The sound of an explosion could be heard from afar, even through the thick walls of the spaceship. It was the third one this afternoon.
„This sucks," said Lok fervently, banging his data pad onto the table in frustration. He added plaintively: „I want my master."
„Well, I want ice cream for dessert," said Lakhri wryly. "Tough luck for both of us, I guess."
"I don't care about ice cream, I don't want my master killed!" Lok snapped.
Lakhri raised his eyebrows. "May I remind you that I have a padawan out there?" he asked. "Do you think I want him killed any more than you want Eeth killed? But since there's nothing any of us can do for them right now, you might as well end the pity party and do some school work."
"I'm not having a pity party!" said Lok indignantly.
"Yes, you are," Lakhri said very firmly. "Stop it and finish your maths. We can have a workout when you're done."
Lok groaned. Right now, he hated his life. This was only the second day after their arrival, but it had been apparent from the outset that the situation was far worse than the Mahauan government had let on. The rebels had used the hostage-taking to their advantage and taken over large parts of the city, there was open fighting in the streets, and by the time Eeth and Flynt had last called, this morning, they had not even managed to get the rebels and the government to join each other at the same table. Apparently, they were now trying to lead separate talks with each of the factions while the situation of the hostages was deteriorating and the rebels were threatening to blow up the parliament building, with all the hostages inside, unless the government deployed all its troops from the capital. Under the circumstances, Lok found it hard to focus, and he told Lakhri as much.
"I just have a bad feeling about this!" he said morosely, reiterating the first statement he had made after Eeth and Flynt had left the ship. At the time, Lakhri had remained silent, and Lok thought for a moment he would now remain silent as well. However, after a drawn-out pause, Lakhri admitted: "So do I. I should probably be lecturing you not to focus on your anxieties, but that would be blatantly hypocritical. Something's going to happen, and I don't think it will be something good. But like I've told you, there's nothing we can do to prevent it. We are not part of the mission team, and more importantly, we have specific orders to stay put or, if the worst comes to the worst, make a getaway. So we are just going to have to sit here, wait and hope that Eeth will be competent to handle whatever happens. If it's any consolation to you, in my experience Eeth is competent to handle anything."
"Well, in my experience," Lok said quietly, "anyone can get killed in the course of a mission. Even the most competent of Jedi."
"Anyone can get killed any time, Lok," Lakhri said very gently. "What happened to your master might even have happened if he had stayed at the Temple. If you keep thinking along these lines, how can you go on living?"
Lok sighed. He needed to go on living, he knew that; that had been his former master's wish, and really, he himself was long past the point where he would have preferred to be dead.
He looked at Lakhri's kindly face and the laughter lines around his brown eyes and thought fleetingly of a warning Flynt had given him shortly before their arrival: not to mess with his master because, for all his sense of humour, he could dish out one hell of an ass-kicking. Lok wondered whether that was true. So far, Lakhri had been nothing but gentle and understanding.
With another sigh, he took up his data pad.
"Okay, I'll finish my maths," he said softly. "Thanks, Lakhri."
"You're welcome," said Lakhri solemnly.
Lok had to concede that lightsaber practice with Lakhri was fun; it would have been even more fun if he didn't miss his master so much. Lakhri was a lot more easy-going than Eeth and much less intent on torturing Lok with tedious details. He did pay attention to detail, but managed to build his advice into their sparring match in a way that was not particularly bothersome. Lok suspected that Lakhri was actively trying to make this as enjoyable as he possibly could, and he was grateful for it. He could not help but feel that Flynt's warning had been a bit over the top. Lakhri was really the best babysitter he could have ended up with.
Eeth called in briefly while they were preparing dinner. They had had some fresh food delivered from a store in the city, which was something. Lakhri wasn't much of a cook, or so he said himself, but obviously Eeth had taught him the basics; enough to throw together a decent dinner.
"How are things going?" Lakhri asked.
"Not good," replied Eeth curtly. "There has been no progress whatsoever so far. We are going to have talks with the rebel leaders now. They refused to leave the parliament building, though, so we will have to go in there."
Lok frowned. "Is that safe?" he asked.
"No," said Eeth laconically. "I know that this is not the answer you were hoping to hear, but nothing about this mission is safe. Flynt and I will be on our guard. At the very least, the trip to parliament will offer us a chance to see how the hostages are faring."
"When are you leaving?" asked Lakhri.
"In a moment," said Eeth. Somebody said something behind him, and he turned briefly. "Right now, in fact," he corrected himself. "Sorry, I meant to let Flynt talk to you, but there is no time. I will call you later."
