Stellan accepted the jibe in the spirit it had been given, smiling at the young woman who had asked to record the duel. “If only that was true. I know of at least two former students who chose to meditate whenever I launched into the intricacies of lightsaber history. It is a particular passion of mine.”

Rhil Dairo’s eyebrow arched up. “Now, that is interesting. I thought the Jedi Code stated there is no passion.”

Stellan felt a wave of discomfort roll off the golden-haired Wookiee who was standing at a respectful distance behind the reporter and her cam droid, the same unease Stellan had sensed from the Padawan during the duel with his Master. Burryaga was one of the most empathetic Jedi Stellan had ever encountered, a gift that had saved hundreds of lives during the Great Disaster. However, on this occasion, his concern was misguided. Stellan wasn’t embarrassed by Rhil’s question. She was only doing her job, after all.

“Indeed it does,” Stellan told her. “Strong passions are something we try to control within ourselves, as emotions can cloud our judgment, especially in stressful situations. They can blind us to the truth, and to the leading of the Force. That said, it would be foolish to suggest that a Jedi has no desires or interests. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it would be dangerous, leading only to complacency. Yes, I have a passion for learning and teaching. It is part of who I am. But I am also prepared to set such things aside at a moment’s notice. My ‘passions’ must never be greater than my mission. Does that make sense?”

“Now I wish I’d kept Tee-Nine rolling,” Rhil said, glancing up at the bobbing cam droid. “That was gold.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Nib warned playfully. “I doubt your droid has enough storage capacity.”

Rhil laughed, flicking her bangs out of the cybernetic implant that was clamped over her right eye, the lens the same color as her droid. “Well, we have enough for now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Stellan said, realizing he’d been using the hilt of his extinguished lightsaber to punctuate his impromptu lecture. He slipped it back into its holster, checking to see if Master Kant’s lightsaber was still in its now customary place on his belt. Yes, it hadn’t come loose in the demonstration. He patted it once, noticing that Rhil had spotted the weapon hanging beneath his robe. Stars alive, she was good. Maybe he’d explain why he wore it at another time. For now, he had indulged himself long enough.

“We should check in with the chancellor,” he said, turning to Nib.

“Excellent,” Rhil chimed in, indicating for T-9 to start recording again. The hovering droid’s light flicked back on.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come with us,” Nib said, eyeing the droid with suspicion. “The chancellor may be in session with the Senate.”