Rating: PG
Summary: Padawan dating service. Explores the relationship between a master and an apprentice.
Timeline: During TPM
Feedback: Yes, yes, yes. I live for it. Love the sound of "You've got mail!" I've really got to get a life. Especially appreciated are likes/dislikes. But please be gentle.
Tristan Neversummer finished wrapping the steri-film around the stumps of his Master's arms. As the bandaging coalesced around the wounds, he snapped the medkit shut and rested a moment, sitting against the hull of the life-pod.
En route from Alderaan to Caamas to attend training at a Jedi cadre there, the hyperdrive engine on their ship had failed ripping them out of hyperspace. The symposium on Caamas was to be a series of scenarios designed to teach the moral use of the Force to strengthen decision making skills in preparation for the trials.
Tristan, sixteen-years-old, was still a long way from being tested for elevation from Padawan learner to Knight, but an apprenticeship is a long one since the Jedi view the use of the Force as a grave responsibility.
Norris Krenth, his Master, was never one to waste time and had been tutoring him on the Caamasi culture and language while they were in hyperspace. While sitting around the holotable watching and listening to the golden-furred teacher in the hologram explaining the similar importance of the sense of smell in the Caamasi language as sight has in Basic, they sensed the impending failure of the hyperdrive and were in the cockpit before the klaxon and warning lights came on.
Norris had brought up the diagnostic display and frowning told him to grab their gear on the way to the life-pod. Tristan had obeyed moving as quickly as possible to retrieve their traveling bags from their cabins and toss them into the pod.
From where he had stood at the hatch of the pod waiting for his Master, Tristan could still see the hologram. The jolt to the ship of the unplanned reversal into real space had caused the hologram to flutter into static before reforming to continue with its lesson, teaching the thin air about Caamasi grammar.
"Get in! Get in!" Norris had yelled to him before nearly diving into the pod himself. As soon as Tristan had sealed the hatch confirmed by a metallic clang, his Master had pulled the explosive bolts freeing the pod from the doomed starship.
Through the plastisteel portholes the pair had witnessed the exploding hyperdrive engine compromise the hull integrity by blasting a large hole to allow the life-giving air in the ship to escape into the void of space. It had been strangely beautiful watching the water vapor freeze into a million crystals of ice, glittering like a galaxy of stars.
"Where are we?" Tristan had asked once the spectacle was over.
"The Force is with us, Padawan," Norris had said. "We were pulled into the Walpurgis system and the fifth planet is uninhabited, but habitable. We should be able to survive there until help arrives."
"*If* help arrives," he had said.
"It *will*, Tristan," his Master had assured him. "We'll miss the symposium, but when we don't show up they'll start searching for us and we haven't strayed far from our vector. Besides, Walpurgis V is sometimes used for blind drop-off training exercises by the Temple and zoological collectors visit from time-to-time."
***
*Well, at least we survived the landing.*
Their landing on the medium-sized brown, green and blue planet had been somewhere between a landing and a crash. *But as they say, if you walk away from it -it's a successful landing.*
Tristan shot a look at his Master as the Jedi Knight stirred and moaned. *He shouldn't be doing that. He's in a healing trance.* The Jedi apprentice reached over and placed a hand on Norris' head. *Stang! He's not. He's lost too much blood. He's too weak.*
Standing, Tristan paced back and forth. Now what? Think, Tristan, think. Tristan knelt down to feel for Norris' pulse. *Pale and clammy skin, bluish lips, weak but rapid pulse, shallow breathing.*
*Shock, what do I do for shock?*
Pulling a rehydrator from the first-aid kit, Tristan attached it to Norris' arm checking to see that the saline solution was flowing correctly. * Keep him warm. Keep his head at body level.* Tristan removed his Master's cloak from under his head where it had been in service as a pillow and covered Norris' body adding his own on top.
Not far enough in training to be able to put himself or anyone else for that matter into a healing trance, Tristan did know some healing techniques.