He terminated the call abruptly.
Lok and Lakhri looked at each other.
"I don't like this," said Lok fervently.
"Neither do I," said Lakhri quietly. "But there's still nothing any of us can do. C'mon, you can help me peel these tubers."
They had just sat down to have dinner when Lakhri suddenly stiffened.
"Fuck," he said, which had Lok know instantly that something was wrong because he had never heard Lakhri curse before.
"What is it?" he asked urgently.
"Something's wrong with Flynt," said Lakhri, jumping up. "He's in distress – I can't communicate with him clearly through our bond, but there's some kind of fight going on, I think – oh, FUCK, he lost consciousness!"
He ran to the cockpit, with Lok following suit, and tried to establish a comm connection with Eeth.
"The recipient's comlink has been deactivated," said a cool female voice. Lakhri swore and banged the comm panel with his fist.
"We need to do something," said Lok, turning and storming towards the hatch. His bond with Eeth was by far not strong enough yet to allow for any sort of meaningful communication at a distance. It just gave him a vague sense of intense and focussed activity, but that was all he could make out. However, Eeth and Flynt had made their way to parliament together, and they had clearly got into a fight that had rendered Flynt unconscious. It was obvious that they needed help.
"Stop," barked Lakhri who was coming after him; Lok had never heard him speak in such an authoritative tone. "We are not going to run out there against our clear orders without even knowing what's going on."
Lok paused, but only for a fraction of a second. His master was in some kind of danger, he was certain of that; he had to do something.
"Well, I'm going anyway," he snapped. "D'you think I'm going to stay put while my master and your padawan are in danger?"
He strode towards the hatch, pointedly ignoring a second stern order to stop. But just as he reached out to slam the door panel, he froze. He found himself completely, utterly unable to move.
"I'm sorry to have to do that," Lakhri said behind him, very firmly, "but you leave me no choice. We have absolutely no use for this kind of impulsive behaviour. It's my padawan who's out there, unconscious, and yet you don't see me rushing to his rescue without knowing what's going on and whether Eeth wants or even needs me. We are going to stay put, both of us."
Lok tried to break free of the Force hold that rendered him motionless, but it was impossible. He was flabbergasted. True, his former master had used the Force to restrain him during a few of the more memorable punishments he had dealt out. It had been like moving through quicksand, making it difficult to break the restraint and effectively enabling him to maintain his position, but it had been nothing like what he was experiencing now. He knew that some of the most experienced crèche masters could use the Force to immobilise children who were out of control, but these were children who had not yet been trained in Force control, and yet, not many Jedi could reliably restrain them. Lok suddenly remembered how Eeth had told him that Lakhri was very accomplished at Force control techniques, but he had obviously not taken that hint seriously enough. He was starting to realise that he had completely underestimated the man; he had subconsciously presumed to be both stronger and faster than Lakhri, seeing as he was one head taller already. That had clearly been a mistake.
Lok stood, arm outstretched towards the door panel, in what was fast becoming a very uncomfortable position, but he had no way of expressing that feeling. Nor could he see what Lakhri was up to. It was unnerving and especially irksome in light of the circumstances; he wanted to get out of here and do something! And he couldn't for the life of him fathom why Lakhri did not feel the same way. After all, it was his padawan to whom, presumably, something had happened.
After what felt like half an eternity, but was probably more a minute or two, he heard Lakhri's voice saying: "I'm going to release you now. You're going to put down your arm, take a step back and take a deep breath. And then I'm going to explain to you why following orders is important. Whether I do the explaining with or without my belt depends entirely on you, so you'd better pull yourself together."
Ouch. So he truly had underestimated Lakhri. He might have guessed so; after all, the man had been Eeth's apprentice. Lok tried to move and realised that he could. For a split-second, he considered just going along with opening the hatch, but his chances of pulling that off were slim, he reckoned. Apparently, besides his other talents, Lakhri was good at Force-enhanced running which Lok had only just started to learn.
Scowling, Lok withdrew his hand and turned on Lakhri. Unfortunately, the man did not seem to be intimidated by his glare. "Right," he said in a sterner tone than Lok had ever heard from the man. "I totally understand why you did this. The mission team is in danger, so you wanted to run to the rescue. Which is exactly why we don't entrust missions to thirteen-year-old padawans. Now–"
Before he could continue, however, the comm unit beeped. Lok and Lakhri looked at each other for a fraction of a second, then simultaneously bolted towards the cockpit.