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.
"Oh come on, how often does a Jedi get to go to Alderaan?"
The young knight's eyes gleamed with amusement. "We are not often called there to guard the peace," he admitted.
"Exactly. I have a hand to hand delivery that'll take five whole minutes and then a small reception for some art exhibit that'll be held down to about an hour because most of the people at it have actual work to do."
The deputy Third Minister spread his arms. "And then I have the day. I'm supposed to bring an escort; what could be more proper than a Jedi knight?"
They were different and similar, these two young men. Both were uncommonly tall and dressed in relative simplicity; both had straight, confident posture. But where the one, the Jedi, seemed organic in his solidity and calm, wrapped inside the gentle earthtones of flowing Jedi robes, the other, the politician, almost vibrated, his wire-thin figure tightly encased in black clothing that highlighted a vivid face. The Jedi was in his mid-twenties, but wore his years as if ageless; the politician over thirty, but seemed younger.
"What's in it for you is a free trip to Alderaan, plus you get to meet a whole bunch of the diplomats accredited to the court at Alderaan, which means people who are likely to end up here on Coruscant, which means people you may be working with in the future. AND, if you really suck up to me, I'll even let you fly the ride part of the way."
They'd been walking along a corridor in the Senate building, but now the Jedi paused, fixing a look of complicated nature on his companion. The other man paused too, turned, and returned the look stare for stare, his bright ice-blue eyes holding the Jedi's serious grey-blue gaze comfortably.
"Oh, come ON," grinned Finis Valorum. "You'll have fun. You know, fun?"
Qui-Gon Jinn folded his arms inside his robes and lifted his chin slightly.
Valorum pursed his lips. "Don't tell me I'm violating some arcane ritual prohibition against freebies and junkets. Besides, it's my freebie and junket -- think of yourself as coming along to keep me out of trouble. Or jail."
The Jedi lifted his chin a bit more.
//Two can play this game.// Valorum raised his eyebrows, and popped his eyes comically.
The Jedi's chin lowered fractionally.
Valorum sighed. "Okay," he said. "Sorry."
"I will consider it," the Jedi said finally.
And with finality. Valorum nodded, shrugged his thin shoulders, spun around and started back down the curving corridor. The Jedi fell into stride, and the two men walked in equable silence until their paths parted.
Qui-Gon headed to the taxi platform, considering it. Alderaan the Beautiful-- he'd never been. He had no reason to go, but was contemplating whether there was a reason not to go.
His feelings offered no guidance; there was the mild interest of seeing Alderaan, and the mild dissuasion of his general wariness of Valorum. Neither seemed to provoke the tiniest ripple in the flood of the Force.
Valorum's voice echoed in his mind. //'Fun, you know, fun?'//
Yoda's voice was hard on its heels: //a Jedi craves not such things.// Qui-Gon was completely certain that he didn't crave this journey, and the thought of what Finis Valorum might consider 'fun' almost made him cringe. Yet should he go?
It was common for people to be interested in the Jedi; even more common for politicians. In particular, ministers and Senators of all stripes and at all levels of government would try to cultivate an acquaintance for their own gain. When he'd first approached Qui-Gon, Valorum had said he wanted instruction. If so, why choose so young a knight? There'd been an answer, but the answer could have been flattery, persuasion.
In the year that they'd known each other, Finis Valorum had made no requests of him, proper or improper, but Qui-Gon remained cautious about the connection. The deputy Third Minister was a chameleon. Qui-Gon had formed the impression that, while the man was intensely self-aware, perhaps even self-involved, he didn't care to be scrutinized by others. His outer surface was a way of hiding in plain sight, wrapping layers of artifice around whatever his natural personality had been.
These past few years on Coruscant, he'd seemed to be studious among scholars, politic among politicians-- and drunk among drinkers. The media called him Fin the Spinner and other things; his friends called him Nis.
Qui-Gon Jinn called him Deputy, Minister, or Deputy Minister.
This was the first thing Valorum had ever asked of him -- or offered him. Qui-Gon wasn't even certain which it was.
"So great a treasure your companionship is that it must be hoarded, hmmm?"
"No, my master. But I don't comprehend his reason for seeking it."
"Ah," said Yoda, as if all had suddenly become clear. "So weak are you that shield yourself from his manipulations you must."
The young knight suppressed a smile. Less than one minute with Master Yoda, and his thinking was perfectly illuminated. "Thank you, my master." He bowed low and turned to leave.
"Qui-Gon." He turned back instantly.
Affection shone out of Yoda's eyes. "Attempt to use you, people will. Powerful you have become. But not every hidden motive is a poor one. Patient you must be. Be mindful, that is enough."
"So you think he'll show?"
"Nope."
"What?" The young woman's head jerked out of a hyperdrive housing. "That's not what you said an hour ago."
