Age: 20

They stared awkwardly at one another from across the cantina table for several minutes. Finally, Revan cleared her throat.

"Oh. Well, that’s... useful, I suppose. I want to talk to you, you want to talk to me..."

"Er, yeah," Malak said. He didn’t look very comfortable at all, but whether it was due to whatever he wanted to see her about or just because he was worried about what Revan might say wasn’t at all obvious.

Well, he needn’t worry about her; it was a relatively simply matter, and she knew he would relish the chance to get off Coruscant and test himself in the field for the first time. She just had to hope, now, that whatever he had to say wouldn’t make the entire trip awkward for both of them. Malak usually only wanted to have a Talk of this kind when he was about to divulge some deeply embarrassing piece of information which any normal, dishonest person would have the decency to keep to themselves, and as such Revan had long since come to dread even the notion of a Serious Conversation with her friend.

Revan sighed. "Okay, I’ll go first. Malak, the Council assigned me a mission on my own, but just as I was getting ready to go the situation there changed. Master Kae’s insistent that she doesn’t want a Master going with me, though. She suggested they send another Padawan, and you were on the list of possibles. D’you want to come?"

Malak blinked at her for several seconds, then said, "Offworld?"

"Yes."

"Why was I on the list? And why won’t Kae go with you?"

"Kae thinks I’m ready to tackle a diplomatic mission alone, and I think the Council wants to give you a trial in the field." There was also the small matter that Revan had done everything short of getting down on her knees and begging to get Malak onto the list, and that she now owed Ania a rather large favour for sweet-talking half of the Council into it. Still, Malak didn’t need to know that.

"I have my exams in a month, Revan. Official Republic ones - they won’t postpone them for a Jedi mission like the Council does."

"It’ll be a week at most," Revan assured him. "It’s a trade disagreement, Malak. They’re not likely to be stupid enough to attack Jedi, even a couple of Padawans, so it’ll just be talking."

"Then what do you need me for? I’m no good at talking, remember? Just hitting things."

"Malak..."

He laughed, and held his hands up defensively. "All right. Situation’s changed, I remember. I’m just a safety precaution. Okay, I’ll come, if only to get away from Zhar. I swear, the closer I get to these exams, the harder he makes me work. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want me earning a title that’s not Jedi-related."

"It’ll all be over soon," Revan said consolingly, then remembered that he had had something to say, too. "Your turn."

He sobered instantly, and glanced furtively around the cantina. "Right."

Oh, Force. "Malak, you didn’t free another load of gizka, did you?"

"No! No, Force, I - I was seven. Good grief. I’m never going to live it down, am I?"

"Ah," Revan said. "Only I know that look. You’ve done something wrong, haven’t you?"

"Not exactly," Malak said. "I mean, yeah, but it’s not exactly my fault."

"Aha, a riddle."

"Please shut up," Malak said, then leaned in over the table and grabbed her hand. "I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you, and you’re not making it easy."

Revan, who had been about to take a sip of her drink, dropped her glass. It clattered to the table, rolled off the edge then dropped equally noisily to the floor; by the time it had finally stopped moving, the eyes of a good thirty Jedi of varying ages were on them. Malak groaned, burying his face in his free hand. "Nice one, Revan."

He wasn’t exactly subtle himself, Revan thought irritably as she picked the cup up and went to get a cloth from the kitchens to mop the floor and table. Of all the places to choose to tell her... and there went her hopes for a smooth trip, too. He really was a master at making situations awkward.

With retrospect, she decided later, it was probably a good thing that she had dropped her glass, because clearing up gave her time to think through her initial reactions. On the other hand, by the time she had dried the table, mopped up the few drops that had made it to the floor with the glass and shooed Malak out of the cantina in favour of the privacy of the meditation gardens, he was looking very nervous indeed. Served him right, too.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly when they had walked in silence for nearly ten minutes.

"I’m not angry, Malak. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do."

"You’re not," Malak said, then shrugged in embarrassment when she stopped and turned to stare at him. "I just wanted you to know, that’s all. I don’t want to spend my life, or even part of it, lying about something like this."

Revan stared even more, her mouth opening and shutting seemingly of its own volition. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the word that she was looking for arrived belatedly in her mind.

"Insufferable!"

"What?"

"Insufferable," Revan said again, as it seemed to be the only word she could remember right now. "You. Insufferable. Always been. Force."

Malak looked as though he wasn’t sure whether he should be amused or terrified. "I’ve knocked Galactic Basic out of your head. I must be."

"Insufferable," Revan said again, then rallied as he opened his mouth to reply. "Horny bugger, too."

"I’m a young, healthy human male. ‘Horny’ is a given."

Revan stood and just stared at him for far too long. Malak looked right back at her, his gaze perfectly level. She had almost suspected that he was joking, but... Malak wouldn’t. And besides, he was a hopeless liar.

She sat down on the grass, landing far more heavily than she’d expected, and asked, "How long?"

