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“We are not to know,” Bant said.
“We are to do,” Obi-Wan added softly. It was a phrase they had heard many times from the Masters, when they were asked to do tasks they could not understand the significance of.” – The Jedi Apprentice: The Rising Force, Jude Watson
It was a rare sight indeed, to see a jedi grumbling.
Rarer still for that Jedi to be a master, and even more unusual for said Jedi master to be a member of the High Council.
Yet it seemed to be a strange confluence of events, many of which were through the manipulations of his own gnarled, grasping fingers, which lead the esteemed Grandmaster Yoda to be stepping off of a transport ship to requisition his grandpadawan’s future padawan.
Not meant to be a farmer, the boy was. Yoda huffed, gimmer stick tapping out a rough staccato of displeasure as he trudged off the ship. Not to plan, this has gone.
Obi-Wan stared up at the Ithorian before him with trepidation.
His name day wasn’t for another six months, yet he’d been dismissed from the crèche and placed aboard a shuttle heading to Bandomeer.
Although he’d originally been scheduled to board the Monument, mechanical difficulties had delayed that flight and he’d switched out his ticket for an earlier shuttle.
Now he was here.
He was here and Obi-Wan had to try his absolute hardest to release his fear and frustration into the Force. He was meant to be a Knight. He was meant to help people.
And now here he was…a washout.
The Ithorian hummed. ”Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi??”
At his nod, they continued. “I am Sum Ukim, Quartermaster of the ArgiCorps Facility of Bandomeer.”
It was second nature to drop into a Temple perfect bow, even as his mind descended into turmoil at once again being reminded that he was destined to be nothing more than a mere farmer. “Greetings Master Ukim.”
A light series of gurgles Obi-Wan would later learn was the Ithorian version of laughter followed. ”No need for that youngling. We are not as concerned with pro forma as the Coruscanti Jedi are.” Despite being called a youngling, Obi-Wan felt a rush of warmth at the gentle term of affection which seemed to come so easily to the older Jedi.
When was the last time he had felt affection like this from an adult? He couldn’t remember…
It felt as though since he had turned eleven, the instructors at the Temple became cooler towards him and his fellow initiates. As though attempting to determine who would go on to become a knight and who would end up a failure and dismissed.
”You can call me Sum. Or if you’re feeling more formal, you can call me Quartermaster Ukim.” The Ithorian continued, voice a gentle hum. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel himself relax, both at the sound and the waves of peace the elder Jedi released into the Force. ”If you have everything, I would like to show you our facility.”
With a gentle nudge from the Force, and an even softer smile he could tell was present on the Ithorian’s face—though how he could tell Sum Ukim was smiling was anyone’s guess—Obi-Wan hefted his pack higher on his shoulder and left behind all that he once knew. If his future was to be a farmer, he would embrace it with both arms and make the best of it.
After all…there was no emotion…only peace…
“Master…I…I don’t understand.” Obi-Wan stuttered out, brows furrowed as he read the datapad another time.
There had to be some mistake. “I don’t need to see the mind-healers. I’m fine.”
Master Abbhea was a tall woman, hair gathered in a multitude of intricate braids Obi-Wan secretly wondered about. How long would his hair need to be in order to have braids like that… She‘d introduced herself not long after Sum had shown him to his bunk, with a soft reminder that if he needed anything, he shouldn’t hesitate to come find him.
When his door had chimed, he wondered if perhaps it was a roommate or even Sum come to find him to show him more of the facility. So you could imagine his surprise when a woman scarily reminiscent of Knight Billaba stood behind the thin sheet of durasteel.
Resorting to the same greeting he had bestowed upon Sum, he waited to be reprimanded for his lack of attention—only to be met with kind eyes and an even kinder smile. And unlike Sum she returned his greeting with a bow of her own.
She explained that as Master of Initiates, she was in charge of his orientation to the AgriCorps. She handed him a meal chit that could be used either in the refractory or at a local restaurant, as well as a map of the facility and a few datapads on the General Purpose and History of the AgriCorps. Most of which were available in the main Temple Library, though he didn’t say that.
And apparently, she’d also taken it upon herself to schedule him an appointment with a mind-healer.
So not only a failure, but a broken one... He thought darkly, before releasing such thoughts to the Force.
Master Abbhea smiled gently. “It is standard procedure that all new placements to a ServiceCorps receive weekly sessions with a mind-healer during their orientation process.” Her voice, despite the naturally low cadence, did nothing to sooth him.
“We find that there are usually some…hiccups…”It took her a moment to find the right word, before she continued. “…during the transition from the Temple to an active corps post. These sessions help everything go smoothly, and to prepare you for your future path as a corpsmember.”
There was something about the way she said it…”So…everyone goes to mind-healing sessions?”
Her laugh wasn’t patronizing, but rather…empathetic. “Oh yes. I myself see Healer Sunki at least twice a week.” She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Although part of the reason is that she’s just so darn cute.”
Obi-Wan blushed at the blatant emotion demonstrated by the older Jedi.
The ServiceCorps seemed far more…relaxed in comparison to the Temple. When he had gone to Master Vant about the discomfort in his chest and tingling in his hands, she had simply told him he needed to release his anxiety into the Force.
