A pouch full of message clips awaited them in the shallow stone alcove in the entrance hall outside their quarters.

'No doubt some of these will be yours, Padawan,' Qui-Gon said, as he thumbed the keypad. The door slid open smoothly. 'Give me mine when you've sorted through them.'

Obi-Wan nodded and picked up the clear pouch, then followed his Master into their rooms. Their quarters were on one of the most ancient levels of the temple. The walls were pale stone rather than the more usual plexisteel. The furniture was simple, bookshelves, a worktable, a couch. The table was piled high with books and papers, the shelves filled with the souvenirs of countless missions. At one end of the room a window looked out onto the endless towers of the city; a rare luxury, and the reason Qui-Gon had chosen these rooms in the first place despite their small size.

Now the Jedi Master sank wearily into his chair at one end of their worktable. Obi--Wan went into Qui-Gon's larger bedroom and placed his Master's travel bag on the low bed.

'Leave it, Padawan,' Qui-Gon called. 'I'll unpack it myself when I've finished my messages.'

'Yes Master,' Obi-Wan said. He quickly prepared two teas and returned to the study, where Qui-Gon had already activated his viewer. His Master had also donned his spectacles, a rare concession to his age and a sure sign of weariness. In Obi-Wan's experience it was almost impossible to get a night's uninterrupted sleep in the cramped confines of a fast-courier. It was a discomfort familiar to both of them. He felt an involuntary swell of something between affection and exasperated compassion that his already weary Master had chosen to endure it for him.

Out loud he said; 'Thank you for coming back this morning, Master. I'm glad you're here.'

'I am glad to be back, my Padawan,' Qui-Gon said, with an absent nod of acknowledgement. 'Have you made the tea yet?'

'It's here, Master.' Obi-Wan placed one of the delicate tea-bowls on the table beside his Master, then took his own customary place at the table and quickly sorted through the mail clips. He quickly separated out his own few messages and pushed the remainder across to his Master, who acknowledged them with an absent nod. For some time now it had been their custom to read their messages together. Unlike some of the other Masters Qui-Gon took pains to keep his Padawan well briefed.

So it was that as Obi-Wan turned on his own screen, the first thing he read was the notification that half a dozen messages had already been forwarded to him from Qui-Gon's viewer. He scanned through their titles quickly. Most were committee meeting minutes or lengthy intelligence briefings related to past missions. For now he ignored them and picked up the first message from the short stack of clips in front of him.

It was from a routing station he did not recognise, but the indicator showed that the message was short so he clipped that into the squat little viewer first and leant back in his chair. He touched the play pad and was greeted by the image of a cluster of bright-eyed, sharp-toothed reptilian faces and a chorus of reedy voices.

'This is a message for Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi! Happy birthday, Obi-Wan! We miss you! Come back and visit us soon! These are some pictures of you our class made!' There were several attachments noted; he flicked through the lovingly but inexpertly drawn pictures and found it hard to suppress a smile. Some were only barely recognisable as humanoid but beige and brown robes figured in most, as did his lightsabre and his braid.

'Who was that from?' Qui-Gon asked from across the table.

Obi-Wan did smile then, remembering. 'The children I helped tutor on Vrazon while we were waiting for a transport back to Coruscant. You said it would help increase my tolerance towards those weaker than myself.'

'And did it?' Qui-Gon asked, glancing up at him over his spectacles.

'I have never considered children to be pathetic lifeforms, Master,' Obi-Wan said, in all seriousness. 'They terrify me.'

Qui-Gon nodded. 'Then it was a useful exercise in conquering your fear.'

'It was more rewarding than I expected, Master,' Obi-Wan admitted.

'If we are stationed here for any length of time, Padawan, you may want to consider putting yourself forward for tutoring in the creche,' Qui-Gon said, turning his attention back to his mail.

'As you wish, Master.'

Qui-Gon raised his head from his viewer again. 'It's not an order, Padawan, just a suggestion. There are some decisions you are old enough to make for yourself. How you use your free time is one of them.'

'My free time, Master?' Obi-Wan asked, rather plaintively. His unallocated time was already a rare commodity.

