Ok guys!! I"m soooo sorry that you had to wait for ages to get this next part! There is one thing that i can console you with, i have now finished the story so you will be getting an update everynight until the story is completely up. The story itself is 138 pages long and i've only posted 41 pages so you can understand how long this is.
I"m sorry that it took so long but evernts at home overtook me and mum ended going to hospital for a major operation so go easy on the flames for the first chapter please. It hasn't exactly been the best xmas/new-years for me this year......
Anyway, please review and tell me what you think of it!! I hope you like it!!
****As the images unwind
Like the circle that you find
In the windmills of your mind
The Windmills Of Your Mind
****Qui-Gon watched River with something, if not, close to pride. The boy had recovered well from his ordeals and had grown in his 8 weeks with him. As he felt pride he also felt extreme sadness. As he watched River training, the vision started blurring at the edges.
River stopped momentarily and stared at the older man who seemed to be crumbling before him. He dropped his training vibro-blade and stepped up to the man who had saved his life.
"Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon? Are you ok?"
"Y-yes River." The normally stoic man tried to rein in his emotions, without any success.
"No, Qui-Gon. You are not okay, tell me what's wrong."
The older man straightened up, and wiped his eyes. A single tear escaped and traced its way down his cheekbones to drop to the dusty ground, leaving a tiny jewel drop before evaporating into nothing. "It's just………" he faltered.
"Go on." River pressed his teacher while offering physical confidence.
"It's just that when I saw you there training, you looked so much like…….like O-O…." At his Padawan's name Qui-Gon's voice broke.
"Like Obi-Wan?" River supplied the name in question while inwardly flinching at the emotional turmoil that it would cause his teacher.
"Y-yes. You looked like O-Obi-Wan, when I used to watch him train. Y-you look remarkably like him but……..but……."
"But I'm not him." River felt a twinge of jealousy within. (Chill River! The man has a right to be grieving for his P-padawan. After all, the boy was, is, like a son to him. Qui-Gon is not your father. Qui-Gon is your teacher and that's all. He only bought you because you needed help. He felt sympathetic. Now you're helping him. The end. It's that simple River. He helped you, you help him find his son. Move on.)
"No, you're not him." Qui-Gon sighed, suddenly looking old once again, "But for a second there, I let my imagination think that you were him." He sagged and suddenly sat down on a rock beside River. As River looked down onto his greying head he realized that he did care for this old man. (I would actually do anything for this man. Even though I'm not his son, he obviously did care enough for me to take me in.)
He heard Qui-Gon sigh once more and saw his shoulders slump even further. He heard the muttered voice, afresh with new pain, "What if I don't find him?"
"You will---"
Qui-Gon continued as if not even hearing the boy beside him, "It's been almost ½ a year. 6 months. And I haven't found a trace of him. Anywhere. I can't find his force signature, but I know that he can't be dead. I would have felt his death if he had've died. The council will soon recall me and then what? What am I going to do? How can I----" he was interrupted as River fell to his knees in front of him and gripped his shoulders in an iron grip.
"Listen to me Qui-Gon. You will find him. It's that simple. You will find him. That's all you got to think of at the moment. Just finding your apprentice. If you haven't felt him die then he is still alive. He is out there in the universe waiting for you. Do not disappoint him. He is out there, no doubt very scared and very lost. All you have to do is go out and find him. The problem is very simple. He is gone. The answer is also very simple. You will find him. Do you understand me? Qui-Gon, tell me you understand! You cannot give up on him now; do you hear me? He is out there depending on you and all you can do is sit here and blubber about not having found him after 6 months. Did you know that I've been a slave for 6 years? No one found me either, but I didn't let it bother me; one day someone will. And that someone did. Exactly 5 years and 6 months later, you found me. You lecture me about the Force and that everything we do is pre-planned. Then the wait is pre-planned. For what reason, I don't know. Maybe to make you appreciated what you have lost, to realize how much this boy means to you. Forget about what the council are going to do. Answer me this, what is more important to you? The boy or the council? Answer me, old man!" He shook Qui-Gon rather roughly to wake him out of self-pity induced stupor. "Answer me!"
