Capítulo 2: First Steps
Pre-dawn light filtered through the Temple spires, casting long shadows across Obi-Wan's temporary quarters. He sat cross-legged on the meditation mat, eyes closed, awareness expanded to encompass every molecule of air around him. The Force flowed through him with unprecedented intensity, each breath drawing in power that would have overwhelmed him in his previous life at this age.
Time to test the limits.
He reached out, letting his consciousness expand beyond the room's confines. The Temple's familiar presence surrounded him – thousands of Force signatures, each unique as a fingerprint. But now he perceived more: the subtle currents of the Living Force weaving between them, the echoes of ancient power in the Temple's foundations, even the faint resonance of kyber crystals in distant lightsabers.
Maintaining perfect stillness, Obi-Wan lifted his datapad from the desk. It hovered steadily, joined moments later by his lightsaber, then the chair, meditation mat, and finally his own body. The objects orbited him in perfect harmony, each requiring only a fraction of his concentration. In his previous timeline, such a display would have demanded his full attention.
A droplet of sweat traced down his temple – not from exertion, but from the precision required to keep his Force presence contained. Like trying to mask a sun behind a paper screen. He'd need better control before venturing into more populated areas of the Temple.
The first rays of sunrise touched the spires. Obi-Wan gently lowered everything back to its proper place, then retrieved the datapad. Time to begin the real work.
His fingers flew across the screen, transcribing crucial information into encrypted files. Dates, names, coordinates – everything he could remember about the coming months. He coded it all using a cipher based on ancient Jedha texts, ones that wouldn't be discovered for decades. Basic information went into files that could withstand scrutiny. The truly dangerous knowledge – Sidious's identity, Order 66, the future deaths of countless Jedi – he encrypted separately, hidden behind layered security that would appear to contain meditation notes.
A soft chime indicated an incoming message. The Council requested his presence – standard debriefing after yesterday's medical release. But first, Anakin.
Obi-Wan stood, stretching muscles that still felt simultaneously familiar and foreign. His former padawan's presence blazed in the Force like a small sun, turbulent with pain and confusion. Drawing his robe around himself, Obi-Wan headed for the medical wing.
The halls were quieter than usual, the absence of fallen Jedi palpable in the Force. Those he passed watched him with a mixture of respect and curiosity – word of his duel with Dooku had spread quickly. He acknowledged their greetings with gentle nods, maintaining careful control of his Force presence.
Outside Anakin's room, he paused. Decades of memory crashed over him: the boy he'd trained, the man who'd fallen, the machine he'd become. But now... now there was another chance. This time, he'd do better.
Obi-Wan knocked softly before entering. Anakin sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the bandaged stump of his right arm. The dark circles under his eyes suggested another sleepless night.
"Master." Anakin's voice carried an edge of bitterness. "Come to check on your damaged padawan?"
"I've come to see how my friend is healing," Obi-Wan replied mildly. He moved to the window, giving Anakin space while studying his reflection in the glass. "The prosthetics specialist will arrive this afternoon. Master Che speaks highly of her work."
"It won't be the same."
"No," Obi-Wan agreed. "But different doesn't mean lesser. The prosthetic will have capabilities your natural hand didn't. With proper training, you may find it offers certain advantages."
Anakin's head snapped up. "Advantages? I lost my arm!"
"And gained an opportunity to become stronger." Obi-Wan turned, meeting Anakin's glare with steady calm. "The greatest warriors adapt, learn, grow from their setbacks. This is a chance to develop new techniques, ones uniquely suited to your abilities."
The anger in Anakin's Force signature flickered, tempered by intrigue. "What kind of techniques?"
"With proper training, you could channel the Force through the prosthetic's neural interfaces," Obi-Wan explained, settling into the chair beside Anakin's bed. "The synthetic nerves might even enhance your connection to certain aspects of the Force."
A glimmer of hope flickered through Anakin's turbulent emotions. "You've heard of this working before?"
"I've... studied similar cases." Obi-Wan stroked his beard, a gesture that felt both familiar and strange on his younger face. "The key will be accepting the prosthetic as truly part of yourself, not viewing it as a replacement or limitation."
Anakin's flesh hand clenched the bedsheet. "Dooku will pay for this."
"Revenge is not the Jedi way." The words emerged automatically, but Obi-Wan caught himself. The old platitudes hadn't worked before. He needed a different approach. "Tell me, what troubles you more – the loss of your arm, or that Dooku bested you?"
"I..." Anakin faltered, surprise rippling through his Force signature. "Both. Neither." He exhaled sharply. "I failed. I wasn't strong enough to protect you, to stop him. And now..."
"Now you have an opportunity to learn from that experience," Obi-Wan interrupted gently. "Not through anger or revenge, but through understanding. What could you have done differently? How can you adapt? Grow?"
The turbulence in Anakin's Force signature began to settle. "You're different, Master. Since Geonosis. Your presence in the Force, the way you speak..."
Dangerous territory. Obi-Wan chose his next words carefully. "Perhaps facing a Sith Lord changes one's perspective. Makes one reconsider traditional approaches." He paused, then added, "Speaking of different approaches – I sense you've made some... personal changes as well."
Anakin stiffened. "Master?"
"Your Force signature carries traces of deep emotional attachment." Obi-Wan kept his tone neutral, watching Anakin's reaction. "To Senator Amidala, perhaps?"
Fear spiked through the Force. "I... we..."
"The heart follows its own path, Anakin." The words felt strange on his tongue – so different from what he'd said the first time. "While the Code speaks against attachment, it does not deny the reality of love. The key is understanding the difference between the two."
