Exquiste Pain: Linked
Author: Durhelediel
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and not me. If they belonged to
me, I'd be richer right now.
Dedication: To my awesome friend, Layren, who encouraged me to write in an era
that I wasn't too sure about...and now love to play in.
Chapter One
Coruscant. Home to billions of varied beings and thousands of representatives of
thousands of worlds. The Republic Senate, in to its eighth hour of sessions, was
at a deadlock on an important voting matter. A faction on the planet of
Nandorshi wished to join the Republic as a separate entity and the barely ruling
faction was opposing the wish. Nandorshi was split almost in two with the
factions constantly bickering. One half, the dominant Quarlins by fifty-two
percent of the population, claimed that the Kladmeans, the other forty-eight
percent of the population, had no say. Manklili, the Nandorshi Senator of the
Quarlin race, was currently trying to persuade the Senate of the absurdity of
Lamkptu, a Kladmean representative’s, claims.
Rising, Chancellor Valorum commanded silence. “Senators, this is a very serious
matter. We will adjourn until tomorrow to refresh our minds and to think this
over carefully.” A loud bell vibrated the large, circular room and the Senators
began leaving.
Lamkptu, her slight lavender skin on her humanoid frame darkening somewhat with
emotion to a darker purple, turned to Manklili standing behind her. In her
musical voice, she bowed respectfully and said, “Thanks to you, Senator, for the
use of your box and time.”
Manklili scowled, his light yellow skin a contrast to her purple. “You scum,” he
spat, one of his two tentacles on his face swaying with his intense emotion.
“Why do you wish to upset the balance of Nandorshi with your unhappiness?”
Lamkptu blinked her wide, blue eyes in surprise. “We are as many as you. You do
not represent what we want; contrary to it, in most facts. If we were allowed
our own Senator to represent ourselves, we could be assured of our well-being.”
“You watch yourself, backtul,” Manklili frowned. “You may not make it until
tomorrow’s session if you are not careful. Coruscant is a dangerous place to be
for the likes of you.”
Lamkptu gasped and fluttered her webbed hands in agitation. For her people,
Manklili had uttered as close to a death threat as they dared. He had added
insult to her with the use of an obscene nickname the ruling class had for her
people. For the first time since coming here two days ago, Lamkptu began to fear
for her life.
Manklili stomped out of the chambers, leaving her alone to tremble.
---------
“…and therefore, friend and Master Jedi, I urgently request the use of two of
your finest Jedi for protection. I am the only eloquent speaker for my people
and we are too distantly away to send another in time for the vote,” the
beautiful lavender representative finished via Holocomm transmission.
Master Yoda, small, green and wise, nodded once. “Jedi you will have,
Representative Lamkptu. Protection they shall be until done these votings are.”
Mace Windu glanced over at Yoda before stating, “One of our best Master/Padawan
teams has just come back from a mission. We will send them to you as quickly as
they are able to depart.”
Lamkptu bowed her head in acquiescence. “And may I know these two by name?”
“Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Mace answered.
“Their reputation has proceeded them, honored Masters,” Lamkptu stated,
surprised and pleased. “I thank you.” The transmission winked out.
“Send for them we shall,” Yoda commanded an aide who bowed and scurried out the
Jedi Council’s doors.
--------
Obi-Wan Kenobi performed a half-twist in midair so that he would change
direction to land beside his master instead of behind him where his original
flip would have taken him. Landing lightly on his feet, he quickly dropped down
and swept his leg out, catching his master unaware and making him sprawl on his
back.
Swiftly, to not lose momentum, Obi-Wan jumped on Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn’s
stomach to pin him to the cushioned mat in the exercise room. Sweat dripped from
his short brown hair to land on Qui-Gon’s front tunic as if in proclamation of
his rare victory.
Qui-Gon, long hair fanned out behind his head, laughed. “Very good, Padawan.
Very good indeed. Is that the new move you’ve been practicing that you’ve been
so eager to show me?”
Carefully extracting his still-growing arms and legs from his master’s, Obi-Wan
laughed as well and stood. “Yes, Master. Here, let me help you.” He bent down to
offer his hand to help his master to his feet.
Surprising him, Qui-Gon took his hand and gave it a mighty yank, causing Obi-Wan
to lose his balance and go toppling over like a felled tree. Snapping his hips
around, the Jedi Master used his lower body to successfully pin his apprentice.
“Never let down your guard, Obi-Wan,” he cautioned with a smile. “Or you could
find yourself in a bad situation.”
The sixteen-year-old grinned and took the fall with good grace. “Yes, Master.”
Qui-Gon’s next reply was cut off by the sound of his comlink beeping from across
the room where their cloaks were stored. Heaving himself to his feet, pleased to
notice that his padawan had given him a good workout this session, he crossed in
three strides to his cloak and thumbed his comlink on.
“Qui-Gon here.”
“Master Jinn,” a clipped female voice said. “You are wanted at the Council
chambers. Please bring your Padawan as well.”
“I’ll be there,” he promised, and he turned to Obi-Wan. “Looks like we already
have another assignment, Padawan. Shall we go see what it is this time?”
Obi-Wan smiled. “Hopefully it doesn’t involve breaking mandates or rescuing
pathetic lifeforms.”
Qui-Gon laughed as he swung his cloak around his shoulders, in a good mood along
with his apprentice. “We’ll hope not, Obi-Wan. We’ll hope not.”
-------
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed, Obi-Wan closer in height more and more to his master
lately. Yoda noted with pleased approval that both master and apprentice seem to
be in jovial moods this evening.
“What is it that you require?” Qui-Gon asked when they had straightened, a
formal and respectful attitude of waiting in his question.
Yoda spoke first. “Needed for protection you are. Representative Lamkptu of
Nandorshi.”
Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that the representative trying to gain
acknowledgement of the Senate of her people?”
Mace nodded. “Yes. She believes, with just cause, that her life is in danger. We
are assigning you and your apprentice to guard her until the voting is
completed, hopefully tomorrow, though with these Senate meetings you never can
tell. Think you can handle that, Master Jinn?”
Qui-Gon tried to hide the little curve of his mouth. It was an easy assignment,
meant to give him an opportunity to prove that he could go on a mission and not
break a mandate or twist the Jedi Council’s instructions to fit his purposes. He
must have really irked them with that last little stunt he pulled on his mission
to Arborané.
“As you command, my Masters. When are we to leave?”
Yoda blinked. “Immediately.”
Chapter Two
Obi-Wan tried to conceal his surprise at his first meeting with the colorful
Kladmean female. She resembled a human female in every aspect except for three
things: the light lavender of her skin, the wideness of her eyes, and her webbed
slender hands. Since becoming Qui-Gon’s apprentice, he had met hundreds of
different beings from all over the galaxy but he had never seen a more delicate
alien being than this.
Her voice, when she spoke to greet them into her chambers, surprised him with
its musical tones and softness and he found himself smiling at her. Focusing in
the Force and directing it at her, he felt only peace and gentleness in this
graceful being. Who would want to kill her?
Politics, he thought disgustedly. The older he became, the more he hated
anything to do with politics.
“…my Padawan learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Qui-Gon was introducing him.
As respectfully as he could, Obi-Wan bowed, his hands in the opposite sleeves of
his Jedi cloak and long braid dangling in front of his face for a brief moment.
When he straightened, he noticed Representative Lamkptu’s intense blue eyes on
his for a moment and he read puzzlement radiating from her through the Force.
She turned to his master and asked, “Master Jinn, I have believed Padawans to be
younger. Is he not too old?”
Obi-Wan flushed red as he felt his master try to hold in a laugh. Very
seriously, Qui-Gon answered, “Padawans stay with their masters until they are
old enough to take the trials to become a Knight, Representative Lamkptu. And
that differs from each Jedi to the other on age and maturity.”
The alien nodded with understanding. “My apologies, Jedi Kenobi,” she said as
she faced him again.
Obi-Wan swallowed his stung pride and responded, “No offense taken,
Representative Lamkptu.”
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon growing more serious and alert as they all sat on chairs
that resembled waves and contoured to the body occupying them. Leaning forward,
Qui-Gon got down to their business.