He didn’t even dare to think about the time he had tried to go to Master Yoda about his dreams of men in white…
Maybe…maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Is…is it scary?” He asked quietly, insecurity and vulnerability creeping into his voice.
It was a sound that Abbhea was unfortunately quite familiar with in her role as Master of Initiates. The crèche often liked to use the ServiceCorps as a sort of boogey man. A threat to Initiates who didn’t take their studies seriously enough or who didn’t demonstrate Temple-perfect manners.
Abbhea herself had been warned that if she didn’t learn to let go of her attraction towards her fellow Jedi and instead focus on her saber forms she’d find herself washed out into one of the corps.
But the reality was there simply wasn’t enough masters available to train potential initiates. And of the masters that were there, many had their own inclination about the type of student they were looking for—there were even specific traditions where a lineage was made up entirely of one species, such as the mirilian Jedi who went on to become knights.
Every single Initiate they had received from the Temple had the same tone to their voice, that same fear that they would be thrown away and discarded, again, if they were found to be less then perfect. Obi-Wan was no different, though he was a little younger than normal. Most Temple-raised Initiates were placed through a six month transition process following their thirteenth birthday—or species equivalent—so they were normally closer to fourteen. Obi-Wan hadn’t even turned thirteen yet, and Abbhea couldn’t help the sense of unease and suspicion that crawled down her spine at the unusualness of the entire thing.
Regardless, she did the same thing she did with all new corpsmembers.
Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and exuding peace into the Force, she whispered. “I’m not going to lie. Going in the first time is scary…and it never really gets any easier.” She could see that he appreciated her honesty, even if he didn’t like the answer. “Learning about yourself…it’s hard. That’s why it’s such a central point to the Trials for Knighthood.”
He perked up, as she knew he would, at the mention of the Trials. But she didn’t say anything else. Instead she let Obi-Wan process what she had said.
After several long moments, blue-green eyes looked up at her. “…could…could you come with me?” He asked, and she couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face.
“Of course, little one.”
The steady chime of an old analog clock filled the room as Obi-Wan tried not to fidget.
His session with Healer Sunki—who was a Rodian with bright turquoise skin, and he could admit she might be considered “cute” if one was attracted to women—had consisted of a simple introduction before he was directed to a—really rather comfortable—sofa, and they had been sitting in silence ever since.
His fingers twitched.
Sunki continued to sit, sipping her cup of tea tranquilly, as if the lack of noise didn’t bother her one bit.
Obi-Wan could feel his foot bounce up and down, before he hid it behind his leg. He’d been given what he’d come to understand were regulation coveralls to replace his Initiate robes—as an all white outfit wasn’t necessarily practical at an agricultural facility. They were one-size fit all, and Obi-Wan had had to roll up the sleeves and legs several times before they were more his size.
Despite that, he actually found them quite comfortable.
The Rodian took another sip of her tea, the earthy smell of Jaipur wafting across the room.
“Um…I’m…I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing right now…” He finally admitted, hand coming up unconsciously to rub at the back of his head.
The Rodian smiled. “This time is meant for you to do whatever is most comfortable. If you’d like to talk, we can do so. Or if you would like to simply sit and enjoy our time together, we could do that as well.” Her voice had that melodic quality all Rodians seemed to have, and Obi-Wan could imagine listening to it for a guided meditation…
He hadn’t been able to medititate successfully since he’d gotten his corps assignment…and if he was brutally honest with himself, it was probably a lot longer than that. If…if Healer Sunki was being truthful about this time being used for anything…“…could…could we…I mean…”
“Yes?”
Obi fidgeted, wringing his hands together as he stared resolutely at a spot on the wall. “…would we…be able to meditate together?” He asked quietly.
It was a personal thing, to meditate with another Jedi. Once an initiate was old enough to understand the mechanics of doing it themself, Jedi rarely meditated with anyone else, except perhaps a close friend or lineage mate.
And in Master/Padawan pairs. His mind traitorously hissed at him.
For Obi-Wan to ask, after just meeting Healer Sunki, was incredibly presumptuous. He opened his mouth to apologize…only to close it in shock at the healer’s words.
“Of course we can. Let’s go sit by the window. I always find meditation more enjoyable with sunlight on my skin.” She set down her tea and rose fluidly. Long fingered hands gently guiding him towards a large green pillow set on the floor, as she grabbed a deep blue one for herself.
Settling herself, and ensuring that he was comfortable, Sunki lowered her shields so that Obi-Wan could rest behind the most surface layer if he chose. Closing her eyes, she waited.
Before he could give himself the opportunity to second guess himself, Obi-Wan took the invitation. A quiet nudge that felt like sunshine and warm tea brushed across his mind, tinged with affection and pride. Despite himself, he felt his body relax.
“Now,” Sunki’s said, voice curling around him pleasantly, “take a deep breath in. And let it out slowly…”
Walking out of Healer Sunki’s office an hour later, with a gentle reminder of his appointment for next week, Obi-Wan felt the last remaining dregs of adrenaline slowly fade.
Master Abbhea looked up from her comm, and smiled at him. “So…was it as scary as you thought it would be?” She asked.
And that made Obi-Wan pause. He’d been uncomfortable when he’d first walked in, that was true. He wasn’t sure what was expected of him—and he hadn’t realized how alien such a concept was until it was presented to him.
