Lucky Gundarks
"How long till the transport arrives?"
Obi Wan Kenobi's back was as smugly uncommunicative as the rest of him. Even the way his tabards sat across his back and shoulders was smug. His elegant, understated shrug of indifference was smug, too. Damn him.
"Long enough to afford me time for some much needed rest," the Jedi knight finally offered, not even turning around. He leaned over to pull off one dusty boot, and then the other.
His Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, made a horrible face at his teacher's back and then promptly regretted it.
"Be careful what you ask for, my young apprentice," Obi Wan warned, back still turned. He tossed belts, tunics, and cloak across a low bench at the foot of the bed. Smugly.
As in asking for trouble? Anakin wondered. His mentor so rarely came right to the point. He preferred a more circumspect path, every barbed remark hung with so many nuances of acid wit, like Boonta Eve lights strung across a doorway. The heartbeat of confusion was all the cue Obi Wan needed.
He turned to face his apprentice, eyebrows raised in a characteristically dry expression. "I assume that face was your best imitation of a gundark mating snarl. Be careful, or you'll find yourself the victim of amorous advances by females of the species. Not nearly as pleasant as the advances of the native ga-shirra girls, I assure you."
Anakin felt his cheeks flush a vibrant shade of crimson. So Obi Wan had seen that. Well, no chizzk. Obi Wan saw everything. He was even better at seeing things he wasn't actually looking at. "Master," he objected, knowing the defense was feeble and would only open him to further admonition. "They were all over you, too."
"And yet," the older Jedi drawled, stretching out on the narrow bed and draping one arm across his eyes, "I managed not to insult and offend the ladies in question, their employers, the patrons who had already paid for their services, and our chartered ship's pilot, inspiring him to take off without us."
"They were….I'm sorry, master. I was…distracted."
Obi Wan seemed to relent. "It's no matter, Anakin. You can make good use of the time it takes for the next transport to arrive. Meditate on the causes of your distraction, and what you can do to avoid it in the future."
Anakin glowered, watching his master's breathing steady and deepen, slower…slower… Obi Wan could even fall asleep in a smug way. I hate waiting. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
"Really, Anakin," the older Jedi said, his voice starting to slur, "I am quite grateful to you for providing us with this welcome delay."
"I'll be outside. Fresh air," Anakin choked out, slamming mental shields into place and trying – unsuccessfully – to slam the hydraulic door shut behind him. It was going to be a long, long afternoon.
Three of the ubiquitous ga-shirra girls were laying in wait for him outside the lodgings. No sooner had Anakin emerged through the tinted transparisteel doors than they closed in for the kill, peculiar mincing gait and long, ornate robes marking them as elite courtesans. Perhaps it was his own exhaustion from the recently completed mission, or the stings left in his mind by his master's sarcastic dissection of his shortcomings, but the ga-shirra did not seem to possess the same allure as they had that morning. Looking closely, he saw the exotic humanoids' painted features as exactly that: false facades contrived to lure in customers. One of them fluttered a fan before her eyes; another smiled at him from under sumptuous, coiffured hair; the third got close enough to lay a petite hand upon his sleeve.
"No thanks," he told her gruffly, jerking his arm away and trotting down the shallow steps at a pace their bound feet would not permit them to match. As he strode away down the main thoroughfare, he could feel their affronted stares boring into his back. Why did he have such a talent for offending people? Especially women?
The Force only knew, and right now he didn't care.
Thankfully he had sufficient dactaries and local currency on his person to scrape together enough for a good dinner. Cradling the bowl of hot, spicy noodles in one hand, he wrestled the odd eating sticks into submission and clumsily slurped the meal down. He was starving, as always; they had skipped the midday meal by accident. His growling stomach finally quieted, and the delicious spices of the soup still lingering in his throat, he felt a slight softening of his resentment. At least his master had never, not even once, reprimanded him for his ravenous appetite. That was one thing about Anakin which Obi Wan seemed to have no difficulty in understanding.
