Spoilers: At this point I accept the JA books as canon, and I
try to follow established histories (although I expect 6 to
really mess up some of my plans). The only "spoilers" are
references to events and growth evidence there, and in my
earlier tales.
Copyright: Most of the characters, some of the worlds, the
histories and anything else recognizable belong to Lucas. Jame
and some of the other stuff are mine. Done for love and
besides, I can barely handle the responsibility of trying to
entertain folks who are predisposed to read this, much less
think about having to try and please the world.
Disclaimers: This was never supposed to be working toward
slash, just a few adventure h/c stories with the boys ala TPM
canon without subtext. Oh well, what did I know? No sex (yet --
and even then, probably not explicit, sorry). Sorry also for
the lame series name, but Mace and Jame appear or are
referenced in each of the stories; it's the only common thing I
could latch onto. Oh, and about this being #3. Yes there are
two stories before this (currently unfinished). It is possible
they'll be put in a print zine first, and I do not publish WIP
any more for fear I will never get around to finishing.
AWM&J #1 and #2 are also pre-slash, and self contained.
With this tale being the turning point, and constant
inspiration from MA being a personal turning point to go ahead
and let the boys be together, I had to finish this tale first.
Summary: Things have gone horribly wrong during a mission on
T'ias. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are forced to split up to prevent
more bad things from happening, which brings about its own
troubles and a few discoveries.
Feedback: Off list, please.
Kudos and kisses to Master Elayna -- yes your chocolate Jedi is
on its way (thank the Force for Cadbury/London). A friend from
past times reacquainted, she graciously offered to help when my
usual editor decided he didn't care for this fandom. Any
problems left herein are solely mine, after having all of the
silly and embarrassing typos and one or two plot problems, I
couldn't stop myself from tinkering just a little more. I also
want to thank all of the participants of MA. I am normally a
print writer, not net, but I wanted to show my appreciation to
all of you by making this offering here and now.
PROLOGUE
Running. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the
other, pushing off with almost a jump, pumping arms, pumping
blood, pumping oxygen through starving lungs.
Running. All he knew, all he had known. He moved and breathed
to run, thought only about running, lived to run. Yet so hard
to keep going; nearly impossible, in fact. But his only choice,
his only option.
He had already been running for days, following almost blindly
behind his companion.
Well, not for days.
No more than fifty hours had actually passed. And they hadn't
been running those entire two days. Not even those of the Jedi
Council can run for days, much less a lowly Apprentice
and his worthy Master. Apprentice and Master had also spent
many of the hours walking and stumbling. And crawling.
Climbing.
Falling.
But no stopping, not really. Maybe ten minutes here, twenty
minutes there, for an accumulated effort of two, two and a half
hours out of the fifty.
No stopping. And definitely no sleeping.
It hadn't been sleep, couldn't remotely be called sleep, nor
even something restful when exhaustion forced its occasional
drops into darkness. Even then, one of them had to
remain awake, to protect and mask their presence while the
other allowed unconsciousness to claim possession however
fleeting. And not even that bleak respite could hold long
against the imperative to stay alive and, consequently, to keep
running.
Also in those brief pauses they drank sparingly of their
precious supply of clean water. Or changed bandages and took
care of other bodily needs. They ate while moving,
supplementing ration cubes with whatever they could find that
would sustain them, that at least didn't kill them.
That neither food nor water would last another twenty-four
hours, much less another fifty should have been distressing but
ultimately didn't matter; their bodies would last only a
few hours more under these intense demands. Then total
collapse, no matter how strong their wills to survive.
Indeed, only that indomitable will, that overpowering need to
live at least long enough to give warning had kept them at
their now shambling pace for so long. That will/need, and a
nearly addictive use of the Living Force.
Which was a strength in only one of them.
Trained in the Jedi way, the pair learned beginning almost at
birth to be in tune to more than just their environment, to
understand the flow of energy, life and the connections between
everything -- the Force. Growing older, a Jedi began to learn
how to access and occasionally manipulate the energy and
connections. To aid body, movement, purpose. That the Force had
two aspects: Life and Unification, just as it had two sides:
Light and Dark, made for varying levels of understanding and
control even beyond age and experience.
Both who ran followed the Light and ignored the Dark save for
something to strive against. But part of the strength in their
partnership lay in their differing level of skill with the
aspects. The Living Force called out to the Moment. It was the
energies and emotions of life whereas the Unifying Force
contained all of the patterns and connections that propelled
life. Time.
Which had run out.
CHAPTER ONE
*Drop!*
As he had done since the first hours of their flight, Jedi
Padawan apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi obeyed his Master, Qui-Gon
Jinn's mindtouch, without the slightest hesitation. Hours past
he had loss sense of much beyond his training bond with
Qui-Gon. Only this link between them through the Force kept him
going; the Padawan could no longer even think to find passage
through the undergrowth on his own in his utter exhaustion. He
certainly no longer felt the subtle ripples of warning
premonition that presaged others in their surroundings. At this
point Obi-Wan could only direct his mind to staying awake,
staying connected, moving. And fortunately they were all
he had to consider as Qui-Gon willingly took as his tasks the
more involved concepts of defense, protection, aggression for
them both.
Awake. Connected. Moving.
And keeping silent. Regardless of anything else.
Obi-Wan pitched over with only the thought of economy of
movement, of speed, and of quieting body and mind so that those
who searched would not find. Somehow he managed not to cry out
upon landing heavily on an arm and ribs already broken, managed
to keep breathing despite the sharp agony that tore through
body and lungs. He didn't pass out, knowing that to do so would
mean he'd become an even greater liability to his Master and
their mission.
Not to mention that losing consciousness would disrupt his
tenuous enough control over the necessary masking of his
presence.
*You are not a liability.*
A flush of energy bolstered Obi-Wan's body as did his
companion's thoughts meant to comfort. Yet neither energy nor
thought lessened Obi-Wan's guilt. Already he would have been
left behind had his Master not been augmenting Obi-Wan's waning
contact with the Force, augmenting with energy Qui-Gon could
little spare in having to care for his own needs. Obi-Wan had
not been the only one injured in the attack that had
precipitated their flight.
"Jedi Jinn?"
Qui-Gon asked the pardon of his companion and turned to the
owner of the voice and hand which had grabbed hold of the
sleeve to his outer tunic. He couldn't quite hold back a scowl
at the interruption despite the rudeness his reaction might
convey, and despite the silent amusement that tickled the back
of his brain that came from his Padawan at the true reason of
his dismay.
The Jedi Master had sensed nothing of the other's arrival and
had been caught off guard. Understandable, when he found the
speaker not to be one of the seemingly endless numbers of minor
functionaries or petty bureaucrats that insisted on hovering,
only an outrageously tall, vaguely humanoid robot with its
'head' tilted and lowered in a parody of human behavior, its
'mouth' open to interrupt further. Mechanical lifeforms rarely
generated enough energy to brush a Force user's awareness,
unless the user was actively scanning
Which in his focus on the one Qui-Gon had been speaking to, he
had not been doing.
*Sloppy, Master.*
Qui-Gon ignored the comment. "Yes?" he growled. He took a step
back to better meet the other's 'eyes', uncharacteristically
bothered by the droid's size. Larger size. And attempted to
pull free of its hold on his sleeve.
The droid also stepped back but without loosing its grip. Its
optical sensors began blinking; the nature of Qui-Gon's
response seeming to have confused its programming.
Obi-Wan's amusement turned to laughter spilling through their
link. *Temper, temper, my master. You've scared the poor
thing.*
*It's only fair since I didn't --*
*No, what's fair is for you to finally know how I feel when I
turn to find you closer than I expect. I keep telling you even
Jedi have a need for personal space.*
Qui-Gon let the fierceness disappear from his expression; it
had never truly been in his thoughts -- certainly not directed
at his partner.
*Ah yes, but I have towered over you for all of your life,
Padawan,* he responded and looked up, aware of the irony of his
statement at this moment. While he stood in the middle of the
stage that had been erected for the upcoming festivities,
Obi-Wan crouched a bit under 200 meters above him along a
narrow catwalk.
*You are used to it. I, on the other hand have spent many
years taller than most others.*
"Many, many years, My Master.*
*!*
*Oops. Well, then, consider this a growth experience.*
Qui-Gon's lips quirked. *Bad, Obi-Wan. Very bad.*
*Thank y --*
"Jedi Jinn, I need your assistance out at the sound box," the
droid began again, unaware, of course, that he had been
interrupting anything other than the conversation Qui-Gon had
originally been conducting with the Minister of
Aesthetics.
This time Qui-Gon didn't quite suppress his sigh.
*Didn't you already fix that?* Obi-Wan laughed again.
*Only four times already.* But Qui-Gon just nodded to the
droid, then turned back to the gentleman who had been waiting
and watching patiently throughout the interruption "Forgive me,
Minister Khato --"
The brightly garbed man fluttered his fingers in the direction
the droid had departed. "Of course, Master Jinn, of course.
Please see to whatever this problem is. " He sighed
dramatically and raised a thin boned hand to his pale blue
forehead. "This whole affair has been such a trial. And I fear
we will never complete the arrangements in time" He suddenly
reached out and rubbed his hand down Qui-Gon's arm. "If it
weren't for you and your boy..."
*Boy? I'll show him boy!*
It was Qui-Gon's turn to send laughter through their link.
*Temper yourself, Padawan. Since you are smaller than all but
their youngest children, it is not surprising they assume you
to be only a --*
*Now I'm a child?* Obi-Wan squawked.
Qui-Gon had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from
reacting to Obi-Wan's mental sputter out loud. He patted
Minister's arm and deftly removed his body from the other's
wandering touch without giving insult. "Thank you for your
patience, Minister Khato." Bowing graciously to his host, he
then took a couple of steps backward. "I look forward to
resuming our review of the final checklist upon my return and
feel confident everything will work itself out." A turn, and
this time heading toward the seating portion of the newly
constructed arena, following after the droid.
*Nothing is going to work itself out.* Obi-Wan groused. "If I
didn't know better, I would swear that someone is going out of
their way to make sure this welcoming ceremony fails.*
Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan paused even their breathing as a
flutter of prescience seemed to hover around Obi-Wan's
thoughts.
*Obi-Wan?* This was his Padawan's gift more than his own. The
future had always remained elusive to Qui-Gon.
He could feel Obi-Wan's mental centering, then his head
shake.
