Greetings and welcome to my third entry! This is my first ever JA fic so please let me know what you like and don't like! This story inspired by a brilliant deviant art submission by Sarkanybaby.
Link: art/Injury-Desktop-Screenshot-145303021
italics are thoughts ;)
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice sat side by side at the high table in the lavish hall of the King of Rindega. Beneath the dais, five politicians stood tall, proud and determined each with a harder sterner face then the last. They were leaders of rising political parties and came before the King to petition for democracy. The Jedi had been requested to attend as a means of ensuring the talks were peaceful and the requests were feasible, then to report to the Galactic senate on the Rindega's progress and potential to enter the Republic.
The Rindega system was at long last on its way to industrializing. It sat closer to the Republic capital than most Outer Rim systems, but centuries of Monarchy and serfdom had prevented is people from becoming enlightened. In many ways, Rindega was a very primitive planet but exposure to technology and trade had bolstered the quality of life for the average person and inspired them to petition their King for democratic rights that were enjoyed by the citizens of other systems. Such was the way of revolution. It could be bloodless or it could be disastrous. Either way, for planet Rindega, it was inevitable.
The three long days of talks were finally at an end. They had not been too innovative but neither had they caused any more animosity between the King and the party leaders. In Qui-Gon's eyes, this was a small success.
"You did well, Padawan," said Qui-Gon as he and his apprentice walked down a long corridor leading from the Rindegan hall to the capital city's only hangar bay. "You speak and listen with skill well beyond your years. I foresee that you will make a fine negotiator."
Walking silently by his Master's left side, garbed in a brown cloak; Obi-Wan Kenobi frowned slightly. "Your complement means the world to me, Master," he began solemnly, "but-"
"You think there is more we must do," stated Qui-Gon knowingly.
Perpetually in awe with his Master's ability to sense his thoughts, Obi-Wan raised his eyes to meet Qui-Gon's and began to voice his concern. "The Rindegan monarchy is making great progress with giving cessions to those who support democracy, but there is still so much more to be done," said Obi-wan pleadingly. "Master, I feel as though we should stay longer. Some radicals are gaining too much strength and would sooner have an oligarchy than a democracy. If the King were to abdicate, I fear a reign of terror would be unleashed upon the people of Rindega."
"There may be more that we could do, Padawan, but it is neither our decision to make nor our assigned mission. We did what we came to do and now we must let Rindega and her people make their own way and run their own course. We will only return if war breaks out, in which case we will aid with treaties. But we cannot go grooming systems to what we, as Jedi, think is the best. We came to ensure present peace and nothing more," answered Qui-Gon definitively as the pair neared the entrance to the hangar.
Obi-Wan furrowed his brow in concentration, thinking about the unsettling feelings he had been experiencing since meeting the leaders of the democratic factions. "Yes, Master. Only… I cannot help but think that there is more to the democratic leaders than meets the eye. I sense trouble."
"No politician is ever who they seem, Padawan. You know this," replied Qui-Gon palming the entrance to the hangar and gazing upon the small shuttle they had used to travel from Coruscant. She was a very old model and was not the fastest ship at the best of times, but nothing about any of their three assigned missions was urgent.
"But, Master, I sensed in a few of them great ambition paired with malevolence. There was something clandestine and malicious about them- I could feel it. I fear something hateful is in the works," said Obi-Wan apprehensively.
"Enough, Padawan," barked Qui-Gon as he came to a halt where the ramp would lower to allow them access to their ship. "I'll not condone you to dwell on feelings that you must now set aside. Put Rindega behind you and focus on our next task. You will pilot us through take-off and once we are in hyperspace you will meditate on your next task and read thoroughly from you data pad. Is that understood?"
Abashed, Obi-Wan flushed and gazed to the floor. "Yes, Master," he said at once, inwardly cursing himself for stoking Qui-Gon's intolerance for disobedience. He marched himself to the cockpit to input the coordinates for Ryloth, run safety checks, and begin the launching sequence.
Qui-Gon kept his face a mask of emotionless authority but once his Padawan was in the in the cockpit, his expression softened. Maybe the young one is right… but he must learn to overcome his fear and move on. Our duty is to the Republic. Even if Qui-Gon wanted to stay longer on Rindega, it would not do to teach his Padawan to defy the council as had seen fit to do since becoming a Master. I must not taint Obi-Wan's potential to be the model Jedi- not an old defiant rogue like me. Still though, if Qui-Gon had his own way and felt no obligation to set a shining example for his pupil, he may have been inclined to stay longer. It was something about the way the party leaders looked treacherously at them. But with all their political fervor, the leaders had neither the technology nor the funds to do anything to usurp the monarch. They were still just a rabble of educated libertarians whose goals of reform far exceeded their reach. They didn't have the means to do any harm to anyone… yet.
Qui-Gon hung up his dark brown cloak and seated himself in the cockpit next to his apprentice. Obi-Wan was double-checking all computer and propulsion systems and meticulously inputting data into the navigation computer. He was a good apprentice, Qui-Gon reminded himself. There certainly had been worse choices in the group of initiates those few years past. They'd had their differences but their relationship grew stronger each day they spent together. Obi-Wan had learned from his mistakes on Melida-Daan and his skills were very promising.
"All systems are go, Master, and I've calculated a safe course to Ryloth. We'll have to do a slow horizontal trajectory to warm the engines up before we ascend into the atmosphere since they've been idle, but we'll make our ascent well before that mountain range." He gestured toward the purple peaks that loomed over the township just a few miles away, then hastily added "and my data pad is here. I shall immerse myself in Rylothian study as soon as we reach hyper space."
"Very well," acknowledged Qui-Gon, content with immediate departure. "Take us out."
"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan as he activated all engines and steadily guided the ship out of the hangar bay door and onto a low, flat trajectory and the ship's engines hummed back to life.
Obi-Wan flew well and the ship was warming up nicely. Both Master and Padawan gazed out of the front view window in silence. The ship would carry them to Ryloth in a few hours time, at which point the Master-Padawan team was to oversee elections. Qui-Gon was deep in thought about whether or not the Rylothians would appreciate their elections being supervised by off-worlders. The Council should have sent Padawan Secura for this one, he contemplated.
Suddenly, Qui-Gon was pulled out of his meditations. Just as Obi-Wan began to guide the ship slowly upward, the ship jerked violently and a small explosion erupted in the rear.
"Master!" Obi-Wan was on high alert and Qui-Gon could feel the young man's heightened sense of his surroundings. "Something hit us!" The apprentice had to shout over the whine of collision alarms.
"No. It wasn't a direct hit it was a shockwave," shouted Qui-Gon. "Evasive maneuvers!"
As Obi-Wan banked sharply to the right, the ship rocked again but more violently. She listed from side to side but Obi-Wan kept a firm grip on the throttles and was able to steady her again.
"That was definitely a hit that time! Master, it felt like a low-grade cannon! It must be heat-seeking!" shouted Obi-Wan over the resounding boom of the second explosion.
No, thought Qui-Gon desperately. It can't be! They don't have the weaponry!
"What's our plan?" Obi-Wan's knuckles were white as he firmly grasped the throttles and silenced blaring alarms. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled through his spikey ginger hair.
Qui-Gon made a snap decision. "Stay on the throttles" he ordered. "I'll go aft to man the guns. Get us out of here now."
But just as Qui-Gon undid his seat belt, stood and turned to make for the cockpit door, the largest and most powerful blast yet hit its intended target. The Jedi's shuttle was sent flying nose over tail back toward the ground below. Before he knew it, Obi-Wan had no control over the failing craft and found himself being lifted from his seat and slammed into the surrounding consoles like a doll. He was flung this way and that until the ship collided with the ground. The side of Obi-Wan's face struck an overhead console caused him to see nothing but swirling colors and stars as the ship continued to roll its way across the flat and rocky landscape, closer toward the mountain range.
Qui-Gon, who had not been strapped in during the attack, was ejected as the windshield was smashed by a large boulder during their third or fourth somersault. Out he went, flying through the air in semi-conscious confusion. He was trying to distinguish sky from land when a rock struck him on the right temple and knocked him out. Qui-Gon's limp body skidded to a dusty halt some thirty meters in front of where the shuttle finally came to a screeching halt.
Obi-Wan felt dizzy and dazed but he was aware that the ship had finally completed its slow and final roll on the ground. The ship had landed upside-down, and the young Jedi was still strapped into the pilot seat, blood rushing to his head.
