Name : Cyberoid13
Website : www.geocities.com/Area51/Shadowlands/3113
Email : cyberoid13@yahoo.com
Title : Crossing Paths (Part One) - Firegold
Summary : Qui-Gon Jinn crosses path with an unusual and mysterious woman while on
a mission.
Date of completion : 30th August 1999
Category : Rise of the Emperor (drama)
Rating : PG
Author's comments : I was lying in bed one night, mentally constructing my original
story when this idea occurred to me. It stems from my curiosity to see how my heroine
would interact with characters from TPM, especially Qui-Gon. In fact this story
screamed so loudly to be written that I put aside whatever else I was doing and devoted
my time to it. The result is this and I like it a lot. I hope my readers would like it as well.
In order to better visualise the action sequence in this story, think 'anime action'.
This adventure occurred just before those in 'The Phantom Menace'. Basically it's a Qui-
Gon story. Minor spoilers for TPM.
Disclaimer : All Star Wars characters belonged to George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I don't
own them and I certainly don't make money from them.
Note : //...// indicates telepathy.
_____________________________________________________________________
CROSSING PATHS ( I ) - FIREGOLD
by
Cyberoid13
_____________________________________________________________________
~ PROLOGUE ~
When she could finally opened her eyes, she was genuinely surprised to find herself still
breathing.
Still alive after the harrowing escape from her pursuer and the violent crash on this
unknown planet.
Lying unmoving, she let her eyes take in the damage surrounding her. Her spacecraft
was tilting at a very odd angle, deck nearly facing skywards. Her safety harness trapped
her in the pilot seat, pressing painfully against her ribcage. The console in front of her
was blackened and damaged beyond repair. And there was not an inch of her body that
did not ache.
Slowly, she unbuckled her safety harness and carefully climbed out of the pilot chair.
Crimson-gold hair fell loose from its binding, tumbling over a shoulder and down her
back. Bracing herself against the high back of the chair, she took in the rest of her ship.
The damage was extensive. The stern was crumpled like so much paper, crushing
whatever machinery and computer systems in that area. The starboard bulkhead fared
just as badly - ripped and tore out, letting in the cold rain that was falling outside on the
planet.
It would no longer fly anymore.
Last, she turned her attention to her injuries. Miraculously, she had escaped with minor
injuries, save for the deep gash on her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sent her awareness
inward.
The gash on her head, deep but strangely bloodless, began to close. Slowly at first, but it
quickened until a scar was all that was left. And even that disappeared in seconds. She
opened her eyes, leaning heavily against the chair, knees buckling. The regeneration had
taken longer than usual, testimony to her depleted and exhausted state. She doubted if
she could do any more self-repair until she had rested and regained her energy.
But she can't rest.
Not when the Headhunter who had shot her out of space could come after her anytime.
Pushing aside the support of the pilot chair, she stumbled towards the emergency
supplies. Breaking the seal, she dragged out the entire survival kit. The contents within
was not entirely suitable to someone of her kind but it would do in a pinch. It was not as
though she owed this spacecraft; she had stolen it from the spaceport. There was no
time to be picky when her survival was threatened.
Survival kit in hand, she managed to stagger to the jagged hole before her strength finally
gave out. Knees buckling, she collapsed, nearly slicing herself on a jagged edge of metal.
The survival kit clattered unnoticed to the wet muddy ground outside. Her head swam
dizzyingly, black spots swimming in front of her eyes, and she felt so weak.
How long has it been since she has gone without food or feeding off energy sources?
She couldn't remember.
Feebly, she changed directions, crawling towards the rear of the spacecraft. There was an
energy source, she could feel its hum, almost buried beneath all the debris. Reaching the
barrier that was the crushed stern of the spacecraft, she weakly stretched a slim arm into
a crevice. She didn't have to look to guide her hand towards the energy source. All her
senses were riveted on the flickering energy source, so hungry she was.
Then she was there, her fingers closing about the metallic surface of the fuel tank. In it,
she could literally sense the presence of pure energy. With one last burst of strength, she
broke the metal surface and sank her fingers deep into the energy fuel.
Pure power was absorbed by her skin and coursed through her veins. She shuddered,
closing her eyes and her head drooped against the cold surface of her spacecraft. For a
long while, she laid there, relishing the feel of returning energy to her limbs. It was
barely enough - much of the energy fuel had been used up in her escape from her
homeworld. Still it would be able to sustain her for at least a week before she had to feed
again.
Properly, she hoped.
Feeling much better than she had in months, she rose to her feet. Pausing by the self-
destruct mechanism, she activated it. Without another backward glance, she picked up
the survival kit and walked into the pouring rain, never flinching when the spacecraft
exploded minutes later.
There was a town nearby, she remembered from her last scan of this region on this
unnamed planet. It was a place she could feed and rest before setting out once more.
She knew she couldn't stay long on this planet. She would have to find a way off this
world before the Headhunter tracked her down again.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ ONE ~
The Republic cruiser coursed out of hyper-space and slowed to a more stately speed as it
approached the glowing planet in the distance. Like any planet when seen from space,
Theomoral looked extremely benign and peaceful.
Qui-Gon Jinn knew better, though. Standing unobtrusively behind the Captain-Pilot of
the Republic cruiser, the Jedi Master studied the planet thoughtfully.
The Crown Prince of Theomoral had been kidnapped almost a month ago, causing an
uproar not only on the planet itself but within the Senate as well. Theomoral was a
prominent and powerful member of the Senate, and its ruler's backing of Supreme
Chancellor Valorum was the strongest. Thus when the Royal Co-Consorts asked for
help in locating their missing son a week ago, the Republic wasted no time in agreeing.
Qui-Gon and his Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi were roused from their sleep in the
middle of the night and given this urgent mission. They left Coruscant within the hour,
packing light travel bags, without complaints. As Jedi, they were used to having no
permanent home (even though they have quarters in the Temple) and to go wherever
they were needed. The number of hours they spent in their quarters was minuscule
compared to the number of flight hours they logged.
"Who could be so daring?" Qui-Gon muttered aloud. "To kidnap the Crown Prince
from right under everyone's noses?"
"It would be a hard guess to make, Master." Obi-Wan spoke up beside him.
"Indeed. There are many rival Houses and all eye the throne."
Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he turned his awareness to the Force, carefully feeling its
currents and eddies. Tension coloured the Force, much of it emanating from the
troubled world they were approaching. Theomoralans loved their Royal House. This
latest danger facing their rulers were affecting the people as well. Other than that, Qui-
Gon did not discern any other dangers.
Withdrawing, Qui-Gon pulled the hood of his dark Jedi robe over his head. "Come,
Obi-Wan, let us get ready for our mission."
"Yes, master." Likewise, Obi-Wan concealed his face and clasped hands in the depths of
his hooded robe and followed his Master from the cockpit.
With luck, they would be able to resolve this crisis quickly and surely. Yeah, right. And
the Hutts are friends of the Jedi, Obi-Wan thought wryly. The Jedi never did things the
easy way, especially his Master.
Still, it made for an interesting life.
* * *
The capital city of Theomoral consisted of both the best and worst kind of
entertainment the planet had to offer under one roof, figuratively speaking. While the
wealthy and aristocratic dined and lived in sumptuous luxury in the upper-class district,
the poor and the peasant-class made merry in the seedy and garish section of the capital
city.
In a particularly rough neighbourhood, a boy about eight laid curled in a small ball inside
a metal cage. He was dressed in dirty clothes of rich material, a sharp contrast to the
rough-spun blanket covering the floor of the cage. He slept fitfully, one thumb inserted
in his mouth.
The door to the room swung open, admitting a slim willowy figure carrying a small tray
of food. Light glinted off a loose lock of red-gold hair peeking out beneath a scarf tied
about her head before the door swung shut again. The figure padded silently across the
room, unerringly picking her way through the darkness, towards the cage. Putting the
tray before the cage, the woman reached into the cage to gently shake the boy into
consciousness.
Brandelam stirred, opening sleepy eyes. Recognising the pale delicate face of the only
person who has been kind to him since he was brought to this awful place, he smiled
brilliantly.
"Firegold!" he cried happily, scrambling to sit upright. The woman quickly put a warning
finger to his lips. He obediently lowered his voice, though it was no less cheerful. "Boy,
am I glad to see you!"
The woman simply nodded and slid the small tray of food through a slot into the cage.
Courteous as always, Brandelam thanked her for the meal and began eating voriferously.
It had been a long while since lunch. Between mouthfuls of food, he chatted to the
woman, talking about anything under the sun. And there was a lot of things he could
talk about. Being the Crown Prince and a prodigy, Brandelam was smart beyond his
years.
The woman never said a single word, simply sat by his cage, listening attentively to every
word he said. In the short time Brandelam had known her, he had never heard her speak
or seen her smile. He didn't know her name, so he called her Firegold because her hair
was this vibrant vivid shade of crimson-gold, like the flower firegold that grew on the
palace grounds.
His dinner was gone, but Firegold stayed. She produced a wet washcloth and cleaned
him as thoroughly as she could, her movements hampered by the bars of the cage.
Brandelam never stopped talking, even as he sat still for the cleaning. In this hostile
place, she was the only friend he got.
The door suddenly banged open. Quicker than the eye could follow, Firegold was on her
feet, whirling to face the intruder. The washcloth disappeared into the folds of her
rough-spun skirt.
Despite his precocious nature, Brandelam shrank back from the unshaven human
looming in the doorway. His kidnapper scowled at Firegold, one hand on his blaster.
"You been talking to the kid again?" he growled.
Firegold, as was her wont, didn't say a thing. With a calm that was unusual in a peasant
girl, she gathered up the small tray and left the room, brushing past Brandelam's guard.
His scowl deepening, the guard slammed shut the door and locked it. In quick strides, he
caught up with Firegold and roughly yanked her to a stop. The tray and its empty
receptacles fell to the floor with a loud clatter, ignored by the guard as he pushed her up
against a wall.
"You do more than just bring food to the brat, and I'll be forced to hurt you real bad."
He leered at her, one hand groping for her behind. "Do you understand me, sweetie?"
Firegold was motionless, even calm. Her unflinching gaze remained peculiarly remote.
Brandelam's guard shifted uneasily, hating the woman's unusual calmness. He released
her from his grip. "Go. I don't want to see you loitering around here."
Still eerily silent, Firegold picked up her fallen tray and receptacles and walked away.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ TWO ~
The Crown Prince's bedchamber was large and filled with things one would associate
with childhood.
Obi-Wan bent and picked up a fallen stuffed toy, rubbing the soft fur before replacing it
on the shelf. A young man in his early twenties, Obi-Wan could barely remember his
childhood or his birth parents. Only a worn stuffed toy animal was vivid in his
memories; it was the only thing he remembered bringing from his birth home. The
Padawan wondered absently what happened to that stuffed toy animal.
"Rest assured, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon was saying to the Royal Co-Consorts. "We will
find and bring your son safely back to you."