'We have little enough time to spare for your training as it is, Padawan,' Qui-Gon informed him briskly.

Obi-Wan sighed and turned his attention to his viewer. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his own mail; notification that an explosives course he'd missed had been rescheduled, a reminder for a follow-up appointment the next day with the Temple healers, a general circular on events in the Senate, a package notification from the communications centre. Most were routine and he scrolled down them quickly, replying to some, simply filing most. From the occasional muttered comments coming from the other side of the table he knew that Qui-Gon was doing much the same thing.

Eventually Qui-Gon sighed and took up the first of the red-tagged clips from the stack on the desk. 'I suppose I'd better get these over with,' he said, with noticeable reluctance.

Obi-Wan looked up. 'I am impressed by your dedication to the less inspiring inhabitants of the Republic, Master,' he observed.

Qui-Gon glanced up irritably. 'These message are usually genuine and heartfelt, Padawan. Often they are written in desperation. I will at least do their senders the courtesy of listening to what they have to say to me.'

Obi-Wan attempted to look contrite again, this time with little success. 'As you say, Master.'

Qui-Gon glared at him and inserted the first of the clips into his viewer. This sender was a pinched looking man, darkly dressed, with a thin, wavering voice. 'Master Jinn, my name is Drebba Katon,' he began self-importantly. 'I'm the wealthiest metal trader on Korruin, but I expect you know that, you've probably already heard of me.' His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. 'Master Jinn, I need your help, they're trying to kill me because they're jealous of me, I know because of the way they look at me in the trading markets. I complained about the roads outside my block, they haven't been repaired for months, they repair all the other roads but not mine. They move things in my home while I'm not there.' The voice grew suddenly sly. 'If you helped me, I could pay you in platinum...'

'Oh, that's a good one to start off with,' Obi-Wan murmured.

Qui-Gon gave him a baleful look and keyed in the sequence which would generate an automatic reply.

'So are you advising him to contact the local authorities or to check himself in for a psych-scan?' Obi-Wan asked.

'Both, in this case,' Qui-Gon answered shortly.

Obi-Wan grinned and turned back to his own messages. Then a sudden thought struck him and he glanced up at Qui-Gon suspiciously. 'Master, there is something I'm curious about. How did the children on Vrazon know that today was my birthday?'

'Someone on the relief crew must have told them, Padawan, though I can't imagine who,' Qui-Gon said, just a touch too innocently.

Obi-Wan gave his Master a suspicious glance as he took the next message from the pile in front of him. This was blue-tagged, from another Jedi. The marker read Selos Prime; his annual birthday message from Ca'narn, he decided. He was right. His old friend's blunt, dark features rose above the holo-imager.

'Obi-Wan, I salute you on your twentieth birthday. May you continue in health. May the path the Force has chosen for you bring you fulfilment. May the Force be with you.'

'Succinct,' Qui-Gon commented, when it became apparent that that was the entire message.

Obi-Wan nodded. 'The Scaran treat birthdays as very formal occasions. He'll probably send me another clip with all his news in a couple of days. Ca'narn's the only person I know who actually volunteered for Geo-Corps. He said that other life-forms confused him but he knew where he stood with most rocks.'

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. 'Only with most rocks?'

'I think it was a joke. It can be hard to tell with Ca'narn but underneath that scaly exterior he has quite a sense of humour.'

'A Scaran with a sense of humour? I'm sorry I've never met him.' Qui-Gon pushed his next clip into the reader. 'Interesting,' he remarked. 'This one is from the Malastrian embassy, marked urgent.'

'You were there yesterday,' Obi-Wan said in puzzlement. 'Why would they contact you by clip?'

'No doubt we'll soon find out,' Qui-Gon said. He exchanged clips, putting the old one back into the pouch for recycling. The tiny, full-length hologram of an obese Malastrian flickered into frozen life above his viewer screen.

'Councillor Breg,' Qui-Gon said with weary resignation. 'I'd hoped I'd seen the last of him.'

'I remember you told me about him. What does he want?'

'If you are patient, we may both find out,' Qui-Gon said pointedly. He pushed the play pad and the hologram flickered into life.

