A monster of a chapter, this one! And the end is still nowhere in sight.
Author's note: Unfortunately, there's another reference in this chapter, but it's not essential – this time, it's a tiny one for the dream at the beginning of part 8. It really is a very small reference and doesn't relate to any of the major points, so if you can't be bothered traipsing back to reread the dream that's okay…I'll understand. -
Angst/mush warning! I don't think it's excessive, but I just couldn't help myself! It had to happen sooner or later, right?
Gone From Danger - Part 10/?
Five Jedi waited anxiously in the cargo bay of the Mercy Bound, watching the ovoid shape of the Lamarin ship being guided in through the open doors. Qui-Gon stood at the centre of the gathering, with Ruya beside him; his friend had an arm about his shoulders, calming and supporting him in one gesture. The ship's similarities to Obi-Wan's meditation stone was eerie, as were the scars across the crystalline surface and the darkened sphere of the inner hull.
Noreif, hovering close to his former Master, appraised the craft with a technical eye, examining it for an access point. "The hatch must be in the roof," he advised, looking at Ruya.
The older Jedi nodded and tightened his arm around Qui-Gon's shoulders, feeling the man shift fretfully as the ship came to a rest on the deck of the cargo bay. With its landing struts still retracted, the craft rocked sideways on its curved belly and came to a rest leaning on one short wing. Qui-Gon pulled away from Ruya and motioned to Raeshin to follow him as he approached the ship; the roof was low enough to jump up to with only minimal assistance from the Force, and he knelt to unlock the hatch's seal, peering inside.
"It's flooded!" he shouted down to the other Jedi, reaching into the open hatch and touching the surface of the liquid, a few handbreadths below the seal.
"Then we'll have to cut it open," Ruya responded, dipping his head toward Tiperis.
The Knight drew her lightsaber and approached the ship with the yellow blade ignited, pausing beside the craft and patting at it cautiously with her fingers, then with the tip of her lightsaber. The material of the outer hull hissed quietly and softened yieldingly at the light touch; in a single, deft movement, Tiperis thrust the blade of her lightsaber through the fuselage and penetrated the inner hull, heaving upward and widening the hole she had created. She retreated quickly as fluid began to pour out, her lightsaber spitting at the contact, and she shut it off at once to avoid shorting it out, watching a growing puddle forming on the deck. It looked for all the galaxy like the strange Lamarin craft was bleeding, the liquid spilling down its metal flank a diluted red in colour, and the sight unsettled her enormously.
On top of the ship, Qui-Gon was lowering himself feet first into the hatch, almost doubled over as he tried to see into the cockpit. "Obi-Wan?" he called out cautiously, mindful of Raeshin's warning about his Padawan's possible state of mind.
From his position, he could see the back of a bowed head and slumped body, a headset discarded on the concave deck beside him, and the distinctive ponytail of an apprentice easily identified it as Obi-Wan. There wasn't enough room in the tiny cockpit for Qui-Gon, and he had to contort his large frame slightly to get a better look, craning his neck. "Padawan!" He stretched his arm down, straining to get a hold of the boy, and managed to snag the shoulder of his drenched jumpsuit, trying to drag him closer. When he met resistance, it took him a few moments to realise that Obi-Wan's ankles were bound, but he was quick to release them with the Force. The sheer weight of him was enough to inform Qui-Gon that he was barely conscious, and his movements became more urgent, fairly hauling the young Jedi up through the hatch.
Pink liquid dribbled out of Obi-Wan's mouth, and as Qui-Gon pushed him out of the ship onto the roof the impact seemed to shock his body into reaction, his lungs spasming reflexively to expel the fluid that had remained in his body after the cockpit had been drained. He rolled onto his side, vomiting up the liquid, but the pink colouration rapidly darkened to red as yet another coughing fit settled in.
Alarmed, Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan into his arms and held him tightly, trying to soothe his convulsions through Force-suggestion, but the spasms only worsened, until finally Qui-Gon released his apprentice and pressed his own body over Obi-Wan's, trying to hold the jerking boy down. Raeshin was shouting up at him, but he was unable to hear the Healer's words, focused solely on the horrifying sight of his Padawan shuddering beneath him.