"Yes it is."
"Is not."
"Is."
"Nis, let me remind you that there's a solid duranium hydrospanner in my left hand."
"You asked me if I think he'll show. The answer is no. I know he'll show. He said 'yes.'"
The young woman stared. "Lieutenant, the old man would break you for insubordination in a nanosecond for shit like that.'
Finis grinned. "So true, Captain. And around here they promote me for it."
"Uckh," she said. "They're destroying you. I'd rather face pirates than civil servants."
"That's because you're smart as well as beautiful," said the lieutenant. He stretched over and gave the captain a serious kiss; it was easy to see these two people had had considerable practice fitting together. As they pulled apart, Finis murmured, "There's something else the old man would break me for."
"Nope." She imitated his delivery perfectly.
"Nope? Why, has he had a brain wipe or something?"
"Nah. He'd just kill you." They both laughed.
"Ches sa, I miss this," Finis said, poking his head back into the nav console's motivator couplings in the ship's belly.
"You are missed," the captain said, poking her head back into the hyperdrive module.
Finis ducked down and stared; the woman looked around and met his gaze with a straight face. "Hey, not by me, peedunkle. The Colonel doesn't have anyone to beat up on anymore."
"Scared me there for a second, Liri," he joked. "Damn, if _you_ go soft, the Republic's done for."
"So true, Nis," she said back. Despite her beauty, there was something genuinely wolfish in her smile. "So true."
When he walked out onto the transport pad, Qui-Gon thought at first that the trip had been scratched. Nothing like the stodgy Legation-class cruiser that normally carried diplomatic couriers was anywhere in evidence. In fact, it took him a second to notice that there was any transport on the pad at all.
The "ride" was an R-88 Redrunner that looked as out of place on a diplomatic pad as a bantha. It was a Corellian-designed combat flight, a heavied-up twinseater version of every pilot's favorite ride, the much loved Headhunter -- small, sleek, deadly. And it already seemed to have two pilots preflighting it, their heads poked into open panels on its belly and one wing.
As Qui-gon got closer, he saw that the one under the belly was Valorum. The person crouched on the wing settled a panel in place, slid off, and came around. This pilot was much shorter, in uniform, and extremely good looking.
"Lieutenant, this transfer is official."
Valorum, despite not being in uniform, saluted her. "Captain, this transfer is complete."
The woman grinned. "Your baby, Nis. You break her, you bought her."
Valorum grinned back. "I love it when you talk dirty."
The woman shook her head, shot a glance at Qui-Gon, and looked back to Valorum. "Try not to crash and burn. We need all the Jedi we can get."
Finis made a suggestion in Huttese that involved the young woman, a mammal native to Kashyyyk, and a piece of agricultural equipment not normally meant to be used internally.
She laughed. "Chocolate from Alderaan, lieutenant."
"Sweets for the sweet," Valorum muttered after her as she headed to the bay doors. As she went by Qui-Gon, the captain eyed him with frank sexual interest; Qui-Gon responded with a small, stiff nod.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?" said Valorum. Qui-Gon swung around. Valorum apparently meant the Redrunner, not the captain; he was patting the ship with real affection. "I'm in the reserves, now, but I stay qualified on these. Why I volunteered for the courier run."
Qui-Gon nodded.
Valorum sighed. "Never a wasted word with you." He ran his eyes over the young Jedi, tall and fresh-looking in early morning light, his beard neatly trimmed and a year's growth of light brown hair brushed back, barely touching his shoulders.
"You see that look Liri gave you? You're not quite as sorry-looking a specimen anymore." Still no answer. "Well, climb aboard. You'll fit; this baby can even fit a Wookiee."
Qui-Gon nodded again, sifting through his feelings for amusement, annoyance, indifference... what Finis Valorum ever intended with his barrage of words was difficult to know. Sensed through the Force, the man was like a whirlwind and none of his faces were true.
They flew through ordinary space. As a hyperspace hop, Alderaan was a matter of minutes away, but the starlane was so heavily trafficked that use of it required sticking absolutely to a fixed plan. The R-88 was so fast it could travel there through normal space in a matter of hours, and Finis shaved the time by making microhops into hyperspace. It was a bit risky, but Core Worlds space had none of the hazards of stray asteroids or pirate mines posed by off-line travel in Rim space. Free form was what serious flyers preferred to do, and Qui-Gon was unsurprised by Valorum's choice.
"I love the view from here," Valorum said, as they slid into ordinary space at one point. "Look, Jinn, isn't that great?"
They were near the Dragon Nebula, with an angle on it that made the wicked jaws of the mythical beast seem to be spread wide and reaching for them. In this ancient sector of space, a number of red giants were in their last embering, almost seeming to give a sunset glow to the vacuum around them.
"Beautiful," Qui-Gon murmured, too softly to be heard across the comlink.