“Master Yoda said that you believe your life to be in danger. Could you
elaborate for me by whom and why?” The Jedi Master inquired, folding his hands
into the shape of a steeple as he listened.
The purple being crossed her long legs before beginning her tale of being
threatened in the Senatorial chamber that afternoon by her opposing Senator,
Manklili of the Quarlin ruling race.
“And he never lies, friend Jedi Master,” she completed. “My people cannot send
another in time for voting here on the morrow. I…” A dull ringing sound broke
off her sentence. “Excuse me, Jedi.”
With unhurried strides, Lamkptu crossed her spacious chambers to access her
portable Holonet connector. She typed in her password with her flexible fingers
and read the message that awaited her there.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan could feel her dismay coming in strong waves through the
Force. They stood as she turned around, luminous drops of wetness in her eyes.
“What is it?” Qui-Gon demanded.
“It is done,” she whispered, half in shock.
“The voting?”
She shook her head of white blonde hair. “No. That the voting is prolonged.
Manklili succeeded in convincing the voting to be taken a week from now, instead
of on the morrow. I am afraid that my protectors for longer than you intended
you will have to be, friend Jedi.”
-------
“Master, I have a bad feeling about this…” Obi-Wan trailed off, his focus mostly
in the Force.
Qui-Gon watched his apprentice, knowing fully well the strength of Obi-Wan’s
connection to the Force. Everyone but Obi-Wan seemed to be aware that Obi-Wan
was one of the strongest Jedi at the Jedi Temple, which was probably for the
best. Even though Qui-Gon did not yet feel anything, he knew to trust his
Padawan’s instincts.
“Can you pinpoint it, Obi-Wan?”
His apprentice slowly shook his head. “It’s elusive…”
“Then do not try too hard to focus on the feeling,” Qui-Gon cautioned. “It will
emerge in time.”
“Yes, Master,” was the reply but Qui-Gon could feel that Obi-Wan was still
uneasy.
“I am ready,” Lamkptu said as she came into the main area of her chambers.
Dressed in a enveloping cloak to try to hide and shadow her distinctive
features, the Kladmean swept past the Jedi.
Shortly after the shock of the postponed vote, one of Lamkptu’s contacts in the
Coruscant underground had contacted her and requested a meeting. Her contact had
hinted at the possibility of the meeting consisting of another Senator
sympathetic to her cause so she had accepted—without consulting the Jedi.
Qui-Gon had argued that it could be a trap meant to catch her out of the safety
of her chambers but Lamkptu had refused to back down from her meeting. Obi-Wan
had a hard time trying not to roll his eyes at the representative’s reasoning.
“I need sympathetic ears to help out the voting,” was her constant fall-back
argument. “And you will protect me.”
So now the two Jedi were discreetly following the representative further and
further down into the bowels of Coruscant to a shady cantina named The Mynock’s
Breath. Obi-Wan could not understand why someone would want to eat at an
establishment named for the breath of one of the ugliest creatures in the galaxy
but he followed anyway.
The inside of the cantina was dark with very little lighting. All the booths
were in recesses to hide the patrons who occupied them and a very horrible
screeching creature was on stage performing its version of music.
Obi-Wan’s sense of danger increased. “Master…”
“I feel it, too,” was his master’s tense reply. “Separate. I will navigate the
rest of the cantina, searching with the Force, and you stay close to the
representative. I’ll come back to you when I am satisfied.”
Obi-Wan nodded and continued to follow the tall alien as his master detached
from her side to become one with the plentiful shadows in the cantina.
Lamkptu quickly found her contact in a booth near the back exit door. He stood
behind her chair, senses alert, as she sat down.
“It is just you. Where is the Senator?” Lamkptu was asking, confusion in her
voice.
Her contact, a small scaley reptilian creature, shrugged. In a voice like ground
marbles, he said, “I didn’ promise he’d be here, honey. Besides, I got paid more
for another job.”
Lamkptu was about to inquire about his ‘other job’ when Obi-Wan’s sense of
danger flared through the Force. Snapping his lightsaber up and out, he felt a
shock from a stun setting on a blaster catch him in the small of his back,
dropping him, nerveless, to the floor.
As he lay there, panting with the uncomfortable tingling sensation of the stun
bolt flowing over him to render him helpless, he sent out an urgent call to his
master through their Master/Padawan bond.
//Master!//
Two large booted feet entered his view from his uncomfortable sprawled position
on the floor. With the effects of the stun bolt he could not lift his head to
look at his assialant. A large beefy hand picked up his lightsaber before
crouching in front of Obi-Wan so he could see who it was.
Obi-Wan didn’t recognize the other human with the large scar running down the
left side of his face and in his befuddled condition he couldn’t pull enough of
his senses together to send the image to his master, wherever he was.
“Caught a little Jedi rat, I did. But this is a Padawan so the Master is nearby.
Let’s konk you out so you can’t help out your Master any, little Jedi,” the
human said with a nasty grin. Holding his blaster so Obi-Wan could see exactly
what was about to happen, he pointed it at Obi-Wan’s head, giving Obi-Wan an
excellent view of the barrel. Through his life, Obi-Wan had heard of the
problems law enforcers had had with shooting down their criminal captives and
the lingering side effects of being hit in the head with a full blast from a
stun bolt. If he could have, he would have winced.
//Mast—//
Blue from the blaster surrounded him, making the nerves in his limbs jerk and
spasm painfully before darkness mercifully took him.
-------
Qui-Gon had swung around when Obi-Wan’s first call from him had shot through his
brain. He had not seen where Lamkptu had went so now he had to try to find his
Padawan the hard way, since all he was picking up from their bond was
uncomfortable pain. He had taken one step in the opposite direction when three
hulking shadows had surrounded him.
Whipping his lightsaber into his hand, he stood facing them beyond the green
blade, his eyes taking in their professional manner of waiting. Waiting for
what, he could not guess.
When the silence had stretched for a moment, Qui-Gon broke it with a question.
“What is it you want with me?”
One of the humans who surrounded him shuffled a little forward. “We don’t want
anything with you, Jedi. One of us has an appointment with someone you are
guarding and we just need you to stay put for a minute.”
Qui-Gon immediately thought of his apprentice but did not mention him. He was
considering what to do next, since they were making no aggressive moves toward
him, when he heard //Mast—//, and then felt only silence from his padawan.
That decided him.
“Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he answered, gathering the Force around him
in preparation for a leap.
At his words, the men unsheathed their blasters and started shooting. He found
himself having to try to deflect the blots into the walls to avoid the now
panicking patrons of the cantina from getting accidentally shot. His green blade
became a blur of motion, but with three against one the odds against completely
avoiding a blaster bolt were slim.
As he was directing his blade toward two simultaneous shots, a third buried
itself into his upper arm, burning a hole through the packed muscle there. The
intense fiery pain shot its way into his concentration and he had to adjust his
fighting position to be mainly one handed since his right arm was sluggish now.
He was about to try to leap over their heads when a big booming voice commanded,
“Stop!”
Immediately, the three men stopped shooting at him, giving him time to try to
catch his breath and grit his teeth against the pain in his arm.
“What is the meaning of this?” The voice, hidden in the shadows, asked in a cold
voice. Shocked, Qui-Gon could feel the dark side of the Force coming from the
shadow in waves. Here was a formable opponent, and he was telling them to stop.
Once the three men had reholstered their blasters, and the one who had spoken to
Qui-Gon earlier stepped forward. “Forgive us, sir. He was trying to leave and we
had to stop him.”
With cold fury, the voice said, “I told you not to wound him. That was my duty,
not yours. Whose is the blaster that wounded him?”
As the three denied having anything to do with harming Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon himself
was struck by the bizarre irony of the situation. Since they were preoccupied,
he searched for an opening around them to try to continue his search for his
apprentice.
The dark Force user in the shadows noticed his direction of thought immediately.
Using the Force to cut off the three men’s air supply, he held a hand out to
Qui-Gon. “Stop there, Master Jinn, or your precious little Padawan has drawn his
last breath.”
Taking a risky chance, and trying to ignore the hot pain in his arm, Qui-Gon
replied, “If you truly had my Padawan, you would show me and stop hiding in the
darkness like a spider.” He relaxed his grip on his lightsaber, but kept it on
in case he needed it. He was hoping he would either bluff them out, or make them
show him that they did indeed have Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon sensed a smile from the shadows. “Very well, Master Jinn. You wish to
see your precious little Jedi so here he is!”