Malak sat rather more gracefully, shrugging as he did so. "Bit hard to tell. It’s not as if I just woke up one morning and had it written in my schedule."

"Right," Revan said awkwardly.

"And I don’t know why, either, before you start trying to analyse it."

"What do you mean, you don’t know why?" How could anyone possibly be in love and not know why?

Malak sighed. "I don’t know any smaller words, Revan. It just sort of... happened, all right? But I’ve been waiting to see if it’d, I dunno, go away by itself for over a year now, and it hasn’t, and I hate lying to you, so..."

A year, Revan thought faintly. A full year, and she’d been completely unaware the whole time. And Ania must have known -

- yes, Ania had known, because now that Revan thought about it, she had been dropping hints for ages. Nothing too obvious, but when taken with this and the knowledge that Ania knew that Revan found Malak vaguely attractive...

Force, what had Ania told Malak?

Better nip this one in the bud right now, Revan decided. "I’m sorry, Malak, but I just... I don’t like you that way."

"Oh, I know," he told her - oddly cheerfully, she thought, and she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. "And it’s just as well, really, isn’t it?"

What little experience Revan had of romance, let alone love, was gained from the cheap holovids which were occasionally smuggled into the Temple by bored Padawans. She wasn’t sure what exactly was meant to happen, but was fairly sure that this wasn’t it. He wasn’t supposed to just give up on her, for one thing.

She said as much to Malak, who screwed his face up in a silent objection. For a moment, Revan thought, he looked rather like a kinrath pup.

"I’m not giving up," he told her. "I’ve been trying to give up, and I can’t. This is me accepting that. It’s just... well, it is easier this way. The people in those holos didn’t have the Jedi code to worry about, let alone the Council."

Some of them had, as Revan recalled. Those were always the most popular, because the portrayals of the Order were usually completely wrong and, as a result, rather funny.

"All the same," she said, "you’re being very calm."

"Hey, I’ve had a year to worry about this. To be honest, I was terrified that you’d feel the same way."

It was just as well, then, that she only found him mildly attractive, Revan thought. Because whatever Ania believed, that was all it was.

"Besides, those holos were awful," Malak added after a while. "Did you see the last one? Force, when that droid said she’d died of a broken heart I thought I was going to cry -"

Ania, when under stress, sometimes lost track of her internal chronometer a little. It made for interesting results; she opened a door while still several metres away from it, for example, or started talking to you before you had actually entered the room.

"-got me teaching them meditation," she was saying as Malak entered the library. "Frack, Malak, I can’t meditate properly on my own, let alone teaching kids to do it!"

"Maybe that’s the point?" Malak suggested. It was always easier to adjust yourself to Ania Standard Time than to try to adjust her to fit the rest of the Temple - she’d sort herself out, sooner or later.

"You know I won’t be able to sit still long enough to get them all settled!"

"How old are these kids?"

"Ten to thirteen. You know, older apprentices. And yeah, I know that they ought to be able to sit still by themselves by now, but what if I set them off or something?"

"Then they are bad Jedi," Malak pointed out, in what he hoped was a passable imitation of Zhar. "Any apprentice who lacks the discipline to meditate according to his or her own pattern by the age of ten -"

"Suppose," Ania mumbled, apparently not picking up on the Zhar thing. Oh, well, he’d tried. "So, how’d it go?"

"Eh."

"Oh, come on," Ania wheedled. "I got you to do it, I made sure she’d be there - spill. Do I have to start covering for a clandestine love affair?"

Malak laughed. "No, of course not. She’s Revan. Honestly, An, I don’t know where you get these delusions from."

"Funny, that’s what Revan keeps saying, too."

Well, there was some small consolation in that, Malak supposed. At least Revan wasn’t lying to him. "Anyway, she didn’t take it too badly. Just as well, she wants me to come on a mission for the Council with her."

"Yeah, I know," Ania said. She was probably trying not to smirk, but it didn’t work terribly well.

"Hold on," Malak said. "If you knew that Revan wanted to take me with her, and you knew that I wanted to tell her... you manipulative little schutta."

"Well, I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t back out again," Ania said. "And if you had been about to start a clandestine love affair, you might have wanted some privacy -"

"Schutta!"

Ania grinned. "‘Fraid so. But don’t you feel so much better now?"

"Perhaps," Malak admitted. He did, actually - at least he didn’t have to try to hide what Ania considered blatantly obvious any more. "We’re not going to be alone the whole trip, though. Kae’s coming with us to Deralia and waiting there."

"Ah, well, you can’t trust Padawans on their own. No telling what they might get up to, is there? - Hey," she added, gesturing absently to the library console behind her, "have you tried giving her a book?"

The sudden change in conversational direction caught Malak entirely by surprise. "What?"

"Revan. Not very big on the flowers or chocolate, but if you can ply her with books..."

"What?"

Ania sighed and rolled her eyes. "The whole wooing thing. You know."

