Honor Over Hate

The second in the Ashanti Vende stories, this one centers during Qui-Gon's training of his first apprentice. No one knows who is first apprentice was any more than we know who really trained Qui-Gon *grin*, but that's not stopping me!

Disclaimer: All Star Wars characters except for the Jinn family and Ashanti belong to George Lucas and his associate companies. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made from these stories. They were written for pure entertainment value purposes only. However, Mr. Lucas, feel free to hire me. I have nothing better to do obviously that increase your universe in some fashion or form. I might as well do it for you! *smile*

Chapter One

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Knight, looked down at his apprentice with a startled expression. "What are you doing?" he asked, watching her play with the wires at the door's lock console.

She looked at him like he was dense. "Picking the lock," she answered, rolling her eyes and going back to her work. Qui-Gon thought for a nineteen year old apprentice, she was terribly smart-mouthed.

"I can cut through the door faster, Clea," he informed her.

She grinned. "This is more fun!" It was Qui-Gon's turn to roll his eyes. Sometimes his apprentice was more like his former master, Ashanti Vende, than he was. It was probably why he had chosen the girl as his first padawan learner. That and she made him laugh, a hard thing to do, as even Ashanti would attest to with a grimace.

"Well, hurry up," he order and she stuck her tongue out at him. "That was dignified," he muttered, glancing back down the hallway for any sign of guards.

"You notice I reserve that gesture for you alone, Master. A sign of deep respect where I come from." Considering they were both raised in the Jedi Temple since early ages, the statement was ludicrous. Qui-Gon decided against commenting. The console popped and sizzled and she drew her hand back quickly, muttering unintelligible words under her breath that Qui-Gon conveniently didn't hear. "Damn thing. If I were you, I'd start cutting, Master." She gestured the door. "This wasn't as easy as I thought."

Qui-Gon quirked a grin at her. "Told you so," he informed her with the air that only a master could pull off. She nodded obediently, but he knew there wasn't an obedient bone in her body unless she wanted to be obedient. Just like Ashanti. "You should have been Ashanti's padawan, not mine," he hissed at her, thrusting his green lightsaber deep into the thermisteel door. The metal began to heat, turn yellow and slide away like mud.

"We would have killed each other the second day out," she informed him. He grinned. That's what he always told Clea, but inside he reserved judgement. Qui-Gon's former master and his padawan had not met yet, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure he was ready for that event anyway. Rebels all three, Qui-Gon was the least rebellious of them, and that wasn't saying much. Ashanti Vende lived with the motto, "Don't break the rules, but just bend them. A lot." She tested the patience of the Jedi Council more times than Qui-Gon was prepared to admit. He loved his former master dearly, but she had driven him nuts sometimes. That, he had discovered with his own padawan learner, was a master's privilege and practically only joy. Padawans were created for a master's entertainment.

It backfired with Clea Tari. Masters were created for her entertainment. Qui-Gon smirked. It was a good thing he had a sense of humor and a huge amount of patience, otherwise, some other master would have beaten her to death by now.

He began to rotate the saber around, opening the whole wider for them to step through. "You'd make a great thief, Master Qui-Gon," Clea chuckled, glancing down the hallway this time. "Uh-oh, here they come!"

Qui-Gon grunted. "Can you hold them off by yourself? I'm almost finished."

Clea gave him a jaunty grin. "But, of course! I was trained by the best, you see. He knew all the tricks in the book!"

"Knew?"

"Unfortunate, it was. He was cutting open a door and got blasted by some really ugly guards."

Qui-Gon looked down, startled, and saw a blaster muzzle poking it's way through the hole. He'd been concentrating so much on bantering with Clea and keeping an eye out for guards he didn't think of what could be in the room. He dove and the bolt missed him by so much of an inch. "You distracted me!" he accused as he rolled into the wall to avoid more blaster fire.

"I did no such of a thing, Master. It's not my fault you're not paying attention!" She looked insulted, but Qui-Gon knew otherwise. They were too close to take each other's banter seriously.