With an abruptness that surprised him, the man in the shadows stood fully in the
light without taking a single step. Qui-Gon did not even notice the long scar
that ran down the left side of his face at first because his horrified attention
was caught on what the man held.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, a gangly and sturdy sixteen-year-old, lay limp in the man’s
arms, seeming to be small and frail in his unconscious state. With a quick
mental probe, Qui-Gon could tell that his apprentice was mostly unharmed, though
a strange electrical kind of buzzing echoed in Obi-Wan’s brain that Qui-Gon did
not like.
“What do you want?” Qui-Gon asked quietly, finally powering down his lightsaber.
The man with the scar grinned and motioned toward the side, prompting a
terrified Lamkptu, who was also surrounded by men and one strange reptile
creature, to come to him. “I want you all to come with me. We have some things
to discuss.”
Chapter Three
Qui-Gon twisted his lithe body, trying to find any position that was
comfortable, but he had to eventually give up. He could no longer keep track of
the hours that he had been here. Seeing no other option, he had gone with
Scarface, surrounded by all his minions, to ensure he did not try anything. He
had been led to an enclosed landspeeder and from the moment he stepped into the
landspeeder his mind had been clouded with a strange blankness that only the
dark side of the Force could convey. When he had had his wits about him again,
he was tunicless and stretched to the tips of his toes with his hands manacled
high above him on a short chain from the ceiling.
Taking stock of his rather bleak surroundings, he realized escape would have to
come later in his captivity when he was able to glean more information about
where he was and how deep underground he was. All he knew now was that he was in
a primitive stone chamber that had dirt as its floor. He was also alone, which
did not surprise him. A dark Force user would not be stupid enough to place him
and his Padawan in the same room.
When he had tried to contact Obi-Wan through their Force link, all he had gotten
was that strange buzzing feel. He could not even tell if his Padawan was awake
or not, although he suspected Obi-Wan was not. What had Scarface done to
Obi-Wan?
He had had hours to wonder about it in his solitude.
Finally, he heard measured, unhurried footsteps coming toward the heavy wood
door that was the only thing to break the monotony in his prison. Without having
to focus much in the Force at all, he knew who it was that was coming to pay him
a visit.
When the door opened, he found he was right.
“What right do you have to hold us prisoner?” He asked sharply, staring at
Scarface with a cold, level blue gaze.
Scarface laughed harshly and spread his hands wide. “Why, no right at all,
Master Jinn.” He practically spat Qui-Gon’s title at him. “I was hired for a
little clean-up job with the representative and, with my good fortune, ended up
getting you and your little Jedi as well. I am going to absolutely love our time
together.”
Qui-Gon let the man’s words glide over him like water, not losing his control or
presence of calm. Honestly curious, he asked, “Who are you? Do I know you from
somewhere? What have I done to you?”
Again, the man laughed. “You haven’t done anything to me, Qui-Gon Jinn. And no,
you don’t know me, though you did know a friend of mine. A friend who came up
missing after a certain tangle with you on Arborané. Ringing any bells now?”
Cocky, Scarface crossed his arms and leaned against the wall right beside the
open door, waiting for Qui-Gon to figure out the pieces to the puzzle he had
given him.
Qui-Gon thought for a moment. A great many things had happened on Arborané, the
greatest of which he had twisted another mandate from the Temple. Yet, this man
seemed to have a vendetta against him carried over from a certain person there.
There had been many people there…But then, at the end, there had been…
Looking at the scar on his face more closely, Qui-Gon slowly said, “Xanatos had
been there, waiting for me. He said he had a friend, and one night in an alley
someone jumped me. I defended myself with my lightsaber as I stumbled back into
some garbage containers and only barely caught my attacker. I had thought it was
Xanatos, but when we met again he had been unharmed. I didn’t have time to think
of it then and I haven’t since, either. Obi-Wan and I arrived from our six day
journey from Arborané, had a day at the Temple to relax and was assigned to
protect Representative Lamkptu. But now I remember Xanatos speaking of a friend.
He bragged that he had found someone who wanted to learn to use the Force and he
had taught him all he knew. You are the friend.”
Scarface applauded. “Very good, Jinn. Now, I worry about your poor little
Padawan. See, I shot him with a stun bolt in the head and I can’t get him to
wake up, no matter what I do to him. He has to be awake for what I want. Wake
him up, Master Jinn. If anyone can do it, you can. I’ll wait.” He settled
against the wall with his arms folded again.
Qui-Gon was appalled by this man’s confession on what he had done to his Padawan.
Any idiot with a blaster knew not to stun someone in the head—shooting the
complex and fragile center of the nervous system in the brain could end up doing
more damage than most people intend to do when using ‘stun’.
Knowing that Scarface was impatiently waiting and that he could feel if Qui-Gon
was complying or not, Qui-Gon again reached for his link to his Padawan. Again
he felt that buzzing that was not normal in his Padawan’s brain.
//Obi-Wan,// he urged. //Obi-Wan, can you hear me?//
He waited, but got no answer. Patiently, he tried again.
//Obi-Wan! Hear me!//
If his Padawan were aware, the traditional command of a Master to his Padawan
would make him respond…but still nothing.
Qui-Gon, truly feeling anger stir in him now and fighting to push it away from
his focus, turned to Scarface again. “He is not responding to me. You’re an
idiot if you thought that you’re little stunt with the stun bolt was not going
to harm him. He will wake when he’s healed himself enough, if ever.” He held
back the temptation to spit at the man lounging so casually against the wall.
Scarface pushed himself off of the wall and came near enough to Qui-Gon that
their noses almost touched. Tilting his head to the side, he frowned. “I don’t
think you tried hard enough.”
Qui-Gon felt like rolling his eyes. “Even as his master there are limits to what
I can make him do. He is not my puppet.”
Scarface shrugged and pulled back a little from Qui-Gon. “Still, I don’t think
you tried hard enough so I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, Master Jinn.”
Without warning from the Force or from body language, Scarface punched Qui-Gon
so hard in the face that he felt and heard his jaw crack. Pain traveled from
tooth to tooth to travel to his brain in white hot agony. Caught unaware, Qui-Gon’s
mind was in a state of shock from the pain, preventing him from blocking the
thudding pain from the other blows that Scarface landed squarely in his chest
and the echoing pain from his blistered arm from his earlier fight. When
Scarface’s knuckles were red from his effort, he switched to using his feet to
kick Qui-Gon against the unyielding stone wall. As Qui-Gon swung into the stone,
the stone cut the skin of his back as Scarface used his feet to punish his
chest.
Qui-Gon gathered the Force around himself with effort, trying to cushion his
mind from the beating he was receiving. He was mostly succeeding when a
particularly hard kick cracked two ribs on the left side of his chest
simultaneously. In tune with the Force, he shuffled the pain beyond his nerves
to avoid the crippling hurt that he surely would feel. Instead of feeling the
pain, however, he felt one of the broken ribs push inward, aiming toward his
lung. If he was kicked or punched once more in that area, the rib would puncture
his lung and he would slowly suffocate.
“If you don’t stop…” Qui-Gon panted. “You’ll kill me before you can show my
Padawan how much you’ve hurt me.”
It had been just a guess, but evidently he was right; Scarface immediately
stopped and focused in the Force to make sure Qui-Gon was not lying to him. When
he was apparently satisfied, he backed toward the door, not even breathing hard.
“I’ll have some water brought to you, Jinn, while I work on your apprentice,”
Scarface sneered. “I wouldn’t want him to miss the fun.”
The door slammed shut and Qui-Gon immediately sank deep into a healing trance to
heal his ribs. If he did not succeed before Scarface’s next visit, he might not
survive to help Obi-Wan escape.
Chapter Four
Obi-Wan floated in a lazy sea of nothingness. He was aware that he had a
physical body and that something had happened to him to place him here in this
void, but none of it mattered much to him anymore.
Once, he thought he heard a voice that had meant something to him at one time in
his life calling his name, but he had already slipped into this place of no
feeling. He had escaped to this place of safety from the pressure that had been
building in his brain after he had been shot by that second stun bolt.
