~Siri~

"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 we are still alive. What a wonderful wake up call, huh?

I am currently suspended in warmth, a cocoon of sorts. Maybe it's just unconsciousness, I would know. After all, I have felt this feeling before, a number of times after torture, too. Someone is calling my name and ugh, can't they just shut up?

If your name is not Master Yoda, Master Gallia or the force, you have no right to be waking me this early, or at all. You have no right to be in my presence, actually. What sort of fool thinks he can pat my leg?

I kick it. Him. Her in something that feels like a cranium and a muffled curse proceeds afterwards. Kriff it all, what happened? My head hurts like someone stomped on it. Did Quin-lan try to tackle me again last night? Or, no, that wasn't me he was trying to tackle but Garen, and I just happened to be in the way of their tussle.

Honestly, can you not tell my life is just plain stupid? Why do I hang around such people? I need to expand my horizons a bit and find new friends.

Whatever…Ugh, who are you? And what are you even saying? Why is it in Wookie? Then suddenly, my memory decides to grant me the honor of its presence and I sit straight up with a gasp.

We're alive!

"Ow!" Quin-lan gasps, doubling over. I realize, with a sigh of disgust that it appears that when I sat up my head hit him directly in a soft place between his thighs. Master Gallia has often informed me that I have a hard head, but I did not think she meant it so literally till now.

"Fool!" I snap as Garen bursts into laughter and Quin-lan falls to his knees, gasping like a fish out of water. Oh, sorry Bant, no pun intended my friend. Hey, where is she anyway? I don't see her. Then again, I don't see much. My vision is sort of blurry.

"What were you doing standing over me?" I demand of Quin-lan. "I just wanted to go to the bathroom, man!" He complains miserably, dark face splotched with pain.

"On me?" I spit, disgusted and angry now. What sort of sick heathen pees on a person's head? Is not that against The Code? Where's Obi-wan? He would know.

"No! I was going…Then Garen told me to help him…And you wouldn't wake up…I patted your leg but you kicked my head!...So-so I stood and then you sat up…and now I can't have children," he explains in a breathless rush. Garen whoops with laughter. I for one; am most displeased.

"Children are against the Code, Gundark brains, you know that. Where are we? How did we survive?" I ask Garen, who is literally red in the face with amusement. I don't think he's going to answer me anytime soon. I roll my eyes and inspect my surroundings.

We're above ground and over there…Blast, is that our ship? Or, what is left of it. The entire lower half is sticking at a vertical angle into the air, sort of. The rest of the cockpit and front half are rooted into the dirt around us. Speaking of which, what sort of dirt is this? It feels like clay.

There is no vegetation or life to be seen around us. It's only a barren, gray and certainly squelchy land of…Clay. The sun above us is a navy color and callous, a single filmy cloud resides at its side. Several stars twinkle around it. It's late afternoon, then…Or early dawn.

Whichever this planet's rotations prefer. "Ah…Ah, funny stuff. Anyway, Siri, I have no clue where we are. Somewhere near the planet I was aiming for obviously, Naboo, but maybe on one of its moons, or a nearby planet. As for how we survived, you can ask Obi-wan that when we find him,"

Obi-wan…Obi-wan! I whip around.

"You lost him!?" I shout. He was in the cockpit! Did he ever join us like he said? If not, then he has to be in this wreckage of complete twaddle littering the clay, and if that happened then he is in several different pieces, surely. I feel a bit of alarm; after all, I do like Kenobi. He's a barve, but a barve who means well. How dare Garen lose him without my explicit instructions?

"No!" Garen says instinctively, then scowls. "Well, yes, but it isn't my fault he chose to do whatever he did! Don't worry. The Princess is lifting all of the heavy debris out of the way looking for him," he assures me.

I find no solace in the fact that a sensual Wookie Princess is looking for a Padawan that potentially could have had all his clothes burned off.

"Bant? Is she all right? Master Jinn?" I inquire, shading my eyes to probe the area with the force and my own vision. "Yep, she's okay, and checking Master Jinn as we speak. Hey Vos, get up, you're the tracker, can't you find Obi-wan?" Garen says, nudging the moaning man with his toe.