"If we don't get through this door now, we don't at all," he told her and she nodded grimly.

"I'm open to suggestions," she grimaced as she dodged sparks from a blaster bolt that ricocheted off the wall next to her.

"Stand back," he told her. She looked at him, down the hall and then back to him with an incredulous expression that said 'Where do I stand back to?' With a battle cry he learned from Ashanti designed to intimidate the enemy, he repeatedly thrust the lightsaber into the door. The cry seemed to infuse more strength into him, lending the power needed for such a tiring feat. Clea defended his backside from blaster fire, but both were getting singed from misses too close for comfort.

The door finally slagged away enough for the Jedi to get through and they discovered to their relief there were only four guards in the room to contend with. These they dispatched quite hurriedly. "Free the hostages," Qui-Gon ordered as he turned back to the door. "I'm going to hold off the guards. Get back here as quick as you can!" Clea nodded and ran to the four tied up prisoners.

With quick efficiency, Clea pulled off the gags, the bindings and the blindfolds. "Thank the heavenly spheres!" muttered one of the male hostages. "You took your time!"

"You're welcome," replied Clea, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. He flushed at the rebuke. "I want you to all find cover and be ready to run when we say!" The group nodded as one and scuttled behind various bits of furniture in the lush quarters. Clea ran back to Qui-Gon's side, where they began dispatching the attackers one at a time.

There were too many to flip over to get behind for a pincer move so frontal assault was their best alternative. Qui-Gon, with his massive size and build, was an intimidation to the smaller built guards. The average height of Clea was more the their speed and so they converged on her, much to their mistake. She hacked and slashed, punting a few over to Qui-Gon like a dog being thrown a bone. Not that he minded. Her backside was in dire need of being watched and her taking most of the fighting was getting the excess tension out of her system. She'd been antsy the moment they set foot on the space station orbiting the planet Beloi. Nervous energy was always the first cause of trouble.

The few remaining guards took off in a panic, but Qui-Gon knew they would return with reinforcements. The Jedi had to hurry. Clea snorted derisively in their direction and grinned unrepentantly at her master for approval. His smile gave it. As one they turned to the freed hostages and shut off their sabers. "Please, ladies and gentleman, if you'll follow me, we'll get you to safety. With any luck, we can hijack a transport for us to escape." Qui-Gon paused as he went back into the hall, looked both directions for more guards and then headed to the right. The hostages followed ungracefully, considering their condition and the fancy clothes impeding their progress. Clea brought up the rear, hoping no more guards were going to come visit their little entourage.

None did.

The excitement, however, wasn't over. Master Ashanti Vende couldn't get the transport started.

Qui-Gon ushered the hostages inside the transport, helped Clea dispatched a couple more guards and followed his apprentice as she scampered inside the transport. Ashanti looked ready to pull her hair out and her long, hairless tail was so spiraled in aggravation it had to be painful.

"What seems to be the hold-up?" asked Qui-Gon, looking at his aggravated former master warily, wondering what she was doing there to begin with. It was unimportant now, though, so he waited on the question.

Ashanti glared at him. "You would ask. We can't get the damn thing started. It's got overrides I've never seen before!"

Clea cracked her knuckles and looked at Qui-Gon for approval. Qui-Gon gave an imperceptible nod and she brushed passed Ashanti. "If you'll excuse me, this is how I earn my knighthood."

Ashanti shot the girl a quizzical look and then glowered at Qui-Gon. "This is your padawan, I take it?"

Qui-Gon grinned at his former master. "You'll like her. She's just like you. Couldn't follow a rule if her life depended on it." Ashanti snorted and shouldered past him. In his mind, Qui-Gon heard her tell him, *First chance we get, we have to talk. This mission just got complicated.* Qui-Gon sighed. He hated it when things got complicated.