No, he didn’t, not really. He didn’t know and he didn’t much care, because Revan had been rather emphatic on the ‘just friends’ front and anyway, Malak was fairly sure that clandestine love affairs in the real Jedi Order were doomed to fail. In the holovids, one or other of the lovers always seemed to fall to the Dark Side and start plotting to take over the galaxy (why, Malak was not sure, but perhaps it just made for a better story) - in real life, you’d either be separated or kicked out, and he didn’t particularly care for either to happen. And besides, if he and Revan went completely insane, and if they got kicked out, they’d probably end up separating anyway, if only to find jobs. And then there would just be no bloody point at all.

"I’m not planning on wooing her, An."

"You’re giving up?"

Why did everyone keep saying that? Even bloody Revan, who didn’t want him to keep trying. "I’m taking ‘no’ for an answer."

"Why?" Ania demanded.

Because she was Revan, that was why. Even if he had wanted to annoy her so much that she never spoke to him again, he wouldn’t dare. She had a million ways of making his life miserable, ranging from a simple temper tantrum to kicking his arse over every training mat in the Temple. And she would, because when Revan got that annoyed, well... usually, the only things holding her back were pride and decorum. Around Malak and Ania, she had neither.

"Just... preserving the friendship." Yeah, that sounded right.

"The guys who say that usually end up losing the girl to someone else," Ania pointed out.

"The girl in question isn’t usually Revan, asexual Jedi of the year."

Ania snorted, but didn’t pursue the matter. Instead she said, "You should probably go and tell Dissik that you’ll be leaving soon, you know."

And besides, Malak thought as he left her to begin sorting through the returned books, Revan had read most of the library anyway. Even if he wanted to get her a damn’ book, where the hell was he supposed to go?

He was just pondering this question when Ania, behind him, stuck her head out of the library and called, "I hear Deralia has a really strong literary tradition!"

They boarded the ship to Kheen early in the evening, the Council having decided not to waste any more time than was necessary. Malak half-wished that they had given him a bit more time - he’d never heard of the place before, and hadn’t had time to do a background check.

"I mean, where is it?" he asked Revan over dinner. She shrugged.

"Not far away from Deralia. I don’t know, Malak, I’ve never been there either."

"As the Echani become more deeply entrenched in Deralia’s society, many non-Echani families are moving to Kheen," Master Kae said. "Colonisation, if you will, although they have their own government and, ah, trade disputes."

"With where?" Malak wanted to know, and felt his face heat up when Kae looked at him. "I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to do a check - Revan only told me this morning."

"Taris," Revan muttered. Malak nearly choked.

"Taris?" As in, population of billions Taris? Why hadn’t she warned him?

"Yes, but don’t worry," Kae said, smiling slightly. "Their representatives are on Kheen. Taris will be spared your delightful presence for some years to come, Malak."

"Good," Malak whispered to his plate, just as Revan piped in with:

"What will you be doing while we’re on Kheen, Master?"

Kae’s face took on a faraway look. "Oh, I expect I shall be kept very busy by bored Echani children who wish to learn new combat techniques. The Echani try to learn something from every combat culture, and the Jedi are little exception to this rule. There is also the mandatory visit with the planet’s senator, of course."

"Sounds fun," Malak commented. She smiled.

"I do hope so. I think I’m due a holiday."

"Who is Deralia’s senator, anyway?" Revan asked.

"Yusanis, I believe. A fine man."

Revan nodded. "I’ve heard of him. I think we have a lot in common, politics-wise."

Malak, sensing the beginning of a long, boring conversation that may well go on all night, tuned them out at this point and began to catalogue the vegetables in his stew. It wasn’t exactly easy when they had been picked, chopped and boiled, but that was the whole challenge. Besides, he needed practice with plants.

As he was prodding at his plate, he became aware of a vague sense that it was becoming easier to identify the various different plants. At first, he thought that he was just getting more accustomed to the state the vegetables were in, but it kept getting easier and easier - until he suddenly realised that it wasn’t just his vegetables at all, but everything was was becoming clearer, better defined in the Force.

It was an elating feeling. He had quite forgotten just how restricted his abilities were on Coruscant, and now everything was, suddenly, so easy. Then he realised that the headache was gone, and burst out laughing.

Revan and Kae stopped their conversation to stare at him. After a while, Kae said, "Oh, of course. Force high."

Malak nodded, but found himself completely unable to stop laughing.

The apprentices trooped in and took their places, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor. Ania clasped her hands together, to stop herself from fiddling with her sleeves, and said, "Good morning. I think most of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m -"

"Talking to yourself," a voice said from the door, and Ania turned to see a gaggle of apprentices - her class - peering in through the open door. "First sign of madness, Master."

A few of the others giggled. Ania, fighting down the urge to run and hide in a corner for the rest of her life, turned to look back at the classroom. It was empty. Oh, Force, she’d skipped ahead again.

She swallowed hard and told the Twi’lek who had spoken, "It happens occasionally. Why don’t you all come in?"

