Small World

- part 1

by ardavenport

Obi-Wan Kenobi took carefully measured steps between the marker rows. He breathed with each slow, meditative step, his arms folded into the sleeves of his brown robe, the hood covering his head. He walked the patterned, stone floor, one foot forward, then another, and another.

He followed the markers around another curve, step forward...step forward...turn...step forward...turn...and back. His robe brushed the floor, barely a whisper of sound, his deliberate steps even more quiet in the great hall. Behind him, his Master made no sound at all, though Obi-Wan could feel the tiny motion of air when he moved.

Another turn led to another long stretch of markers along a final, columned wall and disappeared around a corner. Obi-Wan lowered his gaze, back to the floor and the markers, and away from the anticipation of finishing and getting out of the labyrinth.

The Temple of the World Mothers was not an easy place to enter.

The labyrinth of knee-high markers wound around and around, a pattern of tightly packed rows, snaking through the room, along the walls, filling its center with winding, curling lanes. The markers marched on and on, elaborately carved, in grained stone with curling leaves and flowers, sinuous animals, dripping fungus and lichen, insects, fish, globs and many-limbed things that Obi-Wan did not recognize. At first glance, they all appeared to be the same, but subtle differences between them accumulated as the Jedi progressed through the labyrinth. None of them, not even the matched pairs they walked between, were quite the same.

The World Mothers' labyrinth was as arduous as any Jedi training. Behind him, Master Qui-Gon Jinn's concentration was perfect. Obi-Wan felt the Living Force strongly from his Master and he let his anticipation slide away. Feeling the Force around him, Obi-Wan smoothed his momentary distraction and proceeded at the same steady pace.

They neared the end of the wall and Obi-Wan cleared his mind, preparing himself to accept wherever the labyrinth would lead. He slowly turned the corner.

Obi-Wan's resolve wilted when he saw another great hall, even larger than the one he'd spent the last few hours traversing, filled with row after row of larger and even more elaborate markers.

He felt his Master's hooded presence looming behind him, almost touching. Obi-Wan resumed his pace, careful not to show any haste. He swallowed his disappointment in himself and in the obvious fact that this part of their mission would not be finished for many hours.

Their mission was merely to retrieve one being, apparently held at the Temple against his will, although in no imminent danger. Salit Yaz had been the chair of an interstellar charity that had directed and participated in the recovery of damaged ecologies on hundreds of worlds for many decades. The World Mothers had been a strong supporter of it along with many other groups and philanthropies. Something had gone wrong; funds had gone missing, promised work had not materialized. Members of the board of directors had been arrested. While Chair Yaz was not indicted, he was wanted by the Republic courts as a witness, and for possible prosecution.

It was a minor mission for Jedi, but one for which they were uniquely suited, given where Yaz was, Obi-Wan reflected. The labyrinth was a meditation. The World Mothers would not welcome anyone into their sacred realm who had not demonstrated their sincerity, one way or another.

The markers in this hall gradually got larger, each succeeding pair just a little bit bigger, a little bit more elaborate. They also gradually changed in color. The previous hall's markers had been entirely shaded in grays, from solid, flat neutrals, to swirling grains ranging from pale ash to near black. But the sum tone of all the markers had been a balanced gray, none of them too light or too dark.

Now subtle colors crept into the markers. Oranges and pinks and greens shaded the random patterns on the carved gray surfaces. The flat stones of the floor as well slowly shifted to subtle blues, yellows and purples mixed in with the grays, a separate pattern of color amidst the patterns of grays and the shapes of the stones. The colors built up slowly until there were some mineral splotches of nearly pure colors in the markers. They reached the end of the lane and Obi-Wan saw the first unmatched pair in the labyrinth.

The one on the inside of the curve was very like its neighbors, carved with little multi-legged lizards eating round globes of fruit many times bigger than they were. Its mate had a similar motif, but it was larger, coming up to Obi-Wan's chest, and it had a clear, inset window. Inside, deep purple spheres lazily drifted in all directions. Tiny, swimming lizards pursued them, some of them hanging on with their jaws. Swirls of blue and pink drifted by in the fluid.

Obi-Wan studied it as he passed. This was what the World Mothers were famous for. He was obviously meant to contemplate it as he entered their Temple.

At the next turn, the marker window was even larger, with very long and thin, silvery snakes coiling throughout orange branches while little red ticks hopped about. Each little World was so completely self contained that all they needed was the radiation from a star for sustenance.

This was the calling of the World Mothers. They planned, designed and lovingly built each one with religious devotion. They were so beautifully made that they could be set into orbit and still be well and living for thousands of years. Some of them had.