Another time it seemed that he could see himself in a featureless room, as if he
were outside his body and floating in the air above it. A man with a scar on his
face had been using a knife on him, shouting things at his unconscious body that
Obi-Wan could not hear. He watched in detached fascination as the knife traced
patterns of red across his bare torso, seeing the muscled chest split easily
beneath the knife as if it were fruit. The knife only went too deep once, near
his neck, extremely close to his jugular vein and he jerked slightly with an
echo of the pain that he knew he would be feeling were he not in this safe
place. Tired of watching blood, his blood, running in rivulets down his stomach
and sides, he had faded back into this void.
And here he planned on staying.
Very faintly, he thought he heard words that should make sense to him. Words
that seemed like a command, but he simply lacked the will to try to make sense
of them, or to try to remember the person who the words belonged to.
One word drifted toward him, almost tangible, and he idly reached for it to try
to understand what it was. After several half-hearted attempts to grab the
floating word, he was about to give up when it bumped into him and absorbed into
his mind.
Frowning, he began to make himself think to try to remember what the word
‘padawan’ had meant to him.
--------
Qui-Gon hung limp in his chains, not noticing the metal digging harshly into the
skin of his wrists, sunk as he was into his deep healing trance. He focused all
his energy on repairing the two broken ribs that he had sustained in his
beating, knowing that if he did not have them fixed by the time Scarface
returned, he would perish in his next encounter with the dark Force user.
Slowly, he coaxed the rib that was perilously close to his lung back into a
semblance of its rightful place below the other broken rib. Swirling the Force
around the jagged pieces of bone inside himself, he let his healing strength
absorb into the two ribs. For eternity and for no time at all inside the trance,
the ribs finally healed so solidly that they did not seem to have been messed
with at all.
As he awoke slowly from his healing trance, tired but not exhausted and feeling
somewhat better, he was aware that he still had many injuries that needed to be
tended to. Bruises began to darken his chest at various places and the blaster
hole in his arm still bled, the blood running down his muscled arm to mingle
with the newer cuts on his chest from his previous beating.
Sighing, he suddenly noticed a bowl of somewhat clean water that seemed to drift
directly in front of him. No one held it and no one else was in the small
chamber with him. Curious but cautious, Qui-Gon used a tiny amount of the Force
to guide the bowl to his mouth. Right as he was using the Force to tip the bowl
so that water would run into his parched mouth, an unseen Force presence shoved
the water in his face so that water ran over his chest, missing his mouth and
chilling him in the coldness of the chamber. As the bowl crashed to the floor in
front of him, he did not have to wait long to see the person responsible for his
bathing.
Scarface entered the chamber, once again leaving the door wide open to reveal
the featureless hall directly opposite from Qui-Gon’s chamber. He seemed angrier
than ever and dried blood stained his tunic, blood that Qui-Gon knew was not his
own.
His blue eyes flashing, Qui-Gon had to calm himself considerably before he could
make himself look at the dark Force user again to face what he knew to be Obi-Wan’s
blood.
“I can’t understand it,” Scarface was muttering, angry and pacing in front of
Qui-Gon, a whip held in his hands. “Your stupid apprentice doesn’t even make a
sound and what I’ve done to him should have at least gotten me a flinch through
the Force. But nothing. I can’t sense it but I know it has to be you. You are
either protecting him from me or he needs more persuasion to come out of
wherever he’s hid himself in his mind. Either way, it means I get to take my
pleasure with you.” He growled, sounding very unhappy but Qui-Gon didn’t care.
“What have you done with Obi-Wan?” He demanded to know, straining against his
chains. “I can’t reach him, you tyrant! He doesn’t respond to me so get over
it!” He was hoping that if he made Scarface mad enough, he would concentrate
only on working Qui-Gon over and would leave Obi-Wan alone.
With his taunts, Scarface’s face turned a dark, angry red, leaving his scar a
dead white contrast. Bringing his face close to Qui-Gon’s, he screamed, spittle
flying out of his mouth to land on Qui-Gon’s face and chest, “It’s got to be
you, Jinn! He’s not old enough or skilled enough to resist me! Xanatos told me
all about the stages of Force development that coincides with age. At sixteen,
your little Jedi should be awake and squirming by now! Why isn’t he? Why!”
Smiling calmly, Qui-Gon relaxed against his chains to lean against the stone
wall. Very quietly, in a voice that carried down the hall, he answered, “Because
Obi-Wan Kenobi is more powerfully connected to the Force than you will ever wish
to be, even at sixteen. Xanatos was wrong about a great many things, my friend.
This is simply another.”
Scarface’s anger receded slightly. “That can’t be possible. No sixteen-year-old
Padawan has that much control of the Force to be so strongly connected. None of
his friends do. I researched…None of them do…”
Qui-Gon chuckled, a real chest-heaving laugh that swelled and bounced off the
walls of his cell as he lost himself in the humor of his captor’s inability to
figure out his apprentice. Obi-Wan was complex, but a kind-hearted soul to those
who knew him best.
Qui-Gon’s laughter provoked a wild frenzy in the man before him. “Stop it!”
Scarface screamed in renewed anger. “What’s so funny? Stop it, I say!”
With an effort, Qui-Gon ceased his chuckles as he prepared himself in the Force
for the reaction he knew his next words would create. “I find it amusing,” he
said slowly, “that my Padawan has beaten you so thoroughly and he’s not even
conscious.”
Like he knew it would do, Scarface was driven to the breaking point of his
control. With a wild cry, he swung the whip in his hand and brought the
separated points of the end of the whip crashing down across Qui-Gon’s chest.
Qui-Gon sucked in a breath as the strong leather cords tore into and across his
chest, ripping the skin with an audible sound. Pain shot straight to Qui-Gon’s
brain and it was all he could do to keep from crying out from the hot shock of
it. Again and again, the whip flashed down, tearing into untouched skin and into
already opened welts. Soon, Qui-Gon was hanging limply from his chains, trying
to focus into the Force to shunt the pain around his nerves, but he simply could
not concentrate enough to accomplish his task.
The whip paused after what had seemed like hours but in reality were only a few
minutes. Qui-Gon fervently hoped that Scarface was done now that the skin on his
chest was hanging down in tattered strips and blood gushed around the tips of
his boots in the dirt floor to make a muddy puddle.
He hoped in vain. Dimly, above his haze of pain, he felt himself being turned
around on the chain to face the wall and he knew with sinking horror what
awaited him next.
With a fury that surprised Qui-Gon, Scarface sunk the whip into Qui-Gon’s back
again and again, driving the breath from his lungs. The strength of the force of
the whip pushed Qui-Gon’s torn chest into the protruding stone of the wall,
crushing bits of dirt and stone into the gashes that bled there, doubling the
pain of his chest as his back was being torn apart.
Qui-Gon could feel himself sinking fast into unconsciousness and he welcomed the
release from this torment. As if Scarface could also feel Qui-Gon’s descent into
the blacking of nothingness, he doubled his intensity. Qui-Gon’s mind cried out
as he lost consciousness.
Chapter Five
Obi-Wan was restless in his void. He was used to being active and the unending
monotony of doing nothing was eating at the core of his being. Plus, although
the voice that had called to him was silent, there was a feeling that surrounded
him that filled him with unease. It was a nameless malice and inside his cocoon
he could not fight it as he wished to.
The meaning of the word ‘padawan’ was still just beyond his reach of knowing
when a jolt of terrible pain shocked him. The pain was not his own and yet he
had felt it as if it were happening to him. He was confused, his mind
churning…until he thought of the word ‘padawan’ again…
And suddenly it all came back to him. The fight in the cantina. The man with the
scar. Representative Lamkptu crying out in fear as he fell into this deep, dark
place within his own mind. And, above all, his urgency in trying to reach his
master, Qui-Gon Jinn through their Master/Padawan link.
Through that link now he felt Qui-Gon’s agony as he was being whipped against
the wall of his chamber of stone. In perfect clarity now he knew who he was and
that he had to do something to help his master. Knowing that what he was about
to do would bring him back into touch with the physical part of him that was
still throbbing in pain, he opened his mind before he had a chance to second
guess himself.
