It must be a record – I'm still shocked at how quickly I got this done. And it's a looong part too!! Must be the unbelievable feedback you guys have been giving, so this is thanks to you!
Gone From Danger - Part 6/?
The lake sighed, its waters disturbed by a faint breeze, and the fragile-looking trees rustled, their narrow trunks quite supple in contrast to their appearance. Qui-Gon, his clothing stained red in the waning light, craned his neck, watching gold and crimson gilded clouds trailing across the mauve sky overhead, the last light of sunset fading rapidly and drawing elongated shadows along the pale earth below the veranda. His fingers stroked lightly across the sun-warmed stone balustrade, its surface worn smooth with age, and he briefly wondered how many others had touched it, how many others had occupied the ominously silent building behind him.
Qui-Gon stared down at the charred meditation crystal that rested near his hand, catching the light and glinting dully. Because of the actions of the woman who had previously owned this small stone, his Padawan was in danger of losing his life; the moment she had decided to implant the neural web, she had effectively condemned Obi-Wan to death.
His gaze still fixed on the crystal, Qui-Gon rubbed the heel of his hand across his left temple, his thoughts straying back to the news they had received from the Council a few days ago, during a secure communication. Quite unexpectedly, Chancellor Valorum had brought the issue of the Lamarin neural web into debate in the Senate, and the voting on the matter had been unanimous: the web posed a threat to the Republic and to the Galaxy in general, and would not be returned to the Lamari.
However, because of the incident at Banis, it had been decided that as long as the implant remained inside him, allowing Obi-Wan anywhere near a populated planet was too dangerous. Qui-Gon could understand the reasons behind the ruling, but that didn't make it any easier to accept – it meant that Obi-Wan would be denied the resources needed to give him even a chance of surviving.
Fighting to subdue his emotions, Qui-Gon gripped the balustrade and bowed his head, strands of long hair hanging loose about his face after having pulled free of their tie earlier. His Padawan was dying, a fact which he desperately wanted to refute but could not. Raeshin had made every effort over the last five days to slow the implant's growth, to no avail; it had saturated the young Jedi's nervous system and continued to spread, now impeding major body functions, and disrupting his Force-signature so significantly that it was almost beyond recognition.
He's dying, and there's nothing I can do about it. It was an admission that didn't come easily to Qui-Gon, and it certainly didn't sit well in his heart. Obi-Wan's fate was an injustice that his instincts demanded he challenge, but those accountable were unreachable and the threat was something he couldn't fight or appeal to. The time for action had come and gone long ago, when he had first noticed a change in Obi-Wan shortly after the attack on Dareela. He had done nothing, dismissing it as temporary trauma caused by the ferocity of the assault, and the guilt, the shame, from the thought that his apprentice had been suffering since then and he had not known tore at him relentlessly.
"I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan." He blinked at the sound of his own hushed voice, hoarse from the strain of the past few days and laden with misery, then released the balustrade and tucked the stray hair behind his ears. "Sorry" wouldn't change anything. It wasn't going to ease Obi-Wan's pain, or stop the device that was destroying him. Casting blame, on himself or on others, was not going to help either, and he was only wasting time by doing so.
His hands clenched into fists and beat out a quiet, haphazard rhythm against the stone as he calmed himself, letting his emotions recede to a manageable level. He stood a few moments longer, watching the silvery trees by the lake quiver, stark in the clustering shadows of dusk, before retreating into the house. He got as far as the front doorway when an audible tremor vibrated through the air, and Qui-Gon stopped, looking round to see the great bird that had passed over the Jedi when they first arrived. It had landed on the grass, balancing on slim, furred legs, quadruple-toed feet splayed on the ground, standing twice as tall as Qui-Gon, and its wings, expanded to their full length, were at least five times its height, lined around the edges with bristled feathers.
