Jedi Artisan 024

After his stroll the other night, Zane meditated for about half an hour, reinvigorating his mind & body with the Force then set out on his mission to Mandalore. Meeting the overly serious brat Kenobi, and his chill Master, Qui-Gon, they had set off. 

This time, as he wasn't in charge of the mission, there was no requisitioned Hammerhead or other warship. And wouldn't that be a hoot? Arriving in Mandalorian airspace whilst they were undergoing a time of extreme political turmoil, terrorism, and soft civil war would totally send the right message from the Republic. 

Jokes aside, the Consular-class Light Cruiser was a pretty red ship, just big enough for a Jedi and his posse. Sporting a Class-I hyperdrive and not a single armament, they should be arriving at their destination in about 4 to 6 days depending on the hyperlanes. 

As the ship departed, Zane sat in the conference room, looking out at a viewport. From there, the planet seemed almost peaceful.

Clouds drifted across the sunlit curve of the world, pale and soft against oceans of durasteel. The endless city had been reduced to a delicate pattern of silver lines, each tower no larger than a needle, each skylane merely a faint golden thread. At that distance, one could not see the grime that collected beneath the middle levels, nor the rainwater spilling black from ancient gutters. From on high, the Senate Rotunda and Jedi Temple were truly beautiful, making one have the false pretense that all that was beneath it must be shimmering gold and riches. 

Alas! 

Once more dressed in standard Jedi garb, Zane sighed to himself as he slowly ate some breakfast. 

Behind him, resting at the far end of the room, was a young Obi-Wan Kenobi watched closely. The thirteen-year-old Padawan sat rigidly upright at the circular table. His back was straight, his shoulders squared, and both hands rested upon his knees like some perfect noble child raised with impeccable etiquette. Honestly, he cut a clean, handsome image despite his youth. Zane could understand how such a guy became such a suave lady killer once he grew older.

The kid had been studying Zane for the past 20 minutes.

Zane pointedly ignored the kid, too lazy to get involved. If he wanted to ask him something…Kenobi should just ask. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon Jinn, seated across from his apprentice, was stroking his beard in thought. The Jedi Master stroked his beard, his expression caught somewhere between patient amusement and weary resignation.

At last, Obi-Wan leaned toward Qui-Gon with a whisper. “Master?” 

“Yes, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon replied with a raised eyebrow. 

“Should we not review the mission briefing?” The boy asked, his keen blue eyes darting over towards Zane. 

“We reviewed it before departing. We have our mission, others have theirs. There is no use in saying what need not be said.” Qui-Gon advised patiently. 

“I have reviewed it three times since then.” Obi-Wan couldn't help but claim. 

“So I noticed.” Qui-Gon drily replied, looking at his student again with mild amusement & a dash of concern. 

“There may be hidden implications that were not immediately apparent.” Obi-Wan whispered with the hint of conspiracy. 

Qui-Gon’s eyes drifted toward Zane. “Hidden implications?”

Obi-Wan lowered his voice further. “Master Zane is a disciple of Master Oogway.”

“Your meaning being?” Qui-Gon asked, already knowing where his student was going with this, but was being patient enough to allow the child to explain his reasoning. 

“Master Oogway leads the First Council of First Knowledge. I suspect there is more to this trip to Mandalore than a simple gift exchange. That this protection mission may result in something…more. I can feel it in the Force.” Obi-Wan said with an intense certainty. 

“Oh, do go on..” Qui-Gon gestured for Obi-Wan to continue, now thoroughly invested in his student's little speech. 

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed. That answer, rather than discouraging his suspicions, seemed to deepen them.

The First Council of First Knowledge was among the more obscure bodies within the Jedi Order. Its archives contained sealed histories, dangerous artifacts, forgotten languages, and accounts of Force traditions that predated the Republic itself. Most Jedi knew little about its activities. Obi-Wan, after his first encounter with the mysterious Jedi Artisan had put in some considerable research, had discovered that this obscurity was intentional.

Master Oogway’s position within it made him one of the most informed Jedi alive. Therefore, his disciple must also possess hidden knowledge. Therefore, Zane’s assignment to Mandalore could not possibly be routine.

Obi-Wan’s gaze narrowed.

“He carries with him a credit chip brimming with the Force. What role will this artifact play in the upcoming mission?” Obi-Wan said to himself, analyzing the situation. 

Qui-Gon looked at him. “And what…do you think this signifies?”

“Master, respectfully, one cannot make assumptions with Knight Zane. He is simply unfathomable.” Obi-Wan said with a furrowed brow. 

‘But I will get to the bottom of this.’ The young teen vowed in his heart. 

Qui-Gon sighed. It appeared his student had something of an obsession with their resident tailor. He didn't want to burst Obi's bubble, but the ocean currents didn't run that deep. 

By this point, Zane was getting a little bored, and noticing the other Jedi speak about him, he sat down next to them. 

“It is said…” Zane said gravely, flipping his credit high into the air. 

Obi-Wan stiffened at his approach, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment feeling into the Force. 

“This device, allows one to uncover the secrets of the future. Your next words are: that's impossible.” 

Obi-Wan leaned forward despite himself.

“That's impossible.” The teen muttered, much to his surprised shock. 

Zane, upon seeing the rigid, by the book kid briefly lose his composure, flashed a bright smile. 

“Do not bully the youth, Knight Zane, he does not know better.” Qui-Gon tiredly sighed, yet his seemingly calm brown eyes carried a hint of warning. 

