Title: A Single Grain

Category: Star Wars -- Prologue to Episode Four: A New Hope

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There was a shifting in the Force. He had felt it, in fact, for some time. At first, it had been unimaginably faint. Ephemeral. A shadow of a whisper of change, of infinitesimal divergence. He could sense its existence, yet it hovered just beyond his grasp, like a single grain of sand carried by the wind.

But that single grain of change had been followed by another, and another, and another. And though one tiny grain moving from one dune to another was insignificant -- undetectable even by the most delicate of instruments -- thousands, millions, even billions of such movements shifted the entire landscape of the desert. The pattern was the key. Looking beyond the individual to see the image formed by the whole, as one looks beyond the grains to see the sand...

He had been alone on this forsaken desert planet far too long if he was analogizing the Force to sand, hadn't he?

Opening his eyes, he surveyed the familiar landscape again. During his meditation, the suns had dipped below the distant horizon. The air had already taken on the bite of night chill, even through layers of robes. He relaxed, letting his senses stretch outward, searching for signs of life. Night creatures on this world could be ferocious, and a lone human perched atop a sand dune provided a tasty target. Most nights, his long years of discipline and responsibility compelled him to meditate inside the relative safety of his small hand-hewn dwelling. But tonight something more powerful than survival instinct had driven him out to the southern ridge line, a lonely wind-scarred overlook where the vast Dune Sea stretched out below him and the vast starry sea stretched out above.

All night long, he had sought out that more powerful force, searching for the pattern he knew was there.

Closing his eyes again, he focused once more on the single grain of sand whirling about in the wind. Envisioned himself riding with it, allowing the Force to carry him where it wanted him to go. Surrendering himself so completely to the Force had once been more difficult, when he was young and surrounded by a galaxy of distractions. But nearly twenty of this planet's long years spent in the empty desert, the Force as his sole companion, had granted him an intimacy with that living power that few ever achieved. The isolation, the stillness, the focus -- all of it teaching him more each day until he had begun to understand what it meant to truly be a servant, not a Master, of the Force.

It was a lesson, he knew now, that the Jedi had not retained well enough.

The grain of sand shifted. The landscape, even his sense of self, became indistinct, undefined. He could no longer see, hear, or feel anything. And yet he could see, hear, and feel everything. A galaxy of beings, of lives, of memories, of destinies. Reflected sunlight glinting on curved windows high above Coruscant's bustling layers. The unbroken emptiness of traveling deep space in a tiny fighter craft. The deep hum of lightsabers crashing against one another. Flames rising from a beloved temple. The leaden agony of death resonating through the Force as great men die. The silence when they're gone.

The past. This was where the Force was taking him, then. His own past, that lifetime before this planet. He let it carry him past all the familiar faces, from the old Masters to the Padawan students to the tiny younglings. A formidable Jedi Order, the end of a great era. Jedi Knights spread across the galaxy like a fine, living web. It had been a powerful thing, indeed.

Perhaps a little too powerful. It was only after their downfall that he had begun to truly comprehend. Again, he had had to look beyond the grains to the see the sand, the pattern. The prophecy had been well-known -- of the one who would bring balance to the Force. But what they had not seen was how that balance needed tipped. That great and wise Jedi Order -- like the Republic it served -- had failed to see the imbalance that had existed as it grew larger, more powerful, more established. And along with it, insulated, arrogant, self-assured, self-reliant. Like a tree that had grown so far away from its roots that it could no longer see them. And the Force had chopped it down to start fresh. In this place of equanimity and reflection, he could now see the reasons behind it, could understand the will of the Force.

But he had also come to understand that the individual grains were not to be lost in the relentless pattern either. His old Master's continued presence had taught him that. The Force was made of living beings, and the whole was no more significant than each individual member was. Many good Jedi had been lost to the cycle of the Force, many that he had called friends. His only home and the only family he had ever known. And he carried them all still with him, part of the Force and a constant reminder of why he must not fail.

Not again, anyway.

The grain shifted in his mind. Yes, he was on the right path now. His past linked with his present. The pattern was becoming more clear, the grains coming to rest together. Always connected we are with the past, Yoda had told him, and with the future.