"Please, Master Jedi." Consort Jerida could barely hold back her tears.
"Our hopes lay with you, Master Jinn." Her husband wrapped a comforting arm about
her. Consort Branam was fighting rather unsuccessfully to keep his poise serene. "Come,
Jerida. Let us leave the Jedi to their investigation."
The Jedi bowed as the Royal Co-Consorts left their son's bedroom. Only when they
were along once more did they turn their attention to the bedroom.
Qui-Gon looked around, hands clasped and hidden in the sleeves of his robe. Though it
had been a month since the kidnapping, the Jedi Master could still sense the Crown
Prince's terror permeating the room.
"Amazing," Obi-Wan muttered. "His emotional impressions are still present. To leave
that long-lasting an impression..."
"The Crown Prince is either an Sender, or has Jedi potential." Qui-Gon finished. He
paced slowly about the room, opening himself to the Force.
"I wonder how would the Co-Consorts react if the boy turns out to be Jedi potential,"
Obi-Wan muttered absently as he too lowered his shields to the Force.
//A question for another time, Padawan. Now concentrate on finding the boy.//
//Yes, master.//
They both 'saw' it at the same time - the black stab of terror and danger - tainting the
broken harp strewed haphazardly on the floor. Qui-Gon knelt and stretched a hand over
the smashed pieces of the musical instrument, carefully feeling the impression still
clinging to the battered wood. Exchanging a glance, both Jedi settled down on the
carpeted floor and centred their focuses on the broken pieces of wood and strings
scattered on the floor.
It was a cherished piece of musical instrument, a gift from someone dear to the Crown
Prince, Qui-Gon could sense. But the shades of love were nearly overwhelmed by the
black taint of terror.
Images began to flow into Qui-Gon's mind, images of a young boy engrossed in
practising a simple court tune on his harp when a shadow felled across him. Qui-Gon
sharpened his focus, concentrating on that moment of danger. He willed the images to
slow in his mind, watching each detail closely as the boy turned away from his harp to
look up into the face of his would-be kidnapper, recognising the face, before blackness
descended.
Qui-Gon felt the surge of exaltation, quickly suppressed, in his Padawan. //We got him,
Master.// Obi-Wan said with deep satisfaction.
//Yes, we do.// Qui-Gon pulled himself out of his light trance and opened his eyes. He
rose to his feet, pulling the edges of his cloak close. "Come, let us put an end to this."
The Royal Co-Consorts were waiting outside the Crown Prince's bedroom when they
exited.
"We are close, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon said in reply to their hopeful, questioning
looks. "I would like to speak to one of your retainers. A man by the name Kilerim."
Branam's face darkened when he realised the implications behind Qui-Gon's request.
"He will be arrested accordingly, Master Jedi."
Qui-Gon raised a hand, a premonition gripping him suddenly. "No, Your Majesty. I
would prefer not to raise his guard. I sense there is more to this kidnapping than just a
simple ransom demand."
"All right," Branam acquiesced reluctantly. He beckoned to a guard looming
unobtrusively in the background. "This is Saberim, my loyal retainer. He will help you in
your investigation. Find them, Master Jedi. Find my son and bring him home to us."
* * *
Firegold wove her way through the late afternoon crowd in the seedy taproom of the
tavern, deftly avoiding the various lecherous hands reaching out to grope her person.
Unlike the other barmaids in the taproom coyly flirting with the patrons, she did no
such things. She never smiled, never say a word, simply doing her job as a barmaid. The
patrons knew well enough to leave her alone. The last time someone made unwanted
advance towards Firegold had his nose broken with a sharp blow.
The bartender placed five mugs of alcohol on her empty tray. "Take this to the table
over there."
Firegold nodded.
Carrying the mugs of alcohol over to the said table, the entrance of a stranger caught her
eyes. The stranger was trying hard not to betray his agitation, but his nervousness was
plain to Firegold. Even as she served the patrons their drinks, she kept a covert eye on
the stranger, watching as he headed straight for the stairs to the tavern's boarding
rooms. Her curiosity piqued, Firegold followed him.
The stranger went straight to the room where the boy was being held imprisoned.
Firegold knew something was brewing. Throughout the day, she had counted at least
seven people making their way to the room. Stealthily, she went to the door and pressed
her ear against the surface, listening intently.
"We have to leave," the stranger was saying agitatedly.
"We're not going anywhere until we've received further words from our employer,"
Brandelam's guard replied. Other voices also spoke, backing their leader.
"The Jedi are here."
Dead silence fell.
"How close are they to finding us?" someone asked in a frightened voice.
"They already knew Kilerim spirited him from the palace. I don't think it'll be long
before they find the rest of us."
"Shit," a new voice swore. "What the hell are we going to do?"
"Flee the planet and take the boy with us."
"Why don't we just dump the boy?" whined the frightened kidnapper. "It's the boy they
want."
"And have our employer come after us as well?" snarled Brandelam's guard. "This is the
Crown Prince you're talking about. He's worth a lot of money, not to say he's our best
chance of leaving without a fight. Even the Jedi wouldn't dare to do anything to us since
we got him. Gather up your things. We're leaving now!"
Satisfied that she had heard enough, Firegold abandoned her listening post as silently as
she had came. It was time to do something. She couldn't leave that boy in the hands of
these ruffians. Her only problem was how to rescue the boy without drawing attention
to herself.
* * *
It was a surprisingly easy interrogation.
The minute Kilerim saw the stern Jedi Master approaching him with a forbidding look
of determination, he knew the game was up. For how do one fool a Jedi? It didn't take
Qui-Gon long to get the entire story from him. The only question unanswered was the
identity of their employer. Kilerim confessed that he had no idea who their masked
employer was.
"It won't be long to the tavern, Master Jedi," Saberim said.
Qui-Gon nodded, watching the forward window as the royal guard transport whizzed
out of the palace grounds and down into the capital city nestled within the mountain
valley.
"If I may say so, Master Jedi, I'm impressed with the speed of your investigation. Never
have I seen a crime solved and the culprits brought to justice so quickly before. The Jedi
indeed deserved their reputation."
"We do what we have to do, Saberim. There is nothing to it," Qui-Gon replied serenely.
A sharp spike of fear suddenly rippled through the Force. Qui-Gon exchanged a terse
look with Obi-Wan. It was definitely the Crown Prince and he was close by...and in
danger.
"Saberim, how fast can this transport go?"
Saberim was quick to realise the unspoken urgency in Qui-Gon's request. "Faster than
our current speed." He turned and gave the order to the pilot to increase the transport's
speed.
Obi-Wan forced himself to relax, though his hand strayed to his lightsaber clipped to his
belt. "I hope we're in time, Master."
Qui-Gon didn't say a word. He was pretty much praying for the same thing.
* * *
Brandelam watched wide-eyed as the figure dressed all in black, hooded and masked,
ambushed the kidnappers in the narrow corridor outside the room. Moving too fast for
the eye to see clearly, his rescuer knocked down the two kidnapper bringing up the rear
and boldly snatched him from right under their noses.
Grabbing onto the slim shoulders for dear life, Brandelam squeezed his eyes shut when
he saw the kidnappers firing in their direction as his rescuer fled up to the roof of the
tavern building.
Bursting onto the roof, his mysterious rescuer swiftly hid behind a ventilation shaft, still
carefully cradling the Crown Prince. Brandelam stared up at the hooded masked visage,
wondering if he was friend or foe. Then he saw the thin tress of red-gold hair escaping
from beneath the black hood and he knew who had rescued him.
"Firegold!" Crowing joyfully, Brandelam threw his arms about her neck and hugged her
tightly. "I knew you would do something!"
Firegold gently patted his head.
The door leading to the roof burst open again as the kidnappers poured onto the
rooftop.
"Search the place!" shouted the leader. "I want the boy back!"
Brandelam cowered against Firegold, fear overtaking him again. He tightened his grip on
Firegold's shoulders. She simply held him closer, while eyeing the neighbouring rooftop
over his head.
Then as though taken by the wind, Firegold leapt to her feet and raced for the edge of
the roof. Shouts behind her told her the kidnappers were giving chase, but she did not
look back, her concentration centred on the wide gap that was humanly impossible to
cross between the buildings.
From the royal guard transport, Obi-Wan watched stunned as the woman made the
impossible leap between the buildings without the aid of the Force. She rolled to break
her fall, rising back to her feet in a fluid motion, despite being hampered with an armful
of Crown Prince. The fall had knocked her hood back, and her crimson-gold hair glinted
brightly under the bright sun.
//Did you see that?// Obi-Wan didn't know whether to believe his eyes or not.
//Later, Obi-Wan.// Qui-Gon was intrigued as well, but there was pressing matter at
hand. //The Crown Prince first.//
On the rooftop, Firegold instinctively ducked down as the royal guard transport
suddenly screamed low above her. When she looked up again, she saw two men dressed
in similar dark robes and cream-coloured tunics leapt down from the transport to
confront the kidnappers still trapped on the other rooftop. Each carried a rod of blazing
light.
"We've come to retrieve the Crown Prince," Qui-Gon spoke. "Lay down your
weapons." He held his lightsaber in an easy grip, though he was alert for any signs of
danger.
The kidnappers seemed at a loss of what to do, daunted by the appearance of not one
but two Jedi. Not the leader though. He suddenly fired his blaster, aiming straight for
Obi-Wan. It was the last mistake he would ever made. Obi-Wan deftly deflected the
blaster bolt back to the leader, killing him.
"Who's next?" he asked calmly.
With the loss of their leader, the rest of the kidnappers surrendered.
The Jedi shut down their lightsabers, stepping back to allow the royal guard led by
Saberim to arrest the kidnappers. Qui-Gon caught sight of the mysterious masked
woman standing on the neighbouring roof, still cradling the Crown Prince protectively
in her arms.
Tapping the Force, Qui-Gon easily vaulted across the wide chasm in a single leap. Beside
him, Obi-Wan did a somersault. The woman backed away from them, as the Jedi
approached.
"Wait," Qui-Gon said. "We're not here to hurt you."
Qui-Gon opened himself to the Force, sending calmness and safety towards the wary
woman. He met a strange resistance, rebuffing his attempt. Then he felt Obi-Wan's
focus joined his, and he redoubled his efforts to soothe the mysterious woman.
"You're safe. The Crown Prince is safe. We're here to bring him home." Qui-Gon
spread his empty hands outward, a gesture of peace. "Let us help him."
"Trust him, Firegold." Brandelam urged. "Jedi never lie. And I really want to go home."
Firegold studied the Crown Prince for a long moment, then nodded. Interesting how
she seemed to trust the words of the Crown Prince, rather that of a Jedi, Qui-Gon
noted absently. Slowly, still wary, she approached the Jedi, removing the mask she wore.
Obi-Wan blinked.