At last, with a thin, drawn-out cry, Obi-Wan stiffened and collapsed, the seizure abating quickly into fitful trembling as he fought to catch his breath. Qui-Gon allowed himself a fleeting moment of relief, lifting his weight from Obi-Wan and searching his dull, pained gaze, trying to assess how much damage had been generated while he placed the palm of one hand on the boy's chest and eased the hitch in his respiration with the Force.
"Obi-Wan?" he urged, gently wiping blood from his Padawan's face with the sleeve of his robe.
The younger Jedi blinked at him, his glazed eyes clearing slightly, and he reached up slowly, touching Qui-Gon's cheek with trembling fingers, exploring further as though trying to convince himself that his Master wasn't an illusion. After several moments of silence, Obi-Wan smiled weakly in recognition and pulled his hand away; impulsively, Qui-Gon caught it in both of his own and held it against his chest.
"Master." The voice was a sighing whisper, the clarity in his gaze fading. "I'm sorry."
"For what, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, sensing Raeshin climbing up beside them and trying to keep his Padawan conscious.
"I…I didn't want you to see this…" Obi-Wan replied, his words slurred, and his eyes wandered aimlessly, half-closed.
Raeshin had joined them, leaning over Obi-Wan and calling the Force to aid his examination. The look on the Healer's face only confirmed what Qui-Gon had suspected, and he pressed Obi-Wan's hand more tightly to his chest as though to alleviate the ache that was massing there. "His internal organs are shutting down."
The breath left Qui-Gon at Raeshin's diagnosis, and for precious moments he fought to quell the emotions threatening to tear him apart. "How long?" he demanded quietly, watching Obi-Wan struggle to remain conscious.
"He's going into shock. We have a few hours, at best." Raeshin's face was sorrowful, but his gaze was contemplative. "However, I believe the neural implant has finally matured. It was its growth that prevented me from repairing the damage when Obi-Wan first collapsed – it was causing harm faster than I could heal it. Now that it has finished developing, his injuries should be treatable. If we had access to medical facilities, or even a bacta tank…"
From the deck of the cargo bay, Noreif spoke up. "The Mercy Bound has only limited facilities, and no bacta tank. There aren't any populated planets in this system, or the neighbouring ones. The Lamari chose their site well – no one around to interfere," he commented with a frown.
"But the Lamari themselves might have facilities in their installation," Ruya said. "I doubt they had originally intended to send Obi-Wan out in this condition, but they must have felt they had no other choice when the Mercy Bound attacked." He plucked his comlink from his belt and gave the pilot instructions to relay a message to Mek'Lee's ship, requesting them to search the installation for a sickbay or some form of bacta tank.
Qui-Gon listened with half an ear, most of his attention still on Obi-Wan, who was slipping inexorably into unconsciousness. Although Qui-Gon had refused to consider the possibility that he might find his Padawan dead, the fact that he was alive astounded the Jedi Master considering the ordeal that he must have been subjected to. He could only guess at how Obi-Wan had managed to cope with the stress, and the pain, without assistance from the Force. It spoke volumes about his apprentice's strength of will, but even that was dwindling now, replaced by the same terrible resignation that Obi-Wan had shown on Banis, when he had told Qui-Gon of his visions. He had given up, and seemed to care little about whether or not he survived.
But I do. I care, he thought, moving and cradling Obi-Wan's head in his lap, touching the boy's face and skimming his fingertips across his bandaged cheek. "Padawan, don't leave me." His plea and his voice were broken, the emotion inside him too great to be suppressed, innocently echoing the entreaty that Obi-Wan had heard in his last premonition. The air of the hangar felt charged with the presence of the Force, drawn to the semi-conscious Jedi, but Qui-Gon knew that this time, the Force could be of no help, not while the neural implant was still in Obi-Wan's body.
All any of them could do was wait. If the bounty hunters failed to find a medical facility on the planet, then there wasn't a hope in the galaxy for Obi-Wan.