The apprentices trooped in and took their places. Ania, whose hands were now shaking so badly that she had to put them behind her back, cleared her throat into the expectant silence.

"Er... yes. Well. I’m Ania Mellyn. Some of you know me. Er, I’m taking you for advanced meditative techniques -" but they knew that, of course, didn’t they, oh, hell, why had the Council given her this stupid job? "- and, er, let’s begin..."

More than half of them, the Twi’lek included, were already into a normal meditation. Oh, Force. Of the ones who were not, most now shut their eyes and assumed the trance - one student, however, looked up at her with wide blue eyes.

"Are you all right, Ania?"

"I’m fine, Mical," she whispered. He looked doubtful, but nodded and settled.

She tried so, so hard to remain still as she took them through the exercises that the Council had tried to teach her, but it was no good - she couldn’t perform the exercises herself while she was sitting still, and besides, the more she tried to control her nervous shakes and fidgets, the worse they became. The apprentices, as she had expected, picked up on this all too quickly and began to fidget and giggle. Frack, frack, frack, all right, she needed to do something, regain control, breathe, calm down...

"Oh, frack this," she said, after five minutes more of attempted meditation had utterly failed to have any calming effect on Ania or her class. They stopped giggling immediately; suddenly, all fifteen sets of eyes were on her. And she wasn’t supposed to swear, either. Why in hell had the Council given her this job?

Ah, yes, of course... to teach her to sit still and mind her tongue. Well, two could play at that game. Ania stood up, and motioned for the others to do the same.. They did so, exchanging curious glances.

"I can’t meditate when I’m sitting still," she told them. "Never have been able to, and I’m not convinced that sitting absolutely still for several hours a day is a good thing to do in any case."

Again, her charges glanced at one another, though this time they seemed unsure whether she was joking or not. Finally, Bastila said, "It is rather boring." There were murmurs of assent from the others.

"Well, then. Let me show you how I meditate."

The rest of the lesson was spent in calm, meditative hilarity. Ania was appalled to discover that not one of her charges, even with Jedi training, could perform a half-decent handstand; she then discovered that some of her usual methods would have to be altered to account for different anatomies. By the time the chimes went to signify the end of the lesson, though, she had got them all into some semblance of order and nobody had fallen over for a good six and a half minutes. Ania hadn’t quite managed to get the set subject into the lesson, it was true, but she supposed she could do that once she’d got them all working to a slightly less boring tune. Anyway, she wasn’t sure how she was meant to teach the set techniques to people who meditated while sitting still, let alone if she wanted to.

Two people hovered at the end of the lesson. One, unsurprisingly, was Mical - even with Bastila tugging on his arm, it seemed that he could not bear to leave without checking, once more, that Ania had been all right when they had started. The other was the Twi’lek who had told Ania that she was going mad; she pretended not to have noticed him, but he gave one of those polite coughs - far too old for his age, she thought irritably - and just stayed put until she was finally forced to give in.

"Yes, er -"

"Deesra," he said. "I came from Dantooine last week. Master, what were we supposed to learn today?"

"I’m sorry?"

"Because I know you changed it," Deesra told her, "and I was wondering why -"

She should, she knew, just answer the boy’s question as best she could, but he had called her insane - not to mention led the giggling when she couldn’t settle. It was rare for someone to annoy her this much; Deesra had managed it admirably.

"I’ll catch you up on your next lesson, all right? You’re late. Go."

"I’m free now," he said. "With respect, Master, you didn’t answer my question."

Oh, she just wasn’t going to get rid of the little bugger, was she? Ania weighed up her options, and finally settled on the truth. "I don’t know how to perform the technique you were set during a normal meditation, all right? Now, just - go."

It seemed to dawn on him for the first time that something was amiss. "I’ve offended you."

Yeah, too fracking right he had. "I was just nervous, Deesra. Please go." Deesra opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when she glared at him; he backed out, muttering an apology. Ania shut the door after him, checked the timetable to make sure that nobody else would be expecting to use this room, and sank down to the floor in a combination of relief and humiliation.

Force. The second time in so many days that that’d happened. It wasn’t so bad when it was Malak, Revan or even Atris, but a whole class full of...

...maybe she was going mad. About ten years ahead of Dissik’s estimate, true, but Deesra was right. Start chatting to an empty room, and there had to be something wrong with you. Do it twice in two days -

She was pulled out of these thoughts by an explosion, followed by a crash, from the corridor outside. Ania, who knew very well that the demolitions labs were nowhere near here, supposed that it must be a bunch of younglings - her younglings, hah, she’d taught them that trick well enough - mucking about and, pulling herself together, went out to investigate. As soon as she opened the door, she was greeted with a cloud of acrid grey smoke; she coughed and choked until she was able to fish her breath mask out of her pocket. Kavar had told her to always be prepared, but she’d never expected to actually need it, she thought as she got it over her nose and mouth. Her eyes still watered, but at least she could breathe.

