Chapter Text
Obi-Wan awoke to several startling things at once: the sound of a panicked, half-strangled gasp from Qui-Gon, and the sight of Tahl with snow white hair and eyes the color of solid gold. He heaved himself into a sitting position on his sleeping mat and looked around. Tahl was standing at the small mirror in the corner of their quarters on Bandomeer, frozen midway through applying glue to the wig she had just settled atop her head. Obi-Wan followed the line of her gaze across the room, to the couch where Qui-Gon had been sleeping.
The tall Knight was not sleeping anymore. He sat upright and rigid, chest heaving.
“Qui-Gon? Are you all right?” Tahl called softly. She took a step away from the mirror, moving in his direction.
Qui-Gon stayed her with a raise of his hand. “It is nothing,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. “A dream. That is all.” He turned to look at her, and blinked several times in confusion. “Although,” he added, rubbing at one eye, “I’m not certain I’ve returned entirely to the world of the waking. You look different than I remember.”
“Good. My disguise isn’t entirely worthless then.” Tahl spun in a slow circle. “How do I look?”
“Like someone else,” Qui-Gon said, a little gruffly, as if it displeased him but he was trying not to show it. “Though I suppose that is the point. The eyes are a bit unnerving.”
Obi-Wan agreed: Tahl’s natural striped green and gold eyes were far warmer and more welcoming than her current flat, golden stare. He felt as if she was seeing right through him, even when she was not looking at him at all.
“Excellent,” said Tahl, looking pleased. “If Xanatos gives me any trouble, perhaps I can intimidate him with a stern look.”
“If only it were still that easy.” Qui-Gon sighed, and rose from his sleep couch. “Come on, Obi-Wan. It won’t be long until the meeting. We need to get ready.”
The governor of Bandomeer had graciously granted them several days to rest and recover from their ordeal on the transport over. The Jedi had even been provided with fresh clothes to replace the ones they had lost on the Monument. They were well-worn and ill-fitting—the Meerian government had little money to spare, and the Meerians themselves were far too small of stature to wear anything that might fit any of the Jedi, so the clothing had to be purchased from other visitors to the small planet—but the gesture was generous nonetheless, and deeply appreciated.
Now, with their wounds mostly healed, and their clothes washed, mended, or replaced, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were preparing to attend a meeting with some of Bandomeer’s top officials to discuss the issues that threatened the planet: namely, Offworld, the cutthroat mining company that had its eye on the planet’s only independent operations.
Tahl had remained sequestered in their quarters, preparing for an undercover mission of her own that Obi-Wan still did not know the full details of. But he could tell she was growing restless: she had spent the past few days pacing the room and getting into increasing numbers of small squabbles with Qui-Gon.
At last, things were beginning to be set into motion. Obi-Wan felt anticipation flutter in his chest as he dressed for the meeting with Qui-Gon and the officials. The start of his first mission as a true Padawan.
Their first day on Bandomeer, Qui-Gon had contacted the Jedi Council to brief them on the events of their journey, and inform them that he would be accepting Obi-Wan as his apprentice. To choose to take on a Padawan in the middle of a mission, after years of refusing to even consider such an idea, was unorthodox to say the least, and Qui-Gon’s particular choice of Padawan was surprising to all except possibly Master Yoda—but when it came to Qui-Gon, the Council had long since learned to expect the unexpected, and they saw no reason not to approve the partnership.
So it was that Obi-Wan found himself walking into a meeting with several of the most important people on Bandomeer, just a step behind Qui-Gon Jinn.
Two Meerians awaited them in the receiving room, seated on large, square cushions that levitated above the floor: SonTag, governor of Bandomeer, and VeerTa, a member of the Home Planet Party and leader of the cooperative Home Planet Mine that Bandomeer’s government had built in partnership with the Arconans. Qui-Gon had spoken to both briefly, but they had not yet had time for a full discussion, and Obi-Wan had only seen them in passing.
“Greetings, Master Jinn,” SonTag said, extending her hands with palms up in a Meerian gesture of welcome. The two Jedi did the same. SonTag nodded to indicate Obi-Wan. “I see you have brought young Kenobi with you.”
“Yes,” Qui-Gon said. “His transport to the AgriCorps leaves this afternoon. Until then, he is under my care.”
“What of your other companion?” SonTag asked.
“She has business to attend to,” Qui-Gon replied. In reality, Tahl was likely wearing a rut in the floor of their chambers as she paced, awaiting their return. It had been agreed upon by the three Jedi that, even though Obi-Wan was now Qui-Gon’s Padawan, he would keep up the appearance of joining the AgriCorps for a time, thus allowing Tahl to accompany him as an escort and begin her investigations there without attracting suspicion.
