Qui-Gon kept an eye on Raiko as she trotted before him into the ship, her robes dragging behind her – too big for her small frame. Obi-Wan had elected to go ahead, with a slight edge to his voice as he did so. Qui-Gon only wondered briefly at his apprentice's strange behaviour – the answer was given to him as Raiko entered the briefing room where he and Obi-Wan sat.
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed at the tiny girl, and Raiko's face turned mischievous and her smile became more of a smirk. "How's your ankle, Obi-Wan?" she asked, in her high voice, scrambling into a chair opposite Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan ground his jaw, and Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his reaction. "That's Padawan Kenobi, youngling. And my ankle is fine. You barely touched it."
"What's this?" Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan's pleading look just spurred his curiosity.
"Nothing happened-"
"I wiped out Padawan Kenobi in practice-"
They began at once. Obi-Wan made a growling noise, visibly swallowing back his words. Raiko had no such restraint, and bounced in her seat under Qui-Gon's amused gaze. "Padawan Kenobi was helping demonstrate in combat class, and I got him on the ankle. And he fell. In front of everyone." She said, smugly.
Qui-Gon tempered his amusement at the sight of his padawan's red and embarrassed face. Though his padawan could be prideful at times, and the public defeat at the hands of a youngling had no doubt tempered some of his ego – he looked so ashamed to have his fault laid bare in front of him, that Qui-Gon knew he had quite learned his lesson. "Well – that is in the past now. Both of you would do well to remember to forget. It does no one any good to dwell or gloat on past mistakes or successes. All that matters is the present." He said sagely, and Obi-Wan nodded, as Raiko bowed her head, cheeks turning slightly green under the chastisement.
Raiko looked sorrowfully at Obi-Wan, blinking limpid eyes at him. "I'm sorry, Padawan Kenobi, I shouldn't keep teasing you about it… even though it was really funny-"
"Yes! Yes! Alright already!" Obi-Wan interrupted hastily, glaring at her. His face softened under her grin. "It was a pretty good move." He said begrudgingly, and Qui-Gon could practically see the hero-worship spread across Raiko's face as her smile grew into a beaming grin. Obi-Wan shifted under her intense gaze, and cleared his throat, looking to Qui-Gon for help. "So, Master, what's the plan once we arrive?"
Qui-Gon let his padawan change the subject, bringing up the hologram he had received from Queen Amidala of Naboo and Queen Miah of Arcturia, and watching in satisfaction as Raiko translated the Arcturi speech without being asked, Obi-Wan taking notes.
She may be a little… high-spirited, but as long as she kept channelling her passion into training and learning, then she would make a fine Jedi.
Raiko hovered behind Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as they hailed the blockade ship, feeling her nervousness come to the fore-front of her mind as her eyes fell upon the grey-skinned Neimoidian onscreen. She knew she had to calm down – but as always, failed. She had always struggled with controlling her emotions, and though she was put into the Dragon Clan for the express reason of being a little more tenacious and emotionally driven than other younglings, she found herself lacking in the area of control more than any of her other clan-mates. Even Choi-Gul, the little human boy that cried about everything, had gotten compliments from Instructor B'ink for his emotional control. Absently, she reached up, and touched her necklace. The familiar smoothness of the white pearl there soothed her somewhat. A reminder of who she was. The only thing her mother had given her when Mace Windu had taken her away.
Qui-Gon's hand on her shoulder steadied her as he steered her towards the landing platform, and the exit into the landing bay on the Federation ship. She had always looked up to Qui-Gon. Not as much as Master Windu, of course – but she admired how Qui-Gon balanced his wisdom and teachings with good-humour and kindness, and every youngling knew about his fierceness in battle. That was why she had made such a big deal about knocking Obi-Wan down. The most childish parts of her had wanted Qui-Gon to know that she was a good fighter. It was the only thing she seemed to be good at. She couldn't control her emotions, couldn't lift things with the Force, couldn't sense other's emotions – but she was good with a lightsaber. She couldn't wait until she found her own kyber crystal on Ilum and made her own lightsaber.
The droid that met them was chrome and silver, the shiniest thing on the dull ship that Raiko had seen so far. "I'm TC-14, at your service." Its voice was smooth and female. "This way please." They followed it into a conference room, Raiko hovering close to Qui-Gon, taking comfort in the way his swirling robe seemed to cover her from view. In fact – now that she thought of it, she could feel a slight sensation around her. Like something was protecting her. The Force. She thought, wistfully, and though he didn't see it, gave Qui-Gon a deeply grateful look. One day, she'd protect someone like he did. "We are greatly honoured by your visit, Ambassadors. Make yourselves comfortable. My Master will be with you shortly." With that, the protocol droid trundled off in a whirring of joints, and as the two Jedi above her drew back their hoods, she felt the faint encompassing shield of Force lift from her.