"I'm still trying to find an important part of my structure. I think Siri flattened it," Quin-lan snaps back. Garen looks tempted to laugh, but refrains. "Congratulations. Up, buddy, we have to find Obi-wan, he could be hurt," yet this fact does not matter to Mr. Vos. He only remains on the ground like the barbarian he is while Obi-wan is missing.

"Guys," Bant walks up, and her eyes brighten when she see me. I smile; Bant and I are the only responsible and sensible ones of this group, I swear.

"Siri, you're awake! You okay Quin-lan?" she asks, large eyes floating over to him with concern. "He's just being a barve again, don't fuss over him. How's Qui-gon?" Garen asks with a wave of his hand.

"He's getting worse. He has an infection in a lot of the cuts and burns he suffered from that explosion. I sent him into a healing trance and made him a reasonably safe stretcher, but soon he'll wake up again. He was muttering something about Obi-wan though, and Tahl. It sounded like he was apologizing for something," she explains, brows crinkling.

We all fall silent. Neither Qui-gon nor Obi-wan have been the same since Tahl's death. It hit them both hard, and though I haven't seen much of Obi-wan since then. I can see the way his eyes are just shadowy, like a light was snuffed out in his soul. And Master Qui-gon…Before his eyes would glimmer with amusement or kindness, now they seem almost dead with despair and fury.

We never talk about Tahl for Obi-wan's sake, but we do worry.

"As soon as we find him we'll ask him," Garen decides. "But we have to locate him first," he points out. Quin-lan stands, murmuring angrily, but sets his shoulders. Before he could search the force for answers, though, a new voice joins the fray.

"Uuurrgghhh!" We all look up to see Her Highness lugging an unconscious body over her shoulder. My heart skips a beat for no good reason. "Obi-wan!"

After all, it's not like I'm worried or anything…Even if I am the first one to run to them…Whatever, okay? Kenobi, he is special to me. Ever since that night he saved me from Bruck…He's my friend. Friends protect each other. That is how it goes. "Where was he?" I demand as I take him from her shoulder.

His clothes are intact, thankfully. A little scorched and he smells like burnt toast, and has ash marks on his face and arms, along with the standard blisters that adorn us all, but looks alright. Until we open his tunic. His chest has been blasted with scattered pieces of shrapnel and glass, some piercing deep.

I inhale sharply. Obi-wan you idiot, why can't you ever do anything right? You can't even get hurt correctly. Good people get hurt lightly, you have to go and make it difficult as always. You are a horrible person.

Our victim of kidnapping watches us with thoughtful eyes, and grunts out a few phrases none of us can understand. Seeing this she points obligingly towards the butt of ship sticking out of the clay.

He must have made it halfway to the back before…Something happened, apparently. Whatever he did, he saved our lives. Idiot. Arrogant, haughty, conceited, cowardly fool. He just didn't want anyone else to get the credit for it. Bant moves over his unworthy and muscled hide, deft webbed fingers working at healing.

We all kneel around them. "Oh, you brave youngling Poodoo. Why do you do this, Obi? He's not hurt overly bad. But if an infection gets into these cuts, it'll be the death of him," she surveys, with a sigh. "Serves him right," I grunt.

Garen casts me a hot glance, his own eyes filled with distress, but says nothing about my comment. "We need to make a stretcher," he tells us, standing.

"If we are on one of Naboo's moons or even a planet nearby, it has to be inhabited. There are no planets non-inhabited in this system, so far as the Republic knows. Our comm.. link's aren't long distance and the long distance comm. Link's are fried," he reports.

I nod. "And if we aren't on one of Naboo's moons or a planet nearby?" I ask. Garen shrugs. "We'll figure it out as we go. For now, we must start moving," he says, and I think this is a brilliant plan except for one inconsistency. "Which way do we go?" Bant pipes in.

Garen's façade of calm authority vanishes into uncertainty. "I don't know," he admits. The Princess lets out what can only be described as a disappointed groan. Sorry, sweetie, we should have warned you about ourselves. As Jedi, we do tend to get people into these sorts of disasters. We don't try, honestly.

We all fall into a grim silence. We can't just stay here, yet it would not be wise to start moving without a set destination in mind. "Hey," I realize. "Does anyone know whatever happened to the bounty hunters?" No answer. So, we can only assume we are at the moment being watched or tracked by deadly assassins. Brilliant, how perfectly marvelous.

