Beyond - Legends "Mettle and Metal" (LOTF AU; Ben, Corran, droids, philosophy/etc.

A/N: Another blast from the pre-truncation past, in the same AU as these pieces:

http://boards.theforce.net/threads/...ek-au-a-t-ocs-vong-others-humor-etc.50037539/

http://boards.theforce.net/threads/a-brush-with-morning-au-l-m-ocs-humor-mild-action.50028257/

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
40 ABY: Jedi Temple Droid Pool, Coruscant:
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"... yeah, that's jammed in there real tight ..."

Corran's brow furrowed as he heard the voice - human, male, teenaged, with a casual Coruscanti accent - rolling out the door of the droid pool.

He'd gone looking for Whistler, since it was getting close to launch time for the mission to Centerpoint and he wanted his old friend at his back - not that Corran was particularly looking forward to the mission, but he definitely felt that Centerpoint didn't belong in the hands of any government led by Thrackan Sal-Solo.

I thought we weren't expecting the apprentices to practice their mechanical skills on the droids ...

Corran peered around the corner, dampening his Force presence in a manner he didn't usually use any more, not since he'd become a full-time Council member. It was an unsettling reminder of how far he'd come from his days as a policeman and investigator (or fallen from those days? part of him wondered).

He blinked, taking in an unfamiliar tableau.

Several astromech droids, including Whistler, Artoo, and some other R-series - Anakin's R5, Fiver, and at least one R8-model among them - were gathered in a semi-circle as a teenaged boy in a black coverall examined them in turn. His red hair was cut above the ear, but otherwise was a mess, while his eyes were hidden by combination micro-optics/welder's goggles, and a tool kit hung from his belt.

Oh, Corran realized, feeling a bit foolish.

Of course it'd be him.

"Ah, there it is," the youth said to Whistler, pulling on some chunk of metal embedded in the green-and-white astromech's left foot. "Hold real still, OK?"

"Fre-weep dwooot ... bweet," Whistler replied, sounding both wary and resigned. Corran couldn't help but smile a little; like most astromechs who hadn't undergone a memory wipe, Whistler had developed his own, unique personality, that of a sage profiler and investigator. Despite Binary's relative inscrutability to the average organic, all the whistles and beeps did mean something, and someone who put in enough of an effort could figure out the general meaning of the "noise."

The boy grinned a little and said, "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Here we go."

He took a pair of hydropliers from his tool kit and took hold of the offending piece of metal jammed in Whistler's foot, then pulled.

A loud CRACK! rang out, and the boy tumbled backwards, muttering curses in Basic, Huttese, and what Corran thought might've been an attempt at Shriiywook.

"Twee-DWEET! Twee-dwoot bwee-dweet?" Artoo asked, rolling over quickly to the youth. The boy just smiled, sitting up, and patted the astromech on the dome before swapping the hydropliers for a fusion welder.

"Thanks, pal, but I'm OK. Seriously, though, Whistler, how'd you get that stuck in there? Looked like you scraped a cubed landspeeder or something," the boy said, fixing the remaining "wound" to Whistler's foot before standing and stretching.

"Dweep-bee-dwoop dee dewoot. Freepeet!" Whistler tweedled, sounding grateful. He rocked back and forth, then turned his dome toward Corran and called, "Beep-dwee-tweet!"

"Good to see you too. I could've taken care of that, if you'd asked," Corran said, patting Whistler's dome when the astromech rolled over to him and nudged him in a friendly greeting.

"Dweet ... dweep-tweet-dweeoot," Whistler replied, a mixture of embarrassment, frustration and explanation in his tone. His dome turned to the boy, and Whistler added kindly, "Twee-woot arbweet."

"OK, I get that I was busy. Glad you found someone who had the time to take care of that ding," Corran said, hoping he sounded more grateful than judgmental as he nodded at the youth.

The boy's Force-presence became ... not necessarily frosty, but guarded, as if he was expecting a reprimand, and Corran tried not to sigh. "Master," the youth said, pushing back his goggles.

Skywalker-blue eyes met Corran's green ones, and Corran smiled, trying to put the youth at ease. "Ben. It's been a while," he said, glancing down at Whistler before adding, "Thanks for helping Whistler."

