DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
"And finally," Mace Windu said, "we come to the matter of Anakin." As always, the mention of his name sent a frisson of trepidation through the gathered Council members. Mace stifled his own apprehension, fighting not to exchange glances with Yoda. There was nothing new for either of them to say, to themselves, to each other or to the Council at large. All the arguments had been made, weeks earlier. For good or ill, the decision to accept the boy had been proposed, seconded and ratified, and not even Yoda's vehement passion could sway the vote his way. The boy existed. He could not be ignored. Perhaps it would have been better for all concerned, for the entire Galaxy, had the child never been found ... or had Qui-Gon left him in obscurity on Tatooine. For certain it would have been better had Qui-Gon not gained Obi-Wan's promise to train the boy.
But all of these things had come to pass. And even Yoda had to acknowledge that it was far preferable for the boy to be here, and under supervision by the Council, than stumbling about on his own, unchecked and untrained, perhaps even to discover and embrace the Dark side of his own ignorant volition. Far, far preferable that his training by Obi-Wan be overseen and guided by Knights and Masters with years more experience and maturity than he possessed.
But Mace knew that Yoda, even while acknowledging these truths, was gravely concerned.
It was yet another thing they held in common.
Eeth Koth sat forward slightly in his chair. "Skywalker is making excellent progress. His mind is extraordinarily disciplined for one so young, who has never been trained."
"He has settled well with the other students," added Saesee Tinn. "He has been mindful of our strictures not to make much of his involvement with the events on Naboo. He has not boasted of his Padawan status to the other novices, who still await choosing. He works hard, studies hard."
"He wishes to honour his mother, and the memory of Qui-Gon, and make his new Master proud," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "These are honourable ambitions."
All eyes moved to Yoda. Slowly, the oldest among them nodded, gaze half-lidded and deceptive. "Indeed. With a minimum of disruption has he joined our student body. Popular is he proving to be. But early days, these are. Our guard we can never relax when Anakin Skywalker we deal with."
Mace watched his fellow Councillors wriggle a little at that. Nobody relished these reminders. He knew that there was still unease at having over-ridden Yoda's counsel in the matter of Anakin. He shared it. But still he believed they'd done the right thing.
He said, "I think we can all agree that the boy's introduction has proceeded as smoothly as we could have wished. But as Yoda rightly points out, it has been a matter of weeks only. His progress shall continue to be monitored closely. Now, if there is no further business to discuss?"
There was none. The weekly meeting broke up, the Councillors chatting as they headed for the Chamber door. Only Yoda remained, slipping out of his chair to cross the floor and stare contemplatively at the teeming Coruscant skies.
Mace joined him. "You are troubled."
"Well, you know me," Yoda observed, ears twitching. It was the smile he offered when he wasn't smiling.
"The boy?"
Head lowered, Yoda traced a meaningless pattern on the floor with his gimer stick. "Trouble me Anakin Skywalker shall, till I am gone and one with the Force," he said heavily. "But troubled also am I in another matter."
"Obi-Wan," Mace said, and felt his shoulders slump. "Yoda, I tell you truly. I loved Qui-Gon like a brother, but if he were before me now I --" He sighed.
"More complicated the matter is, I fear, than his promise to train Anakin," Yoda replied. "That unwise task he seeks readily to embrace, for Qui-Gon's sake. No. Something there is of his battle with the Sith I fear he has not revealed."
Concerned, Mace considered him. "Are you sure? Obi-Wan would never withold information from us, not information of such vital importance. Nobody living, not even you, knows better the menace of the Sith. He is the only living Jedi ever to have encountered one. Even now I can scarcely believe that Obi-Wan defeated him."
"For a Padawan, a great feat," Yoda agreed. The lambent eyes regarded him steadily. "Wondered, have you not, how such a deed was done?"
For a moment he couldn't see what Yoda was getting at. Then clarity struck him like a blow. "Are you serious?"
Tap, tap, tap went Yoda's gimer stick. "Known for my joking, am I?"
"Yoda ... I'm sorry. I can't accept what you're suggesting," he said, shaking his head. "How long have we known Obi-Wan? How strenuously have we tested him, trained him?"
"How deep was his love for Qui-Gon?" Yoda countered. "How terrible, to see him struck down? To hold him as he died? Said it yourself, you did: how could an apprentice, a Padawan, defeat the might of the Dark side? Of a Sith?"
