Chapter Two
Obi-Wan stared at Kyran for a moment, disbelieving. "He...left? Without saying anything to me?" He had just been released from his upteenth bacta treatment to find only Kyran waiting for him. Naturally, he had asked about his master, thinking that perhaps Qui-Gon was getting some much needed sleep. Instead, Kyran had avoided his eyes and mumbled something about "going away".
Kyran sighed a little. "Obi-Wan, it wasn't his choice. Please believe that. Qui-Gon was forced into the situation due to the Council's censure of his actions by coming to your rescue. Yoda met him here and insisted that he leave."
Obi-Wan turned his face away to hide his disappointment. That still didn't explain why Qui-Gon didn't leave him some sort of message. Qui-Gon rebelled against the rules enough that he would have done it. Perhaps Obi-Wan wasn't special enough for Qui-Gon to bend the rules for him.
Kyran grimaced, sensing the young man's hurt. He silently cursed the Council for forcing this decision on his friend. He narrowed his gaze as Mace Windu strode into the Healer's Wing. "Has Qui-Gon reported in yet?" he asked, barely controlling his tone with his old friend.
Mace shook his head and glanced over at a suddenly glowering Obi-Wan. He had never seen the young man direct such a hostile glare at him before. Kyran must have told him about Qui-Gon having to leave. "We don't expect him to reach the asteroid belt for another few minutes. If he has not contacted us in thirty minutes, we'll try to get a hold of him."
Kyran's jaw dropped and he now glared openly at Mace. "You're sending him into an asteroid belt? What are you trying to do, get him killed?"
Mace regarded him coolly. "His reflexes will help him navigate. Besides, he's been to this one before, though it was years ago as a padawan." Mace sighed. "It's better than what they wanted to do..."
"So this is how the Council deals with disobedience?" Kyran folded his arms across his chest. He frowned a little. "What did they want to do?"
Mace glanced at Obi-Wan, then shook his bald head. "Trust me, you don't want to know. This is a much simpler test than they wanted. He should pass this one fine."
Obi-Wan scowled and crossed his arms.
"So the Council decides to try to murder those who don't agree with them?" Kyran angrily shot at his friend.
Mace began to feel angry himself. "Look, Josel, Yoda and I did what we could to convince them of Qui-Gon's loyalty to the Order, but with his recent and past actions it was hard for us to do so. They wanted a test: we influenced them to keep it from becoming murder for a lone Jedi. This is a simple test. He goes to the asteroids, he navigates, he contacts who he is supposed to when he's supposed to, and everyone in the Council is happy again. He'll be away from here at the maximum of three days."
Kyran glowered at Mace, shaking his head in disbelief. He sat down on Obi-Wan's bed to keep from punching his friend and doing something he would regret. "I still can't believe you forced him to leave without letting him tell his injured padawan goodbye."
Obi-Wan relaxed his arms, trying hard not to act like he was listening to the two adults argue.
Mace sighed. "Again, to keep his 'test' from being much worse than it was, this was decided as another form of punishment."
"I suppose the Council did not take it into consideration that they were also punishing an innocent by denying him his master's love and comfort," he shot back, "even though he was practically on Death's door a few days ago?"
Mace shot him a look. "Yes, they did. Or rather, Yoda, Ki-Adi Mundi and I did. The others think that Obi-Wan is starting to show attributes of his master so they did not care."
Obi-Wan blushed. He knew that they were referring to his disobedience on his and Qui-Gon's trip to Hoth just a few short weeks ago.
Kyran winced. "Oh." He glanced away, wondering how his friend was faring on his mission alone.
Suddenly Obi-Wan winced and hissed out a breath. He grabbed at his head, moaning.
Kyran frowned, startled. "Obi-Wan? What's the matter?"
"It's Qui-Gon..." he said through clenched teeth. "Something's wrong..."
Kyran's eyes narrowed. "Can you sense exactly what's wrong?"
He shook his head. "No...but he's hurt..."
Kyran winced and glared again at Mace Windu, though he didn't say anything.
Mace frowned. "I'll try to contact him and I'll let you know as soon as possible what I find out." He bowed and headed out of Obi-Wan's recovery room with a worried frown on his dark face.