"I have a bad feeling about this." Obi-Wan looked around the room, grey-blue eyes worried.
"I don't sense anything." Qui-Gon said, folding his arms.
Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, turning to his master. "It's not about the mission, Master, it's something… elsewhere. Elusive." Raiko strained all her senses – but felt nothing.
"Don't centre on your anxieties, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration here, and now, where it belongs."
"But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future." Obi-Wan's voice held a hint of petulance, colouring his crisp Coruscanti accent.
Qui-Gon gave her a small wink. "But not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the living Force, young Padawan. Set an example for young Raiko, lest she be influenced by your restlessness." Raiko smiled to herself at Obi-Wan's flustered sigh.
"Yes, Master." He said, in a tone of long suffering. They made a circuit around to the window, as Raiko made herself comfortable in a tall chair at the long table. "How do you think this Trade Viceroy will deal with the Chancellor's demands?" Raiko tuned them out. She hadn't the head for politics. She just wanted to make sure her people were okay. She was on a mission. A real Jedi mission. She had seen the jealous looks on her fellow Initiate's faces.
As time dragged on, it became clear that she wasn't going to have any thrilling stories to tell. They had been sitting alone at the table for far too long – and even though she wasn't looking forwards to more boring trade talk, she couldn't help but feel a little strange about the absence of their host. As the door opened again, with no sight of the Viceroy, just the protocol droid bearing more refreshments, she could feel the tingling feeling of something… wrong.
"Is it normal for them to take so long?' She asked, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. Two sets of eyes fell on her, and she shrunk back slightly. "I just feel… strange." She said, and Qui-Gon frowned.
"As do I. I sense an unusual amount of fear for something as trivial as this trade dispute." The Jedi master said, and Raiko's feeling of unease grew, as even Obi-Wan swallowed nervously, taking a sip of water. She shook her head at the droid offering her the cup – regretting it a moment later as her mouth went dry. Qui-Gon looked calm, and she shot him a sideways glance, trying to mimic his expression. Her fingers still tugged anxiously at her necklace, the pearl cool to the touch.
Then, something flared in her subconscious, a flash of warning – enough to make her scoot backwards off of her chair and onto the ground. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were already on their feet, lightsabers alight and eyes fixed on the door. The droid shuffled back hastily, dropping its tray. Water spilt across the floor, wetting the hem of her robe – and drawing her gaze to the ground, and she was the first to notice the fog creeping from the vent. "Master!" she cried, panic making her stumble back.
Qui-Gon's eyes widened, and he strode towards her, lifting her up and off the ground before she could react. "Dioxus." He said shortly to Obi-Wan, who blanched, and took a gulping breath of air. Qui-Gon looked at her, meeting her eyes. He looked serious. "Raiko. I need you to listen to me. I need you to get to the hangar as quickly as you can. We will meet you there. Stay out of sight."
He was bundling her towards another ventilation opening in the ceiling before she found her voice again. "Wait! How will I find the way?" she asked, breath sawing in her chest. Qui-Gon had time for a smile as he lifted her into the vent, his Force wrapping around her and pushing her up.
"The Force will guide you. Trust it." And then, the vent slid shut, cutting off her view of them and leaving her in the cold dark of the ventilation shaft. Shaking, she crawled backwards as fine tendrils of the mist began to creep up through the grate. Then, explosions of blaster fire from below, and the humming of lightsabers in action made her jump.
She shuffled backwards, unable to turn around in the tight passageway, away, away, away from the noise and the gas. When she was far enough away that she couldn't hear anything, she let herself cry. Not for long, but she still had to bite down on her robe's collar to muffle her sobs, tears dampening the brown material. What she wouldn't give to be back in her dormitory, with B'ink and her clan-mates, and going to saber training, and even stinking science class.
But as Qui-Gon said; Be mindful of the living Force, be mindful of the moment. And at the moment, she needed to find them.
Raiko was no good at the finer workings of the Force – she knew it, her instructors knew it – it was a fact. She was too impatient, too distracted.
Now, alone in a ventilation shaft, with the need to survive driving her – it was the perfect storm. Raiko closed her eyes, and lowered her head to the cool metal, clearing her mind. It was easier to do so when the only sound was her own breathing echoing off the metal around her, when she was away from the fear of the moment. Raiko gingerly reached out.
Her awareness wasn't strong, she couldn't sense anything from the workers below her, from the vermin living in the storeroom above her – couldn't envision her next movements, see a layout of the shafts. But what she did feel, was a nudge. A faint whispering breath, an inclination.
Forwards.
She crawled obediently in the direction she had come from, eyes still squeezed tight, mind straining.
Left.
Round a corner, over a patch of hot metal and cloud of steam that threatened to make her yelp in pain.
Right.
Right again.
Forwards.
Down.
Out.