He took a few labored breaths, inhaling smoke and dust and the scent of burning electrical equipment. Obi-Wan was trying to decide on his next move. Why had they been shot down? Where were their pursuers? He called out to Qui-Gon, praying to the Force that his Master was unharmed.
"Master…" he called out coughing. "Master, I smell fumes. I think it prudent if we leave the ship now." He received no response. "Master?" he called again. Where was Qui-Gon? Fear and worry welled up inside of him as he closed his eyes and attempted to contact his Master through their bond within the Force. He could feel his Master close, but he was not responding- a strong indication that Qui-Gon was hurt.
Obi-Wan sprang into action. He activated his lightsaber and cut himself free of the harness, falling clumsily to the ceiling of the cockpit. He landed poorly and was in pain but he didn't care, he had to find his Master! Stumbling painfully through the wreckage, smoke and dust, Obi-Wan was able to roll out of the shattered remnants of the side port window. Scanning the horizon, he could see the tall Jedi lying sprawled out in the dust and rubble a short distance away.
Without thinking, Obi-Wan sprinted toward his Master until sharp pain in his left leg caused him to stumble and fall. He recovered and crawled as fast as he could to his Master's aide. Qui-Gon lay unconscious on his left side with a long laceration on his right temple and another on his right shoulder. His hair and tunic were stained with red and dust had settled on his cream-colored robes. "Master?" he tried. "Master, can you hear me?"
Nervously, Obi-Wan leaned in and put a hand on his Master's forehead and gave him a scan.
After a few searching moments, Obi-Wan exhaled in relief. Qui-Gon had been knocked out by a blow the head but was already almost coming around. Amazingly, the rest of his injuries were minor lacerations and contusions. Obi-Wan sent a wave of calming and healing Force energy to his Master.
He was about to send even more healing energies when his Force-enhanced hearing picked up voices in the distance. "Stupid Padawan," Obi-Wan cursed himself for letting his attachment to Qui-Gon distract him from ensuring their safety! The enemy was upon them and Obi-Wan hadn't done anything useful to shelter or protect his Master!
Obi-Wan stood up and listened intently to the approaching people. They spoke Basic and in the dialect of Rindega. The whispers were from the foes, he did not know who they were but their hostile intent was obvious. "I'll handle this Master," he promised out loud to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan knew his Master couldn't hear him at the moment, so he vowed within the Force, his oath echoing within the Force particles surrounding and cocooning the Apprentice and his Master.
Qui-Gon's subconscious felt the swell of light within the Force. His consciousness began to climb out of its slumber and back to the present. His Padawan took a protective stance over the Master, ignited his lightsaber and center himself.
The enemy was still advancing. They were great in number but uncertain and Obi-Wan could hear a few of their exchanged whispers.
"Do you see anything?" said a man.
"I can't see shit, all I see is dust," said another.
"Humanoids can't even survive a crash like that," whispered a woman.
"They are Jedi though," replied a man apprehensively.
The advancing enemy came into view. A group of humanoids wearing long black coats and orange armbands had their blasters aimed at the two Jedi.
A bright floodlight was activated and shone onto their target. It illuminated the two Jedi, the smoldering wreckage and the dust swirling around them. Obi-Wan held up a hand to block the obtrusive light and gritted his teeth and crouched low over Qui-Gon like a feral dog protecting a bone. "Don't worry Master," he swore again "I will protect you."
Then a man with a deep gruff voice could be heard amongst the settling dust. "They're both wounded," he declared. "Take them alive."
An instant later, the barrage of blaster fire began. Red, green and blue laser bullets rained down up on the prone Jedi, but Obi-Wan was determined. He crouched a little lower to ensure that every square inch of his master was within range of his lightsaber's protective arc.
Shots rang out from every single direction. They were surrounded by the enemy on all sides, Obi-Wan realized, as he sent blaster fire arcing away harmlessly or returned it to the unlucky man who had fired it. Three enemies dropped, then five more, and then at least fifteen were down. Obi-Wan was getting tired, but he pressed on. He was so focused that he barely noticed that Qui-Gon was beginning to stir.
When Qui-Gon awoke fully, he had nothing to go on except pure instinct. Ignoring the stinging gash on his head and the blood running down his face and neck, he listened to the sound of blasters firing and a lightsaber swinging in rapid arcs. He activated his lightsaber and leapt up off of the ground, standing back to back with his Padawan.
"I missed something," yelled Qui-Gon to his Padawan. Qui-Gon didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but the ground surrounding them was littered with the stunned bodies of the enemy. Obi-Wan had been busy.
"Not much, Master!" yelled Obi-Wan back to his Master, allowing his elation and relief to seep into his senses and resonate within the Force.
"Be careful, Padawan. Stay focused," chided Qui-Gon. "We're not out of this yet. How far is the ship?"
"You mean what's left of her?" quipped his Padawan. "Thirty meters back toward the city," Obi-Wan answered as the blaster fire continued.
"Did you remember to isolate the escape pod?" asked Qui-Gon hopefully, in tones that emphasized its great importance to their predicament.
Obi-Man smiled. "Yes Master, it should be functional still!"
"Very well, then. Follow closely behind me in three… two… one…now!" Qui-Gon leapt gracefully into a backwards somersault over Obi-Wan and began racing toward the ship's escape pod.
Obi-Wan made to follow, but staggered under a sharp pain in his leg again. He stumbled, losing speed and widening the gap between himself and his Master. A sharp pang of panic shot through him- he wasn't able to keep up and Qui-Gon hadn't sensed it yet.
Qui-Gon returned a few more laser bolts to their marksmen and took one final graceful leap into the circular opening of the escape pod. He revved it up. Expecting to see Obi-Wan right behind him, a disturbance in the Force told him that his apprentice had fallen behind and was in danger. He looked out the side port to see the apprentice in the midst of the bullets struggling to gain distance on Qui-Gon's position. The apprentice was limping and bleeding.
Obi-Wan brandished his lightsaber as he limped onward. He trudged on, desperate to not disappoint his Master. Then, a blast bolt struck him in the right hand, causing it to go numb and his grip on his lightsaber to fail. The silver weapon plopped onto the ground in a cloud of dust as another bolt took the Padawan in the lower back. Obi-Wan's breath was forced out of him as the energy of the bolt threw him forward onto his stomach. It's only stun bolts, he told himself, I can still make it! He gritted his teeth and rolled clumsily onto his back, reaching his left arm out to grab his fallen lightsaber. But time had slowed to a crawl; in his desperation to escape he hadn't realized that the enemies were approaching him with blasters raised. He squinted up at them briefly but was still determined to reach his lightsaber. His mind felt sluggish and his head swam and his lightsaber merely twitched as he mustered all of his concentration to summon it. He looked up a second time to see the butt of a rifle just before it was viciously slammed into his skull.
Obi-Wan was out cold before hit the ground. The apprentice lay unaware in the dirt as the enemy engulfed him.
Qui-Gon watched in horror from the viewport of the escape pod as his young apprentice was gunned down and beaten with the butt end of a long range rifle. "Obi-Wan!" he cried. The shout brought the enemy's focus back toward him and bullets began to fly in his direction once more. He sealed the pod, and punched in the controls for emergency launch and the pod activated and soared up into the atmosphere. Obi-Wan hear me, he pleaded through the Force as he dialed up emergency communications to the Jedi Temple. Stay strong Padawan, I will be back for you. There was only silence from Obi-Wan's end of their bond.
The escape pod of the old shuttle they had used was only useful for two things: fleeing and spying. Qui-Gon was able to evade his enemies on the ground, but the pod only had the capability to launch. He would use all of its fuel fighting the gravitational pull of the planet for take-off and then would have to remain in orbit around Rindega until rescued or otherwise.
Luckily for Qui-Gon, the pod was designed for reconnaissance and was equipped with excellent long-range communications platforms. He sent a transmission to long-time friend and Council member Mace Windu.
"You were explicitly instructed not to get involved, Qui-Gon," said the frowning hologram of Mace Windu. He was not pleased to hear about Qui-Gon's dilemma.
Qui-Gon's anger flared. "Did we even have a choice? No one briefed us on the threat of being shot down by an ion cannon or the possibility of encountering guerrilla fighters!"
Mace was startled. "An ion cannon? Is that what they used? That cannot be. Based on all of our reports, Rindega has no weapons and no warriors to wield them."
Qui-Gon released his anger into the Force. "Well then, there is a lot about Rindega of which we know nothing. I can't even tell you who was behind this attack. But I can bet that they will not be gentle with Obi-Wan."