After five minutes, Clea cried out in triumph and the pilots who came with the transport gunned the motor. The transport took off, blowing exhaust into the faces of the late arriving guards, who's return fire bounced harmlessly off the shields. Ashanti and Qui-Gon, both caught unawares at the too sudden take off, were thrown back by the momentum. Ashanti, her species being natural tumblers and free-fallers, regained her footing immediately by attaching herself in her peculiar magnetic-type way to the wall and clung there until things settled down. Qui-Gon, on the other hand, found himself jouncing past his former master at a high rate of speed toward a wall that didn't look like a possible soft landing spot.

Ashanti, having gathered herself to some type of stability, watched as her former apprentice bounced his way to a thermisteel wall. Knowing the fragility of the human race and that he would not fare well under the hard contact, she shot her disproportionately long tail toward him and wrapped it around his waist. She almost came off the wall at the added weight, but with her natural clinging abilities and the claws at the tips of her fingers dug into the steel wall, she managed to stay put. Qui-Gon expelled his held breath when he jerked to a stop inches from the wall.

"That would have hurt," he commented, laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling.

"Hmm," Ashanti agreed. "Do you mind getting off my tail?"

Qui-Gon grimaced. "You mean I have to get up?" Ashanti shot him a look of warning and he quickly rolled of her tail. "You know, I'm not your padawan anymore. You can't boss me around."

Ashanti growled. "Watch me," she snapped and then flashed him one of her trouble smiles, the ones that had made him shudder when he was her padawan learner. The smile that said, 'Let's cause some mischief, shall we?'

"Is everyone alive back there?" called Clea from the front of the transport. Her white head popped through the doorway. She saw Qui-Gon on the floor, looking dazed, and Ashanti clinging to the wall, looking mischievous. "What'd I miss?"

"I've never heard of a padawan becoming a knight by killing the master who was training her," chuckled Ashanti, and chuckled again when Clea's already pale white face drained of it's little remaining color.

The girl rushed to Qui-Gon's side in a flurry of movement. "Master! Are you okay? You didn't hit the wall, did you?" Qui-Gon looked over at Ashanti, who was delicately extracting claws from the wall, one at a time, acting unconcerned by the whole situation suddenly. Ashanti arched an eyebrow at his look. Clea looked back to Ashanti, obviously worried even more. "Master Ashanti, can he not speak?"

"How much is it worth if I tell you he's fine and not injured?" asked Ashanti, that smile back. Qui-Gon could smell the harassment that Ashanti was going to make coming a mile away.

Clea opened her mouth to respond but Qui-Gon beat her to the punch. "I'm fine, Clea. Just tell the pilot to give warning next time. We were caught unawares back here." Clea's head nodded so hard Qui-Gon wouldn't have been surprised that it didn't fall off of her shoulders. He turned to his former master and frowned at her. Ashanti continued smiling, unimpressed by his glower. "Master Ashanti," he told her, knowing that the formal tone would aggravate her, "please don't pick on my padawan. She's high-strung, just like you."

There were three things guaranteed to rub Ashanti Vende the wrong way: being thought of as predictable when she strove to be as unpredictable as possible; being called master (she abhorred the term, stating that she was no one's master and she didn't own slaves); and being called high-strung (no matter how true it was). Ashanti's eyes flashed retribution, which Qui-Gon had no doubt would come when he least expected. He made a mental note to avoid sleeping deeply tonight, so as not to give Ashanti the opportunity for her silently promised retribution.

"Shall we check on our uninvited guests?" asked Ashanti. "You know, Qui-Gon, it doesn't matter where you go, you always manage to pick up strays." She ribbed her former padawan good-naturedly. She had often been exasperated with Qui-Gon's soft spot for the underdogs, the strays, the pathetic and the helpless, at the same time being touched by his generous nature and giving disposition. The man may be one of the best knights in the Order, but he was mush otherwise.

"I'm not a stray!" cried Clea, outraged at being considered such.

