Born, the Man assumes the name and image of humanity, and becomes in all things like unto other men who dwell upon the earth. Their hard lot becomes his, and his, in turn, becomes the lot of all who shall come after him. Drawn on inexorably by time, it is not given him to see the next rung on which his faltering foot shall fall. Bounded in knowledge, it is not given him to foretell what each succeeding hour, what each succeeding minute, shall have in store for him. In blind nescience, in an agony of foreboding, in a whirl of hopes and fears, he completes the cycle of an iron destiny.

—Leonid Andreyev

Chapter Six

"Can't we go any faster, Artoo?" Anakin snapped at his diminutive copilot, fidgeting in his seat. The astromech burbled and whistled a reply, clearly offended that his master thought he was not operating at maximum capacity. Anakin grimaced and shook his head. The various words the small droid employed in his sentences could make even Anakin blush. He should have never removed his protocol restraints.

"It's nothing against your piloting, Artoo." He looked out at the flashing miasma of hyperspace. "It's . . . I just have a bad feeling, you know?" He rubbed his forehead and muttered, "Great, now I'm starting to sound like Obi-Wan."

Although he was loath to admit it, something about the whole situation did not feel right to Anakin. Although he was elated the Chancellor requested him, deep down he did not like the fact that he left Obi-Wan behind. Originally, the prospect of several days back on Coruscant had set his heart leaping. Padmé. It had been months since he had seen his angel, his love, his wife. The thought of seeing her again had driven all guilt about leaving Obi-Wan and the fight they had from his mind. But when he had commed Padmé, she nearly burst into tears, for she was back on Naboo for a senatorial conference with the Queen. There was no way she could leave, and she would not be back for several weeks.

To say that had put him in a foul mood would be an understatement.

So even when Obi-Wan had some to say goodbye, he could not work past the anger to follow the prompting in his heart to let him know he was sorry, that he was not mad at him, just the situation in general. So they danced about the subject as masterfully as usual, and both had left feeling nothing was resolved.

Later, he assured himself, when I get back, I'll talk to him.

Nevertheless, a feeling of foreboding lingered in the back of his mind, setting his nerves on edge.

Restless as he was, he knew there was nothing he could do to make the ship travel any faster. He had modified the engines himself, removing some of the speed dampeners, consequently increasing maximum speed. Obi-Wan would have been furious if he realized Anakin had done the same to his ship. That thought caused Anakin to chuckle to himself.

Not that his master was a bad pilot—quite the opposite in fact. He had heard that his former master had actually used to be one of the best pilots at the Temple when he was younger, but his enthusiasm for flying had changed after Naboo. Now, he was content to let his former padawan perform all the death-defying stunts in space while he kept his feet firmly planted on the ground.

Thinking of his former master made Anakin more restless. He had been in hyperspace for two hours, and he still had two more to go before reaching Coruscant space. With those hours endless stretching before him, he decided to meditate. The thought of the look on Obi-Wan's face made him smirk. They both knew how much Anakin hated meditating and the thought that he would do it willingly . . . that was almost as rare as seeing Master Windu smile. But, he reasoned, it was better than focusing on events he could not change or feelings he could not shake.

The tang of ozone and smoke fills the air. The darkness is lit by flashing colors, blue and red, as his lightsaber deflects and slashes again and again in precise, masterful movements. Are all the droids gone? Yes, that's the last one. But wait, there's the bounty hunter himself . . .

The bounty hunter is good, he will give him that—albeit grudgingly—and it is taking all his reserves to keep himself balanced on the catwalk while protecting himself from the blasts.

A flash of affront as a bolt from a blaster scarcely seers his leg. So uncivilized. Exhaustion is creeping into his thoughts. No, push that down, away. Need to keep fighting, need to get back to the surface . . .

Then, a sudden crackle, a blinding flash of light, and an alarming very bad feeling. An explosion and falling, falling, falling . . .

"Obi-Wan!" The annihilating dream—vision?—shattered as Anakin fought for breath, snapping himself out of his meditative state. What the kriffing boshuda was that?

Hands still trembling from fear and adrenaline, he slammed his ship out of hyperspace. Artoo shrieked in dismay, the ship echoing the sound. The wings screeched and trembled from the abuse as the starfighter shuddered to a stop in the inky blackness of space.

"Shut up, Artoo!" Anakin snarled, his mind still reeling from the assault through his bond with his master in the Force. "Something's wrong. Plot a course for Nuojauta as fast as you can."

