FOUR
Qui-Gon Jinn was a renowned negotiator in the Republic. Though an affinity with the Living Force would normally have meant a complete lack of skill in diplomacy, in Qui-Gon's particular case it allowed him to sense dishonesty in a person, and unexpected problems that would not have occurred to someone close to the Unifying Force.
What this meant was that his skills were quite sought-after, drawing he and his Padawan from one end of the galaxy to the other. Unfortunately, there were cases when negotiation and compromise would not work, and Qui-Gon had to safely remove himself and his Padawan from the situation before it became volatile.
In this particular case, he had failed at even that rudimentary task.
Consequently, the renowned negotiator was stealthily making his way through a 'political correction' camp, avoiding prisoners and guards alike as the Force led him to his poor young Padawan, an innocent victim in the whole debacle.
Caught in a street brawl between supporters of two rival factions, the Master and Padawan had been separated. Qui-Gon had managed to find shelter in the forests bordering the city, but Obi-Wan had not been so fortunate. Dressed in civilian clothes, he had been as good a target as any, and the last thing Qui-Gon had felt through their training bond before Obi-Wan shielded himself away was shock and terror.
Obi-Wan's shields had slipped enough for Qui-Gon to track him now, though that in itself was worrying. Through the infinitesimal gap, Qui-Gon detected a great deal of pain and revulsion, and he dreaded to think what condition he would find the boy in. Though they had both been wearing civilian clothes, a brief search would have located Obi-Wan's lightsaber, the surest identification of a Jedi, and that would have doomed him to a fate much worse than the majority of the other detainees. It did not escape Qui-Gon's notice that, the closer he got to Obi-Wan's holding cell, the more guards milled around in the spotlights.
The Force seemed to vibrate as he circled to the rear of the cell he knew to contain his Padawan. There was a window cut into the metal wall, beams of energy acting as bars, but Qui-Gon could peer through it and, using the limited light available, managed to pick out the small form of his apprentice.
And what a sorry sight it was.
Curled into a tight ball, Obi-Wan appeared for all the world to be sleeping, except that his body trembled with every scream from the adjoining cell, where clearly an interrogation was taking place. Qui-Gon wanted desperately to help the abused prisoner, but it was not his battle to fight. The minute negotiations broke down, the situation became a matter of the Senate, and not one lone Jedi. Instead, Qui-Gon blocked out the distressing sound and focused on the bond he shared with his Padawan. Carefully, he nudged at the splintering shields, prodding them more forcefully until Obi-Wan finally looked up. His eyes were shadowed in the dim light, but anyone could see the thankfulness in them as the young man struggled to his feet and tottered towards the window.
"Took you long enough," he murmured, smiling beyond the pain. Qui-Gon was more relieved than he would admit to hear his Padawan's peculiar brand of humour – it meant the boy was still functioning mentally, further proved by the sudden reinforcement of those mental shields. Whatever Obi-Wan was suffering, he clearly did not want Qui-Gon to share it.
"I'm sorry Padawan, I had to contact the Temple to warn of your impending arrival," he replied. Stretching out with the Force, the Master determined where the circuits ran for the energy bars across the window, and with a guiding gesture, they crumpled like a flimsy. The garish beams died, leaving a square hole just large enough for a boy to crawl through. Obi-Wan grinned.
"I'm sure the Healers have been missing me dreadfully since my last visit," he commented idly, already manoeuvring to slither through the space. Qui-Gon moved to the side to give him room, sensing through the Force that no one had yet spotted them.
"I'm sure, Padawan. Now hurry, we don't have much time," he urged. With some squirming and no small amount of cursing under his breath, Obi-Wan managed to slither through the tiny space and collapse in a heap on the other side.
The sudden movement sent a spike of pain so sharp through his body that, for a brief second, Obi-Wan's shields – between himself and the pain, and himself and Qui-Gon – vanished.