It was the rest of him that was the problem. Smashing the fragile paper bowl in to a tight ball and Force-tossing it into a nearby recycler unit, he stood. It was later than he had imagined. Already the lamp-lighting droids were making their rounds, their repulsors lifting them high in the air above to set the glowing spheroid lanterns of Chaunu City into luminous life. The orange and gold lamps floated near the arched surface of the inner protective dome, and the polished streets reflected their lovely ambience. Walking through the city at night was a pleasant dream…at least when you weren't tracking down a deadly bounty hunter assassin. Now that the Jedi Padawan actually had a chance to notice the scenery, he was enchanted.
That was another problem with him – one Obi Wan was never slow to point out. When he wasn't engaged fully in an engineering project or a life-and-death battle, Anakin was easily enchanted. Distracted. And once distracted, he was even more easily lured into introspection – a dark labyrinth in which he could be lost for hours. Even as part of him observed the old habit play itself out, he was helpless to stop the descent into brooding.
His steps took him further from the central plaza and the guest lodgings, and nearer to the city's perimeter, where the protective dome curved from its massive synthcrete moorings. Beyond that transparent bubble lay the true planet: dusty, rock-strewn wilderness. Cold and barren and stark. Six moons hung in the sky, much like the bubble lanterns within the city. Other moons and the planet's' near neighbor, Pan Jho, were presently hidden beyond the horizon. The sky was darkening to night. A dark line over the distant hills suggested a rainstorm approaching, and columns of rising dust bespoke a violent windstorm brewing in its vanguard. Anakin's fingers splayed on the warm transparisteel of the dome. Not a sound stirred, not a hint of the cold and wind outside penetrated the surface.
It was a fitting metaphor for a perfect Jedi's state of mind, now that he thought about it. Insulated. Impenetrable by the distractions of the ordinary world. Self-contained. Oblivious to dark and cold. That was what he, Anakin, was striving to be. Obi Wan was supposed to help him build his own impenetrable fortress of calm. So why did he insist on constantly destroying the fragile foundations and scaffolding? Every time Anakin settled his spirit, his teacher would delight in smashing his walls down with scathing criticism, leaving him open to the winds and storms outside. To the dark inside. Maybe he wanted his apprentice to fail. Maybe it made him feel better about himself. Maybe it was a way of getting back at Qui Gon Jinn for burdening him with the boy in the first place. Maybe…
But no. Those were unworthy thoughts. And unworthy thoughts were another distraction. His besetting sin. Focus. Focus.
Anakin wandered along the edge of the dome, one hand trailing along the curve of its smooth surface, his attention divided between the serenity within and the violent landscape without. He was comfortable here, poised on te liminal wall bewteen the two. It felt right, somehow.
The comm. unit chimed loudly in the quiet room.
A flick of the wrist and a tiny nudge in the Force brought the device sailing across the room into Obi Wan's outstretched hand. "Kenobi," he answered the call, hoping that the grogginess hadn't been too thick in his voice.
It was the management droid. "I apologize for disturbing you at such a late hour, Master Jedi. But you requested immediate notification. The Troubador has docked ahead of schedule. Her captain has requested an early departure, at first light tomorrow. Five forty-three antemeridian."
"Thank you," he croaked.
"It is our pleasure to serve," the machine intoned, as it did upon completing even the most trivial of interactions with the hostelry's clients.
Two deep breaths and he was fully awake. A quick sweep through the darkened rooms, extending his senses into the Force, revealed that Anakin was not here. He must be out and about, making trouble. That was a given where his young apprentice was concerned. Keying the comm. to Anakin's frequency, he waited for an answer. Nothing. He checked the chrono. It was near midnight. Another attempt to reach Anakin failed. Suddenly alarmed, he closed his eyes and reached more deeply into the Force, searching for the boy.
Intense concentration. Pleasure, and frustration. Complete absorption in the project at hand. Pride. The thrill of a hard challenge slowly, inexorably overcome.
"Distracted again," Obi Wan muttered. He focused again, attempting to impress his command into the boy's mind through their bond. Come back at once. But his psychic touch was repelled by a wall of resentment and doubt.
The Jedi knight ran a hand over his face. "Oh, Anakin." There was nothing to be done for it. He would have to go out into the city and find the boy in person. It shouldn't be difficult: compared to seeking out a missing Padawan in the bowels of Coruscants' underlevels, tracking him down in the enclosed space of Chaunu City was mere child's play. Tossing his cloak over his shoulders, he sallied out of the hotel's quiet, dimly lit lobby and onto the streets.
