Дэйв Волвертон: Jedi Apprentice 1: The Rising Force

“Don’t mind him,” Bant said. “He’s a fool.”

Obi-Wan turned away and finished his meal, just as a huge black Barabel fruit plopped on the table near his tray. Juice from the fruit splattered on Bant and Garen Muln. Obi-Wan glared over at Bruck, who had come halfway across the room to throw it.

“Plant it, Oafy,” Bruck said. “I hear they’ll grow just about anywhere.”

Obi-Wan started to rise from his chair, but Bant put a hand over his and held him down, trying to calm him.

Obi-Wan smiled at Bruck, keeping himself in control. He want to anger me, Obi-Wan knew. He hopes to anger me. How often in the past have others played me like this, making me lose the chance to become a Padawan?

Obi-Wan held his anger, and merely smiled at Bruck. Yet a white-hot fury was building inside him.

Just then, Reeft muttered, “I don’t mean to sound greedy, but are you going to eat that Barabel fruit?”

Obi-Wan nearly burst out laughing. “Thank you, Bruck,” he said, scraping the fruit off the table and placing it in a cup. “The people of Bandomeer will be honored when I share with them your gift — the gift from one farmer to another.”

In the upper room of the Jedi Temple, Master Yoda argued with the senior members of the Jedi Council. They were meditating in a huge greenhouse, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where fountains and waterfalls streamed through an emerald forest

Outside, the surface of Coruscant was hidden by black storm clouds.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi must be allowed to fight before Qui-Gon Jinn this day,” Master Yoda said, just as a bolt of lightning snarled through the clouds below. “I have foreseen it.”

“What?” Senior Council Mace Windu asked. He was a strong, dark-skinned man with a shaved head. He studied Yoda with eyes that could pierce like blaster bolts. “What would be the point? Obi-Wan has proven once again that he cannot control his anger or his impatience. And Qui-Gon Jinn is not ready for another impatient Padawan.”

“Agreed,” Yoda said. “Neither Obi-Wan nor Qui-Gon ready are. But the Force may yet bring Master and student together.”

Mace Windu asked, “And what of last night, the beating Obi-Wan gave to Bruck?”

Yoda waved his hand and, as he did so, a referee droid appeared from behind the bushes.

“Advanced Jedi Training Droid 6, last night the fight you saw,” Yoda prompted.

“Obi-Wan’s heat was beating at sixty-eight beats per minute,” the droid reported. “His torso was faced northeast at twenty-seven degrees, with his right hand extended down, clutching his training saber. His body temperature was —“

Mace Windu sighed. If allowed to continue, the training droid would take an hour just to describe how Obi-Wan crossed the room.

“Just tell us who provoked the fight,” Mace Windu said. “Who said what, and then what happened?”

The training droid AJTD6 gave an indignant buzz at being curtailed. But after a glower from Mace Windu, it began the story of how Bruck had provoked Obi-Wan into the fight.

At the conclusion, Mace Windu sighed. “So we have one deceitful boy, and one foolish one,” he said. He looked at Master Yoda. “What do you suggest?”

Yoda blinked. “Give both a chance to fail again, we should,” he said.

Bruck’s red lightsaber cracked and hissed as Obi-Wan desperately tried to parry with his own. For the fourth time in less than a day the two boys were locked in combat, grunting and struggling.

Obi-Wan’s muscles ached. Sweat drenched his thick tunic. Bruck’s toughness surprised him. The boy was fighting desperately, as though his life depended on it. Obi-Wan realized that Bruck was just as afraif of not being chosen as a Jedi apprentice as he was.

But Obi-Wan would match Bruck’s toughness with his own, and then push even harder. This was his one last chance.

Bruck’s blade hummed as it angled toward Obi-Wan’s throat. A touch there would signal a killing blow, and Obi-Wan would lose the bout.

A cry rose up from the crowd seated in the shadows surrounding the battle arena. Masters and students had gathered to watch the fight. Obi-Wan could not see them — he could only hear their shouts of encouragement. Overhead, AJTD^ whisked around, monitoring the match as a referee.

“Fool.” Bruck growled softly enough so that others could hear him above the cheering. “You should never have agreed to fight me. You can’t win.”

Bruck’s shocking white hair was tied in a ponytail, and sweat stood out in droplets on his brow. He wore heavily padded black body armor. The odor of burned flesh and singed hair hung heavily in the air. Both warriors had managed to hit one another, but the touches so far had not been firm strikes.

Around the arena, many of the younger initiates cheered, calling out encouragement to Bruck or Obi-Wan. All of them had heard of the fight last night. Obi-Wan heard Bant shout “Courage, Obi-Wan! You’re doing well!” Garen Muln whistled through his teeth.

“You mean that you can’t win!” Obi-Wan told Bruck scornfully, as their training lightsabers tangled and sizzled. “Your failure today will signal to everyone that you are not just a loser, but a liar.”

The Masters had decided the fight would be without blindfolds. Bruck’s face was close, and his eyes glared at Obi-Wan with hate. The moment stretched, extended. In Bruck’s eyes Obi-Wan saw a future mapped out for him, a future in which anger ruled him and he began to hate all who opposed him.

Obi-Wan reached out for the Force. He felt it flow around him, but he could not fully grasp it. Here was the boy who stood between him and his dream, who mocked him, who tricked him. He pushed against Bruck and saw the surprise in the boy’s eyes as he fell backward.

Obi-Wan took advantage of Bruck’s uncertainty to aim a sizzling attack at Bruck’s face. Bruck ducked and slashed at Obi-Wan’s feet. Obi-Wan leaped high in the air.

As a child, Obi-Wan had learned by fighting older students to avoid flashy attacks that wasted energy. Instead, he’d been trained to fight defensively, to block blows with small movements, or to avoid them.

As Obi-Wan parried Bruck’s moves, he felt Qui-Gon Jinn’s eyes on him. The Jedi was a rebel and a loner, and Obi-Wan wanted to be seen as a rebel, too.

Instead of waiting to gauge Bruck’s attack strategy, Obi-Wan attacked suddenly and furiously. Bruck tried to block the attacks, but Obi-Wan’s lightsaber met Bruck’s with stinging power. Bruck nearly dropped his weapon.

Obi-Wan brandished his lightsaber in both hands, swinging brutally. Bruck tried to block a second time, and fell back, sprawling. His lightsaber switched off and went skittering over the uneven floor.

Obi-Wan slammed down, a decisive blow that should have won the bout, but Bruck managed to roll aside and grab his lightsaber. He barely had time to switch it on before Obi-Wan’s lightsaber battered down again.

This time, there was no blocking the blow. Bruck’s lightsaber knocked back into him. Obi-Wan caught Bruck cleanly between the eyes, burning his hair and scorching his skin.

Bruck cried out in pain as both lightsabers burned him, and Yoda announced, “Enough!”

All around the arena, the initiates shouted and cheered. Bant’s eyes were shining, and Reeft’s wrinkled face had more creases due to his wide smile.

Obi-Wan backed away, panting. Sweat ran down his arms and face; his muscles ached from exertion. His head swam with dizziness.

Yet he had never tasted such sweet triumph. He glanced into the shadows around the arena, and saw Qui-Gon Jinn watching him. The Jedi Master gave him the briefest nod, the began speaking to Yoda.

I’ve won, Obi-Wan realized, a thrill rising within him. I beat Bruck soundly. Qui-Gon is impressed.