~Garen~
"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen–year-old Jedi Padawan, that my force blasted useless friends in the back have as of yet not done anything to restrain the heated Wookie.
By heated, of course, I mean sexually active, or trying to be. All over Jedi Master Qui-gon. He is naked, or he was when I was back there.
Right now, I'm piloting the vaping piece of space junk Tachi managed to negotiate for us at the last port. Needless to say; I need new friends.
"Garen!" Kenobi howls from the back, over the screeching cries of the frenetic Wookie. "We're supposed to be flying, not falling!" Arrogant barve, we are not falling, we are just doing a bit of a nosedive. In addition, it is his own fault anyway.
I mean, we are being shot at, what does he want me to do, huh? Fly in a straight line and at forty clicks per blasted hour, so that I'm legally following the speed limit?
There are not one or two, no, that'd be easy for me, but five ships cascading after us with ringing blaster bolts firing from each hull. Bounty hunters, man. They want our lovely royal highness back there, and this time, I do not mean the Gundark Kenobi, either.
That female Wookie aforementioned?
Yeah, she is the current princess of the Wookie people, whom these hooligans behind me had kidnapped and held hostage aboard their ship, ready to earn a quick and rather large buck selling her on the slave market. Republic involvement was pleaded in favor of, Jedi intervention was needed, and the rest of our masters had to stay on Kashyysk to keep the peace…
And here we are.
Let me just explain to you how stupid my life is right now. In the back, Kenobi, Quin-lan and Siri are trying to pry over a thousand pounds of raw muscle off the unconscious, critically injured and naked Master Qui-gon Jinn.
I can rather tell it is not working out for them. Bant, ever the gentle one, is in the copilot's seat, her Mon Calamari face twisted into panic.
Bant is an apprentice healer, and as such, she hasn't really gone on many missions, but this one demanded it. Or, Obi-wan demanded it, because conveniently (there is no such thing as coincidence) Bant was at the local college on the last Planet we were on, studying with the students there. Having a good time too, I reckon.
Somehow, Quinlan managed to get a hold of her, by that I also mean to infer that he managed to sneak in at the dead of night, abduct her and drag her blindfolded to our hotel in order to try and heal pale faced Master Jinn.
We had already rescued the Wookie royalty, and in the escape of that mess, Master Qui-gon had been point five seconds too slow to deactivate a bomb before it…Err…Well…exploded.
He has not woken up since then. Just as Bant was half giving her diagnosis and half-delivering Mr. Vos a piece of her well-tuned mind, however, we were attacked. Funny, eh?
No, not funny, because we had to race out of the hotel before any civilians were hurt because of our shenanigans. Then, being beleaguered by blaster bolts the entire way, we made our way through the town, hauling the unconscious Jedi master on a quickly crumbling stretcher made in about two standard seconds, and somehow Siri ran ahead and managed to charm us this piece of bantha poodoo. However, all of that was in the past. Jedi do not focus on the past, merely the present moment.
Unfortunately, at this present moment, Kenobi is insulting my piloting skills. "Unless you want to come and drive us yourself, your honored majesty, could you kindly shut the kriff up?" I holler back at him, and I hope that through the haze of unconsciousness, Master Qui-gon did not hear me say that.
Never mind, though, present moment. I spiral the ship out of the way of a torpedo. "It's coming around!" Bant squeaks, covering her eyes.
I grin, not that stupid, Bant. "I know," I assure her as I dip the ship downwards again. Anything not bolted down flies across the room. I hear several thumps from the back. "Ooof!" My comrades yelp in unison, as I assume they are flung against a wall.
A quick glance at Bant shows she's star struck with awesome alarm, and paler than usual. The torpedo flies above our heads and true to my plan, hits one of our pursers instead. The ship explodes, shaking our ship violently, but at least the scores are evened out a bit.
Suddenly, Siri stumbles from the back, looking as disheveled as a drunken spice pilot. The idea makes me grin at her. "Nice flying, champion," she gripes sarcastically, rubbing the back of her big head. You just can't be nice to people nowadays, huh?
Obi-wan and Quinlan follow. "I'll be here all week. What about the Wookie?" I ask, as I jerk my head to indicate the back. "Your suicide dive knocked her out," Quinlan gasps dramatically, falling into a seat behind Bant.
"And Master Jinn nearly knocked me out when he landed on me," Obi-wan adds. "Wouldn't have been a great loss, Obi," I respond casually, as I tweak a few more buttons. I still have no clue what exactly this ship is capable of, and now that I've gotten rid of their little friend, the bounty hunters back there are mad.
To prove this, the ship jolts with a sudden bang and we all are nearly upchucked from our seats. "Blast it all!" Siri curses, as she looks at me with fire in her eyes. "Hey, don't look at me, it was them! Kenobi, plan time. What are we going to do?" I demand to take their minds off throttling me and back to the situation.
Thankfully, they fall for the bait and Kenobi is suddenly in the spotlight where he is most comfortable, haughty Gundark that he is.
"The only thing we can," Obi-wan huffs, daringly standing from his seat to put a hand on Bant's shuddering shoulder. "Let me take co-pilot, Bant. Would you go lock up Master Qui-gon?" Ah, good strategy Obi, our friend was getting a little pale there, even for a fish.
Bant bolts for the back like her life depends on it, and really? It sort of does. Because those thrice accursed bounty hunters have hit our left engine, and it's is in a smoking, irreparable heap.