"Does your Apprentice know anything that will be of value to a Rindegan?" asked Mace, showing slight signs of concern.
This was an idea Qui-Gon had been dreading. "It depends on who is behind the capture. If the monarch is behind this, then, no. They will probably keep him as a bargaining chip and demand that the Republic send more aid to help the King crush the rebellion. But if the rebels have him, Obi-Wan learned much and more about the King, his defenses, and his tactics during our stay at the palace. Rebels would want that information."
"If your Apprentice divulges any material, it could be detrimental to the peace on the system. The monarchy could fall and chaos would ensue," stated Mace pensively.
That made Qui-Gon angry. "You think I haven't thought about that? You don't know my Apprentice, Mace. He won't tell them anything." Qui-Gon said defiantly.
"Only the passing of time will prove that, old friend," said Mace solemnly.
Qui-Gon knew he was right. Obi-Wan was as quick of wit as he was skilled with a blade. But he was young and only half-trained. He still had much to learn.
Mace saw the look of sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes and it made him feel a pang of sorrow too, but there was work to be done. "Fear not for your Apprentice, the Force is with him. The Rindega system must be dealt with. By Republic Law, this demonstration of aggression and violent capture of a Republic envoy declares Rindega a hostile nation. It is now within the power of the Senate to investigate and neutralize all threats. They will launch a full scale investigation, Qui-Gon, and bring to justice whoever is responsible for this attack."
Qui-Gon sighed. "So these terrorists, whoever they are, at liberty to run wild on Rindega until the Senate can squabble over what action to take. I understand that. But what of my Apprentice?" Qui-Gon demanded. "I won't leave him, Mace."
"You stay in orbit and gather and transmit as much information on the system and her political groups as you can. Try to fill in some of the gaps we have in our intelligence. You know what to do. In the meantime, we'll send Master Rhara and her apprentice to rendezvous with you. The three of you do what you must to extract Kenobi."
Good, thought Qui-Gon, Garen is close with Obi-Wan. He will want to see him safe just as much as I do. And Clee… she's a fierce woman to reckon with. She will be of great help.
"The Force is strong with him Qui-Gon, do not dwell on your fears for your apprentice," said Mace unemotionally. "Keep me updated on your discoveries."
"Will do," said Qui-Gon pressing the button to end the transmission. He reclined in his chair and exhaled deeply. The pod was small and cramped, but the seat was comfortable enough. He stretched out with his feelings and gathered tendrils of Force around him. His fear and worry for Obi-Wan swelled and then was released. He closed his eyes, focused on his task and then went to work gathering information. He would be of no help to Obi-Wan until Clee arrived. In the meantime, he'd play the spy.
Down on the surface of the planet, political party leader Bors Flint ordered his troops to ceasefire as soon as the young Jedi was finally shot in the back with a stun bolt and thrown face first into the dust. He watched coldly as the young man struggled valiantly to use his muscles under the effect of being shot with multiple blasters. It was a pitiful sight. "You there," he called to a nearby soldier, "put him out."
The soldier obeyed, slid out of formation, upended his rifle and gave the Jedi a crushing blow to the skull. The Jedi hit the ground like a sack of taun-taun fodder, all the strength and fight, at long last, gone out of him. Flint approached the captive.
"Careful with that one, Flint. He put up a damn good fight," called another man standing a short distance away making sideways glances at the hundred and fifty soldiers that littered the ground.
"Quiet, Shasti. If I want your advice, I'll ask for it," Flint shot back in return before calling out "Medic!"
"Medic," a solider replied as he jogged up to Flint and the captive.
"What's his status?" demanded Flint of the Medic. The medical soldier squatted down and did a cursory sweep of the prisoner's health.
"There is damage, sir," he began. "Of head and body. He'll be out cold for a few hours at the least."
"Very well" said Flint dismissively. "Comrades," he summoned.
Four other party leaders joined Flint in standing over the fallen Jedi. Flint roughly nudged the Jedi's shoulder with one of his boots until the young man was fully on his back, deaf to the world, head lolled to one side. The leaders took in the youthful features.
"He's only a boy," stated the only woman of the group, shocked. Her name was Kerlina Batu, and she had 30,000 Rindegan peasants rallied under her command. "He looks even younger than he did in the throne room."
"The only thing he is to us and our cause is a goldmine of valuable information," replied Flint curtly. "Abandon your sentiments and take him to base."
"Better to move him now than later," agreed Dekk Narroa, another party leader.
"What about the other one, the older one?" asked Rotano Shasti, a man who had been intent on capturing both Jedi.
"He's long gone by now," declared Flint. "Ran home to the city-planet to tell the other Jedi what we did. They'll stay in our favor though as long as we have the Jedi pup a captive. Shasti, Narroa, bring him."
The two men called Shasti and Narroa lifted the unconscious Jedi by the arms and feet and threw him bodily into the back of an antiquated speeder.
"Make for the bunker," ordered Flint. The others complied.
The fifth and final party leader, Olisko Quentar, made to go to his platoon when a silver gleam on the ground caught his eye. He strode up to the Jedi's fallen lightsaber, flicked it up into the air with the toe of his leather boot, and caught it deftly in one hand. He looked at it curiously for a long moment before deciding to clip it away beneath his long coat.
"Double time, Quentar!" barked Batu as she noticed him dawdling.
"I'm going!" he complained.
The rebel soldiers and leaders made haste to their bunker just as the Rindegan suns began to set.
(Hours later)
Provoked by a sharp pounding in his head, Obi-Wan Kenobi slowly regained consciousness. Climbing the slippery slope back to awareness, he peeled his eyelids open a tiny amount and winced as bright artificial light saturated his ocular nerves. He quickly shut his eyes again. Where in the seven Sithly hells am I? He wondered while contemplating whether or not he wanted to try to open his eyes again.
He concentrated on the image he had been able to barely make out beyond the bright glare and took stock of the odd way his body was positioned. He was sitting on the stone floor of a chilly room with his back against the wall. His hands were bound and shackled to the wall high above his head. His head sagged low and his chin rested on his chest. He felt his thin ginger braid dangling onto his bare chest. All of his clothes save his leggings had been removed. As expected, the lightsaber that he had dropped had not been returned to him, but he could feel the thrum of the Force inside his weapon pulsing somewhere nearby. The kink in his neck and coldness of his flesh made him think that he'd been positioned as such for a few hours or so. The pounding in his head was almost unbearable.
How long has it truly been? Is Qui-Gon safe? Where are my clothes? How can I escape? Who is responsible for this? Where is my lightsaber?
A million and a half questions filled his thoughts and threatened to overwhelm him. However, he knew that many of the answers he sought could be found with meditation. His training as a Jedi took over.
Let go of your senses, find your center, do nothing rash, the Force will guide you, he told himself as he calmed his mind and started to enter a deep meditative state. But just as he exhaled and fully committed his mind to the trance, a cup of icy, metallic tasting water was splashed onto his face.
So much for that idea, thought Obi-Wan ruefully.
"We know you're awake," said a brusque voice, "open your eyes."
When Obi-Wan did not instantly comply, the cold water that had been splashed on his face was replaced by a brutal backhand.
Smack.
"Open. Your. Eyes," commanded the man again, angrier this time. The voice sounded very familiar. Grudgingly, Obi-Wan looked up to meet his captor's eyes. The man had brown eyes, short black hair and a weathered face. It was the same weathered face that Obi-Wan had seen in the King's throne room hours prior, petitioning for rights and promising the King a peaceful revolution.
"Bors Flint," said Obi-Wan plainly through squinted eyes. His voice felt scratchy from disuse. "Thank you for the water, sir. I was feeling quite parched until then."
Smack.
Flint delivered another backhand to Obi-Wan's face, but this time harder. Obi-Wan groaned but clenched his jaw and brought his eyes back to meet Flint's.
Then a woman who Obi-Wan hadn't noticed spoke up. "Your smugness will not serve you here, Jedi. You will do well to control it." Her name was Kerlina Batu, Obi-Wan recalled. She was another libertarian who had petitioned in the King's throne room earlier that day. She was tall and lean with flame-colored hair in a long thick braid. She may have been pleasing to the eye had she not looked so severe.
"That's right, baby Jedi," said another one of the libertarians mockingly. Rotano Shasti stood but six feet away, but Obi-Wan had failed to notice him. Shasti was a light-skinned man with fair hair, deep scars on his face and an artificial arm. He stepped closer to the apprentice as the other four leaders in the room did so.
