Chapter Three

Mace jumped into a two man ship with a good med bunk and quickly had it up and into space. He keyed in the asteroid's location and let the ship jump to hyperspace. It would take him eight hours to arrive, let alone the time he would need in order to find Qui-Gon. When Obi-Wan had come running into the Council chambers, interrupting yet another heated discussion over Qui-Gon, he had thought some of the Jedi were going to have strokes from shock. Mace couldn't help but chuckle a little at the memory of their faces when Obi-Wan had then, babbling, snatched the comlink from Ki-Adi Mundi and turned it off. The boy had then sat on it and refused to get off of it. Before anyone could grab him or the comlink, he had doubled over, shouting things about Qui-Gon. Mace had wanted to go after Qui-Gon before now, but that had decided him. He didn't have the full Council's backing on this, but he could not leave his childhood friend alone to face whatever it was that he was facing. His friend had taught him that sometimes you had to bend the rules in order to do that which was right. The infallible Council had messed up, plain and simple. He only hoped his friend didn't die for their mistake. Silently, he urged the ship to go faster as he sank into a deep hibernation trance and tried to find Qui-Gon to shunt him more strength, to make him hold on...

Qui-Gon panted as he ran, dizzy from blood loss. He was still bleeding profusely from his wounds and controlling the sharp pain so that it did not interfere in his attempt at escape from the droids was taking an enormous amount of effort. The pain of the blaster wounds on his side and back felt like a dagger stabbing him with every move that he made. He let out a sharp cry of pain as he suddenly slipped and fell hard to the ground. Dimly, he wondered what he had tripped over. Looking down he could see nothing but his own blood leaving a pattern behind him, a marked trail for the droids to follow. He must have slipped in the pool of his own blood. He nearly retched at the thought and put a hand to his dizzy head, seeking an end to this nightmare.

The droids turned to follow the bright red path that clearly marked where the injured intruder was but a new order came to them as they were reorienting. They were to corner, not kill, the intruder. The Overseer knew that with those wounds the intruder would die. The droids did not care about the loss of life, they simply followed orders, rolling along the trail that the man left behind, their guns slack in mechanical hands, no longer prepared to shoot.

Qui-Gon winced as he tried to stand, but a sharp stab of pain in his left knee let him know that he must have pulled a muscle in his fall. He sighed. He knew at this rate he would never make it back to the Temple. The droids rolled around the corner heading for him and he froze, his blood running cold as they surrounded him, blasters raised, yet not firing at him. With a sinking heart he knew that he had nowhere else to go. He was trapped.

The Overseer again stressed to the droidekas to corner and surround the intruder but not fire: the Overseer wanted to know where the body was for quick disposal of later.

Qui-Gon coughed and slightly winced at the pain in his throat as he lay on the cool floor, the droids hovering around him. His whole body screamed at him for rest. With a sigh, he let himself slip into the bliss of unfeeling unconsciousness, preparing himself for the second time in less than a day to die.

Eight hours had passed and gone. Mace was flying around the asteroid belt, banging his fist on the ship's comm unit in frustration. He had seen no sign whatsoever of his friend's ship. He swerved around a particularly large asteroid...and then he saw the planetoid tucked neatly in the center of the maelstrom. He blinked. That hadn't been here a few years ago-where had it come from?

He shook his head to clear it. For now, he wouldn't waste time worrying about the particulars of how a strange planetoid had landed in the middle of an asteroid belt...Qui-Gon was down there and he was dying.

Mace landed quickly near where his sensors showed the remains of a ship. He didn't even bother to look at it, sensing his friend inside the large building nearby. The door opened at his approach, but he spared no thought for that as well. He swung his lightsaber into his hand for possible protection, not knowing what he would find. Quickly, silently, he walked down one corridor, then heard the clattering of something mechanical moving to his right. He walked quickly past a storage closet and then into another corridor. He skidded to a halt halfway down it. Blood was on the floor. Lots of it. His stomach churned. He knew whose it was. Carefully, he followed the trail around a corner and peeked around it, not knowing what exactly to expect.

Qui-Gon, badly wounded and bleeding, was crawling determinedly toward a storage closet, three droidekas covering his movements.

