Дэйв Волвертон: Jedi Apprentice 1: The Rising Force

“You see,” Yoda said. “To defeat an enemy, you do not have to kill. Defeat the rage that burns in him, and he is your enemy no longer. Rage the true enemy is.”

Obi-Wan understood what Yoda meant. But Bruck’s glazed glare told Obi-Wan that he had not defeated his opponent’s anger. Nor had he won the boy’s respect.

The two boys turned to Yoda and bowed solemnly. A vision of his friend Bant rose in Obi-Wan’s head. One of the best things about beating Bruck would be telling her about it.

“Enough for one day,” Yoda said. “Tomorrow, a Jedi Knight comes to the Temple seeking a Padawan. Ready for him you must be.”

Obi-Wan tried to hide his surprise. Usually when a Knight came to the Temple in search of a Padawan, rumors beat the arrival by days. That way, is a student wanted to earn the honor of becoming the Knight’s Padawan, he or she could prepare mentally and physically.

“Who?” Obi-Wan asked, heart racing. “Who’s coming?”

“Seen him before, you have,” Yoda said. “Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Obi-Wan’s hopes rose. Qui-Gon Jinn was a powerful Knight, one of the best. He had been to the Temple before to look at apprentices. Each time, he’d left without taking a new Padawan.

Obi-Wan had heard rumors that Qui-Gon had lost his last apprentice in a tremendous battle, and had vowed never to take another. He came to the Temple very year only because the Council of Masters asked him to. He would spend a few hours watching the pupils, studying them as if looking for something no one else could see. Then he would leave, empty-handed, to fight the darkness alone.

Obi-Wan felt his hopes dim. Qui-Gon gad rejected so many students. What made him think that he would be able to please him?

“He won’t want me,” Obi-Wan said in defeat. “He’s seen me fight before, and he did not chose me then. No one will.”

Yoda squinted up at Obi-Wan with wise eyes. “Hummmph! Always in motion the future is. One cannot be sure, but I have sensed… a kinder destiny for you.”

Something in Yoda’s tone made Obi-Wan wonder. “Will he choose me?” he asked.

“On Qui-Gon that depends — and you,” Yoda said. “Come back tomorrow and fight for him with the Force as your ally. Perhaps accept you he will.” Yoda put a comforting hand on his arm. “either way, it matters not. Leave the Temple soon you shall. But tell you I must, to lose such an apt pupil, I am sorry.”

Startled and pleased, Obi-Wan looked at Yoda. The Master’s eyes glowed as he blinked at Obi-Wan. A compliment from Yoda was as rare as an expression of regret. That was what made his opinion so highly prized. At that moment, Obi-Wan felt that even if he didn’t become a Knight, he had earned Yoda’s respect. That was a great gift.

Yoda turned and walked from the training room, the echo of his small feet thumping on the floor. He rounded the doorway into the hall and was gone. The lights powered down automatically and the room grew dusky with shadows.

Behind Obi-Wan, Bruck began to laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up, Oafy. Yoda is just trying to make you feel better. The Masters won’t be able to push you on anyone. There are plenty of better candidates than you.”

Obi-Wan stiffened in anger. He felt tempted to point out that Bruck was not one of those better candidates. Instead, he headed for the doorway.

He had taken a single step when something hard hit him in the back of his head. The sound of the blow against Obi-Wan’s skull echoed through the room. Bruck had thrown a training probe.

As Obi-Wan spun to face Bruck, the bow powered up his lightsaber. Its red light cut through the gloom.

Obi-Wan looked at the empty corridor. Yoda was gone. No one would see if he gave Bruck the beating he deserved. Bruck was often cruel, but usually not so brazen. He was deliberately provoking Obi-Wan, trying to get him to loose his temper.

But why? Obi-Wan wondered.

Of course! “You knew all along that Qui-Gon Jinn was coming to search for a Padawan, didn’t you,” Obi-Wan said slowly, as the suspicions hardened into certainty. Since Obi-Wan was the oldest apprentice in the Temple, the Jedi Masters would encourage Qui-Gon to take him — the lost cause. Bruck would not want that to happen.

Bruck laughed. “I made sure you didn’t find out. If I’d had my way, you wouldn’t have found out until he’d left.”

Bruck hoped to become Qui-Gon’s Padawan! And the only way to do it was to make sure that Obi-Wan failed. He’d tried to keep him from preparing, and now he was trying to make him mad. Obi-Wan’s anger, his impatience, had been his downfall often enough in the past Bruck hoped to fill his mind with rage and despair so that he would not be open to the Force.

Obi-Wan had been raised in the Jedi Temple since he was a baby. He hadn’t seen much of greed or hatred or true evil. The Masters shielded the children from such things, the keep them from turning to the dark side of the Force.

Yet now Obi-Wan saw into the heart of ruthlessness. Bruck was plotting to steal his dreams.

He could not let him know how important Qui-Gon’s visit was to him. He could not let Bruck know how he’d caused the fear to rise in him, fear that he would never be a Padawan.

Obi-Wan smiled. “Bruck, three months from now, when you turn thirteen, I hope you’ll make a great farmer.” It was the single worst insult that he could muster, to suggest that Bruck’s mastery of the Force was so small that he would be fit only for the Agricultural Corps.

Bruck leaped toward him with a snarl, his lightsaber held high. Obi-Wan spun to meet him with a cry on his lips. Flashing blades clashed in a burst of light and buzzing sound as the boys met in the room’s center.

Weary as they were, the boys fought until they could hardly move. By the time they crept from the training room, both boys were badly burned and bruised.

Neither had won, and both had lost.

As Obi-Wan headed to his chamber, Bruck took a lift to the upper rooms of the Temple, where the healers practiced their arts. He limped into the medic’s chambers, pretending to be more hurt than he was. His clothes were slashed and singed from the practice sabers, and blood ran from his nose.

When the medic saw him, their first question was, “What happened?”

Bruck gasped, “Obi-Wan Kenobi…“ and then pretended to faint.

One of the healers looked at him, then said brusquely to a droid, “Go notify the Masters.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi was bandaging his burns in his room when he got the bad news. He was trying to imagine ways to impress Qui-Gon in the morning. He considered ways to improve his fighting skills — anything he might say or do to convince the Knight that he was worthy to become a Jedi’s Padawan Learner. But then Docent Vant brought a data pad and showed him his orders.

Suddenly all his plans and dreams were shattered.

“Here now, it isn’t that horrible.” Docent Vant said. She was a tall blue-skinned woman with an elegant headtail that twitched nervously.

Obi-Wan stared at the orders in shock. The data pad told him that he would ship out of the Temple in the morning. He needed to pack his bags.

He was to report to the world of Bandomeer — some planet he’d never even heard of, out on the Galactic Rim. There he would join the Agricultural Corps.

“But I don’t understand,” he said numbly. “I still have four weeks until my birthday.”

“I know,” Docent Vant said. “But your ship, the Monument, leaves tomorrow, with a thousand miners aboard. It can’t wait just because you have a birthday.”

In shock, Obi-Wan looked around at his room. Overhead, three model Verpine fighters droned near the ceiling. He’d made them himself. Repulsorlift fields held them aloft, and their running lights flashed purple and green as they hummed about. Miniature insectoid pilots swiveled their heads, as if to look around. Books and charts were piled on his study table. His lightsaber hung in its usual place on the wall. He couldn’t imagine leaving here. It was his home. But he would leave it all gladly for the hard life of an apprentice. Not a farmer!