Outwardly composed, inwardly reeling, Mace took a moment to compose his thoughts. "I have sensed nothing of the Dark in him, Yoda. Yes, he is grieving. That is to be expected. You and I both know, all protestations to the contrary about Oneness with the Force, that we feel the loss of a fallen friend most keenly."
"Grieving, he certainly is," Yoda agreed. "Much pain in him I feel. Pain, and anger, and fear. Powerful conduits to the Dark side. A great struggle I see for Obi-Wan. A struggle that alone he must make."
Mace shook his head. "Of course, I do not doubt you. I am just ... alarmed."
Yoda touched his sleeve. "Alarmed you should be, old friend. The loss of Obi-Wan we cannot afford."
"What is your counsel in this matter? How should we proceed?"
For a long time Yoda was silent. Eyes closed, head tilted, he communed with the Force. At last he sighed. Passed a weary hand over his face and said, "Unclear is the way before him. Give him space, we must, to find his own destiny, for good or ill. In what lies ahead, we cannot interfere."
No Jedi living was more skilled in navigating the deceptive pathways of the future. Mace took a deep breath and invoked calm. "What can we do then, old friend?"
Gazing into the distance, far beyond the busy skies of Coruscant, Yoda said, his voice heavy with a sorrow yet come, "Wait. Watch. Hope."
He managed a pained smile. "Forgive me if I say that's not very encouraging."
Yoda nodded. "On this, Mace Windu, are we in full agreement."
Three hours ago, there'd been seven advanced training remotes, all with their safety protocols disengaged. Now there were two ... but he was so tired it might just as well have been two hundred. They hummed around the room like malevolent birds, and countering their attacks was becoming more and more difficult. His lightsabre weighed as much as a tree. The muscles of his arms, shoulders, back and legs screamed for relief, deaf to the ebb and flow of the Force. His training tunic was soaked in sweat and blood, the drab cloth charred and stinking where he'd been struck by the remotes' lasers and proto-pulses. Without safety protocols the damage they could inflict was serious ... never lethal, but with enough bite to slash and burn, forcing the victim into deep Healing.
After three unrelenting hours it was almost impossible to tune out the protests of his abused body. He hurt, in no small measure. Training without safety protocols was not generally encouraged, even with the baby remotes they used with the youngest novices. But Qui-Gon had always argued that a warrior must believe at all times that the possibility of failure existed ... else he be lulled into a false sense of security and so fall victim to complacency. There should be no exceptions. Grudgingly the Council had acceded the point, and introduced carefully monitored training sessions with disengaged safety protocols. But only on the lower level remotes, and never without supervision.
So he was breaking the rules. Advanced remotes. No safety protocols. No supervision.
See, Master? Here I am, following in your footsteps ...
Sluggishly he reached out with his senses, seeking the remaining remotes. To his inner vision they were two balls of energy, vivid and tireless. A blurring of focus and he parried, seeing the charges sizzle the air before they materialised. Not fast enough ... one he deflected back to its source, knocking out the power housing so that the remote clattered inert to the training room floor. The other evaded his lightsabre, searing him from hip to knee in a thin hot streak of fire.
It was one failure too many. Sobbing with frustration, with pain, with exhaustion, he launched himself at his invisible enemy, dredging strength from a body turned to lead. Just out of reach the remote danced, taunting him, teasing him. It struck again, and again, burning his cheek, his hand. In a last desperate, despairing effort he focussed his will, reached through the swirling fog that surrounded him ... and struck back.
Sliced in half, the remote fell at his feet.
With a hand that shook uncontrollably, Obi-Wan stripped off his sweat-sodden blindfold and stared numbly at the scattered remains of his enemies. Four of the remotes were completely destroyed. The other three were salvageable, but would need extensive repairs.
Armourer Master Pligeth wasn't going to be very pleased.
Flesh and bone could support him no longer. He had enough wit left to disengage his lightsaber as he folded gracelessly to his knees, then forward into a sprawling slump. Beyond that, he could not think.
Lost in a hot white universe of pain, he knew he was no longer alone only when he heard a voice at his side.
"Bring him back, this will not."
