Master Apprentice Archive Tales from the Creche 2: The Tale of the ill-fated ride Quick search:

Archive: M_A if they want it, anyone else, please ask, I won't say no. And at my site, http://www.geocities.com/epeeblade

Rating: PG

Series/Sequel: Yes, to the first Tales: The Tale of the hitch-hiking Jedi

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Categories: Not much humor in this one, maybe "Other"

Spoilers: Takes place pre-TPM

Summary: The Creche master deigns to tell you another tale.

Feedback: Really? Can I have some? Please?

Notes: I wasn't planning on writing another of these, this bunny just hit me in the face one night and demanded to be written.

"That wasn't scary!" you accuse the wrinkled old gnome. You had come from light years away, just to hear the tales of the diminutive former crèche master. And the last story, while somewhat sweet and uplifting, did not satisfy your appetite for the dark secrets of the creche.

"Want another story, you do." The Creche Master accused. "Get only one, most visitors do!"

"Please Master?" you ask. Oh, to be the one who left this wretched planet with two stories from the wise old wizened creche master.

"Mmmm, this one, you like. Frightened, you will be, this time."

The Tale of the ill-fated ride

Though it had been late when Obi-Wan went to bed, he knew it was later still now. He couldn't fathom why he lie awake, while his master snored peacefully beside him. Truthfully, it had been a trying day, both he and Qui-Gon required to attend the state funeral of the Queen of Galbaldia. Obi-Wan remembered being so surprised at how young the Queen had actually been. So close to his own age.

Qui-Gon had understood his unease and had ushered him back to their quarters as soon as politically possible, which, turned out to not been soon enough. Obi-Wan supposed it was the Galbadian funeral rites that had grated on him so, the voices of the thousands lifting in one long mourning song that haunted his sleep even now.

He wasn't a stranger to death, had seen his share in his 10 years as a Jedi Padawan. Still, he could not explain his disquiet. Carefully, Obi-Wan slipped out of bed, thinking perhaps to meditate. Anything to ease his mind.

He moved into the common room of the chamber, found himself drawn to the window by the odd noise of something scraping. Curious, he pushed open the plasti-glass and poked his head out the window.

Below, walking along the castle wall, a man dragged a long cylindrical tube behind him. Obi-Wan recognized it as the sarcophagus the Queen had been placed in earlier. Of course, it could not be that exact coffin, which he had seen jettisoned out into space earlier. The man looked up at Obi-Wan, his face pale and cadaverous, deeply lined with the scars of age. "There's room for one more!" he rasped and Obi-Wan stepped back, startled.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon called from the bedroom.

"In here." He called back, stepping back to the window. The strange man was now gone.

Warm, comforting arms surrounded him. "What's wrong? Can't sleep?" Qui-Gon asked fuzzily, gently nuzzling the back of his neck.

Obi-Wan leaned back into that touch. "No, Master."

"Come back to bed. I'll help you sleep." The deep voice breathed gently into his ear.

With an offer like that, Obi-Wan could not refuse.

The next morning Obi-Wan took his and Qui-Gon's bags downstairs for their transport. The spaceport was some distance away, so every half- hour a hover car would stop before the castle gates then rocket away into the dunes.

Qui-Gon had gone to take leave of their hosts, but sent Obi-Wan to take their place in the queue. The Jedi weren't the only guests waiting to leave the castle after the somber ceremony the day before. In fact, the grounds were quite crowded with visitors and diplomats, eager to return home.

A car finally arrived, a long, sleek silver construction with tinted windows along the side. The doors slid open and a slim ramp descended to the earth. Obi-Wan could see a person standing at the entrance, guiding passengers inside.

He wondered if he could reserve a seat for Qui-Gon, it was almost his turn and his master still had not arrived, although he could sense him getting closer. Obi-Wan lifted the bags and moved towards the ramp. He could see inside the transport, the car was filled with passengers, with some standing in the aisles. Distantly, he could sense Qui-Gon's arrival in the courtyard. He turned to ask the Driver if he could reserve a seat when he froze.

The man standing before the hover car door was the exact man he had seen beneath his window the night before. "There's room for one more." The Driver invited.

"No thank you, I will wait for the next one." Obi-Wan stammered out, backing up a quickly as he could.

"Padawan?" Qui-Gon inquired as Obi-Wan stumbled against him. "Why didn't you get on? We'll be late for our ship if we wait for the next transport."

"I have a bad feeling about this one, Master," Obi-Wan said softly, knowing there was no other way to explain his odd waking-dream nor the foreboding that dogged him now.

They stood and watched at the hover car lifted off, shaking slightly on its thrusters. The car lurched forward, stopped, then shot forward again, much too fast for opening speed. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watched shocked as the transport missed the turn past the dunes and crashed into the rocky hills.

"Come, padawan," Qui-Gon was already running, "we must see if we can aide in any way."

However, it was too late. Everyone on the transport had been killed instantaneously.

"Moral of this story, what is it? Hmmm? Feelings, must listen to. Especially bad ones! Heh! Heh heh heh!"

End