“The location isn’t a problem,” Ar’alani assured him, holding up a slender cylinder tapered at both ends. “I have the last two months’ worth of the Springhawk‘s navigational data.”
Car’das fought back a grimace. Terrific. “All right,” he said. “But shouldn’t we check first with Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo?”
“We’re going now precisely because I don’t want Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo to know about it,” Ar’alani said.
“I’ve sent him on a security sweep of the nearby systems, which should give us time to examine the battle zone and return.” Her eyes glittered. “And only then will we ask for his version of the battle.”
“Preparing for first target,” C’baoth said, his deep voice sounding strained as it resonated from the low ceiling of the weapons blister. “Firing now” His hands moved in an almost dream-like way over the controls, and there was a flicker of indicator lights as one of Dreadnaught-1’s sets of turbolasers delivered a massive broadside blast.
Standing near the blister’s doorway, Obi-Wan stretched out to the Force. On the other side of the Dreadnaught, he could sense Lorana Jinzler also firing her turbolasers, while all the way on the far side of Outbound Flight on Dreadnaught-4
Ma’Ning and the two Duros Jedi did the same.
“Whoa,” Anakin muttered at his side. “That’s…
intense.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, eyeing C’baoth closely. This was the Jedi Master’s third meld today, and the strain of the procedure had to be getting to him. But if it was, Obi-Wan couldn’t detect it in the other’s face or sense.
He’d always assumed that at least part of C’baoth’s unshakable confidence in himself was either an act or else a vast overestimation of his actual abilities. Now, for the first time, he began to wonder if the man might actually be as strong in the Force as he claimed.
“Spotter controclass="underline" all test-one volleys on target,” a voice reported from the comm panel.
“Pretty good,” Anakin muttered.
“Very good, you mean,” Obi-Wan said. “Can you sense any of Master C’baoth’s commands, or just the presence of the meld itself?”
“I don’t know,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan could sense the boy tightening his concentration.
“Preparing for second target,” C’baoth announced.
“Spotter control ready.”
“Firing now,” C’baoth said.
Again, the indicators flickered. “Target two hit,” the spotter reported. “One flier.”
“What’s a flier?” Anakin asked.
“It means one of the shots missed the target,” Obi-Wan told him, frowning. There’d been something odd on that last shot, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Stretching out again to the Force, this time focusing on the edges of the meld instead of on its center, he tried to track it down.
“Preparing for third target,” C’baoth said. “Firing now.” And this time, as the indicators once again flickered, Obi-Wan saw it.
C’baoth had set up a total of six targets in this exercise. Obi-Wan forced himself to wait until all six had been destroyed, the last four with as impressive an accuracy quotient as the first two.
The spotter delivered his final report, and with a shaking jerk of his head C’baoth broke the meld. For a few seconds he just sat there, blinking rapidly as the last tendrils of connection between him and his fellow Jedi dissolved completely away. Then, taking a deep breath, he exhaled a long sigh and turned to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “What did you think, Young Skywalker?”
“Very intense,” Anakin said. “I’ve ever seen anything like it before. When can I try it?”
“Not until after you’ve completed your training,”
C’baoth said. “This isn’t something Padawans should be foolingaround with.”
“But I could handle it,” Anakin insisted. “I’m very strong in the Force—you can ask Obi-Wan—”
“When you’re a Jedi,” C’baoth said firmly, his forehead wrinkling slightly as he shifted his eyes to Obi-Wan. “You have a question, Master Kenobi?”
“If you have a moment, yes,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice casual. “Anakin, why don’t you head back to Reactor Two and see if they’re ready for us to help with that cooling-rod bundle yet. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Anakin said, his forehead wrinkling briefly as he left the room.
“Well?” C’baoth asked, making the word a challenge.
“You had D-Four’s Padawans in the weapons blisters with Master Ma’Ning just now, didn’t you?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Yes, I did,” C’baoth said evenly. “Is there a problem with that?”
“You just finished telling Anakin that this was way beyond a Padawan’s abilities.”
C’baoth smiled thinly. “Calm yourself, Master Kenobi,” he said. “Of course they weren’t actually participating in the meld.”
“Then why were they there at all?”
“For the same reason your Padawan was here,” C’baoth said, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. “So that they could get an idea of what a Jedi meld is like.”
“What kind of idea could they get?” Obi-Wan asked.
“They’ve barely even begun their training. They could hardly see any more than any other non-Jedi could.”
“Again, is that a problem?” C’baoth asked.
Obi-Wan took a careful breath. “It is if the lure of such advanced techniques goads them into pressing ahead too quickly and too impatiently.”
C’baoth’s eyes narrowed. “Speak carefully, Master Kenobi,” he warned. “Such impatience is the mark of the dark side. I will not have you accuse me of walking that path, nor of guiding others along it.”
“I don’t accuse you of anything,” Obi-Wan said stiffly.
“Except perhaps of having overly high expectations of those under your tutelage.”
C’baoth snorted. “Better expectations too high for Padawans to ever quite reach than ones so low they never need to stretch beyond what is already known.”
“Better still high but realistic goals that allow for the satisfaction and confidence of achievement,” Obi-Wan countered.
Abruptly, C’baoth stood up. “I will not have my teaching philosophy dissected as if it were an interesting biological specimen,” he growled. “Particularly not by one as young as you.”
“Age isn’t necessarily the best indicator of knowledge in the Force,” Obi-Wan pointed out, struggling for calm.
“No, but experience is,” C’baoth shot back. “When you’ve trained as many Jedi as I have, we’ll discuss this further.
Until then, I believe your Padawan is waiting for you in Reactor Two.”
Obi-Wan took a careful breath. “Very well, Master C’baoth,” he said. “Until later.”
He stalked out into the corridor, drawing on the Force for calm. He hadn’t really wanted to come aboard Outbound Flight, despite his and Windu’s concerns about C’baoth. Not even with the possibility of finding Vergere as extra incentive.
Now, though, he was glad he’d come. In fact, when they reached the Roxuli system in four days, their final stop in Republic space, he might consider contacting Windu to ask permission for him and Anakin to stay aboard Outbound Flight for the entire duration of its mission.
Because one of the other reasons for taking only infants into the Temple was to catch them before they could develop preconceived ideas of what a Jedi’s life was like and how quickly they could achieve that goal. If all of C’baoth’s Padawans had been cautious types like Lorana Jinzler, that was an issue he’d probably never even had to consider.
But inexperienced though Obi-Wan might be at training future Jedi, this was one problem he knew all about.
And if the eagerness he’d sensed in the children watching the meld was any indication, Outbound Flight’s Jedi were going to have their hands full keeping their new Padawans from impatiently pushing their boundaries, possibly right over the line into the dark side.
Somehow, whether C’baoth wanted to hear it or not, he had to get that message through to him. Before it was too late.
The starlines cleared away, and a small and distant red sun appeared in the Darkvenge‘s bridge viewports. “So?” Kav growled.
“Patience, Vicelord,” Doriana advised, watching the blue-skinned alien standing beside the helm peering at the small device in his hand. Mitth’raw’nuruodo had left the technician behind to guide them to the location the Chiss commander had specified. A moment later the tech gave a small nod and murmured a few words to the silvery TC-18 translator droid at his side. “He says, ‘We’re here,’ Vicelord Kav,” the droid reported in its melodic voice.