Yoda. He had to rise. Could not just lie here, like a sack of wheat. The disrespect ...
He could barely open his eyes.
"Be still," the gravelly voice instructed, not unkindly. He heard a disapproving sigh. The tap tap of Yoda's stick on the hard floor. Then a small, strong hand was pressing gently against his head, and the voice lovingly feared by every novice in the vast Temple said, "Foolish, foolish have you been. Be still!"
Healing was an agony in itself. Drifting on molten rivers, drowning in borrowed strength, he felt the subtle ebb and flow of his scorched flesh as it remoulded itself to wholeness. Glimpsed, half waking, half not, the tremendous power of the Force.
"There," Yoda said, and removed his hand. "Better you feel, hmm?"
He opened his eyes. Met the inescapable gaze of his superior, and nodded. "Yes, Master. Thank you."
Yoda grunted. Glanced at the ruined probes, his mouth pursed with patient anger. "Thinking what to achieve, were you?"
"Perfection, Master," he admitted. There was no point prevaricating with Yoda. "I need more speed. More precision. More stamina." If he'd been faster ... more precise ... stronger ...
Yoda was shaking his head. "No," he said vehemently, and rapped his stick for emphasis. "Understand you nothing? Learned nothing, did you, in your years of training with Qui-Gon? All these things and more achieve you will when truly you are one with the Force. Not before. And not by destroying remotes, or your body." Then his severe expression softened, and his voice became kindly once more. "Bring Qui-Gon back with this foolishness, you cannot."
"I know," he whispered.
"You know?" Yoda echoed, voice and ears querelous. "If this you know, then why am I here? Why are you here? Think you our workshops have nothing better to do than repair damaged training remotes? Or I, than repair foolhardy damaged Jedi?"
The pain was gone, and so were the injuries, but he was still tired. With a grunting effort he sat up. Folded his hands in his lap and lowered his head, as though a Padawan braid still graced his shoulder.
"No, Master."
Yoda began to pace, picking his way between the scattered machinery parts. "Continue in this fashion, you cannot," he pronounced. "Dangerous, it is."
He looked up. "I am all right, Master."
"All right?" Yoda stopped. Stabbed the gimer stick at him. "Sleeping well, are you? A healthy appetite, have you? Friends you wish to be with?"
No, no and no. "Master," he began carefully, "it is difficult. The circumstances of my confirmation ... they are unusual. I took no formal trials, everyone knows this. The Council has forbidden discussion of what happened on Naboo. I agree with the decision --"
Yoda snorted. "Gracious of you, that is."
His cheeks warmed. "Forgive me. I meant no presumption. What I am trying to say, Master, is that in the absence of facts, fiction flourishes. The other Knights, the Padawans, even the Novices, they all know that something ... untoward ... has occurred. Of course they do not question me ... at least not with words. But I can feel them looking at me, and wondering. And then there is Qui-Gon."
"What of him?"
"They wonder, Master, how it is that the Apprentice survived when the Master did not."
"Wonder that, do they?" said Yoda. "So sure are you, Obi-Wan, that this question from your own heart does not spring?"
His own heart gave a painful double thump. "Master?"
Yoda stopped pacing. Planted his gimer stick firmly before him, and leaned forward intently. "A question for you I have, Obi-Wan. Answer it you must."
Dry-mouthed, he nodded. "Of course, Master. I will answer any question you ask, willingly."
"Willingly?" Yoda repeated softly. "We shall see. Very well. By your own admission, outmatched were you by the Sith Lord you fought. Correct?"
"Yes, Master. He was faster, stronger, than anyone I have ever known in my life."
"Faster, stronger even than Qui-Gon, one of the greatest Jedi warriors and swordsmen of our time?"
A chilled sweat stippled his skin. "Yes. I believe so. It is so. He defeated Qui-Gon."
"But not you."
For a moment, he could not speak. No fear, there is no fear. "Forgive me, Master Yoda. I cannot fathom the question you wish me to answer."
Slowly Yoda approached him, until they were separated by mere inches of air.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi ... how did you defeat the Sith Warrior?"
Surely Yoda could hear the frantic beating of his heart. "Master, I have told you. I was trapped behind the containment field. Qui-Gon --"
"No," said Yoda. "The answer I seek that is not. Again I ask you: how did you defeat the Sith Warrior?"