*I'll be too slow. He needs the Temple healers and their Kaiburr crystals . Or a bacta tank. I hope that distress beacon in the pod keeps working.*
Sitting down cross-legged, Tristan placed his hand on the Jedi Knight's chest and called on the Force.
He felt himself walking. Striding down the cool, silent hallways within the Temple, he could hear himself humming to himself within his head. A children's birthday song. It was his birthday and he was headed toward his quarters expecting someone to be there - his wife.
Tristan jerked his hand off of his Master's chest and pulled out of his mind.
*Great, he's reliving his last birthday and I can't block it out.*
To the Jedi, a person's private thoughts were considered personal and reading someone's mind without their permission was considered beyond rude, it was immoral, unless there was an overriding necessity.
Tristan replaced his hand on Norris' chest. *I don't see how this could be any more necessary.*
Continuing to walk down the marble hallway, the scene was crystal-clear to Tristan, like a holodrama, except *he* was in it. Feeling what his Master had felt, hearing and seeing what he had seen and . . . thinking what Norris had thought.
He knew she wasn't in there, but he called for her anyway once the door had slid open.
"Fay?" he called and looked around even though his Force-sense told him she wasn't there.
Tristan admired his Master's sense of the Force, it was much stronger than his own. Reveling in it and the sensation of control his Master had with the Force, he felt glorious, in awe and wonder at the power of the living Force.
*I hope someday, I can feel this way.*
He found himself walking out of his apartment within the Temple deciding to spend the time waiting for her to return by working out in the gym.
Looking across the gym floor through Norris' eyes somehow made the room look different.
*Of course, the perspective is different, he's taller than me by at least ten centimeters.*
He felt himself scanning the room, nodding at friends and searching for . . . women.
Finding none, he felt free to remove his tunic. Even though the loose-fitting tunic provided liberty of movement, he felt he could only get a good workout once free of it. He felt himself rolling his shoulders, preparing himself while bringing to mind how many kilograms and repetitions were in his current routine.
It was a strange sensation, looking at the amount of weight he was moving, yet it did not feel anymore heavier than the much smaller masses Tristan himself could lift. However, after many reps the weight seemed to become heavier, yet he continued to the point of failure, his muscles quivering under the strain unable to hoist the mass another time.
Sitting down to rest before continuing with another set, he felt the presence of another person entering the weight room and himself reaching for his tunic. But she had only hurriedly entered to exit once again having retrieved the forgotten item.
*He's self-conscious. Why would he be self-conscious? I wished my body looked like his.*
His workout continued until he felt the presence of his wife within their quarters. Grabbing his tunic, he made haste to the turbolift and then down the hallway toward her. As he walked, he felt a growing warmth in anticipation of . . .
***
Tristan broke contact with Norris. This was getting *too* personal.
The Padawan looked at his Master wondering if he should wait until *that* scene was over. The Jedi Master's lips were still blue and his skin retained its cold and clammy feel. Even though Tristan was doing his best, his efforts were yet to be rewarded with any noticeable improvement in Norris' condition.
Tristan once again laid his hand on the Jedi Knight's chest and closed his eyes drawing on the power of the Force.
He was in his rooms smiling at her. Although not Tristan's type and certainly too old, being in her thirties, for his sixteen-year-old tastes, through Norris' eyes she was *beautiful.* He felt himself walking toward her, arms wide intending to embrace her.
"Stop," she said, while wrinkling her nose up with distaste. "You're all *sweaty*."
"But you used to like me that way," he said, with a grin as he continued forward. "Remember? You said I smelled good."
She put an arm out to stop him. "Well, now you just smell. Go hit the refresher station."
Tristan would have felt stung by the rebuff, but it didn't seem to faze Norris instead he felt . . . *uncertainty.*
Heading toward the refresher, he said to her, "Don't go anywhere." Pausing at the door and not hearing a response, he asked, "Please, I'll be quick. Stay."
He felt the warm spray of water caress his body and then he let down a corner of his mind releasing his control over the Force and his shoulder. A dull, throbbing ache overtook the top of his left shoulder and he concentrated the stream of water on the injury there. Rubbing it with his right hand, he could feel the scar that reminded him of the injury that had almost amputated the limb.
