Maja,” he sighs, “please do not encourage him.”
“You’re too hard on him!” Maja refutes. “Everyone needs a little encouragement, even prodigies.”
Emion sighs. “There’s no problems then?”
Maja grins, baleen plates showing. “Healthiest little Jedi I’ve ever seen.” They bop Obi-Wan on the nose again and coo when the boy scrunches his face.
“And it’s not the brain abnormality?”
Indignation fills the Force. Emion ignores it.
“Nope,” Maja pops. “His brain development far outstrips human baseline.”
“And that’s not…” Emion trails off.
Maja gives him a reassuring smile. “I consulted with Master Healer Lo and Head Archivist Nu. His condition is extremely rare, but not without precedence. His brain development is approximately 75% of the way to human maturity and has slowed significantly over the past few months.” They pause to pinch the boy’s cheek. “Maybe that’s where this adorable attitude comes from.”
Obi-Wan pulls away and bares his teeth, annoyance radiating from every cell of his body.
“Dimples!” Maja exclaims, joy and wonder leaking through her titasteel shields. “Oh, you’re so cute…” Her voice drops to a murmur. “Maybe I can convince the council to let me take a padawan.”
Emion sighs. “Maja, he’s four.”
They pout, lower mandible protruding past their nose. “In body only. He’s all angsty teen upstairs!” They turn back to the boy. “Don’t you want to get out of the crèche? How about it, Obi-Wan Kenobi? Would you do me the honour of becoming my padawan learner?” they ask.
Obi-Wan Kenobi stares at them. They stare back, eight eyes wide and bright and hopeful.
Emion clears his throat, but neither party look his way. He sighs deeply. “Obi-Wan, Maja has nictitating membranes. They don’t need to blink.”
The boy ignores him and continues to stare until finally, somehow, unbelievably, Maja loses. The healer closes their eyes and droops. “Oh, alright…” Disappointment fills the room.
Slowly, Obi-Wan lifts his hand and pats Maja’s tentacle, projecting tentative reassurance and the outlines of a consolation prize.
The healer immediately brightens. “Oh, you’re so sweet and cute and—“ they make a strange, bubbling, whistling noise.
With a roll of his eyes, Obi-Wan retracts his arm.
Maja pokes his nose one last time, then looks at Emion. “Do you have anymore questions for me?”
Emion shakes his head. “No. Thank you for your help, Healer Maja.”
“Thank you for bringing me this adorable little Jedi,” they reply. “Did you find a life-day gift for Feemor yet?”
Ignoring the adults’ swerve into casual conversation, Obi-Wan hops off the examination table and lands soundlessly on two feet. He opens the door with a twist of the Force and walks out. An invisible pull interrupts Emion’s reply and forces him to follow.
Maja laughs. “By the way, where can I find a padawan-aged blue twi’lek with a propensity for biting?”
“Initiate Vokara Che from Bear Clan? Check the padawan dueling salles!” he calls over his shoulder, nearly running as the pull increases in power. “Obi-Wan Kenobi! Stop this instant!”