THE SKY-FALLEN

by ardavenport

- - - Part 2

The lock clicked, yielding easily to the subtle push of the Force.

The door to the observation station slid open. A dim yellow light came on inside, but still bright against the blackness.

Qui-Gon Jinn hurried to get his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who waited on the ground with his back to the outer wall. He scooped the young man up. At seventeen, he was no longer the slight young boy he had taken as his apprentice. Qui-Gon lifted, pushing up from his knees as if the Force lifted him up. It did. It had, all day and through the night.

He sprang into the safety of the building, the door closing behind him. Up seven flights of stairs.

Another door at the top yielded to the Force.

The lights and power were on. He entered a minimal work room with bare walls and inset screens and computers apparently going through start-up routines initiated by his entry into the station.

Qui-Gon went beyond that into a living area with bare shelves, storage cabinets and tall narrow windows in the thick walls. Qui-Gon set Obi-Wan down on the wide sleeping platform, careful of his immobilized leg. After many hours of silently being carried, his Padawan winced.

"I'll be back," he said, his hand on his apprentice's shoulder. Obi-Wan nodded his understanding.

Back in the work room, Qui-Gon sat at the main console. There were map displays of the region, sensors, weather satellite feeds and communications. Their sanctuary usually served as an ecological monitoring station for the region. Or a haven for anyone able to reach it.

Taking out his com, Qui-Gon linked it to the console before him. He tapped the selectors, looking for a channel. He found interference, the same that had blocked any signal outside and in the escape capsules. But the observation station had a ground generator to draw from, and some direct tight beam satellite links. Qui-Gon tapped through the menu of available filters and signal boosters until he got a response. The holo-imager at the base of the chair activated.

"Prefect Ulahoo's Suite," the bluish hologram of a tall straight private secretary answered.

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn to speak with the Prefect. Immediately."

The private secretary's expression slipped into shock before recovering.

"Immediately." The holo image vanished. A cloud of static remained, the connection still open. Sitting back, Qui-Gon, exhaled, feeling the Force flow more slowly through him. Finally free to let go of his concentration on direction, Obi-Wan's injury, predators, lightsabers and survival, he felt detached and cleanly separated from the brutal plains below. He waited, no thoughts disturbing his repose.

The blue static before him took form.

"Jinn!" The Grand Prefect of Torik-Sen stood there, clutching a casual robe over a well-maintained and naked body. "Where are you?"

"Station Tah-hef-chu on the Plains of Penance," he stated, glancing at the ID insignia on the screens before him.

"And the Ermatz delegates?"

"The ones who were sensible and did not panic and stayed in their escape pods should be alive. And waiting to be picked up. Eager I would say," he added, remembering their one meeting with a couple of the delegates sheltering in their pod.

Ulahoo nodded curtly. "Of course they will. Immediately." The senior politician waved a hand, presumably a signal for the secretary to initiate the order. "After that, we will come for you as well."

Qui-Gon remained silent.

"You have done the Consortium a great service, Master Jinn."

"I come to serve," Qui-Gon replied flatly, without a trace of enthusiasm.

"We reported to Coruscant that you were missing and probably dead. But the Jedi Council said you were not." The Prefect looked concerned. "How did they know?"

"That question you will have to ask of the Jedi Council."

Qui-Gon cut the connection before the Prefect could continue.

Qui-Gon exhaled, closing his eyes. His head fell back; the back of the chair was not even high enough to support his shoulders. He noticed for the first time that it had an uncomfortable hard plastoid seat. He did not care. His body badly needed rest. But he still had one duty left.

Opening his eyes again, he turned back to the coms. He linked to a hyperspace-relay to Coruscant.

Master Ki-Adi Mundi's holo-form appeared as soon as the connection confirmed to the Jedi Temple.

"Master Qui-Gon," the Council member said in his gentle voice, inclining his tall head in greeting. Folding his arms before him, Qui-Gon nodded his head in respect. "I presume that you are safe now."

"I am. My Padawan was injured by the Consortium guards who were supposed to protect the usurper contingent before we were all forced into the ship's escape pods and abandoned on the Adheris De-ahm Plains. I believe that most of the delegates survived and I have contacted Prefect Ulahoo, who has agreed to retrieve them.

"And though nothing has been said to me directly, I believe that this entire escapade was prearranged by the Prefecture and the Ermatz factions. Possibly as a ceremonial test of worthiness with us serving as champions, since anyone condemned to these Plains who survives receives automatic pardon for any offense they might have committed. I did not inquire of their motives."

"You have surmised correctly, Master Qui-Gon. The Council was so informed. After the report of your demise and that of the usurpers. The Council was not pleased that any member of the Jedi Order would be so used to settle an internal political squabble. The Prefecture will be censured by the Senate."

Qui-Gon supposed that the Jedi Council needed to care about such things as censures and Senates, but he did not. He mutely answered with a nod.

