The Field Trip
Day 3
Master Pertha had the kindness to share his own shelter with them that night, though the aging Togruta Jedi insisted that they rinse and wring out their stinking clothing over the portable heating unit outside. Swamps left a lingering impression, he said. Qui Gon Jinn had the decency to rouse his young charge at an early hour the next morning, carefully re-bandaging the shoulder wound, even though it had mended well enough with the help of bacta and Master Pertha's healing skill. The other Padawans and their masters had the manners not to ask any questions as the group shared a hasty meal around the smouldering camp fire and prepared for the third day's adventures.
"Something a bit more conventional for you today," Master Pertha announced, almost cheerfully, clapping his golden hands together once. " A tournament!"
The Padawans murmured in surprise and appreciation. The tall Twi'Lek sitting on his chunk of log beside Obi Wan nudged the much younger boy in the ribs. "There you go, Kenobi. You can show us a thing or two today."
He offered the older Padawan a small smile of gratitude. Feld Spruu, a lean twenty-something with a very dark blue complexion and headtails as thick as his muscle-knotted arms, was by far the oldest and strongest of the group, the likely winner in any contest based on battle skill alone. His encouragement was given without condescension. Feld was surely due to be knighted soon; his participation in this trip must simply be a warm-up for a more serious period of preparation for the Trials.
"The first round will be a blind exercise, in the stand of trees yonder." Master Pertha indicated a cluster of tall copi trees growing on a swell of land a half-klick distant. "You will be playing against the seeker droids. You are expected to evade the droids, and to hit them if possible. Your sabers should be set to lowest power; the droids are set to full stun and will show no mercy," he concluded serenely.
"That's fair," another of the Padawans muttered under his breath. Obi Wan studied Ky Shinshee sideways, under cover of fiddling with his weapon's settings. Ky was four years his senior, and well-known in the dojo as a formidable swordsman. His dark braid was marked halfway with a black band – Ky's first master had been killed during an uprising on Helios. Some said that the Padawan had never been the same. Certainly Master Ta-Soto, standing gravely behind the circle of eager apprentices, looked as though he had heard the last remark and strongly disapproved. Obi Wan's eyes flicked over to Qui Gon, who met his gaze with a tiny sideways glance of his own and an admonitory frown, a reminder to pay attention to the present moment.
He looked away, only to find Ky Shinshee staring back at him, all too aware that he was the topic of Obi Wan's speculation.
"It's…better than I hoped," the latter improvised, seeking to deflect a confrontation. "I thought we would be blindfolded and unarmed."
Ky's stern face reluctantly melted into a smile of humor, and he turned away, placated.
They stood to move toward the assigned location of the first contest. Feld Spruu fell in beside Obi Wan, flashing a white grin, striking against his blue skin. "In Twi'Lek, my little friend, we would call you fala di konimi. One who laughs in death's face." He slapped the younger Padawan on the back. "I will keep an eye on you today, Obi-Nobi." He strode past, chuckling at his own cleverness.
"I see you've made a new friend," Qui Gon observed, appearing from behind.
"Yes, master." They walked easily through knee-high grass, over springing turf. The land this side of the Tanaab ridge was much more fertile than that of the barren peninsula beyond. "Though I'm not sure what he meant by that last bit."
"He intended a compliment," Qui Gon smiled. "You handled Ky Shinshee well. He is upset because he currently is last in the standings – well, except for you, of course. Sometimes an innocent exercise such as this can unearth hidden flaws, or strengths."
Obi Wan glanced up at the tall Jedi, wondering how many more hidden flaws he had, yet to be unearthed by this innocent exercise. He was seized, for a fleeting instant, with a desire to run back to camp and refuse to participate. But that would be unbecoming….and surely his fortunes were bound to change? A tournament was, as Feld had hinted, much more in his line. Squared off in competition with other beings rather than nature itself, he felt the Force as his ally, a sure guide, an inspiration. Perhaps today would after all be his day. He would not reflect poorly on Qui Gon yet again.