Leaders and self-claimed libertarians fighting for freedom of the people, remembered Obi-Wan. All of them. But if his violent capture and less-than-hospitable lodgings weren't proof enough, he could sense their malice and zeal filling the room to capacity. He felt as though he could drown in their hatred and ambition. Each of the five leaders wore long black coats and an orange armband on their right bicep. They were also armed to the teeth with heavy blasters, advanced combustibles, belts of ammunition and lightweight armor. They were fierce warriors, Obi-Wan could tell. But where had they gotten these weapons? The Council had said that the Bothans had no intelligence to believe that the rebels on Rindega were anything more than fervent politicians who had been up-jumped from their place in society as small town farmers and miners. It seems the Bothans have overlooked a tiny detail or two.
Dekk Narroa, a short, dark-sinned man with white hair and a graying beard, approached Obi-Wan and cleared his throat in an attempt to sound official. "You are now a prisoner of the Rindegan People's Revolutionary Front. As a former guest of the King, you were privy to information about his compound that we need. Comply, and your tenure here will be bearable. Disobey or withhold information, and you will suffer greatly."
Those are some lousy options said Obi-Wan, almost aloud until he remembered his captive's disdain for dry humor. He looked around the room and spotted his clothes and boots in a heap in the far corner. Where is my lightsaber? His body ached with injury and cold yet he would need his weapon more than his garments. Stretching out with his senses, he consulted the Force. After a few moments, his mind linked with the thrumming presence of his Force-infused armament. He sensed it there, inside the coat of the man Olisko Quentar, a burly man of medium height who so far had been silent.
Obi-Wan looked Quentar in the eyes. "My lightsaber," Obi-Wan said, "will you return it to me?"
Quentar shifted uncomfortably on his feet. The others looked at Quentar then back down upon their captive.
"It's been locked away," said Batu, "we are not so foolish as to placed your sword within your grasp."
Obi-Wan kept looking at Quentar who was shifting around awkwardly still. Do they lie or do they really not know that he has it? There was only one way to find out.
"I saw it there beneath his coat," Obi-Wan told the group about Olisko Quentar, fibbing carefully so as not to reveal any more of his abilities.
Quentar reluctantly lifted a flap of his leather coat to reveal the weapon. This angered Flint. "Quentar, you fool! I told you to lock it away!" he yelled. The others joined in, furious that Quentar had lied and put them in danger.
"It can't be in the same room!" yelled Narroa as the arguing continued.
A few minutes of irate arguing passed amongst the rebel leaders until finally Flint yelled "Enough! All of you, shut up! We came for information! Quentar I'll deal with you later. Shasti and Batu, with me. Narroa, summon your men and carry out what we discussed. Use more men if need be." With that final command, Flint took his leave of Obi-Wan's cell, followed closely by Shasti, Batu and a very sheepish Quentar.
Obi-Wan did not like the sound of that. More men for what? A pang of foreboding twisted in his stomach when he heard that last command. He watched all the leaders save Narroa leave the cell. Then, they were replaced by three eager soldiers, each bearing the same orange armband as the rest, weapons on their belts and each doing their best to look menacing. Their purpose was clear: torment. Obi-Wan scoffed. They were cowards. All four of them. No matter how just a cause, a man should preserve his morals. These weren't men, they were monsters and they were willing to achieve their "just" cause with unjust methods.
"Alright, gents," said Narroa to his men, "let us begin. We shouldn't be all night."
The interrogation began with simple questions. "What is your name? What is your occupation? What is your business on Rindega?" Obi-Wan answered all of them since these facts were already known. They'd been said at the convention for all to hear and were no secret.
"How many guards on the King's bed chamber at night?" asked Narroa in the same tone he would have asked if Obi-Wan preferred dark or light bantha meat. Obi-Wan did not respond.
"I said," Narroa began again, "how many guards on the King's bed chamber at night?" One of the soldiers unhooked a thick rubber whip from his hip and leaned in closer to the captive. When Obi-Wan was silent again, he was struck viciously across the chest with the whip.
Whack.
The apprentice grunted in pain.
"You're going to make this hard on yourself, Jedi whelp," said Narroa coldly. He repeated the question and Obi-Wan declined to answer. Whack. The whip impacted him again, but this time across his thighs. Obi-Wan groaned loudly as he felt the pain of thousand pins and needles sticking him in his left leg when he had tensed to anticipate the blow. His eyes watered.
Clink.
One of the soldiers was fastening iron cuffs around Obi-Wan's ankles, taking no care to be gentle with the left one which was swollen and discolored- obviously broken. Simultaneously, another soldier was undoing his wrists where they were shackled to the wall. Seeing an opportunity, Obi-Wan lashed out. The apprentice's fist made a solid connection with the nose of the soldier who had unshackled his wrists. With the other hand, he swung the open manacle at the face of another soldier who was in range. But Obi-Wan's attempt at escape was over before it truly began. The soldiers were on him like flies on a Hutt and he was jabbed in the sternum so hard that it left him seeing stars and gasping for air. There were simply too many soldiers against one lonely Jedi. After beating him brutally into submission, the dazed Padawan could do nothing but watch as his hands were bound behind his back and his ankles were lifted off the floor.
A hydraulic system was activated, and a large iron hook upon a metal chain was lowered to the ground in the center of the room. When the hook was raised high again, it had Obi-Wan dangling from it by fettered ankles. He cried out as his broken leg was forced to bear the weight of his suspended body, but gritted his teeth and released his pain into the Force just as Qui-Gon had taught him.
More questioning ensued. Obi-Wan gave them no answers. Narroa was growing more frustrated with each unanswered query. With a rushed whoosh, Narroa unsheathed the sword from his hip and cut a long jagged rut into the apprentice's back. Blood from the wound dripped down onto the floor. Splat.
More questions and more tactics to see them answered. "Where do the King's children sleep?" "How large is the royal arsenal and where is it?" "What reason did the King give for requesting Jedi to attend the petition?"
Obi-Wan knew the answers well but refused to divulge them to his cruel captors. He was Apprentice to the renowned Master Qui-Gon Jinn; he would never forsake the Jedi Order, his vows, or the teachings of his Master.
The questioning the taunting and the beating continued. A rib or two cracked under the weight of the rubber whip and the strong hand that wielded it. Blood covered most of the young man's pale skin. Many of his fingers had been snapped, but since that still didn't provoke an answer, a long spike had been driven through one of Obi-Wan's palms. He cried out a pitiful noise of agony.
The cruel interrogation had gone on for hours and yet Obi-Wan had told them nothing of value. Narroa and his men needed to rest, regroup and come up with a more efficient way of producing results.
"Enough for now, men," decided Narroa. "Let's save our energy and let the whelp ruminate on his first taste of our questioning methods."
"Agreed," said the man who had conceived the idea to put a spike through his captive's palm. He grabbed Obi-Wan's Padawan braid and yanked it upward so that Obi-Wan could look into his face when he spoke. "Perhaps some alone time will bring the brat to his senses." Obi-Wan's face was red with blood that had rushed downward to his head due to gravity. The blood vessels in his eyes were starting to burst. Coupled with its throbbing agony, his head felt oddly itchy beneath the scalp. The Rindegan rebels left him there alone in the cell to hang like some pathetic prey in a wampa's cave.
He was growing drowsy and was losing his grip on reality. "Master…" he called out sadly in desperation. "Master, I need you." He'd been hanging upside down for so long that the blood in his skull was pounding away at the rifle butt injury. An injury that seemed so long ago and so humane compared to what he had been through since.
"Master…" he called out within the Force. "Master, please…"
He started to drift. He couldn't take any more questioning and it was his duty to die before betraying the Code. This wouldn't be such a bad death. Sleeping forever and becoming one with the Force would be so much easier than facing the questions again. He drifted further.
Suddenly, something blinking in the corner caught his eye. A light. A flashing light. His comlink.
The rebels had tossed his comlink into the same heap that they did his clothes and boots, and someone was calling him on it. Someone was looking for him. "Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan knew and a hopeful smile spread across his bloody lips. "You were never renowned for your timeliness, my Master." And with that small bit of blinking hope, Obi-Wan decided to take action to evade his captors. He closed his eyes and concentrated, down to a molecular level, on the first link of the cable that supported the hook from which he was suspended.
