Legacy
Book I
Chapter 9
"I am certain one of the grav-sleds could carry you," Qui-Gon solicitously observed, as he helped Ayya labor up the steep incline behind the rest of Kerrn's Folk.
"No need," the elder snorted. "First you ride, and then you lose your strength. So long as I have legs, I'll use 'em." She leaned upon her cane, wobbling as the narrow path dipped into a muddy bend.
"Take my arm," the tall man offered, shooting a swift and quelling glance at his younger comrade, a pre-emptive strike against the unwelcome deployment of wit.
"Oh, bless you, young man," the shawled and shuffling grandmother crooned, happily accepting the proffered assistance as the entire cavalcade made its painstaking way up a narrow foot-trail into the lower hills.
Obi-Wan allowed his bright flare of amusement to flood across the Force's wide currents, a wave of rippling delight breaking upon the Jedi master's tranquil shores. Qui-Gon craned his head over one shoulder again, eyes flashing dangerously at his former protégé, as the latter person paced sedately behind, bringing up the rearguard.
The young Knight projected a vibrant mental image of the Chandrilan High Matriarch at the Festival of Renewing, on the last day of that mission – and was rewarded by the sight of his revered mentor actually stumbling over a protruding tree root in the path.
He wasn't able to completely suppress his quiet chuckle for a solid three minutes, during which time Qui-Gon pointedly and studiedly ignored his very existence.
It was a gorgeous morning, the gloom that had heretofore dominated Niffrendi's skies melting into a glorious radiance, violet peeking through the green canopy overhead, sunlight resplendent upon leaf and mottled earth, flutterwings cavorting in the warm coils of steam rising from the forest floor. The Living Force sang, and the Wanderers trudged doggedly upward, and the young Jedi happily traversed the beaten path behind them, entranced by the wild beauty of the wakening day. In the aftermath of such a storm, it was difficult to attend to the faint keening of danger at the periphery of consciousness- the sense of relief and revitalization swept up all other concerns in its brilliant immediacy.
He drummed fingers absently against his 'saber hilt, unconsciously attuning himself to the crystals chiming within. In such a perpetual now, when the totality of nature seemed to well up from the Force's depths, the whys and wherefores of their presence here faded to inconsequence, the dictates of their assignment to pale in comparison to the concrete wending of the path just underfoot.
That was when he actually laughed aloud, recognizing in his own present mood the unmistakable stamp of his lineage in the Force.
Qui-Gon cast another glance backward, this time one softened by a knowing light, one that radiated outward from eyes to mouth, and into the plenum itself. Obi-Wan smiled back, a bit wryly, accepting that the joke was at his expense this time.
And then…. a sharp wrenching, a portent of trouble ahead. Both Jedi halted dead on the spot, bodies tensed and senses straining.
"Just a moment." The tall man deposited Ayya upon his former apprentice's arm, deftly delegating his role to the younger man. "This is Obi-Wan. I'm sure you will find him a versatile conversationalist," he addressed the amiable crone, an instant before he sprang away up the slope toward the summit of this spur, not bothering with the reticulated trail.
"He'd better look out for poison okra," Ayya wheezed, clutching at the young Jedi's elbow as they clambered over a rough patch, "or he'll end with welts and sores all over his hide."
Obi-Wan lifted his brows, on the verge of making some flippant reply, when the shadow passed overhead. The trees obscured his view from this angle, but the speed of the object, and the distinct whir of distant atmospheric drives, were incontrovertible signs.
"Airship," Ayya grunted. "Urb commuters."
But local commuter ships were never outfitted with ion-repulsor hybrid drives; this was a space vessel making a landing descent. The Force tautened with warning, and he breathed out the concomitant tightening in his own chest. Invaders.
"Maybe," he said aloud, hoping that Qui-Gon had attained the open summit quickly enough to have a good look at the newcomers.
At the plateau summit, the Folk of the Stones dispersed to harvest a wide field of ionite deposits, loading the trove upon their dilapidated grav-sleds. Obi-Wan hastened to join Qui-Gon at his lookout's post on a high ridge above the first treeline.