Qui-Gon looked at River through tear-stained eyes, but a different light now punctuated them. Understanding, thoughtfulness and maybe hope, "The boy of course."
"Then you know what to do old man." River emphasized the last two words for humour. "Find him."
Qui-Gon looked once more at River then gave him a quick hug, "Sure thing youth."
****Obi-Wan leaned back and stretched his long fingers above his head. (This isn't so bad. At least it doesn't involve carrying heavy loads the whole day). It was his 5th day on the computers. The work was simple, didn't involve much work but required nimble fingers. (I wonder why they didn't choose the assembly girls then? Probably because they're needed more then ever on the line to make the weapons.) He answered his own question.
They had taught him the basics. Showed him the computer and what to do with it. Punch in this code, and this screen comes up. Punch in another code and the required information comes up. Write down the information. Repeat. (Yep, simple work alright but incredibly boring.)
Obi-Wan sighed and got back to work with a muttered, "Trade in hard labour for boredom. I don't know what's worse."
About 4 hours later saw the young boy still doing the same task. He found that his mind had switched off once again, and everything he did was automatic. His mind wandered off and tried to solve the problem of escape routes, outrunning the juanks, disabling the terminator and beacons and of course, how to smuggle more food out of the kitchen. Out of all 4 problems, his mind and most of all, his stomach were centered on the fourth. He glanced at the chronometer and realized with a shock that he had missed lunch. In fact, the whole group had. (Aren't they going to feed us?) Apparently, several other workers had the same idea because one of them timidly raised his hand and called one of the guards over. The room was deathly still as his question floated across to Obi-Wan's straining ears.
"Do we get a break for lunch?" It was such an innocent question but the guard gave an evil laugh, pulled out his blaster and shot the man through the chest. As the ex-slave's body hit the ground with a 'thud' the guard gave another laugh and said to everyone in general, "No talking. You people don't get lunch. Figured you're not doing any really strenuous work, therefore you don't need the extra food."
Obi-Wan untensed his muscles and remembered to breath. Unfortunately, he had breathed through his nose and the smell of scorched flesh nearly made him throw up. (Ok, you know a simple, 'NO!" would had sufficed. You didn't really need to kill a slave to make your point.) He shook his head softly and returned to the task in front of him.
½ an hour later, the smell had almost completely gone, due to the ventilation system and the issue pushed into the back of his mind. His mind and body had reset themselves to work on auto-pilot. He watched the screen in front of him with glazed eyes as it gave up its secrets in the face of his codes. His fingers were whizzing across the keyboard accompanied by the hypnotic beeps and clicks that the computer was emitting. As he was typing an………….
……………….urgent feeling overtook him as he crouched over the computer console, trying to coax it into giving him its secrets. He could feel the people coming down the corridor and he knew that he didn't have much time until they came into this room and saw him on the computer. And that would be a bad thing, considering that he wasn't meant to be anywhere near it. His finger flew over the surface of the keyboard as his body tensed for the moment of flight soon to follow. He almost wasn't breathing, for fear of drowning out other sounds that he was listening for. There! He could hear it. Footsteps coming down the corridor. Mumbled words spoken. He could even hear the people breathing heavily in the next room. Wait! Wait! His mind screamed as his fingers continued to search for their information. More time, just a minute more. He needed to get this information. He needed to give it to his master. His master Q……..YES!! The computer screen flickered for a minute then typed the message across the screen:
Password accepted.
Almost there, almost! His breathing hitched in his throat as the computer frantically whirred, downloading the whole system onto the datachip that he had inserted. His head turned fractionally as the doorknob started squeaking, slowly turning to the right. No, NO! ONE MINUTE MORE!! JUST A SECOND AT LEAST!! He prayed, he silently begged to anyone or anything that was listening. His prayers were answered as the door stayed shut and the voices rose in volume, giving the impression of an argument being conducted just outside. After what seemed a lifetime, in where he had actually stopped breathing and his heart sounded unnaturally loud the datachip popped out and he quickly shoved it in his pocket and quickly erased the message on the screen:
Data transaction complete.
No time. The doorknob was starting to turn again, this time with resolve. He needed to go. Where? He needed an………………….
