THE FOG OF PEACE
by ardavenport
- - - Part 1
Obi-Wan Kenobi ran back to where he had been, stumbling on uneven patches of grassy ground. His heavy breathing filled the soundless air around him.
He stopped. Turned one way. Then the other. Behind him.
Nothing but fog.
Was this the same place?
He began pacing a spiral outward, looking down at green-gray tufts of grass, dark green crawling vines and flattened patches of bright yellowish-green with clusters of very tiny white flowers. He cleared his mind and plodded on, seeking guidance from the Force, that strong sense of intuition that would tell him what was the right spot. But all he felt was fog.
Gray fog, so thick that it limited his world to himself and the small patch of ground he traversed. So no matter how far he went, he always remained in the same place. This planet had only one primary star, but Obi-Wan could not tell where it would be in the sky. But it was somewhere in its day cycle behind the uniform gray of fog around him.
The air on his face felt as if it were two temperatures, the coolness of the air itself and the clamminess of the moisture suspended in it. Still circling outward, he felt disoriented, his body tilted too far to one side.
He tripped.
And rolled on the ground, his heavy robe helping to cushion the fall. He ended up on his back and stared up at perfectly smooth, blank grayness, endless and closely confining at the same time.
His body felt numbed, like his senses. And still dizzy, as if he was still rolling. He gulped air to steady himself.
He knew he should be doing better. At seventeen standard years of age, he had been a Jedi Padawan for years now. But his vision sank away from the fog, the grayness receding further and further above him through a long black tunnel.
Obi-Wan shook his head, disturbed but his mind still blank. Not from clarity in the Force, but from hazy confusion. He rolled over. A line of pain seared his biceps and remained while he positioned himself on his hands and knees. He breathed deeply, steadily and eventually his thoughts and sight began to solidify. He sat back, his legs under him and groped the sleeve of his robe on his right arm. His fingers found a thin shaft embedded in the coarse fabric. He pulled it away, held it up. Touched the smooth length of it, his forefinger stopping at the needle point.
A dart? Poison? Drug?
His head floated in the fog. His arm burned from the grazing wound on his skin. He lowered his head and that seemed to help steady it. The dart slipped out of his fingers.
There was nothing but his small patch of ground and the fog, close around him on all sides and above, like a huge hazy gray bowl turned over him. He tried to push his senses beyond it in the Force. To Qui-Gon.
His Master was. . . . . somewhere. Not near. Not active. But not dead. Small living creatures swarmed and darted about their own business out of sight in the opaque air and among the sparse plants of this plain. And there were others. . . . . looking for him. He tilted his head back, all his senses listening.
Stumbling, he climbed to his feet and swayed precariously before a distant hum focused his attention again.
He ran, his body falling forward with each step away from the searchers behind him. Light-headed, he could not tell if he traveled up or down the very slight incline of the plain. Up and out of the immense crater and its permanent fog or down further into danger? Away from his pursuers was the right direction for now.
His heavy breathing filled his ears again, his head, the air around him, clouding the Force with static. He paused to look around, gasping over a swallow. The gray haze surrounded him like a room with no windows or doors. He ran on.
A fat black column passed him on his left before vanishing into the gray behind him. He ran on.
Another column passed him, further away on his right. He had re-entered the forest, away from his goal, the ship that he and Qui-Gon had arrived in. But the trees would impede the sensors, transports and speeders searching for him.
Obi-Wan leaped, only the Force guiding his blind jump into the solid grayness above over the sudden, random discharge of the patch of flicker-knats on the grassy ground. Glowing blue specks of energy softly snapped under him. His boots solidly thumped on the rough grass. The sparking knats disappeared in the gray behind him.
More smooth black tree trunks passed him on both sides. He ran faster, breathing the Force hard into his whole body.
He leaped again, high into the grayness.
The ground disappeared under him. Passing the limits of the speed and strength of his jump he continued to ascend, lifted up by the Force alone against the planet's gravity. He glimpsed the straight, featureless tree trunk before his legs broke past the ends of long dark leaves spreading out from the tree's crown. He reached his apex and descended, sliding into the rustling, cracking debris at the crown of the treetop. A flock of frightened, chittering skin-winged creatures took flight in all directions around him. Painful energy sparks flashed and stabbed him through his robe and tunics before he slid down into the solid center of their nest. His limbs twitched and trembled into the pile of old leaves and dried animal parts and wastes. Fighting to still himself to keep from sinking deeper into the nest, Obi-Wan drew his heavy Jedi robe around him. Already a few brave skin-wings from the disturbed flock circling above descended to investigate the invader of their home.
Huddled under his hood, clutching his robe to him, he breathed in their smells. Oxygen from the plant, sharp acidic wastes, dried flakes and dead flowers, their sweet living scents still clinging to them. He inhaled them into himself and deeply into the Force, masking his presence with an impression of their own.
The investigators fluttered uncertainly over the brown robe partially covered with brown debris. A few alighted, needle-like little claws digging in. They chirped and sent sharp sparks into Obi-Wan's body, but his new focus allowed the pain to flow through him into the Force. The first ones settled in place. The rest of the flight of skin-wings circled lower and noisily followed.
Remaining still, Obi-Wan felt them taking their places all around and on top of him, their claws and slight weight barely felt through the mild shocks of their normal chatter. Concealed from sight and sensor in the treetop nest, he felt his concentration return, the fog in his mind receding.