Ashanti shot her quelling glance. "No, you're the hanger-on, whelp. I'm talking about the dignitaries you two dragged with you."

"Oh." Clea fell silent and followed the two knights to where the four dignitary hostages had been ushered by the co-pilot. "Master Qui-Gon?" Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder at his apprentice. "May I asked why Master Ashanti is here?"

Qui-Gon looked at Ashanti, who had sped up her pace when the question was asked. "An excellent question, my padawan. Ashanti, why *are* you here?" Ashanti gave him a guileless look of innocence. He knew that 'I have a good idea what your talking about but I'm going to pretend I haven't a clue' look. "No, that doesn't answer my question."

Clea looked back and forth between the two. The bond between them was still strong, that much was obvious, and frankly, she was a little jealous. The bond between master and padawan had not fully formed yet between Qui-Gon and herself. 'It is not jealousy,' she remonstrated herself. 'It is envy, but Qui-Gon and I will have that one day soon. We work well together.'

*You act like I'm checking up on you, Qui-Gon!* Ashanti was rebuking Qui-Gon in the meantime through their strong mental link.

*Aren't you?* asked Qui-Gon, responding in kind.

Ashanti stopped at the door, pushed it open and gestured for Clea to enter first. "No, Qui-Gon Jinn, I'm not. Yoda told me to come here and here I am. I protested but he insisted. I also didn't like the fact he thought two knights were needed, so I gave in for the mission's concerns." To emphasize her words, she spoke them outloud.

Qui-Gon studied her for a heartbeat, thinking he could see through her if he needed to. He saw nothing deceitful in her words and nodded, following his apprentice through the door. Ashanti mentally sighed with relief. If Qui-Gon figured out she had lied to him, he'd kill her. She had never lied to him before and wasn't pleased about starting now, even for the sake of Yoda and the mission.

True, Yoda had sent her because the mission needed two knights, but he also sent her to check up on Qui-Gon and his very unusual apprentice, Clea Tari. Ashanti could see why. The girl was an oddity to say the least, but Qui-Gon was right. She did like her. She was flighty, quick-witted, skilled and eager to learn and please. No wonder she made Yoda nervous, though the little troll would die before admitting such a thing. To Ashanti these were always good traits in padawans. An easy trainee the first time for Qui-Gon, Ashanti noted, just as he had been for her. She smiled lopsidedly, causing Qui-Gon to raise his eyebrow again.

*Just like your father.* Qui-Gon's blue eyes glinted at her at the mention of his parents. Ashanti had brought the boy to the temple when his parents were killed of a deadly plague on their planet of Plumera. She had trained him, keeping her promise to her best friends that their son would be a Jedi knight and well-cared for. He would know he had been loved and not abandoned willingly.

Just like his father. The words rang in her mind as something caught Ashanti's eyes as she quickly surveyed the room's occupants for the first time.

Just like his father?

Ashanti blinked as she looked more closely at the dignitaries bustling around the room in outraged bluster. They demanded to speak with their governments immediately to protest their capture. They demanded *separate* quarters. It seemed that they couldn't stand each other, which was logical to Ashanti because they were already getting on her nerves.

One of them, however, soon had Ashanti's undivided attention. He sat quietly in the corner chair, nodding here and there when one of the entourage made a halfway valid point. When he felt her eyes upon him, he looked up and gave her a courteous nod. She strode up to him, bowed low in the formal manner of Jedi to important dignitaries.

"May I ask your name?" she asked politely, but directly to him. The whole room went silent.

The man's eyes widened, a dark blue color unlike many blue eyes Ashanti had seen. Except three. "My name is Ishati Jinn." Ashanti's suspicions were confirmed. Those blue eyes looked exactly like the blue eyes widening in surprise at the name.

Qui-Gon had those blue eyes.

So had his father.

So did his first cousin.

She nodded. "I thought so. You look like your father in many ways. He is well, then? No ill health?"

The young man looked confused. "Why, yes. You know my father?"

