Chapter Six
The furniture in the conference room was expertly designed and created. The Gaw-Lin craftsmanship was widely recognized as being among the best. Which was a good thing in this particular case. Bodies were being tossed across furniture, chairs and smaller tables being used as convenient weapons, and Obi-Wan even witnessed one of the Gaw prying his facial horn out of a tabletop. A fairly comical sight to behold were it not for one thing: Those who were dong the fighting were all from the Gaw. Apparently, there was dissension not only between the two clans, but within as well. That would complicate negotiations.
In one instance, Anakin had been forced to step aside to avoid being struck by an intricately carved side table thrown his direction, and it was then Obi-Wan decided he'd waited long enough. He ignited his lightsaber and the room immediately went quiet.
He and his Padawan apparently weren't invisible after all.
Obi-Wan needed to make a statement and thought it would be more effective without the use of a translator, although he wasn't certain of the words. After a moment of silence, he decided to try his best.
"Hon tol tre, una bol jed nun fie."
Nervous tension radiated from his Padawan as both Jedi awaited the Chieftan's response.
He had actually suggested everyone take a seat and stop wasting valuable Jedi time. Or at least that's what he had wanted to say. However, when the crowd erupted into bellowing laughter, he was no longer sure.
"Did you tell a joke?" Anakin asked out the side of his mouth.
"That was not my intention," Obi-Wan replied in the same manner.
Regardless of his failed attempt at communication, the clan leaders eventually seated themselves once more around the scarred, rough-hewn wooden table.
Through the use of the interpreter this time, Obi-Wan discovered the Cro Chieftan had demanded an increase in profit percentages recently and had threatened to close the aquaduct he controlled from the highest mountain overlooking the Lin village. Talks had come to a stalemate, the water supply from the mountain dwindled, and the Jedi were contacted.
However, the Cro leader's refusal to make an appearance at today's negotiations had infuriated the Gaw, and all prior developments had been lost. It seemed they were going to have to start all over.
About an hour or so into their discussion, Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder if an agreement between the two clans would be possible. As a whole, the Linhytians were a proud race, who settled for nothing but perfection. Their appearance and architecture, as well as their creations were heavily detailed and expertly crafted. However, that pride was now standing in the way of a resolution, and was starting to reek of stubbornness.
Obi-Wan had hoped an agreement would be reached quickly. He was eager to return to the ship and take Padmé back home. As a Jedi Master, he should've known better than to make any such plans. For years, he'd tried to teach his Padawan to be prepared for anything, to rely on nothing but the Force. Feelings and emotions were unreliable. No matter what planet you were on.
It started out as a tickle along the back of his neck, which slowly radiated up across his scalp. He recognized the pattern as well as its message, and glanced quickly to the left toward his apprentice.
"I feel it too, Master," Anakin whispered.
Their reaction had almost been too slow. Within a fraction of a second following the warning, the Cro messenger who had been sent literally exploded. The young Cro-Hyt male had been seated on the opposite side of Obi-Wan near the leader of the Gaw. But once the shrapnel and dust had cleared, the messenger, the Gaw Chief, and several of his advisors who had been standing behind him and seated next to him were dead; their body parts scattered about the room.
Obi-Wan and Anakin crawled out from beneath the thick, wooden table, to view the damage, their ears ringing from the blast. The table which had lost a leg was leaning precariously, and there was a hole in the ceiling of the conference room. The many who had not been killed were injured by projectiles, some severely.
Instead of the survivors mourning their loss, however, or helping those who were injured, the survivors of the group once again began shrieking in defiance, their furious voices issuing out death threats upon the murderous Cro.
And if matters couldn't get any worse, loud booming noises were then heard from outside. One after another. Obi-Wan detected explosive devices being detonated in several places all over the village; explosions which had been planned and executed with perfect precision.
A sinking feeling struck Obi-Wan in the gut. He and his Padawan had just been thrust into the midst of civil war with Padmé and Dormé right along with them.
A ridiculous thought occurred to Padmé as she ran through the forest, but she just had to ask.
"Couldn't you have packed something more appropriate for me to wear?"
"I wasn't expecting to be in our current situation," her personal aid defended "But let's stop for a second."
Padmé slid to halt following Dormé's suggestion and leaned against a tree, her heart pounding.
"I packed for travel, not combat," the young woman informed her, while placing her hands atop her head to try and catch her breath.
"If we are going into combat, not only are we overdressed, but I'm afraid we're under-armed." Padmé pointed out. They had barely escaped the ship with their lives, diving out the open ramp while the invaders were scavenging the weapons supply. They had been forced to flee without weapons or rations. "And I left the comlink on the dash," she added with dismay.