They finished the march across the short distance to the stand of trees, a grove of smooth trunks set close together amid a deep carpet of their own fallen leaves and strips of papery bark. The seeker droids were released into the forest, and quickly disappeared from view, hovering high and low as they sought vantage points within the mottled terrain. The masters fixed blindfolds in place and murmured words of advice and encouragement.
Qui Gon, of course, had a rather unusual piece of counsel to offer. "The way to win this contest is to worry only about yourself, and to ruthlessly ignore the plight of others," he advised in a low tone.
Obi Wan's mouth popped open. "But…master…"
"Off you go." The tall Jedi gave his Padawan a small shove between the shoulder blades and stepped back to watch events unfold. Obi Wan stumbled forward into the soft mulch, appalled at the advice he had been given. It violated every pricinple of Jedi teachings he knew. It made no sense. It was…wrong.
The copi grove was quiet; the mat of dried and rotting leaves and mulch muffled their footsteps. The eight young Jedi fanned out, on instinct. The droids would have a harder time tracking down multiple targets. Obi Wan kept his saber in his hand but not activated. He used the Force to sense the trunks of the trees around him, the flitting animals and birds that scattered through the branches overhead, the distantly whirring droids. He could feel the position of the other Padawans, and the presence of the masters on the outside of the irregular circle of trees. He moved slowly, patiently, keeping his focus spread out in a wide net around him.
A seeker approached from the right, and above. His saber buzzed to life and deflected the stunning bolts it fired at him. The droid lowered its position; he rolled aside and then leapt, gaining extra momentum by springing off a tree trunk. He sailed over the droid, turning a somersault, and slashed downward, striking the metallic carapace squarely with the saber's edge as he did so. The droid crashed to the soft earth, and Obi Wan made a somewhat slippery landing beside it.
One down. Footsteps nearby. He melted away into the trees – someone else would only bring more droids. He crouched down, ready to flee, and listened. Another droid – no, a pair of droids – descended into the clearing he had just abandoned. The Padawan who had been unfortunate enough to just enter the open space cursed under his breath. There was the thrum and sweep of a saber, and the sound of rapid-fire shots form the droids. ObI Wan could sense the desperation of the fight, the two seekers circling round, attempting a simultaneous attack from two directions. He tensed.
Qui Gon had said to worry only about himself.
A bolt slammed into an exposed root near his foot. He drew back another pace or two. The battle intensified. He knew with certainty that the Jedi in the clearing could not defeat both droids, not in the open. Why didn't he run? He wanted to shout at the older student not to be stupid, to find better cover, to lead the seekers deeper into the trees. But Qui Gon had told him to worry only about himself.
The battle drew nearer. He would either have to run himself, or…
He leapt out of hiding, saber whirling. The nearest droid targeted him, sent three bolts in quick succession at his chest. He angled his saber minutely, heart hammering. Accuracy, not power. Control, control…two of the the three bolts slammed back into the droid. It spun in place. He jumped, slashed, brought the thing down at his feet. A moment later the beleaguered Padawan behind him had dispatched the second one.
Obi Wan smiled, reaching out a hand to feel for the other's arm….but his gesture was slapped away angrily. Hard fingers reached up and tore off his blindfold. He found himself staring up into the bright, dark eyes of Ky Shinshee.
"Had I wished for your help, I would have asked for it," the tall Padawan growled at him. "I had the situation under control. Go find your own droid, Kenobi."
Obi Wan blinked. "I…thought you might need assistance." His own temper rose within him, and he sucked in a deep breath, leashing his tongue.
"A muscle leapt along Ky's jaw. "Thank you for your concern," he said tightly. "This is a competition, not playtime in the crèche."
"There's no need to be rude," Obi Wan warned him. He should walk away. Another droid was bound to find them here unless they moved. Qui Gon would not approve if he were caught bickering with another student.
Ky shrugged dismissively. "I did not mean to offend you. But this is a serious exercise for some of us. My master will not come rushing to save me if I fail." His mouth thinned into a hard line, and he sprang away into the top of a nearby tree, swiftly disappearing into the sparse foliage.