The bird cocked its head, regarding him warily, and Qui-Gon noticed one of its wings drooping; squinting, he spotted a neat puncture in the centre of the wing's membrane. Something in its stance beckoned to the Jedi Master and he descended the steps slowly, examining the injury as he moved closer, then froze. The wound was a perfect circle. Artificial. It had to have been caused by a weapon, a projectile one most likely, yet he knew that neither Tiperis nor Raeshin carried such a weapon, and the planet supported no sentient native species.
Stiffening, his hand strayed instinctively to his lightsaber…and came up with empty air. He was wearing just a sash around his waist, having left his belt inside along with his lightsaber. "Oh, Force," he whispered, and as though in answer a dark ripple through the Force brushed his mind in warning.
There was someone else here.
He had barely come to that conclusion when he heard a thip of displaced air. A small object punched into his shoulder blade with enough force to penetrate the bone and spin him back to face the house, almost taking him off his feet in the process. A few metres away, the bird was startled into flight, fleeing from danger with a frightened, raucous call. Gasping in pain, Qui-Gon bolted toward the house, clutching his shoulder; a second projectile struck his hip, a third embedding itself in his thigh, and he stumbled, his knee buckling reflexively. By sheer coincidence, it was the leg that he had injured on Dareela, and through the pain Qui-Gon couldn't help a flare of annoyance. Typical.
Abruptly, a blaster discharged in the flowering trees that flanked the house's west-facing side, and the ground near his feet exploded in a puff of dust. Recovering his balance, Qui-Gon staggered up the steps onto the veranda – another blaster bolt bit into the outer side of the balustrade, destroying a fair chunk of the stone and peppering the fleeing Jedi's back with shrapnel. He made it inside, flinging the door shut behind him, but he knew it wouldn't hold under blaster fire.
"Tiperis!" he shouted, limping further into the room and minding to steer clear of the windows.
The female Jedi appeared from an adjoining room, staring at him in horror as she took in the blood seeping into his clothes. "What happened?"
"Bounty hunters," he said grimly.
Consciousness was a dizzying fusion of pain and uncertainty, one that he would rather have avoided completely, but returning to those terrible dreams, a few of which would inevitably prove to be premonitions, was even less appealing. He woke in degrees, languidly sifting through rattled thoughts and attempting to school them into harmony, forcing his mind to find logic in a clutter of mismatched sensations. His first realisation was that he was lying down, a bed judging from the yielding surface beneath him. The second was that there were a few presences nearby, strong Force-signatures that could only be Jedi – Qui-Gon, and two others that were familiar but he couldn't place.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" a female voice asked, concerned. "Those injuries –"
"I'll be fine." That was Qui-Gon.
His first deliberate breath was rewarded with a sharp rebuke from his lungs, causing his back to arch slightly, and he tasted a faint trace of blood in his throat; he was aware now of a burning in his head and an almost contradictory chill spreading through his chest and numbing his limbs. He half-turned onto his side, unknowingly wrinkling his nose at the uncomfortable feeling of bacta packs clustered around his ribs and clinging to his stomach.
"Obi-Wan!"
A hand clasped his shoulder, shaking him lightly, and the Padawan opened his eyes to a disarray of blurred shapes and a vague play of colours, watching a face come into partial focus beside him, and responded to his name with a guttural noise. "Nnn?"
The hand on his shoulder moved underneath him, lifting his upper body until Obi-Wan was sitting, and he groaned, resisting the support and trying to lie down again as the pain in his head worsened. He felt something drape around him – his robe – and his arms were thrust unceremoniously into its sleeves. "Padawan, can you hear me?"
Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly, his eyes drooping shut. The hand was back on his shoulder, squeezing insistently. "Obi-Wan, listen to me. Do you think you can walk?" He shook his head, forcing his eyes open when he heard his Master mutter a curse. "All right, Healer Raeshin will carry you, but you have to stay awake, understand?"