"Qui-Gon!" he yelled, hopingâ€"and succeedingâ€"on drawing the droidekas from his friend. Gleefully he noted that they did not have their shields up as they started to fire at him. Swiftly, knowing that the droidekas would soon snap on their shields, he reflected each bolt back toward its firer and soon each droid was a smoking heap of metal. Mace powered down his saber and rushed to his gravelly injured friend. "Oh, Qui-Gon..."

Qui-Gon stared at his friend, almost certain he was a hallucination from his blood loss and concussion. "Took you long enough," he managed to choke out, just in case he wasn't imagining things.

Mace glanced up and down the corridor, but did not hear any other droidekas coming. "Sorry, I was entangled with the Council," the dark-skinned man said with a grimace. "C'mon, I need to get you out of here. Can you stand?"

Qui-Gon grabbed tightly onto his friend's arm in an attempt to stand, and tried his hardest not to show the pain that was stabbing through his left knee, right shoulder, head, and chest. Though, oddly, his right shin and his back did not hurt as much as they ought to. Whenever he concentrated on those blaster bolts, they seemed to be somehow partly healed. He couldn't explain it in his befuddled mindâ€"the only thing he could think of was the Council that his friend was a part of.

"The Council," he murmured. "You should leave me, this is my test. I failed."

Mace shook his head as he helped to lift his friend to a standing position. "Oh no, my friend. If anything, you have surpassed it. Don't worry about their test anymore. Let's get you back to the Temple."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, his expression tight with trying to control the pain of standing. The pain throbbed through him in perfect timing with his heartbeat. "I'm coming...how's Obi-Wan?"

Mace chuckled, though he really didn't feel like laughing. "In more trouble with the Council then you could ever get into." He slowly assisted Qui-Gon as they walked out of the building and into his ship. Mace was on the alert for more droidekas, but none showed. Neither did any human overseers. It was another strange thing to add to this very odd planetoid that he would put in his report later. For the moment, he directed Qui-Gon to the medical bunk. "Lay down here."

Qui-Gon didn't protest as he lay down. He was grateful to finally be able to rest. He was aching all over and the distance to the ship, though not great, had been difficult. He'd had to lean heavily on Mace for support and even then he nearly slipped and fell twice, dizzy from blood loss and his concussion. "I feel so dizzy."

"I know, here, put this over your face. It'll give you extra oxygen. Try not to sleep," Mace urged his friend. "You have a concussion and I'm not sure how bad it is. Once we're in hyperspace I can do a little healing. Hang on, my friend." Then he was gone to the cockpit.

Qui-Gon took the oxygen mask and with difficulty put it on, wincing as pain throbbed with his every movement. His eyes drifted shut and he wanted very much to sleep now that he was safe and not running for his life.

Mace kicked the ship into hyperspace as fast as its engines would go. He sent off a brief note to the Council explaining that he had found Qui-Gon, seriously injured, and they were on their way back. Then he walked to the med bunk. "Qui-Gon!" he barked. "Open your eyes right now!"

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open obediently, afraid that he had done something wrong that would warrant more censure. "I'm sorry, Mace," he said, sounding truly apologetic.

Mace sighed and settled onto the floor of the ship. "Concentrate in the Force with me. Let's see what we can do to reduce some of these injuries."

Qui-Gon tried to ignore the stabbing pains of his wounds as he attempted to reach out to the Force, wincing as he shifted position. "I'm sorry I was late with reporting to the Council," he murmured, hoping his friend would recognize his apology also for not calling on time with his last mission. He would try very hard never to be late again.

Mace boiled inside but kept his countenance calm. "It'll be okay, Qui," he murmured. He used Qui-Gon's nickname that he himself hadn't used in years, not since he had been appointed to the Jedi Council. "Focus...focus..."

Qui-Gon tried to focus, but it kept slipping. The trouble was due mainly to his concussion. Eventually, however, exercising patience he did not particularly feel, he did manage to reach the Force and draw it weakly around him.

Mace reinforced his friend's efforts and searched for Qui-Gon's wounds in the Force. He tried not to notice how weak his friend's Force signature was, or to sense the echoes of the pain leaking from him as he worked tirelessly at having Qui-Gon's body produce double the white blood cells so that platelets could be formed to seal up the blaster holes to stop the bleeding. That was the main problemâ€"the bleeding.

Qui-Gon sighed a little, feeling some of the pain of his wounds eased as Mace reinforced his weak efforts at healing. He just wanted to sleep...