Days later, he was still waiting. The bounty hunters had located a bacta tank, thank the Force, and that was where Obi-Wan had remained for nearly a week, healing steadily but showing no signs of regaining consciousness. Qui-Gon had stayed with him for most of that time, but now he couldn't bear to be in that room any longer, leaving the Healer to watch over his Padawan while he roamed the Lamarin complex restlessly. He had tried to keep himself occupied by investigating the rest of the levels, yet he kept returning to the thought that even Raeshin was worried by the slow rate of Obi-Wan's recovery.
With the assistance of the installation's medical equipment, which was on a par to the Temple's, Raeshin had concluded that there was no way to remove the implant. It had bonded itself to Obi-Wan's nervous system at a cellular level where it was all but impossible to operate, and bacta, which was more suited to healing injuries, would have no effect on it. Using the Force to dismantle it molecule by molecule would simply risk setting it off. The affected areas of his brain were also untreatable, and just how much damage the implant had done couldn't be ascertained until Obi-Wan woke up. Raeshin had already warned of memory loss and erratic behaviour, as well as emotional disturbance and possible lack of motor control. If that was the case, Obi-Wan would be facing physical and mental rehabilitation.
And then there was the problem of the Senate's ruling. Unless the implant was removed, Obi-Wan wouldn't be allowed near a populated planet for the rest of his life. The non-aligned worlds, like several in the Outer Rim, might offer some leeway, but any planet that was part of the Republic was certainly off-limits. What worried Qui-Gon most was that his Padawan couldn't return to the Temple…how would that affect him? Valorum had offered some optimism – if it could be proven that Obi-Wan could control the implant and was therefore not a danger to others, then the ruling would be relaxed, possibly even overturned. The Chancellor had needed to cajole many of the more sceptical senators into agreeing to this condition, and Qui-Gon was grateful to the man for his consideration, but the principal difficulty remained. How could Obi-Wan continue to train as a Jedi when accessing the Force caused the implant to activate? Then again, they knew so little about the neural web…perhaps triggering it required more than merely opening oneself to the Force.
Now standing on the walkway above the hangar, Qui-Gon rested his elbows on the railing and stared at the activity below, focused in particular on the crystalline ship. The blast marks on its surface had apparently repaired themselves, and the breach in its hull made by Tiperis' lightsaber had resealed. The craft was a conundrum to the Jedi, one that the Lamari had refused to help solve. He had spoken to Sashri very briefly, a day or so after the Jedi had seized the hidden installation, but she had shown no remorse for her actions; even employing calming techniques, Qui-Gon had been unable to remain in her presence for long. To think that Obi-Wan had grieved for the woman after her supposed death… The head scientist, Kerrov, was also keeping silent on his part in the situation.
As Ruya had speculated earlier, the Lamari here on the planet must have intended to repair at least some of the injuries caused by the implant before putting Obi-Wan into the ship, but Qui-Gon couldn't understand why they had delayed so long. They must have known that there would be Jedi out searching – according to the Council, there had been almost fifty teams of Jedi despatched throughout the galaxy to find Obi-Wan, and those Knights on active missions had been instructed to keep a watch on the events in their region of space. Of course, it had been the bounty hunters responsible for the massive search who had brought it to an end, but the enormity of the effort, and the political concern that had fuelled it, wasn't lost on Qui-Gon. Apparently, the Lamari had underestimated the response to Obi-Wan's abduction, but their indifference to his Padawan's condition shocked the Jedi Master even now. They had had the technology to heal the worst of his injuries, yet they had left him locked up, quite probably in a great deal of pain. Had it been out of spite? Or had they tried to wear him down through physical suffering? Qui-Gon had no real answers, and he had to admit to himself that he didn't really want any. The situation was hard enough to take without adding vindictive motives to it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone strolling down the catwalk toward him and come to a stop a few metres away, leaning against the railing. Another puzzle he couldn't comprehend.
Mek'Lee looked at him. "How's your apprentice?" she asked quietly.
"Alive," Qui-Gon replied, deliberately avoiding her eyes. The bounty hunter stirred uncomfortably at his hostility and followed his gaze down to the mysterious ship.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for attacking you. I actually have a great deal of respect for the Jedi, although it might not seem like it."