"Welcome." Ben relaxed, smiling - this, at least, was a topic the boy wasn't like to get edgy about, Corran recognized.

Unlike the other matter ...

Ben looked at the other astromechs, some of whom tweedled - supportively? Corran wondered - and the boy added, "Just working on these guys, making sure they're up to speed. What did Whistler get into, anyway? He was kind of embarrassed about that."

"Dwooo. Dwee-tweet," Whistler trilled mournfully, and Corran chuckled.

"He was going after a rather ... ah, spirited mouse droid, one of the ones we think the Corellians were trying to use to spy on the Senate with. One thing led to another, and 'Mousie' fought back," Corran said, rubbing Whistler's dome.

"BWAAT. Free-deet," Whistler snort-chirped, disgust turning to embarrassment, and some of the other astromechs chirped snidely, if it was possible.

"FWEEP! Ardweet dwoop dwee-freetweet," Artoo exclaimed authoritatively, and the other astromechs' taunting ceased. Whistler chirped a short something that might've been "thanks," while Ben's expression became knowing.

"That looked like the nozzle of a micro-fusion welder. The MSE-8s are less skittish than the Imp-class mouse droids, the MSE-6s, but sometimes the MSE-8s think they can take on a bigger droid in a fight," Ben explained, chuckling as a mouse droid peeked out from behind a shut-down Gonk power droid.

"Eek? Eek-eek!" the mouse droid squeaked, rolling out and doing a quick spin in front of the astromechs. It even nudged Artoo, but the blue and white astromech chirped gently, and the mouse droid settled down.

"Droid ego problems? I didn't think there was that kind of ... territorialism among droids. I just figured the mouse droid Whistler ran afoul of was programmed to be aggressive," Corran said, both surprised and curious.

Ben raised an eyebrow, as he picked up the mouse droid and gently examined the small boxy maintenance unit. "The Corellians might've just told the mouse droid you ran into to fight back. Droids are programmed to have feelings, to think logically - they think more than most people give them credit for. Why wouldn't they have a social structure, hierarchies, power struggles?" the boy pointed out, flicking some debris off of one of the mouse droid's wheels before setting it down. "There you go, little guy."

"Eek-eek!" the mouse droid squeaked, darting back into whatever hidey-hole it'd been in. Corran resisted the temptation to make an unsubtle comparison between the mouse droid and the youth who'd buried himself in a "hidey-hole," but Ben gave the Jedi Master a knowing half-smile far too perceptive for Corran's comfort.

"You're wondering why I never focused on Jedi training past some of the powers. Why I've 'settled' on droid repair and mechanics studies," Ben stated without the snideness Corran might have expected.

"It's been a topic at Council meetings over the years, yes," Corran admitted, a little confusion - and, yes, frustration - coloring his tone.

He winced inwardly as Ben caught his disapproving tone, tensing visibly, and Corran added, "Sorry. Just - you're not incompetent with the Force, Ben. If you'd applied yourself - even apply yourself now it's not too late -"

"To what? Ignore my natural aptitudes, as General Antilles would put it?" Ben replied, a little acidly now. Corran bit back a parental retort, wondering if Ben was more upset about being nagged about not training as a Jedi, or about being reminded of Wedge.

I hadn't thought Ben was that political. Then again, he's usually on Ossus and I'm usually here or on Corellia, Corran reflected, while Ben calmed himself.

He blushed, sighing - his Force-presence shifting through an array of emotions - and quickly added, "Sorry, too. I'm still a little sensitive about ... a lot of things. Mind if I explain?"

"I have a few minutes before Whistler and I have to get to the hangar, sure," Corran said, finding a seat on some crates. Ben sat on a tool chest, looking around as the astromechs started to scatter, except for Artoo and Fiver. They took up positions on either side of him, and Whistler trundled over beside Corran.

Ben took a deep breath, then looked at Corran and said, "You remember about ... Lumiya, right?"