Toweling off, he reentered the room. Naked.
"At least put a robe on," she said.
He felt himself instinctively covering the scar with his hand.
*She's made him ashamed of his wound. But he got it by saving many children, shielding them with his own body. The selfless deed was entered into the Holocron! *
"Sorry," he said, as he retrieved a robe. "I forgot."
"Can't those healers of yours do anything more with it?" she queried, with a note of derision in her voice.
He felt himself feeling defensive and resigned at the same time. "No," he said. "They've done all they could do. They keep reminding me that I could have lost the arm."
"They should have put you into a bacta tank."
"Fay, you know the Temple healers are better than bacta. I *would* have lost the arm."
"Well, then, why isn't it gone?"
"They did the best they could do. ZaBeth says I'll just have to live with the pain."
"But what about the *scar*. It's so . . . *ugly*."
"ZaBeth won't try anymore. She won't even touch me," he said softly. "She says she's been humoring me for too long and that it won't improve."
The sound of a screamed roar filled the forest surrounding them.
Tristan sprung to his feet, removing his lightsaber holding it ready. He kept this thumb hovered over the ignition button prepared to bring the weapon to life. He scanned the forest for the creature reaching out with the Force to his extreme limits as he enhanced his hearing and sight. Tense minutes passed as the creature lumbered first towards them quaking the ground with each thunderous footfall before once again disappearing into the distance.
Tristan waited until he was certain the creature was gone before he resumed his position next to his Master and reinitiated his healing.
He was now in their bed trying to entice her to join him.
"Stay out of my mind," she ordered. "You know I don't like that."
"But, Fay," he plead. "I used to do that all the time. We rarely spoke two words to each other. It brought us closer."
"Too close," she said. "I was losing my identity. At least give me my privacy in my own mind, there's *kriffing* little of it in this Temple."
"Fay, I'm not invading your privacy. We're *married*," he entreated. "I like to *share* with you what I sense with the Force."
"I like to live in the real world," she snorted.
"The Force is real," he stated slowly.
"To you maybe, but the rest of us have to live in the *real* world."
He felt himself sliding to the edge of the bed, standing and pulling her close. She was stiff and unyielding in his arms. "You hate living here at the Temple that much?" he inquired sadly.
She gave him a look of exasperation and then gave him a warm smile and melted in his arms a bit. "You know I like Alderaan," she cooed.
*So that's why we moved from the Temple to Alderaan.*
"Well, I suppose we could go to the Greensward Estate. Master Telamon *di d* extend to us an invitation to join his training cadre there after Tristan did so well during the lightsaber tournament."
"No, I meant a place of our own," she whispered.
He felt his arms push her out a bit to look her in the eye. "No," he said with firmness. "Tristan does better when he is surrounded by others."
"Tristan, Tristan, Tristan." She knocked his arms off hers. "I'm sick of hearing about Tristan. What about me?"
He plopped down on the bed. "Fay," he said. "I do think about you. All the time. But I need to think about what is best for everyone. You knew I was a Jedi when you married me. You liked the idea." She sat down next to him and put her arms around him, snuggling up close. "It's just that I want a place of my own. Something that I can call mine." She ran a hand through his hair. "Why can't *you* be the head of a school on a large estate like Telamon?"
He dropped his shoulders in tiredness. "Because, as I've explained to you before, I have to go were the Force leads me."
"Fine," she huffed. "I guess being a guest at Greensward is better than here."
"I'll meditate on it," he stated.
She made a sound of aggravation that was more than a growl yet less than a scream.
The buzzing of rehydrator brought Tristan to full awareness. Reaching into the first-aid kit he removed another saline solution pack and inserted into the slot. Grabbing a literjon he sat back against the life-pod, resting while rehydrating himself with swigs of water.
He mused about now knowing why is Master had taken him, and his wife, to Alderaan. Not that he had minded, he liked the teachers and students at Greensward and he adored Alderaan. It seemed as if everyone on the planet was a member of the aristocracy, even the servants carried themselves with nobility. The Alderaanians seemed to do everything with understated style and class. Nothing was done haphazardly, but with pride in craftsmanship seen in the smallest of details.