She felt her way through the corridor, heading in the direction that the explosion had come from; as she moved, the smoke began to clear, so that she could soon see that the walls and floor, usually a creamy white, had been blackened to dark grey. There was junk everywhere, overturned plasteel canisters and... were those blaster marks on the wall?

Yes, they were; great blackened dents in a spray pattern, almost as if they’d been coming from a bottleneck -

Ania turned around. Behind her, where there should have been a corridor, was a ship’s airlock, open, with an umbilical stretching off behind it. And on the floor, by her feet, there was...

"Oh, Force," she whispered. "Something bad’s going to happen to them."

/\/\/\

"Well," Revan said, and coughed. "It’s very, um, nice."

Malak just smiled, only too aware that it was a glassy, frozen smile, and surveyed the room in horror. It could, possibly, not get any more awkward.

Revan must have sensed this, or possibly just seen his face, because she said, her voice forcibly light, "At least it’s not a double."

The sheets had a flower-print pattern, Malak noticed. It was hideous. He wasn’t even sure that flowers like that existed - or if they ever had, they had probably been made extinct by people with taste.

Revan put her bag down on one of the beds, gingerly, as if expecting the bed to collapse. "Malak, it really could be worse."

"I hate my surname," Malak told her. "This happens every time."

"You really are just one of the girls," Revan joked, then grimaced. "Okay. Well, we can change in the ‘fresher, I mean, it’s not as if I’m Ania -"

"Ania?"

"Still sleeps naked."

"Ah."

And the curtains, the curtains carried on the vegetable theme, but with vines. Big, thick, twisty vines, made of inch-thick green cord sewn onto a puce background...

"Maybe we can find something to use as a curtain or a screen or something," Revan mused. "I have string, if we can find something to hang -"

"It’s like a nightmare," Malak murmured.

"Well, don’t rush to help me fix it, will you?"

"Like... like a porno nightmare. All of it."

There was a long, horrible silence, then Revan asked, "You have... I mean... am I..."

Malak was speechless with embarrassment; fortunately, his face went bright red and answered the question for him.

"Ew." Revan stared at him for just a moment longer, then turned back to the twin beds with renewed vigour. "Right. Curtains. A screen. Actually, I’ll take a paralysed, sweating bantha standing in the middle of the room all night -"

She had such a way of making him feel better.

Revan opened her bag and started rooting about in it, probably looking for something curtain-ish. "I suppose if it’s a warm night, we can use a couple of blankets, but if not - hm - oh! Got it. We can use our cloaks."

"Oh, you want me to undress now?" Malak asked. He couldn’t seem to help it; it was as if his mouth had disconnected from his common sense.

"No."

"Right," he managed, and half-ran to investigate the balcony before anything else came out of his mouth.

It was, simply, the most amazing moment of his life.

Not only was Coruscant as polluted as hell, but most of the Jedi Temple was at such an altitude that the windows didn’t open, in order to maintain the air pressure. Even in the gardens, which, being at the same level as the ‘ground’ floor, were at least open-air, the air was so full of chemicals that he hesitated to call it ‘air’ at all.

This, now, this was air. Real, sweet, fresh air, made all the sweeter by the fact that the hotel was on the edge of a very small town; the balcony overlooked a field, and woodland.

He could have stared at it all day, and must in fact have been there for quite a while, because the next thing he knew, Revan had come out to make an attempt at reconciliation.

"I mean, I know this is awkward for you too, but you just took me by surprise and I - Malak, they’re trees."

"They’re beautiful."

"Oh, Force. I thought you’d outgrown the tree-climbing thing?"

"Only because there are no trees on Coruscant," Malak pointed out. "I don’t want to climb them. Just... it’s beautiful."

"You are a very strange man," Revan informed him. "Anyway, we need to get going - we have to meet the Councillor for Trade."

"But -"

"Malak, the trees will still be there when you get back. Good grief."

"We have told you this before, Padawan," Master Vash said gently. "No matter how much a vision may suggest one single result, it can never be taken for granted that that is what will truly occur." She held up a hand as Ania began to protest again, more loudly. "We are taking this seriously, Ania. Masters Vrook and Zez-Kai Ell are looking into the matter as we speak, and a message has been sent to Kae on Deralia.

"All I’m asking is to be allowed to contact Revan, tell them -"

"No, Ania. Please, trust the Council."

Oh, yes. Trust the Council. Exactly what reason she had to do so was as unclear as ever, of course, particularly when they would give her no actual reason why she should not contact Revan and warn her of impending disaster.

It couldn’t hurt to wait a day, though, just to see if they deigned to tell her how they were interpreting her visions this time. She was... yes, she was fairly sure she had a day, if not a bit more.

She bowed to the Council and left.

The Councillor for Trade was a small, balding, worried-looking man, who barely gave Revan and Malak a chance to introduce themselves before he began talking. By the time he finally stopped two hours later, Malak’s head was going round and round and, as Revan was steering the conversation without allowing him an opportunity to get an explanation, all he could think was that he was sure the Councillor had repeated himself at least three times.