After Mace was sure that his friend would not immediately die on him did he slowly ease his friend into the sleep he so desired. Rest well, Qui-Gon, he thought at him as he stood. He had to prepare a more detailed report to the Council-and they would not like some of the comments he would say.

Qui-Gon slept deeply, grateful to no longer be swimming in a sea of pain and blood. In his sleep his dreams were untroubled and the pain of his injuries were unnoticed. Some part of him vaguely wished Mace would let him sleep forever, but he knew that he'd eventually get woken up. For now, though, he settled in slumber, completely unaware of the outside world and the starlines flashing past in the soothing travel of hyperspace.

Mace paced. It had been two hours. He dared not let his friend sleep any longer with his concussion. Sighing, he leaned over Qui-Gon and shook him gently. "Wake, my friend," he urged.

"I'm still sleepy," Qui-Gon mumbled, trying to ignore Mace's prodding.

"Wake, Qui-Gon. That is an order from a Council member," Mace said sternly. If anything at this moment in time with the most recent circumstances, that ploy would do the trick better than any other.

Sure enough. Qui-Gon groaned and forced his eyes open. "Why did you have to do that? I'm so tired."

"I need to make sure that you are alright, Qui," Mace explained. He helped him sit up and then handed him a plate of ship's rations. "Plus, I thought that you might be hungry."

Qui-Gon winced at the pain as he sat up; promptly, his vision swam. He looked eagerly at the plate of food Mace had brought and his mouth watered. It had been some time since he had last eaten. He swallowed the dry food eagerly, the pain in his throat fading to the back of his mind when compared with all the other injuries he had acquired recently. "Starving," he replied.

Mace watched him, then broke out into a mischievous grin.

"What's that look for?" Qui-Gon asked, noticing the grin.

"I was just remembering what happened when you had just been made a padawan. Remember? It involved a lot of dewback ribs..."

Ten-year-old Qui-Gon sat down next to his friend Mace Windu in the dining hall, an enormous tray of dewback ribs with extra sauce steaming on his plate. "Hi," he grinned to his friend, who had also recently been made a padawan.

Mace scowled over at him. "I don't know why you're smiling, Jinn. And stand up. You know we can't eat yet. We have to deliver this plate to the Jedi Masters sitting in the corner and it's all your fault," Mace huffed as he hauled Qui-Gon to his feet.

"Now, now, Mace, don't get so upset." Qui-Gon tried to soothe his friend. "We could just use the Force to levitate it to them instead. They'll be pleased that we're at least attempting some Force control exercises in our spare time," Qui-Gon said through a charming grin. "We won't have to leave our seats and they'll still get their food. Everybody's happy. Would you please stop glowering at me like that?"

Mace mumbled something like "nothing ever works the way you want it to" but finally stopped glowering. "Fine. Let's do it quickly. I'm hungry and because of your idea to race down the halls we have to wait to eat until this is done. Ready?"

Qui-Gon nodded and reached out to the Force, levitating the plate of ribs over to where Master W'go on the Jedi Council was sitting. Qui-Gon tried not to laugh at the sight of a plate of food floating through the air, but he couldn't help himself. He snickered.

That laugh distracted Mace. The plate he was levitating near Master Yoda dipped alarmingly, furthering his loss of concentration. With a loud crash, the ribs pelted Master Yoda and several other masters sitting near him. Mace quickly ducked underneath the table, out of sight.

Qui-Gon let out a gasp of surprise as he saw Mace's food plate drop. He lost his concentration as well and ended up dropping his, splattering the Twi'lek Jedi Master and Master Yaddle. His face turned beet red and he glared at Mace under the table, standing to take the blame alone.

All twelve of the Jedi Masters turned as one to stare at Qui-Gon. Silence reigned in the cafeteria as the initiates and other padawans paused in their eating to watch what would happen.

Qui-Gon was rooted to the spot, unable to do more than stare back as the members of the Council turned their eyes on him. He let out a small whimper, wondering how large his punishment would be. He felt his own Master's eyes on him right before a heavy hand fell hard on his shoulder, gripping him firmly. In a terrified voice he stammered out, "M...my apologies, Masters."

To his surprise, not all of the masters looked angry or upset. Masters Yoda, W'go and Yaddle seemed more amused than anything else.

"And what," said Master W'Go in a controlled, smooth voice, "were you attempting to do, since I am positive it was not to bathe us in dewback ribs?"