Confusion replaced fear in Anakin's signature. "You're... not angry?"
"I'm concerned about your happiness and growth as both a Jedi and a person." Obi-Wan leaned forward. "The path you've chosen won't be easy. But perhaps together we can find a way to balance duty with... personal connections."
Tears welled in Anakin's eyes. "I don't understand. Yesterday you were... and now..."
"Yesterday we both nearly died," Obi-Wan replied softly. "Such experiences tend to clarify one's priorities." He stood, straightening his robes. "Rest now. When you're stronger, we'll begin adapting your training to work with the prosthetic. And Anakin?" He paused at the door. "Your personal life is your own, but should you need guidance... my door is always open."
The wave of gratitude and relief that followed him into the corridor nearly overwhelmed his emotional shields. One small change, but perhaps a crucial one. Now for an even greater challenge – the Council debriefing.
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The Council chamber's circular expanse stretched before him, morning light streaming through the high windows. Obi-Wan centered himself as he entered, each step measured. The assembled Masters watched him with varying degrees of interest – Yoda's penetrating gaze, Mace Windu's calculating assessment, Ki-Adi-Mundi's scholarly attention.
"Master Kenobi." Mace leaned forward slightly in his seat. "Your encounter with Count Dooku has raised... questions."
"Indeed." Obi-Wan moved to the center of the chamber. "Though I suspect the greater question is how a former Jedi Master came to wield the dark side with such precision."
"Trained in the Sith arts, he has been," Yoda observed, ears drooping slightly. "Yet sense something more, you do?"
Obi-Wan paused, appearing to gather his thoughts. "There was... conflict in him. Beneath the dark side's corruption, I sensed genuine belief. He truly thinks the Republic is failing, that the Jedi have become complicit in its decay." A calculated risk, but one worth taking. "Perhaps understanding his fall might help us prevent others."
"Careful, Obi-Wan." Mace's tone carried a warning. "Sympathy for the dark side—"
"Not sympathy, Master Windu. Understanding. We face a war unlike any in recent memory. The more we comprehend our adversaries' motivations, the better equipped we'll be to counter them."
Ki-Adi-Mundi stirred. "You speak with unusual wisdom for one your age."
"Combat with a Sith Lord provides unique perspective." Obi-Wan allowed a touch of his enhanced Force presence to show. "The experience has... expanded my understanding of many things."
"Your connection to the Force has grown stronger," Plo Koon observed. "Most unusual after such a confrontation."
"The Force works in mysterious ways," Obi-Wan replied. "Though speaking of unusual circumstances – have we learned more about the clone army's origins? The timing of their appearance seems... convenient."
A ripple of unease passed through the Council. Mace exchanged glances with Yoda before responding. "Master Sifo-Dyas's involvement raises many questions. Questions that must wait while we deal with more immediate concerns."
"Of course." Obi-Wan bowed slightly. "Though perhaps as we deploy these troops, we might learn more about their creation. Their training. Their... ultimate purpose."
"Something specific, have you sensed?" Yoda's ears perked forward.
"Nothing specific, Master. Merely... possibilities. Concerns." Obi-Wan chose his next words carefully. "An army created in secret, delivered at precisely the right moment. One might wonder what other secrets were programmed into them during their development."
Silence fell over the chamber as the Council absorbed his words. Finally, Mace spoke. "We will take your concerns under advisement. For now, focus on recovery. Both you and your padawan will be needed in the coming conflict."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bowed. "Though I request permission to begin modifying Anakin's training immediately. His injury requires a new approach, and I believe I've developed some techniques that might prove beneficial."
"Granted," Mace Windu said. "But proceed with caution. These are uncertain times."
Obi-Wan left the Council chamber, his mind already mapping out the next steps. The morning's achievements felt substantial – seeds planted about the clones, a new foundation laid with Anakin, his enhanced abilities explained away as combat evolution. Yet so much remained to be done.
The Temple corridors bustled with morning activity. Younglings hurried past on their way to lessons, their Force signatures bright with innocence. In his previous life, most of them had perished during Order 66. Their presence now strengthened his resolve.
A familiar presence approached – Master Jocasta Nu, datapad in hand. "Master Kenobi. I've prepared the archives access you requested. Though I must say, your interest in ancient combat techniques is quite... specific."
"Thank you, Master Nu." He accepted the datapad, noting the files on Force healing and prosthetic integration. "Recent events have highlighted gaps in our current training methods. Perhaps the past holds solutions for our present challenges."
She studied him with shrewd eyes. "The past often does, for those wise enough to learn from it. Do let me know if you require access to the restricted sections."
An opportunity he hadn't expected so soon. "Actually, Master Nu, I've been researching some obscure references to Force techniques used during the Old Republic era. Perhaps we could discuss them sometime?"
"My office hours are in the afternoon." A slight smile crossed her face. "I look forward to our discussion."
As she departed, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Another small step forward. The archives would prove crucial in the coming months – both for their knowledge and as cover for his "discoveries."
His comm unit chimed – the prosthetics specialist had arrived for Anakin. Time to begin the next phase. He headed toward the medical wing, already composing training modifications in his mind. This time, he would give Anakin the guidance he truly needed, help him understand the difference between attachment and love, show him how to channel his passions without being consumed by them.
He touched the lightsaber at his belt, feeling the kyber crystal resonate with his enhanced connection to the Force. So much power, so much responsibility. But he'd learned patience in his years of exile. Change would come slowly, deliberately, one step at a time.
The medical wing doors slid open. Time to take the next step.
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