'Jedi Negotiator Jinn,' the Malastrian said warmly. He drew himself up to his full height, such as it was. 'I thought that perhaps my arguments were lost amid so many other voices, so I am taking the opportunity to restate them in this message. Clearly the Malastrians have been appallingly cheated in recent treaties. The port of Soverlect should remain a freeport, as it has always been...'

Qui-Gon cut the message off irritably. 'I'd be more impressed by the councillor's dedication to the principles of free trade if I didn't know that his business associates had a sixty percent stake in the Soverlect port authority. Record voicemail reply. Councillor Breg, this is Qui-Gon Jinn. I think you for you offer of a meeting, but I feel that little more would be accomplished now that the treaty has been finalised. May the Force be with you. End voicemail.'

Why would he send a clip and not a voice message?' Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon took a sip of his tea. 'Almost certainly as part of a physical audit trail for his employers. He's no doubt been paid a great deal of money to try to gain the advantage for them in these talks.'

'Let's hope they aren't too disappointed,' Obi-Wan commented.

'That at least is not our problem,' Qui-Gon said, in dry tones.

Obi-Wan took up his next clip and studied the label. 'This is from Bant. I didn't think I'd hear from her this year.'

'She was posted to the outer systems two months, wasn't she?' Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. 'She and her Master are attached to an Agri-Corps project. They'll probably be out for another half a year.'

He pushed the clip home and Bant's familiar, smiling face appeared on the screen before him. Broad, blue-green leaves framed her image.

'Happy birthday, Obi-Wan,' she began. She reached up to gently touch the plant beside her and the leaves surrounding her darkened visibly. 'This is my newest friend. She's empathic and she doesn't say much, but you can tell by the way her leaves change colour that she wishes you a happy birthday too. I'm sorry I missed you again. I don't have much news, except we've been posted to yet another dust bowl. I'll tell you more about it when I have some more comms time. I hope your Master gave you a nice rock this year. Maybe we'll be able to catch up with each other next time I'm on Coruscant. It should be soon now. I love you Obi-Wan. Goodbye.'

Obi-Wan bowed his head. Bant had been his closest friend for almost half of his life and he found himself missing her often.

'Master, I know our schedule is busy...' he began.

'There are no pressing missions for us in the next month or so, Padawan,' Qui-Gon said, without looking up. 'If Bant returns to Coruscant within that time there should be no difficulty in your taking a week's leave to spend with her.'

'Thank you, Master,' Obi-Wan said gratefully. 'I'll mail and tell her.'

He began to key in the brief message. Opposite him Qui-Gon tapped the table absently with his forefinger and frowned.

'Now, what's this one?' he murmured. '"Requisition". Have you requisitioned anything, Padawan?'

'Not recently, Master.'

Qui-Gon shifted wearily in his chair as he pushed the play pad. 'Master Jinn,' came the reedy and irritable voice of the temple quartermaster. 'We have attempted to repair your formal robes again, but I'm afraid that this time you will simply have to requisition some new ones. I attach the relevant forms, also those for your Padawan learner who will, of course, require new overrobes as a senior Padawan. This time I respectfully request, yet again, that you attempt to fill out both your requirements for the rest of the year instead of replacing one item of equipment at a time. May you and your Padawan remain strong in the Force.'

'I suppose I'd better get this done now,' Qui-Gon grumbled.

'I need two new sets of whites, another tunic and four Senior Padawan grade over-robes,' Obi-Wan offered.

'Your breather need replacing too,' Qui-Gon commented as he frowned at his screen. 'According to this the new model has a larger air reservoir. It's also capable of synthesizing its own oxygen from the liquid surrounding it in emergencies.'

'Useful,' Obi-Wan commented.

'It would have been useful a month ago' Qui-Gon said, with a touch of self-recrimination. 'And if I'd requested them in time for that mission we would have had a far easier time than we did. That's not a situation I ever want to find myself in again.'

'No, Master,' Obi-Wan agreed soberly. 'Although the fault then was mine. I should have recharged the air clips already in my breather, not just the spares.'

'It is done, and we have survived and learned,' Qui-Gon said. 'We must both accept the lesson and move on.'