Orange and gold glow-lamps hung overhead, bobbing gently on hidden repulsors. Their reflections shone softly in the polished streets and walkways. Obi Wan paused on the steps of the lodging-house, feeling an echo of Anakin's irritation. So the boy had been here, and been annoyed. Where would he have gone next? His reverie was broken by the touch of a soft hand slipping itself through his arm.
"Out for walk, Jeedi?" The coutesan's Basic held a lilting accent. She angled a painted face upward at him, coy and inviting. "Need companion?"
He transferred her to his other arm, away from the lightsaber on his left side, and slipped the requisite credits into her subtly outstretched fingers. She tucked the money into a fold of her elaborately embroidered gown and favored him with an expression of submissive and timid delight. One calculated to the finest detail. "Have name?" she cooed.
"Yes," he answered unhelpfully, pulling her along with firm pressure They made it to the bottom of the stairs without her toppling over. Of course, at the bottom she artfully bumped against him, pretending to fall. He pulled her up courteously, already tired of the age-old, well-worn game. "I'm looking for the other Jedi. Have you seen him?"
The ga-shirra girl colored a little, even under the garish white face make-up. Her eyelashes batted rapidly, a tight smile curving her painted lips. "Oh, that leetle Jeedi. Not so pretty as you." A hand came up to stroke his face, but he intercepted it and pressed it over her other, still resting on the crook of his elbow.
"Which way did he go?"
She shrugged, and a sharp slap of contempt laced through the Force. Apparently Anakin had managed to insult the ga-shirra yet again. Stupid. The courtesans knew everything, knew everyone, and controlled much within the city. One had to tread lightly. The painted eyebrows rose into arches of boredom. "Good riddance," she said, staring into the middle distance with an affected pout.
He led her over to the public plaza, where flowering char-yu vines scented the air, and fountains trickled. A pentatonic chime played its mournful, endless harmonies, stirred by the artificially circulated air. Orange lamps swayed and bobbed overhead. The ga-shirra twisted artistically and seated herself on the fountains' edge at just the right angle to show off her lovely figure. "Why out so late, Jeedi?" she asked. "Saber practice?" Her heavily made-up eyes rested suggestively on the weapon's hilt.
"No. Looking for the other Jedi. My apprentice. You saw him leave."
Her face changed to one of indifference again. The topic was forbidden. Then she studied him from under lowered lids, mouth curling into a coy smile. "Are you going to kill him?" she asked, hopefully.
"Very likely."
Her mood abruptly altered. She snapped open the fan and fluttered it before her face. Her eyes smiled over the edge. "We saw him. He walk by the dome. Then he find broken bike to fix. Junkpile rat."
"Where?"
She leaned back, the silk of her expensive wrapped robes slipping against her shoulders. Her painted face hardened into a disdainful expression. A perfectly manicured hand waved vaguely in the southeastern direction. "That way. Kill him slowly."
"Thank you. I shall." With a deep bow, he was gone, dashing across the plaza and into one of the larger thoroughfares.
"Gretch it. Ow….chizzzsk! Ow. Vaping piece of poodoo."
Anakin Skywalker kept up the mantra under his breath – a private ritual of his own, nothing he had learned during his tenure at the Jedi Temple, or as Obi Wan's student. Finishing the job with an equal mixture of blood and oil on his hands, he stepped back to survey the damage. Or the results, depending on your point of view.
He had discovered the abandoned and rusting speeder bike leaning against a malfunctioning garbage dumpster in the city's poorer quarters. Some poodoo head had just left it there, probably thinking it was beyond repair. And it had been – mostly. But mostly thrashed was a lot better than totally thrashed, as his days working in Watto's junkyard had taught him.
And there was nothing he needed more than a distraction. Fixing the bike would keep him occupied on something besides his own dark mood and negative thoughts. The bike, now that he looked at it with a critical eye, looked like a patched together heap of bantha dung. But that wasn't what mattered when it came to machinery. The insides he had mended as best he could – like a Wookie field medic, he imagined. But it would run, for a while. The task had been challenging, and enjoyable. He had thought of nothing else, and he felt calmer. More centered. Less emotional. But the feeling faded with the completion of the task.