He and Qui-Gon had deflected the initial volley of long darts with their lightsabers. But one misstep had spilled Obi-Wan off his speeder bike onto the ground. Just before a massive wave of darts felled his Master. Two diving attackers on speeder bikes had driven Obi-Wan away and a near miss disoriented him into a confused escape. He now lay on his right side in the nest, on the line of pain still stinging across his arm.
His senses fully awake, Obi-Wan listened. A speeder bike drone in the distance rose in pitch, approaching, reached its height and then dove down in tone, receding.
Friend or foe?
He stayed hidden.
The small creatures settled into the warm folds and crevices of his robe. They cooed with only an occasional flutter and spark between them. Obi-Wan listened, but he heard no more transports though he still sensed them through the Force. But he could not sense his Master other than the vague certainty that he was still alive.
Was Qui-Gon captured? Likely. But why? Why would either partisan side want to thwart the Jedi who had been called as neutral witnesses to any activities in the Zirosh Crater, a huge perpetually foggy land feature, an enormous circle, visible from orbit and notorious for harboring bandits on this world for millennia. The place where the Pazash faction claimed now concealed a Tash-Pazash invasion army. The Tash-Pazash vigorously denied this claim, that they were only accelerating their attacks on the local banditry.
Obi-Wan had had started out early with his Master on speeder bikes from the edge of the crater, using mostly the Force as their guide. No sensors, no droid satellite eyes could reliably penetrate the haze and ambient discharges of the local fauna. But they had found no bunkers, no large hangars to accommodate an invasion army. Oddly they had only found a small base of rangers wearing the uniforms of both the Pazash and Tash-Pazash, a police force of exactly the right size for hunting and capturing criminals. They approached it stealthily, not identifying themselves but observing, recording the sighting, before moving on.
Soon after that the pursuit had begun, transports and speeders buzzing after them in the fog, hails of darts curtaining their path. Neither of them had seen who came after them through the impenetrable fog, but their intent was obvious. Capture.
A small shrill fight broke out between some of the skin-wings at the edge of the nest and the others chirped and screeched their opinions, sending a flurry of sparks over Obi-Wan's body. He remained still, his interrupted thoughts refocusing on being a part of the group, letting the shocks pass though him.
Qui-Gon had expected an attack if they had found an army. But would the Pazash be so angry to have their claims disproved? Obi-Wan could think of no other motive, but it would be a shockingly short-sighted plan. Missing or dead Jedi would only bring more scrutiny to whatever might or might not be concealed in the Zirosh Crater.
Another transport rumble drew his attention. It was low and large, accompanied by the higher-toned hum of speeder bikes.
Friend or foe?
Clearing his mind, Obi-Wan waited. The sounds came closer. The skin-wings snuggled closer to him, on top of him. His nose ran from breathing in the dust and decayed plants for so long. The transport passed close by, gliding over the ground far below his tree top.
Recognition.
At least some of the people in this transport had met them at the edge of the crater when they had arrived. Obi-Wan tensed, gathering the Force to him. Annoyed, the skin-wings fluttered, squeaking and sparking over his back and limbs.
The speeder bikes had moved ahead. The transport passed slowly.
The skin-wings flew up in all directions, blue-white sparks flashing all around him as Obi-Wan shot up into the air, over the fringe of the tree top and down, falling into the gray fog.
He landed on his feet in the middle of the open floor of the transport, crouching down to cushion the impact in a shower of scattered leaves and brown flakes and bits. A swarm of angry skin wings came with him, dark, furry brown bodies emitting twisting flashes of small lightning.
The people on the transport cried out, ducking the sudden attack. Someone activated a shield and a transparent bubble of energy protection formed overhead, trapping four skin-wings with them.
A low power blaster pinged inside the enclosure until all four flyers had been downed, the stunned bodies collected and taken up front.
"Yeeush eesh oash, hehsh Jedish," Timash Outsh, the Tash-Pazash security commander who had been part of the party that had met their ship the day before, said in greeting. Then, "Huush huush esh aaaush haash Jinnish?"
"Master Qui-Gon has been captured, but I don't know by who. We were attacked."
"Yuuosh yuuosh! Hafsh toosh nish hamash!" Outsh called back to the front of the transport, his head turned all the way around on its long green neck. His crisply uniformed aide handed him a clear plastoid bottle and Outsh offered it to Obi-Wan, his slender arm as long as Obi-Wan was tall. He gratefully accepted and took a long drink of metallic tasting warm water, washing away the lingering taste of the nest. The he tried to brush off the debris clinging to his robe and the front of his tunic. But when he looked up, nobody had moved. Everyone stood in place. Watching him. A head in the forward pilot's cabin leaned over to look his way as well.
The water bottle slipped out of his suddenly weak grasp, bouncing and gurgling as it rolled aside, spilling its contents as it went.
Obi-Wan blinked. His mouth moved but nothing came out. He fell to his knees. The Tash-Pazash watched, their light-green eyes wide with interest.
Friend of foe?
The deck of the transport tilted toward Obi-Wan and his arm went up, sluggishly as if he pushed it through water. The impact on the deck felt cushioned and muffled. His body, loose and warm, rolled over and he stared up at the gray sky. Four slender green heads on long necks with pale green eyes looked down at him. The image darkened and drifted as his eyes kept closing and it became harder and harder for him to keep them open. He finally let them close as a comfortable glow spread out from his body to his limbs and his thoughts drifted into a soft, wonderful sleep.
- - - END Part 1
