Chapter 23
Her eyes trailed over the mask over her nose and mouth, that seemed to be pumping oxygen...over the various wires, so many wires, everywhere—
The wires connected to dozens of machines around her, and as her eyes moved to follow the multitude of thin cords back to her body, she discovered tiny round discs placed at various parts of her bare skin.
And the needles—oh the needles—
"Oh—" Jaina muttered. "Oh no—"
Obi-Wan heard her sudden intake of breath, and his heart broke to see her shocked reaction...her eyes darting away from the tubes, shuddering in revulsion, fear, pain.
"Shh...shhh..." he said, his voice soothing as he squeezed her hand again. "Easy..."
He was no stranger to how much she hated needles.
"Dearest, please," he pleaded quietly, gently taking hold of her shoulders, trying to draw her attention away from the numerous contraptions around. "Don't look. Ignore everything else. Ignore the lights, ignore the wires, ignore the needles."
Jaina forcefully looked away, turning instead to gaze at the white walls. At the machines and monitors and terminals, at the Jedi Healers working diligently several meters away, studying various consoles and samples...wearing hazmat suits...and standing behind a thick transparisteel barrier.
She paused for several moments, her mind working on overdrive, and attempting to reconcile what she was seeing.
Then gazed back towards her Master, still only in his usual robes and tunic. "You're..." she murmured. "You're in here with me..."
He noted the usual sharp look returning to her eyes, connecting the dots so quickly and so easily. Of course.
"Yes, I am," Obi-Wan replied evenly, gently rubbing the back of her hand in a soothing motion, trying to keep her mind from arriving at the conclusion he knew it would soon reach. "Where else would I be?"
"You're not..." Jaina swallowed through the lump in her throat, her wide eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You're not...wearing a suit ...Master, did I—did I infect you too?!"
Oh no.
That was exactly where his little one's mind was about to go...and it hurt to hear it come out of her quivering voice.
"My little one…" He shifted forward, taking one of her hands between both of his palms, gently cradling it. "Please listen. Do you trust me?"
Jaina continued to gaze at him unblinkingly in silence, the beeps of all the machines breaking through the quiet of the room.
"You…." she murmured, her eyes wide. "You didn't answer my question..."
He stared down at her, the pang in his throat painful as he held her shaking fingers in his, the beeping of the machines around them, the hum of the lights, all of it echoing in his eardrums.
"Because it's not important…" he said quietly, forcing his own voice to stay even. "You don't need to worry about that right now, my little one. You need to focus on yourself right now. Not me."
"Master, just tell me the truth!"
Her voice quivered, pleading—desperate—for an answer.
And it clenched his heart to see her like that, to see the fear and the panic etched upon her face in the beeping, whirring sterile room.
He took a breath, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again and meeting her gaze.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, dear one. I am infected too."
"Oh—oh no—" Jaina muttered.
"Jaina—"
"—I should've been more attentive—they were all wearing hazmat suits in that lab and—and there was a decontamination chamber—and I didn't—"
"Stop that," Obi-Wan said firmly, tightening his fingers around hers. "Stop. You didn't do anything wrong. You did nothing wrong."
No. He wouldn't let her put any blame on herself. Because this certainly wasn't her fault.
"I pocketed the Damotite sample after you handed it to me, Jaina," he continued. "I could have been poisoned from there. We don't know."
The Jedi Master exhaled heavily. "We know next to nothing at this point—but what we do know, is that, for some reason, I am not showing any symptoms yet, but it is already displaying in my blood results. Meanwhile, your symptoms were severe, and they are barely being held at bay by a cocktail of antitoxins, which are growing less effective over time. Exposure level and concentration could be a factor. We don't know. But the Damotite continues to compromise our immune systems."
"What we also know," he continued, squeezing her fingers in an attempt to reassure her. "Is that you are going to get through this. You're strong, darling. You're going to be all right. We just need to take everything one step at a time. Listen to the Healers, and do as they say."
A knock on the transparisteel sliding door broke into the pensive silence, with Vokara Che, one of the Chief Healers of the Temple Medical Wing, stepping into the room.
"Ah good, she is awake," the Twi'lek Jedi Master said quietly. "We were able to finish analyzing the data on the different bioweapons from the intel you and your Padawan retrieved at the facility."
Obi-Wan looked up, nodding in a silent greeting to the Chief Healer. "And? What did the data analysis determine?"