Hands shaking, Obi Wan re-fastened his blindfold and set off in the opposite direction. He was sure the seeker droids's auditory scanners would pick up his indignantly drumming pulse, the harsh release of breath as he struggled to forget Ky's barbed remark. Focus, focus.
He should have worried only about himself, as Qui Gon had said. Blast it.
The game of hide and seek continued for nearly an hour. He wove an erratic pattern through the trees, avoiding other encounters, slipping into shadow, into invisibility, as the seekers passed. Now and again he heard a yelp of pain and a muffled thud as a droid found its target. Mist rose off the soft undergrowth as the sun rose and warmed the air. One droid tried to ambush him from behind; he ducked, rolled under it and Force-pushed it into a tree with such violence that its armored shell cracked. He wondered whether he might be penalized for excessive force, and left the sparking droid sputtering between the roots of a tree. He heard the sound of ricocheting bolts, another yell, and then silence. How many of them were left? How much longer would they continue? The exercise was not over until the referees gave a signal.
He crept through the trees, straining to perceive the remaining droids. The trees opened into another small clearing. Someone else was here too.
"It's just we two," the other Padawan whispered. He recognized Feld Spruu's voice.
"Let's wait for them here," ObI Wan suggested. "I think there might only be two left." He placed himself back to back with the tall Twi'Lek.
"Good idea," Feld agreed. His Force presence was a calm current, a powerful river. Obi Wan relaxed, the knot of resentment in his gut loosening. Feld and he could take down the remaining droids together.
The first seeker hovered in from high above, raining down stun blasts at the pair of Jedi. They parried and dodged, sending the energy packets bouncing into trees and the ground in a furious pattern. The leaves underfoot smoked, white tendrils coiling up here and there where a blast had struck. Feld moved in to attack the droid, leaving Obi Wan to cover him. They worked together, without needing to say a word, driving their attacker back and down. Feld was nearly within striking range when the second seeker buzzed into the clearing. Almost at ground level – and moving fast toward Feld's feet.
Without thinking, Obi Wan dived low and rolled in front of it, dealing a sizzling backhand to its carapace. The droid deactivated and rolled away. Feld closed with the first droid, which fired off one last blast at his distracted companion before it was smashed out of the air.
The bolt hit Obi Wan in the thigh and sent him sprawling.
Feld was by his side in a moment, gently shaking him. "Come on," the Twi'Lek muttered. "You will be all right in a moment." He gently removed the younger Jedi's blindfold, leaned over, his brown eyes full of concern. His headtails twitched a little. "Do you always sacrifice yourself to save the competition?" he inquired.
Obi Wan managed to inhale. His diaphragm was in a tight spasm, and he could not speak. No mercy, indeed; the stun bolt had been powerful. His leg and one side were completely numb.
Feld pulled him upright. "Well, I must thank you in any case," he grinned. "I owe you one, my little friend. Hm? For being stupid enough to save me."
They limped out of the clearing together, slowly, and emerged on the west side fo the miniature forest to find the remainder of the group waiting. More than one of the Padawans was still on the ground, recovering. Master Pertha crouched over Ky Shinshee, apparently still trying to revive him. Qui Gon's eyebrows rose when he saw the victorious pair approach.
"We took out the last two droids because he covered my back," Feld explained to the Jedi master. "Although he could have let the thing take me down and then finished off the last one himself. It is an honor to fight together." He transferred Obi Wan's weight to Qui Gon, and departed with a bow and another brilliant smile. His own teacher, Master Droo Tallas, waited patiently a short distance away.
"I see you did not heed my advice," Qui Gon remarked to his Padawan.
"I try, master," Obi Wan gasped.
After a brief rest and a chance to wolf down food and water, Master Pertha led them to a grassy stretch of field lying beyond the copi tree grove. Nothing marred the flat expanse: not a tree, not a shrub, not a boulder. A few lumps of stone thrust out of the grass, islands in a gentle sea. The wind softly stirred the tops of the field, sending seed-casings fluttering on the breeze. Thin clouds scuttled overhead, rushing to an unknown destination.