Artoo bleeped something back as he began the calculations. "Kriff it, I don't care about the Chancellor right now, okay?" He slammed his fist into the canopy before taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I just know I need to get back to Obi-Wan, now. I'll worry about the Chancellor later."

As Artoo completed the calculation, Anakin attempted to reach through his bond to find his friend. He could almost always feel Obi-Wan, even half a galaxy away. But now instead of the customary brush of dry humor and calming light, only a faint impression—like a mere shadow cast by a physical counterpart—remained.

I knew something was wrong! Obi-Wan, you had better be fine when I get there, because when I rescue you again, I'm going to kill you myself.

Darkness. Am I asleep? Is this a dream? Pain. No, not a dream. Broken rib, possibly something else. Did Anakin crash our ship again? Uncertainty. Why is it warm? And dark?

Okay, time to get up now.

With a sharp intake of breath, Obi-Wan sat up. For a moment fear sliced through him as he blinked. I can't see . . . Did something happen to my eyes? Reaching deep within himself, he sought the calming presence of the Force. Breathe in, breathe out. For a moment he sat there, wherever there was, and gently probed his own body. Ribs are not broken, only bruised . . . wrist is wrenched, but usable. Blaster burn on my leg. . . Snapping his eyes open again, he remembered what happened.

The bounty hunter! He had used the bounty hunter's own weapons against him, but in doing so had fallen down the mine shaft. While Jedi are powerful, even the Force could not save a body hitting the ground at terminal velocity. He knew he had attempted to slow his fall using the Force, and it would have helped him some, but the distance he fell . . . How am I still alive?

Reaching out with the Force, Obi-Wan surveyed his surroundings. He was at the bottom of the mineshaft. He could feel the warmth of the planet core in the dank air. He still didn't know why the bounty hunter had come after him. He also didn't know if the hunter was alive or dead, killed in the explosion that almost killed him. Still, if what the man said was true and he was an experienced Jedi killer, Obi-Wan harbored doubts that a mere explosion would drive the man off his trail.

The dusty, loamy earth tickled his nose, and he suddenly sneezed. But there! Reaching out, he called his lightsaber into his hand from where it had fallen. The solid feel of the grip within his hands suddenly made the foreboding feeling within his chest ease the tiniest amount. The feeling returned however as he attempted to activate the lightsaber. It gave a sickly sizzle and a sudden pop—and it didn't activate.

"Blast," he muttered. The gauntlets had done their work. In due time, the lightsaber would reset itself and once again provide him with the protection he knew he would need, but for now the silver and black cylinder was simply a useless—albeit expensive—ornamentation. Lips twisted into a frown, he clipped it to his belt. Not even Anakin could fix the 'saber as it was—it simply needed time, and Obi-Wan needed luck.

Not luck, the Force.

Once again breathing deep, he released the rest of his fears into the darkness around him. He did not have time to worry about the bounty hunter now. He needed to find a way out of these mines. Preferably before my former apprentice hears about it. He didn't need another reason for Anakin to gloat.

He reached down and snatched out a glowrod from his belt, as well as his comlink. Snapping the light against his knee to activate the dim light, he fiddled with the comm.

"Cody? Commander, this is General Kenobi. Come in, please."

A mushy hiss answered his call. He attempted to reach Cody again with the same result. "Blast," he muttered again, wishing for once he had Anakin here to use a more . . . appropriate Huttese curse. Obi-Wan knew those words and probably more—Qui-Gon had believed in a well-rounded education for his padawan—but he would not deign to say them, even such dire straits. But that didn't keep him from wishing.

The Force flowed around him and through him, directing his steps as he set forward. He knew these mines could run for kilometers underneath the surface, twisting and turning and never surfacing. Yet he had the Force, a good sense of direction and—right there—a slight breeze coming from the tunnel on his left.

The going was relatively easy. The tunnel was wide, smooth and flat. Due to the breeze and the prompting of the Force, Obi-Wan knew he would eventually come to another mine opening in the tunnel. He could only hope the opening was all he would find.

He held no illusions about the tenacity of the bounty hunter, however. Money and victory was a bounty hunter's creed, the law they by which they lived, and no bounty hunter would willingly allow their quarry to escape. He knew Malus would need proof of his death to bring to his employer and considering the bounty hunter had not come down into the mine after him . . . he knew he would have to be wary.