Qui-Gon had used the long-range sensors and scanners on the escape pod to find out much and more about the rebels on planet Rindega. The news was devastating. All across the planet, peasants were rallying and protesting the King's law, but also militias were massing. He determined that there were about four different sectors of people who had each amassed under a different commander. Those commanders all answered to one man: Bors Flint, a man that had preached peaceful revolution in the King and his court's hearing but had secretly been arming himself. Pockets of militant strong holds were everywhere on the planet, and they were well equipped with bunkers, weapons, and transportation. Many of their platforms were outdated, but they were better than nothing and certainly more substantial than what the Bothans had reported. Where in the galaxy had they gotten the funding for all of this? What are they planning? It was pretty evident that the Rindegan rebels were receiving aid from some off-planet faction. But who? Qui-Gon knew more than ever that something evil was in the works. After hours of tediously collecting data, he transmitted all of it to the Jedi Temple.
Once the data was successfully transmitted he used the pod's equipment for a different task- locating his captured apprentice. Using a combination of the Force and the pod's scanners, he found data about a Jedi captive in the computer system at a bunker not far where Obi-Wan had been taken. He honed in on this location and was able to bring up a live feed of Obi-Wan's very cell.
When the feed transmitted to his screen, an icy fist squeezed Qui-Gon's heart. Oh Sith, Obi-Wan, what have they done to you? His apprentice was bound, beaten bloody; hanging inverted from a large hook, and a rebel was yanking on his braid. Words were exchanged between the rebel men and they exited the cell. Obi-Wan was alone in the room now, looking terribly injured but with a slight glint of triumph in his eyes- a look only Qui-Gon would be able to decipher. Obi-Wan hadn't given them anything, Qui-Gon knew instantly, and now was his chance to give him hope again. Qui-Gon activated his comlink to Obi-Wan's frequency. The apprentice was closing his eyes though…
Come on Obi-Wan, your comlink, look at your comlink. Stay with me Padawan, look at your comlink. Do not lose faith in me. The young man was slipping away, but Qui-Gon immersed his mind deeply within the Force, allowing his thoughts to transcend the physical and emotional distance between him and his Padawan. Finally, the Padawan took the hint within the Force. Whether the urge was subconscious or not, Obi-Wan opened his eyes again and noticed the blinking comlink. Qui-Gon watched with joy as a small smile crept onto his Padawan's face as an undoubtedly wry comment was uttered.
Beep beep beep. Someone was calling Qui-Gon via bridge to bridge screen communications and interrupted his live feed of Obi-Wan's cell. Thankfully, it was Jedi Master Clee Rhara and her Padawan Garen Muln.
"Clee," acknowledged Qui-Gon, "you haven't arrived a moment too soon."
"I've been calling your comlink but it's been busy. I'm told a rescue is in order, old friend?" said Clee. "Come aboard, Qui-Gon and let's get underway."
Qui-Gon sat patiently as Clee's ship's tractor beam pulled the escape pod into its air lock. He climbed out of the pod and onto the ship and it felt damn good to stretch his legs.
"How long have you been sitting in that marble?" asked Clee bowing to him and leading him to the cockpit.
"Hours, days, I don't really even know to be honest," Qui-Gon said returning the bow.
"Did you find out anything interesting about Rindega?" Clee palmed the sliding door to the cockpit and offered a seat to Qui-Gon.
At present, he was in no mood to sit down. "I discovered a lot. The planet is full of rebels chomping at the bit to bring down the monarch and someone is supplying them with weapons the weapons to do so. It's a powder keg."
"Damn," said Clee. She turned to her apprentice. "Padawan, are you listening to this?"
Garen Muln was staring at a computer in the pilot's console, deep in thought. At the mention of his name, he was startled and hastily turned around to greet Qui-Gon.
"Excuse my manners, Masters." He stood up and gave Qui-Gon a hasty bow. "Greetings, Master Jinn."
"Good to see you again, Garen." Qui-Gon gave the Padawan's face a searching glance. Worry shone in his light blue eyes. Qui-Gon could feel his anxieties seeping off of him and polluting the tranquility of the compartment. Padawan Muln was one of Obi-Wan's closest friends, Qui-Gon knew, and had probably not taken well to learning about Obi-Wan's capture.
"Garen you need to set your anxieties aside," said Qui-Gon hypocritically. "You know Obi-Wan almost as well as I do. I'm sure he's not making an agreeable captive."
Garen looked to his Master apologetically and then looked down to the floor. "Yes, Master Jinn, I am wrong to worry. Whatever I can do for Obi-Wan, I will. I am at your service Masters."
Clee looked at her Padawan. She put a hand on his shoulder then tucked his black braid behind his ear. "You are learning still, Young One, there's no shame in that. This will be a good opportunity for you to transform your anxieties into determination." She gestured for Garen to take his seat again and he did so.
"That brings me to our next topic," Clee continued. "What's the plan, Qui-Gon?"
In detail, Qui-Gon described the weapons and tactics of the men he and Obi-Wan had been attacked by. Then he told them about the rebels and described the bunker where Obi-Wan would be and what he had been through thus far. Garen looked ill.
"I trust we have medical supplies onboard?" asked Qui-Gon to Clee.
She nodded. "We do indeed. Mace ensured that we did before Garen and I left Naboo."
"Good," said Qui-Gon trying to immediately change the subject.
The three spent the next thirty minutes going over their plan to extract Obi-Wan from the bunker as Garen piloted the shuttle closer toward Rindega's surface.
Down in his stone cell, Obi-Wan had finally been able to set aside his hurts and been able to focus on breaking one of the links in the chain that suspended him above the floor. It was a slow and extremely difficult process due to his weakness and extreme fatigue. It was the most difficult thing he had ever had to do on a mission thus far. Little by little he was able to wrap tendrils of Force around the link. The wounds on his body still wept as they were bereft of any Force energy to begin the healing process but stronger grew Obi-Wan's telepathic hold on the link. At long last, the link began to bend and bow to his will.
Creak went the link as it finally broke. For a split second, it was the most beautiful sound the Padawan had ever heard. But he was soon distracted from it as he crashed down onto the stone floor, still bound.
Pop. He landed badly on his right shoulder. The pain was excruciating but he was so relieved to not be strung upside-down any more that didn't even care. But his escape was far from over. He still had much to do if his plan was to be a success.
Horrified, Obi-Wan realized that he could hear steps coming down the hallway to his cell again. Holy Sith how long did it take me to break the link? He could hear the exchange of words between Dekk Narroa and Olisko Quentar as they came nearer to his cell.
"I'm telling you, this isn't a good idea," said the nervous voice of Olisko Quentar. "Flint told me not to use it."
"Since when do you listen to everything that bastard says?" demanded Narroa. "I need to use it, the other methods aren't working. So far he's told me nothing. A few laser sword burns should loosen his tongue."
"I still think this is a bad idea," huffed Quentar. "This better work."
"It'll work," said Narroa confidently.
The pair of rebels was getting ever closer and Obi-Wan was running out of time. His heart was fluttering in his chest. No, he told himself, calm down. Let go your pains and seek the Light within. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, his broken ribs protesting. He ignored it and went deeper and deeper into a trance, pulling his conscious mind in so far that he was almost deaf and numb to the world. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Deeper and deeper he went. I certainly look the part, he mused.
Crash. The heavy door to Obi-Wan's cell flew open so hard that it slammed loudly against the stone wall. Obi-Wan almost didn't hear the commotion.
"I'm back, whelp. Did you miss me?" began Narroa until the two men stepped into the room and beheld the grizzly sight.
Narroa and Quentar were aghast when they saw their valuable prisoner lying in a bloody heap on the floor.
"Holy Sith, Narroa what did you do!" cried Quentar. "You killed him!"
"No… no… he's not dead!" rattled Narroa. "He was hanging here and plenty alive when I left! We tested the chain!"
"Well it broke!" screeched Quentar. "He fell on his head and died and now we're totally screwed! Flint will send us to the gallows for this!"
To Obi-Wan, the men sounded as though they were miles and miles away even though they were right beside him. He kept his focus on his hibernation and stillness.
"Check for a pulse!" yelled Narroa. "Maybe he's alive still."
Quentar put a shaky hand to Obi-Wan's throat. He felt nothing. He put another shaky hand to the Padawan's fettered wrist and felt nothing again.
"There's no pulse!" cried Quentar.
Obi-Wan then felt his solar plexus being massaged, his braid being yanked harder than before and his horrific hand wound being cruelly manipulated. The pain from all of these actions was little more than an slight agitation to the Jedi's dormant status.