Qui-Gon's knees buckled at the sudden wave that hit him. Fear, agony, sorrow, and perhaps a little anger, all flooded the bond for that single moment before Obi-Wan could shut them all off again, leaving them both prone and breathless on the floor. Blinking rapidly, Qui-Gon managed to regain himself first, pushing away his body's sympathetic echoes of pain and rising again. He gently helped Obi-Wan to his feet, supporting the boy when his legs threatened to give out.
"I'm okay," Obi-Wan whispered, and Qui-Gon could sense him clutching the Force closer, using it as a crutch. Not exactly orthodox, he mused, but then Obi-Wan was apprenticed to one of the most unorthodox Masters in Jedi history. Qui-Gon only just resisted the urge to probe his Padawan, which would surely have resulted in a pointed glare; instead, he peered around the corner, checking again that the coast was clear.
"There is an energy fence around the compound. Once we get over it, we head towards the sea. I made contact with a group of non-political refugees who have managed to secure transport off the planet. They will leave at the third moon-rising," he murmured. Obi-Wan nodded, drawing himself upright and away from his Master's supporting arms.
"You'll need to use both hands through the forest," Obi-Wan answered the questioning look sent his way. Nodding once, Qui-Gon let all personal cares and concerns fall from him, honing in on his connection to the Force and letting it guide his actions.
They were off swiftly, gliding through the shadows with nary a whisper of sound, distracting the guards with simple mind tricks, until the energy-fence came into sight. It glowed a sickly green, and was far too high for an ordinary man to jump.
Thankfully, Qui-Gon was Jedi, and he cleared the fence in one Force-assisted leap.
Obi-Wan remained on the other side of the barrier, physically preparing himself for the leap over. Just as he was about to jump, blaster shots erupted from the compound behind, causing Obi-Wan to duck into the bushes for cover. Qui-Gon crouched next to him, close enough to touch if it weren't for the barrier.
"How many?" Obi-Wan asked. A brief glance left a sour look on the Master's face.
"Five approaching, two in high perches." The Padawan grimaced, steeling himself as he manoeuvred his feet under him.
"Master, I hate to say it, but I have a very bad feeling about this," he said lightly, and Qui-Gon smiled. The soldiers circled the bush, blasters aimed and ready to blow the escapee to smithereens.
"Come out of the bushes with your hands up," the leader ordered; "We've got you surrounded."
Qui-Gon was suitably impressed with Obi-Wan's sudden leap into the air, and the somersault that carried him safely over the fence. Of course, the landing left much to be desired, but the Master was willing to overlook it in this case.
"Damn Jedi!" the lead soldier cursed, signalling his group to circle around the barrier and recapture the prisoner on the other side. Qui-Gon estimated that they had a few minutes to spare if they were lucky.
"Do you need to rest?" he quietly asked the trembling body huddled on the ground. A bark of laughter greeted the offer.
"Do I ever," Obi-Wan muttered, but already he was climbing to his feet. Qui-Gon was grateful for the dark, so that he didn't have to look at the damage done to his Padawan; it wasn't a very Jedi thought, he realised, but he was Jedi enough to also realise that Obi-Wan was coping far better with the injuries than Qui-Gon. It still amazed him how much a Master could learn from his Padawan.
"Come," he said, and led the way into the forest.
As quick as they made their way to the shore, it was not quick enough for Qui-Gon. Almost he felt suffocated as Obi-Wan drew in more and more of the Force to sustain his pace, tapping into greater reserves of strength to see him through, and the Master wanted desperately to sit his Padawan down for a much needed break. Unfortunately, the second moon had just risen, giving them less than half an hour to join the refugees on the coast.
Finally, they burst out of the deep forest and almost immediately onto the beach. Standing by a hovercraft, the anxiousness of the small group of refugees was almost palpable, equal only to their relief when they saw the two Jedi hurrying down the gently sloping beach.
"Start it up," Qui-Gon commanded, and the group bundled into the tiny craft. It whirred to life, blowing sand in every direction as it edged into the air and over the water.