*Nothing, Master. I'm probably just getting grouchy at how
long this has taken. And hungry.*
*All things in their time, Padawan.* Qui-Gon gathered back his
mantle of calm and lengthened his stride, making sure only a
little of his comfort in being able to move naturally instead
of having to cut back the size of his steps to accommodate his
shorter companion bled through the link. A little, but
certainly enough.
*Mas --*
Between one breath and the next, the world ... shifted.
Just as some species could sense earthquakes and lightening
strikes before they hit, Jedi could receive warnings of danger
through the Force, intent producing just as strong emotion as
unpredictable nature produced energy. But these devices had
been set by mechanical hands, therefore no thoughts of
satisfaction, anxiety or cruel pleasure presented themselves to
help further define the event. The warning didn't -- couldn't
-- come in time to make any difference.
In a surfeit of noise, smoke and flame, the floor of the stage
Qui-Gon had just stepped away from exploded from below. Wooden
slates shredded through carpeting and bodies. Metal structural
reinforcements added razor sharp shrapnel to the mix, extending
the radius of death out beyond the environs of the stage.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had both begun moving at the first hint of
trouble, dropping their awareness into the Force where the
could see the fluidity of time, could react to things before
they happened. In this, Qui-Gon escaped the fate of those he
had so recently be amongst.
Then the second set of explosions ripped through the
edifice.
The Jedi Master didn't actually feel the impact of the pieces
that sliced across his back. He didn't even acknowledge the
shoulder that gave way when the concussive wave tumbled him
down the stairs he been starting up. For while the explosion
out in the seats dealt less injury compared to the first blast
save to him and the disintegrated droid, it also rocked through
the weakened stage, this time sending a brace of sets into a
pylon that supported the lighting array.
And Obi-Wan.
The first explosions had sent Obi-Wan to his knees, but aside
from reacting to the screams and smoke and mental anguish that
drifted upward, he had remained basically unscathed. With the
second set, however, the structure he knelt on began to
collapse.
Had he not begun from that kneeling position, Qui-Gon knew
Obi-Wan would have been able to reach -- save -- at least the
person nearest him. His Padawan certainly did try. Despite
smoke-obscured vision, despite the cables and lights scattered
and tumbling that he had to dodge or leap over, Obi-Wan had
closed to only a few body lengths away from the terrified
technician when the catwalk began to pull itself apart in a
rending, screeching metal death cry no less painful to hear
than those from the victims being pitched from its sides.
The technician fell, Obi-Wan's fingers brushing futility
across the material of her shirt as he threw his body forward
with tremendous effort. Qui-Gon could sense Obi-Wan's
realization of failure, could see through his Padawan's eyes
the technician's terror as she fell away. He could even feel
the echo of the pain as Obi-Wan's body slammed across the edge
of the light board she had been connecting cables to, driving
vision and breath away from them both, just as his tumble had
contributed to Obi-Wan's stumble.
Shields. They needed to erect deeper shielding between them,
or otherwise risk distraction at the wrong time But if they
did, then they couldn't work together to help the others
--
Even without erecting stronger shields between them, too many
people fell amidst too much metal and equipment for the pair of
Jedi to cushion them all with the Force. And too much
destruction lay below to enable safe landings even if they
could slow the descents. Still, they tried. Qui-Gon's thoughts
bridged instantly to Obi-Wan's, their rapport with the Force
increasing exponentially. To no avail.
In the end, neither could do little other than save
themselves.
A third, final set of explosives detonated, these having been
planted around the perimeter of the building at ground and
ceiling level. Support beams, roof sections, glass windows,
ornately carved doors, air conditioning and heating ducting and
water pipes all became projectiles of deadly ruin. Qui-Gon lost
his footing again when a jagged sliver of metal speared him
deeply through his leg.
Somehow Obi-Wan managed to tuck into a tiny ball amidst the
raining shards that opened tunic and skin, managing to avoid
the larger, potentially crippling elements of the catwalk and
roof structure and then he landed. Qui-Gon felt a new level of
agony quite clearly through their link as the relatively flat
surface beneath the young Jedi collapsed before Obi-Wan could
complete his roll to bleed off energy and impact.
*Obi-Wan!*
*I'm all right.*
Which Qui-Gon knew -- felt -- wasn't true, but knew just as
well that such words meant look to the others (or self), first.
So Qui-Gon finally shielded away from the link that radiated
equal parts of reassurance and pain, and began to reach for
other flickers of life. At first he felt sure he must have
sustained more injury than he had realized; he could feel
nothing still living within the still shuddering building. The
easy gathering of Force energy belied the suspicion of injury,
however, no muted access, therefore, no concussion.
He tried again.
Nothing. Other than that one precious spark now below
him.
Out of the sixty three people involved in finalizing the
presentation, only he and Obi-Wan still lived. And the dead
included a third of the Tiasian ruling council and its young
president, who had demanded to be present for the final checks
so as to offer rehearsal before the Jedi he had so wanted to
impress.
Such a catastrophic loss would be felt throughout the
Republic.
More shaken by that loss than from the extent of damage he or
even his Padawan had received, Qui-Gon quickly used the Force
to both pull the metal from his leg and to clamp down on the
bleeding. He then spared time to strengthen the healing
inclinations of tissue and nerve endings so that he could rise.
Walk. Well, limp, actually, which he did toward the only beacon
of life, needing to comfort and be comforted against the sick
despair that swamped their bond. Neither of them would quickly
overcome the effects of this tragedy, physically or
mentally.
"Obi-Wan?" he called out, needing also to hear something other
than the silence of the building that had abruptly become a
tomb to so many.
"Here."
Obi-Wan had fallen through a hole barely wide enough to
accommodate his body into one of the hollow spaces under the
stage. By the time Qui-Gon peered through the shadow-filled
shaft, Obi-Wan had managed by using the Force more than hands
to nearly work his way free of the debris. Which included more
than one glimpse of buried body parts. Dust and blood covered
Obi-Wan's clothing and skin, but Qui-Gon drank in the sight as
would a blind man gifted with sudden vision.
"Let me help you," Qui-Gon called down, and reached with both
arm and Force. The sudden flare of pain in his shoulder and
across his upper back muscles gave him sudden memories of his
own falls. Abruptly he could feel moisture he knew to be more
blood than sweat and could feel the trembling of muscles
battered and abraded, the tendons screaming outrage from a
dislocated shoulder. He bit off a groan and rocked
backward.
"Qui-Gon?" *Master?*
"Give me a moment, Obi-Wan." Taking a few deep breaths,
Qui-Gon gathered more of the Force to him and, like another
pair of hands, used it to pop the joint back into place.
Definitely not his favorite way to do things, and he knew he
had not managed to shield his discomfort from Obi-Wan any more
effectively than his Padawan did back to him. Still, neither
chose to make comment.
After a few more long moments of silence that Qui-Gon used to
center himself, he shifted his position again so as to offer
the strength of his other arm. Then called yet more of the
Force to brace both their bodies, and the badly weakened
floor
"Now, Obi-Wan."
Still fifteen feet below the stage and Qui-Gon's hand, Obi-Wan
propelled himself off of the pile of debris which fell away the
minute his foot left its surface. Both men grunted at the
impact of hands against wrists, but neither let their hold
slip.
The first few seconds were spent just in quiet appreciation of
the feel of another's touch, then Qui-Gon looked to study again
the size of the hole and the size of his Padawan below
it.
"How ever did you manage to fit down there?"
Obi-Wan offered eyes of something like mischief despite the
weariness that settled throughout his features. "Oh, you know
me, just like a cat. If the head can fit ..." He gave a
strained grin. "Of course, the shoulders bent a lot too."
"A feat easier accomplished going in than in coming out, I
fear." Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan suddenly bite his lip. Another
moment of stillness, then the other nodded.
"I think you'll need to reach up with your other hand,"
Qui-Gon said in soothing tones. " My shoulder --"
"I ... can't." Said flatly and Obi-Wan didn't even make an
effort to bring it up.
Qui-Gon raised a brow. He could not see much beyond Obi-Wan's
face and the lifeline of their joined hands. "Padawan?"
"It's broken," came an admission of disgust. "Wrist and
just above the elbow."
Qui-Gon hid his frown and sudden deep concern under feigned
amazement. "Two places, Obi-Wan? That is quite an
accomplishment for someone who so sweetly convinced me to allow
certain impractical leaps and jumps as part of your advance
saber training. I thought you knew how to take a fall."
"Next time you drop one hundred and sixty feet in free fall
with half of an arena's ceiling trying to skewer and crush
you," came the dry retort. "Master." Bitten off, but full of
respect and more, despite the tone. "I'll take the tumble down
the two hundred feet of stairs." All traces of humor then faded
and Obi-Wan sighed.
"Maybe you'd better let me go, Master. I should be able to
find an alternate way out from below."
"Or just as easily find yourself trapped under a ton of
debris?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "The building hasn't
stabilized yet, Obi-Wan, even if the explosions have stopped.
I'll not chance your life --"
"Well then, not to sound ungrateful, but then I hope you come
up with another idea soon." His expression and grip stayed
steady despite the increasing strain in his voice.
And in Qui-Gon's heart.
"I'm not sure I can hold on much longer even if you order me
to."
The shielding both had tried to erect to blunt their awareness
of the other fell away. Qui-Gon now read the bow-strung tension
in Obi-Wan's body, the fine trembling in his body that his
Padawan so carefully kept from disrupting their handhold.
Qui-Gon could also better see the faint sheen of sweat that
streaked through dust and smoke and blood across the ashen
face. And Qui-Gon could feel the other's anguish in how he was
causing Qui-Gon more physical and emotional pain.
"None of that, Obi-Wan," he whispered.
A strong bond between a Master and Apprentice, while usually
beneficial, could also easily present problems such as this.
Too easy to influence one another, the bond could also create a
feedback loop out of any emotion that each would then reflect
and magnify back to the other. So Jedi taught/learned
meditations to control their emotions.
Too bad neither he or Obi-Wan were exactly in the best frame
of mind or state to practice such meditations.
Obi-Wan managed to pull away first from the despair that
threatened to overwhelm them.
"Some help from a few of the outside guards or some rescue
workers would be nice." Ironic, sarcastic, the dry humor that
all too often showed itself in inopportune moments, Obi-Wan
managed to pull away from the despair that threatened to
overwhelm them. One of his more annoying and endearing
traits.
"Their help wouldn't do our reputation as all powerful Jedi
any good," Qui-Gon responded in kind, tightening his grip with
help from the Force as Obi-Wan's hand slipped a little. Then
Qui-Gon needed to look at their surroundings instead of at his
Padawan's too resigned face. There had to be something
...