"Is that why you helped us?" Qui-Gon's question was bitter, and he looked at her coldly. "Out of respect?"
Mek'Lee fell silent, studying the crystalline ship. "She made fools out of us all, Master Jinn," she said at last.
"Retribution, then."
"No!" the woman snapped, anger colouring her voice, and her claws popped out of their sheaths; she stared at them, perplexed, yet made no effort to hide them. "I felt regret, perhaps for the first time in years. Is that really so hard to believe? As a bounty hunter, I've killed any number of beings with a debt to pay, but no amount of money could relieve my guilt when I handed that boy over to the Lamari. He could have destroyed my ship easily, and myself and my team along with it, but he spared our lives, and it wasn't because he didn't want to die himself. I helped you find him because I had my own debt to pay."
It was Qui-Gon's turn for awkwardness, taken-aback by Mek'Lee's outburst. She came a couple of steps closer, the anger fading from her face. "I didn't come to you seeking an absolution that I know you can't give me," she went on, pausing beside him with a hand resting on the railing, the tips of her claws drumming lightly on the hollow metal. "In fact, I deserve every harsh word that you have inside you – and I don't need your Force powers to sense that you have plenty. But I still have that obligation to your apprentice, and I would like to fulfil it as best I can." She took a breath, her eyes uncertain. "I can find a place for you to hole up, one that's far more effective than that Jedi planet I found you on, where Obi-Wan will be safe from the likes of bounty hunters such as myself. And I'm offering my ship to protect you while you're there."
Qui-Gon's distrust was obvious as he folded his arms; his hands remained exposed, a calculated omission from the customary Jedi display of deference. "And if I decline?"
Mek'Lee looked defeated, and she scratched at the surface of the railing, scoring the metal. "That is your choice, and I will respect it. But please, take a little time to think about it. Just because you have custody of Sashri and her cohort doesn't mean that the Lamari will no longer be a threat. And once word gets out, there will be others who will go to any lengths to obtain the weapon that your boy has become, people with intentions much more sinister than anything the Lamari had planned. The galaxy might seem immense, but believe me, even Jedi will find themselves quickly running out of hiding places…"
She trailed off as the powerful lights in the hangar flickered and dimmed, and Qui-Gon silenced his intended reply to her words, reaching out to the Force in search of an explanation. It was then that he staggered under an invisible blow, and both he and Mek'Lee were shoved back along the walkway by its strength. Beneath them, the four ships occupying the hangar shrieked in protest as they were shunted to one side, scraping along the floor. The lights blew out, plunging the vast room into shadow, nightmarish sounds of rending metal filling the air, and Qui-Gon felt the bounty hunter's nervous touch on his sleeve, heard her breath quicken in fear.
"What was that?" she gasped, her voice disembodied in the total blackness that had shrouded the hangar.
Qui-Gon didn't answer, thrown by the power he had perceived and the repercussions that pulsed through the Force long seconds after the actual push had occurred, knowing full well that there was only one person on this planet capable of such a manifestation, and the darkness that had tainted the Force's energies concerned him greatly. Snatching his sleeve from Mek'Lee fingers, he broke into a run, making his way back to the medical bay three levels below the hangar. The distress he sensed grew exponentially the closer he got to his destination, disturbing emotions pushing at his mind and causing him to recoil from their touch. By the Force, what was going on down there?
Like the hangar, much of the lower floors were in gloom, the artificial lighting destroyed by the immense Force-push, and in the sections of corridor that were still illuminated he noted cracks in the stone floor and warping of the walls, the metal twisted severely out of shape. In some places, slabs of stone had been completely ripped up, littering the passageways, and whole sheets of wall and ceiling plating hung loose, frequently catching at his robe.
By the time he had reached the third floor beneath the hangar, negotiating the debris was becoming a problem. The entire corridor leading to the medical bay had been compressed to half its normal width, and there was a sizeable gap in the floor where it had collapsed. The walls had buckled into the corridor, but there was enough space to allow Qui-Gon to pass through.