"The Temple will send a ship to pick you up. Unless your Padawan is in need of more immediate medical attention. . . ?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, "No. He has a broken leg and some bruising; his injuries are significant, but not life-threatening."

"Then if you will relay your position, we will send a ship. Your mission is ended. As is the Jedi Order's dealings with the Prefecture."

Qui-Gon felt a rare trickle of gratitude inside him toward the Jedi Council as he copied the information over the com. After Mundi confirmed their location they exchanged one final 'May the Force be with you,' before cutting the connection.

Leaning back in the chair again, Qui-Gon exhaled. Now he was finished. He had only to attend to Obi-Wan.

Getting up, he went back into the living space. Obi-Wan sprawled across the sleeping platform, his eyes closed but his expression pinched. Though the broken leg was firmly immobilized, Qui-Gon sensed the throbbing pain of it through the Force. Obi-Wan could spare no energy or concentration for healing while clinging to his Master's back, controlling the pain, his lightsaber ready for an attack.

Sitting down next to him, Qui-Gon laid a hand on his brow. It felt a little warm, but that came from exertion, not illness. Obi-Wan's eyes opened. A thin film of dust dulled his short, stiff ginger-brown hair.

"Relax, Obi-Wan. We are safe here. And the Force is still with you. It can ease your pain for a little longer. We will be retrieved soon. I will check for any medical supplies here in the meantime," he said, stroking the boy's short hair. Nodding, Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, his focus turning inward.

Qui-Gon got up and began looking through the wall storage units in the room. He found a pantry and modular cooking unit behind the largest sliding doors. Behind others were empty containers, cleaning supplies, pillows, blankets, body cloths of various sizes, a rock collection and digging tools, a variety of games, bins of spare clothes and other things. Qui-Gon had to search the work area to find the med-kit he was looking for. He returned with it, collected pillows, blankets and body cloths and sat down on the sleep couch next to his Padawan.

Obi-Wan stirred, his eyes fluttering open, when Qui-Gon put a pillow under his head.

"The Jedi Temple is sending a ship to pick us up," he said as he took out a scanner from the med-kit.

"Our mission is finished then?"

"Yes." Passing the scanner over the injured leg, Qui-Gon noted that the fracture was no worse though no better either. Obi-Wan had controlled most of the swelling, but there had been no time to do any more than immobilize it with an emergency brace covering boot and all, before they were driven into the escape pods along with the Ermatz delegates.

"The Jedi Council was also deceived by the Prefecture and they are most displeased by it. They have requested a censure from the Senate. We will leave as soon as our ship arrives." Qui-Gon took out a cutting tool and ran his hand over the smooth white plastoid.

"Uh, Master," Obi-Wan started, sitting up on his elbows. "I could actually use some help getting to the fresher first."

As soon as Obi-Wan said it, Qui-Gon needed to use the facilities as well. The Force and Jedi discipline had allowed them to postpone most bodily functions, but now they were no longer being stalked, in immediate danger of being killed and eaten.

Qui-Gon helped the young man get up and hobble, one-legged, to the living area's fresher and then waited for his turn. He heard various thumps and bumps inside, but no trouble. When Obi-Wan finished, he helped him back to the sleep platform and then returned to the fresher for his own needs. The fixtures were simple and generic, but effective. After relieving himself he drank deeply from the drinking water spigot and then washed his hands and wiped his face and neck with a damp hand cloth. They were both dusty and sweaty from their day and night of running. He would have liked to have taken more time to wash off the grime, but Obi-Wan needed his help first.

After exiting the fresher, he sat down again by Obi-Wan's injured leg. His Padawan had taken off his robe, belt and pouches, and loosened his obi and tunics. His eyes were closed, his hands folded over his middle in a obvious meditation posture.

Qui-Gon immediately jolted him out of it when he jerked the boot off of his uninjured foot.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly and then looked embarrassed.

"Focus, my young Padawan," Qui-Gon said with a mischievous smile.

He began cutting away the brace. And then the boot and pant leg. Underneath, the skin was splotchy and bruised and warm under Qui-Gon's fingers. There were no cuts or scrapes. He felt the heat of the point of injury, sensed the ruptured cells and blood vessels, the crack in the bone like a slice across the nerves and porous soft tissue inside. His fingertips lightly brushed across slightly swollen skin and sparse hair. The break was beginning to heal, the freshness of the wound dimming, but still vivid.

Glancing toward Obi-Wan, he saw that his apprentice had resuming his healing meditation.

He extracted a flexible roll of self-hardening brace and slid it under and around the leg, immobilizing it again up past the knee and down to foot and ankle. The new brace formed a hard, pale pink shell in minutes. After one final scan of Obi-Wan's vital signs, he put the med-kit away.

Now he was finished.

Until the ship came.

Wearily, he got up, took off his robe, and then belt and boots, removed his obi and tabards and loosened his tunics. Obi-Wan had placed his lightsaber on a stand next to the sleep platform and Qui-Gon put his there next to it. He took a blanket and laid it over Obi-Wan before taking one for himself along with a pillow. He laid down next to his wounded Padawan.