The bubble canopy left him almost surrounded with transparisteel, almost afloat in the darkness, alone with the splendor of the nebula and the frail lights of the faraway stars. There was no way Valorum could know that the Temple's star map room was his favorite place, nor could he know how little time Qui-Gon had ever had to dally in real space as they were doing now. There was always a task, a mission, a need.
There was tremendous peace in the Force out here between stars, where all the voices of all the galaxy's lives were almost perfectly at one. This moment alone was enough to redeem the trip, no matter how dull the rest of it might be.
Valorum misinterpreted his silence as disapproval. "I know we could have gone by the spacelanes, but that's just too damn dull. I'm not just taking the long way to be frivolous, I need the hours to stay qualified. Besides, this is safe and sane flying, trust me. I flew for Nad Antilles, you know -- now there is one seriously spacehappy mother--, uh, guy. His idea of fun is Asteroid Slalom."
"Colonel Antilles' reputation is great," Qui-Gon agreed, then growled internally at the sheer vacuity of the response. The deputy minister had been overly casual, even personal, since their first meeting; Qui-Gon found himself retreating into short, generic statements almost as a defense. He was beginning to find this approach unsatisfactory. "Master Tunxano flew with him."
"He's the Xexto Master, isn't he?" Valorum's voice crackled back to him. "His reputation is great, too. Even the pirates steer clear of him." There was a happy sigh. "Wouldn't it be great to have 24 fingers? But Xextoes are even skinnier than I am."
If an entire planet could be elegant, Alderaan was that planet.
Even from space it had a pleasing gleam, the silver, blue, green and brown of its lands and waters arranged in a balanced asymmetry. The planet's rotations were relatively slow, giving its natural days a length that felt langorous to beings on vacation from more rapid schedules.
Everyone liked visiting Alderaan; its museums, gardens, fine arts performances, restaurants and shopping were the cream of what the galaxy could offer. It was an artists' and scholars' haven; its universities were the greatest, its creative facilities the most extensive. And wild Alderaan was, in its way, as exquisite as cultural Alderaan; the planet carefully protected its forests, lakes and grasslands, which were dotted with the ruins of an extinct culture, the Killik.
"...slept with half of Coruscant." "Only half? I heard...."
"...someone who counts with his toe-knuckles in base 13 is not my idea of the best possible budget analyst for the entire Mantell sector....
"... tastes like toasted nerf turds, but don't tell her I said so."
One of the few things Qui-Gon Jinn had looked forward to in the end of his padawan time was being able to avoid social functions like this one.
Master Yoda, the most famous living Jedi, was a prized guest at Republic functions despite his sarcastic tongue. Long years of exposure convinced apprentice Qui-Gon that no matter what name or purpose was officially given to these parties, they were essentially identical. They were all conclaves of "important" people congratulating themselves on their own importance, and exposing themselves to the blandishments of obscure people who desperately wanted to catch whatever the germ was that led to success, fame, and importance.
The most interesting thing about such parties was a bad one: sometimes, the assembled greed, envy, and hatred would set the Force swirling in a way that could almost give a Jedi vertigo.
"So, is that a hat or has she grafted another life form to her cranium?"
Qui-Gon drifted through the room a foot or two behind Valorum, satisfying his official title as escort and giving himself a vantage point for listening without having to talk.
"What do you get if you cross a tweeli with a dewback?" "I don't know, what?" "A pet that stalls, falls, and licks...."
"...overly picky, but somehow I don't think a sauna in his office was what the Senate had in mind when it appropriated construction funds..."
Finis Valorum was in his element.
This was a very different Valorum than Qui-Gon's occasional lunch companion, the young politician who was chatty, inquisitive, and nervously jokey to the point of vulgarity. Gliding easily through the knots of assembled notables, this Valorum was a polished, assured, and even slightly regal young representative of the Republic's central government. He was exerting himself to be charming and it was working, especially since he had the politician's gift of remembering people and their families.
At the moment, the deputy Third Minister was was being introduced to the elderly Alderaanian princess who was the honorary patron of the art exhibit, Vieia Organa.
Valorum turned on his most beguiling smile. "You honor us with your presence, Your Highness. It's quite a distinction to meet a princess."
The princess, a tiny, frail-looking old woman, was sitting very upright on a small couch and allowing people to come pay court to her. Valorum's remark made her eyes sparkle, but her response was not what Qui-Gon, or Valorum, expected.
She sniffed. "Oh, piffle, young man, you can't throw a rock on Alderaan without hitting a princess. But I adore flattery -- I'm old, not dead."
Valorum paused, grinned, and adopted a slightly conspiratorial voice. "Well, pardon me, Highness. But it isn't flattery to tell a witty lady that she dresses up a fairly dull occasion."