"This is the location of the second round," Master Pertha announced. "The top four from this morning's exercise will cross this field, ending at the opposite ridge where that boulder sits." He pointed a short distance to a large misshapen hunk of rock. "The others will help me break down the camp and carry the supplies back here." Nobody dared to object.
"No droids?" Feld clarified.
"No droids. No blindfolds," Master Pertha smiled, his golden eyes glinting. "But be careful – the shortest path is not always a straight line."
With these enigmatic words, he signaled to the four disqualified Padawans and strode away back in the direction of their camp. The other masters spread out to the edges of the appointed field, their brown robes rippling in the steady cool breeze.
Left alone, the four remainig competitors stood for a moment at the edge of the dry grass field, feeling the wind blow gently in their faces. The Force carried a breath of danger to them, though the scene laid out at their feet was so peaceful, so bland.
"I have a bed feeling about this," Feld declared conversationally.
Obi Wan was privately glad that he was not the only one.
"Fierfek," Ky Shinshee cursed, and moved away a short distance. Thalle Hallas, the fourth Padawan, rolled her eyes at his retreating back and offered Obi Wan and Feld a sharp-toothed smile. "See you on the far side," she said, and started off across the field on a cautious diagonal vector.
Feld Speruu cracked all the knuckles on his long, blue fingers. "Ready, little friend?" He pointed over the grassy plain ahead. "You first!"
With a wry smile, Obi Wan moved forward. The earth was springy beneath his feet, but not a swamp as he had suspected. He placed each bare foot in front of the other, wincing a little at the sharp dried twigs and tiny pebbles underfoot. His boots would have been nice to have…but that was a unhelpful thought. The Force was shimmering with warning: images of the firebeetles flashed in and out of his mind in rapid succession. Through the soles of his feet he could feel the ground subtly tremble, like a hollow drum.
Hollow?
He jumped, far ahead, just as the earth crumbled beneath him and gave way. he heard the cascade of dirt and stones fall into a deep depression. He landed several metrs forward, and felt the earth again slide on his right. Willing every muscle into stillness, he ressed his palms against the ground, and waited. He extended his feelings into the soil, deep beneath the surface.
The entire field was tunneled and networked with pits and crossing paths, as though some ginat animal species had excavated a huge warren and then abandoned it. The soil on top supported grass, but was not thick enough to support anything heavier for very lng, except for a few tiny places where no underground digging had weakened the structure or where a subterranean boulder had blocked the excavation. The entire field could in theory collapse upon itself, burying them all alive – if they were not mindful.
He steadied his breath, and treid to find the other three Jedi, but he sensed only a general unease and confusion. None of them were moving, now. Apparently they had all come to the same dreadful conclusion. Vaguely he wondered if there were firebeetles waiting below, and then banished the thought with an act of will. Fear was a distraction.
Creeping forward with painstaking caution and slowness, testing each step, crouching on feet and hands like a prowling animal, he threaded his way across the field. Presently, there was no firm spot to be had. A bit of rock jutted out of the earth many meters ahead; it was the likeliest place to land. Calling on the Force, he propelled himself onto it and landed in a crouch. The rock was barely wide enough to hold him. He balanced and considered his position. There was nothing solid around him – he was trapped on an island of safety in a wide sea of danger.
He waited, feeling the wind pick up speed and cool his skin. The sun was sinking past meridian now, and the horizon was filling with dark ominous pillars of cloud, over the ocean. He stood and gazed at the finishing point. It was much too far away.
Then, as though in delayed response to his previous scrambling motion, the ground all around him in a wide circle collapsed, a tremendous crashing of stone and dirt. A great dust cloud billowed up, choking him. There was a cry of horror and surprise; one of the other apprentices had fallen into the swiftly widening trap. He watched in dismay as the sinkhole around him spread outward until seemed to swallow the whole field. As the dust cloud settled a little, he perceived that he was now alone atop a spire of rock. The pit fell away on all sides, a breathtaking drop into dusty darkness.
"Kenobi!" a voice called out across the space, a little ahead of him. "I am on solid ground. Jump to me."
He could not see Feld's position through the dust-laden air, but he gathered energy and made the leap, sailing through the opaque clouds toward Feld' voice. He landed hard on another rocky ledge. Feld's hand grabbed his arm as he teetered.
