"I know," Anakin said. "I was just wondering." His Master's inability to understand what he meant irritated him. The ship filled his eyes and it filled his heart, it seemed so much a part of him.
The workers and artisans at this end of the valley were once again Ferroans, dressed in long black robes with edges of nebular blue. They walked over the lamina platform in the near dark, their slippered feet making tiny padding noises, and younger assistants-most no older than Anakin-directed the spots of tiny electric torches on the parts of the new ship they wished to examine.
This end of the valley was crowded with stone pillars. Houses, administration buildings, engineering sheds, and warehouses occupied other pillars nearby, and a dense network of bridges made of living tendrils and lamina connected them.
A transport flew over the platform and came to rest on a rock pillar some fifty meters away.
Obi-Wan patted Anakin's shoulder in reassurance that he was not without feeling, that he did understand, and looked west to see if he could make sense of all the other activity they had seen in the factory valley.
Some hidden and massive project was under way, of that he was sure-something that probably involved all of Zonama Sekot. The Magisters had long ago harnessed the peculiarly ordered and interconnected organisms of the planet to do their bidding. Was it possible that now, Sekot and the settlers of Zonama had some mutual interest that demanded even more extensive cooperation, even more construction?
Anakin was dead on his feet. He had never felt so tired, even after racing, and so it was with relief that he joined Obi-Wan on a long couch as the chief of artisans at this end of the factory valley brought them a tray of cold drinks and a sheaf of plans.
"My name is Fitch," the Ferroan introduced himself. He was shorter than the others, and stouter, and his hair was dense black. His face shone with ghostly pallor in the starlight. "You've got an extraordinary vessel," Fitch added with his own share of pride. "My people will finish her in the next couple of hours. The Jentari's work was well done-no seams, no filling, very little patching inside. Just the usual non-Sekotan instrumentation to bring the ship up to Republic standards."
"Where did you get the hyperdrive core?" Anakin asked after he had drained his glass of sweet water. "Did you make it here? I've never seen another like it."
"We have our sources," Fitch said with a smile. "The ship's speed lies in part in those cores, but also in how we connect them with the ship's heart-and with you. The next couple of days will be spent learning the ship. You'll be quartered here. You won't go far from the ship-not for the next forty-eight hours. If you did, the ship would die-she would rot from the inside out, just as if I would pluck your own brain from its pan."
"But I'm not the ship's brain," Anakin said. "I can feel it- her thinking for herself. All the seed-partners have joined together and are thinking for themselves, aren't they?"
Fitch looked at Obi-Wan. "Smart lad. He's going to be the pilot?"
"He'll be the pilot," Obi-Wan confirmed.
"No," Fitch said. "You're not the brain, young owner, not in literal truth. The ship does think for herself, after a fashion, but she needs you while she's still young, and while she's being finished, or she gets, let's say, confused. Like a baby. You're her guardians now." Fitch stood and walked back across the platform to the cradle, which had now lifted the new ship higher for inspection of her underside. Artisans scrambled in through the hatch, carrying bits of equipment familiar to both of the Jedi: subspace communications, compact instruction boxes for coor dinating with non-Sekotan repair droids, remote slaving and control systems required for arrival in orbit around the more crowded planets, transponders and emergency signaling, hyper-drive governors, control panels, two more acceleration couches for passengers, dozens of little bits and pieces apparently not relegated to the seed-partners and the Jentari.
With the ship lifted so high, they could now see all of her at once-and Obi-Wan was as lost in admiration as his Padawan was.
In his youth, Obi-Wan had been almost as fascinated with machinery as Anakin was. He, too, had built flying models of ships and dreamed of becoming a pilot, but with time and age, and under the guidance of Qui-Gon, he had integrated these impulses into a larger vision of duty and self.
But he had never truly lost the dream. His own twelve- year-old self, so long restrained by the rigors of being a Jedi Knight, joined Anakin on that platform, and together, master and Padawan walked around the Sekotan ship-their ship-and spoke in low, admiring tones.
"Isn't she the most beautiful thing ever?" Anakin murmured, his eyes wide.
"She's beyond any doubt the sleekest," Obi-Wan said.
The hull was broad and low in the cradle, with three major lobes, like three smooth oval skipping stones joined and molded together. The leading edge of the hull was sharp as a knife, and the ship's internal glow still concentrated here, making the edge fluoresce in the evening air. The trailing edges were less sharp, and were divided along the two rear lobes by engine ports, heat exchangers, and shield ducts. There were no weapons. She measured about thirty meters across the beam and twenty-five from stem to stern, and seen from the front, her two rear lobes made a dihedral of about fifteen degrees.
As they completed their circuit, two wide viewing ports dilated, like slit eyes set in the forward lobe. A technician peered at them through one port and smiled at the new owners, lifting a thumb in approval.
"Think where we can go in this!" Anakin said.
"If the Temple lets us go anywhere," Obi-Wan said.
"They will. They'll want us to let her out and see what she does. I know they will."
Obi-Wan was less sure, but now was not the time. He had finished his inspection-the wondering part, at any rate-and stood directly before the Sekotan ship with arms folded. He tuned all his senses and let the Force resume its ascendancy.
"Anakin," he said quietly.
His Padawan turned to face him, expression suddenly seri ous. "I know," he said. "I feel it."
"The middle of the wave," Obi-Wan said. "Your trial, I believe."
The color drained from the Padawan's face. "Couldn't it wait. . until we fly the ship?"
Obi-Wan did not answer. Anakin looked down at his hands, folding into fists, and relaxed them. "All right," he said. "It is the way, and I accept it."