"They don't even know what Jedi are, Master, so our reputation
is safe. In fact, the Minister of Education was so sure we were
strictly a religious order and kept trying to insist I not
restrict my ... potential in such solitary pursuits until I was
at least your age."
Even without looking back down, Qui-Gon knew his Padawan had
quirked his lips into a smug smile.
"She certainly didn't think I was a child," came the further
impudence.
Qui-Gon let a chuckle rumble through his chest instead of
reprimanding as was his usual wont to such an implication.
Fraternization with those the Jedi dealt with was never
recommended, especially for Padawan apprentices. All too often
it was easy to lose sight of impartiality without the added
emotional ties of even a temporary relationship. But Qui-Gon
knew Obi-Wan, knew the other had turned down every advance from
the woman who stood just as tall as his Master and outweighed
them both by a third with all the grace and skill of the
diplomat the Padawan was becoming. Just as his Master had been
forced to do with Khato several times, and then to the Commerce
Minister who also couldn't seem to keep his hands off.
"Even if we don't need them, shouldn't we at least be
hearing someone by now?" Obi-Wan's voice had quieted again, as
if the mustering of humor had tired him. Which was quite likely
given the level of emotions both were experiencing.
Qui-Gon certainly felt exhausted, and not from his physical
state.
A bit more plaintively. "Shouldn't the guards be checking on
the explosions?"
Qui-Gon sent his affirmation and his similar confusion. If
nothing else, the explosions had to have garnered attention
from the crews of the personal transports waited without after
having ferried the numerous officials and staff to this site.
And although empty grasslands and a forest preserve surrounded
them, this remote location had also meant easier access to news
reporters than one of the back-up choices within the capitol
some fifty miles away. Someone -- even something -- should have
found their way in by now.
Even as he shared this thought, Qui-Gon spotted movement. A
quick focus of his abilities showed it not to be someone from
the outside, however. A piece of lighting equipment let go from
the shattered ceiling, catching in a tangle of cabling as it
fell so that its trajectory pulled up just before crashing into
that which already littered the floor.
"Hang on just another minute, Obi-Wan," he called down in
encouragement, the beginning of an idea taken form.
He felt an acknowledgment through their link, and the other's
unwillingness -- inability -- to waste flagging energy to
project enough to be heard vocally.
Cables now lay strewn all over the floor above and as part of
the debris. While Qui-Gon could not grab any without letting
Obi-Wan go, he could reach for it. He let eyes and Force traced
back the length of one of the nearest to ensure it long enough,
and to double check its anchoring. Then he extended his Force
control to levitate the end of the black rubber his direction.
He kept the link open between him and Obi-Wan, pushing through
the other's sluggish thoughts, and found himself amused by his
Apprentice's surprise at what he was accomplishing.
Well, yes, he had utilized the more active aspects of his
rapport with the Force in the last half an hour than he had
over the span of three previous months, but he was a Jedi
Master after all. Some things beyond the abilities of his
Padawan should still come easily to him.
The cable could be stretched long enough to loop twice under
Obi-Wan's arms, replacing the support their grip had offered,
and still give Qui-Gon an end to tug on. That he planned to do
with the Force, preferring to help Obi-Wan ease his body
through the opening with his uninjured arm now that he didn't
need its strength to keep Obi-Wan from falling again. But that
would have to be after he expanded the size of the hole.
"Let me." A sound no louder than the flutter of a broken wing.
Either something else was broken other than Obi-Wan's arm, or
one of the breaks -- if not both -- was very bad. Which meant
his control in using his lightsaber would be suspect, but not
something Qui-Gon was going to debate at this point. Obi-Wan
wouldn't have volunteered unless confident he could
manage.
"C ... can you ... also reinforce the ... floor?"
"Yes." Qui-Gon called on yet more of the energies swirling
about them. In an event as traumatic as the deaths of 63 the
Force gathered in greater concentrations, but already the
excessive energies were fading. He could do this, but it would
have to been done quickly.
Tightening the mental bond between them so that he would know
when to pull away his hold on the edges of the flooring the
instant Obi-Wan cut through them, Qui-Gon still needed to
maintain a hold on the remainder to keep it stable enough to
support them. Qui-Gon now held their link open, cradled Obi-Wan
within the cable loops, maintain the soundness of the flooring,
while still keeping a portion of his attention on the people
outside (who still made no move toward the interior), and
controlled his physical responses and mental reactions to
his injuries, while trying to ignore the affect of Obi-Wan's.
An effort to task even his command of the Force.
He'd like to think it would tax even Master Yoda's.
Once they recovered from this situation, the two of them
should probably both spend more time practicing exercises in
multiple Force manipulations under less than ideal
conditions.
"Once we ... get out of this," Obi-Wan agreed, pushing away
the shards of wood raining down around him now before returning
his lightsaber to his belt, then relaxing back into the hold of
the cables. Qui-Gon could barely sense the small pocket of
Force Obi-Wan wove about himself to fight against fatigue, pain
for all the volumes the Master was wielding himself.
He could only hoped it had been enough/
"Ready, my Padawan?
"No ... but --" *Yesss.*
Qui-Gon jerked quickly, knowing the pressure from the cables
that kept Obi-Wan from falling also impeded breathing and an
ability to ignore the discomfort from damaged (broken?) ribs
during the maneuver. Because of the expanded size of the
opening, however, it wasn't quite like tugging a cork from a
bottle, and both could exert a little control to the landing;
him as to where, Obi-Wan as to how.
No part of the maneuver had been handled with any of their
usual grace, and they both needed more than a couple of deep
breaths and long moments to recover. Qui-Gon began moving
first, unable to completely contain a hiss upon shifting his
weight back onto his leg in order to gain his feet, although he
did manage to keep the wound from reopening.
By the Force, how had he managed to forget that injury?
The answer, of course, curled before him in a tight ball of
misery. Qui-Gon limped as swiftly as he could and knelt down.
Obi-Wan lay on his left side, one arm weakly pushing the cables
that had clutched around his ribs, the other hanging down
across his body. Shockingly white bone showed within the tear
of cloth and skin above Obi-Wan's elbow.
Not only broken in two places then; one a compound
fracture.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon carefully reached out only with words
although his hand hovered just above the injury.
Obi-Wan rolled to his knees in an abrupt and as brutal a move
as that which had brought him up from the hole. He let his head
hang down for a few more panting breaths, then tried to get his
feet under him. Now Qui-Gon could help, could hold without
causing further pain, and he quickly cupped a steadying hand
under the other's left elbow as both shakily rose to their
feet.
"We're lucky we hurt ... opposite arms," Obi-Wan gasped with
something that might almost be laughter.
"We're lucky for so much more, my Padawan." Qui-Gon let his
thoughts of relief wrap around the other when arms could not,
basking in the return of similar emotions. They had been
lucky.
Even Jedi could be killed.
Finally they stumbled toward an exit, supporting each other in
all manner possible. Around them lay the horrific evidence of
something they would help figure out, but first they needed get
to their ship to communicate with the remainder of the Tiasian
government, then the Chancellor's people, and the Jedi Council.
Of course the welcoming ceremony would have to be canceled.
Possible even the inclusion into the Republic would even
continue now that the plan's major champion was dead. But that
decision would come from the Tiasians and Galactic Senate. Not
two weary, damaged Jedi.
Qui-Gon managed to Force shift away some of the debris
although it didn't end up where he had expected. *Brat!* he
sent in mock sternness to Obi-Wan, but please the other had
found something to laugh out even if it was at his own expense.
Together they began to pry the nearest door open, not quite
having to resort to using the sabers to cut through. And they
could begin to sense the surface emotions of those who still
had not come to the aid of their rulers, finding that something
just as surprising and almost as ugly lay without as
within.
"M ... Master?"
Vicious, vengeful thoughts flowed from the troops that had
arrayed themselves around the building. Those nearest had
turned at the sounds of the tortured metal being forced opened
and raised their weapons. Not a rescue party. An execution
squad.
Targeting them.
Before Qui-Gon could begin to question or protest these
surreal actions, one of the men fired. Others followed,
reacting either to plan or to nerves. Without conscious thought
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan pushed away from each other and brought up
their lightsabers, igniting them, repulsing the first of the
streaks of energy before even taking a breath.
No option to retreat; the troops undoubtedly surrounded the
building, and no safety would be obtained by returning inside,
even had the structure not been in danger of continued
collapse. They would need to go beyond then, to where Qui-Gon
could sense their own ship sitting a couple of miles out. That
he could also see from the minds of those before him that some
of their brethren surrounded their Corvette within a second
perimeter of guard with orders to board brought concern for the
pilot. Along with anger and regret that the situation had
deteriorated so strangely, not giving them opportunity to
explain or have explanations given.
Qui-Gon moved to grab up his commlink to the Corvette; they
would need to coordinate their movements with the pilot's. And
couldn't complete the action. Spirit was certainly willing, but
the flesh too weak. Despite having eased the dislocation, he
could not make his arm move far enough, could not make his hand
close around the small device no matter how greatly he willed
it.
"I'll handle de ... flecting the blasts ... M ...
master!"
Obi-Wan handled his lightsaber better than many of the Jedi
Knights and Masters they often sparred against and even under
these circumstances he would never hesitate to entrust his life
to his Padawan But even with adrenaline flooding their bodies,
lending them both strength, the ship lay too far beyond for
just one to deflect all of the missile fire coming toward
them.
No, getting to the ship was too great a risk right now.
But a thirty mile expanse of forest lay just beyond the
nearest phalanx of guard. For ones who could hide in full suns
in the middle of a Tantooine desert or a Hoth snow field, the
forest would offer a Jedi an embarrassment of riches.
"Run, Obi-Wan." He sent the direction and his plan to the
other, along with as much support and strength he could spare.
*Run.*
And that was the last either had spoken out loud or made any
noise that others might overhear, for fifty hours.
At last Obi-Wan felt the pressure lessen against the cocoon of
energy he had woven around himself to mask not only all sounds
or movement he might have unwittingly made, but to hide water
vapor and body heat which might also have been detected. That
pressure had been his only awareness of the arrival and of the
departure of the sensor droid which had passed over them.
Regardless of his own failing senses he knew that Qui-Gon would
not have withdrawn his own protections, however, unless the
danger had passed.
Or unless his master had succumbed to his own injuries and now
lay unconscious.
Or worse.
A spike of fear flooded Obi-Wan with adrenaline yet again,
giving strength that he otherwise could not have managed this
late in their flight, even for his own life. His awareness
within the Living Force flared, expanding as it had not since
the first day had passed. Now he could sense the droid, already
two miles away and moving off in a direction that, thankfully,
they should not be needing to travel. Obi-Wan could also sense
insects and small animals, plants in growth and decay whose
presence offered comfort and could sustain those trained in the
Jedi arts.