They slowly passed more and more varied Worlds inset in the markers of the labyrinth – some more complex, others elegantly simple. Each one was not just a self-contained ecosystem, but also a priceless art object. The World Mothers' works were highly valued throughout the galaxy.

Obi-Wan had seen some large ones on Coruscant and they were captivating works that one could watch for hours without tiring. Aside from their beauty, Obi-Wan could feel them through the Force. Living, balanced, in motion, yet static. They amazed all his senses and he felt increasingly hyper-alert to them. Behind him, his Master's presence reflected their increasing awareness of everything around them. Obi-Wan contemplated each World as they progressed. The pattern of the floor and the markers matched and foreshadowed the Worlds as well as the path in the previous hall.

A grinding sound abruptly interrupted the silence, echoing off the vaulted ceiling above. A marker to Obi-Wan's right moved to block him and opened up a new path. He turned, still keeping the same slow pace. A single lane of markers led straight ahead for a hundred meters or so to an archway leading out of the labyrinth. Beyond that was an open room and hallway.

For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if he was meant to simply exit now. But no, that didn't feel right at all. He breathed deeply, arms folded before him and slowly walked the last path. His Master followed. He didn't turn around until both of them had entered the new room. It was a round well-lit chamber, with sunny yellow marble walls, ivory columns and a polished orange floor. A doorway led to a long hallway opposite the labyrinth.

"Master..." Obi-Wan could feel life all around him, as if he were in the midst of a teeming jungle. Yet, the room they were in was plain and nearly empty and unadorned except for thin strips of delicate flower patterns on the edge of the floor.

"We are guests in their World, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him. "Always be aware of that, my Padawan."

"I shall." Obi-Wan nodded, taking off the hood of his robe. Qui-Gon did the same.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Master." Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked to his apprentice. "You said you had been to a World Mothers' Temple before. Was it like this?"

"Yes," he answered. They both turned at the sound of a door slowly sliding closed behind them, closing off the great hall. "And no. Their labyrinths are always different, but they did not shorten it. I did not know they could."

"We are expected," Obi-Wan reminded him. Other petitioners at the Temple door were being turned away when they had arrived. The Jedi had been ushered in immediately by a robed acolyte and no one else had walked the gray, stone labyrinth with them.

"Yes. We are." Qui-Gon nodded to the hallway before them. "The doors we are meant to go through will be open to us. Do not disturb any of the others."

"Are there any traps in any of the others if we try them?" Obi-Wan asked, peering down the hall warily. It had been rumored that hidden trails and perils lay in wait for those who were discourteous enough to circumvent the usual contemplative entrance.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon answered simply. "I just think it would be rude if we walked in where we weren't invited."

They walked down the hall together at a normal pace, past golden-hued, wooden doors. The walls were pale, cool gray, the floor a faded blue with a random pattern of small, black diamond shapes along the edges. Dark, ridged baffles covering the high ceiling muffled the sound of their boot steps, killing any echo.

The corridor had many twists and turns, but always only one way forward, like the labyrinth. Left...right...right...left...left...left. Obi-Wan glanced at his Master, but he seemed unconcerned. Remembering his earlier lapse of patience in the labyrinth, Obi-Wan did not ask about their route. At seventeen, Obi-Wan knew he was approaching an age when he was expected to master the skills of a full Jedi Knight, beyond those of just a Padawan Learner.

The colors of the corridors slowly changed from gray and blue to pale orange and green. The pattern on the floor had evolved into red crescents. The doors they passed were now polished dark wood. Some had painted, multi-colored symbols on them, but most were plain.

Finally, one door in the middle of a long hallway was open. They entered a room with gray columns along it's beige walls. A wide, open window in the far wall led to a dark green, closed garden, lit from above with blue and yellow lights. Obi-Wan smelled the fresh scent of the greenery; it made the room feel larger than it was. There were several groups of tables and chairs as if the room were meant to accommodate a much larger group than the two of them. One table in the middle was covered with a cloth and set with a pot of tea and a tray of snacks.

"We will wait here," Qui-Gon said.

"Do you think it will be long?" Obi-Wan asked as he inspected the food on the tray, his thin, Padawan braid hanging down off his shoulder. There were small sweet cakes and biscuits, dried fruit and puffed, savory grains with flowery garnishes.

"No. Not if they shortened their own labyrinth for us. But even if they hadn't, they wouldn't make us wait long. The World Mothers are good hosts." Qui-Gon frowned down at the welcome platter. "The symbolism of the labyrinth is at the core of the World Mothers' theology. For them to deface it by shortening it...this does not bode well for this mission."