He saw it a split second before it happened. A strike to Qui-Gon's face with the hilt of the double-bladed lightsabre ... and something else. Some kind of blow with the mind, a lashing out with the Dark side that blanked his Master's fierce expression, robbed him of reflex. And then that single thrust through the midsection, stabbing and searing and stealing his life...
"Noooooo!" he screamed, as though the burning blade had also passed through him ... as indeed it had ...
"No," he whispered. It was almost a moan.
Never in his life had he felt such fury, such hate. He wanted to rend the tattooed murderer flesh from bone with his bare hands. He wanted to watch the life fade from those crazed eyes and laugh, triumphant. He wanted to kill, obliterate, expunge from existence this bestial insult to the living Force. This ... thief.
The containment field disengaged. Faster than thought he attacked, borne upon a flooding red tide of power that surged and satisfied and consumed him in a way he'd never felt before, never dreamed was possible, never --
"Aaaah," sighed Yoda, and there was a universe of grief in the sound.
Horrified, he could only stare. "No," he whispered. "I did not -- it was not on purpose. Master Yoda, I swear -- only for a moment, a few seconds, and I swear I --"
Yoda held up his hand. "Peace."
Peace? No. Not any more. Perhaps never again. His failure was complete. He'd thought that letting Qui-Gon die at the hands of the Sith was the worst pain he could ever endure.
He was wrong.
He had opened himself to hate. To fury. To revenge.
To the Dark side.
Yoda's expression was unbearably sad. "Leave us, you must, Obi-Wan."
Time stopped. He heard himself say, "No." A small sound, stunned and disbelieving.
Yoda regarded him solemnly, obdurate as stone. "Yes."
He was shivering. His teeth chattered like bones in a breeze. "Master, please. I freely admit the gravity of my mistake. Punish me. Demote me to Padawan. Impose Silence upon me. Send me -- send me --" He shuddered, and his voice sank to an appalled whisper. "Send me to Harthak-Nor. But I beg you ... do not send me away. I have not turned. I swear to you, by the living Force, I have not turned."
After a considering silence, Yoda nodded. "True. Turned, you have not. But touched, you are, by the Dark side. This you cannot deny."
"No," he said. "I cannot." And covered his face. And wept.
Yoda said, "To every Jedi, this moment comes. Face it alone, we must. Master ourselves, we must ... or be mastered. No middle road is there. No easy solution."
He lowered his hands. "Where must I go?"
"Your decision that is," Yoda replied. "A place of solitude is best, with no distractions. Reflect upon your actions you must, Obi-Wan. Seek the truth. Seek the path. Seek your destiny. When these things you have done, and answers you have found, here will we be waiting."
His throat hurt unbearably. He took a deep breath, and another. "When must I leave?"
"Tonight," said Yoda.
So soon. He nodded. "Yes, Master."
"With no one shall you discuss this."
"No, Master." And then he hesitated. "Anakin? Master, may I at least say goodbye to Anakin? He has suffered so much already, it would be cruel to go without a word of explanation."
Eyes half lidded, Yoda considered the request. After a moment he gave a sharp nod. "Very well. Farewell to Anakin you shall say. But to no one else. Waiting for you, a transport is, with fuel and food enough to start your journey. May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan."
It was a dismissal. Numb, he clambered to his feet. Bowed low. "I have failed you, Master," he said, his voice cracking with despair. "Forgive me."
Yoda did not reply.
Sick to his stomach, dizzy with the magnitude of this disaster, he retreated from the training room to his quarters, where he stripped, showered, dressed in fresh clothing and packed a bag.
Then he went in search of Anakin.
The boy was playing Blind Find-Me with some other Novices in one of the large recreation halls. The room echoed with laughter, shouts of encouragement, cries of disappointment as a participant was knocked out of the contest.
Smiling, he stood in the doorway and watched. He'd loved this game. Had won it, more often than not. As Anakin was winning now.
In mid-stride, Qui-Gon's protegé stopped. Turned. Pulled off his blindfold, and bowed.
"Master Obi-Wan, sir."
Anakin's voice and face were respectful, but there was a guarded watchfulness in him, too ...
Obi-Wan sighed. He had only himself to blame for that. So many mistakes ... will I never learn?
He nodded. "Anakin. A moment of your time, if you please."