Standing before them was a petite, fine-boned woman with a pale face and delicate
features. Her tightly bound crimson-gold hair was a vivid contrast against the paleness of
her skin. There was something ethereal about her, gentle and fragile, guileless and
vulnerable like a child - until he looked into her luminous green eyes. They were cold
and remote - the eyes of someone who had seen too many terrible things than it was
possible. Whoever she was, this enigma wasn't as innocent as one was compelled to
believe.
"Greetings, Your Highness." Qui-Gon greeted. "Your parents sent us to bring you
home."
"Can my friend come too?" Brandelam asked hopefully. "Her name's Firegold. She's not
my kidnapper. She took care of me."
Qui-Gon probed the woman standing silently with his mind. He was intrigued to find a
presence so still and passive that it was almost non-existing. And her emotions! Either
she has nerves of steel and iced water running through her veins, or she was genuinely
limited in her range of emotions.
"Can she come?" Brandelam pleaded.
"Of course," Qui-Gon answered somewhat belatedly. He smiled at the woman. "Your
parents will be eager to meet your protector."
* * *
As the royal guard transport headed back for the palace perched on the mountain cliff,
someone else emerged from the shadows from the building across the street. Gigantic in
build and swathed in so many layers of clothes, the observer tracked the transport with
his eyes until it had vanished in the distance.
It was time to act, while she still remained in the open.
A cruel smile curving his lips, he melted back into the shadows.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ THREE ~
Qui-Gon smiled softly to himself as he watched the joyful reunion between the Royal
Co-Consorts and their son. Their happiness and love for each other echoed through the
Force, like a cleansing white light.
Obi-Wan had a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Qui-Gon understood his lack of Jedi
composure. It always feel good to be the instrument to something nice once in a while.
Then he caught sight of Firegold and his own smile turned curious.
Firegold hung back from everyone else, observing from the background. In fact she was
so quiet and unobtrusive that even the Jedi had almost forgotten she was there. Qui-
Gon studied her discreetly. The strange woman was watching Brandelam's reunion with
his parents with a face still like a mirror. Her poise was relaxed, yet Qui-Gon sensed a
wariness in her, as though she was constantly on her guard. She intrigued him, as much
as she rankled Obi-Wan's vigilance.
Throughout the journey back to the palace, Firegold hadn't said a single word.
Brandelam had told him - quite importantly - that she couldn't speak and he was her
voice. And the Crown Prince had made it quite clear to everyone present that she was to
be treated as a honoured guest, even asking the Jedi to protect her.
Qui-Gon solemnly gave the heir to the throne his word, aware of his apprentice's
disapproval. In Obi-Wan's eyes, she was a complete unknown, not to be trusted until it
could be determined whether she was a foe or an ally. Qui-Gon had a completely
different opinion: Firegold was someone who needed help and needed it quite badly.
//Master?// queried Obi-Wan's mental voice.
//Yes, Padawan?//
//I can't help but notice your...preoccupation with her.//
Qui-Gon glanced back at his apprentice. To the world at large, Obi-Wan was paying
attention to the reunion happening before them. But the curiosity and slight disapproval
he could sense from the younger man painted a different picture.
//She is a mystery, Obi-Wan. You can't deny that.//
//I'm not, Master. But she may be a danger.//
//I don't sense danger from her. In fact, I believe she needs help.//
Obi-Wan shot his Master an incredulous look. //From the way she handled herself back
there on the rooftop, I doubt she needs help.//
//Ah, Padawan, that's where you're mistaken. A cry for help can come in many
different forms.//
//So what are you going to do with her?// Obi-Wan's mental voice sounded resigned,
as though he already knew what his Master was going to do.
Qui-Gon smiled inwardly, perversely amused at his apprentice's resignation. //Help her,
what else?//
//I was afraid of that,// Obi-Wan sighed.
Qui-Gon pulled his attention back to the present when the Royal Co-Consorts
approached them with their son in tow. Branam was grinning widely, unable to keep his
joy to himself, and his wife was equally radiant in her happiness.
"Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, thank you. Thank you for bringing our son home to us."
"We're glad to be of service, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon replied. "But the truth is, we
owed our success to the lady here. She helped the Crown Prince to escape from his
kidnappers."
"Ah yes, the lady Firegold." Branam walked briskly over to her. "My son has been telling
me of your acts of friendship during his captivity. You have my eternal gratitude. Name
your reward and if it's within my power, I'll fulfil it."
Firegold looked lost for a moment, then she hesitatingly pointed to the window. Branam
drew a blank, not understanding what she was asking for. It was his son who
comprehended her gesture.
"A ship! She wants a ship!" Brandelam's excited face felled as the import of her request
finally struck him. "You don't wish to stay here with me? To be my friend?"
Kneeling down, Firegold placed a fist first over her heart, then over his. Qui-Gon
recognised the gesture. It stood for 'companions always'. The gesture eased the gloom
on Brandelam's face but not much.
"You'll come visit?" he asked hopefully.
Firegold nodded solemnly, smoothing a hand through his hair.
"Firegold? Will you smile for me?"
She blinked in surprise.
"A small one. Please?"
Slowly, the corners of her lips lifted upward and a tentative smile grew. It was a small
smile, barely creasing the sides of her mouth but it was enough to make the Crown
Prince beam with laughter.
Qui-Gon had to hide a smile of his own. The Crown Prince had a charm that was all too
apparent in his young age. He foreseen that someday the young heir would be leaving a
trail of broken hearts in court.
The sudden surge in the Force alerted the Jedi to the danger precious seconds before it
happened. Reacting instantly, Qui-Gon reached out with the Force and yanked the
Crown Prince and Firegold away from the spot of danger, while Obi-Wan did the same
for the Royal Co-Consorts. With Jedi speed, they moved everyone to safety, split second
before the ceiling came crashing down in a heavy fall of rubble.
As the dust settled, Qui-Gon looked up from his protective crouch over the Crown
Prince and Firegold. His eyes widened. There was a massive hole in the ceiling, and
standing on top of the pile of rubble in the centre of the Throne Room was a creature
he had only heard of in Jedi lore.
It was a cyborg, as tall as a Wookie and twice a Wookie's size. A monstrosity, a perverse
marriage of the organic with technology. Death-coloured flesh grafted intricately with
the metallic shades of cybernetic components. At least his head retained some
resemblance to a human head, though it was heavily replaced and fortified by cybernetic
parts and his eyes glowed a devilish-red. He thrummed with an inhuman power that
none in his path could stand up to. Death and violence clung to the cyborg like a
pervasive black cloud.
The cyborg was motionless as he stared at Qui-Gon slowly rising to his feet. The Jedi
Master remained calm beneath that flat stare, even though he sensed movements behind
him. That seemed to draw the cyborg's attention, as he turned his artificial eyes to look
beyond him.
"Marionette," the cyborg spoke, "it has been a long time."
Qui-Gon risked a glance over his shoulder. Firegold stood tall and unafraid, body turned
sideways to shield the frightened Crown Prince in her arms. He thought she looked
haunted, but he couldn't be sure, not from his angle.
//Master?// came his apprentice's worried call.
Qui-Gon's gaze unerringly found Obi-Wan at the other end of the Throne Room,
lightsaber blazing. His apprentice had removed his Jedi robe in preparation of a fight.
He could not see the Royal Co-Consorts anywhere though. //Have you seen the Co-
Consorts to safety?//
//Yes, Master. They escaped through a hidden passageway behind the throne. Master,
what is that thing?//
//A cyborg. And he is after Firegold.//
Behind him, he could sense Firegold slowly inching towards the great double doors of
the Throne Room. The cyborg tracked her movements, never taking his eyes off her.
Qui-Gon decided to draw his attention away from her. The powering up of his
lightsaber did the trick. Qui-Gon coolly shed his Jedi robe and assumed a defensive
stance, even as the cyborg nailed him with an unholy glare.
For a dizzying moment, his surroundings seemed to shift and warp. And instead of the
cyborg, he seemed to see a black-cloaked figure with a demon's face and bloodlust
burning deep in yellow eyes confronting him. Then the vision (if that's what it is) passed
and he was back in the here and now, facing down a cyborg.
"Touch her not," Qui-Gon warned.
"My master has decreed her death."
"The woman is under Jedi protection."
The cyborg made a threatening gesture. "Step aside, human. You cannot defeat me."
"Do not underestimate the power of a Jedi."
Sensing that Firegold was finally at the double doors, Qui-Gon sent a quick mental
thought to Obi-Wan and made a flicking motion. Beneath the cyborg's feet, the pile of
rubble shifted and collapsed. Unbalanced, the cyborg tumbled to the floor. Qui-Gon
took this opportunity to attack, sensing his apprentice doing the same from opposite
side.
The cyborg remained infernally fast despite the position of weakness he found himself
in. Blocking Qui-Gon's lightsaber with a heavily armoured arm, the cyborg pushed the
Jedi Master away and rolled to his feet, fluidly countering Obi-Wan's attack. Beyond the
Jedi, the cyborg saw his quarry escaping and he let loose a roar of fury.
The cry rumbled through the doors and the stone walls of the palace even as Fireball
slipped outside to safety. Just in time to meet the royal guards falling into attack position
in the hallway.
"Your Highness!" Saberim greeted with relief. He quickly gestured for his man to come
forward to take the Crown Prince.
"The Jedi," Brandelam pointed at the double doors. "You've to help the Jedi."
"We will contain the situation, Your Highness. Right now, we must get you to safety."
Brandelam was safely ensconced in the arms of a royal retainer when he realised Firegold
made no moves to join him. His friend was staring at the double doors, a somewhat
uncertain look on her face.
"Firegold? You can join me. You'll be safe with me."
Slowly, Firegold shook her head, a look of resolve settling on her face. Brandelam didn't
like that expression at all.
"Are you going to fight the monster?"
She nodded, stroking Brandelam's hair one last time. Then she sprang into action,
moving so fast that no one could react in time. Before Saberim's astonished eyes, she
snatched a blast-rifle from him and darted back into the Throne Room, slamming shut
the heavy doors in their faces.
In the Throne Room, Qui-Gon was tiring rapidly. The cyborg was inhumanly fast and
strong. It took all their Jedi speed and strength just to stay alive. Obi-Wan wasn't faring
much better either. The cyborg, on the other hand, remained as relentless as ever. They
have to strike the cyborg down and soon, before the cyborg's superior attributes
overwhelm their Force-enhanced abilities.
The cyborg feinted to the right. Qui-Gon matched its attack accordingly. Obi-Wan
somersaulted over him to trap the cyborg between them. Lightsabers swinging, they
pressed their attack.
The cyborg countered and parried, faked a left, then shot out an open palm towards
Obi-Wan. A burst of blue energy hit the Padawan point-blank in the chest. Obi-Wan
screamed as the energy shock jolted through him. Crumpling, he writhed on the floor in
agony.
