Candles Against the Sea
Chapter 15: Salvation
Once they reached the clinic, it was hard to say which man jumped out of the speeder first, Qui-Gon Jinn or Rothis Hindegar. The president had received a detailed com call on the way over, so they knew exactly what had happened. Amora stood against the wall, but she straightened quickly at the sight of her father. He rushed to her and snatched her to his chest in a fierce, protective embrace. She clung to him, shaking.
Obi-Wan had been pacing nervously, but turned as Qui-Gon hurried to him. The boy's eyes were wide and stricken, but he held himself with Jedi calm, hands clasped white-knuckled over his stomach. Qui-Gon turned his head slightly as he heard Rayel Tooks descending the speeder behind them, much slower than the two who had young ones trapped in this horrid situation, but his gaze flickered away from his apprentice for only a fraction of a second before he faced him fully.
"Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured, trying to say much, much more than a single word could ever contain, cramming it full of everything he had.
"Master." Obi-Wan blinked. "Master, we have to hurry."
"I know. I know. We will."
"Master Jedi!"
Qui-Gon turned toward the brisk voice, quickly but reluctantly, his hand instinctively finding Obi-Wan's shoulder as he pivoted. A constable with a captain's badge stood there, snapping into a reflexive salute under the Jedi's grim stare. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan straighten under his hand, pulling himself together, and gave the slender shoulder an approving squeeze.
Behind the captain, constables were pouring out of uniformly painted speeders to secure the area, and medics were heading for the wounded man on the ground. A fresh squad of IS guards surrounded the president and his daughter. The man's arm was still tightly wrapped around the shaking girl as he spoke to the IS commander.
Qui-Gon took all this in without breaking eye contact with the constable before him. "You have news, Captain . . . ?"
"Captain Anjize, sir. All of the spaceports are secure. No ships have been allowed to take off since Chief Tooks issued his directive, and local security are preventing anyone from leaving. If you'll come with me, we'll go directly to the nearest port to begin a search. Chief Tooks said you would want to be personally involved."
Qui-Gon nodded a quick affirmation and moved to follow, his hand falling from Obi-Wan's shoulder. Then he was caught short as a young hand grabbed his sleeve, and he turned back to the boy's earnest eyes and shaking head.
"Not the nearest spaceport, Master. The farthest."
Qui-Gon looked at the smaller fingers entangled in the fabric over his arm, remembering another youngster who had grabbed his protector's sleeve when he felt anxious and unsettled. For a moment the recollection almost unmanned him, and he dragged his gaze back to the strangely vulnerable face of his Padawan. Obi-Wan was doing his best to hold it in, but Qui-Gon could see. "All right. The farthest."
He looked at Anjize, who nodded readily. Whether or not the Sylelians trusted the instincts of a thirteen-year-old boy, they would listen to the Master. And Qui-Gon had never had a reason to doubt this boy's insight.
Obi-Wan did not seem to realize that he still held his master's sleeve as they followed the captain to a speeder, fingers bound tightly in rough cloth, and Qui-Gon made no attempt to shake him off. If the boy needed this small, inadequate reassurance, he was welcome to it. Halfway there Tooks fell in with them as if he belonged with the Jedi, and before they got in the speeder President Hindegar held up a hand for them to wait.
Tooks halted with one foot up on the on the speeder, and Anjize turned back, waiting. Hindegar grabbed his daughter's shoulders, looking her firmly in the eye. "I want you to stay in the clinic. Let Lt. Berol look after you. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She nodded, blinking back tears. Hindegar released her and turned to Berol, issuing last minute commands. Qui-Gon saw a small middle-aged woman moving toward the girl from the direction of the clinic, and assumed that she was this "Nilla" Obi-Wan described in such glowing terms. Amora let the older woman take her arm, inclining her head slightly to listen to gentle words being murmured in her ear, and offered a hesitant nod.
Hindegar smiled, then turned to the four waiting by the speeder. "What are we waiting for?"
Obi-Wan's fingers tightened in Qui-Gon's sleeve, but he did not express the despairing impatience the older Jedi felt thrumming through the slight frame. "Nothing at all," the Master said smoothly.
To the Padawan's carefully hidden relief, no more words were needed.
X
Once they reached the spaceport on the outskirts of the far side of Reshifc, it was Obi-Wan who led the way, and the men let him. The Jedi apprentice seemed unaware of them, every iota of his being focused on a distant point they could not see, as if every molecule in his body was an iron filament straining toward magnetic north, quivering to reach it. Tooks spoke quietly on his communicator, hearing reports from the on-going searches in the other spaceports, but Qui-Gon and Hindegar held themselves in silence, watching the boy's intense, tightly controlled search.
Obi-Wan walked with smooth, brisk strides, not a centimeter wasted, his head turning sharply but gracefully this way and that. It was the march of a soldier, the prowl of a hunter, and the rush of a frightened boy in one. Bright eyes seemed to take in everything in an instant, immediately dismissing what was of no help. The smallest movements were taut with purpose, and one purpose only.