As he was preparing himself to cross the hole in the floor, gathering the Force to aid his leap, he detected movement farther down the darkened corridor and paused, watching a shadow detach from the murk and move out into the light. It was Obi-Wan, still dressed in the grey jumpsuit and gloves, bacta solution dripping from clumps of short, soaked hair onto his face and puddling on the stone floor around his bare feet. The young Jedi stopped just short of the hole, his head down, and Qui-Gon noted the headset that had been taken from the Lamarin ship now dangled in one gloved hand. There was no sign of Raeshin.
"Obi-Wan?" he prompted gently, made wary by the warnings in the Force.
The fingers of the Padawan's free hand flexed by his side and his head rose sluggishly; the expression that he wore was one of bewilderment and mild panic, looking at his Master vacantly. He blinked heavily, returning focus and a semblance of intelligence to his gaze, but the glow of muted sentience darkened rapidly with burgeoning malevolence.
"Get out of here," Obi-Wan growled, his hand twitching a second time.
"Obi-Wan, please tell me what's wrong." Qui-Gon remained where he was, worried by the intensity of his apprentice's anger and almost certain that he knew who it was aimed at.
"Just go!" Obi-Wan wailed, tears in his eyes as his hand lifted toward Qui-Gon, and the man quickly backed away at the blatant threat.
"What's happened to you, Padawan?" he asked softly.
"I've lost everything…" Obi-Wan moaned, his panic growing, "…even you…but I can get it all back, I can!" With the hand that clutched the headset, he tapped harshly at the side of his head. "They can take it out! I'll make them take it out!"
And again, it came back to the neural web. It seemed that the Lamarin implant was pivotal to several occurrences in the past few months, not least the events on Dareela that Qui-Gon still hadn't come to fully understand. Seeing Obi-Wan in such a dangerous position now, surely on the breaking point between Light and Dark, perhaps even life and death, emphasised the web's total control, and Qui-Gon's own helplessness.
"Obi-Wan, let me come over," Qui-Gon said, motioning to the hole between them. "I can help –"
"Don't…" The boy held up an emphatic, restraining finger, a whimper of distress contradicting the anger that the Jedi Master could feel rising inside him. There was shame in his manner too, and his shoulders hunched as he ducked his head, breaking from Qui-Gon's gaze. "I-I hurt someone…"
Qui-Gon flinched slightly at the words, staring at his Padawan. "Raeshin," he whispered, a hand lifting partway to his mouth in an instinctive gesture of shock.
"I didn't mean to!" Obi-Wan blurted, his eyes darting up again. "It just…happened." The fear that had enclosed him was fleeing, chased by a dangerous fury, and when he shrugged there was defiance in the movement, his mood changing sharply. "It wasn't my fault!" he shouted, flinging his arm in a broad sweep, the Force rallying to his silent call, and the corridor heaved and shook with the strength of his blow, dust scattering down from the stone ceiling above them.
Qui-Gon couldn't help a startled cry as the slabs beneath his feet shifted, and he staggered to keep his balance. The hole in the floor was collapsing further, widening the gap between himself and Obi-Wan, whose face was a dark mask of rage. "You should have let me die!" he howled, tears crawling down his cheeks. "I can't hold it back anymore!" He stooped over, apparently in pain, but the mounting energy that was gathering around his bent figure and the keening, animalistic whine that emerged from his throat were far more ominous.
"Obi-Wan, calm yourself!" Qui-Gon called, his tone demanding. "Padawan! Cease!"
The harsh command brought the young Jedi's face up once more; his nose and ears were bleeding, and his mouth gaped open with the effort of breathing. "Run, Master," he gasped, lifting the headset and pulling it on, then stumbling toward the hole. "I…I have to leave."
A rumble seemed to pass through the entire installation, but it wasn't enough to distract Qui-Gon. "No, Obi-Wan. We'll find a way to help you, but you must stay here!"
"It's too late." Obi-Wan shook his head violently, coming to a halt near the gap. The knot of Force power around him was swelling, approaching the neural web's discharge level, and there was a darkness revealing itself in Obi-Wan, borne of the lack of emotional control caused by the Lamarin implant in his brain, intensifying almost in sync with the accumulation of the Force. "Don't you understand? If I stay, people will be hurt, or killed."