And he could sense Qui-Gon some twenty-five yards away, safe if
not whole, content and conscious if not without pain himself.
Obi-Wan started to struggle to his feet, to at least his knees
using his uninjured hand to steady himself against the ground
as vision blurred and nausea threatened to swamp all thought
and movement. Again soothing tendrils of Force-born comfort
welled through him, helping him curtail the searing pain and
lightheadedness that clutched at him. He had a fleeting, almost
giddy thought of how lucky they were that this moon called
T'ias, in orbit around the planet Indantant, had been so
successfully terra-formed, that life bloomed in a lush, almost
overpowering abundance. The Living Force glowed to near
blinding brilliance in his mind's eye from such richness,
easily accessible, freely available.
Of course, they used -- needed -- to draw on so much just to
keep alive and going that Obi-Wan almost expected to see the
stems and stalks beneath his fingers wither and die from the
amounts of energy that had been necessary to keep drawing upon.
A pip of near hysterical laughter caught in his throat at the
fanciful thought of good luck appearing in a place and out of
an event that had proven so devoid of all but bad luck.
Blown up, hunted and turned away from any aid because they'd
been publicly tried and convicted in absentia of the explosions
that had nearly killed them -- that was good luck?
Almost immediately the laughter turned to a choking sob. He
felt Qui-Gon envelop him again with comfort, this time not just
with Force but with a strong arm, then warm body. Being
gathered up and rocked, rubbed in patterns first established so
many years ago upon becoming Qui-Gon's Padawan, undid him.
Tears of frustration and fear, of pain and exhaustion slipped
from his tightly closed eyes.
His composure shattered, Obi-Wan still kept enough presence of
mind to fall apart emotionally in complete silence, and to only
lay a hand against the broad chest, head against a shoulder
instead of clutching tightly to his Master as he might have had
he still been a child. Thus he avoided endangering them
further, and avoided causing additional injury to Qui-Gon's
shoulder and back or any other place Obi-Wan couldn't even
vaguely sense at this point.
Guilt eventually led him back from the edge of hysterics, as
did a creeping lassitude of near well-being that was false as
well as deadly. He had no time to surrender to comfort any more
than to pain or exhaustion. Rocking back reluctantly to his
heels from Qui-Gon's sheltering presence, this time the
lightheadedness and nausea faded to manageable proportions.
Qui-Gon echoed with approval Obi-Wan's sense of accomplishment
in even this small feat. Nor did condemnation followed, not
even disappointment, in his Master's thoughts for the guilt, or
the breakdown. Which enabled Obi-Wan to let both emotional
states pass. Of course, that task was also easier as he knew
that had he not been so tired he would have been less likely to
have fallen apart. Even embarrassment was but a fleeting
bubble; it wasn't as if he hadn't experienced more embarrassing
moments or thoughts in Qui-Gon's presence during their earlier
years together.
Even in the not so earlier years.
For ten years Qui-Gon had quite literally seen him at his
lowest as well as his best, and in every stage between. During
puberty alone, Obi-Wan had run the full gamut of un-Jedi
emotion and behavior. Embarrassment at this stage of his
training and their relationship would be a poor reflection of
his acceptance of his master's teachings and place in his life,
indeed.
Finally adjusting his arm carefully in the makeshift sling as
torn, dirty and covered in blood as his skin and tunic, Obi-Wan
rose unsteadily to his feet. A few long moments passed before
he could open his eyes again in confidence, but then he reached
down to Qui-Gon with Force-augmented strength and assisted his
Master upright. Both wavered at this point when Qui-Gon's
ravaged leg buckled, but they managed not to fall. Just as
Qui-Gon managed to once more suppress the flow of blood that
had instantly soaked through the already reddened strips of
cloth.
His Master also managed to suppress a hiss of pain from being
spoken, yet Obi-Wan heard it clearly through their link, along
with several choice curses from a handful of different
languages.
*Remind me to ask you about that last one some time later,*
Obi-Wan sent back, retreating to humor as he often did to mask
his fear. Qui-Gon had lost so much blood.
Surprisingly, though, his laughter this time held genuine
amusement instead another bout of hysteria.
*You've definitely let several areas of my training lapse.*
Rewarded with a smile at this last comment that he could feel
clear to his blistered toes, Obi-Wan wrapped that feeling
around his aching body and took a deep breath, then another.
Qui-Gon matched him on the third and fourth breaths. Both
centered themselves mentally (more or less), and were prepared
once more to continue. For the first time in over a day,
Obi-Wan found his balance if not easily, well then at least
quickly.
*You've finally released many of your anxieties and fears,*
came Qui-Gon's proud thoughts. Although he still had a hand on
Obi-Wan's shoulder, he no longer needed to hold on for balance.
*You are no longer subconsciously limiting the aid the Living
Force can offer.*
If what he had already been channeling came just as a trickle
through mental blocks, Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he'd actually be
able to handle more direct and stronger contact with Qui-Gon's
side of the Force. Already quite overwhelmed by what he had
been managing, he suspected he managed to stave off a
remarkably unpleasant reaction to the overuse only by sheer
stubbornness and need.
*It's probably just some last, Force-inspired heroic before my
body totally gives up, Master.* He offered depreciation instead
of amazement, not exactly up for a Master's even gentle chiding
at his lack of self-confidence at this point.
*Not some great triumph on my part, but being too stupid to
know when to quit.*
*Stubborn yes, but not stupid.* Qui-Gon gave his shoulder a
squeeze and sent back feelings of fondness to counter the
wryness. A shading of hurt also came that Obi-Wan would think
he'd be rebuked even good-naturedly, as did a hint of concern.
That Obi-Wan just might be foretelling the truth with regard to
the length of time before total collapse.
For them both.
*Master, I didn't --*
*It's of no matter, Obi-Wan. What does is that we have nearly
arrived at our destination.*
Eyes widening, Obi-Wan brought his head up sharply to look at
Qui-Gon.
Too sharply.
His stance again wavered, his balance and control over his pain
inspired nausea in jeopardy. If not for Qui-Gon's steadying
hand -- and that collapsing would likely also cause his Master
to fall -- Obi-Wan wasn't sure he could have stayed upright.
But hope also helped, as did self-disgust. So wrapped up in his
own misery, he hadn't retained any sense of surroundings
or direction.
*As I encouraged you to do, Obi-Wan,* Qui-Gon soothed. *Do not
chastise yourself for something you have little experience
with. I do have a few more years on you in using the Force --*
*In experience in just about everything, you mean, my Master.*
At first he blushed under the quiet acceptance he found in his
Master's thoughts and expression, then sighed in impatience at
his immaturity before grinning at the other meaning by which
his words could have been interpreted, as based on the
exasperation exhibited by the older, yet still well within his
prime, Jedi Master.
Almost since the beginning of their relationship, Qui-Gon had
concerns that he had or would become too old to properly train
his often overly-energetic and enthusiastic Padawan, despite
the evidence of Obi-Wan's thriving skills. That his Master also
refused to acknowledge that most other Jedi generally regarded
Qui-Gon as one of the greatest swordsmen to ever wield a light
saber in service to their order, as well as being a skilled
negotiator and subtle diplomat, brought Obi-Wan no little
source of amusement and ammunition every time Qui-Gon
complained of being old. Or there was the fact that Supreme
Chancellor Valorum more often requested Qui-Gon as his
representative when the Galactic Senate called on the Jedi as
peacekeepers. Ammunition and a reason for jealousy in others,
despite such being a trait strongly discouraged.
A reason for Obi-Wan's pride. From the very first Obi-Wan knew
he had been extremely fortunate that circumstances had brought
him to Qui-Gon as Padawan, especially in light of the initial
rocky beginnings to their relationship. And while Qui-Gon's
more maverick interpretation of the Jedi code occasionally made
Obi-Wan just as uncomfortable as it did the Jedi Council, he
could not help but be just as secretly -- and admittedly
selfishly -- relieved by such individuality, since his
non-traditional methods kept Qui-Gon in the active role as
peace keeper and teacher instead of becoming a council member
and inactive advisor to all Jedi.
Of course, that pride came easier when Obi-Wan was not in
despair of trying to live up to Qui-Gon's teachings and
reputation. Or his extraordinary abilities with the Living
Force.
*All things in their time, my Padawan. I find our pairing more
welcome than thoughts of my joining the Council too. And in you
I find a source of pride.* A very obvious pause. *Usually.*
Obi-Wan blushed in knowing his last thoughts had slipped
through his currently less than stellar shielding. It was one
thing to take pride in his Master abilities, quite another to
have his Master realize his possessiveness of their pairing.
Pride and possession could lead so very close to other, better
to be denied feelings.
He drew a bit more of the Force's energy about him, using it to
strengthen mind and body. And shielding.
*Are you ready to proceed, Master?* Now was not the time to be
considering anything other than survival.
Qui-Gon nodded and released Obi-Wan's shoulder. Since the
succor brought by such physical contact had been mutual, each
needed another few moments to center back into their physical
awareness as they had already done in the mental and emotional.
*The ship should be secreted no more than fifteen kilometers.*
No more than another hour of effort then, assuming they could
continue to avoid the resources that had been marshaled to
chase after them. Too much to expect that their ship had not
been found again by now; even less official transports than the
oft used Senate's diplomatic Reliance class carried no stealth
generators on board.
In truth, the ship should have been in orbit, or already on its
way back to Coruscant instead of taking the chance of being
destroyed or overrun. Of course, if that were the case, then
the two of them could just about forget surviving. Bad enough
that they had been convicted for the deaths of the Tiasian
president and part of his cabinet. But when they had taken a
chance on their first evening of flight and had snuck into one
of the small towns that lay near the forest's edge, they had
managed to tap into a very interesting communiqué
between a couple of high ranking officers, one of which was
there to organize local participation in the search for them.
T'ias was apparently undergoing a military coup, yet no one but
those involved -- and two Jedi -- seemed to know about it.
Even worse, at least for the Jedi, was that the coup was but
the first world shattering event planned by the small military
cabal. Concerned that ridding themselves of the most vocal
proponent for joining the Republic would not be enough to
cancel the alliance, they were also planning to keep evidence
of the toppled government hidden long enough for the Supreme
Chancellor to arrive for the ceremonies and then have him
assassinate.
Which meant from the Tiasian side of the equation, the Jedi had
to be found. Killed or contained.
