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Chapter 9
Radiation
Alarms sounded off. A skeleton crew of Sith troopers rushed to evacuate.
The base's durasteel walls were built to bear anything. But they quickly strained from the orbital bombardment. Entire sections of the floor were stripped or crushed, revealing the chasm between the base and the mine.
Obi-Wan staggered forward, leaving bloody bootprints. Miler pulled R2 by one loose wire. Padme struggled with the weight of Eisley.
The Man led the way, blaster ready. Two troopers rushed in from another corridor. Only after he killed them did The Man see they weren't armed. Feeling the floor shudder, he glared at Obi-Wan. "Get a move on, boss! You're slowing us down!"
A ceiling panel unhinged, smashing the floor. Obi-Wan grabbed for the wall. His forehead crinkled with pain and frustration. This wasn't working. This wouldn't work. His pitiless eyes filled with resolve.
"He's right," said Obi-Wan. "You'll never make it with me."
"Y'can stop right there, Gen'ral!" Miler fired back. "We ain't leavin' ya—"
"I don't plan on dying. I'll take the shortcut through the maintenance shaft and meet you up there."
The Man's eyes widened. "The maintenance shaft? Are you crazy, Kenobi?! You won't last a minute in that radiation!"
"What's he talking about?" Padme demanded.
The wall behind them exploded, throwing The Man to the ground. He rolled away from the rubble as it caught on fire. Miler pulled him to his feet. "We're out of time!" shouted Obi-Wan. "Get to a ship! Wait for me as long as you can, but if I'm not there…"
He threw a look at Miler, who took its meaning. He grabbed Padme's shoulders. He stared into her eyes. They were comforting, tumultuous, pure like the Force. He touched her cheek and stepped back. Padme blinked away tears.
"You're out of your mind," The Man said.
Not out of my mind, thought Obi-Wan. Out of time. Out of blood.
"Good luck," he said.
She remembered the day she met Obi-Wan. She was a queen of fifteen. He was twenty-one. He'd been overly respectful to a certain pretender.
They sent him to broker peace between squabbling provinces. In the end, he secured a treaty that prevented succession. Out of this act, his legend was born: "The Negotiator."
He was so very young, unbearded and impish. She held his image while she dragged Eisley's dead weight.
"Ha ha!" The Man's laugh startled her.
He'd hooked into a security panel. Now he grinned at them smugly. "Looks like Bay 3 has two ships. It should be—" A blue blaster bolt whizzed by his head.
Miler fumbled for a weapon, finding he had none. He grabbed Padme and Eisley and dropped to the ground.
The Man looked for cover. Finding none, he returned fire. He saw three troopers peering out from parallel corners. The advantage was theirs. The Man's barrage missed badly. "Hey, kid! Little help here!"
His hand jerked back. His gun went flying. It took a moment to realize he'd been hit. Then came the pain. He stared in shock at his mangled palm.
Miler rolled to the Man's side. He took up the dropped blaster. As a trooper peeked out, Miler shot him in the chest, opening a smoking hole in the trooper's armor. The Man cradled red tissue where there should have been skin.
"I'll hold 'em off!" cried Miler. "Save Amidala!"
The Man gritted his teeth, crawling to Padme.
Obi-Wan's eyes were slits in the shaft's burning light.
He soldiered on through his futile undertaking. His body was being flooded with thermal radiation. His Force shield could only block so much. The maintenance shaft wasn't meant for the living. This was the domain of droids and death.
His mind was an amalgam of memories, half-formed images, and he confused them for the present. Only instinct urged him on, palm after palm, knee after knee, in the choppy rhythm of a misplayed march.
He thought of Anakin—of his last words. Was it so long ago? Had that time become ancient?
"This is madness! Are you really that vain?"
Anakin's lips twisted in a snarl. "Shut your mouth, you sanctimonious bastard! You've held me back long enough. For ten years, I've suffered your jealousy. I'm not going to let you blame me for becoming what you couldn't."
Obi-Wan's shoulders rolled forward. His fire was gone. In its place was his failure. "Anakin, the Sith are evil," he said quietly. "You're at the precipice of what can't be undone. If you leave here, there can be no redemption. There will be nothing and no one to guide you to the light."
His padawan hardened. "From my point of view, the Jedi are evil."
Obi-Wan looked past him at Coruscant, dirty in moonlight. He ran his tongue along his lips, fighting back tears.
"Then, I suppose," he said, "that you're already lost."
It was difficult to breathe. He could feel each rad penetrate his body. He could feel his blood rapidly poisoning.
Padme was a beautiful woman. Physically. Sometimes he didn't notice. He was too busy noticing other things about her. And to what, to whom, was he in debt for her light?
He was so tired. The ground was warm. Perhaps he was on a beach, and if he lay down, he'd eventually wake.
And perhaps he wouldn't.
He shut his eyes.