"We're not completely helpless," Dormé announced suddenly, bending to pull out a slender vibroblade hidden inside her boot. It was better than nothing. "If you'll allow me."
Without any explanation, the young woman began to trim away the excess material which had hampered Padmé's trek through the forest. She wore leggings tucked into her magg boots, with a vest and long-sleeve tunic beneath it. However, the back of the vest flared out and down, reaching nearly to her knees, and it was this portion of her garment Dormé removed.
"That should help you move faster." Dormé placed the blade back into its hidden sheath. "But you'll never keep up with me."
"Excuse me? Who was winning just now?"
"Somebody's gotta watch your back."
The words had barely left her mouth before a blast of plasma struck the tree next to Padmé's head, propelling Dormé forward, to knock the Senator to the ground and drag her out of harm's way.
"They're persistent," the young woman noted wryly.
"What do they want?"
"Hostages, I imagine," Dormé reasoned as she peered ahead through the trees. "Stay low and head for that brush," she commanded before shoving Padmé into action.
They moved rapidly and ducked inside a thick overgrowth of palms, dropping to the ground to hide.
When they were on board, they didn't actually see their pursuers, but now they had a clear view of the approaching natives. There were three of them, each reaching the lowest branches of the trees with ease. They were at least three meters tall, with horns of varying lengths protruding from their face and skulls. They were heavily armed, having apparently confiscated all the weapons on board, but they were also heavily clothed; draped in layers of furs. All that weight had to slow them down, which gave she and Dormé the advantage.
The two women lay deadly still, preparing to take flight if the beings moved just a few steps closer when the relative silence of the forest was split with a low, rumbling growl. The sound stopped the three natives in their tracks, who then appeared to breathe the air, before fleeing back in the direction they came from.
"Where are they going? They're the ones with all the blasters!" Dormé wondered aloud as she rose.
Padmé stood with her, although her concerns were slightly different. "What I want to know is…what was that sound?"
Within the shadows of the canopy and listening to the echoes of the woodland creatures, it was difficult to discern where the noise was actually coming from. The source, however, soon made its appearance as a large, furry spotted creature stepped into the clearing, its shoulder muscles rippling with each step, bearing its rows of sharp teeth as it took in its surroundings, apparently trying to locate its prey through its advanced sense of smell.
The women stood frozen to the spot, secretly hoping the tusk-cat would choose to pursue the natives.
They weren't so lucky.
With a snap of its head, and a glare of its four eyes, it bounded toward them with incredible speed. There was no time to think.
"Up! Up! " Dormé yelled as the pushed Padmé toward the nearest trunk.
"I'm going!" Padmé yelled down, grabbing the closest branches and propelling herself higher and higher as quickly as she could, reaching back to assist Dormé as well.
They made it about three-quarters up before the tusk-cat began circling the base, growling in defiance.
"Do you think it can climb?" Padmé just had to ask. When would she ever learn?
"Go, go!" Dormé urged her to climb once more until they reached the point where they could climb no more, and still the cat came, its lengthy claws sinking into the trunk with each powerful advance toward them.
"What now?" From her point of view, there were few options. The closest tree was at least four meters away. If they tried to leap to it, there was a good chance they would miss and fall to their deaths.
Apparently, Dormé had another idea.
"What do you do when confronted with a bully?" the young woman asked.
"Face him head on," the Senator replied without delay.
In a burst of action, Dormé reached out and snapped a long thin branch nearby. She then began to whittle the end of it with her blade, creating a makeshift weapon. Her urgency, however, was not nearly enough, and Padmé could not resist adding some of her own motivation.
"It's getting closer! Hurry Dormé! Hurry!"
By the time the spear was sharpened enough, the creature had reached her boot, and clamped into the heel with its powerful jaws. Padmé kicked at its head with the other foot, but to little avail. The tusk-cat was hungry and was not about to lose a meal.
When the sharpened end of the branch impaled one of its eyes, however, it quickly changed its mind. The cat howled in pain, released its tasty appetizer and slid down the trunk of the tree before disappearing into the woods.
It was some time before either woman moved a muscle or said a word. Night would soon be falling, and they had planned to spend it in the tree.
As others had learned, plans often fail, and soon, a priority more important than their own safety revived Padmé 's courage.
In the distance was a flash of light, followed shortly by a loud boom. After that, it seemed as if half the planet was on fire. She knew within her heart that something bad had happened which had affected many, but all Padmé could think about was one soul.