"What?" he finally managed to hiss to Revan as the Councillor ushered them out. She shook her head and beckoned him to follow; not very far, as it turned out, because she stopped as soon as they had turned a corner.

"Taris are trying to sell them Tarisian ale. Kheen has a prohibition law on alcohol. Taris claim that this is unfair and have brought us in to force Kheen to repeal the law. Kheen says Taris are bullying them and they won’t do it. Got it now?"

"I’m sure that’s not what he said," Malak muttered. Revan rolled her eyes and patted his arm consolingly.

"Malak, you would have made a terrible Consular. Anyway, the Tarisians don’t arrive until tomorrow, so we have a bit of time to work out what we’re going to do next. And what the catch is, of course."

"The catch?"

"There’ll be one. There always is. Something always goes wrong. Or there’s a twist, or -"

"You’re being paranoid, Revan."

"Wait," Revan told him grimly. "I think I saw a park on our way in - why don’t we go there to discuss this? You can stare at the trees some more."

There was indeed a park, and it even had trees, but to Revan’s annoyance this distraction did nothing to prevent the inevitable argument; all it meant was that they were both speaking more loudly, because Malak was on a branch some twelve feet above her.

"It shuts down half your brain and overstimulates the other half, it causes cancer in the digestive tract, the only way a human body can get rid of it is to turn it into acetaldehyde - which is more toxic - it leads to cirrhosis of the liver, it causes major deformations in foetuses, and don’t get me started on the social implications -"

Not that it would make much difference, now. He had started. Ania had warned her...

"Malak, not everyone who drinks it is going to become an alcoholic."

"It’s Tarisian Ale! It’s made for alcoholics! Nobody else drinks the stuff, unless they’re suicidal!"

" - and besides," Revan continued, as patiently as she could when she was shouting up a tree, "the Republic is a free trade entity, and if they’re applying for membership then they have to be willing to - oh, for goodness’ sake, come down from there, will you? We both look ridiculous."

"Why don’t you come up, then?"

"Malak, have you ever heard of a little thing I like to call dignity?"

"Revan, have you ever heard of a little thing I like to call social responsibility?"

"This isn’t about social responsibility, Malak, it’s about the law! They’re hoping to join the Republic -"

"Which supposedly allows its member planets a large degree of legal freedom -"

"In exchange for consensus on certain issues such as slavery, drugs and trade policies!"

"Alcohol is a drug! It’s damaging, it’s addictive -"

"Look, we’re not here to dispute the law, just make sure they go along with it. Okay?"

"No! If the law is obviously wrong -"

"It’s alcohol, Malak, not murder. Get some perspective, good grief -"

"Do you know how many murders are caused by alcohol or have alcohol as a factor each year?"

"Not many," Revan snapped, "as it’s usually manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility!"

"Oh. Oh, well, that’s a big difference, of course, as the victim is clearly LESS DEAD!"

"You’re being completely unreasonable."

"And you are being a bossy, overbearing, irresponsible schutta, and do you know what annoys me most about that?"

Revan groaned. "What?"

"I love you anyway," Malak howled, causing several passers-by to jump out of their skins. "Revan, if they want prohibition, then good for them, and you’re not going to change my mind on this."

"I’m not trying to," Revan retorted. "What you think has nothing to do with this, Malak."

"Oh. Yes, I forgot. I’m just the muscle, aren’t I."

Oh, for... "That’s not what I -"

"You look awfully silly, talking to a tree," Malak said off-handedly. "Hadn’t you better go and find something more dignified to do?"

"This is outside my jurisdiction, Ania," Atris told her, barely paying attention as she worked through the newest pile of library arrivals. "You should ask the Council."

"I can’t ask the Council," Ania objected. "Vrook hates me, and they won’t discuss visions with me anyway -" and besides, she’d already asked, and they’d already said no.

"Yes, well, that was somewhat your own fault," Atris said, a little tetchily.

"The Senate didn’t deserve to be lied to like that, Master."

"Ania, the Mandalorians have not attacked, nor are they likely to... no. We will not discuss this again. As to your more recent vision - I can only repeat that you must ask the Council, which contrary to your belief is comprised of multiple Jedi, not Master Vrook alone."

"It’s been nearly a day," Ania tried, in desperation. "Master, we’re running out of time."

"Ania, ask the Council."

Ania groaned inwardly, bowed to Atris, and went to find Kavar.

Malak did not return to the hotel room until after Revan had gone to bed; when he did, he did it so quietly that it was morning when she next saw him, sprawled out on his back and sleeping soundly.

She considered waking him, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it; he was probably still upset with her even without being woken up.

He was still asleep when she returned from breakfast - at least, until the door slammed shut behind her.

"Sorry," she said hastily, as he jerked awake and, after a couple of confused moments, focused bleary eyes on her. "I didn’t mean to. Think it must’ve been stuck, or something - you know what these things are like, temperamental as anything, and they’re hardly maintaining this place properly - um, how are you?"