………………………idea overtook him. This computer must be connected to the mainframe if they could give all this information. He then blinked and shook his head. (But I didn't even know what a computer was before this). Things were getting rather strange. These memories seemed to be just creeping up on him, releasing themselves when there was a trigger. He started muttering to himself as his fingers continued their journey, "My mind knows what a computer is. Unless I was watching a person h-hack into a system, that must have been me. Jeez, it felt awfully real." He wiped his hand over his brow where he had started sweating profusely as the memory had grown tenser.
"I must know how to use a computer. If I didn't then I wouldn't be able to do this easily." Obi-Wan looked around him to all the other terminals around him where people were struggling with the codes, checking their manuals and generally, just having a hard time getting the computer to do what they wanted it to do.
"It's easy. It's so simple. Why do they find it so hard?" he wondered aloud. Without him even noticing his fingers had taken a course of their own and suddenly his screen flickered and the message in bold, intimidating, red print flashed across his screen.
Mainframe access denied.
Password:
Obi-Wan physically jumped as the computer emitted a rather loud beep but as he quickly looked around no one was paying any attention to him. The room was full of the sounds of beeps and clicks as people tried the computer's patience.
(How the hell did I just get into this situation?) he cursed himself and his lousy memory. He tried to get out of it but everything that he tried ended up with his screen flickering back to the same message:
Please enter password:
And an impatient beep. Obi-Wan sighed. (Fine then. If I can't go backwards, then I guess I'll have to go forwards.) There was no chance of him falling behind as he had already completed the work allocated to him and had started on his next task; which had actually been scheduled some time next week.
For the next hour Obi-Wan struggled to enter the correct password and ended up with the same message for his efforts.
Access denied.
Password:
Obi-Wan ground his teeth together with hardly contained anger and felt like smashing the console in front of him. (Ok, ok. Chill 456. There has got to be a trick in this. How did you get into this? You have no idea. So why don't you just let yourself drift off and let your fingers do the work? They seem to know what to do.) For ½ an hour he tried his best to let his mind drift but it just kept going back to the task at hand. (Dammit! Why can't I relax? Didn't I ever just laze around? What did I do in my previous life??? Seems to be I didn't get much rest!) As the boy kept thinking and fantasizing about his 'previous' life, his fingers unconsciously played their own path across the keyboard. ½ an hour later while wondering what he must have done in order to have such strange memories, the computer screen flickered and the message typed itself in comforting green.
Password Accepted. Opening mainframe.
The boy blinked, (Where did I get such memories to get such………abilities? Maybe I was a spy or a bounty hunter or something like that?)
He quickly looked around once more; to his relief no one was looking at him, and quickly submerged himself in this task in front of him. The screen layout was basic and before he realized what he was doing, his fingers were dancing on their own without any apparent thought from his brain.
(Dang, this is creepy). His eyes glazed over as he tried to enter a type of 'trance'; quite unsuccessfully.
"Fine then." He murmured softly, "What am I actually doing in here?"
(You didn't ask to be in here, your fingers got you in here.)
"Ok, so what should I be doing?"
(Finding a way out)
"Anything else that I can do apart from that?"
(What???)
"I'm in the mainframe, the MAINFRAME! I'm connected to all the information that I could ever need. Hey! This could seriously boost our chances with our escape……….."
(Oh no you don't----)
But before Obi-Wan's conscious could voice it's opinion, the boy's mind was filled with ideas on how being in this present situation could help his position. "Maps, theres got to be schematics on here somewhere, blueprints, ventilation shaft maps and if it comes down to the worst, the plumbing." Obi-Wan's mind was in whirl as he realized everything he could do.
"With the maps, escape would be easy! Ok, 456. Calm down. Let's start at the beginning. How are you going to escape? First, gather up the food and sneak out of the dormitories. That's ok, the guards don't bother to keep watch there. Secondly, using either the ventilation or sewerage or even the morgue system-ways get beyond the walls. Thirdly, somehow outrun the Juanks. But what about the terminator and locator beacons?" he mused while his fingers frantically searched for the maps that he wanted. "There has to be a way to disable them. They can't leave them activated in dead people, that would just take up unwanted space. They need to clean up after themselves, right?" he stopped, startled as in idea flashed into his mind. Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, amazed but said out loud, "Just start from the start. Maps. Get the map, that's what we need."