And on the Republic side, the Jedi had to escape in order to
warn the Chancellor.
Staying alive for their own sakes would be nice, too..
Although a difficult part of their escape still lay ahead,
Obi-Wan couldn't help but be encouraged that the end finally
lay within sight.
Well, within one of his senses.
Of course, even if no one had found the small cruiser yet, it
would not take long now for either the mechanical or living
troops searching for them to converge on their extraction
point. Radio contact would have to be made with the pilot in
order for pre-flight preparations to get underway, for the ramp
to be lowered long enough to board at least. Which meant they
would need to have all possible energies and actions under
control and at their command.
It came as no surprised, therefore, when Qui-Gon handed him the
remainder of their water supply and half of the final ration
bar. Being out of food and water would be the last thing they'd
need worry about.
Obi-Wan swallowed the dry and tasteless bar of protein and
nutrients, and took a few good swallows of the tepid liquid,
but then held the remaining water out for his Master with the
expression of stubborn determination he usually directed toward
an opponent, and only very, very rarely toward Qui-Gon.
*I'm not the one who's continued to bleeding his life out,* he
sent in fierce concern. *I know you're trying to be fair, but
you need it more!*
Both had experienced blood loss, of course, but except for the
few times he had stumbled or fallen, Obi-Wan's arm no longer
troubled him with anything other than unending pain. Qui-Gon's
blood loss had been ongoing, however; every step compounded the
injury. Even most other Jedi would have collapse or given in by
now. In this one instance Obi-Wan would not back down in the
face of his Master's glower since Qui-Gon would have needed
more regardless of hurt. In this one instance being so much
smaller than his Master proved advantageous by proving an
unarguable fact of physics and biology.
*Fine,* Qui-Gon growled at last and took back the container. He
swallowed it quickly, then made move to throw the container
aside. Yet caution kept him from the potential recklessness of
giving their trail away, even when the end promised to be
within reach and such caution unnecessary.
*Let's move.*
Obi-Wan nodded, eager to followed his Master's lead in at least
one last effort.
The final leg of their escape actually took nearer to three
hours than Obi-Wan's optimistic prediction of one; neither
could continue with any movements resembling their normal
fluidity. And five more patrols had to be avoided, two
comprised of living beings, one of which forced them to add
almost four more kilometers to their journey. Although they had
yet to actually be spotted, their trackers obviously now knew
with a certainty what general area they traveled.
Which likely meant the ship had been found and a troop
or more would be awaiting their arrival. Which meant another
fight for survival, and precise timing in getting the pilot to
lower the defensive shields as well as the landing ramp long
enough to enter the ship without they or it sustaining too much
damage. Or without the enemy gaining access.
*It's too bad Jame's not waiting for us,* came Obi-Wan's ragged
thoughts.
Qui-Gon almost staggered under the swamp of pessimism and near
anger his Padawan let leak through. Uncommon for Obi-Wan to
ever fall prey to pessimism, it was all the more troublesome in
the face of his earlier optimism in the end being in sight.
Which meant Obi-Wan had felt/sensed something. Qui-Gon knew he
should have demanded a better answer, but not having even the
smallest talent with foresight himself had always made him
uncomfortable in dealing with it when manifested by his
Padawan. For a Jedi Master to have no way to verify whether it
was just youthful cynicism or doubts, and when it was real, had
created a definite area of miscommunication within their
relationship.
Even now, he had time to do little but bring the other out of
his depression, no matter the cause maybe being just.
*Surely you're not wishing Jame and Mace share in our danger,
Obi-Wan?*
Qui-Gon knew very well that his Padawan had not meant such an
interpretation, but the need to redirect Obi-Wan's focus had
also given him an excellent opportunity to nudge the other's
thinking into more appropriate paths of a lesson. For had such
a sentiment been vocal and said in front of the wrong person in
some future event, it could easily bring an end to negotiations
just as abruptly as had the bombs and subsequent deaths of
those he and Obi-Wan had come to T'ias to meet. Too many
cultures looked to Jedi as the Voice of Wisdom, as the
representatives of serenity and peace, and just as many
governments awaited a chance to expose the Jedi in an
unfavorable light. It would do Obi-Wan no service to ignore
such a statement even in private communication.
Sure enough, Obi-Wan flinched under the sarcasm and censure,
his mind filled now with sudden hurt and disbelief that his
Master would choose to impart a lesson even now. Then came the
evaluation of the negative emotions, and a consideration of
Qui-Gon's motivation. Finally, the apology.
*Forgive me, Master, I was giving into feelings before a basis
to have them had come to fruition.*
Qui-Gon nodded. *Centering on anxieties instead of the moment
is one of your weakness, Padawan. Meditations are in order.*
*I'll do them right after we find the time to practice our
multiple Force manipulations.* An infinitely weary, yet
impudent grin. *Of course, even you must admit we would stand a
better chance to get that opportunity were it Jame awaiting us.
And Master Windu. But no, I would not care to have them in the
same trouble we are in.*
Qui-Gon felt more relief in the humor than he could
disappointment that Obi-Wan still did not feel comfortable
sharing his misgivings. Had his Padawan been less wise,
resentment or anger would have replaced Obi-Wan's despair. And
Qui-Gon had always been inordinately pleased that Obi-Wan's
self-confidence had the other offering challenge even if it was
only in humor. So many younger Jedi deemed it proper or
necessary to forgo independent thinking until their Knighthood,
never realizing that Knighthood would be beyond them without
such an ability.
Qui-Gon offered his agreement. *Back up we could rely on would
be nice.*
It wasn't so much that he didn't trust their pilot, as not know
him well. Still, he would not have been seconded by the Jedi
for the job, unless he was reliable. But Mace and Jame ...
Over the last couple of years, several occasions had arisen
where he and Obi-Wan had been joined by the dark-skinned human
member of Jedi Council and his semi-permanently assigned
personal assistant who just happened to be a damn fine pilot.
Mace Windu had been a friend for many years, and one Qui-Gon
had relied on in the past to watch his back on almost as many
occasions as he now did with Obi-Wan.
And for someone non-Jedi, Jamevlyn D'Kalette did more than just
hold her own in their company. Force sensitive though
untrained, she played the role of the perfect companion for
Mace on those occasions when the Councilor thought to escape
the structures of the Temple for a more hands on method of
gathering information. The partnership worked in part because
Jamevlyn had never shown the slightest tendency to give Mace
nor any Jedi other than maybe Master Yoda the usual level of
awe and fear many others expressed.
Indeed, Jamevlyn usually proved nearly as insolent as Obi-Wan,
and the two had caused a geometrical progression of gray hairs
to their elders when interacting together; one of the reasons,
Qui-Gon suspected, that Mace had begun to completely shave his
head.
*I have to admit that Jamevlyn's blasters would be handy, even
without the lovely lady's presence.*
Qui-Gon almost laughed at the level of shock Obi-Wan couldn't
withhold from their link, but shortness of breath and sharp
pain had the Jedi Master aborting such a response instantly.
And, of course, his concern that his sensitive Padawan might
not understand such a reaction to his surprise.
He let Obi-Wan hold him steady, and let a few more truths and
memories pass between them.
While he had never used any weapon other than his wits and
lightsaber in direct confrontations during all of the years he
and Obi-Wan had worked together, Qui-Gon not only knew the
benefits long-range weapons like blasters sometimes offered
over their elegant swords, but he shot with one quite
proficiently. He and Mace had both trained with other weapons,
more to learn of their effects and to study proper responses to
such, than with the idea of ever actually using one in battle
themselves. They had too often also seen the effectiveness. And
while up until this moment Qui-Gon had never found a personal
reason to question the Jedi disdain in using one, with both he
and Obi-Wan having sustained significant injuries during their
escape and their ability to even use their lightsabers under
question, it might have been nice to have another option.
The exchange served to revitalize them both, but being purely
emotional, it wouldn't last long enough, unless they finished
this business now.
*This is going to have to be like the escape from the arena,
Obi-Wan. One of us handling communications, then helping with
defense if necessary.*
To contact the ship early enough to coordinate timing yet still
be able to draw and activate their lightsabers would mean
giving away their location that much quicker and, consequently,
ensuring the need for both of them to use their weapons.
While waiting until the last possible moment for communication
had barely worked in getting the ship away to safety at the
start of their escape, this time waiting would mean that the
one would be having to defend against an even larger, and
certainly more motivated group against them.
His damaged shoulder and Obi-Wan's broken arm had been
detrimental enough to the two of them defending in their first
escape. If the opponents had not been so confused by
circumstances and conflicting orders, had the tree line not
been as close and the growth as wild so as to keep their
pursuers from being able to use most of their equipment within,
they would never have survived.
Now, with their additional injuries and deprivations of food,
care and sleep, neither would be even that effective this time.
During this mutual assessment Qui-Gon sensed that -- even more
than Obi-Wan's fear of the possibility of death coming to
either of them -- his Padawan showed concern that such a death
would mean a failure of the mission. Not the original mission,
of course, that had already failed in an all too spectacular
fashion. But the threat that loomed now was too important not
to have one of them survive to be able to give warning to the
Chancellor.
He could feel Obi-Wan's despair return, this time turning into
a sense of dread that wouldn't be as easily dismissed.
What had his Padawan foreseen?
Obi-Wan might never be as experienced in such situations as
Qui-Gon due to their age difference, yet his Padawan had seen
more adventure, more conflict and plans fall apart that any two
other Jedi his age. And by no means was he unschooled in a
plenitude of strategies and tactics, for understanding military
history was a vital part of understanding the Republic as it
currently stood.
*We could just pass on the information of the assassination
plot to the pilot,* Obi-Wan's thoughts came back slowly,
softly, abrupt afraid to intrude or offer challenge. As if
afraid of knowing the conclusion to such an action, but
having to offer it anyway.
Qui-Gon shook his head. *The Chancellor's people are --*
*Untrusting.* Obi-Wan let slip a small flush of unsuppressed
relief, quickly followed by embarrassment for fearing being
trapped on this planet while the ship departed. Qui-Gon ignored
both emotions, understanding that the other might be able to
accept death as a necessity, but that didn't mean he'd embrace
it eagerly.
Of course, he'd accept the only viable alternative with even
less enthusiasm once he reasoned it out.
And, *No!* came Obi-Wan's horrified cry before Qui-Gon could
put the thought into an order.
Anger, fear, distress, all the strong negative emotions a Jedi
spent a lifetime confronting and mastering, rushed through and
widened their link with Obi-Wan's refusal to acknowledge what
Qui-Gon had concluded must happen. As Jedi Master, Qui-Gon felt
his own dismay and even a bit of displeasure that his lessons
and the example he tried to set in his personal behavior had so
readily been forgotten the instant Obi-Wan sensed his intent.