Burning, running pain blurred his vision as he came to full consciousness in a
dimly lit cell with a dirt floor. He tried to sit up but gentle hands
insistently pushed him back down in accompaniment with a renewal of the intense
pain.
A soft, musical voice urgently requested that he lie still and try not to move.
“Qui-Gon…” he gasped out through a dry, parched throat. A dull pain made itself
known at the hollow of his throat as soon as he tried to talk and he could say
no more.
“I do not know where the Master Jedi is, young one,” the voice said. “And I only
knew where you were because our captor sent me to wake you just this morning. We
have been here for two days now, I believe. I have been most anxious about you.
You would not wake.”
Obi-Wan wiggled his fingers as his eyesight tried to focus but everything
remained extremely blurry to him. His head ached from the stun blast still and
he would bet his lightsaber that his eyesight was not normal because of it as
well. At least he had not lost it completely; just enough to be annoying.
A lavender blur leaned over him with big round blue spots where the eyes would
be. “Young Kenobi,” the voice said again, but Obi-Wan could not see well enough
to tell if it was the alien speaking. He knew it was, though, because he
recognized Representative Lamkptu's voice. She continued, “We must find our way
from here if we are to live. I see blood and I wonder how badly are you hurt?"
Obi-Wan groaned. “I can’t see so well, Representative Lamkptu, and I feel like
I’ve been in a wrecked landspeeder that rolled with me in it. What did he do to
me?” Determined now, he slowly started to sit up off the very flat stone table
he had been lying on, ignoring his protesting and aching body.
Lamkptu, once she saw that he was going to move whether she willed him to or
not, moved to help him ease into a sitting position. “The man with the scar
played you for his own carving roost, young Kenobi. I have used my tears to heal
but some of the cuts will leave scars if not taken care of with bacta. You must
take care.”
Obi-Wan was not really listening to her reply as he focused inward, trying to
locate his Master. All he could sense was dormant pain and a blankness of mind
that indicated his Master was unconscious.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” he muttered. But what could an injured
apprentice who could barely see do for an unconscious Jedi Master and a delicate
alien who did not appear to know how to defend herself?
An injured apprentice, Obi-Wan discovered as he placed his feet on the floor,
that was barefoot. At this moment, he was having a hard time keeping himself
from using the words that his old rival, Bruck, used to love to toss around
whenever Obi-Wan beat him in something.
Steadying himself against the stone slab that he had been lying on, he tried to
make sense of the dark blurred images that he saw around him. A distant memory
came to him of seeing perfectly from above his body a stone chamber, so that
must be where he was. He channeled his frustration at not being able to see
clearly into his hands, which he squeezed tightly.
“Young Kenobi?” Representative Lamkptu’s musical tones rose in pitch sharply at
his tense shoulders and white-knuckled grip on the slab of stone.
“I can’t see,” he muttered. “Or, at least, my sight would be better off if I
couldn’t see.” Blindly, he reached out toward a wall, his barefeet shuffling in
the loosely packed dirt. Under the dirt he could feel a stronger substance which
led him to believe that the dirt was simply placed over a regular floor.
When it happened, it happened in threes. Suddenly, as Obi-Wan’s fingers brushed
the protruding stone of the wall he brought his exposed foot down on a very
sharp and jagged object that sliced clean into the meat of his foot. Not able to
help himself from yelling from the sharp pain, he also sensed Qui-Gon wake and
reach for him.
//Master!// He thought, trying not to whimper in pain in his mind. Gingerly,
leaning on the wall, he brought his foot up to the level of his knee and blindly
tried to let his fingers find the protruding object that was buried halfway into
the flesh of his foot.
Qui-Gon’s thoughts were tired and filled of surpressed pain. //Padawan, it’s
good to have you back. Is everything all right with you?//
Obi-Wan shut his useless eyes, trying to control his breathing. //My sight is
blurred so badly, Master, that it would be better if they were shut. And I feel
like a child’s punching toy.// Focusing in his mind, he sent to his master the
image he had seen of himself when Scarface had been trying to rouse him out of
his safe place in his mind, when he had been above his physical body. //Some of
those cuts are healed and some are not. Also, our ‘friend’ has left me a
surprise in the dirt of my cell. Walking will be painful and running almost out
of the question. Be careful, Master, if you walk around.//
//I can’t, came the grim answer. I’m in chains. Scarface has had a fun time of
using a whip on me since I can’t get away. Do you—//
Suddenly, Obi-Wan received a staggeringly painful burst of white-hot something
that ran behind his eyes into his temples. Letting out a cry, he soon found
himself curled in a ball on the floor, receiving more slices from other hidden
sharp glass shards in the dirt.
//Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, answer me!//
“Young Kenobi? Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
Eventually, the pain subsided and Obi-Wan focused on Qui-Gon’s mental voice
instead of the representative’s nearer one.
//Padawan, are you okay?//
Obi-Wan panted for a moment, recovering. When he felt like the room had stopped
spinning, he responded, //Yes, Master.// Standing up slowly, he reached out to
feel for a support of any kind and instead felt the soft skin of the
representative.
“Hold on to me, Young Kenobi, and let me guide you. Where do you want to go?”
The Representative instructed.
//Master, where are you?// He asked, a little desperately.
The reply was rueful. //If I knew that, I could devise a way of escape. Focus on
my presence, Padawan, and you will find me. Hurry. We do not know when our
‘friend’ will return.//
“Representative Lamkptu,” Obi-Wan said, keeping his offending eyes shut. “Could
you please see if our door is locked?”
The touch of her soothing skin left his fingers for a moment and the sound of a
heavy door being opened made it to Obi-Wan’s ears. There was silence and Obi-Wan
began to fear that the representative had decided to escape on her own and leave
the Jedi to their own devices. Soon, though, Obi-Wan felt the reassuring
pressure of her webbed fingertips on his arm.
“It was open,” she whispered. “It seems as though our captor highly values his
own skill.”
“Then let’s find Master Qui-Gon before he returns,” Obi-Wan returned.
The musical voice was puzzled. “But how will we find him, Young Kenobi?”
Obi-Wan smiled grimly. “Leave that to me.”
Chapter Six
Qui-Gon’s arms shuddered and shook on their own from the strain of holding all
of his muscled weight in the chains. He believed that he had now been in this
featureless, windowless chamber for more than a day. His body ached but his mind
was now active from the contact with his apprentice, though he was worried with
the strangeness of Obi-Wan’s wakeful mind. He could only hope that the sight of
his Padawan would quench his fears.
Unfortunately, it did not.
Obi-Wan came in, supported by the slender representative. Obi-Wan’s eyes were
closed shut against the offending and confusing blurred images that he was
receiving so he did not see Qui-Gon’s intake of breath at his condition. Blood
covered one foot with more blood oozing from over half a dozen deep slashes on
his chest. Someone, the representative more than likely, Qui-Gon thought,
probably cleaned up the dried blood that would have been all over Obi-Wan’s
chest. In only his loose-fitting sand-colored pants, Obi-Wan looked as bad as
Qui-Gon felt and suddenly Qui-Gon didn’t want to know what he looked like.
“Master?” Obi-Wan asked as Representative Lamkptu led him over to where Qui-Gon
dangled, his chest a tattered mess and his back on fire. “What do your chains
look like? Can I pick them, or simply use the Force on them to open?”
Qui-Gon’s heart twisted with how exhausted Obi-Wan sounded. Craning his neck
upward, ignoring how the movement of his neck muscles pulled at some of the
upper chest muscles that had been flayed, he got his first good look at the
chains above him that held his wrists locked together. “There’s no place for a
key, Padawan. He must have used the Force to lock them there. Do you have enough
strength to do this, Obi-Wan? If we join together…”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “You need to concentrate on healing yourself, Master,”
he replied, his boyish eagerness shining through his voice. “I’ll focus on
freeing you.”
The lavender representative finally let go of Obi-Wan’s arm and stood back
against the wall, looking down the hall to watch for their captor so the Jedi
could do what was needed in their chamber.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, feeling the Force flowing around him from Obi-Wan’s
probing of the chains that had held him helpless for so long. He wanted to be
able to feel when he was released so he could try to soften his body’s impact
with the ground when he fell.