Distracted by his apprentice's distress, Qui-Gon couldn't avoid the clawed fingers
swinging his way. The claws dug painfully into his shoulder and tore away a good piece
of his tunic, leaving behind deep bloody gashes on his shoulder and down his sword
arm. Fire burning through him, the Jedi Master dropped his lightsaber. The next blow
caught him in his midsection, throwing him way across the Throne Room.
Qui-Gon laid sprawled on the floor in a heap, dazed from the blow, mind too clouded
with pain to feel the Force clearly. Head swimming, clutching at his wounded arm, he
found it hard to catch his breath. He didn't need the Force to know he cracked a rib or
two, and his sword arm was useless.
The cyborg advanced menacingly towards the downed Qui-Gon. "The power of a Jedi is
nothing compared to mine."
The impact of a laser bolt against his side caught the cyborg by surprise.
Firegold stood near the pile of rubble, blast-rifle in hands. There was a look of such
resolve and unspeakable emotions on her face that it drew Qui-Gon from the all-
consuming agony of his injuries.
"So you've finally decided to stop running," said the cyborg.
Firegold didn't reply. She simply opened fire again. The cyborg barely flinched, as he
smoothly changed direction and charged towards the slender woman.
Standing her ground, Firegold met the monstrosity's headlong charge with a spectacular
blow. She smashed the blast-rifle into the face of the cyborg with such force that the
weapon was instantly mangled. The cyborg staggered, stunned by the blow. Pressing her
advantage, she whacked it again with the blast-rifle. Tossing the useless remnants of the
weapon aside, she followed up with her fists, never allowing the cyborg to regain his
balance.
Clutching at his wounds, arm hanging uselessly by his side, Qui-Gon struggled painfully
to sit up. He wanted very much to help Firegold, but he was out of the action for the
moment. There was nothing he could do until he had regained some kind of advantage.
Clearing his mind, Qui-Gon drew liberally from the Force to ease his pain, heal his
wounds and boost his weakened state. He glanced worriedly across the Throne Room
and was relieved to see his apprentice too feebly stirring. Then he turned his attention
back to the battle.
There was no grace nor finesse in the fight raging before his eyes. Only brute strength
versus brute strength.
He has seriously misread the woman, Qui-Gon realised. For someone of small stature
and apparently gentle disposition, Firegold has a strength and speed equal to that of the
cyborg's. She was as relentless and ferocious as the cyborg had been, forcing the cyborg
to be on the defensive.
Grabbing the cyborg, Firegold threw him face-down on the floor. Never releasing her
grip, she pounded his face into the stone floor again and again with such force that the
stone floor cracked and shattered.
//Master...?// came the almost voiceless whisper.
//Obi-Wan, are you all right?// Qui-Gon asked anxiously.
//Numb...can't move. I definitely have better days,// Obi-Wan replied with a trace of
his battle humour. Then he turned serious. //What is she, Master?//
//I don't know, Padawan. I don't know.//
The cyborg suddenly bucked, throwing Firegold off his back. She went flying into the
pile of rubble. Before she could recover from the impact, the cyborg was upon her, one
hand pressing cruelly against her throat and the other fist aiming for her chest. Firegold
blocked his move, pushing against his fist, even as she clawed at his death grip tightening
about her throat with her other hand.
Seeing the danger she was in, Qui-Gon moved instinctively to help. Reaching out with
the Force, he grasped hold of his fallen lightsaber with his mind alone and guided its
path through the air. Whirling and humming, the glowing blade of his lightsaber sliced
the back of the cyborg.
The cyborg howled in pain and turned to confront this new opponent.
Firegold reacted, slamming her feet into the cyborg and pushed the cyborg away, off-
balance. Springing from her fallen position, she slammed into the cyborg, tackling him
to the floor. She bunched her fists together and rammed the cyborg's chest. There was
the awful sound of metal buckling beneath her blow.
The cyborg screeched in fury and pain.
She hammered again, this time easily breaking through the cyborg's armoured shell. Red
fluid, distressingly like the colour of blood, spurted outward to stain her face and
clothes. As the cyborg let out a metallic roar of fury, Firegold reached in and yanked out
a handful of components, arm stained in blood up to the elbow. The cyborg's screech
turned into one of agony.
Suddenly, much too swiftly for anyone to notice, capture cables snaked from the
cyborg's arms to wrap about Firegold's body and neck. Surprised, she struggled to break
free, but the cables only tightened their painful grip on her, crushing the breath from
her.
Qui-Gon guided his lightsaber to her rescue, the blazing blade hurling towards the fallen
cyborg intent on killing Firegold. Despite his speed, the cyborg easily evaded his striking
lightsaber, moving towards the wide balcony overseeing the deep river valley below.
The Jedi Master followed, ignoring the pain coursing through his body. His lightsaber
floated before him. He was the greatest swordsman among the Jedi ranks; wielding his
lightsaber with his mind alone was an easy feat for him, one that came from years of
training. But in his current condition, beset by pain with every movement he made, he
found it hard to concentrate.
The cyborg fared not much better himself. His movements were uncoordinated, jerky
even. Broken ends trailed from his broken chest, and blood flowed from severed tubes,
staining the floor and making it slippery for Qui-Gon. Firegold laid limp in his capture
cables, unconscious, her only free arm flung away from her body, as she was dragged out
into the balcony by the cyborg.
"Release her," Qui-Gon commanded as he advanced towards the cyborg, backing him
towards the edge of the wide balcony.
The cyborg grinned a feral grin. "Make me."
Qui-Gon pressed on, trying to find a way to free Firegold without getting her further
injured. They were out on the spacious balcony now, the wind howling and tearing at
Qui-Gon's clothes. He was acutely aware of actually how high up they were on the
mountain.
Suddenly, Firegold burst into desperate action. Right before Qui-Gon's startled eyes, she
sprang from her prone position and lunged into the cyborg, pushing him towards the
balcony edge. With a roar of startled fear, the cyborg toppled over the stone railing. Qui-
Gon frantically leapt forward, grabbing Firegold's free arm just as she was dragged over
the edge by the heavy weight of the cyborg. Pain shot up his good arm, but Qui-Gon
gritted his teeth against it, willing himself not to loose his grip on Firegold. She was still
trapped in the capture cables of the cyborg, unable to shake free.
And there Firegold hung, the Jedi Master her rope to safety and the cyborg her dead
weight to death.
Qui-Gon summoned up the last dregs of his reserves of the Force, even hesitatingly
tapping his Padawan's reserves. A renewed flow of strength rushed through him, as Obi-
Wan sensed his plight and willingly gave him his strength.
Pull, Qui-Gon told himself. And he did, by slow agonising inches.
"No!" the cyborg roared. "I will not die alone."
The cyborg raised his other arm, palm open and aimed at Qui-Gon, a point of glowing
blue energy growing in intensity in the centre of his palm. Firegold's eyes widened when
she saw the threat and she involuntarily looked up at the Jedi Master.
Luminous green gaze met midnight blue. In that moment, a connection was made,
unknowingly tying them together.
Qui-Gon saw the decision in her eyes; he tried to stop her, but she was too quick.
Firegold twisted her arm from Qui-Gon's grasp. Freed from the rope tying her to safety,
she plummeted down the vast valley, taking the cyborg with her.
Mere heartbeats later, Qui-Gon felt the death shudder through the Force.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ EPILOGUE ~
The journey back to Coruscant was quiet.
Obi-Wan, fully recovered from the energy shock, hovered uncertainly outside his
Master's cabin on board the Republic cruiser. Injuries aside, Qui-Gon had been
withdrawn and silent in the last three days. Somehow Firegold's sacrifice had affected
the Jedi Master deeply and Obi-Wan was concerned. Yet his Master's mood was such
that he had no idea how to approach him.
Well, no point in debating the issue now. Something had to be done. Obi-Wan took a
deep breath and released it, centring his focus. Mentally bracing himself for his Master's
gloomy mood, Obi-Wan knocked on the closed door.
"Master?"
Silence for a moment.
//Come in, Obi-Wan.//
Entering the cabin, Obi-Wan paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Qui-Gon
was seated cross-legged on the deck, eyes closed in a healing trance, Jedi robe folded
neatly about his tall frame. Beneath his robe, Qui-Gon was bare-chest, his shoulder
heavily bound in bandages and his equally bandaged arm rested beside his lap. He looked
serene as always. No longer did lines of pain marked his face.
//Join me, Obi-Wan. It's been a while since we've meditated together.//
Obediently, Obi-Wan sat on the cold deck beside his Master. Drawing his robe close
about his body, the Padawan closed his eyes and descended into a light meditative
trance. Master and Padawan's minds reached out and melded easily, as they have done it
so many times in the past. In this state they remained, meditating, until Qui-Gon felt it
was time to address the real issue at hand.
//You are troubled, Padawan.//
//There are many questions which remained unanswered.//
//Such as?//
//The mastermind behind the Crown Prince's kidnapping? The cyborg's real motive?
And...// Obi-Wan hesitated, then went on gamely. //...the woman Firegold.//
Obi-Wan fell silent, waiting with abated breath for Qui-Gon's response. His Master did
not speak for several long moments until he feared he would never get his answer.
//The identity of the mastermind would have to be solved by Saberim, not us.// Qui-
Gon spoke at last, in the same measured tone that was his wont. //It's clear someone in
the Theomoralan court is the mastermind and the case will involve politics. As Jedi, we
cannot interfere in politics. Our task was to rescue the Crown Prince and bring him
home safe and sound. No more, no less.//
//I understand, Master. Still, I cannot help but wonder who's the mastermind.//
//As do I, Obi-Wan.//
The admission surprised Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon felt his apprentice's reaction and let loose a
mental chuckle. //I may be Jedi, but I am also human.//
Obi-Wan smiled. Then he turned serious. //We know nothing of the cyborg as well,
Master.//
//No, we do not.// Qui-Gon conceded.
They fell silent again.
The cyborg had been smashed to smithereens on the jagged rocks of the cliff-side,
totally unsalvageable. With his memory banks completely destroyed, there was no way to
identify the cyborg, nor to find out where he was from or why he was sent to kill
Firegold. The Royal Co-Consorts agreed to keep the remains in cold storage until such
time the Jedi Council could send better experts to unravel the mystery.
As for Firegold, there was no trace of her body anywhere, leaving them to guess that the
rushing river had washed it away or she had survived the fall, impossible as that may
sound.
//These are not the issues that truly occupy your mind, Obi-Wan.//
Obi-Wan sighed silently. Trust his Master to see right through him. //Firegold's death
affect you deeply, Master.//
Qui-Gon did not say anything.
Gamely, Obi-Wan went on. //I can understand the Crown Prince's grief. After all, she
was his protector during his captivity. But we...you have known her for a few hours,
that's all.// He paused, trying to frame his question properly. //Her sacrifice was noble,
but why does her death affect you so deeply?//
Qui-Gon remained silent.