Images swirled together of the crash. He had arrived in-system to find himself in the middle of an asteroid belt that had seemed somewhat familiar. He had let his Jedi reflexes take over to keep him out of harm's way, but even that could not completely keep him safe. His ship was pelted around by the asteroids and, losing control, he crashed toward a small planetoid in the middle of the belt that he had not realized was there. He had crashed with no power, using the Force to cushion-as much as he could-the ship. He had slammed into the metal of the cockpit and blacked out. Now, his head throbbing with every heart beat and his balance wavering so much that his stomach churned, he woke up.
His vision blurred as his eyes fluttered open and he rapidly closed them again. He felt pain as he tried to move. He put a hand to his head and it came away bloody. Big surprise there, he thought wryly remembering how hard his head had hit the metal. He tried again to open his eyes. His vision swam, but he knew he couldn't stay here on the floor of the ship forever. Groaning at the effort, he pushed himself up from the floor and tried to take stock of his injuries.
His right arm was cut from broken glass of the cockpit with one large piece still lodged in the skin of his arm, his sides were bruised from being battered around, and his head...oh, his head! First thing first--he had to get that glass out of his arm before it caused more problems later. Gritting his teeth, he got as good of a hold on the glass as he could and yank upward, tearing the sharp object out of his flesh, wincing at the coinciding deep pain and sudden gushing of blood.
Qui-Gon immediately felt lightheaded and clumsily fumbled with the clasp of a compartment next to the pilot's seat in which there was a medkit. He took the kit and surveyed the contents, noting with relief there were several rolls of bandages that he could use. He grabbed several and began the slow task of trying to bind up his arm one handed. It went slow and slick because of the blood, but finally he got his arm bandaged enough that he didn't have to worry about hemorrhaging. Next, he grabbed his lightsaber and wedged the smashed cockpit open, trying to ignore how his vision dotted and grayed as his blood flow increased.
He got out of the cockpit trying hard to stand on his feet as his balance wavered when he tried walking. He put a hand to his dizzy head. Force, he was going to give an earful to the Council about sending him to an asteroid belt without warning when he got home. Now he couldn't even contact the Council and he had no idea where in the galaxy he was.
After walking what seemed like miles, he spotted something glittering through the trees that surrounded him and his downed craft. There was a large, gleaming building just a few meters off. Perhaps in there he could find help to get off of this planet and get back to the Temple. Very unsteadily, he walked up to the building, wondering how he was to convince whomever was inside to just let him waltz right in. He didn't even know if the beings on this planet were friendly toward the Republic or the Jedi. As he contemplated what to say through the ache in his head, the door opened. He blinked in surprise. He had never seen that happen before. Most buildings had some security of one type or another, some kind of hoop that you had to jump through to gain entrance, but he wouldn't look a gift mynock in its ugly mouth. Quickly, before the door changed its mind, he strode in.
He found himself in a very long, wide corridor that was dimly lit. Limping slightly on an ankle that he must have twisted on his inglorious landing, he frowned as he continued his way through the corridor. He took in conveyor belts. There were miles upon miles of them in every room stretching back into the gloom of the room. He stared, watching the assembly lines. After a moment his vision blurred. He blinked, trying to clear it. He decided he must have a concussion from the way he couldn't seem to walk straight and see clearly which made it all the more important that he find a control center for this factory in order to call for help.
But...his curiosity was aroused. He had to see exactly what it was that was on those conveyor belts on a planet tucked away in the middle of an asteroid belt. He walked closer to them, trying to figure out what they were assembling.
Droids. Lots and lots of droids. Different models too, it looked like. As he investigated each individual room, he discovered that each room had a different style of droid that it was manufacturing. He must be in some kind of secret droid construction building. If that were so, where was the security?
He frowned, trying to take it all in, make sense of it all. He walked a little further and saw not a human or security droid in sight. He paused three-fourths of the way down the corridor, a bad feeling beginning to form in the pit of his gut.