Which was, naturally, when the soldiers opened fire on them. It was so perfectly timed, Qui-Gon felt he could almost have set his chrono by it. Instead, he ignited his lightsaber and deflected the shots as they came, sending them spiralling harmlessly into the water.
"That feels familiar," Obi-Wan said beside him, and if he concentrated, Qui-Gon sensed it too – a lightsaber, with a pure blue energy crystal inside, to match the pure energy of his Padawan. Before he could advise against it, Obi-Wan had stretched out with the Force and, with a little assistance from his Master to aid his waning strength, called the 'saber to him. He caught it in mid-air with a triumphant smile, before promptly passing out.
"We need to go faster," Qui-Gon yelled over the spray of the sea. Worry for his Padawan surged through him, and after a brief struggle he released it into the Force. By now they were too far from the coast for the soldiers to shoot, but if they didn't hurry, all the refugees would be caught – by one side or the other – and sent to correction camps. Qui-Gon had little doubt that his Padawan would not live through a second incarceration in his current state of health.
Their transport appeared on the horizon, a dark silhouette against a star-speckled sky, with waves lapping at its landing pads as it rocked carelessly in the water. The Jedi Master would quite gladly have carried his Padawan aboard, had Obi-Wan not managed to drag himself from unconsciousness. Qui-Gon braced himself for another echo of the pain as he sensed the boy's shields wavering, but they did not collapse like before. Instead, moving with uncharacteristic slowness, Obi-Wan sat up, quickly taking in his surroundings.
"Are you well, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, entreating the whole truth. Obi-Wan smiled grimly.
"I will make it," he said firmly, though they both heard the sentiments echoed in that statement: 'I will not fail you'. Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling fondly at his misguided Padawan.
"You have behaved as a true Jedi in this matter," he said, and knew that it was the highest form of praise Obi-Wan could ever hope for. The boy's face lit up with a shy grin as the small craft fell under the shadow of the waiting ship.
Under the harsh glare of the internal lights, however, Obi-Wan's smile took on a strained quality. The refugees recoiled from the sight of him, and even Qui-Gon felt the smallest measure of revulsion, which he quickly pushed away. So much blood from one wound – he would not have believed it had the evidence not been in front of him. A slice into Obi-Wan's scalp, as if someone had been halfway into removing it. It had dried in his hair, dripped down his face, and was now a dried red stain across the left side of his body as far as the Padawan's chest. Qui-Gon had never felt so disgusted that people could hurt someone, let alone a young boy, in such a manner.
Once he assured himself that the refugees were capable of taking care of themselves, he led his Padawan swiftly into the depths of the ship; as with most transports, the medical bay was not too far from the cockpit, though in so small a ship, it was equipped only for everyday accidents. Still, there were enough bacta strips to cover Obi-Wan from head to toe if need be, which was exactly what Qui-Gon would do should his Padawan's condition require it.
"Don't argue," the Master said abruptly, ending the argument before it could even begin. Pursing his lips in annoyance, Obi-Wan obediently hauled himself onto the examination table, pulling off his bloodied tunic with something akin to relief. "Lie down," Qui-Gon urged. Allowed easy access to his Padawan's back, the Master set about disinfecting the wounds – mostly shallow cuts and light burns – before coating them in bacta and bandaging them securely.
By the time Qui-Gon had finished his self-appointed task, Obi-Wan's eyes were half-shut. He fetched a blanket for the boy to shield him from the worst of the chill of space. Obi-Wan shifted groggily, as if trying to rouse himself enough to stand. Qui-Gon gently settled him again, eyeing the head wound warily. He didn't dare clean it, for fear of making things worse, but as the ship slipped into hyperspace, he relaxed slightly. They wouldn't be long in reaching Coruscant, where the refugees planned to stage a demonstration outside the Senate building.
"Sleep, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon encouraged when the boy tried to wake fully. The Master could hardly keep up with his apprentice sometimes, so driven was he to always be in the thick of things. But for now, Obi-Wan needed the rest, and with a mild Force-suggestion, rest was exactly what he got.
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