With a minute extension of his fingers, he vented the massing power into a substantial Force-push, and the lights that had survived his initial blast died, blackness immediately filling the corridor. Qui-Gon was knocked backward, stumbling into the buckled wall, and he strained to find Obi-Wan's presence, but his Force-signature had been obscured so drastically by the neural web that it was unrecognisable to him. The slap of bare feet on stone nearby told him that Obi-Wan had made the leap across the hole, and he swung out toward the sound, catching hold of an arm and pulling the boy against him. Expecting resistance, he was surprised to feel Obi-Wan clutch at him in the gloom, shivering in his embrace and pressing his cheek into the older Jedi's tunic. The uncontrollable ire was gone, as if expelled from his mind in the Force-push.
"Come with me."
His voice was soft, almost inaudible; Qui-Gon doubted that anyone without a Jedi's enhanced senses would have heard the words, but they couldn't have affected him more if they had been shouted. Freeing one arm, he touched Obi-Wan's face and found it upturned against his chest. "Where are you going to go, Padawan?" he asked, stroking his cheek soothingly. He knew there was little time for tenderness, but he sensed that Obi-Wan desperately needed it. If he was truthful with himself, he had to confess that after the repeated separations from his apprentice, he needed it as well.
"Please…" The teenager's hand grasped his and pressed Qui-Gon's palm flat against his forehead. "I might have lost you up here," he murmured, "but I can still feel you here." He moved the hand and positioned it above his heart. "I don't want to be alone anymore."
Qui-Gon paused, his breath catching in his throat. "All right, Padawan," he sighed, smiling faintly at the answering sob of relief. He rubbed Obi-Wan's back gently as he considered the situation. Although he disliked agreeing with the bounty hunter, Mek'Lee was right: it would only be a matter of time until others tracked Obi-Wan down, out of greed for either money or power, or both, and he doubted that he could protect the boy on his own. Perhaps he had no choice but to accept Mek'Lee's offer of aid. "Obi-Wan, I can't do this without help. Do you trust me?"
"Implicitly."
There was an edge in the word that made Qui-Gon frown, and he made a mental note of it. "I'm sure you won't always feel like that, young one," he commented lightly, hoping to lift the hard emotions in Obi-Wan, and was pleased to hear a low chuckle. "For the moment, though, we can't leave. There is nowhere else the implant can be accurately studied." He shushed the boy's immediate protestations. "I have learned of a place where we can hide later, but it means placing our confidence with people we would normally oppose."
"You're reluctant to," Obi-Wan observed, his head shifting against Qui-Gon's chest. "Is it because of who they are, or because they've wronged you?"
Qui-Gon started. "What?" he asked, astonished by the question and by his Padawan's perception.
Obi-Wan released his hand and pulled away from the Jedi Master, who was aware of a tug at his belt, then a familiar snap-hiss as his lightsaber was activated, casting an aura of green light around them. His face was calm and compliant, cast in shadows and severe angles by the glow as he lowered the lightsaber to a non-threatening position, reassuring Qui-Gon that his weapon hadn't been drawn against him. The headset, still in place, gleamed faintly. "You're not usually so quick to condemn people unless their actions have already proven them untrustworthy," he explained with a small, lopsided smile. "My memory may be in pieces, but I do remember that." He wiped at his bleeding nose with the back of his gloved hand in a rather childish gesture. "Who is it?"
"Bounty hunters," Qui-Gon replied tersely, watching Obi-Wan's eyebrows lift in shock. "The same ones who captured you."
For a moment, Qui-Gon thought that his apprentice would succumb to his anger again, and indeed there was the beginnings of that same fearful rage in Obi-Wan's eyes, the first hint of Dark leaching into the Force, but he appeared to dispel it with a shake of the head. "That's why you're so unwilling," he said quietly, looking at the broken stone under his feet. "I can see why." He fell silent for a few seconds, then lifted his head to meet Qui-Gon's anxious gaze. "There's no other way?" he asked bleakly. It was more a question made of hopelessness than genuine curiosity.