Glancing up again, through the looming surface of the protective dome, he noted that the storm was raging at full force outside. The moons had disappeared behind a veil of roiling stormclouds; and hazy shafts of blurring grey marked the torrential downpour spreading across the rocky plains. Lightning blazed and shattered the sky, illuminating every detail in sudden fits of clarity.
He looked again. There had been a figure…somebody stranded out there. The next lightning flash confirmed his horrified discovery. There was somebody out there, atop a rocky outcropping – maybe a klick away. Why would anyone be out there in such a storm? The planets' surface was considered extremely hazardous. Reaching into the Force, Anakin sought to understand what he saw. Focus was difficult to achieve. Benaeth the shallow surface of hsi contentment, his emotions still seethed with resentment at his master, anxiety to prove himself and mend the rift his actions had made. He could not fully separate from his feelings, his irritation and worry and distress. He couldn't get Obi Wan out of his imagination. Focus! Mind on the present! He screamed at himself mentally. And out of his acute frustration, out of his inchoate mix of emotion and memory, a Force-fed certainty erupted in a volcanic swell of panic.
Danger. Danger. Danger. Outside, outside the protective dome. Rain and blood and howling cries and darkness. Danger. Go to the rescue. Hurry Hurry….
He wrenched himself free of it, the Force burning in his blood. The need to act was overwhelming. The figure – on the hill – somebody needed rescuing – the bike – before Anakin could sort out the jumble of intuition and emotion, he was astride the repaired bike, jamming its throttle wide open, and shooting toward the nearest dome exit.
Once pointed in the right general direction, tracking down Anakin was not difficult. After all, Obi Wan had garnered plenty of practice doing just that in Coruscant's seedy underlevels. The boy left a rippling disturbance behind him in the Force, like the ion wake of a supercruiser passing through a heavy atmosphere. One would have to be completely insensate not to feel it.
Besides, there was the clutter of discarded circuits and metal and a conspicuous puddle of spilled engine lubricant on the permacrete of this service alley near the dome's edge. Anakin never cleaned up after himself properly. He left a trail of destruction behind him wherever he went.
The Jedi glanced up through the dome's transparent surface, noting the violent storm erupting outside. The rocky, uneven landscape was pelted by massive hailstones and sheets of icy rain. Wind uprooted and tumbled the dry Su-jo bushes, whipped dust into rising columns, and bent the sparse vegetation close to the ground. Lightning flashed overhead, or arced to the earth in wicked forks of fire. What a night. But then, by morning, the sudden storm would have cleared away as quickly as it had come. Weather here was extreme, but always of short duration. The Troubador would doubtless take off into a clear, placid sky in a few hours.
That thought reminded him that he was on a deadline. He was just about to turn away from the scene and return to his search when something caught his eye. Instinct made him look again. Was that…? Yes, it was. What sort of witless fool would be riding a speeder bike out in such a storm?
Anakin. Hadn't the ga-shirra told him that the Jedi youth had found a broken speeder bike to fix? What in the blazes was the boy thinking?
He reached the nearest dome entrance at a flat out run. Naturally the emergency override had taken effect for the duration of the storm, so he was obliged to pry the protective seal open a half-meter wide using the Force. Alarms blared and lights flashed as he slipped through and carefully replaced the seal behind him.
Anakin, so help me! Using a simple shielding technique, he drove the majority of hailstones and wind around his body, though he certainly ended up wet. His boots squelched in the now-muddy earth as he began hiking uphill, toward the crest of the rise where he had last seen the speeder bike. There was nothing out here; the maps he had studied of the surrounding area indicated only a small memorial shrine upon this hill, no dwellings or shelter. Soon the needle sharp spines of native So-Ju bushes were gouging fine scratches in his boots as he waded through meadows of the hardy plants. Their fat, green pads dripped with the pouring rain, and dirty rivulets ran between them.
I should just let him be. Serves him right. I hope his blasted bike breaks down again. But the very sky seemed to hear and take affront at this unworthy thought, for no sooner had it crossed his mind than the lightning struck – far too close for comfort.
Lightning struck – a dazzling three meters away – and the electrical surge sent the bike's delicately repaired stabilizers into a seizure. The vehicle dropped, skidded, and shorted out entirely ,throwing its rider headfirst over the handlebars and into the comforting embrace of a So-Ju patch. Anakin caught himself in mid-air and turned the reckless sprawl into a neatly-tucked roll, landing on his backside upon a very old and venerable bush.