"Did you recognize it?" he asked, squinting out over the plains below.
The Jedi master hooked thumbs through his belt, gazing at the northern horizon. "The profile was unfamiliar." He sketched the silhouette of a ship in the mud at their feet, scratching at the damp soil with a stick. "Does that mean anything to you?"
Obi-Wan grimaced. "Thanks to Garen, yes." He looked up at his companion. "It resembles a Paxellian Raptor – that's a scouting ship, like those the Legion once employed as precursors to an invasion."
The tall man exhaled slowly. "I must admit, I harbored grave doubts about the truth of these rumors."
A terse nod. "I still do… there's something not right. But that is a pirate ship, from outside Republic boundaries. And not Hutt or Togorian."
Qui-Gon waved a hand over the crest of the hills. "They headed due north, and descended in that direction – possibly following the trail of those probes."
Obi-Wan pressed his mouth into a thin line. "I'm glad they got my message."
The Jedi master cocked a brow at him. "If so, they're at least two hundred klicks off-target. Odd."
It was inexplicable, given the proximity of the last two recon droids. "Perhaps the storm interfered with their tracking signal."
"Possibly." And yet, neither of them believed it. The Force was disturbed, but thrumming in faint discord, the chaotic nexus of possibilities still churning aimlessly without connection, a disbanded web of dark intentions. The tall man frowned, allowing the conflicting currents to push and pull at his mind, granting no particular guidance. "But something tells me it's not so simple."
"Oh, well, as long as we're to be spared ennui." Obi-Wan folded his arms and glared over the sun-kissed treetops at the smudged line of mountains beyond. "We should keep watch tonight, anyhow."
"Agreed."
Because whether or not the Raptor bore any connection to the probe droids or the raids, there was a new piece on the dejarik board, and it was their opponent's move.
"What's that you've got there, eh?" Ayya inquired, as dusk settled in about the Wanderer's new campsite, dark gathering about the edges of their chosen clearing while the sky lowered its canopy in ominous folds of rain-laden cloud. "Heartstone?"
Obi-Wan paused his contemplative etching, Vespari knife in one hand, mind unfurled over the entire assembly like vast protective wing. Qui-Gon had stationed himself further out, upon a sheer cliff's summit some hundred meters behind, a vantage point from which he had a panoptic view of the surrounding slopes and the glacial plain below. The Force wove their vigilance into a singularity, binding them into the weft of sky and grass, aching sweep of stone and shivering branch. A vague threat lay over them all, ominous as the promise of cold rain to come. Patience, the young Jedi repeated his private mantra. Patience.
"Oooh, very lovely," the ancient murmured, sighing over his primitive handiwork. "But what sort of flower is that? Not one that grows here."
He contracted his awareness far enough to muster reply; there was no need to be rude, after all. "Oh…ah, mandrangea blossom." A pulse – the faintest throb of warning – emanating from Qui-Gon and resounding silently in his own blood. Trouble, on the way. He shoved the half-finished carving into his tunic pocket, and uncurled from his sentinel's post atop a flat boulder. "You'd better go back to the others – something's coming."
"Coming?" the old woman protested, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "A raid?"
But he hardly knew himself. "Go," he ordered, urgently. "Tell Kerrn to keep everyone together. We'll handle this."
"But you haven't got blasters!"
"Just go. Please."
Ayya waved her stick at him in affronted compliance, hunching along as hastily as she was able. Danger coiled like sickly smoke now, an impalpable thread of premonition. He tasted ash on his tongue, though the nomads' fire was downwind. A thrill of anticipation flooded his limbs, a cold rallying of present strength and bygone horror, an unwholesome tincture of then and now. He forcibly banished the encroaching past on a long centering breath and sprang away, dashing headlong for the top of the cliff.
"What is it?"
Qui-Gon silently handed him the compact macro-binoculars, the slightest tightening of muscles about his mouth bespeaking a battle to come.