He’d had expectations about his behavior, his temperament, his connection to the Force, laid on his shoulders for as long as he could remember. To suddenly be in a space where he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do…it had been scary.
But Sunki was so patient. She hadn’t asked anything of him. She had instead told him that this was a space where he was free to do whatever was most comfortable for him, in that moment. If that suddenly changed, that was okay. He could talk, he could not talk. He could sit. Or stand, or walk.
Her role wasn’t to tell him what he needed to talk about, or work on. She would not offer advice, or recommend what course of action he should take. She would simply facilitate and guide him through the storm that broiled inside of him, and help him find a safe harbor within himself.
He had a thought that she should have been a poet.
Healer Sunki merely laughed as though she was able to tell exactly what he’d been thinking, and told him to come back next week.
“No…” He said after a long moment, the memory of Sunki’s Force presence lingering in his mind. “…it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be.”
Abbhea smile turned even softer if that was possible. “Good.” She said.
And that was all.
The corpsmember on duty at the reception desk raised a bony brow ridge at the sight of the diminutive grandmaster of the Order.
“Greetings Master Yoda”, xe bowed. It was not returned. “Your presence is…not expected.”
Yoda’s infamous gimmer stick started tapping agitatedly on the duracrete that lined their facility. “Hrmph.”
At xer lack of response, he scowled. “Here to speak with Director Dore’i, am I. A mistake, there has been. Come to rectify it, I have.”
There was a drawn out period of silence. “I see…” Xe started, talons clacking mindlessly on their keypad. “…do you have an appointment?”
The sqwuack of outrage let xem know that no, he most certainly did not have an appointment.
Obi-Wan heard a metallic thunk as a random food tray dropped down in the spot directly across from him, before a bright red shape sat down. “Hey new kid!”
Looking up from his own tray, something green that tasted much better than anything he’d had in the Temple refractory, Obi-Wan saw a twi’lek in an oversized blue jumpsuit smiling at him toothily. A lekku was thrown jauntily across their neck and draped down their shoulder like an extra colorful scarf instead of an appendage.
Their presence in the Force was like an excited loth-cat and he couldn’t help the hesitant smile that broke across his face.
Seeing the shy fascimile of a smile, the other’s grew even bigger. “I’m Chai Waran, he/him.”
“O-Obi Wan-Kenobi…uh…he/him as well…”
Chai patted him on the shoulder. “I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends!”
The Force sang with promise.
Sunki smiled. “What would you like to work on today Obi-Wan?” She asked.
It was their third session, and Obi-Wan found the Rodian often liked to start off their sessions by asking what he wanted to work on.
In the three weeks since he’d arrived on Bandomeer, Obi-Wan had quickly been able to establish a routine. In the mornings, he’d go and grab a quick cup of tea and whatever sweet Chai jammed into his face before they went to morning lectures. There was a rotating roster of different classes and labs designed to help orientate younger corpsmembers to the different components that made up the AgriCorps. Following their morning lectures, Chai would then drag him off to lunch—and Obi-Wan never would have thought he’d actually be looking forward to eating all the green food!
In the three weeks he’d been there, he’d maybe had meat once! And that was only because Chai had excitedly forced him to taste some Ryloth stew that the kitchen had made. And Obi-Wan could admit it was pretty yummy, even if there were some strange things floating about in it that he really did not want to think about.
Afternoons were spent in repose either practicing the standard katas or in meditation. Evenings were time for corpsmembers to spend as they pleased, and Taungsday was when he had his sessions with Sunki.
Despite the semblance of a routine, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel…aimless…as though he was lacking direction. He still didn’t feel like he was supposed to be a farmer of all things. And it wasn’t so much that he was ashamed of being in the ArgirCorps—though it might have started off that way.
It was more that now after meeting Chai, and Sum, and Abbhea, and Sunki…he was afraid.
Afraid of disappointing them. Afraid of ruining everything. Afraid of losing them.
Master Yoda once said that fear was the path to the dark side.
But after their second meditation together, Sunki had leaned in, robes smelling of tea and lilacs, “It’s natural Obi, for us to feel fear. Not a single species would have survived, had we not learned to be afraid.”
Giving him a moment to process this, she continued, “It doesn’t matter whether you’re a youngling in the creche or a jedi as old as Master Fay…fear will always be a natural part of life. Regardless of what Master Yoda says.”
She waited for him to meet her eyes. “It’s learning how to process our fear…to do things even though we’re afraid, that’s what makes keeps us in the light. You were afraid to come here, that first time, weren’t you?”
At his hesitant nod, Sunki continued. “But you came anyway.” Her calmly raised hand waylaid any attempt of his to reject his supposed bravery. “It doesn’t matter if you came with Master Abbhea. You recognized that this was something you couldn’t do alone. That is bravery.”
Obi-Wan still wasn’t sure if he fully believed her, but it was a nice thought. To think that understanding your weaknesses and asking for help was a type of bravery…
“Although I said we wouldn’t do anything you didn’t explicitly want to do, I think maybe it wouldn’t be too awful if, at least in here, we practice being just a little bit braver?”
He’d agreed, although he wasn’t sure if it was by rote or because he did think he could try being braver here, but he’d gone back to his bunk wondering about what exactly that meant…
To be brave.
Was it going out and trying to adapt to life in the AgriCorps?