"There. We are even," the Twi'Lek decided, dusting off his friends tunics with a grin. They edged forward together, on their bellies. Feeling their way across what meandering bridges of land remained, crawling like worms toward the boulder which marked the end of the course. They froze in place as the earth bagan to crumble again, opening beneath their hands and feet in a slow avalanche. Skidding back, they watched as another ton of dirt cascaded into the depths.
Feld muttered something in his native language. "This is crazy. Sal te mi phroni, I tell you. What son of a gundark makes this stuff up?" he asked, running a grimy hand over his headtails.
Obi Wan shrugged. 'Masters who were traumatized by similar experiences as Padawans," he guessed.
Feld nodded grimly. "Yes," he agreed solemnly. "Perpetuating the cycle of abuse, that's it, Kenobi. Lets' get the hells out of here though, hm?"
"Help!" a voice called out from the depths of the pit.
Feld's forehead creased. "That's Shinshee," he said. "Come. Our task is to get across. The masters wil help him out."
Obi Wan hesitated. He thought he heard a chittering sound, the rustling of thousands of tiny armored bodies, the scrabbling of pincers and legs. A hot flash of terror traveled down his spine. What if…?
"Help!" Ky called again.
"What are you doing, crazy one?" Feld demanded, readying his cable launcher. "One clear shot and we are at the finish."
Obi Wan shook his head. He dropped onto his belly and peered into the abyss, where he could but faintly make out Ky's figure through the swirling dust. He fixed his own cable securely to the rock on which they stood. Feld Spruu shook his head and then sent his cable flying in a wide arc across the chasm to the boulder appointed as their goal. In a moment, the line tightened and Feld began a tightrope walking exercise across the pit, his balance unerring.
For a moment, it was tempting to simply follow Feld. He would be assured of second place, of continuing in the competition. But he could not, would not, leave anyone to the horrors of the beetles. Surely there were some down there. Even Ky Shinshee, though he was bitter and unfriendly, did not deserve to face such an ordeal. Nobody did. He watched Feld steadily retreat for a moment, and then turned, slid over the edge of the pit, and rapelled his way down to its soft, crumbling bottom.
The older Padawan gaped at him in astonishment when his bare feet hit the soft dirt below. The sides of the pit were riddled with small holes, with dark openings leading into the depths. Obi Wan's flesh crawled.
"What in hells' moons are you doing?" Ky demanded.
"I know you don't want my help," Obi Wan told him. "But there are firebeetles in this region. Down here, likely enough. Climb up my cable."
The dark haired youth studied him intently. For a moment he though Ky would explode again, denouncing him for his condescension, or insulting him. But in the end all he said was, "Very well."
Ky was a strong climber. He ascended the narrow line swiftly, hand over hand. When he reached the summit, he leaned over the edge. "This isn't an exercise for younglings," he called down.
"What do you mean?" Obi Wan answered. But he did not have to wait for a response. The slack end of his cable was tossed down, coiling in an untidy heap at his feet. The grappling implement had been severed. "Ky!" he shouted in outrage.
"See you at camp later," the older boy shouted as he disappeared.
And now he was the one stuck at the bottom of a vast pit, one lined with countless dark gaps and crevices. Out of every opening he expected to hear and see the beetles swarming. His breath tightened in his chest. Fear mingled with anger. His heart throbbed unreasonably hard. Focus. Focus.
It was just a pit. He could climb out. He dashed forward, through the soft heaps of earth, over the tumbled masses of crumbling rock. Not far away was the edge, a steep wall, dust and grit still avalanching down in tiny rivulets along its jagged sides. It was deep – a bit far to jump, but not impossibly high. He could climb. Pushing his toes into the yielding dirt and curling them inward, digging himself a tenuous foothold, he started carefully up. His hands similarly gripped into crumbling earth. Slowly, carefully, he inched upward, pressing his chest against the sliding grit. If he did not move too much, if his weight was not too great…
It collapsed atop him, tumbling him to the bottom in a shower of filth and pebbles. He rolled away, the sound of the bouncing rocks and falling dirt so like that of the beetles. He looked up again, and cold panic seized him. There, and there – black bodies peeking out of the wall, issuing in threes and fours between cracks and crevices, their pincers already moving in a mesmerizing rhythm. Obi Wan backpedaled, hand gripping hard around his saber hilt.