For the next 15 minutes he threw everything he had into the search. He found everything else that he didn't need and made a mental note of some of the more interesting ones but ploughed on through the information flung at him by his questing fingers.
If anyone was to pass him by, they would have heard muttering akin to this: "Do I look like I'm looking for that?? NO!! Course not. Give me the goddamn maps! How hard can it be to find the schematics of this factory? They're only schematics – big deal. I mean, who in their right mind would look for schematics? Except for wannabe escaping slaves? Right, point taken. But I mean, give us a fair go! They treat us like sh-----" and the person would've walked away, shaking their head and saying something similar to:
"He's gone crazy."
But if anything, Obi-Wan had become clearer about his previous position in life. He seemed to be an expert in computers, able to do anything, find his way through anything. The layout itself, seemed like an old friend. Comfortable, reliable and totally predictable. If he didn't concentrate too hard, finding his way around was easy. Too easy. Warning bells sounded in his head but he ignored them. What could they do to him anyway? As if they could track him in their system.
As 15 minutes passed, he skin began prickling and sweat began trickling down his neck. He was getting closer. He could feel it. His fingers struck the final key and with a silent whoop of joy the computer let go of the precious information that it been withholding.
Map after map followed on the screen, each overlapping the next in a wonderful colour of blue and white. Obi-Wan didn't think that he had seen anything more beautiful in his life. He looked over to the printer; no one was there.
"Good! No, actually, that's great!" he talked enthusiastically as he prepared to print off the whole lot. Everything was in order. He had the floor plans, the plumbing, the sewerage, the electricity, even the measurements of everything within the factory. He also had a tiny bit of the layout of the grounds outside. His hand hovered over the print button for a second, he closed his eyes, breathed out silently, prayed and pressed it.
Printing commencing.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes as another idea quickly overtook him. Swiftly, he cancelled the printing order and opened up his other 'allocated' work. (10 pages long, good). Without any qualms he pressed the print button and the printer gave several clicks and started off. Obi-Wan then frantically went back to his maps and pressed the print button. (Let's hope you've timed this correctly 456.)
He tried to walk normally over to the printer but everything he did seemed awkward, out of place, strange. He made it over to the printer just as it was printing out a page. Obi-Wan picked up a page at random: The amount of parts sold on the 17th of the 6th Daycycle, 1080th complete Cycle. Below list. Obi-Wan sighed with relief. He picked up another paper: Layout for floor 6. The boy had overloaded the printer with commands, so the poor machine had had to print both programs at once. Obi-Wan unconsciously tensed but when no-one screamed, "ROGUE SLAVE!" he began to relax.
It seemed like a lifetime but when the printer finally spat out it's last page the boy gathered them up and sorted them out, placing the legitimate work on top and the non-legitimate work on the bottom. He had just finished and was congratulating himself when a hand spun him around and pinned him to the printer.
(Oh, shit).
"What do you think you're doing?" The guards foul breath washed over the young boy. Obi-Wan tried his best not to wrinkle up his nose or gag. He could smell alcohol on the man's breath as well. (Careful 456.)
"P-printing sir."
"Let's see some of it then." The guard commanded and held out a meaty hand.
"Y-yes sir." Obi-Wan tried to calm down his heart as he carefully handed over the top page.
"Hhhm, this appears to be in order." The guard roughly shoved the paper back at the boy, "Get back to work slave." And gave him a 'friendly' push in the right direction. Obi-Wan stumbled but didn't fall.
"Yes sir" he said meekly and went back to his console, breathing a sigh of relief. (That was too close 456.)
He sat back down and his fingers went off on their own again as he sat in his own world, "So I have the maps. What now? The problem of the terminators and locators. What can I do about them? There has to be a way to disable them."
Obi-Wan gave a gasp of surprise followed by a smug smile of satisfaction. He was in the morgue records. His face fell as he noticed the long list of the deceased slaves. A picture and profile accompanied each entry and across the picture there was the typed message:
Deceased.