"Ugh. How could I forget," Corran said sympathetically, frowning for a moment. The former Shira Brie had been a thorn in the side of the restored Jedi Order for years, ever since resurfacing during the Yuuzhan Vong War and turning Daye Azur-Jamin to the dark side temporarily. The self-proclaimed "Dark Lady of the Sith" even captured Kyle Katarn briefly, until Betsy Braddock, Jan Ors, Jaden Korr and Galactic Alliance SpecOps had rescued the battlemaster.

Then Lumiya harassed GA reconstruction efforts, until right around the Dark Nest business ... when she attacked the Skywalker kids while they were on vacation on Mon Calamari, Corran remembered.

It'd been a short kidnapping attempt. Ben's ... explosive return to actively using the Force had seen to that.

Ben blushed deeply, catching the jist of Corran's emotions, and mumbled, "I'm not proud of how that went down."

"You did what you had to in order to protect your sister and brother and Betsy. If anything, that proved you had exceptional potential in the Force," Corran both praised and insisted.

An unusual mix of feelings rolled off of Ben in response to Corran's words - frustration, wariness, even a measure of pity, and the latter made Corran scowl.

Ben looked up, frowning back as he replied, "So ionically frying a dark-side cyborg gets a pass from the Council? How typically Jedi."

"BWEET. Dweep-dwoot," Artoo interjected, disapproving, and Ben sighed, nodding at the little droid with embarrassment before Corran could rebuke the teen for his attitude.

"Sorry. Artoo's right - Jedi do a lot of good for the galaxy. It's just ... yeah, I was defending my sibs and Aunt Betsy. But I could've killed Lumiya. Even if it wasn't intentional, I cut loose and hit her with a strong enough use of ionize that knocked her out. You didn't hear Lumiya wheezing as she tried to reboot her systems ..." Ben said, growing haunted.

I never knew he was so deeply affected, Corran thought, starting to reach out to the boy. Ben shook his head, though, and forced a smile, looking at Corran again.

"You know I started studying the Force again then, to get basic control over it. And I needed that, I agree - to make sure I didn't hurt someone accidentally, ever again. But Dad and Mom let me study the Skywalker ability to understand tech, to make that connection with powers like technometry and ionize. I had a gift, and I've been able to develop it, to make the most use of it," Ben said, smiling more sincerely now.

"You are good with droids, that's for certain," Corran allowed, smiling as Whistler nudged him kindly again.

Ben nodded, a little proud but not overly so. "Thanks. It's like Anakin's talent, but I don't think he's ever had the time to really develop it. Or, at least, not focus on it, instead of becoming a Jedi. And since he and Tahiri settled on Zonama Sekot and started their family, Anakin's been too busy. He's accomplished a lot doing his thing, and I want to do the same with technology, inventions and stuff, so I can help people," he said.

"That's a noble goal. But I don't see why that precludes you from becoming a Jedi," Corran asked.

Ben's expression and Force-signature shifted, to something not quite pitying, but which still grated on Corran's nerves. "Jedi ... are good at solving certain kinds of problems. But not every problem needs a lightsaber, or finger-wagging and saying 'do things this way,'" Ben said, a little annoyed.

Corran frowned a bit, but withheld what he was sure Ben would see as a nagging reply. Instead, the Jedi Master asked, "You're talking about finding a more cooperative solution?"

Ben relaxed, nodding as he replied, "I know it's not always easy. But instead of saying 'you're wrong,' or 'you're evil,' people need to look more for how they're alike. It's like ..."

He concentrated, then put a hand on Artoo's dome, then Fiver's. "R2 units are an older model than the R7s. But people still use R2s because they do well in a lot of different jobs, and because they're friendly, good-tempered. R7s are skilled, and friendly, too, but they're more specialized - they were meant to work in E-Wings, and they don't do as well in other snubfighters. But neither droid is that different. They're both valuable mechanics - and they both deserve to be," Ben tried to explain.

"Twee-weet bewee-dee-weep!" Fiver chirped happily, and Artoo tweedled positively also, as Ben smiled warmly. The boy clearly didn't see the droids as pieces of machinery, but as friends, and Corran absently patted Whistler as he considered what Ben had said.