His breath came ragged. He must focus. Fear leads to anger, to the dark side. There is no passion, there is serenity. They were only beetles, for Force's sake. Focus.
Qui Gon's head appeared far above, over the rim of the soft precipice.
He almost cried out in relief. "Master!" he yelped, wincing at the unseemly cracking in his voice. "There are more firebeetles."
"I see them." Qui Gon answered, not moving. "You had better move quickly, before the swarm emerges from the tunnels. Get up the wall, here." His arm indicated a place just to the right, a sheer drop where a protruding bit of stone here and there provided a sort of natural ladder. None of these tiny ledges were wide enough to provide a launching point for a leap, but they at least would not crumble beneath his weight.
The wall was dotted with beetles.
"No," he breathed. He couldn't do it. Why didn't Qui Gon help him?
"Padawan!" Qui Gon barked. "Now."
Beetles were squeezing out of cracks at ground level, oozing out of the soft walls like blood from a slow wound. Memory exploded within him, constricting his chest, numbing his limbs. The howl of terror began to whisper in his heart, burn icy in his veins. Sobbing he stumbled to the wall, gripped the soft earth with his hands, placed one foot one the nearest bit of rock. It was jagged, and cut into the skin. He lifted upward, reached for the next handhold. A beetle sat upon it. A flick of the Force sent it tumbling away. He grabbed the shard of rock and pulled, his toes seeking another place. They sank into a natural indentation in the face of the wall. He pushed up. Something crawled across his foot, nipped hard at the exposed flesh.
He screamed. It was most unbecoming. But he kept climbing.
Higher up, there were beetles scouting out the soft face of the pit. He closed his eyes and dragged himself upward, teeth gritted. A small body fell between his tunics and his chest, writhed, clambered, sank its pincers into his navel and gnawed. He could not let go of the handholds to dislodge it. He jammed his torso brutally against another piece of rock, crushing the intruder against his skin. With a groan, he dragged upward again. Something bit his left foot, his right foot, his shin. Two somethings were crawling down his back. One was in his hair. He climbed, and climbed. One was ascending his braid, toward his ear. It chomped hard on the tender flesh it found above his collar. He flicked it away with his hand as he reached for the next protruding rock.
Something grabbed both his arms around the elbows, and he unleashed an awful battle cry, desperate strength flooding into his limbs as he tried to writhe free, nearly losing his balance.
"Easy!" Qui Gon shouted, displaying rare emotion. In a moment, he had hauled his Padawan over the edge onto safe ground. Obi Wan thrashed, clawing the remaining beetles off his body, rolling to his feet and glaring at the Jedi master, the waving grass, the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Fury flooded though him in the wake of revulsion.
"Ky Shinshee!" he choked out. "He – he – I helped him, and he –"
Qui Gon gripped him by the shoulders, his grey eyes hardening. "I do not wish to hear blame placed on others," he warned. "That is not worthy of you. Ky played by the rules of this game. As did Feld. You did not; indeed, you ignored my explicit advice to worry only about yourself. Your failure is not their fault."
Fury melted into something else. His gut clenched. It began to rain, heavy bitter droplets spattering over them and muddying the dust-laden grass beneath their feet. ObI Wan wiped his face fiercely. The rain spattered harder, the moisture running down his upturned face. Qui Gon still held him in place.
"I hate this," the young Jedi sobbed, past caring what Qui Gon thought of his outburst.
"I know," the tall man replied gently. "You are not accustomed to failure. I thought it might be wise to…explore it."
It began to pour.
"Yes, master," he managed, at last.
Qui Gon nodded, and they turned toward the campsite a short distance away. Obi Wan trudged across the sodden landscape beside Qui Gon, glad that the rain washed away and obscured the hot salty trails running down his cheeks.