Or maybe trying different things, like that stew Chai was so fond of?
Was it addressing Sum by his name, instead of as Quartermaster Ukim?
Maybe it was all of those things, and none of those things. Maybe he needed to choose what exactly bravery meant to him.
So today, after Sunki asked what had quickly become her go to for their weekly sessions, Obi-Wan tried to be brave. “H-healer Sunki…um…I know that I was placed her to learn about farming…” He could see her frown, and almost stopped until she motioned for him to continue.
He licked his lips. “It’s just…”
Silence stretched between them, until Sunki gently asked, “Just?”
It’s okay to be afraid. Obi-Wan reminded himself. It’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay for our bodies to react to fear. To be hesitant to do things that scare us. He breathed in deeply. It’s learning what makes us afraid, and trying it anyway…
“It’s just that…I don’t…I don’t want to be a farmer.” He whispered shamefully.
Sunki tilted her head in slight confusion. “Why do you think you have to be a farmer?”
It was Obi-Wan’s turn to be confused. “Because!” He started…only to realize at Sunki’s continued confusion that apparently that wasn’t enough of an answer. “Because everyone knows that’s what you do when you get assigned to AgriCorps!”
Despite his outburst, Sunki remained calm as ever. “And who is everyone?” She asked.
He didn’t understand why she even bothered to ask. The answer was so obvious. Yet she waited for him, hands folded in her lap with her normal cup of tea left steaming on the small table beside her.
So he said, “You know! Everyone! Everyone at the Temple…the other initiates…the…the crechemasters…”
He remembered the casual taunts initiates threw around, about how they’d better shape up or they’d become farmers.
How Master Vant often sighed, and told him to study more or he’ll never become a knight.
Bruck Chun telling him he’d never be anything other than a two-bit farmer on some backwater planet.
He curled up a little, finally breaking eye contact. “You know…everyone…” He whispered.
Sunki thought for a moment, “Obi-Wan…since you’ve come here, have you attended the morning lectures?”
He nodded.
“And what have you learned?”
That was…that was a big question. He’d learned a lot.
Like there was actually branches of the AgriCorps instead of just one central corps—all with different missions and posts. There was an outpost on Alderaan that specifically worked on disaster and recovery agriculture, and ones that worked on desert planets to help moisture farmers. Master Abbhea actually gave a lecture not to long ago on seed production agrimony, which he had thought was rather interesting.
But…but he couldn’t tell her all of that. So instead he settled for a simpler version. “The AgriCorps does a lot of things, in a lot of different places?”
She smiled. “So…I have a question for you. If the AgriCorps does a lot of things, in a lot of different places…does that sound like it means you have to be a farmer?”
Despite her sincerity, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to think. Everyone knew that you became a farmer if you got sent to AgriCorps…
But then everyone also said that the AgriCorps was filled with nothing but dumb farmers…and in the three weeks that he’d been here, he’d learned that there was a lot more to growing things then simply planting a seed and watching it grow.
“But…but I thought…”
Sunki waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t she asked him instead. “If you could be anything you wanted to be, what would you be?”
He hesitated. “D-does…does it have to be realistic?”
She inclined her head. “If you would like.”
The first answer that popped into his head was that he wanted to be a Knight. But that wasn’t realistic anymore, was it? After another moment’s thought, he tried to think about the reasons he wanted to be a knight anyway. Sure, you got a lightsaber, and you got to go on missions to far off planets and help people…but isn’t that what the AgriCorps do? Minus the saber?
When had he decided that being a knight was so important?
In the crèche, the masters always spoke about how important Jedi Knights were in maintaining peace and order to the galaxy. But weren’t the corps just as important? Knights were confined to missions assigned by the Council, or sometimes the Senate. They weren’t able to simply see someone in need and go help them.
The AgriCorps had a branch devoted entirely in relief missions, and worked closely with the other corps in providing aid in ways that the Temple couldn’t.
So if he couldn’t be a knight, and he didn’t want to be a farmer…
“I…I don’t know.” He said. He still felt bad, not knowing the answer to a question but Sunki’s Force presence remained soft and welcoming.
“I think maybe that’s something we should do for homework then. There are many paths one can take in the corps, try to find some that sound appealing to you and we can explore them together next week.” She placed her untouched tea to the side and gestured to the kettle. “Tea?”
Obi-Wan nodded. Healer Sunki always had the absolute best tea in her office, and it was a different blend everytime.
Only a complete fool would turn down such an invitation.
At Obi-Wan’s shy request, Abbhea promised to have several files sent to his datapad by the end of the day as well as a link to an aptitude test they commonly gave to initiates upon their initial assignment to the AgriCorps.
She apologized too, much to Obi-Wan’s embarrassment, for not providing them sooner. This was a process the Council of Reassignment often started before an Initiate was even provided with a post, let alone a corps. She had simply assumed he had been provided the same opportunity but she should have verified.
She left him at the refractory with a promise to schedule a time to go over his results, and Obi-Wan smiled. Perhaps…perhaps being in AgriCorps didn’t mean he had to be a farmer…
Chai laughed so hard he snorted blue milk out of his nose.
“It’s not that funny!” He protested, only for Chai to laugh harder.
With a pout, Obi-Wan resorted to pushing his peas around on his plate. It wasn’t his fault that he thought being in AgriCorps meant he had to be a farmer.