"Ugh…What hit me?" We hear from below. We all look down and grin to see Obi-wan's eyes fluttering open. The Wookie lets out a shriek of delight. I sigh with relief; it'll be okay now.

If there is anything Obi-wan was born to do, it is defeat the odds with a splash of dark and witty humor. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Kenobi," Quin-lan snorts, as he and Garen kneel by the befuddled boy, helping him sit up.

"Ow…Quin-lan? Land of the living? When did I die and why is it the first thing I see when I come back to life is your disgraceful countenance? I must be in Hell," he grunts, and with that we know he is mentally normal again. A rude and fluent tongued Obi-wan is a healthy one.

"Cut the chatter Obi-wan, daylight is wasting. We're stuck on a planet of clay and squelch. Our ship is destroyed, no way to contact the Temple, no shelter, the bounty hunters are still on our tail, we're hopelessly lost and we have no clue what planet we're on or any of the vitals that go along with that," like whether or not it's late afternoon or early dawn.

Obi-wan takes this in serenely, a trait he must have learned from Master Jinn because he was not like that when we were younglings.

He stands and dusts himself off contemptuously, brows nettled together. "Master Qui-gon?" He asks. "He's out cold, and getting worse. We need to get him medical attention, and fast," Bant reports. Obi-wan produces a fierce scowl and lets out a curse that is in another language, but sounds extraordinarily like it would be colorful.

"Very well," he says irritably, shielding his eyes. His hand strays casually to his side, and I put my hands on my hips. "Don't touch it, idiot," I scold. "Your entire front is in shreds, Kenobi. We took out as many pieces as we could, but there still might be microscopic ones in there. Leave it," I order.

"Siri, I predict one day you will be a terrible menace to your Padawan and all of society in general," Obi-wan replies distantly, as he takes his hand away and touches his saber as if for comfort. "She will be," Garen agrees. "So, which way are we going?" He asks. "I can sense faint sentient emotions coming from that way," Obi-wan points in the distance, northwest.

"So we'll start with that. Quin-lan, scout ahead and see if you can pick up any tracks from trading parties. Garen, have you already studied the crash site for things we can use?" He asks. Garen nods. "Nothing. It's all scrapped," he explains.

"Wonderful. I have a bad feeling about that. Anyway, Siri you protect our rear, keep your senses sharp. If any bounty hunters are after us, you'll sense them," he tells me. I hate being ordered about, especially by Obi-wan, but there's no use in arguing when I don't have a better plan, so I nod grumpily to show him how much I am reluctantly granting him my submission.

He gets the picture. "Bant and I will lug Master Qui-gon. Garen, you are officially Her Highness's royal bodyguard. Don't leave her side," he says. The Wookie gives Garen a sweet smile, showing large fangs, and the color literally drains from his face. I smirk.

"Now wait a minute, who granted you the rank of master? Why do I have to do that?" Garen demands, then seems to notice his slip in polite decorum. "I mean," he begins again when the Princess growls. "Wouldn't Siri be better suited to do this? I can protect our rear," he quickly amends.

Obi-wan is not in a negotiating mood, though. "We'll let Her Highness decide. Which Jedi would you prefer as your bodyguard, Mi'lady?" he asks. I have to strain to keep my face neutral. Garen does the same.

A furred claw points directly at Garen, who glances murder at Obi-wan, but nods. "I shall strive to be worthy of your trust, your Highness," he promises, and he does mean it, as he bows to her gallantly. She looks quite amused.

I think I'm starting to like her, she has cheek, if not control. "It's official, then. Quin-lan, Siri, get going. Let's go Bant," he says. I want to hit him so bad. If the Princess were not there I would, and hard.

Maybe later. With that revenge set in mind, I stalk to the back of our group and strand myself in the force's power. Quin-lan moves ahead quickly, the force around him spreads about, howling and barking like hunting hounds.

His talent is tracking, after all, a rare and valuable endowment. He's still a useless mongrel. They all are, and once more, I consider expanding my horizons and striving to find some non-mongrel friends. Well, except Bant, I'll keep her.

And The Princess.