Qui-Gon blushed furiously and stammered, "J...just what we had been told: deliver the food to you. Perhaps not done in the um...usual manner, but I lost my concentration..."

"'We'?" Master Yoda picked up on the boy's verb usage.

Qui-Gon frowned a little, not wanting to get the cowering Mace into trouble. "Me. I did it." He glanced at the floor.

Yoda's eyes twinkled but before he could say anything, an elder master stood. "Young man, I do hope you realize that this sauce is nearly impossible to get its stains out," she said in a reproaching tone. Her robes were smeared with the sauce from the ribsâ€"as were the rest of the Masters' robes.

Qui-Gon winced at that. "My apologies. I accept responsibility for the clothes and will take any punishment you give me," he said in a small voice.

"Punishment with your master it lies," Yoda said, the twinkle still lingering in his eyes. "Clothes a Jedi does not concern themselves with." The small master glanced at the glowering female who was still standing. "Entertaining this was. Ready ourselves for a meeting we should." He stood and slowly walked out of the cafeteria, the other masters slowly following, though Master W'Go lingered.

"Don't make it too harsh, Dooku," he said, showing his pointed teeth as he looked down at Qui-Gon. "After all, he's only a boy."

"Thanks to you, I had to work in the evenings with laundry, and in the morning I had to wash dishes in the cafeteria." Qui-Gon arched a brow at Mace in the small ship. "Some friend," he added, though not with malice. "I got punished, but you ducked out."

Mace chuckled, his bald head shining in the light. "Yes, but you and Kyran got even with me..."

Eleven year old Mace Windu whistled as he sauntered down the Jedi Temple's corridors, his lengthening padawan braid and full head of hair neatly combed and on display. He was proud of being a padawan, but was proud of his friends as well for also becoming padawans, though Kyran Josel had been one for a while now. They would all grow to be great Jedi Knights for the Order one day and would sit beside each other on the Jedi Council. He could just see it in his mind.

Qui-Gon glowered as he watched Mace Windu walking up the corridors. He was still upset that he'd been punished for spilling food on the members of the Council two months ago and his friend had wormed his way out of punishment. Jedi were not supposed to seek revenge, Qui-Gon knew, but he also knew that Jedi didn't leave their friends to face punishment alone either.

Mace, oblivious to emotions as usual, waved a greeting to his friend. "Hey, Qui! Are we still planning on going to the Room of a Thousand Fountains for some swimming today?" He glanced around. "Is Kyran coming?"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I guess so. I still have homework to do so I can't go swimming all day."

Mace laughed. "Yes, well, neither can I. My master wants me to practice some difficult katas later. I guess we'll go ahead and go. Kyran knows where to find us, correct?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "I think so, besides he could use our link to find me in case he didn't know." Of course Kyran knew exactly where they would be. Qui-Gon allowed himself a grin. They had been planning on how to get Mace back ever since Qui-Gon's punishment began two months ago. Kyran had borrowed a pair of scissors from his Master for the purpose.

Mace and Qui-Gon quickly made their way to the nicest room in the Temple. At this hour, not many, if any, initiates or other padawans would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains since most of them had to spar with their masters or do their meditations. Once they had arrived, Mace caught sight of a blonde-headed boy disappearing around the next bend. "Looks like Kyran got here ahead of us," he said, elbowing Qui-Gon to look as they hurried to catch up to the older boy.

"Guess so. Let's go say hello," Qui-Gon said, trying hard to keep his face straight. If all went well within a few minutes time, Mace would soon have no hair left other than his padawan braid.

Mace, not knowing Qui-Gon's thoughts, nodded and smiled. It was pleasantly warm in the Room of a Thousand Fountains...perfect swimming conditions. Kyran must be trying to make sure their prime swimming hole was available because though Mace and Qui-Gon began to run, they didn't catch up to the older padawan until they had arrived at their swimming hole.

"There you are..." Mace started to say, then stopped as he spotted a pair of scissors in Kyran's hand and a grin on his face. "What are you doing with those?"

"Oh, nothing much, just straightening things out," Qui-Gon replied as he grabbed Mace to make sure he couldn't escape.

Mace squirmed against Qui-Gon's hold as Kyran slowly advanced on him. "What do you mean...What are you talking about?"

"It's generally considered rude to worm your way out of punishment, Mace, so consider yourself lucky that this is all we're doing," Kyran responded as Qui-Gon held onto his friend, refusing to let him get away.