Speaking of…Obi hesitated, before he looked back up. Chai was still laughing, though it had eased somewhat, lekku twitching in what Obi-Wan had come to recognize as happiness and contentment. Chai always seemed to be happy, as though he couldn’t be anything else.
“Hey…um…what…w-what do you do?”
A brilliant magenta eye regarded him for a moment, before Chai smiled brightly. “I’m specializing in geospatial analytics!”
At his blank look, Chai explained what exactly that meant, and then spent the next ten minutes trying to “tempt” Obi-Wan over to GIS. “But we have cookies!”
Director Dore’i’s comm chimed in the middle of her scheduled—i.e. had a tray of food forced on her after being lectured by her assistant about how caf wasn’t a meal and the ration bars she kept in the bottom draw of her desk were being confiscated—meal break.
If Kaz found out that she’d left it on, he’d implode…and then probably put her in back to back meetings with Finance from beyond the grave just to spite her. A furtive glance around for an irate miraluka with a datapad let her know the coast was clear.
“Yes?”
An unfamiliar voice responded back. “Forgive the interruption Director Dore’i, but Master Yoda is requesting to speak with you.”
Now what did that hopped up little bog troll want now? As far as she was aware, she didn’t have any meetings scheduled with Coruscant for the day. Kaz knew she disliked dealing with the High Council as much as she did Finance.
“Please patch him through to my main terminal. I should be there soon.”
There was a pause, indicating the transmission hadn’t ended. Dore’i frowned. “Yes?”
“Forgive me Director, but…Master Yoda is currently standing here in the front lobby.”
As though being summoned due to the affront on his scheduling capabilities by an uppity grandmaster appearing out of nowhere and attempting to see a corps director sans an appointment, Kaz appeared at her elbow.
“WHAT?” Her assistant screeched, hands fluttering in agitation and datapad brandished like a lightsaber—no doubt unconsciously wanting to stab Yoda for ruining his meticulous plan to get her to actually eat something.
It was unfortunately a rather common reaction to the grandmaster of the order, Dore’i thought, before the slight miraluka turned on her with a threatening glare.
It was at that moment that she remembered she’d left her comm on, despite having rather explicit instructions—i.e. threats—to leave her work in her office.
Kark.
Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel nervous. He’d been so confident when Abbhea had gone over his results with him and explained what different specializations meant.
If you were to ask him several weeks ago, when he was still just a Temple Initiate, he would have thought only Jedi naturally attuned to the Living Force would be successful in the AgriCorps. The frequent dreams and visions he’d had for as long as he could remember let him know that the Living Force was not one of his natural strengths, but rather the Unifying Force.
Much to the frustration of his instructors, who constantly reminded him to “Focus on the here and now.”
Yet it seemed that the AgriCorps had specializations designed to embrace their members strengths, not their weaknesses. And he’d found something that sounded absolutely perfect for him! Something that highlighted his natural affinity for the Unifying Force, and a way that he could still help people. He’d been so excited to share it with Sunki and Chai…
Except now, as he was looking into the large blue eyes of his mind healer, he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d made a mistake. Maybe…maybe this type of occupation wasn’t suited for him. Master Yoda was constantly telling him that he needed to be “mindful of the present”, and this pathway was not—
“So,” Sunki said after several minutes of silence. “Abbhea said she went over your aptitude results with you. Did you find anything that stuck out?” She was smiling, excited to see if anything had piqued his interest, and Obi-Wan didn’t want to disappoint her and say he didn’t…but at the same time…what if his choice made her not like him anymore?
As though sensing his thoughts, Sunki laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Obi-Wan”, she began, voice soft and encouraging, “there are no right or wrong answers. It’s only wrong if you feel its wrong for you.”
Her resonated sincerity, honesty, truth, and Obi-Wan could feel himself relax despite himself.
“I…” He licked his lips. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he just say it?
“I think I’d like to be a crop production forecast specialist.” There, he’d gotten it out.
Sunki simply smiled. “That sounds interesting. I’m afraid I’m not to familiar with that specialization, would you be able to tell me about it?”
The rest of their session was spent with Obi-Wan happily rambling about everything he’d learnt in the last two days about what a crop production forecast specialist does, and around them the Force hummed with satisfaction.
“A CPFS?!” Chai squealed.
Obi-Wan tried to get him to quiet down, to no avail.
“Oh my Force! You’d be perfect for that Obes, with your vision thingy and your little nerd-“
Obes.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. ”C’mon Obes! We’re going to be late.”
Hey Obes! I saved you the last meleeiorun from mid meal! No Reeft, you can’t have it! It’s for nerd-boy over there!”
A soft whispered, ”Obes, are you okay? Did you have another bad dream?”
What was Quinlan doing? Obi-Wan wondered.
Did he finally get Master Tholme to officially take him on as his apprentice? Or maybe he was pulling another prank on Bruck.
Did he miss him?
What about the rest of his crechemates? Bant, and Garen, and Reeft, and Luminara, and Siri?
Did they even know he was gone?
Obi-Wan couldn’t help the sharp pang of sadness that leaked through his shields, and regretted it when Chai stopped mid rant.
“Obes-“
At his flinch, the twi’lek boy tried again. “Obi-Wan? A-are you okay?” He asked, voice so hesitant and unsure Obi was shocked it came from his bubbly friend who shone like the sun in the Force.
