My Dying Wish

The dining hall seemed almost desolate in its décor, or lack thereof. The walls were gray and bare; the table was a polished marble of similar hue. The room was long and the ceiling high, making it feel like a prison. Obi-Wan was used to modest living, but this was modesty to the point of foolishness. His eyes must have been wandering as he sat down because Marva cleared her throat and gave him another smile.

“I am sorry we are not as extravagant as you Republic Jedi.”

He snapped to attention and shook his head lightly. “No, of course not, I merely like to take in my settings.”

“A Jedi should not be preoccupied with luxury and beauty.”

“You contradict yourself,” he mused in retort.

“How so?” Marva seemed taken aback by that, but hid it quickly.

“You say your… organization,” he chose the word carefully, “is not bound by rules yet you have done nothing but berate me and follow it with something that sounds very much like a rule. I don’t pretend to be the finest Jedi in creation. I may very well be the worst, but I am not trying to impose my beliefs on you or change your system. I am only asking you put aside this personal feud you have with the former Republic Jedi and concentrate on my plea. I ask only for your help.”

Marva softened, visibly. She thought she probably had been too hard on him, letting her sentiments move her speech. What he had gone through, losing all of his number, losing everything he’d fought so valiantly to protect. Perhaps, given the same circumstances, she would not be in the best of spirits herself.

“What exactly do you want from us, Master Kenobi?”

“It will take time. I need to know if there are more Jedi. I want you to help me find them. I want to rally more to our cause. Then, we will plan our next move.”

“It does not sound like you have any plan at all.”

“There is already a resistance forming. It is fragile and weak, but we can help it grow.”

Marva did not answer. She stared off into space, thinking for a long while. During their conversation they had been served food, but Obi-Wan had not touched it and nor had she. It looked to be a bland soup and the steam was already fading. The bread served with it was likely stale.

Marva took a breath before she spoke, as if the weight of Obi-Wan’s request was stifling her. “I will send out several of my disciples on this ‘recruiting’ mission of yours. However, this is not unfamiliar to us, we often seek out Force users, many who have lost their way. As for the second part of your request, time will tell. Early into a new regime resistance often begins, but it falls just as easily. I won’t have my Jedi sacrificing themselves for people who are not committed.”

“I understand,” he conceded. “I will put you in touch with a few connections of mine, they are politicians still technically within the new Empire.”

“Politicians,” she asked, raising a brow. “You have powerful friends, indeed.” And she smiled as if she mocked him. “But politicians are naturally flippant.”

“Not these, not for as long as I’ve known them.” The seriousness of the statement and the furrow in his brow when he said it made Marva believe him instantly.

“I assume you’re not staying here, where will you be going,” she asked.

“I have some personal matters to attend to,” he replied, staring off for a second. By this he meant Padmé and the twins. They had become his personal life, hadn’t they? Though he failed to admit it to himself, he had become the surrogate father. And somewhere inside him, deep and buried and clawing at the surface, he had wanted a family… this family.

His few seconds of internal bliss at the hopes of getting back to Padmé quickly, however, were cut tragically short when one of the robed disciples burst into the dining hall.

“Master Revan,” she said almost breathless, “there is another ship. They say they are here on Imperial business and demand access to our hangar.”

“Oh no,” whispered Obi-Wan in spite of himself.

But a voice in his head secured that his worst assumptions had not come into fruition. “Anakin is not on this vessel,” said Qui-Gon, speaking to Obi-Wan through the Force.

“This is a scouting mission, it has to be,” Obi-Wan exclaimed as he stood up.

“Is this your doing,” Marva asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “It is rare enough we get one ship, but two… in one day! Impossible.”

“You know very well this is not my fault. Vader must have traced Revan’s steps. He’s been to all the significant Sith sites she and Malak visited. It is likely he traced her here. You must all leave this place immediately.”

“We will not turn tail and run, Kenobi. We are not cowards.”

“Then you will die here.”

His words were like an axe that fell and struck the ground so hard it shook the foundation. Everyone was in silence. It was only when a second disciple entered that the silence was broken. This one seemed more agitated than the last.

“They’re demanding to land or they will open fire on the settlement. They say we are illegally inhabiting this system.”

“What?!” Marva was clearly furious.

“Do you have ships,” asked Obi-Wan, thinking ahead. “It’s time you left this place. They have likely already sent word back to their superiors. It is not long before they send reinforcements. They will blast this place into oblivion with you in it if you refuse them.”

Everyone seemed to be looking to Marva for an answer, a decision. Even Obi-Wan was willing to stay and fight along side her if she so chose. In fact, it might be their only out, to fight this battalion and then escape before the fresh batch could arrive. Marva seemed to be thinking along these lines because she soon voiced her orders.