"Please tell me that’s breakfast you’ve just eaten," Malak mumbled.

"Er, yeah. As opposed to what?"

"Lunch? Supper?" He was up now, and making for the ‘fresher. "Oh, Force. And I’m sorry for yesterday, too."

He wasn’t, not really, and they both knew it. Well, he was probably sorry for shouting at her, Revan amended, and maybe even for making her yell up a tree for half an hour. Ultimately what it came down to, though, was that they had to work together, and they both knew that, too.

"Me too," she said. "Um, but that doesn’t change the fact that we can only apply minimal pressure to Taris, and I don’t think that’ll be enough. They know they’ve the legal right to pursue this."

"Great," Malak muttered. "So much for principled government, then."

"Freedom of the individual does also include the freedom to act like a complete idiot and get yourself killed, unfortunately."

Malak snorted, and disappeared into the ‘fresher.

"I don’t understand why you’re asking me," Kavar said, as Ania helped him to set up a bomb on a two hour timer. In theory, just one hour ought to be long enough for the apprentices to disarm it, but you could never be too sure. "This is a matter for the Council."

"You’re on the Council, aren’t you?" And if he’d been there yesterday, instead of teaching, maybe things would have gone a little better, too.

"That doesn’t mean that I am the Council, Ania. I know you and Master Vrook don’t get along, but -"

"They’re in danger," Ania snapped; it was that or ram the components together, which could get them both killed. "It’s almost as if the Council wants them dead."

He winced. "I’m sure nobody wants either of them dead. Please be careful with that. There’s probably a very good reason why -"

"Like there was a very good reason for lying to the Senate, you mean?"

"Ania." He put his tools down and motioned her to move away from the bomb a little. "Emotional blackmail is not going to convince me to go over the heads of my colleagues on the Council."

"I never said they’d disagreed -"

"You wouldn’t be trying to get me to give you permission if they hadn’t," he pointed out. Ania swore. "And language like that won’t help, either."

"Sorry," she muttered. "Look, Master, they won’t tell me why I can’t contact Revan, and I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. They’re in danger."

"So they are," Kavar said mildly. "Perhaps the Council, then, has more faith in your friends than you do, as they trust them to handle it themselves?"

That stung, and Ania found that she had no response. Kavar shrugged off her glare, and went back to what he had been doing.

"Have a little faith in your friends, Ania. None of you are children any more."

It was a large, airy room. Full-length windows opened onto a balcony; they were so high up that the trees growing next to it were in full foliage. From this balcony, it would only take a second to swing out onto a tree, shimmy down it and run. Escape beckoned.

Inside, Revan was sat in one of the many squashy armchairs that littered the room; if Malak turned his head slightly, he could see her leaning forwards, talking earnestly to the Tarisian ambassador. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he knew anyway; Revan had come up with a Plan this morning.

The Plan was, she did the talking and he stayed out of it.

It wasn’t much of a plan, especially from his perspective, but at least it would stop them from arguing in front of everyone, and he had grudgingly agreed with her that it would reflect badly not only on the Order here, but on them within the Order.

All the same, Kheen were going to lose; it was inevitable, now, because Revan certainly wouldn’t change her mind over a little thing like a fight.

The door onto the balcony squeaked open, then closed again; Malak didn’t bother looking round until the newcomer coughed quietly.

He was fairly tall, blond, with a pale complexion and piercing light blue eyes; once he knew that Malak was paying attention, he said, in a quiet voice, "Something does not appear to have gone to plan."

"Revan’s job," Malak muttered.

"Exactly my point. My understanding is that when two Jedi are sent to deal with a case, both of them are usually involved."

"With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that’s any of your -"

"No," the man said. "Of course."

They lapsed into silence for a while, then he added, "Kheen are losing, you know. Quite badly. They could use a champion... one able to engage the mighty Revan on her own terms, that is."

Malak had to laugh at that. "You don’t want me, then. I always lose."

"Strange. I thought that a certain tree I walked past yesterday was bellowing some quite good points at her."

"You - heard that?"

"My boy, half the planet probably heard that. You both have very powerful voices, though I can’t help but notice a certain hoarseness today... another reason why she might need some help, perhaps?"

Oh, that was it. First Ania, then Revan, now this. "Sir, if you want something, just say it, please."

"Call me San," he said. "My apologies. I assumed - no, it doesn’t matter. I want you to go back in there and make the argument you came here to make. Taris are abusing a loophole in Republic law; they have been for a while now on Deralia, and many other systems besides. It’s part of the reason people moved out here in the first place."

"If it’s such a common problem, can’t you find a solution yourselves?"

"We could form a trade federation, but that would soon be deemed illegal... so, no. We need a precedent set to close the loophole. The only real chance of that is a Jedi stepping in. Unfortunately, when I suggested that Kheen contact the Order, I had no idea that... she... would be let loose on my plans."

Malak, intrigued, asked, "She’s done it before?"