And Obi-Wan realised that he did not know the answer as well.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ THE END ~
Website : www.geocities.com/Area51/Shadowlands/3113
Email : cyberoid13@yahoo.com
Title : Crossing Paths (Part One) - Firegold
Summary : Qui-Gon Jinn crosses path with an unusual and mysterious woman while on
a mission.
Date of completion : 30th August 1999
Category : Rise of the Emperor (drama)
Rating : PG
Author's comments : I was lying in bed one night, mentally constructing my original
story when this idea occurred to me. It stems from my curiosity to see how my heroine
would interact with characters from TPM, especially Qui-Gon. In fact this story
screamed so loudly to be written that I put aside whatever else I was doing and devoted
my time to it. The result is this and I like it a lot. I hope my readers would like it as well.
In order to better visualise the action sequence in this story, think 'anime action'.
This adventure occurred just before those in 'The Phantom Menace'. Basically it's a Qui-
Gon story. Minor spoilers for TPM.
Disclaimer : All Star Wars characters belonged to George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I don't
own them and I certainly don't make money from them.
Note : //...// indicates telepathy.
_____________________________________________________________________
CROSSING PATHS ( I ) - FIREGOLD
by
Cyberoid13
_____________________________________________________________________
~ PROLOGUE ~
When she could finally opened her eyes, she was genuinely surprised to find herself still
breathing.
Still alive after the harrowing escape from her pursuer and the violent crash on this
unknown planet.
Lying unmoving, she let her eyes take in the damage surrounding her. Her spacecraft
was tilting at a very odd angle, deck nearly facing skywards. Her safety harness trapped
her in the pilot seat, pressing painfully against her ribcage. The console in front of her
was blackened and damaged beyond repair. And there was not an inch of her body that
did not ache.
Slowly, she unbuckled her safety harness and carefully climbed out of the pilot chair.
Crimson-gold hair fell loose from its binding, tumbling over a shoulder and down her
back. Bracing herself against the high back of the chair, she took in the rest of her ship.
The damage was extensive. The stern was crumpled like so much paper, crushing
whatever machinery and computer systems in that area. The starboard bulkhead fared
just as badly - ripped and tore out, letting in the cold rain that was falling outside on the
planet.
It would no longer fly anymore.
Last, she turned her attention to her injuries. Miraculously, she had escaped with minor
injuries, save for the deep gash on her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sent her awareness
inward.
The gash on her head, deep but strangely bloodless, began to close. Slowly at first, but it
quickened until a scar was all that was left. And even that disappeared in seconds. She
opened her eyes, leaning heavily against the chair, knees buckling. The regeneration had
taken longer than usual, testimony to her depleted and exhausted state. She doubted if
she could do any more self-repair until she had rested and regained her energy.
But she can't rest.
Not when the Headhunter who had shot her out of space could come after her anytime.
Pushing aside the support of the pilot chair, she stumbled towards the emergency
supplies. Breaking the seal, she dragged out the entire survival kit. The contents within
was not entirely suitable to someone of her kind but it would do in a pinch. It was not as
though she owed this spacecraft; she had stolen it from the spaceport. There was no
time to be picky when her survival was threatened.
Survival kit in hand, she managed to stagger to the jagged hole before her strength finally
gave out. Knees buckling, she collapsed, nearly slicing herself on a jagged edge of metal.
The survival kit clattered unnoticed to the wet muddy ground outside. Her head swam
dizzyingly, black spots swimming in front of her eyes, and she felt so weak.
How long has it been since she has gone without food or feeding off energy sources?
She couldn't remember.
Feebly, she changed directions, crawling towards the rear of the spacecraft. There was an
energy source, she could feel its hum, almost buried beneath all the debris. Reaching the
barrier that was the crushed stern of the spacecraft, she weakly stretched a slim arm into
a crevice. She didn't have to look to guide her hand towards the energy source. All her
senses were riveted on the flickering energy source, so hungry she was.
Then she was there, her fingers closing about the metallic surface of the fuel tank. In it,
she could literally sense the presence of pure energy. With one last burst of strength, she
broke the metal surface and sank her fingers deep into the energy fuel.
Pure power was absorbed by her skin and coursed through her veins. She shuddered,
closing her eyes and her head drooped against the cold surface of her spacecraft. For a
long while, she laid there, relishing the feel of returning energy to her limbs. It was
barely enough - much of the energy fuel had been used up in her escape from her
homeworld. Still it would be able to sustain her for at least a week before she had to feed
again.
Properly, she hoped.
Feeling much better than she had in months, she rose to her feet. Pausing by the self-
destruct mechanism, she activated it. Without another backward glance, she picked up
the survival kit and walked into the pouring rain, never flinching when the spacecraft
exploded minutes later.
There was a town nearby, she remembered from her last scan of this region on this
unnamed planet. It was a place she could feed and rest before setting out once more.
She knew she couldn't stay long on this planet. She would have to find a way off this
world before the Headhunter tracked her down again.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ ONE ~
The Republic cruiser coursed out of hyper-space and slowed to a more stately speed as it
approached the glowing planet in the distance. Like any planet when seen from space,
Theomoral looked extremely benign and peaceful.
Qui-Gon Jinn knew better, though. Standing unobtrusively behind the Captain-Pilot of
the Republic cruiser, the Jedi Master studied the planet thoughtfully.
The Crown Prince of Theomoral had been kidnapped almost a month ago, causing an
uproar not only on the planet itself but within the Senate as well. Theomoral was a
prominent and powerful member of the Senate, and its ruler's backing of Supreme
Chancellor Valorum was the strongest. Thus when the Royal Co-Consorts asked for
help in locating their missing son a week ago, the Republic wasted no time in agreeing.
Qui-Gon and his Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi were roused from their sleep in the
middle of the night and given this urgent mission. They left Coruscant within the hour,
packing light travel bags, without complaints. As Jedi, they were used to having no
permanent home (even though they have quarters in the Temple) and to go wherever
they were needed. The number of hours they spent in their quarters was minuscule
compared to the number of flight hours they logged.
"Who could be so daring?" Qui-Gon muttered aloud. "To kidnap the Crown Prince
from right under everyone's noses?"
"It would be a hard guess to make, Master." Obi-Wan spoke up beside him.
"Indeed. There are many rival Houses and all eye the throne."
Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he turned his awareness to the Force, carefully feeling its
currents and eddies. Tension coloured the Force, much of it emanating from the
troubled world they were approaching. Theomoralans loved their Royal House. This
latest danger facing their rulers were affecting the people as well. Other than that, Qui-
Gon did not discern any other dangers.
Withdrawing, Qui-Gon pulled the hood of his dark Jedi robe over his head. "Come,
Obi-Wan, let us get ready for our mission."
"Yes, master." Likewise, Obi-Wan concealed his face and clasped hands in the depths of
his hooded robe and followed his Master from the cockpit.
With luck, they would be able to resolve this crisis quickly and surely. Yeah, right. And
the Hutts are friends of the Jedi, Obi-Wan thought wryly. The Jedi never did things the
easy way, especially his Master.
Still, it made for an interesting life.
* * *
The capital city of Theomoral consisted of both the best and worst kind of
entertainment the planet had to offer under one roof, figuratively speaking. While the
wealthy and aristocratic dined and lived in sumptuous luxury in the upper-class district,
the poor and the peasant-class made merry in the seedy and garish section of the capital
city.
In a particularly rough neighbourhood, a boy about eight laid curled in a small ball inside
a metal cage. He was dressed in dirty clothes of rich material, a sharp contrast to the
rough-spun blanket covering the floor of the cage. He slept fitfully, one thumb inserted
in his mouth.
The door to the room swung open, admitting a slim willowy figure carrying a small tray
of food. Light glinted off a loose lock of red-gold hair peeking out beneath a scarf tied
about her head before the door swung shut again. The figure padded silently across the
room, unerringly picking her way through the darkness, towards the cage. Putting the
tray before the cage, the woman reached into the cage to gently shake the boy into
consciousness.
Brandelam stirred, opening sleepy eyes. Recognising the pale delicate face of the only
person who has been kind to him since he was brought to this awful place, he smiled
brilliantly.
"Firegold!" he cried happily, scrambling to sit upright. The woman quickly put a warning
finger to his lips. He obediently lowered his voice, though it was no less cheerful. "Boy,
am I glad to see you!"
The woman simply nodded and slid the small tray of food through a slot into the cage.
Courteous as always, Brandelam thanked her for the meal and began eating voriferously.
It had been a long while since lunch. Between mouthfuls of food, he chatted to the
woman, talking about anything under the sun. And there was a lot of things he could
talk about. Being the Crown Prince and a prodigy, Brandelam was smart beyond his
years.
The woman never said a single word, simply sat by his cage, listening attentively to every
word he said. In the short time Brandelam had known her, he had never heard her speak
or seen her smile. He didn't know her name, so he called her Firegold because her hair
was this vibrant vivid shade of crimson-gold, like the flower firegold that grew on the
palace grounds.
His dinner was gone, but Firegold stayed. She produced a wet washcloth and cleaned
him as thoroughly as she could, her movements hampered by the bars of the cage.
Brandelam never stopped talking, even as he sat still for the cleaning. In this hostile
place, she was the only friend he got.
The door suddenly banged open. Quicker than the eye could follow, Firegold was on her
feet, whirling to face the intruder. The washcloth disappeared into the folds of her
rough-spun skirt.
Despite his precocious nature, Brandelam shrank back from the unshaven human
looming in the doorway. His kidnapper scowled at Firegold, one hand on his blaster.
"You been talking to the kid again?" he growled.
Firegold, as was her wont, didn't say a thing. With a calm that was unusual in a peasant
girl, she gathered up the small tray and left the room, brushing past Brandelam's guard.
His scowl deepening, the guard slammed shut the door and locked it. In quick strides, he
caught up with Firegold and roughly yanked her to a stop. The tray and its empty
receptacles fell to the floor with a loud clatter, ignored by the guard as he pushed her up
against a wall.
"You do more than just bring food to the brat, and I'll be forced to hurt you real bad."
He leered at her, one hand groping for her behind. "Do you understand me, sweetie?"
Firegold was motionless, even calm. Her unflinching gaze remained peculiarly remote.
Brandelam's guard shifted uneasily, hating the woman's unusual calmness. He released
her from his grip. "Go. I don't want to see you loitering around here."
Still eerily silent, Firegold picked up her fallen tray and receptacles and walked away.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ TWO ~
The Crown Prince's bedchamber was large and filled with things one would associate
with childhood.
Obi-Wan bent and picked up a fallen stuffed toy, rubbing the soft fur before replacing it
on the shelf. A young man in his early twenties, Obi-Wan could barely remember his
childhood or his birth parents. Only a worn stuffed toy animal was vivid in his
memories; it was the only thing he remembered bringing from his birth home. The
Padawan wondered absently what happened to that stuffed toy animal.
"Rest assured, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon was saying to the Royal Co-Consorts. "We will
find and bring your son safely back to you."