Greensward Estate was no exception. Held in trust by the Jedi, the estate was beautiful with its many hectares of well-manicured lands on the edge of Orowood forest and the burnished wood throughout the manor house. The Jedi had kept the estate mostly in its original condition, modifying it somewhat to serve as a training facility, therefore it had retained its genteel ambience.
He recalled the meeting his Master had with the Jedi Council to arrange their transfer to Greensward. They had to wait outside until the council was was finished dealing with Qui-Gon Jinn. Qui-Gon had emerged from the Council chamber looking unperturbed. Norris had asked him if he was in trouble again. "Rules were made to be broken," Qui-Gon had replied with a smile.
Although he was glad he was not Qui-Gon's Padawan, he had learned quite a bit about swordsmanship from the defiant Jedi Master. In fact, he had used more than one of his tips in the lightsaber tournament on Alderaan.
Only three members of the Council were present when his Master had asked for their opinion on their move to Alderaan. He didn't exactly need their permission, but Norris held the Council in great respect and made no major move without heeding their advice.
Tristan remembered Master Mace Windu's words. The large, powerful man had looked him straight in the eyes and with a deep voice said, "You will have a decision to make Padawan. You will cause someone close to you great pain or allow someone else to let them suffer."
*Was this it? He certainly is in great pain, but I don't recall having made a decision. It had been Master's decision to go to Caamasi, not mine. However, it was based upon Master Windu's words, to help me with my decision making.*
Taking one last sip of water, the Jedi apprentice put down the literjon and continued with his healing of his Master.
He was now kissing his wife.
He was now kissing his wife.
*She's not kissing back.*
He rubbed his hands down her back as she stood there unresponsive.
Tristan couldn't believe the next words out his mouth.
"Honey, let's try for another baby," he whispered in her ear.
Tristan couldn't make out what she said as it was blurred.
He said, "No, you looked fine. You looked beautiful. Still do."
The image of his wife with her swollen belly came to his mind. He cherished the recollection. Overwhelming pride washed over him. Sensing the new life within the Force, within her, brought to the surface protective emotions he relished.
"I'm too old," she lied.
"No, you're not. We're not," he assured her. "One more, *before* we're too old."
She pushed him away. "I'm going to shower and change."
Tristan withdrew. *This is too much. I shouldn't know these things.*
He started pulling out emergency food rations and taking a bite out of the bar looked his Master over. *He looks better. Or do I just think he looks better because I want him to look better?*
Chewing slowly, he swallowed and took another bite of the taste-challenged bar. Curiosity defeated his hunger and he replaced his hand on Norris' chest.
Now wearing different clothing she emerged from the refresher station.
"I thought we would go to The Binary System tonight," he offered. "You know, like when we were dating."
"That place is seedy," she sneered.
*Seedy? The Binary System?*
"And I was thinking, it would be nice to have Tristan over for dinner tomorrow," he said.
This time she was nearly yelling. "Tristan again? No, he's *rude*."
"But he was eleven at the time," Norris defended. "They do stupid things. I'm sure our son has done his share of gross things at the dinner table with his Master."
*Has it been five years? What did I do? I don't remember.*
"I feel so sorry for him always eating in the Temple dining hall. Other Padawans are practically part of the family. I feel it puts distance between us, affects his training."
*Don't feel sorry for me, Master. I don't feel left out. You're not neglecting me.*
"Well, I'm not going to The Binary System, so perhaps your Padawan will go with you." She started rummaging through the pockets on his belt. "You did get your stipend, today, didn't you?"
A great weariness came over him. "Don't go, Fay, not tonight."
She continued looking.
"Please, Fay, don't go, not tonight."
She found the credits and headed toward the door.
"Aren't going to at least wish me a happy birthday?"
The door closed behind her as he felt warm wetness slide down his cheeks.
"Please, Fay, not tonight, don't see *him* tonight."