Ashanti turned to Qui-Gon. "Qui-Gon Jinn, meet your cousin, Ishati Jinn, ambassador for Plumera." She sighed. "I hate it when Yoda does this to me."

The two cousins eyed each other in surprised confusion. Both were of similar build, though Qui-Gon was in better shape and more filled out because of the nature of his physical job. Ishati was fit more in the aristocratic-sporting way: boxing, hunting, sword-fighting, and other "gentlemanly" occupations. Qui-Gon had a rough look about him, having lived a hard life, while Ishati was refined, sophisticated and suave.

"Master Qui-Gon," Ishati bowed to his cousin, "it is a pleasure to meet the heir to the noble Dome of Jinn at last. We have been forbidden to make contact with you because of the nature of your profession." The tone was completely neutral, but the three Jedi bristled at the subtle intonement attached to "profession", as if it were beneath any one of any consequence.

"Thank you, cousin. Interesting to meet family, but I'm afraid we're not out of trouble yet." Qui-Gon shot Ashanti a look. *We will definitely have a talk later.* Ashanti looked ready to say something but seemed to change her mind. Qui-Gon instead turned to his apprentice. "This is Clea Tari, my apprentice." Ishati bowed to her formally, and the padawan responded in kind, still bristling from the veiled insult delivered moments ago.

Ashanti was really beginning to like the girl. "Ladies and gentleman," she said, interrupting the awkward family reunion, "we will contact your home planets as soon as we are out of danger. We're not out of the woods yet. We will start setting you up in individual quarters in a moment. Until then," she quirked an eyebrow at the still outraged dignitaries, "sit down, buckle up and shut up. Thank you."

Clea leaned toward her master to mutter, "I'm more diplomatic than that."

"Barely," Qui-Gon whispered back, choking on the urge to laugh at the stunned looks from the dignitaries. He walked over to Ashanti, whose tail was twitching ever so slightly in irritation. "Smooth as you ever were," he murmured over her head. At four foot, one inch, Ashanti was an elf compared to Qui-Gon's six foot, four inch frame. Her tail, even longer than she was, wrapped around his waist and squeezed affectionately, the lightly poisoned barbs avoiding contact with any exposed skin.

Ashanti's rusty dark auburn hair caressed lightly under Qui-Gon's chin, tickling him. He brushed the curly fuzz away from his face in an absent gesture. He glanced down and noted that Ashanti was still staring at Ishati Jinn, who looked uncomfortable under the watchful gaze.

"He's is your father's brother's son," she said quietly.

"I gathered that, him being my cousin and we share the same last name," he told her with a small grin.

"Your mother shared your father's last name before their union." Qui-Gon's grin slipped away. "She had been born of a very distant branch of the Jinn family, and your parents marriage had caused a stir amongst the family. They disapproved of the match, having one already picked out for your father. Like you, he chose his own path and damned the consequences."

"What does this have to do with...?" Qui-Gon began, but Ashanti cut him off.

"Ishati's father, Lin-Seng Jinn, was the second son and your father's heir. When you were born, he became your heir until you had a son yourself. As a Jedi, this will be very unlikely to happen, as Jedi don't normally have families. You cannot name another not of your bloodline to be your heir either." Ashanti turned to Qui-Gon, her eyes flashing a warning. "Your family is greatly powerful, Qui-Gon, and you alone hold that power, despite your absence from Plumera. Your uncle can make no move politically unless you approve. The Council refuses your family to contact you about such matters, as is the way of the Code, and therefore that leaves the family in a quandary."

Qui-Gon looked pensive. *Let us speak of this later. Things need to be done.* He spoke through the bond.