Without waiting for a reply, Qui-Gon picked Obi-Wan up and passed him to the waiting Healer, who held him carefully and stared anxiously at the other Jedi.
"How do we get past the bounty hunters?" he asked.
Bounty hunters? Obi-Wan stirred in alarm, shifting in Raeshin's arms. Wasn't the planet supposed to be secure? How had bounty hunters found them?
"Tiperis and I will deflect any fire aimed toward you – just keep running until you get to the ship," Qui-Gon replied. His gaze lowered to look at Obi-Wan, ashen and trembling, and his heart pounded with fear. The boy was nowhere near strong enough for this, his energy sapped by the growing implant inside him, and moving him would undoubtedly disturb or worsen his slowly healing internal injuries. However, the thought of what might happen to his Padawan should the bounty hunters succeed in capturing him worried him more.
Shaking off his concerns, Qui-Gon led the way downstairs, pausing to peer cautiously out of the window. "One of them was in the trees to the west," he said quietly, backing away and heading for the door. "I couldn't make out where the other one was shooting from, and it's likely that there are more than two. They might well have changed positions by now," he warned Tiperis, "so don't focus on the west area completely, or you might be caught off-guard."
Tiperis bristled slightly, then relaxed and nodded, letting her irritation pass. It wasn't worth reminding him that she was an experienced Knight and had already come to most of those conclusions herself. He was obviously used to relaying information in the form of orders, understandable considering he had a Padawan in his charge.
Both Knights drew their lightsabers and ignited them, his a brilliant green, hers a pulsating yellow; Qui-Gon rested his hand lightly on the old-fashioned door handle, taking a moment to manage the pain from his injuries, which he had hurriedly patched up with Raeshin's help. Glancing round, he saw the Healer standing behind Tiperis, looking tense but calm, and in his arms Obi-Wan struggled to stay awake.
"All right, let's go," Qui-Gon said, depressing the handle and standing back, allowing the door to swing open slowly. A second later, a blaster bolt impacted against it, disintegrating the upper half and blowing the lower section inward on its hinges. Qui-Gon bounded outside, motioning the Healer to follow him, and was down the steps and onto the grass before the next bolt came, from the west where one of the first bounty hunters had been. They haven't moved, he thought as he ran, slowing his pace when Raeshin lagged behind slightly, deflecting a volley of astoundingly accurate shots. He had hoped that the twilight would give them an advantage, but their lightsabers made them clear targets.
Extending his senses through the Force, he picked out seven bounty hunters in all – only four were in a position to shoot, the others hurrying round from the back of the house where they had waited in case the Jedi had tried to make an escape that way. Out of those four, one had yet to fire upon them, and Qui-Gon wondered distractedly what he or she was waiting for.
Tiperis, who had just cleared the veranda, was forced to pause as she dealt with a fierce barrage of projectiles and blaster bolts, and it was at that point that the bounty hunter Qui-Gon had been considering chose to fire, letting off a round of projectiles that caught Raeshin, momentarily unprotected, from behind. The Healer cried out and fell to his knees, blinded with pain, and Qui-Gon, distracted by Raeshin's cry, failed to notice an eighth bounty hunter, who had escaped his attention, leap from the roof and land easily beside him, wielding her oversized blaster by the barrel. Taking advantage of the diversion, she clubbed the Jedi Master savagely across the head; he reacted in time to absorb some of the blow with an upraised arm, but the force of the contact knocked him senseless.
"Gotcha," she said with a merciless grin as he dropped, then turned on a sobbing Raeshin. "Give him to me!" she ordered, reversing her grip on the blaster and pointing it at the Healer.
"No!" Raeshin choked, desperately clutching Obi-Wan to him; behind him, Tiperis had repelled the onslaught of weapons fire and was racing toward them, lightsaber flicking about her to ward off the pot-shots the other bounty hunters were taking at her.