"Please, Master Jedi." Consort Jerida could barely hold back her tears.
"Our hopes lay with you, Master Jinn." Her husband wrapped a comforting arm about
her. Consort Branam was fighting rather unsuccessfully to keep his poise serene. "Come,
Jerida. Let us leave the Jedi to their investigation."
The Jedi bowed as the Royal Co-Consorts left their son's bedroom. Only when they
were along once more did they turn their attention to the bedroom.
Qui-Gon looked around, hands clasped and hidden in the sleeves of his robe. Though it
had been a month since the kidnapping, the Jedi Master could still sense the Crown
Prince's terror permeating the room.
"Amazing," Obi-Wan muttered. "His emotional impressions are still present. To leave
that long-lasting an impression..."
"The Crown Prince is either an Sender, or has Jedi potential." Qui-Gon finished. He
paced slowly about the room, opening himself to the Force.
"I wonder how would the Co-Consorts react if the boy turns out to be Jedi potential,"
Obi-Wan muttered absently as he too lowered his shields to the Force.
//A question for another time, Padawan. Now concentrate on finding the boy.//
//Yes, master.//
They both 'saw' it at the same time - the black stab of terror and danger - tainting the
broken harp strewed haphazardly on the floor. Qui-Gon knelt and stretched a hand over
the smashed pieces of the musical instrument, carefully feeling the impression still
clinging to the battered wood. Exchanging a glance, both Jedi settled down on the
carpeted floor and centred their focuses on the broken pieces of wood and strings
scattered on the floor.
It was a cherished piece of musical instrument, a gift from someone dear to the Crown
Prince, Qui-Gon could sense. But the shades of love were nearly overwhelmed by the
black taint of terror.
Images began to flow into Qui-Gon's mind, images of a young boy engrossed in
practising a simple court tune on his harp when a shadow felled across him. Qui-Gon
sharpened his focus, concentrating on that moment of danger. He willed the images to
slow in his mind, watching each detail closely as the boy turned away from his harp to
look up into the face of his would-be kidnapper, recognising the face, before blackness
descended.
Qui-Gon felt the surge of exaltation, quickly suppressed, in his Padawan. //We got him,
Master.// Obi-Wan said with deep satisfaction.
//Yes, we do.// Qui-Gon pulled himself out of his light trance and opened his eyes. He
rose to his feet, pulling the edges of his cloak close. "Come, let us put an end to this."
The Royal Co-Consorts were waiting outside the Crown Prince's bedroom when they
exited.
"We are close, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon said in reply to their hopeful, questioning
looks. "I would like to speak to one of your retainers. A man by the name Kilerim."
Branam's face darkened when he realised the implications behind Qui-Gon's request.
"He will be arrested accordingly, Master Jedi."
Qui-Gon raised a hand, a premonition gripping him suddenly. "No, Your Majesty. I
would prefer not to raise his guard. I sense there is more to this kidnapping than just a
simple ransom demand."
"All right," Branam acquiesced reluctantly. He beckoned to a guard looming
unobtrusively in the background. "This is Saberim, my loyal retainer. He will help you in
your investigation. Find them, Master Jedi. Find my son and bring him home to us."
* * *
Firegold wove her way through the late afternoon crowd in the seedy taproom of the
tavern, deftly avoiding the various lecherous hands reaching out to grope her person.
Unlike the other barmaids in the taproom coyly flirting with the patrons, she did no
such things. She never smiled, never say a word, simply doing her job as a barmaid. The
patrons knew well enough to leave her alone. The last time someone made unwanted
advance towards Firegold had his nose broken with a sharp blow.
The bartender placed five mugs of alcohol on her empty tray. "Take this to the table
over there."
Firegold nodded.
Carrying the mugs of alcohol over to the said table, the entrance of a stranger caught her
eyes. The stranger was trying hard not to betray his agitation, but his nervousness was
plain to Firegold. Even as she served the patrons their drinks, she kept a covert eye on
the stranger, watching as he headed straight for the stairs to the tavern's boarding
rooms. Her curiosity piqued, Firegold followed him.
The stranger went straight to the room where the boy was being held imprisoned.
Firegold knew something was brewing. Throughout the day, she had counted at least
seven people making their way to the room. Stealthily, she went to the door and pressed
her ear against the surface, listening intently.
"We have to leave," the stranger was saying agitatedly.
"We're not going anywhere until we've received further words from our employer,"
Brandelam's guard replied. Other voices also spoke, backing their leader.
"The Jedi are here."
Dead silence fell.
"How close are they to finding us?" someone asked in a frightened voice.
"They already knew Kilerim spirited him from the palace. I don't think it'll be long
before they find the rest of us."
"Shit," a new voice swore. "What the hell are we going to do?"
"Flee the planet and take the boy with us."
"Why don't we just dump the boy?" whined the frightened kidnapper. "It's the boy they
want."
"And have our employer come after us as well?" snarled Brandelam's guard. "This is the
Crown Prince you're talking about. He's worth a lot of money, not to say he's our best
chance of leaving without a fight. Even the Jedi wouldn't dare to do anything to us since
we got him. Gather up your things. We're leaving now!"
Satisfied that she had heard enough, Firegold abandoned her listening post as silently as
she had came. It was time to do something. She couldn't leave that boy in the hands of
these ruffians. Her only problem was how to rescue the boy without drawing attention
to herself.
* * *
It was a surprisingly easy interrogation.
The minute Kilerim saw the stern Jedi Master approaching him with a forbidding look
of determination, he knew the game was up. For how do one fool a Jedi? It didn't take
Qui-Gon long to get the entire story from him. The only question unanswered was the
identity of their employer. Kilerim confessed that he had no idea who their masked
employer was.
"It won't be long to the tavern, Master Jedi," Saberim said.
Qui-Gon nodded, watching the forward window as the royal guard transport whizzed
out of the palace grounds and down into the capital city nestled within the mountain
valley.
"If I may say so, Master Jedi, I'm impressed with the speed of your investigation. Never
have I seen a crime solved and the culprits brought to justice so quickly before. The Jedi
indeed deserved their reputation."
"We do what we have to do, Saberim. There is nothing to it," Qui-Gon replied serenely.
A sharp spike of fear suddenly rippled through the Force. Qui-Gon exchanged a terse
look with Obi-Wan. It was definitely the Crown Prince and he was close by...and in
danger.
"Saberim, how fast can this transport go?"
Saberim was quick to realise the unspoken urgency in Qui-Gon's request. "Faster than
our current speed." He turned and gave the order to the pilot to increase the transport's
speed.
Obi-Wan forced himself to relax, though his hand strayed to his lightsaber clipped to his
belt. "I hope we're in time, Master."
Qui-Gon didn't say a word. He was pretty much praying for the same thing.
* * *
Brandelam watched wide-eyed as the figure dressed all in black, hooded and masked,
ambushed the kidnappers in the narrow corridor outside the room. Moving too fast for
the eye to see clearly, his rescuer knocked down the two kidnapper bringing up the rear
and boldly snatched him from right under their noses.
Grabbing onto the slim shoulders for dear life, Brandelam squeezed his eyes shut when
he saw the kidnappers firing in their direction as his rescuer fled up to the roof of the
tavern building.
Bursting onto the roof, his mysterious rescuer swiftly hid behind a ventilation shaft, still
carefully cradling the Crown Prince. Brandelam stared up at the hooded masked visage,
wondering if he was friend or foe. Then he saw the thin tress of red-gold hair escaping
from beneath the black hood and he knew who had rescued him.
"Firegold!" Crowing joyfully, Brandelam threw his arms about her neck and hugged her
tightly. "I knew you would do something!"
Firegold gently patted his head.
The door leading to the roof burst open again as the kidnappers poured onto the
rooftop.
"Search the place!" shouted the leader. "I want the boy back!"
Brandelam cowered against Firegold, fear overtaking him again. He tightened his grip on
Firegold's shoulders. She simply held him closer, while eyeing the neighbouring rooftop
over his head.
Then as though taken by the wind, Firegold leapt to her feet and raced for the edge of
the roof. Shouts behind her told her the kidnappers were giving chase, but she did not
look back, her concentration centred on the wide gap that was humanly impossible to
cross between the buildings.
From the royal guard transport, Obi-Wan watched stunned as the woman made the
impossible leap between the buildings without the aid of the Force. She rolled to break
her fall, rising back to her feet in a fluid motion, despite being hampered with an armful
of Crown Prince. The fall had knocked her hood back, and her crimson-gold hair glinted
brightly under the bright sun.
//Did you see that?// Obi-Wan didn't know whether to believe his eyes or not.
//Later, Obi-Wan.// Qui-Gon was intrigued as well, but there was pressing matter at
hand. //The Crown Prince first.//
On the rooftop, Firegold instinctively ducked down as the royal guard transport
suddenly screamed low above her. When she looked up again, she saw two men dressed
in similar dark robes and cream-coloured tunics leapt down from the transport to
confront the kidnappers still trapped on the other rooftop. Each carried a rod of blazing
light.
"We've come to retrieve the Crown Prince," Qui-Gon spoke. "Lay down your
weapons." He held his lightsaber in an easy grip, though he was alert for any signs of
danger.
The kidnappers seemed at a loss of what to do, daunted by the appearance of not one
but two Jedi. Not the leader though. He suddenly fired his blaster, aiming straight for
Obi-Wan. It was the last mistake he would ever made. Obi-Wan deftly deflected the
blaster bolt back to the leader, killing him.
"Who's next?" he asked calmly.
With the loss of their leader, the rest of the kidnappers surrendered.
The Jedi shut down their lightsabers, stepping back to allow the royal guard led by
Saberim to arrest the kidnappers. Qui-Gon caught sight of the mysterious masked
woman standing on the neighbouring roof, still cradling the Crown Prince protectively
in her arms.
Tapping the Force, Qui-Gon easily vaulted across the wide chasm in a single leap. Beside
him, Obi-Wan did a somersault. The woman backed away from them, as the Jedi
approached.
"Wait," Qui-Gon said. "We're not here to hurt you."
Qui-Gon opened himself to the Force, sending calmness and safety towards the wary
woman. He met a strange resistance, rebuffing his attempt. Then he felt Obi-Wan's
focus joined his, and he redoubled his efforts to soothe the mysterious woman.
"You're safe. The Crown Prince is safe. We're here to bring him home." Qui-Gon
spread his empty hands outward, a gesture of peace. "Let us help him."
"Trust him, Firegold." Brandelam urged. "Jedi never lie. And I really want to go home."
Firegold studied the Crown Prince for a long moment, then nodded. Interesting how
she seemed to trust the words of the Crown Prince, rather that of a Jedi, Qui-Gon
noted absently. Slowly, still wary, she approached the Jedi, removing the mask she wore.
Obi-Wan blinked.
