Chapter Text
Dear Qui-Gon,
Kiffu is an interesting planet, although perhaps a bit too volatile for my taste. When close in orbit to her sister planet Kiffex the most incredible electrical storms are produced, bright bolts of lighting streaking constantly through the sky. A phenomenal sight perhaps, but the noise wears a bit thin.
I hadn’t had the best luck tracking my quarry, a Pa'lowick in the employ of Jabba’s rival Gardulla the Hutt. The ongoing feud between them kept many a bounty hunter occupied over the years, although I was certain neither party recalled exactly what the original dispute was.
But that was not what had brought me to a bar housed at the top of a great tower in the city where a transparisteel dome allowed for viewing of the electrical storm, where I was assured that an outer shield prevented the building itself from being struck. I had sensed another presence, muted and slightly distorted, but still recognisable and I have to admit, immensely comforting.
Quinlan Vos was seated at the edge of the room, feet up on the table before him as he gazed out at the lighting storm which lit up the yellow sky. I wasn’t sure it was him at first, his black hair cut short and his once muscular physique somewhat diminished. But as I reached him, the yellow tattoos on his face and presence in the Force gave no doubt as to his identity.
I waited for him to glance up from his drink and notice me, which took almost a full minute. No doubt he knew I was there, but perhaps he thought I would go away and leave him alone if unacknowledged.
“Kenobi,” he said eventually, as he looked up with something of his old charm. “You’re alive then.”
“And you Vos,” I said, taking a seat next to him even though he did not offer it. “Thank the Force.”
Vos snorted into his drink. “I don’t think we have much to thank the Force for at all these days.”
I wasn’t surprised by his attitude, given his descent during the last days of the Clone Wars. His love for and ultimate loss of Asajj Ventress had deeply wounded him, perhaps even more than his fall to the dark side. I have to admit I’m not quite sure he ever fully recovered from that, although I did not sense any lingering darkness in him.
“So you’re a bounty hunter now?” Vos asked, looking at my attire with a smirk. “I’ll be honest with you, Obi-Wan, I don’t quite believe my eyes.”
“You’re right not to,” I told him, relaxing slightly and indicating to the serving droid to bring me and Vos another drink.
“Oh?” He seemed interested. “You’re not a Jedi anymore, I know that.”
“I will be a Jedi till the day I die,” I challenged him, surprised by my own vehemence.
Vos began to laugh, throwing his head back. “Ah, Kenobi. I am happy to see you.” His gloom seemed to dissipate, and I saw again the man I had known before the darkness had taken him. “So what are you doing here, dressed like that?” he asked, taking a fresh cup from the serving droid and clinking it against mine.
“Can I trust you, Vos?” I asked, leaning closer to him. “I’m being serious.”
He stared at me for a few moments, and when he said yes I believed him.
“Anakin had a son,” I told him, my voice hushed. “He’s being raised by family on Tatooine and I am watching over him. I’m chasing bounties for Jabba to keep the boy safe.”
Rather than being surprised by the knowledge, Vos nodded his head in understanding. “The Senator? I always thought there was something between them.”
“The boy must be protected at all costs,” I told him. "He is our only hope."
Vos chuckled and shook his head. “You think one boy is going to bring down the Empire someday? You’re an idealist, Kenobi.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But it’s better than the alternative.”
Taking a long drink, Vos became somber again. “Do you ever wonder if any of it was worth it?” He sighed and looked up at the storm above, the lightning dancing around the domed roof. “Ventress died to save my life, but what was the point? Any battles I won were made worthless by the rise of the Empire, so what was it for?”
I didn’t have an answer for him – it was a question I asked myself constantly. “I don’t know Vos,” I told him. “But if I can keep this boy safe, it will be worth it.”
He seemed to accept that, and we drank in silence for a few moments before Vos spoke again. “I can guarantee I’m a better bounty hunter than you, Kenobi.”
“I do not doubt it.”
“So tell me about your bounty,” he said, patting me on the arm. “And I’ll help you.”
I gave him all the details, including my failed attempts at tracking which seemed to amuse Vos greatly. Unfortunately I did not have any objects belonging to the bounty so he could use his psychometry, but his insights and local knowledge were invaluable. After many drinks we felt like old friends, not that we’d ever been close, but I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be with another Jedi. It was like reuniting with long-lost family.
Eventually I told him about my quandary with Marei, hoping he could bring his rogue point of view to the situation I had failed to remedy.
“Have you considered simply buying her?” Quinlan asked when I had finished relating the tale.
I was surprised, and it was a few moments before I could respond. “No…I actually hadn’t thought of that.”
Quinlan shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “Seems to be the simplest solution.”
I remembered that it was the same method Cliegg Lars had used to obtain Shmi’s freedom, and I was slightly perturbed that the option had never crossed my mind.
“There is a difference, I think,” I said carefully, “between helping someone escape slavery, and simply purchasing them in order to set them free. An inherent disrespect, an acknowledgement of the system that binds her.”
“Do you think the manner of obtaining freedom matters at all to her?” Quinlan asked, his features set in a frown. “Think of it this way – say you discover the key to neutralizing her tracker, and help her flee the planet. The girl will spend the rest of her life watching the shadows, fearing that every bounty hunter she sees is there for her. She will never truly feel free.”
“But allowing Jabba to profit from this?” I queried. “To contribute to his slave trade, in effect to legitimise it? It seems wrong.”
“You are a man of great compassion, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan said with a shake of his head. “But all too often that is at war with your principles.”
I stroked my chin, almost offended by the insinuation. “I don’t see the two as mutually exclusive.”
“Of course they’re not,” Quinlan said with a smile and I think he was humoring me. “But you’re so concerned with your lofty ideals and proper way something should be done, you forget we live in an unjust galaxy and don’t see that the practical solution is often the best.”
I took another drink, and blamed the alcohol for my inability to come up with a response.
“Tell me this,” he continued. “Do you think slavery is legitimate, that the practice is in any way a natural law? Do you think you would actually own this girl if you paid Jabba for her?”
“Of course not.”
“So she is not a slave, she is a prisoner,” Quinlan reasoned. “And if paying a ransom is the only way to get a prisoner released, so be it.”
“Maybe it’s the drink, Vos,” I said. “But you’re starting to make sense.”
“Of course I am,” he patted my arm again fondly. “But I think you’ve had enough. Come on, you can stay at my place.”
“But Jabba won’t just let me buy her freedom,” I argued, although I let Quinlan pull me to my feet and hold me steady when the room spun slightly. “If only out of spite.”
“So you get someone else to buy her for you,” Quinlan reasoned, throwing credits on the table for our drinks. “Lucky for you, I’m ready to get back in the hero business.”
Or at least that's what I think he said. I confess I don't remember it exactly.
Obi-Wan Kenobi