“Was it…was it something I said?” Their Force presence, which was normally so energetic and playful, was curled up tight behind his shields.
“I…” Chai’s face shuttered, even though his lekku twitched anxiously. “I know that I can be a bit…overwhelming sometimes…I…I can—“
He’s scared Obi-Wan realized with startling clarity. He’s worried that I wouldn’t want to be friends anymore…. And wasn’t that a thought.
His entire life, Obi-Wan had always worried over every little interaction he had with his crechemates. Always worried that he was a burden, with his loudness.
His overwhelming anxiety.
His visions, which plagued him with increasing regularity.
He had often wondered why Chai would ever want to be friends with…a failure, reject, washout. His mind hissed traitorously, until he breathed out slowly, counting to ten and back. He thought the Force had simply seen to bless him with someone who could see past all of Obi-Wan’s glaringly obvious flaws.
He had never once thought that maybe his friend suffered from the same insecurities as he did. Not Chai, who was so unapologetically himself, who’s entire Force signature radiated warmth and sunshine. But…he never saw Chai with anyone else.
When he wasn’t hanging out with Obi-Wan, or in his specialized classes, he didn’t interact with anyone.
He’s just as alone as I was…but without even a creche to help…
Before he could second-guess himself, Obi-Wan reached out through the Force, projecting love, gratitude, affection as he gently knocked on Chai’s shields.
Surprised magenta eyes looked up at the sensation, and he smiled. “It’s just…no one’s called me Obes since I left the Temple…it made me think about what my old crechemates are up to.” Obi explained softly.
At the admission, Chai flinched. “I…I could not call you that if you want. Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking it just slipped ou-“
A gentle hand atop his stopped Chai’s rambling, and Obi-Wan projected as much sincerity as he could. “I like it. Please don’t…don’t.” He finished weakly, trying to convey everything he wanted to with that simple word. Please don’t stop calling me Obes. Don’t doubt our friendship. I need you, please don’t ever doubt that.
He must have been projecting more than he thought, because Chai’s face erupted into a toothy grin. “Well Obes-“
And as Chai ranted about how amazing Obi-Wan was going to be as a CPFS, their Force presences reached out for one another past their shields.
A shining bond stretched between them.
“For this assignment, each of you will be assigned a native crop from Naboo.” Professor Jarut trilled, tendrils swaying in an invisible breeze. “GIS information is downloaded into your pads, along with the weather patterns for the last five years.”
A beep on his pad confirmed this.
Professor Jarut smiled, the bark on xer face stretching to accommodate the expression. “Soil samples have been also been provided. You are free to use any resources available to estimate potential crop production forecasts. When you are done, please submit your report via the terminal, and I will review your analysis.”
With that, the other CPFS trainees opened up their pads and went to work. With a smile, and a thrum of excitement he released into the Force, Obi-Wan did the same.
Vratixia renanicus. Bacta. A type of barley, it wasn’t native to the Naboo System, but after a quick holonet search, he learned that the Naboo had imported the plant nearly ten years ago to some success.
He grabbed his stylus, to begin doing some calculations.
Regular barley typically took anywhere from 60-90 days standard to harvest from the day it was planted. Vratixian barley required a longer time frame, anywhere from 90-110 days standard, depending on if the conditions were right. It was a hardy plant, but fragile as a simple sprout, it took longer to germinate hence the longer time to harvest.
Hmm….
The lab appropriated 20 square meters for beta testing, and with an average yield of 18 kilos for production….
Obi-Wan opened up the little test tube of soil they had provided, and dumped some in his hand. He wasn’t psychometric like Quinlan, but sometimes if he held something…
Bright green grass….rolling hills…laughing farmers as they harvested barley heavy with grain…
Blinking back to awareness, Obi smiled and finished his calculations.
“Corpsmember Obi-Wan, if you have a moment.”
Obi paused from packing up his things as the rest of his class left, jostling each other good-naturedly on their way out. A couple waved goodbye, and Obi-Wan smiled in response before returning his attention to Professor Jarut.
“Yes Professor?”
The Neti smiled. “Nothing to worry about, sapling. I simply wanted to talk about your analysis on vratixia renanicus production.”
The easy endearment made Obi blush, even as the assertion did nothing to calm his nerves. “D-did I do something wrong?”
Jarut laughed. “Not at all little one. Your analysis of crop production versus area was mathematically sound—and your recommendation for hydroponic production was…inspired.”
“I just thought that with the natural swamp areas, it would be provide a more stable environment to grow and yield a larger amount in a shorter period of time…” Obi defended, only for the professor to smile once again.
“As I said sapling, inspired. Your calculations were nearly identical to the actual production yield of last years crops.”
He didn’t…that was…but…”Really?”
Professor Jarut laughed once again, and Obi-Wan felt himself finally relax.
Dore’i sighed as her assistant grumpily lead the wizened grandmaster into her office. She’d have to make it up to him with an especially good gift…
Maybe some of the mulberry tea he’s so fond of…
Alann owed her a favor, and could probably have it here at the end of the week if she pushed enough…
Once directed to her left comfortable seat, a petty little act of vengeance on his part, Kaz faced her. “I have pushed your other meetings back and rescheduled your conference call for tomorrow.” It was not through years of familiarity that she recognized that specific tone…
It was apparently not quite as easy as it sounded, for him to get everything rescheduled for some bog troll who didn’t have the common decency to make an appointment.