"No. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."
"Then we'll have to believe in them, honourable or not," the boy remarked, waving aside his Master's apology. He moved a few steps away and extended the lightsaber sideways, holding it out over the hole close by. "You should help Raeshin," he said, his back to the tall Jedi as he stared down into the yawning shadow. "I didn't mean to hurt him…I was afraid, and the implant just activated itself."
Qui-Gon joined him, removing his robe and wrapping it around Obi-Wan like an oversized blanket, then put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Padawan."
"I didn't want any of this to happen…" Obi-Wan's shoulder hunched beneath Qui-Gon's touch. "Did I deserve this, Master?"
"No!" He turned the boy abruptly and saw the sheen of tears in his eyes, dejection pressing his mouth into a thin line. "Why would you say that?"
"It feels like there's a flaw inside me," Obi-Wan answered desolately. "One that's always been there but scared me too much to acknowledge until it was too late. When I was younger, I found it difficult to restrain my anger…now, it dominates me no matter how hard I try to resist."
"That's not your fault, Padawan," Qui-Gon corrected, squeezing his shoulder. "Yes, you were headstrong – when I met you, I believed that you were stubborn and reckless, perhaps a little too easily riled by others. But there was far more to you than what I saw, what I wanted to see, and you've grown so much since then." He paused to ease Obi-Wan's mesh-like headset off, dropping it to the floor. "Your recent actions were outside of your control. If there is blame to cast here, Padawan, it is not with you."
Obi-Wan remained still, staring up at him with a doubtful expression. "I wish I could believe that…but thank you for your faith in me," he whispered, then rubbed his eyes. "Go," he said with a feeble push to the older Jedi's chest, pointing across the hole with the lightsaber. "I don't know how badly hurt Raeshin is, and I don't want someone else to die because of me this wretched implant."
"We'll go together," Qui-Gon responded with a compassionate smile. "And try to remember that it wasn't your intention to harm Raeshin."
He studied his apprentice's face, gaunt from lack of nourishment and unnaturally pale in the lightsaber's illumination, before motioning for Obi-Wan to make the jump back over the hole toward the medical bay. The boy hesitated, and the sudden huddle in his posture immediately betrayed his fear of using the Force to assist him; obviously, not even he had managed to learn enough about the neural web, through his own painful experiences, to know exactly how it was activated. However, Qui-Gon was beginning to favour the idea that the implant was tied to, if not dependent on, its host's emotional or mental state, and perhaps triggered during periods of distress rather than by active usage of the Force. That conclusion would explain both the massive Force-wave at Banis, and the more minor occurrence on the haven planet – in both cases, Obi-Wan had felt threatened to some degree, and his emotional response would have been unconscious. Qui-Gon also had no doubt that something similar had happened just now. But that supposition didn't hold true for Obi-Wan's actions on the bounty hunters' ship; from what Qui-Gon had heard from Mek'Lee, the teenager had deliberately used the web in an attempt to escape.
"It's all right, Padawan," he said, turning his focus away from the theories surfacing in his thoughts. "Let me help."
Obi-Wan nodded gratefully and hugged his body against Qui-Gon's, allowing the Jedi Master to carry him across the gap in the floor, keeping the ignited blade of the lightsaber well away from the older man's back. As soon as they had landed safely, Obi-Wan released his grip and stepped away, his movements hurried as he led the way into the medical bay, Qui-Gon's robe trailing on the floor around him. If the circumstances had been different, Qui-Gon might have mistaken his sudden agitation for eagerness, but he recognised it now as desperation – his apprentice was anxious to find Raeshin alive.
Compared to what he had seen of the rest of the complex on his way down here, the medical bay itself was relatively unharmed, with several of the lights intact and functioning. The most noticeable casualty of Obi-Wan's first Force-push was the transparisteel bacta tank in the centre of the large room, the base undamaged but the tank itself shattered, quite probably beyond repair, and a great puddle of bacta pooling on the floor surrounding it. As he examined it, he heard a shuffling movement beyond the ruined tank, and a head appeared, the face distorted by the fractured transparisteel still affixed to the base of the tank.