Suddenly, a loud kind of rumbling began behind him. It clattered and crashed, vibrating the corridor he stood in. His feeling got worse as he turned around. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he stared at the three droids in front of him. They appeared to be golden bronze cylinders on three legs that, when unfolded, were taller than himself. They waited, not doing anything, seeming to be gauging his actions. He found himself facing six blasters that they carried at the end of their two arms. He made no move for his lightsaber, knowing instinctively that any sudden move might get him incinerated.
He shouldn't have bothered about being careful. It didn't matter. The droid nearest him walked up to him on its legs, then slapped some kind of shield around it to protect it. Qui-Gon, unfortunately, was too close when it did this. The clothing and topmost layers of his skin on his legs, chest and arms suddenly burned away, leaving a throbbing aching in its place from the shield's activation. The other two droids snapped shields up as well and the ends of the blasters began to glow.
Qui-Gon knew he had to get away from the three droids or he'd never be able to survive long enough to find help. He winced at the throbbing pain from the burns, then tried to push it to the back of his mind as he prepared to do what he needed to to survive. He reached out to the Force and knocked several things off the conveyor belts, hoping that the three droids would go investigate the noise and leave him time to find a place to hide.
One of the droids swiveled to look, but the other two simply opened fire. At close range.
Qui-Gon swore and in an instant had his lightsaber up, deflecting blaster bolts. He had to get out of range, somehow or he'd never get out of this place alive. His aching mind raced, trying to come up with a solution and he gasped in sudden pain as a bolt got through on his right shin. He staggered, already slightly off-balance from his twisted ankle, and nearly lost his balance completely. As he tried to catch himself on the wall of the corridor, another bolt sneaked in under his defenses, this time hitting him high on the right shoulder. The more hits he received, the more that came through his defenses. The dizziness of his concussion and the pain of his other injuries was distracting him...and in this case it would be fatal if he didn't do something about this closed-in situation. As he thought frantically, his blade a blur of light deflecting too many blaster bolts to count yet another bolt slammed into him, this time on his side, and he fell over onto the hard metal floor.
Qui-Gon lay quietly on the cool metal floor. Maybe if he didn't move or twitch the droids would think he was dead and ignore him. His side, shoulder and shin throbbed with pain from the injuries he had just received and he knew that another shot within the next few minutes might kill him.
The droids, to his credit, did seem to be confused. They stopped shooting and, after a moment, they lowered their shields and rolled away.
Qui-Gon waited several more minutes to make sure they were well away from him before he carefully sat up, trying hard not to make any noise. His body was aching all over from the burns, blaster wounds and the crash. He had to find a place to hide or he'd never survive. He used a crate that was nearby to help support him enough to where he could stand up and only after he was standing again did his eyes sweep down the corridor. He found a storage closet not too far away that would be perfect. He headed towards it, limping, aching, bleeding, and soon fell to his knees. His legs did not want to support his body for very long. Gritting his teeth, he reached out with his hands and slowly began pulling himself toward the closet at a crawl. Every moment that passed, he felt as if more of his life bled away, as if in the oppressive silence he could hear it slipping away from him. It took him centuries to reach the closet, and he feared the return of the droids before he could reach safety. Finally, he slipped inside the closet. It had no door, unfortunately, though it did have several large pieces of equipment that could protect him for the moment while he tried to bandage his injuries.
A beeping sounded on his belt, loud in the small space and startling him. He nearly leaped out of his skin. He'd forgotten about reporting in to the Council: his only thoughts lately had been about survival and help.
"Master Jinn, you have not reported in. Are you well?" came a voice that he recognized as a female Council member's.
His stomach tightened as he heard the clattering of the droids returning. Sith, they must have heard the noise as well. "I'm sorry, I've been a little busy here. No, I'm not well," he said in a hushed voice, trying to be as quiet as possible while still allowing them to hear him.
"Do you request a team to extract you? Are you still in the asteroid belt?" the voice asked. In the background he could hear Mace saying, "Ask if he needs me to come out..."
Qui-Gon knew the droids were coming closer. The unmistakable sound of their legs were headed straight for him, though he could not see them at the moment over the equipment he had placed in front of him. If he didn't get out of here now he'd never be able to make it out. They'd kill him. He stood with some effort and limped heavily on his good leg as he headed out of his hiding place as fast as he could go, hunting for another. For the moment he ignored the Council on the end of the comm.