"Give me the laser sword!" ordered Narroa. "This will be the real test!"
Echoing far away, Obi-Wan heard the distant sweet music of his lightsaber being activated. Then felt the heat of it on his skin even though he was so deep in mediation. The brutes were burning him with his own weapon! Obi-Wan could only pray that they wouldn't cut too deeply. He felt it a second time on another spot. This was his chance.
Just as Dekk Narroa was about to bring the lightsaber down upon the prisoner's skin one final time, a blur of movement diverted it. The apprentice came back to life and lifted his ankle fetters up to meet the glowing blade. They parted immediately. With his two freed legs, the apprentice gave the men each a swift kick in the face. They stumbled backward in surprise.
"You treacherous brat!" yelled Narroa clutching his broken nose. "You were faking it!" He charged at the apprentice, intent to kill burning his eyes, the blue lightsaber still in his grip.
But Obi-Wan was ready. He moved his body from harms way and followed the slash of the blade with his arms, allowing the blade to graze the bindings on hands. Now they were free as well. Before Narroa could strike again, the blade was pulled from his grasp by an invisible force. It wrenched like a tractor beam pull into the outstretched arm of the former prisoner.
Obi-Wan ignored the pain in his palm and broken fingers. Standing up to his full height and rallying the most assertive expression he could make, he pointed the blue blade at the rebels. "On your knees," he ordered with all the authority he could muster. The men sank timidly to their knees. Obi-Wan kicked an unused pair of manacles to them. They skidded noisily across the stone. "Cuff yourselves," he ordered. "Together." The men did as they were told. Quentar was shaking like a leaf and Narroa looked as though he had swallowed something rotten. But they were both defeated.
"You'll never make it out of here alive!" screamed Narroa to Obi-Wan as he made his way toward the door. His steps were agonizing and ungainly but he remained standing.
"You hear me? You're dead on your feet! You…!" The rest of Narroa's speech went unheard as Obi-Wan slammed the door to the cell and locked it behind him. As soon as the bolt engaged and Obi-Wan's weary mind registered that he was free, the adrenaline and Force energy he had been relying on abruptly depleted. He crashed to the floor, trying to catch his breath and groaning as the injuries of skin, muscle and bone redefined his understanding of pain. If he didn't get up, he would surely die here. But Qui-Gon was looking for him, and he wasn't about to let Qui-Gon's efforts go to waste. He found the energy to roll his head to the side and he squinted down the dark passage way.
There was a light peeking through a hatch less then a half click away. He could make it. He had to.
Slowly and painfully, the apprentice picked himself up off of the stone floor of the corridor. He took comfort in the fact that he had attained his precious light saber once again, but he could barely even grasp it. His right hand was a ruin where there the spike had been driven through it and several of his fingers looked like grotesque claws in the dim lighting. He did not sense an enemy nearby, so he put his weapon in his waistband and began his slow and excruciating crawl toward the hatch.
Qui-Gon, Clee and Garen were approaching the south wall of the bunker. Garen used the ship's cloaking device to ensure that they would take the enemy unawares. Qui-Gon and Clee stood at the shuttles side port ready to disembark.
"That's close enough, Padawan," said Clee as she and Qui-Gon poised to jump into the open hatch of a watchtower below. They put sleep compulsions on all of the guards who occupied it. Once the enemies were sound asleep, Qui-Gon gave Garen his final instruction.
"Land somewhere hidden in the woods, then make your way back to this very tower. You know what to do, Garen. We are counting on you," Qui-Gon said encouragingly.
Then the two Master's leapt out of the shuttle and landed silently onto the battlements of the watchtower. Garen watched his Master and Master Jinn disappear into the hatch before piloting the shuttle toward the wooded training grounds adjacent to the bunker.
Clee Rhara and Qui-Gon silently made there way to the bunker's control center, deftly incapacitating several rebel soldiers as they went.
"How much further?" asked Clee as she eased an unconscious enemy onto the ground. Qui-Gon hadn't been so gentle; he was sending them flying into the bulkheads and ceilings haphazardly. Clee understood his aggression.
"Two floors up and one frame over. You take care of the door and I'll round up the leaders," Qui-Gon said.
Clee nodded her head in understanding as they continued. Within minutes, they were standing outside of the large room where Qui-Gon had known the five leaders would meet to consult. Inside, they should be able to apprehend all five of them.
Clee thrust her saber into the reinforced steel doors, deadening the noises with the Force. Just as the breech was large enough, Qui-Gon took a smoke bomb he had stolen from a rebel and tossed it into the room. Soon he could hear the alarmed voices of men and a women turning into choking coughs. Qui-Gon took a huge gulp of air and closed his eyes. He would need neither oxygen nor his vision to sense and capture the leaders.
He leapt into the opening, careful not to singe himself on the smoldering metal that Clee's blade had parted. He sensed rebel leaders inside the smoke-filled chamber but there was something wrong… only two of them seemed to be becoming incapacitated. And they were two leaders short of a full house.
"Clee!" He yelled, "Two of them are missing!"
"They aren't present at the moment," sneered a deep voice that was muffled by a protective gas mask. "And you aren't supposed to be here either!" The voice was full of rage, but even in its twisted, malicious version of what it had been in the King's throne room, Qui-Gon recognized the company of Bors Flint.
Protected by the mask, Flint was able and ready when Qui-Gon lunged for him. He jumped deftly onto the center table.
"Clee, restrain the others! This ones mine!" Qui-Gon leapt onto the table after Flint, but the man was quick as lighting and already leaping toward the other side of the room. Qui-Gon still wasn't able to see or breath, but he didn't need to quite yet. He was however slowly feeling the need to as he chased Flint around the room. Eventually, Qui-Gon's oxygen began to deplete and he could no longer keep up with Flint's swift maneuvering. He felt something hot graze his arm and then felt his muscles tremor out of control.
Clee, having just restrained the other two leaders, turned to assist Qui-Gon, but he was suddenly electrocuted by a long electro-staff that Flint had produced from a locker full of crude weapons in the corner. She watched in horror as his muscled spasmed out of control and he fell to the floor shaking.
"Qui-Gon!" she called as she ran to his aid. As she knelt down to his side the rebel leader escaped out of a hatch in the floor.
"Qui-Gon, can you hear me?" she was worried, but within a few minutes. Qui-Gon was already grumbling and coming around. Then suddenly he was wide-awake and alert as ever, the Force gathering powerfully in ever fiber of his presence.
"Which way did he go?" he said, poised and ready to follow in whichever direction she told him.
She pointed to the hatch on the floor in the far corner.
"Take those two to the ship!" he yelled over his shoulder before disappearing into the remnants of the smoke and exiting through the same hatch Flint had used to escape.
Before she could protest, he was gone.
Clee sighed and turned back to her rebel charges. Interesting, she thought looking down upon the unconscious leaders and preparing to transport them. They had passed out holding each other's hands. The redheaded woman's delicate hand was laced with the metallic fingers of the prosthetic arm of the fair-haired and scarred man. There was something much less wicked in the presence of these two then there had been in the foul being that had escaped.
Bors Flint ran angrily down the passageways that lead to the Jedi's holding cell. He activated his comlink and shouted into the speaker. "All stations, this is Flint. There's been a breach. I repeat there's been a breach. All hands to battle stations!" But the command fell onto the ears of the sleeping or unconscious soldiers who had dared get in Qui-Gon and Clee's way.
His anger flared when his command went unanswered. "All stations, this is your commander!" He yelled again as he continued to run. "Acknowledge!"
There was nothing but static on the net- no reply from any of his subordinates. Then he heard a mushy hiss and a nervous voice came through the receiver.
"Flint, this is Narroa."
"Narroa!" bellowed Flint. "Where the hell are you?!"
"The Jedi's holding cell… we have…"
Flint cut him off. "You stay put! I'll be right there!"
He slammed his fist down on the comlink in frustration and sprinted the remaining distance to the holding cell, checking once behind him to see if the Jedi was still in his pursuit.
A few more passages and Flint skidded to the entrance of the cell where the Jedi was being kept. It was locked so be banged on it. "Open up! It's me!" he yelled from behind the heavy metal door. Too angered to wait a moment longer, he grabbed the key card from his pocket and opened the door himself.
He couldn't believe his eyes when he stepped through into the cell.
The sad pathetic heaps that were his own men Narroa and Quentar stood in the middle of the room cuffed together and looking like they had seen a ghost. The Jedi's blood stained the floor and his garments were still in a heap in the corner. But the Jedi himself was gone.