Obi-Wan adjusted the focus, screening the southern foothills for signs of motion. The optic enhancers locked onto a pair of dark specks ascending the rise along the same path the Wanderers had climbed that morning. He magnified ten, twenty, thirty times, and then hissed audibly.
"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed, grimly.
"But how did they load heavy tanks into a Raptor's cargo bays?" the young Knight wondered aloud. Not that he was an engineering specialist, but his rough, second hand knowledge suggested that the typical Paxellian scout ship was designed for speed and stealth, and that warriors were the preferred contents of its hold.
"And why are they coming from the wrong direction?" the tall man added.
Obi-Wan relinquished the 'nocs and curled one hand about his 'saber hilt. "We can't defend them effectively up here," he decided. "We'll need to cut those tanks off." He squinted down the slopes, straining to see in the swiftly waning twilight. "There – we'll have the high ground and they can't maneuver on that double bend without toppling over the edge."
He was answered by a laughing grunt of admiration. "You've grown used to tactical strikes, I see. And here I thought I trained a diplomat."
"Aggressive negotiations, Master."
They slipped down the trail together, under cover of oncoming night.
The tanks were armored with triple reinforced tritanium, much like the hull of a war-ship. "I recognize those!" Obi-Wan gasped. "There were slagged models all over Melida-Daan... from the original civil wars. They melted in the nuclear weapon blasts – these must be holdovers from some arms dealer out here."
"The Rims have a way of preserving technologies swept away in Core world fads," Qui-Gon agreed. "These must have been purchased on the black market – or else stolen from an old warehouse."
The rumble of the heavy treads drew closer, closer… trees groaned and fell beneath the unwieldy onslaught, crashing onto neighbors and sending avians shrieking upward in droves.
Night fell, blanketing the path in pitch darkness, not a star visible through the heavy cloudcover. "Here they come," Obi-Wan breathed, one boot propped against his chosen weapon. "On three?"
The automated assault vehicles rumbled upward, implacable, the blink of running lights and targeting sensors like so many pairs of leering eyes in the forest's depths. Closer, closer-
"Three," the young Jedi smirked, holding out both hands and levering the massive stone slab out of its resting place with the power of the Force. Qui-Gon extended his hand; strength flowed between them, around them; the rock lifted from its millennium-long resting place and lumbered down the trail, hitting the soft earth with a baritone thud and then rolling drunkenly down the slope.
The foremost tank slammed into it headfirst, sending up an almighty thunder as stone careened into hulking metal. The second monster halted in its tracks, cannon barrel spinning in a wide circle.
The Force flared in bright warning, and the Jedi leapt into the trees' spreading boughs as both machines spat gouts of annihilating fire, streams of liquid flame pouring in long, blast-propelled jets into the forest's vestibule, over bracken and brush. The hushed cathedral floor went up in hellish, lurid fire, the bitter scent of carbonics clotting the air.
Swinging down to avoid a roasting, Knight and master landed between the monstrous droids, 'sabers blazing into life, a line of emerald and sapphire blue springing up in defiance. Crouched among the massive tread struts, they scrambled beneath the huge chassis, seeking the weak point in their armor.
But there was none apparent- and a moment later, the boulder had been shoved aside and sent hurtling down the far slope, where it hewed an inelegant path of destruction all the way to the lonely scree below. The tanks lurched into motion, sending the Jedi desperately rolling to either side.
"Blast shielding!" Obi-Wan panted, springing upright with weapon in hand. There would be no easy carving through such heavy armor.
"The treads," Qui-Gon barked.
They pursued their quarry, sprinting in the wake of the killing machines' inexorable upward crawl, slashing at the tread housings, the flexible conveyor belts, the hard-edged cleats along the tracks' width. Sparks flew and scraps scattered to the floor; the tanks skidded to a grinding standstill.
Obi-Wan leapt, 'saber screaming, to the domed roof of the first tank, even as its partner's cannon swiveled round, planting him in its sights. He sank his blade hilt deep in the seam between hatch and hull, then somersaulted away again as a spout of fire scorched through the air, singeing his cloak. He landed on the downward slope, scrabbling in thorny bracken for a handhold. The burning forest roared around them, thick smoke clawing skyward in sinuous pillars.