Yoda, old friend....

The memory conjured up his former teacher's face before him. Ironically, the friend whose loss he felt most powerfully was the one who was still alive. The other Jedi had all become part of the Force, and therefore with him always. But Yoda, hiding from the Dark Side far across the galaxy, was concealed to him. So masterfully concealed, in fact, that only his total absence in the Force indicated that Yoda even still lived. Like a blind spot in his mind, a hole in his senses, it was little comfort when the cries for help from an oppressed galaxy had to be ignored for a greater purpose. When the weight of the Dark Side pressed in on him from all directions.

He lost focus momentarily, the pattern growing hazy as his thoughts strayed toward darkness. Quickly, he cleared his mind. The Dark Side was powerful these days, and constantly it reached out for those few who remained. He had felt its probing tendrils for many years, seeking to locate him -- to learn his secret, to find what he could not let be found. Constant vigilance was his only defense. It was the mission he had chosen for himself so many years ago. To protect the boy from detection. Camouflage his powerful presence in the Force until the time was right. The future could still be saved, the past redressed, the cycle completed, if only he could fend off the Dark Side long enough to deliver the boy safely to the right hands at the right time.

The right time...

The words -- spoken in Master Yoda's small, powerful voice so long ago -- skittered across his consciousness. He followed them in his mind's eye as they shifted on the wind. The landscape became clear again. The vast desert of this world, broken only by tiny oases of struggling life. The Jundland Wastes, their rocky gorges littered with wreckage both natural and unnatural. Scoured bones of those foolish enough to go in alone. Destroyed machinery and vehicles, the telltale remains of Tusken Raider attacks. Animal carcasses picked clean by sand and carrion-feeders.

And in the middle of it, Anakin's firstborn child.

It had been years since he had seen young Luke Skywalker, but he was unmistakable. He was his father's son. Standing tall in the center of the rocks, staring straight at him. Expectant. Strong. Determined.

Ready.

Instinctively, he reached out toward the boy, but the vision had already faded. The desert landscape was gone, the echoes of his past were gone. Instead, only the future stretched out before him. He saw great space battles, an epic struggle between good and evil. He saw others standing resolutely with this boy against the darkness. He saw family reunited, destinies fulfilled. He saw Yoda again. He saw the son confronting his father.

And he saw it all from a vantage point where the Dark Side could not touch him. He felt himself as part of the living Force, finally able to rejoin all the generations of Jedi that had fallen before him. And he knew that it would not be long now.

The sudden realization nearly made him lose his focus. Carefully, he regained control of himself, clearing his mind once again and searching for his lost composure. If his own death was truly imminent, there would be so little time. So little time to teach Luke everything he would require. Not enough time to pass on the wisdom the boy would need. Not enough time to find the key. Everything - the future of this untested young man, the future of the Order, the future of the galaxy itself -- depended on finding the key to preventing the son from falling victim to the same dark feelings the father had. Power, desire, anger, fear. Hatred, revenge, loss. The boy was their last hope. If he could not prevent the cycle from repeating, all he would have succeeded in doing was delivering the Emperor’s newest apprentice---

Don’t center on your anxieties, my learned Padawan. Look beyond the grains if you wish to see the pattern of the Force.

Qui-Gon Jinn's authoritative voice echoed through his mind, carried fleetingly upon the endless desert wind. The presence of his fallen Master anchored his thoughts, memory of their shared past capturing his spiraling attention. And for a single, eternal moment, he was a young Padawan again, alone and cradling the dying body of his Master. Awash in the tide of anger and fear and helplessness that death of a loved one brings....

Qui-Gon's murky presence encouraged him to continue. Yes, Obi-Wan, this is the key....