"Not in this way as such, but your friend does have a remarkable knack for scuppering political conspiracies. And building her own, of course."

"She says she’s being democratic -"

San snorted. "So do Taris. So do all of us, and none of us truly are. There’s no reason for a representative democracy in these technological days, yet we keep it going, don’t we?" He stopped, shaking his head, then looked back up at Malak. "You may not understand the mechanics of it, but if you can learn by rote, and quickly, I can give you enough information to defeat your friend. She only won last time because you appear to have remarkably little understanding of politics."

"I’m a Guardian," Malak told him. "I just hit things. But I do happen to be very good at learning things by rote."

"Excellent."

The chairs, which looked so comfortable before you sat down, were a nightmare; there were almost no bottoms to them. Revan could feel herself sinking lower each time she shifted weight, and was beginning to wonder if she’d ever use her feet again.

Well, they were nearly done, now; if she could only keep the chair from swallowing her whole for another few minutes, then she could go and get Malak, and then all she had to do was find some kind of distraction, fast, to take his mind off the varied dangers of alcohol poisoning before he started talking about them again.

The Councillor looked hopelessly off-balance. Time for the killing blow. Would Kreia have been proud?

"It seems to me that the best course of option for both of you is to -"

The balcony door squeaked open; Revan, who had seen one of the Kheen Councillor’s advisers go out earlier, ignored it until Malak sidled in and, tapping the Tarisian gently on the shoulder to get her attention, asked her, "Are you aware that the Yoledu Convention on Planetary Colonisation included a revision of trade laws for new colonies?"

"Yes," she replied smoothly. "We have done our research, young man."

Great. Just great. Where had he got that one from? And he’d got it wrong, of course.

"Malak, Yoledu only revised the protectionism laws, to help stabilise starting economies. If I understand Kheen’s stance correctly, they’re not doing this for trade reasons, but cultural and social ones."

Malak sat down in the nearest chair, letting out a little whuff of air when the seat began to swallow him too. Well, at least they’d be struggling together against the vicious enemy upholstery, if not the Kheenians or Tarisians. "Well, social legislation isn’t covered by trade laws in any case."

For a moment, Revan couldn’t do anything but stare. That was a good point.

"It is when it affects trade," the Tarisian ambassador supplied for her.

"This doesn’t, though, not really. Theoretically, Kheen could legislate against the consumption of alcohol but still import it for trading on to planets further out on the Rim."

This wasn’t Malak. It couldn’t possibly be. The man was as politically aware as - as a nerf, and he hadn’t had time to do this sort of in-depth research, let alone the enthusiasm to carry it out this fast.

The Kheenian Councillor, sensing a way out, began to nod enthusiastically. "We do have a trade route open that would make that possible."

Malak grinned at Revan. "I know."

"You’d get smuggling," Revan pointed out, as the situation began to slip away from her. "No matter what kind of checks you put on the goods, if it’s on the planet, people will get it out of the warehouses and sell it."

Malak blinked at her, slowly. "I thought Kheen’s settlers had a strong cultural taboo against alcohol? Don’t they think it’s addictive and dangerous?"

"Yes," the Councillor said immediately. "Filthy stuff."

"Malak, could I have a word?"

"Of course," he said. "Unless it involves getting out of this chair. I think I’m a bit stuck."

Revan, after a couple of tries, freed herself from her own chair’s clutches and went to help him. As soon as he was up, she dragged him into a corner and hissed, "What do you think you’re doing?"

He folded his arms and glared down at her. "Helping the people we were sent here to help. Taris don’t have the legal right, Revan."

"Yeah, and where did you learn all this, anyway?"

"Funny thing about spending ten years doing medical exams. You soon get the hang of memorising complicated data."

"You didn’t answer my question," Revan hissed.

"I’m not going to, either. Look, everybody’s happy. Taris get to sell their filthy toxin to the general populace, Kheen’s general populace don’t have to drink it, both planets end up making money from the deal -"

"- in twenty years’ time Kheen stops importing and-or trading alcohol and Taris sue them again, or Kheen’s buyers discover a cheaper source of Tarisian Ale -"

"Revan, the future isn’t our problem. You know that. Besides, twenty years? Anything could happen in that time. Taris might not even have the same political clout in twenty years’ time, particularly since their profits are dropping already-"

"There you go again!"

He made a face. "Don’t worry. I’ll have forgotten all of this in a couple of days if I don’t reinforce it, which I won’t. Are you going to admit defeat, or do we have to keep arguing?"

Why, exactly, had she done so much grovelling to be able to bring him with her? Something about missing him when he wasn’t around, wasn’t it? Something, maybe, to do with the sudden bout of homesickness she’d had last year, when she was away for three months?

Something to do with enjoying his company, the insufferable... no. No noun was required. The Insufferable.

He had, somehow, got her into a political corner. So much for Kreia being proud.

"Fine," she said. "You win. But it won’t happen again, Malak."

He grinned. "‘Course not. I already told you, I’ll have forgotten all of this within the week."