'Yes, Master,' Obi-Wan said. He sent his brief text reply on to Bant, then scanned through the rest of his text messages. His personal mail file contained birthday messages from those of his friends currently at the temple. 'One from Creche Mistress Samanda,' he told Qui-Gon as he scanned them. She has heard of my recent missions and believes that I am too reckless. She must be... eighty standard years old now?'

'I had a clip from her last week telling me to make sure you ate properly,' Qui-Gon commented. 'She seems to think you're too picky about your food. Obviously she's never seen you at a festival banquet.'

His Padawan grinned at that. 'I should go and see her while we're on Coruscant.'

'I'm sure she'd appreciate it,' Qui-Gon agreed. 'Now, do you think your boots will last until the end of the year or should I requisition you a replacement for those as well?'

'It wouldn't hurt to have a spare pair. I'll finish that if you wish, Master,' Obi-Wan offered.

'There's no need, Padawan. I'm almost done.'

Obi-Wan nodded and picked up the next clip. 'This is from the pilot training facility on Deccon 1. According to this it's from Garen Muln.'

'I thought his rotation there finished last year,' Qui-Gon remarked.

'Almost eighteen months ago now.' Garen's familiar, tanned face appeared on the screen in front of him. His friend had accepted the fact that he would not be chosen as a Padawan philosophically. He had dutifully worked the obligatory Agri-Corps rotation before applying to become a courier pilot. It was a life which clearly suited him. Now he sat sprawled back in his seat, his captain's insignia visible on the jacket thrown over the back of his chair.

'Hey Obi,' he grinned. 'I'm back in pilot training school, teaching this time, they must have got the wrong name on the order papers or something. Only time for a quick message, so hey, hope you're having a happy birthday. Our old friend Bruck's here too, he's one of the physical training instructors. I topped him on three of his ratings last month, so he hates my guts. Hah! His problem, not mine, and I'm going to top him on the rest when I get back into condition. So anyway, if you can get that Master of yours to give you some time off from getting beaten up, come down here so we can catch up on some serious drinking. Hey, did he give you a rock this year too? Whoa, some guys have all the luck. You take care, kid.'

'I'd better mail him and tell him Bant may be visiting,' Obi-Wan said consideringly. 'He'll want to see her as well.'

Qui-Gon gave him a pained look. 'Does the whole Academy know about my gifts to you, Obi-Wan?'

'Padawans like to compare the presents they receive from their Masters,' Obi-Wan explained with a tiny frown. Surely Qui-Gon remembered? 'It's a matter of great pride. Last month Padawan Tor'sewa's Master presented him with a full-weight hand-woven bantha wool winter robe. He wore it everywhere. Master Charra had to order him to take it off and put it away before he gave himself heatstroke.'

'I see. Remind me, what was the last gift I gave you?'

'The blue-banded flourite crystal, Master. I've found it to be a useful aid for meditation.'

'I do not choose my gifts for their monetary value or because I think you need them, Padawan,' Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan answered the unasked question. 'I know that if there was anything you thought I needed you would make sure I had it, Master. It is a matter of pride to me that your gifts are so unique.'

'Diplomatically put, my Padawan,' Qui-Gon remarked with a faint smile, he returned his attention to his workscreen and submitted the completed requisition form with a decisive keystroke. 'Maybe there's hope for you yet.'

He picked up the next clip from the stack and frowned. 'Ah, now this is interesting. This clip also appears to have come from Selos Prime. Isn't that where your friend is posted?'

'Ca'narn? Yes.' Obi-Wan confirmed. 'Is it from him?'

'The tag's an academic one. Curious. I'll put it on project.'

The creature that faced them appeared to be only a little taller than Yoda. She was darkly clothed and had a long, inelegant snout covered with short, dark fur. She blinked at the recorder short-sightedly with eyes that were clearly more comfortable in near darkness.

'Master Jinn, my name is Doctor Jalie Corada,' she began, in little more than a whisper. 'I'm a research scientist working on Selos Prime. We're studying geological anomalies that may hold the key to an alternative form of ion shielding.' Her voice caught. 'I'm afraid. I think my findings have been leaked to the CPI Mining Corporation. If my work becomes common knowledge CPI technology will become obsolete and I believe they're trying to suppress my work.'

