Chapter 8
The ground moving underneath him, a box barreling down upon him, Obi-Wan looked
about urgently for a hand-hold. Only the miniscule lip where two sheets of
metal joined to make the wall of the passageway presented itself, and he dug the
tips of his fingers into the sharp edge. But it wasn't enough. He was slipping
inexorably back toward the kitchen. His escape plan had failed.
Then he felt solid support against his back. Turning the little amount that he
could, he saw that Qui-Gon had braced his feet on one side of the passageway,
his back against the other, providing a platform for Obi-Wan to push against.
That just left the boxes.
The first box crumpled easily under Obi-Wan's blows. Paper products, he
guessed. He climbed over it. Qui-Gon lifted his body and let it pass
underneath.
The second box resisted compression. When he cut it open with his sword, Obi-
Wan found several cases of various fruits, which he spilled onto the conveyor
and then crumpled the empty box.
Thus it went, for box after box, Obi-Wan increasingly desperate, working with
the knowledge that the evidence of their escape was now being carried back into
the kitchen for anyone to see. What a waste after all the trouble he'd gone to
to make sure Cynara wouldn't be watching them for a few minutes. When he
scrambled over the last box and looked up to see clear sky, he breathed a well-
earned sigh of relief.
Then he was gasping in dismay as he watched the outer door slowly closing,
shutting out the sky.
Before he could make his tired body respond to this new crisis, something
hurtled past him. It was Qui-Gon, throwing his body against the heavy door.
"Hurry!" he called to his Padawan, strain heavy in his voice. Obi-Wan
obediently scrambled against the tide of the conveyor to his Master's side.
Wielding the sword he still held, he wedged it between the door and the wall,
but it was obvious it wouldn't hold for long. "Jump!" the Master commanded.
Confused, Obi-Wan looked around him for the first time. The outer opening was
situated in a tower of sorts, sticking out from the building at an angle,
designed to interface with cargo doors on delivery ships. They were at least
four meters in the air. They'd jumped from higher perches many times. Without
hesitation, Obi-Wan launched himself over the lip.
That was when he remembered that he had never jumped so far without the Force, a
point driven home to him as he landed heavily on the ground, an ankle twisting
painfully beneath him. Above him, he heard the squeal of metal and a clank as
the sword gave way and the door slammed shut, so he was quite relieved when Qui-
Gon thumped to the ground beside him. From the look on his face, the Master was
none too pleased with his landing, either, but still the two men shared a smile.
They were outside. Helping each other to stand, they took off away from the
building as fast as their injured legs would take them.
The ground moving underneath him, a box barreling down upon him, Obi-Wan looked
about urgently for a hand-hold. Only the miniscule lip where two sheets of
metal joined to make the wall of the passageway presented itself, and he dug the
tips of his fingers into the sharp edge. But it wasn't enough. He was slipping
inexorably back toward the kitchen. His escape plan had failed.
Then he felt solid support against his back. Turning the little amount that he
could, he saw that Qui-Gon had braced his feet on one side of the passageway,
his back against the other, providing a platform for Obi-Wan to push against.
That just left the boxes.
The first box crumpled easily under Obi-Wan's blows. Paper products, he
guessed. He climbed over it. Qui-Gon lifted his body and let it pass
underneath.
The second box resisted compression. When he cut it open with his sword, Obi-
Wan found several cases of various fruits, which he spilled onto the conveyor
and then crumpled the empty box.
Thus it went, for box after box, Obi-Wan increasingly desperate, working with
the knowledge that the evidence of their escape was now being carried back into
the kitchen for anyone to see. What a waste after all the trouble he'd gone to
to make sure Cynara wouldn't be watching them for a few minutes. When he
scrambled over the last box and looked up to see clear sky, he breathed a well-
earned sigh of relief.
Then he was gasping in dismay as he watched the outer door slowly closing,
shutting out the sky.
Before he could make his tired body respond to this new crisis, something
hurtled past him. It was Qui-Gon, throwing his body against the heavy door.
"Hurry!" he called to his Padawan, strain heavy in his voice. Obi-Wan
obediently scrambled against the tide of the conveyor to his Master's side.
Wielding the sword he still held, he wedged it between the door and the wall,
but it was obvious it wouldn't hold for long. "Jump!" the Master commanded.
Confused, Obi-Wan looked around him for the first time. The outer opening was
situated in a tower of sorts, sticking out from the building at an angle,
designed to interface with cargo doors on delivery ships. They were at least
four meters in the air. They'd jumped from higher perches many times. Without
hesitation, Obi-Wan launched himself over the lip.
That was when he remembered that he had never jumped so far without the Force, a
point driven home to him as he landed heavily on the ground, an ankle twisting
painfully beneath him. Above him, he heard the squeal of metal and a clank as
the sword gave way and the door slammed shut, so he was quite relieved when Qui-
Gon thumped to the ground beside him. From the look on his face, the Master was
none too pleased with his landing, either, but still the two men shared a smile.
They were outside. Helping each other to stand, they took off away from the
building as fast as their injured legs would take them.