Even focusing as much as the pain would let him focus into the Force, Qui-Gon
almost missed the subtle change when Obi-Wan finally caused the complicated
hooks and latches inside the chains and binders to release. Dropping like a
stone, Qui-Gon was working on taking the majority of the impact on his legs,
since those were basically the only pieces of working flesh that didn’t flare in
hot protests of pain whenever he tried to use them.
Landing on his feet in his boots, he suddenly felt little hot stabs of
needle-like pain all over his feet. Yelling involuntarily, he found himself
rolling on to his side on the floor to try to avoid getting any more dirt in his
slashed chest and back.
“Master!”
Dimly, he was aware of Obi-Wan kneeling awkwardly beside him but Qui-Gon was
merely trying to focus on breathing normally. After a moment, he choked out,
“Can you get my boots off of my feet, Obi-Wan? They have to come off.”
Fingers fumbling down the length of his legs to feel where his feet were,
Obi-Wan obediently started pulling off Qui-Gon’s boots. In Qui-Gon’s condition,
there was no way that he could ever reach down to pull off his own boots.
Silence greeted him when he felt both boots had been slipped off.
“What is it, Obi-Wan?”
The reply was quiet. “There’s glass shards in your boots, Master. Like the ones
that were in the dirt in my cell. He must have put them in there at some point
when you were unconscious…or in your healing trance.”
Qui-Gon nodded, forgetting for a moment that his apprentice couldn’t see him.
Sighing, knowing that he couldn’t stay on the ground forever, he pushed himself
off the ground and grit his teeth when he put his weight on his feet. “Come on,
Obi-Wan, we have to get out of here while we can. Representative Lamkptu, is the
way clear?”
The purple being nodded, her big blues eyes even bigger than usual. “Yes, Master
Jedi. But I do not know the way out to safety.”
Gently, Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan’s hand to his arm so that his apprentice could
keep in touch with him physically and be guided simultaneously. Bracing himself,
he slowly started walking on his tattered feet toward the door to his cell,
Obi-Wan following alongside him.
The hallway was covered with stones only in places directly across from cell
doors and was a regular up-to-date corridor with shining transparisteel
everywhere else. Clearly, the entire rustic feel to the chambers was faked, as
Qui-Gon had already suspected. He even believed that they were still on
Coruscant, but had nothing at the moment in which to prove or disprove his
theory.
Gesturing with a wide hand motion, Representative Lamkptu waved the Jedi to
follow her as she glanced both ways and began to turn toward the left.
Qui-Gon frowned and felt a vague pulling from the Force, though he could not
figure out what it was trying to tell him. “No,” he said slowly as he faced the
opposite direction. “I think we should go in this direction.”
Lamkptu tilted her head quizzically. “But, Master Jedi, the ground slopes upward
in this direction. Is it not logical that we should head for above ground?”
“Yes, Representative,” he answered politely. “But I believe nothing should be
taken for granted when dealing with our foe.”
“There’s a trap in that direction, Master,” Obi-Wan piped up suddenly, his hand
pointing in the direction that the representative had wanted to go in. After a
brief, tense silence, he pointed at the direction that Qui-Gon wanted to go in
and said, “And another in that direction.”
Qui-Gon and Lamkptu stared at the apprentice’s furrowed brows and tightly closed
eyes. “Padawan, are you sure?”
Obi-Wan nodded quickly with no hesitations. “Yes, Master. I can feel it.”
“Which trap is more likely to prove harmful, young Kenobi?” Lamkptu inquired as
she rejoined the Jedi in front of the chamber door.
Obi-Wan stretched outward with his feelings for a moment to feel the pulsing of
the Force around him. Finally, he pointed to the left. “This way,
Representative, is the most harmful. We should go right.”
Although a frown marred her intense beauty and showed that she clearly did not
understand, Lamkptu silently followed the two injured Jedi as they gingerly made
their way down the corridor broken by irregular intervals of rock.
Chapter Seven
Obi-Wan, highly in tune with the Force since he was denied his sight, was
gathering confusing images from the Force and trying to make sense of them
before the little group of three was surprised by anything. Most pressing on his
mind was the feeling that someone who wished them harm was near, though it did
not feel like Scarface. Scarface’s dark side energies were clearly bleeding
through the Force farther ahead in the direction they were headed. He had not
wanted to go this way, toward their tormentor, but he had sensed death to the
left of where he and the representative had found Qui-Gon instead of the feeling
of merely more suffering that was toward the right.
Suddenly, when they had walked more than a few minutes up the long corridor,
Obi-Wan stopped dead.
“What? What is it, Padawan?” Qui-Gon’s tired and pained voice softly inquired.
The hand on his arm tightened slightly.
Without a word, Obi-Wan stretched out his arm and let his fingertips brush
against a rough surface which must be more rock. Hardly aware of what he was
doing, letting the Force completely guide his movements, he pressed on three
specific rocks and heard a soft grinding noise as a result of his actions.
“Our lightsabers!” He heard Qui-Gon breath happily. Mere seconds later, the
familiar cool handle of his lightsaber was pressed into his hand. Obi-Wan almost
wept with relief to have his lightsaber returned to him. Now he felt like he had
more of a chance against their captor.
“Padawan,” Qui-Gon was asking, “how did you know?”
Obi-Wan shrugged. “I let the Force guide me, Master. I’m letting the Force be my
eyes for me and so I just knew.”
He could almost see Qui-Gon’s thoughtful nod. “You are learning much, Padawan.
I’m only sorry you have to learn it this way.”
Obi-Wan tried not to glow from his master’s praise. The warmth from that small
praise spread through him and helped soothe many hurts he still felt from his
torture that were trying to disrupt his connection with the Force. And with that
cleansing feeling came the sudden, unavoidable knowledge of whom it was that
wished them more harm. Keeping silent, knowing that he would find an opportunity
in the near future to confront that person, Obi-Wan merely smiled sadly.
More confident now, the company of three started off down the hall again.
-------
Qui-Gon was limping down the corridor, using the Force to shunt aside all the
many places in pain both outside on his flesh and inside his body that any
movement caused to flare upward into his brain. His mind, though, was alert for
danger; his eyes roamed ahead of him warily as the beautiful representative
silently followed them down the hall.
He sensed a troubling disquiet in Representative Lamkptu that caused constant
emotions to tumble and shift in her presence. For the moment, he mostly ignored
her, keeping his focus on the way ahead of him and his Padawan.
Hope blossomed and strengthened within him as he felt the subtle rising of the
corridor under his feet. The rising meant they were closer to the surface and a
way out to get to safety and Jedi Healers. Unfortunately, it seemed that a final
showdown awaited them before they made their break into the world above:
Scarface was just up ahead and by his presence, he was calmly waiting for them.
When, for the first time, the corridor began to curve toward the right, cutting
off further sight, Qui-Gon knew the time had come. Releasing his Padawan’s arm,
he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way the flex of his chest muscles
pulled and caused more pain to begin that seemed to spread outward throughout
his entire body.
“Obi-Wan…” He began.
“I’m going, too, Master. Don’t ask me or order me to stay here because I’ll only
have to disobey,” his Padawan interrupted with such quiet determination that
Qui-Gon let the subject settle and rest where it was. They both knew that
without Obi-Wan having his full sight, the apprentice would be severally limited
in his defense; it was a risk they would both take willingly if the other
agreed.
Letting his hand rest briefly in silent agreement on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, Qui-Gon
saw that his Padawan already had his lightsaber held ready in his fist, his
thumb held ready over the activation switch. Smiling slightly as his
apprentice’s quiet eagerness, one of the only things left from his boyhood
through the filter of his Jedi training, Qui-Gon determined to talk to him after
they had finished their business with Scarface.
“Let’s finish this, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said quietly.
“Yes, Padawan,” a voice mocked as footsteps sounded around the bend in the
corner. Soon, Scarface was standing, his arms folded and now in a black Jedi
cloak. He gave Qui-Gon a chilling smile. “Your little Jedi has shown me how
strong he is by resisting me—now I want the honor of single combat with him.”
Qui-Gon frowned, wondering if Scarface knew about Obi-Wan’s condition with his
eyesight. More than likely, Scarface had had their cells fit with listening
devices so he could eavesdrop on them at his leisure.