"Sith-spit!"
Another jet of flame spewed overhead; Qui-Gon skidded down the crumbling hillside and landed beside him, uttering a filthy Huttese curse. The tanks clanked, shuddered, and then rose, reticulated feet unfolding beneath their bulk.
"No you don't," Obi-Wan gritted out, eyes streaming in the toxic effluvia of the fire.
Lightning lanced overhead, followed by deafening thunder. The sky rumbled furiously, opening a black maw to swallow the flames whole.
Pelting rain blurred the chemical fire into a stinking morass of smoke and poisonous fumes. Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, Qui-Gon beside him. "There! At the bend!"
Choking, they leapt wildly for the gap ahead, where the narrow path doubled back upon itself, skirting a sharp precipice. Trees stood starkly unfleshed by consuming tongues of wrath, angry torches casting red shadow upon the devastation. A black miasma billowed in choking clouds where rain and fire warred for dominance.
'Saber blades flashed, carved fierce wounds upon crumbling, curling bark; the Force surged high, desperation flaring wildly in its depths; several flaming pillars keeled slowly, tracing graceful arcs against the torrid black night, and then tumbled crashing across the trail, root balls flinging clods sky-high, collapsing the hillside beneath them, pulling down boulder and soil and flaming bough in endless avalanche.
The tanks were buried, then swept away, plummeting over the imploding edge onto tumbled rock and unforgiving slope, rolling and bouncing against the cliff side, spinning down into the waiting gorge. The Jedi leapt clear of the slide, Force-propelled in long, mirrored dives for the upper branches of a great sequoo. Twin explosions echoed up from the canyon floor as the tanks hit bottom; fire and tumbling rock followed behind the first slide; lightning slammed, unforgiving, into the base of their high refuge.
The sequoo split, base to spire, twinned halves jutting precariously over a sheer drop into nothingness. "Jump!" Qui-Gon commanded, as their supporting limb began a slow, careening descent.
"What?"
"Now, Obi-Wan!"
Thunder shook the mountain's base; torrential rain ranted and raged; in slow motion, the entire giant sequoo wrenched free of its last mooring and dropped sickeningly beneath them.
"Ooooh, not good-"
They leapt in the same frantic heartbeat – sailed outward, clear of the wreckage and sure disaster, sailing together over the precipice and into thin air -
And then fell, tumbling head over heels, righting themselves in mid-air, hands grasping the others' arms, locking in place, the Force roaring – howling- through bone and blood and sinew, wringing agonized cries from their throats as they pushed against the planet's mass, against gravity, trees rushing up stone wood fire water air sound speed –
The world exploded into blinding dark, into splintering light, and the breath was knocked from their lungs as they smashed through the last line of leafy boughs and tumbled to the hard banks of a riverbed like a pair of felled thranctills.
Smoke lazily wended overhead; rain fell; the rumbling heavens spun and tilted.
Qui-Gon groaned, checked his ribs for fractures, then cautiously rolled over.
"Obi-Wan."
No answer.
He crawled, painfully, to the brown and cream heap sprawled a short distance away. "Obi-Wan!"
Three shallow, heaving breaths. Rain poured down, rivulets of mud pooling beneath the young man's prone form. A soft moan, a disapproving scowl, and a pair of blue eyes cracked open. The Jedi master exhaled, heart clamoring against his breastbone. Thunder growled overhead, slinking away to its hidden lair.
"Ugh... Qui-Gon?"
The tall man knelt, gently probing for injuries.
"Ow – no –" the young Knight managed to sit, bedraggled and rain-soaked, cloak hood askew over one shoulder, long hair drenched and clinging to his skin in long auburn gnarls.
They breathed together, resting in the Force's sweet lull, heedless of the rain, their disbelieving, semi-stunned relief gradually melting into simple gratitude.
"Well," Obi-Wan managed, at last. "Was that fast enough for you, Master?"
Qui-Gon raised his brows, quizzically.
"…You said you wanted to get to the bottom of this quickly."