"Poodoo," he hissed, immediately leaping to his feet and sweeping an angry hand behind himself to extract the long spines. "Vape it! Ow!"
Another flash of lightning overhead warned him that he needed to find shelter. He looked around – and there was the figure he had seen earlier through the transparent dome. What a madman – the fellow was standing there, stock-still, his hands held up to the pouring rain in a gesture of supplication. Rivulets poured between the frozen fingers…
"Hey!" Anakin called out, his senses groping forward and strangely sliding off the figure as though it weren't really there…as though it were invisible…"Hey!" Was the man Force-opaque? Why hadn't he moved? He just stood there, in that one melodramatic position, frozen like a statue.
Statue.
His hand dropped against the cold, bronzium side of the statue. A plaque nearby declared that this was a memorial something-or-other. He had come all this way in the middle of a storm to rescue a kriffing statue. He was almost as useless and stupid as Obi Wan thought he was.
Miserably he sat down beneath the scant shelter of the statue's base. Lightning lanced down into the earth nearby, a stone's throw away. Bronzium wasn't conductive, so he was probably safest here.
How did a Jedi Padawan make such a stupid mistake? He pressed his hands against his ears, to block out the answer, but it didn't silence the imaginary voice of his teacher. Anger doesn't make you blind, Padawan. It makes you hallucinate. Be mindful.
He'd been so angry at Obi Wan for upbraiding him about his lack of control earlier…his outburst of anger at the intrusive ga-shirra and the awkward repercussions which had delayed the Jedi long enough to inspire their pilot to leave them behind. That had stemmed from anger, too. Why couldn't he control his temper? He was better than that – he had to be! It was just…well, that courtesan earlier had insinuated that his lack of interest was a personal deficiency. Oh, sorry, the little white faced tarpadu had minced at him, waving her fan alluringly. I thought you were man, not eunuch slave.
Anakin hated being called a slave boy. He hated diplomatic mission s on foreign worlds, where he had to master the perverse intricacies of some bizarre new culture. He hated how easily his master could do just that. He hated being lectured about his failures in that department. He hated feeling like he could only fail at such an impossible task. He hated how his rejection of the ga-shirra made them angry, while his master's rejections just made them try harder. He hated being the one who messed up, who got angry, who tried to rescue statues in a thunderstorm.
Anger doesn't make you blind, Padawan. It makes you hallucinate. Even about yourself.
He breathed in, and breathed out. Rain poured down his neck and back, but he didn't care. Lightning kept spearing the ground, in blinding proximity, but he didn't care. After a while he stopped caring about his anger, too. He sat, not caring about much of anything, for a long while. Then. – without warning – he felt it again, only much more urgent and desperate:
Danger. Danger. Danger. Rain and blood and howling cries and darkness. Go to the rescue. Hurry. Hurry.
That was no hallucination. That was the Force, commanding him. He ran.
Obi Wan hit the ground, hard. For a moment he thought the lightning had hit him. He squinted up – no more rain or hail. No more sky. Pebbles and loose dirt still cascaded down on top of him. His head hurt.
Where am I?
A moment earlier, he had been running for cover from the lightning storm. He had been….distracted. More than distracted. He had been angry – angry at his young, reckless, impulsive Padawan for getting him into such a mess, for running away again and leading his master a merry chase all over this rocky, star-forsaken heath. He had been angry at Anakin for being angry.
And in his distraction, he had not noticed the trap that lay just ahead. He had fallen, headlong, into a natural cave or hollow beneath the stony hilltop. The entrance had been overgrown with So-Ju. His face and hands had been badly scraped by the spines as he plummeted through them. He wiped a bloody hand across his bloody face, in a vain attempt to clear up the mess. Well, that was pointless, wasn't it?… How ironic. He spared himself a contemptuous snort of laughter. Well done, Kenobi. You haven't managed anything this stupid in …oh, twenty years.
At least nothing appeared to be broken. Cautiously, he levered himself back to his feet and squinted up at the cave opening far, far above. A lightning flash momentarily illuminated the night-sky, and the long rough-hewn sides of the cave. There were half-eaten skeletons everywhere. Huge skeletons, small skeletons, some with bits of meat still clinging to them. The odor was repulsive.