As Obi-Wan went through them, he noticed that they all had the various causes of death listed as well and some of the ex-slaves had:
Terminated.
Typed on their picture. For a joke, Obi-Wan brought up his own profile just to see what was on it.
Number: 456
Bought from: Slave master Tr'ojk
Hair: Brown/ginger
Eyes: Aquamarine
Details: No apparent memory.
Special medical conditions: Amnesia
History: Attempted escape once – not fitted with precaution devices. Now fitted.
Work History: Cargo bay/unloading/loading. Transferred to computer for stocktake.
Obi-Wan couldn't help smiling cynically at the Special medical conditions. (As if the overseers would bother buying a retarded slave. And if one did go crazy, they'd just terminate it.) He brought up Billys as well.
Number: 970
Bought from: Slave master Tr'ojk
Hair: Brown/black/blonde
Eyes: Brown/black
Details:
Special medical conditions:
History: Fitted with precaution devices.
Work History: Conveyer belt.
Obi-Wan bit his lip. (Should I? Shouldn't I?) He juggled his thoughts around then suddenly threw caution to the wind. (Do it now 456). He bent his head down in serious, deep concentration and typed furiously.
Entering new data.
After ½ an hour, Obi-Wan was sweating. (Almost there, almost…..)
New data successfully uploaded.
Obi-Wan gave a silent cry of success and pulled up Billy's profile once again. This time he pulled it up in the morgue records. There it was, straight after the person who had been shot in front of Obi-Wan.
Number: 970
It was all there in front of him. Except for one difference. One very significant difference. On the picture of Billy was typed:
Deceased.
(YES!! YES!!! I DID IT!!! I DID IT and I still don't know how!)
His screen glimmered and automatically a message flashed up:
Disable terminator?
Obi-Wan sucked in his breath and typed in, Yes
It was instantly followed by another request for command.
Disable discomfort enhancer?
Obi-Wan gave another sardonic smile at the 'nice' name for the little torture device. (Discomfort? I think I'd class it bit harsher then that.) Yes.
Disable transmitter?
Obi-Wan needed no prompting. Yes.
970 deceased. All systems disabled with subject 970. Confirm? Confirmed.
The screen gave another flicker (It's equivalent of a nod I guess) and then lay still.
Obi-Wan allowed himself another smug grin. (I did it. Well done to me). Then said, "Right, my turn next."
He went through the same process and declared himself dead. Once again the message flashed across the screen.
Disable terminator? Yes.
Disable discomfort enhancer? Y
Suddenly, the screen froze for a second and then a message typed itself across it.
Security breach detected. Systems shutdown in 1 minute.
(Oh, fuck.) Obi-Wan wasted 5 precious seconds by staring at the screen. Then his reflexes kicked in and his fingers flew over the keyboard. (Erase my tracks, have to erase my tracks. Quickly, quickly!)
System shutdown in 40 seconds.
Obi-Wan was so pre-occupied that he didn't even remember to finish off updating his profile. (How did they know I was in here? How can they possibly know? So, I hacked in----)
System shutdown in 20 seconds.
(Oh shit. Oh shit. OH SHIT! How did I get into this situation? Everything was going fine.) Obi-Wan's mind was panicking but his fingers knew what they were doing. They went through his history and erased everything that linked him to this computer. Everything was obliterated.
System shutdown in 10 seconds.
He laid down a false trail, showing that some poor offworld company had tried to search through classified files and had failed pathetically.
System shutdown in 5 seconds.
(No! I need more time. Idiot, idiot! Stupid 456! What were you doing in there the whole time???). He quickly rushed through the rest of the red herring, doing a poor job of it but it was all he could do with the time…..
System shutdown in 1 second.
(Please don't trace it to me, please don't trace it to me, please don't trace it to me--)
System shutdown.
****So what do you guys think? Do you like it? Do you hate it? I think that this is going to be a looonnnnggg story. It turned out to be 57,274 words, but on the bright side i promise to update nightly! Sorry.
Also, tell me if you want long chapters but less of them (obviously cause i'll get to the end quicker) or if you want short chapters and more of them (uhm...ditto)