Yet as a man, as a father/teacher/brother/partner/friend, the
human within Qui-Gon found great comfort in the love and
concern that spawned Obi-Wan's rebelliousness.
*Despite what you think you have seen, it is the only way,
Obi-Wan. Warning must be given. If our pursuers are distracted,
misdirected, then you can --*
*Then let me be the one to stay!* came the vehement protest,
completely ignoring Qui-Gon's reference to his prescience.
*Chancellor Valorum will not listen to a mere Padawan --*
A spurious argument, one well beneath the intelligence of them
both, but Qui-Gon kept his dismissal of the offer gentle.
*You know he will listen to you just as well as he would me,
Obi-Wan. One of us can only protect the other if the other
isn't thought to be there.*
*But --*
*I have neither the stamina nor the speed left to make the
final run.* Truth, painful not just because it was the final,
cruel trump card to play against Obi-Wan, but out of too human
pride. Which almost made Qui-Gon laugh at himself even as he
felt it.
Had he really managed to convince himself that a Jedi Master's
lifetime of experience and serenity had kept him from
unconsciously competing with the glorious expression of youth
beside him?
*You'll be caught. Killed!* Obi-Wan's arguments fled, now just
his fears remained.
*Caught yes, but there is also a good possibility that for
their plan to work they will need me alive to confirm the final
security checks before the Chancellor's arrival.*
*After which they will kill you!*
*That may be, Obi-Wan, but there is no death --*
*Don't you dare quote that to me, Master! I am not a child --*
*Then stop acting like one.* Qui-Gon let a hardness temper his
thoughts; no longer willing to expend energy other than to
command obedience, though he immediately regretted losing his
temper; he had acted more the child than Obi-Wan.
Regretted it especially when Obi-Wan's shields suddenly found
the strength missing for most of two days.
And Qui-Gon suddenly found himself not quite so willing to win
in that way, not at all willing to let anger be the end of it.
"I value your life no less than you do mine, Obi-Wan." Thoughts
spoken aloud against shields that kept feelings out. "And I
cannot bear the thought of knowing you further injured. It is a
Master's honor and right to sacrifice themselves for a Padawan
if needs must come to that."
Especially this Master for this Padawan, Qui-Gon kept selfishly
to himself. In the abstract he realized part of his willingness
in this was knowing that the guilt of losing another Padawan
would likely end his career as a Jedi, therefore sacrificing
both. But the thought of losing not just a Padawan, but
Obi-Wan brought the much greater hurt. Not for the first
time had he begun to think that being Jedi wouldn't matter much
-- enough -- if Obi-Wan wasn't around.
In a life of too many regrets, Qui-Gon knew that outliving this
cherished soul would be the worst.
"I will come back for you." Apology accepted. Sentiment
understood and returned.
Jedi and mission first.
Qui-Gon nodded, saying nothing else as they both knew Obi-Wan
might not be able to keep such a promise. But he reached out a
hand to clasp the back of Obi-Wan's head, and closed his eyes
when the other buried tears for a second against his chest.
When Obi-Wan finally pulled away, Qui-Gon let the younger man's
sweat-dampened and tattered braid run through his fingers,
still unwilling to part.
How had it gotten so long without him noticing, even when it
had been his fingers setting the colored ties each time a
milestone in age and training was reached?
"Give me time to move to the edge of the clearing before coming
forward," Qui-Gon instructed. "I will move across as if heading
for the ship, and will take care of signaling the pilot. Once
the patrols begin moving toward me, I'll lead as many of them
away as I can."
Obi-Wan nodded. The only plan they could make and still with no
guarantees of success, yet would give them one of them the best
opportunity to ensure the Chancellor's survival.
Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan check the position of his
lightsaber, then struggle to loosen muscles long since
overtaxed. He could draw comfort in the knowledge that the plan
would not fail due to errors on his Padawan's part.
No more words, no more exchange of thoughts, just a final
expressions of love and contentment in their partnership as
this might very well be their final moments together. Qui-Gon
lay his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder one last time, then slowly
unclipped his own lightsaber from his belt and handed it over,
giving with it a transfer of nearly all of the energy that
still buoyed him. His own task would be the quicker one, less
physically demanding. The one that could fail the Force
demanded a sacrifice.
One last look at those widened, liquid eyes, now simply gray
instead of their oft sea green, then shields were strengthened
again against each other and they moved apart.
Scant minutes later Qui-Gon had passed through a cadre of men
who, oblivious by their inattentiveness and his ease in
misdirection, had been waiting far too long at this location
without relief. If all the troops held their positions so
sloppily but no, once he opened up communications boredom would
give way to excitement if for no other reason but that there
would be an ending and the patrol could return home. Enough of
a reward or incentive if none other had been offered.
Qui-Gon lingered at the edge of the clearing longer than he
should have, just staring at their little ship. At the nearness
of escape. Again he thought to revise the plan, but could sense
that Obi-Wan had begun his own move.
And abruptly realized that this was a sacrifice he could make,
but he did not do so for the Chancellor.
The pilot answered his commlink communication so quickly that
for a moment Qui-Gon feared it to be a trick of their pursuers.
Yet what else but waiting for such a communication would the
pilot be doing?
A cacophony of noise nearly drowned out his orders, the other's
response, but Qui-Gon kept talking, and moving forward. Those
now behind him came alive. Voices, engines, weapons, people and
machines powered up and burst out toward the ship Qui-Gon had
sent here two days ago.
Qui-Gon turned his head over his shoulder as if their presence
had surprised him. He began angling away from the ship, heading
another direction into the wood even though he knew sentinels
awaited him there, too. His pursuers began to move to positions
on either side, boxing him in, directing him in the patterns he
had wanted to move, though they thought it their own idea.
Small weapon fire ignited the ground cover around him, yet no
shot came close enough to truly threaten. It looked like he had
been right about them wanting one of them alive. A Jedi to
convince the Republic that nothing untoward had happened.
Qui-Gon would have stopped there, surrendered willingly, but a
few of those who followed had now noticed the ship powering up,
and had begun to break off pursuit of him to turn toward it. He
would need to convince them that his capture was not a forgone
conclusion.
With a burst of speed and the last remnants of energy, Qui-Gon
quickly changed the direction of his flight and actually closed
the distance between himself and his pursuers on his right
side, noting in satisfaction the fear that instantly gripped
several of the guard. Had they been droids this would not have
worked, certainly not as well.
Performing a flip that would have done his Padawan proud,
Qui-Gon maneuvered over the heads of those nearest, and pushed
out with hand and Force to fling them into their fellows who
tried to turn in formation and follow. It wouldn't take them
long to sort themselves out indeed, it took little time at all
and too many had only to step aside or over to continue
pursuit. But fewer now looked to the ship, and none in the
direction Obi-Wan abruptly sped out from.
Needing to steady breath and balance upon landing, Qui-Gon
watched his Padawan run with a speed that he normally would
have been hard pressed to achieve even after days of rest and
in perfect physical condition. Both were burning themselves out
in this final stand, going beyond what body or Force could
offer, knowing their survival mattered little beyond the
moments needed. This level of commitment to a cause made Jedi
peacekeepers unparalleled even compared to other agents and
representatives of the Light.
Unparalleled and feared.
Soldiers, bodyguards, parents, lovers; each might willing die
for a mission, a job, a child, another. Dying, in truth, was
easy. But so few not Jedi would live for those others, or would
walk away from a bond stronger than money, patriotism, family
or love.
"Now!" he yelled to the pilot.
Whether vocally or within his head, Obi-Wan had also heard the
command. In the next instant both man and ship sprang upward
from the ground, even as the soldiers knocked Qui-Gon forward
and held him with a knee to his back and a gun against his
neck. He didn't see Obi-Wan's leap nearly fall short, but he
sensed his apprentice's pain when forced to grab on to the
rising lip of a ramp -- with both hands -- and pull himself up
with only grit and determination. And Qui-Gon couldn't see how
close the blaster bolts came to that precious body before the
closing of the ramp allowed him to tumble inward to safety,
which was probably for the best for his own ability to lie
quiescent. Fortunately Qui-Gon could sense Obi-Wan's unwavering
focus, however, his sad-tinged relief, which enabled Qui-Gon to
let go of consciousness as his body's pains demanded.
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's collapse, and it took everything he had
not to follow his Master into the darkness. As the link that
grew more fragile with every meter the pilot put between his
ship and the moon, Obi-Wan's body craved the release into
unconsciousness on its own. But his life held threefold purpose
now: to make sure the ship escaped, to warn the Chancellor
about the assassination attempt, and to come back for Qui-Gon.
Which meant he couldn't surrender. Not quite yet.
Which further meant he had to distance himself from his Master,
no matter how much he wished to keep even a one-sided link.
Knowing that Qui-Gon now lay beyond pain would have to be
enough. Obi-Wan would reestablish the link or not when time to
find the other; he couldn't afford to waste even of erg of
energy to maintaining it in order to complete his first two
tasks.
Nor was he sure he could bear what he expected to feel through
the link and be able to just passively stand by.
Obi-Wan pushed aside the heavy pulsing through his brain that
came with trying to gather the Force again, then crawled across
the floor and pulled himself upright, using the appurtenances
on the nearest bulkhead as handholds to keep himself from
returning to the floor. While he had managed to avoid any of
the bolts directed his way on that last run, he had so spent
himself in even making the effort that his jump of a mere 20
meters had fallen short. He didn't even want to look at the arm
that had been broken, partially healed, broken and barely
healed and now broken again, perhaps beyond the ability to
heal. Then there were the tendons and muscles he had wrenched
in the strain of having to lift himself steadily higher than
the rising ramp while the craft sought to escape the bounds of
gravity. Not to mention that less than graceful collapse upon
reaching the relative safety of the hold.
He had just let his body slide and fall as the ramp under him
had finished closing, barely able to slow his descent before
coming to a stop only after rolling halfway across the cargo
hold. Elbows and knees, hips and shoulders felt nearly as
battered as his ribs. How he had managed to protect them, to
keep from puncturing a lung, he could only be grateful for.
"Jedi Kenobi?"
For a moment his rattled brain could barely process the sounds,
words making no sense without the feel of emotions behind them.
Nor could Obi-Wan yet speak; he could barely even drag in a
breath much less manage to get something out. But somehow he
found himself over to the inset communicator and managed to
click it a couple of times to let the pilot know that he was
there. That he was on his way up.