"Flint, we tried to tell you," began Narroa.
Flint held up a hand to silence him. He would have to go after the young Jedi himself and get to him before the Master did. That way he could use the young one as a hostage and still make some sort of comeback from this mess.
Flint strode over to where his two men stood apologetically. They watched helplessly as their leader tore the orange armbands from their right arms and tossed them to the ground. Then Flint held up a blaster, setting it to kill.
"Flint! Please! No!" pleaded Quentar like a squawling child. "It was a mistake… he- he tricked us!"
Narroa stood quietly with his gazed fix on a large bloodstain on the stone floor.
Flint was calm as he replied. "The only mistake was giving either of you two any responsibility."
He pulled the trigger of his blaster twice and left the two bodies inside the cell to rot forever. Glancing around he found a faint trail of blood where someone had dragged himself to freedom from the holding cell. Flint was so angry that he felt dizzy. He couldn't have gotten far.
Obi-Wan was dragging himself along, just barely clinging to the small supply of energy he had left and what little remained of his ability to manipulate the Force. Just a little bit further. One hand forward, one knee forward and then the other. He clutched his right arm pathetically to his chest, knowing from experience that it would not bear his weight.
He had actually made some decent progress when heard maniacal laughter echoing off of the passageway walls behind him. In horror, Obi-Wan looked back over his shoulder to see none other than Bors Flint walking calmly toward him from several meters away.
The laugher from the man was crazed. "Keep crawling! It's of no use. You're mine!"
Obi-Wan glanced sadly forward again to the hatch he had been crawling toward. "No," he thought miserably. "I was so close." Then his heart sank even further as he noticed a young rebel in a long black leather jacket was approaching from ahead of him as well. "I guess that idea was doomed from the beginning," he said quietly as he found himself trapped in the stone corridor between the two advancing men. There was no hope for him now.
Except…
Was that a flash of green he had just seen somewhere behind Flint? Squinting back in the direction of the rebel leader, Obi-Wan could barely make-out the silhouette of a green lightsaber being pumped as someone was running with it. "Master!" Obi-Wan called out in elation! His Master had come at last
Flint glanced behind him to see the Jedi Master, whom he had just fatally electrocuted, gaining distance on him, and a frightening and determined look in his eyes. "Impossible," spat Flint. He turned toward his approaching solider who was now much closer to the young Jedi than he was.
"Shoot the boy!" he commanded. "Shoot him now! We'll take the old one together, just shoot the boy!" he screamed fervently.
Obi-Wan looked up at the approaching rebel. The rebel was young and tall with dark hair and eyes that held disdain. He raised his blaster at Obi-Wan and charged it to full capacity.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, preparing for death. I'm sorry, Master. I've failed you.
The rebel was carefully aiming his shot. The arm that wore the orange armband was steadfast. He fired.
Obi-Wan felt the heat of the lethal blast bolt as it left the barrel and came closer and closer to where he was positioned on the floor. The blaster bolt advanced upon him- then past harmlessly over him. Obi-Wan was dumbfounded.
Did he just miss? He wondered incredulously.
Instead, the shot embedded squarely into the body of Bors Flint.
"Arrrrrgh" yelled Bors Flint doubling over in pain and surprise.
Obi-Wan looked more closely at the rebel who was now running toward him. The rebel was even younger up close, with bright blue eyes and short black hair. In fact, Obi-Wan realized, he was no rebel at all.
"Garen" Obi-Wan breathed as he gazed gratefully up into the eyes of his friend, "Nice outfit" he said meekly. Garen smiled and wrapped his arms tight around Obi-Wan and to hold him upright.
"Why thank you," he answered wryly. But looking at the state of his friend, he changed his tone. "It's alright now, Obi. We're going home."
They were soon joined by Qui-Gon who knelt down and clutched his Padawan tight. Despite the horribly injured state of him, Obi-Wan awarded Qui-Gon with the most brilliant smile the Jedi Master had ever seen.
"Master. I got your comm; I knew you were coming!" The Padawan's eyes were drooping and his body was covered with seeping wounds. "I'm sorry I didn't escape sooner. I-"
"Padawan," Qui-Gon interrupted. "Sleep," he commanded, placing a hand on Obi-Wan's forehead and pushing him into a light slumber so that transport to the ship would be painless for him.
Obi-Wan didn't have the strength to fight the compulsion. His body went immediately limp in Qui-Gon's arms. The older Jedi hoisted his apprentice carefully onto his back before turning to a visibly worried Padawan Muln. "Lead the way, Garen. Hurry."
The two Jedi stepped over the body of former Rebel leader Bors Flint as Garen led the way through the east entrance of the bunker and out into the woods where Clee had the ship waiting for them.
Obi-Wan didn't make a sound as Qui-Gon ran with his limp and bleeding body, leaping over rocks, dodging around trees running up the ramp of the ship.
The moment that Clee heard footsteps on the ramp, she activated the cloaking device and prepared the ship for launch.
Garen stood poised and ready to help Master Jinn remove carry Obi-Wan into the scanty medical bay. They gently lowered the unconscious Padawan down onto a small cot.
"Wait," said Qui-Gon. "Let's lay him on his stomach for now."
The two men eased Obi-Wan onto his stomach as the unconscious young man let out a low painful groan. With a sharp intake of breath, Garen realized why Master Jinn had not wanted to lay Obi-Wan on his back.
Qui-Gon hovered a hand over the ruined and inflamed skin of Obi-Wans back. There was a series of bruises made by a blunt whip, long gashes made by a sword or knife and swelling where bones had been cracked beneath the muscle. He clenched it into a fist. Garen felt fury and sorrow swelling within the room. Just as it had reached frightening proportions, it was slowly released into the Force.
Looking down at his best friends back, Garen wanted to cry.
"Master Jinn," Garen began, choking back a sob. "Is that… Are those… from a lightsaber?"
Qui-Gon looked up at Garen to see that the boy was fixated on two deep oozing burns on Obi-Wan's back and shoulders. "Yes, Padawan, I believe so." Qui-Gon looked down upon the hideous burns. "Garen, I think its best that you join your Master in the cockpit. I'm going to remove his leggings and consult the droid."
Garen was still standing at Obi-Wan's side, fixated on the damage that had been done to his friend.
"Garen?" asked Qui-Gon.
Garen was startled. "Y-y-yes, of course Master Jinn," he stuttered out before finally prying his eyes from Obi-Wan's cot. He glanced quickly to Master Jinn and then to the medical droid in the corner. He then all but ran out of the cockpit to where Clee would be waiting for him.
Qui-Gon watched the Padawan leave the room. As the door slid shut behind Garen with a swoosh, Qui-Gon couldn't help but understand Garen's reaction. Obi-Wan was kind-hearted and a good friend to all who knew him. No one would ever wish this upon him.
He strode over to the corner where the ship's only medical droid stood dusty and hunched over. He activated it and it came to life with a shrill beep and began running diagnostics and warming up its servos.
As the droid muttered his activation statuses, Qui-Gon strode back to Obi-Wan and began cutting the remains of his clothing away, leaving only the short compression undergarments so that the droid could effectively do its work. There was even more damage beneath the leggings; bruises aplenty and obvious indications of fracture.
The droid approached the table and greeted Qui-Gon pleasantly in his monotone. "Greeting, sir. I am-
"Skip it" interrupted Qui-Gon. "Assess my apprentice."
"Yes, sir," replied the droid, accustomed to interruption and urgency. "What is the nature of the ailment?"
"Torture. You tell me the rest," said Qui-Gon growing more impatient with droid.
"Right away, sir" said the droid as he bent over the cot and used his medical scanners and other instruments to probe and catalogue the patient's injuries.
Just as the droid activated his medical scanner, Obi-Wan began to stir.
Obi-Wan moaned and grimaced as he tried to lift his head up to look around.
"Master?"
"Shh, Padawan, relax. I'm right here."
"Where are we?" the apprentice asked softly, pain and disorientation radiating off of him in waves.
"On Clee's ship headed to the Temple," replied Qui-Gon. Then he turned to the droid. "Give him something for the pain will you?" The droid was still scanning with one arm and place a hypo spray to Obi-Wan's neck with another arm. It hissed as the contents of the spray were pressed into Obi-Wan's blood stream.
"Oh," said Obi-Wan through his grimace of pain. The bright lighting of the medical bay was too much for his concussed head. He squinted his eyes and laid his head back down onto the cot.