Only Qui-Gon saw the minute tremors that possessed the strong young body, a chill breeze rippling the calm surface of a lake. He could feel Obi-Wan's steadily worsening exhaustion, behind his politely raised shields. He could not ask the boy to stop, take a break, give himself time to rejuvenate—but he wanted to.
They walked down the row of individual docking bays, passing the spaceport guards stationed at intervals along the passage to keep anyone from trying to escape the quarantine. Truly, it was impressive how quickly and thoroughly Tooks' orders had been carried out, Qui-Gon reflected absently. He'd seen much worse security on Core worlds.
Obi-Wan's brisk pace faltered, and he halted outside Bay 48, his hand on his 'saber hilt. He gave Qui-Gon a meaningful glance, unable to speak. It seemed as if the task of forming words and sending them out would take too much effort for the boy at this point, would break his closely guarded concentration.
"This one," Qui-Gon translated quietly.
"Are you sure?" Tooks asked carefully.
"Yes."
That was enough. The president, the security chief, and the two Jedi walked into the bay. A burly man stood outside a lowered ramp, arguing viciously with the 'port guard, who was slowly lowering her blaster rifle to point at her antagonist. This was about to get ugly, fast.
Tooks stepped forward, jutting his chin authoritatively. "Your ship will now be searched for contraband, just like every other ship in Reshifc during the current lockdown. You are not being treated unfairly. Harassing a guard with a rifle will not make your position a micron more tenable, I assure you."
The man hauled his bulk around to face this newcomer, florid face bulging as he prepared to burst into another tirade. Then he froze. President Hindegar himself had come to inspect this ship. Escape was no longer an option.
Qui-Gon felt his Padawan shudder beside him, felt the building tension and panic, and knew what was coming. He leapt forward and caught the desperate fist before it touched the Sylelian head of security, jerking it behind the man's back and pulling it upward to immobilize him. He had felt the brush of this one's slimy mind, just as his apprentice had, and knew that he was no petty thief or smuggler, but an acquisitions man with a despicable stock of trade.
The man hissed sharply as his hand was forced up between his shoulder blades, but made no other move to resist. Like most evil beings, he knew when he was beaten.
"Are there any others on board?" Qui-Gon asked in a low, dangerous voice.
The bulky head shook frantically, double-chins wobbling. Qui-Gon quickly turned his custody over to the spaceport's guard, who had already removed her cuffs from her belt, and the four men hurried into the ship.
Again Obi-Wan led, all but running through the metal halls. Qui-Gon kept his senses sharp for more depraved minds, but suspected that most of them were still on the streets. Hopefully now, with the constabulary force alerted, any more kidnapping attempts would be foiled.
Obi-Wan reached a locked metal door and barely refrained from throwing himself against it. "Here," he gasped out, turning pleading eyes to his master.
Qui-Gon turned to the keypad by the door, beginning to get a feel for which numbers were used frequently, but quickly lost patience with the slow process. He could feel the panicked, traumatized young minds locked in the dark beyond that door as well as his boy could. He tossed Obi-Wan a grim smile and ignited his lightsaber.
"Stand back!" Obi-Wan yelled at the door, and followed suit.
It was just a regular door, not a security bulkhead or vault, and the two glowing blades made short work of it. Obi-Wan barely had time to extinguish his 'saber before his arms were full of a frantic, sobbing little boy.
"Obi, Obi! I thought you wouldn't find me! I thought you wouldn't come! Obi!"
"Nibbi!" Obi-Wan closed his arms around the little body and lifted it, and the child wrapped his legs about the Padawan's waist and his arms about his neck, still wailing against his tunic. "I came, Nibbi. I would always come for you if you needed me."
"I did, I did! I really did!"
The little one was rapidly falling into hysterics, but Obi-Wan rocked him and soothed him as gently as he knew how, his eyes closed in gratitude and relief. They hadn't hurt the boy. They'd frightened and threatened him, obviously, and perhaps there had been some rough handling, but Nibbi was not too broken to receive comfort. Everything was going to be all right, eventually, just as Qui-Gon had promised.
Nibbi had been the only kidnapped child brave enough to come to the door after it was torn apart so strangely. Qui-Gon and Hindegar went in after the others, Tooks again speaking rapidly and concisely into his communicator. There were four of them, three girls and a boy, ranging in age from about five to eleven. The oldest two recognized their president, so it was not hard to convince them that all was well, and this truly was a rescue. Soon all four were standing in the hall, staring about with wide, uncomprehending stares.
Qui-Gon's heart ached with simultaneous agony and joy. They had saved these five little ones before they suffered a fate worse than death. But how many like them had been taken in the unexplained kidnappings over the past seven months, and even before?
Hindegar seemed to guess something of his thoughts. He placed a supporting hand on the large Jedi's shoulder, offering a sad smile. "Let's take them back to the clinic. We can contact guardians from there, and it should be somewhat anonymous. We'll be able to avoid some of the inevitable media attention, at least for a time."
Qui-Gon nodded, grateful for the calm presence and sensible advice. A small, cryptic part of heart doubted, though. This had been a relatively easy rescue. It couldn't be real, could it? Somehow, nothing felt settled.
He strongly suspected that there was more pain and turmoil to come.