Frowning, he shook his head. Something about the bounty hunter had struck him as familiar. The thought slipped through his mind like a sieve, and no amount of grasping could bring it forward. Perhaps he had encountered him before the war? No, he was fairly certain he had never seen the bounty hunter in person before. Instead, it was the way he talked, something about how he acted that bothered Obi-Wan. Raising an eyebrow, he snorted quietly. In reality, it really didn't matter who the man was. All that mattered was that he was trying to kill him.

Why is it always me? He thought somewhat exasperatedly, then pushed the thought away. Self-pity did not become a Jedi Master. But he could allow himself the slightest twinge of irritation . . .

Next time I hope it's Anakin who's running from a darkside Force enhanced bounty hunter . . .

As he walked, another disturbing thought entered his mind. How did the bounty hunter know where to find me? The Council had been very clear on the secrecy of his mission. No one was to know where he was or what he was doing. That is, after all, the point of a clandestine mission . . . Only his men, the Council, and Anakin knew, and . . .

Abruptly, an emotion Obi-Wan was not very familiar with curled in the pit of his stomach. He breathed in deeply, thrusting the thought away. He needed time to think, to meditate on all the possibilities. To make accusations now on something of that magnitude . . .

He suddenly wished to get off this planet as quickly as he could.

An hour later, Obi-Wan began to see a difference in the light. No longer did the flickering shadows come only from the glowrod he held aloft in his hand. They now had a slight watery quality, as if a pale moon was casting light along with his own.

Ahead, the light trickled into the tunnel from a mineshaft soaring toward the planet's surface. Obi-Wan reached into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out his grappling hook. A smile ghosted across his face as he recalled Anakin's first introduction to this item of Jedi clothing.

"This is so wizard!" Anakin's face lit up as he began to search into the various pouches in his newly bestowed belt. "I could survive for days!"

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "That is the idea, Padawan. A Jedi does not have time to always pack before being sent on missions, or missions do not always go as planned. As such, we must be prepared at all times for whatever comes our way."

Anakin glanced sideways at his master as he tugged a grappling hook out of its pouch. "But I thought whatever happens is the will of the Force? Doesn't this," he gestured at the various safety and survival items scattered across their kitchenette table, "kinda go against the Jedi Code?"

Raising a brow, Obi-Wan folded his arms. Anakin had been his apprentice now for less than three months, and there were times he found his new padawan learner's precociousness trying. "The Force is not a nursemaid, Padawan. As Jedi, personal responsibility remains crucial in each mission. Besides," he added, "failing to plan is planning to fail, my young apprentice."

Letting go of the belt, Anakin folded his arms, mimicking his master's stance. "Did Master Yoda tell you that?" he asked impertinently.

Obi-Wan smirked. "No," he said slowly. "Obi-Wan Kenobi told me." He felt a full blown smile flicker across his face at his padawan's sheepish look. "You would do well to remember that."

With one final effort, Obi-Wan flipped himself out of the dark shaft and into the dimming twilight of the moon's surface. Pulling out his comlink, he attempted to reach the Negotiator and Cody once again. And once again, the comlink hissed back in the stillness. "Blasted thing must have gotten damaged in the fall," he muttered, shaking the offending piece of equipment.

Placing the broken comlink back in its pouch, he took a moment to look around him. The surface of the moon seemed different up close, the slags of rock seemed sharper, the terrain seemed grimmer. However, Obi-Wan could see to the north a particular jutting rock that thrust itself into the sky, the tip splitting into a fork that reminded him of the tongue of an Akivan viper. He had seen the rock formation on his flight in and smiled in relief.

The landing bay would be about three kilometers away. He may be trained to survive in all types of weathers and terrains but he was about done with walking for the day—not to mention being shot at by a bounty hunter and falling into mine shafts. He began to pick his way carefully across the rocky and dangerous terrain. Several mine shafts deep in the earth had collapsed years ago, and the resulting deep sink holes lent a particularly interesting facet to his trek.

The first shot came just as his destination was in sight. Even though he was tired, this time it did not take him by surprise. His lightsaber was in his hand and deflecting the blast so quickly it appeared to do so by magic. Dancing away from the barrage, he leapt behind a rocky outcropping.

The grating voice reaching his ears diminished his utter relief at his 'saber's return to working order.

"Miss me, Jedi?" the rasping voice grated through the canyon. Peering from his vantage point, Obi-Wan saw the hunter, as well as fifteen more seeker droids.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. I'm really beginning to hate this planet.

Then he stepped forward to greet the metallic flood of death heading his way.