Kriff…she’d have to find some muji-muffins along with the tea…
Which outpost was growing muji berries right now?
A disgruntled hmph let her know that her inattention to her uninvited—unwanted—guest had been noticed.
Putting on her “people-pleasing smile” the one that kept all of her sharp teeth carefully hidden away, Dore’i inclined her head. “Yes Grandmaster Yoda? How can I be of assistance?”
How can I get you the kark off my outpost, so I can begin to try and placate my furious assistant?
Jarut had spoken with him a bit longer, and then had arranged for him to work on a draft proposal with a hydroponics unit. Xe liked the idea of starting a beta test utilizing his projections.
Chai had cheered when he told him, much to Obi’s embarrassed delight, and now here he was at the hydroponics department to talk with another trainee about his idea.
His hands felt clammy.
I can do this. Obi thought. I can do hard things. I can do this.
Counting down from ten, the way Sunki had practiced with him, Obi slowly let his fear fade.
I can do this.
He couldn’t do this!
He’d been expecting some boring older trainee to take a look at his project. Maybe someone he might be able to become friends with.
From what he’d seen, there weren’t a lot of people on Bandomeer close to his and Chai’s age, so he was expecting someone a lot older.
He was not expecting him!
Him being a nautolan with big brown eyes which shone happily at his stuttered introduction, head tendrils hanging down to big, broad shoulders.
Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t exactly the tallest example of his species, but he felt positively tiny when he went to explain his forecast predictions and the nautolan came to stand behind him. Obi’s head just barely reaching his chest…
And if that wasn’t enough, the other boy was genuinely kind and sweet. He had waited patiently as Obi-Wan stuttered his way through his calculations, even asking questions for clarification. He was actually interested in the project, his excitement practically tangible at the idea of a Naboo hydroponics site.
But the worst part about all of this? Obi-Wan was so flustered at being faced with an incredibly handsome and sweet boy, he didn’t even catch his name…
As Quinlan would say…he was karked.
Chai laughed so hard he cried, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let his head fall down onto the lino with a resounding thunk. He knew he was ridiculous, okay. No need to rub it in.
He let his friend laugh it out, and only looked back up once all the giggles had ceased. “What am I supposed to do?” He whined.
With a smile, and one last chuckle Chai gave him a thumbs up. “Leave it to me!”
Dore’i felt her eye twitch, and fought to keep the incredulity off her face.
“Do you mean to say…” She began, voice dangerously low, “…that the creche has lost an initiate? And that they have somehow found their way to an AgriCorps outpost in the Outer Rim?”
Despite the disdain in her voice, Master Yoda did little more than twitch at the subtle accusation against the Temple. How in Sith Hells could they lose a child?!
“Lost, too strong a word.” The wizened master began, claws wrapped loosely around his gimmer stick. “…merely…misplaced, for a time he was.”
She just knew the vein in her forehead was throbbing at the blatant attempt to downplay the situation. “Really?” She asked, forgoing pretenses of being calm and collected.
Not when a child was at stake. “And how exactly did this child become…misplaced?”
The grandmaster hrmmed, but made no move to answer. Which probably meant that the initiate in question was yet another unwitting pawn in one of Yoda’s schemes. Force but did this troll need a hobby…and potentially a forced retirement.
Whatever mysterious, convoluted scheme Yoda had come up would be a question for another day. “And who exactly, is this supposed misplaced child?”
Kaz startled at the squawk of outrage coming from Director Dore’i’s office.
Ran.
His name was Ran Stoddi.
He was fourteen years standard.
Had been a corpsmember for over three years and a hydroponics trainee for two.
And when Obi-Wan worked with him, he swore the Force actually sang.
Chai laughed at the heart eyes Obi was sporting, and privately swore to go and give this Ran a good shovel talk.
After all, no one loved a good shovel talk like an AgriCorps member.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
OBI-WAN KENOBI?!?!
That karking troll wanted to take their adorable little Obi-Wan!
The boy who had been on their outpost for the last four months, and had already endeared himself to over half of the outpost facility.
Kriff, even Dore’i adored the boy, who always made a point to greet her every morning and had even brought her some fresh blooms when she had had a particularly hard day with Finance.
Sith hells, but a good handful of specialists were clamoring to take the boy on as their apprentice—Jarut the most prominent. She would have thrown her own name in for consideration, had the Neti not promised terrible, unthinkable things should she try to snipe xer student.
Jarut was…creative…when it came to revenge. Only the very brave, or the very stupid, decided to go against xem.
Is this…this…this sleemo, really trying to say that he sent Obi-Wan over here in some convoluted plan and now that it’s karked up ass over teakettle, he wants him back?!
Fury bleeding into the Force, making the very air chill in response, Dore’i glared. Over my dead body.
A ping from his data-pad startled Obi so badly that he nearly fell off his stool, only for two big hands to catch him and gently guide him back. Ran laughed, and Obi-Wan felt himself blush as the older boy regarded him affectionately. “Careful there Obi, wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Ran’s voice, accent soft and endearing, was warm. Just like his smile.