Qui-Gon lifted the teapot. Obi-Wan looked up swiftly. They both felt a warning through the Force. Qui-Gon held the teapot up and away from him.

There was no water or juice to choose from on the tray. Only tea.

The door to the waiting room closed, its dark, wood panel sliding shut behind the Jedi with a gentle swishing sound in the corridor outside.

For a time, nothing moved in the empty hallway. Plain and unmarked, the waiting room door looked exactly the same as all the others that lined the corridor. Then there was the sound of another door opening and closing. Two beings, both Osets with long hair covering their heads, faces and bodies, came from around a corner; one of them pulled the other by the arm. The door to the waiting room slid open again for them.

A thin, dark-haired male in a sleeveless white tunic and sandals emerged. He was pushed forward by a shorter female in a sleeveless white World Mother's gown, her fur graying in patches behind her ears. The multi-colored, painted and beaded border on her blue shoulder drape marked her as a Mother of some seniority.

The chairs by the tables were overturned, cups, utensils and biscuits scattered on the floor. The teapot had rolled away under another table, dribbling a long, green puddle behind it. The Jedi lay sprawled on the floor on either side of the center table, unconscious.

The World Mother seized the taller Oset by the tuft of his ear.

"Miggo, what did you do?!" she demanded in a booming voice.

"It's good, it's good!" Miggo insisted, his slitted eyes narrowing in panic. The Mother released him. "They're only asleep. Really!"

"This is good? GOOD?" she asked scornfully, waving her arm at the two Jedi lying unconscious in an otherwise peaceful garden-room. Cringing, he continued to try to placate her.

"It'll be fine. It was just something that would knock them out for awhile." He raised his hands to her in entreaty.

The Mother stared back at him. "They're GUESTS! This is NOT FINE!" she shouted.

He backed away from her threatening tone, his dark-haired arms upraised, placating. "No, it's all right. It was something really gentle. It won't even give them a hangover when they wake up."

The Mother continued to stare. "They came here responding to Yaz's message. They walked the labyrinth better than some Mothers I know. And you drugged them, " she told him in a much quieter voice, her shock settling in. "By what measure is this fine?"

"It's just for a little while." Miggo seemed to mistake the Mother's strained calm for acceptance. "We're just going to...take their clothes and...take their ship. They were going to take us off planet anyway; we're just saving them a little time."

The Mother raised a slender, three-fingered hand to the dark brown fur of her cheek, her expression sad now. "Yaz told you to do this, didn't he?"

"Yaz doesn't tell me what to do, Mother," Miggo responded defensively. "But...it was his idea."

She shook her head. "I thought he was smarter than that." She glumly looked at the bodies on the pastel patterned floor. She wrinkled her nose at a faint aroma of tea and damp Jedi robe. "And they're not going to let you take their ship."

"It's fine." Miggo reassured as the Mother continued to shake her head. "They're all right, but they can't stop us. See?" He moved toward the larger Jedi.

"No!" The Mother leaped forward, grabbed him by an ear and jerked him back hard.

"Oooow," Miggo howled. "Why did you do that?" She let him go and he rubbed his pinched ear.

"Because I don't want him to cut your arms off!" She put herself between him and the two on the floor. "Jedi can do that you know. Faster than you can move."

"He's out, it's good," he insisted, but he also backed away a step from the prone Humans.

The Mother shook her head. "They're faking."

"I was watching them. They drank the tea," Miggo insisted. With a disappointed look, the Mother went to a chair and sat down.

"Then they were faking that, too. You can't poison a Jedi. They'll know." The Mother looked down at them. "This is just all kinds of bad," she moaned to the room in general. The larger Jedi was a pale-skinned Human male with long brown head hair and shorter chin hair. He had to be a full Jedi, if not a Master. The smaller one was a similar Human male, but his brown hair was cut short with a thin student's braid behind one, flat ear. They both wore plain, white tunics, Jedi drapes and brown belts and robes, and lightsabers.

Miggo scrutinized them carefully as well. "You can't tell they're faking. They don't look like they're faking." He clutched the material of his white tunic nervously.

"Jedi can control their body functions," she told him casually, as if this were something that were common knowledge. "You can't tell without a medical droid. And I don't have one on me."

"How do you know so much about Jedi?" He frowned back at her as if this new, possible complication was her fault.

