the force and the code. rebels

prologue. the code (and they left it at that.)

Caleb Dume, as incensing and inquisitive as he was, never questioned the code. At least, not the code itself— just its origins. He had good intentions, honestly, but it was so interesting! How did the Jedi come up with a code? How did they decide what would go into it? What if they missed something really important and the order was now just a bunch of heretics working off of mixed-up traditions? Okay, maybe not the last one as much, but it did cross his mind once or twice.

As he was walking out of one class, he ran into Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Depa Billaba, who had asked to walk him to his next one. This time though, they didn't start talking right away like usual, just walked in silence. The atmosphere felt awkward as hell, but Caleb tried his hardest to stay optimistic, thinking that whatever it was about would get fixed, or at least, fixable somehow. And yet it seemed the more they talked, the worse their tension got until...

"Why the sudden obsession with the code, Initiate Dume? Your teachers are concerned," Master Kenobi had confessed, recalling a particularly troubled teacher that had reached out to him about it. The master's long strides made it hard to walk as fast as he did.

Caleb sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair as they walked past the refectory doorway. "Gee, I didn't mean to cause any worry for them. It's just... I was wondering..."

Deeper into the hall, where no one would overhear, they slowed down to walk side by side. "What is this about, Initiate?"

His hands trembled as they clutched on the strap of his bag. "I was wondering..."

Master Billaba, practically flowing through the hall, (her cloak trailing behind dutifully) chuckled. "Hmm, you have quite the habit for wonderings, Caleb Dume."

"It's just— masters— it doesn't make sense!" His mind ran with millions of questions. "How did they come up with a code? Why did they decide they needed a code? Did the Force reveal the Code? Or was it just a bunch of ideas that worked for the Jedi, and no one's thought to change it ever since? And why do the younglings and initiates learn a different code than the Jedi Knights and Masters?"

He stopped mid-rant before Master Kenobi could open his mouth, realizing he'd been rambling, his heart hammering against his chest, feeling like it would burst out.

The two masters exchanged a look. "No philosopher hath questions like an initiate," Master Kenobi quipped.

Caleb swallowed. He had to keep calm. He had to maintain his composure. "Well, it's probably nothing. It's silly. Just my own curiosity—"

"Caleb Dume," Master Billaba began, carefully hiding the grin itching at the corner of her mouth, "do you question the Code?"

Caleb flushed. He wasn't ready for these kinds of conversations. Not with his elders. With his fellow initiates, sure— there was often chatter and laughter and jokes when they went for late-night talks together— but they were his seniors. They expected more from him, and if they thought something was wrong about the way he thought they might expel him from the order, or worse!

And then he realized that it was actually possible, maybe even true that he did question how the Code came to be— but that wouldn't be wise to say aloud.

"I'm not questioning it," he explained, "just how it came to be. Honest," he added, hoping it would help his case.

"Hmm," Master Billaba had mused, glancing at Master Kenobi stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I know someone who was equally as inquisitive on Jedi matters as you are when he was a padawan."

Master Kenobi's hand rested on his arm, his head tilted in curiosity. Brows raised in mild interest turned to ones furrowed in indignation at the realization. "You couldn't possibly mean me."