"Of course, Master."
Technically speaking, he wasn't a Master at all. Wouldn't be one for many years, not until Anakin completed his training and became a Knight himself. But it was an honorific that had slipped into common usage, long ago, and the Council saw no harm in it.
It made him feel like a fraud.
Anakin flipped a quick wave goodbye to his friends, and joined him in the doorway. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," he said. "Come. Walk with me."
At this time of night the observatory on the forty-fifth floor of Serenity Spire was usually deserted. They made their way in silence, side by side. Were stared at ... in the corridors, the express tube. From open doorways.
"I hate that," Anakin complained. "They make me feel like I have two heads or something."
"Curiosity is natural," he replied. "Do not let the harmless actions of others disquiet your mind."
Qui-Gon had told him that, more times than he could count.
"Sorry," said Anakin.
He offered the boy a quick smile. "It's all right. To be honest, I don't much care for it, either." Then he risked a quick touch to Anakin's shoulder. The boy didn't flinch, exactly, but the flesh beneath his fingers hardened, and there was a mental withdrawing.
He returned his fingers to the sleeve of his robe, and the rest of the walk was completed without conversation.
As he'd hoped, the Observatory was empty. Closing the door behind them, activating a privacy seal, he watched as Anakin ignored the splendour of the view, and turned to face him instead.
"What have I done to displease you, Master Obi-Wan?" he asked.
Startled, he stepped forward. "Nothing, Anakin. You've done nothing. This is about me, not you."
The intelligence behind the young eyes was overwhelming. Almost ... intimidating. A myriad of emotions chased across the expressive face: curiosity, concern, speculation.
He gestured at the scattered chairs. "Sit down, Anakin, and I will explain."
It was hard to know where to begin. Or how. He and Anakin barely knew each other. There was no true friendship between them, no trust. Just necessity and obligation. A wide gulf that honesty compelled him to admit was of his making, and not the boy's. Therefore it was up to him to seal the breach, so that no misundertandings about his leaving could widen it futher.
He took a deep breath, and let it out. "Before I explain, however, I wish to offer you an apology."
Anakin's eyes widened. "An apology, sir? For what?"
Another deep breath. "When Qui-Gon declared to the Council that he would take you as his apprentice, before I had taken the trials, before my apprenticeship to him was concluded, I was angry. Hurt. He and I had worked together as Master and Padawan for many, many years. I felt slighted. I was ... jealous."
Mouth open, Anakin stared. "You? Jealous of me?" he demanded, incredulous.
He nodded. "It shames me to admit it, Anakin, but it's true. I was."
"You loved him very much, didn't you?" the boy said softly.
For a moment, he could not trust himself to speak. The wound was still too raw. "Yes, I did," he said eventually.
"So did I," said Anakin. "I mean, I know it was different for you and him, I know I couldn't possibly feel about him the way you did, but ... he was special. I never knew anyone like him before."
"And you never will again," he said. "You are right. He was very special indeed."
Anakin chewed his lip for a moment, thinking. Then he sat up straight and said, "I know you only took me as your Padawan because Qui-Gon asked you to. If you don't really want me, I'll undertstand. I'll just be like all the other Novices, and wait until I'm chosen by someone else."
It was bravely done, but he could sense the fear beneath the words, and the desperate loneliness, and the misery of failure. It stirred from deep slumber memories he'd thought forever buried. Wanted to stay buried.
"No," he said, sharply. "It is true I promised Qui-Gon I would train you, and if that were the only reason, it would still be reason enough. But it's not ... I want to train you because I feel you have a great gift. Because I think we can work well together. And because I do like you, Anakin."
The boy's unsettling mask of maturity slipped, then, and his lips trembled.
"I like you, too," he whispered. "I want to be your apprentice."
He smiled. "And you are." For now, at least. He held out his hand. "Friends?"
Anakin's small hand was warm, and peculiarly alive with the Force. "Friends," he echoed, grinning.
His own smile faded. Releasing Anakin's hand, folding his arms in a semblance of composure, he said, "But we cannot begin our work together just yet, Anakin. The reason I interrupted your game was to tell you that I am leaving the Temple."
Anakin's face flooded with dismay. "Leaving? Why?"