Standing before them was a petite, fine-boned woman with a pale face and delicate
features. Her tightly bound crimson-gold hair was a vivid contrast against the paleness of
her skin. There was something ethereal about her, gentle and fragile, guileless and
vulnerable like a child - until he looked into her luminous green eyes. They were cold
and remote - the eyes of someone who had seen too many terrible things than it was
possible. Whoever she was, this enigma wasn't as innocent as one was compelled to
believe.
"Greetings, Your Highness." Qui-Gon greeted. "Your parents sent us to bring you
home."
"Can my friend come too?" Brandelam asked hopefully. "Her name's Firegold. She's not
my kidnapper. She took care of me."
Qui-Gon probed the woman standing silently with his mind. He was intrigued to find a
presence so still and passive that it was almost non-existing. And her emotions! Either
she has nerves of steel and iced water running through her veins, or she was genuinely
limited in her range of emotions.
"Can she come?" Brandelam pleaded.
"Of course," Qui-Gon answered somewhat belatedly. He smiled at the woman. "Your
parents will be eager to meet your protector."
* * *
As the royal guard transport headed back for the palace perched on the mountain cliff,
someone else emerged from the shadows from the building across the street. Gigantic in
build and swathed in so many layers of clothes, the observer tracked the transport with
his eyes until it had vanished in the distance.
It was time to act, while she still remained in the open.
A cruel smile curving his lips, he melted back into the shadows.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ THREE ~
Qui-Gon smiled softly to himself as he watched the joyful reunion between the Royal
Co-Consorts and their son. Their happiness and love for each other echoed through the
Force, like a cleansing white light.
Obi-Wan had a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Qui-Gon understood his lack of Jedi
composure. It always feel good to be the instrument to something nice once in a while.
Then he caught sight of Firegold and his own smile turned curious.
Firegold hung back from everyone else, observing from the background. In fact she was
so quiet and unobtrusive that even the Jedi had almost forgotten she was there. Qui-
Gon studied her discreetly. The strange woman was watching Brandelam's reunion with
his parents with a face still like a mirror. Her poise was relaxed, yet Qui-Gon sensed a
wariness in her, as though she was constantly on her guard. She intrigued him, as much
as she rankled Obi-Wan's vigilance.
Throughout the journey back to the palace, Firegold hadn't said a single word.
Brandelam had told him - quite importantly - that she couldn't speak and he was her
voice. And the Crown Prince had made it quite clear to everyone present that she was to
be treated as a honoured guest, even asking the Jedi to protect her.
Qui-Gon solemnly gave the heir to the throne his word, aware of his apprentice's
disapproval. In Obi-Wan's eyes, she was a complete unknown, not to be trusted until it
could be determined whether she was a foe or an ally. Qui-Gon had a completely
different opinion: Firegold was someone who needed help and needed it quite badly.
//Master?// queried Obi-Wan's mental voice.
//Yes, Padawan?//
//I can't help but notice your...preoccupation with her.//
Qui-Gon glanced back at his apprentice. To the world at large, Obi-Wan was paying
attention to the reunion happening before them. But the curiosity and slight disapproval
he could sense from the younger man painted a different picture.
//She is a mystery, Obi-Wan. You can't deny that.//
//I'm not, Master. But she may be a danger.//
//I don't sense danger from her. In fact, I believe she needs help.//
Obi-Wan shot his Master an incredulous look. //From the way she handled herself back
there on the rooftop, I doubt she needs help.//
//Ah, Padawan, that's where you're mistaken. A cry for help can come in many
different forms.//
//So what are you going to do with her?// Obi-Wan's mental voice sounded resigned,
as though he already knew what his Master was going to do.
Qui-Gon smiled inwardly, perversely amused at his apprentice's resignation. //Help her,
what else?//
//I was afraid of that,// Obi-Wan sighed.
Qui-Gon pulled his attention back to the present when the Royal Co-Consorts
approached them with their son in tow. Branam was grinning widely, unable to keep his
joy to himself, and his wife was equally radiant in her happiness.
"Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, thank you. Thank you for bringing our son home to us."
"We're glad to be of service, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon replied. "But the truth is, we
owed our success to the lady here. She helped the Crown Prince to escape from his
kidnappers."
"Ah yes, the lady Firegold." Branam walked briskly over to her. "My son has been telling
me of your acts of friendship during his captivity. You have my eternal gratitude. Name
your reward and if it's within my power, I'll fulfil it."
Firegold looked lost for a moment, then she hesitatingly pointed to the window. Branam
drew a blank, not understanding what she was asking for. It was his son who
comprehended her gesture.
"A ship! She wants a ship!" Brandelam's excited face felled as the import of her request
finally struck him. "You don't wish to stay here with me? To be my friend?"
Kneeling down, Firegold placed a fist first over her heart, then over his. Qui-Gon
recognised the gesture. It stood for 'companions always'. The gesture eased the gloom
on Brandelam's face but not much.
"You'll come visit?" he asked hopefully.
Firegold nodded solemnly, smoothing a hand through his hair.
"Firegold? Will you smile for me?"
She blinked in surprise.
"A small one. Please?"
Slowly, the corners of her lips lifted upward and a tentative smile grew. It was a small
smile, barely creasing the sides of her mouth but it was enough to make the Crown
Prince beam with laughter.
Qui-Gon had to hide a smile of his own. The Crown Prince had a charm that was all too
apparent in his young age. He foreseen that someday the young heir would be leaving a
trail of broken hearts in court.
The sudden surge in the Force alerted the Jedi to the danger precious seconds before it
happened. Reacting instantly, Qui-Gon reached out with the Force and yanked the
Crown Prince and Firegold away from the spot of danger, while Obi-Wan did the same
for the Royal Co-Consorts. With Jedi speed, they moved everyone to safety, split second
before the ceiling came crashing down in a heavy fall of rubble.
As the dust settled, Qui-Gon looked up from his protective crouch over the Crown
Prince and Firegold. His eyes widened. There was a massive hole in the ceiling, and
standing on top of the pile of rubble in the centre of the Throne Room was a creature
he had only heard of in Jedi lore.
It was a cyborg, as tall as a Wookie and twice a Wookie's size. A monstrosity, a perverse
marriage of the organic with technology. Death-coloured flesh grafted intricately with
the metallic shades of cybernetic components. At least his head retained some
resemblance to a human head, though it was heavily replaced and fortified by cybernetic
parts and his eyes glowed a devilish-red. He thrummed with an inhuman power that
none in his path could stand up to. Death and violence clung to the cyborg like a
pervasive black cloud.
The cyborg was motionless as he stared at Qui-Gon slowly rising to his feet. The Jedi
Master remained calm beneath that flat stare, even though he sensed movements behind
him. That seemed to draw the cyborg's attention, as he turned his artificial eyes to look
beyond him.
"Marionette," the cyborg spoke, "it has been a long time."
Qui-Gon risked a glance over his shoulder. Firegold stood tall and unafraid, body turned
sideways to shield the frightened Crown Prince in her arms. He thought she looked
haunted, but he couldn't be sure, not from his angle.
//Master?// came his apprentice's worried call.
Qui-Gon's gaze unerringly found Obi-Wan at the other end of the Throne Room,
lightsaber blazing. His apprentice had removed his Jedi robe in preparation of a fight.
He could not see the Royal Co-Consorts anywhere though. //Have you seen the Co-
Consorts to safety?//
//Yes, Master. They escaped through a hidden passageway behind the throne. Master,
what is that thing?//
//A cyborg. And he is after Firegold.//
Behind him, he could sense Firegold slowly inching towards the great double doors of
the Throne Room. The cyborg tracked her movements, never taking his eyes off her.
Qui-Gon decided to draw his attention away from her. The powering up of his
lightsaber did the trick. Qui-Gon coolly shed his Jedi robe and assumed a defensive
stance, even as the cyborg nailed him with an unholy glare.
For a dizzying moment, his surroundings seemed to shift and warp. And instead of the
cyborg, he seemed to see a black-cloaked figure with a demon's face and bloodlust
burning deep in yellow eyes confronting him. Then the vision (if that's what it is) passed
and he was back in the here and now, facing down a cyborg.
"Touch her not," Qui-Gon warned.
"My master has decreed her death."
"The woman is under Jedi protection."
The cyborg made a threatening gesture. "Step aside, human. You cannot defeat me."
"Do not underestimate the power of a Jedi."
Sensing that Firegold was finally at the double doors, Qui-Gon sent a quick mental
thought to Obi-Wan and made a flicking motion. Beneath the cyborg's feet, the pile of
rubble shifted and collapsed. Unbalanced, the cyborg tumbled to the floor. Qui-Gon
took this opportunity to attack, sensing his apprentice doing the same from opposite
side.
The cyborg remained infernally fast despite the position of weakness he found himself
in. Blocking Qui-Gon's lightsaber with a heavily armoured arm, the cyborg pushed the
Jedi Master away and rolled to his feet, fluidly countering Obi-Wan's attack. Beyond the
Jedi, the cyborg saw his quarry escaping and he let loose a roar of fury.
The cry rumbled through the doors and the stone walls of the palace even as Fireball
slipped outside to safety. Just in time to meet the royal guards falling into attack position
in the hallway.
"Your Highness!" Saberim greeted with relief. He quickly gestured for his man to come
forward to take the Crown Prince.
"The Jedi," Brandelam pointed at the double doors. "You've to help the Jedi."
"We will contain the situation, Your Highness. Right now, we must get you to safety."
Brandelam was safely ensconced in the arms of a royal retainer when he realised Firegold
made no moves to join him. His friend was staring at the double doors, a somewhat
uncertain look on her face.
"Firegold? You can join me. You'll be safe with me."
Slowly, Firegold shook her head, a look of resolve settling on her face. Brandelam didn't
like that expression at all.
"Are you going to fight the monster?"
She nodded, stroking Brandelam's hair one last time. Then she sprang into action,
moving so fast that no one could react in time. Before Saberim's astonished eyes, she
snatched a blast-rifle from him and darted back into the Throne Room, slamming shut
the heavy doors in their faces.
In the Throne Room, Qui-Gon was tiring rapidly. The cyborg was inhumanly fast and
strong. It took all their Jedi speed and strength just to stay alive. Obi-Wan wasn't faring
much better either. The cyborg, on the other hand, remained as relentless as ever. They
have to strike the cyborg down and soon, before the cyborg's superior attributes
overwhelm their Force-enhanced abilities.
The cyborg feinted to the right. Qui-Gon matched its attack accordingly. Obi-Wan
somersaulted over him to trap the cyborg between them. Lightsabers swinging, they
pressed their attack.
The cyborg countered and parried, faked a left, then shot out an open palm towards
Obi-Wan. A burst of blue energy hit the Padawan point-blank in the chest. Obi-Wan
screamed as the energy shock jolted through him. Crumpling, he writhed on the floor in
agony.
