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Chapter 7
Pandemonium
People respond differently to the end of the world.
Many Sarnans were headed for a ship. Others sought safety underground. Some were looting, smashing store windows for trinkets and luxuries. The majority of families stayed true to each other, parents protecting their children to the death, while most individuals were out for themselves.
The Sith bombardment had yet to begin. But Quiren City was already burning. Vehicles crashed. Anarchists destroyed. Blasters were fired over limited resources. This cacophonous chaos drowned out the sirens.
"It's coming!" screamed an old drifter. "The end is coming, as I foretold!" He grabbed at Obi-Wan, who shook him away. "It's the end of days! Your wretched lives are over! Your unbelief—"
The Man threw a right cross, knocking him out. "Try gettin' dirty," he sneered at Obi-Wan.
The Jedi Master led his group through the fracas. The dead and injured littered their path.
They bumped and were bumped by desperate Sarnans. Leona, being large, kept her course well. Padme's slighter frame faltered, forcing Obi-Wan to hold her. Even as the world burned, it brought her solace.
In the heart of the city, the sirens were deafening. Obi-Wan's group was splintered by the mob.
Only Miler had his bearings. He saw a Bith restaurant from when he was a kid. The building next to it was a government office.
"Up there!" Miler shouted. "We'll fin'a speeder in the garage!"
Obi-Wan pushed through the crowd, clearing a path. But fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. It pulsed in his wrist: a second heartbeat. He'd shielded himself as long as he could. But now he felt people's terror: osmosis of the Force. He was sinking in the muck of a million voices.
A hulking Trandoshan pushed Padme aside. Obi-Wan grabbed him by the jacket, threw him to the ground. In his mind's eye, he could see himself cut the man's throat. The first whisper of the Dark Side crawled into his ears.
"Look out!" screamed Miler.
Obi-Wan blinked. Sith troopers and droids moved through the crowd. Repeating blasters unleashed, slaughtering indiscriminately. Men, women, and children screamed and convulsed, before falling in heaps as smoking corpses.
Miler's eyes snapped to Leona. Her vital organs were scattered in the street. Trampling feet smashed them to pieces. Miler scrambled on all fours, checking futilely for a pulse. He screamed in anguish, falling to his rear.
Obi-Wan hardened. His saber flashed on. He flipped over a gunman; at the point of inversion, he drove his blade top-to-bottom through the trooper's skull. He landed, whirled, and cut through a droid.
He positioned himself between the Sith and the crowd. He deflected every shot in his general direction.
The lead trooper cried, "It's a Jedi! Kill him!"
Their entire might turned on Obi-Wan. His movements quickened. His blade was a blur. He killed trooper after trooper by reflecting their own fire.
The Man appeared, shooting a droid between the eyes. Its cranium snapped off, clattering to the ground.
Obi-Wan bounded forward, blocking shots in mid-air before completing a full spin and cutting a Sith hip to shoulder. The two halves slid apart while he slayed the next trooper.
The Man gunned down two droids while another trooper attacked Obi-Wan. The Jedi cut his blaster, taking part of the hand with it. Then he speared him through the heart. He kicked him in the chest to dislodge his blade.
Two more: behind and in front. Obi-Wan dropped, sweeping their ankles. They crashed to the ground, breathless from impact. He controlled their minds so they aimed at each other. They screamed, died, perfectly in sync.
"Gen'ral!" Obi-Wan looked down, finding a red dot at the center of his chest. He heard a beast-like growl—his own?—and slammed on his back. White-hot pain surged through his body. Blood, and burns. The Force was gone. He had only five senses, each conspiring to bring him misery.
A trooper appeared over him, wearing a grin. Now the red dot was on his forehead.
Suddenly the trooper cried out, back arching, as a silver lightsaber burst from his chest. He clawed at the blade, succeeding only in losing his hands. The saber withdrew, and the trooper fell.
Obi-Wan met the bright eyes of Master Eisley Pathij. Confirming he lived, she returned to the fight.
Meanwhile, Miler and the Man unloaded on the droids. Padme, too, took up a blaster. She fired poorly, but her vigor didn't lack.
Where was Obi-Wan? Her heart skipped when she found him. He was splayed on the ground, utterly helpless. Padme dashed through the firefight, head kept low, before dropping to his side. Her hands darted from his stomach to face. The wound was severe. Possibly deadly.
"You're okay," lied Padme.
He gestured weakly behind her. Padme whirled to find a trooper training his gun.
The Man tackled him from the side. They exchanged a few punches before The Man grabbed the blaster. He pistol-whipped the trooper until he was dead.
Eisley cut down the last droid, ending the battle. She hurried to Obi-Wan, taking his other side. "Master Kenobi, can you manage? We have to keep moving."
"He needs a doctor!" cried Padme.
Obi-Wan's voice was raspy and thin. "No... I'm okay..."
"See, darlin'? He's fine," The Man drawled. "Give me a hand, kid."
Obi-Wan screamed as they lifted him. "Sorry, Gen'ral," Miler lamented. The Jedi's hands were balled tightly. He pressed his tongue to his palate to keep from biting it. Something soft, something wet, caressed his face. It was Padme's palm, sticky with his blood.
The Man said, "Get movin', boss. Or we'll all be dead."