That had not always been the plan. Tahl had explained to Obi-Wan that initially, only Qui-Gon had been requested by the Senate to travel to Bandomeer. Requested specifically, Tahl said, by an unknown entity, and apparently without the knowledge of the governor of Bandor or any of her executives, although the governor claimed she would gladly welcome a Jedi presence in some of Bandomeer’s upcoming negotiations, should the offer remain extended. The Senate had ultimately chocked the mysterious invitation up to a failure in communication, albeit a fortuitous one. The Jedi Council, however, remained uneasy.
“Strange, this is. Very strange,” Yoda had muttered, tapping the floor with his stick as he shuffled across it. “Disquiet, in the Force, I sense. Greater powers at play here than the Senate believes, there may be.”
Unbeknownst to the Senate, as well as the Meerian government, the Council had elected to send a second Jedi Knight to investigate in secret. Tahl had volunteered.
Before they had known of Xanatos’s involvement, Tahl had planned to spend her time investigating the lower levels of Meerian government in search of anything amiss. Now she had a new lead: one that seemed to lead everywhere and nowhere all at once. It seemed clear that Xanatos had played a role in summoning Qui-Gon to Bandomeer, but his purposes remained shrouded in mystery. Tahl planned on visiting the different enterprises of Bandor until she unearthed more clues, or until more news came to light. She would start by seeing Obi-Wan to the AgriCorps, and then continuing to the Home Planet Mine.
Clat’Ha, who had befriended the Jedi on board the Monument, would continue to be an invaluable help. As the operations manager for Arcona Harvest, she had connections to both the Home Planet Mine, where most of the Arconans would be working, as well as to the AgriCorps, which was conducting research into how to better integrate dactyl, the yellow crystal Arconans depended upon for survival, into the planetary food supply. Clat’Ha did not know the full extent of Tahl’s plan, but she knew enough to be of assistance and to not blow her cover, and had promised to report anything usual that she ran across to the Jedi.
“The representative for Offworld should be arriving in a few minutes,” SonTag told Qui-Gon as he took a seat on the cushion across from her. “I have admittedly called you here a bit early. There is something I wish to discuss with you, before we begin the negotiations. Offworld has promised it will not interfere with our Home Planet Mine, but we don’t entirely trust—”
Before SonTag could finish confessing her concerns regarding Offworld’s integrity, she was interrupted by the Offworld representative himself, who, arriving several minutes earlier than expected, announced his presence by flinging wide the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Xanatos du Crion remarked.
He stopped in the doorway, taking in the four faces now fixed intently on him, several of which showed traces of shock and disdain. “Forgive me,” Xanatos said, with a low bow. “I see I am intruding. I shall wait outside until the meeting…officially begins.”
“No, no,” said SonTag, recovering from her surprise. “Come in. We were just about to start.”
Xanatos gave another bow, and swept forward. His streaming black cloak fluttered about him. He took a seat next to SonTag, across from Qui-Gon. “It is good to see you again, old friend,” Xanatos said. His winning smile bore no indication of the fury that had twisted his expression when Qui-Gon had last seen him.
Qui-Gon returned his warm gaze with stiff politeness. “Xanatos.”
“I see you already know each other,” SonTag said, cleverly masking her surprise. “And Xanatos, I believe you have also met VeerTa?”
“We have been introduced,” Xanatos confirmed genially, with a dip of his head towards VeerTa, whose icy expression did not change. “In fact, I believe there is only one member of our party with whom I am not acquainted.”
Obi-Wan felt Xanatos’ gaze as it settled on his face. There was no malice in the midnight blue eyes, no deception in the bright smile, but the sharp edge of his intense perception stabbed Obi-Wan through the heart, and left him feeling as if he had been pinned to the wall and held there for examination, like some strange insect on display.
Who are you? Xanatos seemed to ask. What are you doing here?
“Obi-Wan,” he stammered, feeling compelled to reply to the unspoken command.
“A pleasure to meet you, Obi-Wan,” Xanatos said. “And you are the…Padawan of Master Jinn?”
“Obi-Wan is a member of the AgriCorps here on Bandomeer,” SonTag explained. “His transport leaves this afternoon. Until then, he is under Qui-Gon’s care.”
“I see.” Xanatos paused, appearing to falter on the brink of a question. “At the risk of sounding impolite, might I enquire why young Obi-Wan is present for our meeting, seeing as he has no stake in either of our mining operations? Not, of course,” he added courteously, “that I wish him to leave. He is more than welcome here, if he desires to remain.”
“The skills of a negotiator are valuable to any Jedi, whatever their profession,” Qui-Gon replied. “Here seems as good a place to gain experience as any.”