*Listen to nothing he says until we speak further, Qui-Gon.* Ashanti's eyes continued to flash warning as she responded in kind. *They will try to use you in the same way they tried to use your father.*

Qui-Gon glanced at Clea, who was watching the two of them with great envy. He knew why. Their padawan/master link was not strong, despite their great fondness for each other. Clea longed for that link as much as Qui-Gon did. Clea was an excellent padawan, despite her quirks of personality. Like Ashanti, he was old-fashioned while Clea was as technologically advanced as you could get without being a droid. She could hack into any computer system set before her and could create the oddest technological devices ever seen. With mechanics, she was a whiz, while Qui-Gon was grateful a speeder started for him. He had confidence the bond would come to them in the strength he shared it with Ashanti, but he hoped it wouldn't wait until the day before her final trials occurred.

The three Jedi left the room and headed back to the small bridge area. A few shots bounced off the ship suddenly, alerting them to the fact that their pursuers had finally gotten on the ball and taken after them. They rushed in to the bridge to find the skimpy crew in an uproar.

"What now?" demanded Ashanti in aggravation. The whole mission was one irritant after another and Ashanti hated those type of missions.

"Our weapons array is down and the droids are blocked. They can't get out for repairs!" The pilot punched a bunch of buttons in rapid succession, executing some impressive maneuvers to dodge the bolts of lasers that zipped past them in the front port screen. Ashanti's tail whipped out to catch Clea as the girl lost her balance momentarily. It was an automatic gesture, done absently at the girl's surprised gasp.

"What type of fighters are following us?" Qui-Gon leaned over the co-pilot's shoulder to get a look at the rear viewscreen. "Damn. Droid fighters."

Ashanti grimaced. "I hate those things. They're worse than Maagolon mosquito flies." She looked at the sparse crew and her two Jedi companions. "You aren't going to like this, Qui-Gon, but I'm the only one who can do this. I'll unblock the route the droids need to get out there. Keep dodging, but don't do anything fancy. I can only withstand so many G-forces."

Qui-Gon looked at her in absolute horror. He knew exactly what she was going to do. "No!"

"It is the only way," she insisted and strode back out the door.

He followed her after motioning for Clea to stay put. "I won't allow this!" he informed her, hurrying to catch up to the quick-footed female in front of him.

"Who said you had a choice?" she snapped back. "We don't have time to argue. Those dignitaries in there were being held hostage for a reason and you have to ge them to that peace conference. I'm your back-up and back-up is getting ready to do her job."

"The back-up will do what I tell her if you are under my protection!" he stated firmly. "There has to be another way."

Ashanti stopped and rounded on him in a perfect vision of mounting frustration. "Don't defy me, Qui-Gon," she hissed. "You won't win. Your safety is my responsibility, I don't care the situation. You die in your bed or you don't die at all. Got it?" She poked him with her three knot-spiked tail for emphasis.

"You've fulfilled your promise to my parents, Ashanti," Qui-Gon ground out as the maddening woman turned away and began walking toward the droid compartment. "You promised to make me a Jedi and I am. A good one, if anyone's opinions count for anything. Be satisfied with that!"

He followed her into the droid's personal storage room and watched as she began pulling on a space safety suit. She grimaced as she tucked her tail into the uniform, wrapping it tightly around her waist. It would impeded her balance greatly not having it free, he knew.

*This is madness,* he informed her mentally.

She looked at him, her green eyes glinting at him with their usual hint of mischief. *I've done it before. I can do it again.* She turned to the console containing the controls to the environment. She pulled on the mask, making an odd breathing sound as she adjusted the oxygen controls on the suit's wrist band. Qui-Gon turned, knowing he couldn't talk her out of this folly and shut the door behind him. He peered at her through the viewport in the door, his face still a mask of disapproval. The astrodroids, thankfully still attached to their ports, beeped and blooped their worry as the small door to space open enough to let Ashanti through. The wind tugged at the tiny alien woman, but whatever mysterious ability she had to cling to places without her claws kept her safe as she walked to the opening. As she went through Qui-Gon heard her tell him jauntily. *Tell Yoda that if something happens to me, it's all his fault and he has to tell you the big, bad secret.*

Qui-Gon blinked once and she was gone.