Surprised that the pilot hadn't called for him again due to the
time it took -- the number of times he had needed to stop --
Obi-Wan finally found his way to the bridge. What didn't
surprise him, however, was seeing that they had breached the
atmosphere and now faced the blackness of space.
Along with three scout ships from one of the squadrons of the
Tiasian space force, who were orbiting to prevent any incidents
before tomorrow's ceremony. Either from the planet, or from
beyond. Which meant they would be hunted still.
Thank the Light that Qui-Gon had insisted on using something
other than a weaponless, diplomatic ship like their oft
conveyance of the Reliance class. Not that Obi-Wan felt anxious
to fire on those who opposed them; like their fellows
surface-bound, most had to be soldiers just performing their
duties. It might have been better for his conscious if the
droids powered the ships instead of sentient beings, but on the
other hand, Obi-Wan would not be able to sense as easily the
presence of drones and, theoretically, warn his pilot with
enough time that they could evade their pursuers.
Once they made it past this first blockade.
"Try to disable only," he instructed in a ragged croak, voice
little louder than the sounds of the ship's engines. "Weapons,
communications, propulsion only." He closed his eyes and took a
shallow breath, desperate to take a deep one, but unable. "But
do what you must to get us away."
Both the harshness of the tone and of the words caused the
pilot to twist around. The man's shock could be read by a blind
rock; he had worked with Jedi before and knew they did not
order death lightly.
There was nothing light in Obi-Wan's uncompromising
determination.
The pilot swallowed audibly and turned back to his controls. "I
might need your assistance." He sounded unsure of whether he
should speak at all. And unsure as to whether what he suggested
was even possible. Obi-Wan could sense that the pilot's
skepticism in dealing with a mere apprentice had begun to color
his thinking.
Obi-Wan kept his sigh to himself and pulled away from the only
thing holding him up other than will and purpose. The pilot's
initial doubts could very well be correct; even he wasn't sure
how much help he could be, not because of lack of skill, but
from lack of stamina. The moment he left the wall his vision
threatened to disappear completely when he wasn't seeing double
or triple, and the walk of maybe no more than seven steps
seemed insurmountable, there being nothing but floor with which
to drag himself along.
However, the other's scorn enabled Obi-Wan to make those steps
upright; the pilot's assumptions playing directly on Obi-Wan's
vanity that his years with Qui-Gon could not quite knock out.
Obi-Wan had quickly become use to feelings of jealousy/envy
from passing acquaintances, from even the occasional other
apprentice after becoming Padawan to someone of Qui-Gon's
unmatched skill and, truthfully, such emotions usually brought
Obi-Wan strength, an almost smug pleasure as it bolstered his
self confidence. The same happened after receiving thoughts of
condescension from another Master, or their expectations of
failure on his behalf when they thought Qui-Gon indulged him
too much with advanced training.
Since most of his life before becoming a Padawan had revolved
around trying to live up to other's expectations (like it
wasn't now?), to be good enough to be noticed by anyone, the
jealousies and astonishment from others that came with his
successes were often his only validation in feelings of
self-worth. Not a particular good quality to proud of, perhaps,
but too much a part of him to forgo completely.
And there were instances where it did prove useful.
Like keeping him from falling flat on his face, even if only to
make sure the other didn't laugh or show pity, it got Obi-Wan
those seven steps. That he collapsed down into the chair
instead of setting himself down carefully, didn't matter.
"Ah, boy, can you fly?"
He was so tired of being called a boy.
Nor could Obi-Wan help but wish he sat next to Jame, instead of
someone whose name he didn't even know. Outside of Qui-Gon, she
was probably his closest friend. Unfailing support would be
helping a lot more than skepticism, or the other's lack of
confidence and palatable fear which Obi-Wan didn't have the
strength to shield out.
"Yes," he offered evenly, though how he wished to growl it, to
snarl out all of his frustrations. He didn't need fear of
himself to be added to the fear of his lack of abilities.
"Then I'll take weapons." Almost before the words left his
mouth, the pilot transferred his board controls to the other
seat.
Odd to be piloting, although he certainly had the skills. It
was just that the last several times he had found himself in a
similar position, Obi-Wan had handled the weapons control. Of
course, that was because they had been working with Master
Windu, so Jame had the piloting duty. At task he had willing
conceding after she had proven her greater skill helping him
chase after the insurrectionists who had kidnapped Qui-Gon.
But being pilot here meant Obi-Wan didn't have to waste energy
communicating his awareness of the closing ships, just as he
wouldn't need to explain his trick for getting them out of this
without further pursuit. With the primary controls under hand
Obi-Wan had instant access to most of the ship-wide systems,
including a link to the small device Jame usually gave Qui-Gon
just before their departure on a dicey mission. Her hand
terminal held a very specific program, an old smuggler's trick,
and one that should prove handy if he could set up the proper
conditions for its use.
Without bothering to acknowledge the other's shock when he
directed their little ship further in-system instead of away
toward hyperspace limits and safety, Obi-Wan focused his
attention on finding what he needed.
Something smaller than T'ias' three sister satellites in orbit
around the fifth planet of this system ...
Yes, this system had an asteroid belt.
Obi-Wan hoped to be able to ignore the successful hits his
partner made against their foes, but he couldn't ignore the
flare of life peaking and dying somewhere out beyond them.
"Disable only!" Not only was the loss of life tragic and
unnecessary, but he needed at least one of them left alive in
order to work his plan.
As he still needed to find the proper planetary mass.
Yes, there.
When Obi-Wan found at last what he needed, he shut down and
locked off the collision beacon before his companion would
notice its incessant beeping. Not that the other wouldn't
notice something amiss soon enough.
Sure enough.
"Are you insane, Jedi, or just blind!" the pilot screamed, and
tried futility to take back the controls, forgetting for a
moment that they still had four ships in pursuit.
Before Obi-Wan could answer, one of their pursuers scored a
solid hit that their shields barely siphoned off, throwing them
against their panels like bugs inside a boy's observation jar.
Obi-Wan let the ship tumble, giving credence to more damage
than they had actually sustained and, incidentally, allowing
the ship to drift closer to the asteroid the pilot had finally
noticed which outmassed them by more than five times.
This time the pilot panicked and tried manually to do what he
hadn't been able to achieve before. He tugged on Obi-Wan's arm,
and for a moment the Jedi's control and attention wavered as
bone grated against bone. He had no time and little patience to
be gentle, certainly none of the energy. But he managed a Force
push that broke the other's hold and sent him sliding out of
his chair and across the floor. And touched off a headache that
threatened him with unconsciousness.
"Don't do that again," he grated out. "Not unless you want to
kill us both."
Obi-Wan knew he'd be paying for the terror now directed his
way.
Still, a reasonable tradeoff, if it insured that future.
More shots buffeted the ship. The pilot scrabbled back to his
seat. He directed his attention to the only thing he could
command. He fired indiscriminately, no longer aiming, no longer
caring if he missed or disabled, if he killed. The last bravado
of a man knowing his doom but determined to go out with at
least the illusion of control.
The end came frighteningly easy. Another solid hit had them
spiraling out of control toward the asteroid; even if Obi-Wan
could bring them out of it, they would hit. The challenge would
be to determine where and how badly they hit, then use the
computer program from Jame to convince those beyond that the
damage to the ship was catastrophic.
And hope that the soldiers had no reason to suspect a ruse.
Obi-Wan doubted any of those directly involved in the military
coup were up here. So far the cabal had relied on misdirection
and falsified evidence to get their troops to work against the
Jedi. Even if those here against them knew this was the Jedi
ship, they had no information or incentive to do anything more
than their basic jobs. That had seemingly been proven in the
initial bombings, verified in the first village, and reinforced
every time he and Qui-Gon had confronted the programmed droids
and live troops of their armed forces.
Hopefully, now Obi-Wan only had to keep them quiet long enough
for the scout ships to take their readings and leave. Then they
could leave.
He didn't care about the fate of the soldiers if the ruse
should be discovered, didn't care if the cabal proved
successful or not, nor what would happen to T'ias in its
future, didn't really care about the Supreme Chancellor other
than his death would make their sacrifices of the past two days
pointless. Other than Valorum had done nothing to deserve to
die.
But neither had Qui-Gon.
Chapter Two
Obi-Wan noticed the quiet first. A hushed silence and gathered
shadows that he knew should soothe, yet only seemed to
reinforce just how close the walls of the room felt. How small
his mind felt. He fought against that smallness, striving to
restore broken connections, to recall memories just below
consciousness, then trying to ignore the pain that rushed
through him instead like a whirlwind to sweep him under again.
Part of him recognized pain resulting from a psychic overload,
something he had felt once before when Master Windu had used
Obi-Wan's presence as a channel for more energy that he could
wield himself to thwart a terrorist attack. But he felt other
pains too, tremendous physical aches, emotional traumas,
outside forces pressing in, inside forces trying to reach out,
memories ... memories of explosions and darkness, fire,
running.
So much running
Qui-Gon!
Obi-Wan now resisted in earnest, fighting the hands that strove
to hold him down, snarling mentally and vocally against the
pain-filled compulsions pressing against his mind to give up,
to surrender back to the darkness, to let go, to heal.
Without thinking, he resisted, knowing Healers trained in the
Jedi ways took their calling no less serious than did Teachers,
Knights or Padawan apprentices. Obi-Wan abruptly feared they
would view their mission of keeping him alive more important
than his own, would enforce the return to darkness.
Which he could not allow.
Letting raw determination and unrepentant stubbornness
strengthen his shields, Obi-Wan threw his fear and anger into
those hovering over him. The wave of negative emotions caused
those about him to hesitate instead of enforcing their control
upon him. Normally a Padawan did not have the strength to fight
a Jedi Healer, but Obi-Wan had already spent two days fighting,
winning against such compulsions forced on him by his own mind.
The struggle ended quickly, one of the sets of hands falling
away, then the other as he pushed away with force and Force.
Obi-Wan rose halfway to his feet before the warning signals
sent from his body caught up to his awareness. He collapsed to
his knees in teeth-jarring intensity, and only by twisting his
body forward did he avoid slamming his broken arm against the
edge of the bed he had been laying on. The maneuver caused his
ribs to grate against each other instead.
For an instant Obi-Wan couldn't breath. He felt one of the
Healers come back to his side immediately, and between tearing,
slitted eyes he could see the Healer's face set in sharp lines
of disapproval that did little to mask the other's surprise and
a touch of fear that they were dealing someone beyond their
capacity to help without causing more damage. To him or to
them.