Obi-Wan smiled back sappily. “T-thank you.”
The nautolan boy inclined his head, tentacles slipping down his shoulder. He’d tied them back today in an approximation of a nerf-tail, and Obi-Wan thought it was incredibly distracting. The older boy’s smile turned teasing. “You should probably check that.”
Check? Check what?
With sudden clarity, he remembered his datapad. Embarrassed, he checked…only to be confused at the request to report to Director Dore’i’s office.
Reassuring Ran he’d be back, after the other worried over the strange request—and Ran needed to stop being so sweet because it surely couldn’t be this healthy for Obi to blush this much—Obi-Wan left.
“Unnecessary, your anger is. Not the Jedi way.” Master Yoda admonished.
“Unnecessary?! Unnecessary?!” Dore’i cried out, fingers digging deep gouges into her desk. “How dare you think that you can send some poor initiate to a service outpost and then come collect him as though he were an afterthought! As though his own wants and desires didn’t matter!”
She remembered Abbhea’s concern about their littlest trainee. Sunki’s soft reports that Obi was adjusting well to the corps, but he was still battling his anxiety.
She remembered the shaky, almost terrified tooka gaze when he had ran into her. The clear shock when she had helped him up, and walked him to class.
Remembered looking over his files, and being surprised and a little confused at the lack of one…
And now she saw the being that was responsible for quite a bit of little Obi-Wan’s pain. And she was not happy.
Not one bit.
Obi greeted Kaz with a smile, who returned it before directing him inside Director Dore’i’s office.
He had only made it through the threshold when he paused.
He…he knew that presence…he’d grown up learning it.
Looking up, startled aqua green eyes met Master Yoda’s. “Greetings youngling.”
Yoda smiled at the sight of his intended great-grandpadawan.
It looked like he didn’t suffer too badly from Qui-Gon’s pigheadedness. Honestly, what more did he have to do? Spell it out in plain aurabesh? He’d put the perfect initiate in Qui-Gon’s path, had ensured no one else was able to claim him and what did the fool do?
Let Obi-Wan spend the next four months at the AgriCorps facility and think he was destined to be a farmer.
Loved by the Force, Qui-Gon may be. Yoda thought. Oblivious of most things, he still is.
But all would be well, now that Obi-Wan was here and all Yoda needed to do was explain…not the whole thing but just a little bit, and then he’d have the great-grandpadawan he had wanted and his grandpadawan would finally be able to heal.
All is as the Force wills it.
A mistake. Master Yoda said that he had been assigned to the AgriCorps by mistake. That there had been a system error which had prematurely assigned him out of the Temple and that the Council had decided that since this was time he could have been using to find a Master—that they would graciously allow him time beyond his name day to secure an apprenticeship.
He could still become a Jedi Knight.
But…but is that really what he wanted?
Sunki had told him that the path of the Jedi was one of service…but that it didn’t mean they devoted their lives to unhappiness. Rather, that they found joy in how they provided help to the galaxy, in the people they surrounded themselves with, and the work that they committed their lives too.
The Temple had been his home once, and he had happy memories there with Bant, Garen, Quinlan and Reeft. Of Master Ali Alann, who’s hugs were warm and reassuring. Of Madam Nu who always snuck him a biscuit whenever his clan was in the Archives.
But, there were bad memories there too. Of the dismissed sighs at yet another one of his “visions”. Of the pressure his crechemasters placed on him to be “perfect”, so that he could become a padawan.
Of the bullying, and anxiety, and stress…
He remembered how he dreamt of a future as a Jedi Knight, only for him to walk a path of infinite sadness…
So yes, he could still be a Knight. He could have a lightsaber again. See his crechemates again. Spend the next ten, even fifteen years of his life as a padawan and eventually serve the galaxy and Senate as a Guardian of Peace.
Or he could remain here, where he had learned that it was okay to be scared—so long as he didn’t let that fear control him.
He could stay where he had learned that it was okay that he didn’t have an affinity to the Living Force, as so many Jedi at the Temple did. That it wasn’t a weakness, or deficiency on his part. He could stay in a place where his gifts were actually celebrated.
He could stay where he had learned that he could do hard things, and that it was okay if he failed. It was okay, to be called “sapling” and to like it. To have a joint meditation with a mind healer once a week, and look forward to it. It was okay to have a best friend who wasn’t the Temple perfect definition of a Jedi, and a crush on a boy who was probably way out of his league but who smiled at him and called him “Obi”.
So in the end…it wasn’t even a question.
Yoda grumbled as he walked back up his ship.
Kenobi had politely, but firmly, told him that there were no mistakes. All was as the Force willed it, and the Force had willed Obi-Wan to be here.
Any arguments he tried to make were futile, as Director Dore’i cheerfully exclaimed their meeting over and that sadistic miraluka practically manhandled him out of the office and out of the building.
As Yoda strapped itself in for takeoff, he scowled. Qui-Gon’s stubbornness, I sense in young Kenobi. Need it, he does not.
Obi-Wan quietly took back his seat, and was rewarded with a smile that made gundarks stumble around in his stomach. “Is everything okay?” Ran asked, concern leaking through his shields and hands twitching as though half-tempted to physically check that Obi-Wan was alright.
With a shy smile, Obi nodded. “Everything is alright.”
And the Force thrummed with promise.