Tristan rubbed his arms with his hands. *It's getting cold.*
Rising, he gathered some wood and removed his lightsaber. Hitting the ignition switch, the blade hummed with power casting a violet light in the darkness of night on Walpurgis V. Touching the pile with the weapon, red flames of combustion were soon eating at the fuel.
Holding the lightsaber out at arm's length, Tristan admired it for a while. *I hope that creature doesn't come back, we're down to only one, but then only one of use can use it now.*
Casting a look at his Master, Tristan was reminded why his Master's was gone.
For three days the pair had camped at their landing/crash site. Scouting the surrounding area, they had found water and an abundance of small to average-sized sauropod fauna among the primeval flora.
On the fourth day, a herd of larger animals that they had sensed wandered near them. The size of their dear departed ship, they browsed lazily on the foliage of the tree tops, their long necks reaching down to pull off a mouthful of vegetation and then raising to gaze across the landscape. Long tails counterbalanced their massive weight and their smooth skins displayed an iridescent play of colors like opalite.
The pair of Jedi had exchanged looks, thinking the same thing.
//If those are the herbivores, I don't want to see the carnivores.//
He didn't make his presence known until the early morning of the next day. While putting a stop to their wonderfully tasteless breakfast of monotonous ration bars, his size would made a steady life-time diet of them seem like a gourmet's repast. Over ten meters tall, the carnivore was following the day-old track of the browsers, therefore he hadn't actually found them as more accurately he came across them. Or would have.
Norris and Tristan both dove for cover just as the sauropod came crashing through the trees. The towering animal screamed a roar as he sniffed the air. He came straight to where they had been sitting enjoying the desecration of food that had been their morning meal.
As Norris had dived to one side and Tristan to the other, the animal was now between them. Lowering his warty head, the carnivore turned toward Norris. Tristan heard the familiar snap-hiss and although he couldn't see his Master's lightsaber, knew that the amber-yellow blade had been activated. Tristan followed suit with his own.
Roaring in pain, the animal jerked his head up and thrashed it Tristan's way. The gash Norris had sliced on the sauropod's nose was painful, but due to the animal's size by no stretch of the imagination was it life-threatening or even disabling.
The colossal head thrust at the cause of its pain bearing its teeth meaning to put an end to its audacious prey who had the temerity to bite first. Tristan stabbed at its scaly tail driving the violet blade into the flesh until only the silver and black hilt remained visible. The tail swished away, causing more damage as the energy blade vaporized itself free of the appendage.
But the hunter was not distracted from its original target and its jaws interlocked over the yellow blade dissecting Norris' hands from the rest of his body in the process. Swallowing his tidbit, the beast inexplicably strode off, quaking the earth decrescendo with each stride.
Crimson liquid life-force gushed from where Norris' hands should have been.
"Tristan, your lightsaber! Now, hurry!" He fell to his knees.
Tristan rushed to his Master's side.
"Cauterize me, now!" Closing his eyes, Norris sought strength from the Force as his apprentice sealed the ends of his arms stanching the flow of blood. Falling to the ground Norris had an explanation for the animal's departure before he faded off. //I must have tasted like a ration bar.//
Tristan Neversummer spent the night tending the fire, feeding it with sticks. He watched as another small branch floated in from the forest to add itself to dancing flames. His Master's breathing had returned to normal as had his pulse and color. *But were not out of the woods yet.* Tristan snorted in disgust at his lame joke.
"Fay?" Norris weakly implored.
His Padawan knelt by his side. "No, Master, it's me, Tristan."
"Water," the Jedi Knight requested.
Tristan reached over for the literjon and supporting Norris' head up with one hand held the water container to the Jedi Knight's lips. The sight of the man greedily gulping down many swallows of the liquid pleased the young Jedi, it was confirmation that his Master was improving.
Tristan knew by the set of Norris' eyes before he closed them that he was preparing himself to enter a Jedi healing trance. Soon, the Jedi Knight was deep into the Force drawing on its power to mend his damaged body.
