Disclaimer: I own not Star Wars; George Lucas owneth it.
Title: Sithkiller
Time: Near the end of TPM
Shmi quietly wandered the abandoned corridors, the blaster rifle she'd been left with in hand. She had been told to stay in the hangar by the Jedi with her son and the two droids, but when the fighter Anakin and Artoo had taken shelter in took off on autopilot and C-3PO shut off in fright... well, she might as well find someplace a bit more hidden to stay.
Something worried her about the man, if he was a man, that the Jedi had run off fighting. He was too skilled. The Jedi were too evenly matched. Even Shmi's unexperienced eyes could see that.
Too many things had gone wrong. She had seen the tiredness in the Jedis' eyes that morning. They hadn't seemed to have expected any sort of opposition like that, just the Trade Federation's droids.
No one was ready for a man with a lightsaber.
The Jedi clearly hadn't been ready for anything at all beyond droids and normal people.
Shmi knew one thing for sure, Qui-Gon had been in no condition to fight anything that morning.
She heard the sound of sabers clashing nearby.
Shmi started running as well as she could, keeping to the shadows.
She didn't know what she could do.
But she had to do something.
Qui-Gon had never faced a challenge like this before.
He knelt, taking advantage of the moment's respite...
...for beyond the red laser barrier paced what must certainly be a Sith.
He had to fight. With a Sith, or something certainly as bad as a Sith, on the loose... And Obi-Wan could not hope to beat such a fighter alone.
Even if all the others won, the counter-invasion would fail.
And all the others would die.
The Queen.
Anakin.
Shmi.
He could not hope to win. Even if the Force was on his side today, he could only hope to wear his enemy down. Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to make it through all the barriers in one run. If he could wear the fighter down, Obi-Wan might have a chance.
He opened his eyes, looking at the Sith with unwavering gaze.
He knew he was likely looking at his death.
I'm sorry, Shmi. I just hope you and your son are safe where we left you.
He jumped to his feet and lit his saber.
The barrier cycled open.
Obi-Wan ran forward, following his master.
He slid to a halt just as the final barrier slid into place in front of him...
...and could only watch helplessly as Qui-Gon fought, outmatched by circumstance and his apprentice's unwilling absence from the battlefield.
Even handicapped, Obi-Wan had never seen Qui-Gon fight with such form and power.
Festivals and tournaments could never compare to the real life-and-death struggles of the battlefield.
The best fight of Qui-Gon Jinn's life was for it.
His enemy's double blade moved a certain way and Obi-Wan found himself gasping for air, seeing full well what was about to happen.
Qui-Gon's face began to shift into an expression of shock as the recovery from the last blow moved his opponent's blade farther back and around.
And from the other side of the room, in a tiny access hallway none of the fighters had cared to notice, came a scream, as if someone's soul was being ripped in two.
Shmi really hadn't meant to scream. But even she could see what was going to happen.
She lifted the rifle, trying to look dangerous.
The strange robed enemy shifted his grip, running the tip of the saber across Qui-Gon's abdomen.
QUI-GON!
The Jedi dropped to his knees and tipped over, landing on his side and falling onto his back, limp.
Shmi heard Obi-Wan scream.
The stranger turned, striding towards the Tatooine woman, sneering.
She stood firm.
The laser barrier began to cycle when he was halfway there.
Obi-Wan ran forward the moment the way was clear, saber out and ready.
Black robes swirled, their owner turning to face the greater threat of the Jedi.
Shmi squeezed the trigger.
The next thing she was consciously aware of was the young Jedi padawan helping her up, quickly but carefully escorting her towards Qui-Gon.
And away from the crumpled body of the attacker.
Shmi looked down at her hands. I... I did that?
Then, all her thoughts were for Qui-Gon.
She knelt at his side, forcing herself to look at the long, blackened slice through him. "No bloodspurting. He's got a chance." He seemed to notice she was there and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Obi-Wan, get his legs elevated. There's no way he's not either going or gone into shock."
"Jedi don't go into shock."
"And Tatooine slavewomen don't kill beings wielding lightsabers. Get those feet off the ground, at the absolute least."
The padawan obdiently pulled his master's lower body into his lap, holding the elder Jedi's hand in his own.
"Do we have a way to tell anyone we're down here?"
Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice the way one of her hands had strayed to his hair just behind one of his ears, palm resting on his neck, or the way Qui-Gon's eyes softened ever so slightly from the contact.
Code breakers.
"I've got a commlink..."
"THEN USE IT!"
There was a buzzing at his waist. "This is Captain Panaka. We've secured the Palace. The Nemoidians are in custody."
Obi-Wan fumbled for the commlink. "Panaka, we need medics in the generator complex right now. The area is clear, but there's a Jedi down. I repeat, requesting medical aid for a Jedi down..."