Zane slipped the credit back into his belt and sat beside them, deciding to humor the kid. He was in no way intimidated by the Jedi Master mere feet in front of him. “You wished to discuss the mission?” 

“Yes, Knight Zane. The Council assigned three Jedi to negotiate a disagreement concerning trade access and relief shipments. Mandalore has permitted certain Republic vessels to use its hyperspace corridors, but several clan leaders have protested the arrangement. Our stated purpose is to mediate between the Mandalorian representatives and the Republic diplomatic corps…But I believe the Order would not assign you unless there were some hidden concern.”

“Why do you say that?” Zane asked in an incredibly serious tone, barely hiding his amusement. 

“Because of your association with the First Council.”

Zane regarded the boy with an inscrutable expression, whilst Qui-Gon made no effort to rescue his apprentice.

“You are privy to restricted knowledge. Master Oogway has access to ancient prophecies, sealed artifacts, clandestine reports, and intelligence gathered beyond the Republic’s borders. Mandalore has a history of conflict with the Jedi. It is therefore reasonable to conclude that our diplomatic purpose conceals a second objective.” Obi-Wan said, after each word, he became increasingly clear & concise, his confidence regarding this subject began to soar into the stars. 

For several heartbeats, Zane said nothing, letting the boy solidify his observations. Obi-Wan patiently waited, convinced that his reasoning had struck its mark.

“Master Oogway sent me, because he does not wish to go.” Zane said with a scoff. “He dislikes formal negotiations. The chairs are uncomfortable, the tea is usually of poor quality, and Mandalorians have a tendency to interpret his metaphors as challenges to single combat.” 

A wry smile spread across Zane’s face. 

“However, if you've ever seen a set of ancestral beskar armor crack due to a wack of a Force imbued stick, it is quite the sight to behold.” Zane happily stated, as he reminisced. 

That Mandalorian warrior, so proud about his heritage was on his knees in tears after Master Oogway had given him a light tap. 

Qui-Gon’s mouth twitched, and Obi-Wan stared at the conspicuous Uteni tree staff hanging from Zane’s back. 

“That cannot be the entire reason.” Obi-Wan pressed. 

“You are correct. He also owes the young Miss Kryze fourteen credits.” Zane nodded along like it was the most reasonable decision. 

Obi-Wan looked between the two adults incredulously. 

“The Force moves in mysterious ways, Obi-Wan. Knight Zane obviously has his complications. You would do well not to pry further.” Qui-Gon sternly lectured. 

“My apologies, Master, Knight Zane.” Obi-Wan stood up from his seat to bow. 

Zane waved him off, not taking the future lady-killer all that seriously. 

Entering hyperspace, each of them rested, studied, and meditated on their own time. Several hours later, when they happened to all be in the meeting room, Zane was eating yet again, peering out into the blue wave of hyperspace. Some people went mad staring out there, but he found a somewhat comforting calm in it. The Force was different in hyperspace, as the universe felt particularly compressed, yet absolutely vast at the same time. It was an interesting contradiction, and Zane was surprised more Jedi didn't meditate on this sensation. 

Closing his eyes, he acted upon this inspiration. This wasn't the first time he had meditated upon hyperspace, and was quick to fall into a mystical state. 

The thrum of the hyperdrive faded, and the whisper of recycled air vanished. Even the quiet pulse of his own heart seemed to fall away.

Right now, there was only the wave.

Hyperspace was not empty. It surged around the vessel, vast and luminous, bending beneath the cruiser’s mass before folding closed behind it. Through the Force, Zane felt every subtle distortion: the ship pressing into the current, the current pressing back, and the vast distance between planets, stars and systems appearing & disappearing as they traversed the galaxy. 

He allowed his awareness to drift outward. For one fleeting instant, he no longer felt himself sitting inside a ship. He was the ship. He was the burning hypermatter within its engines, the blue-white tunnel curling around its hull. 

Time loosened its grip within this headspace as he fell upon the concept of speed. Velocity became something shaped by his perception perception, mass, intent, and the unseen will of the Force.

Zane reached gently toward the current, probing it with the Force, eliciting a sensation beyond anything sight, taste, touch, hearing, or smell could elicit. 

For a fraction of a heartbeat, the light beyond the viewport slowed. Individual streams became visible, each one twisting like a strand of glowing silk. He sensed how they might be pulled closer together, how the space between moments might be narrowed, or stretched. Should he will it, the cruiser could move even faster, or even slow down further. But the risk was great, and he was unwilling to endanger his companions in an experiment. Instead, he was content to bath in the current, to go along with the wave like a creature born in the void. 

As time passed, the vision gradually slipped from him, and Zane opened his eyes, breathing softly.

He had not learned to command time, or any such thing. Nor had he mastered the powers of space. However, he had touched the edges of something spectacular. 

He felt that he had discovered a way to hasten a falling object without applying more force. A way, perhaps, to cross a room by persuading space that the room was smaller than it appeared. These minor insights were difficult to put into words, but he was eager to return to his workshop, and experiment on various objects. Doubtlessly, countless explosions, and failed experiments were due to take place, but the thought about it plastered an excited smile across his face. 

As a Jedi Artisan, there was nothing more exhilarating than creating. Zane smiled as the luminous ocean continued to flow around him. For once, he did not feel the need to seize the mystery and hammer it into something useful.

He simply sat before it, quiet and grateful, while the universe unfolded its hidden craftsmanship one beautiful layer at a time.

Bowing his head, he said a silent prayer, thanking the Force for all its beauty.