"Oh dear," he muttered to himself, feeling a tendril of unease coil around the base of his spine. The Force was definitely disturbed down here. He had landed himself in what he would euphemistically term a "situation."
A thrumming growl echoed deep in the darkness. Something stirred. In the Force, he felt the presence of many, many enormous life-forms. His precipitous entrance had wakened them from slumber, and their irritation set the air to reverbrating. He eyed the cave opening again, and withdrew his cable launcher from its place at his belt. Time for a tactical retreat.
And then one of the creatures sprang, nearly catching him. He felt the impact of its body against the wall, even as he flipped up and out of the way. Cable launcher forgotten, his saber flared into sudden blue life. An angry hiss filled the air – and his own hiss of dismay echoed it, quiet and tense. He was staring down a fully-grown, female gundark. He prowled backward, defensively, and felt his boot heel click against something smooth and rounded.
Her egg. Blast, blast, blast!
The air was shredded by bloodthirsty howls. In the wavering blue light of his blade, he saw dozens of claws, dozens of heads, necks, powerful scaled bodies, horns and ridges and tufts of gore-spattered hair. Gundarks. He was in a nest of gundarks, an unwelcome intruder and a threat to the safety of the eggs buried within. For a terrible moment, he looked at them, and they looked at him. And then the enfuriated mothers attacked.
Anakin pelted across the slippery ground, only his Jedi reflexes saving him from a wrenching fall on treacherous footing, or a long slide down a hill of spiny So-Ju. Danger, danger, danger! The Force screamed in his ears. Visions of blood and darkness and sheer unreasoning wrath and a bright blue flame in the midst of a thundering, murderous storm drove him to superhuman speed. Even without the Force, he could hear the eerie, shrill keening of monstrous voices under the ground. They were directly below him – as though the earth itself were heaving in outrage. Lightning spattered nearby, splitting a So-Ju bush and searing the air. Rain spattered on his back and head.
Where? Where? Where?
He almost fell into it – the cave opening was overgrown with prickling vines and roots. Heart hammering, he fastened one end of his cable to a stubborn knot of roots and flung himself boots-first through the opening, into a the seething red blur of a colossal battle.
Gundarks! The word had barely formed itself in his mind before he had landed on the back of the first one, plunging his saber into the flesh between its shoulder blades. The monster was so large, the wound was a mere pinprick. It thrashed, sending him flying into the cave wall. He slid down in a cascade of dirt. Before his eyes surged an ocean of claw and tooth and muscle; he could not count how many there were. And cornered at the far end – there, amid the gently rounded forms of the eggs – Obi Wan!
"Master!" he shouted, but the noise of the beasts was too great. They plunged and swept and rampaged around the Jedi, only his proximity to their eggs keeping them from crushing him beneath their feet. They would not endanger their young.
Anakin looked up. A protruding bit of root overhead. Yes. He launched himself into the air, sailing over the battle, and caught the jutting handhold. He looped the cable over it like a pulley and released the line again. He plummeted straight down, to land beside his teacher.
"Anakin!' Obi Wan's surprise and relief were a bright flare in the Force, hot and fierce.
The nearest mother gundark swiped at them; they rolled behind another egg. A horrific blood-curdling scream pierced the cave. "Master, you're hurt."
"Anakin, What are you doing here? Get OUT!"
"I'm rescuing you." Anakin severed the very tip of the claw that sought to impale him. Obi Wan narrowly dodged another. They ended up behind the same curved surface of egg.
"Foolish, Padawan! We'll both be killed!" Now Obi Wan sounded like he was on the edge of his control. That was almost amusing. He never lost his cool….except where Anakin was concerned.
Anakin plunged into the Force- it was seething with the gundarks' anger. He didn't care. To him, it was power, power laced with fire and desperation. He used it. Lifting one of the eggs with the invisible current, he flung it up and outward in a spiraling arc, sailing toward the back wall of the cave. The bodies of the gundarks twisted and shrieked, vainly following the precious projectile through the air. It hit the stone wall and shattered, blasting sticky yellow goop and blood in every direction. The howls of the gundarks shook the cave's walls.. The Force exploded around them, a black and burning bomb of pain.