Qui-Gon leaned forward, his face lined with concentration as the scientist visibly gathered herself and spoke again.

'The Direnni are pushing for control too, somehow this has been leaked to them as well,' Jalie Corada continued, with growing desperation evident in her voice. 'They're the clan that has nominal sovereignty over the area of Selos we're working in. They're concerned that the end of CPI mining is going to have negative economic consequences for them, they're one of CPI Corp's biggest suppliers. CPI Corp have offered me money. They offered me a junior technical directorship, they said they'd sponsor me, my department, all my projects. Since then equipment has gone missing, and there have been delays... I think I'm being followed. I want to publish my work freely. I'm going to come to Coruscant and put it onto the academic server at the Temple, but I need your protection while I'm there. Please help me, please. I'll mail you when my shuttle is due to arrive. Thank you...'

Qui-Gon stopped the clip. 'Your opinion, Padawan?'

Obi-Wan frowned. 'I'm not certain why she should wish to contact you at all, Master. This sounds like a matter for Geo-Corps.'

'Someone must have told her about our confrontations with Offworld Corporation,' Qui-Gon mused.

Obi-Wan studied the frozen image. 'She is a Vor'ran, isn't she? Some limited empathic abilities but with a tendency to misread other races. She may have picked up on something minor that she's blowing out of all proportion.'

Qui-Gon nodded. 'Perhaps. Still, she appears to be genuinely distressed. If she'd been working with humans for any length of time she would have learned to screen out the superficial. This may be worth following up.'

'Perhaps, Master,' Obi-Wan said neutrally.

Qui-Gon's amused glance showed exactly how badly he'd hidden his reluctance. 'So how do you feel about investigating another rogue mining corporation, Padawan?'

Time for honesty, Obi-Wan decided. 'I would prefer to avoid it if it is at all possible, Master. I've had enough rocks dropped on my head in the last six months to last me for the rest of my life. I think we're both due for something a little more routine.'

'Agreed,' Qui-Gon said. He frowned thoughtfully. 'Although it sounds as though Doctor Corada is on the verge of an important discovery. It would be in character for the mining corporations to use the tactics she's described to try to get control of it. I'll recommend that the Order assists her. It should involve nothing more than a courtesy escort to the Temple.'

'Perhaps we should volunteer if you think this will be nothing more than a routine escort duty,' Obi-Wan suggested.

'If routine you expect, disappointed you will be,' Qui-Gon quoted, with a little smile. 'Although I admit that there is potentially very little that could go wrong on a twenty minute cross-city transfer. I'll tell the council we'd be happy to assist in that at least.'

He keyed in his reply and pressed send, then stretched back in his chair.

'Have you finished, Master?' Obi-Wan asked.

'I've answered all my urgent messages. The rest can wait. I've spent too long at my terminal this past week, as have you. We should discuss our plans for the day, Padawan.'

'A day off,' Obi-Wan mused.

'I'm at your disposal, Padawan,' Qui-Gon declared. 'Assuming you wish me to accompany you, of course.'

Obi-Wan smiled. 'I would like you to come with me, Master.'

'Have you decided what you want to do?' Qui-Gon asked.

'Not yet, Master. Perhaps we could go out into the city?'

'It is your decision, Padawan, not mine,' Qui-Gon reminded him mildly.

'Then, I think...,' Obi-Wan began. He was interrupted by a high chime from Qui-Gon's viewer.

'From the Council server,' Qui-Gon said, with a frown. 'I should answer this, Padawan. It may concern the negotiations.'

'Of course, Master,' Obi-Wan said, trying not to let his voice betray his frustration. If one of the sides had challenged the treaty Qui-Gon could well be recalled for another week to patch up the disagreement.

'Master?' he asked, as Qui-Gon scanned the screen, then decisively deactivated his viewer.

Qui-Gon met his eyes gravely. 'Today's plans will have to wait, Padawan. We are both summoned to Master Yoda's quarters.'