Qui-Gon raised a hand in the direction of the light switch on the far wall and used the Force to dim the lights to a much lower setting. He turned back to the apprentice, put a large hand on the back of Obi-Wan's neck and did his own medical scan. Qui-Gon winced at what he found.
"You have some bones that need setting, Young One. We cannot risk putting you into a healing trance until they are manipulated into their rightful place."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Ready when you are, Master."
Qui-Gon paged Clee on her comlink.
"Clee, we could use your help back here if you don't mind."
"On my way," replied Clee curtly.
A soft knock came at the door, and Clee stepped into the room. She looked sadly from Obi-Wan's cot to Qui-Gon's somber eyes. The front of her robes was slightly wet where someone had been leaning on her with teary eyes.
"Better sooner than later, Old Friend," she said to Qui-Gon knowingly. She took her station at Qui-Gon's side as the two stood over Obi-Wan and out of the way of the medical droid.
"Just breathe, Padawan" soothed Clee to Qui-Gon's apprentice. "This will be over soon. You've been very brave." Then she and Qui-Gon spoke together in low but urgent tones.
"How many has he had?" asked Clee.
"Just the one so far," replied Qui-Gon.
"He'll need another," said Clee. "Droid," she called to the medical droid who was now in the cabinet collecting surgical supplies. "Another hypo please."
Obi-Wan felt the bite of another hypo spray on the side of his neck. He also sensed soothing energies radiating from the two Jedi Masters in the room. He then felt the all four hands of the two Masters grab one of his hands firmly. He gasped as they pressed a broken finger bone back into its rightful place. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and bit his lower lip.
They continued with his fingers and then moved around the table to the other hand. Obi-Wan was breathing heavily and trying with all his might not to groan aloud. The two Masters finished with the fingers and moved downward to his leg.
"This was from the crash, I think," said Qui-Gon to Clee.
Obi-Wan did not confirm or deny that statement for fear that if he opened his mouth, a cry of pain would escape. The Masters continued their work, grabbing the apprentice's swollen leg and sliding the bones back into their place. The apprentice groaned and hyperventilated.
"Almost finished, Young One," soothed Clee sympathetically.
The droid approached the table and draped large pieces of wet gauze over the young man's back and the backs of his legs. The ointment stung the open wounds.
"We will need to turn him, Master Jedi" said the droid in a monotone.
Qui-Gon nodded. "Deep breath, Obi-Wan," he soothed as they gently flipped the Padawan onto his back. His eyes watered with the movement and pressure place on his back wounds. The Jedi Master's grabbed his shoulder and his right wrist. Careful not to put any pressure on the seeping hole made cruelly by the metal spike, Qui-Gon yanked hard on the limb until the ball of Obi-Wan's right shoulder joint slid back into its socket with a faint click. Clee massaged the muscles of his shoulder gently and cupped his cheek.
Then, Qui-Gon placed both hands on either side of Obi-Wan's temples as Clee placed both of her hands on the Padawan's broken ribs.
Obi-Wan looked up into Qui-Gon's eyes for strength. He found it there in their deep blue depths before Qui-Gon nodded and closed them in concentration. Obi-Wan closed his own eyes as well as he felt the Force in tendrils being wrapped around his ribs that had been broken and damaged during his torment and escape. He was almost enjoying the warm, calming and binding sensation until Clee yanked hard and pulled the ribs back into place.
Obi-Wan cried out a terrible shout of pain. Qui-Gon watched his Padawan's chest rapidly rising and falling as the boy gritted his teeth.
"That's it, it's done. Droid," Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon shout through his haze of blinding pain. "Sedate him."
Then the hands on his forehead were transferring a different type of energy from his Master's senses to his own. Obi-Wan grew drowsy and warm and calm. He didn't feel the prick of the needle at his elbow or the soft cup of the breathing mask placed on his face. His world only grew hazier and darker until the room vanished and he knew no more.
Qui-Gon exhaled a long sigh of relief as he opened his eyes. "Thank you, Clee" he said to the woman next to him.
"Of course, Old Friend" said Clee. "Need anything else?"
"I think the droid and I can handle everything until we get to Coruscant, but I might page you."
"Please do, Qui-Gon, if you need anything at all," Clee stated kindly as she made for the door.
Qui-Gon pulled up a chair as close to Obi-Wan's cot as could be without getting in the droid's way. He folded his hands and rested his chin upon them as he sank deeply into meditation. He joined his Force presence with that of his Apprentice to ensure that the Apprentice remained sufficiently sedated for the rest of the procedures.
The droid worked busily to disinfect and clean Obi-Wans awful wounds to the best of his capability. But Qui-Gon knew that the best it could do would not be enough. They would need bacta and the skills of the Master Healers at the Halls of Healing as soon as possible.
Three hours came and went until Qui-Gon felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Master Jinn" said Padawan Muln tenderly. "We are here."
Qui-Gon looked up to see his own Padawan still sleeping on the cot and a team of Jedi Healers waiting with a stretcher in the doorway.
"We'll take it from here, Master Jinn" said the Healer as her team carefully lifted the apprentice onto the stretcher.
Qui-Gon followed the team to the Halls of Healing, Garen and Clee in his wake. He noticed a team of Jedi escorted the prisoners Kerlina Batu and Rotano Shasti to a shuttle that would take them to the nearby Republic Prison. They would do hard time but perhaps they could be of some use with bringing Rindega back under control. They were the key to a peaceful and successful revolution on Rindega.
Obi-Wan awoke slowly and to the peaceful sound of a gently running water. He took a deep breath and reached out with his senses. He was in pain but not anything near to what he had been before waking up. The bed beneath him was soft and warm, his head rested on a feather pillow and he could smell just the faintest whisp of insence on the air. It did little so mask the pungent scent of Bacta. Never the less, he felt at peace.
Sitting in the corner on the floor was Qui-Gon deep in meditation. But he brought that to a close as soon as he felt his Padawan's presence in the conscious Force again. He stood up from where he knelt and walked over to the side of the bed. Grey eyes were blinking awake and then made contact with his own.
"Master" said Obi-Wan dreamily. "How long has it been?"
Qui-Gon smiled. "Don't worry Padawan you haven't missed a thing, it's been less than one rotation since we brought you in."
That seemed to put the Apprentice at ease.
"You did very well, Young One. Master Yoda was here and told me to praise you for not giving up any information to the Rebels who questioned you. Many a grown man, or Jedi even, would have succumbed and told them all they needed to know."
Obi-Wan's cheeks reddened. "Thank you, Master." Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan did not take compliments well. It was all a part of his humble personality.
"Is Garen around? I need to thank him properly for helping me escape. He makes a lousy rebel I think," said Obi-Wan glancing around the room.
"No I'm afraid not," said Qui-Gon. He and Master Clee have been sent to meet with the two Rindegan Rebel prisoners. He visited you just before he left though. He told me to 'thank you for getting him out of Physics lecture'."
Obi-Wan laughed at that. "He's very welcome." Obi-Wan felt the soreness of his injuries as he tried to chuckle.
"Garen is a good friend to you, is he not? He was very concerned for your well-being," said Qui-Gon as he checked the bandage on Obi-Wan's palm so see if it had bled through.
"Yes, Master he is a wonderful friend." Obi-Wan let Qui-Gon help him lean forward as Qui-Gon inspected the bacta pads on his back. He grimaced a little in pain. "But Master," he continued, "I know this sounds odd, but I sense that I am to have an even greater friend still. One whom I may come to call Brother."
Qui-Gon stopped his inspection abruptly. "I have foreseen the same," he said pensively, remembering the fearless blond child from a dusty planet whom oft of late visited his premonitions. "But that will come when it comes. In the mean time, we need you healed."
"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan obediently. "What did the Healers say about recovery time?"
"About a week, Padawan. You may need more."
Obi-Wan frowned. "That's a long time" he said dejectedly.
Qui-Gon laughed at that. "You wouldn't be saying if you had seen yourself before surgery and Bacta, Young One. Now, come on lets get this rolling." Qui-Gon bent over the Apprentice and placed a large palm on Obi-Wan's chest, careful not to disturb the healing ribcage beneath.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drank in the healing energies radiating from his Master's presence. He exhaled deeply thinking to himself 'bet I can do it in six rotations.
The scared process of cognitive Force Healing had begun. Qui-Gon's apprentice would be fit to fight by his side again in no time.
The End.
May the force be with you!