With morning light breaking through the trees, Tristan himself joined more fully with the Force dropping into meditation while keeping a corner of his mind open and alert in case the sauropod returned.
Swirling in motion, the Force revealed to him many of the possible pathways the future could take. Always it was centered on Norris and his wife, Fay. On one path, the couple continued as they were, enduring in the sham, arguing continuously, disturbing the harmonious flow of the Force. Norris, distracted, waned in the Force making blunders that affected himself and others. The sight of a Force-impelled object flew across Tristan's field of vision.
That scene faded into witnessing Norris with his bloody fists standing over the beaten body of some man as Fay huddled in a corner, eyes wide, quivering with fear.
Bringing himself out of his meditation, Tristan stood and paced back and forth in front of the fire. *Why am I being shown this? What business is this of mine, anyway? Is this the decision I have to make? How can I make a decision about someone else's marriage? Stang! I can't even keep a girlfriend.*
Abruptly, the Force engulfed him with a vision more clear than the others. Once again, he was in Norris' body and mind.
His pulse was racing as his heart beat rapidly and his chest drew in quick exchanges of air. The solid metal cylinder in his hand was familiar terrain as his thumb depressed the button extending the amber-yellow shaft of light.
"Please, mister," the man begged. "Honest, I *didn't *know she was married."
His sight narrowed to a tunnel focused on the object of his rage as the blood-lust filled his mind. Raising the lightsaber over his head, he hewed through the man's body severing it into two unequal pieces. Fay screamed as the cauterized parts wafted the acrid smoke of charred flesh, hair and bone to mix with the tinge of ozone. Not yet satisfied, he hacked at the corpse again and again . . .
*No! My Master couldn't do that! It's not possible. Where is the future path where they're happy again, together? The one where she loves him again?*
Closing his eyes once more, Tristan reached out to the Force. This path was different, yet just as clear. Smiling, the young Jedi opened his eyes.
"Hey, daydreamer," Norris called. "What's a man have to do to get some . . ." He looked at the sky. "Lunch around here?"
"Hungry?" Tristan looked over at his Master who was now sitting up.
Norris rolled his eyes. "I thought I just said that."
*He's in good spirits. It hasn't sunk in yet.*
Tristan rummaged through their provisions. "Let's see. Tell me when to stop. We have tasteless ration bars." He held one up for inspection. "We have bland ration bars." He held an identical one up. "And we have . . ."
"Enough, stop," the Jedi Knight begged. "We might be here for sometime. Think you could hunt us up one of those sauropods?"
Tristan removed his lightsaber from where it hung on his belt and started into the forest. Stopping, he turned around and called back, "What size? Small, medium, large? or EXTRA-LARGE?" He was answered by a stick Force-lobbed in his direction.
***
It took Norris several days for the reality of his situation to sink in and it wasn't until the bandages were removed that it hit him. Unable to do for himself, his Padawan had been his hands for him. But now, staring at the pink scarred tissue of his hand-less arms, he started to sob.
"Master, it's not that bad. Once we get back to Alderaan, you'll be fitted with cybernetic hands," Tristan sympathized. "Quite a few Masters and Knights have them. They do everything your real . . ."
Tristan stopped. He knew at the sound of his last word he hadn't made things better, only worse. *Real. She had said ‘ . . . to live in the real world.' And he isn't crying over the loss of his hands, it's because he knows what her reaction will be.*
"Sorry. . ." he trailed off and fell silent.
"*Shavit!*" Norris screamed as a rock went hurling into the trees smashing against a trunk splintering off bark in a shower of brown to be followed by another and another. . .
***
It was raining.
Waiting out the downpour within the spacious restriction of the survival tent, the Master was quizzing the apprentice on Jedi history. At the saga of Nomi Sunrider, the Master became pensive.
The love of the Jedi Knight for her husband was much celebrated, for after her husband was murdered by traitorous false friends who had turned to the dark side, she took his place in a Jedi corps. Nomi's numerous acts of selfless bravery during the Sith War in which the Jedi fought and defeated the dark Lords of the Sith were highly lauded.