"On the contrary, young man, it is the rankest form of flattery imaginable, seizing on the very last plausible vulnerable point a vain old woman might cling to," she said crisply. "I want you to come sit right by me and keep it up until I fall asleep or die, whichever comes first."
Finis laughed. "I never argue with royalty."
"Good." The princess peered past him. "What about you, young fellow?"
Valorum spoke quickly. "Princess, I have the honor to present Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi."
"Qui-Gon, eh? A nice name. Tell me, do you argue with royalty?" She said this as Qui-Gon was bowing formally -- //classy bow,// Valorum thought. Before the Jedi had a chance to straighten up and speak, she continued, "Well, Qui-Gon, please be kind enough to get me another glass of this lovely stuff." She held out a nearly empty goblet of sparkling wine. "And have some yourself -- you're entirely too serious."
//That's telling him!// Valorum laughed inwardly. //Still, how old and how royal do you have to get before you start using Jedi knights for errand boys?//
Qui-Gon finished his bow, took the princess's glass from her hand -- //hmm, Generic Jedi Polite Smile//, Valorum judged, //no clue there to how Jinn liked his demotion from warrior to waiter// -- and slipped off in his noiseless way to do her bidding.
"Now, young deputy Third," said Vieia, patting the sofa, "I command you to sit down and tell me every particle of the most scurrilous possible gossip from Coruscant. You may begin with your aunt."
Valorum's face froze momentarily, though he finished sitting down. "I beg your pardon?"
"Piffle," said the old lady again. "You are Finis the son of Summum and Arai Etin Valorum, and therefore nephew of Rumaii Etin, and she is supposedly having a very hot little, shall we say, dalliance with a certain Corellian diplomat who is not unmarried."
Valorum changed faces again. "Princess, what kind of slime would I be if I carried tales about my own family?" he said gently.
"Popular, entertaining slime, of course," the princess said. "How can you possibly expect to be invited anywhere if you won't carry tales?"
Finis chuckled. "I'm kind of hoping my boyish charm will do the trick for me." His smile turned wicked. "Uh, one of my boyish charms in particular."
"Hmmmf!" She peered at him shrewdly. "You're good, young Finis. I have very little idea what you'll say next."
"If you want outright excellence, you should try him," Valorum nodded toward Qui-Gon, who was calmly waiting to have the princess' glass refilled. "Never mind what he might say, you just never know if he's going to talk at all."
"A Jedi Knight," the old woman said. "Are you in love with him?"
Valorum laughed in surprise. "No."
"Then you're afraid of him," she said, "which is even worse. You'll have to get it over it if you want to run the Republic someday."
Valorum had gone from surprise to astonishment. "You do like gossip," he said, but the teasing voice had an ironic topspin.
"I'm not blind, and unlike some people, not stupid. If there's ever anything a creaky old minor royal can do for you, let me know. But hurry, I'm closing in on my century and sooner or later my lease on these bones is going to run out."
"I hope not," Finis said. "I mean that sincerely."
Princess Vieia cocked her head. "I know," she said humorously.
Finis cocked his head exactly the same way. "Are you sure you're not Iktotchi or something?" A rather scaly race with long, distinguishing drooping horns, the Iktotchi were the galaxy's best known telepaths. "And incidentally, are you married? If not, would you like to be?"
The princess leaned forward and patted his hand. "Yes," she said, with a toothy smile that took a decade or two off her looks.
With that, she braced a hand on the back of their sofa and levered herself upright, even as Finis was leaping to his feet to help. Qui-Gon came flowing forward in time to slide a hand under one elbow, helping Vieia to be stable on her feet.
Standing, the young politician and the Jedi loomed over the elderly princess by more than a foot, making her something of a shrub among trees. She didn't seem to feel it in the slightest.
She turned her attention to Qui-Gon, and stared up into the young knight's face. The Jedi tipped his beard nearly to his chest, meeting her gaze directly.
After a minute or so, the Jedi's expression altered, and he gave her a lopsided smile that warmed his rather chilly eyes. The old princess smiled back, and, just as his smile brought out the blue in Jinn's usually gray eyes, her smile brought up the faded green in hers. Their gazes held for a bit longer, then the princess looked aside, letting her eyes focus on something far away, far inside perhaps.
"He's a good 'un," she said softly. It wasn't clear to either Finis or Qui-Gon which of them she was speaking to, or about, or if perhaps she was talking to herself. She moved away in a slow, careful gait without further words.
"What exactly did you two say to each other?" Valorum murmured. "I never saw such a conversation."
Qui-Gon's smile returned for a moment. "A Jedi never tells," he said, and also walked away.
//I think he just made a Jedi joke,// Valorum thought in astonishment. //It could have been...// His certainty faded. //Maybe it was one of those inscrutable Jedi truth things. But it sure sounded like a joke.//