“But of course,” said Xanatos. “I quite agree. And now, so that Obi-Wan may watch and learn the art of negotiation, and the rest of us may reach an agreement that is pleasing to all parties—shall we begin our discussion?”
Qui-Gon could find no fault in Xanatos’ claims about the company he represented. He declared that, under new leadership, Offworld had begun ushering in an era of ethical practices and changed ways.
“There is, of course, still a long way to go,” Xanatos said, with a nod toward VeerTa, who was staring him down from across the room with an expression full of skepticism. “I hear some of your miners recently ran into trouble with some of Offworld’s employees aboard a transport ship. The incident is… regrettable, to say the least, and I can assure you those involved will be punished appropriately. But Offworld is changing for the better, and I am proud to say that Bandomeer will become the first planet Offworld intends to partner with, rather than…” he cleared his throat, sounding embarrassed, “plunder.”
“And what will this partnership entail?” SonTag enquired.
Xanatos explained in great detail. He spoke of shared equipment, of trade agreements, contracts, and, most of all, complete and utter transparency. “The Offworld office here on Bandomeer will always be open to Governor SonTag and any of her staff, as well as representatives for the other mining operations,” he assured them. He went on, drowning the Meerians and Obi-Wan in a deluge of pretty corporate promises, until their eyes fairly glazed over.
Indeed, there was no fault to be found in any of Xanatos’ claims—but Qui-Gon more than half suspected the fault would be revealed when Xanatos failed to make good on them, or, in the unlikely event that he was telling the truth, when Offworld managed to find a way to slither out of any new “ethical” practices Xanatos tried to shoehorn into their methodology.
Over the course of the meeting, Xanatos’ good-natured remarks and generous offers to donate a fraction of Offworld’s profits to the Home Planet Mine seemed to put SonTag at ease. Even VeerTa no longer glared so menacingly at him from across the room. When it was time to leave, the Meerians extended their hands and then flipped them over, palms down, in their culture’s sign of farewell. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Xanatos replicated the gesture.
Xanatos was the first to leave the meeting room, but Qui-Gon found him lingering just outside the door. He stepped forward to greet the Jedi as they exited. “I am sorry we did not have a chance to speak earlier,” Xanatos said. “It has been long since either of us has heard much about what the other is doing. I hope it goes well with you, Qui-Gon?”
“Well enough,” Qui-Gon replied evenly.
“I hear your trip here was rather…eventful,” Xanatos said. He reached out and ran a finger along the hem of Obi-Wan’s loose sleeve, which was tattered and beginning to fray. “I see the Meerians have done their best at providing for you. You have my offer of anything you need. Food. Medical supplies. New clothing.” He smiled at Obi-Wan. “Perhaps something in blue, to complement your eyes? As for you, Qui-Gon,” he turned, “I’m sure I can acquire something plain enough for your tastes. You never were one to appreciate finery, as I recall.”
“Thank you, Xanatos,” Qui-Gon said. “But we are content with our current provisions.”
Xanatos shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Suit yourself,” he said. He reached into one pocket, and in a single, swift motion, dropped something into Obi-Wan’s hand. Qui-Gon’s hand flew to his saber hilt at the rapid movement, but he did not draw the weapon. Obi-Wan stared in surprise at the handful of credits in his palm. “Buy yourself something nice,” Xanatos said. “I hear the AgriCorps can get rather dull without a way to treat yourself now and again.”
Qui-Gon half expected the credits to contain a ticking bomb, or disguised canisters of poisonous gas, but the Force showed no sign of disturbance. They were simply credits then, just as they appeared. The mystery of it all was infuriating. “What is it you want, Xanatos?” he demanded. “I have never known you to give anything without expecting something in return.”
“Is a man not allowed to change his ways?” Xanatos asked, extending his arms. “It has been years, Qui-Gon. I am not the person I was when we last spoke.” He bowed his head in sorrow. “I believe I owe you an apology for that time. I was young, misguided—not by you, of course, but by my father, and others. I went astray. The path of the Jedi was never destined to be my path, but I wish now that I had discovered this in a less… extreme manner, and left the Order with more honor.”
Misguided. Astray. So these were the excuses Xanatos used for instigating a war on his home planet, for slaughtering thousands of his own people in the interests of self-gain. The honest mistakes of a misguided youth. But Qui-Gon had seen the vicious gleam in Xanatos’ eye as he mowed down lines of Telosians. An all-consuming greed like that, and an indifference to the stench of death that hung heavy in the Force, were not faults easily smoothed away by time.
Xanatos might have changed, in one way or another. But he was still hiding something. Qui-Gon was sure of it.