The Mother shrugged. "We get them every now and then. Pilgrimage, sabbatical...I've never asked. They like the atmosphere here." She exhaled loudly through her nose, a noisy sigh. "They're about the easiest visitors we ever get. They're polite, mind all the rules, quiet, never complain." She shook her head at the disaster before her.

The door to the room slid open again. A tall being entered. He wore a shiny, maroon suit, excellently tailored; his step was sure, his motions fluid. He was a hairless humanoid with smooth, powdered features; a flat, ivory horn grew up from the bridge of his nose, extending closely over his head to a manicured point at the back of his skull. The door closed behind him. His sharp, blue eyes took in the scene in the garden room.

"Mother Jalin." He bowed to her. She scowled back. "I didn't know you were back."

"Looks like you don't know everything after all, Yaz." Her eyes burned with contempt for him, her ears back and stiff. She sat back away from him, her posture hostile.

He nodded to her, ignoring the implied insult, and then turned to Miggo. "We have to hurry; their ship is at the spaceport."

Miggo hesitated. "Mother thinks they're faking."

Yaz narrowed his eyes at the bodies on the floor. The younger one lay on his side, his face turned away. The older one was sprawled on his back, long hair spread out on the floor, his mouth slightly open. "You drugged the tea, right?"

"Yeah," the Oset answered with a worried shrug.

"They drank it?" Yaz asked as he took a step forward for a better look at the Jedi. He turned back to his co-conspirator.

Miggo nodded. "I saw them. Mother thinks they faked that, too."

Yaz looked uncertain for only a moment. He leaned over and whispered into his companion's perked up ear. He handed Miggo a tube from an inside pocket of his jacket.

"They can hear that, too, y'know," Mother Jalin commented. "Even with those little ears they got. They can use the Force for that. And the poison, even if they did drink it."

Yaz looked skeptical, but he still carefully scanned the unconscious men for the slightest twitch or quickened breath. "I thought the World Mothers didn't believe in the Force."

"No," she corrected leaning forward in her chair. "We don't care about the Force. That's very different."

Yaz dropped his exchange with her and he motioned Miggo forward. He hesitated again with a pleading look toward Jalin.

"I am your redeemer, Miggo. NOT your accomplice." She waved her hands at him as if to push him back. With a barely audible whimper, Miggo turned back to his task.

The two carefully crept up on the prone Jedi. Miggo held the tube with its needle tip up warily as he focused on the neck of the smaller Jedi. Yaz approached the larger one stealthily, like a trained fighter. They were each within a step of their targets when the lightsabers flashed and hummed. Getting their feet under them, the Jedi sprang up, flipped over the heads of their attackers, landing with their blades ready.

Miggo, paralyzed and wide-eyed, stared at the bright blue light only a few centimeters from his nose. Yaz's face registered his surprise for only a moment before he calmly stared down the length of the bearded Jedi's fiery green blade.

"Let me know how that new armless look works for you, Miggo," Mother Jalin said sarcastically.

The older Jedi opened his mouth to speak.

The door opened. A small, stately being in a dark blue, long-sleeved robe draped in red entered. A team of others of various species in belted yellow tunics and sandals followed. They carried long staffs and quickly moved to encircle the center of the room. The Jedi didn't move, keeping their lightsabers fixed on their would-be attackers.

The smaller being's red shoulder drape hung heavy with its multicolored decoration. The crown of her tall head was styled with blue and red ribbons woven through her black hair. She inclined her head toward Jalin who looked back with dread.

"Mother Jalin. You have failed your task as redeemer to Miggo."

Jalin's expression changed from dread to shock. The fur at the back of her head stood up. Tipping her chair over, she hastily got up and prostrated herself before the smaller newcomer. She nodded down at the Oset at her feet and then turned her cool gaze first at the younger, then at the older Jedi.

"Master Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn. Padawan Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am Bluken, the Voice of the Mother's Council. We deeply regret this poor welcome to our World. And we beg you to let our own Hands take the offenders into our own custody." She gestured toward the others surrounding them.

Qui-Gon noted the guards without moving his head. They stood a respectful distance away, their attention fixed only on Yaz and Miggo. He nodded to his Padawan.

The bright lightsaber blades vanished with a hiss and the Jedi clipped them to their belts. Her expression polite, Voice Bluken nodded, though her eyes briefly lingered on the sabers. The World Mothers did not allow energy weapons in their Temples, but they also recognized the Jedi as another holy Order and as the symbol of their status, the Mothers had to allow the lightsabers. The yellow-clad guards quickly surrounded Miggo and Yaz and pinned them with their staffs. Miggo meekly complied, his ears down in despair. The Voice addressed Yaz.

- end part 1