"The Jedi try to mediate also," Corran replied - but it sounded hollow to him, and he hid a wince as Ben looked at him intently.

"I think that's what Jedi want to do. Maybe it's even what Jedi should do. But you're getting ready to attack Centerpoint and do other stuff to undercut the Corellians' ability to fight - I don't know all the details, and I don't need to," Ben said, holding up a hand before Corran could reply.

The boy frowned, but not rudely - more with sorrow than any other emotion - and added, "Thrackan's the problem. But instead of just going after him, you might have to hurt other Corellians. There's a lot of bad feelings on both sides, a lot of finger-wagging and name-calling. It's another fight that might turn into a war, and all because everybody wants to draw lines and say, 'this group is bad because they're different,' instead of focusing on what you have in common."

"And the Jedi aren't mediating ... they're just doing what the Alliance is asking, instead of saying, 'You haven't tried hard enough to talk with the Corellians.' When did Jedi stop being diplomats, as well as soldiers?"

"Ben ..." Corran tried to reply - it sounded so simple, the way the boy put it.

Ben sighed and shrugged. "I know. Thrackan doesn't want to talk, Aidel Saxan can't risk talking openly because of Thrackan's supporters, and Centerpoint's this big, dumb gun the Corellians want to point at whoever disagrees with them. That's why Anakin came back from Zonama Sekot, because he's the best chance the Jedi have of stopping Centerpoint without making a bigger mess," he said.

"Dwooo," Fiver trilled sadly, and Corran glanced at the droid - then at Ben, who smiled a bit.

"You've been asking the astromechs for intel?" Corran asked, stunned at the concept that any organic could understand Binary that well.

"Hey, droids gossip. And who'd I tell? Besides, I can surf the Holonet pretty easily - my computer skills aren't in Artoo's neighborhood, yet, but I can combine technometry with my computer skills and find ... stuff," Ben said, tapping one of his temples.

He caught the start of Corran's disapproving frown, and quickly added, "Just on the open news sites, not anything I shouldn't be digging into. I learned the whole 'don't abuse the Force' lesson when I fried Lumiya."

"I'm glad you're taking that seriously," Corran allowed, noticing as Ben became more serious and nodded.

"That kind of power ... it's too easy to think we have the right to butt in and use the Force to back up our way of life. That being Jedi, or Alliance, or Corellian, or whatever, is the only way to live," Ben tried to explain.

A chill ran down Corran's spine as he considered Ben's words, and the boy looked at Corran curiously.

"If you had your way - if you didn't 'have' to be Jedi or Alliance or whatever - what would you do?" Ben asked.

"I'd kick Thrackan's door in, haul his diseased carcass to the nearest hole, throw him in, and throw away the key," Corran admitted, embarrassed at his sudden burst of outrage at the former Human League leader's manipulation of their shared homeworld.

"One malfunctioning subprocessor shouldn't get to cause a cascade failure in the whole network," Ben agreed, and Corran chuckled as the astromechs chirped approvingly.

"Well ... maybe I'll make a suggestion or two. Thanks for helping Whistler," Corran said, standing and shaking Ben's hand. Corran turned to go, but asked, "What do you want to do, after you - get older?"

"Thanks for not saying 'grow up,'" Ben quipped, smiling as he stood. "But once I'm an adult ... probably go into droid repair, maybe open a machine shop and do custom work. Probably donate some time to fixing stuff for poor people."

"That's good ... helping the people who need it," Corran said, his voice growing soft as he thought.

"Master Horn?" Ben asked, but Corran just shook his head and smiled.

"Just remembering something I'd said once. Take care, Ben," Corran said. "C'mon, Whistler."

"Twee-dweet freweep!" Whistler called, and he followed Corran to the nearest lift, with Fiver coming along behind - they'd all be heading for the hangar, for the starfighter and infiltration team prep for the mission to Corellia.

For his part, Corran was thinking about how he'd prevent anyone else from being made a victim by Thrackan's depredations.

People I'm sworn to protect ...

It still wasn't as simple as Ben had made it sound, of course. But the boy understood that.

Corran was still trying to figure out how to make it simplest, as the lift doors closed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------