"As suspected, what is affecting your Padawan is a weaponized version of Damotite poisoning—using the element in an alloy with only a 10% refinement," Vokara said quietly. "It is particularly toxic to humans."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly, taking in the information, and forcing himself to think as a General and as a Jedi Master, not as a worried caregiver. "So...you've confirmed the cause. Now, what about a cure?" His eyes hardened. "We need a cure, Vokara. A solution."
"We're still running tests, and so is the GAR Medical Corps in parallel." She sighed. "The Separatists have hidden the most important information as to the composition, dosage, and concentration of exposure deep within the intel—the most vital parts of a potential cure. We're attempting to extrapolate as much as we can."
The Healer paused. "It will take more time to reverse engineer."
"How much time?" Obi-Wan asked through clenched teeth, a surge of irritation rising in his chest.
He hated not knowing things, not having any data. How long was "more time"? A week? A month? A year?
"I cannot promise a specific timeline," Vokara said quietly. "It is a complex solution to a complex situation. The fact that both the GAR and the Order are working together on this is an advantage, but a cure can't be rushed—"
"You are the best Healer in the Order!" Obi-Wan interjected, his voice sharper now. "Surely, even a rough estimate can be provided at this time? An idea of how long this will take?"
Jaina squeezed her Master's hand.
He closed his eyes briefly and glanced down at her, a brief pang of guilt washing over him. He hadn't meant to lash out. He was irritated, and frustrated—terrified—
Patience. Restraint. Patience. Restraint.
He let out a slow breath, nodding to Jaina, then turned his gaze up to the Healer. "Forgive me, Vokara."
Vokara nodded silently. He could sense her understanding from the Force signature she gave off. "I know you're under a great deal of stress, Obi-Wan," she said softly. "You are handling the situation as well as you are able, and you are clearly worried about your Padawan."
"Of course I am," Obi-Wan said quietly, tightening his grip on Jaina's fingers again, but more gently this time.
Yes, he was absolutely worried. Worried for this gentle, kind, determined and intelligent little girl he had only just begun to raise as his own.
"I understand, Vokara, that we must proceed with the utmost care," he continued, calmly now. "Not only for my Padawan, but for any other future patients once Master Windu returns from Lanteeb. But surely there must be other measures you can take? There must have been something in the files? She was able to transmit more than half of that facility's entire mainframe!"
"Yes, she was," Vokara replied. "And all the data has been sorted and reviewed in exhaustive detail, and..." The Healer paused, her eyes flickering to the tiled floor for a brief moment. She sighed heavily. "…There is one…alternative that could serve as an effective counteragent to Damotite poisoning...but it is also as I said—a complex solution to a complex situation."
Obi-Wan stiffened, and a feeling of dread shot through his veins once more.
He didn't like the way Vokara was talking. Not one bit. "What is it, then?" he murmured. "What is this...alternative?"
Vokara's gaze was unreadable, her presence in the Force carefully under control as she turned to face him, folding her hands in front of her. "As I mentioned, the bioweapon itself is a variation on the original Damotite poisoning, a mutation, if you will. But...the original formulation—the element itself—in theory, has a natural antidote..."
For some reason, Obi-Wan had a feeling he was not going to like this next part.
"What is it?" he asked again, his voice taut. "What's the natural antidote?"
Vokara sighed, clasping her hands. "Damotite is an unstable element," she said quietly. "It has the ability to cause rapid decay and cellular damage in organic tissue, particularly in human immune systems. The Separatists have isolated this ability in this case. But Damotite also has a twin element, Trenomite, which, in theory, can bond closely to organic cells and neutralize Damotite toxins."
Jaina frowned. "Trenomite? The industrial solvent? I recall Trenomite having its own set of…risks, wasn't it banned in certain systems?"
Obi-Wan's eyes darted to his little Padawan. That frown, and those narrowed eyes could only mean his little one was connecting a few dots.
Vokara nodded. "Yes, there are indeed risks." The female Twi'lek Healer looked at Obi-Wan and his Padawan intently. "But if we can balance those risks with synthetic compounds and reverse engineer a counteragent quickly enough, then get the necessary dosages into a patient's system…it may work, even despite long exposure to the Damotite toxins. But, like I said, these are risky, and highly experimental."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. What a mess.
There was no simple, safe solution here. Any counteragent was risky and experimental, and even the best solution held potential threats and downsides, if they weren't careful.
He took in another slow breath. "Would it help if it was tested on me, first? Since I am currently asymptomatic."
Jaina's brows twitched, furrowing. "Master, no."
Of course not. His little one was staring at him, her eyes dark. Her expression was neutral, but he could feel the fierce protectiveness in her Force signature.