“You know I can’t allow that…” He started to say, but broke off as Obi-Wan
placed a hand on his arm. His sightless apprentice had his lips set in a grim
line and his face was one of intense concentration.
In a loud, clear tone, Obi-Wan said mockingly, “You’re pretty brave for someone
who ties up his opposition and tortures them and doesn’t reveal his name. Now
you must be even braver to knowingly go against a young Jedi Padawan who cannot
see. I’ve never met anyone so brave before. Perhaps I’ll become your Padawan.”
Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan. In the years that he had known this quiet and usually
reserved young man, he had never heard such scorn come from him before.
Scarface was silent, his fury radiating through the Force at Obi-Wan’s words.
After several tense moments, he barked out, “Balio Gordanti.”
Obi-Wan smiled. “Now we can do whatever you want, Balio.”
Balio scowled, his scar pulling at his face. With only a slight warning in the
Force, he somersaulted through the air to land directly in front of the two
Jedi, his lightsaber swinging down as he did so. Qui-Gon’s lightsaber was up and
intersecting the red blade in a heartbeat. Balio was caught off-guard by Qui-Gon
having his lightsaber and the strength behind the bigger Jedi’s defense.
“What…Lamkptu! You were supposed to make sure they did not find their
lightsabers!” Balio screamed to the cowering lavender alien behind the Jedi.
Lamkptu did not respond, merely fled in the opposite direction of the corridor.
Qui-Gon, using the Force to keep the pain from his chest, back, and feet from
his concentration, used his muscled strength to push the Dark Jedi backwards
into the hall. Balio stumbled as he fought to keep his balance and Qui-Gon ran
forward to press his advantage, sensing Obi-Wan light his blade behind him.
Balio, seeing both his opponents armed and coming at him, yelled a battle
cry…and ran away from the Jedi. To Qui-Gon’s left, he heard Obi-Wan laugh
light-heartedly.
In a mock-deep voice, the apprentice joked, “Beware of the big, bad Jedi!”
Fighting not to smile and to keep his amusement from traveling to his Padawan
through their bond, Qui-Gon rebuked, “Obi-Wan Kenobi, keep your sense of duty
here. We have to escape and we have to make sure Balio Gordanti doesn’t
terrorize anyone else in his escape.”
“What about the representative?”
Qui-Gon paused for a moment. “You sensed a trap back there earlier, correct?” At
Obi-Wan’s nod, the Jedi Master went on, “Reach out now. What do you feel?”
A line appeared in Obi-Wan’s brow for a moment before he turned away.
“Padawan?”
But Qui-Gon knew.
“Let your anger go and bury your sorrow; there will be time enough for sorrow
later,” he advised, doing the same to his anger and sorrow over Lampktu’s death.
“Now, let’s go make sure our business is settled.”
--------
Qui-Gon carefully stepped out onto a thin catwalk that spanned a three hundred
or so meter drop into a repair shaft. His senses were heightened by the Force so
everything he saw and heard was crystal clear to him. He knew that the heavy
metal door at the end of the catwalk was the way out of his and Obi-Wan’s
prison, just as he also knew without a shadow of a doubt that Balio was lurking
near the catwalk, hoping to surprise him or his Padawan.
Allowing a grim smile to touch his angular features, Qui-Gon made sure that
Obi-Wan was in position halfway to the wide platform across from the catwalk he
was balanced on. Just because the two Jedi were injured did not necessarily mean
that they were out of the fight; a lesson Balio evidently had not learned yet.
Qui-Gon had proceeded across the catwalk about seven halting steps to reach the
middle when he heard Balio utter his battle yell that sounded like a dying cross
species of bird. The surge in the Force had already warned Qui-Gon that Balio
was coming up behind him, but the Jedi Master calmly waited where he was,
without turning around to face the Dark Jedi. Thinking he had an advantage and
that perhaps Qui-Gon was too injured to move quickly enough to turn to fight
him, Balio recklessly slashed his red lightsaber blade where Qui-Gon’s head had
just moments before been.
As Balio’s charge brought him right behind the larger Jedi, Qui-Gon dropped to
his knees and slid backwards so that now he was the one behind the other.
Unfortunately, Qui-Gon’s hurt and overtaxed body was a little slower than he
needed it to be as he stood and Balio had recovered his balance, losing the
precious moments that Qui-Gon had been trying to use to his own advantage.
With a snarl, Balio spun on his heel and viciously sidekicked Qui-Gon in the
stomach, pressing the flayed strips of his flesh into barely healed cuts.
Doubling over, Qui-Gon found himself pushed against the thin railing of the
catwalk. Momentum took over along with gravity and suddenly he found himself
falling through the air in the empty space.
-------
“MASTER!”
Obi-Wan had heard the fight and with the level of deep concentration that he was
at in the Force, he could almost see what was happening across the open space
between his platform and the catwalk where his Master was currently on. He
definitely felt the change and emotions when his Master was pushed off the
catwalk. He knew that there were no other supports in this repair shaft for Qui-Gon
to land safely on. What to do?
Pushing the panic from his mind, Obi-Wan stretched out with his arm and the
Force and envisioned a large hand forming below his Master’s falling form. His
hand of air firmed enough so that once Qui-Gon hit it, he stopped dead in the
air, his lightsaber landing beside him on seemingly nothing.
Straining, sweat forming on his forehead and all of his lacerations and pain
hitting him like a load of transparisteel, Obi-Wan tried to keep enough control
over the Force to slowly raise Qui-Gon back up to the catwalk that was now at
least a hundred meters above him. Qui-Gon felt what his apprentice was trying to
do and joined in with his own Force strength to help lift himself to crawl back
onto the catwalk.
Once Qui-Gon was safely back on the catwalk, Obi-Wan felt himself collapsing.
-------
Qui-Gon was trembling now with the effort to use the Force to hold himself
upright and to block his pain. Joining with his Padawan had drained more of his
strength than he wanted to think about just now. Glancing over at the platform,
he saw Obi-Wan fall over on his side, blood oozing from his cuts as the young
man lost consciousness.
Malicious laughter diverted his attention from his apprentice.
“Nice trick, Jedi Jinn,” Balio mocked. “Too bad your little Padawan couldn’t
keep himself awake long enough to see the ending. Guess he’s not that much
better than me after all.”
Qui-Gon could only stare at his tormentor for a moment. If Balio could not feel
the effort Obi-Wan had put into his rescue, then Balio was not even half as
talented as Obi-Wan was at thirteen! Suddenly, puzzle pieces clicked into place
in his mind and he found the effort to stand tall and glare down at the younger
man was not so hard with his new knowledge.
“You want me, come get me, Balio,” Qui-Gon growled. “But I know the truth now
and you can’t hide from it anymore.”
For the first time since Qui-Gon had been forced to be in Balio’s presence, the
man seemed uncertain. Taking a hesitant step back, Balio stammered, “What…what
do you mean? You don’t know anything but what I’ve told you!”
Taking a menacing step forward, Qui-Gon smiled. “I know that you weren’t trained
at all, by anyone, let alone my former apprentice. You might have watched
Xanatos from a distance, or he even probably let you tag along, but he never
taught you how to use your abilities. My making Xanatos leave you on Arborané
left you without a focal point so you decided to take it out on me and my
Padawan. Yet, you knew you couldn’t hope to beat us in a fair fight so you lured
Representative Lamkptu into your little plot. I don’t know what you did to make
her agree to help you, but that’s not important right now, is it, Balio? You had
to torture us to get us injured enough so that you wouldn’t just be killed
outright in a fair fight that you knew you couldn’t win. Am I close?”
Balio’s face contorted in rage, his scar a livid white against his flushed face.
“Shut up! Lies! All lies! I’m a great Jedi! Xanatos was gonna show me
everything; he promised. But then you showed up and he was gone shortly after. I
want you to just shut up!” So saying, he screamed and, brandishing his
lightsaber, charged Qui-Gon at a dead run.
Qui-Gon was ready for him. Snapping his lightsaber up into a reverse spin and
taking a long sidestep out of the way at the last possible second, he sliced
downwards and a little to his right. Leaning heavily on the railing beside him,
he panted and gazed at the surprised Balio.