"Master Jinn..."
Suddenly Obi-Wan's voice could be heard. "Masters, please, not now. I sense....please not now!" The comm went suddenly dead.
The droids were right behind him, approaching fast.
Qui-Gon mentally thanked his apprentice and he tried to put on a burst of speed to find a hiding space, for once grateful for his apprentice's timing and mini-rebellion. He turned a corner and located another closet...but it was at the end of a very long corridor. He tried to pick up his pace with legs that did not want to bend and an aching body that longed for only rest. His vision tunneled and he hurried as much as he dared push himself toward his destination. He was within just a few feet of the closet when a sudden pain in his back flared, shooting straight into his brain. He found himself face first on the corridor floor. He hadn't even heard the blaster go off.
Laying still, he moaned softly at the sharp pain in his back, wondering how he had missed the sound of the blaster going off. He tried to push himself back to his feet, but his overtaxed and wounded body refused to cooperate. He sighed, knowing now that, in the middle of a corridor with no cover he was as good as dead. Silently he waited, prepared to accept death as it came to him on nine legs...
Obi-Wan ignored the angry roar of the Council, dropping to the floor as he felt his master's pain. He was in so much pain...What in the galaxy was the Council thinking? He felt Qui-Gon slipping into the Force, to become one with the Force... No! He wouldn't let it happen! Qui-Gon had kept him here when all he wanted was to give up and die. He would not let his master leave him.
Master! Stay with me!He called desperately into the Force. Fight this!
I can't...I'm done...I can't fight anymore...Qui-Gon was trying hard to hang onto consciousness, but he was rapidly failing. His vision darkened and he felt peace from the Force, whispering to him enticingly, beckoning him home...
You kept me here!Obi-Wan tried a different track. How dare you leave me now! All I wanted was peace, but you dragged me back! I never thought of you as a quitter...He put all the coldness into his mental voice as he could, blocking his feelings of concern for his master. If this gamble didn't work....
Qui-Gon let out a weak moan at the anger and coldness coming from Obi-Wan's mental voice. He knew the boy was right. He couldn't quit, not now, but...how was he to continue fighting? If Obi-Wan could forgive him maybe he would be allowed to finally find his peace in the Force. I know...You have been a good apprentice, my padawan. I'm sorry I had to leave you without saying goodbye.
"NO!" Obi-Wan shouted mentally and out loud, startling the Council as they heard the anguish in his cry. You are not giving up on me! I'll never forgive you! Ever! I'll go find Xanatos...I'm sure he's alive somewhere. I'll become a dark lord of the Sith. You watch me. Don't you give up on me!
Qui-Gon shuddered at the idea. He knew Obi-Wan was capable of what he threatened. And wouldn't Xanatos just love to be the one to turn Obi-Wan to the dark side? Alright, alright, no need to shout. My head is throbbing.
Obi-Wan felt his master re-gather his strength and separate from the Force slightly. He let out a shuddering breath. He hadn't regained too much of his own strength, but his master needed it more than he... Determined, he shunted all of his recently healed strength to his master. There. That should help him heal a blaster bolt or two. Happy now, he sank onto the Council floor, barely noticing Mace Windu as the Jedi rushed from the room.
He stirred on the cold floor of the corridor, knowing that he had to get up. His eyes fluttered open and he found the droids were not far from him but, surprisingly, their attention wasn't focused on him at the moment. He forced himself to stand up, nearly gasping out loud at the pain that shot through every fiber of his being. He clenched his teeth and began trying to tiptoe silently away from the three droids, hoping to the Force that they wouldn't notice him.
It was quickly apparent that creeping away would not solve his problem of reaching the storage closet before the droids noticed him. Taking a chance, Qui-Gon sprinted as fast as he could on his wounded leg in the opposite direction of the droids. Sharp, white hot pain burned through him with every step and it took every ounce of his concentration not to fall to the floor every time he moved aching, burning muscles. He had to make it to a new hiding place before he was noticed. Dimly, through the hot pain in his leg, he wondered if he'd passed the Council's test.