Now we are falling. I can only thank the force we are falling towards a planet. Obi-wan plops down beside me while Quin-lan and Siri smartly and quickly strap themselves in, calling to the force, willing it for aide. I called on it long ago, and it has kept me calm so far.
I feel a detached sort of amusement if truth be told, that we're falling again, just like Kenobi said a few minutes ago. He jinxed us, really. "This isn't funny, Garen," Obi-wan grounds out, his hand shaking on the throttles.
It isn't him; despite his hatred of flying he is too cultured and serene to allow his outward movements to betray it, it's the ship and the fact that we are dropping to a vertical descent. It disconcerts me a bit that he sensed my amusement so fast; sometimes he's scarily perceptive.
"We have to slow our descent!" Siri hollers. "No kidding. Any idea how?" We're caught in the atmosphere now. There is no cajoling gravity. If we do not slow down we'll burn up before we ever hit the ground, and if I'm going to stop it I really need suggestions, and fast. The ship rocks again.
Arethey still firing at us? Can't they see we're already down? If they blow up the ship, how are they going to sell the Wookie? Blast, we not only have bounty hunters, but stupid bounty hunters to boot.
Obi-wan is thinking. I can see it in the way his brow goes all storm cloud. "We can't slow our descent," he mutters o himself, the force or both. "But we can soften our landing," he says. I stare at him.
"Kenobi if we don't slow down we won't live long enough to see a landing!" Quin-lan screams. "Never the matter, you all are going to have to trust me," Obi-wan say, fingering and tapping every button with incredible speed. I stare in horror. What is he doing?
"That is the most idiotic idea I've ever heard in my confounded life! What are you doing?" Siri voices my sentiment in an infuriated screech. That acid tongue and hot head of hers should mark her as a future Sith.
"Saving us. Now do as I say. Get to the back and build a force protection shield around all of you, her royal highness and Master Qui-gon. I'll be back there in a minute," he wants us to do what? The windows are showing nothing but red and orange flames licking at them now.
Tiny cracks break out, and the force chimes with a warning. Soon that glass will break; we'll burn up and ultimately die. What is a force protection shield going to do?
"What? Obi-wan, we are not…" I begin, because for force sake's this is no time for games, but Obi-wan interrupts me with a sharp look that could lacerate skin with its jaggedness. "Do you trust me?" he demands severely, and I know he is talking to the others too.
They all fall silent; the only sound that of the cracking glass and blaster shots behind us. The force is stagnant with his utter, single-minded resolve to try this plan of his that is bound to end in disaster, but he does not care about that, he will do what he kriffing must to save us, the mission, the princess back there and if it ever came to it, he'd save the galaxy.
I believe he will someday.
It is this belief, beyond doubt unwarranted and undeserved on his part, truly, that makes me stand, fists clenched at my sides, eyes glaring down at his. He wants to play Master Yoda? Fine. But when I wake up in the next few minutes a ghost, I will make him feel horrible about this for the rest of eternity.
"No, I don' t trust your overconfident pelt, but I'll do it anyway because I don't have a better proposal. Come on, guys, we're going to go die now," I call to the others, who mumble their consent. Obi-wan smiles at me, without humor, but gratitude is hinting in his eyes.
Do not thank me, you chosski. I do not trust you, I don't. I'm just feeling somewhat suicidal today so I have elected to follow your wise lead in that regard.
Leaving him to whatever evil scientist plot he's hatching with the ship's computer, the rest of us run to the back, where Bant has already laid both injured patients side by side and is working cheerfully on them, totally in her element.
To my relief, she has also redressed Master Qui-gon in the ruined and wrecked remnants of his tunic. How she did that without going blind is a healers trick. "Bant-get down. We're making a shield," I order, closing the door behind me.
Obi-wan had better hurry. Suddenly, the ship bucks. It is literally burning in here. I can see a few small objects have already started to melt. I thank the force we will be fried, and not baked; after all there are worse ways to die.
Bant looks up at me. "What? Why?" She demands, so innocent, so unknowing. The ships bucks again, and I hear the sound of blaster fire getting closer? What is he doing up there? Ignoring the urge to go see, I quickly sit on one side of Master Qui-gon's, legs folded underneath me.
"Hurry," I order breathlessly. I can feel how tense the force is, how desperate. Man, it's only in the face of death that you realize how much you don't want to die, how young you truly are, how much you haven't yet seen, how insignificant you are compared to everything else.
The others file around me until we are a tight knit square around the Jedi Master and princess. Our skins begins to blister underneath our tunics, we're soaked in sweat, gasping in dry and thin air, fighting down the urge to scream with alarm. We call in the force, individually, warping it into one power, until there are no individuals, only the force, only us.
The ships jolts again, so hard we're thrown into the air, but somehow manage to keep concentration. It feels like we're getting pounded physically by the other ships. What in the universe?
Obi-wan isn't here yet, but I can hardly focus on that. The force is consuming, is plentiful, aiding, strengthening. It is shrieking in our ears like the buzz of my saber, and I can smell Tarlipian Cornelia's and hear the lapping of water on a shore. Is this the force?
Are we going home, after so little time in this surreal universe? Somehow, I don't want to go, not yet, don't want to go to the noises of sea birds and smell of saltwater. I want to stay here…
My master. Obi-wan. My friends. Qui-gon. The princess. The temple. The mission…If I can just hold on to them maybe they can anchor me here…The ship jolts a last time, and I hit my head. Then all goes dark.