Before she could reach Raeshin, the last three bounty hunters arrived and all of them, with the exception of the woman threatening the Healer, converged on the Knight. Hopelessly outnumbered, it didn't take long for them to overpower her, and soon she lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious and bleeding from several wounds.
Raeshin was near collapse, swaying on his knees, but he stubbornly refused the bounty hunter's demands; Obi-Wan, barely aware of what was happening, cringed at the raised voices and dashed a hand across his eyes, trying to focus and clear his vision at once. Tired of the delay, the woman grabbed Obi-Wan's arm and yanked hard.
"I don't want to kill you, Jedi, but I will if you don't release this boy now!" she snarled, tapping the barrel of the blaster heavily against the Healer's head.
"Stop it!" Raeshin protested as she continued to pull at Obi-Wan. "He's injured!"
"All the more reason for you to let go," she retorted, aware of her companions approaching, one of the men holding Tiperis' lightsaber with a triumphant smile on his face. At last, she swung her blaster and struck him across the temple, stunning the Healer, and she tugged Obi-Wan from his limp grasp. "Foolish Jedi," she hissed, kicking Raeshin in the ribs as he sagged sideways onto the grass.
"That went well," the man that had taken the lightsaber remarked, smacking the dormant weapon into the palm of his other hand.
"Shut up," she growled, heaving her blaster at him, and he fumbled to catch it. She bent down and gathered Obi-Wan, who was in too much pain from the sudden movement to object, into her arms, looking at another of her team, a stocky female Lidregan with the pronounced cheekbones and impossibly long, thin fingers that hallmarked her race. "Deril, put the blasted thing on him already."
The Lidregan smiled sardonically and drew a flat metal device from the belt fastened around her hips. "Trust you to get nervous after the fighting, Mek'Lee" she said, ignoring the dark look she received.
"Well, you just remember that we all might be killed if you don't put that on right," Mek'Lee snapped, jerking her head at the device as her colleague thumbed a sensor on it and pressed it against Obi-Wan's neck. There was a tiny sucking noise and the device sealed itself to the Jedi's skin, sprouting tiny hooks and pushing them into his flesh to affirm its formidable hold on him.
Deril stood back, pleased, then reached out and patted Obi-Wan's cheek. "There now," she said, "that wasn't so bad, was it? I stopped that nasty implant growing for a while, so the pain will be gone in a minute."
Obi-Wan stared at her blankly, then lifted his head and looked over Mek'Lee's shoulder, flailing against her when his vision finally cleared and he saw Qui-Gon slumped on the ground behind her, one side his face a mass of fresh blood. "No!" he moaned weakly, fighting to free himself.
"Hey!" Mek'Lee shouted when his hand smacked into her face, and tightened her hold. "Calm down!"
His strength ran out and he fell limp in her arms, his chin on her shoulder and his despairing gaze still fixed on his Master. "If you weren't worth so much I'd say you aren't worth the bother," the bounty hunter grumbled. "And what are you all gawking at?" she shouted angrily at the others. "I want charges set on that shuttle in ten minutes or I'm leaving without you!" She pointed at the Republic craft, a shadowed shape lurking near the trees.
Her companions hurried to obey her order, and she turned to Deril who had remained by her side. "Are you certain this gadget works?" she asked anxiously.
Deril shrugged, drawing a long finger across her cheek thoughtfully. "I don't know. I didn't design it, after all. I assume so, since the Lamari are so desperate to get their technology back. Then again, I suppose it doesn't matter either way to them – they can always hire more bounty hunters if it doesn't work and he," a nod at Obi-Wan, "ends up destroying us with that implant."
Mek'Lee gave her a withering glance, then walked off in the direction of their own ship, hidden some distance away, with Deril in tow. Drained, Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon's inert form, frantically seeking movement of any kind from the older Jedi or a wrinkle in the Force to let him know he was all right, but none came as the bounty hunters took him off through the trees, to face his fate as he had known he would.
Alone.
tbc…