As if he wouldn't be thinking the exact same thing, if their positions were reversed.
Jaina turned to gaze towards Master Che, her gaze steady. "Test it on me first."
"No," Obi-Wan snapped, his jaw clenching. "Absolutely not."
It was typical of the sweet, brave little girl he knew—to offer herself to test a treatment that could potentially risk her own life, before having it be tested on her Master.
He hated this idea, and he knew that she knew he hated this idea.
"I refuse, my little one." He exhaled sharply, consciously focusing on unclenching his jaw. "I will not let that happen."
"I'll give you both a minute, and begin preparing the Trenomite," Vokara said quietly, slipping out the medsuite.
"Master," Jaina murmured, her voice still soft, but now firm. She gestured at all the machines surrounding her helplessly. "I'm already sick! We don't know how long it will take before my immune system deteriorates further—And even if I weren't sick, my life is worth far less than yours."
Obi-Wan flinched as though she had stabbed him through the heart.
How she could say something like that?! Say something so horrible, and so hurtful—yet speak with such quiet conviction, as if it were a simple, unrefuted fact, like the color of the sky...
She had always been so selfless, so unintentionally sweet and courageous. This soft-spoken little girl did not deserve to feel that her life was worth less than anyone's—most especially his.
He sat down next to her on the bed and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His little one couldn't possibly imagine the anguish he'd feel if anything—anything—happened to her.
"Master, you always say we need to look at the bigger picture," Jaina whispered. "You just said so, when we left that screaming woman behind on Lanteeb."
The good of the many always outweighs the good of the few.
Of course. Of course she would throw his own words back in his face.
He had told her this countless times before—and he had firmly believed it. How many times had he himself sacrificed himself for the greater good?
But right now, in this exact moment, that was the last thing he wanted to hear.
"Master…" Jaina murmured gently, all her efforts going into blinking back her tears, her fear. "Countless people out there need you. There are things that only you, and you alone, are capable of doing," she continued shakily. "The Order and the Republic need you! You're an invaluable voice on the Council, you're an irreplaceable leader on the battlefield. I'm—I'm..." she trailed off, taking in a deep, quivering breath, and completing the word expendable only in her mind.
She closed her eyes, struggling to focus her thoughts despite the maelstrom of emotions. "…There are thousands of other Padawans out there."
"Test it on me first."
"Jaina, I said, no!" Obi-Wan's hands curled into fists. He was clenching his jaw again, so hard the muscles in his temples were throbbing.
His heart broke for this sweet, selfless little girl, who always put others before herself. His little masterpiece, his little hero…
…she didn't deserve this.
"Stop this," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Do not—ever!—say something like that. Do you understand me, young one? Do not ever say that your life is worth less than anyone else's on this Force-forsaken planet, or in this entire blasted galaxy."
"Master..." Jaina pressed her lips together into a thin line, swallowing through the pang in her throat. "You know I'm right," she whispered, forcing whatever small smile she could manage. "I will be fine."
She wasn't fine. She was ill.
And the idea—the notion—that she could risk her life—and die—to save him—was unthinkable.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "Jaina, please," he muttered under his breath. "Please, please, please—" He leaned in closer, holding her small, pale hand between his rough ones. "Please. Do not—do not—ask this of me."
"I will be fine," she repeated firmly, squeezing his hand gently. "I promise."
Don't make promises you can't keep.
Obi-Wan held her gaze, refusing to accept this idea in any regard. She was trying to put on a brave face, a smile, a light, even voice.
"I said no, dear one." His tone was stern. The look in his eyes as he gazed at her was soft, but stern. He was not going to let them test the treatment on her first.
If it was going to be tested, it needed to be tested on him—not this small, kind-hearted, brave little girl, who always smiled so softly, and laughed so freely. Who scampered around to offer her help in even the smallest of tasks.
"It will be tested on me before you. That is an order." He paused to glare at her, the firmness still in his voice. "End of discussion."
"Master!" Jaina exclaimed, her brows knitting together. "It is too risky and you are too valuable to—"
"—And you are not?!" Obi-Wan snapped. He had to close his eyes again, his hands clenching into fists, his control beginning to slip. "I am the Master here," he added firmly. "It is my decision, and there is no debate or argument, young one. I will not be putting your life in more danger than it already is. Am I understood?"
The thought of losing the light of her presence, her compassion—the thought of losing her life, was too much.
He tightly squeezed her small hand, every single breath filling his heart with an aching agony.
"You are my Padawan. You are mine to protect."
"And you are my Master," Jaina whispered. "You are mine to serve."