Obi-Wan's blue-gray eyes opened.

"Master," he said softly, staring up at the ceiling. Qui-Gon lay on his side, facing him. "Did you sense the thoughts of creatures who pursued us? The Ha-Rarrum?" he asked.

"Yes, their thoughts and especially their instincts were very intense. Very strong," he whispered the last words without meaning to.

Obi-Wan swallowed and inhaled loudly as if he were coming up for air.

"I did not sense that you. . . . were aware of that."

"What did you sense?"

"Calm. Purpose. The Force." Obi-Wan's eyes flicked toward him and then shyly away. "I relied on you very much when we were on the plains."

"I know," the older man answered. "I carried you the entire way," he finished lightly.

A stricken look shaded Obi-Wan's next glance. When Qui-Gon had first released the young man from the damaged pod he had said that since he was injured he should be left behind.

In imminent danger, the feral beings of the plains already watching them, Qui-Gon had sternly ordered him to suppress his fears and climb out of the escape pod and onto his back. Qui-Gon could use to the Force to carry him, and they were stronger together. Obi-Wan had obeyed, followed his training, controlled his fears and clung to him in every way, but not realizing that his Master drew strength from his presence. They had worked together as one, Qui-Gon proud of his apprentice's growing ability. All of Qui-Gon's encouragement then had been about their mission, their shared purpose that demanded all their focus and strength.

"You were a light burden to carry, Obi-Wan. I would not have fared so well without your help," he said gently, laying a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"You did not fear the Ha-Rarrum. As I did," he confessed.

"Yes. I did."

Open disbelief in his eyes, Obi-Wan stared back.

"But I did not cling to my fear. You controlled yours well, but it was still there. It still is." He moved his hand to rest on Obi-Wan's stomach, perceived by many Jedi as a center point of the Living Force. "Let me show you.

"What I sensed from the Ha-Rarrum," he began after Obi-Wan's brief nod, "was their nature. They live to kill. To dominate and consume their prey. And everything is prey to them. Even their own kind. The pleasure they gain from ripping flesh from bone, savoring blood and soft organs is as real to them as the sustenance itself."

"But they are intelligent, Master."

"Yes. That is why they are such dangerous predators. And convenient executioners to those condemned by the Prefecture. Is it their intelligence that you find so disquieting, my young Padawan? That you find so hard to let go of?" A trickle of fear felt under his hand through the Force answered his question.

"There is no life, no civilization, no technology that would satisfy the Ha-Rarrum more than what they have now. It makes them whole. Complete with their world. It is what they are. Did you sense that?"

"I think . . . .I think I was too distracted by their thoughts of tearing us to pieces."

"Aaaah. I see that one can be too focused on the moment."

Obi-Wan almost answered that with a smile. Qui-Gon was always counseling him to focus on the moment, on the Living Force.

"Especially if it is the wrong moment. You must choose your own, Obi-Wan.

"We have encountered many presumably intelligent beings in the galaxy, who have contemplated doing much worse things to us," he went on. "But the Ha-Rarrum are uniquely primal and focused. They form their own brutal reality. So, while we were together in their world, you clung to mine. You chose my moment to isolate yourself from theirs," he finally concluded.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan confessed, his head turned toward him, the pillow it rested on squashed next to his..

"You did well. You recognized the weakness in your own focus, so you supplemented it with mine."

"But should I not be strong enough to focus. . . . to control my fears on my own?"

"Under such circumstances, injured and constantly in immediate danger of being killed, if you were that strong and disciplined, I would have to recommend you to the Jedi Council for the Trials. But I think that is still a few years away," he told his seventeen year-old apprentice. "That kind of focus only comes with time and experience. Patience. It will come.

"But perhaps I have been remiss in broadening your experience in your training." Qui-Gon's thoughts slowly felt their way toward his own answer. "There are other species with instincts as primal as the Ha-Rarrum. Even among the Jedi. We shall seek some of them out when we return."

Qui-Gon lifted his hand, pointed at the lighting controls by the door. The room fell into darkness with only a few stray lights from the monitors in the work area remaining. The air in the disused monitoring station had freshened since they had arrived. Qui-Gon could hear a few night sounds from the plains below coming in from the narrow windows.

"Master?" Obi-Wan's voice said in the dark.

"Mmmm," Qui-Gon answered, his head sunk in the soft pillow.

"Could any of the Ha-Rarrum be a Jedi?"

Immediately Qui-Gon's mind churned with the complications. While this moon was in the Republic, it was governed autonomously; there was no screening of Ha-Rarrum younglings for Jedi potential. But if the Force willed it, there would be a way. . . .

"Yes. But not until after we have rested," he said curtly, banishing that clutter of thoughts from his mind. The room became silent again, and Qui-Gon's mind drifted toward sleep.

"Good night, Qui-Gon."

He sighed. "Good night, Obi-Wan."

- - - End Part 2