And what of himself? What did his fellow Jedi think of him? He caught sight of his bearded face in the reflection of the windscreen. He was not old. He was younger than Qui-Gon had been when he took him on as a Padawan.

Yet he felt old. In his bones, he felt a strange weariness. It was the concentration of all the effort he placed in vigilance. In watching.

Waiting for something he could not name.

They all felt it. A gathering of the dark side of the Force. They held out their hands, pushing against the darkness, the chaos. They were tired, and they had so much farther to go.

And now, Anakin. He had to count on Anakin's maturity, the integrity of his core. Anakin would forgive him for supporting Ferus. It had been difficult for Obi-Wan himself to admit that Ferus was the best candidate.

Naturally he'd wanted Anakin to be chosen, but something had held him back.

He couldn't have done it if he hadn't felt the times were too perilous for the Jedi to make a mistake.

In time, Anakin would find acceptance. Obi-Wan was confident this was so, because he knew Anakin so well. He knew that Anakin was struggling now, and he knew that he could not help him. He knew Anakin's better side would win.

To Obi-Wan's surprise, Yoda himself suddenly appeared, gliding in his repulsorlift chair from the turbo-lift. Obi-Wan walked forward quickly to greet him on the landing platform.

"Master Yoda, is something wrong?"

Yoda did not answer him. Instead, Obi-Wan watched as Yoda's gray-blue eyes moved from one Jedi to another in turn, lingering on the faces of the Padawans.

"Felt I did that look upon you all before you left I must," Yoda said.

"And tell you…"

"Yes, Master?"