Mace felt fear forcing its way into his heart as Kyran leaned over him and he heard the snip-snipping of the scissors. "You two are going to be in such big trouble..." he whimpered as locks of his black hair began to fall around his face.

"Sorry, Mace, if you tell on us, then I can let them know just who levitated the first plate of food that dropped," Qui-Gon remarked.

Mace immediately shut up and stilled, though he closed his eyes. After a long silence filled only with the continuous snipping of the scissors, he felt Qui-Gon release him. Fearfully, he opened his eyes to see the mirth on Kyran and Qui-Gon's faces. "Oh, no..."

Qui-Gon covered a laugh as he released his friend's arms when Kyran had finished. He held up a small mirror. "Here's the new you, Windu."

Mace stared in horror at his bald, shiny head. Almost disbelievingly, he put a hand to his head, expecting it to come into contact with his hair...but there was nothing but black, shiny skin. The only hair left was his padawan braid hanging in front of his right ear. "You little Siths..." he breathed. What was he going to tell his master?

Qui-Gon grinned, pleased with himself. "Perhaps next time you'll be a bit more willing to stick up for your friends, instead of letting them take the fall, eh?"

Tears in his eyes, Mace ran from his friends. He shot back to his quarters, frantically trying to think of a way to reverse what they had just done to him. Unfortunately, he met his master lounging on their repulsor couch.

"Padawan?" Master Rhy'ul frowned, staring at his padawan. "I love your new hairstyle. What gave you the idea to cut it?"

Mace's mind raced. "Um, well, Qui-Gon, Kyran and I...er...decided that a new...look...was best. Do you...um...like it?"

His Master arched a brow, sensing that there was more to his padawan's statement but decided not to press the issue. "It does look nice and it will be much easier to maintain."

Mace went to the refresher and took another look at his bald head. It was different, that much was sure. And...the more he looked at it, the more he was growing fond of it. His hair had been so thick that it was hard for him to spar without feeling as if his scalp were sweating to death. Perhaps he'd grow to like this after all.

"So we really did you a favor, which kind of messed up the whole revenge motive," Qui-Gon said, scowling a little. He shifted position and winced at the sharp pain.

Mace chuckled. "Yes, but it really helps to keep the initiates in line. One look at my bald head and they go running. It's rather amusing."

Qui-Gon snorted with laughter, then gasped at the sharp pain in his side as he did so. "How far are we from the Temple?" he gasped out.

Mace gave him a comforting look. "Another five hours, if these engines don't give out. With your luck they would, though with my good luck to balance it we may be okay." He smiled.

Qui-Gon winced at the idea of the engines going out. "Five hours?" He sighed a little. "And I'm supposed to stay awake that entire time right?" He shook his head, then immediately wished he hadn't as his vision swam and the room spun.

"No," Mace said easily. "But I do have to keep coming in here and waking you up. We can call it the ultimate payback."

Qui-Gon grimaced and tried to shift position to lay back down, but found he couldn't do it without help. "Mace," he managed to get out. "I can at least lay down, can't I?'

Mace chuckled and helped him settle into a more comfortable position. "That better?"

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "Thanks." He sighed a little. "This is going to set me back some. I'm afraid I won't be able to go on any missions for awhile. Han'yaie will drug me and tie me down to make sure the Council can't send me anywhere."

Mace hid his pained expression at his friend's words. He was part of the Council and therefore part of the reason Qui-Gon had gotten so badly hurt. "Well," he said, keeping his tone neutral, "I'm sure the Council won't be making demands on you anytime soon."

Qui-Gon frowned a little and his voice took on a hard edge, "Let me deal with Obi-Wan and his behavior to the Council. I don't want to see him censured in the same way."

Mace frowned at his friend. He didn't see what possible connection Qui-Gon could have logically made with that topic shift, but he placed it on his concussion. "I'm sure nothing has been done to the boy...young man," he corrected himself. Obi-Wan was growing up and starting to show his own individuality. "When I left, the Council seemed more concerned over him than reproachful." I hope, he added.

Qui-Gon frowned a little. "From the way the comm sounded before Obi-Wan cut off it sounded like they would be quite unhappy. As his Master, it is my responsibility to deal with him, not the Council's."

"I'll let them know," Mace soothed. "Now, get some rest. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

Qui-Gon nodded and his eyes drifted shut, slipping easily into sleep.