Relief flooded Obi-Wan. They thought him delirious, beyond
control, bordering a fall to the Dark in his injuries; the
pilot must have relayed much of what had happened in their
escape without any thought that Obi-Wan might have actually
planned their escape. Had the healers known Obi-Wan fought them
consciously, their methods would undoubtedly take a decidedly
more forceful turn. And Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't be able to
hold out against a truly concerted effort from them for more
than a few moments.
But he couldn't let them put him back to sleep.
"We need the Master in here," the one closest to him called
back to his partner, doubling over in the next instant as
Obi-Wan's elbow connected with his mid-section.
Wrong though he knew it was, Obi-Wan couldn't quite help but
feel some satisfaction.
Then Obi-Wan didn't know whether to laugh in relief or cry in
horror when the door to the room quickly irised open and the
Jedi Master they had called for entered. Mace Windu, with
Jamevlyn D'Kalette at his side. He could read concern in both
sets of eyes, but Master Windu's held a touch more of something
that might almost be understanding.
Obi-Wan could only hope the Master Jedi understood his reasons,
not just that there was deception.
He reached for a connection that, while it would never be as
strong or complete as the one he shared with Qui-Gon, was still
easier to complete with any other Jedi save for maybe Master
Yoda. Only this time nothing came easy in the action. Agony
gripped him instead of mindtouch, a pulsing, blinding,
screaming, overpowering, wrenching tear in his mind. He could
feel his eyes roll back in his head, even feel the frantic
touch of hands against arms, chest, throat, but all that
mattered, all he really knew was his mind was caught,
lost into something that threatened to annihilate all sense of
self. Death. Force.
Oblivion.
Until he felt hot, demanding lips against his own, tasted moist
salt, tasted concern. Obi-Wan's consciousness slammed back down
into his body, into pain, but no longer connected to that white
nothingness.
Be mindful of the here and now, young Padawan.
A memory echo served to ground him back to an awareness of the
present. Of at least his surroundings, if not yet the
circumstances.
"A rather unique approach, don't you think, Jame?" Spoken dryly
somewhere above him, with a hint of exasperation, of fondness
and amusement.
"I think he's undergone enough injury without having to be
slapped, Mace." Her voice held only the exasperation. "I didn't
happen to have a glass of ice water on me, nor did I see any of
you esteemed Jedi doing anything useful, so --"
"Jame ..." A warning, a plea, a tone every Padawan knew and
dreaded for it meant censure, a call to acknowledge
embarrassment for having done or said something
inappropriately, a tone every Padawan responded to
automatically when spoken by a Master.
Obi-Wan dragged his eyes open, unable to bear the thought of
someone getting into trouble over him. The sight of the room
brought back recent memory, then surprise when he found that he
lay again on the bed. Obi-Wan knew he could not have risen on
his own, yet had no memory of being lifted by hands or Force.
No memories either of blacking out.
Jame, familiar and much loved, now leaned over him, her face
raised up with a fierce look directed at Master Windu who stood
braced on the other side of the bed. They should have been on
the other side of the room, just having come through the door,
but Obi-Wan's time sense was just as blurred as his memories.
One of the Healers attempted to pull Jame away and she ignored
him as if she was a statue of carbon freeze. Just as she
ignored Master Windu's unmasked displeasure.
Even without reaching for confirmation within the Force,
Obi-Wan could read tense currents in the room.
He cleared his throat.
At once both the Jedi Master and Jame turned their attention
his way. Twin smiles erased any signs of anger, any
disapproval.
"Padawan Kenobi," the dark-skinned Master began. "Are you with
us now?"
Obi-Wan started to nod, then nearly vomited from the flood of
nausea that overtook him at even that brief movement. He nearly
welcomed a return of white oblivion as his body curled and
spasmed involuntarily in a loop of escalating misery.
"No you don't, boyo." Jame slapped away a hand from the nearest
Healer and leaned back across the bed again close enough that
Obi-Wan could feel her breath against his lips, his cheek. But
she didn't kiss him this time. Instead her fingers snaked
around his neck, splaying across the back of his head, digging
into pressure points in a complicated, yet quick set of
compressions.
At once Obi-Wan felt his muscles relax, felt better. Well, at
least he no longer exactly wanted to die. Nor did he feel that
he was going to be sick all over himself or one of the others
quite so strongly.
"Jedi aren't the only ones who learn a few tricks about
healing," Jame laughed softly as she rose back up, first giving
Obi-Wan a gentle kiss on his forehead. Obi-Wan then watched her
face take on a much sterner appearance. "And you Jedi sometimes
seem to forget that the Force isn't always your ally."
"Nonsense," the closest Healer began.
Obi-Wan might have laughed at the Healer's outrage if he hadn't
known what such movement would reawaken in him. Even the simple
acts of listening and breathing hurt.
"Oh, please, didn't you notice the way he cringed away from you
when you tried to heal him?" she continued in disgust. "Or how
close he came to -- the way he stopped -- that his collapse
began upon trying to link with Mace? He's in psychic shock, you
idiot! Any use of the Force -- by him -- on him is only
exacerbating the situation."
It felt odd to be the object of such intensity and not having
any say or hand in it. Obi-Wan wondered if he should be
concerned with how ... detached he felt. Heh, psychic shock.
Somehow, it felt a lot worse this time.
"Jame." Master Windu reached over Obi-Wan to cover Jame's hand
with his own and only because he held it right before his eyes,
could Obi-Wan see the pressure the Jedi Master exerted to try
and calm her as no sign came from his tone. "Psychic shock from
overuse of the Force is not common, for all that you've seen it
before. In truth, no Padawan should have the ability to even
act as a channel which might lead to such overuse, much less
create it within himself. And you also know that use of the
Force is not supposed to cause pain or danger. Such reactions
generally comes only when a Jedi is abruptly cut off from the
Force."
Although the Healers nodded at Mace's words, Obi-Wan could see
that Jame didn't seem mollified. Smiling was only the baring of
teeth in many cultures, a practice she had perfected almost as
well as she had the art of sarcasm.
"You I can excuse, Mace, you're not a Healer." Her unyielding
gaze turned to the other two in the room. "Didn't you even try
to sense what you were --"
Master Windu gave a tug on Jame's hands, commanding her
attention again. "They travel with the Chancellor who is about
as Force sensitive as a rock. So, of course, there hasn't been
much need for them to treat Force injuries." He scowled when
that didn't seem to make an impression. "Jame, let it go --"
Travel with the Chancellor ... the Chancellor! The detachment
disappeared under the new memories Master Windu's words brought
back.
Obi-Wan reached up for Master Windu's hands, breaking the
other's hold on Jame's. "Mas ... ter ...Windu!" He ignored the
way his head felt as if it would explode as his words echoed
within.
"Padawan? Are you sure you're ready to talk --"
The concern, the understanding Obi-Wan read in the Jedi
Master's eyes almost let him succumb to the peace his body
wanted. As no Master would ever let their Padawan get to the
state they had found him in, not without something catastrophic
having happened to the Master first, it was obvious that the
Councilor feared the worst. He was being given time to ...
recover before having to speak the words. Master Windu had
shown a consideration not at all within keeping of his
reputation. For him more than most other Jedi, the mission, any
mission always came before the individuals involved.
Even when the individual was one of his oldest friends, Qui-Gon
Jinn.
Except right now.
Obi-Wan was too much Jedi, too much Qui-Gon's student, however,
to take that which had been offered. He would not could not
examine his loss yet. Complete the mission. Nothing else.
"Master ... Windu," he repeated, coughing, trying to sit up
although that compressed bruised muscle and grated ribs against
each other. "There ... a coup," he managed to choke out. "...
military have ... control. They ... assassinate ... Valorum!"
So hard to think, to put in words what normally would have been
conveyed with thought. A Jedi used words, yes, but to clarify,
to offer focus and to challenge
"How do they intend to hide the takeover so that the Chancellor
will still attend the ceremony?"
That Master Windu did not question the validity of his words
helped Obi-Wan as much as the presence of his and Jame's hands
helped steady him upright. He leaned back against the bedding
Jame quickly wadded up behind him, only now realizing he still
gripped the Jedi Councilor's hand hard enough to bruise, that
he was trying to use physical and emotion means to convince
when he could not use mental. Obi-Wan let go and dropped his
hand into his lap. "They ... blamed ... Qui-Gon --" His throat
tightened on his master's name, bringing more pain than ever
the damage to his body could. For long moments he couldn't
speak.
"Said ... Qui-Gon and I ... behind the deaths." He finally
managed. "To keep their ... people from fearing. "
"But the Chancellor would know you are innocent." Master Windu
seemed to have little trouble filling in the holes. "He
wouldn't "
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, still struggling to speak though the
words came slightly easier. "They manufactured evidence ...
convicted us ... I'm sure they ... as convincing ... a rogue
Jedi ...And if Chance ... Valorum ... also killed ... would
doubt ... stop Alliance." He tried to draw strength from the
compassion pouring out from Master Windu, from Jame, from even
the two Healers who had finally realized that all of this was
quite beyond their usual purview. But there was more. He had to
say it now.
"Qui-Gon ... we evaded ... chased ... Qui-Gon though ...never
get ... ship without ... not without ... distraction ... Hoped
... need Qui-Gon ... 'vince the Chance ... to complete journey
... thought they'd ... use him but ... I can't sense ... he's "
"Obi-Wan!" He felt his head turned between Master's Windu's
hands, nearly became undone again by the use of his name
instead of title. "You must know that he is alive!" The
Councilor using physical touch himself to offer certainty the
mind could not.
Obi-Wan swallowed heavily. And tried to nod. He had always
thought he would feel Qui-Gon's death, even at a distance. Or
so he hoped -- Or didn't hope. But since leaving T'ias, any
time Obi-Wan tried to reach for that presence that even
distance couldn't block, he could only feel pain. The pain
wasn't from Qui-Gon, at least not exactly; it came from
somewhere else, from before Qui-Gon, as if the Force itself was
keeping them apart. Or keeping him from feeling something.
Obi-Wan had been in psychic shock before, knew part of his
trouble now stemmed from it. But not this. Jedi were taught to
trust the Force in all things, before their Council, before
their Masters. Before even their selves. Yet if he couldn't, if
his trouble came from the Force, then didn't that mean
everything was a lie?
That Qui-Gon could be dead --
"I can still feel him, Padawan," came Master Windu's
confirmation. "Not just in the Force, but alive!"
Obi-Wan wanted to cry. So it wasn't death which beckoned or
held him away from Qui-Gon. For that he knew gratitude.
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