Suddenly all his plans and dreams were shattered.

“Here now, it isn’t that horrible.” Docent Vant said. She was a tall blue-skinned woman with an elegant headtail that twitched nervously.

Obi-Wan stared at the orders in shock. The data pad told him that he would ship out of the Temple in the morning. He needed to pack his bags.

He was to report to the world of Bandomeer — some planet he’d never even heard of, out on the Galactic Rim. There he would join the Agricultural Corps.

“But I don’t understand,” he said numbly. “I still have four weeks until my birthday.”

“I know,” Docent Vant said. “But your ship, the Monument, leaves tomorrow, with a thousand miners aboard. It can’t wait just because you have a birthday.”

In shock, Obi-Wan looked around at his room. Overhead, three model Verpine fighters droned near the ceiling. He’d made them himself. Repulsorlift fields held them aloft, and their running lights flashed purple and green as they hummed about. Miniature insectoid pilots swiveled their heads, as if to look around. Books and charts were piled on his study table. His lightsaber hung in its usual place on the wall. He couldn’t imagine leaving here. It was his home. But he would leave it all gladly for the hard life of an apprentice. Not a farmer!

He would never be a Knight now. Bruck had been right, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. Yoda had been trying to make him feel better.

The shock and despair made him feel sick He raised his gaze to Docent Vant. “I could still be a Jedi Knight.”

Docent Vant touched Obi-Wan’s hand tenderly. She smiled, revealing pointed teeth. She shook her head. “Not every one is meant to be a warrior. The Republic needs healers and farmers, too. With your Force skills, you will be able to treat sick crops. Your talent will help feed whole worlds.”