Distracted by his apprentice's distress, Qui-Gon couldn't avoid the clawed fingers
swinging his way. The claws dug painfully into his shoulder and tore away a good piece
of his tunic, leaving behind deep bloody gashes on his shoulder and down his sword
arm. Fire burning through him, the Jedi Master dropped his lightsaber. The next blow
caught him in his midsection, throwing him way across the Throne Room.
Qui-Gon laid sprawled on the floor in a heap, dazed from the blow, mind too clouded
with pain to feel the Force clearly. Head swimming, clutching at his wounded arm, he
found it hard to catch his breath. He didn't need the Force to know he cracked a rib or
two, and his sword arm was useless.
The cyborg advanced menacingly towards the downed Qui-Gon. "The power of a Jedi is
nothing compared to mine."
The impact of a laser bolt against his side caught the cyborg by surprise.
Firegold stood near the pile of rubble, blast-rifle in hands. There was a look of such
resolve and unspeakable emotions on her face that it drew Qui-Gon from the all-
consuming agony of his injuries.
"So you've finally decided to stop running," said the cyborg.
Firegold didn't reply. She simply opened fire again. The cyborg barely flinched, as he
smoothly changed direction and charged towards the slender woman.
Standing her ground, Firegold met the monstrosity's headlong charge with a spectacular
blow. She smashed the blast-rifle into the face of the cyborg with such force that the
weapon was instantly mangled. The cyborg staggered, stunned by the blow. Pressing her
advantage, she whacked it again with the blast-rifle. Tossing the useless remnants of the
weapon aside, she followed up with her fists, never allowing the cyborg to regain his
balance.
Clutching at his wounds, arm hanging uselessly by his side, Qui-Gon struggled painfully
to sit up. He wanted very much to help Firegold, but he was out of the action for the
moment. There was nothing he could do until he had regained some kind of advantage.
Clearing his mind, Qui-Gon drew liberally from the Force to ease his pain, heal his
wounds and boost his weakened state. He glanced worriedly across the Throne Room
and was relieved to see his apprentice too feebly stirring. Then he turned his attention
back to the battle.
There was no grace nor finesse in the fight raging before his eyes. Only brute strength
versus brute strength.
He has seriously misread the woman, Qui-Gon realised. For someone of small stature
and apparently gentle disposition, Firegold has a strength and speed equal to that of the
cyborg's. She was as relentless and ferocious as the cyborg had been, forcing the cyborg
to be on the defensive.
Grabbing the cyborg, Firegold threw him face-down on the floor. Never releasing her
grip, she pounded his face into the stone floor again and again with such force that the
stone floor cracked and shattered.
//Master...?// came the almost voiceless whisper.
//Obi-Wan, are you all right?// Qui-Gon asked anxiously.
//Numb...can't move. I definitely have better days,// Obi-Wan replied with a trace of
his battle humour. Then he turned serious. //What is she, Master?//
//I don't know, Padawan. I don't know.//
The cyborg suddenly bucked, throwing Firegold off his back. She went flying into the
pile of rubble. Before she could recover from the impact, the cyborg was upon her, one
hand pressing cruelly against her throat and the other fist aiming for her chest. Firegold
blocked his move, pushing against his fist, even as she clawed at his death grip tightening
about her throat with her other hand.
Seeing the danger she was in, Qui-Gon moved instinctively to help. Reaching out with
the Force, he grasped hold of his fallen lightsaber with his mind alone and guided its
path through the air. Whirling and humming, the glowing blade of his lightsaber sliced
the back of the cyborg.
The cyborg howled in pain and turned to confront this new opponent.
Firegold reacted, slamming her feet into the cyborg and pushed the cyborg away, off-
balance. Springing from her fallen position, she slammed into the cyborg, tackling him
to the floor. She bunched her fists together and rammed the cyborg's chest. There was
the awful sound of metal buckling beneath her blow.
The cyborg screeched in fury and pain.
She hammered again, this time easily breaking through the cyborg's armoured shell. Red
fluid, distressingly like the colour of blood, spurted outward to stain her face and
clothes. As the cyborg let out a metallic roar of fury, Firegold reached in and yanked out
a handful of components, arm stained in blood up to the elbow. The cyborg's screech
turned into one of agony.
Suddenly, much too swiftly for anyone to notice, capture cables snaked from the
cyborg's arms to wrap about Firegold's body and neck. Surprised, she struggled to break
free, but the cables only tightened their painful grip on her, crushing the breath from
her.
Qui-Gon guided his lightsaber to her rescue, the blazing blade hurling towards the fallen
cyborg intent on killing Firegold. Despite his speed, the cyborg easily evaded his striking
lightsaber, moving towards the wide balcony overseeing the deep river valley below.
The Jedi Master followed, ignoring the pain coursing through his body. His lightsaber
floated before him. He was the greatest swordsman among the Jedi ranks; wielding his
lightsaber with his mind alone was an easy feat for him, one that came from years of
training. But in his current condition, beset by pain with every movement he made, he
found it hard to concentrate.
The cyborg fared not much better himself. His movements were uncoordinated, jerky
even. Broken ends trailed from his broken chest, and blood flowed from severed tubes,
staining the floor and making it slippery for Qui-Gon. Firegold laid limp in his capture
cables, unconscious, her only free arm flung away from her body, as she was dragged out
into the balcony by the cyborg.
"Release her," Qui-Gon commanded as he advanced towards the cyborg, backing him
towards the edge of the wide balcony.
The cyborg grinned a feral grin. "Make me."
Qui-Gon pressed on, trying to find a way to free Firegold without getting her further
injured. They were out on the spacious balcony now, the wind howling and tearing at
Qui-Gon's clothes. He was acutely aware of actually how high up they were on the
mountain.
Suddenly, Firegold burst into desperate action. Right before Qui-Gon's startled eyes, she
sprang from her prone position and lunged into the cyborg, pushing him towards the
balcony edge. With a roar of startled fear, the cyborg toppled over the stone railing. Qui-
Gon frantically leapt forward, grabbing Firegold's free arm just as she was dragged over
the edge by the heavy weight of the cyborg. Pain shot up his good arm, but Qui-Gon
gritted his teeth against it, willing himself not to loose his grip on Firegold. She was still
trapped in the capture cables of the cyborg, unable to shake free.
And there Firegold hung, the Jedi Master her rope to safety and the cyborg her dead
weight to death.
Qui-Gon summoned up the last dregs of his reserves of the Force, even hesitatingly
tapping his Padawan's reserves. A renewed flow of strength rushed through him, as Obi-
Wan sensed his plight and willingly gave him his strength.
Pull, Qui-Gon told himself. And he did, by slow agonising inches.
"No!" the cyborg roared. "I will not die alone."
The cyborg raised his other arm, palm open and aimed at Qui-Gon, a point of glowing
blue energy growing in intensity in the centre of his palm. Firegold's eyes widened when
she saw the threat and she involuntarily looked up at the Jedi Master.
Luminous green gaze met midnight blue. In that moment, a connection was made,
unknowingly tying them together.
Qui-Gon saw the decision in her eyes; he tried to stop her, but she was too quick.
Firegold twisted her arm from Qui-Gon's grasp. Freed from the rope tying her to safety,
she plummeted down the vast valley, taking the cyborg with her.
Mere heartbeats later, Qui-Gon felt the death shudder through the Force.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ EPILOGUE ~
The journey back to Coruscant was quiet.
Obi-Wan, fully recovered from the energy shock, hovered uncertainly outside his
Master's cabin on board the Republic cruiser. Injuries aside, Qui-Gon had been
withdrawn and silent in the last three days. Somehow Firegold's sacrifice had affected
the Jedi Master deeply and Obi-Wan was concerned. Yet his Master's mood was such
that he had no idea how to approach him.
Well, no point in debating the issue now. Something had to be done. Obi-Wan took a
deep breath and released it, centring his focus. Mentally bracing himself for his Master's
gloomy mood, Obi-Wan knocked on the closed door.
"Master?"
Silence for a moment.
//Come in, Obi-Wan.//
Entering the cabin, Obi-Wan paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Qui-Gon
was seated cross-legged on the deck, eyes closed in a healing trance, Jedi robe folded
neatly about his tall frame. Beneath his robe, Qui-Gon was bare-chest, his shoulder
heavily bound in bandages and his equally bandaged arm rested beside his lap. He looked
serene as always. No longer did lines of pain marked his face.
//Join me, Obi-Wan. It's been a while since we've meditated together.//
Obediently, Obi-Wan sat on the cold deck beside his Master. Drawing his robe close
about his body, the Padawan closed his eyes and descended into a light meditative
trance. Master and Padawan's minds reached out and melded easily, as they have done it
so many times in the past. In this state they remained, meditating, until Qui-Gon felt it
was time to address the real issue at hand.
//You are troubled, Padawan.//
//There are many questions which remained unanswered.//
//Such as?//
//The mastermind behind the Crown Prince's kidnapping? The cyborg's real motive?
And...// Obi-Wan hesitated, then went on gamely. //...the woman Firegold.//
Obi-Wan fell silent, waiting with abated breath for Qui-Gon's response. His Master did
not speak for several long moments until he feared he would never get his answer.
//The identity of the mastermind would have to be solved by Saberim, not us.// Qui-
Gon spoke at last, in the same measured tone that was his wont. //It's clear someone in
the Theomoralan court is the mastermind and the case will involve politics. As Jedi, we
cannot interfere in politics. Our task was to rescue the Crown Prince and bring him
home safe and sound. No more, no less.//
//I understand, Master. Still, I cannot help but wonder who's the mastermind.//
//As do I, Obi-Wan.//
The admission surprised Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon felt his apprentice's reaction and let loose a
mental chuckle. //I may be Jedi, but I am also human.//
Obi-Wan smiled. Then he turned serious. //We know nothing of the cyborg as well,
Master.//
//No, we do not.// Qui-Gon conceded.
They fell silent again.
The cyborg had been smashed to smithereens on the jagged rocks of the cliff-side,
totally unsalvageable. With his memory banks completely destroyed, there was no way to
identify the cyborg, nor to find out where he was from or why he was sent to kill
Firegold. The Royal Co-Consorts agreed to keep the remains in cold storage until such
time the Jedi Council could send better experts to unravel the mystery.
As for Firegold, there was no trace of her body anywhere, leaving them to guess that the
rushing river had washed it away or she had survived the fall, impossible as that may
sound.
//These are not the issues that truly occupy your mind, Obi-Wan.//
Obi-Wan sighed silently. Trust his Master to see right through him. //Firegold's death
affect you deeply, Master.//
Qui-Gon did not say anything.
Gamely, Obi-Wan went on. //I can understand the Crown Prince's grief. After all, she
was his protector during his captivity. But we...you have known her for a few hours,
that's all.// He paused, trying to frame his question properly. //Her sacrifice was noble,
but why does her death affect you so deeply?//
Qui-Gon remained silent.
And Obi-Wan realised that he did not know the answer as well.
_____________________________________________________________________
~ THE END ~