He heard Obi Wan cry out, felt the anger and the despair smash through his own bones, heard the beasts' agonized venting of rage. Without thinking, without waiting, he grabbed the other Jedi and retracted the cable. Together they snaked through the air, hurtling toward the projecting root. At the last moment he let go. Together they sailed past the root, hit the side of the long tunnel, used the momentum to push themselves upward again in a flying leap, scrabbled wildly against the sides of the narrow aperture, grabbed the spiny stems and roots, yelling with pain – and dragged themselves clear.
The rain still spattered on them as they rolled over the lip of the ragged hole and slid down a slope of unforgiving So-Ju bushes. At the bottom they caught their breath. The screams of the grieving gundarks made the ground quake beneath them – but a nesting female would never, ever leave its eggs even to pursue an enemy. They were safe.
Obi Wan lay flat on his back, panting. "I think I'll kill you, after all," he grumbled.
"You're welcome," Anakin smiled.
The sun was just lifting its head over the horizon as they limped their way back to the outer curve of Chaunu City's protective dome. The gleaming surface was washed with gentle golds and oranges, reflecting the soft light of the new morning. As the two Jedi watched, the docking hatch in the dome's roof opened to release an elegant spacecraft. The charter shuttle lifted into the atmosphere and then sped away, leaving a thin con trail behind it in the lightening sky.
"There goes the Troubador," Anakin sighed. They were an hour past the designated take-off time, at least.
Beside him, Obi Wan cursed in annoyance.
"C'mon, just a little farther. The main gates are straight ahead." Anakin pulled his teacher's arm over his shoulders a little tighter, trying to shift his master's weight off a sprained ankle.
"Lovely," the Jedi knight muttered as they made their grand entrance through Chinau City's ornate gates. The security guards and other officials stared at the pair as they made their bedraggled, dirty, wet, and bleeding way through the four processional archways and into Chaunu Square. Both Jedi held their heads high and said nothing.
At the steps to the guest lodgings, a gaggle of ga-shirra were waiting for them. "Oh!" they cooed, tottering forward on their bound feet, embroidered sleeves flapping, fans fluttering in consternation. Delicately manicured hands were immediately tugging at sleeves and brushing solicitously over Obi Wan's arms and face.
"Ooooh, poor Jeedi!"
"Need help? Companion?"
"I make good nurse, Jeedi."
"You did not kill him," one said in a plaintive voice.
"You are very kind, but we need to rest first. Ladies," Anakin remembered his manners and firmly steered his master past their soft, silk-clad clutches.
They made it past the lobby, with its groups of startled guests, the manager's alarmed request to provide assistance, the stares of the staff members in hallways and lift tubes, and the bleeping and whirring of the various serving droids on the top level. At last they reached the refuge of the lavish suite provided for them by the government's generosity.
"We're going to have to wait for the next available transport, master."
"I was afraid you would feel compelled to point that out," Obi Wan growled wearily.
The young Padawan could not contain his mischievous grin. "And I think we might also need to discuss the cause of this unfortunate delay. May I ask, Master Kenobi, how it is that you ended up falling into a nest of gundarks in the middle of a thunderstorm?"
The older Jedi's eyebrows arched up expressively, and he folded his arms across his chest. . "I was distracted," he said after a long pause. "…By anger," he added ruefully. His gaze slid sideways, and the ghost of an ironic smile played across his face.
Anakin waved a stern finger. "Well, we shall have to make the best of this delay. You can spend the time meditating on the causes of your distraction, and what you can do to avoid it in the future."
Obi Wan's eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed. His frown was replaced by a twist of humor, and then by a deep sigh. Very deliberately, very seriously, he bowed before his apprentice. "Yes, master," he replied, and promptly folded himself into meditation posture upon the floor.
Anakin hadn't been expecting that. Caught off guard, he hesitated in the doorframe. "Uh…master?"
"Hush, Anakin – you're distracting me," Obi Wan reprimanded him.
"Oh – sorry. I'll…I'll go see about arranging for the next transport."
"Mmm." Obi Wan's eyes remained closed.
Anakin shrugged and slipped back out the door, to make the requisite calls. It would probably take another whole day for a suitable ship to pick them up. But somehow, waiting just didn't seem so bad anymore. Not so bad at all.
THE END