So he resolutely turned his thoughts upon the memories. His own memories of that terrible moment. It had been his final Trial, he had discovered later. The Trial that moves a Padawan forward to become a Knight. Afterward -- after Obi-Wan had cared for the body of his Master, after he had ensured the safety of the Queen, after he had comforted little Anakin, after he had seen to the needs of the arriving Council members -- when both sleep and meditation were lost to him, Yoda had come to see him. Alone and purposeful. The Master had come to learn what young Obi-Wan Kenobi carried with him from this first great loss. Together they had probed and searched out his chaotic emotions, given them form and recognition. Had looked into the mirror of his deepest soul. Afraid of the feelings do not be, Yoda had told him. To conquer them, face them you must. And Obi-Wan had done so -- had faced them, accepted them, learned from them, and then put them aside -- knowing not only that his path as a Jedi depended upon it, but that any less would have been to desecrate everything his teacher had wanted for him.

The key....

Yes, Master, I understand.

And he did understand, as the pattern emerged. That pivotal moment in his past had been the will of the Force, to train him to face the Darkness that would come later. Sith Lords and galactic war, the loss of all his companions, the betrayal of his closest friend and only student. And now, Qui-Gon had been allowed to pass on what he had learned about retaining his presence in the Force. There was purpose in all things, even death. Because the death of a teacher can be more valuable a lesson than all his life had been.

Anakin had succumbed to the fear of losing control. Young Luke must learn to let go of that fear before it could take root in his heart. He must learn what he can control, and what he must never desire to control. And Obi-Wan must teach him this. This time, he would do it properly. This time, he would give more than counsel. He would show the boy. It would be his greatest gift to this new, brief pupil. He would control when, how, and where death came for him. He would teach the boy that it was not to be feared. That those who go before us remain, in spirit and in mind and in heart. And, with the will of the Force, sometimes even in form.

And by his own acceptance, by choosing his own path, by remaining at his student's side, Obi-Wan Kenobi would teach Luke Skywalker that he himself had the power inside to deny the Dark Side any victory.

The power to choose his own destiny. And the faith to stand by that choice.

Underneath his feet, the sand began to move. Unaffected, he watched as the monstrous dunes all around him were leveled and new ones raised. From one horizon to the other, sand swirled in great dark storms until everything was obscured. Trillions upon trillions of grains were set in motion. That tiny shifting had become the start of a new world. But instead of chaos and accident, he saw in the tempest only precision and tapestry. Elegance and design and simplicity. And now - elegantly, simply, precisely -- he saw how to set it all in motion...

Obi-Wan laughed.

The sound of his own voice echoed unfamiliarly across the desert night, startling himself as he opened his eyes. There was nothing but darkness now, but he no longer felt alone. Instead, the Force teemed with life. Billions of living beings on thousands of worlds, hushed in anticipation. The watchful eyes of all those who had gone before him, and the dreams of those who would come after. The whole galaxy, standing eagerly on the precipice of change.

Waiting for him. The time, indeed, was right.

Carefully, he reached out openly into the Force for the first time in many years. Leaving the hidden shores of his anonymity, he mentally swam out into the current of the Force. With the warm, familiar welcome of home, it embraced him. The Force carried him quickly beyond this seemingly insignificant planet, past the ships lumbering through the star system, even leaving behind the great ships speeding through hyperspace. He ignored the myriads of minds echoing indistinctly around him. Time and distance had no meaning as the Force guided his presence.

The world he was guided to was quiet and beautiful. Alderaan remained a haven amidst the chaos of galactic struggle, the way he remembered it. He sought a familiar mind on that distant world, a mind he had not known since the dark times had begun. The mind was tense, worried. Gently, skillfully, he planted a thought in the mind. A simple suggestion, a conjured memory from the past. He sowed a thought of an old ally, one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Unknowingly, Bail Organa responded to the deposited thought. He would, he decided, seek out help with his urgent mission. An image of an old Jedi Master came to mind, for no reason he could think of. But it just might work.... Perhaps, if he could find a way to seek out Master Kenobi after all these years, he could help....

Obi-Wan stood, ignoring stiff, aching joints, as the Tatooine suns began to rise from the horizon. His time of meditation was over. The time for action had begun. He would soon leave this place and not return. Nor would he set foot on any other world. The Force was calling him home. But first he had to complete one final destiny. He must become that single grain that began the shifting of the entire landscape of the galaxy.

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