Qui-Gon had never lied to him. No matter what it cost, no matter how much it hurt either of them, he always spoke the truth. "Because I have done something very .... wrong. And I must make amends." Somehow.
"But you're a Jedi Knight," Anakin objected. "How could you do something wrong?"
More easily than I could ever have imagined. "I am a Jedi, yes," he said. "But I am human, too, and fallible. I allowed hate and anger to lead me away from the Light. I must find my way back, Anakin, before I can truly be called a Jedi Knight. Before I am worthy of training you."
Anakin thumped his soft shod feet to the floor. "Who said you're not worthy?" he demanded, hands fisted at his sides. "I'll make them take it back! You are worthy! You defeated a Sith Lord!"
"Anakin, Anakin ..." He sighed, and slid to his knees before the boy. Put his hands on the small shoulders, and shook him gently. "Thank you for believing in me. It means a great deal. But you must not allow your emotions to cloud your judgement. That was my mistake. I fought the Sith Lord with anger and hatred in my heart. It is the worst possible thing for a Jedi to do. I must leave, Anakin. I do not want to, but I must. I have to --"
Against expectations, his voice caught in his throat.
Anakin threw his arms around him. Held him fiercely. "I'll come with you," he said. "I'm your Padawan, Obi-Wan. Whatever you have to face, we can face it together."
For a moment he returned the boy's embrace. Then training and his own natural reserve reasserted themselves. Gently he detached Anakin's arms from about his neck, and put a proper distance between them. "You cannot come," he said. "This is for me to do, alone. One day you will understand that. But I will never forget that you offered, Anakin. Never."
"When are you going?" Anakin asked, chin up, struggling for control.
"Now."
"When will you be back?"
He shook his head. "I do not know."
The boy's precarious control wavered. "But you will be back. Won't you?"
The truth, no matter what the cost. "I do not know," he said again. "I hope so."
The words struck Anakin like blows. He flinched, but did not falter. "And what will happen to me while you're gone?"
"You will continue with your training. You have much catching up to do." Reaching out, he brushed Anakin's arm with his fingertips. "Fear not. Yoda will be watching over you."
The boy scowled. "Yoda doesn't like me."
"That is not true," he said swiftly. "You must not mind his sharpness. He is like that with everyone. Even Qui-Gon --" He stopped. Managed a smile. "You must not mind him, Anakin. Remember that Yoda is very, very old, and has seen far more than you or I can even imagine. He is a great Jedi, and you have nothing to fear from him."
Reluctantly, Anakin nodded. "All right. If you say so."
"I say so. And I say this, too. Work hard. Pursue your studies with diligence and care. And do not concern yourself with the future. All will unfold as it unfolds."
"Don't worry," said Anakin. "I'll make you proud of me, I promise."
He smiled. Stood. "I am already proud, Anakin. As Qui-Gon would be, were he here. And now ... I must go."
"Can I -- is it all right if I stay here for a little while?" Anakin asked. "I'd like to be by myself, so I can --- think."
"If you like," he replied. "Just don't lose track of time. Make sure you are back in the dormitory before lights out."
"I will be," Anakin promised. He offered a deep bow. "May the Force be with you, my Master."
Sudden tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away. "And with you, my Padawan," he replied. "Until we meet again."
In silence they stared at each other. Solemnly, Anakin said, "Be brave, Obi-Wan. And don't look back."
He frowned. "What?"
With a shrug, Anakin said, "It's what my mother told me when I left Tatooine. Be brave, and don't look back. It helped."
"She sounds like a wise woman, your mother."
Anakin smiled. "She is."
He nodded. Turned on his heel. Unsealed the observatory doors and let them drift closed behind him. Collecting his belongings, he made his unchallenged way to the hangar where his small cruiser waited fuelled and ready for departure. Fired the engines, received clearance, and launched himself into the obstacle course that was Coruscant's skies. Cleared the atmosphere and stratosphere to embrace the cold clean darkness of space. He didn't look back.
Side by side at the clear wall of the Jedi Council chamber, Mace Windu and Yoda watched the small blue ship clear the confines of the Temple, the sky, the planet. Followed it with eyes and hearts and minds until its ripples in the Force faded, and stilled, and were swallowed by the vastness of the night.
Yoda sighed. "And so," he declared, leaning heavily on his gimer stick. "It begins."