“Let them land and gather the others Sa’til,” she spoke to the disciple who had first delivered the news of the approaching ship. “We will stand our ground here until they are dealt with then… we flee.”

“Hand me a robe,” Obi-Wan said quickly.

“Fancy yourself a disciple,” Marva asked with a smile.

“Not just yet,” he replied. But he was rewarded with a robe being tossed in his direction, which he promptly caught and put on making sure the hood was securely over his face leaving it in shadow. He could not be recognized, no matter what. For Padmé’s sake, his discovery of this place could never be known. And though the hood severely compromised his vision, it was of little consequence because a good Jedi did not rely on the senses. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was among the best.

----

The dining hall was dark, but within that darkness several Jedi had assembled, each had their lightsabers in hand, though not ignited. And each was stretching out with the Force to feel one another’s position and feel the treading of the clone troopers from without.

“In here,” they heard a mechanical voice say and a second later the door was kicked down.

As soon as the top of the door hit the floor, each lightsaber in each Jedi’s hand beamed to life. Their hums in unison could have been deafening in complete silence, but there was none of that. The surprise wore off quickly and the troopers were firing off their blasters before they knew it.

Obi-Wan thought that, at the very least, he’d seen his last battlefield. But that was not the Will of the Force. And this moment taught him he should never take anything for granted. The war was far from over.

He had to admit that the Jedi that now fought along side him were some of the finest he’d seen do battle. There were far fewer casualties than he’d seen at the Battle of Geonosis, even though the wave of clone troopers seemed endless.

Marva was deflecting blaster shots left and right, jumping on tables and chairs, force pushing various objects in one direction or the other. She was moving quickly and fighting fiercely.

“I forgot how much fun this was,” she shouted to Obi-Wan as she passed him on her way to slice the head right off a trooper that was threatening a disciple who’d lost her saber.

Obi-Wan recalled what she’d said about recruiting Jedi who’d “lost their way.”

“Indeed,” he smiled as he sliced the hand – complete with blaster - off a trooper who had come too close.

They’d managed to fight back most of the battalion to the point where the ones who’d survived were running back to the ship until reinforcements could arrive. This was the time to make an escape, there was no room for hesitation and Obi-Wan was just about to voice that when Marva stabbed her saber into a trooper corpse and yelled, “Get to your ships!”

Obi-Wan’s mind flashed with an image of a fourteen year old Padmé fighting right beside him, blaster in hand, leading her troops fearlessly. In a lot of ways, Marva reminded him of the young woman Padmé had been. She was strong and decisive. But Padmé seemed broken now, a shell of her former self. There had to be a way to bring her back to life.

Marva’s voice broke though his thoughts.

“Best get to your own ship,” she told him as she handed him a small stone.

“Follow that and you shall find us again. Until then we will do what you have asked.”

“May the Force be with you,” he said out of habit.

“It always is,” she smiled and pulled her hood over her head as she ran out of the hall.

----

Safely aboard his vessel and on the way to Alderaan, Obi-Wan examined the small stone rolling it around in his palm as he rubbed it with his thumb. How was he supposed to find them with this? It was a strange clue to leave him with, but it was probably for the best. Marva’s final words to him had left him with a sense of accomplishment, despite the battle.

He continued to ponder everything that had taken place through his entire journey back. When the lovely green and blue planet came into view, he was still fiddling with the stone and cross referencing some information on the nava-computer. A beep and a flash, followed by some binary code on the screen, warned him that it was time to start his landing sequences. He pocketed the “gift” from Marva and began punching in the appropriate commands.

As he began to land he felt a knot form in his stomach and his throat seemed to clench. He felt elated. He began rehearsing what he’d say to Padmé in his head, when he saw her. He’d been thinking of her so much lately that it never occurred to him to think that he shouldn’t. It just felt natural.

But before his anticipated meeting with her he had a private rendezvous with Bail Organa to report his findings. When he docked on the landing pad he was still wearing the robes that had been lent to him on Pergitor.

“Good afternoon, sir,” greeted a familiar protocol droid, its metal feet clicking on the landing pad as it hastily approached the ship.

“Hello Threepio,” he said, rather uncomfortably.

“E-excuse me, sir? I am C3-PO, human-cyborg relations. I am pleased to meet you.” The droid seemed thoroughly confused at being called such a familiar name.

“Oh, right,” Obi-Wan said solemnly, remembering the droid’s memory had been wiped clean. Although it did surprised him that the senator still had Threepio working the more “secretive” of his landing pads. Perhaps that was not the best of areas for the droid.

“Pardon me, sir?”

Again, Threepio was at a loss, and when Obi-Wan walked away without another word the droid seemed exasperated.

“How rude,” he exclaimed. “Sometimes I just don’t understand humans.”