Blood gushed from the hole where Balio’s left arm used to be. The severed arm
was tumbling end over end down the repair shaft, quickly disappearing into the
darkness of the seemingly bottomless pit. Balio’s mouth hung open in disbelief
as shock stole over his features. Qui-Gon, suddenly feeling weak from his entire
ordeal, merely stayed where he was, recuperating for a moment. He warily eyed
the Dark Jedi to see what he would do.
Balio’s eyes glazed over and he stumbled on his feet for a minute. Yet, even as
Qui-Gon looked on, the spurting blood slowed and became a mere trickle and Balio
straightened. When he opened his eyes again, his orbs were completely black and
he smiled evilly.
Before Qui-Gon do even take another breath, Balio vaulted over the catwalk’s
railing and smoothly arched through the air to land solidly right beside the
still unconscious Obi-Wan. Still wearing his evil smile, the Dark Jedi easily
lifted the slight form of the limp Padawan with his one hand.
“How much do you want to see your Padawan live, Master Jinn?” Balio sneered,
holding Obi-Wan upright by his shoulder as if he were standing.
Qui-Gon at first did not bother to answer him as he frantically probed Obi-Wan’s
status through the Force. Obi-Wan was close to waking but was very weak with his
feat of strength earlier to save his master.
//Obi-Wan! I need you awake, Padawan,// Qui-Gon thought at his apprentice,
trying to smother his panic. //Padawan, hear me. Wake up! Come on, Obi-Wan!
Obi-Wan, you need to wake right now. Padawan!//
“What’s the matter, Jinn?” Balio mocked. “Avian got your tongue? Maybe this will
entice you to answer me.” With a menacing glare, he shifted Obi-Wan’s weight to
lean against his chest as he used his remaining arm to light his lightsaber.
Qui-Gon felt his danger sense prickling like a mad insect trapped in a bottle.
Slowly, he began to turn his body more toward the drama unfolding on the
platform and began to gather the Force inside of him like a dam holding water.
Carefully, he masked from Balio what he was doing and gritted his teeth. He
would have to wait another moment longer…
With a look of pure hatred at Qui-Gon, Balio met his gaze solidly as he brought
the red blade directly under Obi-Wan’s chin. Because his eyes were on the Jedi
Master, the Dark Jedi did not at first notice when Obi-Wan groggily came to,
prompted by his Master’s desperate calls.
Qui-Gon was almost ready…
But Balio noticed Obi-Wan’s change of breathing as the apprentice gasped in
ragged breaths from his pain. Grinning maliciously, Balio screamed at Qui-Gon,
“Hate me now and forever, Qui-Gon Jinn, for what pain I can cause you that you
will never recover from!” Shifting his stance slightly, Balio sliced inward,
intending on severing Obi-Wan’s head from his neck.
------
With his absolute last burst of strength borne of desperation and an
overwhelming urge to save his own life, Obi-Wan threw his body weight to the
right. Missing his intended mark and instead slicing into the top portion of
Obi-Wan’s left shoulder, Balio screamed in rage as Obi-Wan screamed in pain and
they both collapsed.
Obi-Wan was sunk so deep into unconsciousness now that Qui-Gon doubted that
nothing short of a dip in a bacta tank would revive him.
Which left the Dark Jedi off-balance and Qui-Gon a window of opportunity.
Using the Force like a sling-shot, Qui-Gon leaped on the rail, balanced
delicately, and then shot through the air to land directly in front of Balio.
Igniting his lightsaber as Balio swung his around, they met and the blades shot
sparks with the force of their blows. Qui-Gon set his jaw and leaned inward,
coming closer and closer to Balio by tiny increments. Balio recognized his death
looming in his face and was yelling as Qui-Gon’s greater muscular strength
pushed both of their locked blades into his face and chest. A heartbeat or two
later, the gory remains of Balio’s body crumpled into a heap at Qui-Gon’s feet.
Staring down at the body that had inflicted so much pain on him and his Padawan,
he felt nothing but sadness for the direction this young man’s life of hatred
had taken him. Xanatos had taken another life needlessly.
Sighing and closing down his lightsaber, Qui-Gon slowly made his way to his
apprentice.
Chapter Eight
“How is he?” Qui-Gon quietly asked the Twi’lek Jedi Healer Pos Rn’athu as he
stared at Obi-Wan floating in the bacta tank. His Padawan had been immersed
since Mace Windu and four other Jedi had answered Qui-Gon’s mental call through
the Force two days ago. Qui-Gon himself had been treated with bacta for a day
and urged to meditate to heal himself faster. Meditation had been hard with
thoughts of his apprentice coursing through his mind but he had finally managed
for a few hours.
The green-skinned Twi’lek woman twitched one of her two brain-tails, called
lekku, in agitation. “Your Padawan, Master Jinn, has physical wounds that have
healed nicely,” Rn’athu said in a voice as equally quiet as Qui-Gon’s. Her
pointed teeth showed briefly as she grimaced. “His eyesight is why we keep him
still in bacta. We hope that with extended care and exposure to bacta, the
damage will be either reversed or healed. You came in time for us to let him
test his sight again.”
The technicians who were standing on top of and around the bacta tank nodded at
the healer and one of them, another Twi’lek but with pink skin, maneuvered
levers beside her. Obi-Wan brought his head up, the white breathing mask in the
pink liquid making his face seem odd and distorted, and kicked powerfully
upward.
Qui-Gon and Healer Rn’athu unhurriedly made their way over to where Obi-Wan was
being dried off over a grate that allowed the extra bacta that dripped off of
his healing body to return to the tank. On closer inspection of his Padawan,
Qui-Gon could see that a conforming bandage covered Obi-Wan’s eyes.
He gestured toward the bandage. “What’s this?”
“This is to protect his eyes from light while intensifying the bacta’s healing
effects to that specific area. We placed it on him this morning,” Rn’athu
replied, stopping near Obi-Wan. “Hello, Padawan Kenobi. How are you feeling this
time out of the bacta?”
Qui-Gon’s heart twisted against his ribs as he saw his apprentice reach out to
blindly grope for the arm of the Healer. He wanted to fold Obi-Wan into his arms
and comfort the boy in his darkness but he refrained so he could hear his
apprentice’s answer.
To his surprise, Obi-Wan grinned, his hand finally finding the soft flesh of the
Twi’lek. “Very boring, Healer Rn’athu. If I have to go in there again, can you
knock me unconscious so I don’t have to float there without anything to do?”
Putting a mild rebuke in his tone, hiding the smile lurking there, Qui-Gon
replied, “Padawan, that is hardly a logical or sane suggestion. Though, if
Healer Rn’athu agrees, perhaps I can dig up an old enemy of yours to do the
knocking unconscious for her.”
Obi-Wan laughed, feeling lighter than he had since this whole ordeal had started
five days ago. “Bruck might do it, Master. I’m sure he’s eager for the job,
though I don’t know where he was sent to.”
Now Qui-Gon allowed himself to smile. “Peace, Obi-Wan. It’s time to check your
eyes again.”
Obediently, Obi-Wan allowed the Healer to bend down and, with gentle hands,
touch the side that would release the bandage. With a faint popping noise, the
bandage came off to reveal Obi-Wan squeezing his eyes shut.
Qui-Gon found himself holding his breath, waiting to find out if Balio’s
malicious stunblast had damaged forever Obi-Wan’s vision. He knew, without being
told, that if after two days of constant bacta therapy Obi-Wan’s eyesight did
not return, then it more than likely would never return.
“Open them slowly, Padawan Kenobi,” Healer Rn’athu urged. “Let them have time to
adjust to the light. It is dimmer here than anywhere else in the temple so do
not fear the harshness of the day.”
Obi-Wan very slowly let his eyelids relax and open. At first, everything was
still blurred and smeared. Feeling tears form in disappointment, he rapidly
blinked them away and as he did so, his vision suddenly swam into focus. In
perfect clarity he could see the green skinned healer and her weaving lekku as
she waited on him to speak, and he could see Master Qui-Gon standing with his
arms in the opposite sleeves of his robe. Through the Force and their bond, he
could feel his master anxiously waiting on his declaration.
In answer, he grinned broadly at his master.
The End