"Healer Raeshin!" Qui-Gon gave a silent sigh of relief as the slender man rose from the floor. There was a hint of maroon in his pale hair, and he clutched his ribs in obvious pain, but he appeared to be otherwise unhurt, the expression on his face one of unwavering concern. "How badly were you injured?"
"No matter about me, Master Jinn," Raeshin answered brusquely, rounding the bacta tank to stand with Qui-Gon. "Where is…?" He halted when he caught sight of Obi-Wan, who had retreated to a corner of the room, the deactivated lightsaber held tightly against his chest as he huddled in the folds of Qui-Gon's robe.
"I-I am sorry for my actions, Healer," Obi-Wan stammered at once, lowering his head. "I won't try to lessen my transgression by giving you excuses…I have none. I allowed my fear to control me, and I failed to keep my im-" He stopped abruptly, and even with his head down Qui-Gon could see the boy's eyes widen in shock, his frail composure slipping. "I failed to keep the implant in check."
How much had that error cost Obi-Wan, considering his blatant revulsion of the device inside him? The young Jedi was visibly shaken, trembling where he stood, and tears had risen in his eyes yet again. My implant. The intended words, however inadvertent they might have been, pained Qui-Gon, and he watched his apprentice sorrowfully while Obi-Wan struggled with his emotions.
"You're forgiven, Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon stared at Raeshin, his hand reaching out to grasp his arm in admonition, but the Healer kept his gaze on the Padawan. By accepting the apology, surely Raeshin realised that he was placing blame on Obi-Wan for a situation that he hadn't been responsible for? Protectiveness surged in Qui-Gon, and he made to verbally correct Raeshin. A firm, warning glance from the Healer silenced him immediately.
After a few seconds, Obi-Wan finally looked up and there was a small smile of gratitude on his face. "Thank you, Healer," he said with a formal bow, then approached the two men and held the lightsaber out to his Master. Qui-Gon, startled by Obi-Wan's unexpected lift in mood, took it without a word.
"Well…I had better see to these ribs," Raeshin remarked, patting his chest delicately, then turned to Qui-Gon. "Obi-Wan is out of the bacta tank sooner than I would have liked, but there's nothing I can do about it now," he said with a wave at the remains of the tank. "Find him somewhere to sleep and let him rest for a while. Hopefully, at least one of these machines will have recorded something useful when the implant activated." He indicated the equipment around them, most of which looked intact.
Qui-Gon nodded and took Obi-Wan's elbow, gently guiding him toward the open door and the dark corridor beyond. "Thank you," he said sincerely, turning at the doorway. There was a flicker of a smile from Raeshin, and the Healer inclined his head in understanding. Focusing his attention on his apprentice, he began to lead him away down the corridor, in the opposite direction of the hole; farther down, he was able to make out the glow of lighting strips and didn't bother to turn on his 'saber to guide their way. However, he stopped after only a few steps, aware that Obi-Wan wasn't following. In the light from the medical bay, the teenager was standing with his hand outstretched, facing back toward the gap in the floor; there was a hesitant swirl of the Force, and an object flew out of the darkness into his waiting grasp.
The Madellin-ki's headset.
"Padawan? What are you doing?"
When Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, there was a fleeting, baleful shadow in his eyes. "I have a feeling I'm going to need this," he answered, hefting the device, and his voice bore a certainty that the Jedi Master now knew better than to contradict.
Unquestionably, something was going to happen…and he doubted it would be of benefit to any of them.
Sealed in one of the cabins in the grounded Lamarin transport, Sashri leaned against the locked door, her head tipped back as she stared up at the metal ceiling. Kerrov watched her fervently from one of the cabin's sleep couches, something approaching reverence in his eyes.
"Do you think they suspect?" he asked earnestly, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his chin in one palm. The beard he had worn to impersonate Qui-Gon Jinn was gone, but the surgical alterations had yet to be reversed.
"They know nothing," Sashri replied softly, lifting her clenched hand and uncurling her fingers to reveal the pulsing meditation stone hidden within. "And they can do nothing."
tbc…