"Master?" He looked over at the silent Jedi lying down with his arms under his head, staring up at the roof of the tent.
"Sorry, Tristan, I got lost in my thoughts."
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Tristan examined his fingernails .
"Yeah, I miss her."
"Master?" He steeled himself. "Why do you stay with her?"
A questioning look came over Norris' face. "Because I love her."
"She doesn't love you." Tristan's fingernails suddenly became more interesting.
"And how would you know that, Padawan?" He pushed himself up on his elbows.
"Master, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it, but I know." Tristan sent him a short image from what he had perceived during his healing of the Jedi Knight.
"And just how much do you know?"
Tristan sent him Norris' own words. //Please, Fay, not tonight, don't see him tonight.//
Norris laid back down arranging his arms behind his head. "She loved me once." He paused. "She'll love me again."
Tristan said nothing.
"Hey, Lunch, give me a hand over here will you?"
Over the past three months, the pair having only themselves for company had become very provincial and had developed a grim sense of humor over Norris' lack of ambidexterity.
Norris, at having his hands eaten in the morning, naturally became Breakfast. He had informed his Padawan that he had already sacrificed his fair share and the next time they encountered the carnivorous sauropod it would be the apprentice's turn to donate. Thus, Tristan became Lunch.
Tristan had countered that if they saw the creature again, he would run. They both had thought it funny imagining what part of his anatomy the animal would remove if Tristan did flee.
Rather than waiting, the pair had packed up what had been their home for a quarter of a standard year and was headed toward the landing site of the ship.
Shifting his carrybag to balance it more evenly on his back, Norris asked, "What's the first thing you want when we get back to Alderaan?"
"It's a tie between a hot bath and lomin-ale. Maybe it'll be both at the same time. How about you?"
Norris' beaming face dropped.
"Maybe she's missed you, too," Tristan suggested with earnestness he didn't feel.
"Yeah, maybe, you're right," He faced Tristan nodding his head in agreement.
***
Descending the landing ramp, Norris Krenth, Jedi Knight and Tristan Neversummer, his Padawan learner, walked toward the waiting woman. A wisp of a tendril entered her mind, so small and discrete that she failed to notice the intrusion.
"Norris!" She ran to him with her arms out stretched. "I thought I'd never see you again," she said. *I hoped I'd never see you again*, she thought.
The Jedi Padawan made his decision.
Fully cloaked in the robes of his order, the Jedi Knight smiled widely, but kept his arms crossed over his chest tucked into the wide sleeves.
He inhaled deeply. "Fay, I've had an accident." He withdrew his arms from the sleeves of his brown rough-spun cloak, exposing them.
The Jedi Padawan added nothing, but amplified everything.
Retching in revulsion at the sight of the shortened appendages, she turned and fled. It wasn't long afterward that she was gone for good.
"Master, Elean and I are going to the The Binary System tonight."
"ZaBeth's apprentice? You have my leave. Have a good time."
"Thank you, Master, but I thought you might want to come along."
"Padawan, that's kind of you, but I really don't think you'd want me along on your date."
"She's got a friend," Tristan enticed him.
"Tristan, I really don't need my apprentice setting up blind dates for me."
"But she's not . . ."
"I know, I know. She's not blind. Enough with the anatomy puns all ready. I'm not in the mood." He looked at his new hands, flexing them.
Tristan shook his head flinging his Padawan's braid over his shoulder. "No, Master, what I was going to say was she's not a blind date. You know her. Ever since we got back to the Temple you've been moping around. It's about time you got out and had some fun."
"Who is she then?" he asked.
"ZaBeth."
"ZaBeth? Padawan, have you lost your mind? She dislikes me."
Tristan shot him a sentence from his memory into Norris' mind. //She won't even touch me.// "Master, you've been the one who's been blind. She didn't touch you anymore because she *liked* to touch you."
Norris cocked his head to the side and looking at his apprentice from the corner of his eyes, smiled. "Now that you mention it, Lunch," he said. "Dinner sounds good."
The End.
